#HINTING AT HOW STRONG AND RESILIENT SHE WAS

[cometblaster2070]

malenia canonically being the youngest demigod like being the "baby" of the family so to speak is so funny to speak because everyone else is over there like "it's my baby sister!!! isn't she so cool!!!"

and the tarnished is over there fucking pissing themselves because the 8 feet tall blind swordswoman infected with rot built like a wall has just woken up from her nap and is about to rock their shit for the next 4-10 business days.

like malenia is genuinely such a TERRIFYING presence the first time I fought her I genuinely felt terrified of her, and that's not even MENTIONING when she transitions into malenia goddess of rot and then you look up their scuffed ass family tree and it's just. that's the youngest one???

[northopalshore]

Derivative astrology

Your spouse's reputation

For this method, we'll be looking at the 4th house of your natal chart, the 4th house ruler & planets in the 4th house to determine your future spouse's (public) reputation and quite possibly what they are known for. Although not a direct link, it can also give you hints about their possible career too. Does not translate to their actual Midheaven sign or placement, it's their energy.

Signs & degrees

Do not repost on other sites! Especially on TikTok man, I see you ʕ⁠´⁠ಠ⁠ᴥ⁠ಠ`⁠ʔ ��� 🔊 🍽️ Northopalshores' Masterlist| union persona chart| paid readings

𝄞⨾𓍢ִ໋ Common additional asks

In °0 👉🏻check for Aquarius

In retrograde 👉🏻 calmer or opposite version of non retrograde

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

Aries (°1,°13,°25)

Your partner is known as quite the flirt. Not to say they are a Casanova, but something about them just oozes raw sexuality, confident and some how childish fun or innocence. They can be coy and act like they got their shit together (high nose and everything) but they're not trying to sell anyone that image permanently. They are known for their enthusiasm and energy often giving 100% of themselves into something even if it may appear measley to others. They are also protective and may get rather hot headed (have a brat streak) to them. They are a hard worker and people appreciate their strength and resilience.

🍡Possible careers: dancer, self employed, any job that requires movement or physical attraction/contact/agility & hard work or labour.

Taurus (°2,°14,°26)

Your partner is known for being a levelheaded individual with a friendly yet professional temperament. They have a warm and strong presence that eases the mind of everyone that they meet. They are always seen as presentable and expensive. People know them for their good taste and easygoing yet still strong and enduring personality. They have the ability to ease one's doubt with just their presence alone. They are seen as gracious and we'll mannered too, many will find your spouse relatable.

🍡Possible careers: Anything that has to do with children, beauty, fashion, partnerships, business person

Gemini (°3,°15,°27) | Mercury in or conjunct the 4th House

Your future spouse is know to be quite the comedian. They are someone people find incredibly entertaining and always the interesting character. It may be hard for people to peel their eyes or attention away from your spouse as they are naturally humours. They are known to be someone with a quick mind, and a knack for talking. Like, reaally talking. People could praise them for having a good voice or something about their voice just feels so good to hear or is prominent in some way. They could be the person with the funny accent, expressive speech pattern, good voice or chronic overthinker/oversharer. Witty, smart and also tend to critique themselves a lot. Either way, their voice & thoughts plays an important role in their reputation.

🍡Possible careers: Singers, musicians, teachers, writers, comedians, actors, whatever that requires talking, expressiveness, creativity and entertainment

Cancer (°4,°16,°28) | Moon in the or conjunct the 4th house

Your partner as a kind, reassuring presence. People often come to them for support or see them as an emotionally supportive and nurturing individual. They may feel like a mother in a way, even if they are a man. They are known for their empathy and compassion as well as their emotional intelligence. Your spouse gives off the energy of a caretaker and someone who is careful & considerate. Some may come off like a mom or a grandmother to others lol.

Ex: Barack Obama has natal IC in Taurus °28 Cancer. Michelle is known for her calm demeanor, and her authentic personality. She's disciplined, caring and emotionally intelligent. I should also mention he has Moon in the 4th house. She was well respected and loved as during the time she was first lady.

🍡Possible careers: Retail, home realtors, doctors, advisor, nurse, doctor, anything that requires authenticity and "soul"

Leo (°5,°17,°29) | Sun in or conjunct the 4th House

Your partner has a reputation of being loud & proud (and for some, abrasive). They are a strong character on their own and do not let anything change their way or perspective about anything. They are known to have a strong mentality, they are also known as a passionate fighter. Something about their looks is always talked about or noticed as well. They could be known to look a certain way.

🍡Possible careers: entertainer, actor, model, teacher, anything that requires them to be bold and bring attention to themselves

Virgo (°6,°18)

Your future partner is known to be quite the critique in both the good way & bad. They're known to be quite and have a lot on their mind. This usually is most evident when they start getting into "the zone" and people will know not to obstruct them during that time. You partner is know to be a generally good natured individual who may come off as rather dry at times even if they are a naturally friendly person. They are know to be smart (which means more towards intuition or introspection). Your partner has quite the reliable reputation being everyone's go-to person.

🍡Possible careers: doctor, teacher, nurse, secretary, someone that works at a church or any job that requires them to help others or methodical work

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

Libra (°7,°19) | Venus in or conjunct the 4th House

Your partner is known to be an easygoing, likeable person with a strong sense of justice and morality. They're likely known as someone smart and persuasive too. Their looks, business, connections or relationships with other people tend to be the highlight of their reputation.

🍡Possible careers: Model, any job that requires them to deal with other people, socializing, interacting, debating or planning, group work, secretary etc

Scorpio (°8,°20) | Pluto conjunct or in the 4th House

Your partner is known as a shy, or rather repressive. They are known to be rather messy & reclusive as well. They are known to be strong and passionate and is able to endure a lot of things that come their way. They could seem rather emotionally driven, raw and powerful but they may or may not know how to control that energy. Some may be been as rather violent or have self destructive tendencies. In some cases, they may be described as "to exploit or be exploited". They could be known as scary too lol.

🍡Possible careers: anything that requires hard work, may have dangerous or controversial careers, something that requires a lot of strength or resilience from them, anything that requires them to oppose something

Sagittarius (°9,°21) | Jupiter in or conjunct the 4th House

Your spouse has a big personality, and someone that everyone tends to like due to how enthusiastic and friendly they are. They tend to have a comedic reputation, being someone chill yet still sharp and knowledgeable. They have the "funny man/woman" reputation. They are known to have a big or exotic, exaggerated energy about them.

Ex: Ryan Reynolds has his natal IC in Sagittarius °22 Capricorn. Blake is known to be a fun and humourous person (sort of embodying a similar energy as him in a way) though people tend to have mixed feelings about her due to her abrasive (exaggerated) nature. I don't think she was acting when she was in Gossip Girl lmao.

🍡Possible careers: anything that requires them to be the center of attention, something that requires them to think or give their opinion about often, could be a desirable job, anything related to storytelling as well like writers, actors or a lyricist

Capricorn (°10,°22) or Saturn in & conjunct IC

Your partner is known to be someone with a good head on their shoulder. Someone with a clear purpose or desire in life. People find them respectful and hardworking. They take on most of their duties seriously and may be hard on themselves as well. It's their hardwork and professionalism that people usually notice most (what they're known for).

In the °22nd degree specifically, people have very.. varied opinions of your spouse. On one hand people may really like them and find them powerful and influential yet on the other hand people can also find them to be self centered or obnoxious.

🍡Possible careers: anything surrounding business, anything that requires them to be a certain way or at more in control of themselves, a job that may be criticized or requires them to be responsible (I know it's vague asf but that's usually the case). Could also work for themselves.

Aquarius (°11,°23) or Uranus in & conjunct the IC

Your spouse is known as someone who is innovative and resourceful. They have a quick way about them, and usually they are known to think outside of the box. They may be known to be quite rebellious and brazen. May be known as quite the smarty pants too. Someone who does things their way. Their methods may be questionable, but they seem to be quite certain of it. Some with these placements may have a partner with a "trainwreck" reputation.

🍡Possible careers: the dreaded freelancer (lmao), anything in relation to the internet or technology, doing what they want, a career that requires them to express themselves as they want or are

Pisces (°12,°24)

Your spouse is known for being a kind, funny person with a mellow personality. They are also known for being a "bubbly" mutable person, that does not judge or ground themselves to a certain way or energy, they tend to have a youthful personality regardless of their age. They are emotional and sensitive but may appear rather irrational at times. They are known to be quite the sociable person as well even with strangers. Also, they have a bit of a "clumsy" reputation. Their creativity and sensitivity is what they're most known for.

🍡Possible careers: teachers, caretakers, actors, whatever that requires them to adapt themselves accordingly, dealing with children or music and creativity

Asteroids

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

Mars in or conjunct the 4th house

( not an asteroid but I wanted to separate mars from the others)

Your partner may have a "hustler" grindset (mindset). They are likely known as a pathfinder too (doing things that others may not, taking more risks, doing things first). They are known to be a vitalizing presence that may act before thinking or strike when the iron is hot! They are an opportunistic person, and are seen as very passionate about whatever it is that they do (albeit annoying at times or one track minded).

Ex: Beyoncé has Cancer IC °18 Virgo with North Node & Mars in the 4th house. Jay-Z is a business man through and through. He is a way paver, and has his money on his mind.

Neptune in or conjunct the 4th House

(Again, not an asteroid but I wanted to separate it)

Your partner is known as someone very charming yet misleading. They are known to be a people person, or someone that everyone can get along with. People may idealise your partner as well for their talents, looks or personality.

Chiron in or conjunct the 4th House

Your partner is known to be a self sacrificing person. They may give more to others than themselves. They have a very healing presence and are known to be rather humble. Though for some it means that they are seen as someone incompetent or easy to brush off or disrespected.

🍡Possible careers: healers, doctors, advisors anything requiring patience, support and understanding

Groom (5129) or Briede (19029) in or conjunct the 4th house

Your future spouse may be known for being your partner, people usually link their reputation to you in some way. Could also be seen as someone dedicated. If you are masculine and are attracted to the feminine, then having Briede in the 4th can result in them being more prominently noticed in as a partner or in their career life compared to you & vice versa for Groom.

Ex: Michael Jackson has Groom in Cancer °0 in the 4th house. Both Lisa and Debbie were noted as his spouse and are still known for being so married to him. He is more the center of attention in the public eye when they are together is what I mean.

Ex ii: Ariana Grande has Briede in her 4th house. Even when she's with any of her parents, she is more popular or seen as the center of attention more than her partners.

Juno in or conjunct the 4th House

Your partner is known to be a very professional, yet zealous and vibrant. People find them to be very attractive (personality wise) as they look and act confident & desirable!

Starr (4150) in or conjunct the 4th House

Your spouse is known to be someone that people tend to idealise or admire. They are the "it" person, or someone that may seem like they have the upper hand in life & especially in their career or with their public life. They are just perceived as someone very charming & lucky.

Fama (408) in or conjunct the 4th House

Your spouse or partner can be quite popular, they tend to be the talk of the town or wherever that they go (for whatever reason). People could notice your partner most when you are together or they may boost your image in a way. It's not necessarily tied to traditional fame.

North Node in or conjunct the 4th House

Your partner is known to be quite the workaholic. They are someone with a clear purpose in mind, and are very focused on themselves & that aforementioned sense of purpose. They tend to be people who are respected for whatever they do as well.

Lilith in or conjunct the 4th House

Your spouse is known to be the unconventional type. They tend to stand out the most wherever they go or wherever they work due to their distinctive energy and personality, this can make them sort of a "star player", but at the same time can mean they attract a lot of competition or jealousy as well. People tend to look or stare at them a lot. Still, I think this placement can go both ways; either they are seen as an asshole or people are assholes to them (they make others insecure).

₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ . ₊ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑ ⊹ .₊๋‧₊ ˚ ⊹ ࣭ ⭑

Hope this helps ♡

@northopalshore

[22ayla21]

hi, can you 2 a second part of the weight of lost but this time with Jing yuan comforting his beloved after the Lost of their child, and of course Yanqing also trying to cheer Up "his new mom".

Also i want to thank you for accepting that request, you did a great job as always.

The Shadow of Loss

After losing a child, Jing Yuan's wife is consumed by the pain of grief, but the general and their adopted son, Yanqing, find a way to support her, reminding her that she is not alone.

Jing Yuan rarely lost his composure. His life, filled with responsibilities and decisions that affected the fates of many, left no room for excessive emotionality. But there was something in this world that could throw him off balance—his wife.

He knew her as a strong and resilient woman, capable of withstanding any trial. But on that night when misfortune struck, he saw her completely different.

Jing Yuan entered the room, and his gaze immediately fell upon her. She sat by the window, her face in shadow, her eyes, usually full of wisdom, now seemed empty. There was no hint of energy or determination—only a bottomless void that she tried in vain to hide.

"You're silent," he said quietly but firmly.

She didn't answer, only sighed almost imperceptibly and turned to him.

"Things didn't turn out as I thought," her voice trembled. "I... I hoped everything would be okay, that... I could handle it. But..."

Jing Yuan approached and embraced her, pressing her to his chest. He knew she didn't like displays of pity, but now he was ready for anything, just to protect her from the pain tearing her apart from the inside.

"It's not your fault," he whispered softly but firmly. "We don't control everything in this life. But you are strong, I know."

Tears rolled down her cheeks, like raindrops on glass. The woman who could always withstand the blows of fate could not come to terms with the loss of a child, a long-awaited life.

Jing Yuan held her, not letting her pull away. He understood that words would not ease her suffering, but he could be there. His presence was the only thing he could offer.

He didn't know how to comfort her, but he knew one thing: their love would not fade because of this loss. And he would be there as long as needed.

...

Yanqing, who had become part of their family, couldn't help but notice the changes in the house. He was still a child when Jing Yuan took him under his wing. He remembered how the general, ruthless to enemies, showed incredible kindness to those who needed protection. Yanqing learned from him to be strong and confident, but always to respect those around him.

But on the day when the servants told him what had happened to the lady of the house, his heart sank. He felt that trouble had not passed their home. Despite his young age, Yanqing sensed the atmosphere of grief hanging in the air.

He found her in the room, lying on the bed, her face buried in the pillow. Her body trembled, the pain bursting out. Yanqing approached and, finding no words, simply sat down next to her.

"I... I've lost a lot too," he whispered, barely audibly. "But you're not alone. You're like a mother to me. And... I believe you will cope."

Jing Yuan didn't notice Yanqing right away. He entered the room and froze, seeing them together. His young student, his son, as he mentally called him, sat next to his wife, supporting her.

Jing Yuan felt gratitude for Yanqing's presence. He knew that their bond, despite the difference in age and background, was strong. Yanqing, despite his youth, had learned not only martial arts but also the ability to be a support in difficult times. He had become a part of this family, just like his wife.

At that moment, Jing Yuan realized: despite the loss, despite the pain, they would not be left alone. They would support each other, no matter what happened. That was their strength.

[teapartyprincess4two]

heyyy can u pls do sfw/nsfw matt with tough gf😮‍💨😮‍💨

Tough- M. Sturniolo

pairing: Tough!reader x Boyfriend!Matt

classification: SFW & NSFW head cannons

inspiration: request^^

warnings: some 18+ content, use of y/n, established relationship

summary: head cannons of Matt with a tough girlfriend!

—

☆SFW

For your entire life you’ve been classified using one word: tough. You’re extremely resilient, stubborn, and hardworking, and these are all qualities Matt loves about you.

☆ You refuse to ask for help, even when you desperately need it and most times Matt doesn’t even know you needed help to begin with.

☆ A flat tire stares back at you, taunting and challenging you to change it.

☆ You roll up your sleeves and throw your hair up in a pony tail, gathering the tools necessary to swap the tire out.

☆ Sweat is dripping down your face and glistening against your shoulders. “Babe? What are you doing?” Matt asks, watching tentatively from the porch.

☆ “Changing this damn tire,” you grunt, tightening the last bolt before throwing the wrench back into the tool box.

☆ You prefer comfort so your wardrobe is a mix between girly and tomboy, consisting mainly of graphic t-shirts and baggy jeans.

☆ “I’m ready,” you say, hopping off the last step as you enter the living room.

☆ Matt leans against the couch, peering behind him to catch a glimpse of you. “Is that my shirt?” he asks, getting up to examine your outfit better.

☆ “Yup. Let’s go, we’re gonna be late,” you reply, placing a cap over your straightened hair and adjusting your plethora of necklaces.

☆ “She lowkey got that shit on though,” Chris chuckles from beside Matt, earning himself a playful push.

