#and I see so many people take marriage and children for granted

[youcancallmeelle]

Are we on the same side?

Rating: 18+ (Minors DNI!!!)

Word count: 8K

Pairing: Separated husband!Joel Miller x wife!reader

Summary: Joel and you are trialling temporary separation due to repeated arguments with one another after nearly twenty years of marriage.

He returns to the marital home to do you a favour, flirting ensues and the sexual tension gets out of hand because of course it does.

You may need some clarification on what you are…

AO3

You put up the hearts, and I'll put up both my aces Not very far apart Still on different pages

Before having kids, you used to take every moment of your life for granted. 

You were just a kid yourself back then, when you had two babies with a boy who shared your class and you were so in love you couldn’t fathom a life without him. For years you were Mama, the person who fed them and changed them, bathed them and rocked them to sleep. You worked night shifts while the love of your life worked in the day, all so food could be put on the table and an apartment could be kept to keep you all warm and safe. It wasn’t until a few years ago when your kids gained their own independence that you slowly started to regain your own life back, now you were nearly forty and working a job that gave you more freedom even if the stress levels have gotten to you more than once and your marriage… well that’s a separate issue on its own. 

You’d spent the morning doing things you wanted to, thanking whoever that your kids were teenagers who could do their own breakfast and helped with chores without coaxing. You’ve been to pilates and the salon and had your infills done, your nails a glossy shade of pillar box red in an almond shape and your toes the same colour. You’d even managed to grab a Starbucks and sipped it languidly as you people watched from the safety of your car, enjoying your chosen playlist on Spotify without the bluetooth getting hijacked. The icing on the cake though? The fact you got to shower at home without someone barging in to ask for foundation or to borrow your strapless bra or your new Adidas Superstars. 

It’s mid way through Saturday afternoon that your relaxation comes skidding to a halt in the form of your jaded lover knocking heavily against the pane of glass on your front door, the irritating noise makes you scowl and you drag your feet to answer it. 

You crack it open, familiar brown eyes stare at you and yours narrow back. 

“What are you doing here?” You ask flatly, the male on the other side picks up on your terse mood and his shoulders rise defensively. If it wasn’t for the little disagreement you’d had a few days prior on the phone over something as mundane as renewing car insurance, you’d have probably been more excited to see him but the way he can sometimes undermine you really grates on your nerves, you hate that he gets so swept up in work that he comes home and talks to you like he’s your foreman. 

The minute he’d started questioning your choice like a fucking know it all, you’d merely hung up in irritation, refusing to answer when he’d called you back twice to apparently try and patch it over. You’d read the I’m sorry and I love you more than you’ll ever know text he sent after over and over, trying to figure out how things had come to this. 

Nearly two decades together, married, with children and a house. You and Joel Miller have been torn apart by too many petty arguments that end with you sobbing and him walking away, you’d had to call it and come up with a possible solution with the marriage counsellor before it was too late. 

He huffs and lifts his hand, showing you the toolbox you’ve seen many times with its contents strewn about somewhere in your house. 

“A little birdie told me that you’re in need of a repair.” Joel’s lip twists at the side when your mood seems to perk just a fraction, there’s multiple things that need a little TLC right now but he can certainly worm his way back into your good books with a good old fashioned repair. You can only assume the little birdie was Sarah or Ellie. 

You open the door fully and step backwards so all six foot something of him can meander through your front door, he wipes his feet on the welcome mat and toes his sneakers off, nudging them into the neat space where a tattered pair of Vans have been kicked off hard enough to scuff the wall and a pair of spotless ankle boots have been nicely placed beside your shoes. 

“Where’s the babies?” He frowns, looking around and noticing the lack of noise. 

You smile as you shut the door behind him as he refers to the girls as his babies, despite Sarah being eighteen and Ellie just turned fourteen. 

With them both being girls, he’s soft anyway but Sarah is his first born who made him a father and Ellie’s still his tiny baby who he’s soaked up every second of when she was a newborn because you both knew you weren’t having any more children.

“At the movies together watching Twisters, Garret backed out on Sarah so Ellie went instead.” You inform him, sneaking an appreciative glance from the corner of your eye. 

Joel makes a noise at the mention of Sarah’s boyfriend, never having liked him for whatever reason, you think it’s because they’re eerily alike so therefore clash. 

“Little prick will be back hangin’ around here next week.” He grumbles, placing his toolbox on the bottom step.  

“She’s just going through the universal thing of falling for a country boy.” You tease. 

“Well as long as he don’t get her pregnant before graduation then we won’t have a problem.”

“She’s smarter than us.” You say. 

“I know.” Joel agrees, you sneak one more glance at the country boy who got you pregnant before graduation. 

He’s wearing slim fitting black sweatpants with a worn grey t-shirt with a faded motif on, the chain of his St Christopher barely noticeable beneath it and his thick rimmed glasses are perched on his nose. 

You miss the hungry look he shoots you when you turn away, chestnut coloured eyes drifting low to the denim shorts you wear that he’s sure you’ve had since you were in your twenties. They fit snug and are contoured perfectly to the shape of your ass, your cheeks barely peeking out. What really makes his dick hard is the fact you’re wearing one of his sweatshirts, an old Dallas Cowboys one that you’ve always been particularly fond of. 

“Nice flowers. Who got ya those?” He nods with a smirk towards the vase on the side table that’s filled with blooming peonies and baby’s breath. 

The beautiful arrangement of flowers had arrived the morning after your petty argument with Joel, a gift from the universe if you will when you needed something bright and blooming to drag you out of the despair you were frantically becoming encased in. 

“Oh.” You hum and feign ignorance, reaching out to gently touch the edge of a baby pink peony. “Just a friend.” You smile vaguely, Joel rolls his eyes. “Beautiful, aren’t they?”

“A guy sent them?” He presses, shifting his weight, your grin turns devious. 

“Mmm.” You coo, feeling thrilled when that lick of annoyance flickers across your husband’s face at your flippant tone. 

“Who?” He grins back.

“I’m not telling you.” 

“Come on, I just wanna talk to him, I wanna know why he thinks it’s okay to send my wife flowers.” 

“Ex wife.” You snort, Joel glares at you. 

“We’re separated, not divorced. Y’know what, we’re barely even separated.” He disagrees, you bite the inside of your cheek in amusement. 

“Apparently you’re here to fix my shelves and you’re doing a whole lot of yapping, very unprofessional of you.” You goad, stepping backwards when he begins to saunter towards you with a certain look in his eyes. 

“I’ll fix your shelves, I’ll fix anythin’ you want.” Joel mumbles, stalking you. 

“Big promises.” You taunt, lifting your chin defiantly. His hands grasp your waist, pulling you to him and you let him, leaning up to wrap your arms around his neck. 

You love this, the playful behaviour and flirting since you decided to live apart for a while. It feels new and exciting, a rush that you felt when you first got together as youngsters just before your world flipped and you were pregnant before your frontal lobe had developed. 

He smells delectable, you can’t stop yourself from nosing at his bearded jaw where his cologne is the strongest. Joel’s throat bobs, his fingers drift upwards under your borrowed sweatshirt to feel the bare skin between your shorts and bra. 

As his structured jaw slides across yours and his nose just barely brushes your own, you feel his breath hit your lips and you know he really wants to kiss you but is waiting for you to make the first move. 

You want to, you really do but you’re scared of falling into a false sense of security when you haven’t even scratched the surface of your underlying problems that the marriage counsellor suggested needed to be covered before you could get back on track. 

Joel enjoys the way your head fits against his collarbone, loves the sweet smell of your hair and skin. 

“Fix my shelf.” You huff into his skin as you retreat, he sighs deeply but picks up his toolbox and begins to follow you up the stairs with his eyes glued to your backside. 

It almost feels strange for Joel to be back in your shared bedroom after three weeks away, he hasn’t been back for any extra clothes or personal items. If he’s come over to see the kids, then he’s stayed downstairs or in the garden with them. 

Everything looks the same which is a strange observation given that really you’ve barely been apart for any time at all but it’s comforting to be back. 

The bed is made in its usual dress up of plain white sheets with useless throw pillows stacked neatly, there’s a pile of clean laundry resting on your vanity chair but also clothes tossed on the floor where you’ve been indecisive. 

Joel whistles when he sees the closet door open and the fallen shelf leaning against the door, there’s a scrape on the inside wall where it’s collided and taken the paint off. It looks like a fairly simple job, the wall plugs have probably come loose over time and needed replacing, it’s not as if IKEA is known for making indestructible furniture. 

“You want the step ladder?” You question as he surveys the situation, rubbing the wall with his fingertips to see if the scrape will alleviate some. 

“I think so.” He replies. “They in the garage?” 

“No, Ellie’s room, she was trying to hang some fairy lights earlier but only got halfway before she threw a fit about the command hooks.” You chuckle, wandering off to go retrieve them for him, already certain he’s made a note to finish the job for her before he leaves. 

When you get back, he’s got some tools ready, his drill in hand already. He steps onto the bottom rung of the step ladder, groaning as he stretches. 

You observe for a moment, knowing it irks him, he hates being watched on a job.

“Jesus, it’s fuckin’ dusty up here. You’re a terrible housewife, neglectin’ your duties.” Joel pokes, knowing you won’t take a blind bit of notice. 

“You wanna know why we really separated? Because you neglected your duties as a husband to satisfy your wife.” You reply easily, Joel chuckles and looks down at you. 

“Oh spare me the dramatics, you’ve never been unsatisfied by me in your whole entire life.” He sings, infuriatingly he isn’t wrong. 

“I’m telling the kids you were being sexist to me.” You threaten, chewing on a sinister smile. “Ellie will beat you up.” 

“She won’t.” Joel grins, you mumble out a complaint. “She’s a daddy’s girl, maybe try your luck with Sarah, I’m sure she’d give me a lecture.” Not that you think he needs one, he’s the biggest supporter of you and his girls. 

“They’re both Daddy’s girls, the little traitors. Nine whole months carrying them and giving birth after what felt like days and days with no fucking pain relief and this is the thanks I get? Not to mention my nipples being sucked raw.” You grumble to yourself, kicking some laundry into a pile at the side of the wall, Joel makes you jump when he groans suddenly.

“Just sayin’ but your tits were amazin’ when you were breastfeedin’ - shit, they’re still fucking phenomenal.” He sighs dreamily, closing his eyes. “Fuck, you were so hot carryin’ my babies, I’d have kept you pregnant if I had my way.” 

You bite your cheeks to hide the satisfaction that your husband still wants you. 

“You can’t say stuff like that to me anymore.” 

“Why? We separated or somethin’?” Your husband frowns comically. “Show me your tits.” 

“No.” 

“Come on, just one.” He grins boyishly. “The right one is my favourite.” You stick your middle finger up at him.

“Asshole.” You sniff, walking back to lay on the end of your bed. 

You pick up your phone, mindlessly scrolling through Facebook posts made by the PTA at the girls school while Joel complains about wall fixings or something equally as dull. 

In the end, you get bored and toss it away, instead opting to enjoy the eye candy in the form of a senior (essentially) gentleman on a stepladder cussing about how IKEA can suck his balls. 

“Piece of fuckin’ shit!” He complains when the shelf slips again in your closet, he takes a calming breath and contains his frustration, you snicker at him. “How did this even break, sweetheart?” Joel huffs, changing out for a larger wall plug. 

“Dunno, it just did.” You answer vaguely, looking at your ceiling.

“Bullshit.” He quips. “Did you put too much shit on it?” 

“No.” You hum, shaking your head. 

“You’re a liar.” He states plainly, equally unamused. “What did you put on here that was so heavy it collapsed?” 

“Nothing, maybe it was just your shoddy workmanship to begin with.” You quip, not looking at him though you desperately want to because you can imagine the outrage on his face but you won’t be able to not laugh. 

“It wasn’t me that put it up.” He glares. 

“Sure, whatever you say.” You smile sweetly at him. It’s quiet for a minute, then Joel speaks again. 

“You put filled shoeboxes up here, didn’t you? After I told you nothin’ heavier than a few sweaters? ” He asks knowingly. 

Silence and then… 

“Yeah.” You nod, he sighs loudly and turns back to drill in a screw now that he seems happy with the stability. 

You watch him as he works, angling himself to see better and be able to use his drill at the correct angle. 

The muscles in his back move and his shoulders look unbelievably broad beneath his t-shirt, it hugs his biceps and rides up when he shifts to show a slither of his boxers and bare back. 

Your mouth almost waters and you press your thighs together but it obscures your view so you part them again to peek at him through the gap in your knees. 

It’s well known that your husband is an attractive man, he always has been. You’ve watched him grow from the gangly teenager with a backwards baseball cap practically glued to his head you were first besotted with to the almost middle aged and greying man that now works before you. 

Most nights when it’s dark, quiet and the house is still, you pleasure yourself beneath the duvet thinking of him, hips moving frantically against the whir of your vibrator. It can be any scenario of the long time you’ve been together, two decades holds enough memories to fill books upon books with pictures and anecdotes, some that you keep stored away just for you. 

Sometimes you dream about the three day honeymoon in Nashville you had when your parents forced you to get married before Sarah was born, back when you first lived in Arlington in a shitty apartment you could barely afford with you both working instead of attending college. Then there was that night just under four years later with sex so explosive that you’d had the fleeting thought you’d immediately gotten pregnant again, only to actually find out you’d been right two weeks later when you’d presented Joel with yet another positive pregnancy test before twenty five. 

You chew your lip, lashes fluttering and you’re sure he notices you ogling him in the mirror that puts your reflection in his eye line by the smirk you see. 

God, he pisses you off so much sometimes. He makes your cunt wet and your teeth grind all at once, you never knew that was possible. 

Rolling off the bed and onto your feet, you casually turn so that your back is to him on the ladder but you’re in the perfect position in the reflection of the mirror in front of him. He doesn’t notice at first over the sound of the drilling but when it stops and he goes to test the stability of the shelf, he freezes and the arm holding his drill drops limply to his side. 

He sees you begin to strip down in the mirror, shimmying your shorts down and then yanking off your oversized sweater. Joel freezes, gulping when you turn away to unclip your bra, the expanse of your back is smooth and if he thought your backside looked good in those shorts, the high cut panties you’re wearing hit on a whole other level. 

“What are you doin’?” He asks when your fingers hook into the sides of your panties, they flex within the material and you peer over your shoulder at him, big doe eyes the opposite of fucking innocence. 

“Just taking a shower, I’m filthy.” You titter, holding his piercing gaze through the mirror. 

“Funny, you’ve done nothin’ but sit on your pretty little ass and watch me inhale dust that’s been here for the last fifteen years.” 

“Well, you could always join me.” You shrug, finally slipping your underwear down your thighs, Joel’s mouth goes dry. “Only if you want to, of course.” You beam at him and then sashay away into the en suite, Joel’s resolve breaks very quickly (immediately actually) and he’s yanking off his glasses and tossing them onto the dresser and plucking his t-shirt over his head in an instant. 

Maybe the solution is to fuck it out and he’ll gladly go as many times as needed, you always did need to be fucked hard when your attitude started to test him. 

The shower has been switched on and you’re naked under the stream as he finishes yanking both his socks, sweatpants and boxers off. He admires you through the glass, kicking his clothes into a messy pile before climbing in there with you, the air tight and hot. 

