#their marriage was SUPPOSED to be on the down low but SOMEONE loves his husband too much to shut up about it

[bluehairedspidey]

johnny cage in every single one of my fanfics: HEY BTW DID YOU KNOW THAT I'M MARRIED TO KENSHI TAKAHASHI

[folklaur21]

What would've should've been

Pairing: Theodore Nott x fem!ravenclaw!reader

Summary: Theodore Nott didn't truly know what love felt like until he found you. But now all he can do is sit and imagine what should've been.

Warnings: Mentions of death/killing, Battle of Hogwarts, use of Y/N

Word Count: 2.3k

Before You

Theodore Nott isn't the happiest person in the world. Scratch that, he might be the most subdued, emotionally complex guy to have ever existed. Hardly anything made him smile, next to nothing made him laugh. That's just how he was, is, and how he will always be.

It isn't completely his fault. People are never born 'sad' or 'emotionless'. Theo was brought up this way. It was ingrained into him as a child, silently impacting his life forever, and he didn't even realise it. Well, that was until his mother died. At the hands of his father.

Theodore's mother was a gentle soul. Sweet and caring, she always looked after her son. She gave him everything a child needed, wanted, and then some. The one thing she couldn't provide for Theo? A stable father, who wasn't an alcoholic, abusive pig. Though she did try, the fear she had of Theodore's father never ceased throughout their marriage. She just had to try to shelter Theodore from this cold, uncaring lifestyle.

She could only protect her son so much. When Theodore was just nine years old, she couldn't take the abuse from his father anymore. So she tried to escape. From her house, from her husband, from her life. Yet she failed. And he found out. Theodore Nott Sr. was not happy with this. So he did the only thing that he thought could ease his troubles. He killed his wife. The mother of his child. The child that had heard the Unforgiveable Curse uttered from his father's lips. The child who watched the flash of green light emitted from his father's wand. The child who had to watch his own mother, the only person who truly cared for him, die.

When he started Hogwarts, Theodore wanted a somewhat fresh start. Free from the burdens of his home life, he made friends.(Arguably, they were friends who his father would have approved of. If his father even cared.) At school, Theodore worked hard, and tried to mask the emotions he had always been told to oppress. Anger. Hatred. Vulnerability. So none of his friends truly knew what his life was like. Except for Lorenzo.

Theo told Enzo Berkshire everything. It was easier, having someone understand why you were like you were. Someone who you trusted with your deepest, darkest secrets. Someone who cared about you. That's how the two became best friends. Practically inseparable, 24/7.

During You

Having a connection with someone was something Theodore didn't truly seek throughout his lifetime. Especially now, in his fourth year at Hogwarts. Apart from Enzo, he was fine with keeping to himself, keeping a low profile and staying out of everyone's way. That was, until he saw you.

"Enzo, I don't want to go."

"Please, Theo, I want you to come. I'll be lonely without you." Enzo pleaded with his friend.

"I don't want to go to the Yule Ball. And besides, I didn't ask anyone to go with me." Theodore replied, still resisting the idea.

"So? No-one really cares if you're with someone or not. It's supposed to be fun." Enzo says with a sigh as he flops down next to Theo on his bed.

Theo scoffs. "Says you! How many girls asked you to go with them? 15?"

Lorenzo turns slightly pink at his friend's comment. "23..."

Theo lets out an exasperated sigh. "Exactly," Theo says, but after a moment he decides, "I will go to the ball with you Enz. Only because it's that, or sit around here or in the common room with all the first years."

So, that was how he ended up standing at the side of the Great Hall, sipping a glass of pumpkin juice, and watching all of his friends dancing with whoever they brought to the Ball. Theo didn't really mind. Once again, he was merely waiting in the wings, not really expecting anything grand to happen to him. At least, that's what he thought would happen. Until he saw you.

You were with some of your friends on the dancefloor. Laughing and smiling, you were carefree, living your life to it's full potential. Theo couldn't bear to take his eyes off of you. It's not like you would have seen him anyway, with him lurking in the shadows.

After he had spent what felt like forever watching you, Enzo came to his friend's side, offering a new glass of pumpkin juice, which Theo gladly accepted.

"Who's that?" Theo asked his friend, nodding his head in your direction.

"That's Y/N. Y/L/N I think. She's in Ravenclaw. She's actually quite clever, I sat next to her in arithmancy last year." Enzo pauses for a second. "Why do you want to know?"

"I don't know," Theo shrugs, nonchalant. "I just... don't remember seeing her before, that's all."

"Oh. Well, she's really kind. And sweet." Enzo smiles before rushing of again to resume dancing, leaving Theo to mull over his thoughts. Thoughts of you.

A week later, whilst sat in Potions, Theodore couldn't help but watch you, sitting across from him in the classroom. Strange. He had never noticed you before, but now it seemed you were the only thing plaguing his mind. He hardly took any notice of Professor Snape that lesson, watching you as you took notes with your brow furrowed, and how you twirled your quill around in your fingertips if you seemed distracted.

Over the next few weeks, Theodore Nott grew to know lots about you, even if you didn't yet realise it. He knew your favourite subject (Charms), your favourite sweets from Honeydukes (Chocolate Frogs, because you collected the cards). He even knew how you liked to spend your Sundays (sat in the courtyard with a book and a hot chocolate). Theo was drawn to you, for some unknown reason, and not even he could figure out why.

In the weeks leading up to your exams, you spent an increasing amount of time in the library, studying. Funnily enough, so did Theodore. He wanted to do well academically, even if his friends preferred skiving off and messing with first years. So, that was how he came to speak to you for the first time, five whole months after he was first captivated by you.

"Can I sit here? All the other tables are either occupied or slightly sticky and I don't want to mess up my books"

"Uhh, sure!" Theodore said, shocked that you had even come over to him. "No," he told himself. "She's only over here because nowhere else was free. Don't get your hopes up."

"I'm Y/N, by the way." You smile at him, and wave your wand to get your books laid out on the desk in front of you.

"Theodore. But you can call me Theo." Theodore said, as he found himself smiling in return.

The two of you started to talk about anything and everything; school, exams, your hobbies, interests, just your lives in general. And that's how Theo realised that, maybe he wasn't such a cold, uncaring teenager after all.

A week or so later, the two of you were sat under the shade of an oak tree overlooking the Black Lake, studying for, you guessed it, exams. That moment was when Theo finally plucked up enough courage to ask you something.

"Hey, Y/N?" he asked, taking a deep breath.

"What?" you replied, looking up from your book.

"I was wondering, would you maybe like to, and it's OK if you don't, I don't mind, you don't have to say yes or anything because it's completely your choice-"

"Spit it out, Theo!" you giggled, humoured by his rambling.

"Right. Sorry." Theo said, trying to calm himself down. "Umm, would you like to go to Hogsmeade with me next weekend? And could we possibly go to the Three Broomsticks? You know, just... us?"

Your eyes widened, before you smiled at the boy's worried expression. "Of course! Theo I'd love to."

You wrapped your arms around him and gave him a small kiss on the cheek before returning to your book, leaving Theodore grinning as if he'd just won the lottery. Which, with you, he basically had.

After You

It had been a while since Theodore Nott had been back at Hogwarts. Since he had gotten the Dark Mark, at his father's force, he had stayed working for The Dark Lord, being a Death Eater. He hated it. It was a life his father had forced him into, a life which wasn't truly his. And now he was back at the one place which had been a home to him, but now he was here to destroy it.

Theo tried to look for you. The one person who he trusted, and the one person who trusted him. Theo wasn't here to fight. He wasn't here to kill. He couldn't do that here. His safe place, where his father couldn't physically torture him. Where you were.

Before his sixth year at Hogwarts, Theo was held under the Imperius curse by his father, and the searing skull tattoo, the tattoo that would hurt him forever, was imprinted into his left arm. When school started again, he couldn't bear to tell you, his girlfriend, what had happened. But he did, because between you two, there were no secrets. When you found out, all you were was supportive. You helped Theo though his pain and anguish, but what he didn't know is that when you first found out, you cried for hours. Crying about his future, your future, angry at the world you live in for being so cruel. Crying was really the only thing you could do.

After Dumbledore's death, Theodore did what he thought would be best for your relationship, best for you.

"You can't be serious, Theodore?" you said, trying to keep your voice levelled and clear, holding back the tears.

That hurt Theo. You never called him Theodore, unless you were really frustrated. Which hadn't happened until now. "Y/N please, I have to, it's for your safety."

"My SAFETY? Theo, I couldn't care less about that right now. Please, don't do this." You couldn't hold back any longer. The tears were now streaming down your face.

"I don't want to, but-"

"But what, Theo? I love you!"

"I love you too, but-"

"Then surely that's all that matter?" you say, exasperated. "We love each other. We can run away together, and live in hiding until it's safe for us to come out, to be together."

"No, we can't, you know we can't, we'll be found and then... you'd... You'd be killed." Theo says in a small voice. "And I can't let that happen to you. Please, Y/N, just listen to me. As soon as this is over, we can get back together. We can live together, start over together. But it can't happen now. Not yet. Please, Y/N, wait for me."

You can't stop crying now, and you lean over to Theo and kiss him. "OK. When it's all over. I'll be waiting for you, Theo. You'll definitely come back to me?"

"Of course I will, Y/N. I promise I'll find you."

And of course, that's what he was currently doing. Looking for you. He had been waiting a year to see your face again, hoping you hadn't forgotten about him. However now he couldn't find you. Running through the corridors, shouting you name, dodging curses and rubble, Theo's only goal was to find you. And he did.

There you were at the top of the Astronomy tower, a split lip and wearing a torn blue jumper, you were aiming all sorts of hexes at a Death Eater. Theo was so relieved, and began firing spells at your opponent, until he was knocked unconscious. At that point, Theo kicked the limp body over the balcony, not caring what would happen.

"Y/N." Theo smiled. "I told you I'd come back."

You pulled Theo into a hug and kissed him. "Theo!" you breathed.

"I love you more than anything, Y/N." All Theo could do was look into your bright, tearful eyes, relieved that he could see you once again before-

"AVADA KEDAVRA!"

That fateful curse.

A flash of green light.

Your body fell limp in Theo's arms.

Your eyes lost their brightness.

"NO!"

Theo tried to pull you up, tried to hold you tight, but it was no use. You were gone. Theo looked up to see your murderer, looking him in the eyes. His father.

Your death at the hands of Nott Sr. ensured Nott Sr.'s death at the hands of his son. That was the first and last time that Theodore Nott would ever use the killing curse, and it only made sense for it to be on the person that used it on the two people who he had loved most in the world.

When the Battle of Hogwarts was over, most of Voldemort's supporters were dead, captured, or had fled the scene when it was evident that they were losing. But two Death Eaters stayed behind, simply because they couldn't bear to leave the castle like this. They felt it was partly their fault. Those two Death Eaters were Theodore Nott and Lorenzo Berkshire.

Whilst everyone gathered in the Great Hall, Enzo wandered the, now ruined, corridors of a place he loved so dearly. What he didn't expect to find his best friend, leaning on the crumbled wall of the Astronomy tower, cradling someone in his arms. Not to mention the fact that his father lay on the ground mere feet away.

"Please, Y/N, you can't be dead, you can't. I came back for you I-"

"Theo?" Enzo inquired, sitting on the floor next to his best friend, who was in fits of tears.

"He killed her, Enz. He killed her so- So I killed him. I had to."

"It's OK, Theo." Enzo replied, putting an arm around his friend's shoulder, and letting him cry.

The pair fell into a comfortable silence, with the sound of everyone in the castle talking and grieving the loss of friends and family. The two could have been down there with them, celebrating the demise of the people who made their lives hell.

But instead, all Theodore Nott could think about is what should've been.

[txemptress]

─────── LOVE MADE ME CRAZY?!

━━━━ dion agriche. manhwa. twtpflob.

‣ fluff! reader is referred to as ‘you’, soft Dion! . ୨:୧

‣ masterlist . recent works . twtpflob. ━━━━

A loveless marriage. that's what this was supposed to be. A loveless and fruitless marriage between you and dion agriche.

Now why couldn't you do that, you may ask so kindly? Because this damnable husband of yours is a clingy puppy over you. Well, perhaps that's an overstatement but still. He was extremely against the rules of your supposed 'loveless marriage' as to him this was no marriage or just mere inconvenience, but rather a marriage where he finally has someone to talk with and do whatever he likes with (as long as you're comfortable, of course.).

Dion was known to be cold, calculating, ruthless, a complete psychopath but to you? He acts like a gentleman, if not that then perhaps just a clingy male who wanted every bit of affection he could get from you. Maybe it was because of his past experiences where he never got affection, but one thing was for sure the man would never leave you alone. No.

This morning was no different, you woke up and the first thing you feel is a heavy weight on half of your body, mostly the lower half. But a slightly lighter feeling was at your chest. You knew who it was of course thus you kept still. It would be a great disappointment to Dion if you dare move and tell him you do not wish to sleep in as you two normally do when he returns from a long hard work during one of his many missions.

After an hour, you finally make your movement to shift around. This was a sign to tell him to get up and start getting ready for the day. On a normal basis it would've worked but you knew better when it came to his return days.

