and then i had to explain it to my husband

What?

I can’t believe the crack ship I’ve had since last year became the fandom’s crack ship xD  My husband and I were working on a parody VLD fan comic in August, but never got past shooting ideas back and forth and a few scripts.  The Lotor/Lance thing was going to be a minor background plot.  Here are the highlights.  

  • Lotor was the former Blue Paladin, who lived in the castle until his father betrayed everyone and he was kicked out.
  • He left behind a closet full of Blue Lion paraphernalia, which explains the blue lion slippers Lance found.
  • Lotor wants his crap back, so he sneaks onto the castle to get it back and runs into Lance.
  • “Who is this well-groomed, handsome impostor wearing my slippers?!  I must have him!”
  • Que Lotor’s obsession and Lance’s perpetual confusion.
  • Lotor’s still low-key trying to get his stuff back by periodically sneaking onto the castle, getting caught by the paladins and getting chased away by Keith.  But he’s also trying to take Lance with him every time.  Allura and Keith develop a permanent eye tic.

There was also going to be a ongoing joke in the background that Haggar’s hiding her cat and sneaking cat treats/toys into her robe in the background of Zarkon’s scenes.  I never said it was quality content, guys.

‘Learning Russian has given me a whole new life’ Mary Hobson: It took me about two years [to read War and Peace]. I read it like a poem, a sentence at a time. English writer and translator Mary Hobson decided to learn Russian at the age of 56, graduating in her sixties and completing a PhD aged 74. Now fluent in Russian, Hobson has translated “Eugene Onegin” and other poems by Pushkin, “Woe from Wit” by Griboyedov, and has won the Griboyedov Prize and Pushkin Medal for her work. RBTH visited Hobson at home in London to ask about her inspiring experience. 

RBTH: Learning Russian is difficult at any age, and you were 56. How did the idea first come to your mind? 

 Mary Hobson: I was having a foot operation, and I had to stay in bed for two weeks in hospital. My daughter Emma brought me a big fat translation of War and Peace. “Mum, you’ll never get a better chance to read it”, she said. I’d never read Russian literature before. I got absolutely hooked on it, I just got so absorbed! I read like a starving man eats. The paperback didn’t have maps of the battle of Borodino, I was making maps trying to understand what was happening. This was the best novel ever written. Tolstoy creates the whole world, and while you read it, you believe in it. I woke up in the hospital three days after I finished reading and suddenly realized: “I haven’t read it at all. I’ve read a translation. I would have to learn Russian.” 

RBTH: Did you read War and Peace in the original language eventually? 

M.H.: Yes, it was the first thing I read in Russian. I bought a fat Russian dictionary and off I went. It took me about two years. I read it like a poem, a sentence at a time. I learned such a lot, I still remember where I first found some words. “Between,” for instance. About a third of the way down the page. 

RBTH: Do you remember your first steps in learning Russian? 

 M.H.: I had a plan to study the Russian language in evening classes, but my Russian friend said: “Don’t do that, I’ll teach you.” We sat in the garden and she helped me to remember the Cyrillic script. I was 56 at this time, and I found it very tiring reading in Cyrillic. I couldn’t do it in the evening because I simply wouldn’t be able to sleep. And Russian grammar is fascinating. 

RBTH: You became an undergraduate for the first time in your sixties. How did you feel about studying with young students? 

M.H.: I need to explain first why I didn’t have any career before my fifties. My husband had a very serious illness, a cerebral abscess, and he became so disabled. I was just looking after him. And we had four children. After 28 years I could not do it any longer, I had break downs, depressions. I finally realized I would have to leave. Otherwise I would just go down with him. There was a life out there I hadn’t lived. It was time to go out and to live it. I left him. I’ve been on my own for three years in a limbo of quilt and depression. Then I picked up a phone and rang the number my friend had long since given me, that of the School of Slavonic and East European Studies, London University. “Do you accept mature students?” I asked. “Of sixty-two?” They did. When the first day of term arrived, I was absolutely terrified. I went twice around Russel square before daring to go in. The only thing that persuaded me to do it was that I got offered the place and if I didn’t do it, the children would be so ashamed of me. My group mates looked a little bit surprised at first but then we were very quickly writing the same essays, reading the same stuff, having to do the same translations. 

RBTH: You spent 10 months in Moscow as part of your course. How did you feel in Russia? 

 M.H.: I hardly dared open my mouth, because I thought I got it wrong. It lasted about a week like this, hardly daring to speak. Then I thought – I’m here only for 10 months. I shall die if I don’t communicate. I just have to risk it. Then I started bumbling stuff. I said things I didn’t at all mean. I just said anything. The most dangerous thing was to make jokes. People looked at me as I was mad. I hate to say it, but in 1991 the Russian ruble absolutely collapsed and for the first and last time in my life I was a wealthy woman. I bought over 200 books in Russian, 10 “Complete Collected Works” of my favorite 19th-century authors. Then it was a problem how to get them home. Seventy-five of them were brought to London by a visiting group of schoolchildren. They took three books each. 

RBTH: You’re celebrating your 90th birthday in July. What’s the secret of your longevity? 

M.H.: If I had not gone to university, if I had given up and stopped learning Russian, I don’t think I’d have lived this long. It keeps your mind active, it keeps you physically active. It affects everything. Learning Russian has given me a whole new life. A whole circle of friends, a whole new way of living. For me it was the most enormous opening out to a new life.

HUMANS ARE WEIRD: BDSM EDITION

Went on a massive “Earth is Space Australia” binge right before bed and when I woke up in had an idea for a short story about an alien’s first contact with BDSM.

Alien: “Excuse me, HumanSarah, I have further questions about your attire.”
Sarah: *deep sigh, forced smile* “What do you need Griblax?”
Griblax: “I notice that unlike other human females you wear a neck ornamentation that appears to be restrictive in nature. Was this ornamentation not properly sized?”
Sarah: “Eh, uh, oh hell, best to just be straight with you about this. It’s not a necklace, it’s a collar. It’s a mark that shows that I am owned by another human. In this case my husband.”
Griblax’s facial features contort in what would be the equivalent for a human of cocking an eyebrow.
Griblax: “HumanSarah this is most troubling. I was lead to believe that slavery had been outlawed on your planet for some time. Do you require rescue from your captor?”
Sarah: “Get comfortable Griblax this’ll take a while to explain.”
The next several hours are spent explaining bdsm lifestyle concepts. This is, of course, a talk Sarah has had to give on a regular basis for most of her life to humans and aliens alike.
Griblax: “So if I understand you correctly, a small subset of humans gain sexual gratification out of manipulating power dynamics and either inflicting or receiving pain-”
Sarah: “or both, that’s the switch that I told you about”
Griblax: *shudders* “Yes the switch… and you say that few people engage in these behaviors though they have signifiers like your collar and certain symbols to denote practitioners of this… art form?”
Sarah: “That’s a narrow view, but yeah, you’ve more or less got it.”
Griblax is silent as it considers some things.
Griblax: “HumanSarah, I am aware that you said that relatively few humans engage in these behaviors but given what we have learned of your species it seems as though a ritual involving sex, pain and dominance would be enthusiastically adopted by the vast majority of your people. Why do not more humans partake in these behaviors?”
Sarah: “Honestly I don’t really know.”

