#a wife who had waited for her husband to come back from the military

[luxhesperus]

listen, i love this scene for a very obvious reason, and that is: bai yaxing was betting on luo fengping's anger to kill hu dayong just like he did with tu xiamao and he almost succeeded (and then again when he hypnotized lfp to off himself, using his pain, this time) but byx has miscalculated lfp

true, txm and lfp share the same grief, having lost someone that they love to greed but here's where byx has miscalculated: it's not that lfp's determination and belief is less than txm's (i mean, he betrayed and hurt the people he clearly cares about — who cares about him back — and faked his death and everything to get his revenge, if that's not determination, i don't know what is), it's that byx never considered what else lfp might believe in other than his anger and pain

now this is the part where another favourite scene of mine comes into play:

i think this was the part that truly and finally made lfp stop (i mean, lfp was already ready to stand down when luo fei brought up his mother but luo fei's plea and admission just might have done it)

byx feeds off on people's desires, mostly revenge, but i don't think he ever understood them despite how they all wanted the same thing, and certainly not lfp's, that's why it ultimately failed

i don't think byx ever considered that lfp's desire for revenge could be swayed by lfp's want to protect the people he cares about — as evidenced by the trio's moment by lfp's mother's grave and then that scene with luo fei above

another scene that further proves it:

another thing byx misunderstood about lfp is his love for his mother, byx reduced it to grief and anger and pain (which are easy to take advantage of) when it's also joy and cheer and comfort and a promise — to be good, to be someone with a sense of justice

(ok this has gotten out of hand and probably didn't even need saying but hey have my play money of two cents lmao)

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

After last episode I’m thinking what if Aegon tells his wife what happened when he wakes up and she goes ballistic on Aemond because the man she loves was hurt in battle, by his own brother nevertheless. (Maybe she sees the dagger that normally sits in its sheath on Aegons hip)

Request: Aegon returning to King’s Landing after Rook’s Rest. His wife worries about him and stay by his side

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—

You became sick with worries when you saw Aemond and Vhagar return to King’s Landing, alone.  

He walked into the Red Keep and called for a small council meeting to report about Rook’s Rest. You sat in the seat beside the King’s empty one, listening as Aemond recounted that the plan he and Ser Criston had come up with got crashed by the Blacks, who sent Rhaenys to Lord Staunton's aid. 

‘’What of His Grace?’’ you asked, having seen Aegon depart from the dragonpit hours ago. 

Aemond lowered his gaze, making the knot in your stomach tighten. No war was bloodier than one with dragons. Meleys was a large dragon, and she had battle experience. Mayhaps something happened to Sunfyre? You knew Aegon would refuse to leave his side if anything happened to him. 

‘’There was an incident involving the King,’’ he began. 

You held your breath as Aemond continued. 

‘’While I was waiting for Cole's signal, His Grace engaged in a one-on-one with Meleys, but the latter brutally attacked Sunfyre, causing him — and Aegon — to freefall in a nearby forest with great force before I could take the sky and come to their aid.’’ 

Everyone fell completely silent. 

You felt your vision blur as the room began to spin. Your face paled, and a cup of water was brought to you. You took a small sip, but you were still feeling unwell. 

You should not have let him join the battle. He had no military training, it was reckless. 

‘’Where is Aegon now?’’ the dowager Queen asked her younger son, her voice filled with maternal concern. 

‘’At Rook's Rest,’’ Aemond replied. ‘’Ser Criston and Ser Gwayne are marching back to King’s Landing with what little remains of the Green army. They are bringing his critically injured body.’’

⁂

Three days later, Ser Criston’s army arrived at King’s Landing. You had not slept since being informed about Aegon’s fall, your mind filled with worried thoughts and dark fears. Your handmaiden had suggested you take a draught for sleep, but you declined. You couldn’t risk being in a deep sleep when Aegon would come in through the gates. 

While they were parading Meleys's slain head through the city, six knights walked through the Keep, holding their King in a closed litter that hid him completely. He was brought to his chambers where several maester began working on him. 

‘’Is he alive?’’ you asked, trying to get information on your husband's state. 

The maesters couldn't answer, feeling a pulse so faint they didn't want to give you false hopes. You were escorted out as they worked on removing the armor which had melted onto Aegon's left arm. The image was not one a Queen should see, they said. 

You found yourself at Alicent's doors, needing someone to share your fears and worries with. She invited you to sit on her couch and had camomile tea brought to you to calm your nerves. You had not been this anxious since the birth of your first child. 

Noticing your shaking hands, the dowager Queen took the one who was not holding the teacup in hers. ‘’He’s strong, like his father,’’ she said softly. ‘’He’ll recover.’’ 

⁂

Late into the night, you were allowed back in the King’s chambers. Aegon had not yet woken, laying in the bed with his eyes closed. Half of his body was wrapped in bandages, covering the burns. 

All he wanted was to prove the realm that he wasn't useless. And now, he laid in bed, badly burned with a broken hip, and numerous broken ribs.

You sat all night by Aegon's bedside, refusing to leave him.

‘’You should get some rest, Your Grace,’’ the Grand Maester suggested when he came in to check on Aegon in the morning, noticing you were still in yesterday’s dress. 

He was probably right. Your eyes felt dry from lack of sleep and the shadows under them were dark. 

‘’I will rest when he wakes,’’ you replied. 

⁂

A tear fell down your face when Aegon woke days later, mumbling your name with his dry throat. He was in severe pain from his injuries, so the Grand Maester administered him a strong concoction of milk of the poppy to sooth his pain. It made his mind cloudy, and very sleepy. 

That night, you allowed yourself to sleep in a bed. 

⁂

For the duration of his recovery, you were moved to Aegon's old chambers. 

They had not been occupied since the coronation. When you walked in, you noticed everything was the way it always was, the way Aegon liked. 

It felt strange to be there without him. 

As you sat on the bed in your nightgown, you were reminded of life before he was crowned. Times were simpler back then. The realm was at peace and Aegon didn't have to put himself in danger to prove he was worthy of the crown. 

You missed that time. 

⁂

While Aegon was bedstruck, you took seat on the Iron Throne to rule in his absence. He trusted you with his life, and would want no one else than you to wear his crown. His mother and grandsire ruled in his father's absence through his long illness and manipulated everything and everyone around them. Aegon didn't want that happening to him. 

Although you didn’t know how to rule a war, you listened to the men sitting at the small council table, seeking their opinions and counsel. Now you understood why Aegon said they all bore him. Sitting there and listening to Lord Larys’s report of whispers, Lord Tyland’s financial complaints, and other reports that came by ravens made you want to indulge in wine. 

‘’What is the next move, Your Grace? Our men have recovered from the battle at Rook’s Rest and are ready for the next move. More men have been trained and knighted, and are waiting for the next commands.’’ 

You glanced at the map to your left, studying the pins of the houses who had bent the knee to Aegon and the ones who had not, trying to come up with a strategy, but before you could answer, Aemond spoke. 

‘’The Riverlands. Me and Cole will be heading north-west and amassing an army to march against Daemon Targaryen and Harrenhal.’’

You directed your eyes back to the table, looking straight forward at Aemond. ‘’Since when are you in charge of leading our armies, Prince Aemond? The last time you and Ser Criston plotted without my husband’s authority, it ended in a carnage of our army and put our King in a critical condition. I reject your strategy and forbid you from plotting without my authority by risk of being removed from this council.’’

After the small council meeting was over, you returned to Aegon’s side and were surprised to find him awake. He had been given him a gentle sponge bath by the maids while you were absent, his silver hair damp on his pillow. You also noticed that the maester had changed his bandages. 

‘’Where is Sunfyre?’’ Aegon asked when you sat, speaking coherently for the first time in weeks. 

‘’Near Rook’s Rest,’’ you replied. ‘’He was so badly maimed that he's not even able to be moved back to King's Landing. Ser Criston stationed men near to guard him while he is recovering. You need not to worry, my love.’’ 

You took his hand that was not strapped and resting against his chest in yours, trying to ease his worries. He hated being apart from Sunfyre, especially knowing his dragon was injured and in pain. Aegon vividly remembered his cries of pain when they were attacked by Meleys’ claws and teeth. He wished he could go to him. 

‘’My memory is blurry, but he saved me. When we crashed down backward, Sunfyre was going to kill me with his weight, but he angled his body to avoid crushing me.’’ 

Aegon tried to shift into a more sitting position, but groaned as pain shot through his whole body. His burns were healing nicely under the bandages, but his broken hip and ribs were going to take a lot longer. 

You reached on the night table and poured him a small cup of milk of the poppy. ‘’Here.’’ 

It would make him sleepy, but at least it’ll relieve his pain. 

Until the effects kicked in, you informed him of what happened while he was unconscious. 

‘’The crown must look great on you,’’ Aegon said, the corner of his mouth curling in a small smile. 

Any form of facial expression caused his tender, burned skin to sting, so he refrained from them most of the time. 

You huffed, remembering the words of the men at the council when you sat in the King’s seat. ‘’Your council is not happy with me ruling in your stead. They claim that a war should not be led by a woman and that it makes the war look ridiculous as it began with not wanting a woman on the throne. 

‘’Whoever dares question your seat and ability to rule should be removed from my council.’’ Aegon's face was dead serious. No ill tongues will be tolerated speaking about his wife. Not in his court, and certainly not from his council.

Unfortunately, you could not do that. What would the small council become without a Master of Coins or a Master of Law?

You continued with other news. ‘’The beast who is responsible for your fall got taken down by Aemond. His rider, Rhaenys Targaryen, perished with her. Now, the Blacks are down from another dragon. It’s a victory for us, but our army suffered severe losses due to dragonfire.’’ 

At the mention of dragonfire, flashes of the battle blurred Aegon’s mind. ‘’What has my brother told the council?’’ 

You recounted what Aemond said, and Aegon’s frown deepened as his memories became clearer. 

His grip on your hand tightened. ‘’It is not what happened at Rook’s Rest. You must listen to me. It is not Rhaenys who aimed at me with dragonfire, it was Aemond.’’

⁂

Aegon’s words echoed in your head as you bathed that night. Had he confessed about his brother’s betrayal to someone else, they would say he was delirious and confused from the milk of the poppy, but you knew he was not. He was perfectly conscious, his memories from Rook’s Rest slowly coming back to him. 

From what you knew, Aemond never showed signs of bad intentions toward his brother. As Aegon often said, Aemond was his blood and fiercely loyal. He trusted him. So why would Aemond turn on him during a battle and unleash dragonfire at Aegon? There must be a motive for him to intentionally harm his kin, his brother. 

It was difficult to discern any emotions from Aemond. He was always composed and cold. Mayhaps his facade hid jealousy for his older brother? It was frequent among second sons. Although, Aegon never was the favorite son. It was always Aemond. 

Until teh Conqueror’s crown was placed on his head. Mayhaps he had a secret thirst for the throne? It would explain his military ambitions and his desire for a place at the council table. The best way to kill a King is to get close enough to stab him when he least expects it.

You sighed and leaned back in the tub, closing your eyes as your body was covered by the warm water. The memory of Aegon's pained expression as he recounted his brother's betrayal — a treason to the crown — haunted you. 

‘’He is my blood,’’ Aegon had whispered, his voice trembling. ‘’Why would he do this?’’

⁂

In the early morning, you requested a private audience with Aemond. 

‘’I wish to know what really happened at Rook’s Rest,’’ you said firmly. ‘’As your Queen.’’ 

Aemond stood in front of you, clad in his usual leathers and an emotionless face. ‘’I gave my full report to the small council when I returned from King’s Landing. Nothing else is to be said.’’ 

You pressed on, your voice unwavering. ‘’It was told to the smallfolk Aegon had slain Meleys, which is false as you have told us it was Vhagar who killed her. This discrepancy makes me question if there are more lies woven into your truth. You reported that Meleys had brutally attacked Sunfyre with her claws and teeth but you never mentioned dragonfire. Yet burns cover half of His Grace’s body.’’

If Aemond felt any hint of nervousness at your probing, he did not show it.

‘’Are you questioning my truth, Your Grace?’’ he asked, his tone cold.

You knew that saying ‘yes’ would turn your question into an accusation of treason. By suggesting that he had harmed the King, Aemond could easily twist the accusation back on you. And what proof did you have? Your husband, who lay crippled in bed, dulled by milk of the poppy for most of the day? His moments of lucidity would not be believed by anyone.

Perhaps you could ask Ser Criston or Ser Gwayne what they had witnessed. Or bring the matter to the dowager Queen; she might decipher her son's body language better than you could.

Your thoughts were interrupted when something familiar caught your eye.

‘’This is Aegon’s dagger,’’ you pointed, recognizing the handle sitting on Aemond’s hip.

‘’Indeed. He lost it during the battle at Rook’s Rest. I retrieved it from the forest,’’ Aemond replied.

‘’And why is it sitting on your hip, Prince Aemond? The Conqueror’s dagger has been given to him during the coronation, along with his crown. It should be in His Grace’s chambers, where it belongs.’’

Aemond's eyes narrowed slightly, but his expression remained unreadable. ‘’I kept it safe, as any loyal brother would. Would you rather it had been lost forever?’’

You met his gaze, unflinching. ‘’Give it back to me.’’ 

Aemond stiffened at your words, his jaw clenching. He placed a hand on the hilt of the dagger, a defensive gesture that he couldn’t help but do. ‘’And if I refuse?’’ 

Your heart beat faster at Aemond's defiance, but you refused to back down. Taking a step forward, you locked eyes with him, your gaze steely ‘’Do not defy your queen. This is not a request, it's a command. The dagger belongs to Aegon. Give it to me, now!’’

Aemond hesitated for a moment, his fingers still gripping tightly to the dagger’s hilt. But your stern demeanor and unwavering command made it clear that there was no alternative. 

With reluctance, he pulled the dagger from his hip and held it out to you, handle first. 

You took the dagger from Aemond, your fingers grazing against his as you did so. ‘’I suggest you kiss goodbye to that dream of yours, my Prince. I know what you are. And when Aegon is strong enough to speak his truth, you will pay for what you did.’’

—

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[the-froschamethyst4]

Golfing Lessons

𖤐Pairing: Husband! Price x Wife! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, language, diva! reader, teasing, public sex, kissing/making out, fingering, hand job, P in V, groping, nipple play, natural masturbation,

𖤐Summary: You decided to join Price on the green today

————

————

Price was looking at himself in the bathroom mirror making sure the collar of his shirt was looking neat. As he walks downstairs getting his golfing shoes on and making sure he had his golfing bag in the back of his car, the front door open, his back still turned but knew who it was.

"Love, I'm heading out for a few rounds of golf," he says, closing his trunk and then finally turning around to see his wife in a golfing outfit, a white polo like his, a white short skirt, her hair up in a ponytail and wearing some golfing shoes like Prices.

"Woah," he says. "Where you going?"

"Joining you," she says.

"Me?"

"Yeah," she opens the passenger door and gets in. "Unless you and your mistress are planning to do some...rounds together."

"Mistress? What mistress?" He asked, looking into the car from his rolled down window.

"So then you won't mind me joining."

"Of course not, love," he says, getting into the car. "Guess you're going to be renting clubs then?"

"Yeah, guess so...with your card," she shows off his card between her fingers.

"Oh great," he smirks and backs out of the driveway.

--------------

Getting to the golf course, Price signs in and Y/n went to the renting counter to rent some clubs, and rent a golf cart.

Price picked up the hobby of golfing after he retired from the military, he did started playing it with his friends Gaz, Soap and Roach and loved the idea of playing golf every Saturday and will be gone for most of the day, but why does Y/n want to join all of a sudden?

Y/n has her feet up on the seat as she was looking down at her book on her lap as Price drove the golf cart to the first hole, there wasn't many people out today which was weird, it was a nice day to be playing golf, but guess people had better plans.

Y/n had her face back down in the book while Price did his first swing, he turns back around and looks at his wife.

"Your turn, love," he says.

"That's great, I don't know how to swing the club," she says, still looking down.

"Love, you wanted to join, you rented the clubs, you get to swing and learn," he says, putting his club back in his bag and getting one from Y/n's rentals. "Come on," he says, she puts her bookmark in between the pages and got off the cart and stood next to her husband.

He held the club and motioned her to stand between his arms, his hands resting on hers.

"Now...3...2...1," they swing hitting the ball and it landing farther than Price's ball.

"Oh, do I win?" She asked.

"No, not yet, and you have to get the lowest score to win."

"Why the lowest?" She asked as they get back into the cart.

"I don't know, the lower the strokes just shows how good you are."

"Oh," she says, cocking up her eyebrows and looking at him.

"Hush," he says, pointing his finger at her almost like he was telling her to 'behave'. They got close to their balls and Price hit his again, getting it into the hole.

"Write par."

"Par?"

"2, write 2 for me. Come here, your turn." He says. She gets out of the cart and grabs her club and walking to her ball just tapping it in.

"2!" She says, excitedly.

Moving onto the next hole, Price and Y/n had to wait their turn, they got stuck behind two old men, Price leans on the wheel and Y/n still had her face down in her book.

Price leans over to see what she was reading.

"What's this one about?"

"Enemies to lovers, she hates him, he loves her, both actually hiding their feels for one another."

"Cheesy," he says.

"You asked."

"I know. Wish these two would hurry it up," he grumbles under his breath. She just shrugs and looks at her pages. Price's hand then went to her thigh, leaning back and wishing these guys would hurry the fuck up.

He looks down at his hand resting on her thigh and then slowly moved it up his pinkie and ring fingers were just slightly under her skirt, she didn't push his hand away but left it on her bare smooth skin.

He scoots a big closer to her, putting his arm around her waist and his hand now on her hip gently patting her and slowly moving his fingers back under her skirt and then feeling her wet clothed pussy.

"Price, now?" She looks up at him.

"If these twos don't hurry it up, I will turn this cart around and fuck you in the car or...I fuck you here, and let them hear your moans. I'm starting to like the idea of fucking you right here and right now." He says.

Y/n just looks up at him and smiles at him, she closed her book and placed it on the little cubby, and then she shimmies her pink panties off and pulled her skirt up exposing her now bare pussy. She then looks at the older men seeing them leave, Price was just looking down admiring her.

"They're gone," she tells him.