The male absolutely refused to move out of your body. Especially not when he was feeling so much warmth against you. It'd be unforgivable to do such a terrible deed, that's what he thinks at the very least.

"Dion." Your tone was tired but it held firmness. It made Dion groan before he turned, finally letting you breathe smoothly once more.

His red eyes stare at you blankly at first, but then filling with utmost respect minutes later. "Good morning." His voice was sleepy and low. His eyes show dark circles under them, an unhealthy sign.

"Good morning." You answer, your hand reaching to stroke his hair. A move that deliberately gets Dion on his knees trying to reach your fingers.

He leans up and instead kissed you. His blanket gives way and makes the sight of his chest and undeniably tone and fit body in display for your eyes to see. Such a sight brought heat to your cheeks, a blush creeping forth bringing your thoughts deliberately known.

Dion simply grins as he pins you down. "Let's sleep some more." He spoke so kindly and smoothly, you wouldn't dare say no now, would you?

─────── TAGGING?!

━━━━ no one.

[bosbas]

Chapter 12: did you wish you'd put up more of a fight?

series masterlist previous part || next part

pairing: benedict bridgerton x best friend!fem!reader WC: 4.1k words

Warnings: period-typical gender roles, idiots in love being idiots in love, mutual pining, physical altercation (nothing serious but a few mentions of blood), mentions of sex if you squint, benedict being so so stupid

Summary: You and Benedict have been best friends since childhood, but things change dramatically once you come out in society. You’re struggling to find someone you’re as compatible with and who knows you as well as Benedict, all while trying to quell your ever-growing feelings for him. Shenanigans ensue.

A/N: guys idk anything about physical fights sorry if this is super unrealistic LMAO

August 12, 1814 - But, dear reader, I cannot fail to mention the upcoming gathering hosted by the Bridgertons at Aubrey Hall. Those lucky enough to receive an invitation are surely busy preparing for the eventful trip ahead. Every year, the Bridgerton country party proves to be an excellent hunting ground for ambitious mamas with daughters of marriageable age. Will this year's party bring forth new proposals? Whispers around the ton indicate that a certain Bridgerton brother might propose to Miss Y/N Beaumont, and that would certainly be the news of the season. Fear not, for this author shall keep the ton abreast of any and all developments.

"I beg your pardon?" he spoke, tone low and venomous as he breathed heavily. "What the bloody hell did you just say?"

Benedict saw you exchange a nervous glance with his older brother and his blood boiled at the sight. It was him you should be exchanging glances with. Not Anthony, of all people. He could hardly believe it. In fact, he didn't believe it at all. This had to be some sick joke, some cruel prank that you and his brothers and perhaps even your brothers had all been in on to rag on him for disappearing to the countryside for a month and a half. He desperately wanted you to burst out laughing and start making fun of him for believing that you and Anthony were to get married. But as the seconds ticked by, it became more and more unlikely that this was the case.

Interrupting your prolonged eye contact with Anthony, you looked down at your hands anxiously. This was not how it was supposed to go. There was no nature walk, no time alone with Ben, just an angry Benedict standing at the door to Anthony's study, waves of fury rolling off of him. A small part of you had hoped he would be angry, yes, but now that you were seeing him, unmoving, you wanted nothing more than to disappear from the room. You wished Ben had come ten minutes earlier, where you would have greeted him with a hug instead, feeling his strong arms make themselves at home as they wrapped around you. Benedict was not often angry, especially not at you, but when he was, he usually voiced his displeasure quite loudly to anyone who would listen. However, knowing he was standing there, stock-still and seething, you weren't quite sure how he was going to react.

"How much of that did you hear, exactly?" you asked meekly, trying to gauge how much damage control you would have to do. You kept your gaze firmly on your hands, unable to meet his eyes and slightly fearful of his silent anger.

"Enough to know that my brother is the man you're marrying," Benedict responded, sounding angrier than he was when he first walked in, if that was possible. "I see it's been quite a productive season," he added in a clipped tone.

Your head snapped up at his last comment. You felt Anthony tense beside you as he felt your anger rising, but you didn't care. How dare Benedict blame you for finding a husband after he so unceremoniously walked away from you? Meeting Ben's intense gaze and flinching as you practically felt the daggers shooting from his eyes, you yelled back, "What did you expect, Benedict? You walked away from me and I did exactly what you wanted me to do. I found a husband. I don't know what more you want from me."

Try as you might to keep your voice strong, a wobble at the end had betrayed your true feelings. You had sounded more pleading than anything, but you were beyond caring. You were absolutely crushed, and you could see that Benedict was hurting as well. After years of looking into his eyes, you could recognize that he, too, was hiding sorrow behind his anger. Trying to remain composed, you bit the inside of your cheek as you felt Anthony reach over and place a comforting hand on your shoulder.

"I didn't–" started Benedict, unable to continue once he saw Anthony's hand on you. It was true, then. The courtship. Or the proposal. Or whatever else you two had been doing while he was in the countryside five seconds away from tearing his hair out in desperation because he loved you so much. Suddenly, it was difficult to remember why exactly he hadn't wanted to marry you. Marrying you couldn't have been worse than what he was feeling right now, the devastating realization of having truly lost you. Surely nothing could be worse than this.

Carrying the unspeakable grief that came with losing one's best friend and soulmate all in one evening, Benedict turned around to walk out of Anthony's office. He couldn't bear to be there any longer, watching the woman he loved be caressed by his brother. Without a second glance at the two of you, he closed the door behind him and made his way to his own room. He would have been better off going there in the first place, he thought. Then he could've had a few more moments of peace before he found out what you and Anthony had been up to in his absence.

Looking at the closed door, Anthony's hand dropped from your shoulder as he stood in shock at what had just happened. "Are you alright?" he asked you, knowing the answer but needing to reassure you anyway.

You shook your head, holding in tears that were threatening to spill. "Someone should go after him," you said pressing your fingers to the corner of your eyes. What you really meant was, you should go after him, Anthony, but you wanted to give him a chance to say no. To decide he wasn't going to clean up yet another mess you had made because of your stupid feelings for his brother.

But Anthony, ever the eldest child, nodded in agreement. "Just stay put for a bit while I get him into his room. I don't think it would be the best idea to have the two of you talk right now."

Aubrey Hall had already seen too much chaos today without what he expected was going to be a shouting match between you and Benedict. If only the shouting match could lead to the two of you realizing that you did, in fact, love each other very much and that you would, in fact, be very happily married. He gave you one last squeeze on the shoulder and took off determinedly to find his brother.

Benedict saw Anthony catching up to him out of the corner of his eye but didn't stop or slow down. He couldn't bear to stop now, he needed to get to his room. Or really anywhere that was stripped of every trace of you. Benedict could barely think, the moment when Anthony placed his hand on your shoulder replaying relentlessly through his mind and preventing him from thinking about anything else.

Feeling Anthony stop right behind him, Benedict turned around to face him. The two brothers stood, staring at each other, for several moments. Anthony trying to think of what to say and Benedict getting angrier by the second.

"If you had–" started Anthony, only to be cut off by Benedict immediately.

"How could you do this?" Ben shouted, voice raw from holding back the string of curses he wanted to direct at Anthony right now. Anthony bit his lip, grimacing. He knew Benedict would be mad, but he had been unprepared for the magnitude of his fury. In a way, he felt bad for Ben. Anthony could tell that you were the love of Benedict's life—it was ridiculously obvious—and it couldn't have been easy to see you with someone else. But enough was enough, and Anthony had seen you heartbroken for long enough to know that Ben had only brought this upon himself.

"Might I remind you that you left, Benedict? After she asked you to marry her, no less," shot back Anthony, arms crossed tightly over his chest. He could see Ben waver at his words, face blanching slightly at the realization that you had told Anthony about your quasi-proposal.

"And you think you're better than me? Anyone with half a brain knows you don't want to marry for love. Did that change in the last four weeks? Are you now suddenly unequivocally in love with her? Is that what happened?" asked Benedict, an unfathomable bitterness on his tongue. His words were mocking, but deep down he did want answers. Did you and Anthony really fall for each other while he was gone? Had he been that foolish, to ever imagine the possibility of having something beyond friendship with you when his older brother was right there?

Anthony rolled his eyes, "Come off it, Benedict. You can't play the victim every time. She's aware that I don't want to marry for love. After some very negative experiences with the men of the ton, you included, she's decided she is perfectly fine not marrying for love either." Seeing Benedict's brow furrow in protest, Anthony continued, "Honestly, I promise I didn't force her into anything, I only gave her the option. She decided all by herself that this was what she wanted. And if you'd stop being a prick for about two seconds you'd realize this is what's best for her, anyway. That I'm what's best for her." And sure, Anthony knew he had probably gone too far with his last comment, but Benedict was being incredibly frustrating at the minute that Anthony didn't care.

However, Benedict didn't want to stop being a prick for two seconds. Especially because you were about to get engaged to his brother, who was being a massive dick right now. So instead, he chose to give into his anger, pushing against Anthony's shoulders so he was knocked against the wall.

"That you're what's best for her?" he scoffed. "I've been best friends with her for two decades but suddenly you're the one who knows exactly what she needs? Seems quite logical," finished Ben, pure poison dripping from his voice.

Undeterred, Anthony pushed Benedict back. "What is so wrong about our courtship? You left her so she could find a husband and that's exactly. What. She. Did," he yelled, accentuating every word with a shove at Ben's shoulders, who responded by swatting his hands away.

"She was off limits, Anthony. You knew that! You never should've done that," cried Benedict, grabbing his brother by the collar, and growing more frustrated by the second. However, whether he was angrier at Anthony or himself was unclear.

Exasperated, the elder Bridgerton reached over to slap the side of Benedict's head. "Off limits? Why would she be off limits? She seemed pretty on limits when you said you couldn't marry her and fucked off to the countryside for half the season," came his response.

"Because she is my best friend," Benedict roared back. Hearing Anthony's mocking laugh brought out a level of anger Ben did not know existed within himself, and he found his fist flying to make contact with Anthony's mouth. Ignoring the metallic taste on his tongue, Anthony responded by kneeing Benedict in the groin until he doubled over and slammed the fist that had just hit him into the wall.

Ben cradled his hand against his side, wincing as he saw his grazed knuckles, but he was unrelenting. It was like all of the pent-up emotions of frustration and uselessness he had been feeling in the countryside were finally bubbling over now that he had someone to direct his anger toward. "Because she is my best friend and you know that I'm in love with her. I know you know, Anthony, you cannot pretend otherwise," he said, desperation evident in his voice.

Fairly done with the conversation and itching to go sort out his busted lip, Anthony tried to straighten out his collar as he spoke to Benedict, "Well, even if you are, it doesn't do her much good if you have no intention of marrying her, does it?"

Benedict was stunned to silence. Anthony was right, of course, but Ben couldn't find it in himself to concede to the man who was going to take away Benedict's best friend and the love of his life all in one go. So he just stared at his brother, breathing heavily and searching for words that would not give away just how destroyed he truly felt.

"I am proposing to her in a week. You have until then to fix this, otherwise, you will truly have lost her forever." And with that, Anthony walked off without a second glance, leaving Benedict to grapple with his thoughts.

Walking upstairs in search of something to stop the bleeding at his lip, Anthony couldn't believe that Benedict had admitted his feelings for you. The intensity of the argument between the two brothers had most likely been the catalyst for the confession, but Anthony hoped that this might be what allowed Ben to finally see right by you and love you the way he so obviously wanted to. Regardless, Anthony couldn't help the protective instinct that surged within him. He cared about you, and he was acutely aware of the heartbreak that awaited you if his brother didn't come to his senses.

Too caught up in his thoughts, Anthony missed your presence entirely as he made his way past your room. "Anthony, your lip!" you exclaimed as you closed your bedroom door behind you, bringing him out of his musings. He touched his hand to his injury, hissing in pain slightly as he was reminded of the blood coming out of his cut lip.

He waved his hand dismissively, "It's alright, just a scrape," he assured you.

You seemed doubtful but nodded anyway. "I was going to ask how your talk with him went but I think I have a very clear idea," you said, earning you a short laugh from Anthony.

He cleared his throat, looking at you up and down with a mix of concern and determination. The atmosphere in the room was heavy, charged with the aftermath of the confrontation with Benedict.

"Look, I gave you my word, and a gentleman's word is his bond. I fully intend to honor our agreement," Anthony began, his tone steady and resolute. "But, I also think it's crucial for both you and Benedict to have a conversation, to sort out feelings on both sides."

You looked at him nervously, not ready to confront your feelings for Benedict, let alone any that Benedict might have for you.

He gave you an encouraging smile. "If you decide you still want to marry me afterward, that's perfectly alright, and I'd be delighted to do so. But I think it's only fair that you both have a chance to speak your minds before we move forward." He met your eyes, sincerity evident in his gaze. "Talk to Benedict. I think he went to his studio. I'll give you both the time you need."

You knew he was right, unfortunately. So you nodded, giving him a grateful hug before he excused himself to go clean up his injury and you headed down the stairs to go look for Benedict.

