#i pray you take care and have a great day ~ !! c:

[roselise]

Hello, friends! I have a new puppy c:

♡₊˚ 🐶・₊✧ 🤍 🌼 🎀

#♡ #hi friends !! #i’m sorry for my absence — look what my sister surprised me with !!! #a puppy !! #she’s very sweet but also very mischievous !! #i love her so much and nutmeg seems to as well :D #how have all of you been ?? #have you been having a good weekend ?? #are you doing well ?? c: #sending many hugs hearts and puppy kisses !! #i pray you take care and have a great day ~ !! c: #xo ! ♡ #♡₊˚ 🐶・₊✧ 🤍 🌼 🎀

[bunny584]

For I Have Sinned

“Let no one say when he is tempted, ‘I am being tempted by God’ For God cannot be tempted by evil.” James 1:13.

But Father Geto can be. 

Newly appointed Chaplain of the Noble Court, Suguru is a reformed sinner. Sanctity, discipline and celibacy are commandments of his choosing. A devout servant of the Lord. Armored with the Breastplate of Righteousness, the Shield of Faith. 

This should be sufficient enough to withstand temptation. 

Right? 

Pairing: Geto x Female reader 

C/W: Religious themes, dark romance, eventual filth. 18+. MDNI. 

A/N: Holy hell. Anon, you sick, twisted genius. You, the puppeteer. Me, the puppet who writes. This one — this story might be the one. Frothing at the mouth to know what you guys think. Going on AO3 for sure. I haven’t decided if I will keep this long fic series here, but since it was an anon ask its only right to honor them with the first chapter. 

Art credit: @ potchi_jpg on X

Music: Garden Kisses x Giveon (this was on a manic repeat for at least an hour. It wrote the chapter. I implore you to listen and levitate like I did).

CHAPTER I. Hello, Duchess.

Andesite. Dacite. Schist. 

Gorgeous. 

Suguru takes a mental note of the rock formations whizzing by just before he spears the Aegean Sea. Tailwind force trailing his feet in an elegant whirl.

Eh, mediocre landing. He’s out of practice. 

It’s true. Seminary did not allow for too much idle time in between biblical studies. Devil’s playground, and such. 

And it’s not in his nature to half-ass any life endeavor, whatever it may be. 

Suguru deftly levels out in the welcoming waves. Loose-limbed and fluid. Choosing to hover below her surface for a few moments longer. The tail end of his thick, singular French braid undulating behind him.

His body flows in tandem with the current. Swimming deep enough to scatter a pool of Fagri. He instinctively captures one in his large hand — not quite as out-of-touch as he thought. 

‘Make it to shore! If Poseidon calls, don’t answer Him, son!’

The gentle fisherman called out each time Suguru dove off their vessel. Still two or three, sometimes up to five miles from the coast, he’d plunge into the waters. Regardless of her mood, Suguru craved to be surrounded by her embrace. 

To be baptized by her tide. 

Showered with her salt of the earth. 

A dampened smile blooms across Suguru’s terse lips. Oxygen bubbles float about, from the muffled chuckle escaping him. 

His father’s voice rings between his ears. A little less clearly, nowadays. 

He always dove deeper than his fellow seafarers. Without the restraints of gear or protective equipment. Unnaturally comfortable in an element more labile than human nature. 

Suguru’s father mused about his Stormborn boy’s true lineage. 

‘Everyday, I prayed for you. Begged for you. And the God of the Ocean delivered a precious gift. Don’t return to His storms too soon.’

Fond memories, a little yellowed now. Callouses from those days have faded. 

Suguru is a different man. Born again. In a new country. With a new home, a new purpose. 

Even still, it’s comforting to know the world is 70% water, 30% land. And the Great Majority has always welcomed him with open arms.

No matter the iteration of his life, he’ll always find a home at Sea.

“Father Geto!”

What? 

Suguru begins his ascent. He is still by the cliff edge. Not nearly far enough for the Sirens to beckon. 

“Chaplain! Are you out there?”

Not even the saltwater penetrates his ears like this melody. 

An ethereal crescendo. With all the grace and beauty of a summer swan. Light enough to lull stoic men to a peaceful, permanent, slumber. 

More alluring. More disorienting than the songs at sea he’s heard and resisted. Potent enough to drown a warship. 

Who is calling for him?

Suguru chases the lethal sound. Careful pauses at each depth-level. To avoid returning to Poseidon’s storms too soon, as his father would say. 

“Father Geto!” 

Ahh, a voice he recognizes. His alter boy, Noel, at the peak.

Helios is kind, today. Because the Sun kisses Suguru as he breaks the surface. If the Ocean is his home, the Sun is certainly his lover. 

“What is it, Noel?” He calls in between strides to the volcanic edge.

“You have a visitor!” A tremble to Noel’s tone. Suguru cant help the low chuckle that leaves him.

Adolescents are always so anxious. Nervous about the most inconsequential, meaningless things. He was once the same. 

Who could be visiting? His schedule is supposed to be cleared today. 

Suguru laments leaving his clothing at the peak of the cliffside. Tossing a glance over his left shoulder - memories of his past life tattooed in various symbols. His back, covered in a sprawling trident. 

A permanent stain from the life he lived before this. It’s unbecoming of a priest to be seen this way. 

Latching onto the unforgiving rocky edges, Suguru scales the steep terrain in long steps and short holds. Serrated earth digs into his damp palms with each grasp.

He savors the pain. It’s familiar. An indication that he’s spent some time in the only other place he finds unfettered peace. 

“Noel, my schedule was cleared. Who could be—“

“Pardon my intrusion, Father Geto.” You seep into Suguru’s sentence, effectively answering his question. 

Music. 

Suguru nearly falls backward off the ledge he just set foot on.

Rumors about your beauty pollenated the compound for weeks. Anxiously anticipating your arrival. Hushed voices between maidens. Whispers within the walls of parlors. Bellowing gossip between court officials. 

All the words, all the speculations roll around Suguru’s skull. Louder than glass shattering in an empty room. 

They were wrong. 

Liars. 

Not even a tenth of the truth can be found in the frivolous ‘she’s a beauty’, ‘what a pretty face’ and comments of the like taking root in the compound. 

No, no. 

You were sculpted by every single Deity Suguru has ever studied.  

Because the One he has chosen to worship couldn’t have possibly crafted you alone. 

The good Lord is simply without the means.

Suguru will have to repent for that blasphemous thought later. 

…but God granted him eyesight, no? 

Eyes that can see underwater with the same clarity as a cloudless day. He trusts his eyes more than any part of his body. 

And they aren’t deceiving him. 

Flushed and turned away, Suguru takes a moment to soak you in, while patting himself dry. Maybe taking a little extra time to step into his khaki slacks and white button up. 

His wind pipe threatens to spasm with each sip of you he takes. 

Exquisite woman. 

You could convert a non believer in an instant. 

The gentle slope of your nose, those warmed soft, high cheeks deserve to be cherished in a museum. 

That dress. 

The tailor must’ve sewn it to your body in real time. Rolling hills and dips of your feminine curves. So quick to surrender to the ride your frame is taking him on. 

Suguru could fall to his knees and praise the Gods right here and now for their attention to detail. 

“Duchess? I’m embarrassed. Forgive my attire, I wasn’t expecting visitors today.”

Still damp but fully clothed, Suguru walks forward with a steady hand outstretched. Intentionally skipping eye contact with Noel, who would’ve interpreted the glance as anger. The boy is practically vibrating in his periphery. 

Concerned about possibly making a mistake, sure. But if Suguru were still a betting man, he’d bet your presence is driving Noel’s rattled nerves. 

“I’m the one who should be asking for forgiveness!” Unveiling your face to him with a gorgeous smile, you offer a delicate hand that drowns in his. 

Well.

To call it just a gorgeous smile makes him no better than the rumor mill and its grave underestimation. 

The air around him is sliced to a fraction of what it was. Suddenly gossamer thin and inadequate. 

You are breathtaking. 

“Please.” A deceptively even tone and casual wave of his hand. You wouldn’t know that words taste like sandpaper. 

“How can I serve you, Duchess?” 

“You do not have to address me as such, Father. I’m not wed, yet!”

Bunny lines along your nose deepen when you laugh. Heat scorches Suguru’s ears and you both are presently under shade. 

Do. Not. Covet.

“It’s all the same.” With a restrained smile, Suguru peels his eyes away from yours. 

Resting them on his rectory in the distance. He gestures his hands forward. Noel scrambles ahead of you two, undoubtedly to go tidy the chapel (that is already spotless). 

“You’re quite the swimmer.” 

You could assassinate him, you know. 

With that voice of yours. The way it stuns his senses. Far more dangerous now that it isn’t dampened by unrelenting waves. 

Suguru is a strong swimmer. He knows it. Noel knows it. The whole court knows it. Great Whites know it. 

So why is his spine unraveling at its seams when you say it? 

Why is his heart knocking against his sternum like it’s on the run from something? 

From someone, rather. 

“Mmm.” Suguru hums through closed lips. 

Unable to acknowledge the compliment with decorum. He opts for diversion instead. 

“Duchess, if I may. What prompted your visit to the chapel? How can I serve you?” 

The two of you take lazy strides along the cobblestone path. You ogle at a white rose bush that Suguru is particularly fond of. 

“I was touring the compound and noticed the garden surrounding the Church.” 

A distracted response, while nestling your nose in a pretty bloom. Sun rays fanning your face as if to showcase that you’re God’s favorite. A biblical example of how flowers should be enjoyed.

Is it just the roses? Or are you this beautiful no matter the plant?  

“Ahh. Come, then.” 

You’re being indulgent, Suguru. 

Maybe so. But the Chapel Grounds are his domain. The greenery lives and breathes under his fingertips. He adamantly refused a groundskeeper for the garden. Taking pride in nurturing its needy existence. 

Second only to his eyes, Suguru trusts his hands fully. They’re intelligent. Fast. Expansive. 

Definitive. Firm when the situation calls for it, yet gentle. Quick to learn. 

Attentive. 

He’s never gotten a shortage of compliments on his hands—

“Wisteria!” You torpedo through Suguru’s rapidly disintegrating spiral. And he couldn’t be more grateful. 

Regaining a shred of control, he leads you under the oak archway. Draped in curtains of Wisteria. The billowing lilac petals sway romantically in the sea breeze. 

Your lips hang open in a pretty, shocked ‘Oh.’ Eyes wide, gazing up at him in wonder. Adoration woven into those beautiful features slams hot and heavy into his lower abdomen. Remnant embers warming below his belt line. 

Suguru coughs to reset his over-sensitive senses. A futile gesture because you knock him right back down to his knees. 

“Oh, Father…..please?” A soft plea rolls through the slit in your lips. Pulling his eyes down to your pout.

Fuck. 

The rock formation Suguru took note of earlier suddenly materializes in his throat. You coated his honorific in a new tone. Breathy and desperate. As if he is the only person who could satisfy your needs. 

His skin is half a degree away from melting clear off his skeleton under those big, warm eyes of yours. 

“Specify your request, Duchess.”

Both hands jam into his pockets so he can dig his nails into his thighs unnoticed. The searing pain tethering him to this dimension. 

A deep rose blooms over your cheeks. Realizing you hadn’t actually asked him a question before begging. 

So, prettily. 

“May I please tend to your garden? It’s…I’m far from home and gardening brings me so much joy. Please, Father Geto—“

“Yes.” 

His agreement comes well before Suguru is ready. Or, thought it through. 

Should a noble woman be seen doing tasks as menial as gardening? 

Should you be seen without your fiancée on his grounds? 

What will you look like? 

Kneeling over a bed of sunflowers? 

Kneading the soil with your delicate, small hands—

“How can I thank you?” Your lips curl into an intoxicating smile. And Suguru no longer has the capacity to be in your presence. 

“No need, stay as long as you like. I have to take my leave.”

Suguru offers a curt wave and terse smile before spinning on his heel. Leaving you, a work of art, beneath the masterpiece that is his arc of wisteria. 

He barrels down the Chapel corridors at light speed. The pews, confessional, meeting rooms whirl by his periphery in a drunken haze.

Cold water. Cold water. 

The wooden bathroom door creaks and wails beneath his harsh touch. Suguru fumbles with the two-level lock.

He nearly strips down naked. The fire incinerating him from within is unbearable. If there were scissors within grasp he would’ve cut his braid completely off. Because even the familiar sway of his waist length mane along his back is too much. 

You are too much.

Suguru’s fingers unravel his braid and reposition his locks into a tight bun. Off the damp skin along his neck. 

‘Father….please?’

Your voice echoes from Suguru’s incapacitated brain down to his drooling cock. Icy water splashes against face. 

Suguru’s length has been weeping since you first revealed your face to him. Twitching and thrashing with every single word that came out of that pretty, sinful mouth. He’s never been so grateful that today he chose to swim with compression gear, rather than his usual bared skin. 

Are you doing this on purpose?

Wide eyed and demure. But with a voice more beautiful than any siren that has tried to lure him to his watery grave. 

Is this a test?

Suguru’s fingers desperately grasp the golden cross around his neck. Digging the symbol into his palm. 

“Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners…” He starts. Ignited, smoldering violet eyes staring back at him are unrecognizable. 

They are not of God. 

They are dark. 

Lust filled. 

“Now. And…and at the hour of our death.” Words slip through his gritted teeth. His other hand grips the sink edge. 

‘May I please tend to your Garden?’

“God. Please.” Suguru is the one pleading. To anyone above.

For self-control. For reprieve from the shape of your lips when you beg. His cock bucks against his inner thigh. Demanding attention to the ache between his legs. 

Are you Eve? 

Have you come to destroy his Eden?

Your delectable mounds barely hidden beneath that fucking dress as the Apple?

“Holy…Holy Mary, Mother of God…pray for us sinners.” His vice grip around the cross tightens. Babbling words he hopes can provide him with some restraint, some clarity.

They don’t.

Because his other hand now hovers over the pulsating bulge in his slacks. His manhood starved. Especially having been deprived of touch. Of warmth for longer than Suguru remembers.

“Holy…Mary…fuck.” Blasphemy rolling off his tongue. 

Scorching heat radiating from his hovering palm pierces his clothing. Encasing his cock like a warmed blanket. Enticing him like the soft sex of a woman. Every single muscle is under wire tension. Forcing space between his need and his hand. 

His hands. Don’t forsake him now. He trusts his hands. 

“Father Geto? Are you alright?” Noel’s call from the other side of the door startles Suguru still.

“I’m—“ Suguru clears his dry throat “I’m alright, Noel. What do you need?”

“I saw you run in here and—“

“I’m okay.” Suguru replies, more softly this time. The boy is almost too tender-hearted for his own good.

