connubial

Connubial

by Stephen Dunn

Because with alarming accuracy
she’d been identifying patterns
I was unaware of — this tic, that
tendency, like the way that I’ve mastered intimacy
in order to conceal how I felt —

I knew I was in danger
of being terribly understood.

Negan Imagine ~ New Neighbor

Pre-Apocalypse 
Negan moves into the house next to the reader and her husband who’s mistreating her.
As she decides to finally leave her husband, she isn’t as alone as she thinks..

Requested

Originally posted by grungedaddykinks

The wind shook softly onto the windows as you watched it swinging the branches of the trees.
You heard the heavy footsteps of your husband walking the stairs up while you hoped that he wouldnt come down again for a good while.
That wasnt quite what a wife should wish for her husband to do, but looking at your marriage, that was no wonder.
For one and a half years you were married to him now and for one and a half years this marriage had turned more and more into hell.
That worse, that you didn’t even know why you had fallen for him anymore.
Sure you had married him young, but you had always somehow been a good judge of character.
Well, except that one time and this one time brought you into the situation you were now.
A fucked up marriage.
A marriage with a husband that yelled at every opportunity at you, cheated without any guilty conscience on you, brought you to the point where all you wanted to do was to crawl into a hole and cry and who just made you feel like the last person worth to care for or even love.
You would have left him earlier but you were trapped.
The house you lived in was his house, to be clearer the house he inherited.
It was pretty but in the end it had bothered you from the very beginning that it only belonged to him and you both had nothing you shared, but you didn’t have the financial means to be picky at that point and that was some kind of doom for you now. 
Next to that it was also far away from where you originally lived, where you had your friends, your family.
You had nothing and no one here.
As if it wouldnt already have been worse enough, you had lost your job a few weeks ago because your workplace had to reduce the personal.
In short: You had nothing, no friends, no family, no job and with that no own money.
And the great man your husband was, he used all this against you, knowing that you were involuntary dependent on him.
And now you hung over your job applications, somehow trying to get a job and to just get yourself out of this misery.
Hell, you didn’t want to depend on him anymore and you just didn’t want him to have that as a tool to use against you.

You were engrossed in writing as you heard the door bell ringing and your head snapped up.
“I’m going”, you growled as you made your way over to the door.
You opened seeing the man from next door standing before you with a package in his arm while he smirked slightly.
He was new here, you had seen him moving in about a week and a half in the house directly next to you even though you didn’t really know why a single man, like he seemed to be, would move alone into a house.
You had seen him only a few times since then, mostly just carrying cartons into the house but now he stood right before you and he looked even better close than from afar.
“Hello, guess you’ve noticed that I moved in next door. Well, I wasn’t able to introduce myself till now but here I am. I’m Negan”, he said smirking while stretching out his hand to you.
“(Y/N)”, you said smiling before letting your hand slide into his feeling a little shiver running up and down your spine.
“Now that’s a beautiful name. Listen (Y/N), I got this package, but the postman fucked shit up and got it to me, even though I’m pretty sure my name isn’t (Y/N)(L/N)”, he said looking chuckling at the label on the package.
“Who’s there?”, you heard the growling voice of your husband ask.
“Our new neighbor”, you said turning around before you saw him walking around the corner towards you and Negan.
“And what does the new neighbor want?”, he asked still in that growling undertone before you heard Negan replying.
“The new neighbor just wants to introduce his damn self like a decent human being and give her the package that somehow landed at my house and not yours”, Negan said a little tensed but still with that smirk on his lips.
“Negan”, he said stretching his hand now out to your husband who shook it reluctantly and nodded with a pissed off face expression, that made some anger boil up in you.
That man hadn’t done anything to him and all he did was being the usual asshole.
You heard him muttering his name as response before you looked friendly smiling back to Negan who now held the package in front of you.
“Well then have fun with whatever the heck is in here”, he said before you took the package and you saw him looking from you testing to your husband before he raised his voice again.
“See ya”, Negan said before looking slightly smirking at you as he began walking back.
“Yeah, and thanks”, you said before he turned finally around walked back to his house.
You shut the door and walked back to the table as you heard your husband’s voice.
“Does he fuck you good?”, you heard your husbands voice growl as your head snapped over to him.
“What the-…no!”, you called bewildered out while you saw him glaring at you, the way he always glared when he was shortly before yelling.
”Really? ‘Cause it didn’t seem to me like you’ve met him the first time..that damn way you looked at that asshole”, he growled while he came closer.
“Listen I never talked to that man before and I’m not gonna begin a dumb fight with you about something that is not even a tiny bit true”, you said beginning to put the package away.
“No, you listen to me!”, he yelled grabbing your wrist you pulled hastily away.
“Don’t touch me”, you growled looking into his with anger gleaming eyes.
“Oh yeah right, my wife gets rather touched by the neighbor”, he yelled breathing heavily.
“I’m not the cheating one in our marriage”, you growled while you saw his anger boiling over the top.
“Watch your mouth or-”, he yelled before glaring heavily breathing at you.
“Or what?”, you asked having to keep yourself that much unter control that your voice trembled.
He just stood panting before you, clenching his jaw while his eyes still gleamed dangerously before he rushed out of the house, hitting the door with a loud bang in process.
You huffed stressed, while looking at the closed door.
Fights like that or even bigger were a daily fare, there was almost no day he didn’t yell at you or started a fight and that argument you had have a few moments ago was nothing compared to the usual fights.
All you wanted to do was escape and never see that man again and the only opportunity you had laid on the table and waited for you to continue writing.
And thats what you did the rest of the day, writing applications and somehow trying to forget that he would come back in some hours.