"Huh?" He looks up and grumbles that his plan was fumbled, he grabs a club, a tee and a ball and gets himself set up, lining his club at the ball and in one swing hitting it. He comes back into the cart and sits in the driver seat but Y/n had gotten out to do her swing. Grabbing a club, tee and ball and hits the ball with no problem.

As she swung, her skirt went up with the wind exposing a bit of her butt. He brings his hand to his face and drags it down, wanting her now.

As she gets back into the cart, smiling up at Price and shows off how wet she was now, rubbing her fingers between her wet folds exposing how much she was wet.

"Hurry it up, old man," she teased him. He just scoffs, stuck behind the same old men from before. Price doesn't say anything this time, instead he leans over Y/n cupping her face and starts heavily making out with Y/n not caring if people saw or if these sick old men did.

Price starts feeling Y/n thighs and then feeling her wet clit, she moans into the kiss and bucks her hips up, Price smirks and shoves his middle and ring finger inside of her with no warning.

She moans putting her head back and Price grabbed a handful of her hair putting her head back and smirking when she moans out his name, he released her hair and her hands went under his shirt feeling up his hairy chest and toned stomach and chest.

"You're gonna get us kicked out if you keep moaning like that, love," Price says with a smirk on his face.

"Yeah right," she says, kissing his lips.

Price then starts messing with his belt, unbuckling it and unbuttoning his pants, he gives himself a few pumps and then takes her hand and places it on his dick.

"Pump me, baby," he whispers close to her ear. She bites her bottom lip and does what he asked, giving him a few pumps as he watches to make sure no one will see them. His hands resting the cushion they sat on and the other on the windshield of the cart.

He looks down just for a moment seeing her thumb run over his tip, he groans, biting his bottom lip to hold back his moans, Y/n was then playing with the pre-cum that leaked from his tip.

"Hang on, love," he says, as he starts moving the cart. Y/n doesn't stop pumping though, moving her hand a bit faster, he moans and stops the cart. "Love," he says again.

"Should I stop?" She asked, looking up at him through her eyelashes.

"I want to keep going I do, but we need to stop so, we can finish our game."

"Fine then," giving him some good pumps and then releasing her hand from his dick. He fixes himself and goes to swing. He hated this, why couldn't they have waited till they got home?

"Love, come here." She was confused, but got out of the cart and walked to him.

"Yeah?"

"Grab your club and ball...and hit...in the woods," he points his club to the thick woods.

"Why would I do that?" She asked. Grabbing her club and ball.

"Because I can't keep doing this."

"Doing what?" She smiles.

"Love," his eye narrow as he looks at her.

"Okay," she says, putting her ball down, wiggling her butt a little and swung her club. "Oh no...my ball," she sounded annoyed with her fake acting. "John, I need to go get my ball," she says, walking to the woods.

"Let me come and help you, love," he says, coming behind her.

Y/n found her ball and showed Price. "Found it."

"Good," he pushed her against a nearby tree, picking her up making her drop her ball and club to the ground. He attacks her neck as she moans and smiles.

"AH! Price," she moans, her arms tightening around his neck, and her legs tightening around his waist. "Fuck," his hot breath tickled her skin.

"We'll make this quick," he says.

He unbuckles his pants and fishes out his cock again, a few pumps before entering Y/n, she put her head back hitting the tree, Price moved his hand from guiding himself inside of her to behind her head so she doesn't hit the tree again. He thrusts up into her.

"God you feel so good," he groans close to her ear. "God, you should come join me more often," he says with a cocky smirk on his face.

"No...y-you're boring," she says with a joking smile.

"Oh I'm boring?" He says. He kisses her lips again, he moves her from the tree to the ground now.

"Not the ground," she coos. He just smirks placing her on the ground, his hands holding her waist and she moans while holding up her polo and exposing her bra, she moves the straps off her shoulders and starts groping herself.

Price smiles loving as she groped herself and how her fingers pinched her sensitive nipples. Price leaned forward taking her left nipple in his mouth sucking and biting her nub.

She moans. "F-Fuck," she cursed.

"Oh, I'm so close, baby," he says. She moans when feeling his thrusts start to get sloppy.

"P-Price," she moans. Y/n tightening around his dick, he gives a few more sloppy thrusts and ended up coming inside of her. He pulls out as cum leaked on the ground.

They both got themselves situated Price making sure Y/n looked how she looked before, and they same with Y/n helping Price, they acted like they "found" Y/n's ball and went back to their cart.

"Shall we end the game?" Price asked.

"No way...I'm having too much fun," she says putting her panties back on.

-------------

Price and Y/n had gave everything they rented back to the golf course, Price and Y/n got into Price's car. Y/n looks over at Price who started his car and started back out of his spot.

"So am I allowed to come join you now?" She asked.

"If you do the same shit you just did today then anytime, love," he smirks grabbing her chin and kissed her lips.

"Then next Saturday?"

"Of course, my love."

-------------

Next Saturday

Price had Y/n in the cart, she was on her stomach, ass poking out of the cart, her skirt lifted up exposing her nice round ass, panties pulled to the side, and Price was using her as he pleased, this time Y/n wasn't playing but instead keeping Price company.

Roach, Gaz and Soap had plans today, so he asked her to come with. She was just sitting in the cart with her book open reading it quietly as Price was swinging his clubs, but Price got hard while watching her read, which was weird, he's seen her read before and never got turned on before, so this was new. He stopped playing just to have her bend over in the cart and please him.

"Fuck me, baby," Price says.

"Faster," she moans out.

"How the fuck are we even still in here?" Price mumbled to himself.

Price soon came inside of Y/n pulling out and watched cum leak from her, he smirks when moving her panties back over, and put her skirt back down.

"Keep reading, love," he says, tapping her ass.

She just smiles at him and grabs her book off the cart floor and picks up where she left off like nothing had happen.

[saintmuses]

❝𝙬𝙤𝙪𝙡𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜 𝙩𝙤 𝙖𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙡𝙨, 𝙝𝙖𝙙 𝙣𝙚𝙫𝙚𝙧 𝙗𝙚𝙡𝙤𝙣𝙜𝙚𝙙 𝙩𝙤 𝙢𝙚𝙣❞

Pairing:

Thomas Shelby x Michael’s Wife!Reader

Summary:

Y/N couldn’t stand Thomas Shelby, she could see him for what he was. A devil in disguise despite her heart went pitter patter with lust rushing in her veins whenever she saw him.

Warning(s): SMUT. Mentions of religion. Infidelity. P in V. Deaths. Slight possessive!Thomas. Minors, dni! Note: Y/N’s maiden name was Buchanan.

Word Count: 2k

Summer, 1930

She wanted to press the nuzzle of the hand rifle gun to his smooth forehead hidden by his peaky cap. She wanted to pressurize the cool metal to its skin until it caved to mold around the circular imprint. 

She wanted to pull her index finger backwards until there was an echoing sound of the bullet going straight through his brain. She would've loved to see the blood splatter all over his three pieces suit and a white collared buttoned shirt as he fell backwards until he was no more.

Thomas Shelby.

A businessman who was a member of parliament with decorated military history from the Great War, and her family-in-law who was and always had been a gangster dabbling in illegal trades.

Her red painted lips curled back in disgust, before the edge of the cigarette laid between, and she closed her lips around it to inhale the tobacco.

Something was not right with him. Even if he was the best businessman, the leader of Peaky Blinders in Birmingham where they live, even if he was attractive. 

Something was odd about him.

She noticed his eyes flickered to her as he stood by a couple coming into their seventies, conversing with them.

Her heart thrummed loudly when his gaze trailed down to her lips that held the cigarette.

Her lips curled into a form of a smirk when his pupils dilated enough to take over his blue irises.

She'd never admit to anyone but herself that she loved his icy eyes.

Her fingers pulled the thin rolled tobacco filled paper away from her mouth as she inhaled enough to fill her lungs before pushing the excess out into thick humidity air while she stared at him in return.

"Honey," a voice clear its throat behind her. She could see Thomas’ eyes narrowing at the presence behind her, and she nearly chuckled at the sight of his jaw clenching enough to see tendons straining against his skin of his neck.

What a lovely sight. She thought haughtily before turning her head to see her husband, Michael standing near her, hands in his pockets.

"Yes, dear?" She knew Thomas had issues with his cousin ever since he came back across the pond with her in tow.

His dark eyes flickered to her before jerking his head towards the door of the car a good amount of distance, "it's time to go."

"I will get in the car after I talk to Thomas," she turned her gaze to the driver's seat with a pointed look. Her husband's face flushed with acknowledgment before he nodded stiffly, then walked away.

Outside, he held all the power to their dynamic, but behind the closed doors, she had all the power in her hands, and her husband could have all the whores and snow he wanted as long as he was respectful towards her in their marriage.

Quite frankly, she did not give a damn.

She waited until the sounds of her husband's footsteps shuffling against the tall spineless grasses faded, then she turned around just in time to see Thomas sauntering over to her.

"It is a good afternoon, is it not?" He looked down at her with a smirk gracing upon his face. His voice was sinful, with a hint of accent as it rolled over certain letters.

The top row of teeth scraped the bottom lip of hers, enough to ignite a sting of pain in the flesh. Irritated, "yes. I enjoyed the...lecture you gave about how we need to be discreet. After all, you are a mastermind of deluding people into thinking you are just a politician." She all but snarled at him, flicking an unfinished cigarette in the grass, ashes still burning.

His tongue slipped out, lightly wetting the bottom lip of his. "Miss Buchanan," his voice purred softly at her maiden name, "I am not a mastermind." His eyes held amusement as he spoke a false truth they both know it was a lie.

"Mrs. Gray." She corrected him flatly. She didn't even want to know how he found her maiden name when she and her husband moved to England from the Empire state of New York a year ago. She was still irritated as she withdrew a fresh stick of tobacco from her purse, holding the filter to her lips as she lit the end with her metal pocket lighter.

He waved it off, snatching the burning cigarette from her fingers with his leather gloved fingers before she could inhale the cigarette, "it’s the all the same to me." 

She was pissed at his lack of etiquettes. 

Once a thief boy, always will be a thief man. She thought to herself.

"I will be watching you," her upper lip curled, revealing the threat as she stared up at him coldly. "You better not do anything...out of the line."

She found out she was the only one who could talk to him like that and got away with it as well.

His eyes flashed in return, not with anger but with pure unadulterated lust. Dear God, something unraveled in her stomach at the sight of the animalistic feral look in his gaze, just like the first time she saw him a year ago, and he was already watching her.

"Wouldn't dream of it," he said lowly, his voice rasped after he exhaled the smoke from the cigarette before she glared at him and turned her body to walk away.

"'Y/N-"

"If you're going to fuck a whore, then go ahead." She sighed as if she was tired. Sitting at the kitchen table, looking at her husband with a small smile. "You do not need to hide your infidelities from me." She said shrugging with indifference, observing the way he stared at her, unblinkingly before he reached for the door handle, nodding slightly before stepping out of their place.

She never loved Michael. Well, not in that way, but they only married to hide his shenanigans in the states especially when he held onto the stocks when the economy collapsed, and quite frankly, she wanted to leave that godforsaken city in America. Away from her father who loved her but was smothering her, and away from her mother who was unfaithful towards her father by messing around with men whose pockets were filled with banknotes.

She blinked when she heard the door shut.

I wouldn't dream of it.

I wouldn't dream of it.

It’s the all the same to me.

Maybe she'd fuck him out of her system then she would be able to see him clearer rather than an attractive man with an aura of danger surrounding him.

They were all going to hell, every single one of them. She just didn't care for the technicalities.

She moved her husband's heavy coat out of the way, only to flinch when there was a loud clang of metal hitting the wooden floor.

She glanced down to see a small hand rifle, and her heart stuttered at the sight of it lying there so innocently before bending down to reach for it.

She stared down at the small metal weapon in her pale palm as she stood back up, her fingers gripping the wood as if her life depended on it. In a way it was, but only for the others.

She inhaled before opening the front door, grabbing her purse along the way, stepping out in the light drizzle as the sky started to roll in heavy blue.

The sound of the door slamming behind her brought the sound of the echo of the bullet she would aim.

The Cross that was hanging on the wall, shook violently against the plaster as she threw her head back in the darkened room. 

"You're going to Hell." She gasped the words out of her mouth.

Her hips were tightly holding onto the body of Thomas who had his fingers digging into the walls. He was physically stronger than her by anatomy differences, but she was relatively small.

"And I will be dragging you down with me," he groaned breathlessly into her ear as his hips swiveled into her. Giving her a knowing look, and her blood froze. She sincerely hoped he did not know what she was planning to do.

"Oh God." She gasped into the air as the blood rushed through in her veins when he gave her a bruising thrust.

"You said my name wrong, sweetheart."  He rumbled before pulling her away from the wall with his hands wrapped around the curve of her legs to keep her against him.

He walked backwards until the back of his knees hit the wooden bench and stumbled onto it. Y/N already curled her fingers into his hair, pulling as she pushed her hips in a downward movement onto his cock.

"Just like that," he grunted, gripping her hips and she could feel how tight his fingers were pressing against her skin.

She gasped, throwing her head back as his lips latched onto her throat.

"Mine," he rumbled into the curve of her neck.

She nodded empathetically, "yours." She agreed. In twenty-seven years of her life, she wandered through life like a ghost. As if she wasn't there. Thomas was the only one who made her feel something.

It was also filled with regret that she had every intention to kill him. Like him, she did a little digging of his past, and found a lot of atrocities she could not let it pass or forgive.

"I wanted you ever since you showed up with Michael introducing you as his wife, and when you looked at me for the first time...I knew you saw something," he groaned, looking at her as his hips pushed upwards into her, "saw right through me as if I was an open book for you to see the sins I've committed. That's when I knew I had to have you." He gripped the grooves of her back through her shirt. "Unlike the others who were charmed by my façade, you just knew before I was introduced to you." He rumbled before withdrawing away from her neck.

She swallowed inaudibly, inhaling the heady but addicting scent of his as her eyes rolled back into her head when he'd hit a certain spot in her.

It wasn't love. It was lust filled with affection for him. The monster hiding in a sheep's clothing.

It wasn't pretty.

Her eyes then flickered to her fallen purse, with the moonlight casting through the arched windows, the metal glinted under the bright light.

Her walls clenched in response, and she noticed his thrusting patterns became irregular. She then reached over to her purse without distracting him, and quietly drew the gun out of the crack of her purse.

Before he could turn his head, she pressed her lips to his. His fingers tightened even more in response as his lips caved and melded with hers in a passionate frenzy.

"In another life, if we'd met under different circumstances, I would've loved you." She whispered into his mouth, and she heard him exhale onto her lips. "We would've been each other's."

Before he could thrust into her for the final time, she sneaked the gun between them, and when he got to the ending with a guttural groan, she pulled the trigger as she barely laid the nuzzle in front of his heart. 

Flinching when there was a bang echoed in the empty space of the church.

She then gasped in pain, pulling back from his face to look down to see a lone knife laying in his hand, with red liquid seeping onto his hands and trousers, but she knew what he did. She could see it in her sight, blood pooling around the clean but ripped hole of her dress shirt where her heart was at. 

She was in shock, turning her gaze back to his eyes. A mischievous but all-knowing look glinted in his icy depths. Her hand shook as she dropped the weapon. It clattered on the wooden pew next to them.

"Oh, I knew all about your plan to kill me. I could see it in your eyes." He smirked, his voice strained, and his blood staining the spaces in his teeth as the red liquid gurgled in his lungs. "I was going to let you, but I was not going to go down without takin’ you with me."

It wasn't love. It was lust, and it wasn't pretty.

[shakespeareanwannabe]

As You Wish, Chapter 11

Summary: When arriving at Camp Silver Star, Abby Floyd was anticipating a summer of adventure with an ocean separating her from the three people she loved most: her mom, her Uncle Bob and her Aunt Natasha. But after a run in with Charlie Seresin, an extremely familiar looking and irritating camper in a different cabin, her summer plans take a turn that neither girl ever could have expected.

Trigger Warnings: reader's children are described as being blond with green eyes because genetics are wild and Jake's genes are strong, reader is canonically Bob's sister (but biological relation is never discussed), reader goes by Buttercup and is tattooed, angst, arguing, sadness, reference to divorce, kids doing sneaky things, references to babies, swearing, references to military deployment, blood, medical inaccuracy, military inaccuracy

Jake’s Apartment, 11 Years Ago

“Don’t go,” Buttercup begged, standing in the doorway of the bedroom. “I thought you weren’t supposed to get deployed again for like a year.”

Jake shrugged as he packed his bag. “Something came up, and they need the best of the best. So, they’re sendin’ me, Javy, Rooster, Bob and Phoenix.”

Buttercup cupped her small bump, her ring finger glinting with the wedding ring he had put there only two weeks previous. The wedding had been a surprise, a shotgun wedding in the typical sense of the word, but he wouldn’t have it any other way. The love of his life was pregnant, with twins, and was now Mrs. Seresin. Everything was coming up roses for Jake Seresin, and he was living for it. But the newly minted Mrs. Seresin…

“When will you be back?” she asked, her hand stroking her belly nervously.

Jake huffed a laugh. “That’s above my paygrade, sweetness.”

“I’m serious, Jake,” she swallowed. “Will you be back before the babies come?”

Jake paused. She was five months pregnant with twins, and everyone kept telling him that twins always came early. Would he be back in four months? It was impossible to say.

He turned towards her, smiling as softly as he could as he took her into his arms. “You’ll have Penny. And Mav and Payback and Fanboy and everyone else. It’ll be okay.”

She shoved out of his arms and stalked over to the bedroom window. “I don’t want everyone else. I want you. My husband. The father of my children. That’s who I want with me as I get all huge and can’t shave my legs and when I have to get poked and prodded at my appointments. Not a bunch of strangers. I want you.”

“I want you too,” he waggled his eyebrows at her, but didn’t get the giggling response he hoped for.

“I came here to visit my brother, but I stayed for you,” she murmured. “And now you’re both leaving and I’m going to be stuck here, useless.”

“Not useless,” he soothed, trying again to hold her. “You’re growing our babies. And if you ever feel like you need more, you could always go help Penny with the bar. But you don’t have to worry about anything, okay? I’m sending every paycheck home to you. The apartment is paid off completely, and the utilities come out of my bank account automatically. It’ll be okay.”