☆ Sometimes you don’t measure your words or your tone, forgetting that you’re talking to your boyfriend and not one of your ‘homies.’

☆ When the conversation is normal, he ignores it. But when your tone meanders into rude territory, he immediately puts an end to it.

☆ “Dude, what the fuck?! I cleaned that shit yesterday! How is it already dirty, bro?” you exclaim, hands pointing accusatorially at Matt.

☆ “I’m gonna pretend you didn’t just talk to me like that,” he responds, jaw clenched. “Let’s start over, yeah?”

☆ You take a deep breath, exhaling all your anger before replying, “Babe, what the heck?! I cleaned that thing yesterday! How is it already dirty, baby?”

☆ Matt knows you threw the pet names in there for show, but he appreciates you trying, even if it is laced with sarcasm.

☆ You’re insanely strong and when you’re not at home or at work, you’re at the gym.

☆ “I’ll be back in like an hour, okay? We can order something for dinner when I get back,” you peck Matt’s check, slinging your duffel back over your shoulder.

☆ “Hmm okay,” he murmurs, delivering a quick slap to your ass.

☆ Matt’s grateful that you aren’t overly affectionate in public, mostly because he’s extremely reserved and prefers to keep your relationship private.

☆ The most you’ll do is hold his hand, hug him, or kiss his cheek. Sometimes you’ll be even less affectionate when around his friends and siblings.

☆ That doesn’t mean you don’t mark your territory though, especially when you get jealous.

☆ “Hi baby,” your voice is high-pitched and excited, a very unusual mix coming from you. You cling to Matt’s side as another girl tries chatting him up.

☆ “Hi,” he replies, wrapping an arm around you and resting his hand on your ass. He’s slightly confused, but quickly realizes you’re jealous.

☆ When you start kissing, the girl finally gets the hint and leaves. “Dumb bitch,” you grumble, pulling away from Matt slightly.

☆ He chuckles and pulls you back in, showing you he only has eyes for you.

☆ “Need help?” Matt asks from behind you, watching as you struggle to reach something from the top shelf.

☆ “Nope. Almost got it,” you reply, your tongue poking out in concentration.

☆ Matt pushes against your backside, wrapping a strong arm around your waist as he reaches over you.

☆ “Here,” he hands the item to you, watching the frustration leave your face.

☆ Arguments, although they’re few and far between, can escalate very quickly between you two.

☆ You’re both stubborn, so no matter what you always believe you’re right.

☆ Angry, hurtful words are exchanged and before you know it you’re both storming off in opposite directions.

☆ You’re not one to cry easily, but if the argument is frustrating enough the tears will start flowing.

☆ “Y/n?” Matt asks tentatively, peering into your shared bedroom to find you curled up under the blankets. Your small sniffles fill the room.

☆ A frown forms on his face as he joins you under the covers, immediately you pulling into him. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, pecking your forehead. “Me too,” you hiccup, burying your face in his chest.

☆ You’re not afraid to slap Matt’s ass, especially after he does it to you.

☆ At first he used to hate it, but now he knows to expect it.

☆ Usually you’ll sneak your hand into the back pocket of his pants afterwards, walking around like that no matter where you are.

☆ A long list of to-do’s is constantly forming in your mind, even on your days off, and you’re not afraid to get bossy so it can all get done.

☆ “Matt, you mow the lawn and wash the cars. I’ll clean the house and do the laundry,” you instruct.

☆ “So bossy,” he laughs.

☆ “Or you can just do all of it?” you suggest with a quirked brow and a sassy hand on your hip. “No ma’am, I’m going.”

☆ “Mhm that’s what I thought.”

☆NSFW

Your tough girl attitude can sometimes get you in trouble, earning you punishments that put you in your place.

☆ When you’re together in private, Matt sees a side of you that you never show the world.

☆ You’re sweet and soft, juxtaposing the tough girl demeanor you usually display. If you ever act up in public, though, Matt is quick to remind you of this when you’re in private.

☆ “Wanna act stupid? Yeah?” He grunts, hips rocking against you at an ungodly pace.

☆ You whimper, too fucked out to respond. “That’s what I fucking thought,” his harsh words are followed by a hand wrapping around your throat.

☆ Your smart mouth is usually what gets you in trouble. “You think you look cute talking to me like that? Embarrassing me in front of all our friends?”

☆ He holds a firm grip of your face, forcing you to make eye contact as you reply with a hum.

☆ That’s enough for him to shove you into the bed, face down ass up. He slips into you without hesitation, hips snapping so harshly against your skin that the sound echoes throughout the room.

☆ “Not gonna stop until you learn your lesson,” he growls, pulling your hair into a ponytail and using it as leverage to fuck you harder.

☆ The pleasure is so good that you don’t even want it to stop, you just use your smart remarks to egg him on.

☆ Other times, your attitude travels into the bedroom and you have Matt beneath you completely overstimulated.

☆ “Y/n— fuck! I can’t anymore,” his words are choked, his eyes squeezing shut as he tries to focus on lasting longer.

☆ “Yes you can baby, I know you can” you purr, rocking your hips back and forth on his cock.

☆ Without another warning, his hips are stuttering as his hot cum paints your walls. That was his fourth orgasm and you show no signs of stopping soon.

☆ He loves teasing you because he knows you’ll get riled up enough to dominate him.

☆ He’s leaned against the headboard, eagerly awaiting your next move.

☆ You crawl over to him, situating yourself over his crotch. Instinctively, his hands travel to your hips, a firm grip pushing you down on his erection.

☆ A tsk escapes your lips, “You’re not gonna get what you want that easily, baby. You’re gonna have to work for it.”

☆ Your words put him in a trance and he’s ready to comply to your every command.

—

MASTERLIST

A/n: she (me) is not tuff - L.A.M.B👼🏻💗

—

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note: if you want to be tagged in my fanfic related posts, you can access my TAGLIST and comment 💐

[lastflowerofyourhouse]

oh oh hey wait!!

so obviously our hint that something is Up with gideon's physical resilience after the avulsion trial is the revelation that palamedes calculated that it would cause permanent brain damage to the cavalier and gideon is. um. very much not permanently brain damaged.

but it just occurred to me. this post. this post right here.

cytherea didn't accurately convey to them how dangerous the field was. which means she probably didn't mean for harrow to succeed.

and. um.

"Sextus has seen this?"

"I asked him first," said Dulcinea, "And when i told him the method, he said he'd never do it. I thought that was fascinating. I'd love to get to know him better."

...

"So technically," said Harrow, acid as a battery, "We're your third choice."

"Well, Abigail Pent was a very talented spirit magician," said Dulcinea, and relented when she saw Harrow's expression. "I'm sorry! I'm teasing. No, I don't think I would've asked the Eighth House, Reverend Daughter...They could have done this with ease...Maybe that's why."

the sixth, voted most likely to figure out what she's doing, after abigail pent, already deceased. and the ninth, who have nothing whatsoever to do with spirit magic, but who have been establishing themselves as strong competitors and fraternizing with the sixth.

but not the eighth, the ones most likely to successfully complete the trial. because they're the most likely to successfully complete the trial.

yeah, cytherea fully intended to kill them both here, i think. she wanted them to die. come to think of it, that's the only real reason for her to be participating in the labs in the first place considering she's. ya know. already a lyctor.

and.

"Good girl," the voice was saying. "Oh, good girl. She's got it, Gideon! And I've got you...Gideon of the golden eyes. I'm so sorry. This is all my fault... I'm so sorry. Stay with me," the voice said, more urgently. "Stay with me."

that's remorse, i think. that's a genuine moment of humanity peaking through. that's oh god, what have i done.

Gideon was suddenly aware that she was very cold. Something changed. It was getting harder to suck in each breath...Now Gideon was scared. Her body had the soft, drunken feeling you got just before fainting away, and it was very hard to stay conscious. Three seconds before you die, Palamedes had calculated...It felt like all the pressure in her ears was popping loose...When her eyes opened Gideon was distantly worried to discover that she was blind...The air stopped coming. It would have been peaceful, only it sucked..."Ha-ha," said Gideon. "First time you didn't call me Griddle," and died.

no, yeah, i think she did, actually. I am 99% sure that gideon capital-D Died here.

i wonder what cytherea made of her immediately opening her eyes again.

[sapphiccup]

How about some comfort for the people that deserve to hear it?

Vi x reader drabble.

Cw: Reader is venting, comfort is being displayed by Vi, abusive father, strong language. Somewhat fluff, everything gonna be okay bebés!

Song: I’d rather pretend by Bryant Barnes 🌧🥀

Vi is on her knees listening to you vent every cry, every angered poisoned word that you have to say, waiting, and intently focused on you. She waits for you to let everything out that you must let your cracked words of sorrow be carried by gravity’s air. She continues to rub circles over your knee, to let your body understand that she is still present, and wants you to know that she will help soothe however she can.

“I just can’t believe that he would speak to me with—- so much disregard, act like I never helped him with as much as I could, bleeding myself over to deal with him every single day of my life.. and for what?”

Your words spilling from your heart that felt as though it was being squeezed by a being of upmost wrath, hinted with pain, the kind of pain that only oh so many people share, the kind of pain that Vi can understand, that you’ve been through troubled waters, and she’ll ride that wave with you, if that is what it will take to be there for you.

“I gave him everything of me, allowed myself to be disrespected, and.. he doesn’t want me. He does not want me as his child. He hates me. He wants me to die knowing he could care less for me, than to ever repair this—- this farce of a family.”

Your eyes slowly becoming less bright as they once were, something that Vi can recall as being her most swam through thought, that she almost brags non-stop about your eyes being stars that illuminate life. She does still brag about you, but to let in people to see her mushy side.. that’s not access to just anyone, it took her at least 2 in a half months to let you see parts of her that she wouldn’t dare show the world. Regardless of time… she has never witness you so upset, ever. If she could she’d take it and suffer herself.

Usually you are more, resilient to whatever comes your way. But until your father steps in, to remind you of how much he does not feel like you deserve love, kindness, respect, he takes it with him, takes all your energy, to the point— where you can’t even hide it. As much you try to hide it from Violet, as much as you’d give her one of your smiles that could make flowers bloom right then and there from how much it carries so much light. It is as if you were an eclipse. Something unfamiliar, something that just sits there until it is finished with you and you not finished with it.

Yet, she stays, regardless of the tears, the shuddering of your body, the wrath in you that hurts you all the same. She’s trying her best to keep herself calm but the more you are in despair, the more she finds herself in a split of wanting to comfort you and wanting to punch the lights out of this man that makes you feel inadequate to deserving of family. She wipes your tears with her thumb, reminding you to stop saying you’re sorry with her, reminding you that there is no reason for you to apologize for displaying emotion.

How much has he taken from you to be apologetic of your own sadness?

How long is he going to take, and take from you, until you are nothing?

“I’m so sorry Vi, I really didn’t mean to let all of this out, I’m not trying to be a burde-“

“Stop, you are not burden. You are not unworthy to cry, you are not wrong for shedding tears. You are a person. And that very person, that is you, has the right to be yourself however that is. I’m not here to only be for your good days. I would rather— I would rather be shot in the foot than to not see every part of you.”

And she means every word of it. She wants you to know that your life is not only to be given when you are just full of happiness, you’re human. You can be human, around her, around anyone you trust. You find yourself hiccuping and she just pulls you into a hug, bringing you down to the floor with her, your leg in between hers, taking shelter into her arms. You began to wail, as if you were a child again that just fell off their bike.

Vi is right there to envelope your hot tears in her arms, whispering comforting words to at least try to surgically heal your mental wounds, she hopes she’s doing enough for you, and she has no idea that these wails are not for your dad anymore. That these hot tears that press,sink, and drench her clothes, are for simply that fact that her heart is that big, to even have room for you. Which, you in fact— doubted anyone had room for your entirety.

You clutched at her clothes, gripping the cloth as if she was going to disappear at any moment, that this would just cease the very minute you open your eyes. Vi was right there to to permanently remove any knives of doubt that were deeply pierced into your back, rubbing your shoulders, to the small of your back, marking her warmth against you.

She breathed calmly and guided you to do the same, slowly you released your grip from her fabrics.

“So, you wanna tell me how long you’ve been holding that in, baby?”

“You’ll hate me if I-“

“I will never hate you for as long as I’m alive. Spare me the bullshit that he tormented your mind to think that I ever would.”

She says that never looking away from your teary, blood shot eyes, playing with your fingers, waiting for your response.

“Well aren’t you sweet.”

“As much as I can be, so out with it.”

You paused for a quite a while, though Violet is not the type to be patient, she could never see herself pressuring you to speak. She will wait as much as you need the air to breathe. After a half an hour past you finally find the alphabet to complete the words for your sentences to be physical.

“I.. never wanted to.. let you so deeply within me, that you’d see me like— well, like this. I can’t afford to be fragile, I am afraid that you’d unravel parts of me that you would not ever try to reach for. That you completely find me something that mirrors hollow.”

Violet could not believe you ever had any thoughts that you would simply throw yourself to the side as if you were not someone she completely adores, yes you are beautiful, you are witty, you are dumb sometimes who isn’t?, you are annoying at times but she rather have the full versions than to be, dismayed by one part of you. A part that isn’t even a deal breaker.

“Babe, do you think.. do you think that you are worthless?”

You’re body jerked at her question, that sentence you didn’t think she would ask you. Unprepared is an understatement of how your words didn’t want to stay glued to each other for you to hide away again, instead you choose truth, truth only being the view of your thoughts, only thing that would lace with your vocal cords.

“I..” you began with, hesitating to even think, I’m going to tell Violet, what’s been troubling me.. she’s.. she’ll never forgive me for keeping this, your eyes dancing with the floor then back to her face not being able to choose whether which to mingle with for longer. Then Vi, raising her hand to your face, you flinch, but she is only there to caress your supple cheek. Her brow furrowed with deep thoughts of your reaction, that she will ask about another day.. never seeing you in such a vulnerable state, she would not dare to step on a bomb that you were not ready to dismantle just yet.

“I did not.. want to upset you..” you let out. Eyes finally choosing the floor over her face, not being able to set your orbs onto hers..

“By shutting yourself out to not upset me.. from what? Tears? You’re disdain for your father? Your pain?” Word after word coming out as if they were just… not bothersome, not even a hint of annoyance came out her voice, instead concern.. Of course, Vi would be concern for you. Of course she would and you feel like a fool for even thinking.. she-

“Why would I ever get upset with you over something so normal?”

You slowly raise your blind, your heavy blinds that revealed your pupils, slowly drifting to find her face, not angry, not tired of your mood, not anything that wasn’t what you were more used to from your family, your dad.. Vi didn’t even show a glimpse of any of those things, your heart feeling heavy, but not with an earthquake of fissures, it felt that you were being filled. Filled with something you not entirely used to receiving, funny enough you’ve been with Vi long enough, that you should of been felt this, but this is the first time your heart was so.. accepting of it, as if it knew more than yourself, that you need this.

“I don’t know, I just.. I shouldn’t had assume that you would be..”

“An asshole. That’s an asshole that you’re describing——I have never shown you those actions, towards you.”

“Did he do that to you?”

You jerked again, Vi’s fist almost clench harder around your hand, but restraint prevailed. She took in a long breath in, and sighed

“This is what we’re going to do. I’m going to repeat what I’ve shown you for the past 6 months, for the rest of my life, we’re going to get up, and get some well needed icecream, and watch that bridgerton show that you adore so much, so much that you favor it to me.”

You let out a quiet laugh, slightly shoving her in a playful way.

“What? It’s true, you’d trade cuddles with me to watch that show instead in a single breath.”

“Oh shut up, I would never.”

“Babe, it’s bridgerton.”

“So? I can’t replace my favorite girlfriend over a show.”

“I don’t know.. I’ve seen how you get so.. passionate about your favorites- and hold that thought? I’m your favorite? Wait are there others?”

You end up bursting from laughter with her constant back to back unserious conversation, ah, yes, this.. this is your girlfriend. The woman who knows exactly how to tickle you without touching you, without forcing it out of you, effortlessly making sure you were indeed adorned, cared for, and especially...

“There we go, I love seeing all sides of you, but I could never bend you to be something unnatural. You hear me?”

“Yeah..”

“Good, now let’s go, I want to see what happens after lady whistle down tries to save her friend um.. what was her name?”

She says as she pats your leg, motioning you to get up with her, holding your hands, helping you to rise up.

