#when I learned that you could sign a paper to get married

[kiingbiing]

-

[tonycries]

The Way You Kiss Me - G.S.

Synopsis. The four times Satoru tries really hard not to kiss you - his best friend’s pretty younger sister. And the one time he doesn’t.

Pairing. Gojo Satoru x Reader

Content. MDNI, fem! Suguru’s sister! reader, childhood enemies to lovers, PINING Satoru, like really really disgustingly down bad, creampíe, oral (fem receiving), pússytalking, needy JEALOUS! Satoru, running away from it, spítting, punching is Suguru’s love language, mentions of aIcohol, pet names, swearing.

Word count. 7.4k (That’s wild)

A/N. BOO! Surprise upload. This was so fun to write omg.

“You sure this is how the grown-ups get married?”

“Duh, I know everything.”

“Nuh uh, Toru.”

“Yuh uh!”

The first time Gojo Satoru kissed you was underneath that dingy playground slide that the two of you always raced to after elementary school. 

Usually, your older brother, Suguru, would walk home alongside you two - but this time, he’d just so happened to have been held back for throwing paper planes at the teacher that day.

A sign from the universe, Satoru internally celebrated, something he’d learned from those sappy romance novels his mother left lying around the house. No matter that he was the one that made those planes.

You were six back then, standing in front of a determined Satoru - reaching up on his tip-toes, face pink, smelling of those cheap strawberry lollipops he’d sneak into class and taunt you with. At the much older and wiser age of seven, he’d insisted on being the first one to lean in.

Just barely even grazing your dramatically puckered lips before-

Satoru learned two things that fateful afternoon:

Even as a seven-year-old, Suguru’s punches really hurt. 

Never mess with you. Anyone but you. 

Life only seemed to go downhill from there - because that last lesson was proving to be hard along the years. Really. Fucking. Hard.

Little did Satoru know that this would be the start of some strange, unpredictable little dance of push and pull. No, you definitely weren’t his wife. Nor were you exactly best friends - not really, that spot was reserved for your brother. But you didn’t think you could ever be just that either.

And the punch that’d knocked his wobbly tooth out onto the playground floor that day was a painful reminder that whatever that was - whatever weird thoughts he had later in middle school about how you’d tasted like candy - didn’t matter. No matter how part some tucked-away little part of him wanted it to.

Hell, eleven years later and Satoru still can’t walk around that familiar block without feeling slightly queasy. Which is why, after that failed first kiss, he knew there wouldn’t be a second. 

Instead, he settles back to teasing your pouty self, pushing all your buttons, tugging on those cute dresses you wore. Face burning so strangely with- humiliation? when you bickered right back, calling his haircut a “tragic attempt at modern art.”

“So you’re saying I look like art?” A gangly, now-seventeen Satoru blocks the bustling high school hallway, ignoring the bell. Grin only growing at your frustrated huff, he half-jokes, “Aww, if you’re that soft on me, sweetheart, maybe we should go to prom tog-”

You slam your locker, effectively shutting both it and Satoru at the same time. “I’d rather go with Yaga.”

“...you would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would not.”

“Would to.”

“Would- Sugu–!”

And all Suguru can do is wrap two hands around his neck, mock-choking himself, wondering if it was really too late to embrace a quiet life as a monk. “You’ll both be MLA cited in my farewell note.”

He was used to it, though, forced to watch all this chaos since quickly mending his friendship with Satoru over ice cream the day after the punch. Convinced that this was some punishment for a past life’s misdeed.

With a squawk of protest, Satoru’s turning back to you, eyes crinkling with a hint of mischief you knew too well, “Would not.”

Your face burns, “Would to, Toru.”

You didn’t go with Yaga. but Satoru didn’t exactly count that as a win in his books, either, because you did show up that night hanging off the arm of some jerk from the football team. 

And there you were, all dolled up - which he very objectively noted - way too prettily for some bastard like him. Stars in your eyes, and everything he couldn’t have in that smile. 

Everything. 

Way too gorgeous, even when he finds you sitting outside the gymnasium later on in the night. Too busy bawling your mascara off to even throw out your usual greeting insult his way. Murmuring out wetly about “that asshole” and how he humiliated you by stranding you in the middle of the dance floor for someone else. 

“Well, he was a jerk anyway. Even Yaga would’ve been better, hell, I-” Satoru stops short to his horror at the way you only cry harder.

Way too irresistible, especially as his body moves before his mind - holding out an open hand before he knows it. “I’m a much better dancer than him and you.” And oh Satoru will forever remember the way his heart lurches as you blink your teary eyes up in confusion, “Well, aren’t ya gonna take up the challenge?”

Weirdly, it wasn’t weird at all. 

If anything, you had to hold back your laughter the entire time at the way the great “campus sweetheart” Gojo Satoru was so on edge.

Just a friend comforting a friend, right?

So why was he avoiding your gaze with the subtlety of a sledgehammer, summer blue eyes pointedly trained right over your head. That pretty pink blush dusting his cheeks reflecting the hands hovering in midair over your waist. So close - and yet, fear in each and every turn and swirl.

Yours were searing into his broad shoulders as you tried to guide him to the muffled music from inside. And shit.

That night ended with a second kiss. 

You don’t know who leaned in first, just that Satoru’s soft lips were just fleeting on your glossy ones - barely even a touch. And that shit shit shit- this was Satoru. This was you. 

Everything. 

But it seems that every time Satoru was about to kiss you dangerously close to the way some tiny, forbidden part of his heart wanted to - the universe throws an obstacle at him. An obstacle that was six feet and named “Suguru”, currently running at break-neck speed out of the gym.

“MOVE YOUR ASSES!” he cackles, “THE FOOTBALL TEAM ISN’T TOO HAPPY ABOUT ME BREAKING THEIR STAR PLAYER’S NOSE.”

And not a word is uttered about the kiss as the three of you speed out of the school parking lot in Suguru’s busted-up black hellcat, the wind mussing up the hairstyle that took Satoru over two hours to perfect. Sneaking in glances at the sight of you singing along at the top of your lungs to some overplayed pop song on the radio. 

He learns another two things that night:

Apparently, Suguru’s right hook still really fucking hurt. And thank god for tonight’s casualties of noses, because it was a wonder that he didn’t look too hard at how close Satoru was with you. 

He didn’t…dislike the feeling of your lips on his. And judging by the way you meet his eyes in the rearview mirror - you didn’t either.

It’s mainly that last one that makes him gulp.

Neither of you remember the third kiss - though, Satoru’s sure that at least 80% of Shoko’s instagram followers did.

According to a very hungover Shoko, and the many, many forms of documentation, it had happened on the New Year’s eve during your third year in university. In which you were much more used to the raging parties that would be hosted at Suguru’s apartment, and only slightly less intimidated by them.

“And you’re a lightweight too, dumbass. You were gone.” Shoko sighs from across the café table, eye bags deeper than the last time he’d seen her. “Like gone gone.”

God, what a way to start the year.

Satoru bites back a remark about how “gone” Shoko herself had been. Sitting up straight in his seat, regret immediately hitting his senses faster than the guilty throbbing at his temples. He winces, managing out a semi-disbelieving groan of, “Gone gone?”

And she’s only nodding wearily, subconsciously tapping out the rest of her cigarette ashes onto his untouched plate of sweet pastries. 

“I’m talking dancing on expensive coffee tables and fighting to stop you from giving everyone there a strip show.” She cracks a smirk through a waft of smoke, “Though, she would’ve loved that I’m sure.”

“Har har har, you’d make even Nanami laugh with that one.”

“Eugh, gross.” Shoko taps through her phone briefly, swirling it around to show Satoru a few pictures that definitely gave him a mini-heart attack at 8:57 in the morning. “You look like you’re about to pen really bad poetry.”

And perhaps this was Shoko’s plan all along - to shock Satoru to the core hard enough that she can note it down as one of her sketchy psychological experiments. 

But he knew. Could feel it in the hazy fragments of memories - or, at the very least, in that entire highlight that Nanamin had oh-so-conveniently put up on Instagram titled, “Blackmail.”

You knew. 

You’d kissed him back. 

“I don’t have a-.” you slur, stumbling ever-so-slightly as you try to meet Satoru’s glassy eyes. Because shit the years have had him shooting up faster than you could look up. “-a New Year’s kiss, y’know.”

You were older - more gorgeous, if that was even possible now. That tight dress hugging your body so unfairly in a way that had him forgetting you were his best friend’s sister. 

The one person in this whole world that he couldn’t have.

But Satoru leans in closer, more because he wants to than anything - he could pick out your voice anywhere let alone over the thumping music currently filling his crowded living room. Lips loose as he tries to play up the cool-guy facade he’s been dubbed with since freshman year, “Hah, loser. Because I do.”

“Where?”

At this, Satoru is stumped - damn, you were good. 

“Not- uh here?” If he was in any clearer state of mind, he’d have been embarrassed at the way his voice cracks so traitorously as your unsteady hands pull him in closer by his overpriced button-up. 

Your body was flush against his now, so addictive. Gaze half-lidded and flickering between the sliver of milky skin exposed on his chest - from that impromptu striptease he’d almost started earlier - and the blue eyes that were currently locked you. You whisper a strained, “Liar.”

Close - too close. So dangerously close.

He breathes out against your lips, the smell of booze and you so heady in his mind. And the heavy words falling from his lips sound like lies, even to him. “Not.”