Hours later you laid in bed, trying desperately to fall asleep before you suddenly heard the door opening and soon after that how the bed slightly bended as he let himself fall into it while a shiver run down your back.
And the shiver intensified as you suddenly felt him pulling you over and beginning to kiss your neck as you pulled yourself away from him.
“Dear wife you still got some connubialities”, you heard him growl before you moved even more away from him while turning around.
“Come over”, he said in a tensed tone while you looked disgusted at him.
“No”, you growled while you slipped out of the bed.
“Listen you can be glad enough that I still want you”, he hissed looking at you before he stood up and walked over to you while all you did was glaring into his eyes.
“I’m being more patient with you than you deserve after a day like this, so begin being a bit more grateful”, he growled while you huffed.
You kept glaring before you grabbed your pillow and shoved yourself past him.
You would neither have sex with him nor sleep with him together in that bed now.
You kept walking while you heard him keep on talking, trying to goof you off and make you feel worthless as always.
You heard his words while you walked down the stairs trying to blank them out before you heard him finally stopping.
You let yourself fall onto the couch as you felt the lump in your throat becoming bigger and finally felt how tears fell down your cheeks.
You just didn’t want that anymore, you didn’t want to be here with him or even close to him.
Your glance wandered out of the window, seeing still some lights burning in the house next door where your new neighbor lived while your thoughts overpowered you.
You had always tried to keep going, somehow fighting yourself through everything and standing up after you fell but you were almost at the end of your rope.
You just wanted to finally feel loved and wanted again and not treated like the most worthless person on earth.

And all those thoughts stayed and got even stronger over time.
The daily fights didn’t stop, to be honest they just got worse and worse and all you could somehow do was defending yourself against him and trying to write applications to get a job and somehow be able to not give him more power over you.
The only things that somehow began to lighten up your day were actually, as bizarre as it was, greeting Negan and having some small chats with him that somehow made you a little forget that as soon as you’d tell him goodbye you would have to walk back into this house to your crappy husband.

Some weeks passed until the day of the annual street fair came and like last year that only meant for you to play the happy wife that you clearly weren’t and you were pretty sure that the most people or at least the ones with a house in earshot knew that.
“Put something pretty on, you hear me? I don’t wanna have to be ashamed of you”, you heard your husband calling from downstairs.
You scoffed before you pulled a summer dress over and walked annoyed huffing downstairs as you saw him already waiting for you.
“A smile wouldn’t be wrong”, he scoffed before you glared at him.
“Being a little more friendly to your wife wouldn’t be wrong as well”, you growled before you saw him building himself up right in front of you.
“You better listen now, you do not say things like that outside”, he growled before he walked outside followed by you as you already saw the people on the street grilling, some people drinking some beer and laughing together.
You felt your husbands hand on your waist as he pulled you closer while a cold shiver run down your back before your glance wandered over to the house next door where Negan just walked out of it and got over to a few other people he greeted.