“Eloise, and if I didn’t know any better I would say that you just wanted to an excuse to-“

And right before you finish your sentence, she quickly leaned in to give you a soft kiss on your lips, makeup messed up, smeared across your face, and still she doesn’t care, she kissed you, licking her lips tasting the salt that fell from your tears earlier, giving you a sly smile, with half lidded eyes.

“To what?”

You would of said to watch Bridgeton more than you did, however, your tongue didn’t feel the need to craft those words out loud.

“Never mind..” you say smiling to yourself as your ears burn with heat. Both of you walking hand in hand to retreat to the kitchen, to get your favorite ice cream of course, and ending the day on good note. A note that Vi makes sure she does not forget, prepared for more days that you will be hurt again, and knowing exactly how to be there for you, again, and again.

[xuexing-lumi]

Tracing Her Roots: What Jungkook’s Natal Chart + Tarot Cards Reveal About His Future Spouse’s Ancestry & Cultural Background

💬 A Note on Respect, Race & Ancestry in Spiritual Readings This reading discusses potential ancestry, ethnicity, and cultural identity based on Jungkook's natal chart and spiritual interpretations. These insights are not meant to stereotype, reduce, or define anyone by their background. Instead, they aim to explore the energetic and symbolic patterns that may align with his future life partner's essence. Every culture is rich and sacred, and this reading is offered with full respect, love, and a heart for unity. Please interpret it as a symbolic exploration, not a fixed or literal prediction.

✦ by Lumi, your fave tarot it-girl 💅✨

Tarot Deck Used: A traditional Rider-Waite-Smith

✦ TAROT SPREAD

The Tower (x2)

Temperance

Seven of Cups

The Hierophant

Justice

Nine of Cups

Two of Cups

Ace of Pentacles

The Chariot

Ace of Cups

Six of Wands

Bottom of Deck: Knight of Cups

The Tower (x2):

Her family or ancestors may have gone through major upheaval, such as war, migration, colonization, or natural disasters.

She may be from a region known for resilience and rebuilding.

A history of uprooting or displacement is likely indicating diasporic lineage.

Possible ethnic/cultural hints: South Asian diaspora (e.g., Indian, Sri Lankan, or Pakistani ancestors living abroad), Middle Eastern or Palestinian roots, Indigenous or tribal ancestry (Africa, Latin America, Native American, etc.), Refugee ancestry from places like Syria, Lebanon, Afghanistan, Ukraine, or Armenia

Temperance:

This is the blending of two rivers into one. She may be of mixed heritage, raised in two countries, or living with a multicultural identity Her ancestry has been bridged like possibly born in one country, raised in another, could be bilingual or hold dual citizenship, but is spiritually gifted, possibly into healing arts or traditions. Temperance also indicates ancestral healing work. She is the one in her family who stopped the karmic wheel and said: “It ends with me.”

Seven of Cups:

Her ancestry may be diverse and dreamy, making her hard to “categorize”. She likely has features that make people guess her ethnicity wrong because she’s enigmatic she comes from a land of storytellers, myths, and spiritual beauty(I don't want to sound extra T-T, but trust me I am analysing contexts from the sources listed below). This card hints at regions like Morocco, India, Brazil, or Ethiopia, where many cultures have mixed over centuries.

The Hierophant:

This card roots her in ritual, heritage, and deep ancestral belief systems. Her family or ancestry follows sacred tradition be it Hindu, Muslim, Jewish, Catholic, or tribal. She may come from a priestly, teacher, or guru lineage There’s a strong patriarchal system in her ancestry possibly from cultures with strong gender roles. Her culture may prioritize family honor, tradition, respect, and knowledge yet she herself is evolving beyond it.

Justice:

This suggests a lineage of thinkers, educators, activists, or justice workers, possibly a community that has been wronged and is still fighting for rights.It could be Afro-descended, Indigenous, or from post-colonial lands. She may come from a background of resistance.

Nine of Cups:

Her culture loves good food, music, art, and celebration. It may be from a romantic or artistic people - think of Italian, Brazilian,Turkish, Greek, or Caribbean. Sensory beauty defines her homeland: spices, music, dance, scent.

Ace of Pentacles:

She is from a land of abundance, possibly rich in minerals, agriculture, or nature, could be tropical or mountainous. The countries symbolized here: India, Sri Lanka, Colombia, Peru, Kenya, Ethiopia.Her people understand how to grow, nurture, and create value from the Earth.

Ace of Cups:

Her culture celebrates emotion and love and are not afraid of tears, hugs, or prayer. She may come from matrilineal or goddess-honoring traditions. This is sacred water like in island nations, coastal countries, or river civilizations like: Philippines, Fiji, Thailand, parts of Africa or Latin America

Analysis-

Drawing from a rich set of tarot archetypes and supported by Jungkook’s natal placements, his future spouse likely comes from a deeply spiritual, emotionally strong, and culturally diverse background. The appearance of The Tower twice shows a family history marked by turmoil, migration, or colonial disruptions. This suggests she may belong to a community that has faced displacement or change, such as the Indian Partition diaspora, Palestinian communities, Armenians, or Afro-Caribbean lineages. The presence of Temperance two times indicates a strong bicultural influence. She may have grown up balancing East and West, traditional and modern values, or perhaps between two countries entirely. Cards like The Chariot, Justice, and The Hierophant emphasize cultural roots based in traditional spirituality, legal justice, and pride in ancestry. This points toward regions like South Asia (India, Pakistan, Bangladesh), the Middle East (Lebanon, Syria, Morocco), or Latin America (Colombia, Brazil, Peru). Meanwhile, Jungkook’s Venus in Libra attracts him to refined, artistic beauty, and his Mars in Scorpio draws him toward sensual mystery. Both of these traits connect with cultures known for their grace, emotional depth, and rich romantic histories. Overall, his soulmate likely comes from or is descended from a region rich in ancestral mysticism and cultural strength.

Historically, this aligns with these communities. (Source: Edward Said’s "Orientalism" and postcolonial identity theory) https://www.bbc.com/news/world-asia-40849494 https://www.aljazeera.com/news/2023/5/15/what-is-the-nakba https://www.brookings.edu/articles/the-trans-atlantic-slave-trade-what-did-it-mean-for-africa/ https://www.armenian-genocide.org/ https://encyclopedia.ushmm.org/content/en/article/jewish-diaspora https://www.britannica.com/place/Haiti/History

✨ Lumi’s lil footnote✨ hey babes! quick ✨real talk✨ when we touch deep stuff like ancestry, diasporas, and generational trauma, we gotta stay respectful & informed. so ya girl lumi made sure to drop proper sources with this reading 📚💅. history ain’t just vibes, it’s real people, real stories, and real pain that echoes through bloodlines. if you see links? click 'em. learn something new. we don’t do spiritual readings in an echo chamber here 🔮✨. also... if you’re vibin’ with the way i read, pretty please hit that like 💖 or follow 🤍 so we can keep diving into the wildest timelines together. lumi’s tarot tea stays hot and fully brewed 🍵🪐 #linkedAndLuminous #lumiReadsLives #respectyourancestors

✦ do you want a personal reading like this?

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—

📩 DMs Open: @xuexing-lumi Tumblr inbox

🖤 closing words from Lumi:

We ride or die, even through the mess. 💅 — Lumi, the Moon’s Bride 🌕💋

—

(ignore):

[doumadono]

Hiiiii! I am squeezing into your inbox to

1. Congratulate you on your achievement. You deserved it sweetheart and I am so happy for you (maybe even a lil jealous! Hihi). Keep up the wonderful work and keep bringing joy and comfort to other people!

2. To request something!

I want some Vanilla-Mango ice creams in a cup with Maple syrup.

All of this for my one and only bunny Mirko! 🐇🤍I love ya girl!

Stay awesome!

A/N: thank you so much, honeypot! Your support means everything. I hope you'll like this short piece, and please forgive me if the character isn't quite right — it's my first time writing for Bunny Hero Mirko! ♥

MY HERO ACADEMIA

The afternoon sun cast a warm glow over the city, painting the buildings with shades of gold and amber. You were walking through the park, lost in thought, when you spotted Mirko sitting on a bench, her prosthetic leg resting beside her. Her expression was distant, her eyes fixed on something far away.

Approaching her, you noticed the faint lines of pain etched on her face. You knew about her recent struggles with phantom pains, the cruel reminders of the limbs she had lost during the war. "Hey, Mirko," you greeted softly, taking a seat beside her.

She glanced at you, offering a small, weary smile. "Hey, Y/N," she replied, her voice carrying a hint of exhaustion.

"Is everything alright?" you inquired, concern coloring your words as you noticed the faint lines of strain etched upon her face.

Mirko sighed, her gaze returning to the horizon. "Just another rough day, I guess," she admitted, her fingers tracing the contours of her prosthetic leg. "The phantom pains have been acting up again."

You reached out, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I'm sorry, Rumi. That sounds really tough."

She looked at you, her eyes filled with a mixture of gratitude and sadness. "It is," she admitted. "It's like… I can still feel them, you know? My missing arm and leg. Sometimes, it's like they're still there, and it hurts so much…"

You squeezed her shoulder gently, offering your support. "I can't even begin to imagine how hard that must be for you. But I'm here for you, okay? You're not alone. You never were, sweetie."

Mirko's eyes softened, and she leaned into your touch, finding solace in your presence. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice thick with emotion.

You hurried to a nearby store to grab two bottles of water and some mochi. When you returned, you paused behind a large tree, watching Mirko.

She was someone you deeply admired, one of the few people who truly inspired you. Her toughness was unmatched, and secretly, you yearned to possess even a fraction of her spirit, to be as brave as she was. She was your role model.

You spent the rest of the afternoon with Mirko, talking, laughing, and sharing stories, sitting on that bench. You listened as she opened up about her fears and insecurities, her dreams and aspirations. And through it all, you were there for her, offering words of encouragement and comfort.

As the sun began to set, casting long shadows across the park, Mirko turned to you, her eyes shining with gratitude. "You know," she began, her voice trembling slightly, "even on my darkest days, knowing that I have you by my side makes everything a little bit brighter."

You smiled, feeling your heart swell with warmth. "And you make everything brighter for me too, Mirko. You're strong, resilient, and incredibly brave. I admire you so much."

Mirko's smile widened, and she reached out, taking your hand in hers. "Thank you," she said softly. "That means the world to me. After Jaku and the war, things really shifted," she said, her brow creasing slightly. "It's not like it broke me, but I've been feeling more uncertain. About everything, really. Even my own abilities."

You met Mirko's gaze with a gentle smile. "Rumi," you began softly, squeezing her hand in reassurance, "you have no idea how many lives you've touched with your bravery. In the chaos of Jaku and the war, you were a beacon of hope for so many. Every leap you took, every punch you threw, they weren't just acts of courage — they were beacons of light in the darkness for all those who lost their hope. You saved countless lives with your unwavering determination and your indomitable spirit. Never doubt your abilities, my dear Rabbit Hero Mirko," you urged gently, your words a steadfast anchor amidst the uncertainty. "You are a hero in every sense of the word, and the world is a brighter place because of you. The echoes of your courage will never fade."

Mirko leaned into you, resting her head on your shoulder. "Thank you," she whispered, her voice tinged with emotion. "I think that's exactly what I needed to hear today."

[animezinglife]

Yet another reason I adore Cassandra's romance:

Cassandra is among the strongest, toughest, and resilient women in Thedas. She's steadfast in her faith, unapologetically herself, and she isn't afraid to be both assertive and aggressive to do what needs to be done. She knows who she is, naysayers and opposition be damned. Cassandra bows to no one but the Maker Himself.

Yet we get those little hints of self-doubt when it comes to her personal life. She's a terrible writer (which, let's be honest, that part probably is true). She believes she doesn't have finesse or grace. She loves romance---including smutty romance---and is embarrassed when she's caught reading her romance novel.

Yet the prospect of falling in love again? The prospect that someone truly cares about and wants her? It scares her, at least at first.

Initially, she runs away from the prospect of a romance for herself. At first, she can't quite grasp that a man might see her that way again: that while she loves romance, she isn't the sort of woman who is pursued in one.

Especially when she wants what she describes as the ideal: a man who sweeps her off her feet, brings her flowers, and reads her poetry by candlelight.

Honestly, one of my favorite displays of Cassandra's strength is that even though she's flustered and overwhelmed by the prospect (to the point she flees the conversation), she turns right back around and gets direct with the man pursuing her.

She tells him exactly what she wants out of a relationship.

She clearly expresses her doubts.

She clearly expresses her fears about them being together.

They don't immediately get over this hurdle. He has to prove himself to her and that his intentions are true. He has to communicate---through both telling and showing---exactly what he wants and that it aligns with her needs.

Once he does, she's all in. That self-assured confidence that she wields in so many other aspects of her life takes over.

If I'm being honest, I really appreciate how her romance unfolds as a female player. It's refreshing to see a [genuinely] capable, confident woman be a little less certain about the prospect of letting herself be vulnerable. She still knows exactly what she wants and communicates it plainly, but she hardly "girlbosses" her way through any of it.

In fact, sometimes, it's the opposite. She fumbles and panics a bit, and she both pokes a bit of fun at herself once they eventually are together and finally takes a leap of faith and trust and lets down her walls entirely.

I won't lie in that I've very much built my male Trevelyan's romance style around Cassandra. I wanted the ideal for her, too. August is sweet, unswervingly loyal, selfless, a little playful and sarcastic (he delights in earning a smile from her), yet strong and wise. He's completely unafraid to be a romantic in his own right.

He respects her fully and is completely unafraid of/unintimidated by her.

It feels earned when Cassandra opens her heart to the possibility of loving again. I absolutely adore her mention of her first (and only other) love, Regalyan. There's a wistfulness in her memories of her younger, more carefree love in her youth and an added heaviness in his loss.

Yet the mention also seems to fuel her certainty even more in her relationship with the Inquisitor. She promises him---and also herself---that she won't let him fall. She won't let Corypheus take him from her.

All of it creates such a steadfast, authentic, emotional progression that so quintessentially Cassandra.

Cassandra's romance is a story of faith: faith in the Maker, faith the Inquisition, faith in forces of good (including the Inquisitor), and faith in herself.

It's a wonderful story and one I wish was more appreciated.

[midastouch013]

"Yes"

Summary : An argument before the mission and a call from Clint saying that one of your girlfriends are hurt

Warnings: Arguments, being secretive, don't worry they make up afterwards

----

The argument had been building up for days, tension simmering beneath the surface like a dormant volcano ready to erupt. Wanda and Natasha stood before you, a united front with furrowed brows and crossed arms, their frustration evident. The discussion started innocently enough, but it quickly escalated into a heated exchange of accusations and hurtful words.

Wanda's voice, tinged with disappointment, pierced through the room. "You're always so secretive. We share everything, and yet, you keep things from us."

Natasha's piercing gaze intensified. "We're a team, in every sense of the word. Why can't you trust us enough to let us in?"

The weight of their words settled on your shoulders, and as you tried to explain your actions, it felt like your pleas were falling on deaf ears. The upcoming mission only added fuel to the fire, intensifying the emotions in the room.

"I'm not an Avenger, and I can't just share everything with you," you argued, frustration creeping into your voice. "There are things I can't discuss, and it's not about trust."

Wanda's eyes flashed with anger. "That's not an excuse. We deserve to know."

The argument reached its peak as they stormed out, leaving you alone with a heavy heart. The silence that followed was suffocating, the room echoing with the echoes of harsh words and unspoken frustrations.

You tried to immerse yourself in work, but the weight of the argument lingered like a storm cloud. Each passing moment seemed to stretch into an eternity, as you waited for them to finish their mission.

The call from Clint came unexpectedly, breaking the oppressive stillness. The urgency in his voice was palpable, sending a chill down your spine. Natasha was hurt, and the gravity of the situation pushed aside the lingering emotions from the argument. You rushed to the hospital, your mind a whirlwind of worry and regret.

The drive back to the Avengers compound was tense, every passing moment amplifying the worry gnawing at your insides. The weight of the argument with Wanda and Natasha now felt insignificant compared to the impending surgery Natasha was facing. As you entered the compound, a storm of emotions brewed within you, ready to unleash.

The Avengers, scattered across the common area, looked up as you stormed in. The atmosphere was thick with anxiety and concern, but you couldn't contain the frustration boiling over within you. Wanda followed closely, her eyes reflecting both concern for Natasha and the lingering hurt from your argument.

"What the hell happened?" you barked, your voice cutting through the room, demanding answers.