His big hands enrobe you from behind, long dexterous fingers gripping at your waist and pawing at all the exposed skin it’s been weeks since he’s seen. 

You tilt your head back from the water, resting it against his shoulder and pushing back into him, holding onto his forearms and digging your nails into his flesh. 

“Look who couldn’t resist, you bad boy. Whatever will the therapist say?” You mock, pouting those pretty lips. 

“You’re a goddamn tease, you know that?” He growls, nipping at your jaw and earlobe, holding the weight of your breasts in his hands. 

“If you say so.” You breathe sexily, dragging him by the back of his neck to meet your lips in a hungry kiss. 

His cock is trapped between his soft stomach and your lower back, smearing a pearlescent gleam as he anchors himself to you.

You moan into his mouth when he teases your nipples into tight peaks, plucking them and roughly cupping your tits. 

“I want to lick your pretty little pussy until you cum on my face.” He admits into your mouth, barely letting you breathe past the fierce kisses. Your clit throbs at his confession and you grab hold of his hand, guiding it down your body to between your legs where he teases your lips.

Your back arches prettily into him, the free hand holding your breast now grips your throat, forcing you to tilt your head back. 

“Ah.” You whine when the roughened pads of his fingers stroke your clit. “Mmm, there.” You hum, pushing into his fingers. He entertains you, dipping his fingertips to your honey slick hole and back up again, dragging the gooey wetness to smother on your clit until it’s hardened and desperate to be sucked on like candy. 

“Bet you could cum like this.” He says gruffly, beard scratching at your shoulders and neck, wherever he greedily kisses your dewy wet skin. 

“Wanna cum on you, Joel.” You whine, reaching behind you to grasp his thickness. He ruts into your hand, smearing more stickiness that you want to lick away from his tip. 

You absorb him similarly to a plant and the sun, the bulk of his form plastered against your back so big and strong, skin sun kissed and warm. He’s safety to you, every single thing about him, everything familiar that you know. 

“Needy little slut.” He whispers, your core becomes aflame at the debauchery, you nod in confirmation. “Oh, you agree? You just need a cock to sit on and your shitty attitude will be right as rain?” 

“Only your cock.” You whine, flicking your thumb against the underside of him, tracing out a vein you’re very familiar with. 

“Yeah, baby. Only mine, I know, I know.” His sweet breath is hot against your cheek as he pants, fingers strumming your clit faster. “You wanna cum for me, baby? Show me how good you can be?” You hum and nod, knees almost buckling, this is the fastest you’ve approached orgasm since being separated. 

“Gonna cum, Joel.” You say huskily, hips bucking into his hand until it’s only been two seconds since your revelation and you’re cumming - wet and sticky - into the palm of his hand. His mouth is on yours, you’re moaning and moving erratically, Joel’s cock is dribbling a steady stream of pre cum into your hand where you’re gripping his shaft. 

“Sexy little thing.” Joel husks into your ear, biting the lob as you heave for air, slowly undulating your hips as you ride the last wave of your peak against his hand. “Good girl.” He praises, taking his hand away when you weakly push at his wrist. He lifts it in front of you, fingers webbed with your cum, runny and clear. You catch his hand, slipping his index and middle finger into your mouth, sucking them clean as he groans and ruts into the hand still around him, the cool palladium of his wedding ring bumps against your cupids bow as you suckle. 

You slip his fingers out of your mouth, letting them drag down your chin and back to your tits. “Fuck me.” You demand haughtily, eyeing him. 

“I’ll fuck you, baby.” He confirms, softer than you were expecting, he meets you for a kiss and you suck on the plumpness of his bottom lip before turning away. Joel slicks his hair back under the spray and then begins to trace out the curve of your waist and the fullness of your ass, you feel his hand bump you knuckle first where he fists himself to complete mast and then he runs the length of himself through your pussy, hissing at the wet heat that awaits him but he pauses, retracting back unsure. 

“You want me to wear a condom?” And you freeze, looking over your shoulder in distress. 

“Have you been with other people?” You frown, your heart suddenly sinking into your stomach, making your guts twist with nausea. Joel frowns down at you, blinking away the water clinging to his lashes. 

“Course not.” He answers, you relax. “…Have you?” Joel presses.

“Absolutely not.” You state firmly. “So get inside me.” You demand, turning away to place your hands on the tiles. You feel him press kisses to your shoulders as the tip of his cock brushes your ass again, you sigh and push back into him. “Please, baby.” You beg, feeling him smile into your skin. 

“I think you’re tryin’ to baby trap me.” Joel says playfully, pulling your hips against him so that your back arches just so. 

“You had a vasectomy after Ellie, idiot.” Your hips press insistently against him and you reach back to tug at his length, your fingers barely wrapping around the girth. “Now get your dick inside me, Joel.” You demand. 

“Yes, ma’am.” He leans down a fraction and slicks himself up, the entire length of him slipping against your pussy lips once more and nudging your clit. “Fuuuuck.” Joel groans when he does it again and the head of him catches on your hole, slipping inside just a fraction. 

“Oh my god.” You pant, your forehead dropping to rest against the cool tiled as he fills you completely. It’s a tight fit, after over three weeks of no sex with him your body is near to combustion.

You wonder if the lack of sex has attributed to the arguments, both working long hours at your respective jobs and not having the time for the normal intimacy you usually share. 

This is exactly what you’ve been wanting in the weeks you’ve been apart; a carnal desire to have your husband close. 

His grunt in your ear sets something off in you, the relief he feels directly felt by you. 

You whimper at the first thrust after he’s settled within your velvet lined canal, body pressed between him and the wall. 

It won’t ever be like this with anyone else, you think to yourself - the way Joel fits within you, around you and alongside you. 

“Like that.” You pant, pressing back. He grunts into your ear in such a manly way that you reach back to yank on his hair, he growls into your neck and fucks into you harder. 

He’s so strong it makes your head spin, this gorgeous man with a heart of gold that loved you when you were young, married you and gave you two babies, helped you create a comfortable life for your family. 

It’s overwhelming; that sensation of being full and enveloped within the heat of his radius. 

You’ve missed everything about him; his smell, his voice, the way he tastes. You’ve ached for the things you’ve harmlessly bickered about before, such as underwear outside of the hamper, smudges of toothpaste on the bathroom mirror after a deep clean, crumbs on the island. 

You don’t mean to let your emotions get the best of you but your eyes well and your throat tightens, your chest constricts something fierce. 

The sob that erupts out of your chest can’t be disguised by the noise of the water hitting the floor at your feet or the soft groans of Joel, not the breathless whines from yourself either. 

It’s a raw noise, jagged at the edges so much that it hurts leaving your throat. 

“Honey?” Immediately Joel has stopped moving and withdrawn, spinning you around to cup your cheeks. “Why are you cryin’?” He presses insistently, thumbs trying to swipe away your tears. Your cheeks are aflame, embarrassed to have spoilt such an intimate moment after so long. 

“I just - I just missed you.” You whimper, tucking your nose into his bicep. He cradles you to him softly beneath the spray, hushing you gently. This makes you cry more, thinking about how he’s held your babies like this; tenderly like they’re the most fragile  beings made entirely of glass. “Everything feels wrong! And… and…” You sniffle wetly. “And I can’t sleep properly without you and your dumb old man snoring!” 

“Oh, baby.” He chuckles into your hair. 

“I don’t like the whole limited contact stuff either.” You mumble. 

“Neither do I but it’s what was suggested and I think we need to try it, if we don’t like it then that’s a good sign.” He tries to pick your mood up, you pout and nod, leaning into his touch. 

“I’m scared we won’t fix this and I’ll have to watch you start dating someone else.” 

“I’m not gonna date anyone else, lady. I only want you, I’ve only ever wanted you.” He tells you. 

“That’s not true.” You hiccup. “Brandi Neil wanted you and you were going to go to Homecoming with her.” 

“Fuckin’ - that was literally over twenty somethin’ years ago and I went with you in the end!” He huffs indignantly. “Come on, let’s get dry and we can talk some more.” Joel guides you out of the shower with a gentle hand, turning off the water and handing you a towel. He leans over on more than one occasion to peck your lips, he smooths his thumbs beneath your eyes to wipe away the mascara that’s ran in the shower from the steam. 

Once you’re both relatively dry, there’s an awkward shift in the air as you’re both naked still and Joel looks very much aroused, half hard cock swaying as he moves. 

You saunter back to the bed, peering over your shoulder to see that you’ve captured his attention intently and he gulps as you climb onto the mattress, briefly resting on all fours for a split second, wet pussy drooling and exposed before turning onto your back. 

You stretch out against the sheets not dissimilar to a renaissance painting, skin dewy with a look on your face that Joel wants to savour. 

He climbs atop the mattress with you, pushing your thighs apart to settle between them. His warm mouth finds your nipples, sucking them and biting gently, you stretch and arch into him like a puppet on strings, the weight of your breasts fitting in each of his roughened palms. You feel the brush of his cock sway against your inner thigh and you buck against it, trying to encourage him closer, you huff when he ignores you in favour of worshiping your breasts. 

“Calm down.” He murmurs. “We’ll get there.” He promises in that deep baritone which makes your purr. Joel shimmies down your body, palm dragging along your sternum and settling on your stomach where your fingers find his in a desperate squeeze. 

The broadness of him fits between your thighs, one tossed over his shoulder to open you up. It’s erotic how he looks with his mouth on you, silver streaked hair visible and it’s not long before you’re clutching at it, writhing and moaning something pretty. 

He parts your labia and licks slowly, using only the tip of his tongue, flicking over your clit and coaxing it from beneath the hood, sucking it between his lips and running his tongue repeatedly over it as you gasp and pull his hair, he suckles and there’s a lewd slurp thrown in there. 

You purr like a kitten when his fingers enter you, moving steadily and brushing your G spot with such expertise that your eyes water. He knows what you like, having learnt your body and its responses for the better part of twenty years. A gush of slick aids the smooth movement of his ring and middle finger, stroking you from the inside until it proves too much to feel so far from him. 

“Up, Joel.” You whine, tugging his tresses with more force than necessary which causes him to bite your inner thigh in retaliation but he allows himself to be malleable at the hands of you, kneeling between your legs and wiping the slick of you from his moustache and beard. 

Rocking back onto his haunches, he fists his cock at the sight of you looking wrecked, that deep possessive part of him that’s smug because it’s him that makes you look like that; flushed and desperate. 

“I won’t last long, honey.” He warns as he gets into position, wrapping both legs around his waist. 

“Don’t care.” You state, reaching down to grab hold of him and guiding the blunt head of him through your lips, teasing yourself before you notch him just right. He eases himself in gentler than before in the shower, savouring that slow stretch as he feeds you himself until the wiry coarse hairs at the base are dampened by your wetness. 

He drops onto his forearms beside your head, caging you in as he begins to move, the pendant from his St Christopher bumps your chin. You make pretty noises, clawing at his back in a way that leaves diagonal lines in various shades of pink and red. Chests pressed together, heart to heart, a rhythmic beat perfectly in sync. 

“Tell me you love me.” You gasp.

Sitting up, Joel guides your leg over his shoulder, kissing your ankle bone, toying with the dainty gold anklet there that was an anniversary present some years ago. Your back arches against the sheets and you whimper sweetly at the new sensation of his hips fitting snuggly between your thighs and the weeping head of him nudging against the sponged wall of your cervix. 

“I love you.” He groans, hands grappling your hip bones, forcing you closer like he can’t get enough, he looms over you. “I love you so fuckin’ much.” 

“I love you.” You pant back. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” His nose nudges yours, lips hungrily searching to slot against yours, puffy and wet. “You remember night one of our honeymoon?” You press, exhaling hot and tone wanting. 

“Fuck yeah I do, fuck - “ His hips snap harder and you keen. “Pretty as a fuckin picture, still in your weddin’ dress on the floor.” 

“Fuck.” You sigh, fisting at his biceps with slippery fingers. “Barely made it through the motel door.” 

“You looked so fuckin good, honey. Havin’ my baby and ridin’ me on the floor.” His mouth slackens and his eyes slip closed, clearly deep in thought. 

“I wanna do it again, Joel.” You gasp, fingers shakily circling your clit, hard and slippery. 

“Yeah, baby. We’ll have another honeymoon, renew our vows first and everythin’.” He grunts. 

“Baby.” You whimper in his ear. “I’m cumming, fuck me harder.” You say it breathlessly and all his carnal instincts take over, he fucks you that hard the headboard slams into the wall and takes a layer of sage green paint off. You’re loud through your climax, hips jumping and blood rushing through every vein like accelerant and fire. 

“Jesus, I’m gonna cum. Fuck!” He groans, fingers moulding into the mattress, orgasm hitting so hard it makes the edges of his vision blacken. “Fuckin’ Christ.” You kiss his throat from your place beneath him, licking his jugular like the fucking minx you are, biting a tendon. 

The white of his teeth is blinding as his lip curls into a near snarl, the pulse of warmth as he orgasms spreads within you and you pant, flushed from head to toe. 

You kiss him as he grunts to completion, teeth clashing. 

“You’re so good - so good.” You murmur into his mouth, frantically pushing his hair from his damp forehead. “You’re perfect.” You hum, enraptured. 

“That’s you.” He smiles, lip curving against yours. “My pretty little wife.” 

He strokes your hair and traces your features, eyes searching yours for something; hope maybe and you smile gently at him, pulling him down beside you once he’s withdrawn from the warmth of your body. 

You rest against him, cheek to his chest to listen to the thrum below. You count his freckles and you trace his knuckles, you kiss his exposed skin over and over, you absorb as much of him as you can, feeling fulfilled for the first time in weeks. 

Joel quietly observes you, you lean up on your elbow, dragging your manicured nails down the centre of his chest, he watches you with his arm behind his head. You pause and lean down to rest your chin on his sternum, blinking with those fluttery lashes that cast a shadow high on your cheekbones. 

“Thank you for my flowers.” You say, he smiles softly and reaches down to stroke your cheek with his thumb. 

“You’re welcome.” He whispers. “Wanted to do somethin’ nice for you, Ellie messaged me and said you’d had a tough week at work before that dumb fucking argument we had.” His long fingers comb through your hair, you rest easily on his stomach now, letting your eyes slip shut. “Wanna talk about it, baby?” 

“Not really.” You huff. “I don’t want to unload my problems on you.” Joel sighs in exasperation at your vague answer. 

“You can tell me anythin’, you know that.” 

“We’re supposed to be taking time apart to stop the fighting, me unloading everything onto you isn’t going to help that.” You tell him. 

“I think communication is exactly what we need.” He disagrees. 

“You’re starting an argument now.” You chuckle with an eye roll, resting your cheek against his warm skin. He rolls his eyes back but doesn’t reply, continuing to stroke your hair, twirling some around his finger. “Joel?” You ask quietly. 

“Hmm?” 

“What if we can’t fix this?” 

“We can.” He replies determinedly. “Nearly twenty years together and two kids later, I’m still so in love with you, whether we’re fighting or not.” 

“I love you.” You murmur. 

“I love you more.” He replies. “And I love our girls.” Joel adds. 

“Me too.” You shift and snuggle into him, resting your head beneath his chin. 