---

In the solitude of his studio, Benedict wrestled with a storm of emotions he was feeling as he paced the room. He couldn't believe that he was going to lose you to his brother. Even if you and Anthony were not in love with each other now, it was only a matter of time, he reasoned. You were, at the very least, the most extraordinary woman he had ever encountered, and surely Anthony would see it that way eventually. Especially if the two of you had children. His heart dropped at the thought of you and Anthony in bed together, but he pushed the image away once he heard a knock on his studio door.

Seeing your face poke into the room, he couldn't help the butterflies that erupted in his stomach, even despite his tumultuous thoughts. "Well, hello," he greeted you curtly, lifting his hand to run his fingers through his hair nervously, knowing a difficult conversation awaited him.

But you gasped before you could respond, immediately distracted by his bloodied knuckles. "Benedict, what on earth...?" you trailed off as you rushed to grab his injured hand in both of yours.

Benedict's breath caught in his throat as he felt your hands on his. The tenderness with which you turned over his hand made a previously dormant warmth rise in his chest, and he bit his lip to keep from shivering. You looked so beautiful, face pinched in focus as you ran your finger over his injury, and he inhaled sharply as your finger traced over his open wound.

"So this is what you and Anthony were doing instead of talking, then?" you scolded, looking into his eyes but not letting go of his hand. It didn't matter that you were still furious with him, it felt too good to have the heavy weight of his fingers half-intertwined with yours after so long of having him away.

"It's nothing," Benedict responded, shaking his head. Then, remembering why his knuckles were grazed in the first place, he added bitterly, "Why don't you go check on Anthony instead?"

Your face fell immediately and you dropped his hand. He hadn't meant to upset you, and he certainly hadn't meant to make you let go of his hand, but it seemed like his anger and jealousy had taken the reins today. But even when you were angry with him and looked about three seconds away from hitting his other hand, he couldn't help but marvel at you. He was completely enamored, looking from your furrowed brow to your narrowed eyes to your full lips. And his eyes stayed on your lips because it seemed that no matter how angry you were he couldn't ignore the ever-growing urge to kiss you right then and there, consequences be damned.

You rolled your eyes, anger bubbling up inside of you once again. "Benedict, I simply don't understand why you're so upset. If anything, marrying Anthony is a better option than marrying anyone else. Our families will remain close and you and I can still see each other fairly often. And once you're married–"

"I'll never marry," he interrupted, voice clipped. He was appalled that you would even suggest that, although he reasoned that you had no reason to believe that he wouldn't marry.

You look at him, confusion written all over your face. "I– What? What do you mean you will never marry? Benedict–"

"I love you," Ben blurted out. "I love you in a way that even words cannot express. I would rather remain unmarried than be with someone who isn't you," he added, needing to make sure that you understood that he loved you beyond what the boundaries of your friendship allowed. He had thought that you might fall in love with some other man, and he would be fated to watch you be besotted with someone else. However, now that he knew that you intended to marry Anthony, who you were most definitely not in love with, he needed you to know that he was the one who had loved you for years now. And he hoped that you might love him, too.

But you did not swoon like he expected. And you did not rush into his arms to kiss him or confess your undying love for him. You didn't even smile. "Are you joking?" you said angrily.

Benedict's eyes widened, shocked by your response. "I'm not– Why would I be joking?" he stumbled over his words.

"First you tell me you won't marry me, which is fine by the way, and then you leave so I can find a husband, which is also fine. Except," you let out a disbelieving laugh, "once you find out that your older brother is the man I'm going to marry, you are suddenly in love with me." You're still staring at him, daring him to challenge you. "It's a little too convenient, don't you think?"

He was panicking, horrified that you thought his confession was merely a way to get back at you for going after his brother. Guilt was coursing through his stomach in an entirely unpleasant manner, and he was struggling to find the words to convey his love for you in a way that you deserved to hear.

"It's not like that! I do love you. I want you and I don't want anyone else," he said desperately, reaching for your hand so he could reassure you.

But you were having none of it. After all this time, you couldn't believe he had the nerve to show up at Aubrey Hall, get into a fight with your future husband, and then confess his supposedly undying love for you. Feeling his hand clutching yours, a feeling so familiar, brought tears to your eyes. You ripped your hand away from his, not able to parse the gentleness with which he held your hand with his careless words.

"Stop it! Having you leave after I asked you to marry me was painful, but this might be the cruelest thing you've ever done, Benedict," you said, tears blurring your vision. "You can't just march in here after weeks of being away and demand that I stop my plans so that you can get back at your brother."

Benedict's eyes welled with tears, reflecting the pain that echoed in your own. He couldn't believe you still wanted to marry Anthony after all this. You were his one big love. There was no one else. And it was all too much to think that you didn't feel the same way.

So he pressed, "Is my love not enough? I have been falling apart on my own from the magnitude of my love for you. Should that not be enough? To know that I love you with every fiber of my being, more fiercely than I've ever done anything in my entire life?"

Tears were running unobstructed down your face now and you choked back a sob. If Benedict had told you this about six weeks ago, you would have dropped everything to be with him. But it was too late now.

"It's not enough when I had been feeling the exact same way and you still walked away from me," you responded, clutching his hand for comfort even though he was the one who had caused you pain.

He pulled you in fully, wrapping his arms around you and rubbing your back comfortingly. Benedict put his chin on your head as you buried your face in his shirt, breathing in his familiar scent that never failed to make you feel at home.

"I'm sorry, darling. I'm so sorry," he murmured, hugging you tighter when he heard you sob. "I suppose being in love with you feels so natural I didn't quite realize what it was until recently." He kept rubbing your back, tracing patterns on your skin.

"And– And I thought I was ruining our friendship. When I wanted you, I kept thinking I shouldn't have been," Ben added, cringing as he realized the gravity of his misunderstanding.

You were overwhelmed by his confession, barely believing that he actually reciprocated the feelings you had struggled to keep hidden for so long. You couldn't help the steady stream of tears running down your face, and you burrowed deeper into Benedict, needing to be closer still. You felt one of his hands lifting your face to look up at him and the other keeping you pressed firmly against him. Your tear-stained eyes met his as you sniffled, struggling to breathe normally.

You watched, almost in slow motion, as Benedict's eyes fluttered shut and leaned down, lips slightly parted as he leaned down toward you. This was everything you wanted, wasn't it? In the rose garden, you had wanted him to kiss you more than you had wanted to keep breathing. You had probably spent hours looking at his lips, wondering what it would be like to taste them. To have them on your lips and enjoy the feel of them as they moved against yours. To know what it felt like to have Benedict be truly yours.

But that was then, and you wanted different things now. So you broke free of his grasp and pushed him away, breathing heavily as he opened his eyes in shock and looked to you for an explanation.

"You can't just do that, Ben! We haven't resolved anything, and it certainly won't be resolved by you kissing me," you exclaimed, playing up your anger to hide your pain.

So you turned on your heel, exiting his studio as quietly as you had entered, and he was left, for the second time that day, speechless as someone walked away from him. 

—

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[loveliestlovelygirl]

an affair of the heart

boss!anakin x secretary!reader

synopsis: after months and months of mutual pining, your boss, anakin skywalker finally makes a move on you, though he has the absolute worst timing.

w.c: 0.6k+

highlights: {minors dni} office romance, power imbalance, infidelity, anakin is married, semi-public sexual encounter, explicit language, brief mentions of domestic violence

“I won’t tell her,” Anakin whispers, his deep voice low, his lips brushing over your ear. “Will you?” His entire body drapes over yours and presses you against the edge of your work desk.

With the perfect way your bodies fit together, you can’t help but wonder if this is meant to be. You’ll never be his glamourous wife, the model, her beauty displayed on countless fashion magazines. She’s his equal in every way. But you know the truth of their marriage. He’s told you all his secrets. How she cheats on him. How she screams in rage when he disappoints her. How she hits him when they fight.

You’ve seen the bruises, evidence of the abuse he’s entertained for all the years they’ve been married. And you know he’ll never hit her back. It’s not in his character. He’s a sweetheart to her, and until now, such a loyal husband.

“I wouldn’t. But this… isn’t a good idea,” you say, trying to find the willpower to resist him.

Your nails dig into the hard surface while Anakin, your boss, hugs your body tightly and holds you dangerously close to his broad chest. The edges of his curly hair tickle the side of your cheek and your neck as he kisses you softly.

Anakin spins you around to face him. He leans down to match up your lips. “I’ve wanted this for so long. Haven’t you? I’ve seen the way you’ve looked at me ever since I hired you.”

You shake your head. “No. No. I need this job.”

“Fucking me can be added to your list of duties if it makes you feel better.” He sighs against your skin. “I’ll even throw in a little raise for you… no, a big one.”

Your boss trails his hand around your waist and down your abdomen, rubbing your stomach through your clothes. Your skin twitches from the electricity you feel at only his touch. “Mmm… can’t. That wouldn’t be legal.”

“Angel… make an exception. For me.” His intense gaze burns your vision. He’s almost too pretty to look at. “I make the rules around here, don’t I?”

You bite the edge of your lips. This is bad. Very bad. And very tempting.

“Someone might see,” you argue, more with yourself than with him. That’s the only excuse you could think of besides the fact that Anakin is your fucking boss. Now he wants to be your boss that fucks you.

You really never wanted this to happen. Of course, you’d have the occasional fantasy, a little daydream about him here and there, but you’d never thought he’d come onto you. And at the worst possible timing. You’re supposed to be briefing him for the upcoming meeting. The one that’s supposed to be happening in—you check the clock about the door—twenty fucking minutes.

“You should know I don’t care about that.” His tone is suggestive, hinting at the time you caught him with his wife one day when you came in early. He had her sprawled out over his desk. That was when things were good between them, before she started to get violent.

“You’ll be late to the meeting with—”

He shuts you up with a kiss, his mouth pressing to yours gently and quietly demanding more. This is the first time you’ve ever kissed him. Though it’s something you thought of a lot over the months of your employment. His lips are soft and smooth, everything you’ve dreamed about. And when you kiss him back, against your better judgment, you swear you hear him gasp. How long has he wanted this too?

Anakin lifts you up onto your desk and pulls your legs apart, squeezing his body between your thighs. Halfheartedly, you try to hold him there, keep him away, but it doesn’t work. It can’t work. Because. You. You love him. 

And so, you yield… to his every impulse.

add yourself to my taglist!!

[vivianbernadetteaurora]

Elizabeth Taylor 🦋🧚🏼‍♀️🚬💊💟👩🏻🐠🌹🥀🍿🥃🌟✨️💄♓️

,Elizabeth was one and breathtaking beauty, for many years she got married very young to get away from under her mother’s clothes and to be a free woman but this to her demise led to even worse behavior by her first husband Conrad Murray who was allegedly very abusive to her.

she admits that she was probably addicted to marriage, I think back then a lot of people married many times because you did it out of love if you were gonna be with someone you had to marry them especially in the early ages of the golden era of Hollywood the 1920s to the mid 1960s, her true love though were Mike Todd and Richard Burton Todd however died in an airplane accident in on the one night they spent away from each other on his aeroplane which he called the lucky Liz. unfortunately it wasn't so lucky she said there were the two great loves of her life so much so that she married Richard Barton twice.

many women would make fun of her I think they were a little jealous and she came off as a certain way and they looked at her with a certain demise and being easy I suppose and if she turned down roles it makes you wonder and think about what she really did because that was unheard of back then how close were her family with Hollywood producers and such was she abused like Marilyn,, it doesn’t strike me as you say but then you gotta think of this. Did the women like Marilyn because she was vulnerable and dislike Liz because she wasn’t as vulnerable my mom said that as a straight woman. That Marilyn has just got the factor I love her don't get me wrong but I love them both.

.,,However often left innocent third parties under the bus in shocking ways so who were these old Hollywood actresses infamous for sleeping around join us as we take a deep dive into these famous actresses their raunchy ways and the often damaging aftermath of their actions., Elizabeth Taylor possibly the most famous name on this list Elizabeth Taylor claimed the love of fans around the world with her unique beauty and dramatic talent not only that she was also known for being one of the most notorious seductresses in Hollywood she claimed her most scandalous prize when she fraternized with singer actor Eddie Fisher what was most controversial was Fisher was then married to Taylor’s best friend.. Debbie Reynolds but it turned out to not just be a one off hookup as Taylor and Fisher later wed but ultimately divorced Taylor apologized to Reynolds years later and the two once again became friends Taylor had seven husbands throughout her life but married who she believed to be the love of her life actor Richard Burton twice after her final divorce in 1996 to construction worker Larry fortensky. Taylor claimed to have had enough of men and remained single until her death in 2011,,.. Diana doors English singer and actress Diana doors first came to public notice as a blonde bombshell much in the style of Marilyn Monroe she made tabloid headlines with the parties reportedly held at her house later she showed a genuine talent as a performer on TV and gained new public popularity as a regular chat show guest.. with her ostentatious mansion kitchy decadence and debauched parties Doris was the definition of notorious she married three times had numerous lovers and was even called a wayward Hussey by the Archbishop of Canterbury it wasn’t just her roles and low budget films she was famous for but filming people having sex in her house doris’s guest would watch grainy footage, of an unsuspecting couple who had chosen to cavort in one of the dimly lit upstairs bedrooms.