The Avengers turned toward you, expressions shifting from concern to a mix of guilt and apprehension. Steve Rogers stepped forward, attempting to ease the tension. "We're doing everything we can for Nat. The surgery is—"

"Don't give me your PR answers, Rogers!" you snapped, unable to mask the raw fear and anger in your voice. "You're supposed to be a team, and yet, you let this happen? Why wasn't she protected? Why wasn't she—"

Your words caught in your throat as the reality of the situation hit you like a ton of bricks. Natasha, the strong and resilient Black Widow, was vulnerable and in danger.

"You're not even part of the team, and you're blaming us?" Tony Stark interjected, his usual snark replaced with an unusual hint of remorse.

Wanda placed a calming hand on your shoulder, which wasn't much help, "We need to focus on Nat right now. Yelling won't help."

"No, Wanda, they need to know how serious this is!" you shot back, your frustration unabated. "She's not just an Avenger; she's a person, someone we care about, and she's lying in that hospital bed because of something that went wrong on your watch!"

The room fell into a heavy silence, the gravity of the situation settling over the Avengers. The guilt in their eyes was palpable, and for a moment, you questioned whether your outburst had crossed a line. But then, you realized that sometimes, a wake-up call was necessary.

As you turned to leave the common area, Wanda squeezed your hand in silent support.

"I thought you wouldn't come," Wanda admitted, her voice choked with emotion as you looked at her properly for the first since you came.

"I will always come, no matter what. I love you, Wands," you said softly, wrapping your arms around her.

The brunette returned the embrace burying her face in the crook of your neck, tears slipping on to your dress as you attempted to comfort her.

A good few hours later, Helen walked out with a smile on her face

" She's awake and stable"

The news prompted a collective sigh of relief, but the room remained heavy with anxiety. You couldn't shake the guilt and fear that had plagued you since Clint's call.

As the Avengers dispersed, after you assuring them that they could go, you felt a gentle touch on your shoulder. Wanda stood beside you, her eyes filled with concern.

"We should go see her," she suggested softly, her voice a mix of worry and understanding.

Together, you entered the room where Natasha lay, still and vulnerable on the hospital bed. Tubes and monitors surrounded her, a stark reminder of the danger she faced. The sight was jarring, and the weight of the argument seemed insignificant in comparison to the frailty of life.

Natasha's eyes fluttered open as you approached, her gaze meeting yours. "Took you long enough."

The dry humor in her voice brought a reluctant smile to your face. "I didn't want to interrupt your beauty sleep, Tasha."

Wanda stepped forward, her eyes reflecting a mix of relief and guilt, as she shared a look with the redhead before turning to you. " We're sorry. We let the argument get out of hand, we were just worried and-."

" Afraid" Natasha added

You sighed " I- I'm sorry too, I didn't mean to be secretive, but I promise you that I'd never do something bad to the both of you"

" We know" the redhead replied

" So we're good?"

" Yes"

" And you're not going to kill me for making up with you at a hospital bed?"

Natasha managed a smirk, her eyes softening. "Well, you've certainly made this hospital visit more interesting."

As you all gathered around Natasha, sharing stories and making amends, the tension in the room began to dissolve. Laughter mixed with tears as you realized the depth of your connection.

The hospital stay extended into the night, but the Avengers took turns staying by Natasha's side. The atmosphere shifted from worry to camaraderie, and as you all shared memories, you felt a sense of unity that went beyond the earlier argument.

As Natasha drifted off to sleep, you found yourself alone with Wanda in the dimly lit hospital room. The weight of the day's events lingered in the air, but there was also a newfound closeness that hadn't been there before.

Wanda spoke softly, breaking the silence. "I'm relieved that you came. I thought that the argument was too much."

You took her hand, squeezing it gently. "I'll always come for you both, Wanda. No argument can change that."

She looked up at you, her eyes reflecting vulnerability. "I know, just, sometimes, it feels like we might lose you. Natasha may not have said it but she thought that too."

Leaning in, you pressed a tender kiss to her forehead. "You could never lose me. We're in this together, no matter what."

As the night wore on, the two of you took turns keeping vigil by Natasha's bedside. The quiet moments were filled with shared glances, unspoken apologies, and a deepening understanding of each other.

The next morning, as Natasha started to regain strength, the room buzzed with activity. The Avengers joked and laughed, the weight of the previous day lifting like a fog. Natasha's dry wit and sarcastic remarks fueled the atmosphere, turning the hospital room into a makeshift gathering, as the avengers had all piled in, given gifts or tidbits of their own before being forced to leave by either you or Wanda so that the redhead could rest.

During a quiet moment, as your girlfriends sat watching the trashy romcom on the medbay's TV, you cleared your throat

"I owe you an explanation," you began, your voice gentle but resolute. "The reason I've been so secretive is that I've been planning something important. Something for both of you."

Wanda's brows furrowed in confusion, and Natasha, who overheard the conversation, raised an eyebrow, intrigued.

You reached into your pocket and pulled out a small velvet box, opening it to reveal two delicate rings. "I was going to propose. I've been working on this for a while, wanting it to be perfect. But life, well, life had other plans."

The realization dawned on Wanda's face, her eyes widening with surprise. Natasha, for a moment, was rendered speechless. The atmosphere in the room shifted, and the lightheartedness of the previous banter made way for a more profound connection.

"I didn't want to spoil the surprise, and I didn't want either of you to worry," you continued, your gaze shifting between Wanda and Natasha. "I love you both, and I wanted this to be a moment we'd remember forever."

Wanda's eyes welled with tears, a mixture of emotions playing on her face. Natasha, ever the stoic one, managed a soft smile, her eyes reflecting a depth of understanding.

"Thank heavens, you weren't mad at us, or bye bye rings," Wanda joked, but you could sense the undertone to it.

You took Wanda's hand and cupped Natasha's cheek, bringing them both close. "No, never. My love for both of you is beyond any argument or misunderstanding. Life is unpredictable, and I want to spend every moment cherishing what we have."

In the quiet hospital room, with the beeping of monitors and the distant hum of activity, you took a deep breath and made a heartfelt confession. "Wanda Maximoff, Natasha Romanoff, will you both give me the honour of marrying you?"

Their eyes met yours, and in that vulnerable moment, they each whispered a sincere "Yes."

"Now we have a lifetime to argue about who hogs the blankets and who leaves their shoes lying around."

"Sounds like a plan,detka."

—-------

[damnflirtyape]

I like to imagine that Lake became the leader of the apes after Caesar's death. I think we're given some hints in War that she's quite possibly the best candidate to fill the role. We're shown from her first moment on screen that she's compassionate and reliable, entrusted with the care of young apes and confident in her work.

She's included in Caesar's counsel when discussing the Clan's future and plans. She's not afraid to speak her mind and does not hold back when she disagrees with Winter. It's bittersweet to see her and Blue Eyes; they're a good balance, he's matured since the events of Dawn and now acts as peacemaker, they would have been good leaders together.

Even though she shows a deep respect for Caesar and doesn't challenge him, she does openly question him. She doesn't hide her shock or confusion at his choice to leave the Clan and his son, but still acquiesces to his request. She trusts him and demonstrates he can trust her.

And this trust is deep. She's one of the few apes taken captive who still trusts and believes in Caesar after everything they've endured. She's the only one who will still speak to him, to not treat him with contempt. She's patient and resilient, not unlike a much younger Caesar.

I think it's a testament to Lake's character in how she doesn't lose that trust and belief in Caesar, even when he's not thinking his actions through. Sure it spurs all the other apes on, a show of strength and defiance, but she understands how dire their situation really is, even before the Colonel gives Caesar a brutal demonstration.

And she takes it upon herself to protect their Clan. It's desperate, she's terrified, but someone has to protect the apes when Caesar is lost in his desire for revenge. It's a show of strength and defiance in a way, but not to challenge the Colonel's authority, it's a message to the apes that they can endure this together, together they are strong.

And the Clan listen to her. Someone has to have some sense and her compassion is not a weakness, it's a strength and keeps her thinking straight, keeping the apes safe from as much harm as possible being her priority.

And I feel like there's an echo of the first time we see Caesar in war here, apes parting to allow their leader through. The apes trust Lake's judgement; her strength, compassion and resilience make her a natural born leader. I feel like with Rocket and Maurice as her advisors, she could have been an amazing leader.

[onepiece-polls]

One Piece Crack Ship War - Side E Finals!

CoraBelle art by @halacska-fins

KataCora art by @rzdhc

Propaganda under the cut.

CoraBelle:

A surprisingly popular ship considering they never interacted, but I see the appeal. Both former Marines, both loving and caring adoptive parents.

Two of the best parents in One Piece, imagine if they both lived and raised a happy little mixed family together.

Best adoptive Dad + Best adoptive Mom. I think they would vibe.

Cora is Bell-mere's malewife failure and she loves him. She enjoys making him flustered and tripping him up. He is just heads over heels in love with her, he loves her so much Just the thought of Bell-mere making a man who's twice her size completely melt for her fills me with joy. They were both apart of the Marines and ended up adopting children while on the job. I'm not exactly sure who died first but learning about your lover's death (if it wasn't covered up) is amazing angst potential. They're watching over their kids in the afterlife together.

Dead serial adopting Marines smokers, what else is there to say?

hi i’m back with my corabelle agenda. these two are a match made in heaven. literally. they have so many narrative parallels, it hurts. they both sacrificed themselves for their adoptive kids’ longevity, they’re both former marines who deserted their positions in order to give these kids a better life. they were both killed by a flintlock, and their last words to their kids were “i love you.” !!! it’s uncanny!! they could have known each other when they were marines, too! bell-mere is just one year older than rosinante. they were from different blues, but there’s a chance they could have run into each other or even trained together for a period of time. bell-mere would be the perfect friend for a young rosinante who’s preoccupied and stressed over his brother. in terms of personality, that’s where we get some of that juicy opposites-attract theory into play. they do have a lot in common tho! some common flaws, (hotheaded, a bit irrational, impulsive), and some common strengths as well, (determined, fearless, values the strength of a smile)! but otherwise, bell-mere isn’t afraid to lay the flirt on and seems a bit more extroverted, where rosinante is a little more reserved and keeps a very small circle of friends, (literally one and it’s sengoku). someone direct like bell-mere could easily draw him out of his shell, and someone down-to-earth and occasionally goofy like rosinante could help keep her grounded.

Both marines with rough lives who seemingly picked up children when they weren’t expecting it. Bellemere would make a great mom to Law and Corazon would make a great dad to Nami and Nojiko. Both of them would bond over the bullshit of the world!!

Art by @gendervapor14

SweetHeart:

Alright so they are both very tall, very kind individuals who deserve so much so everyone reading this...jot that down. They are both incredible figures and caring, like Katakuri? BEST big brother vibes like he is so sweet and beloved and just all around a very wholesome guy who loves his sweets and donuts and family (hints the sweet part of the ship name) he would absolutely treat Rosinante right and Rosi deserves that. Rosinante is just so I mean!! Have you guys seen him!? That man is so full of trauma but has so much love to give, he is a great dad who is trying his best Even if he is unsure of how to do things at times. He's strong, he's resilient, he's SMART, he's kind and compassionate and he is a great brother that Doflamingo did not deserve. Now mushing these two together I think they'd be great, they're very similar but also drastically different and I think it'd be a very beautiful relationship, they might be a little awkward and unsure at first but they'd be so caring and loving and I think Katakuri would be alarmed that his partner just set himself on fire, knocked a chair over and now his son is yelling and violently smacking out flames and using his devil fruit to ensure his dad is okay. He would also probably get use to it very quick and just eat donuts while helping Law put the flames out. Rosinante would love how much Katakuri cares about his siblings and he'd bring him sweets and I just !!!! I think they'd be incredible gentle yet rough around the edges because they're great people with tragedy but would accept every part of each other, even the darker and harder parts of themselves. Like please just MAKE THEM KISS. We love SweetHeart around these waters

The beloveds of the Dressrosa arc and the Whole Cake Island arc. A duo where one is grumpy and the other is sunshine, but also where both is the "looks like they could kill, would kill you" and "actual cinnamon rolls". They'd help each other in so many ways; Katakuri with his self worth issues, hiding his scars, which Rosinante is covered in, and Rosinante with his family issues (both Doflamingo and Law) and also his own self worth issues.

[acourtofthought]

I don't know if you ever talked about this. But do you think Elain could fall into a deal or be tricked because of her nature of seeing people's kindness over their ill intentions? I'm not saying she is a fool, it's just the way she views the world (that is what makes her strong).

I do like this idea if it's used in her book, as in her falling back and starting to doubt how she views the world and herself, but her resiliency keeps her going on. A bump in her journey. I don't know if I explained myself.

I personally don't see that for her. Elain is kind and she does want to see the best in others but she's also quick to pick up on how things are:

“Yes, well—there will always be other seasons. Nesta won’t tell you, but this season was somewhat … strange.” “In what way?” She shrugged her slim shoulders. “People acted as if we’d all just been ill for eight years, or had gone away to some distant country—not that we’d been a few villages over in that cottage. You’d think we dreamed it all up, what happened to us over those years. No one said a word about it.”

“It’s their tradition, though,” Elain countered, her face still flushed with the cold. “One that they fought and died to protect in the war. Perhaps that’s the better way to think of it, rather than feeling guilty. To remember that this day means something to them. All of them, regardless of who has more, who has less, and in celebrating the traditions, even through the presents, we honor those who fought for its very existence, for the peace this city now has.”

For a moment, I just stared at my sister, the wisdom she’d spoken. Not a whisper of those oracular abilities. Just clear eyes and an open expression. “

“I went into the Cauldron, too, you know. And it captured me. And yet somehow all you think of is what my trauma did to you.”

Nesta was wrong, Cassian realized, to think Elain as loyal and loving as a dog. Elain saw every single thing Nesta had done, and understood why.

Elain is kind but she's no fool. The situation with the Cauldron was not really a reflection on Elain's intelligence. Powerful magic being used to trick her into seeing something that didn't exist was no different than Rhys thinking he was fighting Hybern when it was only an illusion.

If anything is going to make her doubt herself I think it's the fact that no matter what she's currently doing, no matter how much she's putting herself out there for the IC (i.e., offering to search for the Trove, going to the Hewn City with them), she's still not looked at as an equal and I think that is going to morph from self doubt to frustration / anger with them (we've already seen hints of it) and will be the catalyst for her story.

I think the entire point of Elain's arc is proving to everyone (characters) who thought she was the helpless damsel in need of saving that she's actually someone they should have been believing in all this time. That kindness is a strength, not something that makes you weak or foolish.

[kirunawrites]

ad astra per aspera - chapter 2

Dulce et decorum est pro cor cupiditatis mori.

Pairings: Ofc! Princess x Lucius Verus, Ofc! Princess x Marcus Acacius.

A/n: Julia seems to know well how to enjoy the time bro Caracalla is out. Haven’t seen the movie yet, but I prefer Lucius to not stick to the so famous “arma virumque cano” 😌

Warnings: smut, blood, mentions of slavery, mentions of prostitution, mentions of abuse.

Rating: Explicit (+18)

Tagging list: @novaursa @maegelletargaryen @mmkkzz

They have to be quick and act before the arrival of their eldest brother—he will have enough time to throw a tantrum and even display his anger at them both if it is his wish. Repalandecent and magnificent, they enter the box covered by the dais and this time Julia takes the seat originally belonging to Caracalla, throwing a side glance at Geta as any possible comment is masked by the people of Rome gathered there to witness the first day of munera, carefully scheduled to match with General Acacius’s celebration for his triumph.

“Princess” greets Marcus when he approaches her, taking her hand between his with care and leaving a soft kiss on the back, his brown eyes always upon hers. “Or maybe I should call you ‘Augusta’.”

She smiles, polite, observing the face of Rome, his dark locks carefully kept in place, grey hairs here and there giving him even a better look to her taste, more of a seasoned commander and experienced strategist.

Somehow, she has always liked that man.

“This may be my only chance to not lay under the shadow of nobody, legatus.”

“Then I must encourage you to enjoy it.”

She nods as her brother stands up, arms stretched as if he wants to reach all the corners of the amphitheatre, and starts with the usual speech for the opening of the season. With her back straight, she observes all her eyes can reach, and for a mere moment she gives herself the chance to imagine herself there usually, of people addressing her as ‘Augusta’ and not ‘princess’, of being the matron Rome needs and not the daughter she was assigned to be.