He holds you quietly, his touch a major comfort. You think back over the almost month it’s been since the marriage counsellor had suggested Joel move out of the martial house for awhile and stay with his brother, just so you could see if distance would be beneficial after the amalgamation of late working nights, the stress of parenting two teenage girls and life itself along with naturally getting older, you already dancing that line of perimenopause. 

The space had made you realise you didn’t want to be without him and you’d both seemed to realise that you didn’t want to split up, you just needed to figure out a way to make things work. 

“I think we should trial the time apart for another week and keep seeing the counsellor for a few more months.” You begin. “I’m gonna figure something out at work and reduce my hours, no more bringing it home with me.” 

“That sounds good.” Joel murmurs, twisting a piece of your hair. “I’m goin’ to cut my days down to four, I think the finances will be fine and I want to be around here more for you and the girls.” He tells you, you nod slowly and blink away the tears that have suddenly come at the softness of his voice. 

“I don’t care if we have to give up any extra luxuries, I just need you and our kids here happy.” You emphasise. 

“That’s what I want too, baby. No more arguments over stupid shit, I’m sorry for bein’ so fuckin’ horrible lately.” 

“I was horrible too, Joel.” You say. “We just need to keep working on things and if we feel an argument brewing then we should take a step back and reassess what’s caused it and find a solution just like the therapist says.” You advise. “Also we should make time for a date night every week.” 

“Sounds good to me, baby.” Joel agrees, tugging you forward. “Kiss me, you have no idea how much I’ve missed you.” He murmurs sweetly and you go easily, moulding yourself over him to meet him for a deep kiss that speaks a thousand words and apologies. 

“Hey.” You say suddenly, eyes flitting over to the vanity where multiple photo frames sit. “You remember that trip we took to Seattle when the kids were little?” Joel follows your line of sight where they’re focused on one of the smaller frames holding two polaroids, one of Sarah and Ellie when they were eight and four, then another you’d taken of Joel on the pier with the wheel behind him you’d taken. 

“Yeah.” He says fondly. “That was a great trip, the kids loved it.” 

“What was that girl called that Ellie made friends with at the aquarium?” You smile as you think of a rambunctious Ellie, stomping around holding her Daddy’s hand in her tiny overalls, pointing at every fish she saw swimming ahead in the glass tunnels. 

“Oh er… fuck. What was it? Little blonde girl with a braid.” He recites, thinking back almost a decade. “Abby!” He suddenly exclaims and you hum, nodding. 

“That was it, they were so cute together watching the sea lion show, remember how jealous Sarah was that she thought all Ellie’s love was being stolen away.” You giggle, nuzzling his shoulder. “We should go again now they’re grown up.” 

There’s a comfortable silence as you bask in the evening sun coming through the window behind the bed, coating you in warmth while you lazily make out with your husband like you used to as teenagers in his beat up truck. 

You moan into his mouth when a hand sneakily skims your back and moulds to the fleshiest part of your backside. Sitting back to take a breath, you begin to kiss at his stubbled jaw, focusing intently on the grey patches and working yourself down his throat, to his clavicle and down his chest where he has yours, Sarah’s and Ellie’s name tattooed over his heart. 

He props himself up in interest on his elbows when you make it to his sternum, nipping near his navel and dragging your nails through the smattering of hair below it until you reach his groin. 

“You think you can go again?” You smirk at him, nipping his hip, sucking a small bruise into the skin above his pubic area.

“Keep doin’ that and I’ll be rarin’ to go.” He huffs, cradling the back of your head when you lick above his pubic area.

You move lower and his cock begins to swell against his thigh, his thighs tense when your hot breath drifts over his length. 

Just as you’re about to drag your tongue over the flushed head of him, you hear a car skim across the gravel driveway and you both freeze. 

“Shit, that’s the kids.” You panic, sitting up and swinging your legs off the bed to gather up something to wear. “Quick!” You urge Joel who looks equally as panicked as he yanks up his boxers. You find a long floral dress to throw on from the corner and manage to yank up the panties you were wearing earlier, the crotch becomes sodden with the semen but you ignore the uncomfortable wet feeling and try to fan away the flush on your cheeks as you watch your husband get dressed. 

You’re both barrelling down the stairs just as the front door opens and you bump into Joel as you skid on foyer tiles, he steadies you as your kids stare back. 

You and Joel try to act casual despite the feral things you’ve just done.

“You’re back early.” You squeak, very aware of your damp hair and smudged makeup. 

It’s a mere second before your daughter’s come barrelling full force towards the apple of their eyes, pregnancy and labour be damned. 

“Dad!” The girls squeal in unison, rushing to hug him. He wraps an arm around each of them, eyes slipping shut with contentment. 

“Hi, my girls.” He sighs happily, nosing Ellie’s hairline and then Sarah’s. 

“Missed you.” You hear Ellie tell him. 

“Hi, mom.” You mock unseriously, crossing your arms. 

“Hey, mom.” Ellie mocks devilishly, tilting her head back with the same teasing look her father possesses more often than not. She’s her father’s daughter, a carbon copy of him whereas Sarah is more like you. 

“You have a good afternoon?” You ask when Sarah meanders her way into your orbit, wrapping her arms around your waist. She nods against you and you tuck some hair out of her face, she nuzzles into you. 

“The movie was packed so we got frozen yoghurt and walked around Target instead, we got you some candy.” She says sweetly, rubbing her cheek into your collar whilst Ellie is resting her chin against Joel’s chest with her arms wound around his waist, whispering something that makes him chuckle and sway her from side to side tenderly. 

She stares up at him like he’s hung the stars and the moon just for you, you’re certain she’d crawl into his rib cage and stay there if she could and you don’t blame her.

“Thank you, sweet girls.” You beam. “Hey, are you both in for dinner tonight?” You suddenly wonder. 

“Yes, sir.” Ellie replies. 

“I’ve got no plans.” Sarah shrugs. 

“How about we Doordash something? Could eat it on the patio?” You suggest and Ellie cheers, Joel chuckles into her hair. 

“Even Dad?” Sarah hesitates as she asks, looking at you hopefully. Your heart breaks, Joel staying away had some serious effects in the first week even though they knew you weren’t going through a divorce and trying to fix things. Ellie acted out at school and Sarah shut herself away, both missing their father’s presence at home even though they saw him most days after school and on weekends if they weren’t out with friends. 

You’d never stopped them seeing him and wouldn’t dare to even if things were irreparable between you. 

“Of course.” You answer Sarah, Ellie looks between you and Joel curiously, her eyes narrow when she sees him smiling softly at you and clocks you blushing. 

“Whatcha both been doing?” Ellie asks slyly. 

“Hanging out, your Dad fixed the shelf for me.” You tell her nonchalantly over Sarah’s head. “So uh.. which one of you ratted on me for breaking it?” 

“Dunno what you’re talking about, man.” Ellie sniffs, you tug the end of her ponytail.

“Mmm.” You murmur, unconvinced. “Go get changed into something comfy and have a think about what you fancy for dinner.” You order, nodding towards the stairs. 

“Race ya!” Ellie bellows suddenly, pushing Sarah into you to get a head start. 

“Hey!” Her older sister shouts, barrelling after her while you sigh and head towards the kitchen, the peace and quiet officially gone. 

Joel gives you a flirtatious look and your heart jumps, your chest warms as do your cheeks. 

“Stop looking at me like that.” You demand, pushing his face away in the opposite direction. He chuckles and grabs your wrist, using it as leverage to pull you to him.  

“What? Like I want to eat you?” He murmurs lowly, you hum affirmatively. “Maybe I do.” 

“That could be arranged.” You whisper, he takes you back into his arms, walking with you until you hit the edge of the kitchen island. You pull him into a kiss, dragging your fingers through the curls at the nape of his neck. 

He growls lowly and hoists you up onto the surface, stepping between your legs, running his hands up and down your parted thighs. 

“The kids are listenin’ to us.” Joel whispers into your ear when he pulls away, nodding outside of the kitchen entryway where you realise you didn’t hear them run all the way to the top of the stairs. 

“No, we’re not!” Sarah has the audacity to yell with offence, you giggle into Joel’s t-shirt.

“Get changed before I make your Dad cook his famous spaghetti surprise dinner tonight instead of getting take out!” You holler back. 

“That was one time.” Joel complains under his breath. 

“Make us a sister.” Ellie shouts from halfway upstairs. 

“No chance! Dad got snipped after you anyway, he said you were more than enough trouble and you were barely out the womb!” You shout back, cackling when you hear both her and Sarah gag fiercely. 

“It’s true!” Joel adds. “I had frozen peas on my crotch for days!”

“Gross!” They both exclaim. 

That night, you sit on the patio furniture, with your husband and children, your feet cradled in his lap with glasses of wine and takeout with quiet music playing from Alexa, giggling and telling them stories of your teenage years and some of a time they’re too young to remember, planning a trip to Seattle they’re ecstatic over. 

You’re certain that everything will be okay. 

[wolfiesmoon]

The aquamarine umbrella

duke!neuvillette x dutchess!reader

i have been consuming too much manhwa and too much neuvillette brainrot so this farted out my brain in approximately 4 hours (i know)

also it just so happens to be my first time whipping out my poetic writing side so that means it was written in my native language and then translated into eng because english vocab is scary ( T﹏T )

also you won't guess.... genshin debut!!! 😘😘😘😘😘

What happens when fate doesn't favour you? When you have to leave the place you once called home because of things beyond your authority?

You are sent to an unknown land in a decorated carriage and into the arms not of a Lord mysterious to all. Well, he is not a complete stranger to you, but the name 'Neuvillette' is not quite a sufficient description of his personality.

The closer you get to his estate, the more you realise your helplessness. As the daughter of an unfavoured duke in your country, you have been chosen for this unfortunate marriage. When father called you into his office, you did not expect his grim face. Or the news that you were to recieve on that fateful day.

So, fate decided to marry you to the heartless dragon of the waters, Neuvillette. Neuvillette is a bit... mysterious among the upper class. You only hear horrible but unconfirmed stories about him. But if there are so many, there's a good chance that at least one of them is true. He didn't even show up at the wedding ceremony, so you can only imagine his appearance.

Neither fierce anger nor the shedding of tears has solved your situation. It's not fair that you can just be sold around like property if you're a woman. But you also know that the King would have you executed if you opposed him. Maybe that would even be better.

You can just clutch the big, heavy bracelet around your neck, made of beautiful sparkling diamonds, and hope that the sky above you is full of stars for a few more years. That you will feel the satin covers under you when you wake up, that you will see the sunset every night.

These little things that you used to take for granted now threaten you with an eternal goodbye.

You should smile right now. Smile and look out of the beautifully decorated window of your carriage and wave at the people of his estate who wave back cheerfully in your direction.

His people do not look miserable. The houses are beautifully built and the smiles on the children's faces bring tears of happiness to your eyes. At least that can comfort you.

There are also small creatures waving at you which remind you of deer. You have never seen anything like them before in your life. You have only seen dead deer after a successful hunting trip from brother. You have always felt a little sorry for them.

They were probably happy in nature, surrounded by clear water, lush trees and the soothing chirping of birds. And in one moment, it all ends.

Perhaps now you understand how a deer feels.

Before you can think too much about the deer-like girls, the coachman is holding out his hand for you to get out of the carriage.

Fate has brought you in front of his castle. From inside, you can hear the soothing sound of water. How familiar.

With every step, the click of your heels can be heard echoing through the great hall. The maids bow to you, standing in a row. The interior of the castle is beautiful. You feel as if you are a small pebble in a bubbling brook, and everything around you sparkles.

Suddenly you hear your own name echoing around the hall. You look up and see him for the first time.

And oh, what a sight he is.

Eyes that sparkle like polished lapis lazuli jewels. Long white hair that looks like pristine silk. A hardened, blank face that holds no forgiveness. Is this what a dragon is supposed to look like?

You bow to him quickly. If you really don't want to become like a deer, it's better to be polite and obedient. Obedience is something that is implanted in you as a young duchess. It is all you've ever known. Quite unfortunate, is it not?

"Welcome to my estate. You probably know me already, but I politely ask you to refer to me by my surname. Since exactly one month ago, we are husband and wife by law. I hope you had a safe journey here." He greeted you formally. You also realised that he called you by your father's surname. Since you are his wife, you are now a Neuvillette. How odd.

It takes you a few seconds to collect yourself and answer him. "It is nice to be here."

The answer is quite modest, just as is expected from someone like you.

"Please take her to her room. I can't assure you that I'll always be here if concerns arise, but if you have any at all, you may consult me about it. I hope you sleep soundly tonight."

And so he disappeared down the beautiful blue corridor, leaving you with only the maids who, at his command, showed you the way to your chambers.

Your bed chamber is also a beautiful blue colour. He seems to have a liking for the color blue.

The sky is already turning red, dusk is approaching and with it your first night in your new home. Tonight you can see the sunset. The maids leave you alone, and you immediately lean against the window. Even though you can't see them yet, you are already asking the stars to forgive you. That you will never take anything for granted, as long as they shine. Then everything will be all right.

.

"How do you feel? I hope the food is to your tastes." Your husband suddenly speaks. He is sitting across the large dining table, but dishes are only placed on your side.

"Everything is fine." You hesitate for a few seconds, wondering if you should bring up your concern. "...B-But, why aren't you eating anything?" you quickly grab a decorated glass and take a big sip of water to fill the awkwardness.

"Human food mostly doesn't interest me, unless it has a large percentage of water. Simple water is more suited to my tastes." His answer is simple, but it doesn't surprise you. He is the hydro dragon, after all. Although you keep forgetting that, because he looks about the same as a human.

"Ah, so... Can.... can you tell me a little about yourself?" you hope you don't sound traitorous or as if you suspect him. So far he's been nothing but polite to you. But what do you know... it's always good to be sure.

"You look like you're guilty of something. I know that look well."

Before you have time to answer, he's already talking. Thank God.

"I don't know what exactly about me you're interested in. But I assume you already know some things about me. For purely impersonal reasons, I can already tell you that in all probability we will never know each other well." These words glue your eyes to his. You don't know exactly what it is, but there is an emotion behind them that is unknown to you. One that makes your chest feel tight.

"I am my land's ludex, not just its ruler. The chief of justice, if you will. I create and oversee laws and hold trials for the accused. I do not doubt you, believe me. But it is best if we keep a distance in between us. Impartiality is the primary virtue of a judge." He explained, eyes closed.

You don't know exactly why, but his words make your heart ache. You don't even know him, and he hasn't cruelly rejected you, but as a little girl you always read fairy tales about love, where a boy and a girl love each other for all eternity. No, since when are you so selfish?! Be happy that he doesn't beat you.

A sad reality many noblewomen in arranged marriages face.

"Ah, I see."

The rest of breakfast was spent in a kind of suffocating silence. You didn't know where to look. Perhaps this accident is suited to you, because nothing comes from nothing.

.

"It's raining today." The maid gently reminds you as she puts a necklace around your neck. You've never been particularly happy about rainy days, especially because of mother. She always made you wear brightly coloured dresses and would get yell at you late into the evening if you came inside with mud on the bottom of your dress.

And she didn't like it if you got wet, either. To you, rain is an inconvenience that occurs every now and then. Since you came here, you rarely get to see your husband. But his beautiful long hair reminds you of the white silk covers on your bed, and his blue eyes remind you of the diamond in your ring. That much hasn't changed.