Here Comes Trouble

Summary: During a case with the Winchesters, things take a turn for the worse, and some secrets you’ve been hiding come to light.  

Pairing: Dean x Reader

Warnings: mentions of past smut, angst, pregnant reader, witches, injured Winchesters, character death, arguing, language, fluff

A/N: This fic is based on the prompt; “Reader hides her pregnancy so Dean won’t make her stop hunting yet, and when he finds out he is really pissed off” from a list @deanwinchesterxreader​ made a while back. 

As always, feedback is welcomed!

Your mind kept running back to the positive pregnancy test you’d stashed in your bottom drawer of your room the night before. It wasn’t that you were upset by the news, but you knew as soon as you came clean to the boys about the news- they’d stop you from hunting. You knew they’d become protective over you, worry about the future, and you also couldn’t bear the idea of Dean’s reaction to the fact you were carrying his baby. 

 You’d spent one heated night together after a rough hunt, you both needed to blow off some steam after going up against a group of vamps and coming out a little battered and bruised after eventually taking them out.

Usually, you and the Winchesters would blow off steam by heading to a bar and possibly finding random hook ups for the night, but on this particular case, Sam had stayed behind after getting injured in a previous hunt. Which meant it left you and Dean alone. You’d helped patch each other up and had a bottle of whiskey at hand, you weren’t in the mood to go out after the day you’d had, surprisingly Dean offered to stay in with you.

One thing lead to another and soon you were in a haze of  naked bodies kissing, touching, moving against each other in heated passion. The memory of him sent heat straight to your core, his perfect plump lips, his gorgeous body, his insanely talented mouth and not to mention his impressive-

“-Earth to Y/N.” Dean’s gruff voice pulled you from your daze. He furrowed his brows at you through the reflection of the rear view mirror as you sat in the back of the impala. “You alright?” He asked, the concern clear over his face. 

You ran a hand through your hair and nodded, “yeah, yeah I’m good.”.

You could tell by Dean’s face that he didn’t believe you, but he didn’t press any more about it as the three of you exited the car and headed for the victim’s house to talk to his wife. 

Keep reading

There’s a theory going around that Mr. Kubdel (Alix’s dad) is Hawkmoth, and Gabriel Agreste is a red herring to lead us off the path.  My husband has a theory that Hawkmoth is neither and it’s actually Gabriel’s secret twin brother that will show up to throw EVERYone off.  I’m sick on the couch, so I thought I’d binge a few episodes and see if this idea has any merit.  I’m not going to state the obvious stuff pointing to Gabriel as Hawkmoth (his safe full of Miracu-crap, his interest in LB’s and CN’s Miraculous in the Jackady episode, the ENTIRETY of the Jackady episode, etc.).  Just some new observations.  Here we go!

The first question is “how does Hawkmoth keep his Miraculous hidden?”.  We know that the butterfly Miraculous is a brooch, which could explain either of these fashion choices:

(Even though Gabriel should know that stripes are SO last season.)

Neither of them are ever seen without their neck wear (and Mr. Kubdel’s is even purple).

There is also the question of Hawky’s baby blues and chiseled features, which both candidates have.  However, look at their noses:

It’s kind of hard to see here, but both Gabriel and Hawkmoth have similar noses.  Mr. Kubdel’s, however, is slightly hooked at the end.  Unless he’s squishing the tip of his nose into that mask, it doesn’t match.

Now, let’s look at the theory that Hawkmoth’s observatory is somewhere in Gabriel’s office.  I mentioned in a previous post that my husband thought the entrance was either behind the painting of his wife or somewhere close by.  It would explain why he’s in his office in both the Jackady and Christmas episodes right before we see Hawkmoth.  Ironically, he also caused both of those akumas personally.  Hmmm….

In Jackady, he’s looking RIGHT AT THE PAINTING before Hawkmoth appears.

We’re led to believe Chat Noir had reminded him of “someone he knew” (aka, his wife) and that this is his first suspicion his son is running around Paris in a leather cat suit.  But, what if he’s about to go transform?  Then, there is the little matter of Hawkmoth telling the akuma in the very next scene NOT to go after Gabriel.  And once Gabriel’s dad-napped, Hawks doesn’t appear in the rest of the episode.  Convenient.

So, Gabriel is Hawkmoth, right?  Not so fast…

Next, let’s look at the evil lair.

Again, hard to tell, but the room isn’t a typical square room.  It’s square-ish with rounded corners.  Supposing that the room either exists in the Agreste mansion (for Gabriel) or the Louvre (for Mr. Kubdel), which building would fit a room like that?

The answer?  Both.

When we see an akuma being sent out, we get this scene, almost every single time.

Notice the Eiffel Tower in the background?  Waaaaay far away from our fav villain’s lair?  Now, look at where the Agreste Mansion is…

But then, what–

Not the exact distance, but close.  Also, check out this post by @legend-of-sora .  They do a great job of discussing the Louvre theory using Google maps.

The conclusion is that either one of these gentlemen could be Hawkmoth.  OR, it could be Gabe’s evil twin trying to bring his sister back and Gabriel just knows about the Miraculous because he has a freaking shrine to them in his safe.  Either way, it’s fun to speculate and this show does a great job of giving you an answer and then making you doubt yourself with just one or two scenes.

More fun with Andrew

So Andrew has been coming by more often. Mostly by my hubby’s invite thank god. Usually I don’t make it a habit of fucking someone more then a few times so it doesn’t become a problem or at least not so many times in a short period of time. But with Andrew I don’t feel too worried about him developing feelings or anything he is still very much in love with his girlfriend and he’s good friends with my hubby he just likes the thrill of bending me over in the garage and quickly fucking me behind my husbands back. So last night Andrew was over again and the 3 of us were sitting around chatting and watching a hockey game when my husband started to get too comfortable and fell asleep on the couch. Andrew and I moved to the dinning room table so he could roll a joint. While sitting at the table I was getting hot thinking about heading to the garage to smoke it and get bent over that I lifted my legs up (I wore a skirt for work) exposing my panties to him. I should also explain that you can see the living room from the dining room. So Andrew had a view of my panties and my hubby sleeping on the couch 20+ feet away. I noticed Andrew staring as I moved my hand to my panties and started to rub my pussy through them. After a minute I slipped my hand into them so I could feel how wet I was getting from showing him what a naughty slut I was even with my husband so close. Every touch of my clit felt amplified. Andrew then told me to take my panties off. I slowly slid them down and dropped them on the floor. Now he could see my bald married pussy, my husband sleeping and me masturbating like a little whore. I struggled to stay quiet so not to wake my husband as it would be impossible to explain why my panties were on the floor and I was playing with my pussy in front of his friend.