It had taken her quite a lot of work to convince Geta to contribute to the ludus with gold from the imperial treasury, pushing him to believe the great victors of before were celebrated by Rome, making herself put Marcus Acacius in the same sack as Scipio Africanus, Julius Caesar or even Marcus Aurelius.

What a fool.

She knows she has to enjoy the time without her brother present to work hard, with Aeneas and her dear Hala going here and there with messages and donatives to different personalities of the city, the pain from the last encounter with her eldest brother still lingering upon her body, making it an obligation to take revenge against him.

Once the duels with the beasts have taken place, with her answering vaguely the comments that flow from Geta’s lips as he gives up to his thirst for blood and looks like a part of him truly enjoys the show, her eyes are upon the gladiators, observing them with curiosity, and perhaps a hint of admiration.

“Are these new, Macrinus?” Julia finds herself saying, feeling Acacius’s sharp gaze upon her as if trying to decipher her thoughts from afar. The bustling arena around them fades into a dull roar as she waits for her question to be answered.

“Yes, princess. Prisoners from General Acacius’s last campaign.”

“Numidians.”

“Exactly. Strong and fierce, they make excellent contenders in the arena. It is believed that their spirit and resilience add to the spectacle,” Macrinus replies, his voice carrying a note of pride, as if the ferocity of these prisoners was a personal achievement.

The princess’s eyes sweep across the sand-strewn arena, and she can swear the man in chains from the general’s triumph is among them, stern face as he observes her again, his gaze unwavering, almost challenging. The memory of their brief encounter outside the gates of the palace flickers in her mind—the intensity in his eyes, the quiet strength that seemed to radiate from him even then, bound as he was. It was a moment that had left an indelible mark on her consciousness, a spark that refused to be extinguished despite the layers of royal duties and decorum that demanded her attention afterward.

“Maybe you can claim one for yourself later, dear sister” murmurs her brother, a sharp gaze upon her as he realizes her distraction. His words, meant in jest, carry an undercurrent of truth that resonates within her. She quickly masks her fleeting emotions, almost forcing a cackle, her cheeks fighing their best to not blush.

“We can share if you wish, Augustus.”

Brother and sister exchange a look, long enough to show the rest of the people gathered with them that she still is the pliant sister, the one to comply to her brothers’s wishes, the one to bend but not break under the weight of tradition and expectation. Yet, there is a glint in her eye, a silent promise of rebellion, a hint that she is not as compliant as she appears.

The mumbling behind her fades as the gladiators fight, blood and sand mixing in a ballet of violence and spectacle. The crowd roars, a beast made of a thousands of throats, hungry for the spectacle, the carnage. But her thoughts are elsewhere, her eyes upon the man whose gaze had burned inside her soul. He fights now, his movements a dance of desperation and skill, each strike a testament to his will to survive, to prevail. She watches, heart pounding, as he navigates the chaos, a warrior poet amidst the brutality of the arena. His blade glints under the merciless sun, a flash of silver in a sea of red. With every opponent he strikes, her admiration grows, intertwining with a fear she refuses to acknowledge.

“That man should be leading armies, not risking his life for the amusement of the masses,” she muses quietly, her voice lost in the cacophony of cheers that erupts around her. The intensity in his gaze does not falter, as if he hears her thoughts amidst the noise.

“And I thought you did not like the munera, sister” Geta groans, amused. His enthusiasm for the games had always been more pronounced than Julia’s, who finds the violence distasteful, yet intriguing in a manner she couldn’t quite explain. It is the strategy, the skill, the sheer human will to survive that captivates her, not the bloodshed.

They both approach the edge of the arena, their eyes drawn to the spectacle below. The gladiators move with a grace that belies their deadly intent, each maneuver a dance of death and survival intertwined. Julia watches, fascinated as the man with the defiant gaze beats every man who comes before him, his movements almost poetic in their brutality. There is an elegance to his violence, a beauty in the way he anticipates and counters his opponents. The crowd roars with every fall he executes, their cheers fueling the fervor with which he fights.

Only with the deaf thump of the last body on the bloodied arena, the gladiator turns to the box and raises his sword to it, like a sort of offering to those who had gathered to witness his might. Julia feels a chill run down her spine, her heart caught in the thrall of the moment. The intensity in his eyes, even from this distance, seems to pierce through the crowd, connecting with hers in an unspoken acknowledgment of his victory.

“You must be proud, Macrinus. The ludus will receive much renown from this victory. Your gladiator has proven himself exceptional,” the magistrate by her side comments, breaking the spell of the moment.

Julia nods in silence, her eyes on the man who now stands as the epitome of victory in the arena.

“That is no Numidian” she mumbles, feeling the presence of Lucilla near her, the matron’s hand upon her lower back, a gesture of support and solidarity among the women of their stature.

Numidians were praised five centuries ago, when they took part of the Carthaginian army who dared to defy the power of Rome. After that they fell into oblivion, more a people prone to take care of their crops and fish their meals rather than learn to swing a sword with such dexterity.

“Where are you from, gladiator?” Geta’s voice booms across the arena, breaking the momentary silence that had fallen over the crowd. The gladiator, standing tall and proud in the center of the sand-covered arena, turns to face Geta, his expression unreadable. The sun glints off his armor, a testament to his battles fought and won, yet his eyes hold a depth of sorrow that belies his formidable appearance.

“Obstipuit primo aspectu Sidonia Dido, //

casu deinde viri tanto, et sic ore locuta est: //

“Quis te, nate dea, per tanta pericula casus //

insequitur? Quae vis immanibus applicat oris?”

The gladiator’s voice is rough but clear, echoing off the stone walls that encircle the arena. The spectators, a motley assembly of citizens and nobles alike, fall into a hushed silence as they strain to hear the words exchanged in the center of the arena. A sigh escapes Julia’s lips as she recognizes the verses, his bright eyes not losing her face among the people gathered in the box.

“We have a poet fighting among gladiators, such a novelty!”

With a gesture of her hand Julia shushes Geta, letting the words of the gladiator wash over her, a poignant contrast to the violence that is expected to ensue. The man, armored only in the scars of past battles and a simple leather tunic is forced to leave the arena, his departure is marked by a hushed reverence, a collective breath held by those who had come expecting bloodshed.

“Princess” Senator Gracchus greets her by the entrance of the tunnel to leave the amphitheater once the munera has finished, his expression one of cautious respect mixed with a hint of curiosity. The man had shared a part of his political career with her father when they were young, serving under Marcus Aurelius “Such a way to start the season.”

“Nobody could have expected to have a gladiator quoting Virgil, that much is true.”

Around them an escort with Praetorian guards encircles them discreetly, offering them a sort of privacy. Julia’s eyes go to the senator’s, her mind still replaying the spectacle they just had witnessed.

“That man is hiding something.”

“I am afraid I don’t follow you, princess.”

She takes a deep breath, her fists clenching at her sides as she tries to set her own thoughts in order.

“No uneducated slave knows about Virgil.”

“Well, let us say that man is Roman, so what?”

“Senator, please indulge me and go to the markets yourself and ask how many commoners can recite the Aeneid out of thin air.” Gracchus throws a glance at her, big eyes hiding behind a veil of skepticism. The princess's insinuation bears a gravity he hadn’t anticipated, and Julia knows it. “Exactly.”

Roman nobility had always enjoyed a good fight between skilled gladiators, but it would be a stupidity to search for glory in a place like the amphitheater, close to death every moment there, seen like less than a commoner by the rest of the people, not allowed to even have a proper rest after the arrival of goddess Nemesis.

Or that man is the biggest fool on the Empire or he has something important to hide.

…

“Domina.”

She turns to observe her companion as she closes the door of the room, careful.

“Did you gave her the parchment?”

“Yes, Domina.”

“Good.”

If there is somebody she can fully trust it is her sweet Hala, her confidante since childhood, the only one who has been by her side constantly, almost since the beginning, since Caracalla had started to hit her out of nowhere. The servant smiles at her, softly, when she tucks a strand of hair behind her ear, a familiar gesture brimming with affection.

“What would I do without you, my dearest?” Julia mumbles, closing her eyes when Hala takes her wrist and gently kisses its inner part, raising goosebumps on her skin.

“I can soothe your troubles, Domina.” Hala’s voice is sweet, grounding, her lips fluttering against the soft skin of Julia’s arm.

“Hala” her voice catches in her throat, the whisper a plea caught between desire and hesitation.

“Just let me do.”

Julia is about to give up and surrender to the proposition when somebody knocks at the door, disrupting the moment between them. Any hint of desire gets trapped as she opens the door, one of the soldiers of the imperial guard standing still at the other side, his eyes on the front, as wanting to avoid her gaze, possibly thinking that she could have a nature as volatile as her brothers.

“You gave order to tell you when the meals had finished.”

“Is the emperor busy?”

“Yes, princess. The scorti are keeping the emperor and the rest of the guests entertained.” The guard’s voice is cautious, aware of the delicate nature of the news.

“Thank you. You are dismissed.”

She closes the door as the soldier leaves after standing to guard, and she has to take deep breaths to keep herself composed. It is the perfect time to take advantage and play her own cards. In order to gather any courage and take her interrupted arousal a bit farther, she cups Hala’s face and brushes her thumb gently across her cheek, only to kiss her afterwards, almost devouring her, as if trying to reclaim the moment lost. Hala responds with equal fervor, her hands threading through Julia's hair, pulling her closer.

Only when their lips part she takes a deep breath and with a reassuring nod from her companion she leaves her quarters, her feet carrying her through the corridors of the Domus Flavia with one target in mind, soldiers of the Praetorian guard stationed at both sides of the corridors, the safety of the imperial family as their priority.

Her target is lying on a triclinium as his eyes observe the scene before his eyes with a hardly concealed grim upon his face, half hidden behind a golden cup.

“Enjoying the views, Legatus?”

If he is surprised by her presence, he hides it neatly.

“What else can you offer me, Augusta?”

Augusta. Any of her brothers could cut his tongue for it.

“What about a walk? I want to speak with you.”

A last glance at the bacchanal before them is enough for the general to stand up as he nods, signaling his compliance with her request. She leans and takes the cup he has been drinking of and takes a sip from the wine left behind, feeling the heat of his gaze upon her as she turns, to which she answers with a raised eyebrow.

Julia Septimia is fully aware of the potential of the man who is strolling the hallways with her, of the obsession her brothers have with him and his ability to inspire and command, to fight and slaughter, but she also knows that there is something deep down him that mismatches with the ambitions of the emperors.

“I know Numidia has left a sour feeling in you, my brother thinks of it as a trifle, but the only bloodshed he knows comes from the munera.”

She feels empowered. She knows that her time is limited, and that there are huge chances that Caracalla may retaliate against her for anything, the wine and the teasing from Hala run through her veins almost fogging her common sense, blending with the echo of the verses of the Aeneid still lingering in her mind. She has to risk everything if she wants a chance to win.

And it starts with Marcus Acacius.

As they walk through the sprawling palace corridors, Julia’s thoughts race with possibilities and strategies, always with her nephew in mind, a way to get things back to normal as they should have been from the beginning.

“My duty is with Rome, princess. If I am needed to lead my legions against the Parthians, so be it.”

She scoffs.

“I am not my brothers, so please do me a favour and do not woo me.”

“Princess—“

“I can offer you something in between. I have started to talk about it with my brother, so it would only take the other bastard to accept it.”

“We shouldn’t be talking about this.”

A smirk curves the edges of her lips as they come into the gardens with the big marble fountain in the middle, resembling an oasis.

“This is my territory. The people you see here are loyal to me.“

She wishes she could fully trust it, to have somebody ready to protect her at all costs.

They make their way to the library, far enough from the bacchanal to be able to speak freely. Here and there there is a soldier, or a servant, making their best to ignore them but, at the same time create a diversion in case it is needed. Those were her father’s people, the ones who had kept their place for so many years that the brothers even thought some of them to be a bunch of fools.

“You called me Augusta by the amphitheater.” A pair of brown eyes observe her. “Why?”

A smirk tugs from the corners of Marcus Acacius’s lips, matching the confidence in his eyes.

“Look at me in the eye and tell me you wouldn’t do better than your brothers.”

“It is my nephew’s right to sit upon one of those horrid golden eagles, not mine.”

Julia’s voice falters slightly with the weight of her words. She has told nobody about her wishes, and she cannot tell if she truly thinks the general is a trustworthy man or her impulse is talking instead of her brains.

“They are truly disgusting. I think your father fancied a throne much… Discreet.”

It isn’t needed an invitation for Marcus to sit once they have arrived to their destiny, and he observes him with a thoughtful pout upon his face, lost in contemplation.

The library is vast, lined with ancient scrolls and volumes, shadows from the flickering lamps casting patterns on the walls. One of the most important sources of knowledge in the entire empire, only accesible to a handful of people.

“Caracalla murdered our brother. Gaius was more fit to rule” she clenches her jaw as she speaks, pacing in front of him like a caged lioness. “He was wise and impetuous. He would have been a proper ruler after my father…” she raises her eyes to Marcus as she stops in front of him. “How was the empire before?”

Both know the answer well enough.

“I cannot grant you the temporary retirement you seek, but I can name you commander of the Praetorian guard. I need someone I can trust, someone not corrupted by the allure of ambition. Help me put my nephew on the throne and you can spend the rest of your active time in Rome close to your wife, and your retirement with a handsome pay being a lazy fuck in your villa along your loved ones.”

“Princess…” his voice wavers for a moment, struggling to keep steady. He considers her proposal, the weight of the decision pressing on his shoulders, and for a moment Julia is afraid of a negative answer.

“Somebody told me once that there are people outside this walls by my side, ready to support me if I choose to take action,” she continues, eyes glinting with a mixture of determination and desperation as she comes closer to him, looming over him despite her being smaller and thinner than him, easily beaten by him. “You called me ‘Augusta’ in front of my brother, knowing he could have had your tongue for it.”

He tilts his head to look at her, eyes half narrowed in the dim light of the room, and Julia can observe his features properly, shaped by the dancing lights of the candles around them, her eyes tracing the shape of his nose, the way the scruff on his cheeks adds a layer of shadow to his face, how he licks his plush lips as his gaze goes over her figure, the flickering lights playing with her garments and softly revealing her curves hidden under them.

“I am afraid I have lost my fidelity to Rome, princess.” He mutters, softly.

“I am not asking you to be faithful to Rome, but to me” she takes one of his hands, rough and big, and encouraged by something she cannot name drives it to her calf, letting his fingertips brush a yellowed bruise on her skin. “I need somebody to protect my nephew, legatus.” His touch goes further as her hands drive his up her body, and she ends up sitting on his lap, her breath mingling with his as she whispers, “The gods seem to see fit that I may not be able to do so for much longer” as she speaks, she reveals fading marks upon her body, silent witnesses of the outbursts from both of her brothers.

She leaves his hand free as she cups his face with both hands, her thumbs softly caressing his cheeks as he strokes her waist over her robes. His eyes search hers, filled with resolve and a newfound purpose.

“Princess, I cannot…” she leans over him and he lets her do, accommodating her on his lap, his free hand roaming under the clothes, his rough touch finding delight with the soft of her thigh “Your maidenhood—“

Julia’s lips find his jawline, leaving small kisses and teasing nibbles along it, her hips grinding against his, tempting him. When they kiss, he feels her urgency, her desperation for solace and strength, mingling with her desire, and a part of her mind betrays her and imagines she is not sat upon the lap of the most acclaimed general of his time, but the man with the piercing gaze and a hidden secret who prefers to fight in the arena and recall the tragic queen Dido of Carthage.

“That is something long gone” she whispers against his lips, her fingers roaming free in his dark and grey curls as he gasps when he finds how her folds are getting wetter with her arousal. “Fuck Rome if you please, Legatus. Fuck me under my brothers’s roof—“ she whines as his fingertips start to tease her, a rough digit rubbing long circles over her clit “Swear to me that you will do whatever it takes to keep the boy safe and your name will be remembered until the end of time.”

Her lips go down his neck as she awaits his answer, her mind half hazy with a desire half faked. One of her hands grasps his tunic as a way to ground herself into reality as the other tugs from his hair, earning a soft grunt from him, pushing him to tilt his head to leave her more space. A half pretended moan escapes her lips as the teasing digit comes into her, quickly meet by another one, and her hips go up and down them at their own pace, searching the bliss nobody but her lovely Hala had made her reach.

“I will do it” he pants, quickly removing his fingers from inside her and taking his erection to coat it with her arousal before teasing her folds again, making her whimper in need. “I swear to do all I can to protect you and the boy.”