He doesn’t miss the small sigh of relief. 

“I left your updated schedule on your desk.” 

“And what would I do without you?”

Suguru can almost hear Noel smiling across the barrier. Gleefully padding away. Completely unaware that his presence was the saving grace from disgracing himself. 

Another splash of cold water on his face and multiple deep breaths later, Suguru finally gains enough composure to emerge. 

Curious about the updates to his schedule, he strides to his office. A leather folder awaits with his itinerary.

Saturday: 0800 - 1000- Youth lecture 

Saturday: 1800 - 2000 - Evening mass

Sunday: 0700 - 0900 - Morning mass

Sunday: 1300 - 1400 - Pre-Marital Counseling [CONFIDENTIAL] 

“High court, then.” Suguru muses to himself. Pulling out the envelope with a matching demarcation. Meant for his eyes only. Should the seal be broken en route to the recipient the offender could be sentenced to death for treason. 

And at this moment, Suguru finds that fate less painful than the spear currently piercing his lungs.

His eyes burn into the names written at the bottom of the page.

The Duke Ahriman  & The Duchess-to-Be.

Chapter II

E/N: Hello from [redacted]. I am literally losing my shite. I’m already in love with the plot before it has even fully materialized. And prince-of-the-sea-Suguru? This headcannon has me in a chokehold I fear. Thank you for reading 💋

#jjk fanfic #jjk x reader smut #jjk smut #geto x reader #geto x you #suguru geto smut #geto smut #suguru smut #jjk suguru #geto suguru #suguru fluff #jjk x reader #jjk headcanons #jjk angst #priest smut #jjk geto #jjk x y/n #jjk x you #jjk fluff #jjk gojo #jjk fanart #jujutsu kaisen suguru #geto suguru x reader #jjk fic #geto angst #suguru geto #suguru geto x reader #suguru geto x you #jujustsu kaisen x reader #jujutsu kaisen smut

[witchofhimring]

Being the daughter of Rhaenyra Targaryen

Rhaenyra Targaryen x daughter reader (platonic)

Reader can either be read as the child of Laenor, Daemon, Criston Harwin or other

-As her only daughter you are especially cherished. The moment they place you on her chest she instantly, unconditionally loves you. While she does not have favorites, you are cherished.

It was with one last agonizing push that Rhaenyras only daughter came screaming into the world. "A daughter, your Grace!" With trembling arms Rhaenyra took her daughter from the midwife. Y/n Velarion's e/c eyes opened and Rhaenyra instantly fell in love. Secretly, she had always harbored hopes of having a girl. She knew the realm prayed for a son, but deep inside Rhaenyra yearned for a girl. A daughter to love and cherish and protect her from all that she herself had suffered.

-You are absolutely doted on my your mother. She makes sure you have the best of everything. She loves to order sweets brought from all over and give them to you in elaborately decorated boxes. She has you all decked out in red and black clothing. Rhaenyra likes to do your hair and make elaborate hairdos. Whether for a special occasion or any normal day she takes great pleasure in showing off how pretty you are!

Y/n squealed in delight as Rhaenyra pulled out a box. Knowing that it held some kind of delight behind its wooden covering you wasted no time in hastily opening it. Tiny hands seized the sugar covered fruits from Dorne. The mother giggled as with great enthusiasm Y/n chomped away at them. "Remember to share them with your brothers!" Rhaenyra called out to her daughters. "Gods I love her." Rhaenyra thought.

-Because of the political situation you are heavily guarded. Your friends/ladies in waiting are carefully picked amongst Rhaenyra's closest allies. From the time you are old enough to walk she hires a personal guard to follow wherever you go. This is especially true if Otto, Alicent or Criston Cole are near. Unlike with her sons I don't see Rhaenyra letting you near your uncles. Partly because it would be seen as inappropriate but also for safety sakes.

-Princess Rhaenyra, Princess of Dragonstone, eldest child of Viserys and heir to the throne, ran in great haste down the hall. She payed no heed to the sudden stairs of people. Most of the time she would care, but not now. Not when she noticed her brother Aemond speaking with her baby girl under the Weirwood tree. She did not know his intentions and frankly, did not care. None of Otto Hightowers grandchildren would be in any position to harm her daughter. "Y/n." Rhaenyra hurried down the path to see two children quite peacefully reading a book. Aemond was the first to look up and scowled. Rhaenyra didn't like it. Even something as innocent as this could insight trouble. Gods know Otto might even consider marrying the two if he could get away with it. A perfect way to tether the Princess of Westeros to himself forever. She would never let that happen.

-Obviously you will have a dragon from day one, if there isn't an egg already placed in the cradle. She will likely want you to have a new one rather than an older one. This is mainly because she worries an older one might be too aggressive and large for tiny you to manage. Of course she will take you for flight on Syrax, high in the sky. She uses these times to bond, even going on short daytrips for fun.

If she gives you an egg:

Rhaenyra cradles the large opaque egg in her hands. It was a good size, this dragon would be healthy. It was placed right beside the infant who was roused to the waking world. Her large e/c eyes focused on the egg with such intensity that Rhaenyra could hardly believe it. Her fingers brushed against the thin hairs that had just started to sprout up. Her little Targaryen.

If you claim your own dragon:

She would have preferred Dreamfyre. That dragon was so gentle and lovely, a perfect fir for her gentle daughter. Not fucking Tessarion. Anxiously Rhaenyra waited as Y/n advanced forward. The dragon keepers were on standby. But if Tessarion became volatile then......... The great dragon moved its head. The Valyrian coming out of Y/n's trembling mouth would barely be heard over the beasts rumbling. Horrified, Rhaenyra moved to intercede. But suddenly the dragon lowered its head and Y/n's hand placed itself on its snout. "Look mom! I'm a dragonrider!"

Riding a dragon with her daughter:

At five years old Y/n mounted a dragon for the first of many times. Rhaenyra had been hesitant. Normally Targaryen's took their children on a flight during babyhood. But in her anxiety Rhaenyra waited until her daughter was slightly older. She had a small harness made for the baby and herself. Part of Rhaenyra didn't want to stay on the ground, but Y/n was a Targaryen, a Valyrian ancestry going back thousands of years. The dragons wings expanded and in a great bounding leap Syrax was in the air. Y/n's small form was shaking and Rhaenyra wrapped an arm around her. They stabilized once above the clouds. Y/n finally had calmed down. Soon, she was giggling and enjoying the height. Rhaenyra smiled.

-When it comes to betrothals Rhaenyra will wait until you are grown before any of that comes to fruition. Like her father she will let you chose. That is, up until the events of episode 7 where Vaemond makes his bid for Driftmark. Even though she will not be aggressive about it, your attention will be directed to Cregan Stark. Of course you will get the talk, and what to expect during pregnancy/childbirth. Your also likely to get a new wardrobe. This is even more expected if where your moving to (think Winterfell and Dorne) has a drastic change in weather compared to Kingslanding/Driftmark. If you do end up married then she will make frequent visits to where you live.

Everyone bellow was mingling during the Red Keeps most recent party. Everyone except for Rhaenyra and Y/n. Mother and daughter observed the happenings bellow, talking in low voices. "Have you met anyone who appeals from you?" Rhaenyra closely watched her daughters expression. Y/n's eyes skimmed the handful of eligible bachelors that a Princess of the realm could take. "Hmmmm. Uncle Aemond is looking rather appealing these days." Y/n jested. Rhaenyra snorted. None of Otto's grandchildren would ever taken her daughter to wife. Only last week Alicent had requested a possible betrothal between their two children. As far as Rhaenyra was concerned, that would only happen over her dead body. "Who is that?" Rhaenyra's eyes lit up. Now this was a much better match. "That is Cregan Stark."

Extra

What is your fathers relationship with you (excluding non cannon father)

Harwin Strong:

Like with his sons he is very close with you. Your his only daughter and so he is very protective. He will hold you as a baby and try to be there for everything. First words, steps and your progression into adulthood. He likes to carry you on his back during his time off. Even though you are a girl you will likely be taught to fight if you so chose. Although that will be in secret. I think that as the daughter of Rhaenyra and Harwin you will feel like you all are a great big family.

Leanor Velarion:

Your his only biological child. Because of this the family dynamic will change, with Laenor being far more involved with his family.1* Rhaenyra and Rhaenys will push hard for him to be a good father, the best he can be. Its a rocky start. But he gets better and does his best. Your time together is usually one on one with Laenor. Stuff like taking you on dragonrides and going to Driftmark.

Criston Cole:

This one is a doozy because he can't be sure until you are older that your his (given that Rhaenyra's likely got involved with Harwin shortly after marriage). But once he finds out....wow. Because as much as he loathes Rhaenyra he can't bring himself to hate the daughter. He will, very subtly, try to ingratiate himself to you. This will be sneaky and behind Rhaenyra's back. Of course Alicent will get wind of this making Otto aware. He will absolutely try to use this to his advantage. This of course puts Criston in a very difficult position.

Daemon Targaryen:

This pregnancy takes place shortly before the marriage to Laenor, meaning Rhaenyra was pregnant although very early on. I have a feeling Daemon might not even know the baby is his, thinking it is Harwin Strong's. So he as nothing to do with you until the funeral of his second wife. It was there that Rhaenyra reveals he has another daughter. The reason he was not informed earlier is because she was worried someone might get ahold of the note and Daemon was in Pentos all this time. This revelation will be surprised. When your parents marry he will take an interest in your education. You are expected to be an example of pure Valyrian, perfecting Valyrian and being a dragon writer. The two of you will sometimes read together and he likes to tell stories of his adventures.

Note: I'm gonna make one for Alicent and maybe Aemond. If you guys want me to make any more of these then please feel free to requested☺

#rhaenyra targaryen #house of the dragon imagine #rhaenyra x reader #rhaenyra targaryen x reader #rhaenyra x daemon #rhaenyra x harwin #rhaenyra x criston #laenor velaryon #daemon targaryen #criston cole #harwin strong #house of the dragon #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #hotd imagine #house of the dragon x reader #hotd x reader

[jamneuromain]

Hii!!! I just read A Whiff of Blood and it was amazing!!! Omg its been a while since I read Lloyd being caring without having another motive. This is pure goodness 😍

I was wondering if there could be a scene where y/n asks to leave work early bc she has a date. Lloyd says fine but ends up at the same restaurant as her with Danny to spy🤣 and y/n saw them and this will be the first time she yells at her boss. how would the boss react? falling for her even more or trying to save his dignity and ego 😎

Hi babe! So sorry that this one-shot is taking forever to come out (and I've made a little adjustment to it :3 hope you don't mind

A Rush of Blood

Lloyd Hansen x You

Warning: Mob AU, Mob!Lloyd, Secretary!Reader, Lloyd is being a (surprisingly) softie(?

Summary: You asked whether you could leave early for a date, while Lloyd decided not to keep his feelings bottled up any more.

W/C: ~4.5k

A/N: This is the final sequel to A Whiff of Blood, Thank you for all your love for Mob!Lloyd<333

Lloyd can’t help but look at your empty seat for the fifth time in a row. The boring-ass meeting for the quarterly revenue of his properties drags on, yet you haven’t returned for a while now.

Lloyd checks his watch.

It’s been fucking two minutes and forty-two seconds since you excused yourself with your phone buzzing in hand.

The ticking watch gets him more annoyed and impatient by the second. Two minutes and forty-four seconds, two minutes and forty-five seconds, two minutes and forty-six - where the heck are you?

You pick up the call as soon as you reach your desk, “Allie?”

“Hey hon. Bad news, I’m stuck at the airport. There has been a huge blizzard here in Alaska and all flights are banned from taking off.” Allie remains her chirpy sound, but a hit of restraint peeks from her words.

Allie has been your friend since high school. You’ve bonded over the mutual love of boy bands during your teen years. Though you have moved on from your love of pop singers/bands, Allie maintains her enthusiasm for K-pop idols.

“I’m in the middle of a conference, so, sorry about making this short,” you sigh, “I assume they can’t get any plane in or out for today?”

You scheduled for fine dining with Allie at one of Lloyd’s restaurants later this evening. At this rate, you are no longer surprised if he owns the Hollywood landmark too.

“Not in this damn weather, no.” She curses under her breath, “Not for three days as far as I’m aware.”

“Jesus.” You rub your temple as it is throbbing, “Sorry about the weather. I’ll reschedule the dinner.”

“No… don’t be.” Her hesitation on the phone sounds slightly suspicious.

“Allie?” You raise your voice dangerously, “What did you do?”

“Don’t be mad,” she holds a pregnant pause, “I’ve got this really cute boy – he’s a year behind us, by the way – and he’s working now in LA, Scott McCall – that’s double C in McCall, and I planned to introduce you two during dinner.”

“The fu- Allie!” You whisper-yell in the phone, “You’re gonna dump me and let me have dinner with a completely random person?”

Allie squeezes a few dry laughs over the speaker, “Eh- Sorry?”

“You better pray there’s no plane in three days because I’m going to crawl through the phone lines and strangle you if I have the chance.” You sputter a curse, “And burn all your K-pop albums.”

She gasps, “NOT THE ALBUMS!”

Typical Allie.

“Seriously though, you had the chance of meeting him two months ago... at an exhibition. The gallery downtown near the bakery? The Retro-modern Exhibition? The one you left early? It took him a lot of strength to get to me and then to you, so … just try, okay? If it doesn’t work out, it’s fine.” Allie sounds unlike her usual self, “If it works out … I guess you’d have a great story to tell your kids.” She can’t help but joke at the end.

“Yeah yeah, ha-ha, very funny.” With a sigh, you agree to her match-making plan, “Fine. But I really have to go back to work now, ‘kay?” You roll your eyes instinctively when the other end of the phone passes a squeaky “yes” to your ears, “I’ll be there on time. Dinner, six thirty, he’d better not be late.”

“You’re my life-saver. Mwah! Love ya’ bye!” After blowing a kiss via mid-air, Allie hangs up the phone as if fearing you will regret your decision in less than a second.

You end the call at the same moment the door to the conference room swings open, and out came a few executives for his real estate.

“Sorry, Mr. Hansen,” you put your phone into your pocket, straightening your shirt because you have been leaning on your desk. You know how much Lloyd hates disturbance, and creases on a shirt.

Lloyd purses his lips with a frown, an expression he wears often to indicate he’s not happy.

“If it’s okay for you, Mr. Hansen, I’d like to leave early today.” You request rather boldly.

For three years of your work as a secretary, the only other time you left early was a medical emergency of your mother. She fell down the stairs, hit her head, and had a broken femur. Though it wasn’t much of a big deal when she was transferred to a ward later, it scared the hell out of you to take the call from the local hospital, telling you your mother was sent to the ER in an ambulance.