Buttercup swiped at her eyes and sidestepped him. “You don’t get it.”

“Then explain it to me, babe. Because I’m leaving in less than 36 hours and I’d like to know that my pregnant wife will be waiting for me when I get back,” he huffed.

“Of course I’ll be here!” she snapped. “I would never do that to you. But you’re fine with leaving me.”

Jake sighed and slowly walked over to her, hesitating only momentarily before placing his hands on her shoulders.

“I’m not fine with leaving you,” he whispered. “I feel like a fox caught in a trap, ready and willing to gnaw my own foot off if it meant the Navy wouldn’t own my ass anymore. But I can’t.” He let his hands glide down her body to rest on her small bump. “I don’t want to miss a second of this but I know I will. What I won’t miss is the birth. I swear to God. I’ll make sure I come home before they even think of coming out of their mama.” He pressed a sweet kiss to her cheek. “I’ll talk to Mav. He still has some sway over Cyclone. He can make sure I’m home, and that I don’t get deployed once they arrive. Not for a while, at least.”

He felt Buttercup shudder against him and was thankful that, this time, she allowed him to pull her into his arms. “And you’ll be safe? You’ll come home?”

Jake sighed and did the one thing he’d always sworn to himself that he would never do. “I promise, baby. I swear to God that I’m comin’ home to you.”

Cabana Bar, Hotel Zaza, Now

Jake held them for what felt like hours, until one of the girls started to squirm and try to pull away from the embrace.

“Dad…you’re soaking wet.”

Jake chuckled a little as he pulled away, stretching to his full height. “Sorry. I just missed you both so much.” He nodded his thanks to a helpful staff member, who handed him a fluffy white towel. “How…how are you here?” He blinked down at them. “You said something about a switch?”

The girls shuffled their feet nervously, but it was Buttercup who stepped forward. “You’re bleeding,” she murmured, gesturing to his soaking white shirt. Jake glanced down, noting the tear in his shirt and the red that was now staining it. Buttercup bit her lip, stepping closer. “What happened?”

Jake looked over at the bartender, who was shooting daggers at the lot of them, surrounded by shattered glass. “He stepped into my path and the deck was too slippery for me to course correct in time, so I bumped into him. I guess I took a few glasses to the chest as they shattered.”

Buttercup clocked the glares of the bartender too because she said, “Let’s go get you cleaned up. Then our daughters can explain themselves to you.”

Jake nodded, just as a shrill voice sounded behind him. “Oh my goodness, there’s two of them?”

Jake turned, finding Savannah clutching her chest, an older man and woman flanking her. “Savannah, meet my daughters. Abby and Charlie. And this…” Jake glanced at Buttercup with a look that was heavy with guilt. “This is my ex-wife. Their mother.”

Savannah gasped and leaned heavily against her father. “It’s alright, pookie,” the older southern gentleman soothed, his elegant wife fetching a fan from her clutch and waving it over her daughter’s wan face. “Let’s get you some air and some sweet tea to get you feeling better.” He gathered Savannah into his arms and gave them a reproachful look before striding off, his wife teetering behind him in her heels.

Jake couldn’t help the groan that escaped him. “Great…”

One of the girls bit their lip. “Sorry, dad.”

Jake shook off the weight of Colonel Beaumont’s glare and smiled down at her. “It’s alright. I’ll deal with it later.” He looked up and met Buttercup’s bright gaze. “You sure it’s alright if you patch me up?”

She rolled her eyes and headed towards the door. “I wouldn’t have offered if I minded, Hangman.”

Jake grinned and followed behind her, each of his strong hands resting on the shoulders of his daughters.

As Buttercup called down to the concierge to ask for a first aid kit, Jake settled onto her bed (and refused to think any further on that subject) while the girls stood in front of him and quickly explained everything.

The camp, Penny’s meddling, switching places, Rooster finding out, Bob finding out, their phone call to each other, their plan to corner them both here and make them talk to each other.

By the time they ran out of words, there was a knock on the door and Buttercup moved towards it, greeting the staff member who handed her the large white first aid kit. All the while, Jake gaped at his daughters.

“Well, hell…” he finally found it in himself to murmur. “That was some sneaky crap you two pulled.”

“Language,” Buttercup murmured softly, a small smile breaking out on Jake’s face.

“Sorry, darlin’,” he nodded as she laid out the first aid kit on the bed next to him. “I’m just saying, why didn’t either of you pony up and talk to us?”

“We were going to,” one of them started, a slight lilting accent to her voice, and Jake knew that was his Abby. They really were so identical (and Jake wasn’t ashamed to admit that he had no clue what his daughter had been wearing before she left the house that day or if she had changed when they got to the hotel), so he was having a hard time telling them apart when they weren’t speaking. “But we got scared.”

“You were both so sad whenever we brought up our missing parent, and we didn’t want to make you sad,” said Charlie, her young voice twanging.

“But when we met—”

“We really wanted to meet our other parent—”

“And we decided to ask forgiveness instead of permission.”

Jake shook his head in wonder. “I don’t know how you two pulled it off, but I’m impressed. Don’t ever do something like that again, but I’m impressed.”

Both girls blushed and nodded, both looking so much like him that he had to give his head a shake. They were incredible. They were his. And they were here. All three of them were.

As that thought raced across his mind like an off-leash dog, he glanced up at Buttercup, still standing before him, now with a fluffy white robe wrapped around her overtop of her soaked clothes.

“Why don’t you two go find your aunt and uncles?” he suggested, not taking his eyes off his ex.

Glancing between them, the two girls nodded and headed for the door, calling their goodbyes over their shoulders.

“Don’t forget your room keys,” Buttercup called after them, her eyes not leaving his either.

Once they heard the door click shut, both adults sighed.

“I…I guess you should take your shirt off,” Buttercup mumbled, staring at the spot on his white shirt that was slowly growing redder.

“Didn’t realize you were so eager to get me out of my clothes, Buttercup,” Jake quipped with a smirk, his hands going for the tiny pearlescent buttons. “I’m flattered.”

“Don’t call me that,” she gritted between her teeth, eyes casting downward toward the first aid kit.

“Why not?” he challenged, his hands stilling.

“Because I’m not…”

“Not what?”

She met his gaze again and he was taken aback by the fire blazing in them. “Because I’m not yours anymore.”

His whole body stilled. It was true, what she had said. She wasn’t his. Not anymore. They had a decade of memories separating them now. Separate lives. Lives that only included a daughter that shared half his DNA and half hers. He’d hated the custody arrangement, they both had, but it was the only thing that made sense with their schedules and Buttercup’s health. And now, there she was. Eyes burning at him in a way that he hadn’t seen since before the birth of their daughters. At least one thing had gone right in their divorce. His Buttercup was back and more fierce than ever.

“I know that,” he said quietly. “But you still have your tattoo, don’t you?” His eyes traced the stem of buttercup blossoms that peeked out from under her white robe. “Bob and Natasha still call you Buttercup?” She nodded. “Then I don’t see why I can’t.”

“B-because…because you’re you,” her chest heaved slightly, as though she was desperate for air. Jake stood and opened the hotel window slightly, allowing the fresh breeze to rustle the leaves of the fake fern in the corner. She blinked, staring at him as her breathing almost immediately came easier to her. “I don’t think your fiancée would like it if you were still calling your ex-wife by a pet name,” she mused, striding forward to grab the disinfectant from the kit.

“Savannah can deal with it,” he muttered, already knowing he was in for one hell of an argument when he met up with his fiancée and future in-laws later.

“You sure she’s mature enough for that?” Buttercup muttered under her breath, gesturing for him to continue unbuttoning his shirt.

He chuckled shortly, peeling his wet shirt off his tan skin. “Jealous?”

“Of you being engaged? No. Of how little time she has to spend scrolling to find her birth year? Maybe a little.”

Jake chuckled again, the sound warm and soothing. “I am sometimes too, I think. She doesn’t have to search long, meanwhile I feel like I’m spinning the wheel on the Price is Right or some shit.”

Buttercup giggled in spite of herself. “At least you finally found someone at your maturity level.” She leaned in and pressed a cotton swab soaked in antiseptic to the thin line that bisected his pec.

“Low blow, sweetheart,” he hissed.

Buttercup muttered a half-hearted apology as she found another cut, not bleeding but crusted over with dried blood and a small piece of glass.

“What do you two even talk about?” she pondered as she grabbed the tweezers, steadying herself against his abs, still hard and defined after all those years.

Jake sighed, bracing himself for the inevitable discomfort of having the nearly superficial wound poked and prodded, but it never came. As always, his Buttercup’s hands were soft and gentle with him.

“You really want to have this conversation?” he asked softly.

She blinked up at him, her eyes wide and earnest. “Would you rather we fight?”

“Why do those have to be our only options?”

Her steady hands grabbed the bandages and she carefully started to cover up the two wounds on his chest.

“Fighting was basically our only option there for a while,” she murmured, her body so close to his that he could practically feel her cool breath against his skin.

“I didn’t want it to be that way.” He craned his neck, trying to make eye contact, but her gaze remained firmly on her work. “I always hated it when we fought.”

She sighed as she made sure the soft gauze bandages were tight against his skin, her touch lingering slightly inches away from where his heart beat under his skin, before she sat back on her heels. “Me too. But—” she slapped her hands against her robed thighs before pushing herself to her feet again. “That’s all in the past. You’re getting married and I adore my job in the UK. The only thing we need to fight about now is how we’re going to split up the girls.”

Jake blinked at her. “You…you want to split them up again? What the hell, Buttercup? They just told us that they wanted a better custody arrangement.”

Buttercup flinched and took a step back from him. “I’m sorry. I…I didn’t mean it like that. I meant that we need to figure out how to split our time with them so that it’s fair. Should be easier now that you’re not in the Navy anymore.”

He felt his temper flare slightly in his chest, but he fought to hold that mask of calm on his face. “It would probably be even easier if you didn’t live on the other side of the planet.”

Her back stiffened and her face solidified into a mask of emotionless stone. “Indeed it would, but I love my job and I could no more give it up than you could give up your ranch in Texas.”

His Adam’s apple bobbed in his throat as he kept her gaze, slowly raising from his spot on the bed. “No one is asking you to give up your job, only to move. It’s a lot easier to move as a writer and publisher than it is to move a whole damn ranch.”

“Author.” At Jake’s blink, her icy voice sounded again. “I’m an author, Jake. Not a writer. And no one is asking you to move the ranch. I would never ask something like that of you.”

Jake stepped closer, the two of them nearly nose to nose. “I know you wouldn’t. You’d let it all go before you asked me for anything.”

This time he did feel her breath puffing against his face, the air hot against his skin. “I learned a long time ago that asking you for something would only lead to disappointment.”

“You know it wasn’t that easy,” he bit out, stepping even closer, his hands coming up to brace against the wall as she stepped back to lean into it, lean as far as she could out of his space. “What you were asking me for was—”

“Impossible,” she whispered. “I know. And now you know that what you’re asking me for is impossible too.”

“Even if it’s for our daughters?”

The question hung in the mere inches of air between them like a gas, a burning, toxic, intangible thing that was slowly choking them both.

In the silence, he couldn’t help but trace her features with his eyes, and he knew from her unfocused stare that she was doing the same to him. He may be older than he had been when they met, but he knew he still looked good. Got confirmation of it every time he went into town and saw the local ladies. But Buttercup…she looked even better than she had when they were together. The beauty of her youth hadn’t dimmed with age, but only settled into something that spoke of wisdom and loss and pain and rebirth, a shining fire within her. Like a—

“Phoenix!”

Both their heads whipped around as Rooster berated Phoenix for slamming the door open and strolling in like she owned the place. Jake stepped back like he’d been burned, and Buttercup took his momentary distraction as a means of escape, ducking below the arm that had been keeping her caged against the wall and moving back towards the bed. She calmly gathered the discarded materials from the first aid kit and threw them into the wastebasket next to the small hotel room desk.

Buttercup glanced around, her hands busy repacking the white kit, when she spotted her daughters among the crowd of those who were her family, and those who used to be.

“Couldn’t you two pick something a little less identical?” she teased, taking in the matching black and turquoise t-shirts the girls were wearing.

“No, that’s the point,” they replied, in perfect unison.

Buttercup stilled, her fingers hesitating at the latch of the case. “What do you mean?”

Rooster nudged past them, clapping Jake on the back as he strode toward the mini fridge. “They heard you arguing in the hallway,” he whispered in his ear.

Shit. The last thing he wanted was for the girls to hear them arguing, and, based on the look on Buttercup’s face as Bob whispered in her ear, he knew she was thinking the same thing.

“I’m sorry you heard us fighting,” Jake stepped in. “Your mom and I…we’ll work out a custody arrangement that leaves everyone happy. I promise. Divorced couples do it all the time.”

“Yes, well…we want to be sure,” said the twin with the Texan twang in her voice.

“Charlie, what’re you talkin’ about?”

The other twin blinked at him. “But Dad, I’m Charlie.”

Shit again.

Buttercup suddenly stood beside him. “Abby, Charlie, stop fussing about.”

“We’re not fussing about, Mum.”

“Of course we’re not, Mum.”

Buttercup groaned, her hand rising to rub at her eyes in such a familiar way that Jake was tempted to run out and grab her usual migraine relief items.

“Girls, please stop messing around,” Jake begged instead.

“We will.”

“As soon as we go back to the ranch. All of us.”

“Once we’re there, you two can figure out the custody arrangement. Then and only then, we’ll tell you who is who.”

“And you two came up with this scheme all on your own, huh?” Jake crossed his arms, his chest stinging slightly as the bandage pulled tight. His eyes scanned the gallery of adults around the room. His friends, his family, all looked away from him, Javy looking all too interested in the piece of hotel artwork that decorated the wall.

“Girls, please,” Buttercup whispered, crouching down to look them in the eye. “This isn’t fair and you know it. We promise that we’ll figure out a schedule, but we all have to go home. To our own homes.”

“Auntie Nat already called your publisher and said that you were extending your holiday,” one of the twins shrugged. “And Uncle Rooster said that Dad doesn’t have anything to do this week outside of the ranch business.”

“Other than groveling with my in-laws,” Jake muttered.

“Speaking of…wouldn’t this be best anyway, Dad?” the other twin blinked up innocently at him. “This way our stepmother can get to know both of us. Build bridges and heal old wounds and that kind of thing.”

Jake groaned and ran a hand over his face before crouching down, green eyes scanning their features. He could’ve sworn the one on the left was Charlie, but had her hair always been parted like that? And the one on the right kept switching into a damn convincing Texan twang. But the one on the left seemed to be favoring her left leg, which would track with some of the injuries that Charlie had collected over the years on the ranch. But then the twin on the right started favouring her left leg too, and Jake sighed.

“I can’t tell,” he whispered to Buttercup, who looked horrified.

“Neither can I,” she nearly whimpered. “What kind of mother doesn’t know her own children?”

“The kind of mother who taught her children never to give up without a fight,” the twin on the right piped up, smiling brightly at them. “Just one week, Mum. One week at the ranch. We can go on the annual trail ride with Dad, and you can work on your book. You said the flat in London was stifling your creativity anyway. At the end of the week, when you’ve got a schedule for custody, then we’ll tell you who is who and we can all go home. One week. Please?”

“Please, Mum?”

Buttercup groaned and rubbed her eyes. “Fine. But whichever one of you is Abby is losing her allowance for a week for pulling another one of these stunts on me.”

“Same goes for Charlie,” Jake grumbled, his pointer finger drifting between them. “And you two!” Jake turned his finger on Rooster and Javy. “You’ll have to step up and split my ranch responsibilities between you. Y’know, since I’m going to be so busy with my daughters and figuring out a schedule.”

Maybe it wasn’t fair, but Jake had no doubt that his two best friends had something to do with his daughters’ newest scheme.

“I’ll call the ranch and get the house ready for everyone,” Jake offered. “We’ve got more than enough room for the four of you.”

“No need,” Bob piped up. “I’ll be flying back tonight.”

“And I’m going with him,” Phoenix added, shooting a look in Javy’s direction. To Javy’s credit, he didn’t flinch at all.

“Like hell you are,” Buttercup hissed. “You two got me into this mess, so you’re going down with me.”

Bob’s cheeks reddened and Nat looked like she had something to say, but with one more meaningful look from Buttercup, they both nodded.

“Alright then,” Jake sighed. “I guess we’re all heading to the ranch. God help us all.”

Tags List: @jessicab1991 @waltermis @buckysteveloki-me @allepaula @yuckosworld @bradshawssugarbaby @ahopelessromanticwritersworld @kim-stark @high-speed-r @starsrfun @tomanyfandomstrash @averyhotchner @the-blueatlas @dashes-dizzydisaster @a-girl-who-loves-disney @boiolay @djs8891 @tgmreader @kmc1989 @landpiranha-blog @sydthekid1518 @lynnevanss @mackenzieblair @minejungwoo @starset21 @tgmavericklover @dempy @starkleila @magical-spit @whatislovevavy @simplyreading96 @vivalas-vega @itsdesiree86 @inky-sun @books-are-escapes @abaker74 @mrs-perfectly-fine @inthestars-underthesun @boisewaffles

[aoioozora]

Valentine

Content: Elias Walker x Daughter! Reader, good ol' daddy-daughter fluff, all wholesome Word count: 2.7k Note: People with daddy issues are gonna love this (I hope) lol. Enjoy!

Elias thought that having two boys was enough children but when Mama Walker wanted to have one more, he thought "well, why not make my wife happy?" and so they tried again.

Nine months later in the delivery room, the nurse announced gleefully that Mama Walker had given birth to a girl.

A girl!

Elias was pleasantly surprised. He thought he'd have another boy, but a girl... His mind was buzzing when the nurse brought the swaddled baby to him. He took the child in his arms, carefully holding her just like he did his two little boys who came before her. But holding her was different. It was a girl. A sweet little angel. He stared at the newborn with awe. A girl. He'd never considered what having a girl would be like. He was a guy's guy, rough and tough officer in the military. But now, he was face to face with a little girl; her tiny little face and her even tinier hands and feet, and her wail signifying life. His heart melted.

Mama Walker, in the hospital bed, wished she would have taken a photo of the sight.