Andrew finally managed to get the joint rolled and we made our way to the garage. As soon as we were in there his cock was out and I was gagging on it like a pro. I deep throated his huge cock as he forced me to gag on it while he called me a whore. Then he sat down on the couch and I climbed up and sat my dripping wet pussy on his rock hard dick. I fucked the hell out of it cumming hard as he continued to call me a dirty slut. Then he stood up threw me down on the couch and pinned me down as he fucked me hard. The whole time he kept telling me how much he loved fucking me behind his friends back and especially while my hubby was home. I told him I love fucking him behind my husbands back. I told him how I love my husband but I also love being a bad girl. I asked him if he loved fucking me behind his girlfriends back and he said that he loves fucking her with my pussy juice still on his cock. Just then Andrew stopped and said we should go back inside. He put his cock away and headed in. As we went towards the living room he grabbed my hand and pulled me past my sleeping husband past the living room and to the stairs. Before I realized it we were in the bed room and I’m laying on the bed my skirt up and Andrew’s head between my legs. He ate my pussy till I came for the first time by a man other then my husband in the bed I share with my husband. Then he climbed on top of me and pushed his cock deep into my married pussy. He fucked me hard while choking me and telling me how hot it was to betray my husband in our bed with him right downstairs it was at that moment that I looked up to see my love standing in the doorway I couldn’t say a word I just looked at him as Andrew assaulted my cheating cunt hard and began filling me with his hot thick load. That’s when Andrew looked up and saw his friend my husband. My husband calmly says I think you should leave and Andrew doesn’t say anything but does just that. I’m leaking Andrews cum onto our bed to scared to say anything as my husband walks closer he stops and says you’ve been bad. I ever so slightly nod my head in agreement. He starts to unbuckle his pants I can see his cock is hard as he lines it up with my sloppy cum filled pussy he asks me how bad am I? how many times have I betrayed him betrayed our vows? And just as I’m about to tell him about all the guys and girls who have defiled his wife I hear Andrew say are you ready for me to fuck you on the bed you share with your loving devoted husband. It’s then that I realize I’ve been fantasizing about my husband catching us. Though the fantasy was great I snap back to the reality of what’s really happening. I love that Andrew is getting off on how wrong our actions are. I beg him to fuck me hard I beg him to cum in my cheating cunt and to fill me up while my husband is downstairs sleeping, completely oblivious to what his friend is doing to me in his house in our bed none the less all while he’s home. I’m a whore. A cheating slut of a whore and I don’t want to stop. Andrew fills my married pussy and quickly and quietly we sneak back down stairs. Awhile later Andrew leaves when my hubby finally wakes up I’m in my pjs snuggled under a blanket watching tv he kisses me apologizes for passing out then comes and snuggles me till the end of the show. We head up stairs I use the bath room to make sure my pussy isn’t to full of Andrew’s cum then I climb into bed climb on top of hubby and fuck him in the same bed I had just an hour before cheated on him in with one of his good friends. I’m a whore a cheating whore and I don’t want to stop. Sorry not sorry.

“Scary Dreams” -Peter Quill One Shot

Originally posted by dailymarvelheroes

Pairing: Peter Quill x Reader

Summary: Reader and Peter have been dating for a long time, and Peter considers their future together.

A/N: So after watching Guardians of the Galaxy 2 for the second time, I thought of this nice fluffy one shot (:

Word Count: 841

               It had been a rough day, and your body was aching all over. Someone had hired you to get something of theirs back from someone else, and you had succeeded. You had come home to a nice cooked meal from your boyfriend Peter, who had cooked for everyone else on the ship. You were sound asleep in your bed, Peter’s arm wrapped around your waist when you heard Groot crying. You grumbled in your sleep, trying to wake Peter up to go check on him, but you just couldn’t wake him, or he was pretending to sleep. You mumbled under your breath, as you threw Peter’s arm off your waist, and got out of bed. Groot had woken up crying two nights in a row, and other than you and Gamora had gotten up to see to him. As you left the room, you saw Gamora heading to where Groot was.

               “It’s OK. I’ve got it.” You commented, as you let out a small yawn. Gamora nodded, and headed back into the room she had just left. You ran your fingers through your long hair, and walked into the main room. Groot was sitting on the edge of the couch, tears running down his cheeks, and you could feel your heart break a little. He must have had one of his nightmares again. He lifted his head, and lifted his arms up. You smiled down at him, and walked over to the couch, sitting down and picked him up, and sat him down on your lap so that he was facing you.

               “Did you have a scary dream again?” you asked, and he slowly nodded his head. You reached over and wiped the tears from his eyes. “Do you want me to stay with you until you fall asleep?” you asked, and he nodded his head. You smiled down at him, and laid down on the couch as you cradled him in your arms.

               “I am Groot.” Groot whispered as he cuddled into your arm. You smiled down at him and nodded your head. Rocket had taken the time to teach you how to understand Groot, and you were grateful for it.

               “Alright then, any specific song?” You asked, and he shook his head, as he closed his eyes. You nodded your head and started to softly sing Rhiannon by Fleetwood Mac. It had been a song that Peter had introduced her to and she had fallen in love with it from the first word. You looked down at Groot and couldn’t help but smile. You had been with Peter since the beginning, and when you first met Rocket and Groot, you had gotten on well with Groot, even if Rocket had to translate most of the time.

You heard someone walking towards the room and you looked up and saw Peter standing in the doorway. You smiled up at him and then looked down at Groot and saw that he was asleep. You gently placed Groot back down on the couch, and once you were sure that he wouldn’t wake up, you got up off the couch, and walked over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist and snuggling into his chest. You looked over to Groot and couldn’t help but think how cute he was sleeping there. Peter grabbed your hand and the two of you headed back to the sleeping quarters.

“You’re really good with him you know?” Peter commented, as he sat down on the end of the bed, and ran his hands over his face and glanced up at you and couldn’t help but smile at how beautiful you were. He reached over, grabbed you by the waist and pulled you over to him so that you were sitting on his lap. You wrapped your arms around his neck and planted a soft kiss on his lips.

“He’s like a normal human child. My sister back home had a son. I helped her out when her husband was working.” You explained, as you reached up and brushed a piece of hair from out of his eyes, and reached forward and kissed the top of his head.

“Would you ever consider having kids one day?” he asked, and you were a little taken back about the question. You had never really thought about having kids, especially with the type of work that you and Peter did. Now that you thought about it, you would love to have kids one day, but when you were both ready to give their work up.

