#wife>>

[tattlesandtales]

Continuing from here. @narrativestutter

When Stevie started attempting to herd Cecily, now backwards, out of the store again, Cecily narrowed her eyes up at them and planted her feet. Stevie may be taller and broader than herself, but she would argue that she was stronger, and she held her ground to make Stevie stop pushing her forward. Cecily put her hands on her hips, not at all caring that in that moment she was sure she looked exactly like her mother.

"Stevie," she said firmly, lifting one hand to hold it up in warning so Stevie would take a step back out of her space. "This is ridiculous, you aren't going to have to pay for it — do not interrupt me," she rushed on when Stevie's mouth opened to argue. "This is Myer for fuck's sake. It's not some tiny boutique crystal kitschy shop full of 'you break it you buy it' signs. You just have to tell them it's broken so they can take it off the floor so no one hurts themself on it."

Stevie did not look remotely convinced and Cecily sighed, shaking her head a little as she attempted, again, to skirt around Stevie to try and find a store attendant — a joke, really, considering finding staff in Myer was harder than trying to find parking on a Sunday.

Cecily did have to pull out an old netball move to get around Stevie, but three steps back towards the destroyed display, Stevie's words came back to her and she stopped and spun on her heels to look back at them. "What do you mean 'mostly' working car?" she demanded, because Stevie had been driving them around during their hang-outs since reconnecting. "I swear to fuc—hey! Excuse me?" Cecily caught sight of a black t-shirt and an orange lanyard out of the corner of her and plastered on a charming smile as she walked over to the small, older woman straightening up a diferent display.

"Hey, sorry. My friend and I were looking at the jewellery boxes over there and the wood one is broken. I just thought you should know before someone, I don't know, hurts themselves on it."

The woman looked over towards the display where the $360 small wooden box was clearly broken at the hinges, then looked back to Cecily with a suspicious look in her eye before she plastered on her own smile — more retail appropriate than charming. "Thank you for letting me know, I'll look after it," she said, and when Cecily stepped aside, she wandered over to the display to take the box off the glass top.

Cecily left her to it and went in search of Stevie, taking Stevie's hand from behind them and tugged gently. "Sorted. No problems at all. This wasn't the same as when we were eight years old and you knocked my mum's Christmas ornaments off our tree and pushed the broken pieces under the tree skirt for Ethan and I to get the blame for later." Cecily grinned and squeezed Stevie's hand gently before letting go. "Yes, I saw you. Now, can you tell me what's wrong with your car before I decided if I need to borrow your Smartrider to get home?"

Cecily didn't mention that she would rather die than catch public transport, and wasn't sure she even knew how she'd get back to Stevie's place and her own car from the shopping centre. Nor did she feel the need to mention that she'd rather risk being in a mechanically unsound car for an extra twenty-five minutes with Stevie.

[graveyarrdshift]

"I'm just a girl", "girl math", "girl dinner", "divine feminine energy", "bimbocore", "clean girl", "girl's girl", "girlfriend brain" SHUT UPPP!!! SHUTT THE FUCKKKK UPPPPPP !!!!

[starspilli]

man of progress

[venusmage]

More high lesbian antics involving food

[inbabylontheywept]

so once me and my wife were watching a documentary where a snake ate like a million eggs. that snake just went to fucking town on eggs. and the snake made the eggs look so good that i kept thinking about it, and thinking about it, and thinking about it, and eventually it was 11pm and i ran out of willpower and decided to eat one (1) singular raw egg just to prove to myself that the snake was surely a liar.

the snake was not a liar. texture is like, super important to me and raw eggs are very Texture so i had another one, and then another one, and then another one, and eventually i ran out of eggs.

i had like, fifteen raw eggs.

i didnt really know how to explain this momentary madness to my wife, so my Plan was to put all the eggshells into a grocey bag, and then throw that grocery bag in the dumpster, and if she never noticed that would be Excellent and if she noticed immediately i could lie and say that the eggs went bad.

except i cant lie very good, and of course with murphys law being such, i got salmonella.

so i threw up a lot and my wife asked me what poisoned me so and i tried very hard to dodge the question but i was oozing shame like oil from a room temperature cheese and eventaully i gave in and told her everything and to her enormous credit she was more flabbergasted than actually upset. she did make me promise to not eat any more raw eggs, which i have stuck to, and she gives me weird looks during nature documentaries now as if desire was the only thing keeping me from eating thousands of pounds of krill anyway i made a joke earlier about being able to eat my age in eggs and my sister in law in law made a drawing to comemorate the moment and also because it was my birthday. she's excellent. thank you 10000000% @cintailed. you should all visit her page and admire her work.