Lloyd was generous enough to grant you a week of leave, but you got back on Day 5 after making sure your mother was well and taken care of.

“Is your family alright?” He asks, clearly still remembering the last time when you got kidnapped on the street, for which he had to assign Claire – a bright young lady, whom you’ve grown fond of over these past weeks – to act as your bodyguard and occasionally your assistant. Under Lloyd’s orders, she went to oversee the security cam installation at your apartment door.

“They are fine.” You suppose it’s better to tell him the truth regarding your leave, rather than having him meet you in his restaurant a few hours later, “I uh… have a date tonight.”

“A date?” He raises his eyebrows, repeating syllable by syllable, “A date, you say?”

“Yes, a date.” It feels like a betrayal all of a sudden, a betrayal of your work ethic. Your throat tightens, “Ahem, I’ll be leaving at five, if that’s alright with you, Mr. Hansen.”

Lloyd studies you for a moment.

“Okay.” He shrugs, sounding carelessly, “If you finish the work for today.”

You are pretty sure that there’s no more itinerary for either Hansen or you after this meeting, but you still play your role as a dutiful secretary and ask, “Anything else you would like me to do?”

“Call James and tell him to pick up the loan I gave out to the Dawson scum, five mil’ in cash or non-bearer bonds. If Dawson returns even one dime short, I want his arm broken. And deliver the drycleaning to my place by five tonight. Tell my butler, while you’re at it, he can hold off the repair down at the basement, this can wait till January. And,” he pauses, “I want you to tell Dani, head to her place personally, and tell her that I’m cancelling the Cuban appointment.”

“Yes, Mr. Hansen.” You pick up the landline straight away, ready to dial James’ number.

“You are not taking any notes whatsoever.” Lloyd narrows his eyes, “What are the tasks I just gave you?”

Lloyd seems extra grumpy today, plus you are not a note-taker anyway. You cover the speaker with your palm, though puzzled as to why he’s moody all of a sudden, but comply with his demands, “Call James, collect the debt from Dawson; get the drycleaning to your house by five, and tell your butler Marlin not to rush on the basement repair; and lastly, tell Dani you’re cancelling the Cuban appointment.” And you have no clue what this “Cuban” appointment is. Darn, Lloyd does keep a whole lot of secrets from you, “Anything else, Mr. Hansen?”

Fuck.

He sounds like fucking Cinderella’s stepmom dumping beans into the fireplace. Since when did he get off on ordering you around doing meaningless chores? He could perfectly do them himself, not to mention some of the biddings he has just told you were unnecessary – the basement repair? It was a damn doorknob getting stuck, not a pipeline that leaks like a faucet.

“Claire’s not here, take Avik with you.” He grumbles, returning to his office and slamming the door shut.

Avik is a silent, tanned man who often acts as Lloyd’s muscle. He emerges from thin air – or probably from some corner, standing rigidly behind you like a statue.

“Hey Avik, mind if I drive?” You put a warm smile on your face, swinging the car key on your finger.

Avik merely nods, gesturing that he’ll walk in front of you.

After picking up Lloyd’s drycleaning and telling Marlin the exact words from Lloyd's mouth, you head off to your next assignment.

Dani.

Dani is a woman approximately your age, speaks fluent Spanish, English, and Italian, probably a couple of other languages that you couldn’t understand too, and rumored to be Lloyd’s ex.

She is a charming lady living in a mansion away from the glamourous nightlife of LA, but not shy of parties. In fact, you’ve accompanied Lloyd to a few that she hosts, and if you ever need a party planner, she would be your No. 1 choice – if you can afford it.

You tap on the steering wheel somewhat anxiously, checking your watch. It’s five to six, and Dani’s residence is halfway across the city, and you have yet to finish the job that Lloyd told you to.

It feels like double standards when you explicitly told Allie that your date cannot be late.

Dani’s lovely butler, Mrs. Santos invited you in, leading you to the guest room.

“To what do I own this honor of having Lloyd’s personal assistant arriving at my place?” Dani flips her hair and giggles.

“Lloyd has sent me to tell you that,” you still remember the strange code phrase word by word, “He’s cancelling the Cuban appointment.”

Dani carefully studies you for a moment, before bursting out laughter, “He… He said that? The Cuban appointment?”

Darn, even when she’s laughing, she’s charming as always.

“Yes.” You answer her question, “If there’s no message you want me to forward to him, I’ll be out of your hair.”

Dani hangs a mysterious smile on the corner of her lips, her honey-toned skin practically gleaming as she speaks, “None. But if you don’t mind me asking, do you have any plans for tonight? I want to borrow you for one of my parties – you know,” she shrugs, “connections and all that.”

Dani’s parties are always filled with delightful cocktails and exquisite people she knows from all over the world. It’s a perfect chance to refresh your connections with all sorts of people – thieves, CEOs, fences, politicians - part of the reason why she asked you to stay.

Yet, you were already booked for tonight.

“Sorry,” you politely rejected, “I’d love to, but I have a date tonight.”

“Well, you-” Dani points at you with her perfectly manicured finger, sounding cheerful, “are welcome at my place, anytime. You can bring your date here even, if you need a place to chill.”

“Thank you, Dani.” You respond, “Have fun at your party.”

Dani cocks her head to the side. The bright flashy diamond earrings peek from under her hair, swaying as if they were about to fall. She hums thoughtfully before wishing you a pleasant evening.

As soon as you step out of her estate, Dani picks up her phone and dials Lloyd’s number, “I recall a certain someone claims that he needs absolutely no help landing a girl,” She twirls her hair around her fingertips, chuckling, “the Cuban appointment, Lloyd? Wow, you must be really desperate. Now, you want me to help you sabotage her date? That I can do...”

With Lady Luck by your side, you’ve successfully reached the restaurant five minutes early with someone already at your table, while Avik sits at a table on the other side of the aisle, keeping an eye on you.

“You must be Scott.” You pull your chair to sit, trying your best to ignore the bulk of muscles on your righthand-side, watching as the young man across the table hastily puts down his water glass and stands abruptly with his face flushed.

“H… Hi.” He can barely stop the grin on his face, “It’s so nice to finally meet you.”

Allie is right. He is cute.

Scott scratches the back of his head, plopping down on his seat, asking hesitantly, “If this is not too intrusive, how did you get a reservation? My friend has been dying to try this place for a week and the nearest spot available is three months later.”

“My boss is a close friend of the restaurant manager.” Lloyd practically runs this place. The manager gets scared shitless every time he needs to deliver the quarterly books to Lloyd and he asks you to do it in his place. Hence, he’s greatly in your debt. But you are not going to tell Scott you work for the largest gang in the city, so you feign your interest and ask, “What about you? Allie didn’t tell me what you do for a living.”

His face goes flushed pink again, “I uh… I work as an assistant curator,” he adds, “but I paint.”

“Oh really? That sounds fun. What do you paint?”

Scott chats on and on about his love for contemporary art and various ways of making a beautiful moment permanent when you notice Avik stands up and leaves.

“… sorry,” you apologize to Scott, for you have missed the question he asks, having paid too much attention to the bodyguard Avik who doesn’t seem like returning, “what was that again?”

Scott shuts his mouth momentarily before managing a small smile, “I was just thinking that we should get the waiter. Is there anything you like on the menu?”

The food was divine, and the wine was savory too. Though the waiters seemed a little distracted – you guessed it was probably their boss telling them to stay away from your table for you to enjoy your date. After exchanging pleasant conversations, you know it’s time to end this lovely date.

Before getting the check and leaving, you excuse yourself to freshen up.

Scott nods with his curls bouncing.

Scott is nice.

He is smart, funny, and cute with his untamed curls.

You put on a thin layer of lipstick. Looking into the mirror, the polite smile breaks away when you watch your reflection.

Scott is a decent guy. Why don’t you like him?

A vague outline rises in your head, before evaporating.

Stop it. You tell yourself. Scott is a nice guy. You should enjoy this date.

Only when your figure disappears behind a few tables, did someone sit on your spot.

“Evening.” A moustache man traces his finger on the cup from which you drank, crossing his legs, “Scotty, right?”

Scott clenches his hand on the arm of his chair, but Avik appears quietly behind him, grabbing his shoulders to have him sit down. A hard piece of metal is pressed to the back of his head. It doesn’t take much common sense to understand that Avik has a gun pointing at him.

“Don’t get all flustered,” Lloyd pours some wine into both glasses, “I’m just here to… be nice.” A wicked grin creeps up his lips as Lloyd continues, “The woman who you’re dating tonight?”

Scott gulps, squeezing a “yeah” out of his teeth.

“That’s my girl.” Lloyd dead-pans, massaging the light smudge of your lipstick on the glass, “So, if you have any wrong idea, or any thoughts about her…” Lloyd has a cold gleam in his eyes, shakes his head and tuts, “Don’t.”

Poor Scott has his face drained of colors. His lips quivering, “I-I’m not- I don’t want to be part of this…”

“Good.” Lloyd smirks. Drinking from your glass, he licks his lips to savour the sweet honey taste of your lipstick, before giving his final order, “Now be a good boy, say your ‘nighty night’s, and get the fuck out of my turf.”

“Boss.” Avik’s eyes dart to the lavatory, signalling that you are approaching this table.

“Aaaand that’s my cue.” Lloyd stands up from the chair, looking content, “Keep this little interaction between us, will ya’?” He pouts, “I’d hate if she gets upset.”

By the time you reach this table, Scott sweats in buckets like he has just been to a sauna.

“Is everything alright?” You can’t help but ask.

“Yeah… yeah.” Scott could barely mask his trembling voice, or keep his eye contact, “I’m … feeling uncomfortable… right now.”

“Is it the food? Do you need to go to the bathroom?”

“No… I mean, I think so. The asparagus was raw.” Scott wipes the sweat off his pale face, “It’s been lovely, but …”

Your eyes dart to the table where Avik was sitting. Nope, he isn’t there. For a second you thought that Avik might have terrorized Scott into backing out. Such a stupid idea, why would Avik do that? You throw this thought to the back of your head, before suggesting if Scott needs a lift home, or to the hospital.

Scott nearly jumps from his spot upon hearing the offer, which confuses you as he avoids speaking or looking at you, as if you were a plague.

He takes his belongings, bids you good night before sprinting out of the restaurant.

What the fuck have you done???

You trouble yourself with the question when Avik returns to your side without a single sound, “Avik, I was wondering where you’ve been.”

“The backroom where I can observe the surveillance footage, ma’am.” His voice booms, “Shall I drive you home?”

“Yes, I suppose.” You sigh.

Avik gestures for you to walk, but you stop in your tracks.

“Avik?”

“Yes, Ma’am?”

“Did you have any food yet?”

You did not see him ordering anything when he was sitting across the aisle, nor do you believe that he’d risk losing his job over some half-cooked asparagus.

“… No Ma’am.”

You pinch the bridge of your nose. The exhaustion of trying to satisfy Lloyd’s tasks and doubting whether he’s being paranoid again takes over you for so long, you seem to lose a little bit of human emotions – neglecting dutiful Avik, as a result.

“Sorry about that, Avik.” You apologize, feeling slightly better that you’ve come to your senses after a long day, “I’ll have them prepare something vegan for takeaway.”

“…thank you, Ma’am.”

Grabbing a waiter passing by, you tell him about your request, before resting on your chair.

Out of sheer boredom, you tap on your glass, scraping the lipstick smudge off the crystal-clear surface with a used napkin.

Avik coughs as if he has just choked on his own spit.

“Everything alright, Avik?”

It seems like you’ve said this for the second time tonight.

“Yes. Ahem. Yes, all is well.” Avik clears his throat uncomfortably.

“Because you can totally have tonight off. I’m more than capable of driving home myself.” You offer sweetly, expecting him to take the suggestion and leave you here.

“Thank you, Ma’am.” Avik replies rigidly, his shirt collar tightening around his tanned skin as he speaks, “Thank you, but your safety is my priority.”

You should have known better than to negotiate with Lloyd’s muscle. They follow his orders like workers around a queen bee. Pursing your lips together, you decide not to spend time bargaining with Avik, but scroll on social media to distract yourself.

Avik lets out a long, slow exhale when you are focusing on your phone. He’s great at bodyguarding, but terrible at being a double agent.

The takeaway package arrives shortly – or it could be you are too tied up in the TikTok drama to notice time slipping away from the tip of your fingers. Avik takes the wheel while you sit in the back, trying hard not to think about the sudden change in Scott’s attitude.

It’s not like you don’t enjoy Scott’s company. You do. But Scott’s dashing out of the restaurant leaves a certain impression that you don’t think you’d forget anytime soon. Maybe the food was raw. Or burned. Or he had some pills. Still, it doesn’t explain why he ran out of the place like a bloodhound was chasing him.

Or is there something wrong with you? Something he’d grow repulsive of?

“Stop the car, please.” The thoughts in your head are preventing you from breathing. With Avik’s puzzled frown in the rearview mirror, you shrug, “You can go park the car. I want to have a little walk and some fresh air.”

After what must be an internal debate in Avik’s silence, he slowly stops at the curb, agreeing for you to have your fresh air.

The street is silent, not a living soul in sight. You close your eyes and breathe in the fresh air.

Oh well, maybe the air is not so fresh after all, with the smell of gasoline and dust and … smoke?

You turn around.

Lloyd’s Rolls-Royce follows you like a toddler in small steps, with a hand outstretched from the window that flicks his cigarette stub to the curb.

“Mr. Hansen?” You could’ve been dreaming. Why would Lloyd’s car follow you? Why – “What are you doing here?”

Lloyd steps out of the vehicle, popping a peppermint into his mouth. Crushing the candy with his jaw, he mumbles, “Just having a late-night stroll.”

A ridiculous idea comes into mind, and you ask in disbelief: “Are you following me?”

“No.” Lloyd stares at you straight into your eyes, but you’ve seen him lie better, “This is my turf. And you can’t ban me from patrolling my own territory.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes.

Sure. Patrolling. Very convincing. He just happened to stumble in front of your apartment building among hundreds of thousands of streets.

“Of course.” Maybe it’s the wine, because for crying out loud you would be tongue-tied if you were to say this at work, but the sarcasm drips out of your tone like water out of a broken faucet, because you are not in the mood. At all. “Good night, Mr. Hansen.”

“I had a great night.” Since he counts the scurrying of one horny young man as a win, Lloyd casually drops, “Can’t say the same about you.”

What the heck is wrong with him?

Now it’s definitely the wine that does the talking, as you poke him square in the chest with your index finger, your voice littered with fury, “It’s after-hours, and you don’t own my after-hours, in case you don’t have a watch, okay?”