“Toru?” you hum, a sound that has him gasping. “Shut up.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

And there went your New Year’s kisses. At exactly 11:37PM, if the photos were anything to go by. 

And holy shit were there many. All of which showed your arms looped around Satoru’s neck, crashing his lips to yours. His own, resting against your waist, a scandalously red blush - whether from the alcohol or you - adorning his cheeks. Looking more blissed out than he ever remembers feeling. 

“I’m a dead man, Shoko.” 

There’s a lengthy silence, leaving Satoru stewing in thoughts of how Suguru would react once he finds out. And whether or not he’d be able to rise from the dead just to see how pretty you’d look at his funeral.

Morbid thoughts broken only by Shoko’s cough, “Hey, can I keep your eyes for experimentation if he actually catches you?”

Subtly, he sends himself those photos from last night.  

Luckily for Satoru’s eyes, they never ended up being donated towards Shoko’s questionable contributions to the world of medicine. 

And by some grace of the gods above, Suguru never mentioned a word about the kiss that would’ve inevitably made its way to him. Or maybe it was because Satoru stole his phone until he managed to pester Nanami just enough to take down that highlight. But, semantics. 

His heart, however, might as well have been part of some experiment.

Because it’s been working overdrive since that night - mind reliving that moment over and over and over and- shit, he’s fucked. So, so fucked. 

Fucked enough that it took Satoru months just to muster up to even look in your pretty eyes once more, unless he wanted to get lost in them forever. Fucked enough that he dared to wonder again and again when there might be a fourth kiss - if there would be a fourth kiss. 

He just never thought it would happen the way it did - with you, standing outside his front door. 

“I’m sorry, Toru.” you mumble, “It’s just- I think we both need to grow up.”

You’ve freshly graduated now, looking more and more irresistible each time he sees you - even when you’re looking at him like that. 

Rolling his eyes, “Ha, is this another way of saying you want my secret to getting taller? Because the first thing is to-”

“I’m serious, Satoru.”

And oh how he wished you’d say something - anything - else right now. Call him anything but that. Maybe even throw an insult his way, tell him those new sunglasses look ugly, or about how you got that internship he would’ve died for. 

Satoru manages to choke out a heavy, “I don’t understand.” But that uncomfortable coil of something curling at the pit of his stomach said otherwise. And it causes him to finally breathe out a hesitant, “Maybe you’re right.”

As if that was all the answer you needed, you’re stepping out of the front door. Slow, and deliberate like you were giving him another chance - a thousand more. Sighing out a defeated, “It’s been years.” It has. “And we’re just running in circles.” You have. “I’m starting to think this is just some game to you.” It wasn’t.

“Wait!” he grasps your hand - soft. The look in your eyes even softer as you turn around to face his desperate face. “Please, sweetheart.”

Satoru doesn’t even know what words he wants to say - let alone whether they’d come out of his heavy mouth. 

So, instead, he’s crashing them into yours. 

Brief. Fleeting. Like each one before this. Too addictive, too short, that he thinks he’s almost imagining it as you pull away gently, until he sees that look in your eyes. 

“Toru, I have a date.”

The fourth kiss.

Satoru’s letting go of you like it burned - and, truly, it felt like some deep, dark part of him was burning down right now. “Great.” That should be hm that should be him that should be- “I’m…happy for you.”

And the last.

He fucked up.

He really, really fucked up.

That first date turned into a second. The second into a third. And unfortunately for Gojo, eventually, you were nearing your one-year anniversary with that asshat you’d met during the early days of your internship. 

He’d seen the man himself once, briefly at another one of Suguru’s famous parties. Ducking out of sight before he could be introduced, yet long enough to know that he wasn’t as tall, or as handsome, or as absolutely fucking hilarious. 

What did he have that Satoru didn’t? 

The answer to that, Satoru’s reminded of every time he’s causing ruckus over at Suguru’s apartment, and sees you walking out of your room, tittering on the phone to none other than your boyfriend. So gorgeous. So not his. 

You, that loser had you.

“If you sigh again I swear I’m shoving this popcorn up your a-”

“It’s a sad movie, Suguru!” he defends, draped across your couch at another one of those movie nights you loved to organize. As usual, there was the popcorn, the god-awful movie (if Satoru picks it), and the arguments. The only thing missing, however, was you. Ugh, something about an “anniversary” and a “seafood date”. Seriously, it’s not like you even enjoyed that new seafood restaurant in town, and he’s sure that bastard didn’t know-

“Satoru.” his best friend’s deadpan voice cuts through his little reverie. “We’re watching Mean Girls.”

And he’s barely even opening his mouth to snark back before-

SLAM!

Suguru pauses the movie almost immediately, turning to the direction of the front door. “Uh oh.” 

And lo and behold - there was you in all your pissed off, beautiful glory. Throwing your keys on the table, your fiery glare passes over the two men as you stomp to your bedroom. 

“Seafood wasn’t that good, sweetheart?” Satoru calls out behind you, eyes sweeping down your figure. Heart stuttering in his chest when you turn around with your fists clenched, lower lip wobbling in a way that Satoru would both kill whoever made you feel this way and die to be on the other side of those daggers in your eye. 

Sniffing out an icy, “Fuck off, loser and loserette.”

Then in a whirlwind of rage, you’re gone - your bedroom door slamming only slightly more gently than you’d done with the front door. Leaving a deafening silence, and Satoru whining, “Why am I the loserette?”

“Deserved.” Suguru shrugs. Warily eyeing your door, as if it was about to pounce at any given second, “Let her cool down before you give her an aneurysm at least.” Unpausing the television, propping his feet back up, “S’enough having to deal with you on top of a boyfriend like that.”

And that has Satoru perking up in interest - both figuratively, and literally as he snatches the remote and pauses the movie. “Wait wait wait what-” Holding it way out of Suguru’s reach, “What do you mean a ‘boyfriend like that’?”

Scoffing, “Funny. Now give me back the remote.”

A beat of silence passes. One. Two.

Only then does it dawn on Suguru that this might just not be some strange prank to stroke Satoru’s ego, and he was actually  more serious than he’d ever seen him. Damn. 

“Bro, have you really never met the guy or something? He’s a complete tool. I don’t know what happened, but this breakup was a long time coming.”

Satoru blinks, feeling a red hot surge of anger. “What? Seriously? Why didn’t you do anything about it?”

“You think I didn’t try?” he sighs, running a hand through his hair at the other’s uncharacteristic silence. “Hah, and just imagine, the man was talking about marriage, too. As if.”

And suddenly, Satoru’s hit with an image of you walking down the aisle. Not something he was a stranger to, but it still takes him aback. The sway of the fabric beneath his fingers, your lips against his. Hell, in that split-second he even dreams up how Nanamin would be crying very reluctant tears of joy. 

Everything. Everything that wasn’t his.

His fist tightens around the remote, until he could hear the cracking of plastic. Mind whirling with the thought of you and him and you. How he wished it was him and you. “I would’ve been better.”

Oh. 

Shit. 

“I- fuck this. Suguru, since elementary school I…”

And, well, Satoru’s so busy putting that extra physics seminar he took in university to work - trying to calculate the odds of surviving a jump out of this seven-storey window - that he almost misses Suguru’s low hum, a distant, almost barely-audible little interruption, “Well duh.”

“Hold on.” he’s snatching away the remote that had somehow slithered its way into the other’s hands once again. Ignoring his best friend’s croak of protests to pause in the middle of Regina George being hit by the bus - which, he felt was strangely enviable right now. “That was- what? YOU KNOW?”

“Huh? Even my parents know, the only one that doesn’t is her.”

“...”

Satoru didn’t know how Suguru seemed so calm, but he felt like he was about to spontaneously combust. Heart stuttering in his chest as he sideglances at your firmly shut door - like he was just waiting for you to jump out and tell him this was some elaborate prank. 

Begging for you to come - it would’ve hurt less.

But you don’t.

Fuck. 

And the only response he gets is a low whistle, before a phone is being shoved in his face - flashlight illuminating that crimson blush. “Damn, the great Gojo Satoru speechless? The groupchat is gonna love this, might even send it to my sister, y’know.” 

He didn’t care - didn’t give a shit if this video made rounds to Gakuganji himself. Only one thought racing through his mind right now. 

“But why aren’t you punching me like in elementary school?” 

And Satoru knows he’s smart - intelligent even. Hell, he was the valedictorian, the youngest employee to claw their way up to being on the board of directors. But he’s never felt more stupid when Suguru breathes out a bewildered, “Dude. That was for blaming me for the paper planes.” 

“Oh.”

Then the movie is unpaused. 

---

The last time you kissed Gojo Satoru was at the doorstep to that overpriced penthouse of his, exactly a year ago today. 

The last time you saw Gojo Satoru was just a few hours ago, lounging around your living room like he owned it. Honestly, he might as well have been part of the furniture at this point - like some expensive, fluffy couch. One that prattled on about your “dumbass boyfriend” and god-knows-what else to rile you up just for the fun of it.

Which is why it was odd to step out of your bedroom - eyes just a bit puffy, throat still tight - to a suspiciously quiet hallway. 

The lights were turned off, nothing but the pouring rain sounding from outside, television paused on some rerun of The Princess Diaries. Damn, you told those idiots not to start that one without you.

“Sugu?” you call, finding his bedroom empty. “Thought tonight was movie night?” Padding across the empty apartment, contemplating whether or not to get your phone and call him when-

Ding!

Ah, there. 