He'd keep looking at his little baby girl every day from her first sight to her first steps to her first words. He doted on her like a mother hen, beaming at Mama Walker and their two sons at every milestone. Being a girl dad, he loved it more than he expected.

Watching you grow up was bittersweet. You'd cry about mean boys and girls in your class, and then worry about pimples and period stains and cramps, about your grades, about crushes that didn't like you back. It was a rollercoaster of emotions raising a little girl to become a young woman.

But the most painful thing for him to see was you sad or crying.

Valentine's day had come and both your elder brothers had left the house to go on dates with their girlfriends, leaving you at home lonely and sad. It was a huge blow to your esteem that no boy ever looked your way, and so you sat in your room, sulking and playing video games to distract yourself.

Elias had just walked out of your room after checking on you and he sighed heavily as he stepped downstairs, thinking of what he could do to cheer you up. He saw Mama Walker in the kitchen, taking care of some dishes. Pursing his lips, he called out,

"Honey, I'm going to the store for a bit. You want anything?"

Mama gave him a small list of things and he set out.

Not too long later, while you were now reading a romance novel in bed throwing yourself a pity-party, there was a knock on your door.

"Come in," you called out unenthusiastically.

"Open the door for me, will you?" came your dad's voice.

You lazily hauled yourself off your bed and opened the door. "What's up-"

Your words stopped in their tracks when you saw your dad right in front of you, suited up, his grey hair neatly combed, and holding a bouquet of flowers in his hand. He looked a little embarrassed, but determined.

"You wanna go on a date with me?" he asked, grinning widely.

Your jaw laxed as you stared at him. "What...?"

"It's Valentine's day," he replied, standing up straight and resisting the urge to cross his arms and shift his weight on one leg to hit the dad pose, "I want to take you out."

A smile broke your tired, sullen face. "Take me out?" you asked teasingly, poking his shoulder, "You're not talking about those training sessions where you take us out, are you?"

"No, no, not at all," he shook his head, chuckling. He was about to order you to get dressed but he cleared his throat and instead asked as he held the bouquet out to you, "So, what will it be? Do you want to go on a date with me?"

You accepted the flowers with an emphatic, "Yes!"

Elias headed downstairs to wait for you while you got dressed in your best outfit. He whispered to Mama that the plan had worked and she couldn't help but give her husband a big fat kiss for being the sweetest.

When you finally came downstairs, your mother gushed at how beautiful you looked. Elias stood up from the couch where he was seated, watching you descend; he was almost transported back to the 90s when he was dating your mother, for you looked so much like her.

"Dad?" you called, wondering why he looked so dazed.

He blinked, snapping back to reality. "Oh, sorry," he inhaled, smiling, "I was just thinking of how much you look like your mother," he explained, fondly looking at his wife, who smiled back at him. He turned back to you and stepped closer, held your face in his calloused hands and gave you a loving, fatherly kiss to your forehead, before putting his hands on your shoulders and exclaiming, "You look wonderful."

You could only smile and grin. Mama watched fondly, finding it funny how he roughhoused his sons but treated his daughter like she was gold. He had a soft spot for his boys, but an even softer spot for his girl. 

After taking a photo of both of you, Mama saw you and Elias at the door. "Have fun, both of you!" she called, smiling as she watched her husband escort their daughter to the car and open the door for her.

"See you soon, mom!" you waved. Your dad also waved at her and then drove off.

"So, where are you taking me?" you asked, grinning excitedly.

"Sit tight, darling. You'll see," he chuckled at your enthusiasm. "Consider this a date, but also consider this an example of what you should look for in a good man, do you understand?"

You nodded. He smiled at you and then turned to the road, sighing. "You're growing so fast..." he said in a tone that was bittersweet.

"Daaaad," you chide him playfully, "Come on, we're out here to have a good time, not a sad time."

He let out another chuckle. "Sorry, I just..." he looked at you again and pinched your cheek lightly, "You'll know when you're a parent yourself."

You rolled your eyes, smiling at how much he doted on you. Sitting back, you watched the lighted lamp posts fly past you and then glanced at your father, who was concentrating on the road. The brief silence was comfortable, and you felt so lucky to have a father like him. He had his shortcomings, but you knew he had your best interest in mind. And to see him go out of his way to take you out when he didn't have to just showed you how much he cared.

He soon pulled into a parking spot in front of a rather fancy looking restaurant. He stopped you from opening your door, and quickly got out of his seat to open it for you, just like a proper man should.

You smilingly got out and he held out his arm to you. You giggled as you slipped your hand into his arm. "You're going all out, aren't you?"

He nodded emphatically. "Of course. You must know how to identify a good man who will care for you," he began to lead the way to the restaurant, "And if he doesn't at least go out of his way to do little things like these, he's no good. Have some high standards."

You took mental note of his advice as he opened the door for you, gesturing you to enter first. It was wonderfully gratifying to you to experience this; you'd see him treat your mother the same way, and you longed for someone to do the same to you. Even if it was just your father for now, it made you beam as you entered.

Elias was relieved to see your change of mood. He led you to a table which he thought was the best ventilated, lighted, and had the best view of the outdoors, hoping it would make you happier. It did. You loved the window seats.

As both of you scoured through the menu, he said, "Get anything you like. Now, because I'm your dad, I'll buy you whatever you want from this menu, but remember, on an actual date with a guy who is paying for the meal, be considerate and never order the most expensive dish. Order something that would be reasonable." He paused, looking through the prices of the dishes, "Unless he's rich and insists on you getting something else." He gives you a playful wink.

You chuckled, nodding. After both of you had placed your orders, you sat back and asked, "Should the guy always pay for the meal on a date?"

He took a thoughtful sip from his glass of water. Letting out a sigh, he said, "Well, I was raised traditional, so I would say that the man should pay for the meal on a date, since he's the provider." He paused and crossed his arms pensively, "On my dates with your mother, I always paid, even if she insisted on paying sometimes. It didn't feel right to me, because I wanted to show her I could take care of her.” He then looked at you. “But times are changing. I hear that women want to pay for dates too. That should be something you decide with your future partner.”

Your meals soon came as the conversation continued over them. Your dad thoroughly enjoyed his medium-rare steak, veggies, and mashed potatoes, approvingly nodding and humming. When he saw you slowly getting through your meal, he asked, 

“Too much?”

You shook your head. 

“Another piece of advice,” he said, smiling widely, “choose a man who can finish your meal for you when you're full.”

You snorted. “Is that why mom married you?” 

He laughed. “Of course! Your mother has always been conscious about wasting food, so I reassured her by eating whatever she couldn’t eat. And besides, being in the army is a lot of work, so you need a lot of food anyway.”

After the meal and a lovely dessert, both of you headed out, arm in arm again. When he asked you where you wanted to go next, you told him that you wanted to go to the park.

“The park? Are you sure you don’t want to go to the mall and empty my wallet?” he asked teasingly as he strapped on his seatbelt.

You pouted at him and he laughed, remembering the same pout on you whenever he pulled your leg as a toddler. Nothing’s changed, he couldn’t help but think.

He drove you to the park. It was late in the evening, and there were only a few people lounging about and walking around within its confines, and so the two of you comfortably strolled around, enjoying the cool air. 

You made a beeline to the playground and situated yourself right on the swingset, looking at your dad with sparkling eyes, begging him to push you like he always did. 

“You’re a spoiled little brat, aren’t you?” he said with an affectionate scoff as he tramped on the sandy playground and stood behind you, grabbing the thick chains and pulling the swing back.

“That’s all your fault,” you answered with a cheeky smile.

He laughed. That was true. He doted on you and spoiled you rotten, all because you were the youngest and his little girl. He pushed you as hard as he could, and relished in your giggles as you swung high up in the air. 

He pushed again, smiling to himself. He was a Captain, commanded many soldiers with military strictness and nobody could move him; his word was law. But there were only two people in the world who had him all wrapped up around their little fingers: his wife and his daughter.

His mind turned him back to reality and he was still pushing you on the swing, and you were having the time of your life. He soon decided to ease up on the pushing, and then settled on the swing right next to yours, watching your swing lose momentum. 

“Thanks, dad,” you said with a grin, “That was fun!”

He smiled back fondly, watching you gently rocking yourself on the swing once it had slowed down completely. There was a moment of comfortable silence between both of you, until you looked up at him, taking in for a moment how weathered he looked under the harsh white lights of the park, reminding you of how long he’s lived.

“Dad?” you called.

“Yeah?”

“Do you think it’s weird that a grown girl like me still wants to play on the swings?” 

He chuckled. Grown girl. You were a teenager, still a little child to him. But he couldn’t deny that you were growing. It would only be a matter of a couple years before you became a young woman ready to tackle the world. He shifted slightly in his seat.

“I guess some people who are no fun would think it’s childish,” he answered, “But I don’t think so. I think it’s good to have and retain some childlikeness even as you grow up…”

His voice trailed off for a moment to think, and you didn’t interrupt him, sensing that he had more to say. He smiled.

“I know as a teenager, you tend to care about what other people think. But trust me, the sooner you forget to do that, the better. You’ll live life so much better that way.” 

“That feels so hard to do,” you shrugged, “It’s like… I feel so inferior because I’m not like the others… and even more so now that nobody asked me out on a date for Valentine’s day.” Your hands gripped the chains of the swing slightly, “Maybe the boys think I’m too childish, I don’t know.” 

He sighed and gently swung himself, using his feet to push against the ground. “The thing about teenagers, darling,” he began, “a lot of them care about appearing grown and mature, which is expected- they’re growing up, obviously. But what’s not obvious to them is that they’re still children. They will have some childish beliefs that they will eventually wean off.

“Remember, a real guy who truly loves you will not shame you for loving these “childish” things. Any man with real sense will understand that there’s a reason why you love the things you love, so don’t settle for less.

“And besides, I’d rather you grow up a little more before you date. I would not stand to see you dating any of these little, immature boys who would break your heart,” he huffed.

You playfully pouted. “You’re no fun, dad.”

He scoffed. “No fun because I’m looking out for you?”

Both of you shared a laugh, and you couldn’t help but feel so happy that you could safely confide in him and playfully jab at him without being judged or scolded. After a little more conversation, your dad looked at his watch. He slapped his knees and got off the swing with a grunt.

“Right then, I should take you back home before your curfew,” he said, holding out his hand to you, “Because a real man gets you back home at a reasonable hour without worrying your parents.” 

You chuckled, taking his hand. “You’re a real man.”

“That’s why your mom chose me,” he bragged, “Take notes.”

It made you giggle, thinking of how your mom would sometimes gush about her husband to you and your brothers, making the three of you roll your eyes and laugh. The years passing only made them love each other more and more, and you could not have asked for better parents than them. 

Arm in arm once again, he escorted you to the parking lot. As he got in the car after you and strapped on the seatbelt, he asked,

“How about we make this a tradition until you get yourself a boyfriend?”

You smiled widely. “Sure.” Your eyes lingered appreciatively on your father and you said, feeling a surge of affection for him, “I love you, dad.”

He beamed, a bright smile gracing his weathered face. Those words made all the effort and toil he took to raising you worth it. He ruffled your hair. 

“Love you too, kiddo.”

[cherrycola27]

Red, White, and Rooster

Series Warnings: Language, alcohol consumption. Frenemies to lovers, relationship of convenience. Political situations. Allegations of affairs, military and political inaccuracies. Smut. 18+ Minors DNI. Banner Credit: @thedroneranger

Masterlist Previous Part Next Part

Specific Chapter Warnings: Violence against women, torture

...........................................

Chapter 15: The Great War

You groaned as consciousness slowly made its way back into your body. Everything hurt. Your head was pounding, your mouth was dry, and your body felt stiff. "Ugh," you sighed as you tried to sit up from the wooden floor.

You slowly blinked to take in your surroundings. You shot up as the memories came back to you. You tried to stand but were quickly pulled back down thanks to a set of handcuffs that were attached to the floor beside you.

"Well, look who's finally awake, and just in time." Someone said. You snapped your head in the direction of the voice. "You." You sneered as Preston Baxter strolled into the room. "I should have known you were behind this!" You growled at him.

"Of course I'm the one behind it. I'm the only person who's life you ruined, aren't I? Or are there others?" Preston asks as he tilts his head to the side.

You flare your nostrils and tug on the cuffs.

"Now, now, don't hurt yourself." Preston chuckled.

"How are you out of prison?" You demand. "A good lawyer and a temporary insanity plea." He states before grabbing a chair and walking over to sit in front of you. You slide away, putting as much distance between the two of you as possible.

"Well, aren't you going to ask me how I did it?" He says.

"How you did what?" You spit at him.

"How I kidnapped you silly." He exclaims.

"Okay, I'll bite. How'd you do it?" You ask him. You've seen enough action movies to know that if you get the bag guy talking, they might slip up and tell their plan.

"Well, first off, I had my baby brother Alex hack the White House so he could get himself a job on the security team. He forged all the documents and changed his last name to not raise red flags. After a few months, he was put on your detail. I waited for the right time until we had an opportunity. Once we had it, we took it." Preston tells you gleefully.

"You've been in prison. How were you able to plan all this?" You ask him

"You see, that's the thing about prison. It gives you plenty of time to plot your revenge. I spent two and a half years perfecting this plan, and you're not going to ruin it for me this time. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a ransom call to make." He claps his hands.

"Ransom call?" You question him. "Yes, while kidnapping you is a great revenge arc for me, extorting your husband for money—it just sweetens the pot," Preston says before getting up.

"The president doesn't negotiate with terrorists, foreign or domestic." You spit at him.

Preston, let's out a breath. "In normal cases, he wouldn't. But he's already proven that when it comes to you, he doesn't think rationally." He tells you before Alex brings him a phone that looks like a brick. He taps his foot before the call connects.

"Hello, am I speaking to the president? Wonderful. Well, Mr. President, I'm not going to mince words. We both know that I have your wife, and if you ever want to see her alive again, I'm going to need one hundred million dollars wired to an offshore account. I just sent the information to Mr. Rodriguez's email." Preston says into the phone. There is a pause before he sighs and brings the phone closer to you. He clicks a button before holding it in front of your face.

"They want proof of life. Gone on. Let them know you're alive. But don't try anything stuipd." He urges you before placing the phone on speaker.

"Bradley. Bradley, Dearest. I'm alive. I'm okay." You assure him.

"Sweetheart, I'm going to get you. I promise everything is going to be okay." Bradley tells you.

You shoot your eyes up at Preston. It crosses your mind that Bradley might not know who took you, so you do the exact thing that you knew Preston wouldn't want you to do.

"Preston Baxter and Alex are the ones who took me!" You shout into the phone. Rage flashes across Preston's face. You continue to yell as he takes the phone away. "Don't give them a dime, Bradley! Don't give them—" a harsh slap across your face sends you tumbling to the floor.

"Didn't I tell you not to do anything stupid you bitch?" He sneers as he crouches down next to you on the floor.

He grabs you by your hair and pulls your eyes up to meet his. "I hope you know just how much I'm going to enjoy making your life hell." He tells you.

"Fuck you." You growl before spitting in his face. He roughly drops you, and your forehead makes contact with the wood floor. You curl up, protecting your midsection before he gives a swift kick to your ribs and exits the room.

After a few minutes, you find enough strength to sit up. You drag yourself until you're leaning against the wall. A few tears prick your eyes, but you will them away. You won't let them see you break. You place a hand on your stomach and stroke it. You weren't sure how you were going to make it out of here alive, but for the sake of the child growing inside you, you knew you'd have too.

.................

It had been six days since you had been taken. News of your kidnapping had hit the mainstream media, and tips from all over the globe were coming in. Bradley made sure each one of them had been followed up, but nothing had come from any of them.

He sat at his desk with a now cold cup of black coffee, a copy of the Times, a stale muffin, and more cigarette butts than he cared to count. Dark rings framed his eyes, and his five o'clock shadow had morphed into a three a.m. blackout.

"Jesus, Rooster, you look like shit." Jake said as he came into the Oval Office to check on him.

"Well, Hangman, please forgive me for not looking front page ready while my pregnant wife has been missing for almost a week." Bradley snapped back.

Bradley saw the hurt face across Jake's face. "I'm—I'm sorry. I can't eat, I can't sleep, and we are no closer to finding her than we were a week ago. I'm going crazy Jake. Every tip we get gives me some hope, and then when it doesn't pan out, I'm back to rock bottom again. The only helpful information came from that couple who saw the abandoned car at that rest area. They said the SUV that was leaving was headed south. Do you know how many places are sound of D.C.? And what if they aren't even in the country anymore? It was hours after she went missing before the first call came through. And the ransom call wasn't until the next day. She could be anywhere in the world right now!" Bradley sighs before sinking back down in his chair.

"How the fuck did we not know that Preston Baxter was released? How did we end up hiring his brother for her security team?" He sighs.

"I did some digging, and apparently, his little brother is a genius. Graduated from MIT, ran a software company, but ended up getting mixed in with the wrong crowd and did two years from hacking a bank in the Midwest. IT found a hole in the White House firewall. They think he hacked a server and forged his information to get him a job here." Jake tells Bradley.

"I feel like this is my fault. No, I know this is my fault. If I had never run for president, none of this would have happened." Bradley sighs as he rakes his hands through his hair.

"You can't blame yourself for this Rooster. If you hadn't had done this, you never would have met Wise-woman. You never would have married her or made a kid with her. He'll, I wouldn't have met the love of my life either. It's not your fault. Y/N is smart. She left those notes for us. She told us who took her. She's going to be okay. She's strong. She's a survivor. She's a Bradshaw for crying out loud. Now, you might want to shower and fix your face. Yout in-laws and Mav and Penny just got here." Jake said as he patted Bradley on the shoulder before leaving.

Bradley did what Jake said. He took a shower, cleaned up his face a bit, and put on fresh clothes.

He wanted to shoot himself in the foot when he came face to face with your mother. He could tell that her tearful words and sullen expression were more of an act than anything. He'd tried to get in contact with them the day he found out you were gone, but they were in Greece and had finally decided to join in the search now that it was getting national attention. Your father seemed genuinely concerned, even offering to to man the tip room phone lines if that would be helpful.

Maverick and Penny tried their best to comfort Bradley. That evening after they had come to the White House, Bradley pulled Maverick and Penny into the Oval Office to tell them you were pregnant. He swore them to secrecy. It was on a need to know basis, and your parents were not in that loop.