You have a tradition of walking through the town every day and greeting people. Your parents made you stop doing this when you were a little girl, because "it is outrageous for the duchy to talk to the townspeople and peasants."

But now that you are Lady Neuvillette, that is no longer the case. You haven't had a chance to ask Neuvillette if you have permission to do so, but so far he hasn't said anything, so you think he doesn't mind.

You are very glad that he is a good man.

You have also made friends with the deer-like creatures, or rather the Melusines. You met one while on a walk and she seemed delighted to see you. After a while, the Melusines showed you their artwork and their cuisine. You thought it was strange, but you were happy to see your new friend's culture nonetheless.

Sometimes they tell you that they notice you immediately when you go out for a walk.

And today is no different. Even if it's a rainy day, the walk has become important for you, for the Melusines and for the people of his estate. The children who sometimes bring you freshly picked flowers make your heart swell.

The maids hand you an aquamarine umbrella, decorated with lace, in your hands at the entrance. It will do nicely.

You wave to the local children on your walk, say hello to the Melusines you meet on the way, and decide to visit a small waterfall in the area before returning. It's not the sunniest of days, but it's still a day to experience. And long ago, you promised the stars that you would look forward to every day.

But you notice something interesting by the waterfall. The closer and closer you get, the clearer this thing becomes. It's not a thing, it's your husband!

He's standing in the rain without an umbrella with a peaceful expression on his face. It is as if he is relieved of all pain. You are tempted to go to him and at the same time you want to leave him alone. You stand in the rain for a few seconds, but finally hear your heart calling you to him.

He notices you and greets you calmly. You stand next to him and watch the water bounce down the little river that flows under the waterfall.

"I'm sorry I don't come to see you as much as I would like. As my wife, you are my responsibility." As soon as he says it, you start defending him. You know how busy leading a fief can leave you. You've already got used to your new life, so there's really no need for him to worry.

"The Melusines tell me a lot about you."

"Really?!" You knew that the Melusines liked Neuvillette, but you didn't know that they also shared things about you to him.

"Really. Thank you for being so kind to them. Melusines are... important to me." His smile made you a little jealous. It's nothing, he knows Melusines better than you anyways. And the agreement still stands.

"You really like the rain, don't you?" you commented, looking at his peaceful face once again.

"Yes, really. The rain is beautiful." His eyes meet yours, and behind them there is undoubtedly a gleam of joy. And it stirs something new in you. You are not a deer. At least not here.

You don't know why, but suddenly you're holding his hand instead of your aquamarine umbrella and you're getting soaked by the rain.

He looks at you with surprise on his face, as if he never expected this to happen.

"Does it bother you?" you ask him, worried he doesn't like it.

"Not really. Feel free to hold my hand whenever you wish. You are my wife."

A comfortable silence fills the air, with only the sounds of the waterfall and the rain to accompany your thoughts.

What's a young lady to do with her heart if fate decides that she should fall in love with her distant husband?

[anistarrose]

I think when a lot of queer people who aspire to marriage, and remember (rightly) fighting for the right to marriage, see queer people who don't want marriage, talking about not entering or even reforming or abolishing marriage, there's an assumption I can't fault anyone for having — because it's an assumption borne of trauma — that queers who aren't big on marriage are inadvertently or purposefully going to either foolishly deprive themselves of rights, or dangerously deprive everyone of the rights associated with marriage. But that's markedly untrue. We only want rights to stop being locked behind marriages. We want an end to discrimination against the unmarried.

We want a multitude of rights for polyamorous relationships. We want ways to fully recognize and extend rights to non-romantic and/or non-sexual unions, including but not limited to QPRs, in a setting distinct from the one that (modern) history has spent so long conflating with romance and sex in a way that makes many of us so deeply uncomfortable. And many of us are also disabled queers who are furious about marriage stripping the disabled of all benefits.

We want options to co-parent, and retain legal rights to see children, that extends to more than two people, and by necessity, to non-biological parents (which, by the way, hasn't always automatically followed from same-gender marriage equality even in places where said equality nominally exists. Our struggles are not as different as you think). We would like for (found or biological) family members and siblings to co-habitate as equal members of a household, perhaps even with pooled finances or engaging in aforementioned co-parenting, without anyone trying to fit the dynamic into a "marriage-shaped box" and assume it's incestuous. We want options to leave either marriages, or alternative agreements, that are less onerous than divorce proceedings have historically been.

I can't speak for every person who does not want to marry, but on average, spurning marriage is not a choice we make lightly. We are deeply, deeply aware of the benefits that only marriage can currently provide. And we do not take that information lightly. We demand better.

Now, talking about the benefits of marriage in respective countries' current legal frameworks, so that all people can make choices from an informed place, is all well and good — but is not an appropriate response to someone saying they are uncomfortable with marriage. There are people for whom entering a marriage, with all its associated norms, expectations, and baggage, would feel like a betrayal of one's self and authenticity that would shake them to their core — and every day, I struggle to unpack if I'm one of them or not. If I want to marry for tax benefits, or not. If that's worth the risk of losing disability benefits, in the (very plausible) possibility that I have to apply for them later in life. If that's worth the emotional burden of having to explain over and over, to both well-meaning and deeply conservative family members, that this relationship is not one of romance or sex. (Because, god, trying just to explain aromanticism or asexuality in a world that broadly thinks they're "fake" is emotional labor enough.)

Marriage is a fundamental alteration to who I am, to what rights an ableist government grants me, and to how I am perceived. I don't criticize the institution just because I enjoy a "free spirit" aesthetic or think the wedding industry is annoying, or whatever.

[unnaturalequilibrium]

Capítulo 7

- Mafin rewatch (Sueños de Libertad)

Fina in that green dress - she is beautiful. Damn. She also is Isidro’s daughter through and through, she too seem to have that way of getting people to open up, getting them to accept her advice and comfort. She is soft and reassuring as Claudia spills her mistakes with Tasio. And Fina’s hug looks so nice. I’m pretty sure this is what “everyone needs a bosom for a pillow” means and I agree, they do. To get lost in her embrace looks like it could solve a great many personal problems and maybe a few societal ones too. I don’t know if it’s the solution to climate change, but if 2025’s Nobel prize winners tell me it is - well I won’t be surprised. I also like that she one hundred percent share my exact opinion of Tasio, he is trash, unredeemable trash and should be avoided like the plague.

Aww, Fina arguing her case that a marriage doesn’t equal happiness and that her father shouldn’t be so quick to wish one upon her. The old man really just wants her to be happy, you can tell though that it’s a conversation that makes her ill at ease because of the way she has to stretch and stitch the truth in her replies. I already know it’s going to hurt a lot when he later on rejects her.

Marta confronting Elena - I know that it won’t officially happen for another hundred plus episodes, but Marta is the boss. The way she just slides into that armchair and takes hold of the entire office with what seems like nothing more than an innate sense of authority and a raised eyebrow - yeah, she exudes in charge. But I enjoy the little exhale at the end as Elena leaves. Like so much of who Marta is at this point this too is a game face. Maybe she carries it with what looks like ease, but it might actually come at a fairly high price, just not one we’re allowed to see yet.

Petra, I’m telling you - back off the Marta insults, or - If I remove myself from the narrative though, I love this. I love how they try to build Marta up as this stick in the mud, firm, cold and distant. Unsmiling, no sense of empathy, all business and with very little sympathy. If I hadn’t know what was to come maybe I’d buy it, maybe I’d laugh along with Petra as she mocks and says that Marta needs to smile more. Because yeah, all we’ve seen of her so far actually fits that vision of the demanding ice queen, except for these brief micro-expressions on Marta’s face when no one is looking, when she doesn’t have time to catch her true reaction. When Damian brings up marriage and children, when Elena turns her back, when Fina confronts her and tells her she demands a lot of respect. For a second you see something else, but only for a second, before it is hidden behind the wall again. So yeah, if I had watched this for the first time I would probably have thought of Marta as a bit of a bitch to approach with extreme caution.

That said, back to the narrative, fuck Petra. Fina is a fucking cinnamon roll and I ache so hard for her as this woman clearly leads her on, only to slam the door in her face and call her disgusting as wine and a win makes Fina bold enough to go for a kiss. And invertida is never a slur I’ve had to personally experience, but the way it is delivered and the way it lands makes it feel like I share its burden too. It’s a slap in the face and I wish I could reach through the computer screen and return it, with interest.

Marta’s relationship with her dad, ugh. She talks to him about being happy with being more involved in the company, getting a shot at running the business alongside her brothers. And what does Damian do? He turns the table on her and brings the conversation back to her marriage, talking about how it isn’t what he wanted for her. Granted it’s nice of him to want more than the isolation her current marriage gives her, but it’s also another dagger in Marta’s side, isn’t it? Whatever she does, or achieves, with her dad it always boils back down into her marriage, her role as a wife and the failure of it all. That shit really has to feel like someone ripping out the feathers of her wings every time she tries to take flight. It’s a nice parallel though of both Isidro and Damian wishing happiness and partnership for their daughters. I’m looking forward to when this will come full circle in 170 episodes and they discuss how their daughters have found just that, in each other.

[sanyu-thewitch05]

I need more messed up female reader inserts. More ambitious, manipulative, unapologetically cut throat characters. So for this next idea I have a Male Yandere General X Female Reader Noblewoman.

General premise…reader Darling is a noblewoman whose family took in a slave mother and son during young childhood because they looked more unique compared to other slaves on the market. (I have no idea what type of era this is set in, but maybe this is more fantasy based?) Darling is a prodigy and sees the slave son (whose the yandere) natural gifts at combat/weaponry, so convinces her father to make the boy into a soldier for their family to use to win favor of the royal family. Darling manipulates the boy for years, knowing full well his romantic feelings for her. She promises to marry him  and give him his freedom, as long as he keeps climbing the military ranks, winning battles/wars, and contributing to their noble family name. Darling knows that doing this will ensure an easy bargaining chip with the royal family and the general people that her family deserves to be “rewarded” for their contributions to the kingdom. In other words, Darling wants to be future Queen, always has, and she’s seen poor yandere as nothing but a pawn. After yandere comes back from latest brutal war, he hears the news of Darling’s engagement to the crown Prince. Heartbroken and betrayed, he snaps and launches a coup (which is quite easy because the kingdom loves yandere more than the royal family), granting Darling’s wish of becoming future Queen…just not the way she imagined…And Darling will always be the apple of his eye, but maybe she should “earn” and “fight” her way up to Queen from slave, just as he had to fight from hell and back all his life from slave to king. Couple goals, am I right?

A/N: Finally finished this ask! I hope you like the twist and many hints within this. BTW, this is more tame and doesn't have smut. It does have a happy ending though. Anyway, I hope you enjoy reading this!

TW: Mentions of drugging

You were always meant for greater things. Luckily, you have a plan as to how to get it. First, you must work your way up the nobility ladder until you reach the prince. Then, seduce the prince and bear him children to secure your throne. But that takes time, and time is limited when you're a human. So you took a shortcut and used the latest Elve slaves to help you. The son, Rhys, around your age (14), possesses great potential, not only in magic but in swordsmanship. So, you convinced your father to put him in knight school. Behind the scenes, you make false promises of freedom and marriage to him.

The one condition he has to follow is to keep climbing the military ranks and contributing to the family name. He believed it like a fool, and soon enough, he became your personal knight. A knight in shining armor or a white knight in a way. Rhys was always around you. Which led to him witnessing your most vulnerable moments.

"Milady, wake up. My lady!" Rhys whispers, secretly using his magic to float up to your levitating body.

"Hm?" You moan, waking up and realizing your body is floating several inches into the air.

"You were doing it again."

"Sorry, Rhy."

You think of a feather slowly falling, and you're on the mattress again. Rhys climbs onto the bed and sits next to you. He lets you climb into the safety of his arms for sleep.

"Please don't tell anyone, Rhys," You say, resting your head on Rhys's chest.

"I won't, milady," Rhys says, rubbing your head until you go to sleep.

The next morning, your mother took you to a cottage in the wilderness near the Elves's kingdom for your 16th birthday.

Then, one brutally hot summer day in your delicate 21st year of age, war broke out with the Elf kingdom. King Faenelis of the Elves used magic to fight the war. This created a problem for your kingdom, and so Rhys, other elves, or mages were sent to war. Admittedly, you missed his presence around the manor. You missed him teaching you things about his culture. You missed the gifts from the forest he would give you. But, good news came, and your dream came true. The prince of your kingdom, Prince Calion Veranda, proposed to you at a ball you attended after a night of drinking, dancing, and mock swordfights.

You immediately moved out of the manor and began your life at the castle. You were so happy with the prince that you forgot about the war until it arrived at your doorstep.

"Kill the prince, but spare the girl!" A familiar voice screams, the sound of footsteps coming towards you.

"Go into the tunnels and keep running. I'll find you!" Calion whispers, pushing you away.

You run into the tunnels, and your brain rings from the sound of water dropping and hearing your own footsteps. The tunnels seem never-ending. Suddenly, as if you're losing your mind, whispers start to echo through the stone walls.

"My love, come back."

"I'm here for you."

"I can hear you."

"I feel you."

"I know you."

"Did you really think you could run away?"

"Ooh! Would you shut up?!" You scream, making everything go silent.

Drip. Drip. Drip. Dri-

"Found you!" Rhys says, his milk-white hand pulling into the walls.

You open your eyes and see a more rugged Rhys standing in front of you. His muscles are bulging through the silk white, and green royal clothing.

"Hi, my queen," Rhys says, grabbing you by the chin.

"Rhys, what are you doing? You're going to ruin our family name," You ask, looking him in the eyes.

Those silver eyes mock you.

"I came back and launched a coup with the support of the people. Don't worry, your family is safe. But this kingdom is going to be ruled by me and renamed into Faeranda. It's all your fault. You know, I heard about your engagement and came for you," Rhys monologues, pointing his sword at the crystal wild violet necklace around your neck. "You still wear this necklace? I thought your parents-no! Your father told you not to wear that. What did they say, "Don't wear anything that woman gives you." 'sounds familiar, doesn't it?"

"Don't bring grandma into this!" You yell, pushing his sword away from your neck.

"A crystal wild violet for a girl born on the first of May," You and Rhys repeat, making you shocked at what you said.

"Now I see why your little prince was so eager to marry you despite your dirty family secret. You asked your grandma for advice. And advice she gave in the form of a pink bottle. Like mother like daughter."

"That's impossible, she's dead."

"Dead? Ha, don't make me laugh! You forget your parents made your personal knight. I've read your diary. I managed to break the spell you put on it. I know that three times a week and on certain holidays, you would go to a cottage in the woods housing your grandmother. All covered for by your dear half-witch mom."

"..."

"You learned magic. You know spells, curses, and hexes passed down through generations of your maternal line. You have a grimoire, a personal and family one. You wanted me out of the way so you could get the prince you never had a chance with. But guess what? Your prince is dead, and I'm the new king. You're going to be my queen."

"Rhys, you're crazy."