You roll your eyes as you head towards the front door, ready to give Suguru a piece of his mind for going out at this ungodly hour and forgetting his key. Seriously, what if you opened the door and he was hurt, or worse, or…

Satoru. 

Speaking a mile a minute.

Satoru.

“-florist was closed and the store clerk looked at me like I was crazy but I got this for-” he pauses abruptly, as if realizing something with a jolt. “-you.”

“You- what-” you don’t know where to look - at the drenched, disheveled Satoru filling your doorframe - rain in his hair, curtaining his frantic eyes, drenching his snug t-shirt. Or at the obscenely large bouquet of cheap strawberry lollipops being placed gently into your arms. 

What follows was an electric silence - and you have half the mind to tease Satoru for finally shutting the fuck up for once in his life. 

But, no. Instead, you eye the way he stands stubbornly at the doorway, fists clenched, blue eyes locked so intensely on yours that it was like they burned. 

Face flushed a familiar pretty pink that makes you realize that shit, he might be taller, voice deeper, broad shoulders tight against his t-shirt - but this was still the same boy that cried when you stole his favorite Digimon card in middle school. The same one that kissed you underneath a dingy slide, smelling of strawberry lollipops.

It’s the steady tap! tap! tap! of the water droplets from his hair that have you tearing your traitorous eyes from his see-through white t-shirt.

Guess you’ve both done some growing up since then.

“You loser.”

“Yes, sweetheart?”

The pink wrapping of the bouquet rustles as your grip tightens. “He proposed to me today, y’know.” and yet, your quiet, even voice was the only thing ringing in Satoru’s ears. He jolts, as if some visceral, primal part of himself had been poked awake. Breathing heavy, fists clenching until he could feel the neat indents of his fingernails on his palm. Of course. He’s late. He’s late he’s late he’s late-

That is, until you’re plowing on, “I said no.”

“Huh?”

You think back to the stuffy restaurant, the man sitting from across from you - how wrong it felt. And all it took were those four words for you to realize that. “I said no.” 

Satoru snaps his head up, stepping close - so close. Voice strained like he wasn’t asking - begging. Praying, “Why?”

“We…” you raise a brow at the way Satoru flinches as you trail off. So desperate. A smirk makes its way onto your face, “...we haven’t divorced yet, right?”

And then you’re kissing him - or maybe he’s kissing you. 

Fuck, you don’t know - nor do you really care right now. Not when Satoru’s got his lips crashing against yours for the fifth time in your life, kissing you like it would be the last. Big arms dipping down to your waist, pulling you so tight against his muscled frame that he had half the mind to wonder whether it hurt. 

“Love this. Love the way you kiss me- fuck-” he’s spitting against your lips, kicking the door shut behind him. “Oh- would ya get mad if I-” he tries to get out through kisses. Only to suck on your pretty lips with a pained grunt. “If I-” Again and again, like it killed him to part. “-hah- celebrated right now?”

“Yes.” You’re letting the bouquet fall to the foor, white-knuckling that useless, drenched excuse of a shirt. “Now kiss me properly, Toru.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Such a sloppy mix of teeth and hands and him. Shoving a knee between your legs, making up for years and years of late nights with nothing but his fist and the pretty thought of you. 

“Yeah, that’s it, sweetheart.” Satoru breathes out, as your urgent fingers that dispose of his shirt, feeling the gorgeous dips and curves of years of hard work to impress you. “Suck on m’tongue pretty- fuck-” His own fisting your shirt, pulling. Ripping.

“Toru!”

“I want you.” He’s letting the poor, tattered pieces drop in a pile on the floor, trailing a hand between your damp thighs before he can stop himself. “Oh how I’ve wanted you. And I don’t care if I have to buy fifty new outfits to make up for it.”

And it’s the feeling of his long index stroking up your sopping slit through your shorts that has you pulling away with a gasp. Delicate little strings of saliva snapping from Satoru’s kiss-bitten lips. “If we continue like this…” your voice wavers as he presses hot kisses along your collarbone. “-my brother’s gonna walk in.”

“...wouldn’t wanna relive that playground kiss, huh?”

It’s all he says before picking you up so easily, hands resting on your ass. Giving a playful spank ass you wrap your legs around his toned waist. 

And it’s sloppy.

Both his lips still hotly on yours and the way he’s stumbling urgently to your room through pure muscle memory. Pulling away only when you’re all splayed out so prettily for him on your mattress.

“Blue?” he breathes, pulling your shorts off. And it comes out strained - like the very sight of your panties - all soaked and flimsy with your slick - has whatever’s remaining of Satoru’s sanity flying out the window. “Blue? Oh, you’ve gotta have planned this, you little minx.” his hot breath hits your cunt as he shifts down the bed, tongue drawing languid, wet little circles on your inner thigh. “Because don’t tell me this was all for him?”

It was coincidence - or maybe fate - but that doesn’t stop you from giving Satoru a slow, teasing nod. Muttering out, “So what if it was?”

The only answer you get is thumb hooked around your shorts, pulling it just enough so that your brother’s best friend can spy your pretty pussy.

“Well then.” he chuckles at the way you jump when his fingertip just barely grazes your clit. “Guess I jus’ hafta prove m’better.”

A low groan is falling from his lips as soon as they meet your puffy ones, giving your pretty clit a chaste peck. Lingering long enough that he’s sure your sweet sweet juices cover his mouth.

And oh Satoru’s sure he’ll never forget the way your jaw falls slack, glassy eyes following his every move as he runs his tongue along his glossy lips. Savoring your candied taste, “Never kissed you like this before, huh?” 

Fuck, you’re sweeter than he’s imagined.

You whine desperately, something that has him smirking smugly, “Hah, what? Cat got your tongue?”

“You’re better when you shut up.” It’s all you can do to buck your hips into Satoru’s pretty face - not that you had to, because one taste of your dripping cunt and he was addicted. Surging forwards until he was nose-deep, locking your ankles around his head with a firm yank.

And you can’t lie - maybe you’ve imagined this exact scene a few times before on those lonely nights. But you just never expected Satoru to be so depraved. Desperate.

“Ngh- fuck, Toru-” you reach a hand down to thread your fingers through his hair, tugging his face up. But Satoru doesn’t stop - not even for a second. Tongue still dipping to spread your swollen folds with his tongue, looking you right in the eyes as he murmurs a strangled, “Mhm?” 

“Thought you were gonna prove you’re better, hm?”

So goading. So like you. 

At this, Satoru pulls back ever-so-slightly to laugh - laugh. His plump, glistening lips curling into a humorless little grin, “Oh I will.” Thumb circling your throbbing clit. Just dragging your twitching body across the silky sheets close to his, one hand pinning your hips down. Hard. “I will.”

Loving his new favorite place between your legs one hand toys with your clit, quick, messy little patterns. Tongue even more so. 

“Not just better.” he grunts, “Gonna make you cum so much harder, too.” Having your thighs shake with each word hissed out into your cunt, each turn of his deft fingers. “Till I’m the only thing on your mind. Me.”

And it’s all you can do to let out choked up groans of his name, back arching off the plush mattress to let him make out with your cunt deeper. Sloppier. So, so starved with the way he’s speeding up, tongue dragging across your walls. In and out in and out in and-

“Fuck! Hngh-” you angle his head - and he lets you. “There- Toru-”

Honestly, you didn’t even have to tell Satoru - he could feel it. Could feel it in the way your plushy walls are squeezing his hot tongue so harsh, until it was almost difficult to fuck your pussy so sloppily. In the way you’re letting out such delicious whines each time he grazes against those sweet spots. 

“There? Hah- I know.” he pulls away to muse, and your cute, disappointed whine goes straight to his already rock-hard cock. “Did he?”

He didn’t. And you’re shaking your head so pathetically - in a way you’d be embarrassed about usually. 

But that’s the last thing you’re thinking bout because you feel it - the cold, sinful feeling of Satoru spitting on your filthy cunt. Once. Twice. Blue eyes widening in delight at the way the mess of spit and slick drip down your slit. 

“Cute.” his tongue smoothes over the slutty pool, and the only thing your delirious brain can make out now is a low moan of, “So? Who’s better?”

It’s all you can do to choke out a broken little, “T-T-” Face burning at the way he was so clearly enjoying your struggle. And, well, no matter painfully hard it made his dick - he had to go just a bit easy on his girl, right?

“Shhhh, s’alright.” you flinch as he shoves two absolutely drenched fingers into your mouth, making so much more of a mess of it than necessary. Drinking in your cute gags, “I was asking her.” He’s making your head spin with the way he’s speeding up. “N’ she’s hah- very talkative.” Words muffled, and slurring together - like he was drunk off of you and your cunt. “Let’s hear what she has to ngh- say, huh?”

And with that, he’s alternating between lapping at your clit and squeezing into your sloppy entrance - like he couldn’t - didn’t - want to make up his mind. Oh, with your teary mewls strangled, the sound of Satoru making out with cunt is so loud. The squelches so obscene. 

“Fuuuuck.” he drawls. “Louder than I thought. I think she says I’m better, don’t you think?” 

You angle your head just right to catch the way his jaw grinds deeper into you, eating you out like his last meal. Your slick drooling down his chin so sinfully. 

“Ngh- fuck fuck fuck- ngh-” your yelps are dreamy, feeling like you were losing your mind with the way he was stretching you out. 

Like you were about to snap. Any second now. 