The next time outside you spend next to your husband, hearing him talking to other neighbors while you somehow tried to get into a conversation with other people here.
They were all friendly to you and you could talk to them about vague stuff but it had never in that one and a half year gone that far that you could count even a single one nearly your friend, not even acquaintance to be honest.
While your husband was deep in a conversation with another man you could finally move away from his side and walk a bit around before you decided to get some food.
“Can I help you?”, you suddenly heard a deep voice behind you.
Negan.
You turned around seeing him smile at you while he pointed at your empty plate while raising his brows.
“No thanks Im just looking around”, you said smiling back.
“Well then I hope you find what you fucking desire. My personal pro-tip would be some fucking pasta from over there, mostly ‘cause I made that shit”, he said grinning.
”I guess I’ll give it a try it then, gonna tell you if your “shit” was worth the work”, you said chuckling before you made your way over to the table with the food.
You couldn’t lie, the spaghetti were awesome and as you looked up you saw Negan looking over, raising his brows and waiting for a feedback as you raised your thumb chuckling up.
For some moments you finally felt a bit better again, somehow a bit free and without that pressure on your chest you mostly had.
But even that vanished at the moment the day ended and you got back into your house and the usual fight started again and your life turned back into the hell it was before you left the house this morning.

A week later you found yourself packing groceries into the car while you saw the sun already going down.
By the thought of finding your husband back home your stomach dropped already on your drive back and that feeling in your stomach just got stronger with every mile you came closer to your house.
It had already began to become dark as you pulled into the driveway and saw how Negan walked out of his house, kneeled before the porch of it and began to repair something at the stairs.
Sometimes you wondered if he heard the fights you and your husband had.
If he heard him yelling and screaming at you.
You opened the door of your car and saw how Negan looked up, while a smirk flashed over his face.
”Hey neighbor”, he said chuckling as he waved over.
”Hey, still working?”, you asked nodding over to the stairs before he stood up and walked a few steps over to you.
”Yeah, I’m gonna break my damn bones one day if I’m not finally repairing those fuckers”, he said chuckling as he stroke over his salt and pepper beard.
”Well then good luck with that”, you said grinning slightly while you pulled your bag over the shoulder and closed the door as you saw him somehow seeming like he wanted to say something else but didn’t know how.
”Bye”, you said friendly before you heard him saying the same and you walked over to your house.
”I’m back”, you said loudly as you closed the door behind yourself but got no response.
Irritated you looked into around downstairs while you didn’t find your husband. But to be honest, you just hoped that he was out with friends and wouldn’t come back for a good while until you heard some suspicious noises coming from upstairs.
You slowly walked up, swallowing with the noises becoming louder while deep down you exactly knew what they were and who made them.
You finally stood before your bedroom door, swallowing before moving the handle just to see your husband on top of a moaning woman, thrusting into her before the loud screech of the woman stopped him.
She stared as shocked at you as you at her before your husband looked over his shoulder and saw you standing in the doorframe.
You stood there for a moment, completely frozen and with muddled feelings next to complete emptiness before you saw him pulling on his shorts and walking over to you.
”You digusting pig”, blustered out of your mouth as you somehow slowly came back to reality.
“Oh come on (Y/N), what did you expect me to do since you’re not fucking me anymore”, you just heard him say before you felt your hand slapping his face and an adrenaline rush flowing through your whole body.
“You damn whore”, he growled holding his cheek before you shoved yourself past him, ignoring the woman laying in your bed as you walked over to the wardrobe to pull clothes into a bag still somehow in trance.
You pulled the bag hastily over your shoulder before you turned around and saw him directly before you.
“What are you doing there?”, he asked growling.
“Leaving you”, you growled back clenching your jaw.
It was just enough, you didn’t care anymore, you couldn’t stay with that man anymore and in this moment you didn’t think about any consequences, you just knew that the only right thing now was to leave him if you wouldnt want to go insane.
“You wanna leave me? Really? Where do you wanna go? Huh? You got no job, no friends, I’m the only one you got here and believe me, as soon as you leave this house I’m gonna make your life the living hell”, he growled looking at you.
“Can’t be worse than being with you”, you growled before you shoved yourself past him and rushed out of the house as fast as you could.