“Maybe one day, but for the time, we have a Groot to raise.” You commented with a small smile as you reached forwards and kissed his lips once more. “Let’s get back into bed, we have an early start tomorrow morning.” You explained, as you yawned. Peter nodded his head, as you got off him, and jumped into your side of the bed. When you were all snuggled in, you felt Peters arm around you, and you couldn’t help but smile. Life was just perfect.

“Admit it, Bruce” - Batman x Reader (NSFW)

Thank you VERY MUCH @craftersdust :). I’m a bit self-conscious about my writing, because I’m French, and I know sometimes I don’t phrase things right, so thanks. 

And here’s for your request, of course, very NSFW :

(My master list, by the way : Right here )

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-Oh hello, I’m Bruce Wayne, I never have fun because I’m the dark knight, and someone dark cannot smile, like ever, and…

-Are you done ?

-Honey, I’m just warming up.

For the past ten minutes, you had annoyed your husband by (very badly) imitating his voice and just stating all of his flaws (mind you, you thought he didn’t actually have many). You accentuated your annoying behavior by tapping regularly with your fingers on the counter of his bat computer, while he was trying to concentrate.  It wasn’t just because you wanted to annoy him that you did it though, he totally deserved everything. He was refusing to accept that he was wrong, and you were right, and it bothered you because that happened way too many times. He hated being wrong. You knew it, this time his stubbornness just annoyed the Hell out of you. 

-But I can stop if you…admit you were super jealous. 

-I wasn’t jealous Y/N. At all. Why would I be jealous of a guys like that ? 

-Mmmm…Because I used to be in love with him and that he’s very attractive and successful ? Funny and smart ?  

He refused to look at you, but you saw quite distinctly his jaw clenching. You smiled, oh this was gonna be fun. 

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An Elucien Epilogue (ACOTAR fanfic)

This is an epilogue-esque ending to “A Court of Wings and Ruin”, so obviously SPOILER ALERT!

Summary: Lucien returns to Velaris after the events of ACOWAR, determined to be a better male than Tamlin and put aside his mating bond if that’s what Elain wants.

Thank you THANK YOU thank you to the wonderful, talented, and overall amazing @feyre-archerons-scrapbook // @the-other-sam for being my Beta reader and pointing out that somehow my brain decided Azriel was a “Shadowslinger” XD  She’s seriously the best- everyone follow her!

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Robb x Female Reader

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Imagine being betrothed to your life-long friend, Robb Stark, and having an awkward conversation about your future wedding night.

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\ Request from anonymous /

Hey, loveeee! Are your requests open? May I have a one shot/imagine with Robb? Maybe he and S/o being friends, like really good friends, but get awkward around each other after some alliance or being betrothed? And please, with happy alive Stark family?? Love your writhing! S2s2

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My name is Rebecca and for over 2 years I have been suffering and dealing with depression and anxiety. 

One person I was supposed to be able to rely on and care for me was my husband. Unfortunately while my heart was all for him. He was not all for me.

I found out today, February 22, 2017, that hes been cheating on me with a mutual friend while at the job they both worked at. It’s been months and seeing the messages they sent to each other have made me sick and devastated me not only mentally but financially.

My husband was my sole provider. He worked to meet the needs for both of us and as of today that has been cut off. I have no way to care for myself and only 200 dollars to my name.

And while I know this is extremely not any ones problem but my own I need financial support until I can get situated properly.

To explain further there’s something I haven’t made public to anyone until right now. 

My counselor, whom I have had for almost a year, is not permanent and my time with her will come to a close in less than three months. She suggested I apply to a women’s home that provides shelter and proper counselling so I can get my life back on track. The home cares for women with depression and I feel it’s a place I need to be especially now after what has happened today.

The application process is long and I might not be accepted within a month but I am hoping that with the help of my counselor that I will be in the home soon.

But until that time I need help financially. Mostly with money for food and to pay my phone bill. 

If you can help me please go to me paypal and give any donation.

my paypal email is Tiredofwaiting24@aol.com

thank you for reading and thank you for understanding.

Fanfiction - A Lifetime of Her (Part VII)

Part VII – “You bleed just to know you’re alive”

Twenty-eight

Why do sirens cry in blue and red?

Are they calling for help, for the crushing urgency, the need to rob time of time itself? Or are they warning us to look away, to prepare ourselves because tragedy is upon us – we might as well be next?

Even after many years, I’d recall their grieving sound. The way my hands pressed upon Claire’s belly, blocking the exit of her life with my palms. The screams around me, senseless, enhancing my growing despair. How her eyes never left mine – daring me to stay with her, to keep death at bay.

The paramedics came. They could have taken from seconds to a lifetime to reach us – I wouldn’t be able to say. Time skipped and jumped, a leaf on the fury of wind, fragile at the thought of flying.

“I need you to step aside, sir.” A small man told me with assertiveness, trying to dislodge me from my position, kneeled next to Claire on the ground. His gloved hands were already evaluating her pulse, placing an oxygen mask on her face.

“I will not leave her side!” I growled, ferocious. He gave me a serious look, but didn’t make any further attempts to take me away from her, certain I would strike and maim any man foolish enough to try. He was right.

They quickly bandaged her abdomen with a pile of snow white compresses, held tight against her body by a bandage skilfully applied. Claire tried not to moan, but I could see her pain in every ragged breath, in the sweat that dripped from her brow.

The ambulance flew across the roads of Edinburgh, transporting us to the closest trauma centre. The driver had opened his mouth – about to object my presence – but was shortly discouraged by my menacing glance and a shook of head from the short paramedic.

“Hold on.” I repeated to Claire, like a mantra, holding her band – being almost thrown to the opposite side of the ambulance as the vehicle raced to the hospital, jumping on speed bumps and sliding on the curves like a car in hot pursuit. “Dinna die on me, mo nighean donn. I won’t let ye, do ye hear me?”

“I’m… not… too keen…. on the idea… either.” She puffed haltingly, making a weak attempt of a smile, which almost broke my heart.

“Woman of thirty, victim of an armed robbery, gunshot wound to the upper right quadrant with no exit wound – she’s losing blood fast.” The paramedic announced, as they erupted through the emergency doors, a team standing by to receive them. “Glasgow fifteen, she has been responsive during transport. Her blood pressure kept dropping, the saline is wide open but ineffective fluid challenge.” He informed to a man with brown hair and olive eyes, who nodded in acquiescence, leading the gurney carrying Claire to a trauma room as I followed closely.

“Denzel.” Claire whispered to the young surgeon, as he started to unpack her abdomen to access her injuries. “Is that you?” He looked at her face, surprised at hearing his name, and his eyes opened in shock.

“Claire!” He touched her face in greeting, as nurses hurried around, preparing trays and drugs that might be necessary. “Dear God! What happened?”

“Do ye know her?” I asked, grabbing her hand in spite of a nurse’s protest, prepared to shoo me away from the secluded room.