[sashi-ya]

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ 𝑪𝑯𝑶𝑪𝑶𝑳𝑨𝑻𝑬 𝑻𝑹𝑬𝑨𝑪𝑯𝑬𝑹𝒀 january free requestsㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ aizen sosuke x f! reader

🕊️ request: anon ⋆｡˚ May I ask about a NSFW scenario of Aizen x afab reader have sex but they have to keep it low because there is a party in the house and people might catch them? It could be even more interesting if they’re not even supposed to talk to each other. Thanks for your hard work on here! 💗 🕊️ tw: mdni. Mafia AU. Aizen's younger brother could be anyone! however since it is not a fic, but a scenario, I didn't want to go much further BUT in my mind it was supposed to be Gin (if you really like this fic I could write more with more than one chap cause I love mafia au and traitors :P) . Kyoka Suigetsu is a gun in this AU. so, usage of gun. fingering. kissing. slap. hair pulling. unprotected sex. fear play? gun play? maybe. (Not so much of a play). wc: 1,4k 🕊️masterlist

For the sake of the business, of the families… Promised to Sosuke’s little brother, there you sit watching the night pass by. Or maybe, just maybe, the handsome features of the oldest of the Aizens.

As always, these parties are never fun, specially knowing all of the men in there carry guns in between their hipbones and clothes.

Is not ok for you to speak more than what you are expected to; the daughter of a mafia boss holds power, but apparently not rights.

To ensure the prosperity of your family’s business they have agreed on an arranged marriage in between the youngest heirs of both of the most powerful mafia clans in all the country…

“Mrs. (Name), are you enjoying the party? Has my little brother already left you alone? What is that man thinking?!” your future brother-in-law asks. His chocolate eyes fix into yours, taking advantage of the power they have on you. He knows very well that his younger sibling cares nothing about getting married, and even if he ends it up doing it he won’t engage into the “good husband” life.

“Aizen-sama, yes. He told me he wanted to dance, I think… but he is probably drinking with… you know” you murmur, ashamed. Is not that you care about him, you don’t even wish to touch him. However, there is one you want to touch, to kiss… him, Aizen Sosuke, the older sibling.

Aizen smirks with class and blinks slowly. He presents his hand with his palm up to you; Sosuke is actually asking you to take his hand and follow him. But should you do it? This could be considered as some kind of treason… what would they do if someone see the younger bride to be on her own engagement party leaving with the brother of the groom?

Well… if your life is about to become hell, might as well do it faster.

You place your hand on his; he slickly looks to the sides and then again at you. With a soft smirk, something like a caring façade that’s nothing but a lie, he pulls you up.

“Follow me, (Name). Please”

And you do. You follow him, and you walk right behind him like following the devil walking you into hell.

The long halls of the Aizen family’s manor can easily be mistaken for a maze. The big windows ahead, show the beautiful scenery that surrounds their lands; a tropical paradise on a steamy summer night. You can see the waves crashing on the coast, that’s barely a few meters from the house. The moon reflect its white silver shine that’s tinted in a little bit of red, on the water… like a flower on a pond, so beautifully unreachable.

“Sosuke, where are we going?” you ask, knowing what you are doing but not exactly where.

He turns around, stopping in the middle of a carpeted covered hall. His eyes scan you up and down, strategically stopping by the high cut skirt of your dress. Sosuke, then, walks a couple of steps towards you and places the soft surface of his fingertips on your chest.

“Your heart is racing…” he whispers, with his face close enough for you to feel his warm breath kissing your skin.

Your eyelashes flutter a couple of times, while your lips slowly separate. Whether you wished to say something or not, you knew you simply couldn’t.

“I know our families have arranged your marriage, but… I have a better plan” he adds, coming even closer to your face. Right there, so dangerously exposed to anyone that decided to walk those halls.

“You do…?” you ask, hoping for a better future, trusting in the man that could be your enemy… that in fact, is still one until you finally marry his brother.

He nods, slowly. Aizen’s hand reaches for your face, placing his fingers on your mandible and his thumb on your lip. He sloppily plays with it, getting you ready for him, spell bounding you, making you stupidly weak for him…

Sosuke pushes you back, unexpectedly. You trip but he catches you and guides you to a random room.

Inside, the luxury never stops, and the scent of chocolate invades you. It’s delicious and it seems to be coming from some steamer. The place is not looking like a pantry but rather a place where massages are done. And in fact, when you turn around, there is a massage bed and many decorations around that reminds you of a spa.

“I didn’t know this place existed” you giggle, knowing this home is about to become your home… well, at least if you make it alive from tonight.

Sosuke scoffs, just enough to make your core wetter, and your legs weaker. He comes closer to you, always with that calm way of walking. Calm and dominant. Calm and dangerous… oh but so attractively.

He lifts you up to sit you on top of the bed. It creeks just a little, and the soft surface welcomes you like you are landing on a cloud. Immediately after, he softly slaps your knees to spread your legs and then get in between them.

Your face reaches his chest height, and your eyes discover the little spot of caramel skin right in between his collar bones. You are tempted to kiss; you are tempted to touch, to let him do it anything he wants.

“I must ask you to keep it quiet; even if this place is huge… walls can hear” he urges you, passing his hand towards the back of your head.

“I will try~” is the last phrase your lips pronounce that make sense, because the next sounds abandon your lips will be just moans and whines…

Sosuke kisses you, violently. So imprudent, so sinfully. He has no trace of regret nor shame for messing with his brother future wife, neither do his hands. Your breasts, freed by a sudden pull on your neckline’s dress, await for him to enjoy them. Your right inner thigh can feel the protruding “Kyouka Suigetsu” carving on your skin… his so well-known gun, that he carries everywhere in between his pants and his sweet, milk and coffee skin.

The silence gets tinted in soft moaning and panting, as well as the sound of his fingers crawling inside you. In and out he goes, straightly to the point. He wants your walls to be stretched enough to receive his now hard rock sex. A hard rock sex you can clearly also feel from time to time, as he grazes against your dampened sex. You are sure his light brown pants are already stained in your arousal, and you don’t mind…

“You are very tight, aren’t you? But you are still taking it very well…” Sosuke asks in your ear, while he forces two fingers instead of one deep inside you. “Did my brother fuck you already?”

You shake, taking the unproper right to pass your arms over his shoulders. “Not yet, he still thinks I’m a virgin…” you whisper back, revealing a lie that could cost your and your family’s heads.

Aizen smirks so devilishly, as if the new information he has just learned about you represented more than a simple lie…

“Then, I won’t be soft… you know that? You little lying bitch?” he says, walking back and taking his gun out of his “secret” not to secret spot. “Go as hard as you wish, Sosuke… we are both traitors by now” you spit, receiving the cold tip of his Kyoka on your thigh.

You lick your upper lip, slowly smudging the already bleed out red lipstick. Even the strongest can faulter when it comes to lust, because Aizen hand slightly trembles… and the trigger he should have pulled, it doesn’t get pulled. And the gun now rests, so dangerously by your side, so next to your own hand.

He softly slaps your cheek, while the other pulls from your hair back. Your neck exposed; his teeth carved on your flesh. The sound of his zipper going down; the stretching feeling of his manhood piercing your walls integrity.

You carve your heels on the small of Sosuke’s back, while he fucks you so rough. You don’t want him to stop, you want him to keep going. Your pinkie can feel the cold metallic surface of the gun resting on the bed. But his does too...

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ...who will grab it first?

[ofsappho]

Heartless CHAPTER 8.5

🔞 Simon “Ghost” Riley x reader 🔞

Fake marriage/marriage of convenience

-

You and Ghost get into a fight when he refuses to go dancing with you

-

Hello. I know it’s been a while 😭😭😭 I’m so so so sorry. Thank you all again for your patience. This was supposed to be one big chapter, but I thought I’d post what I have now just to make everyone happier while I work on the rest. A lot of smut in the next chapter. Hope y’all enjoy. YES THIS IS THE SET UP FOR GETTING DICKED DOWN BY COWBOY HAT GHOST. PLEASE BEAR WITH ME.

If one were to go off your husband’s tone, they’d think you just walked out of the bathroom in a stained brown paper bag. “You’re not goin’ out,” Ghost says after re-locating his jaw to its natural position under his balaclava.

“Hm. Thank you for your input, Ghost, but I wasn’t aware that I’d asked.”

You spin around with a huff and march back into the bathroom to examine your appearance, flinging the door open with such force that it slams into the wall.

Before you can shut it behind you, maybe lock it just to piss him off, your husband braces a veiny forearm on the doorframe and leans in. “You’re not. Not like that.”

“Why? What’s wrong with the way I look?” You ask as you go in with more blue glitter on your eyelids.

“You know what I mean.” His voice rumbles gruff and low.

And you can see his eyes looking at your ass through your cutoff denim shorts in the mirror. “Am I ugly? You don’t like it?”

Said shorts make your legs look fifteen miles long and are cut almost indecently short, accentuating your full hips and flattering your tummy. To fit the night's theme, you have on a very nice push-up bra with a white crop top tied in a bow under your boobs. And black cowboy boots, of course.

You have a matching hat somewhere…

Ghost rolls his eyes. “Fuckin’…” He sighs.

“Gorgeous, doll. Don’t pout. C’mere.” Then he reaches out and snags you by the waistband of your shorts, pulling you into his tall frame. You go easily, unable to resist him even if you wanted to.

Ghost tugs his balaclava down to chastely kiss your cheek. “Prettiest bird I’ve ever seen.” Please, like you can’t feel him pawing your butt with a gloved hand.

You rock yourself back, barely grinding against him. “Then I’m going out. Like this,” You tell him. You bat his hands aside to face him, your nose inches away from his mask. “You can come with me if that would make you feel better.”

Did Ghost really expect you would be content to twiddle your thumbs at the barracks and not explore London? You were pleasantly surprised to find a thriving line dance scene in this part of the world, and doing silly little dances while sort of drunk to cheesy country music sounds like your idea of a good time.

So this lovely Saturday night, you decided, ‘Why the fuck not?’ You can handle your sore back tomorrow.  And now you’re trying to convince your stubborn mountain of a husband to tag along.

Ghost releases you so quickly that you stumble and have to catch yourself. “I don’t dance,” He says in a flat, deeply unenthusiastic voice.

“Please? It’ll be fun!” This might be a little cliche, but you’ve never gone on a date with him before. You’ve spent your time hanging around him and his team, wherever they may be, and yeah, you signed up for that…

But you want a date. You want overpriced drinks and holding his hand as you walk down the street. Something more. That doesn’t seem as unreasonable as he’s making it out to be.

“I don’t dance.” He turns away without looking twice and strides out into the bedroom. Ghost’s coldness hurts more than his rejection.

You don’t understand why you care so much about something so small. If he were anyone else, you’d take the L, move on, and go where you’re appreciated. “I wouldn’t even make you-“ You try, still staring at his back and wishing he’d meet your gaze.

But you don’t want someone else. You want him, just for the night. Have you asked him for anything else before? You haven’t.

“No.” Oh, is Ghost suddenly too good to be seen with you in public? Marrying you under false pretenses is fine, but God fucking forbid you go to a bar together?

“But-“

He snorts. “Fuck no.” He strips off his gloves before tossing them on the bedside table, clearly uninterested in discussing this further. “Christ, woman. Don’t look at me like that. Can’t you take no for an answer?”

You look at yourself again in the mirror. Blue eyeshadow, long, fluttery fake eyelashes. Pink lipgloss dabbed on your mouth. And glitter on your eyelids and cheekbones, like a goddamn fairy.

You’re too beautiful to be upset and too beautiful to sit around doing nothing with a man who couldn’t give less of a fuck.

Where is your cowboy hat?

You find it buried in a suitcase. “Ugh. Why are you being such an inconsiderate asshole? Go fuck yourself,” You snap as you set the hat neatly atop your hair. Then you grab your phone and send a couple of messages. Soap might be free, and you’d even settle for Sergeant Garrick or Alejandro.

You have your IDs stashed in your bra, along with some pounds. You do a once-over in the mirror and brush some imaginary lint off your cleavage.

“Where are you-“

You cut him off. “Out. If you won’t dance with me, I’ll find someone who will.” Someone who won’t make you want to cry, whose dismissal won’t feel so awful. You’re not interested in testing out the durability of your mascara.

“Love-“ You can hear his heavy footsteps heading your way.

Unfortunately for him, you’re already in the living room, making a beeline straight for your front door.

Your phone dings.

“Alejandro is free. I’ll see you later, baby. Don’t wait up,” You call over your shoulder, too upset to look back.

Your mouth presses into a flat, pinched line. You’ll get so drunk you won’t remember this fight and exhaust yourself dancing, and tomorrow, you can go back to pretending like you don’t care about Simon.

-

Music pounds in your ears. A man croons over guitars and banjos and a trilling piano in a thick Southern accent as Colonel Vargas turns you around the dance floor of this American-themed pub. The place is so over-the-top that you find it charming - everyone’s dressed like you, in cowboy hats and boots, and you hear more than a few lousy imitation American accents. Very quaint.

Blue and magenta lights drape all of the dancers in a riotous rainbow of color. There’s a mix of clumsy young folks your age, out for a cheeky pint with the lads, so to speak, and older regulars who came here for the same reason you did; to dance.

Alejandro has a very respectful hand on the small of your back as he effortlessly guides you side to side, forward and back.