Still paralyzed you sat onto the front seat of your car, staring into the darkness before you felt your emotions overpowering you.
Tears streamed down your face while you felt your body trembling uncontrollably as you tried to catch your breath.
You felt humiliated like so many other times, were mad at yourself for getting yourself into this shitty marriage, for being at this point of your life now you never wanted to be even though you felt relieved that you had finally freed yourself.
The tears kept falling down your cheeks as you suddenly you heard someone knocking at the window.
Your head snapped up, fearing to see your husband behind the glass but it wasnt him, it was Negan.
He looked concerned at you, saying something you couldn’t hear until you let the window down as you hastily wiped away your tears.
”Shit, you don’t need to wipe them away, its fucking alright, I’ve seen them…fuck you don’t wanna drive now do you?”, he asked still with that concern in his eyes while you struggled.
“I-..”, you mumbled not really knowing what you should say, because all you wanted was just to somehow get away from that house.
“Listen you can’t fucking drive now”, Negan said looking down to you while you still sat swallowing there.
“It’s okay, I’m gonna make it somehow”, you said grabbing a tissue to get the rest of your tears from your face as you heard him sigh.
“Then tell me a better plan”, you said still with a lump in your throat as you saw him silently thinking for a moment before he sighed.
“See, I don’t wanna be fucking intrusive or anything but you shouldn’t be alone right now, I don’t know what shit just happened to you and I’m not trying to sleaze up to you, but if you want you can come over to calm down”, he said looking at you.
You looked at him, waited a moment trying to sort your mind.
He was probably right.
You couldn’t drive if you didn’t want to end up killing yourself and other people in process.
“Alright”, you said after a short moment of waiting before you opened the car door, grabbed your bag and stood up while you felt how weak your knees were.
You still felt Negan’s glance on your body while he walked with you over and opened the door while he waited till you walked in before he followed you.
You stood directly in his living room, that was surprisingly nicely done up for a single man.
“You can sit wherever you want down, you want some tea or something?”, you heard him ask as he walked over to the kitchen.
“Tea is good”, you said before you slowly sat down on the big leather couch still trying to somehow digest what had happened
Not more than a few minutes later you saw how Negan placed a cup with tea in front of you on the coffee table before he sat down next to you.
“Listen, you don’t need to tell me ‘bout anything if you don’t fucking want to, but in case you feel like you need to tell someone, I’m right here”, he said while you nodded with a slight smile on your lips.
You couldn’t even really remember the last time someone had just somehow cared about you or was interested in what bothered you.
You swallowed, not really knowing what and how to tell as your glance wandered a bit around in the room until it got stuck onto a baseball bat that leaned next to a few ping pong balls and paddles against the wall.
“Oh right I never told you, I’m a gym teacher”, you heard his voice say before you looked at him while he smirked softly.
“A fucking good one if you ask me”, he said chuckling managing to get a little grin onto your lips.
It got silent again as you looked at your hands fumbling onto your tissue before you raised your voice.
“I left my husband”, you said before you looked once again up to him.
“Understandable…shit sorry, its just.. I just heard that fucker scream every damn day”, he said slightly huffing.
“Our marriage didn’t really consisted of more than that”, you quietly said.
You couldn’t open up completely to him now about everything, that just weren’t the way you were but he was caring about you right now, more than anyone in a goddamn long time and you felt like he kinda deserved to know at least the most important things.
“Just caught him in bed with another woman and acted like I was the guilty one.. to be honest that didn’t really surprise me, that’s what he always did”, you quietly said while you had to chuckle bitterly.
“Fucking asshole”, you heard Negan scoff before he raised his voice again.
”Always asked myself how you could keep on staying with that prick. Can’t tell you how often I was shortly before going over to your house when he was yelling again. Thats just not the fucking way you treat your wife”, he said with a growling undertone.
“Shit, you deserve something a whole fucking lot better”, you heard him growl before your head snapped up by the sound of his bell.
Negan looked irritated up before walking over.
As you saw him opening the door, all you saw were the gleaming eyes of your husband that focused on you while you felt your heart beginning to pump harder against your chest again.
“I knew it, god I knew that you’re just a slut. So if you don’t want to make things even worse come back”, your husband hissed while Negan kept standing before him not letting him just a step in.
“You do not fucking threat her”, Negan growled glaring at him.
“I won’t say it again, you come back now or you’ll wish-”, he said while trying to enter the house.
“Hey!”, Negan yelled pushing your husband back before he raised his voice.
“Listen Asshole, this woman left you. It’s fucking over, she doesn’t want to come back and I won’t let you fucking force her to. So get your crappy ass over to your house and leave her the fuck alone or I’ll make you do it”, Negan growled loudly but still calm with a dangerous undertone before you saw your hopefully soon to be ex-husband glaring and scoffing at him before he finally cursing left.
“I’m sorry about that shit. Fuck, he’s not ever gonna do some shit like that again, not when I’m around, I fucking promise”, you heard Negan say as he closed the door again and walked back over to you.
“Thank you”, you almost breathed swallowing as Negan sat down next to you and captured you with his glance.
“Anytime”, he said with a smile on his lips and that glance in his eyes that made some warmth come up in you, the kind of warmth you had missed for a long time and in this moment you didn’t want to ever let go of it again.
You knew that the time that laid before you would be hard for sure, but something told you that you wouldn’t have to go through that alone.

part 2


@dasani-saraai @myrabbitholetoneverland

violetjersey  asked:

Title: The Secret Life Of A Promiscuous Pathologist Ship: Sherlolly

“She’s killing me, John. Absolutely killing me.”