Later that evening, Maverick made a few phone calls and called in a few favors. There wasn't much the Navy could do, but if Bradley needed them, Pete Mitchell would make damn sure the entire Dagger Squad would be ready for him.

...............

It's nine days after your kidnapping that Preston reveals the true reason why he has taken you. You're woken from a fitful sleep by the sound of a table and chair being slammed on the floor in front of you.

"Rise and shine sleepy head." Preston calls as he pulls you to your feet and plants you in the chair. Alex brings a laptop and places it in front of you before opening it.

"What do you want me to do with this?" You gripe.

"I want you to use that fancy security clearance you have to log in and get us into the encrypted server. Once we are in, my dear brother is going to steal something more valuable to us than you." He tells you.

"Nuke codes. It's always nuke codes." You breathe out. "Why would you need those?" You ask him.

"Let's just say that before I was in prison, I made some deals with some shady people. I borrowed a hefty sum of money, amongst other things, and promised to pay them back in nuclear codes once I was chief of staff. However, you came along and wreck those plans. Now that they know I'm out of prison, they are demanding I pay up. So, get me those codes." He demands.

"Can't your brother get them?" You ask him. "Unfortunately, the security is too good. Alex can't hack it, he's tried." Preston informs you.

"Well, I hate to burst your bubble, but when you become First Lady, you don't get top secret clearance. My information doesn't work anymore." You cross your arms.

Preston slaps you hard enough to knock you out of the chair. He grabs your and jerks you up. His fingers dig into your arm.

"You wanna do this the hard way, fine, will try again tomorrow." He says before twisting your arm and leaving.

After two days of him not giving you any food, you realize that Preston is going to try and starve the information out of you. He tried beating it out of you, but the bruises on your face and arms are proof he didn't get anything. When the third day comes, you're almost ready to break. Not for you, but for your child.

When the door to your room unlocks, you expect him to come in again for another round, but instead, it's Alex, and he's carrying a bag.

You scamper to the far side of the room, trying to put as much space as you can between the two of you.

"It's okay. I'm not going to hurt you." Alex says as he holds his hands out like he his trying not to spook a wild animal.

"I brought you something to eat." He tells you as he brings the bag over and sets it next to you before walking away and sitting down on the floor across from you.

It's not a five-star meal, but you gladly tear open the pack of beef jerky and chips he brought you before gluping down some of the water that's also in the bag.

"Preston is out checking in with his parole officer and running some errands in the city. I went to the little gas station a few miles away to get this for you." Alex tells you.

"I know it isn't good for pregnant women to get dehydrated or starve." He says. You pause mid chew and look up at him with wide eyes.

"How—" you can't finish the question.

"I saw you leaving the clinc that day. And you got sick the first couple of days here. Don't worry. I'm not going to tell Preston. He's already done enough to you." Alex shakes his head.

"Why are you helping him?" You ask him. "I'm the reason he owes so many people money. A few years ago, I was trying to prove to some buddies of mine how good of a hacker I was. I stole money from the wrong people. Pres, he—he kept them from killing me. I owe him." Alex shrugs. You can see in his eyes that he never intended for it to go this far.

"I know it probably doesn't mean much, but I'm sorry. You didn't deserve this." Alex tells you before getting up and leaving the room.

Your eyes drop back to the plastic bag in front of you. There is a sleeve of powdered donuts and some peanut butter cups inside and another bottle of water. You grab the candy, and that's when you notice it. A small slip of white paper. You grab it and realize it is a receipt from the store. You quickly read over it and smile. There, printed in tiny black letters is the name of a town and a state. You know where you are. Now, you just have to figure out how to let Bradley know.

Two days later, Preston brings the computer set up back again. Only this time, when you refuse to do anything, he pulls a gun from his waistband.

"Recognize this?" He asks you as he cocks his head to the side. Of course you recognized it. It was the same one he'd tried to kill you with once before.

"Type in your information, or I shoot you." He states coldly.

"You and I both know you are going to do that." You tell him with a smirk. "And why wouldn't I?" He sneers.

"You're not going to kill me because you need me. You can't get the codes or the money without me. You've been sending Bradley dated proof of life videos every two days. If those stop, what makes you think he won't track you down and blow you and this shithole off the face of the earth?" You state. "Me being alive is the only barging chip you have. You may be dumb Preston, but I don't think you're stupid." You say.

"Shut your mouth before I blow your brains out." He threatens you.

"Just make sure you don't miss this time." You laugh as he cracks the handle of it across your face.

"Type. Now." He demands. And for the first time, you give in. But you purposefully type your password wrong. You know that after five incorrect log-in attempts, your account will be locked, and cyber security will be notified. You are praying that they look at the attempted passwords. Each one you type in is a bit of information about where you are. After the fifth attempt, the screen goes black.

"See. I told you. My credentials don't work anymore." You smirk as you point to the screen.

Preston shoves you out of the chair and screams. "You fucking bitch. You did this on purpose!"

"No, I didn't! I don't have access anymore!" You defend yourself before his fist makes contact with your face.

"Fine. If I can't get the codes from you, I'll just have to get them from your husband. Maybe a good old-fashioned torture video will be just this thing to motivate him." He says before storming out of the room.

..................

"Mr. President!" Dante yells as he bursts into the Oval Office. Bradley shoots up and looks at him. He can tell Dante has news.

"Sir, we think we know where she is." Dante breaths out. Bradley sucks in a breath as he waits for him to explain.

"It appears she tried to log on to the White House server, but used the wrong password five times and locked her account. IT looked at each incorrect attempt to see what was going on because they knew the activity was suspicious. Each one is a clue about where she thinks she is. Look." Dante says as he hands a paper to Bradley. He reads it. "North Carolina, RidgewoodFalls, House, GasStation, Help." He says.

"We looked into the town and found out that a few months ago, an old farm in Ridgewood Falls was bought in cash by someone named Peter Brandon. We think that might be the alias Preston is using. We are currently working to get a rescue team together. The only issue is that the farm is near the town. We have to be careful going in without alerting him." Dante says.

Bradley agrees before dismissing Dante. He leaves his office and makes his way to the bedroom. He sits on the bed and grabs the framed photo of the two of you from your summer in San Diego. He touches your face and twists his wedding ring. "I'm coming for you, Sweetheart."

Two days after finding out where you are, almost seventeen days after you were taken, the White House receives a video of what they think is proof of life. Instead, they are met with the sight of you tied to a chair and gagged while Preston breaks three of your fingers and punches your face until its bruised and bloody. It ends with demands for nuclear launch codes in addition to the ransom money.

Bradley's blood boils as he watches the events unfold. He throws the coffee he is drinking across the room, and the mug shatters into a million pieces before he screams in anger.

He demands that the Navy SEAL team that Dante and others were organizing be sent in immediatly to extract you. Dante informs him that it isn't so simple.

"I DON'T FUCKING CARE WHAT IT TAKES! If you won't have the SEAL team go in and extract her then you'll leave me no choice but to fly Air Force One to North Carolina so I can get her myself!" Bradley screams before slamming his hands on the table.

"Sir. I understand your frustration. But we haven't been able to arrange air coverage and support for them. We need jets and pilots and don't have them yet.

"You need jets and pilots? Well, why didn't you say so. Bring me, Rear Admiral Mitchell. Now." Bradley says as people scramble out of the room.

"Mav," Bradley begins as he enters the room. "Is Phoenix sit the commander of the Bush carrier?" He asks.

"She is." Maverick answers. "How fast do you think we can get the Dagger Squad to Norfolk? They are the only people I trust for this mission I'm about to send them on." Bradley says.

"I made some calls. They were stationed there last week. Just in case." Maverick tells him.

"Thank you, Mav." Bradley says before calling for Dante.

"Dante, I need a secure line set up now. I need you to get me in touch with Captain Natasha Trace on the U.S.S. Bush in Virginia. You need a team of pilots. I'll get you the best damn team in the entire world." Bradley says.

"Sir, with all do respect, how do you know that they are the best?" Dante asks him.

"Because they aren't just any old team of fighter pilots, Dante. They are my team."

Taglist: @daggerspare-standingby @shanimallina87 @teacupsandtopgun @hecate-steps-on-me @roosterscock @roosterbruiser @roosterforme @seresinsbabe @startrekfangirl2233 @soulmates8 @xoxabs88xox @avengersfan25 @blackwidownat2814 @loveforaugust @mak-32 @cottagecori @amysteryspot @heyimmadisonn @princess76179 @bradshawseresinbabe @sunlightmurdock @lewmagoo @cassiemitchell @die-cunt @shipinabluebottle @malindacath @violyn20 @imawkwardlysoc @books-for-summer @blackroseboulevard @recordblues @desert-fern @luckyladycreator2 @katieshook02 @samhapner6 @sebsxphia @roosters-girl @diorrfairy @je-suis-prest-rachel @mizzzpink @a-linabean @amklibrary @gretagerwigsmuse @jstarr86 @actuallyazriel @krismdavis @bradshawsbaby @wkndwlff @dakotakazansky

[reelovesfictionalmen]

An Eternity Together Vampire!John Price x f!reader

My first dance with kink/spooktober. Smut will be under the cut! Also reader is in her mid 30's. Sorry kiddos.

Cream-Pie and Vampire

You had known John was a vampire from his files in the military, you were just a human who took care of the Armory and requisitions. You met with him regularly supplying his gear. Eventually he had asked you out and now 12 years later the two of you were stronger than ever. The problem with dating a vampire as a human is that you age and your partner does not. As you entered your mid 30's, this was something the two of you discussed at length and had decided that you marry each other. On your wedding night he would turn you during the throes of passion of your first time making love as husband and wife.

So here the two of you were in your wedding finery retiring to the hotel for your wedding night. You both were nervous, John more so, but he was good at hiding it. He knew turning you would not fail but at the same time there was a slight nagging thought in the back of his head that worried it would fail and he would lose you forever, long before he would have if you died of old age.

Once you both entered your room the two of you stood there awkwardly for a few moments, it was very unlike the two of you. You steeled yourself, stepping close to him, wrapping your arms around his middle and nuzzling his chest. His arms quickly came around you and held you tight to him, planting a kiss to your forehead before pulling back slightly and grinning wildly down at you, the points of his fangs showing "Hello Mrs Price" he purred. You leaned up and kissed him softly "Hello Husband" you murmured against his lips.

The soft kisses soon turned heated, needy and desperate. You ran your hands up his chest and pushed at his suit jacket to signal you wanted him to take it off. He pulled away from you slightly flinging off his suit jacket, taking off his tie and pulling his dress shirt open and off with the buttons flying across the room. John fixed you with another toothy grin "Lets get you out of that dress, my love" gently turning you around, pulling the zipper down and then pushing the straps off your shoulders causing your dress to fall to the ground. Turning you to face him again he put his hands on your waist, stroking your sides before pressing kisses all over your face "I cant wait to spend the rest of eternity with you, Sweetheart. I never knew love before you and imagining myself spending my immortal life without you now seems worse than all the torture in the world" You took his face in your hands and kissed him deeply, running your tongue against his lips seeking entry, once granted you ran your tongue across his fangs and grinned "Well we had better get working on that, hmm?" With speed you unhooked your pretty lace bra, kicked off your heels and rid yourself of your panties before running to the bed, jumping on it, rolling on your back and sitting up smiling at him and his surprised face. "Come make me yours forever, John. Make love to me as your wife and make me like you" you beckoned with a hand stretched out to him. John let out a predatory growl that was far from human, toeing off his fancy shoes and essentially tearing his pants and tighty whities off his body.

He stalked towards you like a predator before standing in front of you and stroking your face "Lay back for me, My Love. I need you to cum on my face and stretch you open before we start. I don't want to rush this, we have all night" Laying back on the bed with your legs handing off the edge, you gingerly opened your legs for him, showing your already damp center of curls to him. You had wanted to shave bare down there but John for some reason liked when you had a bush. John kneeled at the edge of the bed, hooking arms around your hips and pulled you into his face. John took a deep breath against your center and groaned at your sweet scent. His heightened vampire senses thrummed at the heady scent, he dove in, licking a stripe between your lips and pressing his tongue and face in deeper to lap at your entrance where your wetness was oozing from. You moaned softly and relaxed bonelessly against the bed with your eyes closed, enjoying the feeling of your beloved feasting on you. Your bonelessness only lasted so long as John moved a hand down from your hip to start circling and flicking your clit in quick motions. Your body jolted and you cried out John's name but he let out a beastly growl, pressing you back down with the hand he had been using on your clit before resuming his fast circling and flicking of your clit. It didn't take you long to cum and John had no intentions of slowing down, he was starved for you. The fact he was now married to you and was about to turn you made him feel a primal surge he had not felt before. He moved his mouth from your entrance to your clit, sucking on it hard, flicking it with his tongue, before he could move his hand down to start fingering you you had already cum again. You were pulling at his hair and begging him to slow down. Looking up at you and your teary eyes he released your clit and murmured an apology and started to finger you slowly. As your body relaxed he added another finger and then another until 3 of his thick fingers were knuckle deep inside you. He pumped his fingers in and out of you at a reserved speed until you came around his fingers. John pulled his fingers out of you, licking them clean and rising to his feet. His hard cock bobbed in the air as he stood before you. "Move up the bed, Sweetheart" asked as he climbed onto the bed and crawled on top of you, caging you in with his arms and knees on either side of you.

Your heart was beating wildly in your chest, John had never been so intense with your love making before, he held a glint in his eyes that was befitting to his vampire nature. It should have scared you but it honestly turned you on more than anything. Now you were here under him, his cock leaking precum on your stomach and him staring down at you and licking his lips like you are the finest meal he has ever seen. Wrapping your arms around his neck you pulled him down and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips, both of you groaning into the kiss. "Are you sure you want to do this? Are you sure you want me to turn you? Theres no going back from this" He asked as he brushed strands of hair stuck to your sweat from your forehead. His heart thumped in his chest with nerves. "John, Sweetheart. We've been together 12 years. I cant imagine a future without you, I want to stay by your side for as long as you will have me and more. Please." you stroked his cheeks and kissed him again. To make sure your point was driven home, you wrapped your legs around his waist and pulled him into you. John grunted as his hips fell into you, then chuckling and kissing you again.

Even though he had stretched you out before hand, when he pressed himself into you it was a stretch as always. Once hilted inside you he started to move, going slowly at first, drawing out completely before pressing back in. The moans he drew from you and his own moans spurred you both into a feverish pace, it wasn't long before you came on his cock and became even wetter around his cock. "'m not going to last much longer, Love. When I put my wrist to your lips, drink deep" He made sure to look you in the eyes and get your confirmation, a moan and a nod. John rolled his hips in a way that caught your g-spot with every thrust he could feel himself nearing his peak and knew you would too. He bit the vein on his wrist, pressing it to your mouth as he pounded into you hard. He felt you drink from him, he bit your neck and drank deeply from you. The sensations causing you both to erupt into an orgasm that felt like your body was aflame. John filled you with more seed than he knew he even had. His balls hurt from being so empty. The vampiric poison in his blood started to work, your body started to seize, you struggled to breathe. He pulled out of you, his cum dripping out of you all over the bed and his thighs as he cradled you in your arms as your human life came to an end. He laid you both down on your sides and held you tightly to him, stroking your hair, pressing kisses all over your face. Your body soon started to grow cold in his arms, your body was changing inside, you were becoming like him. After a few hours, where he kept you in his arms he heard your heart restart again. He whispered praises to you while stroking your body, your arms, your hair, pressing kisses everywhere he could reach.

With a gasp you regained consciousness, flailed in panic before being soothed by John. "It.. Did it work?" you asked staring up at him "It worked, My Love. How do you feel?" he offered smiling down at you with his signature smile, his fangs poking past his lips. "I feel.. I can feel, hear, smell.. so much. It's.." you shuddered feeling overwhelmed john stroked your head, pressing his lips to your forehead "mmm I know, Love. I'll teach you to get control of it all. Don't you worry" you reached between your legs and felt around, feeling the mess and the huge load he left inside you "Hey, can we have kids?" you asked "We can, but theres a lot of things that have to be done and the timing has to be right. We can focus on little kidlings in time. We have eternity, remember?" he sighed happily, drawing you back closer into his arms where the two of you remained cuddled up all night while you discussed anything and everything.

It was a wonderful wedding night and the beginning of a long long long life together.

wefjkwfejkwef I've never taken on a writing challenge before. I cant say I'll manage every day nor that they will all be COD characters. But I hope you guys like them. I worked hard on this one.

Tomorrow will be Friday the 13th and Against a Wall. Dunno who with yet lol.

[from-the-coffee-shop-in-edoras]

A Need of the Soul

Summary: Éomer is teaching Faramir how to speak Rohirric as a surprise for Éowyn. Come for Faramir being a sweet husband, stay for the emotional links to Boromir and Théodred. Oh, and for Éomer being a big horse dork.

Context: I pulled a JRR and wrote a whole story around a special word I like! More on that at the very bottom. You can read this without knowing any of my personal Rohan head canon, but just in case it’s helpful: In my world, Éomer is married to his childhood best friend, Mereliss. My Théodred (who you can read more about here or here if you’re interested) was a nurturing soul with a curious mind, and I may be obsessed with him. And damn it, my Éomer can absolutely read and write! (See here for why that’s the case in my HC.)

As soon as Éowyn left for the morning, Faramir pulled out his secret stack of papers, the ones he had started requesting from Éomer six months ago when he first decided to try learning Rohirric. He wanted to master the language as a surprise for Éowyn, ever conscious of how much she had sacrificed on his behalf when they married. Although he knew she loved Ithilien, he also knew that sometimes she still longed for the familiarity and comfort of home, for the people, places, and culture that were now many miles away. If he could bring some of Rohan to her in the form of her language, he hoped he could brighten her heart on those days when she looked most in need of a reminder of all that she missed.

With this goal in mind, he had thrown himself wholly into the pursuit, but the process was more difficult than he had hoped. The Rohirrim didn’t keep written records in their own language, nor did they have textbooks or primers made to learn from. All Faramir had were the pages that Éomer would write out and send to him every few weeks, using Westron to describe basic grammar rules and listing common Rohirric words and phrases by their definitions and rough pronunciations. Working from written materials to learn a language that was only taught orally was maddeningly difficult, and Faramir spent long hours alone at his desk laboring at the exercises Éomer sent, unsure if he was even getting close to the sounds he was attempting to produce.