You relax and let yourself sway with his pace, your feet moving perfectly in time, even once you stop consciously thinking about it. “You’re good at this!” You say loud enough so he can hear you over the music.

Alejandro flashes a white-toothed grin at you from under the brim of his black hat, the band trimmed in shining sterling silver.

“I’d hope so. Back home, in Las Almas, we go dancing a lot. Rudy and I.” He falls silent to guide you past a few people conducting themselves far less elegantly than the two of you.

You feel as though you’ve just stumbled on some great secret and found worthy by the keepers.

“Rudy?”

Alejandro’s face is a sight to behold. You can see a red tinge on his tanned cheeks under the lights. “My, uh, how do you say it? Los Vaqueros. He is my… vaquero.” Cowboy. His dark eyes glimmer, and you understand. Alejandro and his Rudy are continents apart, and you can taste their chemistry from where you stand. You feel it thrumming under Alejandro’s skin, like the mere mention of Rudy is enough to bring him to life in a way you’ve never seen before.

“Back, back, there you go. Out and-“ He lets go of your other hand and pulls back, leaving you plenty of space.

Your hair fans out around you as you twirl towards him on the balls of your feet. “Spin. Very smooth, Colonel,” You compliment. One of his arms wraps around your waist, and the other folds gracefully over your chest.

You untangle your limbs from Alejandro as if you’ve been dance partners for years. “Sounds like you haven’t seen your cowboy in a while.”

“I haven’t. Our jobs keep us busy,” He says. His voice is quiet, a timid undercurrent of sound that you can barely hear over the speakers.

“He serves?”

Girls covered in dark orange tan and shimmering body lotion spill onto the dance floor in a mess of giggles. Alejandro deftly pulls you out of their chaotic path before you fall over them on your ass.

“We served together,” He says as he dips you with a solid arm supporting your back.

Rudy must make Alejandro so happy. “How romantic.” Ghost would never smile like the Colonel does. But what would Simon look like if he were so happy? Would his voice soften? Would he dance with you, even alone in your apartment?

“Sometimes.” Your dance partner catches your hat right before it slips off your head.

You squeeze his shoulder in gratitude. “He sounds like a wonderful man. I hope I get to meet him one day.” 

“Stick around long enough, and you might.”

“Well, then I’ll plan on it.”

The song ends, and something less suited to two-stepping plays next.

The two of you have drinks on a table next to the dance floor. You’re not worried about anyone tampering with them; Alejandro has already scared off any fellow who so much as looked your way. “He’d like you,” He murmurs to himself.

You have your Corona with lime, Alejandro has been working on a glass of expensive tequila all night, sipping it as delicately as if he were drinking tea.

He’s looking at you funny. The way you’re chugging this beer is probably not helping. You finish it and wince at the taste.

“You want to talk about what Lt. Riley said to make you so sad, hermanita?”

You didn’t even tell Ghost where you were going. That’s how fucking mad you were. You turned your phone off once you met with Alejandro, not wanting to see any calls or messages that would’ve broken your resolve. But there’s a worse possibility - that there aren’t any calls or messages at all.

“Not really.” You let the empty bottle thump as you drop it on the sticky, barely clean table.

His disinterest isn’t supposed to be a bad thing. Ghost could be cruel, or unkind, or abusive. You’re very lucky he isn’t any of that.

Kind, handsome, and affectionate in his own way is a hell of an improvement. For a moment, you feel ashamed that you want more. So what if he hates dancing enough to curse at you over it? So what if he doesn’t know who you are, the things you like and don’t like, your favorite movies, or why you avoid your mother’s calls?

You busy yourself with looking at everyone else so you don’t have to meet Alejandro’s knowing gaze. “Sí. Whatever you say,” He sighs into his tequila. Hopefully, that’s the end of the questioning.

Of course, it isn’t. “That one is… Rudy doesn’t like El Espectro.” Alejandro’s brow furrows as he thinks over his following words. “But I wouldn’t want anyone else on my side.” There’s more than a little respect in his voice and the kind of confidence in your husband that makes you want to be a bit more confident, too.

“Sometimes I think he wants me on his side. Then I remember that he’s a stranger, really, and I’m fucking projecting. Projecting that he’ll ever want me more than, you know, normal.” Maybe the beer is making you chattier than usual. You can feel shit you’d never say out loud just flow from your mouth.

Alejandro snorts. “He definitely wants you. We all know that. It’s very clear,” He quips, snapping you straight out of your vulnerability.

“Ugh, shut up,” You tell him as you blush a bright red under your makeup and knock your elbow into one of his buff arms.

He leers at you across the table, waggling his dark eyebrows and grinning once you start giggling. “Why do you think Soap has those new earplugs, eh?”

“Gross!” In revenge, you make a play for his drink. You don’t love anything harder than a glass of wine, but you’ll make an exception to spite Alejandro.

He laughs, holding his glass above his head where you can’t reach it. “I’m just playing!” Alejandro waits until you’re sulking in your seat before setting it down. “I won’t tell you you’re wrong, necessarily. But- but I think you’re underestimating him. Lots of people do. Ghost always gets the jump on ‘em. He might get the jump on you.” You gaze longingly at the remnants of his tequila. 

“Whatever. I don’t want to talk about him anymore. It’ll just ruin my night. I need another drink.” That will solve your problems, at least temporarily. You’re not supposed to drink on your meds, but technically you’ve already started. In for a penny, in for a pound. And those rules are just suggestions, not hard restrictions.

The very friendly bartender with a thick British accent you can barely understand and nice eyeliner hands you one lemon drop shot, then another after you down the first. It burns like lightning in your esophagus. But the burn eventually turns into a pleasant tingle, warming you from head to toe.

You’re working on your third shot when Alejandro catches up to you. “Careful,” He calls over your shoulder.

You wave away his concern, another drink already in hand. This one is a rum and Coke, way too heavy on the rum. Did the pretty bartender do that on purpose, one girl to another? You like her even more.

The next song comes on - something loud and awful, its catchy beat punctuated by dubstep rooster crows.

“Come on, I fucking love this song,” You say, just barely slurring your syllables. “I’m not gonna shake my ass alone.”

-

GHOST POV

Your phone is off.

Ghost is embarrassed to admit he’s checked every hour since you’ve been gone. At least three hours, now bordering on four. And he knows your phone is off because when he calls, it goes straight to your fuckin’ voicemail. Which you haven’t set up yet, so he’s stuck listening to some stupid robot telling him to “leave a message after the tone.”

It’s driving him almost as mad as you are. When you get back - not if, when, the second thing he’s going to make you do is change that goddamn voicemail message.

The first thing is something along the lines of “make you sorry.” Ghost hasn’t ironed out the details yet. No matter. There’ll be plenty of time for that later.

It’s dark out. It’s been dark out this whole time. You left with the sunset at your back.

While he knows Col. Vargas is with you, London is large. You’ve never been here before. Col. Vargas ain’t half bad with a map, but he’s not from around these parts either.

Maybe you never made it to… wherever you were going. How the fuck would Ghost know? How the fuck would anyone know?

He’s even angrier with himself that he was too much of a prick to listen when you mentioned it.

In the privacy of your quarters, Ghost pulls his mask off to run his hands through his shorn hair. The hair you cut.

It’s so quiet when he’s alone. This is the first time since- since you married him that he’s been alone.

You hum. A lot. Or you listen to music on your dinky wired earbuds, and he catches the sounds of your foot tapping along.

You snore, though not loudly. He’d never tell you, and he’s certainly slept under worse conditions. But it’s… nicer to kit up for the day, to brush his teeth and roll on his socks, knowing someone there will be waiting when he gets back.

Fuck.

Did you take the Tube? Buy a ticket? Oyster cards are cheaper, but you wouldn’t know that. Ghost should’ve told you. He should’ve been at your side.

He’s watched you struggle with the unfamiliar currency. You had all sorts of odd American notions about coins and exchange rates. Ghost had to correct you twice. After that, he secretly swapped out some of your dollar bills for pounds so that you’d be alright no matter what.

He left you with more than enough for a cab there and back. But what if the cabby overcharged you after hearing your accent? What if-

It’s a major metropolitan area. Criminals abound. Kidnappers driving ‘round cabs, stalkers, nonces. Statistically, at least one serial killer or two.

God-fucking-damn it.

You could be dead in a ditch, all because he didn’t want to go dancing. In hindsight, it doesn’t seem worth the quarrel.

This place is too quiet without you in it. He can’t stand to sit here in silence a second longer, staring at the lack of notifications on his phone and seeing shadows in the corners of the room. Closing his eyes won’t chase them away - he’s tried.

Simon only sees you covered in blood, a hole in your pretty head. Or duct tape over your mouth and your clothes ripped off, or you lost and alone in some alley, never to come home. Another name on the list of people he’s-

That’s enough of that.

He slips his gloves on, then pulls his daily wear mask over his head. Ghost has been choosing the balaclava more often. It’s something softer and a little civilian for you.

Not like you’re even here to appreciate it, he grumbles internally.

He runs the last moments he saw you over in his head a few times. You said Vargas was free, implying there may have been other options, but the Colonel was the first to respond. Ghost will eat his mask if Sgt. MacTavish wasn’t one of those other options.

The front door slams into the wall with more force than necessary. It makes a satisfyingly loud bang.

As Ghost picks his way through corridors he knows like the back of his hand, he thinks he should have told you again how beautiful you were. You would have left with a smile and kiss instead of a cold scowl.

He’s only being a good husband that watches out for you. That’s it. Ghost takes pride in being good at damn near everything, other than driving, so it’s natural for him to get worked up. Worked up is the wrong phrase. That implies that he’s agitated. He’s not agitated.

Is that a trace of your perfume he smells? Couldn’t be. Doesn’t make sense. Perfume doesn’t linger that long in the air. Ghost can smell gunpowder from a kilometer away and old blood three city blocks over.

And you. The scent is too faint for his comfort. If he can’t touch you soon, can’t gorge his eyes on your face and leave teeth marks in your skin, something’s gonna break.

Ghost leaves a boot print on the door to the communal bunks as he kicks it open. “Sgt,” He calls out curtly.

Surely, man-to-man, Soap can be reasoned with?

“Ah, so you’ve decided to show your face. Well, mask.”

Apparently not.

Irritation prickles down Ghost’s spine. “So that’s the way it’s gonna be.”

Soap finally condescends to get out of his bunk and stare Ghost down like he’s shit on the bottom of the sergeant’s shoe. “You’re a right eejit, Lt,” The other man snaps, crossing his arms over his chest.

Ghost doesn’t have time for this. “Where’d she go?”

“Fuck should I tell you for?”

His patience and self-control and restraint are hanging by a fucking thread, and Johnny’s disdain is like the edge of sharp scissors against it. Is Ghost the only person on this goddamn planet who cares about your well-being? Including yourself?

You’d be displeased if Ghost got your best friend’s blood under his nails. Very displeased. Simon holds onto that reminder for dear life.

“You out your fuckin’ mind? She could be-, “ At this rate, Ghost will never snap at you again. One go at this circus is more than enough for him.

“Ain’t my job tae find your wife,” Soap growls as he sticks a finger in Ghost’s face.

The sergeant is wasting precious fucking time treating Ghost like he’s the bad guy, and you could be gone by now. Ghost has bigger fucking priorities.

Simon misses America - which is something he never thought he’d think. England is full of his ghosts, moments away from breaking out of their graves. In your homeland, you were safe.

“You’re supposed to be her best mate. You don’t know where she is?”

Soap gnashes his teeth, his eyes glinting with fury. “Should fuckin’ kill you, you know that? Awa’ an’ bile yer heid.”

“I’ll come back and beat you black and blue after I find her.” Ghost’s brain teems with swarming, sticky thoughts, blacker than an oil slick. He needs- he’s not sure why he can’t breathe. His heart rate picks up, and he doesn’t know why and it needs to not do that.

He needs you.

“Worry about yourself, Ghost. I won’t need tae do a goddamn thing. She’ll have you on your knees like a dog.” Soap pauses. “You made her fucking cry.” His words hang in the air like a noose around Ghost’s neck.

“Wasn’t tryin’ to,” Simon retorts. Then he shuts his mouth and thanks God that the mask hides his face. He sounds like a whiny, immature brat and certainly feels like one. Not a man, not the kind of man he should be for you.

“I told you not tae hurt her.”

Ghost remembers. With vivid clarity. “…” On the tip of his tongue hangs the thought that Soap hadn’t needed to. Ghost took one good look at you in that dress, the simpering sweetness in your eyes replaced by razor-sharp steel in an instant, and he knew he could never hurt you.

But what Soap meant is that he’d trusted Ghost with someone precious, and today, that trust was shattered. “Aye, so ya can put a shot in some poor sucker’s head from 2,500 meters, but ya can’t spend time with the woman you married? And be fuckin’ polite to her?” The sergeant’s tone is so caustic he could use it to clean a Scorpion’s engine.

Simon is familiar with guilt. Guilt has been his companion his whole life. The kind of guilt that can never be cleaned because the people he wronged won’t come back.

This is a new kind of guilt. One with the hope of absolution. It makes him deeply uncomfortable, almost nauseous.

“…I can’t make it up to her if I’m not with her.”