"You wouldn't want to break dear grandma's heart, would you? While organizing for the coup, King Faenelis, my father, found your grandma, and she told him her deepest wish was for her granddaughter and daughter to have a safe place to live and practice magic. With me as king, I'll bring a new age of magic to this kingdom. Your grandma can live with you again. You can see the cousins and family you never saw in public. You can feel no shame when your magic slips up. You could ride your broomstick whenever you want."

Rhys made a tempting offer. Sure, he killed the prince you drugged to get, but Rhys being king had many benefits for you. You knew what he wanted in exchange, and you had to grant it.

"I, Y/N L/N, break the physical and magical chains placed upon you and your family. You are free," You say, using magic in front of Rhys.

Silver chains appear around Rhys's body and dissolve into dust. You feel the suppressed magic of Rhys and back away. He summons a ring with a bloomed rose design for the green amethyst. Rhys puts it on your finger, and the elf magic flows through your body. A chain appears around your wrist, and a handle in Rhys's palm.

"What have you done to me?" You ask, feeling weak.

"I made you my slave. You're going to have to work your way up from slave to queen. You have to earn my trust. Don't worry, it's temporary. You'll be free after your true self," Rhys replies, pulling the chain so you crash into his chest. "I love you. We're going to have a great wedding with an even bigger after-party."

You hide your face in his chiseled chest. Both of your feet slowly levitate until you're hugging him midair. Being with him always made your magic act out. Then again, it was for the best. You were so tired and wanted to let it go wild. With him, you could do that. You could always do that with Rhys. It was one of your dirty secrets.

[thepenultimateword]

The Worst Kind of Medal

The war had left more scars on the nation than it had Umbra’s body, so she wasn’t surprised that the airship came in 6 hours later than the schedule had claimed. She was more surprised that she was still standing on the platform, bold-lettered sign locked in her fists at either corner, when it arrived. No one had told her she needed to be at the port when Prince Waylon arrived in Graybourne, only that he was to be her lifelong charge forever after. She probably should have left a soldier here in her place and enjoyed her last few hours of freedom at home.

A bit of guilt pricked her insides. That was unfair. No one had forced her into this marriage arrangement. She’d accepted it–maybe only for the promises that came along with it, but still an acceptance. If she was uncomfortable now, it was her fault.

Several men leaped from the ship deck, ropes coiled under their arms. They rushed to knot the tethers to the docking posts as their feet touched the ground. It was complicated to get a ship back in the air once grounded, so most docks were constructed on cliff faces or in Greybourne’s case on towers. This allowed the ship to remain airborne yet steady for boarding and exiting; the same went for inspections and refueling. The only real reason for a ship to land was in case of major repairs.

The plank dropped, and a surge of people rushed onto the platform. Umbra scanned the crowd, with rapid scrutiny. She wished she’d asked for a photograph of her potential husband before the royal family shipped him here. The monarch probably wouldn’t grant her another reward if she lost him on the very first day. 

“Ser Umbra!”

Her gaze shot to the deck where a man with long silvery hair braided crownlike around his forehead and then draped loosely over one shoulder waved over the crowd. Another man, hair-slicked and face creased with a long-suffering frown, reached out to grab him, but the prince was already bounding down the plank. He was more petite than she had expected, his head bobbing in and out of sight as he weaved clumsily through the crowd, bumping shoulders every few steps. As he darted around the last mozying couple, he nearly barreled straight into her chest, but he managed to catch himself just short, tipping up onto his toes in the process.

“Ser Umbra,” he repeated, panting up at her with a broad smile. “I-it’s really you! You came yourself! I really wasn’t expecting to see you straight off the ship! Ryann told me I probably wouldn’t see you until tomorrow morning because of your duties!”

Umbra blinked at him. Her heart felt like it had been seized and clutched hard in her chest.

She’d wondered why the King had suggested Prince Waylon as her groom. It had seemed a very quick choice. She’d figured it was because he was fifth in line for the throne—the royal family wouldn’t marry a soldier to someone who could one day take the crown, no matter how much she’d done for her country. Now, looking at his peeking canines, golden eyes, and long, curling tail, it was abundantly clear this had been a careful act of strategy.

King Esmond had never been shy about taking wives, and as a result, many of his children came from foreign royalty, a way of securing many alliances at once. Not so with the Auskeran princess. Umbra had not yet been born when the marriage took place, but everyone knew that was where the tensions between the two countries had started. With the princess's death.

But now, with the war ended and Auskeran firmly independent from the rest of the world, no foreign alliances were waiting for a half-Auskerian prince. And keeping him around the capital was a liability in itself. His very appearance was a reminder of the recent horrors and a symbol of shame to the King. But he was still of royal blood, and banishments–no matter how merciful–had a habit of coming back to bite. So what did they do? They gave him to a local. Someone high enough to merit such a match but low enough that she couldn’t refuse. Someone who would take all the perks of having a royal spouse as appeasement for the inconvenience of his half-bloodedness.

Still, they had to have known her feelings about such a thing. The war had not ended so many months ago that an Auskerian, even half of one, didn’t bother her. Perhaps that was the very reason they’d said nothing. They wouldn’t want to risk her denial.

“How did you know what I look like?” Umbra said, forcing her clenched jaw apart. He’d picked her out from the crowd on sight. He couldn’t have seen the sign from that distance, could he?

The prince flushed a little. “Father showed me a photograph of the Greybourne division as soon as he told me about the marriage arrangement. He said you’re a general of high standing. You held the eastern front steady for two years before scouting over the border. You won us the war practically singlehanded!” 

Umbra was about to explain that it was far more complex than that but Prince Waylon carried on without pause. 

“And to think, of all the prestigious matches you could have received, Father chose me! I’ve been showing that photo to everyone for the last month! But it got sort of crumpled from carrying it around too much, so my sister painted your portrait for me as a wedding gift. See?” 

He pried open the locket around his neck and leaned forward to show her a very accurate, stoic miniature of her own face. She was dressed in her military uniform, her medal of honor–a medal that she’d really only worn twice, once when it was bestowed and again for a newspaper photo–pinned bold and gleaming to her chest.

 “She made one for you too, here!” He fished into his breast pocket and held out a matching bronze locket by its chain. 

Umbra watched it swing for a couple moments before she tentatively accepted it. “I, um…” He was staring at her so expectantly what was she supposed to do? She slipped the chain over her head, and the locket settled in the hollow of her chest. “Thank you.”

He continued to stare. Gaze flicking to the locket and back to her face again. He definitely wasn’t subtle. 

She picked open the latch and looked vaguely at the companion miniature. “Ah.”

It wasn’t much of a reaction but the prince immediately pounced on it.

“I hope it's ok. I wanted it to be more interesting or at least be smiling, but Isabeau said portraits are supposed to be serious. I’m lucky she let me be as expressive as that.”

“No, no, it’s very nice,” Umbra said. Lied. She hadn’t even noticed whether the portrait had been straight-faced or smiling. She should probably be more excited, or at least appreciative. Princess Isabeau was supposedly a real artistic talent—from the accuracy of her own portrait she had to agree—and her skill mixed with her status, made her paintings some of the most saught after in the kingdom. Now she had one around her neck and she couldn’t even give it a proper enough to look to give a specific detail of praise.

Luckily, Prince Waylon took her words at face value. He noticeably relaxed, and she snapped the locket shut again.

“Prince Waylon!” The other man from the ship shoved out from the crowd, a little more disheveled than he’d been moments ago and lugging two large suitcases. He let the cases drop heavily to the planks and tugged sharply on the ends of his black suit. “A member of the royal family does not fly off like that! You must conduct yourself with decorum! And that means staying with your escort!”

“I was with Ser Umbra, so it was fine,” Prince Waylon said.

The man’s attention flicked toward her, scanning her up and down with an unimpressed expression. As an employee to the royal family why would he be? 

“This is Ryann, my escort to Greybourne,” Prince Waylon said. “He’s supposed to return to Ashborough once he sees me settled.  

“Ser,” Ryann said with a short bow. “Unfortunately, the royal officiant was delayed, so the wedding will have to be postponed at least a couple weeks. I’m to stay until that point to be another witness.”

Great. The last thing she wanted was time to start overthinking things. She’d wanted this done as quickly as possible. And now, with the prince’s Auskerian features to unsettle her, she wanted it done even faster.

“You both must be tired,” she said, hefting up one of the suitcases. “My car is at the base of the tower. I’ll take you to the house so you can rest.”

“Oh, I’m not that tired–” Waylon began

“You drive?” Ryann interrupted as he grabbed the remaining case. “You don’t have a chauffeur?”

“I have drivers,” Umbra clarified. “For shopping and other errands. I simply prefer the autonomy of driving myself. Don’t worry, I don’t expect Prince Waylon to get along without a chauffeur.”

“Oh, maybe I could learn too?”

“Absolutely not,” Ryann snapped. “You’ll get yourself killed. Besides, who ever heard of royalty driving themselves? You’re not one of the working class.”

Umbra started down the first tower ramp, letting them fall into step beside her. Should she say something? Tell the prince he could try driving if he liked? But her drivers didn’t have time to keep an eye on him and she hadn’t planned on engaging in any extra responsibilities. She also didn’t think there was much point in ruffling the escort further. So she remained quiet.

Prince Waylon didn’t seem to take the denial too hard. He chatted a bit on the way down, pointing out the landscape and buildings as they went. Umbra nodded along, but didn’t listen much; she was more focused on the many glances the prince received from passersby, ranging from curiosity to outright disgust. Ryann must have been aware as well because he kept a protective hand on the prince’s arm the entire way down.

The car waited at the curb for them. A sleek green thing with three steam valves that she’d purchased shortly after the war’s end. It was easier traveling back and forth to the military headquarters this way.

“Here we are.” Umbra popped the door to the trunk, putting away the first suitcase and then taking the second from Ryann.

The escort dusted off his hands, as if the meanialness of the task were a visible smudge on his station. He then stepped back to survey the car’s body. “This is a handsome vehicle.”

 Umbra expected it was one of the only words of praise she was going to receive during his stay, but she still couldn’t find it in herself to use it to her advantage. “It does the job.”

 “Ser Umbra, can I sit up front with you?” Prince Waylon chirped from the side.

“You’re not going to address me as Ser Umbra our entire marriage, are you?”

His face washed a hot pink. “I wasn’t sure what you preferred.”

“You’re not a part of my regiment. Umbra is fine.”

“Then I’m just Waylon.” He smiled. A sweet, bright-eyed expression that made Umbra’s insides churn like someone was trying to turn them inside out. The officator had better get there fast.

She nodded curtly and circled around to the passenger door, holding it for him as he picked up the ends of his traveling cloak and slid inside. As she closed it behind him, she caught a glimpse of Ryann’s expression before he entered the backseat. Silent approval. Seemed she’d passed whatever test the employee had in mind for vehicle etiquette. She wasn’t look forward to any similar tests. Her rise in the military had granted her a title and a fortune, but she certainly could claim to be as well-bred as anyone in the royal court. Which for many was a sin in itself. 

The drive from the port to her small estate lasted only 20 minutes and was mainly quiet. Waylon ooed at every street and building they passed. Umbra couldn’t imagine anything here in Greybourne, a city on the very edge of the kingdom, could surpass Ashborough in all its capital glory. Perhaps he was only trying to be polite. However, as they pulled up the lane to the estate, his nose was almost pressed to the glass.

“It’s beautiful!”

Now Umbra knew he was being polite. The estate was a sturdy, grey-stoned building with two stories and several acres of surrounding meadow. A garage hid humbly and strategically around the back so as not to ruin the aesthetic view of the front or boast the ownership of two cars. It may have been larger than many of the other homes in Graybourne, and yes, it was rather pretty in the golden hour of evening, but it was nothing compared to the manors in Ashborough let alone the palace. Umbra had been dragged into several parties and ceremonies in the capital after the war’s official end, and extravagant was an understatement.

Waylon clutched his locket and mumbled under his breath. “It’s like a dream.”

A dream? What did princes have to dream about?

Umbra circled the drive and parked directly in front of the large oak front doors. Arlin and Madeline must have been watching from inside–she was impressed they stayed at the ready for the entire 6 hours she had been gone–because they rushed out the front the moment she stepped out of the vehicle. 

Arlin opened the passenger door before Umbra could make her way fully around, but to his credit, his surprise only lasted a moment. Raised eyebrows shot back down, parted lips promptly pinned shut, and he bowed his head as Waylon stepped down to the gravel drive. 

“Your majesty,” Arlin said, then moved on to Ryann’s door.

In the meantime, Madeline had made quick work of unloading the luggage. The bags seemed oversized compared to her small frame, but she showed no struggle as she carried them around. Her reaction to the prince showed more in an exchange of glances with Arlin than a change of expression. 

“Welcome back, Miss,” she said, “we were beginning to worry something had gone wrong.”

“Just a slight delay in the ship’s arrival,” Umbra said, passing the car keys to Arlin, who promptly took the car around to the garage. “Madeline, will you show the prince and his escort to their rooms? They’ve had a long trip, and it’s getting late.”

“Of course, Miss. I’ll let Henrietta and the others know that dinner will be served in the guests’ rooms tonight.”

“Thank you. Only tea for me tonight. Please have it brought to my office.” She didn’t think she could stomach anything else tonight. Maybe a cup of tea would settle some of her more turbulent emotions.

“Oh, Ser– I mean, Umbra,” Waylon said, the end of his tail flicking eagerly. “I’m really not tired, and I’d love to see more of the estate, and talk to you more. Maybe we can go for a walk–that meadow back there looks promising–and I can tell you–”

“My prince,” Ryann said firmly. The prince jolted, looking at Ryann with wide eyes. The escort gave him a subtle shake of his head.

Waylon looked down at the gravel, ears going slightly pink. “My apologies Ser Umbra. I overexcited.”

Oh no, she needed to say something didn’t she? Something smart and smooth that saved the prince’s feelings without backing down from her preference for a quiet night. She hated hosting. She especially the politics that came with it.

“I’d be happy to show you around the grounds tomorrow,” she said, hoping it didn’t sound forced. “The sun is about to go down soon and the view can’t be appreciated so well in the dark. Besides the meadow is riddled with rabbit holes; I wouldn’t want you to misstep and break an ankle.”

“Ah.” He raised his eyes toward her. Luminescence crept in at the corners. Once the sun had gone completely down, those eyes would be completely aglow. “That would be unfortunate. I…look forward to tomorrow then.” It was hard to read whether he believed her. His gaze showed some relief, but the wrap of his tail around his leg still spoke to some embarrassment. Nevertheless, some of his old exuberance slipped through the cracks in his politeness. “It was a joy–no, an honor–to begin making your acquaintance.” 

Umbra forced eye contact until he turned away, prompted toward the house by Madeline’s beckoning. A cold feeling had lodged itself in the middle of her chest. 

She hoped the officiator would come fast.

[greycloudsinwinter]

Could I get yandere romantic young King henry the eighth headcanons from Spanish princess x gender neutral reader.

YANDERE KING HENRY VIII X READER

👑 you meet Henry when you were very young you were a child born from a servant.

👑your curiosity got the best of you when you saw henry alone studying. You started a conversation to which henry was happy to take part in.

👑but when news had got to his farther that henry was spending time with a low born . He made the guards swear that they wouldn’t let him near you.

👑henry was furious you were his first true friend and his farther had taken you away from him.