But Satoru’s only increasing his movements, drawing out your little moans. “And I think she’s saying…”  Getting sloppier. More erratic - and it didn’t matter if his fingers were cramping up now, cock aching with the need to be inside you. “-that she’s about to cum.”

You do - so hard and loud - both you and your cunt. 

You’re shaking, all but gushing all over Satoru’s mouth, tight pussy squeezing his tongue so hard. Barely even realizing the searing grip you’ve got on his hair as you drag your sloppy pussy all over his mouth.

But Satoru doesn’t mind - he gladly welcomes it, in fact. Tonguefucking your snug cunt senselessly, letting you chase your high as roughly as you wanted. Over and over.

Even when you’re vision isn’t as spotty as before, even when nothing’s coming out of your mouth but little whimpers. Your breathing dying down until all that rings in your barely-lucid mind were those obscene noises of Satoru’s lips all on yours. 

“T-Toru-” you whine, big fat tears pricking at your hazy eyes. “M’so sensitive.”

And of course this is Satoru, the same boy who’s been pushing your buttons for years just to giggle at your adorable reactions. Which is why he grins against your twitching cunt, “So?”

It takes everything in you to raise your head off the pillow that just seemed to be swallowing you whole, and even more to shoot Satoru a half-hearted glare. “So m’gonna ngh- assume you’re jus’ a pussy with a s-smaller dick than-”

You don’t get to finish your sentence - he doesn’t let you. Because Satoru’s fumbling with his belt, peeling off those still-drenched pants just enough for you to admire his clothed erection. 

And, shit, admittedly you expected him to have a big dick - having been subjected to way too much locker room talk with your brother - but this was ridiculous. 

“What? Too big?” He flashes you that infuriating grin. Palming his rock-hard cock through his boxers at the way your beautiful eyes trace the outline of his cock, all swollen and big. So intimidatingly big. “Damn, sweetheart, if I knew that this was how I’d get that feisty lil’ mouth of yours to shut up then I’d have done it a lot sooner.” 

And you don’t even know if you’re breathing, the pads of your fingers dancing along his bulge. Tracing those prominent veins. Thumbing that little damp spot at his fat head. “You wouldn’t have.” 

He hisses as your soft hands dip into the hem of his underwear. Voice cracking slightly, “I wouldn’t.”

Then you’re gasping - in sync with Satoru’s low moan - as you finally let him spring free. Thick cock hitting his sculpted abs, red tip smearing precum in a lewd little pool. Weeping and so so angry at the sight of you.

At the heavenly feeling of your thumb teasing under his sensitive slit, “Oh, shit.” 

He’s throwing his head back when you give an experimental pump, all the way from his pretty tip to the tufts fo white at his hilt. Fist gliding all over the thumping veins. Bucking his hips up like such a slut into your touch. 

“O-oh fuck.” he cracks an eye open at the way your hand looked so small compared to his dick, how well you were taking care of him. “Been ngh- dreaming of this since I learned what handjobs were, y’know? Hah- shit- ya gotta stop before I fuckin’ pass out.”

And Satoru thinks he could cum right then and there at the way you’re bringing your soaked index up to your mouth. Batting your lashes as you suck on them with a lewd pop! “From jus’ that?”

“You have no idea.”

That’s all it takes for Satoru to throw your still-quivering thighs over his shoulders, effectively shutting up whatever tease is on the tip of your sharp tongue by kissing your swollen folds with his fat head. Giving it one, long drag. 

Your mouth is sagging open at the slow, torturous teasing. The sheer anticipation that had your mouth running, “S-so much for ah- jus’ being ‘friends’, huh?”

“Oh, sweetheart.” And you’re flinching from Satoru’s deep, dark tone. The way he’s bracing his fingers so bruisingly on your hips, reeling all the way back till his tip was just kissing your hole. “We stopped being friends the day you married me on that playground.” 

And then he’s slamming in - pushing past that first, feeble ring of resistance, gummy walls stretching out so perfectly for him. As if he fit right in - and he tells you that. Pants it into your open mouth a little over fifteen times, in fact. 

“Shiiiit, look at you.” he can’t tear his eyes away from the side of your lips stretching so wide to try and milk him. Sloppy entrance stretching out like magic. “S’like you’re made for me, huh? This pussy is made f’me?”

“Ngh- fuck, Toru! S’too big-” you keen, feet flattening on the mattress. As if to escape. To maybe fucking breathe.  

Not even half-way in yet, but aleady torn between pushing away and sinking yourself down on his swollen cock for more more more-

“Don’t you dare run away.” he warns, looking up at you through his long lashes. “I’ve waited too long for this. N’ you’re not taking this pretty pussy away any time soon.” Inch by fucking inch. Grinding in short, sharps jabs - no rhythm of rhyme, like they were genuinely out of control. “Way too f-fuckin’-” All the way until your puffy folds was meeting his hilt. Finally. All the way in. “-long.”

And once Satoru had you split apart on his dick - had those tears rolling down your cheeks, cunt swallowing him so sluttily - it’s like something snaps. 

Because he doesn’t waste a second - he’s already wasted almost two decades, anyway - filling you up with his mean hips. Not fucking easing you into it because you always did bring out that part of him, the part that him looping two strong arms around your waist. Pulling. 

“Oh- f-fuck c’mere.” Satoru gasps, pressing your body so crushingly against his. Kissing your shaky shoulers, your sweaty forehead, the gentleness so contrasting to his hips.“God I’ve missed out- fuck fuck fuck-” 

You’ve never seen the great Gojo Satoru - campus sex symbol - so uncomposed. Eyes half-lidded, just boring into yours, mouth slack in a soft oh! as he drags his cock all over inside your gummy walls. And the sight is so heavenly that you make the mistake the mistake of cracking a minute smile.

Just barely curling your lips before - “Don’t smile at me like that.” He’s dipping down a hand to roll your ravaged clit between two bullying fingers. “Fuck, she’s gonna be the death of me. Right?”

You keen at the- stimulation? The strech? The sheer embarrassment as you realize that Satou’s still talking to your sloppy pussy? Nodding so mockingly up at you as he plows on, “Mhm, she says you needa be ngh- knocked down a god, you’re tight- peg or two. So- get- ready-” 

He’s using this as an excuse to sit up on his knees, dragging you onto his lap so easily like some ragdoll. 

“That’s more like it.”

You’re sliding deeper down his painfully hard cock - all the way till his heavy balls rest beneath your ass, clit rubbing against his pelvis every time he bounces you like some slut.  

Deep. Ruthless.

“Keep your eyes open, sweetheart.” He chuckles, and you’re screwing open your eyes that you don’t even remember shutting. Trying so hard to stop crying out at the feeling of the curve of his dick massaging your walls. “Ya gotta hngh- see the o-only one who’d fuckin’ you properly, right?”

You squeal when he’s taking your clit captive once more. Finger quick, deft. “Y-yes.”

But that wasn’t enough for Satoru - it might as well never be. Because he’s only ramming his hips up further. Like he’s pushing into your stomach, your lungs, all the way into your cockdrunk brain. Fat head alternating between kissing your poor, abused cervix and all those sweet spots he’d mapped out with his tongue.

“Sounded unsure to me.” he’s pouty against your hardened nipples bouncing enticingly in his face. Fingers quirking faster on your clit, “Maybe I should ngh- stop then?”

“No!” Your hips stutter against Satoru’s. Nails clawing down the sculpted panes of his shoulders, leaving red angry marks for him to take as a sign tomorrow morning that no, it wasn’t just one of his dreams this time. “No no no- m’sure. You’re the only one makin’ me feel this way.”

You can feel the way he’s twitching wildly at your words, dick thumping harder inside your sensitive cunt. 

He punctures each word with a heavy, calculated thrust. Hand stretching and squeezing open your cunt from behind to let him slide impossibly deeper. “Hmmm, I’m not convinced.” 

Your stupid mouth is only capable of letting out broken, choked-up little moans of his name, ankles locking around those dimples at the end of his spine. “S’you–”

“Still not convinced.”

But he’s still speeding up his movements, just dragging you up and down his cock. “Who else made you hah- feel this good?” Sure to claim you from the inside out - to leave marks everywhere. Heavy balls on your ass, weeping tip on your cervix, lips bruised as you whimper at his murmured, “That ex of yours?” Biting down your neck, “That barista that always flirts with you?” Pulling away only to breathe into your lips, “Who?”

“ I- fuck it’s only you, Toru.”

“Sound convincing to you?” Satoru hums down at your cunt, biting his lower lip at the way you were milking him so good. Your slick soaking him all the way down to his balls - so needy in a way he never thought he’d see. “Yeah-” be breathes, nosing at your neck. “She agrees- fuck does this tight lil’ pussy of yours agree.” A few tears, a few gorgeous marks down his back, and he was finally convinced. “You’re mine.”

You don’t even realize it when you’re cumming, and Satoru doesn’t either.

Both of you too caught up in each other to recognize that familiar, white-hot pleasure running down your spine - all the way down to where he was so mercilessly buried in your cunt.  

And you’re well into the blood roaring deafeningly in your ears, the sight of Satoru - all wrecked - blurring as he fucks his hips up. Harsh. Eyes rolling to the back of his head as he paints your quivering walls white. 

Cumming and cumming so hard that you can feel his seed dribbling down your thighs, making such a mess all over Satoru’s lap. Your poor, overfilled cunt soon bloated and unable to keep up with it.

“Toru–” you whine, like a prayer. Milking the fucking soul out of him while he gently paws at your messy hair.