That tiny concession still isn’t enough. “Useless. Absolutely fuckin’ useless,” Soap mutters.

“Johnny, you ‘bout done takin’ the piss out of me?”

“Right now, that’s Sgt. MacTavish to you, Lt.”

Dammit. “Sgt. MacTavish. Sir.” There’s blue glitter on the sink back home from where you were dusting it across your face. Pretty shade of blue. But Ghost had turned away when you stormed out, so he can’t remember how it looked on you.  “Please.” Did it run when you cried? He hopes not. You shouldn’t waste tears on a bastard like him.

Soap doesn’t speak for some time.

Simon feels some odd, heart-wrenching, panicky desperation build and build, his hands grow clammy under the gloves.

His phone buzzes, and for a second, Ghost hopes it’s you. But it’s not - Soap’s sent him an address. Some shitty little pub not more than a half-hour drive.

“There. Don’t come back until you’ve proper apologized. An’ if you make her cry again? I’ll dummy-cord ya head to ya hand since you’ve lost your goddamn mind.”

Under Ghost’s mask, there’s the tiniest smile.

Soap claps him on the shoulder. “Now get out of here.”

-

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[pastel-nature]

My Pretty Little Bastard (Part 2)

Yandere!Aemond Targaryen x Reader

A/N: All characters in this fic have been properly aged up to 18+. Please forgive spelling or grammar mistakes, English is not my first language.

You can read Part 1 here:

TW: abusive behavior, stalking, breach of privacy, targcest between uncle and niece, implied noncon.

Aemond was happy, at least you think so. His touches gentle as he laid his cloak on your shoulder, the slight squeeze on your shoulder reassuring as you rise and face the crowd as husband and wife. He smiled at you, genuine you would like to think, for you never see such expression on his face. 

Low whispers that used to taunt you, gave you comfort that day, in the morning he promises to keep you safe, in the afternoon to keep the family united, and in the night to be gentle. 

The first bedding night still hurts, but the kisses on your temple, apologies, and the gleaming sapphire in the place of his missing eye gave you something else to focus on.

And so, you too strive to be happy. 

You speak naught of the letters to your family. Now that Aemond has changed for the better, you can start anew.

You shielded Aemond with appreciations when your Daemon jabbed on your ‘miserable appearance’.

Even your mother, the woman who was supposed to know you in and out, hugged you in glee. A marriage full of love and passion is a blessing my love. 

Grandsire, in his Kingly outfit, joins the family dinner that day. None of your pleas stuck in his mind it seems. He toast for his handsome son and lovely granddaughter, a new branch to strengthen the dynasty.

Aemond by nature is not a warm person but his efforts shone when he makes time to accompany your daily stroll in the garden of the Red Keep. At times with a book to read, another times with flowers in hand, and that one particular time a sapphire ring to adorn your finger with, a piece of him.

Your life is a dream, mother was right, this marriage is a blessing and you will try your hardest to keep it so. A good dutiful wife is what you strive to be, long forgotten are the dreams to one day came back to Dragonstone, claim a dragon, and soar high in the sky. No, your place is here, right by Aemond’s side.

Nightly activities are stilted still, but both of you made an effort. Some days your husband even went out of his way to pleasure you. The more pleasure involved, the higher chance it is for you to get pregnant my love.

You blushed and nodded.

He’s slowly morphing into a different creature by night. Naked in all senses, unguarded and honest.

When you confronted him about the letters he broke down in tears. Admission of his own insecurities and fears slipped out of his mouth.

I was afraid of losing you to someone else, or that you may have felt that I am not good enough to have you. 

I am not well, not inside, my fears caused me to act irrationally and impulsively.

In this violent and tumultuous world I have to be feared, to pursue power and control at any cost. For you…

For our family, he landed a hopeful kiss on top of your stomach.

When your moon blood ceased to flow and your belly began to swell, Aemond took the last part of his vow with fervor and determination.

Oldtown? You asked him. 

He carefully explains that the difficult pregnancy and the duties of a princess weigh heavily on you. It is best you reside in my new estate, free of burden, to focus on our child.

Built just outside the Oldtown we will have the best maesters and medicines - as well as daily blessings from the sept, to aid your pregnancy.

Lets not worry about your parents, and siblings, they have dragons don’t they? They can visit whenever they want.

And I promise this time, your letters are yours.

The journey to Aemond’s estate was a strangely tense one, with guards, lots of them, and you can even hear the sound of a marching army behind your entourage. Not that you are allowed to look. I do not want you out there, these men deserve not a speck of your attention my love. We are fast approaching anyway.

Loneliness is one thing. It is what you are good at. Years alone at the Red Keep with no one to call allies had prepared you for that.

But total isolation is another matter. 

Upon your arrival it's apparent that you had made a wrong move, this place is a prison. Its bars gilded with gold, its high walls decorated with flowers, its guards and warden wear silks, but prison all the same.

Forget the promised letters and visits, you could not even see out of the windows, not since you entered the carriage that brought you out of the Red Keep.

Is this place even anywhere near Oldtown? You find yourself wondering with no one to ask, not even Aemond.

Ever since you arrived here, Aemond swiftly took off with Vhagar, said his duties awaits him.

By spring, your belly began to prominently swell, it has been the 5th moon since the maesters declared you pregnant, and 4th moon since you arrived in this castle.

Aemond returned intermittently, to give you gifts, hug and kiss you, even bed you. 

Yet he never stayed for the night.

Nor did he indulge in your questions.

Streaks of 10 year old Aemond came up now and then, the boy with disgust in his eye and poison in his words.

And you, once again, learn to avoid him.

Alone as usual, you sang and told tales to your only companion, your belly and the child inside it. But that night something arose, a sinister thing that chokes your nerves and filled your mind with dread as you hear people screaming in pain.

The barn caught fire your grace, please be at ease it will be over soon, your maid said before she fell to the floor, blood on her back.

Princess? A voice called for you.

A/N: Thank you for the encouragement and kind words, I hope you don’t mind the cliffhanger. Reader-chan is still suffering with no happy ending in sight. Well, that’s what you get for gullibly trusting man like Aemond.

Part 3 is out

[u-ntitled-s-eries]

Chanedlure!Ingo x Reader - Corpse Bride(?)

With the wedding rehearsal in less than an hour, it was inevitable that you would come face to face with your future husband, something you still had yet to ready yourself for. However, you would have never expected that he would seek you out right before the ceremony and would approach you when the rest of his family had wandered off with yours to discuss matters in private. Still, the man standing before you looked like nothing less than a gentleman, calm and kind.

“It’s a pleasure to finally meet you.” He spoke soft and low. Much quieter than you expected from the son of a man such as Ghetsis.

“The pleasure is all mine, Natura.” Unable to meet his gaze, you instead cast your eyes downwards as you mumbled your response.

“Please, no need for such formalities.” He stepped closer, waiting until you granted him permission before sitting beside you. “My father and sisters call me N; it’s only fitting that you are allowed to do the same.”

“Very well then… N.” You could feel your heart thundering in your ribcage. Whether from embarrassment or excitement, you hadn’t the faintest idea.

“When Father first told me about the arrangement, I wasn’t quite sure what to make of it." He finally said after some silence, yet not unkindly. "Marriage always felt so far away, and when the thought of it did cross my mind I always hoped I would marry for love. I supposed I was a little too hopeful.”

“I supposed…” You couldn’t help but nod along with him, only stopping when you realize what you just agreed to. “No, of course not! If it weren’t for our current circumstances, I would want the same. That’s not to say I’m opposed to marrying you, simply that I would choose to… fall in love first.”

Against your better judgement, you lifted your gaze and caught a glimpse of N smiling back at you.

“Perhaps you still can.”

- - - - - - - -

By now the entire town has caught word of how disastrously the wedding rehearsal unfurled, so you walk until you reach the forest, as it’s only there that you are truly safe from the stares and whispers that seemed to wait at every street corner. Perhaps your fears were well-founded after all, N would be better off marrying someone of nobility.

For goodness sake, you couldn’t even recite a single vow without so much as stuttering or fumbling a word.

“This shouldn’t be so difficult; all I need to do is repeat the words.” You mutter to no one, eyes cast down and feet dragging across the forest floor. Remembering the vows as they were recited during the rehearsal, you raise your left hand, as if resting above N’s. “With this hand, I will… hold your- No, wait, that doesn’t sound right.”

Further and further, into the woods you wander. The only company you have are a few stray Corviknights, staring at you with sunken red eyes from up above.

“With this ring, I will be your… It’s not ‘I will be your wife.’ Is it?” One of your new companions responds with a lone raspy cry.

Deeper you go, wandering and wondering even as the day fades and makes way for the moonlight.

“With this… candle - yes, start from the candle. With this candle, I will…”

What was it?

“I will…”

The urge to cry out in frustration persists, but you haven’t the strength to muster a shout. Instead, you hand your head in defeat. “I will set your sister on fire.”

Exhausted and confused, you decide to rest your weary feet on a fallen tree. At this rate, there might not even be a wedding. The golden band may as well be cast from lead with how heavy it weighs. But as the ring rests in the palm of your hand, you can’t help but think back to what N had shared with you.

Even when the rest of the room watched on with apathy and disdain, he still gave you fleeting glances and soft smiles. The choice to fall in love; that’s what he had offered you, is it not? With one last spark of hope, you held the ring in one hand and stood up, recalling the vows that had been recited this morning.

“With this hand, I will lift your sorrows. Your cup will never empty, for I will be your wine.”

While his father made no attempt to hide his contempt for the marriage, his sisters at least greeted you and your family with some level of hospitality. What are the odds Anthea would be willing to overlook today’s fiasco? Perhaps, in due time, you can make amends with her.

“With this candle, I will light your way in darkness. With this ring,”

Spying a nearby sapling poking out from the snow, you kneel down.

“I ask you to be mine.”

And you place the ring on a branch. It shines brightly on the blackened bark, and the sound you make can only be described as euphoric. Perfectly recited without any hesitation. Another Corviknight calls down, as if in celebration.

Then another. And another.

If you had waited to look for just a second longer, perhaps you would have spotted the ‘sapling’s branches twitch and jerk. But instead, you turned around and looked up to see over a dozen- no, two dozen pairs of beady faces staring back. And as they continued their crying and cawing, just barely noticeable over the whistle of the wind, you could just faintly hear… music.

Something grabs your wrist and yanks.

Hard.

The snow doesn’t even crunch as you’re pulled to the ground, and any sounds you make are swallowed up by the melody growing louder and the chorus of birds above. They leap from their branches with ready wings and talons, as if to descend upon you. Finally regaining your senses, you dig your heels into the dirt and pull your arm back.

Whatever it is that’s gripping your wrist tightens its hold, squeezing down on your skin. More and more black emerges from the snow as you use all of your weight to pull free. You don’t even think to scream, only to close your eyes and struggle against this thing dragging you down. But finally there’s a snap of twigs breaking and you’re free, stumbling back without anything to catch you. The frozen solid ground may as well be stone against your skull. Dazed, you lift your hand to your head and see what it is that grabbed you.

A skeletal arm with bones of pure black, wrapped in vines and tattered cloth clenches its fingers around your arm.

Your screams join the circling Corviknights and you tear the thing off, tossing it away.

The ground underneath rumbles, like giant metal cogs turning, and out of the corner of your eye the snow begins to stir. It heaves and jolts, then bursts open. A gloved hand emerges from the ground and claws into the snow, followed by a shoulder and neck. And as you see this shape pull itself from the earth, bones and branches snapping, the music never once stops.

And there, where you one knelt, stood a looming figure cast in black. With its one hand, it lifted the cap upon its head, revealing a sickly pale face with yellow eyes and blackened lips.

“I do.”

[winters8child]

It´s been a long, long time

Chapter 3

Nothing could have prepared me for the life I would eventually lead. I was supposed to be ordinary, inconsequential even. Go to school, be a good girl, and eventually become a good wife to a simple man. He didn’t have to love me or even like me, as long as I didn’t complain and bore children, life was good. At least that’s what I had been told.

But as I was getting older, life was becoming more serious. On my 16th birthday, my mother took me aside and said, “You are a woman now, so act accordingly or no man will want you.” I didn’t know what “accordingly” meant, but I didn’t like the sound of it. “You can’t keep hanging out with those boys anymore if you want to find a good husband,” she said, her sadness barely masked. “I’ve seen the way you run down the stairs whenever they come by. That James is not the right fit for you, and don’t get me started on that Steve boy. How could he ever protect you, looking so frail like that?” But I wouldn’t stand for it. I turned on my heel and stormed out of the house.

I ran to the one place where I always went when everything around me became too overwhelming. I called it my quiet spot. It was a low wall by the river where I could sit and watch the water flow by. It was a gorgeous day, the sun was shining, and I could hear the laughter of children playing outside. I didn’t know when I stopped being one of those children, but today it felt like that time was gone for good. I lost track of how long I had been sitting there when I heard footsteps behind me.

“Hey, I was at your place, but your mom said you were out. She seemed distressed. Everything alright?” Steve asked as he sat down next to me.

“I’m getting old, Steve. My mother expects me to get married any day now. It feels like that’s all I’m meant to do—to marry a man I don’t care about and have a ton of kids.” Steve was taken aback, struggling to find the right words.