[heyidkyay]

And I'm petrified of being alone, now |

Part Twenty-Five (The End)

Summary: She’s just trying to get by, really. What with being a single parent to her four year old son whilst simultaneously trying to kick start a successful career as a radio presenter. She’s got everything she’s ever wanted though, friends close by, a mum who’s merely a phone call away, and of course her baby boy. What else is there to wish for? But then, it’s not long before her relatively normal life gets upended and turned on its head, and she’s suddenly forced to deal with situations she’s never even thought to imagine.

What happens when one mention of a certain controversial singer on her show sends a flood of unexpected challenges her way?

Authors note: The ending! The final chapter of Matty and Mouse's story, my heart is actually breaking. Honestly loved writing these two, as well as baby Teds, and I hope you lot loved them too because all the love this series has gotten means so much, it feels surreal. Hopefully I can write a few blurbs of them or something in the future but this is it for now. So thank you for all the support!

Warnings: EMOTIONS, Matty and Mouse way of thinking, little bit of angst, referencing to past hurts (such as not making it to a certain age), smut, unprotected sex, self-conscious characters?

> Last update: look back here if you'd like!

Masterlist

Matty wouldn’t have been able to say what the time must have been if anyone had dared ask. He’d been propped up against the headboard, still in his t-shirt and jeans, his hand never having fallen from the top of her head even after she’d finally worn herself out and drifted to sleep.

His stomach churned pitifully at the reminder, at how hard she had cried. Gasping and sobbing into that fucking pillow she still held onto, all whilst clinging to the skin of his wrist with an unforeseen strength. As though she’d been pleading in her grip of him, asking him not to go just yet.

That hold had diminished a tad during the night, she’d always been a fitful sleeper– had kneed him one too many times between the legs for him to not know that fact– but this time around… She’d been almost deathly still, aside from the frowning expressions that clouded her face whilst she’d dreamt.

He continued to sit there though, watching on as the moon sunk so that the sun could slowly climb its way into the irradiating sky, giving way to that first hint of morning.

He hadn’t slept a wink, not really. Nodded off for a second or two once or twice before he’d found himself jerking awake again. Couldn’t seem to stay down for much longer than that.

And why would he? When he’d all but destroyed the woman laying beside him. This proud, strong and resilient woman that he’d been so idolised by, so enraptured with. The one person in his fucking forsaken life that had appeared so utterly invincible.

She was a survivor. A mother. A friend. 

And she was kind. Funny. Resilient.

Then she’d gone and met him, hadn’t she?

And he’d ruined her like he did everything else.

Practically broken her. 

Torn the last pieces of her further apart.

The thought alone made him feel sick to his stomach. Aching with this unbound need to grovel and cry at her very feet, to make her see enough sense so that she could understand just how much she didn’t need someone like him. That she was strong enough to do it all alone. That she didn’t need to cling to him as she had, like rust to a buoy long lost at sea.

Guilt.

That was what that sticky feeling growing in his gut was. That overwhelming malady that was eating him up from the inside out, making him feel so utterly sick.

He had come over to see her. So that they might be able to talk things out. He’d come to apologise. To make things right between them. But instead, what had he done?

Pushed.

He’d pushed and fucking pushed, forcing her hand enough so that she had cracked and he’d been able to slip past those high guarded walls of hers.

And now here they were.

He couldn’t bring himself to regret it though– not all of it at least. 

To have held her again… It had calmed some sick twisted part of him. 

To have just seen her and heard her voice, no matter how pained and angry it had been. It was like the world around him had softened for a split second. Become all grainy.

Matty glanced back over to her sleeping form, to the way she had bundled the duvet high up over her head so that the tip of her nose could bury itself in the slight curve it made, her chin tucked away. 

His hand was still lost somewhere in her hair, thumb cascading out over her temple every now and then, but he didn’t dare pull away. Not until he had no other choice in the matter. 

So he carried on, staying there and lying awake. Thinking over the night before. Thinking back to her devastated expression, to the wary look her eyes had held. To the way she hadn’t spoken a word. To how she had simply forced her cries into silent sobs.

Suddenly, he was stuck on the very realisation that she hadn’t been reacting to it all, to everything she’d been feeling, to what had happened, but rather retreating. Hiding away whilst, somehow, still allowing him to be near. To stay. To watch over her.

A soft sniff had him blinking, regaining composure quick enough so that he could catch the scene play out before him. 

…

I was embarrassed by the previous night's events. By the fact that I had been so determined to keep Matty at arms length and then failed entirely. That he had seen me so weak and well– broken.

But it had all come to a head, I supposed.

I’d been keeping up appearances ever since everything had fallen out, putting on a brave face and a smile for anyone and everyone who could see. It was only ironic, I guessed, for Matty to have been the one to shatter that image completely. 

Still, I swallowed at the sight of him still sitting there beside me the next morning, seeming as though he hadn’t moved an inch throughout the whole night, and shoved all that shame back down. 

“Thought you’d be gone by now.” I heard myself say as I flipped over onto my back so that I could stare up at the ceiling and at the sun drawn lines that stretched out across it.

I listened to his quiet laugh, to the way he shuffled slightly on the mattress, though I didn’t dare look back at him. It was too early and I already felt as though he’d seen enough of me. “Was just hoping for a chance at one of your brews, is all.”

Something in me shifted at his easy words. At the fact that he’d chosen to try and make me smile, instead of calling me out on all my messy bullshit.

“And if I’ve got no milk?” I replied, just because this was easier than arguing anymore.

I felt him shift, probably shrugging if I knew him as well as I thought I did. “Shops open soon enough.”

The corner of my mouth twitched, although I continued my staring contest with the blank space sat high above us. 

“Who says I’ll let you back in?”

He did laugh then, a deep rumble of a chuckle that was rough from disuse and a lack of sleep. Matty sniffed, “Just gonna have to try my luck then, I ‘spose.”

It was only in that next second that I realised something, something that had me inhaling sharply as Matty’s fingers dragged their way through my hair to tuck a frizzy strand behind my ear, before then pulling away entirely.

My eyes slipped closed at the sudden loss and my hands curled into tight fists beneath the duvet at the very thought of him having stayed that way throughout the night. Of having held me in the only way he’d been able to, as though he believed it might have kept some small part of me together. Only pulling away now that he could see that I wasn’t going to crack beneath the weight of everything I still held.

The bed shifted and the sound of his feet hit the floor.

From the corner of my eye, I watched him as he stood.

Matty moved throughout my bedroom with an ease I didn’t even own, picking up the hoodie he’d thrown over my desk chair all those days ago, the same one I hadn’t allowed myself to touch, let alone wear. 

I almost told him not to take it, but withheld. Only just managing to bite down on my tongue as I watched him shrug it on. It was his afterall.

“Gonna nick your keys,” He told me whilst he shook the hood out around his neck and dragged it up over his tousled curls, “Only be about ten minutes. You can shower or whatever, not worry about letting me back in.”

I could only nod in return and he smiled, pausing in the doorway to look back at me for a second or two before he nodded, almost fretfully, and turned away.

I waited, lying there still enough that I was surprised I didn’t go stiff from how tightly I was wound, until I heard the familiar rattle of keys and then the squeaking hinges of the front door. It closed behind him so quietly that had I not been holding my breath I might not have even heard it. 

I was rubbing at my face not a minute later, hauling back tears leftover from last night's show, before I heaved an anguished scream that was more air than actual sound from my lungs.

Forcing myself to calm– and not dissolve into fucking hysterics– I willed myself up, noting that I was still naked as I kicked the covers away. Another thing I’d gone and bared for him, I supposed. As though it wasn’t enough that I had already cried myself to sleep with him just sitting a hand’s stretch away, but that we’d actually gone and slept together. After everything.

My head was warring with my heart as I dragged myself up out of the dirtied sheets, throwing on an old tee so that I could shove them into the washer before he got back. I forced myself into the shower quickly after, letting the hot water roll off my skin.

I must’ve been stood there for a long while, drowning under the heavy spray, because it was the sound of the door that broke me from the faraway place I’d found myself in whilst staring at the tiled walls.

Blinking, I wiped the water from out of my eyes and forced myself to wash, lathering up my hair and going through the motions, before I finally stepped out. 

I didn’t dare peer into the mirror, not all too desperate to see the state I’d worked myself into on my way out. Choosing to head back into the bedroom instead, padding over towards the dresser to pull out some clean clothes and only noticing the fresh sheets that had been pulled onto the bed when I’d finally dressed.

The towel I’d been holding to lightly dry my hair slowly dropped to my side at the sight. I opened my mouth to call out and probably ask– But I stopped myself before I could. Ask what? I wondered. Why? Then shook my head at the very idea.

Doing the smart thing by shutting my mouth, I dumped the towel in the hamper and pulled on a pair of socks, taking a deep breath before deciding to venture further out into the flat. 

I found him in the kitchen.

He didn’t peer over his shoulder but he must’ve heard me putter in because he greeted me: “I know I said I’d be quick but I passed by that little bakery on my way back– that hidden gem we liked that one time? Anyway, it just smelt fuckin’ devine.” He accentuated that last bit, making me smile slightly, “And I just couldn’t not, you know? Been a while, but they had those danishes you like in the window. Got a couple to share as well as some other bits.” Matty explained, head still halfway in the bag he’d obviously brought back with him, a pint of milk sat alone on the side, “And a sausage roll for Teds– kid was eating them like he was gonna starve a while ago. So I just thought...”

Matty shrugged, as though that in itself was no big deal, him thinking of my son, and turned around to glance my way with a display case of baked-goods now lining my kitchen counter.

I snorted softly at the sight, jerking my chin out towards the lot of them, “Just thought you’d bring back half the shop?” I teased and was all too pleased when he chuckled around the beginnings of a smirk.

He was quick with his quip, “So I’m guessin’ you don’t want one of these danishes then?” 

I narrowed my eyes at the sheer nerve. “I never said that.”

Matty’s nose scrunched with his next shrug before he moved to snap one up for himself. “Sort of sounded like it, sweetheart.”

I shook my head, biting down on my growing grin as I slid across the kitchen to grab at one too. 

I hummed around the first bite I took and all but moaned at the flavour of it, blinking my eyes back open only to find Matty wearing the most delighted little grin. I rolled my eyes but didn’t grant him the gift of an actual reply, though it didn’t seem to waver him either way.

We seemed to move seamlessly around one another after that; him filling up the kettle whilst I placed two mugs down on the countertop; the clink of a teaspoon being shot into one cup as I moved to grab the tin of tea bags; Matty switching the radio on like it was second nature and me smiling away to myself as I poured the milk.

I chewed on the inside of my cheek once we’d finally settled, he’d chosen to take up room at the table whilst I carefully stored the remaining pastries away for later.

I wanted to talk, to try and hash things out again, because this felt right to me. Him being here. In my dingy little kitchen, small but still so crowded with all sorts of bits and bobs, as well as a plethora of crayon coloured drawings. And he just, well, Matty just fit here. Or maybe that was just me hoping. Ignoring the bigger warning signs so that I wouldn’t have to feel so alone again.

Was he lying to me?

Had he relapsed?

Did he cheat?

It didn’t seem like he’d done any of those things. There was no guilt in his gaze and yesterday… I’d never seen him like that. Even whilst stressed or overwhelmed, Matty had never cried. He’d never looked at me like that either, as though he was slowly breaking before my eyes.

He’d said his piece, he’d promised, and then he’d apologised. 

But.

What if I was just making a bigger mug of myself here?

Letting him back in. Giving him my forgiveness. Having him in my bed.

Was I saying that it was okay? Was that the impression I’d be giving? That he could lie and walk all over me and that everything would still be fine.

It left the world feeling a little more tilted than it had been only moments before. It left me questioning everything, once again.

…

“What are we doing, Matty?”

Matty was slow in looking back over at her, fingers tapping aimlessly away on the kitchen table to some song that had been playing on the radio. 

“What do you mean?”

She huffed, a quiet chuckle full of disbelief rippling through the air, “I mean, what are we doing here?” 

“The fuck if I know.” Matty replied, just as soft as that laughter she’d given him, shrugging at her from across the kitchen. Because what was he meant to say to that?

She just shook her head in turn though, completely unaware to the way he was now watching her. Taking her all in. The way the outline of her body glowed whilst bathed in the morning light that shone in through the windows. Of how her slowly drying hair curled at parts in the easy breeze that crept by. And how endeared he was by the way she never failed to tuck her joggers, or pyjama bottoms, or whatever else she’d decided to throw on whilst at home into her socks. It made her who she was, all these mindless little tidbits that he’d gathered over the last year, that he had observed. 

“We can’t just– move on. Carry on like nothing’s happened.” She sounded frustrated. Sad.

“Why not?” It was almost sarcastic, the way he said it, but his voice held a whole lot of truth to it. He wanted this and he wanted her. And he’d be a fucking fool to deny it. 

And what would the world make of the two of them anyway? Cause she’d gone and claimed the very same thing last night, hadn’t she? 

The pair of them, fools.

“‘Cause everything’s a mess.” She answered back, staring at him now, almost defeated. 

Her shoulders were slumped and she wore that sad smile she often favoured when she was at a loss, slowly being eaten away by a horde of thoughts she couldn’t seem to control. 

He watched her fidget with the hem of her sleeve, peering down at it. 

“Because after everything, Matty,” She breathed, voice soft even in the quiet of the kitchen, “I know that I love you and I don’t want to lose what we have left here. I don’t want that ruined.”

Matty’s mouth worked itself into a small smile as his eyes dragged between her own, trailing over the short scar that crossed the bridge of her nose, remembering the night she’d teared up when he’d reached out to caress it. 

“I’d rather be ruined by you than not have you at all, Mouse.”

She blew air from out of her nose in a soundless chuckle, cheeks rounding around an amused grin for the briefest of seconds before her eyes skittered away from him again. “That meant to be all poetic?”

He gave her a curt nod and then just grinned, legs fanned out before him. “In the job description. Musician, remember?”

“Oh, do I.” She quipped back just as sarkily, leaning against the counter as she continued to watch him from under dark lashes. Matty reckoned he’d let her shove him under a microscope if it got her to let him stick around. If only for a while longer.

A silence passed between them. 

“I love you.” Matty murmured, so sure of that fact, “That much I know. But I won’t ask you for anything more than I already have, you make the choice. You can hold the cards. And whatever you decide, I’ll accept.”

Her face hardened a fraction, as though she were steeling herself for an argument or something other. Hiding how underprepared she’d been for his words perhaps. Matty only hoped that she’d heard the truth in them.

“No fight? You’ll just accept it and leave?”

Matty didn’t dare blink but dipped his head in slight acknowledgement. “If that’s what you want.”

The woman before him just continued to stare him down and for once, Matty couldn’t read her face. Had no idea what the hell she might’ve been thinking. Or feeling. Or what plans she was currently devising in that clever head of hers.

“Okay.”

It took all of his sheer effort not to react to that one simple word, even though she had practically just gone and ripped his fucking heart out of his chest. 

Actually, he supposed that was another lie he’d told. She’d done that months ago, on the day they’d met and went and ruined him for good.

I’d rather be ruined by you.

It’s what he’d said.

He couldn’t go back on it now. 

“Okay.” He answered her, voice just barely above a whisper that he wasn’t sure she heard over the squeaking of his chair legs.

And then he was standing in her kitchen for what he supposed would be the last time. He saw her grip the edge of the counter, knuckles whitening, gaze unstraying, but she didn’t say another word. 

They stared at one another for what felt like the longest minute on Earth and Matty could practically feel the ground shifting beneath the soles of his feet as he realised that now everything would really change.

His breath caught, the thought hitting him like a shit ton of bricks and he knew then that he had to leave before he broke down and took it all back. Before he was a fucking mess of a man on her kitchen floor. 

He turned on his heel and made for the door.

“Where’re you going?”

Matty froze, entirely rooted to the floor.

He continued to stare resolutely ahead, scared to move in case she had changed her mind. In case she was saying what he thought she was.

“Your tea’s gonna go cold… and I thought you could pick Teds up with me later.” She was going for nonchalant, aiming and almost hitting, but she missed the mark by just a hair. “He was with Ads yesterday, you know, and she dropped him off at nursery this morning for me. Just figured.”

Matty pivoted on his heel, slow going and hardly daring to steal a breath as he did, before he was looking straight at her. At the way her teeth had sunk into her lower lip, the careful sheen her eyes had taken on, and then the singular strand of hair which had fallen from behind her ear. He was across the room and on her in a second. 