“Shhh, I know I know, sweetheart.” Such a stark contrast to the way he was filling you up like his favorite sex toy. Not even bothering to move anymore, one hand on your hip, moving your limp body up and down his sensitive cock to fuck it deeper. The other still playing with your clit, “S’alright, my girl”

Satoru’s hands never leave you, and he prays that now that he got a taste - well, you better be alright with them not leaving you for as long as he lives.

“As long as you live, huh?” you chuckle groggily, a noise so dreamy that Satoru can’t even be mad that he said it out loud. “And all that riling me up these years. Do you have a degradation kink or something?”

“Well, only one way to find out~”

“Oh shut up you-”

SLAM!

“Yooo, I bought dinner from that- WHAT THE FUCK?”

There were only two more lessons to be learned:

Always lock the door. Always. And in case you don’t, a bouquet of lollipops will do the trick to a Suguru reeling from the newest addition to the family. 

Cheap takeout tastes better with an apologetic Suguru, and an ice pack to his cheek - and you to kiss it better.

A/N. Can you tell I kept listening to that one Artemas song while writing this?

Plagiarism not authorized.

[soapybutt17]

The Ex and Why's

Summary: No one knows much about Simon’s life aside from what was listed on his files. The family that had died a tragic death, the trauma that came with his actions, and the rank that made him what he was today. No one had realized that behind the balaclava wearing man from Manchester was a man that once had a heart and signed divorced papers he had constantly regretted signing all those years ago.. Character: Simon "Ghost" Riley x Ex Wife!Reader. John Price. Kate Laswell. Johnny "Soap" MacTavish. Kyle "Gaz" Garrick Word Count: 9,787 Chapter Warnings: Angst with Happy Ending. Miscommunication. Mention of Minor Character Deaths. Mention of Divorce. Life threatening Injuries. Mention of Simon's tragic past and trauma. Not edited (sorry!) AN: I can now sleep in peace. If you enjoyed it why not visit my mini celebration and post your own requests I can write just like this.

Masterlist || Request are Open || 500 Followers Celebration

When you had learned about this new job, one thing you had so gotten used to doing was letting Simon know about it. But not this time, something about letting him back into your life wasn’t something you should do anymore. You were no longer married to him by your own choice and no one else’s. So you know it was time to wear your big girl pants now and stopped letting him know about it.

You no longer had any reason to give your ex-husband any updates about your life. A more selfish reason was how you just wanted to start a new life, away from him and away from anything that was related to him.

“Ms. Riley?”

You turned smiling at the man that would now be your new boss. You learned his name to be John Price, a Captain.

Being married to a man like Simon Riley once upon a time, you know some thing or two about what goes on inside of a military base. Even when he hasn’t talked much about it with you during your relationship or if he even gone as far as mention your existence to the people he had once worked with. You chalked it up to overprotectiveness and fear that they would get to you, and some night thing that he was simply embarrassed about you. Maybe it’s another reason why you had opted out of telling him about this new job of yours.

“Captain Price, it’s good to finally meet you.” You firmly shook the man’s hand. A good first impression was the best thing for you to do if it meant making sure you work for the man for the foreseeable future.

“Likewise, Laswell as spoke great things about you and I’m hoping to be able to experience it firsthand.”

You nodded with a smile. Working for Kate’s wife for nearly a few years beforehand, you had appreciated the suggestion for this new role as a secretary for the Captain ever since your divorce. She had understood you needed this change in pace in your life and this was much of a welcome change.

“I do hope it’s all good things.” You quipped right back earning a deep resonating chuckle from the older man.

“Well I think now that introductions as over and done with, let me show you to my office. I do hope you’re up for dealing with a handful of documents for me on your first day.”

“More than happy to.” You beamed following the man, his larger hand holding onto the small of your back as you began your journey into the heart of the base.

All throughout the walk, he was giving your directions to where most things were. You were warned how some men could be rowdy at time and he was more than happy to help in the off chance that any of his men would give you problems.

All you could do was smile, not wanting him to know that you were more than well equipped to punch or kick anyone that would get too handsy with you. One of the perks of having an ex-husband working for the military.

He continued on with how things go around in the base. Schedules for meal time and the curfew in the event that you would be staying in the base overnight. He had also showed you to where your new room would be located in.

“You would be a few rooms away from my own as well as the Lieutenant and Sergeants that I trust most. In the event that I’m unavailable, they will be more than willing to lend you a hand if you need it.”

You nodded before you finally arrived in his office. Opening the door for you, you were greeted with a spacious office. Even in the chaos of the military base, the man’s office was pristine, a few knick knacks and photos that littered his walls, as well as a bookshelf that housed an array of military strategies books. But the most alarming thing about his office was the other table that housed stack upon stacks of folders, papers practically spilling out from each and every single one of them.

“I may or may not have underestimated the help I truly need in this situation.” The Captain said sheepishly as you began opening the folders and gasped that most of them weren’t even ordered correctly even with the page numbers printed on them.

“I think I can manage this.” You blinked hoping you didn’t bite more than you could chew in this moment.

For the next few hours, your time was spent removing staplers upon staplers from the papers for each and every single one of the folders while you were inquiring to John the calls you would be fielding for him from now on and how he would want you to deal with it.

You had learned so much about the man in the few hours being in the same room as him. He was a man that wanted to ensure the safety of the world, even if it meant bloodying his hands up a little just to make sure of it. It showed with some of the missions reports that you may or may not have accidentally read too much into. You’ve also learned how much he hated talking to upper ranking officials if not needed, he was a man that hated authority yet he was working in the field that he was in right now from the way his comments about letting calls from upper ranks go to voice mail if possible.

“Will there be anything or anyone that I should be worried about for now?” You inquired making sure that you did not stir anyone in the wrong way if possible.

“I’m sure Laswell has told you enough to understand our work. Some men are more scarred than sane and if possible, I want you to make sure that you do not give anyone the wrong impression if possible.”

You know what he was implying and with your own experience you know far too well that getting yourself involved with another man in uniform would lead into.

“I’ve done my fair share, Captain. I don’t think that would be much of a problem with me.” You reassured him.

“Laswell told me you were divorced.” He began, huh, who would have thought the man would be the gossiping type.

“It’s been a few years,” You shrugged attention solely on rearranging the files at hand. “It took months before my ex-husband signed the papers, I wanted to think it was because he was deployed but I knew otherwise.” You muttered.

When you had made the decision to finally break things off with Simon, it was like pulling teeth with the man and his near avoidance about the discussion or where you would be sending the divorce papers. You had enough of it, leaving the home you once shared instead with everything you owned and left nothing more of you than the divorce papers alongside the wedding ring and engagement ring he had given you all those years ago.

“He was military too?”

“Something like that.” You nodded not wanting to think too much about the man. Even after everything, you still worried about you giving the man too much information in the event that he works for the opposing side if the chance may have it.

“Well his lost is my gain.” He snorts turning his attention back to the freshly arranged folders courtesy of you that were now ready for his signature. “No offense.”

“None taken, Captain.”

Eventually the man had excused himself for a meeting and had instructed you that no one would be allowed inside aside from him. He had also reminded you about lunch which you could head on out first or you could join him once his meeting was done. You’ve decided it would be best to join him for lunch for now, just to get a feeling of anyone that you would get into contact with on your first day.

With a quick goodbye, you were left on your own and you all but groaned at the folders still stacked up and yet to be touched. It truly made you wonder how the man could be so good in his job yet be so horrible with his paperwork. You will never understand.

Your eyes fixated for a moment on one of the pictures on the wall. It was your boss with three individuals. A blue eyed man with a horrible cut Mohawk but the biggest beaming smile on his face, his arm wrapped around a much younger man with darker skin but a bright eyes that twinkled with happiness for whatever was going on when the photo was taken. But amongst the camaraderie and enjoyment was a man in a skull balaclava mask that had such an empty but somehow familiar eyes, the man stuck out like a sore thumb even with the Captain’s hand resting on the taller man’s shoulder and beaming smile and a cigar between his lips. It was an odd mix of people but it was like family—it made you miss Simon for a moment before your attention got right back to the paperworks.

You can’t think of him now. Not anymore.

After the events of Las Almas, Simon Riley had truly fought the urge to call you, to tell you how much you mean the world to him and how he was now more than willing to give you the compromise you had always longed from him. But a part of him, the bigger and much darker part of him had refused, slamming his own phone onto the wall in the sheer anger of everything that had occurred in the moment. You had made your choice because of his own action and he would be cruel to take that away from you.

“Heard Cap had a new Secretary, old man’s gonna finally keep his paperworks in check now.” Soap had ruining Simon’s sulking in the cafeteria.

It’s been a grueling few days. With new recruits he was forced to deal with in the morning and nightmares that you no longer could vanish for him at night. His life was nothing more than misery personified and he has no one else to blame but himself.

“Can’t say I’m surprise. Laswell probably set it up for him.” Simon muttered being more than within earshot when he heard both Laswell and Price arguing about the man’s need for necessary help with files. It was Laswell’s decision above anything else, it’s just a matter of time if the secretary would actually last with how everything goes around here in the base.

“Still, hope we’ll have a new bonnie around. Getting sick and tired of seeing Bampots all around.”

Simon didn’t even had the energy to question the man’s slangs, his attention solely back on his cup of tea and lunch—how horrible it was compared to your cup and cooking, but he never truly appreciated it until it was gone. His tea was too bitter even with the sugar and cream he added and the food that didn’t have the special kick compared to your own cooking. Even years after the divorce he was still so miserable without you in his life.