John looked at Sherlock quizzically. “How’s that, then? And which ‘she’ are we talking about?”

Sherlock gifted John with a withering ‘don’t be an idiot’ glare. “Molly. Hooper,” he replied, enunciating each syllable with icy precision. “Her and her endless list of sexual conquests.”

John’s expression morphed from quizzical to confounded, his usual range of expressions when Sherlock talked about Things He Didn’t Usually Talk About. “And that makes you uncomfortable because…sex alarms you?” he hazarded.

This glare was beyond withering and into ‘if looks could kill you’d be a tiny pile of ash and bone right now, John Hamish Watson’. “Sex, as I’ve already told my brother, doesn’t alarm me. But Molly Hooper having sex does. Because she shouldn’t be.”

John sighed. “Look, mate, just because you’re not interested in sex doesn’t mean the rest of us should become monks - nuns, in this case…”

Before he could continue Sherlock stood up, throwing his hands in the air. “Who says I’m not interested? Why does everyone assume that? What have I ever said or done to make people think that? For God’s sakes, I commented on her tits once, does that sound like something a man who isn’t interested in having sex with a particular woman would say?”

Shocked disbelief was an emotion John was unpleasantly familiar with, but at least this time it didn’t involve learning his wife was a former assassin. Then again, that revelation had ultimately turned out to be a good one for many reasons - sexual role-playing being one of them, not that he ever planned to share THAT with anyone - so perhaps he should reconsider…wait, what had he been thinking? Never mind. He opened and closed his mouth a few times before leaning forward in his chair - not really ‘his’ since he was living in connubial bliss with Mary and Rosie these day - and said, “Wait, you’re saying you have feelings…sexual feelings…for Molly Hooper?”

Sherlock snorted and folded his arms across his chest as he, apparently, made his reply to something in the kitchen just past John’s left shoulder. “Yes, John, I am.”

“And what about…other feelings?” John asked, unable to stop himself even though it really was none of his business. Both men were so involved in their conversation - lack of eye contact notwithstanding - that neither heard the soft footsteps coming up the stairs, even though the door was partially open.

“Yes,” Sherlock replied shortly, still staring past John’s shoulder. “Other feelings as well.”

“Such as…?” John prodded.

“Love, John,” Sherlock snapped. “I’m in love with Molly Hooper and I want to be the next and last man she ever sleeps with and possibly marries and has children with. Happy?”

“Only if you really mean it.”

Both men started, John grinning as he saw Molly standing in the doorway, a wary - yet hopeful - expression on his face.

Sherlock hunched his shoulders, then turned slowly. Both he and Molly ignored John’s presence, and he settled back into his chair, holding his breath, instead of jumping up and making his excuses as had been his first instinct. 

“I really mean it,” Sherlock said in a low voice. “Would you be willing to give up your many other lovers and settle down with an emotionally stunted consulting arsehole for the rest of your life?”

Molly shook her head and smiled, moving toward him even as he moved toward her. “Silly man,” she said as he pulled her close. “I’m not quite the promiscuous pathologist you think I am. There’s been no one since Tom because I realized there never could be anyone but you.”

The kiss John witnessed was definitely one of the most passionate, the most pure - sod The Princess Bride, he thought contentedly. This is the kiss that leaves them all in the dust.

7

The Chronological Superman 1963:

Inarguably the most well-known of the entire catalog of Imaginary Superman Stories, “The Amazing Story of Superman-Red and Superman-Blue” is one of the rare tales which imagines happy endings across the board for everyone. Even Lucy and Jimmy put down their knives and settle down into happy, supportive connubial bliss. (Superman vol.1 No.162)

The ethics of the Supermen’s Anti-Evil Ray were objectionable to me when I first read this story as a kiddewink, and they still don’t hold up. Surely Superman would be a champion of free will. But, then again, perhaps this was the result of a cost/benefit analysis to which I have no particular insight. Also, Luthor got hair.