Lloyd offers his characteristic lop-sided smile, “What - you’re gonna buy me one?”

“No?!” You huff out in disbelief. Has he taken hallucinating drugs? Why on earth is he acting funny? “This is not - look, Mr. Hansen-”

Lloyd steps closer. You get that whiff of smoke from his body, and the musky cologne that he occasionally uses in rare circumstances, and your words somehow get stuck in your throat.

“Lloyd.” He pronounces his name, loud and clear, “C’mon sunshine, lllllloyd.”

Lloyd. The name rolls to the tip of your tongue. It feels natural and soft, unlike Lloyd Hansen himself. But the syllable drives your heartbeat wild. He is your boss. You are obligated to call him Mr. Hansen.

Well, maybe not obligated. But you would feel more comfortable calling him Mr. Hansen. The name Lloyd sounds like an over-step of your work relationship.

Your work. Your beloved secretary job. Which is fine. Which you enjoy, as you handle his affairs with some effort. But the name. He’s asking you to call him Lloyd and that sounds more intimate than what you should be calling your boss.

“I- ” You are at a loss of words. What does he want? Does he want you to be his mistress? Which is ridiculous, because you don’t want to be the type of canary living in a birdcage and sing for him whenever he pleases. More importantly, he cannot be having thoughts about you – or does he want this to be a one-night thing where he could pull up his pants and comment on how long since he had a good fuck?

-stop it. It’s an insane thought. He’s not interested. So are you.

You accidentally look at his eyes, and you recognize the burning desire rooting deep down. It scorches you instantly as your eyes meet, before you lower your head to avoid the demanding gaze.

“You’re my boss…” You mutter weakly, knowing well that this stupid excuse does not prevent you from enjoying (or feeling safe at) Lloyd’s presence – most of the time, when he’s not bloody or throwing punches – or from the plain fact that maybe, just maybe that you feel a little different towards him, and that for the briefest of moments, you wished that he was sitting across the dinner table tonight, taking you out on a date.

Lloyd’s expression goes still for a second.

You can’t tell whether he’s mad or upset.

He sighs, taking a step towards you to close the space between you two, before framing your face in his hands and whispering in frustration, “God, you’re so dumb.”

His lips are soft, contrary to his mean words. They land on you with a bitter taste of burned tobacco, as his tongue swipes the seam of your lips, forcing an embarrassing mewl out of you.

It felt like Lloyd and his roughness. It felt like an iceberg breaking into chucks, whales lifting their head to breathe and the dam that withholds feelings inside your head cracks. It felt … right.

He slowly breaks away the kiss, sighing again, right next to your lips, his moustache making your cheek itch.

“Am I about to get a kick in the balls?” He asks softly, nose gently rubbing on yours.

“No…no.” Not that you don’t want to, because how dares he! Following you and kissing you like that! But because your head turning into a warm mush.

“Good.” He nibbles on your lips, you can feel his lips curving into a smile, “ ’cause I kinda like them.”

“Hmm?”

“Never mind.” He lands another kiss on you before pulling away. The bad-boy grin visible on his face.

You feel like you need to say something. Anything. So, you open your mouth and: “Do you want … a cup of coffee at my place?”

Lloyd cocks his eyebrows in surprise, but there’s no way he’d let slip of this chance, “Sure, why not.”

The mush in your brain refuses to leave. Your body acts on auto-pilot, leading you away from him.

You don’t even notice that he’s not following you this time, until he calls your name out of the blue, with a hint of amusement in his tone.

“Yes, Mr. Hansen?”

Lloyd decides to let slip of your poor choice of words this time, simply pointing his thumb in the other direction: “Your home is this way.”

Taglist (Also tagging those who might be interested): @stargazingfangirl18 @sarahdonald87 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @magnificentsaladllama @biteofcherry @petalj @jaqui-has-a-conspiracy-theory @thezombieprostitute @yiiiikesmish @warriorblu @vonalyn @notathingjustthere @lokislady82 @irishhappiness @toozmanykids @alicedopey @cakesandtom @universitypenguin @openup-yourmind @helenaeisenhower @wilsons-striped-ties @tittittoee @bean-is-reading @yearningforsappho @esposadomd @salvatoreitmeanssaviour

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[soberscientistlife]

“This is my great-grandma, Christina Levant Platt at age 100, weeding her garden. She was born into slavery. Her “owner” was a wife that taught my great grandma to read and write secretly, which was illegal and quite dangerous at that time for both of them. She learned to read the Bible. She had 11 children, she lost two, one son was one of the first black attorneys in US. She sent the 4 boys to college in Boston. Exceptional in those days. She passed 5yrs before I was born but I love her as if I knew her. Family tells me she would say “ I put prayers on my children’s children’s heads”. This apparently worked💜 Around April 12, 1861, Christina was at the 1st battle of the CIVIL WAR, in Fort Sumter at Charleston Bay, South Carolina, working in the cotton fields. She said “the sky was black as night” from cannonball fire. She saw a man decapitated by a cannonball. She was the water girl for the other slaves as a young girl and “ the lookout” for the slaves in the fields for the approaching overseer on horseback as they secretly knelt and prayed for their freedom. She would watch for the switching tail of the approaching horse and would alert the slaves to rise up and return to picking cotton before he saw them. She eventually married a Native American from the Santee Tribe. John C, Platt. After freedom, Christina insisted upon taking her children north as she knew they would not get a good education in the south, and that’s all she cared about. She died at age 101 in 1944, where she and her husband had built a home in Medfield, Massachusetts, the first black family to move there. With great respect, I honor my great grandmother. So much more I could say about this miraculous woman. She gave me much strength in my hard times. Whenever I thought I was having a hard day, I would think of her and shrug it off. Thank you for reading one story of millions. 💜” -Brenda Russell❤🧡❤

She lived an amazing life. I admire her just from reading this

[demonicbaby666]

The New Recruit

One shot | Marvel Masterlist | Masterlists

Fandom: Marvel

Pairing: Natasha Romanoff x fem!Reader

Genre: Angst and Comfort

Words: 2.1k+

Warnings: broken bones

Summary: After losing another fight in a training session y/n loses her composure, but thankfully Nat is there to help. This is just a little short comfort fic really.

A/n: Finally finished my first Nat fic! It's not great cause I just haven't been in the mood to write but hoping y'all enjoy. Thank you @fayhar for the idea. It's not really proof read so lmk if there are any mistakes 💜

It was training day at the Avengers compound, and once again you were down on your luck. The new recruits were all exemplary, usually, that included you, though it seemed the last few days had proven more difficult than the rest. The training regime hadn’t changed, slightly intensified maybe but it was nothing you couldn’t handle. Being a widow had taught you everything you needed to know combat wise, it was the mental toll of having your cognition back that was affecting you. 

Training sessions mainly took place in the morning and were brutal, there was no time for mistakes, if you failed you went again and again. It had become clear you were falling behind, sparing person after person and ending up battered and bruised every single time. It was safe to say, going from the top recruit to the worst in the span of a few days was enough to throw you into a whirlwind of merciless anger. It clouded your field senses which was how you ended up laying here, on the solid ground, defeated once again by Steve. 

The world around you spun from the hard contact your head had made with the tarmac, and you could barely focus on the face above you and the words he was spluttering out. Before you could tell your body to do otherwise, you were back on your feet in a fighter stance, knees braced for contact, arms held up for protection. You told yourself you were impenetrable and prayed you would believe it. 

A fist came towards you, miss-timing your dodge another unrelenting force made direct contact with your face, knocking the wind out of your lungs. Your whole body collided with the floor once again and hazy memories of a false past mixed with mind controlled induced killings flooded your mind. Innocent, they’d been innocent, and you killed them with no remorse. There was no second guesses, just carrying out your orders, executioner style, one bullet straight to the head over and over. 

A voice pulled you out of the mayhem taking place within your head. 

“Stay down y/l/n.” Steve whispered, “I don’t want to hurt you again.” 

If you weren’t angry before you sure as hell were now. Hurt you? He had to nerve to think the blows were enough to hurt you? It was child’s play at best next to what you’d been through before. 

“ME? You think you can hurt me?” 

The words were spat out with pure hatred, looking up and shooting daggers at him you ground your teeth together, getting ready to stand back up. Steve’s hand pushed against your chest trying to keep you from rising. The pitiful display of care pushed you into a fit of rage. When you looked back up at him you didn’t see his face, instead rage warped him into the person you most wanted to hurt, Dreykov.

With ease and speed you grabbed his wrist and twisted it, a keening cry echoed in your ears and a scream of agony came from Steve as he doubled over in pain. Every trainees’ eyes widened as they registered what was happening before them. Bruised and cuts were one thing, but broken bones… It wasn’t a common occurrence to say the least, especially amongst the trainers let alone the trainees. 

Anger was still fuelling you as you climbed on top of Steve and got ready to throw punch after punch. 

“Stop!” Natasha’s voice echoed across the training field, when it finally reached you the rage started to slip away, the ferocious fire that clouded your judgement was suddenly gone and left behind was regret and guilt as you looked at the mess you had just created. 

Her hands reached out and latched onto your waist, she pulled you off Steve within a split seconds and led you away from the group. Sets of trainee’s eyes never leaving you. 

Nat pushed the door open to the locker room, still holding your hand, she pulled you inside. “Sit.” She said perching herself down on the bench. There was no reason to object, lord knows you didn’t have the energy to, so you did as you were instructed.

Up until now you hadn’t looked her in the eyes, or anyone for that matter, so when your eyes locked with green orbs all the shame began to spiral in the pit of your stomach. Bile rose up as Steve’s scream echoed in your mind and the reality of what you’d done settled in. Not wanting to feel the full force of her gaze you adverted your eyes and tried to blink away the tears that were threating to spill past your water line. 

The flats of her thumbs came to your face and ran along your cheeks, wiping at the stray tears that refused to do as instructed. Ever so gently, she settled her hands on either side of your face and placed her head to yours. 

“I’m a monster Nat.” the words passed your lips as a whisper, too afraid to hear your own confession, “The things I’ve done, they’re catching up with me.”

There were a few moments of silence that followed, the only sounds coming from the room were your short-broken breaths and echoes from outside the door. The training seemed to continue, though a female voice was now shouting commands. Steve probably had to go get his wrist sorted out. You winced at the memory of his wrist snapping and tried to pull away from Nat, alas her hands held you in place. 

“Listen to me,” it was assertive yet soft, the words were encapsulated in a blanket of comfort and a hint of something you couldn’t quite pinpoint, maybe sadness, regret, “We’ve all done things, things we regret. That doesn’t make you a monster, it makes you human. You weren’t in control; you had no control and we both know you wouldn’t do any of those things willingly.” 

Her thumbs lightly brushed more tears away. You pulled away your head back so you could look directly into emerald eyes, “What if I would? I lost control back there and look what I did to Steve.” 

Her eyes searched yours, “Y/n you wouldn’t. And if it was ever a possibility, I wouldn’t let you.” 

Everything was telling you to flee this newfound intimacy, that you didn’t deserve it, this was too good for you. Everything she was saying was a lie, you were and are a monster. After everything you’d done you didn’t deserve this moment with Nat, she was too good for you. As much as you wanted to back away something was shouting and clawing at you to enjoy this, that this was right. 

It was the first time you had felt something of this magnitude, comfort was not an easy thing to come by. It almost foreign among the widows. When you first got to the compound it had taken some getting used to, people weren’t exactly open with their feelings, but they weren’t immune to them either and the same could be said for the widows. There wasn’t time for feelings among assassins, so they were removed, specifically the ‘undesirable’ ones. So what was occurring within you right now was a very new thing. 

The feelings of sadness that were homing in on every part of your body were far from easy to manage. Reining them in was the desired outcome but it was not as easy as it once had been. This feeling was intense and unavoidable, your whole body to was responding to it, weighing in your chest were memories of the past and all you wanted was to feel numb again, to be able to not feel at all. Be a machine. 

Being with Nat, it helped, in some ways she understood. That’s partially why you didn’t move. You sought comfort in her eyes and the feel of her fingers against your face. They were warm and soft as they brushed over your cheeks time and time again. The tears had stopped flowing and were soaked into your skin, the only indication you’d been crying was the salty residue left behind and your puffier eyes. 

A slight tingle buzzed through your body and settled in your stomach, the heaviness in your chest transformed into warmth as you stared into Nat’s caring, compassionate eyes, there was no judgement or contempt in sight. It had been quiet for a fair few minutes but within that time your whole body had managed to calm down, something you believed it incapable of. 

Without meaning to, your eyes wandered her face, notching how her hair was thrown into a bun with small strands of hair were cascading over her face. There were beads of sweat on her head from training and her eyebrows were slightly furrowed. She studied your face as you studied hers, subconsciously burning the memory of having her so close into your mind and locking away every small detail of her beauty. Who knew when you would have another moment like this with her. 

Finally, your eyes settled on her lips, the soft pinks were pleasantly greeted by her tongue as she salaciously dampened them. Fuck being careful, today had already been a shitshow. What’s one more risky move, at least this one wouldn’t result in a broken wrist, well worst case it’d be your wrist. You placed both hands on Nat’s neck and surged forward crashing your lips on hers. Her body instantly froze, shocked from the sudden contact. 

Regret set in again and just as you were about to pull away her lips began to move against yours. Her head tilted to the side and her lips parted as she started to kiss back. Your stomach jumped into your throat. This feeling was unlike any you had ever experienced, it was filled with worry, excitement, and confusion. All the feelings merged together and formed knots in your stomach whilst your whole body simultaneously burned with a passion you’d never felt before.

The kiss was slow at first. Yet there was still a strong pang of passionate held within it. The intensity started to pick up very quickly. She gripped onto your waist pulling your bodies closer whilst your hands moved to nestle into her hair, pulling her lips impossibly closer. The noises that were once the only thing that filled the room faded away and the world around you disappeared. All you knew was the new sensations that were invading your very being. 

The space between your bodies was obviously getting to Nat as she continues to pull and pull at your waist. Before you knew it, your leg was flung over hers and you were sat straddling her, porcelain hands planted on your ass. 

When you parted her lips with your tongue and explored her mouth a small moan escaped from her lips and travelled straight to your core. Between the lack of oxygen you were getting and the arousal growing between your legs, the room began to spin. You pulled you lips away and opened your eyes peering down at Nat. Her chest was rising and falling at a rapid pace similar to yours, though she didn’t seem to care as she latched onto the soft skin of your neck. 

You were losing yourself more and more in this moment, hips grinding forwards and backwards for reasons unknown to you. Your breathing was rapid, never having been able to recover from the kiss. When Nat started sucking on your ear lobe uncontrollable timid mews left your lips. 