Firm hands held her face, thumbs guarding either cheek as he bored everything he couldn’t seem to say into the next look he gave to her. Wanting her to see it all. To know, or simply understand.

“You’re gonna kill me.”

She laughed.

“Wanna bet…” Her words trailed off into a heavy breath and Matty could feel the strength of his grin as he leaned in close, nose bumping against hers, his eyes flickering over the entirety of her face, attempting to take her in all at once.

There was buzzing under his skin, he could feel it in the tips of his fingers, all the way down to his toes, and heard the way it hummed throughout his chest. 

It was then that he realised he couldn’t see an end without her in it.

He wanted everything with this woman. 

Everything.

And that should’ve been the most terrifying thought.

Because once he had believed he would never see the end of sixteen, puking into the bushes outside his bedroom window and not having the strength to make it that extra mile. To let mum know that he was alright.

Then it had been nineteen, that first real stint in hospital. He’d been scared to shit and alone, the darkness hiding all the groans and upset of the other patients with real issues.

But nineteen had come and gone, so then he figured twenty-one. Maybe twenty-two? Definitely twenty-five… Had to be.

Twenty-eight had been both the end and the beginning for him. 

But even without everything that had been holding him back after that, the drugs, the people, the money. After he’d gotten clean– proper clean– he’d never really thought far enough ahead. 

To a point where he might feel settled or want to start building a place for himself in the world. A real place, one amongst family and friends, not just amongst admiration and music– as much as it had helped shape him.

He’d never once pictured this. A person. 

Girlfriends? Yeah. Flings and one night stands? Sure. But a person that would be his. Completely. That he could share half of himself with?

No, he couldn’t say that he’d ever seen that coming, that something like this would have one day been in the cards for him.

And Matty wanted so badly to sink his claws in and cling on for as long as he possibly could, for as long as she’d be willing, and then even more so. Until somebody else came along and inevitably unhooked him. But he wouldn’t. He wouldn’t dare. Because this was too perfect to go and destroy like that. 

He’d always claimed to be a selfish man, but in this regard, all the love he had worth giving would be spent on her. On the days they’d spend together. On meals and dates. On flowers and apologies for when he eventually messed up again, because he knew himself too well to deny that fact. He’d spend it on giving her security, on rebuilding her trust. He’d spend it on her son. On the little boy he’d become so besotted by.

And if it ruined him, if it killed him? He reckoned he’d be okay with that.

He’d be content. Finally having something to be proud of.

“What are you waiting for?”

Matty eyes tracked the length of her face, fingers tangled in her hair whilst his thumbs pressed into the grooves of her temples. What was he waiting for? 

As soon as he thought it, Matty was pressing against her once more, stealing all the breath from her lungs in his haste to answer her.

It was slow, the kiss; soft in the way his lips captured hers for only a few seconds before he was pulling away again, hands shaking where he still cupped her cheeks.

He wanted to make sure that this was what she wanted, but he could see it in her face, that surety, the warmth. And he wouldn’t question that, maybe in some regards he’d be willing to give her anything, but here and now, with this, with wanting her, he would as selfish as he fucking could be. He’d take all that she would give him.

The next kiss was full and deep– urgent.

Matty’s tongue slid into her mouth, hands falling aimlessly away from her face to whatever part of her he could touch, feeling no ounce of remorse over it seeing as she was on the exact same journey, her fingers winding their way up and over every inch of him. 

She kissed back with just as much force, colliding with him in a way that almost felt tortured, as though trying to make up for all the time they had wasted. Not just over the past few days, but the weeks and months they’d spent dancing around one another, pushing and pulling. Despairing this game of tug of war they had started. 

It ended here.

Matty continued to lean up into her, pressing her into the counter as she clawed at the hoodie he wore. Matty felt her nails catch on the skin of his back, whilst he wrapped his arms around her hips.

“Baby,” He whispered breathlessly and then moaned when her mouth closed around his bottom lip, teeth grazing against the flesh before they then bit down. She rocked into him and Matty swore his eyes rolled into the back of his head. 

He reached up a hand to cup the back of her neck so that he could mouth his way across her jaw and down her collar, favouring the skin just beneath her ear. “Need you.”

It was both an admission and a plea.

And then she was grabbing at his face too, forcing his mouth back up to meet hers, breath sweeping over the cut of his jaw. She tangled her fingers in his curls and Matty had the barest second to register that he was actually staying. That she was letting him back in.

His body jolted forward on impulse, arms snaking their way around her waist to splay out over her lower back, pulling her that much closer. Her hold tightened too, hand moving down his neck, thumb pressing lightly against the pulse point there. 

Matty stepped nearer and she welcomed him in, legs parting to let him step between them, kiss turning hungrier as she arched her back up and away from the countertop. He wanted all of her.

She let go of his hair to press in harder, pulling back only so that she could lick his mouth back open and drive her tongue inside. She murmured his name against his lips, once, twice. And then Matty’s hand was between the blades of her shoulders and holding fast. He moved, spinning them outwards, over towards the kitchen door.

She let out a sharp sound that was half gasp and half moan, but all love and desire when they knocked into the arm of the sofa in the living-room and fell back against the soft cushions. 

When they broke apart it was only out of necessity, the need to catch back the breath that had been forced out of them on their tumble down. They shared an airy chuckle.

Then he watched on as she stretched out further up the settee, fingers caught on his wrist so that she could tug him along with her. Their hips aligned as Matty crowded her again, elbow digging into the chair's arm to hold him up above her. He hovered there, their faces and foreheads pressed together, noses lined up side by side. Matty wished to savour every detail of her.

He kissed her again, slower, softer. His lips moved against hers so gently that it was almost reverent, worship-like, and she matched him toe for toe, pouring her whole soul into it, gifting him all the sweetness that she possibly could. 

Matty prayed to whoever might’ve been listening that he could have this.

He supposed someone must’ve heard him because she said, “Stay,” in this careless whisper, in a tone that was more breath than anything else. And his heart stopped.

And then he was nodding. Almost frantically.

He kissed her, the tip of his nose brushing the underneath of hers as he lifted his head to nod one more time. “Long as you’ll let me.”

She whimpered and he groaned, forehead pushing against hers once more as she lifted her hips up to meet his. 

Then they were both lunging for clothes in the same instant, nearly laughing at their clumsy eagerness to get undressed, the sofa being of no help.

Matty pushed back to sit up for a moment, luring her up gently with him so that he could slide her shirt off over her head. She returned the favour, letting him trail a finger over the curve of her shoulder and down her arm once they were done before she was on her back once more. 

“So beautiful.” He felt the need to whisper, even though there was no one else around to hear it. She glanced away.

Matty wouldn’t have that though, a careful hand coming up to coax her eyes back to him, hoping that she would hear the sincerity in his words. She was the best thing he’d ever seen, no matter the time of day. No matter how horrible she felt. He’d never been so enamoured by another person, or so utterly lost in his desperate need to make it known. 

His thumb caught on the corner of her mouth and he smiled. “I meant it.” He assured her and felt her shiver beneath him as his words fanned the skin of her cheek, “Beautiful.”

She swallowed thickly, he saw the bob of her throat before he slid his palms down her sides to unhook her bra, dropping it off to the side so that he could mouth along the length of her torso.

He continued to murmur, tone so full of admiration as he attempted to press the words into her skin, hoping that this way they would somehow sink in.

By the time he reached the hem of her trousers she was writhing beneath him, eyes pleading, so Matty made quick work of ridding them, allowing himself to look her over for just a second. She truly was beautiful. 

“Matty,” The sound of his name forced his eyes back up and he was thrown by the dazzling smile she then wore. She took one of his hands in hers, linking their fingers, “I don't have all day, baby.”

He merely shook his head and laughed, figuring that she must’ve seen the many emotions that played out across his face afterwards because she tightened her hold on his hand and motioned him closer so that she could kiss him again.

He took her there on the settee. Worked her over slow and hard, his gaze only ever wavering when they slipped shut or he buried his face alongside the skin of her neck. His hands wandered whilst hers clung tight, leaving him marked and gasping. She murmured the whole while, legs wrapped around his middle to keep him as close as she possibly could, so that he could drive that bit deeper. Matty had never heard her so vocal, just muttering on and on, only ever stopping to cry out or jolt. But even then her words would either come out all warped or in a sharp shout. It only proved to spur him on though, fingers digging in and bruising the soft sides of her hips and thighs.

He could hardly think, listening to her pleads and commands. Such a demanding little thing. 

The heels of her feet dug into his flesh as her arms wrapped themselves around his shoulders, holding on, sinking her nails into his skin deep enough to have him hissing. He didn’t dare tell her to let up, just attempted to pick up his pace, hand falling away from the crease of her thigh to drag along her folds, needing her to let go before he could.

“Close?”

He was met with a choked gasp: “Yeah.” Followed by a cascade of assent, breath wetting the cut of his jaw as her hands jumped up to curl themselves along his shoulders.

Matt felt himself nod, but was hardly even aware of it, gaze trained on her face, the watering of her eyes, the pink swell of her lips. “So good for me. Don’t deserve you.”

His words just made her strengthen her already too tight hold and then she was writhing beneath him, tear sliding down the side of her face just as her head tilted far back against the cushions and she moaned.

He wasn’t far behind her, but she continued to work her hips to the best of her ability whilst his thrusts became more and more desperate. He only noticed that he was clenching his teeth when her fingers came up to thread through his hair, slackening the muscles there in his face just as his head fell forward, hovering a centimetre or two above the dip in her collar.

Matty felt lips press against the side of his head, soft but there. “I love you.” She said, and he couldn’t even respond, lost in the sensations that overwhelmed him as he jolted forward, every muscle in his legs tensing as his eyes slammed close. 

His breathing was harsh and laboured when he finally managed to pull out, falling into the little space she created for him on the side of the sofa. He draped an arm over her middle, not giving much thought to the damp sheen on their skin or the mess between her thighs. They could have this for a little while longer.

Matty hid a smile, nosing along her shoulder as he better settled into his position before he kissed the sweet skin there. Her back was to him now, him wrapped up around her body, their legs entangled, and he thought back to those few words of hers. 

Back to that night she’d first said them. 

To when she had last said them.

He started to trail a finger over her side, up and then down before he decided to trace each letter one by one. He heard her huff a laugh when she finally caught on, but he pressed on, writing more.

When she patted his hand and shifted, he frowned, wondering if he’d pushed too far, too quickly, even though she’d been the one to say it first. But she just rolled around to face him and grinned at the face he must’ve worn.

“You’re an idiot.”

His brow pinched but he still felt himself smile, “What?”

She laughed all lovelylike and he blinked at the sweetness of it, wondering when he’d gotten so used to hearing such a pretty fucking sound. 

He poked at her side, prodding, “Go on, tell me.”

With a fond roll of her eyes, Matty watched the stretch of her smile  soften before he stilled slightly at her slow touch, the drag of her finger which trailed over his stubbled cheek. “Just such a you thing to do.” She teased him quietly, fingertip reaching up to skim over the bridge of his nose and then his eyelids.

Matty shrugged, narrowing his eyes a tad but unable to truly hide the small smirk he was wearing. He moved his hand back to her hip, tracing another word that had her huffing and shaking her head in sudden exasperation. Then another. And another.

Her eyes were wide when he chanced a glance up at her and she swallowed at the earnest expression he gifted her. “I mean it.” He whispered into the tiny slot of space that rested between their heads.

He watched as her stare tracked along his face, flicking from one eye to the other. “How can you be so sure?”

Matty shrugged the shoulder that wasn’t pressed up against the settee, a small smile dancing on his mouth. “Never been sure of much, but I know this.”

She quirked an eyebrow, “This your way of askin’?”

Chuckling lightly, he shook his head in turn. “Nah, gotta think of something good. Big.” He grinned at the snort she gave, but continued on anyway, fingers simply brushing against her hip now, “Figure we need time to get there again, sort through this mess.”

“Again?”

Matty hummed, thinking back to the bout of songs he’d been working on over the last few months, to the days G had smirked and asked about some of the lyrics he’d written down. “Been playing on my mind.”

There was a small curve to her brow now, an almost frown but not, Matty knew her well enough to know that she was just a little thrown by his answer.

“How long?”

Her whispered ask had him thinking, but he couldn’t really give her an exact time span. He’d hardly even realised it himself. “I don’t know, but for a while.”

She breathed out a quiet little laugh, eyes darting between his own once more, “So one day then?”

Matty hummed happily, face breaking into a slow going grin as one of his hands came up to cup her face, thumb soothing her cheek. “One day, Squeaks,” He murmured to her, “I’m gonna marry the shit out of you.”

Her cheek warmed beneath his touch but she laughed, shaking her head ever so slightly whilst her eyes looked down before shooting right back up again. “You’re gonna regret that.”

Wrinkling his nose a tad and curling his upper lip, Matty just shook his head, “Nah, don’t reckon so.”

“You say that,” She all but sang before she was kicking up a storm in his hold, quickly trying to get away from the hand that had come up to run a rhythm down her side, tickling her into shutting that daft mouth of hers.

“Yeah, I do fuckin’ say.” Matty chuckled, grinning madly as he continued to grab at her, teasing her bare skin with his tormenting touch. It was with that in which Mouse went sailing, rolling away from him in an attempt to escape, and dragging Matty with, him still so caught up in her that the pair of them went tumbling to the living-room floor.

Matty felt as though all the air in his lungs had been kicked from his chest once the world had stopped spinning and finally righted itself. He realised all too quickly what had happened, a heap of hair splayed over his face as he spluttered. 

“Fuck.” He managed to drag out, forcing a huffy laugh from his chest.

He watched on as she struggled for a second, him having cushioned her fall, and she pushed up onto her palms so that she could glare down at him, not entirely unhappy. Matty snorted and raised his arms in defence.

“Don’t blame me.”

If it was at all possible, her eyes cut sharper. “The fuck I won’t! Why’d you start tickling me?”

“Because you never know when to shut up!” Matty laughed, wheezing a little as he did and bending a knee so that he could plant one foot firmly on the floor, his hand rested on his chest.

She just rolled her eyes though as she battled to sit up, spine curving once she had. Matty reached out to trail the length of it, pulse jumping at the shiver he watched run through her.

“How’d we even go from you being such a sap to us on the floor?” Mouse huffed, reaching up to grab at a throw that had been resting on the nearby armchair. Matty watched through a lazy gaze as she bundled it into an oddly shaped ball of sorts before turning back to him. “Fucking all sticky now too.”

He smiled stupidly, folding his hands behind his head, unashamed as he was, to better protect it from the hardwood floors.

She stood with a roll of her eyes, on unsteady legs mind– something Matty felt all too pleased with– and caught sight of his smirk, and before he could even see it coming the bundled blanket was being thrown at his head. He yelped girlishly and floundered to shield himself from it but it still managed to catch the side of his face with just enough force. 

He listened to her hearty laugh as he tossed the thing back at her legs, frowning when it missed and her footsteps began to trail away. “Oi, where do you think you’re goin’?”

“To shower!” She called out from over her shoulder just before she could disappear through the doorway, “Again!”

Matty huffed a small snicker to himself and resorted to simply staring up at the ceiling whilst he waited, but before he could get too comfortable there she was calling out to him again.

“So you coming or what, Healy?”

And fuck if that didn’t have him scrambling up off of the floor to join her. He smiled when she merely laughed at the eager sight of him rounding the hallway and he found himself wondering how the fuck he’d managed this as she turned on the tap and pulled him under the water with her.

He must’ve seemed a little out of it though because she was tilting her head at him when he peered over at her, her hands at his hips. “You good?” 

Matty hummed quietly, dipping his head to kiss her once more because he could. “Yeah, just happy.”

And wasn’t that a thought. Him happy.

Mouse grinned at him, eyes lighting up with it as he stepped on closer. Her hold tightened, “Me too.”

Me too.

[misshoneyimhome]

Speaking of Italian flair, how would William react to seeing the reader wearing this outfit to one of his events. I can only imaging the thirsty comments on his feed https://www.instagram.com/wonder__jessy/?e=b7ed243f-bbad-4a92-ae30-1e0e25ba1243&g=5

Alrighty, so I wasn't entirely certain if this was intended for 「Dad!Willy x reader」 but since I’d written an Italian-inspired chapter, I thought it would be fitting to pair it with this 😉 Have we discussed how Lucas was created?