Please note that the twin-phenomenon is back, with BOTH the Superman/Lois and Superman/Lana pair producing a boy and a girl each. Would they count as cousins or half-siblings, do you think?

For the record, besides finding an antidote for Kryptonite, eliminating crime and evil, restoring Kandor AND rebuilding the planet Krypton, plus marrying their mutual sweethearts, the Supermen also find a new home for the entire race of Atlanteans (who knew they were even looking?).

turquoiseey  asked:

HC for Muu and Judal, as to who would make the first step like first talk to,hug,take hands, kiss etc in an arranged marriage? Would they do it or would their future so have to do it?

Muu

> While Muu holds off from getting close with them right away, fearing the rejection, there may be moments where he just happens to be so extremely happy that he entangles them in a big hug, lifting his partner, before realizing what he is doing, quickly putting them down and - with a light blush - apologizing. Out of the mood he might unconsciously take their hand in his while being deep into some documents or a book, his s/o deciding if they let him hold their hand or pull theirs away. It’s not unthinkable for him to initiate the first kiss too, but only if he is absolutely sure that his partner is alright with it and if the mood is right to do it


Judar

> His first words to his partner are an interruption and insult to them equally. Judar didn’t want to start it on the wrong foot but their attitude of being friendly to him pissed him off right away. His s/o didn’t have it easy afterwards with him and his connubialities, all the more they are surprised when he takes their hand to pull them after him so he can show them something, that - how he claims - they should be proud of he lets them see. If his s/o decides that they want to nestle up to him, he won’t push them away, though he might be uncomfortable if they get to clingy. The first kiss is probably an unexpected event and for both parties very surprising

anonymous asked:

What would of happened if Mary stuart and Francis II of france had a son/other children who would unite Scotland and France. Would they have successfully conquered England?

I must say that I am not sure that the union of King Francis II of France and Mary Queen of Scots could produce any children. It seems that Francis didn’t even hit puberty by the time of his death, which effectively means that Mary is unlikely to have been pregnant during their short marriage.

Francis and Mary’s marriage might have never been consummated, but we cannot know that for certain. According to contemporary sources, there was a bedding ceremony, but nobody knows what happened behind closed doors. This situation reminds me of Catherine of Aragon’s marriage to Prince Arthur, because in this case we will never know whether they slept together or not.

Francis was abnormally short, and he also stuttered while Mary was an excellent conversationalist and was eloquent. His health was very fragile while hers thrived. In addition, he was very inexperienced at 14-16, which didn’t make it easier for him to perform his husbandly duties. Definitely charmed by his wife, the young king might have tried to take Mary’s maidenhead, but, most likely, he failed. I think that they were engaged in some sort of connubial activity, but I doubt that they had full intercourse.

In Retha Warnicke writes about Mary Queen of Scots in Mary’s biography:

“In the early hours of the morning at the Hôtel of Guise, the royal family bedded down the bride and groom, as custom dictated. Scholars have assumed that the chronically ill and physically immature 14-year old dauphin was incapable of consummating the marriage and had probably not done so at his death in December 1560 when he was still 16. Even so, as Mary and her relatives deemed divine intervention necessary for conception, they could petition God to bless this union and make it fruitful. During their short marriage, two interesting but contradictory rumors, both of which lack confirmation, circulated concerning their marital relationship: some diplomats claimed she would never be able to bear children while others surmised that she had a miscarriage.”

Francis died young, at 16, and his health was deteriorating rapidly during the last months of their marriage. Even if we assume that they were intimate and he was able to take her virtue, they might have needed more time so that Mary could conceive. If Francis’ health was really as awful as some historical sources claim, they might have never had children.

However, I tend to think that Francis’ death at young age curtailed the couple’s chances to have children. Maybe if he was older than 16 at the time of his death, he would have reached puberty and Mary could have been pregnant at least once; then she might have had at least one child with him.

In the television series “Reign”, Francis is certainly not like an actual historical character – King Francis II of France. It is said that Francis’ health was fragile in childhood, but he is a healthy young man who had several mistresses throughout the series and who was quite happily married to Mary for some time. He doesn’t even resemble the historical Francis II of France, which surely makes it more appealing and fascinating for the show’s fans. That’s why you shouldn’t think that if Mary and Francis were intimate many times in “Reign”, they also were sexually active in real history.