“Nat, wait, wait.” It came out through ragged breathes and not half as strong as you wanted it to, but the message was clear, “Not here.”

She placed one soft kiss to your neck then locked eyes with you before placing a chaste kiss to you lips and smirking. Her eyes travelled around the room and she quietly chuckled, “Not exactly the classiest of places.”

Her laugh was warm and it was impossible to contain the smile growing on your lips. You craned your neck and rested your forehead to hers, finally catching your breath. “You know, if I knew breaking Steve’s wrist would have led to this, I would have done it way sooner.”

There it was again, that laugh. Rippling through the locker room and echoing in your ears. She removed a hand from your ass and tentatively tucked a piece of hair behind you ears, sending those familiar tingles through your body causing you to contently hum at the little, but important, comfort it brought you. 

“You’re training with me from now on.” She said with a grin before reconnecting her lips to yours.

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#marvel #Natasha romanoff #natasha x reader #Natasha romanoff x you #natasha romanoff x reader #natasha romanoff angst #natasha romanoff comfort #natasha romanoff fluff #natasha romanoff fanfic #scarlett johannsen #black widow x you #black widow x reader #black widow #avengers #fanfiction #saphhic #wlw fanfic #fanfic #marvel fanfics #marvel fanfiction #Natasha romanoff x y/n #Natasha romanoff imagines

[two-white-butterflies]

coaxed you into paradise - c. 17

Description: The life of Saera Targaryen told in four acts. She was her father's forgotten daughter, cast aside as she looked nothing like her mother. Her younger days were spent beside her uncle. Years following her marriage with Ser Harwin Strong, she catches him in an affair with her older sister. She returns to seek solace in the arms of her uncle, that she's loved all her life.

(Coaxed You Into Paradise and High Infidelity Rewrite.)

masterlist for this series

Chapter Seventeen: Battle of Birth

Saera spent the last months of her pregnancy bedridden, by this time there were bags underneath her eyes and the pain of having a child was too toilsome for her. Daemon is reminded of the Targaryen curse - that having dragon children was against all laws of nature. He takes a swig of his ale, allowing the bitterness to seep down his throat. 

A maid of pale-skin ran towards the Prince, with her eyes cast on the floor. “M-my prince,” she stuttered while grabbing the sides of her gown. His eyebrow raises, a scowl playing on his face at the rude interruption. “Spit it out child, lest it be your tongue.” he threatened with familiar hostility. 

The maid takes a deep breath, eyes looking everywhere except his. “Lady Mysaria says that - the Princess has begun her labors.” the woman chokes out, but before she could make any other movements - the Rogue Prince was already marching to her chambers. Daemon never cared about children. He found them annoying and irresponsible, but for some reason - he seemed to care about this one. 

He kicks the door open - ignoring the confused stares from the midwives he imported from Pentos. He looked at her body, she was pale as a ghost - he could almost see through her skin. He’d think that she was dead if it weren’t for the rising and falling of her chest - but still, it was too erratic, it was clear that she was having a hard time. His eyes softened, he wanted to touch, hold and whisper sweet nothings to her. 

Daemon wasn’t a maester or a midwife, but he knew that her condition was dire - that if the children refused to come out today, her chances of living are slim. He takes a deep breath. He opens his mouth to speak, but instead of talking to her - he grabs the midwife’s hand. “What is going on?” he interrogates, ignoring the man’s blood soaked hands. None of the grime and dirt mattered - only his dragon’s life. 

“Princess Saera is having hard labor, my prince.” the woman answered with hidden fear. The people at court found his antics strange - he shouldn’t care deeply about a child that wasn’t his. 

“A hard labor? Like Queen Aemma’s?” he insinuated. 

His fear of losing her was too great. It would ruin him someday. To the woman’s credit, she didn’t have another round of words with the Prince - instead she ordered the other midwives to send him away and call for Ser Harwin who was in the Capital. 

His eyes catch a wisp of Saera. She nods her head, smiling weakly at him. “Go kepus, I can handle this.” she smiles with softness and he relents - his hands reaching for the door and twisting it. He couldn’t be there - he’d cry too much and ask to hold the babe first. 

—

Daemon didn’t believe in gods, even if they were real - they were merciless and undeserving of praise. But this one time, he finds himself kneeling on the floor, with his hands near his eyes, preventing the tears from spilling out. Luckily, there was a small chapel in Dragonstone - near the coast with the Statue of the Seven Gods. 

‘Please’ he prays, ignoring the strange looks from other worshippers. ‘Please let our child live until five and two or seventy and two. Let them live a full grown life.’ he prayed, feeling his agony seep through the station of the Mother. 

The mother guides little children. 

But the mother never guides women. She didn’t guide his mother, Alyssa, or his good-sister, Aemma. His eyes open - staring at her cold statuesque eyes. Was there still hope? Or was it a thing of the righteous? 

He couldn’t feel the sincerity of his prayers, only despair. That was the bitter thing about being faithless - there was no one to save you, no one to pray to, not even faith to look for guidance. Only yourself. 

This wasn’t the first time Daemon Targaryen prayed. When his mother gave birth to his brother: Aegon (stillborn) he prayed too. He asked the father, mother and stranger for guidance. He asked them to take him instead - for his mother had eyes of summer, but the gods failed him. 

‘This is your chance of redemption,’ he thinks as if he was conversing with the gods at that very moment. A little negotiation to ensure that the love of his life wouldn’t lose the battle of birth. In the back of his mind, he promised to give the gods everything - even his own life. 

To the mother, he promised a shrine. To the stranger, a new statue. 

All just to make sure that Saera and her child would live. 

‘Please’ he begged, but the gods were cruel and unjust. 

—

Saera held the little boy close to her chest - it’s been an hour since the babe was born, but the midwife tells her that there’s another one. She heaves at the sensation of another babe coming out of her. She closed her eyes for a second, feeling the warmth of her babe on her chest - and the warmth of another one coming. 

A shrill cry comes out - echoing through the room. 

“A girl, my lady.” she informs, and the tears began to flow from her eyes. Saera’s lips shudder and the midwife brings the child closer. Daegon had pale-blonde hair, and dark-lilac eyes. His cry was the loudest the realm has ever known, a permanent frown was etched on his face - earning a chuckle from his muña. Alyssa was different - though her cry was shrill at first, Saera knew that she’d be the patient one, as it was evident with the smile on her face. 

She could hear the door slightly open - and the figure of her kepa walked slowly towards them. “Two?” Daemon asked, wiping the tears away from his face. “Daegon and Alyssa,” she smiled, pressing a kiss on both of their foreheads. “Tis unfair, I’m the one who's bleeding and they look nothing like me.” she huffed - he placed his hand atop her head, staring at the two gifts in Saera’s arms. 

“Daegon looked like you - when you were a babe.” he informed with an amused smile. There was a petulant frown on the babe’s face, a mirror of his mother as a child. “They are the sweetest thing I've ever seen.” she cooed, already wrapped around the tiny finger of her twins. 

“Alyssa looks like you - if you smiled more.” she hummed, watching as the servants flee her quarters, giving the both of them privacy. Daemon exchanged a soft stare with his beloved. “Now, give them to their kepa while you rest.” he pleaded, quickly taking the twins off her arms with ease. They were light - like dragon-eggs and he feared that he’d drop them accidentally. 

“Don’t wander too far, kepa.” she hums. 

—

His mother, Alyssa taught them how to be dragon-riders. She flew him on dragonback mere days after his birth - but his children were different, they were more dragon than men. He smiles, cleaning their little bodies and wrapping them in brand new clothes. Alyssa in red, and Daegon in black. His children were paragons of royalty. 

His dragon, Caraxes, was singing to Melarys - Daemon felt bad for interrupting their romance. “Caraxes,” he opened his mouth - keeping the twins close to his body and secure with a carrier made of cloth. 

Both dragons began to turn at him - staring at his chest. 

Melarys was the first to roar, smelling the scent of her rider on him. She was giving birth too - at the same time as Saera. There were three eggs inside their nest, and she was hiding it from Daemon. “I’m not here for you, girl.” he breathes, keeping his distance since Saera wasn’t with him. 

“We’re going riding,” he announces to Caraxes - earning a roar of disapproval from the dragon’s lover. He pulls on Caraxes’ saddle - ensuring that he’d be safe. He boards the dragon, patting his lightly as they took flight. 

Daemon was proud of his heritage. He’s even prouder now that he had children to share it with. 

next chapter>>

taglist. @sweetybuzz25 @newtsniffles @loveandlewis-reads @lovecleastrange @julkaamazing @schniiipsel @mirandastuckinthe80s @areaderinlove @i-yam-awesome @ladystardvsts @gracielikegrapes @sweethoneyblossom1 @issybee0611 @tato0od @daemonskelitsos @delaynew @thisbihreadstoomuch @plutoscosmos @immyowndefender @marvelescvpe @batmans-love @marvelescvpe @luanasrta @tesha-i-guess

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#daemon targaryen x oc #daemon targaryen #prince daemon targaryen #daemon targaryen headcanon #daemon targaryen fic #daemon targaryen smut #daemon targaryen imagine #daemon targaryen fanfic #daemon targaryen fluff #house targaryen #house of the dragon #daemon headcanons #daemon prince #daemonism #hotd daemon

[diaday333]

Hymns/prayers for the Dead

I’ve never really considered reading/ writing hymns for the dead because I guess I never “needed” them, but with the tragic events going on the world right now, multiple gen-c-des and atrocities, I’ve felt moved to write these. Like I said in my last prayer post, keep speaking up, b0yc0tting, and keep praying! You can technically apply these prayers with any dead, but I had the m@rtyrs of Su-dan, Con- go, Ethiopia, and Pale - stine (breaking them up on purpose) in mind, as well as anyone else who have lost their lives due to the terrible events going on in this world and from their oppression. Also, sorry for any spelling or grammar errors.

—————————————————————————————————————

We call to Hermes Kαταιβάτης (he who leads souls down to the underworld), guider of souls. Immortal guide, lover of humankind, you take special care of us when we leave this earth, and your involvement shows the Gods’ love of humankind, as there is a God with us every step of the way, even after our deaths. Gracious God, during these times we ask for your grace, and for you to take extra care of the souls that find their way past the river Styx. Everyday now, thousands of people die from acts of cruelty from oppressors emboldened by hubris. We ask you to treat these souls with added care, especially those of children, taken from life too early, while you escort them to the dread queen's home or wherever their final resting place may lie. Charm them with your wand and bless their heavy eyelids, bringing them a peaceful end for their final rest. Oh Lord, guider of mortals, grant a sacred end to those who lived the best they could.

(Greek pronunciation: Kah-teh-vah-tiis(ees))

—————————————————————————————————————

To the Savior of the dead and the noble queen herself, we call to you! Dread Persephone and shadowy Hades, though you may not take every soul into your wide walls, you watch over the dead nonetheless, those who wander your fields of flowers. We thank you for your mercy towards our souls, notably of the most restless ones. We ask that they can find joy in the afterlife, especially those who were robbed of it. Not only do you take in these souls, Lovely Persephone, you exact justice on their behalf, with your kindly attendants, or daughters in some ways, the Erinyes, especially during these harrowing times. All we ask is for justice and a peaceful afterlife for the many martyred people of all the atrocities going on. We thank you, Hades and fair-tressed Persephone!

—————————————————————————————————————

“Fear the prayers of the oppressed.” I heard that today and I thought it fit. The Gods are with us and the oppressed during these times 🤲 They hear every prayer and they are outraged as we are. Keep up every action and don’t forget about our fellow humans suffering and don’t stop fighting!! No act of oppression goes past them and they hear everything. It’s been almost a year for Su-Dan, almost 6 months, 160+ days for Pale - stine, and years for Con-go. The Gods count each day and count each person who say and do nothing. I just want add some of my favorite excerpts that get me through these hard times and reminds me that the Gods care (which we already knew, but yknow).

“The gods are not blind to men with blood upon their hands. In the end the black (kelainai) Erinyes bring to obscurity that one who has prospered in unrighteousness and wear down his fortunes by reverse.” - Aeschylus, “Agamemnon”

“Hear, Tisiphone, Allekte, noble Megaira, revered goddesses whose Bacchic cries resound. Nocturnal and clandestine, you live deep down in the dank cave by the sacred water of the Styx. Men's unholy designs do incur your anger; rabid and arrogant, you howl over Necessity's dictates, clothed in animal skins, you cause the deep pains of retribution.” - (First part of) Orphic hymn 69

“Hear me and be gracious, 0 renowned Eumenides, O pure daughters of the great Chthonic Zeus and of lovely Persephone, fair-tressed maiden. Over the lives of impious mortals you keep a careful eye, in charge of Necessity, you punish the unjust.”

(First part of) Orphic hymn 70

“For whoever knows the right and is ready to speak it, far-seeing Zeus gives him prosperity…” - Hesiod “Work and days”

“You princes, mark well this punishment you also; for the deathless gods are near among men and mark all those who oppress their fellows with crooked judgements, and reck not the anger of the gods. For upon the bounteous earth Zeus has thrice ten thousand spirits, watchers of mortal men, and these keep watch on judgements and deeds of wrong as they roam, clothed in mist, all over the earth. And there is virgin Justice, the daughter of Zeus, who is honoured and reverenced among the gods who dwell on Olympus, and whenever anyone hurts her with lying slander, she sits beside her father, Zeus the son of Cronos, and tells him of men's wicked heart, until the people pay for the mad folly of their princes who, evilly minded, pervert judgement and give sentence crookedly.” - Hesiod “Works and Days”

#palestine #free palestine #gaza #Sudan #dont forget about sudan #eyes on sudan #pray for palestine #pray for sudan #free congo #eyes on congo #pray for congo #ethiopia #eyes on ethiopia #hellenic polytheist #hellenic paganism #hellenism #current events #deity worship #erinyes #Hellenic hymns #Hellenic prayers #deity hymns #deity prayers #Persephone deity #hades deity #hermes deity #hellenic pagan #hellenic polytheism #free gaza

[khaire-traveler]

Hey! I'm really sorry to bother but do you know any greek or norse gods that are linked to like medicine or healing or something along those lines?

I'll be honest, I tend to ask you a lot considering I like knowing that there are other people out there who believe in what I believe in but if you'd prefer I ask someone else or go to google I really won't take offense, that's totally okay ^^

Hey, friend! Absolutely no worries! I love answering questions. c:

Apollo is a god of healing. He is often referred to as the Physician of the Gods. Whenever I'm struggling a lot with something health-related, I pray to him, and he often helps quickly. I would definitely recommend reaching out to him.