[saturnsconstellation]

Men use “I’m just a man” to cheat on their wives. Odysseus uses “I’m just a man” to kill, slay and torture people to get back to HIS wife. They are not the same.

[frenchgryffindor1960]

[tattlesandtales]

I don't know what this other than a gift for @narrativestutter - so, hey J! Treat it as a starter, or a just enjoy the gay ass drabble! I love you!

*** Despite her long-standing obsession with ice hockey, Roach had never tried to skate after growing up in California. Moving to Canada for college was supposed to have given Roach the opportunity to learn, but it turns out she can't even walk on ice, let alone try and do it with blades under her feet. This realisation had just given Roach an even stronger admiration for those who could skate, let alone those who excelled at it.

While a small group of Roach's friends stepped onto the public outdoor rink a couple miles away from their compass, she ordered herself a spiced mulled cider and found a place a little away from the parents a step away from the fence line to watch. Roach's gaggle of friends had all grown up in colder climates and looked fairly natural out on the ice despite the fact none of them had been skating in years.

Even though the rink was fairly full with bodies skating around of all abilities, Roach was able to keep her friends in her line of sight, and when one fell down and created a chain reaction of the five girls, Roach couldn't help the cackle that bubbled up out of her. If she trusted herself to hold her cider in one thickly gloved hand without dropping it, she would have returned the middle finger salute a couple of her friends threw her way, but as it stood all she could do was give them a shit eating grin from behind the rim of her steaming drink.

"Snake!" One of the girls hissed with a bright and taunting laugh as the group skated past her.

"Wrong critter!" Roach called back, getting a chorus of cheers and laughter as the girls continued their loop.

Once the group had mostly found their feet and place in the clockwise flow of the rink, and Roach had finished her drink, she went and threw her cup in the trash can, but by the time she returned her place had been taken by a mom and her two young children, so Roach bit the bullet and walked to the opposite side of the rink where the lights from the small market didn't quite reach past the fence.

Nobody was over that side of the rink, but it only took Roach a moment to realise why — it was a couple of degrees colder without the bustling bodies of the Christmas night market patrons, the lights, or the stalls making warm treats to ward off the winter chills and blues. Roach may have been living in Canada for over a year, but going home to LA for the summer break had really set her back with her acclimation process and she hunched her shoulders up against the cold and buried her hands in the pockets of her feather down jacket. When she bunched up like she that in her puffer jacket, Roach felt a little like an armadillo, and as she tucked her chin into the collar she couldn't help the little smile that spread across her face. Roach the Armadillo. It sounded almost like a character from a children's picture book.

Whilst Roach's mind followed the idea of what a story about an Armadillo named Roach would consist of, she let her eyes wander in search of her friends who—despite their insistence that they knew what they were doing—were back on the ground in a tangle of limbs and glints of silver skates. Roach huffed in amusement, a cloud of condensation forming in the air in front of her. In response, and as her friends toppled down again, Roach hunched lower into her jacket to breathe against her collar which forced her to watch the ice skaters from under her eyelashes and she silently hoped it didn't look as creepy as it felt.

It didn't take long for the weak link in Roach's group to break free and return her rented skates before clomping over to where Roach stood, complaining all the while about the cold and her wet ass, and attempting to defend herself by saying ice skating had changed since she'd done it as a kid. Roach didn't want to expose her face to the cold just to call bullshit, so she didn't respond other than to roll her eyes at her friend and lean her waist against the rink's fence to try and get a little more light.

As Roach's friend took her lead and hunched into her own jacket and step closer, Roach saw one of the more experienced skaters break away from the lazy river of varying skills and head into the mostly empty middle of the rink with a grace and confidence Roach could only ever imagine. The young woman had blonde hair that looked as if it had been straightened but the damp environment had caused it to begin to curl and frizz, and it was being held at bay by a soft looking beanie. She wasn't as rugged up as Roach was, her outfit a little more form-fitting and her gloves didn't look nearly as thick as Roach's were, and for her sake, Roach hoped her tights were at least the fluffy-lined ones she'd seen the TikTok girlies showing off when she watched over her friend's shoulders, otherwise she had to be freezing. Right?