“Of course.” He looked at me with concern in his calm eyes, as he started to palpate her belly. Claire hissed in pain and he pursed his worried lips. “I met Claire during medical school in Boston and was very pleased when she decided to return to Scotland and be a resident here, as I am. You really shouldn’t be here, sir.”

“Please…” Claire pleaded, closing her eyes for a second and licking her chapped lips. “Let Jamie stay…just a while longer.”

“Alright.” Denzel Hunter patted her hand in reassurance. “As long as he doesn’t faint on me.”

“How… bad… is it, Denny?” She asked, her eyes more unfocused and glassy. “I’m…fairly…sure…it went through…my liver.”

“And I’m sure you’re right - brilliant even in this situation, my dear. I’ll ask Doctor Myers to come in to operate.” Denny smiled, skilfully inserting a catheter on her jugular vein.

“I’ll be dead…before…he gets here.” Claire said sheepishly, raising her brow. Her face was hazardously pale, her whiskey eyes shining even brighter, her orbs dilated from pain and blood loss. “It has…to be you. I trust…you.”

Denny nodded, solemn, checking her pupils with a small flashlight, as she suddenly became unconscious – the monitors around them going crazy with alarms. “She’s bleeding out! Let’s move people, hang that saline wide open and two units of blood on the rapid infuser!” He commanded, concentrated in the wound’s trajectory. “Do you know her blood type, by any chance?”

I didn’t know her blood type – never had the chance to ask her, that information amongst a million other precious details of her that I knew nothing about. I didn’t know her birthday, even though I knew the position she slept in. I didn’t know her favourite dish – even if I was aware she preferred sneakers than high heels. I almost choked at the realization of the lifetime of things I could be robbed of, so devastatingly – left wondering, forever, because the time we had been offered hadn’t been enough. Knowing how much I loved her – and yet knowing so little of the one I loved.

“I dinna ken.” I admitted, gripping my fists, fighting the urge to curl into a ball and weep on the floor, stained with her blood.

“That’s alright.” Denzel assured me, throwing away compresses soaked in blood. “Let’s go with O-negative! I need a blood gas test as soon as possible and someone call the OR, let them know we’re coming! I want to be doing the first cut in less than five minutes!”

“Is she going to be alright?” I fearfully asked him, reluctantly letting go of her hand as a nurse took blood from her wrist with a fine syringe.

“She’s going into shock from the blood loss.” He explained in a steady voice. “I need to repair the damage right away, before she’s too unstable to endure the procedure. We’ll take her away now.”

I approached her, feeling numb as if my own blood had been turned to ice in my veins. I kissed her forehead, my lips hot against her perspired skin.

“Don’t leave me, Claire. This time I’ll beg.” I whispered in a broken voice. “Don’t leave me.”

****

I roamed the strikingly white corridors, incapable of sitting any longer in the waiting room outside the OR, where other husbands, daughters and mothers gathered, hope and fear lurking inside their eyes.

I came upon the small chapel, whispering of shelter and tranquillity in the half-light. I sat on the wooden bench, my hands entwined in prayer – I was ready to surrender to His will well enough, but was intent on offering a bargain.

“Lord, ye gave her to me.” I whispered, my eyes fixed on the cross where he had been martyr, symbol of the most loyal of loves. “I canna make sense of it in any other way. When my need was greatest ye set her upon my path so she could heal my soul. All along I was meant for her.” A warm tear streamed down my check, too raw to be contained. “And I intend to love her well the rest of my days – to care for her and make a home of her heart. I shall repay the gifts bestowed upon me by loving her to the best of my abilities. So I ask ye now – dinna take her away.”

I clenched my teeth, fighting against the sobs that threaten to wreck my body. “For if ye ever loved, ye know this – there’s this place inside me that only exists as long as she walks the earth. Once she’s gone, the part of me that lived in her light – the best, the one that makes me myself and no one else - will die with her.” My voice was unhinged, resounding in the naked walls, pulsing as the chambers of His heart. “I’m none so brave as I was before, ken?” I added very softly. “Not brave enough to live without her anymore.”

I heard footsteps approaching the door – I didn’t bother to clean away the tear tracks on my cheeks. I didn’t turn either – I knew who had come to bring me news.

“Does she live?” I asked aloud – the hint of pain, of shaped glass an inch away from shattering, creeped into my voice.

“She lives.” Denzel Hunter sat next to me, sighing in tiredness as his bones found comfort in transient rest. “It was touch and go for a while, but I was able to retrieve the bullet and repair the vessels – she lost a bit of her liver, but it will regenerate itself with time.” His outline was sharp, softness mixed with edges, akin to a bust of an angel descending from grace to speak of hope to the lost crowd. “It will be a slow recovery – but she lives.”

“Thank ye.” I closed my eyes and bent my head, my body shaking from supressed grief, as I let go of the leash I had been using to keep myself together. “Thank ye.” I repeated. I didn’t know if I was thanking Denzel Hunter or God – but to me, in that moment, they were one and the same.

He squeezed my shoulder in silent acknowledgment and left me alone – to cry for joy and gratitude, for my heart had been saved.

****

I sat by her side as soon as she went to a room in recovery. I jumped each time a monitor bleeped, startled to the point of panic – but she slept peacefully, her lips still hauntingly pale.

I knew sleep wouldn’t touch me – my task was to watch over her. To guard her. To will her back to me.

I marvelled with each heartbeat – found terror in the infinitesimal space between each and every one of them. I talked to her in the Gaidhlig, the language of my dreams, in which I could best tell her all my heart. I brushed her hand with inquiring fingers, learning the lines of her to make sure they were still the same. I kissed her lips softly, remembering the promise of her laugh.

And as the moon rose outside, I watched the circuit of air inside her lungs, the tiny movements of flesh and bone, adjusting to the challenging rhythms of life. I watched her breathe again and again, until she opened her eyes to look at me – and I discovered that I too could breathe again.  

Daddy Daze - Boyfriend (Steve)

By: ProMarvelFanGirl

Pairing: Steve x Reader

Summary: Your 5 year old daughter tells her dad she has a boyfriend.

A/n:  part of the Daddy Daze Series (MasterList) Please send any Dad!Bucky or Dad!Steve head cannons and I will try to incorporate them. (Tagging is open)


Originally posted by hopeinloveinfinity


Steve was reading over a file watching your five year old Maggie play on the floor after a productive day at kindergarten.  His attention was more focused on his file than her, until she uttered a small sentence that made his heart nearly explode.

“Daddy I have a boyfriend.”  

The simplicity of the statement didn’t register with Steve immediately, “That’s nice sweetheart.”

“WAIT! what did you say?!” Steve jumped off your plush couch to sit on the floor pulling Maggie into his lap.

Maggie laughed at her father before repeating herself proudly, “I have a boyfriend daddy!”

“Y/N!  Get in her now we have a situation.”  You came running into the room immediately, almost certain your home was being attacked.   When you realized there was no immediate danger, you placed your hands on your hips and stared at your husband.