Francis II was King Consort of Scotland as a result of his marriage to Mary from 1558 until his death. So if Mary and Francis’s marriage hadn’t been childless, their son – if they had a son – would have inherited the crowns of France and Scotland. However, I wouldn’t be bold enough to say that this child could conquer England because we cannot be sure that he would have lived to adulthood and because I cannot believe that England under Queen Elizabeth I could have been conquered by anyone.

prompt from here: “My parents thought I was working for an insurance company in New York when really I was joining the CIA so I just sort of never mentioned when I met you on an assassination-gone-wrong and now we’ve been married for five years and they still don’t know you exist, this has gotten wildly out of hand and you won’t stop laughing about it.”

it just seemed perfect for steter.

p.s. my emerging love for this pairing is entirely the fault of cwyscross.

“It’s not funny, Peter.” Stiles glared at his husband, who was not even attempting to hide his laughter.

“Of course not, sweetheart.” Peter smirked at him before picking up his wineglass. “I would never presume to think that your inability to tell the truth to your beloved father is amusing. That would be wrong of me.”

Stiles groaned and laid his head down on the table, swatting away Peter’s condescending pat on the head. “It’s been five years! Every time I try to bring it up, he says something about how proud he is of me and I chicken out.”

“Hmm,” Peter sips his wine with casual ease. “Am I not someone to be proud of, Stiles?”

He let his head loll to the side and gave Peter a baleful stare. “I’m not falling for that one. Anyone in their right mind would run the other way.”

“And yet here we are, in connubial bliss.”

Stiles sighed heavily. “That says more about my mental state than your appropriateness, you know.”

“So you say.” Peter finished his wine and pulled Stiles to his feet. He led them over to their highly overpriced leather sofa (‘I can’t believe you bought this while I was on a mission, Peter’ - 'You would never allowed it in the house otherwise, darling’) and tucked him snugly against his side.

Stiles sighed again and relaxed his muscles consciously. He wanted to enjoy to spend time with his husband that didn’t also include some sort of weaponry or blood or bureaucrats who thought they knew what the world was really like. It was so rare for them to have a peaceful night together. Peter pet through his hair while languidly reading an art journal he propped up with his other hand. Stiles just flopped bonelessly against him and let himself be cuddled in silence.

His muzzy thoughts were interrupted by the buzzing in his pocket. His personal phone, of which only a handful of people knew the number. With dread, he pulled it out to look at the caller id and Peter snorted when he saw the name over his shoulder. “You should just tell him now.”

Stiles grumbled to himself. “Way to ruin an evening, telling my father horrible things.”

Peter sounds even more amused than he was before. “I’m hurt, Stiles, to be included in that list. Truly.”

“You’re an asshole and you don’t have feelings.” Despite his words, Stiles leaned back against Peter’s chest and swiped across the phone screen to pick up the call. “Hey, dad.”

If it isn’t my favorite son, actually answering his phone for once!

Stiles winced. “Sorry, dad. Work’s been crazy lately.” Behind him, Peter rolled his eyes.

Right. Must be tough, out there on the East Coast all by yourself. I bet they need insurance investigators out here in California too.

His father was not exactly a man who minced words, damn. Still, it was definitely an opening he could use. Stiles tried to force the words out and nearly choked on them. “I … Dad, I’m not alone?” He winced again when he came out more like a question than a statement. Peter tugged on his hair annoyingly.

You sound like maybe you’re being held hostage, Stiles. Anything you want to tell me?

Want to tell him? Need to tell him? Stiles had a hard time keeping those two things straight. “Uh, maybe? It’s just … a lot. That I haven’t been telling you.”

There was a long pause and he pulled the phone away from his face just to make sure the call hadn’t dropped. “Dad?”

Do I need to fly out there, Stiles?

“What? No! No, definitely do not fly out here.” Especially when he didn’t even have the right address for their Manhattan apartment, since insurance investigators definitely don’t make enough money to live on the Upper East Side. CIA agents who were married to a former ('For now, sweetheart’ - 'Please don’t say that where I can hear you, Peter’) assassin and jewel thief had much better sources of income.

You say that, but your tone makes me think I should be driving to the airport right now.

Stiles huffed explosively and ran his free hand through his hair, sitting up from his position against Peter. “Jesus, no. I just don’t know how to say what I want to say.”

That’s never stopped you before.