The market had speakers scattered around, including some over the ice rink, and they were playing an uninterrupted stream of Christmas music, but the girl in the middle of the rink seemed to be moving to a diferent rhythm that only she could hear. Roach watched, mesmerised, as she executed an elegant spin, and audibly gasped when her skates left the ice before landing on one leg and skating backwards with the other outsretched behind her. As she skated a little closer to the far side of the rink where Roach was camped, clearly attempting to manouvre away from a little kid who'd escaped his guardian and was trying to cut across the ice in a Bambi-esque fashion, Roach could see the pink of her cheeks and the tip of her nose where the cold had nipped and held on. Then she was pushing away, skating backwards again, into the middle of the rink and Roach smiled against her collar at her skills.

"How does she do that without side-view mirrors?" Roach murmured to herself, and when her friend queried her, Roach just waved it away in favour of continuing to watch.

Roach was enamoured by the graceful movements, each trick and turn melting seamlessly into the next, the woman clearly absorbed in what she was doing and trusting herself and her body entirely to carry her through the movements. As she dropped into a crouched spin on one foot with her other outstretched in front of her, Roach could see the bright grin spread across the woman's face, and as she followed the spin up to standing again, fresh snow began falling from the sky. Whilst patrons began exiting, the artist skated easily through the crowd until she was one of the few left, and she began to take full advantage of the space she'd found herself in. Twirling, skating in wider criss-crossing arcs, leaping and jumping as if she had no doubt that the knives on her feet would catch her whilst snow continued to drift down around her.

With the colourful Christmas lights blinking around the rink bathing her in a carnival of soft colourful lighting, and perfect little snowflakes catching in the hair that was growing increasingly more determined not to be controlled, Roach was convinced she'd never seen someone more beautiful. Alone, the sheer unadulterated joy on her face as she struck a pose would have been enough beauty to send Roach's soft gay heart tumbling, without the added display of talent and aesthetics of the night market at her back.

It hadn't been that long ago that Roach had let her thoughts meander down an amusing picture book idea about a caricature of her bulky frame and clumsy movements as an armadillo going on adventures. A funny tale to make others laugh, and maybe teach children to be kind or something. A secondary character, probably. Two dimensional. Illustrations closed between the covers of a book that was bought as a gift and wouldn't be read often enough so that when it comes time to deep clean or move house, it gets donated to the charity box without a second thought.

Meanwhile, the girl on the ice belonged in a novel so well-written and loved it felt almost as if it was imbued with magic. One of the stories you would keep on your shelf no matter how many times you moved house. She would be the kind of character you carried in a piece of your heart for the rest of your life. The character you would return to when you needed to be reminded that there is beauty, and depth, and purpose, no matter how hard life got.

The woman started skating the outside again in lazy and loose movements as she clearly began to cool down and breathe, and she took her beanie off to push her hair off her forehead and back into place as she passed where Roach stood. The movement seemed nervous almost, like she'd realised she'd been watched by other patrons the whole time, and it was a gesture that, when paired with the blonde hair and pink cheeks, Roach recognised.

"Oh! Sidney!" Roach said, finally standing up a little straighter and letting her face meet the cold air despite the snow falling.

Roach had not meant to actually say her name aloud, let alone as loud as she had, but she remembered the girl from the sports bar behind the campus. They'd had a conversation while Roach waited for her friends' drinks to be made, initiated by Roach because — just like now — Roach had found her beautiful in a way she'd never truly be able to explain. Later that same night, Sidney had watched Roach slip on ice and slide halfway down a short brick stair case leading out of the bar, and Roach had silently told the god of the gays they were an asshole. Despite Sidney's adorable giggles at the time, Roach had promptly decided not to attempt another conversation in the face of her embarrassment.

Yet, Roach clearly hadn't forgotten her name, or her face, and she smiled now at the blonde who'd been startled enough by hearing her name called from the shadowy side of the rink.

"I remember you saying you liked to ice skate, but I didn't realise you meant like that. That was incredible. You're incredible! Beautiful even. Very talented. Wow." Roach told her, unabashed and enthusiastic as she shoved the embarrassment from their first/second encounter from a couple weeks prior out of her mind in favour of gushing at the pretty girl.

All she could really do was smile after that ridiculous display of gay, and try not to climb over the fence to go over and talk to her without her friend bearing witness.

"'Wow,'" the girl at Roach's side teased, and when Roach elbowed her good-naturedly, her friend pushed off the fence muttering something about rescuing the mulled cider vendor from their friends.