The next one is Asklepios (Asclepius). He is actually the son of Apollo and is a god of medicine and healing specifically. He specializes in health and is perfect to seek help from for anything health-related. From what I've heard, he's really good at things relating to medications - remembering to take meds, finding meds that work for you, etc. - but he can help with anything relating to one's health.

For the Norse pantheon, the only health deity I know of is the goddess Eir. She has impeccable medical skill, and I know of many people who seek her help when ill or at risk for illness. I've been told she's very compassionate and gentle with her healing. I don't have personal experience with her, however. She's a great goddess to go to for health.

I hope some of these are helpful to you! I hope you (or your loved ones) start feeling better soon. Take care, and have a good day/night. 🧡

#asks #answered asks

[whatamesswehavemade]

Study Screams Session- Eddie Munson x Reader

Requested: Yes

Pairings: Eddie Munson x female!reader

Word count: 1,464

Summary: You’re trying to find refuge at your boyfriend's for a quiet spot to study, but it turns into a mess.

Warnings: swearing, allusions to sex–– but all fluff nonetheless, yelling and crying

GIF not mine

The neighbors across the street are getting work done on their house–– jackhammers going nuts. Kids are outside, yelling and playing nonstop. It’s spring, and the birds are loud outside. You are trying to study, and nothing is allowing you to.

Frustrated, you shove your papers and books into your bag. You run up the stairs and tell your sibling that you’ll be gone. They reply with, “I don’t care,” so you huff as you step back down the stairs, sling your bag over your shoulder, grab your keys and head out.

You drive to your boyfriend’s house, hoping he’d be of some help.

You knock on the trailer door, and Eddie opens; a look of confusion washes over his face. “Y/N? Is everything OK?”

You smile and smooth your hair, knowing you’ve been pulling at it while studying. “Yeah. I was hoping we could study or something together? My house is too loud.” You’re pleading at this point.

“Anything for my queen,” he opens the door wide, bowing and extending his arm to let you in—the dramatics. You love him for his dramatics.

You walk past him and put your bag on his counter. He sits next to you and kisses your bare shoulder. It’s hot this spring day in Hawkins. You didn’t realize Eddie would get so distracted by your revealing skin.

Brushing him off, you kiss his cheek and pull your work out. “I have a huge test tomorrow, and I have to pass it, Eds. Do you have anything you need to study? So we can study together?” you urge, hoping he gets the hint.

Of course, as a guy, he doesn’t. “Don’t you have an A in all of your classes? You’ll be fine. I know you’ll do great.” He rolls his eyes. “And sure, I have something to study.” He quickly grabs your waist, roaming his hands down your bare thighs. Yeah, wearing shorts around this man isn’t a good idea either.

You swat his hands away. “Eddie, I know you’re not taking anatomy this year, so knock it off,” you laugh.

“Fine, fine, I’ll go grab my book. I have a test tomorrow too.” He retreats to his room to grab his bag. “What class is this for?” he calls.

“Algebra. What about you?” You’ve got your book and pages open to where you left off.

“U.S. History. The class is boring as fuck. I’m praying to at least get a C.” He dumps his backpack on the floor, rifling through it until he finds some notes and his book.

He comes over to take a seat next to you. Before settling down, he kissed your cheek real quick. You grin, but you can tell this was a bad idea. Why didn’t I go to Nancy’s? She would’ve taken studying seriously, you think to yourself. You ignore your thoughts and silently work.

A few minutes in of studying silently together, you feel Eddie’s hand rest on your thigh. You peek over at him, but he doesn’t look at you. Harmless. OK.

He starts tapping his finger against your thigh. You ignore it. It’s a bit comforting as you study.

Then his hand starts slipping up. Once he hits the hem of your shorts, you bat his hand away. You peek over at him again and see him grinning. “Munson, I’m not playing. I have to study.”

“OK, OK. I’ll stop.” His hands go up in surrender. 

Another five minutes pass before his hand is back on your thigh. “Ugh, Eddie. Stop.” You push his hand away. 

“Oh, come on, babe. Let’s take a study break,” He gets up and wraps his arms around your waist.

You shimmy out of his grip. “Eddie, seriously. Knock it off. I have to study!”

“Babe, I know, but you’ve been trying to study all day. How about we do something else. We don’t have to do what I wanna do, though. Let’s do something you wanna do. Let’s go for a walk. Or listen to music. Or whatever. I don’t like it when you’re stressed.” He gives you a mocking pout, reaching out to grab your hands. 

You smack them away and turn back to grab your stuff. “What I wanna do is study so I can ace this test tomorrow, but you don’t care. I guess I’ll go study in my car or something. I can’t stand that even my boyfriend can’t respect that. I gotta go.” You grab your stuff and turn to head out. 

“Hey, woah. Chill for a second. Fine, let’s go back to studying. I’ll keep my hands to myself.” He stands in the way of the door.

“Eddie, no, I need to get my shit done. Just move.” You shove him out of the way and head out the door to your car. You don’t hesitate to turn the car on and drive off as quickly as possible, seeing Eddie run out towards your car. 

Looking in the rearview mirror, you see him standing there, watching you drive away.

You get back home and throw yourself on your bed. A headache creeps up, and you start crying, knowing this won’t help. Now you won’t be able to study at all. You also feel bad for yelling at Eddie. He was only trying to help. Yeah, maybe sex isn’t what you wanted, but anytime you’re stressed, he does anything he can to distract you, making getting back to the task that much easier. 

I fucked up, you think to yourself. You sniffle, wipe your face and grab the phone by your bed. You dial his number. 

It rings twice before he picks up, “Munson residence.” He sounds upset.

“Eds, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled at you or stormed out like that. I––”

“No, Y/N, I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have been bugging you like that. You came to me for silence, a retreat from the noisiness to study, and I should’ve helped you. I’m your boyfriend. That’s what I’m supposed to do–– help, not add more stress.”

“Eddie, no. You distracting me has always been a foolproof plan to make sure I don’t lose my absolute mind when studying. It’s helpful. I’m just stressed over this test because my parents are always on me if I get less than a B. And this section in Algebra has been really hard. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have yelled.” You sniffle at the end.

It’s quiet for a second, and you can feel the tears rolling down your cheeks. “Are you crying?”

“No,” you wipe your face, “I’m fine.”

“Don’t lie. You’re crying.” You can hear him shuffling–– lots of movement, like getting up or putting shoes on.

“No, I’m not. I’m fine.”

“I swear, Y/N if I come over there and see you’ve been crying and you just lied to me, it’s on.” He chuckles.

“What’s on?” Your brows furrow.

“I’m gonna tackle you. And give you loads of kisses and hugs.” He smiles through his words.

“Wait, do I not get that if I’m truthful?”

He thinks for a second. “You get it all either way. Especially if you’ve been crying, I’ll be there in five. I love you.” The phone clicks.

You lay back on your bed, waiting to hear the doorbell. You slowly walk down the stairs to the door when you hear it ring. When you open it, you see Eddie, whose eyes and nose are red. He’s been crying too.

“Oh, Eds! I’m so sorry. Fuck, I shouldn’t have yelled. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.” You’re sobbing at this point.

He quickly steps in, closes the door behind him, and then captures you in a hug, letting you sob into his shirt. He caresses your back and shushes you, trying to console you. “Baby, it’s fine. We all blow our top every once in a while. I get it. Besides, math is a good enough reason for anyone to start yelling. Shit, I’ll yell for you just thinking about math.” He kisses the top of your head multiple times.

You sniffle and look up at him. “I love you, Eds. Can we go upstairs and just cuddle?”

“Um, no. We’re gonna go upstairs, and I’m gonna tackle you with hugs and kisses. I’m a man of my word, Y/N. I’m not letting you off that hook that easy.” He shakes his head at you and leads you up to your room, and you giggle, towing behind him.

You didn’t study again that day. You laid in Eddie’s arms in your room for the rest of the day and into the night.

Oh, and the next day, you aced that test anyways. Now you owe Eddie double for all of that stress for nothing.

#eddie munson #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson blurb #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #writings #fluff #joseph quinn #joe quinn #stranger things 4 #stranger things fluff #stranger things imagine #stranger things season four #stranger things smut #stranger things x reader #stranger things fanfiction #stranger things fanfic #eddie munson x oc #eddie munson smut #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fanart #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson x reader smut #dustin henderson #chrissy stranger things #stranger things vol 1 #steve harrington #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n

[warmblanketwhump]

Hi could you write something where A has been hiding sickness for a while now, but suddenly B got sick as well (maybe got it from A) and everyone else are too busy so they ask A to take care of B not knowing A is worse off? Maybe A even gave up some comfort items or the last meds for B?

just a disclaimer that this is all in good fun and not actually recommended treatment for the following illness - I just wrote purely from vibes lol 😆

A suppresses another cough in the corner of their elbow, disguising it as a clear of their throat. They’ve definitely felt off for the past week or so - deep aches and chills all the way to their bones, a constant cough, and the desire to just stay curled up in bed - but they’re not going to tell anyone that.

Instead, they pull on a sweatshirt and head down to the kitchen to make themselves a cup of tea to ease their shivers, praying that today is the day they finally take a turn for the better.

“Hey, have you seen the hot water bottle anywhere?” C bursts into the room, eyes searching urgently, just as A takes their first sip.

“Um…yeah, it’s in my room.” And it’s been my constant companion for the last two nights because I ache all over and can’t get warm for anything. “Why?”

“B woke up not feeling great, so I was gonna grab it and give it to them. You’re good if I take it?”

“…Sure.” A rolls their shoulders, rubbing their aching joints and trying to stretch out their sore muscles. They’ll take a hot bath later, then.

“Thanks,” C says, darting back out of the room, then suddenly poking their head back in. “Hey, A?”

“Hmm?”

“Listen, I’ve got a bunch of errands to run today and a work meeting I’ve got to go into the office for, and D’s working later at the hospital, so do you think you could look after B?”

A shrugs, clearing their throat. “Sure.” If C’s asking them, then B must be much worse off than them - so they owe it to them to suck it up and help out.

After they finish their tea, they head upstairs to B’s room. B’s curled up in bed reading a book, hot water bottle laying on their stomach.

“How’re you feeling, B?” Despite not feeling well themselves, A has to admit that B looks a little wan and peaked.

B sets the book down, coughing into their elbow. “I’m okay. Just a fever, aches, that sort of thing.” Their voice is scratchy, but they’re clear-eyed and alert.

Same as them a few days ago, then. Guilt washes over A - if they’d have just confessed to being sick, they could’ve isolated and B would be okay. This is all my fault. “Well, can I get you anything?” They try to brighten their voice, but overdo it and it just comes out sounding forced.

But if B notices, they don’t let on. “Maybe….some cough medicine? It’s all in my chest, and coughing hurts.” They rub their breastbone with a wince, pulling the hot water bottle over their chest.

“On it.” A shuffles off to the bathroom, pulling the brown bottle they know all too well from the medicine cabinet. There’s only a little left, but they don’t even give it a second thought - B needs it more, and they can text C to grab more while they’re out. Their hands tremble as they pour the remainder of thick liquid into the little cup, and they squeeze their eyes shut to try and stop shaking. Come on, A. Get it together.

By the time A sets the dose of cough medicine on the nightstand, their vision’s swirling in their eyes. Even walking to the bathroom was exhausting.

“A, are you alright?” B sits up in bed, eyebrows furrowed as they pick up the dose and knock it back. “You’re really pale.”

“I’m…I’m fine.” A sudden shudder rattles their teeth and they lean on B’s bed for stability. Despite their layers, their whole body’s just gone ice cold, a sheen of cold sweat and goosebumps covering their body. They tilt toward the bed and lean heavily against the mattress, bracing themselves with both their arms, suddenly finding it hard to take a full breath between the deep, painful coughs.

“A, I’m serious, are you sure you’re…”

But A doesn’t hear the rest as their knees slip, and they’re falling down, down…..

“A. Wake up. Come on, now.” B’s raspy voice cuts through the haze, commanding with an edge of fear. They’re out of bed and on the floor with them, looking just as shaken as A feels. “Get up. Please.”

A blinks awake, immediately aware that B’s at their side, tugging at their sweatshirt, trying to lift them off the floor.

“A. Get in bed. Now.” B’s voice is someone between stern and on the verge of tears. A’s so spent that they can’t even respond verbally, so as B half-lifts them with their remaining strength, A claws at the comforter to pull themselves up, up, until they tip onto the covers in a heap next to B. They cough deeply, the effort burning in their chest, and moan slightly. In a minute, they’ll get up and care for B.

“A….are you sick too?” B’s crackly voice sounds small and scared, and A wishes that they could spare them from this.

I should’ve said something. This is my fault. I’m sorry.

But a sob is the only thing that can escape their lips as they nod. They’ve been trying and trying so hard not to bother anyone with this, and now they’re collapsing in front of the only other sick person in the house.

“God, A, why didn’t you say something?” The words are angry, but A can hear the tremble in B’s voice.

“I’m sorry,” A weeps. “I just didn’t know what to say.”

“Hey, hey, you’re alright. I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have snapped.” B clears their throat, resting a hand on A’s shoulder. “You’re just scaring me, is all. Tell me what’s up.”

“I’m so cold,” A chatters weakly, hugging themselves. That’s all they can get out, anyways. In reality, they’re feverish and cold to the bone, shivering from head to toe, and their chest is on fire. They’ve barely done anything and yet they can’t catch their breath, and the air feels thick and heavy when they breathe.

B hurriedly covers them with a blanket, pulling them close and rubbing their shoulders, pressing the hot water bottle to their chest. A clings to it like a lifeline against their sore chest, but the chills still course through their body. Nothing warms them - they’re slowly freezing from the inside out, even though they can feel their head and joints burning with fever.

The next hours (or days - A’s lost all sense of time) are an absolute blur. They’re aware of a voice shouting, thought they sound like they’re underwater, even though there’re right next to them. Hands tug at their clothing, pulling off their sweatshirt, and in their fevered dreams, vultures peck away at them, and they’re unable to fight off the vicious birds. Cold, damp rags are laid across their forehead and over their chest and stomach, and to them, they’re trapped in the deepest ocean, and seaweed wraps around them and chokes the life out of them.

And the shakes - god, the shakes are unlike anything they’ve ever felt. Great, rolling earthquakes of chills from their core that rattle their bones and teeth so hard they’re scared they’ll break. At times, it seems the only thing keeping them together is the warm arms that hold them tight and the gentle whisper of comforting words in their ear.

When A surfaces from the dark hell they’ve been trapped in, they realize they’re still in B’s bed, covered in piles of blankets. D hovers next to them, fiddling with a small orange bottle, and the night table has been filled with all sorts of medical paraphernalia - medicine bottles, a nebulizer, a stethoscope and box of tissues. Perks of living with a doctor, they think, but they’re too drained to poke fun at B about it.