“Hah, hilarious. Play on my childhood flaws.” There was a snort on the other line that matched Peter’s bemused one behind him. “Okay, so I’m just gonna say it. You’re not going to be happy about it, but … I’m married? To a guy? And am totally not an insurance investigator.”

Huh.

“You know, that’s not exactly the response I was expecting.”

I didn’t even rate an invitation to your wedding?

Ouch. “Our wedding wasn’t exactly … planned?” Stiles turned to Peter and mouthed 'help me’, but his husband just went back to his reading, like the asshole he was. “I met Peter on a … job and the situation necessitated marriage. And then we just … kept it?” He was cringing as the words fell out of his mouth.

Looks like I do need to fly out there.

“What?”

I need to meet this man, make sure he’s good enough for my son.

Stiles was certainly not looking forward to that idea. “No! I mean, yes, of course you should meet him, but uh, Peter is also really busy a lot so we’ll have to schedule a time …”

Peter snagged the phone from his hand without even looking up from his journal and nearly purred into it. “Hello, John? This is Peter. We would be delighted for you to join us at your earliest convenience.”

Stiles was left gaping at the sheer audacity when his father replied and a smirk grew on Peter’s face. “Tomorrow morning? That sounds perfect. I’ll send a car to pick you up. I look forward to meeting you.” He handed the phone back as if he hadn’t just ruined years of carefully placed lies and evasion.

What does he mean by a car, Stiles? Please tell me you didn’t marry someone in the mafia. You know how I feel about organized crime.

He huffed. “Peter would be a terrible mafia underling.”

That doesn’t actually make me feel better.

“It’s not really supposed to.” Stiles 'accidentally’ jabbed a sharp elbow into Peter’s ribs as he moved around on the couch, earning him a heated glare and a pinch on his thigh. “He’s just disgustingly wealthy. It’s horrifying.”

His father ignored that and said, I’ll be at JFK tomorrow at 9:30. Don’t think you’ll get out of this, Przemyslaw.

Stiles grimaced, knowing his father had to be pissed to pull out that big gun. “I know.”

After an awkward, stilted goodbye, he hung up and stared at the ceiling for several long minutes. “This is going to be a disaster.” He flopped over onto Peter’s chest, looking at him with wide eyes. He ignored the noise Peter made as Stiles knocked the air out of him, knowing he was sturdy enough for his weight. “My dad is going to kill me.”

In an uncharacteristic moment of sympathy, Peter wrapped an arm around him, rubbing his back soothingly before ruining it with his words. “No one is going to kill you. You’re mine.”

Stiles laughed into Peter’s t-shirt, his nose rubbing against the bare skin peeking out of the entirely too deep v-neck ('You look ridiculous, you know. Like a twenty year old hipster.’ - 'I look amazing, certainly better than those Williamsburg fucks, Stiles. Give me some credit.’) “That’s entirely the wrong thing to take out of that statement.”

“Stiles, your father clearly loves you,” Peter did his best to keep an even tone, though the incredulity of having to explain anything still shaded his words, “And you haven’t actually done anything wrong.”

“Except lie to him for the last five years?”

“Except that.” Peter kissed his forehead in an appallingly sweet gesture that was belied by his hands creeping into the back of Stiles’ jeans. “Let me take your mind off it.”

Stiles wiggled a little and let a smirk of his own creep onto his face when Peter’s hands tightened on his ass in response. “I can't not think of it. He’ll be here tomorrow.”

“Hmm,” Peter sat up abruptly, pulling Stiles along to straddle his lap. Peter ground himself up against Stiles as he bit softly up his neck. “Are you doubting my abilities to distract you?”

When he held back his instinctual moan of pleasure, Peter pulled back to look at him questioningly. Stiles just looked at him in challenge. “Well? Do you need a written invitation?”

The near growl and sudden ripping of his shirt answered his question and Stiles laughed, tomorrow’s debacle not quite forgotten, but easily shelved in deference to more enjoyable things.

('I can’t believe you hid lube in the couch, Peter.’ - 'But my forethought certainly saved you from greeting your father with a limp tomorrow, sweetheart. Be grateful.’)

She began now to comprehend that he was exactly the man who, in disposition and talents, would most suit her. His understanding and temper, though unlike her own, would have answered all her wishes. It was an union that must have been to the advantage of both; by her ease and liveliness, his mind might have been softened, his manners improved, and from his judgment, information, and knowledge of the world, she must have received benefit of greater importance. But no such happy marriage could now teach the admiring multitude what connubial felicity really was.
—  Pride and Prejudice, Jane Austen