At least he would be aided today by the presence of Éomer in person. The king of Rohan was coming to Gondor to take counsel with his allies on military matters, and he had agreed to make time for some lessons while his own wife, Mereliss, kept Éowyn occupied in furtherance of the surprise. With Éowyn gone now to meet her sister-in-law, Faramir looked down his lists of Rohirric words and tried to commit a few more to memory, repeating them slowly out loud to himself while he waited for Éomer.

“If someone back home heard you slur your way through those words like that, they might assume you were a drunkard.”

Faramir looked up to see Éomer smirking at him from the doorway, still dressed in his riding clothes and holding a small pack. “Well, if the performance of the student falls short, I think we have no option but to blame the instructor,” Faramir returned with a smirk of his own.

“A fair point, I will grant you.” Éomer strode in and tossed his things on an empty chair before pulling Faramir up into a strong embrace, thumping a fist on his brother-in-law’s back with enough enthusiasm to knock the breath out of him.

When they separated, Faramir smiled and held up his stack of papers. “I do appreciate all of this. It’s a lot of work for me, but for you, too, I’m sure.”

Éomer gave a dismissive wave. “I have the easy part. Besides, there’s some benefit to me in all of this, as well. I’ll certainly enjoy the show the next time you visit Edoras and all the ladies at court discover that you can actually understand their scandalous comments about how handsome they find you. Your admirer’s club is in for a big shock.”

They both laughed, though Éomer noted the flush of pink in Faramir’s ears and cheeks and that only made him laugh all the harder. “Don’t let them see you blush, you’ll only make it worse!” He plopped down into a chair and put his feet up, smiling.

As Faramir took a seat across from him, he felt a warm, familiar echo in his heart. The easy camaraderie, the good natured teasing balanced with true affection…it couldn’t help but bring Boromir to his mind. Faramir still missed his brother every single day and looked for reminders of him everywhere that he could. But he didn’t think it was a stretch to see clear elements of Boromir reflected in Éomer–in his strength and brashness, his earnest intensity, his fierce loyalty. They were both proud men of action with an unshakeable sense of duty and love for family. Éomer could never replace Boromir, and he was surely his own man, different in many ways from the brother Faramir lost. But it lifted Faramir’s spirits to once again have such a figure in his life.

Now his brother-in-law reached into his pack and pulled out more pages, covered from top to bottom in his own scrawly handwriting. “I’ve brought you some more to learn–words you’d hear often around Rohan and that any self-respecting Rohirrim would know.”

Faramir accepted the papers from him and skimmed his eyes down the first page, but a look of confusion slowly built on his face as he read. “Am I understanding this correctly? Why do you have twenty different words for ‘horse’?”

“I have not given you twenty words for ‘horse’! Each one of those means something very different.” Éomer grabbed the page back and pointed. “This one here, éotynde, this is an old, calm mare that would be suitable for a young child just learning to ride.” He pointed again. “And this one, éoweder, is a high spirited horse that has quickness and agility but is unpredictable and difficult to control. The others are equally unique. Do you not see?”

Faramir gently extracted the page back from Éomer’s grip, hoping to avoid a further explanation of each specific variant on the list. “I understand those distinctions, but are they really significant enough that I require a whole separate word for each one? We make do in Gondor with but one term. A horse is a horse.”

“A horse is a horse?” Éomer gaped at him, incredulous. “You think the language of the Rohirrim would put a courier horse, whose purpose is swiftness and endurance, in the same category with a farm horse, who sacrifices speed in favor of strength and power? They aren’t remotely the same thing, and a proper language wouldn’t treat them as such. If we went by your rules, we’d all be calling the blacksmith a baker because they both make things with heat!”

It was obvious from the truly scandalized look on his face that Éomer would never concede the point, so Faramir held up his hands in smiling capitulation. And if all these varieties of horse were important to Éomer, likely they would be to Éowyn as well, so Faramir would learn them as best he could. But he desired to speak to Éowyn of many things, and horses were nowhere near the top of the list. He shuffled through the papers one more time. “Have you finally given me anything that would be suitable to say to a beloved wife?”

Éomer shot him a look. “I am not the right person to consult for words of romance. And certainly not when the woman to be romanced is my own sister.”

Faramir laughed. “Fair enough. Let’s get back to your many words for ‘horse’ and I will ask Mereliss to help me with some more emotional thoughts later.”

Éomer sat back, satisfied. “I will have you sounding like a Rohirrim in no time. Now, do you know the word for a horse that likes to cause trouble in the stable with the other horses?”

**********

The next morning, Faramir spent two hours with Mereliss while Éomer and Éowyn went for a ride. When the siblings returned, Éomer sent Éowyn to Mereliss’s quarters and went himself to check on Faramir’s progress. He found his brother-in-law once again at his desk, bent over his work, and dropped casually into a nearby chair.

“Did you get all of the flowery and eloquent phrases you need?”

Faramir put down his pen and smiled. “Mereliss helped me to write a special toast to Éowyn for our upcoming anniversary. I knew what I wanted to say, and Mereliss made sure it will sound not just like a bunch of Westron bluntly converted into Rohirric words but rather something that was written by a native speaker. Something truly of Rohan. She has quite a talent for beautiful language and imagery.” He gave a sly smile. “Though she told me that you also have something of a poet’s heart when the two of you are alone in your own chambers.”

Éomer’s head snapped up, a tinge of dark red sweeping across his cheeks. “She told you what?”

Now it was Faramir’s turn to laugh at his brother-in-law’s furious blushing, so out of character for one who was otherwise always self assured and confident. Faramir had faithfully reported Mereliss’s remark, and it was clearly true that Éomer really did speak his softest thoughts to her or he would not be so flustered by the possibility that she had shared those thoughts. But Faramir had no need or desire to prolong Éomer’s self-consciousness.

“There is nothing to worry about. I know only that you are capable of words to enchant and delight your wife, which is no bad thing. But she didn’t reveal what those words are. She wouldn’t betray your privacy, and I would never ask her to.”

Éomer’s shoulders noticeably relaxed, and he laughed a little at his own embarrassment. “Well, your discussion of my clumsy attempts to please my wife aside, I am glad that she helped you. Westron is very useful, but there are some things that just cannot be said as effectively without our own words and expressions.”

“Indeed. She gave me a number of things that I quite like, ways to convey entire concepts with a single word that has no direct equivalent in any language that I know. Like sáwolthearf. Every language should have such a term.”

Sáwolthearf. The word sent a wave of fond remembrance through Éomer’s heart. It translated literally as ‘a need of the soul’ and was used in Rohan to mean someone who is necessary in order for another person to feel truly happy and complete. His late cousin Théodred, who had always been so free and generous in expressing his feelings, used to call his bride-to-be sáwolthearf, and Éomer could easily picture Eadlin practically glowing with love and pride whenever Théodred referred to her that way.

To hear Théodred’s words coming now from Faramir’s lips was no great shock to Éomer. On the contrary, it only intensified a feeling he had long had in the presence of his brother-in-law: a sense that he was not with Théodred himself, but with a kindred spirit of his cousin. Someone whose modesty, eagerness for knowledge, gentle heart and dreamer’s mind so thoroughly echoed Théodred’s own nature that Éomer felt immediately at ease in his company. Théodred had been many things to Éomer–a deeply loved cousin, but also much like an older brother and at times even a father figure–and he had carried Éomer through some of the most difficult moments he would ever experience. Éomer could never truly reconcile himself to Théodred’s loss, but having Faramir in his life helped to salve that wound.

Watching Faramir now—shuffling again through his notes and drafts, applying himself so diligently to such a difficult task and all for the purpose of simply making Éowyn smile—Éomer was struck by a profound feeling of gratitude, one that he felt should be voiced even if it was not normally in his nature to speak of his innermost feelings. He cleared his throat, and Faramir looked up.

“What you’re doing for my sister is very admirable. I know it will mean a lot to her, and for that reason it means a lot to me. Thank you, eyre-brothor.”

Faramir frowned slightly and looked back at his papers. “Eyre-brothor? I don’t think I’ve learned that yet.”

Éomer smiled. “It means ‘brother by choice.’ Write that one down.”

**********

[Language nerd notes:

“Sáwolthearf” is a real Old English word (though I modernized the thorn in the middle for readability–it’s actually “sáwolþearf”) and it really does mean “a need of the soul,” which I just think is incredibly beautiful.

I made up “eyre-brothor” by combining two other real Old English words, “eyre” (“a choice made of free will”) and “brothor” (“brother”, though once again I turned the thorn in broþor into a “th” to make it smoother to modern English-reading eyes).

“Éotynde” comes from an approx combo of “eoh” (“horse”) and “tyende” (“teaching”) for a horse that’s calm enough to be good for beginners.

Éoweder comes from an approx combo of “eoh” (“horse”) and “weder” (“weather”) because to be impressive but quick-changing, unpredictable and uncontrollable is to be like the weather.

And it’s not in the story, but Éomer’s word for a horse that likes to cause trouble in the stable with the other horses is an “éodrefa” from “eoh” (horse, again!) and “drefan,” which is “to stir things up or cause mischief”.]

[blues824]

The Remarried Empress cast where male reader is Zuko from ATLA? He's a Prince born from a prominent Fire Mage who runs away to escape the tyrannical reign and ends up becoming a guard for the Empress. One day, during a party where many from different countries come, someone from his 'country/nation' recognizes him and begs him to come back and help the powerful elemental mage 'the Avatar' learn fire magic to save their kingdom from his father.

He's made good friends here and is happy by Navier's side (maybe he even loves her) so he doesn't want to leave; I assume Sovieshu would try to kick him out of the Eastern Empire to get him away from the Empress while Navier would want him to help stop his country from tearing itself.

Preface: You were the Prince and heir to the throne of the Southern Kingdom, but you had escaped so you wouldn’t be subject to your father’s tyrannical behavior. There was a merchant ship, and you made your escape to the Eastern Empire. Because of your fire-bending capabilities, you rose through the ranks of the Empire’s military. and therefore won your way into nobility.

Sovieshu

Bro’s mad that you’re closer to his wife than he is. You were handsome, mysterious, and foreign. Plus, the scar on your face showed that you were strong enough to endure such a burn. But, that gave you no excuse to go escort the Empress and get a closer relationship with her.

When the New Year’s Party happened, there was already a crap-ton of drama stirring up. Then, someone from your kingdom recognized you. Sovieshu realized that he could use this to his advantage. Since you crossed borders illegally, he could exile you.

And that’s what he did. Sure, you had to go back anyway, but if you were exiled then you couldn’t come back. It may be a hassle for the Emperor to find someone to take over your position, but anything is better than a foreigner trying to get with Navier (just wait for Heinrey, bro).

Rashta

You were a handsome, mysterious young man who was a strong soldier and an even stronger general. If she hadn’t scored Sovieshu, she might have tried to go for you. She did try to befriend you since you both were in similar positions (starting at nothing and building yourselves up to be something), but you were dedicated to Her Imperial Majesty.

But, you did not start at nothing. One of your former subjects had recognized you at the New Year’s Party, and you had been revealed to be the Prince of the Southern Kingdom. Rashta was definitely shocked, considering she tried to befriend a literal Prince.

Even though the young mistress was angry that you chose Navier over her, she really wished that His Imperial Majesty would reconsider your exilement. To be fair, you had to leave anyway to train the ‘Avatar’ to overthrow your father and install you as the King, but still.

Navier

You would think that she would be attracted to you because you were a foreign man (as per Sovieshu’s thoughts), but she only saw you as a dear friend. Even though you loved her so much, you let it go. If I’m being real, the heartbreak added to your charm because now you were a saddened bachelor of high ranking.

Then, the New Year’s Ball happened and an ambassador of the Southern Kingdom attended and recognized you. This is how Navier found out you were from another kingdom, and that you were a warrior as well as a Prince. This night was turning out to be a real headache.

When she heard your sentence from her husband, she agreed that it would be for the best if you had left before then. She was the one to see you off, bidding you farewell and good luck in overthrowing your father for the title of King. Maybe she would see you again as a reigning monarch. She hopes to see that day.

Heinrey

He could tell that you were in love with Navier, and every single time he heard that you and her were either going for a walk or just discussing plans to increase security, he got insanely jealous. However, when the Empress made it clear that she’s friend-zoning you, you tell the Crowned Prince of the Western Kingdom that you were backing off and were keeping it professional.

During the ball, you both actually got to know each other more personally. But, your former subject had to go and ruin shit by recognizing you. Heinrey would have never guessed that you were the Prince of the Southern Kingdom. He also never would have guessed that the Emperor’s next course of action was to exile you.

Heinrey would have offered his kingdom as a refuge, but you patted him on the shoulder as you explained that your subject was right: you needed to overthrow the tyrant on the throne back home. You wished him good luck in his journey with Her Imperial Majesty, and made your way to pack your things.

[beesbeesdragons]

I-

oh. theres a certain pain in the idea of, like. amestris, if it got into a bad enough war, would definitely introduce conscription. so like. au where the Ishvalan civil war escalates into what is essentially a world war. Amestris is totally cut off from supplies and trade. its a war fought on all sides except the east. and they're running out of troops.

Consider an amestris that sticks to it's principles of being very traditional, where women are barred from joining the military. It is here that we are introduced to our two protagonists. one Riza Hawkeye and Roy Mustang.

It is 1902. one year ago, the death of an Ishvalan child trigger riots that evolved into what was first a civil war, but quickly turned into a world war; the non-aggression pact with drachma was broken when an amestrian soldier was found with a bullet in his head, right outside the Briggs fortress. Aerugo was found out to be sending supplies to Ishval. Creta bombed a small village in the west, killing nearly a hundred civilians.

they're running out of soldiers. Conscription is introduced. All physically abled men aged 16-45 are eligible. Roy, as a 17 year old, is eligible. So he's drafted. and Berthold Hawkeye, who hates the military, finds the conscription notice in the mail. In a fury, he banishes Roy from his house, ending his apprenticeship early, and stealing away Riza's only friend. Roy, who hadn't even known; the letter had been in a bundle from the post office, set on the kitchen counter for Riza to look through after lunch.

And so Roy returns to his home, with Chris and the girls. but he sends letters to Riza. and when he begins training? he keeps up the correspondonce.

It is in 1905 when he has enough leave time to visit, and it is shortly after that Berthold Hawkeye passes, from a sickness that had passed through the area.

Riza Hawkeye, newly orphaned and with no one, finds herself having a tumultuous affair with her father's former apprentice, and the two wed before Roy's leave is over.

Once Roy is called back to fight, Riza flees that tiny town, heading to Central to have the smallest modicum of support from Chris. and she gets it. she starts working at a small shop near to the apartment that Chris had helped her buy, and she's happy.

Until it arrives.

a fairly innocuous telegram. standard, by all accounts. but she's a soldier's wife. she's a working woman. and her husband...he's MIA, presumably a prisoner of war. And Riza knows, she knows how prisoners of war are treated. So she makes a decision.

she returns to the town she vowed to never return to, returns to that god forsaken house. and she digs. she digs, and she finds it. a letter, unsent by her mother, addressed to her estranged grandfather, whom riza had never met, let alone sent a letter to. but she does.

Dear General Grumman, she writes.

My name is Riza Hawkeye, and you are my grandfather. Two weeks ago, I received word that my husband, one Major Roy Mustang, State Alchemist, has gone missing. It is my understanding that he is under your command.

I know this is an unconventional way of doing so, but I beg of you. Please, find my husband. Please, return him to me. Do so and I will owe you my life, for that is what he means to me.

Sincerely, Riza Hawkeye-Mustang

All she can do after it is written is wait.

and wait she does. she waits for two years, until she receives a telegram from her grandfather.

We found him. He's coming home.

Riza and Roy reunite in a busy train station, seeing each other for the first time in three years. Roy, who had suffered as a prisoner of war, has had an honourable discharge after losing sight in one of his eyes. Riza, who had been mourning her husband for the past two years, had kept her job, had built herself a life. and they both get to live it now.

[pollywiltse]

I was going to write this excessively sentimental fanfic where André's ghost showed up to provide moral support for Tallmadge and his first wife when she died in return for Tallmadge making friends with André back when he died and then I realized I had given myself two very big problems, both because Tallmadge got hit really hard by the Second Great Awakening some time in the 1790s and there was absolutely no way I could keep that out of a fic about dead people.

The first is that I just don't know how religious early 19th century New Englanders thought and I would prefer Tallmadge to sound somewhat historically plausible rather than like an early 21st century agnostic's idea of 19th century God-botherers, especially because I like Tallmadge.

The second is that there is absolutely no way that Tallmadge would not be asking any dead person he got his hands on a ton of questions about "Did you meet Jesus? He's my fave" and I really didn't want this to turn into a theological discussion fic - either the kind where they sit around and talk about how great Jesus is or the kind where André goes, "So, not only is your wife dead, but also your entire belief system is wrong - oh, wait, I was supposed to make you feel better, wasn't I?" I just wanted excessive non-religious sentiment. (The mental image of André screaming "YOUR SKY-FATHER IS A LIE" is so out of character it's hilarious though.)

I mostly solved the second one by deciding that André has no idea about the actual afterlife because he's stuck in some in-between place until he either reaches the age he would have lived to if he hadn't been hanged or until everyone who knew him dies (or maybe forever, but that seems unnecessarily unpleasant), which is why he can come back as a ghost in the first place - probably the latter option since both his father and his brother died really young - early 50s and early 40s respectively - so possibly his "natural life span" would have ended before Tallmadge's wife died anyway. (Incidentally the year of birth given for his mother in the Ronald biography has to be wrong, because 1713 would mean that she was 47 when William Lewis was born, which I guess isn't impossible, but seems really unlikely, especially since she would have also had the last two girls at 41 and 42 and it would be weird for her to get pregnant that regularly in her 40s without modern fertility treatments......And checking find-a-grave gives her a birth year of 1722, which seems more plausible. Also this makes her several years younger than her husband, which is more common, but without the weird ages for her kids' births I would have just went, "Huh, interesting". Also a ton of people have left flowers at the find-a-grave entry for John. Also he's marked as a veteran, which I think is not really true since he didn't retire from the military, though he is technically no longer serving in it. Because he's dead.)