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Perfectly Fine

Originally posted by dean-winchester-crush

Request: Could you do a dean fic where he saved the reader on a case long ago and they’ve been dating since. But then on djinn hunt dean gets captured and put into the dream world and while their he finds the reader. She’s living an apple pie life with another guy and two kids. When the reader and Sam saves dean from the djinn he feels guilty for pulling her into the hunting life. The end like an angsty/fluff mix where the reader promises she wouldn’t want that life. 

Pairing: Dean x reader

Word Count: 1,100ish

Warnings: none

A/N: Angst & fluff? This definitely leans to one of those…


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Title: Love of a Child

Code: JD0003

Requested by: anon

Words: 710

Note: This request was so cute omg

Your bones ached. Your feet ached. Your muscles ached. Your back ached. You freakin’ teeth ached. You waddled of of the elevator into NCIS. You knew he didn’t want you at work just incase but dammit, you were pushing nine months and you needed your husband. “Only in emergencies” he had said, and this? This was an emergency if you ever had one.

You moved your feet, shuffling, toward where you had been directed to find him. As you approached, you saw who you gathered to be…Tom? No, no… When you were close enough to his desk, he looked up.

“Hello,” you smiled, “I’m looking for Jethro Gibbs.”

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My degree/education is none of your business

So I work two jobs, one at a grocery place and the other (to be blunt) as a cam girl. Now my cam job keeps me up a good part of the night, obviously, so I’m usually pretty tired throughout the day, especially when I have to go to my first job. I work as a cashier and even though I’m tired af, I’m still always polite to my customers. One night, after getting literally no sleep the night before, this woman and her husband come through my line with a big order. No big deal really, so I just start ringing them up and making slight conversation. Somewhere near the end I think I yawned a little, and the woman looks at me and ask if I was tired. I laughed and said yeah, then explained I had another job as well (though I didn’t tell her what) so I didn’t get a lot of sleep. She then ask me if I was in school, which at the moment I am not. I’m taking a few semesters off because of my mental health, and plan to return next year to get some certificates rather than a degree. I didn’t tell her all of this though, since it wasn’t really her business, and just gave a simple “no, I am not.” She raised her eyebrows and smirked a little before saying, I shit you not, “Well, better get on top of it or you might as well get use to not getting any sleep.” I was stunned, and it took a moment to fully process what she said. After that I dropped my friendly act immediately. I took her money, handed her the change, and slammed my drawer. She did not get a “have a good night” or anything of the sort. I will not be spoken to that way and I will not have some middle age bitch look down on me because I’m not going to college at the moment. You have no right to tell anyone who is working (especially someone with two jobs) to get a degree and degrade them for working.

Collision Course - Part Ten

Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven,
Part Eight, Part Nine

This is the last installment save for the Epilogue. I hope you all have enjoyed the ride. - Mod Lenny


Ian insisted Jamie ride out with him to look over the fields and give his opinions.

“Ian, I ken ye know what ye’re about wi’ runnin’ the estate,” Jamie finally interrupted as they sat on their horses looking out over a field of flourishing barley. “And it doesna matter that ye brought me out here away from the house and Jenny––I’m no tellin’ ye about what happened. I said I didna want to talk about it and I’m no goin’ to. It doesna matter anymore anyway. Murtagh will be back today or the next and then I’ll be off again.”

“And will ye be sending us as little word of where ye are or what ye’re about as ye did before?” Ian asked with a scolding edge that would have left Jamie feeling ashamed if he weren’t still so numb. “Whatever it is that’s happened to ye this last… it doesna excuse yer silence the last four years.”

“I told ye what Dougal told me about Jenny,” Jamie objected.

“That explains it; it doesna excuse it,” Ian clarified. “Jenny and I will take care of Lallybroch as if it were our own and ye ken that well; it’s been her home longer than it’s been yers. But I think we both deserve a bit of honesty from ye, aye? A bit more respect than what ye’ve shown.”

“Ye’re startin’ to sound like Jenny,” Jamie remarked, the corner of his mouth ticking up a fraction.

“No, Jenny would have called ye a stubborn and ungrateful arse.”

“She already did. Ye were off dealin’ wi’ Ross the smith, gettin’ him to reshoe my horse.” Jamie reached down to pat Dóchas’ neck and the horse stamped her foot and raised her head, shaking it like a nod.

Ian sat straighter in his saddle, squinting in the direction of the house. “Ye said Murtagh ought to be back today?” Ian asked, settling down again.

“Aye.” Jamie peered in the direction Ian had been looking, raising his hand to shield his eyes from the sun.

“Was he off to fetch someone for ye?”

There were two riders slowing on the road as they approached Lallybroch’s main yard in the distance.

“Claire?” Jamie breathed, his heart breaking into an excited gallop as he turned Dóchas back the way they’d come and spurred her forward.


As soon as they entered the yard, Claire began calling for Jamie.

Murtagh dismounted and walked over to help Claire down from her horse while her eyes scanned the windows of the large stone building––Lallybroch.

“Jamie!” Claire called heading for the door.

A young boy darted out from it in front of her soon followed by a woman about Claire’s own age, shorter and her hair darker and sleeker.

“Get back inside ye wee––” Jenny scolded her son before spotting Claire and stopping abruptly in her pursuit. “Oh… And… who might you be?” Suspicion lay heavy in her voice and she crossed her arms over her chest.

“I’m looking for Jamie,” Claire said quickly, her attention flitting from Jenny to the child to Murtagh where he had already unpacked her medicine box and had the horses by the reins, leading them toward the stables. “My name is Claire… Claire Fraser.”

“Fraser?” Jenny’s suspicion visibly turned to bewilderment and her focus shifted from Claire to Murtagh.

“Are you Jenny? You are. You’re his sister, aren’t you?” Claire said desperately and with relief as she stepped forward. “Where is he? Where’s Jamie?”

“And you, Murtagh,” Jenny said loudly, ignoring Claire and getting Murtagh to stop and face her. “Where do ye think ye’re sneakin’ off to? Is this lass… is she sayin’ she’s  Jamie’s wife?”

From the other side of the yard came the sounds of two horses approaching and Jamie’s loud cries of, “Claire!”

“Jamie?!” Claire screamed trying not to trip over her skirts as she ran towards the noise.

“Claire!” Jamie cried as he was off Dóchas before the horse had come to a safe stop.

As Claire threw herself into Jamie’s arms, the rest of the world fell away. Tears of joy and relief streamed down her cheeks and soaked into his coat where she buried her face. She could feel him murmuring her name in disbelief into her hair as they took a few moments to just soak each other in.

“Why, Claire?” Jamie finally asked pulling back from her to look at her face. She could see the wetness in his eyes, the confusion and the relief. “Why did ye no go?”