They’re acutely aware of feeling worse than they had earlier. Everything aches - their arms, their legs, their back and shoulders, especially their chest, and even shifting in bed is painful. Not to mention that they’re still freezing, and they can’t take a deep breath.

“What….happened?” They rasp, coughing between each word.

“Hon, you’ve got pneumonia.” D slides onto the bed next to them, pushing A’s hair back off their forehead to feel their fever. “How long were you feeling this bad?”

A shrugs. “Couple days.” D gives them a pointed look, but doesn’t push further. Instead, they pop open the small bottle and tap two pills into their hand.

“Take these,” D says. “B called me at the hospital freaking out, and we were able to chat with the doctors and get some antibiotics to pump into you for the next few days.”

A’s too tired to respond to that, so they just oblige as D slips the bitter medicine under their tongue, then props their head up so they can sip some water to chase them. As they sit up, the blankets slip from their shoulders and allow the cool air of the room underneath, setting off another round of shivers that send them clutching at the covers. D hurriedly tucks A back in, gently rubbing at their shoulders.

“Shhhh, you’re alright. You’re okay.” The chills seize their body for what feels like an hour, but finally, A stops shivering enough to ask the question on their brain.

“B, how’s B?”

“Fine. We still think they’ve got a bad cold, but they shouldn’t get nearly as bad as you if we take care of them.” D smiles sadly, gazing up at the ceiling. “They’re in your room - we didn’t want to move you.”

As if on cue, B pokes their head in the door, blanket wrapped around their shoulders. A’s awake enough to see them lean against the door, exhausted from their own illness.

“B, I thought I told you to stay-“

“Is A okay?” B asks it in that crackly, worn out voice of theirs.

D glances back at A. “Still pretty sick. But we’ve got some medicine in them now. Once C gets back with the rest of the prescription, I think we’ll be out of the woods.”

B nods, coughing into their own elbow. “Sorry you’re sick, A.”

A nods, stifling a coughing fit of their own, cinching the covers up to their chin. In that moment, B darts back into the room, carefully settling on the bed next to A while D’a back is turned. When D sees it, they exhale and roll their eyes at B’s clinginess. “B, you need rest. Go back to-“

“Can’t I stay here? Just for a little bit?” B’s voice is pleading, and they nestle closer and rest their head ever so gently near A’s stomach.

D finally relents. “A few minutes. But only until their nebulizer treatment’s done. You push it, and you’ll end up like A here.”

B nods, sneaking under one of A’s many blankets and wrapping an arm around A’s waist. D fiddles with something on the nightstand and turns around with the mask of the nebulizer in their hand, then gently eases it over A’s face.

“There. That’ll help your breathing a bit.” D rubs their hands together and surveys the room, and with every breath of the medicine A wants nothing more than to throw their arms around D and thank them for helping them be able to breathe better. But D leaves to go get something else, and B curls closer, pressing themselves into A’s side like they’re scared they’ll fade away.

“Don’t you ever sacrifice yourself like that again, okay?” B’s voice is shaky, and they gently rub A’s side.

A nods weakly, letting their tired eyes fall shut. They wish they could pull B close, but they can’t bring themselves to pull their arms out from under the warmth of the covers. So instead, they just roll toward B and hope they get the message. And from the way B hugs them tighter, A thinks they do.

#pneumonia #collapse #sickfic #sickfic whump #whump prompt #writing such long things is why I am so behind on these 😂😂😂

[roselise]

Hello my forest fairy princess friend ✨️ If you are finishing the current book, go with the milk and honey scent. If you're starting the new one, go for the the roses and vanilla bean. I would opt for starting the new book. It sounds like maybe the old book didn't capture your interest enough to finish it right away so why force yourself right away. You deserve a nice cozy bath and a new story, maybe it will be better and you'll finish it fast enough that with the extra time you'd use for it, you can go back and finish the old book. Either way I hope you have a lovely evening and I'm sending so many hugs your way. 🥰

♡ ⊹ . ˚ 🩰 ⊹

⊹ 🧸 ˚ . 🧁 ⊹ ˚ ♡

Hello to you, too, kindest anon ~ ! 🤍

How are you today ?? c:

Thank you so much for this truly thoughtful ask! ♡ ♡

I’m really touched and happy with all the help given for my little bath time decision, especially considering how silly it was hehe :’)

My current read was a bit sad so that is why I struggled a bit with it perhaps?

(Barry Denenberg is a good author, but his books are often a bit more tragic than cheery I suppose ?? I’ll probably finish it soon though !!)

I’m any manner, tonight I am continuing the new book and shall use strawberries and cake body wash and lotion! I am feeling most fancy and happy indeed ♡

I hope *your* day was a good one as well though — cus I think that is what *you* deserve !!

You’re so nice and wonderful after all :D

Sending many warm hugs your way as well, and a million bright and happy thoughts! ♡

Please take care, and all the very *very* best to you ~ !! XO

♡ 🍓 ˚ . 🎀 ⊹

⊹ . ˚ 🧁 ♡

♡ 🧸 ˚ . 🩰 ⊹

#♡ #ask #very good advice my friend !! #thank you so very much c: #i am not so good at deciding things myself and this was very wise !! #tonight has been going well though ! ♡ #and i am in a most pleasant mood c: #how about you ?? #i pray that you are well and safe and having a great day !! #please take care and all the very best to you ~ !! c: #xo ! ♡ #🤍⊹ 🧸 ˚ . 🧁 ⊹ ˚ ♡

[orthodoxydaily]

Saints&Reading: Monday, April 8, 2024

march 26_April 8

Synaxis of the Archangel Gabriel

Troparion

Gabriel, commander of the heavenly hosts, / we who are unworthy beseech you, / by your prayers encompass us beneath the wings of your immaterial glory, / and faithfully preserve us who fall down and cry to you: / “Deliver us from all harm, for you are the commander of the powers on high!”

The Lord chose the Archangel Gabriel to announce to the Virgin Mary the Incarnation of the Son of God from Her to the great rejoicing of all mankind. Therefore, on the day after the Feast of the Annunciation, the day the All-Pure Virgin is glorified, we give thanks to the Lord and venerate His messenger Gabriel, who contributed to the mystery of our salvation.

Gabriel, the holy Archistrategos (Leader of the Heavenly Hosts), is a faithful servant of the Almighty God. He announced the future Incarnation of the Son of God to those of the Old Testament; he inspired the Prophet Moses to write the Pentateuch (first five books of the Old Testament), he announced the coming tribulations of the Chosen People to the Prophet Daniel (Dan. 8:16, 9:21-24); he appeared to Saint Anna (July 25) with the news that she would give birth to the Virgin Mary.

The holy Archangel Gabriel remained with the Holy Virgin Mary when She was a child in the Temple of Jerusalem, and watched over Her throughout Her earthly life. He appeared to the Priest Zachariah, foretelling the birth of the Forerunner of the Lord, Saint John the Baptist.

The Lord sent him to Saint Joseph the Betrothed in a dream, to reveal to him the mystery of the Incarnation of the Son of God from the All-Pure Virgin Mary, and warned him of the wicked intentions of Herod, ordering him to flee into Egypt with the divine Infant and His Mother.

When the Lord prayed in the Garden of Gethsemane before His Passion, the Archangel Gabriel, whose very name signifies “Man of God” (Luke. 22:43), was sent from Heaven to strengthen Him.

The Myrrh-Bearing Women heard from the Archangel the joyous news of Christ’s Resurrection (Mt.28:1-7, Mark 16:1-8).

Mindful of the holy Archangel Gabriel's manifold appearances and his zealous fulfillment of God’s will and confessing his intercession for Christians before the Lord, the Orthodox Church calls upon its children to pray to the great Archangel with faith and love.

The Synaxis of the Holy Archangel Gabriel is also celebrated on July 13. All the angels are commemorated on November 8.

VENERABLE MALCUS OF CHALCIS , MONK IN SYRIA  (4th c.)

The Life of Saint Malchus, the Captive Monk, was written by St. Jerome in his monastery in Bethlehem. The composition is original in that St. Jerome reports the solitary man telling his own life story to him.

I was an only child and tenant of a small farm at Nisibis. When my parents were coercing me to marry because I was the last descendant of the family and their sole heir, I told them that I preferred to be a monk. With what threats my father assailed me, with what coaxing my mother pursued me to betray my chastity, you can judge by the fact that I left both home and my parents.

In Bethlehem, St. Jerome writes the story Malchus told him since I could not go to the East because of the proximity of Persia and the Roman guard, I turned to the West, taking very few provisions, merely enough to keep me alive. To be brief, I finally reached the desert of Chalcis. There, having found a community of monks, I placed myself under their guidance, earning my living by the toil of my hands and curbing the lust of the flesh with fasting.

After many years, the thought occurred to me that I should return to my native land while my mother was still alive (I had heard of my father’s death) to comfort her in her widowhood. After her death, I could sell our possessions, give part of the proceeds to the poor, erect a monastery with another part, and (why should I blush to confess my infidelity) reserve the rest to take care of my own needs.

My Abbot protested that my desire to return home was a temptation from the Devil and that under a virtuous pretext lay concealed the snares of our ancient enemy; in other words, the dog was returning to its vomit.

Many monks, he said, had been deceived in this way, for the Devil never comes without disguises. When persuasion failed, he begged me on his knees not to desert him, not to ruin myself, not to look back having put my hand to the plough.

Alas, miserable creature that I am, I did not relent. He escorted me from the monastery as if he were attending a corpse in a funeral procession. Bidding me a last farewell, he said: “I see, my son, that you are marked by the brand of Satan. I do not seek the causes nor do I accept excuses. The sheep that leaves the sheepfold straightway exposes itself to the teeth of the wolf.”

I decided to travel in company to decrease the danger of surprise attack by nomad Saracens, always wandering back and forth on the road. There were about 70 in my company, men women and children. Suddenly, Ishmaelites, riding upon horses and camels, descended upon us in a startling attack. We were seized, scattered and carried off in different directions. A woman of the company and I fell by lot into the hands of the same master.

The slave Malchus is content tending sheep in solitude and prayerWe were lifted up onto camels and traveled through the vast desert until we arrived at its heart, where the master’s household was. There I was assigned the task of pasturing the sheep and, in contrast to the evils I might have been subjected to, I enjoyed the comfort of rarely seeing my master and fellow slaves.

Alone in the desert, I lived on cheese and milk; I prayed continually; I sang the psalms I had learned in the monastery. In fact, I was delighted with my captivity and I thanked God for his judgment, for the monk whom I had nearly lost in my own country I had found again in the desert.

But nothing is ever safe from the Devil. How multiple and unspeakable are his deceits. My master, seeing his herd increase and finding in me nothing of fraud – for I obeyed the Apostle’s injunction that masters were to be served as faithfully as God himself – desired to reward me to better insure my fidelity. So he offered me in marriage the woman slave who had been taken captive with me.

When I refused and said that I was a Christian and it was not lawful for me to have for wife one whose husband was living (her husband had been captured with us and carried off by another master), my implacable master was seized with fury. Drawing his sword he started to attack me. If I had not made haste to throw my arm about the woman, he would have shed my blood then and there.

All too soon for me, night came on, darker than usual. I led my new bride into a ruined cave nearby. Realizing the full force of my captivity and, throwing myself down on the ground, I began to lament and sob for the monk I was on the point of losing. “Of what avail to have renounced parents, country, property for the Lord, if I now do the very thing that I would not do when I renounced them. What shall I do, my soul, perish or conquer?”

Prepared to turn the blade of my sword against myself rather than suffer the death of the soul, I told the woman, “Farewell, unhappy woman. I am yours to have as a martyr rather than a husband.”

Then to my surprise, the woman threw herself at my feet and beseeched me not shed my blood, for she said, even if her husband would return to her, she would preserve the chastity that captivity had taught her and would rather die than lose it.

“Take me, therefore, as a spouse in chastity,” she said, “and love the bond of the soul rather than that of the body. Let our master believe you a husband; Christ will know the brother.”

I confess that I was amazed and, admiring the virtue of that woman, I loved her more than if she were my spouse. Never, however, did I look upon her nude body; never did I touch her flesh, fearing to lose in peace what I had preserved in conflict.

Many days passed in wedlock of this kind. Our marriage rendered us more pleasing to our master; there was no suspicion of flight. Sometimes I was absent for a whole month, all alone, the trusted shepherd of the flock...to be continued

ISAIAH 14:24-32

24 The Lord of hosts has sworn, saying, “Surely, as I have thought, so it shall come to pass, And as I have purposed, so it shall stand: 25 That I will break the Assyrian in My land, And on My mountains tread him underfoot. Then his yoke shall be removed from them, And his burden removed from their shoulders. 26 This is the purpose that is purposed against the whole earth, And this is the hand that is stretched out over all the nations. 27 For the Lord of hosts has purposed, And who will annul it? His hand is stretched out, And who will turn it back?” 28 This is the burden that came in the year that King Ahaz died. 29 “Do not rejoice, all you of Philistia, Because the rod that struck you is broken; For out of the serpent’s roots will come forth a viper, And its offspring will be a fiery flying serpent. 30 The firstborn of the poor will feed, And the needy will lie down in safety; I will kill your roots with famine, And it will slay your remnant. 31 Wail, O gate! Cry, O city! All you of Philistia are dissolved; For smoke will come from the north, And no one will be alone in his appointed times.” 32 What will they answer the messengers of the nation? That the Lord has founded Zion, And the poor of His people shall take refuge in it.

GENESIS 8:21-9:7

21 And the Lord smelled a soothing aroma. Then the Lord said in His heart, “I will never again curse the ground for man’s sake, although the imagination of man’s heart is evil from his youth; nor will I again destroy every living thing as I have done. 22 “While the earth remains, Seedtime and harvest, Cold and heat, Winter and summer, And day and night Shall not cease.”

1 So God blessed Noah and his sons, and said to them: “Be fruitful and multiply, and fill the earth. 2 “And the fear of you and the dread of you shall be on every beast of the earth, on every bird of the air, on all that move on the earth, and on all the fish of the sea. They are given into your hand. 3 “Every moving thing that lives shall be food for you. I have given you all things, even as the green herbs. 4 “But you shall not eat flesh with its life, that is, its blood. 5 “Surely for your lifeblood I will demand a reckoning; from the hand of every beast I will require it, and from the hand of man. From the hand of every man’s brother I will require man's life. 6 “Whoever sheds man’s blood, By man his blood shall be shed; For in the image of God He made man. 7 And as for you, be fruitful and multiply; Bring forth abundantly in the earth And multiply in it.”