Of course Tallmadge is still going to be really worried about whether or not André has found Jesus and the real André could have probably wriggled out of that one gracefully, but I lack his tact, so I think this is going to be tragically exiled to Drawerfic Island. (I assume the real guy believed in some sort of vague Christianity because everyone around him did and there's no evidence to suggest that he cared enough about religion to form his own opinions, but that's not the kind of Christianity that older Tallmadge would think counted as real Christianity and I don't think André had any interest in Tallmadge's kind of Christianity. (Though there's this one girl on Goodreads who is absolutely convinced he was secretly deeply devout and just went through a phase where he threw a ton of wild parties because he was running away from his love for Jesus, and what a surprise she's going to be in for when she finally reads his biographies and finds out how little he resembles her idea of him. She's also very clearly a closeted slash writer.))

Actually I kind of feel like André would consider Tallmadge's particular brand of religiousness a little gauche and the same type of bemusing as someone who was a gentleman in every other way but kept cleaning wax out of his ears at the dinner table.

As for the first problem, I was thinking I should actually try to read early 19th century New England Protestant religious writings, not just for fanfic purposes but because I have a feeling a lot of those ideas still keep popping up in real life, and I don't mean just among religious people. I mean any time Cosmo or whoever starts talking about manifesting, I'm pretty sure that's originally from one of those weird 19th century fringe New England movements that thought you could cue cancer if you believed hard enough that you were healthy. (Also there's that one girl at work who it boggles me that she was evidently raised Catholic and now identifies as an atheist, because she has exactly the personality of someone who, if she lived in 1830s New England, would head off to the South Sea Islands to bring Jesus and pants to the poor benighted heathens because she loved them and cared about them but not in a way that involved actually taking their opinions seriously and no, I can't stand her, how can you tell?)

But then I was reading Poganuc People because Colonel Davenport is supposedly loosely based on Tallmadge and I got to the part about Zeph Higgins' conversion and barfed all over my keyboard and I remembered why I don't read that stuff. Also wow Harriet Beecher Stowe doesn't seem to have been conflicted about her upbringing or her father in any way.

[the-froschamethyst4]

The Demon in my House

𖤐Pairing: Demon! Ghost x F! Reader

𖤐Pronouns: She/Her

𖤐Warnings: smut, strong language, haunting, stalking (a bit), cheating, children, demonic, married couple, touching,

𖤐Summary: you were unaware of a “special” someone or something staying in the house she lives in but the so-called Demon living in the house loves Y/n and will do anything to be with her

————

————

8:30AM

"Hey Tim, I'm leaving for work!" Y/n yells from downstairs. Y/n has been married to an ex-military man, but he has been...quite off lately. Y/n doesn't know why?

Y/n has two sons, Xavier and Emiliano, they look up to their father but absolutely love their mother.

"Bye-bye, mama," Xavier says.

"Bye mama," Emiliano says running up towards her, hugging her goodbye.

"Oh what a lovely family...it's sickening." In Y/n's house lived a demon, a demon that caused no harm to Y/n and her sons but to her husband. Of course Y/n calls him crazy when he 'sees' someone standing the corner of their bedroom.

His name was Ghost, he didn't live, he didn't have a life before he died, he was more summoned in the house Y/n lives in. All y/n knew about the house is that a large family of 8 lived in the house but didn't know the history on it.

Ghost watched intensely as Xavier didn't want to let go of Y/n's legs. His red eyes watched as she walked out of the house.

Tim came downstairs and saw his sons by the front door.

"Alright come on," Tim looked in the corner where Ghost stood, his black shadowy figure and red eyes stared at Tim. Ghost knows what Tim does when his family is gone. "Fuck." Time jumps seeing Ghost in the corner.

"Daddy, you said a cuss word," Emiliano says.

"So? Your mother isn't here to listen, come on, get going, I have to drop you off at school and daycare," Tim says, shooing his kids to their rooms. He looks back up at the corner and didn't see Ghost there anymore.

Ghost only shows himself to Tim to let him know that Ghost will be waiting for him when he slips up. Ghost is more of a protector for Y/n and her sons.

-------

9:00AM

Y/n had walked into her office and gave everyone a smile, Y/n was life of the party everyone liked her and loved the energy she brought into the building. Y/n waved to Ms. Wolff, who was a German lady who has been working with the company for 40+ years.

"Y/n, we are going for drinks after work, do you want to come?"

"Oh, I would but I have to go home with Tim and my sons, we're having some family time tonight," she says.

"Aww~"

"That's so cute," she dismissed herself to go to her desk and start working.

--------

40 Minutes Later

Ghost stood in the corner of the master bedroom as Tim had pushed the door opened laughing as the mistress he was seeing entered the room pushing him on the bed, his hands going to her waist and kissing her lips.

Ghost likes to pull this like...prank that he hasn't done in a while. He smirks and got in the head of Tim.

As Tim was fucking the whore he brought to his home, to his home he shares with his WIFE and two sons, on his bed he SHARES with Y/n.

As Tim eyes were closed and he was fucking his mistress and he opened his eyes when something felt off, he looks down and saw that his mistress was a black shadow figure with red eyes, pointy white teeth and 'she' attacked Tim's neck.

He stops and falls off the bed.

"Tim? Tim, baby, are you okay?" Tim quickly stood up.

"Y-Yeah...yeah, I'm fine...I don't know...what the fuck happened?" He says, looking behind her and seeing the same black shadow figure he always sees.

Ghost had smiled showing off his pointy teeth and titling his head.

"LEAVE ME ALONE!!" Tim yells.

"Tim? What are you talking about? What's wrong?" Her hands went to his face, cupping his cheeks.

"I...Let's just keep going."

"We can stop-"

"Fuck no," he says attacking her neck, kissing her, sucking on her neck.

Ghost watched in disgust and wished Y/n would get home early and catch this fucking rotten bastard in the act.

Ping, ping, ping

"Why does your phone keep ringing?"

"The bitch of the house," he says, tossing his phone.

Ghost looked at the phone and saw it from Y/n. Bingo. He reads them and smirks to himself.

One more scare.

Ghost had gotten on the bed in front of the mistress and in front of Tim. Tim scared half to death seeing him this close up. Ghost opened his mouth showing off his teeth.

"Boo," was all he said and it made Tim stop what he was doing and turn pale in the face.

"Tim, come on, what's going on?" She asked.

"DO YOU NOT SEE THE BIG SHADOW FIGURE IN FRONT OF US!!?" Tim yells still looking at Ghost. The mistress looks up expecting a shadow figure.

"No, Tim there's nothing there." Ghost disappears and chuckles to himself.

"Tim, maybe I should go?"

"What, no, no, come on stay, we're nowhere done yet."

"But it seems like every time we do it, you get scared for no reason."

"I SWEAR BETH THERE IS A FUCKING GHOST IN HERE OR SOMETHING!!"

"The amount of times I've been over here," at least for 4 month now. "Nothing has happened except for you getting scared for no reason...I'm gonna go."

"No, no come on, I'll ignore it, come on," he gets on the bed and gets on his back. "Sit on my face, come on."

Ghost rolled his eyes and had gone out of the bedroom. He looked outside wanting to see Y/n pull up in the driveway and catch this bastard.

"I wanna see the look on his face when he's thrown out of this place...she will be all mine..." he licks his lips and heard the gross noises coming from upstairs. "The bitch of the place, my ass, you're the bitch," Ghost was pissed.

------

1:00PM

Y/n had pulled into the driveway and saw the that Tim was still home.

"Didn't he have to work today?" Truth is when Tim brings the mistress over it usually only lasts till 3:00 before Y/n gets home, but someone didn't read his text and Y/n is home early then scheduled.

"TIM!? I'M HOME! How come you're not at work? Are you sick?" She asked as she placed her bag on the counter and took off her heels, the heels that Ghost loves to see her in everyday she goes and comes back from work.

He follows behind her as she goes upstairs. Tim came running from the bedroom, messy hair, a loose blue t-shirt and sweatpants that looked like they were going to fall off his lower half.

"Tim?"

"Yeah, I stayed home, I feel sick."

"You look...no offense, Tim…awful," she walks to the bedroom as Tim was holding her hand.

"Yeah, I tired to sleep but I couldn't."

Y/n sat on the bed and started to remove her work clothes. Tim looked at his closet knowing his mistress is hiding in there.

“Do you think will be able to go back tomorrow?”

“Maybe, I don’t know,” he sits in the bed next to her holding her shoulder so she doesn’t look behind and see Beth sneaking out.

Ghost watched from the corner seeing Beth trying to sneak out. Ghost smirks and takes a book from the shelf and pushed it off making Y/n turn around.

“WHAT THE FUCK!!?” Y/n stood up seeing a half naked Beth trying to sneak out. “TIM!! WHAT THE HELL!!”

“I’m so sorry, Y/n-“

“The fuck you are! WHO IS THIS WOMAN AND WHY IS SHE IN MY HOUSE!!?”

“…” Tim stayed silent till he met Ghost’s red eyes. “She’s my mistress, I’ve been seeing her for…4 months.”

“4 MONTHS!! WE HAVE A FAMILY TOGETHER TIM!! WHY-WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU!!?”

“I WAS BORED OF YOU OKAY!? You never wanted sex from anymore, so I was bored of asking and I’ve been seeing Beth-“

“Oh my fucking god. GET OUT BOTH OF YOU!” Tim and Beth both rushed out of the house. “TAKE YOUR SHIT AND NEVER SHOW YOUR FUCKING FACE HERE EVER AGAIN!!”

“WHAT ABOUT MY SONS?!”

“YOU WILL NEVER SEE THEM AGAIN!!” She slams the door shut and slides down it crying, hot tears fell from her eyes landing on her cheeks.

-------

3:40PM

Y/n had gone to go pick up her sons. Y/n wasn't in the right mind right now, so picking up her sons, she put on a fake smile.

"Hi mama," Xavier says.

"Hi babies," she says almost in a whisper. Y/n took off from the parking lot and headed home. "Babies?"

"Yes mama," both kids said at the same time.

"Something...happened this afternoon with your father and I..."

"Mama?"

"Umm~ daddy won't be at home anymore..." she says.

"Where's he going?" Emiliano asked.

"He's...he's going to live at grandmas and grandpas," she lied, she knows he's going to live with that whore of his.

"For how long?" Xavier asked.

"For a while." She says.

"Mama, will we still do family movie night?" Emiliano asked.

"If you want baby," she says.

Once at home, the boys rushed in heading upstairs to their bedroom as Y/n closed the door behind her and kicking off her shoes, and placing her hair in a ponytail and started to work on dinner.

Ghost watched from the counter watching her going to make spaghetti. Ghost moved closer to Y/n watching her, she felt cold of a sudden, she got a shutter down her spine.

"Jeez, it's cold," she says, looking at the thermostat seeing it was at 75...not too cold. "Hmm?" She hums and goes back to the stove, it was still cold just in that spot.

Ghost watched her goosebumps going up her arms and thighs. His eyes softened and his red eyes where no longer there they were a dark blue.

The problem in the house was gone now, and now he feels bad that Y/n loved Tim but all of that went out of the window.

Ghost's hand went to her waist and she got even more cold. "Goddamn," she says walking away and going upstairs to get a hoodie. Ghost followed her and saw how much of a wreck the master bedroom was.

Y/n had clothes all over the place trying to figure out what was hers and what was Tim's. All his bathroom stuff were in garbage bags along with his clothes, shoes too.

She wanted ZERO trace of Tim ever being here, she even threw out some photos of her and him together or any of him holding the boys when they were born, that was hard throwing away photos of the boys when they were babies but she has plenty of others.

Ghost saw her put on a black hoodie and walk back out of the bedroom. Ghost started to contemplate now does he show himself to Y/n like he was doing to Tim?

Ghost watched her go downstairs and she caught a glimpse of someone thinking it was Tim because of him standing tall.

"I THOUGHT I TOLD YOU TO LEAVE TIM!!" She yells as she made it to the kitchen.

Ghost goes downstairs to the kitchen were she was.

"I...I'm not Tim," Y/n heard an unfamiliar voice, she turned and didn't see anyone.

"H-Hello?"

"I kept torturing Tim the time he's been here," Ghost says, Y/n was confused and looked around.

"W-What?"

"I hated that bastard with a burning passion...and...I knew he was cheating on you for those god awful 4 months...I wish I told you before," Ghost then showed himself to Y/n.

She jumps back, her back hitting against the marble countertop. Y/n was too stunned to speak at what she is seeing, she was met with a black shadow and blue eyes looking at her.

All Ghost was, was a shadow, he wasn't human ever in his life, he was a creation from Satan himself.

"I'm Ghost...I've been living in this house for 20 years...I'm not a human was never a human...I'm a shadow made by Satan himself, I was summoned into this house to scare people...I scared Tim and I protected you and your sons..." he said.

"Why? And how do I get you out of this house?"

"You don't want me here?"

"Thank you for your help...but I don't need it...please leave."

"Unfortunately, I can't..." he says.

"P-Please just leave me and my children alone, you can live here but don't hurt us."

"I promise, I will never do that."

Before anyone asks....yes there will be a part 2 :]

[rowanaelinn]

Happiness - Chapter Two

Happy Birthday @backtobl4ck !!! I rushed this one, but I know you were excited for it so I wanted to post it today for you! I hope you are having a great day!

Warnings: PTSD | Word Count: 3,400

As a hand brushed his shoulder, hope bloomed in his chest. He’d been standing here for more than an hour now, but it was alright. She was here now. He could work past the humiliation of talking everyone’s ears off about his wife for months now just for her to come out late, but only for her beautiful eyes. She’d just been late, exactly what he’d thought. Traffic could be awful at this time of the day. 

He broke the tense stance and turned around with his lips tipping up. He couldn’t wait to sweep her in his arms. Yes, there’d be a conversation to have later. About his departure, about their fights, and all the calls he’d left unanswered during his time away but… For now, he just wanted to breathe her in. 

Yet, he was only left with cold disappointment as he saw Fenrys’ mother there. There was a kind smile on her lips, the one she used to have on her face whenever she had to announce him his parents had forgotten to pick him up when he was a kid. He looked around, but at the exception of Fenrys and Connall, nobody else was there. Everyone had been tapped out already. 

“I’m sorry, honey,” the woman who used to take care of him as a kid said.

He wished he could tell her something, that he wasn’t so awkward with people that he could touch her shoulder or lie to her and say that it was okay. Instead, he managed to give her an uncomfortable shrug before turning toward Fenrys. They’d grown up together, went to school together and enrolled in the military together. Even if he pissed off Rowan to no end most of the time, he was still grateful for his friend. “Did she call you?” 

Out of all his friends, Aelin got along the best with the twins. She had that weird relationship with Fenrys that made him want to punch the guy in the face most of the time he was near his wife, and he also knew that Connall and Aelin supported each other whenever he and Fenrys were deployed. 

He knew the answer before Fenrys shook his head. The man had his emotions written all over his face. “She isn’t answering. Maybe something’s wrong with her phone?” 

He had to shut down any reaction he could be feeling. He had to be practical about this situation. Analyzing. Factually, he knew where she was. But if he was correct, it would mean that this would be another problem. It means that down the road he’d find pain. He had enough of pain. 

He cleared his throat, chasing all tells of his emotions away. “I’ll take a taxi to the hospital, thank you.” Thank you for waiting, thank you for tapping him out so one of the officers wouldn’t have to do it. 

“Nonsense,” Connall said. “Fenrys will catch a ride with Mom, and I’ll drive you.” 

He thanked his friend with a nod, and in the car didn’t bother to try to hold a conversation. Connall wasn’t trying, anyway. He knew better than to ask a soldier how they felt so early after they came back from active shooting zone, and he also knew that whenever he and Aelin had… issues, he became even less talkative than he usually was. It was easy to be silent when with Connall. 

Connall waited in the parking lot when Rowan asked one of the receptionists to call for Aelin, which he was only allowed to do once he said he was her husband. He was glad there was some semblance of security for the staff of this hospital. He wasn’t naïve enough to think that these places were safe. Aelin would say that he was paranoid. 

He looked at posters when he felt her. He couldn’t explain it, knew that there was no scientific reasons as to why whenever she entered a room he felt it. He still did, and had from the first moment they met. He took a deep breath before turning around, and then he allowed himself to take her in. His wife. 

She’d changed. There was some fatigue on her face that hadn’t been there when he left, no matter how much she threw herself into work then. He couldn’t help but wonder when her last full night of sleep had been. 

She seemed… surprised when she saw him. Surprised, conflicted. Happiness wasn’t the main trait on her features now, and he knew it was the same for him. He couldn’t blame her for that. 

When she hugged him, wrapping her arms around him, he wanted to leave. He didn’t want to have that conversation with her, but he’d missed her so fucking much that he still stuck around. At least it’d be time spent with her, even if it was just to argue.  

---

“We’re here,” Connall said, and when Rowan looked up, they were indeed parked in front of his house. They hadn’t chosen to live in a military house, instead buying one closer to Aelin’s work and back then, her university. They’d also wanted to avoid the nosiness that came with military towns. 

Rowan thought he’d enter the house alone, and maybe unpack. But Connall got out of the car and helped Rowan with his belongings, even if he could have done it alone. He told his friend so. 

Connall shrugged, “Don’t stay alone, offer me a beer.” 

That made him want to smile. 

The house was… cold. Not literally, as Aelin loved to live in warm spaces, but the feeling of entering. He thought he’d find stuff everywhere, knowing how messy his wife was. But no. The house was neatly clean. Not a single thing out of space. Her office had been organized with her messiness, showing how much time she spent there. But this house? It was as if no one had lived there in months. Yes, this house was cold. 

“You can just leave these here,” he told Connall, who listened and placed the bag just next to the staircase. 

He went into the kitchen, opened the fridge and was glad to find a few beers there. He liked his drinks cold, but Aelin hates beer and since she forgot about him coming… He didn’t think she’d have anything ready. But she did, and these were his favorites. 

Should that make him feel as conflicted as he’s feeling now? A simple beer in the fridge? 

He grabbed two and closed the door, but before he could walk to the living room where his friend was waiting, his attention was captured by the wall of pictures on his left. It had always been there, but there were a few new pictures. He walked there, wanting to see what he’d missed. 