So, in my mind, I imagine that William and the reader get married somehwere between Eliot and Lucas, so in this part of the story, they'd be married.

Now, this dress speaks for itself, babe! The reader will undoubtedly turn heads and more in this outfit - and let's be honest, when she struts in looking like that, William will definitely be eager to resume the baby-making activities!

Warnings; well, baby-making activities; smut 18+; fingering, unprotected sex (obviously...), daddy!kink, mention of oral sex;

Word count; 3.3K

Credit

➼｡ﾟ

That's Amore I William Nylander

Amidst the whirlwind of emotions and adjustments that came with new parenthood, you found yourself navigating a path filled with both love and uncertainty. The journey following pregnancy had been turbulent, marked by a flurry of emotions and changes as you embraced your new role as a mother. In the midst of it all, your steadfast companion, William Nylander, stood by your side, offering unwavering support in the middle of the storm.

Recognising the need for a break and rejuvenation, William had arranged a surprise that would forever alter the course of your journey together. A trip to Florence, Italy—a city steeped in history, romance, and the promise of fresh beginnings. Just the two of you, embarking on a journey of rediscovery amidst the timeless beauty of the Italian landscape.

Under the Tuscan sun, you found solace and joy in each other's company once more. Away from the pressures of daily life, William's tender gestures and constant presence helped alleviate the burden of uncertainty, allowing you to embrace your new identity with confidence and grace.

And as you bid farewell to the enchanting country that had witnessed the rekindling of your love, you returned to Toronto, your hearts filled with newfound joy and a sense of belonging. Reuniting with your son Eliot, you realised that amidst life's chaos, your true home resided in each other's arms.

**

Now almost two years had passed since Eliot's birth, and life had settled into a comforting routine once more. You found yourself back at work, stronger and more resilient than ever. However, tonight was not just another ordinary evening—it was a special occasion, one that would add a new chapter to your love story.

As you prepared for the Leafs' charity event, excitement bubbled within you, mingled with a hint of nervous anticipation. Eliot was in the care of your parents for the evening, granting you and William a rare opportunity to enjoy a night out together.

Standing in the doorframe William's reaction spoke volumes, drowning out the clamour of the fans from last night's match.

The instant you completed the final touches to your hair, makeup, and outfit for the evening's event, his jaw fell open.

"Wow, älskling…" he murmured, utterly captivated as you stood before him, stealing his breath away. You slipped on your silky black gloves, the finishing flourish to your elegant ensemble.

You had opted for a very classic, Italian-inspired dress, as black as midnight, perfectly embracing your figure and accentuating every curve. The low heart neckline revealed your décolletage while maintaining a classy look with sleeves draped over your shoulders, revealing just enough skin to exude sensuality without being overly revealing. The final touch was a pair of black and red heels, adding height and enhancing a strong, feminine expression. 

Tonight, you felt incredibly empowered.

And the sight of William's partially open mouth as he gazed at you through the mirror only fuelled the fire within you.

"You know, it's not very polite to stare and drool," you chuckled lightly as you admired your reflection, then met William's eyes in the mirror.

Shaking his head, he responded with a chuckle of his own. "Can't help it, baby, you look absolutely amazing," William grinned, taking a step closer, tenderly wrapping his arms around you, his head gently resting on your shoulder as he planted a tender kiss on your bare skin. "Min vracka kvinna."

You couldn’t help but smile at his heartfelt words.

Throughout the years you and William had been together, he consistently made you feel like the most special woman in the world. His openness and unabashed affection for you were truly wonderful. Even during your darkest moments of self-doubt, he never hesitated to remind you of your incredible worth. He would express not only your physical beauty and allure but also your strength and admirable qualities. He'd often spend hours extolling your virtues, emphasising what an exceptional mother you were to his son and insisting that you were out of his league and far too good for him.

Of course, you found such notions ridiculous. In your eyes, William was the one who was beyond compare. While you were indeed a strong and independent woman, capable of taking care of yourself and pursuing your ambitions, William always made you feel even more empowered.

His unwavering support, especially considering his demanding career, was truly remarkable. Despite the differences in your professional lives, he always found a way to be your pillar of strength during difficult times, just as you were for him.

Through every high and low in his hockey career, you stood by him as his steadfast supporter. Whether he needed a shoulder to lean on during tough times or a friend to celebrate with during triumphs, you were always there.

This mutual support and unwavering dedication had transformed your relationship from mere acquaintances to close friends, then to devoted and deeply connected lovers, and now to parents. With each passing day, your connection grew stronger and more profound. In simple terms, William was your soulmate.

And on a night like tonight, there was no doubt as you both entered the venue, dressed in coordinated Italian mafia-inspired style.

William looked dashing in his dark blue pinstriped suit, a look you always admired on him. His mane of hair was freshly washed and styled, elegantly tamed to match his rugged scruff, while his chain necklace hung perfectly, and a few masculine rings adorned his fingers along with his wedding ring. 

Together, you emitted an aura of power and sophistication.

And as the MLSE charity event unfolded, you mingled with ease, catching up with acquaintances while enjoying the delightful champagne. The atmosphere sparkled with elegance and excitement, and you couldn't help but feel that your attire was perfectly suited for the occasion.

Standing in front of the cameras, a place you still felt somewhat unfamiliar with, William held you close. Yet to your comfort, his calm demeanour rubbed off on you as he wrapped his arm around your waist, drawing you nearer.

William couldn't help but notice that you looked like you stepped straight out of the 'House of Gucci' movie – your sparkling eyes and confident posture, exuding nothing but elegance. He had to steal a moment to admire your incredible style and the effortless grace with which you posed, almost like a professional model, causing a wide smile to spread across his face as he proudly displayed the woman by his side to the flashing lights.

And as you both walked away from the scene, blinking to readjust your vision, you couldn't help but remark, "Bloody hell, I'll never get used to those flashlights," with a light chuckle. William joined in your laughter, experiencing the same white spots in his vision.

"Well, you looked stunning, babe," he complimented as you made your way back to the group of players and their significant others. "And I'm sure those cameras felt the same way when you dazzled them."

Pausing for a moment, you glanced up at your husband, who wore a proud grin, clearly pleased with his smooth remark.

"Someone's quite the smooth talker tonight," you teased, raising an eyebrow playfully, sensing a mischievous air.

And as always, William simply chuckled and pulled you closer, his hands resting on your lower back, encouraging you to wrap yours around his neck.

"You make it so easy for me, baby..." he whispered flirtatiously. "The way you look so incredibly beautiful, this dress, these gloves... and your smile, älskling, it melts my heart every time."

You found yourself slightly taken aback by his sudden outpouring of words. Typically, your husband excelled in charming you through his actions rather than verbal expressions. His love language leaned heavily towards physical affection.

However, tonight was different. Words seemed to flow effortlessly from him. Throughout the event, he whispered sweet compliments in your ear, expressing how breathtakingly beautiful you looked and how proud he was to have you by his side. And each time, he left you speechless.

William was undoubtedly aware of his actions. Over the years, he had come to understand his natural charm and ability to sweep you off your feet with smiles and touches. Yet, it wasn't until after your trip to Italy that he realised the importance of articulating his thoughts. Since then, he had been practicing putting his deep emotions into meaningful words.

You felt a swell of emotions. Your husband had been incredibly sweet all night, showcasing his gentlemanly side in public. However, you knew just as well as anyone that behind that polished exterior, William possessed a mischievous and playful streak - both in public and in private. And as soon as you rode in the cab back home, his lips were on your neck, peppering it with butterfly kisses, his arm wrapped around you while his hand subtly explored your thigh, sliding just beneath the hem of your dress.

"Mmm… can't wait to get home and take this off you," he murmured seductively against your skin, sending a delicious shiver down your spine.

Your fingers played with his semi-long locks, tugging him closer as you closed your eyes softly, surrendering to his touch. "I thought you liked the dress," you teased playfully, prompting William to pull back slightly, and your eyes opened to meet his.

"Oh baby, I love this dress… but I like you naked more," he chuckled darkly before leaning in to capture your lips in a passionate kiss. Your hands glided smoothly to his neck, pulling him closer, signalling your mutual desire as the cab navigated through the late February night in Toronto.

The atmosphere in the backseat grew almost too steamy, but before long, you arrived at your apartment building. William paid the driver, bidding him goodnight, before escorting you inside, adjusting his crotch in his trousers along the way.

It was clear that your deep yearning for each other was palpable. With a child-free evening ahead and both of you exuding true high fashion and confidence, you swiftly found yourselves entwined in each other's embrace as soon as you entered your home. A trail of William's discarded clothes—shoes, blazer, shirt, and trousers—led to the large dining table in the open kitchen.

And as you reached the end of the long mahogany table, William spun you around with your back against his chest, his hands firmly gripping your hips as he pulled your hair to one side and kissed the crook of your neck.

Leaning on the table, supported by your silky-covered arms, you surrendered yourself to his magical touch, your mind blissfully consumed by his enchantment. William's mouth worked wonders, skilfully exploring every inch of your sensitive skin below and behind your ear, leaving you utterly weak for him.

As his hands roamed over the curves of your body, his fingertips eventually found the zipper on your back. With delicate precision, he dragged it down, gradually exposing more and more of your skin, his lips never leaving you, moving around to lavish equal attention to your other side.

And as the dress fell, revealing your naked breasts and black lacy knickers, he could feel himself growing firm and hard in his boxers. 

Stepping out of the pooled fabric around your feet, you kicked it aside.

"Leave the gloves and heels on," William commanded roughly against your skin, his hands finding your breasts to offer a gentle massage as his mouth sought yours in fervent kisses.

Unable to form a coherent reply, you simply met him halfway in the heated moment, pushing your backside into his crotch, eliciting a whimper from you as you felt his hardness pressing against you.

Understanding your eager signal, William broke the kiss to remove his last piece of clothing, revealing his hard and proud shaft. His palms then caressed your buttocks as he muttered under his breath, "You're so sexy," while slowly sliding your underwear down.

You couldn't help but smile as your husband admired your body from behind you, but the desire for more of his touch was overwhelming. Stepping out of your knickers and spreading your legs a little further apart, you silently urged him on.

"So needy, baby," William huskily whispered, yet he didn't hesitate to comply. Letting his fingers slowly trace down between your cheeks, he found your heat, gently exploring your moist folds.

"Yes, Willy…" you gasped as he carefully stimulated your sensitive core. "Mmm… feels so good…"

A smirk played across William's lips as he observed your body yielding to his touch, your head tilting forward slightly, eyes shut tight. As he circled your clit, a moan slipped from your lips, your fingers lightly gripping the wood beneath you.

William knew every inch of your body intimately, knowing just how to stimulate each curve and corner to send you into ecstasy, and tonight he had every intention of doing just that. As his fingers danced over your nerves and soft moans grew louder, he sought your entrance and gently eased two digits inside.

"Oh yes!" you exclaimed, letting your head fall forward even more as William stretched your walls, pumping his fingers slowly, skilfully curving them to hit your sensitive spot. "Please, Willy," you pleaded, feeling a knot of pleasure forming in your lower stomach and your legs beginning to tremble.

"Mmm… That's it, baby… come for me, cum for daddy," he whispered, increasing the speed of his pumps, the wetness of your cunt sounding with each motion.

Your breaths became erratic as William continued to stimulate your core, bringing the orgasm closer and closer, your mind entering a euphoric state. Your fingers clenched the table, and your legs tightened as the climax approached. And with a few more pumps, you finally reached the peak, tossing your hair back and arching your back as waves of pleasure coursed through your body.

William smiled as he felt your walls clench around his fingers, your cunt pulsating with pleasure as he gently continued to stimulate you through the high. "Good girl," he praised softly before carefully withdrawing his fingers, causing juices to slowly trickle down your inner thighs.

After catching your breath once the orgasm had subsided, your anticipation for more still tingling, you watched as William gently stroked his throbbing member a few times. Using his arm to pull you back against him, he shared a sloppy kiss with you, filled with nothing but lust and desire. Amidst hungry moans and deep breaths, William's hands roamed all over your body, his throbbing cock ready for further pleasure. However, you halted him as he was about to proceed.

"Willy, we need a condom," you gasped between moans, but William simply brushed off your concern.

"Actually, älskling," he hummed against your skin, "I want to make another baby…"

Though a small part of you wanted to object, you found yourself mesmerised by his touch and kisses on your neck, the desire to bear his child again overwhelming you. Nodding in consent, you let him turn you around, sharing another passionate kiss as you sealed the deal for a new addition to the family.

The moment took a more romantic turn, yet William showed no hesitation as he lifted you onto the table, spreading your legs wide for him as he lined the tip of his cock with your entrance.

It was already dripping with pre-cum, as he gently pressed it into your tight hole, a feeling he’d been longing for a while. Not that you never had sex, but with a toddler and an NHL schedule, it wasn’t as often as it used to be. And when you had sex, he usually had to wear a condom or use his best pull out game as you weren’t on any birth control. But tonight, he could let loose.

Thrusting deeply into your warmth, your moans reverberated throughout the room in unison. Your hands instinctively found their place on the back of his neck, while he held onto your hips for support.

"Mmm... yeah, this is all mine," William moaned, his hips swaying gently as he withdrew slightly before sliding back in. And soon, he found the familiar rhythm that brought you both pleasure.

With each thrust, his hips slapped against yours, occasionally meeting your lips in fleeting moments amidst the symphony of moans. It was a passionate, intimate exchange, reflecting the depth of your connection. Locked in a gaze, your eyes conveyed everything before closing in anticipation of the impending climax.

"Oh yes, Willy... you feel so good," you moaned, your voice growing louder with each thrust. Sensing your heightened pleasure, William increased his pace, driving into you with more force, sending waves of ecstasy through your body. "Oh god!"

And as William felt his own release drawing near, he surrendered to the desire to bring you both to the peak of pleasure. His movements became more fervent, his grip on your hips tightening as he pressed his forehead against yours. "Fuck, babe... can't hold back... I need to... fill you up," he grunted deeply, lost in the throes of passion.

"Yes, Willy... I'm about to come too... fill me up," you moaned in response, and with just a few more thrusts, both of you released deep breaths and satisfied sounds as you reached climax together, your minds clouded, and your visions blurred from the ecstasy.

Basking in the warmth of your bodies, you remained connected for a few more moments, ensuring William's seed was securely planted.

Smiles adorned both your faces as you slowly disentangled, returning to reality, and relishing the intensity and beauty of the moment. Locking eyes once again, you shared a tender kiss, followed by a light chuckle.

"Can't believe we're going for baby number two," you smiled, still holding onto William's neck.

"I can," he chuckled softly. "Can't wait to see you pregnant again..."

"Easy there, tiger," you chuckled, gently stepping off the table. "I know last time happened quickly, but we might have to try several times before we succeed," you reasoned, aware that conception wasn't always as straightforward as hoped. You knew too many women who struggled to conceive despite trying tirelessly, while others seemed to fall pregnant just by looking at an erect penis.

Strolling around still sporting a grin, William gently enveloped you in his arms once more. "So, you're suggesting we might need to have sex over and over again just to ensure you actually get pregnant?" he chuckled deeply, exaggerating a mockingly puzzled expression with his playful jest.

Catching onto the banter, you chuckled in response. "Well, yes – I'm afraid we might have to repeat the process until we get it right, and perhaps even a little afterward, given that sex is beneficial during pregnancy."

"Oh, well in that case," William raised a mischievous eyebrow, "how about we hop in the shower, and I'll take special care of you before we continue with round two?"

You couldn't help but grin widely at his flirtatious remark, well aware of his proficiency with his mouth, and naturally, you couldn't refuse.

Thus, with a sensual and thoroughly enjoyable shower, you both cleaned up from the passionate sex before retiring to bed, too exhausted from the night's excitement to entertain the idea of a second round just yet. However, the following morning, before your parents returned with Eliot, William made love to you twice.

The first time was a gentle and unhurried encounter, as you both slowly awakened from your slumber, wrapped in each other's arms, delicately caressing one another, and exchanging passionate kisses.

The second round, however, occurred about an hour later, after you had enjoyed a delicious breakfast following your morning exercise, and William had seen the photos from the previous night's event.

You looked absolutely stunning in your attire, exuding strength and confidence, which ignited his desire to undress you once more and hold you close. His cock immediately twitched din his boxers as he studied the photos from the online article about the event, and thinking that everyone knew you were his, only fuelled his lust within. So, just a few minutes before your parents rang the doorbell, William opted for a quicker, more intense session, filled with passion and urgency.