“Steamin Jesus.”

Simon could practically hear Soap melt from where he sat in front of him, his eyes directed at whoever was behind Simon. His curiosity got the better of him and his head turned and he was welcomed with the last person he would have ever believed to be walking besides one John Price.

“Yer lookin’ a bit peely wally.” Soap pointed out breaking Simon from his trance.

“English, MacTavish.”

“You look a lil’ pale, Lt. Like you’ve seen a fucking ghost.”

Simon could have at this point. As you walked besides Price towards the table he sat in. He noticed how unaware you were even at the sight of him only for him to realize that you had never seen him with his mask on, or in anything that has to do with his line of work—until now.

“Right, I think it’s time to introduce this lovely lass.” Price cleared his throat but he should have known by now that both Simon and Soap’s attention were already on them both. “This is Y/N Riley, my new secretary.”

Simon’s brows rose at that little tidbit. You still had his last name. He understood to a degree why you did so—your family that you had long cut off from your life after what they had done to you, but after everything that had happened between the two of you he wouldn’t have expect you to choose the lesser of two evils—being his last name.

“Riley? She a sister or wife to you, Lt?” Soap’s quick remark earned him a glare from Simon before his attention was back to you, how your brows furrowed before your eyes finally widen in realization.

“Purely coincidence.” Simon muttered.

“This is Sgt. Johnny “Soap” MacTavish and Lt. Simon “Ghost” Riley.” Price introduced almost realizing at this point the similarity of the last name you both shared in this moment.

“Nice to meet you two.” You smiled, quickly to compose yourself and shaking both men’s hand.

Even with the glove Simon wore, he could still feel the all too familiar electric shock of your touch against his own. He looked at you how easy your eyes dilated at his touch. It scared him still how you had so much of an effect on him even after the years apart from each other.

As you and Price excused yourselves to get lunch, it left Simon wondering if this was the world finally punishing him for everything he has done in his cruel life. Give him the very thing he had wanted the most only to pull it away at every instance.

“Bloody fucking hell.”

It’s been two weeks since you’ve began your new job as Captain John Price’s secretary. Two weeks since you had tried and succeeded in making sure you had avoided the man known in the base as Ghost—or to you, simply known as Simon Riley, your ex-husband. Every single instance that you were both placed in the same room (mostly in Price’s office), you both acted like you didn’t know each other, it was hard knowing just how close the man was after so long of a separation from each other.

But as much of an avoidance you’ve made for the Lieutenant, the same could not be said for the two Sergeants that had been dead set in making themselves both your companion while in the base but as well as your guard dogs from the ballsy few that would dare ask you out on a date. You appreciated the effort as much as it was not needed knowing it earned a dangerous glare from your ex in the process.

“Looks like you’re right at home.”

You jerked your head up from the files you were arranging at the voice of an all too familiar woman. A smile rested on your face at the sight of one Kate Laswell, your former boss’ wife.

“Kate.” You smiled an exhausted sigh escaping your lips at the sight of the woman. Both her and her wife had been the pair that knew what you had been through since your divorce and she was one of the two people that saw behind the façade you had decided to show the world.

“How are you holding up?” She inquired.

“Doing better.” You assured her. “Just a slight problem but nothing I can’t deal with now.”

“Oh no. Is your ex-husband bothering you again? I told you to just say the name and I’ll find some dirt on him in a heartbeat.”

You chuckled, knowing how that would be close to impossible with the man’s stand and rank in the Taskforce.

“Simon Riley.” You said instead and watched the way her eyes widen upon realization.

“Why did I not put two and two together?” She snorted realizing the small misjudgment on her part. “Does John know?”

You shook your head. You didn’t know how, but in the weeks of working at the base, you had been successful enough not to let the small detail spill. It was for both of your sakes and you feared that if you told the man, you would be fired and not him, not that you would want him to choose between the two of you.

“It would be a shame if John couldn’t keep you working for him because of your past with Ghost. I’m actually able to see his files being sent to me on time for once and he’s less stress in this past week for once.”

You blushed, knowing that that was a compliment, something that was rarely spoken by one Kate Laswell in the years of working for her wife.

“I genuinely don’t want to go either.” You spoke honestly. “Even with the situation.”

“Will you keep the information to yourself for now?” She inquired. “What does Ghost think of this?”

“I haven’t talk to him since I’ve gotten here.” You spoke honestly. “And I think it would be better if don’t talk to him about it either.”

“Talk to who about?”

Both of you had jerked your head towards the owner of the voice and it was Price with your husband, Soap, and Gaz in tow. You looked panicked at Kate hoping she could help you out this predicament with the man in the very room with them.

“My wife’s been asking how she’s been holding up since the divorce and if she’s gotten around to talking to her ex.” Kate brushed off and you wanted to face palm yourself, not the answer you were hoping for her to give.

“Wait you were married?” Gaz piped in with surprise.

“Was.” You corrected, eyes glancing towards Simon for a moment before turning your attention right back to the younger man. “But it’s nothing to worry about, you know how Kate’s wife is.” You tried your best to reassure everyone.

“Well that bloke lost something good that’s for sure.” Soap quipped right back with a flirty wink. You’ve learned this was the default with the man. “Right Lt?”

Both you and Kate found yourself looking at the man and it somehow clicked to him that you both were now more than aware of the currently predicament that fell before you and without another word left the office, slamming the door behind him.

To this very day, Simon still can’t understand why he had signed those papers. Why didn’t he just talk with you and made a compromise. Instead he became an asshole that avoided any forms of communications with you until he was left with no other choice but divorce papers waiting for him at home and every single trace of you no longer in the home you two once shared.

In the deepest depths of his bedside drawer was the divorce papers that officially separated him from you, the two ring boxes that housed his wedding ring and the engagement ring he had bought for you. Around his neck, alongside his Dog tag was your wedding ring—the same wedding ring you had left on top of the coffee table of your home, with the divorce papers right under it.

It was his fears that finally came to life and he truly didn’t know why his body automatically signed without even reaching out to you first. To this day, in the years that has passed he still wonder what his life and relationship could be if he fought for your marriage.

Would he still be married to you right now? Would the two of you finally have the family you had always wanted? Maybe by now your first kid would have been three, he had always dreamed of having a daughter. A darling little girl that was a spitting image of you, a daughter he would protect with his life over and over again.

That could have been his life, but he was far too stupid for his own good. He was too much of a bastard that ruins everything good that comes into his life. He pays the price every single night he comes home to his apartment—empty and lacked the warmth that only you could ever give to someone like him.

He made his bed and he was sleeping in tears because of it.

“There he is, good you’ve got your arse here, LT.”

Another one of the mistakes he seems to be making in his life was joining the rest of the team in the pub and realizing that you have come to join them this time around.

Bloody fucking hell you were as beautiful as the first day he had ever laid eyes on you. There was the twinkle in your eyes he had once thought he had diminished as you continued on with whatever conversation you were having with Gaz with Price listening on. You had on your favorite red crepe dress that slightly showed some cleavage but not enough to be indecent, with your favorite locket that he had brought for you while you were still dating, and the first ever expensive Cartier watch you had brought for yourself (which Simon would have more than willingly bought for you if you allowed it) while saving up your checks.

Fate was nothing but a cruel sick man for giving this sight of you in front of him and never allowing him the taste he always craved. A gift that wasn’t his to accept—anymore.

“You know how traffic is, Johnny.” He muttered finding himself sitting beside the man and in the process finding himself sitting right in front of you in the process.

“Bullshit,” Soap snorted. “Stopped by a bonnie we didn’t know about?”

Simon glanced towards you, the momentary hurt that passed through your eyes before you continued on with your conversation with Gaz, now hearing you were both talking about your Uni days and how you found yourself involved with working for Laswell’s wife all those years ago.

“Don’t have the time nor the energy for another headache in my life.” He spoke realizing that it was the wrong thing to say with you in front of him. He could have said it if you were not here, but not in your presence, it diminishes every single thing he had ever had with you.

It wasn’t what he meant but he couldn’t truly take it back.

“I can second that.” You spoke finally meeting his eyes this time. An unrecognizable look in your eyes as you stared right at him. “And this is coming from someone that’s already made a mistake of ever getting married to a man in the military.”

This has opened the floodgate for everyone in the table to question you about your apparent divorce. He had no one else to blame for this than himself. He listened in now as you continued on answering questions about your relationship with him and the eventual divorce, but made sure it was vague enough not to have fingers pointed at him.

“So, you loved the man more than life itself and all that, why divorce?” Soap had asked the million dollar question.

“It’s gets tiresome to love someone that doesn’t want to help himself.” You spoke honestly. “Year of trying to understand him, only to push shoved away over and over again, it hurts and it gets tiresome. I just had to go before the love turns to hate.”

In the years since the divorce, there was never closure between the two of you. The forms of communications that you both had were mostly about him being deployed again or of you and your plans of moving around or changing careers. Never did either of you had the much needed closure that you both deserved—until now, not directed at him.

“If any of you ever attempt getting involved with a guy or girl make sure you’re serious about the relationship a hundred percent, not fifty, not seventy-five, not even fucking ninety. Because that small fraction you’re not giving them might be the very reason why everything falls apart.”

Simon finds himself blinking at the words that now escaped your lips. The downright resentment that still lingered in your tongue even after everything that had occurred between the two of you. He shouldn’t have signed those fucking divorce papers.