“Maybe you’ll find someone you like or even love?” he suggested tentatively.

“But maybe I want someone who loves me back? Or is that too much to ask for?” I asked, my voice trembling. He took my hand in his and said, “Any man would be lucky to have you, believe me. And if all else fails, I’ll marry you.” I was speechless, just staring at him.

“You know we can’t do that. You deserve to marry someone you love, Steve. Not a marriage of convenience,” I said softly. He let go of my hand and looked out at the river, a sudden sadness in his eyes. After a few minutes of silence, he reached into his pocket and pulled out a small box, handing it to me.

“Happy birthday. I hope you like it. If you don’t, I can find something else, but I thought…” Before he could finish, I opened the box. Inside was a pin shaped like a ladybug. The colors were vibrant, and it glimmered in the sunlight.

“The day you moved here, something changed. It felt like my life was finally headed in the right direction. Just out of pure luck, the most darling and sweet girl moved into my neighborhood. When I saw this pin, it reminded me of you. I hope that’s alright,” he said softly.

I was at a loss for words. No one had ever given me such a thoughtful gift. Steve crouched beside me and asked gently, “May I?” I handed him the pin, and he carefully fastened it to my collar. He smiled at me, and I leaned in to give him a tentative kiss on the cheek. “Thank you. It’s gorgeous,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He blushed, and his shyness made me blush in return. We sat there until the sun went down, talking about everything and nothing, until we ran out of things to say.

Next Chapter

[2offayyo-kzt]

Why Sean is a "sad" and "empty" character :

(a far too long and elaborate shitpost)

based on this post by @hellsmell

I used my over analysis skills dating back from my BSD era, if you're familiar with my account, nothing I've written will be new to you.

I insist, it's a huge shitpost, not to be taken seriously !

A marriage on the rocks :

Obviously, this argument only applies to the period before the Brain Scramblies ep, but given that the Rinaldis renewed their wedding vows, it means that the couple had reached an important milestone in their relationship.

So their marital life had probably been going badly for several years already, particularly in terms of communication and mutual respect.

Trust issues and low self-esteem :

Sean seems to have major self-confidence problems, and therefore frequently lies to his wife for fear of disappointing her.

His low self-esteem became particularly apparent when his entire memory was erased, and his first reaction to learning that Charmaine was his wife was "I wish".

And their couple went sour probably the moment Sean took Charmaine's presence in his life for granted.

However, Sean still has doubts, even years after having won Charmaine's heart; even if his wife has agreed to renew their marriage vows (an act that shows the love she still bears for her husband)

When Sean might have been seriously financially ruined during the Casino episode, he confided his fears to Laszlo : "She's gonna leave me Laz... She's gonna leave me."

Sean believes that if he can't provide Charmaine with financial stability, she'll leave him at the first opportunity.

Psychologically and physically abused during his childhood :

Sean doesn't seem to have had a very easy childhood, even if he never seemed to lack in terms of money (studying at a private school, owning a car at a young age) his father (Franklin) was particularly harsh with his son.

As a child, Sean wasn't allowed to watch programs on PBS.

He was also forced to kill a deer at the age of 14, which can be impressive if you're a sensitive person. And he still seems traumatized by the event, or at least it left a deep impression on him :

"First time I ever saw something die. But it wouldn't be the last."

And in the Sunrise Sunset episode, it was very strongly implied that Franklin was even physically violent with his son supposedly to "settle" conflicts :

"Now, I'm gonna count down from three. When I say go, start swinging. First one to tap out, other one's head of the household."

All that scene also indicates that Sean was forced to take on responsibilities that he was not supposed to have.

A character who can't allow himself to show tenderness :

We can assume that this rough, probably macho education made Sean feel compelled to keep up a tough facade.

Anthony Atamanuik (Sean's actor) said Sean was perpetually either "confused" or "aggressive"

And Anthony would have liked, in one episode, for Sean to show a softer side of himself.

"But Anthony if you had to pitch an idea, what's an idea or storyline you think might be Seanie's"

"It would be fun to discover, something like soft that Sean does. Like some secret soft thing. Like he's part of a quilting group, or that he rescues birds in a Wildlife refuge in Staten Island. I think I want to find one piece of him that's like gentle."

And maybe that's where his obsession with Ocean's 12 comes from, to have a support that can serve as a healthy coping mechanism but that doesn't make him "vulnerable" in the eyes of the world and is easy to justify.

A character who abuses himself :

This idea mainly comes from what Anthony said during an AMA on Reddit, where he shared his personal theory on why Sean resisted to the frequent hypnosis :

"You know, it's like if you met someone who had a very hard life, they maybe self abused a lot when they were young but then they got clean, they got like sober right. Let's say they did a lot of toxic substances in their system when they were young. Sometimes those people just have a resilient immune system for some reason cause they like... abused themselves so much when they were younger. So I wonder if Sean had, sort of, you know, he drinks all the time, and seem not to care of himself that well, so maybe he's immune to the brain scramblies because he abused himself so much that he's immune to it."

But this is also reflected in the show, where Sean drinks a very large number of cans of beer.

He also suffers from a gambling addiction and is objectively an alcoholic.

Suicidal ?

So I'm extrapolating a lot, but it's interesting to note that when the Jersey Devil threatened his life, instead of shouting "help me" he shouted "kill me".

He also told Laszlo "You're my main man. I'd die for you."

So, obviously, it's to be taken with a pinch of salt, but it's perhaps indicative of his disinterest in living.

Parallels with the Joker :

So I'm bullshiting big time here, but I find it interesting.

When Sean was dancing at the Pride Parade, Anthony did his best to "march like Jack Nicholson's Joker"

In the 2019 Joker movie, Arthur took care of his mother in the same way Sean took care of his mother who suffered from dementia.

Note that the Joker's mother, let her son be abused : "Much like her son, Penny suffered from an unspecified mental illness. She was responsible for letting her former boyfriend abuse Arthur in his childhood"

To conclude, I think Sean gives me Sad Jester vibes, a comical character, but more profound and tortured when you take a closer look.

//

I can't believe I wasted two hours writing that lmao

[lushbarb]

y/n & j | hurt.

6 months postpartum

- the day -

It was about 6 PM when he came home and I told him I needed to speak with him.

Are you okay?” He asked me.

“Yes” I tell him, knowing I’m not. My stomach is turning, my face is hot and I don’t know how to tell my husband that I know he is having an affair and I am about to leave him.

I don’t want to. At all. I love this man with everything in me. We have been through different stages of life together, watched each-other become parents, started our careers, and there’s not a day since we met that we’ve spent apart. He’s my world. My child’s father. My best friend and I can’t remember life without him. How can I leave him?

But also, how could he step out on me? On us? How could he look another woman in the eye knowing it’s not me and tell her things that only he should tell me and treat her a way he should only treat me. He made a commitment for the rest of his life to me, to us.

I can’t even think about looking at another man, let alone sleeping with one. The thought of hurting my husband makes me want to throw up.

My thoughts are interrupted by our son waking up so I bury my feelings and my thoughts because I have to be okay, I can’t let my kid see me not okay, isn’t that what being a mother is all about?

We sit on the couch and I ask my husband to join me.

My face is so hot and my stomach is doing backflips and I just want to cry looking at this man. I love him so much, how could he do this to me? But do I even want to know?

“Did you cheat on me?” I just flat out say it. What’s the point of wasting time? If I look at him any longer I’ll keep remembering how much I love him and then I’ll just give in, I know I will.

He looked shocked that I just asked like that, then he stared at me in my eyes for about 1 minute and immediately put his head down.

My heart sank. I let out a small sigh, looked down at my kid and there was the tears. I knew. He told me all I needed to know without saying a single wrong.

I had so much I wanted to say but did he deserve for me to say anything? 10 years of marriage so I felt that I deserved to speak and I needed an explanation but I didn’t want to think about it anymore. I didn’t want to think about my husband with another woman. Kissing, touching, being intimate with another woman that’s not me, his wife.

My eyes felt so low but I still looked up at him. He locked eyes with me and suddenly I saw a different person, I didn’t know him.

“I love you” he said to me, his voice choking up.

Why does it hurt me to see him hurting and upset? But I don’t know why, He hurt me. He betrayed me.

“I have so much to say and even though I don’t think I should be doing the talking, I also don’t want to hear you explain it to me because that will hurt me even more” I say. I wanted to ask you do you love me? Did our family mean anything to you? How could you ever look at someone the way you are only supposed to look at me and then come home to me? I wanted to ask that but I know you will tell me that you love me, our family means everything to you and that the affair was nothing to you and that it will never happen again but I know that it is not the truth because If it was you would never be able to do this to me” I tell him while crying. I didn’t want to cry but how could I not?

“I love you” he repeats while looking at me. “I’m sorry, I never wanted this for our son, we always said together forever and that he would see that.”

“His dad stepped out.” I bluntly say.

He wipes his face. There goes the tears. Now I’m getting angry, how are you crying when you broke our family apart?

I look at him and I can tell he is about to say something.

“You will always be the woman that was made for me. You gave me my son, a family and a new life. Some men dream about having the life I have, some men would kill for it and I took it for granted. I knew what I was doing and I didn’t stop it, I knew my family was at home and I continued it and I knew it would hurt you and a part of me didn’t care but also knew I would lose my family so I tried to hide it. “ he says.

Ouch. It hurts so bad to hear him say this but I also know it’s the truth.

“ Thank you for your honesty. I just don’t understand” I reply. We were fine one day. What did I do? What changed?

“Don-“ he tried to speak.

“What did I do to make you fall out of love with me? To make you not care about us? It’s not just me you should’ve thought about. We brought a child into this world and you should’ve thought about him, you didn’t think about him!” I cried.

“Stop blaming yourself.” He tried to move closer to me but I put a hand up to stop him.

“No. Don’t do that. You’re wrong.” I say.

He moves back to his original spot on the couch.

“Are you leaving?” He asks me. “Taking him with you?”

I look down at my son and my heart hurt. He doesn’t deserve this. He deserves for us to be a happy family and I can’t even look at my husband because I never wanted this, I don’t want our family to not be together every day but I can’t stay here, it won’t be the same.

“Yes” I tell him softly. “You know I don’t want you to feel like I am taking him from you.”

“You are, I don’t want to be without him or you.” He sits up.

“I have no choice. We talked about this before and we had a solution we both agreed on so it is not my fault you forgot about that when you decided you didn’t care to keep your family anymore.” I sharply tell him.

“Stay.” he tells me.

“No.”

“I love you.” He puts his head in his hands. “I love you.” He repeats with his head down.

“No.”

“You want to take my kid and figure it out but I don’t want to be without you.”

“Stop.” I say.

“You’re begging me to stay after you cheated on me. You’re selfish. You are still not thinking about me or our son. You were here but not here. You didn’t treat us like you loved us or wanted a family but here you are acting like you are going to miss us so bad and we aren’t even gone yet. It’s not easy for me to leave, it’s so fucking hard to look you in the eye, tell you we’re leaving and come to terms with it because I was present, I always thought about you and our kid. I don’t care for your apology because you haven’t said much about you cheating, just begging me to stay. Stop.” I say to him.

“How did you find out?” He asked me softly.

“I always knew.” I tell him. “I always knew because I was always alone, slept alone, woke up alone, watched our son grow alone, and ate dinner alone. I shouldn’t be alone if I have a husband so where is my husband? I knew right away. For the sake of our family, I always wanted to get it out of my head but the signs were all there.”

“I’m sorry for hurting you and I’m sorry I am the reason we are like this.” He tells me.

“Tell that to him.” I say to him as I stand up with our son and head to the bedroom.

[plethomacademia]

wip thursday (idk)

before i go back to prompts (SEND PROMPTS), thank for to @nullcanary for the wip tag! i am zagging on y'all with a snippet from my most recent dip into my modern AU for Maeve and Gortash.

Reminder: In this AU, Maeve is a Gwyneth Paltrow/Ivanka Trump mishmash nepo baby health guru influencer and Enver is her husband of fifteen years who started as a genius engineer in aviation/rocketry and is now an executive in a weapons manufacturing company. They have an agreement that they each go to one event a quarter to support the other and this is when Maeve makes him go with her to a movie premiere. They have a big house in north NJ that neither of them live in but their three kids (via surrogate) are there.

Anyway y'all ever do good drugs at an afterparty and end up reconnecting with your estranged husband?

In the dark of the room, it’s easy to lean back against the same strong chest, to breathe in the same rich cologne that he has always worn. It settles around her just as his arms settle around her and she feels her own body relax, a combination of success and drugs and heat and dark folding them back together into the shape that they always seemed to end up in. They talk in an easy way, a way that does not stick in her mind in terms of what is said but how it is said, soft smiles and genuine interest, questions and follow ups, eyes that, when they do meet, seem to see each other for the first time in months.

Finally, she feels hot breath on her ear and through the haze, she hears him ask, “Do you want to get out of here?”

She is transported back fifteen years to another party, one with louder music and much stronger drugs, one where she was the one who asked the question, a socialite with dreams and a low cut dress, and he was the young genius that she had taken a shine to.

She takes his hand without a word.