Roach didn't even watch her go or offer a goodbye, just kept her attention on Sidney like it was the easiest thing in the world. Mostly because, in that moment, it was.

[froopa-coopa]

"I never asked for this"

[batcavescolony]

Odysseus: I am different, I am no longer the man you married, it's been 20 long years but if you could just fall in love with me again?

Penelope: if you can do something for me

Odysseus: anything

Penelope: move my wedding bed.

Odysseus: I can't, it's made out of a living tree, to move it I would have to destroy it. How can yo-

Penelope: oh, I thought we were asking each other stupid questions?

Odysseus:

Penelope: 'FaLl iN lOvE wItH mE aGaiN' to do that I would have had to stop loving you.

[readwritealldayallnight]

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who from the moment he laid eyes on you, has only ever referred to you as his wife

You, this sweet little thing, running through the halls on base one day when you turn a corner and nearly run headfirst into the Lieutenant, who’s walking alongside Soap

“Oh! Sorry about that, sir.” You told him, never slowing down in your hurried pace as you snuck around his large frame and continued down towards whatever you were evidently late for

The only reason his gaze had followed your retreating form, was that unlike everyone else, you had met his eyes when you spoke, even smiled warmly up at him

That one smile and he was done for

“Who was tha’?” The sergeant had questioned, seeing Ghost’s attention still fixated on you.

“Think that was my wife.”

“Yer what?!”

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who makes it a point to let everyone know that you are in fact his wife

Well, everyone apart from you apparently

He would certainly never abuse his position as a Lieutenant, but some new recruit had the audacity to whistle at you as you walked by? Well 100 laps around the base don’t exactly run themselves

Another soldier saved you a seat next to him in a briefing? He can enjoy scrubbing toilet seats for the next week in that case

Someone actually had the bollocks to ask you for your phone number? Perfect, he needed a volunteer for demonstrating hand to hand combat to the recruits, medics on standby of course

By the time he properly introduces himself to you for the first time, it’s understood by everyone else around that you are, for all intents and purposes, Mrs Riley

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who listens to you tell him your name in a voice that resembles music to his ears, hardly bothering to remember your last name, seeing as it’ll be changing soon enough anyway

“You can call me anythin’ you want, love.” His deep, gravelly voice had sent shivers down your spine, cheeky smirk widening beneath his mask. “So long as you call me, that is.”

By the end of your first date, (you were sitting alone in the dining hall and he wordlessly joined you what do you mean this isn’t a date) he’s wondering if you’ll insist on a ceremony or if he can sweep you away to the nearest courthouse and make this official, slipping a ring onto you finger and himself into you

You had laughed when he put his number into your phone and named himself ‘Husband’, certain that the man was only messing with you, some kind of hazing that you apparently weren’t aware Lieutenants played on the new communications hire, but it was only fair seeing as he’d saved your contact under ‘Wife’

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who is over the moon every time you play along, even if he knows you believe you’re only playing

“Ach, thanks Lt. Just what I needed.” Soap said, seeing Ghost’s approaching form enter the common room, holding a steaming cup of tea in each hand

“S’for my wife. Get your own.” The older man gruffly replied, sliding the mug onto the side table next to where you’re curled up on the couch, reading a book

“Aw, thank you honey.” You giggled, smiling up as him with an expression he thinks would taste even sweeter than honey if he were to run his tongue across your upturned lips

“Happy wife, happy life, sergeant.” Ghost shrugged, ignoring the other man’s pout, landing next to you and reaching an arm behind you across the back of the couch

“God, maybe I really should keep you.” You’d laughed, reaching a leg out to dig your socked toes into his muscled thigh, teasing him

Grasping your foot into his large, strong hands, he began massaging it, uncaring that you were only two of the many people in the common room, not when you looked at him like that, smiling together as though you truly were nothing more than a married couple

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley, who surprised you one day, insisting he needed your help with something crucial off base, and drove you to a local shopping outlet to look at none other than dresses

“Is there some sort of party happening?” You’d questioned, confused out of your mind

“Suppose you could consider it a party.” He’d answered, leading you through the many racks of dresses, you noticed were all, very conveniently, white

“Now while you’re lookin’ through dress sizes,” he’d added, taking your left hand in both of his. “You know your ring size? Got my own shoppin’ to do ‘round here.”

Series masterlist

[pouletpourri]

"You just have to look closely."

[evercelle]

no looking back, orpheus. you promised ▋

[s1xseasonsandamov1e]