Marriage Counseling, they should have had marriage counselling like you had begged from him all those years ago.

He stood, excusing himself to order the next round of drinks. He doesn’t have it in him anymore to listen to your words cutting him to the very core.

One of the biggest mistake about accepting Price’s offer of going out with the rest of the team for a quick drink was forgetting your non-existing alcohol tolerance. As the drink was now swimming through your blood stream, your lips become looser and there were few moments were you had almost spilled the fact that your ex-husband just happens to be sitting in front of you in the table you shared with the rest of 141.

“You sure you’ll be alright to head home on your own?” Your boss has inquired the moment it was announced the pub was closing up for the early morning.

You nodded with a smile, but the warmth that you were certain painted your skin and the dazed eyes, you were all too sure that it would be a big mistake for you to do. Go knows how dangerous it would be for a drunk like you to head home all on your own.

“I’ll take her home.” Simon announced and before you could protest, John had nodded agreeing that it would be the best thing to do and you couldn’t protest or show even a smidge of irritation as you were given a death glare by your ex-husband.

“Thank you for letting me join you guys.” You spoke towards your boss, the giggly duo of Soap and Gaz. “I’ll text once I get home.” You promised them following Simon out of the pub.

You took a deep breath as the cool morning air sobered you up for a moment as you waited for the man with his car. Frowning when you realized the man didn’t have his car with him but rather his death machine known as his motorcycle.

“Here.” He muttered practically shoving an all too familiar helmet towards you.

Like quick work, you had put on the helmet, ensuring to adjust the strap before the man does. You were still unprepared to be in close proximity with the man but here you were.

Watching him pull down the foot peg, he turned to you waiting for you to ride him—ride his motorcycle. With a deep breath you rode behind him, the skirt riding up your legs and he was quick to pull it down for your own decency before revving the engine on.

“Hold on tight.” He ordered and your body was on autopilot as you wrapped your arms around his waist as he sped off.

You know it was the alcohol but you find yourself smelling him, the all too familiar smell of his musk and cologne—the same cologne you had given him when he told you were promoted to Lieutenant. Your head rested on his back, cheek squished against the expansion of his back, feeling the way his back tense at your touch as it had the same effect for you feeling his warmth all over again.

“Where?” He questioned you as the bike halted at the stoplight.

You slurred your words, but you did your best to tell him directions to where your apartment was. Your sober self would have slapped you at the back of the head for letting Simon know about your whereabouts, knowing it wasn’t something he needed to know anymore.

For a moment as the winds blew against your cheeks, you were brought back to the memories of your time together. How you feared his driving and his bike more than anything else in the world but every single time he made sure you were at your safest with him, always did even in this moment.

You remembered the dates you would both have at night when he was at his most sleepless. By the park, your arms wrapped around him as his head rested on your shoulders. How you had carried so much of his nightmare even when you truly knew nothing but what he would let you know which wasn’t much and would only be in the instance that you would have accidentally heard during his nightmares.

You remembered how tired you were as much as you loved him, how much he had meant the world to you in that very moment but slowly but surely it wasn’t the same anymore. You felt the resentment before the anger for everything he wasn’t willing to give you. You gave him everything thing but he could barely give you anything in return.

“We’re here.” Simon announced, pulling away from him you turned and he was right. You were back in your apartment and you didn’t realize how fast time has flown since as you were deep in your thoughts.

Hopping down the bike with the man helping you, you turned to him and your mouth moved before you could stop yourself.

“Want to head inside—for coffee at least as a thank you?”

“I think coffee and a conversation would be the best thing for the both of us to do at this point in time, Love.”

You felt your pulse quicken as everything single thing you had talked about in the pub was coming back to bite you in the ass. Simon has his ulterior motive after all for wanting to escort you back home.

All you did was nod, heading to the door with the man following closely behind. You felt your hands shaking but you had succeeded in keying the door open. Opening the door for him, you walked further inside, opening the lights and toeing off the flats you had on.

You placed your wallet and keys on the coffee table and found yourself sitting on the couch waiting for the man to follow you.

You heard Simon close the door, the sound of the lock being turned and the sound of his leather jacket had you worried for what was to come.

“I fucking take you seriously with the bloody helmet still on your head.” He pointed out as he stood right in front of you, unclasping the helmet from your head and for the first time in a long time, you saw him up close and the way the darkness of his eye bags was the most prominent about him—it had gotten so much worse than when you were still married. Was it because of you?

“Sorry.” You mumbled as you watched him place the helmet on top of the coffee table alongside most of your things.

“Where’s the kitchen?”

You pointed towards you left and the man had made himself at him. The sound of cupboard being opened and the all too familiar muttering of horrible instant coffee you always wanted was heard. You wanted to let out a giggle but the sudden fear of the reality of your decision brought back something you never thought you would ever relive.

You sigh elbows digging onto your thighs, as your slumped your face into your hands. Why did you offer to have him here? Why did you accept the offer of him taking you back home? Why did you accept Kate’s offer of working for John? Why did you decide to divorce Simon?

In your own mini-panic attack, the smell of vanilla latte had you pulling away from your hands and you saw the cup of coffee already in the table and Simon was already sitting in front of you, without the surgical mask and without the figurative mask he was wearing at the base.

“Why are you doing this to me?” He questioned.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of all the places you could work why the base?”

“It’s not like I knew you were working for Price.” You snort. “It was Kate that suggested I work there—a new environment for me after everything that happened.”

Kate had called it her own version of exposure therapy. You truly appreciated her help even after knowing your ex-husband was working there in the same vicinity as you.

“You could have left?”

You snort. Aside from everything that came with the military, the money was too good to leave—but that was not something you would want to discuss with Simon knowing his intent to still provide for you even with the ink on the divorce papers were still drying.

“Why would I? You and I have nothing between us.” You spoke, knife sharp as his own words of calling you a headache to him.

“What you said to the team is that the real reason why you filed for divorce?”

All you could do was nod.

“You could have talk to me that you weren’t happy anymore we could have made it work.”

“No you won’t, Si.” You shook your head, arms crossed against your chest, you feared the words that would be thrown between the two of you now especially at your state. “I would have made it work.”

“What do you want me to do then? What could I have done then? You say one thing but mean something else?”

“Because every single time I wanted you to open up to me, you closed yourself up even more!” You spat right at him now. “Do you know how hard it was for me to bare myself to you about the shit in my life and in my family only to be reciprocated with how your family was fucked up but not an explanation for it?”

“That’s none of your business.” His voice grows dark, it was a sensitive topic.

“Then why were we even married if it wasn’t my business?” Your voice growing louder now, exasperated by this conversation. “What was the use of our vows if you would keep the smallest things a secret from me?”

“It’s not fucking small!” He screamed right back at you and you instinctively flinched at his voice then. Why was he being so cruel to you now?

“When I married you, I accepted you for who you are, I accepted that you can’t truly tell me what your missions were about or about whatever details about your deployment were. But even just something, anything that would make me believe that I was something more than a whore you could fuck and a maid that would take care of the house and cook you fucking food would have been appreciated.”

“You were my wife, wasn’t that enough?”

“No it was not, Simon.” You spat. “You never made me feel like I was truly your wife when you shut yourself down after coming home to me. You weren’t the same man that I had accidentally spilled coffee on when we first met.”

“If you knew me for the things I’ve been through you wouldn’t look at me the same way.”

“And how would you know that?” You questioned him. “How could you think for me when you don’t even know what I would think of you after everything we’ve been through?”

“You want to know the truth?”

“Yes. Maybe that way I can finally move on from anything that has to do with you.”

You know that was the wrong thing to say as the man cracked his neck and began to talk. About his life, about the abuse he had to endure at the hands of his father. He began to talk about the new beginning of his life when his father died and everyone tried their best to recover. He told you of his mother that he loved more than anything else at that point, of his brother, of his sister-in-law, and of his young nephew Joseph.

He told you about how he was finally at peace with the trauma of his life back then before things gotten to hell and back. He told you of the man named Roba, he told you of the abuse he had to once again go through at the hands of Roba’s men, physically, mentally, and sexually. He told you why he hated confined spaced after being buried alive in a coffin with a man named Vernon, a rotten corpse that he had to use the jaw of to escape death.

He told you of the death of his family, of Marcus Washington killing his family. Killing his mother, his brother, his sister-in-law, and his nephew that didn’t deserve being involved in anything the mission was about. He told you how he had to burn the bodies of what was left of his family and his identity in the process. You learned then why he was called Ghost and what it had meant for him and his past that continued to haunt him.

You were left stunned, unable to form words about everything that has happened to your husband. But it was the fact that now everything about him made sense. All the little things about his personality of why he was the man that sat in front of you today. It all made sense and it scared you that he was right. How you truly didn’t know what to say or what to feel now that you’ve learned of his past that he tried so hard to hide from you.

“Happy?”

“Don’t be cruel, Simon.” You whispered now, the tears were slowly forming from your eyes now, you wanted to cry for him, to mourn the family that he had lost and for adding yourself into the pain he was now enduring.

“Cruel?” He laughed, no humor in his words, malice was more evident. “What’s cruel is you still using my last name and airing out our dirty laundry to the men I work with instead of talking to me first.”

“It doesn’t matter anymore.” You shook your head, stung by his words. He was right but you weren’t going to admit it right now. A small ounce of pride still clawing its way out of you. “And you know why I still used your last name.”

It was your family. You wanted to erase was little traces of your family remained. Even in the divorce, you always had it in mind to remain a Riley. It was better than having to be the ghost of your former self all over again.