“I couldn’t,” she said simply, raising a hand to cup his cheek. His eyes fluttered shut as he leaned into her touch.

“I’m sorry, lass,” he whispered.

“What? No, I didn’t mean… I meant I couldn’t leave you––I didn’t want to. I was there with Frank at the stones but when the moment came… I couldn’t make myself do it. I chose to stay here… I choose you,” she murmured, her hand slipping back into his hair, taking a firm hold.

“Me? Ye mean…”

She swallowed hard against the butterflies crawling their way up from her stomach. “I love you,” she whispered.

There was a flicker in Jamie’s glistening eyes that might have been surprise before he bent his forehead to hers. “And I… love you,” he whispered back, then rubbed the tip of his nose down the length of hers before kissing her in a way that made every hair on her body stand on end as it shivered through her down to her toes.

They gradually became aware of Murtagh clearing his throat loudly. He gave Jamie a nod towards Jenny and Ian before turning to continue bringing the horses to the stables, his beard barely concealing his satisfied smile.

“Would ye care to introduce us?” Jenny suggested with unveiled impatience. Ian made a noise of embarrassment or rebuke beside her.

“Right,” Jamie started out of his reverie. He gently slipped his hand into Claire’s, twining their fingers together tightly as he led her over to his family. “Jenny… Ian… This is Claire… my wife. I told ye about Jenny, Sassenach; Ian is her husband. We were lads together––and fought in France just after my Da passed.”

Claire reached a hand towards Ian who glanced briefly at Jamie before shaking it and nodding a welcome to Claire.

“And you’re expecting,” Claire nodded down to Jenny’s belly where the subtle swell could still easily be overlooked. It quickly became apparent that Jamie hadn’t noticed. “When are you due?”

“No till after the harvest comes in,” Jenny admitted, flushing under Jamie’s stunned gaze. “Come inside wi’ ye then. Ye’ve been on the road some time, I can see. Will do ye good to be able to wash and get something warm in yer belly. When ye’ve had a chance to settle, perhaps you can tell us a bit about where ye come from and just how ye come to be married to Jamie here.”

Jamie showed Claire up to his rooms and stayed with her while she tidied herself and they devised a story that would hopefully satisfy Jenny and Ian. Over an early supper and with Murtagh contributing through nods and grunts of confirmation, Jamie and Claire fumbled their way through as much of the truth as they dared share. The circumstances of Claire’s arrival at Leoch and surrounding their wedding remained intact.

“We stumbled on some Red Coats––likely those searching for the deserters I’d… disposed of,” Jamie explained, looking to Claire for support. “It was chance as much as anything that Captain Randall wasna among them when we met them but we figured it was likely just a matter of time before word reached him of meeting us and the bodies of the deserters were discovered.”

“We were afraid that the Captain would see it as an opportunity to be seized––pin more crimes on Jamie and take me in as well as some sort of accomplice,” Claire said, her nerves making her talk faster than usual.

“I told her she go to her late husband’s family, that they’d likely be better able to protect her than I could if the price on my head grew… So I left her behind wi’ Murtagh to see her off. I thought it would be safer should I go and perhaps draw the Red Coats after me.”

“But when it came down to it… I don’t know them to trust them and… Jamie’s my husband now. Where he goes, I go,” Claire explained, her focus rooted in Jamie’s eyes.

They were too absorbed in each other to notice the looks Jenny and Ian exchanged across the table. From the set of Jenny’s mouth, it was obvious that she didn’t believe a fraction of the tale they told. But glancing back from the Laird and his Lady to her own husband, Jenny’s expression softened to match Ian’s.

Jamie was an entirely different man from the one he’d been that morning. The cloud that had hung about him since he’d reappeared was gone; there was a light in his eyes and she couldn’t recall the last time she’d seen him smile so much––possibly not since their brother had been alive. There was a similar light in this woman’s––Claire’s––face when she looked at Jamie. Whatever they were hiding, Jenny decided it didn’t matter; what mattered to her was that her brother was home and happy, even if he would be leaving again soon.

Jamie and Claire retired to their room shortly after supper, pleading Claire’s need to rest and recover from her journey––returning from Craigh na Dun had taken half as long in Claire’s eagerness to be with Jamie again.

The door had only just closed behind them before they were in each other’s arms again, tugging at clothes and moving naturally toward the bed. The mattress was suddenly there pressing against the backs of Claire’s legs. She sat and hitched one leg up on the frame so that her skirts started falling away as she reached for Jamie’s belt. His arousal was already prominent beneath the soft, worn wool of his kilt. He took hold of her wrists and stalled her.

“No, Claire.” His voice was low and rough. “No like this. I’ll have ye naked.” Letting her wrists go, he set to work loosening the knot at the top of her bodice. She leaned back on the bed and succumbed to the feel of his hands working over her as he slowly stripped away each layer she wore.

As her last petticoat fell, she moved to stand reaching for the clasp of his belt once more. “Now you,” she told him. From the belt she moved to the buttons of his waistcoat, smoothing the fabric down his torso with her hands first.

At last, Jamie raised Claire’s shift up and over her head then reached up and pulled the pins and ties from her hair until he could bury his fingers in it. She caught his wrist as he traced the curl of one thick tendril from root to tip. Turning his wrist around, her thumb found the freshly healed scar from where Dougal’s blade had sliced the skin. The line it made was clean compared to the rough scabs of the scratches and scrapes from his accident in the woods.

“Blood of my blood,” Claire said quietly, tracing the fine line.

Jamie brought that same hand to her chin, his thumb running along the line of her jaw as her fingers continued to massage the flesh of his wrist and hand.

“Bone of my bone,” he whispered in response before bending to kiss her.

His hands were eager as they ran down the soft curves of her body before tightening around her waist and lifting her off the ground. She clung tight to his back as he bore her down on the bed, settling between her legs but keeping his weight on his forearms on either side of her.

She trailed her fingers up and down his spine, delighting as he shivered. The heat from his body––balanced so carefully above hers but barely skimming her surface––enveloped her and penetrated her, warming her bones as she was aware of the solid heaviness of him between her legs.

“I give you my body,” she whispered, spreading her legs wider and arching towards him, gasping as he pressed back against her and filled her. “That we two may be one,” she finished, her voice fainter than before.

Jamie caressed her cheek while staying still as long as he could within her. “I give ye my spirit,” he whispered, his eyes locked on hers while tracing the shape of her ear and then from her earlobe down along her neck, “till our life shall be done.”

He started to move as he bent his head to kiss her again, capturing her sigh before it could leave her lips.

“Ye’re mine,” he told her, punctuating the statement with a deep rock into her. “Mine alone… mine forever.”

“Yes,” Claire panted in agreement, her fingers digging into the firm, tight flesh of his lower back, her legs twining with his.

“My wife… my Sassenach,” Jamie grunted, his pace increasing as he drove himself harder and Claire’s hands drifted lower to the flexing muscles of his buttocks, her fingernails digging hard enough to leave marks.