👑as henry matures he starts to forget about you but when he once again sees you tending to the garden. All the feelings come back crashing down on him.

👑he goes up too you starting a conversation to which you are happy to talk about. He begins to take you on walks around the garden even when you insist on doing your duties he dismisses it saying that he will get someone else to do your chores.

👑when news comes to him that his brother is dead the first person he goes to is you. He weeps in your lap granted him and his brother weren’t close but he still loved him.

👑at the coronation you are stood near him as comfort.

👑when Henry has too marry he is enraged that he can not marry you .

👑he hates his wife he doesn’t mean too she seems lovely however she was NOT you.

👑after three wives Henry comes to you begging you to marry him . You try to reason with him ‘what will the church think? Henry please understand this is your reputation on the line.’ He simply brushes a strand of hair out of your face ‘ I am the church. I am the one chosen by god to lead England!’ Then he leans down to your ear ‘ I will burn it all just for you .’ Your shaking at this point but you cannot deny him. So you simply agreed to the marriage.

👑he wants many children and by many I mean loads . Sons of course. If you can’t then he will take a mistress so that he can have a son and once she gives birth kills the women and declares you the child’s mother. Anyone disagrees with him are either burnt alive or hanged.

👑keeps you up in a tower only allowing you out every now and again to walk the gardens.

👑hates the way people talk to you or about you.

👑will do anything to gain power over you but if you ask something of him he becomes your servant.

👑he likes his hand to stay on you on your shoulder, lower back , arm , hand etc.

👑possessive and devoted yandere

Thank you for the request ❤️❤️

[synchodai]

Do you think Jace & Baela would be the types to have an “open marriage”? Especially since their parents have had multiple spouses/lovers over the years so that might be something they’re accustomed to. Baela is certainly comfortable with her sexuality to have a relationship outside of marriage with one of the servant boys at Dragonstone and Jace might’ve been with Cregan.

Hello, anon! It depends on what you mean by an "open marriage."

Marriages between nobility were primarily social contracts meant to establish the rights of the two parties involved, and the physical and emotional exclusivity 21st century people expect of their spouses are not necessarily what Westerosi expect of theirs.

Here's what we see the septon say during Sansa Stark and Tyrion Lannister's wedding, the most detailed description of a wedding we have in the books:

Here in the sight of gods and men…I do solemnly proclaim Tyrion of House Lannister and Sansa of House Stark to be man and wife, one flesh, one heart, one soul, now and forever, and cursed be the one who comes between them.

The emphasis here is the union of two people and their Houses, no mention of "being faithful in sickness and in health," "death do us part," or even "fidelity" that most people take for granted in modern Christian wedding vows.

Women were expected to keep themselves only sexually available to their husband while the social norms for men were more lenient, but flirting and indulging in the attentions of other men would be within propriety as long as the wife did not commit acts of fornication. In the middle ages, married queens had many admirers and people courting her favor without it being seen as crossing any boundaries or being an insult to her king husband.

In the book, Baela and Jace have been engaged since they were babies, but Baela exploring her sexuality with stablehands and squires is never seen as "cheating" on Jace. Similarly, Jace sleeping with Sara Snow is considered unremarkable and it's only the rumor that he married her that is consider a violation of his and Baela's betrothal. To a lot of readers, that's already considered an "open" relationship when to people of that society, it's just business as usual.

If you mean specifically the kind of "open" marriage Rhaenyra and Laenor had, in that the woman is allowed to have sex with another man? Yeah, I think Jace and Baela would be the "type" to have that... in an ideal world. However, given Jace's own experience with his bastardy and the precarity of his claim to the throne, they would be (and should be) extremely averse to giving people reason to doubt the heritage of their children. I can see them having their paramours only if they can ensure those relationships wouldn't result in bastard children. Jace himself would probably be hesitant to sire bastards too and would have reservations sleeping around with other women.

... Which is why the fact that he can't get Cregan Stark pregnant would probably be very appealing to him.

[nrilliree]

On my rewatch I began to notice the differences between Emily Carey's Alicent as compared to the one Olivia plays. Pre time skip Alicent seemed more ambitious. She wanted Rhaenyra to worry about about her position before her marriage and played Viserys like a fiddle. She was also clever enough to advise Viserys on having Rhaenyra believe that she has a choice. I could see that Alicent gradually evolving into Book Alicent who wanted power through her sons and was prepared to do anything for it.

But then came the time skip and Olivia's Alicent spent most of her screentime wallowing in self pity and crying which seems to continue in S2. Their unwillingness to let Alicent the villain she is meant to be and doubling down on her victimization is a disservice to her. She doesn't want war......after directly planting the seeds and watering them. She is dumb enough to take Viserys' delirious ramblings seriously. Everyone takes her for granted and steps over her.

Many people say that "young Rhaenyra" was better than "old Rhaenyra" because "old" is boring, has no spark, is not as rebellious… But it is the same with "young Alicen" and "old Alicent" . Rhaenyra went from a rebellious teenager to a mother who kept her children safe while she was abused and unwelcome in her own home. It's an understandable trade-off. But Alicent went from "I will disrespect the king, crown and guests of honor to show that I am better and I am declaring war on them, so my potential allies have a signal to act" to "but why don't I have allies :'(, but why war which I called has negative consequences for me too :'( but Aegon has a dick, so Rhaenyra should understand that women are worse and just give back the crown, so why is there a war :'(".

[sailorblossoms-snowbaz]

Simon and children (assumptions and expectations)

I'm.... sorry for spamming the Simon Snow tag lol but going through my posts to upload them to ao3 just sparks so many thoughts and I Must Write Them Down.

This one is about children, or rather a continuation of this post where I say Baz mentioning marriage and children to Simon plus Simon's reaction could mean this is the very first time in his life that he's in a position to even begin to consider children.

This is important because, while I don't remember the details, I remember seeing the idea that Simon would be like "I used to think Agatha would have my children" or something when considering children with Baz, and that hit me like a jumpscare to honest (he wouldn't really think that??) but then it got me thinking. Where does that idea come from?...

Unless I'm forgetting something, the only person in that comphet triangle who ever thinks about children is Baz. And that's only because his heteronormative hell is specifically tied to expectations of heirs. This is followed by Baz's stomach being turned at the idea of (reproductive) comphet sex because he thinks about and knows himself enough to know he doesn't want to have it, as opposed to pushing through, having it, and then unpacking that it wasn't really wanted after the fact (this is sort of a tangent but also tied to my main point about assumptions: Simon isn't comfortable enough to even think about sex before making progress with Baz, he doesn't have the tools to consider and realize he doesn't want it before he had it – part of how the books challenge expectations and an important part of Simon's characterization is that, when he communicates how sex with Agatha was, he isn't the type to think "I slept with Agatha but..." "I've had sex with Agatha, but..." "Agatha was like this or that in a sexual context"... that type of direct wording is easier to imagine and understand, but it requires a level of casualness and comfort Simon doesn't have, which is very telling in the way he chooses to express that sex with her wasn't a result of love, attraction, or even feeling turned on... he's not going to be the type to consider reproductive sex, not even non-explicitly or in a way that's just implied like Baz does)

I figure the reason someone might think Simon thought he was going to have kids with Agatha "for real" is because he thought he was going to marry her. If people get married, you assume they'll have kids, and you're usually right... but that's still an assumption.

First of all: you can't make assumptions about Simon telling himself he was going to marry her without considering that he didn't really believe it was going to happen. He didn't think he was going to have a future at all. He tells himself plenty of things he doesn't necessarily believe (like "Baz being evil" – the second Baz tries to say he's indeed "evil" Simon is fighting him and telling him he's wrong, he always knew the stair incident was an accident, etc). Even if there's a throwaway line about kids I'm forgetting (like he mentions housing and getting a job, maybe with the help of her parents, as a logical consequence of going through the motions... it makes sense to bring up "where I'll live" and "how will I make and sustain a living" if you consider how all his life those things have never been taken for granted and even then… he doesn’t really believe those things are coming!) my point would still stand, because just like how he never truly considers being married to Agatha, he never considers what that would entail (like raising children).

I think it's important that Simon's mind is not going to just go to kids. You have to remember this is an orphan with abandonment issues – the fact that his sperm donor is always close in one way or another arguably makes this worse. He's not going to be as casual about this as someone who's not an orphan with abandonment issues – we can't just take this for granted. This is likely somewhere he's not going to be able to go without working through some things first – it would be a delicate thing, because it's kind of hard to consider having children without considering your own childhood... and Simon never wants to think about his childhood. Visualizing himself as a father is likely not going to be easy for him – it's not something he would really take for granted.

If you ask me, this is why we are in Baz's POV and not Simon's when he replies "could we?" to Baz's "we could be married with children" in Snow For Christmas. Baz has lived through his dad remarrying and has half-siblings. He can be "casual" about mentioning such things, even if he would be new to considering it in the context of "I can have those things with the person I want to have them with." If we were in Simon's head, it would probably be blank (the author was asked about what Simon thought about then and she replied that not even she knows)... and part of it is that this is likely the first time the idea of having kids truly enters Simon's head. Because Baz is saying it. And if the person he wants to build a future with says it, it means it's on the table. Even then, he doesn't have time to process it.

In short, as far as canon goes, Simon and the idea of kids is at: Baz mentioned it so it warrants serious consideration, but Simon hasn't had time to process it yet... so even then, he's not at a point where he's thinking "I'm going to (or I'm not going to) have children" affirmatively. But Baz mentioned it. It warrants serious consideration, then... And so, because it's just entering his head for real, because he's now living his life in the way he chooses to live it with the person he wants to live it with, he tentatively starts with a question.... "could we?" (is this a possibility for me? for us?... he hasn't considered it before!)

[blankfairy]

Since you’ve provided so many lovely pairings for me to consider, I present some for you as well:

Finn + or / Kaleb

Samsa + or / Gawen (let’s pretend they’re around the same age lol)

Trystane + or / Therese

Alyx + or / Kaleb

(Yes I’m just throwing Kaleb at everyone bc I think it’s fun lol)

you SPOILED me!! these were all so fun to think about! i'm so sorry in advance that none of these assholes are very nice or personable 😭 they got long so i'm putting them under a cut!!

finn /+ kaleb first thing i read about him when i was researching was that he was restless and rebellious and a horrible annoyance to his father … and if that ain't finn, too, omg. unfortunately that would not work in their favor for getting along, lol.

betrothal or otherwise, i'm afraid they would NOT do well. nevermind the fact finn would be a horrible match for kaleb — the flints of widow's watch are not ignoble, perse, they just don't have a lot of clout; he's also not a very 'desirable' bride — i think finn would just straight up not be happy. he's miserable in king's landing after giving birth to samsa, and i'm not sure any attempts kaleb might make to take pity on him would go very well. larys practically ignored him for the first few weeks/moons of their marriage and i think that worked in his favor, lol. finn is stubborn but he can also just be... mean. and does not care much for people around him. kaleb does not deserve that !! and he's STILL going to be pissed when he finds out kaleb has bastard children.

i wonder how he'd feel about finn, esp as a 'wife' that he was arranged to marry and straight up does NOT like him? mutual hatred?

now, as companions? that could be a bit closer. seeing how finn became fast friends with queen alicent, and kaleb is already close with her from youth, they could bond over that sort of… mutual affection for the queen. granted, kaleb is a real friend and finn just likes to gossip and have friends in high positions of power, but still. i don't think he'd like him very much, especially after giving alicent a bastard son. he's side-eyeing him HARD from across the dinner table, that's for sure.

i'm not sure if kaleb has anything going on with larys… if he'd be distrustful of him, dislike him for his percieved closeness with alicent. if he was, i could definitely see them butting heads over that, too. kaleb thinking alicent shouldn't be close to finn, maybe, that he and his husband only mean trouble.

samsa +/gawen

okayyy there's a lot of nuance to this one! as a romantic pairing i do NOT think they would work, though. marrying a bastard is a terrible idea for him if he wants to promote his legitimacy and claim to the vale, and samsa isn't the type to engage in an outside relationship. together, i don't think they'd be happy KSJDKSDDKS. samsa would forever be pissed about marrying an arryn instead of a prince… she has very high ambitions and even one of the great houses would not sate them. plus, unclaimed bastards, their clashing cockiness? oh, no. i'm praying for gawen, that's for sure.

as companions, though? friends? now i could see that a bit better. as stubborn and strong-willed as they both are, i think they may butt heads a bit but ultimately mesh well together. the main problem here is that they're on differing sides of their respective conflicts… i'm, for some reason, imagining a diplomatic dinner in the eyrie or something of the sort, if samsa flies there to negotiate terms. a battle of wits and words, i think, that would be quite entertaining to watch.

trystane +/ therese

i'll indulge in both here too because there is possibility both ways:

i'm not sure of therese's exact age, but i think they're pretty close! a few years off, maybe. brother-sister relationship, anyone? trystane is such an odd kid who has, like, no friends, so i could see therese taking pity on this weird little thing. maybe they actually spend time together in the godswood, or pray together, or maybe he's just like this little purse dog that she drags around because he's amusing. either one is attention that trystane is glad to have, lol.

a betrothal is possible, but probably not ideal. it'd likely happen after harwin's death, so trystane is the technical heir to harrenhal, and i'm not sure larys would be so keen to marry his son to a bastard… it's just not super politically advantageous to him, since she's not in the line of succession. not out of the question, though. i think they'd get along well enough, but trystane is definitely not a very good husband, which i think could lead to some frustration for therese. just that he's… so out of it, all the time, and his behavior may shame her in some way. we do know how the folks of westeros like to gossip.

alyx / kaleb

i'm going with shipping for this one because it's silly /pos, and i'll just pretend for a second they're a little closer in age lol (she's closer to aemma/viserys' generations than alicent/rhaenyra/kaleb's, at around 48 by the start of the dance). this would not be a bad match, putting aside the fact they're both heirs to their respective houses. alyx has bolton from her grandmother (and stark even further back!), lannister from her mother. house vesgar is wealthy and well-respected, if you ignore the rumors about dark magic and cursed blood. it'd unite the lineage of a few pretty powerful houses. or some reason i'm imagining her broken betrothal to daemon being replaced with kaleb's, and this is where the troubles arise.

alyx was i think… fifteen when her betrothal to daemon was broken? and while, at the time, this was something that excited (and disappointed, when it failed) her, she quickly realized that she did not particularly want to be married. she yearned for no one but the company of her twin brother (NOT LIKE THAT), and basked in her years of maidenhood while her father searched for a 'good husband' for her, nevermind the fact her best prospect was already gone. she grew to be very thankful she was never wed.

there would be a certain a in anger her if she was then betrothed to the heir of a northern house. i could see them meeting in court, as kaleb was sent to ward and alyx became one of aemma's ladies-in-waiting. charming and handsome as kaleb is very no-nonsense. i could almost say it's like rhaena and androw farman … ? though alyx is not so foolish as to alienate her husband. she's practical about it. "i do not wish to be married. and i surmise i was not your first choice. even so, this is no reason to live in hatred of one another. i do not wish to become my mother."

so, friends, maybe? heirs might lead to trouble, though, because she happily fields her brother's bastard as her heir, and any bastards kaleb fathers… well, alyx does not tolerate disrespect to her house or herself, is all i will say.