#orthodoxy #orthodoxchristianity #easternorthodoxchurch #originofchristianity #spirituality #holyscriptures #bible #wisdom #saints

[juminsmysticmc]

Hey!! Ilove your work sm ❤️ i hope you're doing great

Can I ask RFA reacting to MC getting Assassinated but survived??

Ignore this if you want because the topic is sensitive. Even if I still love your creativity in writing your fanfictions ilsym take care of yourselfff!!! ❤️❤️❤️

RFA x  MC being involved in an assassination but surviving

Hello! First of all I want to clarify that I googled the definition for Assassination, this is what Google Says: Assassination is the murder of a prominent person or political figure by a surprise attack, usually for payment or political reasons

So, I hope everyone can enjoy this Fic, I also want to clarify that this is something written soly out of fiction, nothing is real and things may be exaggerated to make it seem more exciting so please, don’t hate this Fiction.

And to you, you lovely Anon, I bless you with the name ,,red ( heart ) anon’’ because of the whole red hearts and the bloody request. I hope you enjoy it :) BTW, this isn’t sensitive for me at all! Take care of yourself too!!

TW: Sensitive Content 

Jumin

The day started well and it all went well until that evening at the company, celebrating the new success.

Jumin was standing a few feets away from you, next to you Assistant Kang, who you were talking with, and Jumin didn’t really want to know what you were telling her as her cheeks grew red.

He took his eyes off you for a single second before he heard screaming, shooting and groaning.

When he looked back, Assistant Kang was over you, her body shielding yours as blood was gushing out of one of you.

,,MC!!!’’ Jumin screamed loudly, but probably no one heard it as everyone was running and screaming across the big room.

More shooting was heard and the bodyguards around him were running around as way too many people were laying dead around him.

,,DOWN MR HAN!’’ someone screamed and covered him as more gunfire was heard and then everything was silent.

,,My wife! My wife is there! Get off me!’’ he hissed, trying to shake the person away who saved his life, trying to get to you.

Just now, he could see that you were losing blood.

He finally was able to approach you and pull you towards him. Jaehee was still over you when he gently laid Jaehee back, only noticing then that she was dead.

Jumin couldn’t even gulp at the sight of his best Assistant, dead over his wife.

Jumin checked your pulse and could feel your heart beating. The pulse was still there, but his trembling hands quickly pulled off Jaehee's lifeless body. She had protected you until the end .

,,Don’t make her death be in vain, Mc, stay with me,’’ he begged, trying to cover you with his jacket, his hand over your injury as he waited for help.

,,FUCK! Why didn’t you check all the guests?!’’ Zen screamed at the bloody man in front of him, crying upon hearing of the death of his biggest fan and the dangerous situation you were in.

Jumin stayed silent as Jihyun tried to pull the young man back.

,,I…I was a fool…I know,’’ he confessed, praying, this once praying to God, even though he wasn’t a believer, that you would survive.

,,She’s alive. Her wounds were deep, but Mrs Han was a fighter. An angel must have stayed by her side,’’ the doctor said as soon as he finished his prayer.

,,Jumin…she’s dead, isn’t she? I saw her in my dream, she’s dead… Jaehee saved me,’’ you cried as soon as you saw him, you in his arms as he finally could let his tears fall freely too…

Months later it was discovered that the assasination was planned and done by someone who got fired due to the success of C&R. The man later on killed himself too.

Jumin was and would be always thankful for Jaehee’s sacrifice and to honor her, his child, two years later, was named after her.

Zen

,,The first big fan meeting, I’m so excited,’’ you giggled, holding your boyfriend’s hand.

He was just as nervous as you and you could feel that due to his kind of sweaty hands.

He nodded as he entered the room, preparing little details before the fangirls were let in.

Of course one of them was Jaehee, who thanks to you, got her every VIP Ticket, although she wasn’ the first, but this was okay for her.

Time went on and finally it was her turn, but the atmosphere was totally different from the normal meetings she had with the two of you. It was visible that she was really really nervous too.

,,Thank you for supporting me until coming here,’’ he smiled, holding her hand, which was trembling.

You were assured and looked away from the both of you when you suddenly saw someone pointing a gun towards the three of you.

You acted rapidly, made Zen duck down, and pulled Jaehee below the table when the bullet met your back, making you scream in pain and shiver.

,,OH MY GOD NO!’’ Zen screamed when he saw you. He and Jaehee were hiding behind the table thanks to you and could pull you back just in time before another shot was heard.

The fans were screaming in fear and apparently some of them were shot and injured as even more gunfire was heard.

Zen however, even though it sounded awful in his mind, didn’t mind at all the other people and was just trying to get you to open your eyes, doing CPR on you and calling your name.

Zen was just about to give up when suddenly someone pulled up the tablecloth, making Jaehee shield both you and Zen.

Luckily, a guard and a paramedic quickly performed first aid on you, shoving Zen away from you.

It didn’t take long for Zen to look for the culprit, sprinting towards the woman who was held by the guard.

It was the first time Zen ever hit a woman and he never felt as good as now. “I swear, if you did kill her, I will make you regret being alive!’’ he screamed, before Jaehee pulled him away.

The ride to the hospital was awful. Zen was sobbing loudly as pictures of your lifeless body came back to his mind.

He was trembling like a leaf and no one, not even Jaehee’s support, could help him calm down.

Two of the worst weeks passed for Zen.

His unshaved face was glued on your bed and his cold hand was entangled in yours.

You were in a coma, alive but not waking up and Zen swore to himself, he would die next to you if it was needed.

He was just about to pull back to kiss you one last time before your finger twitched, making him hold his breath.

When he looked up, his hand still in yours, your eyes sleepily looked into his eyes. You were back.

Yoosung

,,I’m not comfortable in big crowds,’’ you confessed as Yoosung was holding your hand. He pulled you through the tables of the video games convention, absorbing every single detail.

The tables were decorated with stuff to sell, fan made pictures, figures, everything.

Yoosung smiled brightly as he looked around himself and enjoyed the sight of the cosplayers, making a mental note to ask one of them for a picture later.

But first of all, he needed very important merch from his lovely LOLOL.

,,Nothing can happen to you. The guards checked our belongings and no one would attack a convention. Besides, I will protect you with my life,’’ he told you, smiling brightly.

Well, he didn’t know how wrong he was.

Yoosung left you at the table in the food hall, just going out because a famous cosplayer was outside and made a live on Instagram saying that he would leave soon.

,,The food will be here any minute, but don’t worry and begin without me,’’ he assured you, kissed your cheek and left, making you sigh as you watched him walk away.

He was right. The food came a few moments later, but there wasn't a chance for you to get the first slice of pizza into your hands as screams made you shriek.

Loud screams of panic around you started and suddenly bullets were heard, almost giving you a heart attack upon hearing the loud sound.

You wanted to hide, go below the table, pray that the person who was shooting around wouldn’t kill you, meet your scared eyes, but you failed and before you could save yourself, a bullet hit you.

Your last thought was for him, Yoosung, to stay outside and not come in, having to be in such pain and in danger.

,,My wife is in the building!’’ Yoosung screamed at a security guard who was trying to hold him off.

Yoosung tried with all his might to make the man let go. His eyes turned darker and suddenly Yoosung really seemed to be stronger.

However, the man didn’t let go and until the assassin wasn’t caught, no one was actually allowed to go in.

Only when paramedics and police officers finally ran into the building, Yoosung was strong enough to punch the man who was holding him to run up into the building to check on him. The sight was horrific.

Yoosung screamed your name and ran towards you.

Everything was spilled on the floor. You were laying in your own blood and you were as pale as the clouds outside.

Yoosung tried to do some first aid on you, however, you didn’t wake up.

Your eyes didn’t open and Yoosung couldn’t feel a pulse.

The sight of you being alive was equal to zero.

Yoosung already thought of dying with you, hating himself for having brought you along, even though you said that you didn’t like crowds. He hated himself for leaving you on your own and he really took the knife to cut the pizza, ready to slice himself open, thinking that he couldn’t dare to live without you, losing again another person.

What he, however, didn’t expect was you grabbing his hand and groaning ,,Don’t you dare…are we Romeo and Juliet or what?’’ you asked him before you passed out again.

,,I can’t believe that a vet wasn’t able to feel the pulse, like, Bro, if you tend your animals like your wife, Korea won’t have any pets at this rate,’’ Zen teased Yoosung later in the hospital after your wounds were tended and the RFA came for a visit.

Jaehee

,,I am here for Mc. She was admitted to this hospital,’’ Jaehee said, out of breath as she arrived at the hospital in the middle of Seoul.

The nurse checked her out, her eyes going from bottom to top before she typed your name into her computer without saying anything.

Jaehee tapped with her feet, standing on one foot and then on the other one, waiting nervously for the nurse to give her an answer.

,,And who are you?’’ the nurse finally said before saying anything regarding your health.

Jaehee inhaled and tried to stay calm.

She often had odd things happen to her when she worked with Jumin. She often had to be confronted with not-so-easy situations, but this one was wracking.

,,I’m her partner. She was involved in an assasination attempt, is she okay?’’ Jaehee asked.

Her hands were placed on the table so that no one could see her trembling hands.

The nurse nodded and looked back down at her screen before she tried to find an answer for Jaehee.

,,She was injured quite badly when she arrived in the ER… someone is waiting for the legal guardian or partner to sign the papers, please follow me,’’ she said. Now the nurse herself was walking quickly. This meant for Jaehee that the situation was quite bad and indeed seemed like that.

As she entered the emergency room, a lot of people were laying on beds.

Some had already a blanket over their face, others were visibly in pain, and then there was you, pale as the blanket you were laying on and totally bloody.

Jaehee didn’t even have the time to take a look at you, take your hand, or anything else. As soon as she signed the papers, you were carried away and no one saw you anymore.

Jaehee kept thinking about you, the way you looked, the blood…the time you had waited for her…if she just came with you to the political meeting…would things have been different?

But before Jaehee could worry more about you and get desperate about your well-being, a doctor approached her with good news…

Saeyoung

,,Someone hacked into our System,’’ the red haired man breathed out as he said those words.

His twin brother was sitting next to him, trying to hack into their hacked system as Jumin stood behind the twins.

He was typing something into his phone and Saeyoung could only guess that Jumin demanded more guards and to get everyone safe and out of the place.

The issue was that the RFA was currently holding a party and used this to show the world what the prime minister was actually like.

This probably was an action done by the so hated politician from Saeyoung and he could only guess that worse was to come. He was right…

You, on the other hand, were still standing in the room, wanting to welcome your guests when you suddenly noticed that you were hacked.

,,Let’s just wait a bit longer,’’ you said and nodded to Yoosung, Zen, and Jaehee as you looked around.

Your guests were happily eating and standing around the buffet so no one actually noticed the chaos around you.

And while you were actually trying to figure out what your fiancé was doing, someone else who was actually invited to the RFA Party used his chance to make everything in your speech be deleted.

Such as attacking you from behind, trying to assassinate you and stab you with a knife.

You didn’t know how, but you somehow escaped the painful attack as Zen pulled you away before the knife could be shoved into you.

Jaehee didn’t even take a second to attack your attacker with her judo skills, throwing the man to the floor and making sure that he would stay put.

,,MC?!’’ Saeyoung hissed as soon as he arrived, seeing you sitting on a chair without losing any blood or any minor injury. He had the feeling that his heart rate was getting better.

,,I thought I lost you for a second,’’ he whispered in confession as he held your trembling hand.

,,But I survived…. I survived, Saeyoung.’’

ᗰᗩᔕTEᖇᒪIᔕT

25.09.2022 // 13:57 MEST

#trigger warning #assassination #jumin han #mystic messenger jumin #jumin x reader #jumin x mc #zen hyun ryu #zen x mc #zen x reader #mystic messenger zen #mystic messenger yoosung #Yoosung Kim #yoosung x reader #yoosung x mc #mystic messenger jaehee #jaehee kang #jaehee x mc #jaehee x reader #saeyoung choi #mystic messenger saeyoung #saeyoung x mc #saeyoung x reader #mystic messenger seven #seven x mc #seven x reader #luciel choi #mystic messenger luciel #luciel x reader #luciel x mc #707 x mc

[monstersandmaw]

hi ghosti!

just wanted to say as another UK based person: i hope you’re keeping well in this heat!! It is so unhinged and i know i’m dying so hopefully you’re faring okay

I just finished my first week of teaching ever and i’ve been rereading old stories of yours and they have brought me great comfort during this very long and stressful time!!!

thanks for everything you do and write!!!! :)

Oof, my lovely UK friend, it has been a warm one down south today for sure… hope you’ve been able to recover in peace after your first week of teaching! I went shopping for a single mattress for my study/spare room today, and then spent the rest of the day assembling IKEA furniture in 32°C (according to the fan in my study)… More to do tomorrow 😅😩

Well done on surviving your first week of teaching!! That can’t have been too much fun in this weather!! What age range do you teach? Both my parents were languages teachers at state secondary schools, and I knew from an early age I was not cut out for kids or teaching! You have much respect from me!!

Take care, and I’m sending good vibes from my 30°C bedroom and praying we get the thunderstorms that the Met office is warning us about tomorrow… ⛈️

[soberscientistlife]

“This is my great-grandma, Christina Levant Platt at age 100, weeding her garden. She was born into slavery. Her “owner” was a wife that taught my great grandma to read and write secretly, which was illegal and quite dangerous at that time for both of them. She learned to read the Bible.

She had 11 children, she lost two, one son was one of the first black attorneys in US. She sent the 4 boys to college in Boston. Exceptional in those days.

She passed 5yrs before I was born but I love her as if I knew her. Family tells me she would say “ I put prayers on my children’s children’s heads”. This apparently worked💜

Around April 12, 1861, Christina was at the 1st battle of the CIVIL WAR, in Fort Sumter at Charleston Bay, South Carolina, working in the cotton fields.

She said “the sky was black as night” from cannonball fire. She saw a man decapitated by a cannonball.

She was the water girl for the other slaves as a young girl and “ the lookout” for the slaves in the fields for the approaching overseer on horseback as they secretly knelt and prayed for their freedom. She would watch for the switching tail of the approaching horse and would alert the slaves to rise up and return to picking cotton before he saw them.

She eventually married a Native American from the Santee Tribe. John C, Platt.

After freedom, Christina insisted upon taking her children north as she knew they would not get a good education in the south, and that’s all she cared about. She died at age 101 in 1944, where she and her husband had built a home in Medfield, Massachusetts, the first black family to move there.

With great respect, I honor my great grandmother.

So much more I could say about this miraculous woman. She gave me much strength in my hard times.

Whenever I thought I was having a hard day, I would think of her and shrug it off. Thank you for reading one story of millions. 💜”

-Brenda Russell