“Yes,” she panted again.

“Mo nighean donn… mo chridhe… mo graidh,” he continued in Gaelic.

“Yes… And what about… you?” she sighed. “Who… do you… belong to?”

“You, Sassenach,” Jamie said, pressing his forehead to hers as he bit his lip and changed his rhythm yet again, slowing himself to stave off his release until he could bring her with him. “I’m yers… for always.”

Claire cried out as her thighs suddenly clenched around his hips, trapping him deep within her as her self shattered and scattered, leaving her trembling next to the exposed rawness of Jamie’s shattered self. She saw only him looking deep into the very soul of her as the throbbing pulse of their bodies synchronized from the blood in their veins to the breath in their lungs.

The sweat began to cool on her breasts and stomach sending a shuddering chill through her flesh.

This was why she couldn’t go, what she needed so desperately it was worth sacrificing everything and everyone she’d known in her time. It couldn’t be explained, it could only be experienced, and she’d only ever experienced it with Jamie. The recognition in his eyes, the understanding…

Claire raised her head without taking her eyes off of him until her lips met his, tender and warm, a little wet as his tongue darted out to taste her.

“I love you.”

Tha gaol agam ort.

1.

I’d been having the dream on and off again since I was a small child. It was always the same, and while I could have it multiple times a week I would only ever have it once a night. It could happen no matter the time of the year.

The dream would begin as I was walking up some wooden steps. They joined on to the small porch area of an incredibly nice house. The house was empty; I always got the impression that the previous occupants had recently moved. Someone would show me inside, though I would never see who it was. I would go into the entrance hall and ahead of me would be the hallway leading to the kitchen. To my left, the living room, and to my right, the stairs. It was a lovely house, open and airy and warm.

Here the dream would skip, and again I would become aware that I was climbing the last of a flight of wooden stairs. This time I would be on the upstairs landing. Now the atmosphere had changed; I felt tense, uneasy. It was colder. Without my permission my feet would carry me to the right, along the hallway. I would pass two doors; the first on my left (a bedroom), and the second just ahead of it on my right (a bathroom). I would stop at the end of the hallway, in front of the final door. It would open on its own.

Seated in front of me, on a single chair in an otherwise empty room, would be an elderly man. He was incredibly old, probably in his nineties. He was visibly sick, and I remember being able to see the veins in his papery hands.

“Close the door,” he said. “You don’t want to see this.”

Something would grab my arm from behind, and I would wake up.

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3

“Y/N please! You have to know that it meant nothing - she meant nothing to me! Please, just let me explain. Let me make it up to you. I promise I’ll never hurt you again. Please, I love you.” Hvitserk begged. He had been practically grovelling at your feet for the last hour after you had returned home. Your hair was knotted and your cheeks flushed from your encounter with Ivar but you husband hadn’t even noticed, and if he did, he hadn’t mentioned it.

“No Hvitserk. You are my husband and I am your wife. We are married. You promised you would be faithful to me. I-I thought your days of womanising were over. It turns out I was wrong.” You replied bitterly, your tone cold and emotionless. You had promised yourself that no matter what he did, you would not take him back. If he loved you like he said he did then he wouldn’t have strayed from you. He was a creature of habit it seemed.

“They are, I swear. I was drunk and she came up to me! It wasn’t my fault, you have to believe me!” He pleaded and you only scoffed, unable to believe anything he was saying.

“It takes two Hvitserk. You still made that decision, drunk or not, and you still ripped my heart out of my chest.” Your eyes were watering and you were willing yourself not to cry with everything you had. You were determined not to let the scum you called your husband see you cry.

“Please Y/N, don’t do this.” Hvitserk pleaded once more, running over and gripping you shoulders, looking at you as you averted your eyes.

“I want to meet her.” You stated plainly. The man across from you looked taken aback and he raised his eyebrows confused.

“Why? What does she matter?”

“I want to speak to her. Get her side of the story. And if it turns out she did what she did willingly, I want her to know she ruined a marriage.”

“Come on Y/N, she doesn’t matter. This is between you and me.”

“Take me to her now Hvitserk.” You demanded and he reluctantly nodded and handed you your coat. He led you out the door and down to the barn where the slaves would be before they began their work. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on the pretty blonde girl from the night before. She looked surprised and happy when he approached her but her expression changed to one of shock and fear when she saw you advancing on her.

“Hello Princess.” She greeted respectfully, ducking her head as you stood in front of her.

“Did he coerce you?” You bluntly asked. She looked confused for a second before she replied quietly, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yes Princess. He was drunk and his hands began to roam, I could not do anything in fear of punishment. I knew if I resisted I may not have a choice int he matter. I am so sorry Princess.”

You looked over to your soon to be ex-husband and stared at him as he looked down shamefully. “I was drunk Y/N. Please don’t let this change things.” He muttered, though he didn’t seem to believe anything would change your mind now that you knew the truth. He knew what was coming.

“I want a divorce.” You said loud and clear. There were a few gasps that emerged from the barn but you ignored them. “We’ll see Lagertha this evening and settle it.” Without another word you turned and exited the barn, walking away with your head held high and heading towards nowhere. You were lost in thought about your future when you heard a voice from behind you.

“Ah, Y/N? What’s got you so angry. Did Hvitserk not buy you a nice enough present to say sorry?” He asked mockingly, his voice harsh and cruel. He was bitter about the night before, that was evident. You turned around swiftly and shocked him. Your eyes were cold and you looked broken though so put together at the same time.

“I demanded a divorce.” You told him, watching as his handsome features rose in shock. “Just in case you wanted to know.” You finished off sarcastically.

“What? Why Y/N? Don’t you love him? You obviously love him so much that you stopped what was happening last night.”

“I stopped what we were doing because it was wrong, not because of him. I needed time to think and evaluate the situation before I made any rash decisions again.” You told him defensively, beginning to walk away.

“Again? What, was I a rash decision? A momentary lapse in judgement?” he questioned angrily, his feelings hurt. He had always admired you and wished that you looked at him the way you used to look at Hvitserk, but alas, you only had eyes for one.

“You were never a bad choice Ivar. A stupid one maybe, but do I regret it? No.”

Ivar was shocked once again and once he didn’t answer after a moment, you turned and left. Ivar didn’t bother chasing after you. He was too stunned. You didn’t regret what had happened, but what did that mean for you and Ivar?


And another one down, more to go! Gif credit to @suirisblack

yesterday one of the work IT guys remoted into my home computer (i use it to log into my remote work desktop) to troubleshoot bc Everything Was Wrong and here is a sample of what he saw on my desktop, anyway i have to quit

it could have been so much worse………… he was using my chrome for just a moment and he was one click away from my ‘marked for later’ page on ao3, open in the second to last tab:

i have never known fear like i did while he for some reason hesitated on clicking the new tab button