(alternatively, kaleb is married to alyx after the dance is over to 'keep him close,' and he's still miserable except now in chimera's nest SKJDFKSJDF)

thanks so much for the ask again... this was a lot of fun to think about!!

[msfbgraves]

The cruelest thing Daniel’s Pop ever did was make him go back/playing with his feelings so that he’d go back to Terry after the rape, knowing how hurt and scared Daniel was. Using his 18 year old son to save the family via marriage to a murderer was bad, this was way worse. Pop is an interesting character, but a horrible person. Great story btw!!

I see how it can read that way, Nonnie, and if my parents would do something like Daniele's Pop does, I think it would be straight up cruelty. But I don't completely agree. You know how mobsters never say anything outright? The implication here is, "You want him dead, caro? Say the word, he's dead. You won't have to do it, or be implicated or even be sure that's what happened. But I will kill him for you, and you can come back home. Except I'm not sure that is what you want deep down." Because it's not, his Daniele wants a divorce. And that cannot happen. It would weaken the power of marriage as a political tool, but more importantly, as this is aboverse - Terry wouldn't stand for it. It would mean war. A hell of a lot of killing. Amanda says the same. Would the kindest thing have been to grant him that divorce anyway and help him hide? Sure, if he could pull it off, but this beautiful young man would be preyed on by Alphas and betas alike. It's not feasible, the pups could get hurt, it's all kinds of trouble. Also, if Daniele does not want him dead - and Antonio is more than willing to kill, as is Michael - isn't there something left they could at least try to build on? He'd take his son and his pups in, of course, but ultimately he'd have to wed him to someone again, there would be too many suitors to hold off forever... It's do or die, and that's what Daniel resents. He's more American than his Pop. Individual happiness can trump the concerns of the whole family structure in his head. To both his parents that's unthinkable. Family is everything. Everything. The only safety that exists. And if that means sacrificing some individual happiness, that's a price you'll have to pay for the unconditional belonging. Even canon Daniel isn't above that. Sure, Louie is a pain in the ass but he's family. Vanessa's family and if he has to bring them to California to have them near it's what you do. If Lucille has to drop her whole life to nurse Louie sr. she does. But in this story Daniel rightly asks: what's in it for me? How much personal happiness can I sacrifice before I can't bear it anymore? But he has an infant with this man, a toddler and three young children, whom he loves above all else. He can see in Michael what happens when that loyalty and warmth isn't there, or at least not enough of it to curb the ego. It's terrifying to Daniel. Still, loyalty has a cost, and so does love. It's a choice mothers face the world over. If he'd up and left - left the pups, left his family, everyone would think he was the monster. Society can make it so there are no good choices and yes, I think about the toll of a loving family too. It's not all Sunday dinners and warm hugs.

Still I understand where his Pop is coming from. To him, the family is worth almost any price and he's just lucky as the patriarch, other people pay it. He wasn't always, though. He's done unspeakable things to build a sanctuary and fight his way out of poverty, for himself and his wife and pups, for his brother, his neighbors, his countrymen.

[luintheworld]

No editing or fancy designs here, just a little something I worked on as I was very bored at a NYE party. Some soft Frankie to start off your year right!! :)

Frankie x reader New Year’s Eve party

We aren’t the kind of people to go to parties.

Lest the party of the friend of a friend 40 minutes away, one which required hiring a nanny and braving the New Year’s traffic on the highway.

Yet, here I was in a long blue-and-white striped dress and a full face of makeup, holding a glass of wine and making small talk with people I barely knew.

Pope had convinced Frankie to go to his fiancée’s cousin’s New Year’s Eve party, (of course he did, Pope is the only person whose words mattered as much as mine), but seeing as my husband’s best friend usually only spends two months in the US each year, I agreed.

Granted, the penthouse was stunning. I didn’t know Pope’s fiancée very well, but from what her tía had shared in the hour we’ve been standing in the corner, he was some sort of big real estate guy. The apartment was one of those multi-million, ultra-modern Miami Beach developments with panoramic views of the ocean.

I was promised a fun night to decompress from our hectic year with unlimited top-quality liquor and the usual Pope and Frankie banter.

Instead I was posted on the corner, keeping watch of the drunk tías and screaming children.

At least the wine was good.

Frankie had long since been whisked away by Pope and his gaggle of soon to be in-laws, caught up in their boisterous, beer-stained conversation. I couldn’t even be mad, just looking at him across the room.

The yellow light hit his face just right, illuminating the smile lines and soft wrinkles I so love. It was a different kind of joy on his face when he’s with Pope- boyish and carefree, stupid in the best way. They’ve gone through so much together… it’s a bond I wouldn’t dare interfere with, especially since their meetings are getting rarer.

So I mingled with some other wallflowers and ate three servings of flan, letting Frankie be Frankie. The flip side is that once he starts drinking with Pope, they won’t stop.

Since settling down after his official unofficial retirement and dedicating himself to being a dad, Frankie’s rarely drank and never used. But I know how it goes with Pope, and that’s alright, he deserved that night off more than anyone.

And that means that I was the designated driver. Someone had to get us home safe and it sure as hell wasn’t going to be Frankie. So is the nature of marriage… We've learned the hard way after 9 years.

I put down my glass, but instead of sitting through another hour of Tía Elena and her friend’s many surgeries, I decided to step outside onto the balcony.

The ocean air hit my face in a gentle breeze, carrying with it the salty smell of the sea below. I breathed it all in and there I stood, my arms draped on the glass railing, the loud chatters and upbeat music muffled behind me.

It was peaceful and beautiful, with the city lights below. After everything Frankie and I have been through, I was beyond thankful for that moment of grace. We are fully, completely happy.

We have a house and three kids and a dog. We have each other.

In the darkest moments I was sure I would never see him smile again, yet here I stood at the precipice of a new year with joy on all sides.

“Diez… Nueve…”

The crowd inside started chanting when the music stopped.

“Ocho…”

I turned around to see Frankie, two glasses of Prosecco in hand.

“Siete…”

Tía Elena opened the sliding door for him.

“Seis… Cinco…”

He counts down with a smile on his face, handing me the glass.

“Cuatro…”

I take it and he holds me by the waist with his free hand.

“Tres… Dos…”

We say together in excited anticipation.

“Uno… Happy New Year!”

Screams and whistles erupt from the street and the apartment alike. Neither of us have too much attention to the sparkling wine or the fireworks, instead our lips met through our smiling mouths and let out sweet whispered “I love you”s.

“I’m sorry, amor. This isn’t what I promised,” he said, still holding me with his gruff hands and my gaze in his mahogany eyes.

“Frankie, it’s okay. You have to enjoy Pope while he’s here.”

“I don’t deserve you,”

He sounded surprisingly serious (despite the stench of beer on his breath) as his puppy dog eyes shimmered against the golden fireworks.

“I’m so lucky to have you, Frankie. Happy new year, my love.” I gave him a peck on the cheek.

It was going to be a good year, I thought as my head rested on his chest and we watched the multicolored fireworks color the night.

It was going to be a good year.

[noaltbruh]

Hi! Congratulation for the 200 followers! I've seen you've got a lot of asks for this event, and that shows that so many people love your writings!

Mind if I join the celebration? May I request 💭 ❗️👐 💍⏳ for my favourite himbo JoBros Okuyasu and Polnareff (yes I consider Pol as a JoBro) with f!reader?

Again, congrats to the 200!

Thank you thank you!! 😭💞 and I'm so sorry for keeping you waiting for so long, school's been really rough lately and finding time to write hasn't been easy.

Also Pol is not a Jobro, he's the whole ass protagonist of part 3 😤💕

Hope you enjoy :)♡

💭 How do they imagine their future with their S/O to be like?

Okuyasu just...Wants a simple future for the two of you. This boy doesn't ask for much and doesn't like to carefully plan his life, he prefers to go with the flow and just see how things evolve over time. You can figure the details along the way, it doesn't really matter to him as long as you're by his side.

He'd really love to form a family with you though, to be the good father he never really had. I feel like he gets along with children very well, and he will treat both you and them like you're his most trusted treasure during your entire marriage.

Also, kind of random, but I think that Oku would want to become a chef after high school and probably open his own restaurant. Because of this, he's always fantasizing about you coming to visit him after work some day, as he prepares for you the best meal you'll ever have.

~~~~~

Polnareff's future is...Way too idealistic lol-

What can I say? This man is an hopeless romantic, he seems like the type to believe in fairy tales about love. He wants the two of you to have a perfect life, where nothing ever goes wrong and you're always happy and together.

To be fair though, he will work the hardest he can, so that so you'll be able to have the closest thing possible to what he had originally in mind. Pol Pol is very devoted to you and your relationship, he'd be perfectly happy even if he was the only one to work and you preferred to become a housewife.

However, this man has sworn to himself one thing: he will always support and help you through any decision you may take in life. No matter what, he'll be right by your side to make the journey easy for you, don't ever doubt his commitment to you.

❗️How would they surprise their S/O?

I feel like there would be two occasions in which Oku would most likely try to surprise you.

A- either school has just finished and he's thought of something cool to do that you would have never come up with. Or...

B- there was no reason at all for this, he just felt like it one day and now you're going to join him. No, it is not negotiable.

If he wanted to go with something safe, he'd probably just get you a game or a book he knew you would have liked, so that you could play together. He knows your tastes very well.

Alternatively, he'd buy tickets for the first train he could find and take you sightseeing for an entire day to a city you had never been to before. And before you ask, yes, he's just as clueless as you about the place you are in. Good luck.

~~~~~~~

First of all, Polnareff loves surprisingly you so much. He loves your excited look whenever he does something you didn't expect, and he doesn't want your relationship to become too...Static, or ad he calls it, "boring".

I think Pol Pol would most definitely try to surprise you through either acts of service or gift giving...Or maybe even both, he'll go no any extend to impress you, honestly. He thinks it's a nice way to always remind you that he truly cares about you and that he'd never give your love for granted.

Immagine this: you've just come back home from a long day at school/work, only to find out that your house has been perfectly tidied, there's a bouquet of flowers waiting for you together with a nice home-made meal. Can you guess who is behind this?

👐 what sort of things would they like to match with their S/O?

Okuyasu would like to match so many things with you, he's just so proud to have you as his girlfriend and he wants to show it off as much as he can.

You have so many options to choose from, honestly. You could match plushies, and be assured that this boy would hug his one any time you're not near him, pretending that's actually you. Same Okuyasu, sane.

OR, you could match something related to your outfit! Maybe you could wear his iconic dollar pin and he'd add something to his look that reminds him of you :)

Also you two would definitely have those "If lost, return to Y/N" / "I'm Y/N" shirts.

~~~~~~~

Polnareff would definitely be the one to ask you to match things with him. It's something he's always wanted to do as soon as he got a partner, it makes him feel like you're more of a power couple and he thinks it's just a sweet gesture in general. Moreover, he wants you two to stand out, he just loves to show off.

I think he'd basically beg you to match his heart shaped earrings with him. He'd give you one half and would refuse to take his off, no matter the time. Even during stands battle, he uses it as a reminder on who he's fighting for.

He'd be so happy if you always wore it like him, but he won't pressure you into doing so, he wants it to be a spontaneous gesture for you as well :)

💍How would they propose to their S/O?

It's funny that you asked this question, because Okuyasu has no clue either lol-

Whenever the word "wedding" comes up, the only thing he's able to think of is how beautiful you'd be in a bride dress, how he can already feel his eyes filling with tears as soon as he sees you walking down the isles, and how he'd vow to live you for the rest of your life.

...In his head. It's too bad that he's going to need a small reminder that, if he wants this to happen, he'll actually have to propose to you. That is when he actually begins to go into a spiral and realizes how scared he is to actually take this step. What if it's too soon? What if you you don't accept? What if he makes a fool out of himself and trips while trying to get on his knee?

With some advice from his buddies, however, he'll muster up the courage to take this step. I believe he'd propose to you, unlike how it's usually done, in the afternoon or maybe even in the morning, on top of one of the beautiful hills of Morioh, surrounded by a stunning view of the entire city.

"Y/N...Maybe I'm rushing in doing this, m-maybe I'm doing something wrong a-and I haven't even realized it, but...This has always been my fear ever since we...Got together, b-but you never made me feel like I messed up! Sweetie, when I'm you, I feel like...I actually matter, l-like I'm more than just a dumbass, and...You don't know how happy this makes me, how happy YOU make me. I...I really love you, Y/N, and uhm, i-if you take this, I'll keep on loving you forever and ever! So, will you...Will you marry me?"

~~~~~~

To be honest, the Crusaders probably had to stop him from proposing to you way too soon at least, like, three times or so. He just thinks with his heart rather than his brain, and sees marriage as the ultimate way to make your relationship as authentic as possible.

When the time actually comes around to ask you the infamous question, this man just cannot wait. He's spent enough time dreaming about it to know how to put his plan into action, and he has no hesitation whatsoever. He knows what he wants, and that is you and you only, no time to worry or rethink.

He'd propose to you in one of those immense gardens of flowers in his hometown, he wants everything to be as romantic as possible and to leave you absolutely baffled.

"Ah, mon amour...I don't think you understand how long I've been yearning for this moment. We were destined to meet, tu comprends ce que je veux dire, n'est pas? Of course you do, chéri, you're the most brilliant person I've ever met, after all. And you're so much more than just that, you are...My true love, my other half, what makes me complete. We were always meant to be, and the ring I'm holding if the proof of it. Will you give me the honor of marrying you?"

⏳How long would it take for them to fall for their S/O?

Okuyasu probably already had a small crush on you even before he actually met you, if he somehow saw you walking down the school halls sometimes. He's quick to fall for someone and always thought you were pretty, so you had already won him over before even knowing it lol.

When you do actually begin to talk, this boy will only get more and more convinced that he's in love with you. Everything you do or say just pushes him to think that you're the one, especially if you show him kindness.