As they wait for the driver to bring around her car, he puts his jacket around her shoulders and she finally feels the chill that he had noticed before she had, the gooseflesh running up her bare arms and back. She closes her eyes and only the light of a flashbulb brings her back enough to realize that they are kissing. She can imagine the comments already, how her fans will gush about her perfect life and her perfect family and her perfect marriage to a perfect man. Neither of them stop, if anything he pulls her closer as another set of flashes go off just before their Escalade blocks them from view.

When her car stops at his hotel for the second time that evening, he offers her his hand and she takes it again, letting him lead her inside. The lobby is gleaming old Hollywood, lights reflected a million times on crystal and brass, and she is happy once they are in the elevator and away from it, happier still when he motions her into his hotel suite and closes the door behind them.

In the dark, they can be hands and hearts. In the dark, they can drop it all, clothes and scars and armor. In the dark, she can focus on the feeling of his hands trailing down her flat stomach that did not bear his children, his somehow still calloused fingers as they open her up, break her apart in the casual way that only someone who has done so a thousand times can manage. In the dark, she can be like she was the first time, drunk with love and the thrill of claiming something for herself, something she was not supposed to have, this man from nothing who built with his hands and saw a future where he owned the world, not because it had been given to him like it had been given to her, but because he had reached out and taken it. In the dark, she can offer herself up and be taken.

When Maeve finally opens her eyes the next day, she can already tell from the light sneaking through the windows that it has to be well past the afternoon. She goes to the bathroom, sees the mascara under her eyes and the marks on her neck under the harsh glow of the vanity light. She turns on the faucet and sets to putting herself back together.

[itsanerdlife]

Twisted Love 4

Pairing: Clint Barton x Castle!Reader

Warnings: Death. Tragedy. Loss. Cheating. Spicy, let’s just say that. It’s gonna be spicy.

Oh yeah there’s Smut, like early on. I’m not even sorry.

In a dark world, the one thing you don’t want is to find out the one you trust, who you’d give your life up for, isn’t as faithful as you thought.             When tragedy pulls my marriage apart, at the seams. Everything seems to just get worse from there. Only my husband isn’t going to let things go that easy, I find that out when he drags me back home.                   The only D we agree to, was till Death and that just might be the only thing left.   But for who?

His brow connects suddenly, shaking his head. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Snorting, I roll my eyes. His hand shoots out, gripping my chin.

“Don’t roll your eyes at me Sweets, unless I’m dick deep in you.”

“Don’t act like I’m that fucking stupid.” I bite at him.

He sighs loudly. “Never wanted anyone but you.” He dips his head, trailing soft brushes of his lips across my cheek to my jaw.

It’s childish, I know. But fuck him.

His lips move to brush across my own, instead I stick my tongue out. Licking him.

He stops moving, glaring at me. I can’t fight the smug smile forming on my lips.

His hand slips from my chin, resting against the wall beside me.

He flutters his eyes a moment before speaking. “I swear,” lifting my brow at him. “If you need to lick something, I’ve never objected before.” There’s a cocky smugness to his tone.

“No thanks, god knows who you’ve been in.” Rolling my eyes pushing his buttons. “Besides I bought a toy that does it better for me than you ever did.”

Smirking at the low growl somewhere deep in his chest. Clint never did like to be out done. It’s not the truth, but it’s what he deserves.

“Sweets,” he growls at me.

“Clinton.” I grind out between my teeth.

“Kitten?” Barney appears in the living room. Unphased by the situation he’s found us in. In the years of time it’s probably not the worse one he’s found his brother and sister in law in.

“What?” Clint and I snap at him.

Barney smirks. “Your stuff arrived.”

“Not now.” Clint warns his brother.

Immaturity at it’s finest. I reach forward, licking the side of Clint’s face. He jerks back, I slip through the opening he left.

“Y/N!” He yells after me.

“B I need mouth wash, or just straight tequila. God knows what’s on him.” I pat Barney on the chest as I pass by him. He chuckles, but it’s cut off quickly by only God knows what look Clint gave him.

T is standing in front of the boxes and bags that contain the main things of my apartment.

“Where is the small safe, little thumb print reader on it?” I look to him.

“What’s in it?” T smirks down at me.

Batting my eyes up at him. “Blackmail.” I smile.

He watches me for a moment before he opens a box and pulls it out.

“Besides if I wanted to kill him, I’d hire someone, not do it myself.” I roll my eyes. “My momma always said the widow is the first suspect. Cry at his funeral, have an alibi and cash the check six months after his death.” I shrug, taking the box he hands me.

“Like you would have to hire someone to kill him for you.” T chuckles. “Say the word to the right person and you know he’s good as gone.” I maul this over.

Shrugging, I turn to find Clint standing there.

“I always knew he would take your side.” He chuckles darkly.

Looking up at T, I smirk. “That’s why he knew where I was the last year.” I shrug, walking away.

“T’CHALLA!” Clint bellows.

“B, be a lamb and bring my things to the spare room.” A smug smirk as I pass him.

“Starting shit and you haven’t been home an hour.” Barney chuckles heading for my things.

With an airy sigh, I glance back at the three. “You dragged me home, like I would make this easy on any of you. Did you forget who I am?” With that I hold the book size safe above my head, wiggling slightly.

“What’s in the safe?” Clint looks at the two.

“No idea.”

“She said blackmail.” T replies nervously.

“Fuck.” Clint sighs.

With a laugh, I kick the bedroom door shut behind me.

-------

Stepping out of the bathroom, T is kicked back in my vanity chair, playing with bottles on the top. He’s reading over my face moisturizer, finally looking up at me.

“Any good?” His brow lifts.

Turning away I run my towel over my wet hair. “Look at me T, do you think I use wasteful products?” I glance back at him, lifting a brow at him.

He nods slowly, his hand flipping the cap open, squeezing a small amount on to his fingertips. Hanging the towel on the door, I move towards him and my vanity. Grabbing my hair serum as he works the moisturizer into his skin, looking in the mirror.

“You going to yell at me or just give me the cold shoulder?” He asks, side eyeing me in the mirror.

Shrugging my shoulder, working in another cream through the length of my hair.

“What would you prefer?”

“You to deck me so we can get past it.” He chuckles.

Sighing softly, I wipe my hands on a hand towel, folding it back together, resting it on the vanity. Nodding slowly, I shrug my shoulders.

“It’s fine.” Looking away from him, tightening the belt on my robe.

“Don’t,” he sighs.

“I get it. I really do.” I turn in circles. “Everything I thought I could believe, turns out to be a lie.” Playing on T’s feelings. He’d get over being punched, he’d laugh through getting yelled at, but he couldn’t stand feeling guilty towards me. It eats him alive.

“Y/N,” he huffs, dropping back in my chair.

“I thought my husband loved me.” I wave my hand, wandering around the room. “That’s a lie.” I snort. “Thought I would have this perfect little family.” Running a hand through my wet hair. “Clearly that was a lie.” I give him a tragic look. “Thought my best friend, would always have my back.” Pressing my lips together, shrugging. “Another lie.”

“Come on! That’s not how it was at all and you know that.” He groans. “You know I always have your back.”

He gives me a pointed look.

Swallowing hard, I drop my eyes.

“You knew why I was running.” I mutter, chewing the inside of my cheek.

“Since when do you run?” He scoffs. My eyes snap up at him.

He snorts in laughter, rolling his eyes at me. “I’ve seen you make grown men eat your gun, didn’t you make Danny what’s his face lick your boots?” He smirks.

My head tips slowly to the side. “What’s your point?”

“Why would your husband make you run?”

Floundering for a moment, I blink at him. “That’s entirely different, T.” I splutter at him.

“You sure? You don’t sound so convinced.” His brow lifts, smirking at me. Scoffing at him, in irritation. “So you what dragged me back here, so I’ll what, kill my husband’s mistress?” Shaking my head.

“If that makes you feel better.” He shrugs, getting up.

I glare after him as he moves towards my door. “I hate you.” Folding my arms over my chest. I huff.

He grins back at me. “Sure. Call your dad, he’s worried about you.” With that he leaves the room.

----------------------- Everything Peaches 12/8/22 @mo320 @ml7010 @irepeldirt @joannie95 @nunu2888 @coley0823 @rileyloves5 @sexyvixen7 @duckestylez @abschaffer2 @genius2050 @drayshadow @shirukitsune @xoxabs88xox @rosalynshields @destiel-artemis @hookslove1592 @royal-sunflower @iwillbeinmynest @bellamy-barnes @geeksareunique @fanfic-n-tabulous @spookygrantaire @steel-blue-eyess @mariekoukie6661 @capsheadquaters @bless-my-demons @notyourtypicalrose @lets-talk-about-xyz @loving-life-my-way @shinycupcakebaker @also-fangirlinsweden @stupendous-science @daughterofthenight117 @dandelionsmarkthegrave @physically-a-cheesecake @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked​

Clint ‘Destory Me, I’ll Thank You’ Barton: @nickyl316h​

[bored-mumma]

TITLE: Fight for us CHAPTER NO/ONE SHOT: Drabble WORD COUNT: 1237 ORIGINAL IMAGINE: This by @theartofimagining13​ NOTES/WARNINGS: Low-key toxic Steve but ah well.

Steve stared at you as you sat across from him on the other side of the table, the tapping of your finger against the arm of your chair being the only sound in the room. He watched as your eyes darted around, waiting for him to sign the papers. With a deep breath, Steve looked down at the documents that you placed in front of him. He had made his choice so long ago that no matter how much you said you hated him, he would do everything to work it out. But he was running out of options. Couples therapy didn’t work, having some time apart didn’t work, spending more time together didn’t work. Everything just ended up in more arguments. Except about six months ago. You had stopped the yelling and the fights. Instead, you just sat there, tears drying on your cheeks as you stared off into the distance. That’s when he knew you had truly come to the end of your relationship. You no longer had any fight left.

“I can’t sign it.” Steve muttered with a slight shake to his head. He watched for a reaction, but nothing came. You continued to just stare around the room as if you hadn’t heard him. After a few moments of deathly silence, you lowered your head to look at the floor and finally spoke.

“I know.” You stopped tapping the arm of your chair as you swallowed hard, as if you wanted to say something else but physically had to stop yourself.

“Then what are you doing here?” Steve was surprised at himself at how angry he just sounded. It was supposed to come out as a genuine question but came out more of a demand. His eyes were trained on you, unblinking as he was desperate for the fight to come back to you. “There has to be something else we can try.” Steve made sure to talk softly this time. “I can’t speak for you, but I know I love you just as much as the day I married you.”

“Stop.” You sighed in defeat. “Please sign so I don’t have to spend money on a lawyer.” You lent forward and pushed the pen in his direction. You lifted your eyes at last and stared into Steve’s, hoping he’ll be able to see how much you just wanted this over with. “Steve!” When he hadn’t moved to grab the pen, you were starting to lose your patience. You were close to having a strop, grabbing the paper and just storming out. A lawyer would be an awkward way to get this divorce finalised but at least it would finally all be over with.

“Where did it go wrong?” Steve grabbed the pen at last, twirling it in his hands. He kept staring at you, doing everything to prolong this. To change his wife’s mind on ending it. “Do you really think you’d be happier with someone else?” You scoffed at this. There he is, the Steve Rogers you came to know well this past year or so. Every time you stormed out the house after an argument or picked up your phone to text a friend, the immediate ‘who are you going to meet?’ started. You weren’t sure if it was actual jealousy or if he was just insecure but either way it was one of the things pushing you to the point of divorce. There were a lot of other reasons to be fair. Mainly that you simply just weren’t happy anymore. Your husband was always away on a mission, bringing home all the anger with him and locking himself in the office. When he would finally emerge, It was only to get ready to get back down to the Avengers base. You had started to feel like more of a housekeeper than an actual wife.

Steve used to be so romantic. Roses on your nightstand, love letters when he was away fighting, surprise date nights. You of course always tried your best to romantic, but he was better at it than you. You’d do other things like cook his favourite dinners or give him a shoulder massage after a long day. Either way, you both had your own love language. But as time went on it seemed as if you both took the other for granted. It felt like your marriage had truly died until you both began to argue constantly. As you would stand in the middle of your kitchen, tears streaming down both your faces as you shouted at each other, letting out all your anger and hatred for how your relationship has turned out. It felt like it was being reborn and that you were fighting for something! That somehow, shouting at each other meant you both still cared. But eventually, that just got more and depressing until you finally lost the will to fight and sat on the sofa in silence whilst Steve was yelling at you. Usually, you would be just as bad as him, screaming until you were red in the face. However, in that moment you just stared into the distance, none of what he was saying was being heard by you. You had just given up by that point.

“I have no plans of being with any else, Steve. I just don’t plan on being with you.” You said, pointing back down at the paper. “Sign.” You both sat there staring at each other in silence, waiting for the other to make the first move.

“No.” Steve put the pen on the table, pushing it and the papers back towards you. “I’m not giving up.” Ok, you’re done now. No more asking. Biting your lip to not spit some harsh words, you grabbed the papers and the pen and stormed out of the room, your chair falling backwards as you stood up so harshly. Steve watched as you shoved the door open, almost stomping as you walked. He ran his hands down his face as he tried to stop all the hundreds of thoughts flying around his head. He won’t stop fighting to save this. You married him because you loved him just as much as he loved you. He was positive that love must still be there.