Next to the one that had been taken at their wedding—a beautiful shot of Aelin and her cousin dancing together—was a new picture of her and Fenrys that must have been taken before their deployment. She was dressed in a pink sundress and had the man’s arm wrapped around her shoulder, the both of them grinning. He couldn’t pinpoint it, but there was something wrong with this picture. And it wasn’t Fenrys this time. He trusted his friend and his wife.

Under this one, another picture captured his attention. Was that at Aelin’s graduation last year? He’d been back home that day, but his superior had asked for his help to train new recruits, which means he’d been gone for two weeks. He wished he could have been there, although he hated how much she worked he knew how much she wanted that degree. He felt so proud of her, and wished he could have been there to celebrate but it wasn’t possible. No one can say no to Rowan’s bosses. 

But as he admired that picture of her, he had never seen, Aelin holding her degree and smiling for the cameras. No, she wasn’t smiling. That one was a little more obvious than the one picture before but… she was smirking. 

It was strange. Yes, he’d seen her make that face a few times over the years, but never when her face was supposed to be filled with happiness. Perhaps it was the biggest tell. Even louder than how she had stopped kissing him before bed two years ago, how she had stopped joining him downstairs after she woke up for coffee, instead choosing to stay hours in their room, always studying. It was even more telling than how she had slowly pulled back, always angling her body away from him. 

She wasn’t the same Aelin. She still looked the same, yes. But he barely saw the woman he married in that picture. There was no anger in him, though he had felt so much of it during his deployment. No, his emotions were… numb. How could she look the same and yet so different at the same time? 

He looked at another picture then, one taken at their wedding. It was the first picture they’d hung on that wall, and he hadn’t been able to keep his hands off her as they did that. Just as he was glued to her on that picture. She was wearing a short white dress she’d bought at the mall the same morning, and she was tucked right into his side. It didn’t stop him from staring at her, that smile that had felt so natural back then. She was smiling, too. So radiant that she must have blinded the entire room that night. 

But next to this picture was a new one taken when he came back from his last deployment. It wasn’t the same expressions. She still smiled, still looked at him but now, when he could compare, it was obvious the difference. She resented him. That wasn’t… wasn’t something he’d ever wanted to face. He’d been happy to ignore it, but how could he when it was so obvious? Did everyone who walked into the house saw it? Did any who ever saw them—

It was instinct that took over as the ringing in his ears appeared, at the way his body froze for half a second when the loud noise made itself heard. He went for his belt, only to not find his gun there. Goddamn it. How could he be in an active warzone and walk without his gun. He grabbed the first thing he saw: a knife. In the next second, he was in fighting stance, ready to kill or be killed. 

“Shit, man,” someone breathed on his left. The voice was familiar. He looked and saw Connall. 

Connall Moonbeam, a lawyer. Who had nothing to do with the military. He couldn’t be there.

And this room… this wasn’t a desert. It was his house, in Doranelle. 

He let the knife fall onto the floor, trying to regulate the shaking in his hands. They weren’t supposed to shake, had never before. 

What the fuck was that? 

“Rowan, you okay?”

He swallowed, looking around himself. The kitchen, he was in the kitchen. Not there.

“Yes,” he said, trying to sound convincing. He had to get away from here. “Con, can I spend the night at yours?” 

---

It was late when Aelin opened the door and was wrapped into the house warmth. Or perhaps it was early. She didn’t really know where the line stood, but she knew that she was picking as many hours in the hospital as possible. Even more so than before. 

What else should she be doing? 

Her plans were to pour herself an obscene amount of wine and watch some TV, and then hope to find some sleep. Not that she had been sleeping a lot lately. She particularly enjoyed the nights where she was so exhausted that she fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. 

But finding Rowan sitting on the couch hadn’t been in her plans. 

Her stopped in her movements as she saw him there, but quickly regained power over her limbs. She wouldn’t let him see her reactions. He looked up, eyes scanning her body as he always did when he saw her. Not in a lustful way, though it had happened, but more as a way to make sure she was safe. Probably something picked up from his entire love and devotion to the military. 

“Did you finally come back to your senses?” She asked coldly as she took off her coat, leaving her in her scrubs. 

“You’re home late.” 

She glared at him, making her way to the kitchen where she picked a glass and a bottle of her favorite wine. Then, she poured a little more than necessary. But no one was here to judge her for that. Oh, except… Yes, he followed her to the kitchen. 

“What are you doing here?” She asked, not even othering to spare him a glance as she took a long sip of her drink. She was too aware of him, so she knew when he settled against the kitchen island. 

“It’s my home.” 

She huffed a laugh then. “Is it, really?” 

“What is that supposed to mean?” He asked, tension in his voice. 

She braced herself on the cold marble of the kitchen island, then turned her head to look at him. “Well, I don’t know. You always look so eager to leave. First to sleep on bunk beds in the middle of the desert, then to spend a week the Gods know where just after you come back.” 

A muscle twitched in his jaw. “I have to leave for work, I don’t choose to leave so far. And I thought we needed space, until we could talk.” 

He chose to leave, though. His contract had ended at the end of his previous deployment, and he still re-enlisted. No matter how any times she begged him not to. That was his choice, not something that he was forced to do. 

“Where were you?” He was dressed in civilian clothes, but that didn’t mean he didn’t spend time at the closest military base. It was late, and he could have had time to change. The idea of him living there was funny. He’d be so close to everything he freaking loved, and twenty miles away from what he seemed to loath now. 

“Connall’s.”

She gritted her teeth. It bothered her more than she wished it did, that he spent time there. That was where she’d spent multiple nights during his and Fenrys’ deployment. He was a huge part of her support system, and he’s only texted her once in the last week. 

“Well, don’t let me stop you. I’m sure he’s waiting for you.” 

“I’m staying,” he stated, as if she wouldn’t question that. 

She snorted. “Yeah, for how long this time. An hour?”

“Until I find myself a new place. Until things are settled.”

She could feel the fire rise in her. He used to joke that the gold in her eyes turned into flames whenever she was angry, well if it was true, he was aware of how she felt now. She took another sip of wine. “I’m not sure she’d really appreciate it.” 

His brows furrowed. “She?” 

Aelin cocked her head to the side, taking a step in his direction. “Yes, she.” She swallowed another sip of alcohol. Why was she even brushing that subject, goddamn it? “You know, that woman you found in the Southern Continent.” Another step, but he didn’t move. “The one you’ve got to know. You fell for her. Who knows, you may have even fucked her,” she breathed, looking in his eyes. She took another step, not realizing how close she was. She was shaking, though. She didn’t know why. Maybe it was the fatigue, or maybe it was the disgust at the idea of him with someone else. “Or should I say the one you’re leaving me for. Does that ring a bell?”

Something shone in his eyes, before he dimmed it. “I didn’t meet anyone, and I don’t cheat.”

She snorted, “I don’t believe you.” But she wanted to, very much so. 

He took a step, breaking any sort of safe space Aelin had tried to keep. He had to look down to keep eye contact, and as a reflex, she tilted her head up. He was as punchable as he was lovable.

“You’re leaving me,” she breathed. It was settling in slowly, how he wanted out. When he mentioned it for the first time, she nearly laughed. Until she realized he was serious, that this was truly a wish of his. When this set in, it was as if a hole was being dug in her chest. A hole that kept getting bigger and bigger the most the thought about it, hence why she stayed at work longer. 

“Not for someone else,” he replied on the same tone. “I’d never do that.” 

“Just like you swore you’d never leave? Is that another of your promises?” They meant shit to her now. Nothing mattered because he was gone. Physically he was present, but emotionally? He found his way out. Using a backdoor she had contemplated using sometimes, but never found it in herself to really want it. 

He closed his eyes, breathing ragged. The warm, nearly burning, air hit her face at every respiration, but she didn’t push him away. She should, though. Shouldn’t she? They shouldn’t be allowed to be near, now. 

He wasn’t her Rowan anymore. It wasn’t just his idiotic wish to be separated but… He’d stopped being her Rowan years ago. She’d spent more time with a husband she resented than one she adored. 

“You don’t get to want a way you,” she sneered. “Not when I’m stuck here because of you. Not when I gave you everything.” 

He pulled away, then. Glaring. “Then accept. Let’s get divorced, so you can go back to your fancy Orynth.” 

Her lips parted. He wanted her gone. 

She had wanted to leave for years, to go back near her family. To where she had grown up. But she had made her home in Doranelle now. Had friends, her cousin had moved here. She refused to leave this nest she had created for him. 

She refused to be away for him, that was what she didn’t dare to admit to herself. 

She looked away for a second, but the pull to look at him was too strong. There was this pit in her chest, one that was filling with tears quickly. Tears that burned her eyes, making her bite the inside of her cheek until she could control the wobble of her lips. 

She couldn’t let him see her cry. 

Not when he was almost… a stranger. 

That was how she saw things. 

“You’re taking the spare room,” she said, because she knew that she had no way to tell him to not sleep here. 

She could ask him to leave, and he probably would. But she didn’t want to. She didn’t want to share a house with him, but she couldn’t throw him out either. 

She needed her own space, though. So, no, she couldn’t share a room with him. She refused.

There was something that flashed in his eyes, and she had an inkling on what it was. They had never called the spare room that way. Ever since they bought the house, that second bedroom had always been the Baby’s room. Where their child would sleep and play. But it never happened, and certainly would never happen now. 

Aelin had bought an adult sized bed and some furniture for the times her family from Orynth decided to visit. Her uncles were always welcome here, and she had wanted to make it has home-y as possible. 

He nodded. “Of course.” 

She could go back to her room now and break alone. But she stood there, watching him. He’d changed, was more guarded now. He had never been guarded with her, had always allowed her a door into his thoughts. She lost the key sometimes in the last few years, though. 

She shook her head, thinking of everything he’s throwing away. All the time she’d lost. Her voice was weak as she said, “I wish I had never met you.” 

••••••

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[jaekyungtiddies]

The Last Letter

Anastasia, the wife of a soldier named Nikolai, had been longing for any news from her husband, who was fighting a distant war. The village was empty, with most of the men gone to fight. This winter felt awfully lonely and quiet for her, who was anxiously waiting for her husband’s return and praying for his safety every day while being pregnant at the same time was not easy for her. On one lovely morning was no different. She waited, like she usually did. The thoughts of her husband coming back to her were heavy on her mind, many possibilities were playing inside it. What if he was starving? What if he was injured? Those questions kept lingering on her mind all day long. She almost jumped in excitement when she heard horses’ footsteps; but her expression was quick to fade when she saw the military courier’s face. His face was solemn, she felt like a crushing weight on her chest and a deep sorrow settled in her heart. Her voice stuck in her throat, and she was unable to thank the courier properly. She took the letter he handed her and immediately opened it. When the courier left, she was finally able to let herself cry. She read her husband’s last words. Even in his last moment, all he could think was about her and their baby. Her tears rolled down her cheeks and her hands trembled as she read his words about their baby’s name. She could remember the day he left for war, full of promises to return. Anastasia held the letter close to her heart. She felt abandoned and unsure whether she could forgive him for leaving her but as she read the letter, she couldn’t help but be overwhelmed with emotions. Her love for him was too great to turn to hate. He was too dear to her. In the end, Anastasia learnt to accept Nikolai’s death and chose to forgive him. She wrote a letter back to him even though she knew he would never read it. She kept those letters in a box as a memory of her husband. In her letters, she told him she forgave him and would always carry his memories in her heart. She made a promise to him to fill their baby’s life with full of joy.   

I might reconsider my choice to become a teacher. Do comment and let me know if you like this story, and if you cried reading this, just so you know I do too :0

[lucy-water]

HEAD CANNON ABOUT PRUSSIA x FEM AUSTRIA

I just discovered that King Frederick William III of Prussia did marry an Austrian noble lady, Countess Auguste von Harrach in 1824.

So now I cannot stop a headcanon that at one point in history Mr.Prussia married Ms. Austria. (Or Mr. Austria to Mr. Prussia. Or Ms. Austria to Ms.Prussia. Or Ms.Prussia to Mr. Austria. Whatever floats your PruAus boat).

However, the marriage between Countess Auguste and King Frederick was a sad one. As Auguste was a Catholic (she later changed to Protestant) the marriage was kept a secret at first and when the Prussian court knew about this, not many of them welcomed her. Auguste also came from a small noble house which unfit to marry a King so she was never regarded as a queen in her own right. In the Prussian court, she was ranked after all the princes and princesses of the royal family. She had to sit behind them in the opera theater and at the meal she could not sit beside the King but had to sit in the last row of the table, far away from her husband. Even King Frederick treated her coldly, never spoke to her nor looked her way when they were in public.

But despite all of the humiliation, Auguste still composed herself with kindness and kept her warm nature to everybody. Soon, she gained the respect of the court and was allowed to attend her husband's funeral. According to some accounts that I could find, she was usually sick and had frequent travel to France and Italy to visit her relatives. But some suspect that the true reason for this might come from the way she was treated at the Court. When she wrote to her family, she always tried to hide all the suffering she faced but one still can feel the sadness in her letter. Auguste did not have any children and passed away when she was 72 in 1873.

So my head cannon for the marriage between Gilbert and Annaliese would be the same as Auguste and Frederick- an unhappy kind of marriage. But I don't think Gilbert treated her badly as the King of Prussia did with his wife. I think they married a few years after 1824, and to be able to do so they did it as humans rather than as countries. Countess Auguste had tried to warn the sad fate of an Austrian marrying a Prussian to her friend, but Lady Annaliese Von Edelstein was head in the cloud for the Cavalry Colonel- Gilbert Beilschmidt, who rescued her from Paris when the Revolution happened. One could say Colonel Beilschmidt and his lady wife were a happy couple. He truly cared for her and did not give a damn about the protocol, he proudly introduced everyone to his musically talented and beautiful wife at the Prussia court, he sat with her, danced with her at the balls, and held her hand while they walking in public. Although was neglected and being treated with coldness in the Court when Gilbert not around, Annaliese still thought her life was happy like a fairy tale for the first time after many centuries of political marriages.

But everything changed around 1848, Gilbert was busy with the Schleswig war so he usually left the house. Without Gilbert's appearance, Anna was not welcome at the Court nor even in her own house. The servants listened and obeyed Lord Beilschmidt rather than the lavish Lady Beilschmidt. Some whispered she was too much like that Queen in France, spendy and only cared about herself. While her husband was on military campaigns, risking his life; she traveled on her own whim. Some even rumored that she had love affairs behind her husband's back. This put many strains on Gilbert and Anna's relationship. Every time he came home, Gilbert could not find his wife sweetly waiting for him like she used to as she was on her trips, and the rumor about her "love affair" came to his ear. So when Anna returned, both of them started to fight. He demanded to know why she kept leaving. "I just want some fresh air", Anna would only answer him like that. (Truthfully, she felt neglected and disrespected that why she ran away.)

Of course, he knew she lied, so he ordered the servants not to let her leave the house without his permission. Anna started to develop serious illnesses (mental problems were not a thing back in those days) which required her to be bedridden for many days. As countries, this is really strange as they do not usually fall ill like this. But Gilbert did not have time to dig more on the matter, he had a war to worry and the best thing he could do for Anna at that moment was brought her to the countryside for resting. She tried to run away back to Austria but the servants always guarded her carefully so Anna was never successful. Gilbert kept her there most of the time between 1848-1864 and only brought her back to Berlin or Vienna when ordered by his King. At this point, Prussia and Austria were in alliance, Anna was being told to make Gilbert feel more at ease with her so Austria would have more advantage in the political situation. In short, even when stayed in Vienna, Anna could not find any help and had to return back with Gilbert. Life with Gilbert in the countryside could never be said horrible, he spoilt her to the root every time he was around her, but Anna felt suffocated. She knew that once Gilbert back to his campaign, the people around her would treat her with coldness and she would be left alone again. She missed the time when she could gather all the ladies at the court and had a small music concern, she missed the walk in the Vienna woods, she wanted to see the newest opera and discussed with all her lady friends, stay up late at night read books in the library, or just wandering around Vienna and admire the beauty of Cathedrals and Palaces. Anna missed her freedom.

The situation between Austria and Prussia got worse by the end 1864. Austrian Court demanded Anna to be returned but Gilbert decided to keep her closer to him to make her a bargaining chip if the situation called for. He moved her to a more rural area and made sure she could not hear any news from Berlin or Vienna. Even put soldiers to guard her instead of normal servants. The Austrian Government sent men to rescue her, but since Gilbert hid her too well all the attempts had to be abandoned. Anna decided to plan her escape on her own. Somehow she succeeded this time and ran far away as best as she could just to realize, she lost. When Gilbert found her again, she already passed out from hunger and dehydration. He took care of her, but she refused to talk to him nor eat anything, only drank a little bit of water. A lot of drama happened here, but in the end could not see Annaliese suffering like that, Gilbert agreed to let Anna back in Vienna. A few months before the Austro-Prussian war happened.

Ludwig at first did not know much about his brother's relationship with Miss Austria except big historical event between them. However, during a summer holiday, while staying at the Beilschmidt country's house. He heard the people around told about a story of a Colonel and his mistress, the previous owner of this house. That the mistress was a noble lady from Austria, being kidnapped by the Colonel and locked here. Passed away while being held captive, the ghost of the Austrian lady was still full of hatred and haunted the place. When Ludwig asked his brother about this, he laughed and told him that just a silly old wives's tale. But Ludwig could sense that his brother was lying and when Miss Austria came to visit him, he saw the peasants nearby were afraid of her. That woman, she shared the same face as the Mistress. The peasant whispered like that and the rumor about the Austrian ghost returning to take revenge on the Colonel's descendants spread among the whole area and made Ludwig's vacation end sooner than planned. Back to Berlin, Ludwig did some of his own research and found out about his brother's marriage with Miss Austria. But until recently, Ludwig discovered that this marriage was still valid as his brother nor Miss Austria had never requested to annul this marriage yet. Now he understands why his brother can stay at Miss Austria's house without any of her protests about this.

------------------------------------------------

Credit to Aguste Von Harrach. Here a picture that I really like about her. (Thank you lady for inspiring me to write a whole fanfic plot for my OTP. Truly hope you got your own happiness right now than the previous life you got).