He may try to push his crush on you aside a little, since he thinks you'd never reciprocate his love, but he's the kind of person that just can't keep his emotions at bay, and his feelings for you will come out soon enough, before you even know it.

~~~~~~

Alright, let's he real here: Polnareff wanted to marry you since literally the first moment you two ever met. Yes, he does have the habit of falling in love way too quickly, but he was right at least this time. He just knows you two are a match made in Heaven and sees no point in "taking it slow".

Depending on how quick YOU are to fall in love, you might as well get together with him a week after you two met, to be honest. But, of course, he's not dumb entirely and can take a hint, so if he notices you just see him as a friend for the time being, he'll respect.

100% won't stop bragging about how he knew from the beginning that you would have become a couple, as soon as you actually do. He doesn't care if you think he's extra or way too dreamy, when he says this, he means it.

[ottomanladies]

Hello, I hope you are doing well, I love your content but I was confused by a subject you brought up

You mentioned in one of your posts that Nilüfer was most likely a consort of slave origin, and then you rely on the Mekce document to claim that Orhan had two other consorts called Melek and Efendi.

I would like to know what recent historians base their claim that Nilüfer was a slave on, apart from her first name? Which could very well have been changed following her conversion to Islam, I see absolutely nothing that proves that this is the case, quite the contrary, and by the way, who decreed that Nilüfer was a slave name? 😭

According to the majority of historians, Nilüfer was the daughter of the Tekfur/Ruler of Yarhisar.

It is said that Nilüfer arrived after 1324 because she is not mentioned in the Mekce document, and that this is sufficient evidence to say that she was not there before and that the stories about her are false, but absolutely not. This document is not a family document in any way, all the children of Orhan and Osman are not mentioned, and neither is Asporça Hatun, although it is absolutely certain that she became Orhan's wife well before 1324 since she gave birth to Ibrahim in 1316. And you basing your theory on Nilüfer being a slave because she arrived after 1324, while you say that she is the mother of Suleyman who was born around 1316? In addition to this, in this document, Efendi and Melek are not certified or mentioned as Orhan's wives in this document, unlike his sister Fatma who is clearly mentioned as Osman’s daughter, so where does this information come from? Efendi, Mal Bint ömer and Melek are all mentioned at the bottom of the document and are the three people whose identities are not identified (this was also confirmed by Leslie Pierce)

Also I don’t know what’s so important for everyone about that Mekçe document? In 1941, Halil Ismail Uzuncarsili published the 1324 Mekçe Property Charter from the documents found in Topkapi Saray, where indeed Efendi and Melek are mentioned (not described as Orhan’s wives they are just witnesses), everybody take in consideration that document but ignore the other charter made by Halil Ismail Uzancarsili published after 1963, this one actually prepared by Orhan Gazi himself in 1360 after the death of his eldest son Süleyman, where Nilüfer IS mentioned, Efendi and Melek aren’t.

Efendi was only Orhan's cousin and Melek was more likely his niece, them being mentioned in the Mekce doesn’t mean they were wives of Orhan?

Moreover, this theory can also be easily denied due to the fact that the title of "Hatun" was not used with their names (like Fatma *HATUN* Bint Osman for example), which was unlikely as the name of all other noble or even common women was followed by this title, let alone the wives of an Ottoman ruler.

All the claims about “Efendi” and “Melek” being Orhan’s wives are completely baseless and were only made by Feridun Emecen after 725 years.

The so-called Bayalun is also more likely Nilüfer, it is said that it is one of her names. There is this book of travels by Ibn Batuta who himself mentions that Nilufer Hatun was Beylun Hatun. In John Freely's book it is also mentioned exactly the same thing, Beylun Hatun was Nilufer Hatun

You also say that Theodora was Orhan's favorite wife, while her marriage with Orhan was for purely political reasons, Orhan probably didn't even welcome her and she was taken care of in the Ottoman lands by eunuchs like it is mentioned in the book" Eunuchs in the Byzantine history and society". Theodora was 16 when she married and Orhan 66? Unless Orhan has some strange sharpness, I doubt she was his favorite, especially when the great love story of Orhan and Nilüfer is so well described in the many history books read, presented and approved at the court of the Ottoman Sultans Bayezid II and Murad III :)

That grant land which apparently identifies Efendi as Orhan's wife, I wonder if anybody ever saw this document because I don’t think so? It is in Leslie.p's book okay, but this isn’t a proof?

Orhan had three confirmed wives in his life and these are most probably the only ones he had: Nilüfer, Asporça and Theodora.

And I wonder where is it stated that Orhan had a Serbian wife, because I checked Oztuna’s work on O.E and all he has talked about is politics and the era of yavuz and kanuni and until now I myself couldn’t find anything in which he talked about the wives of sultan or like the even slightest mention

Regarding Alderson and his claims (that I didn’t find btw) pointing out that Orhan had a Serbian wife, I wonder where he got that from, and I don't think his statements are really true, for example If we follow his logic almost all of Mehmed III's children were born from Handan and he also completely denied the fact that Murad III had a daughter named Hümaşah 💀 In addition to this, he also wrote that Orhan died in 1360 and that Murad executed his brother Suleyman’s son, I don’t even know where the Serbian wife thing comes from. All Alderson said about Nilüfer and Orhan was just that they got married in 1299

There are so many sources that claim that Orhan only had 3 wives, and that Nilüfer, the Byzantine Tekfur’s daughter was his favorite wife, I can share them with you but expect it to be long 😭, sorry if I seemed rude, it was not my intention, have a nice day! And again I love your content! ❤️

I'm sorry but I'm a little confused because I looked into my blog and I've never claimed any of this stuff.

A little disclaimer before I go on, though: I don't do historical research for every post I make because otherwise, I'd post once a year. Everything I have written on this blog has been taken from books, so it's not me claiming anything. It is true that in this post, related to Orhan's and Bayezid's consort, I did not include sources but the bookshelf page contains all the sources I usually use.

Now:

You mentioned in one of your posts that Nilüfer was most likely a consort of slave origin, and then you rely on the Mekce document to claim that Orhan had two other consorts called Melek and Efendi.

I have no idea what this Mekce document is, I have never used it nor seen it. That Nilüfer was "most likely" a concubine (words are important) is something that Peirce says in The Imperial Harem:

Nilüfer's name, Persian for "water lily", argues for a greater likelihood that she was a concubine, since it was typical of the mostly Persian names given to concubines in the fourteenth and fifteenth centuries, many of which were names of birds and flowers. Further evidence that Nilüfer might have entered Orhan’s household as a slave concubine is the fact that slaves were an abundant commodity in the Turkish principalities of western Anatolia by the time of her son Murad’s birth. Ibn Battuta reported that the ruler of the rival Turkish principality of Aydın had twenty Greek slaves standing at attention at the entrance to his palace; indeed, he gave the traveler a Greek slave woman as a gift. The household of Osman contained slaves used in combat and probably household slaves as well, although historical tradition represents the estate of the deceased ruler as modest and typically nomadic: a robe, flank armor, a saltcellar, a spoon holder, soft high houseboots, several stables of good horses, several flocks of sheep, a few wild mares, and several pairs of saddle pads.31 By the beginning of Orhan’s reign, slaves taken in conquest may have been a standard feature of soldier households in the Ottoman principality: Orhan purchased slaves from his followers in order to provide for the defense of the newly conquered fortress cities.

I have simply reported what Peirce said in The Imperial Harem.

And you basing your theory on Nilüfer being a slave because she arrived after 1324, while you say that she is the mother of Suleyman who was born around 1316?

Again, I don't understand why you're thinking *I* am the one who came up with the theory. I didn't. I've never studied Orhan's family as it is not a subject I'm particularly interested in.

This, again, is written in The Imperial Harem:

The principal witnesses of the 1324 endowment deed cited above were family members; the hierarchical order of the signatories suggests that two of the four female witnesses—Melek and Efendi—were wives of Orhan (the other two were Fatma Khatun, Orhan’s sister, and Mal Khatun). Efendi, identified as “Eftendize” in the record of a land grant Orhan made to her as his wife, may have been Orhan’s cousin, the daughter of Osman’s brother Gündüz. If so, this first-cousin marriage may have functioned to seal Gündüz’s loyalty to Osman. Melek appears in no histories or other documents that have come to light; if indeed she was married to Orhan, she may have been the mother of Sultan, who is known to us as one of Orhan’s sons only through his appearance as a signatory to the deed and who must have died before his father. Another of Orhan’s wives, and the mother of his son İbrahim and two daughters, Fatma and Seljuk, was Asporça. Nothing else is known about her except that Osman granted this daughter-in-law several villages, which she then deeded to her descendents in 1323, making her son her executor.

All the claims about Efendi, Melek, Bayalun... I know nothing about this. I simply reported what I've found in books written by other people. Just take it up to them.

You also say that Theodora was Orhan's favorite wife, while her marriage with Orhan was for purely political reasons, Orhan probably didn't even welcome her and she was taken care of in the Ottoman lands by eunuchs like it is mentioned in the book" Eunuchs in the Byzantine history and society". Theodora was 16 when she married and Orhan 66? Unless Orhan has some strange sharpness, I doubt she was his favorite, especially when the great love story of Orhan and Nilüfer is so well described in the many history books read, presented and approved at the court of the Ottoman Sultans Bayezid II and Murad III :)

I really have no idea where I said this because I looked for posts where I mentioned Theodora but I didn't find anything. This is what I said about her when I was asked to talk about Orhan's consorts:

And I wonder where is it stated that Orhan had a Serbian wife, because I checked Oztuna’s work on O.E and all he has talked about is politics and the era of yavuz and kanuni and until now I myself couldn’t find anything in which he talked about the wives of sultan or like the even slightest mention

I don't know what O.E is but I use Devletler ve Hanedanlar. This said, it's not Oztuna who said Orhan had a Serbian wife, but Alderson:

Stefan Uroš IV Dušan was King of Serbia, hence his daughter was Serbian.

Regarding Alderson and his claims (that I didn’t find btw) pointing out that Orhan had a Serbian wife, I wonder where he got that from, and I don't think his statements are really true, for example If we follow his logic almost all of Mehmed III's children were born from Handan and he also completely denied the fact that Murad III had a daughter named Hümaşah 💀 In addition to this, he also wrote that Orhan died in 1360 and that Murad executed his brother Suleyman’s son, I don’t even know where the Serbian wife thing comes from. All Alderson said about Nilüfer and Orhan was just that they got married in 1299

Even if he's wrong, which I don't know, I had to include this second Theodora in my post about Orhan's consorts just for completeness. Also, Alderson cannot be completely discarded just because he's sometimes wrong. He also wrote in the 50s.

I'm honestly perplexed because I feel like you confused me with another person, as I have never said anything that you claim I have said.

EDIT: I haven't forgotten about the other asks in my inbox, I'm just reading everything carefully. Please be patient 🙏🏻

[daystarsearcher]

Thanks for the tag @envexenveritas. Saved it for the weekend when I had a bit more time and brainspace:

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

88

2. What's your total AO3 word count?

481,422 (Damn, if I wrote this much on my original fic, I could have a second novel done by now)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

Currently, Doctor Who/Big Finish and Holby. In the past I've written for Star Trek: the Next Generation and Star Trek: Deep Space, and I went through an intense Law and Order: Criminal Intent period in college.

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

The World Has No Place In Our Bed: Doctor Who, Kate/Osgood. You all love a fake marriage fic!

So Then This Happened: Doctor Who, Kate/Osgood PWP. There are things I'd change about the writing in this, but I guess you all like it!

Empty Spaces: Star Trek: the Next Generation, I looked at the whole Lal situation and decided to make it worse. People love being sad about Data, and who am I not to oblige?

Ghosts in the Machine: Doctor Who, TARDIS POV. One of my earliest fics and I still love writing her POV.

I Know My Sister Like I Know My Own Mind: Doctor Who, Kate/Osgood with Bonnie as the wingman. This was a fun one to write that I still have a soft spot for but kind of surprised to see it crack the top 5!

I do think it's very interesting how this differs when compared to comments. There's definitely a bias toward fluff for kudos (even the sad Data story ends on a hopeful note), while I get more comments on angst. (And I tend to get the BEST and most detailed comments on my absolutely unhinged stuff.)

5. Do you respond to comments?

Yes! But I try to give it at least a week before I respond. If I respond to one right away, then I'll feel guilty for not responding to others right away, and then it starts to feel like a responsibility rather than a fun interchange of ideas and gratitude, and I don't want it to feel like that! Anyway, that's more info than you needed about my OCD but that is why I take awhile to respond. I do adore comments and often reread them when I am feeling down.

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

Hmmm, I have been trending towards endings with a tinge of hope, so even though Two Birds in A Cage may be my darkest fic overall, I don't think it wins this. In my Osgood Must Suffer verse, Nor Yet Favor to Women of Skill ends in a really dark place with Osgood totally brainwashed, yet the sequel It's True the Girl They Speak of Died sees her reaching for recovery. Similarly, in the Modern U.N.I.T Infernoverse, The Pieces That Get Sacrificed ends on a dark note, but Chess sees the promise of working towards a better self.

I think we have to reach back to some of my earlier, more edgelordy work, like Snuggle for LO:CI, which is just an autopsy of the two main characters, or Goodbye to Ugly Words and Yesterday and Everyone You Knew and Were, which sees Odo losing every bit of his hard-fought individuality and identity. Oh, or Vermin in the Lower Zoo, my AU of an evil First Doctor, that's a pretty dark ending.

Oh, wait, no Plaything, my AU of Pyramids of Sutekh where I slowly strip away everything the Fourth Doctor loves. Oh wait, no, final answer: Careful the Wish You Make: Wishes Are Children, in which I do the same thing to Sarah Jane, but worse.

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

Hmm, what makes an ending happier, the overall level of happiness or the contrast to the sadness or pain earlier in the story? I think this question is going for the former, so I'll say either Come to Me Softly, Come to Me Sweetly or The Completely True and Canon Story of Oswin Oswald Seduced Jo Grant, or Jo Seduced Her, or Something.

(Or if you want *waggles eyebrows* happy endings, maybe Respectful Discourse on Power Dynamics in the Workplace?)

8. Do you get hate on fics?

Not really! I feel like I've maybe got one or two mean comments on a fic on FF.Net over the years, but nothing memorable. Edit: oh, I remember! One person got sooooo mad at my characterization of Goren and Eames in Give and Take. Sorry, buddy, people are going to have different opinions about characters than you and write porn about it!

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

Fuck yes I write smut. It's one of the great joys of my life. I write predominantly F/F these days, though I've written quite a bit of of F/M, and a sprinkling of threesomes. I've made liberal use of the BDSM tag, and I like things that play with power dynamics and trust.

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

A few! One of my first fics was a cracky crossover, The Good Ship [Name of Ship]. I also did a LO:CI/X-Files crossover so Eames and Scully could have sex. It's not my favorite genre, but I'll do it for humor and/or smut.

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

Not to my knowledge!

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

Not that I'm aware of, but it would be a great honor!

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

Not really, but The Good Ship [Name of Ship] was written with the input of my best friend from high school, and she (with her fanfic author name) and some of her favorite characters do star in it. This is an important developmental stage for teen fic authors and I refuse to be embarrassed about it.

14. What’s your all time favourite ship?

Impossible to choose. But have this handy summation:

Picard/Crusher, Odo/Kira, The Doctor/Sarah Jane, Bernie Wolfe/Serena Campbell: these ships changed me as a person and filled my heart to overflowing with yearning, making me believe in love across time and space and alternate universes

Kate Stewart/Osgood: I want the older authoritative one to top the shy nerdy one. A lot.

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

I am fully committed to eventually finishing every WIP. That said, it has been over a decade since I updated Loyalty's Price and that one has some intense worldbuilding that I would have to recall or rebuild from scratch, so uh, don't hold your breath for any updates soon.

16. What are your writing strengths?

I feel good about my ability to replicate character voice and to situate emotions in the body as physical sensations.

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

My god, the amount of times characters speak hesitantly, as if their words are testing a fragile sheet of ice, or touch each other carefully, as if the other is wet paper that might tear, or a dozen other metaphors that my brain has just decided to go to constantly. You absolutely see this with published authors all the time so I don't feel bad about it, though, just amused at my dramatic-ass self.

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

Not something that's come up a lot for me, but I would treat it the same as using another language in original work--seek out a real human to proofread, offer something in exchange for their time.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

My first fic was a Star Trek: Nemesis fix-it fic written in a spiral notebook in high school.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

This changes all the time depending on what mood I'm in, but right now I quite like Chess.

Tagging @ktlsyrtis and @bonnissance if you're up for it!