He stood now, knowing it was all he needed to know. He walked away but somehow a lingering thought had you opening your lips all over again.

“Why didn’t you fight for me, Si? Why did you sign the papers back then if you truly didn’t want to break up?”

“Because no matter how much I loved and needed you in my life, I will always choose your happiness before my own.” He answered, opening the door and leaving.

The sound of his bike echoing as you were left to mourn the closure of your relationship with the man that had meant the world to you. With all the regret finally coming full force you were left knowing that you had broken the man more than he already was and there was no turning back from it anymore.

It’s been well over a year now since you have been hired as Captain John Price’s secretary. Things were slowly but surely getting better for you and your career. Since the day you had talked with Simon, you wouldn’t say things between the two of you were getting better but you were civil with each other. You’ve interacted with him a few times, especially when it came to paper works but nothing more was said between the two of you.

Even with Price’s rule of not getting yourself involved with anyone in the team, it was becoming a mission for both Gaz and Soap to set you up with people on the base. Doctors or medics were somehow their number one target for you, but every single time, you find yourself relenting to just one date but never pushing for something more.

After knowing the truth about your ex, you didn’t have the heart to be so cruel to him more than you already were working in the base as him. Your free time away from base were spent with hobbies you had while still being married to Simon, baking and journaling, it was relief to be able to do it now with a new light was shed to the events of your marriage failing. You’ve also come to accept the offer of Kate’s wife’s therapist. It was a big help to be able to talk to someone else about everything you’ve been through.

You’ve learned to accept that you had your own mistake in the failure of your marriage just as much as Simon did. But your therapist has also come to mention that you needed to begin your own journey of healing from the what ifs of it, and live in the aftermath as painful as it was for you now.

“That dangerous?” You found yourself fearing for the worse at the conversation you were having with your boss as he explained to you the vague details of the upcoming mission him and the rest of the Task Force had for today.

With the chaos of prepping and planning, your boss was constantly on his feet and you were following him every step away for most of it to field calls and handle most of the paperworks to be sent out to sign and shipped to the higher ups. But to know a glimpse of what was happening and how your ex-husband would be involved in all of this worried you more than you would like to admit.

“It is what it is, if it meant a safer and better world, we would do it over and over again.” He explained.

“Just be careful, I still want to keep my job and I can’t if you’re dead, Boss.” You teased.

“Laswell can still be able to deal with you if I’m gone.” He retorted right back earning a quick laugh from you.

One thing that you had gotten so used to was his humor and how you had showcased your own as time went by working for the man. You appreciated him for being one of the two best bosses you had ever had in your career.

“Shouldn’t you be preparing for the mission?” You quipped right back.

“I should.” He chuckled standing right up in his full height. “Can you go check on the boys for me while I do?”

You could have refused, but a small part of you wanted to check up on Simon. Standing up, you had made your round, first stopping by Soap’s room to check up on him and notify him about the mission. Soap being the man that he was already suggesting you another man in the base beforehand.

“How about Micah? Pretty bloke that just joined the Medic team.” He began shoving the rest of his things into his duffle bag.

“Johnny, for the last time, I’m not into those pretty type you think I’m into.” You tried to indulge him in the conversation for now knowing it would ease him from the mission.

“What is your type so me and Gaz could actually find someone for you?” He pouted.

“Tall, blonde, dark and broody and with a heavy Manchester-accent.” You indulged him with description of the only man you actually loved.

“Why the fuck are you describing Ghost?” He snorts. “You got a thing for him? I thought you swore off anyone from the military?”

“Never said it was Ghost, Johnny.” You quipped right back. You hugged him and have him wrap his arms around you right back. “Be careful for me will you, I can’t live my life here in the base knowing you or Gaz aren’t here trying to set me up with anyone and everyone in the base including the married ones.”

“Hey we didn’t know Wilson was married.” He protested as he pulled away to look at you in offense.

“At this point I’ve already had dinner with half of the base, let’s keep it to a minimum when you get back. I might show you my ex so you can have an idea of what my type is.”

“Deal.” He grinned kissing you on top of the head before leaving to head to the meeting room.

You next stop was Gaz which wasn’t much of a journey with how close his room was to Soap’s. Knocking inside, you were immediately welcomed into the arms of Gaz. Unlike Soap that had been fixated with setting you up with someone in the base, Gaz was more focused on the next get together you could go to after the mission.

“I think me and Soap could convince Price to have a weekend in his vacation house in Cornwall.”

You nodded knowing it wouldn’t take much to convince Price if it meant helping the rest of the team with de-stressing and ensuring everyone has recovered mentally from the mission. But it also meant that you would be in charge of cooking knowing you and Price were the only ones that knew how to cook and you wanted your boss to actually have time to recover himself in the process.

“As long as you help me with grocery and prepping then you got a deal.” You winked pulling away from him with a smile already excited to bake them your famous apple pie they constantly beg you to make for them since the first time making it for them.

“Deal.” He grinned kissing you on the cheeks and just like Soap, finding himself heading out with his bag already at hand.

It now meant you had one last person you needed to stop by before the mission prep. You took your time somehow rehearsing what you could probably say to the man for his upcoming mission. You had your worry and you knew this was a dangerous mission.

Knocking on his door, you heard the gruff response from the other side of the door.

“Simon?” You called and immediately heard the door being unlocked.

You were faced with him wearing his skull balaclava mask. This was the side of him that you never gotten used to see but it was a part of him that you could never truly erase from him.

“What’s wrong?” He asked you allowing you to walk inside.

“Price told me to notify you about heading out for the mission.” You explained. “And I just—I just wanted to ask you to be careful on the mission.”

“Always.” He nodded.

A moment of silence has passed between the two of you before you were reminded of your therapist’s words. There was nothing wrong if you extended an olive branch to the man after everything was out in the open.

“After the mission, I would love to have you join us in Price’s cabin in Cornwall for a quick vacation too.” You added. “I know you’re busy with whatever you need to do to distress after a mission, but I would think it would be good to you if you joined. I can opts this one out if you’re more comfortable with that.”

“I’d go.” He nodded. “But I want you to join along and I want you to make me that lovely cheesecake you always make for me after I come home from deployment.”

You smiled knowing that it was always the same, a way to a man’s heart is always through his stomach.

“Anything else you want?” You asked wanting to give in to his all too simple request.

“And I want us to at least be friends, you’re part of the team now and they care for you and it wouldn’t do anyone good for us to act like we can’t stand each other.”

You nodded, heart aching a little at what he wanted. Friends. That was all he wanted and you would gladly compromise this time for him if that was what makes him truly happy.

“Friends.” You smiled, taking a hesitant step towards him for a hug but stopped mid movement as he pulled you right into his arms. The all too familiar warmth that consumed him.

“I wished things would have been different between the two of us.” He whispered kissing the top of your head. “I’d give you the world when I couldn’t give you myself fully.”

You closed your eyes wrapping your arms around his broad back.

“I wished I was strong enough for the two of us.” You whispered the tears slowly forming your eyes. “I wished I stayed a little longer for the two of us.”

“I never stopped loving you, Love. We might not be married anymore but you will be the only woman I will ever love truly with all my life and with all my soul.”

“You too, Si.” You whispered looking up at him allowing the tears to flow freely from your eyes now. “After everything that had happened between us, I will always love you.”

It was the middle of the night when you heard the familiar ringtone of your old phone. The same phone that only Simon knew the number to. You blinked away the sleep as you pulled the phone right out of the bedside table.

An unfamiliar number took you by surprise and for a moment you wanted to not answer it thinking it might be a telemarketer—but something had pushed you to press the answer button and hear whoever was on the other line.

“Hello?” You whispered clearing your throat.

“Mrs. Riley?” The familiar voice of John had you tensing. You found yourself sitting up from the bed as he began to introduce himself and why he had called.

“What happened to Simon?” You questioned checking your bedside clock to see what time it was.

It was just past midnight, three weeks since they had left for their mission and this was the first time you had gotten any contact to any one of them.

“As of right now, we are not sure if he would make it through the night. If you want we could have you someone fetch you to see him.”

You felt your world still at the news. Just when things were finally moving into the right direction between you and Simon.

“I’ll be there as soon as possible.” You assured hanging up and changing into some sweatshirt and sweatpants.

The travel to the now familiar base was a daze to you as you drove. You weren’t much of a religious person, but your lips did not stop moving as you prayed. You prayed that your husband would be alright, you bargained that you would make things right with him if it meant he would stay.

“Don’t leave me, Simon.” You whispered over and over again until you arrived to the base.

You had ignored most of the surprise that the soldier on duty had shown at your sudden appearance—the fact that you were in just your ratty clothes was also something you chose to ignore as you made a beeline to where the infirmary was.

Huddled in front of the door was your boss, John, Soap, and Gaz. Each and every single one of them injured in their own way—mostly superficial from the bandages that plastered all over their beaten faces.

“John.” You called having three heads turning to you in question. “How is he?” You questioned as the tears begin to fall from your eyes at the reality of the situation coming to crush you. “How is my husband?”

The realization washed over all of them, of the secret you and Simon had hidden from everyone. The weight was too much as you were wrapped in the arms of the family you had found yourself becoming a part of.

“Will he be alright?” You pleaded, holding onto John’s vest. “Please tell me he will be alright.” You begged falling to your knees in front of him.

“The doctors are doing their best, Love.” John reassured kneeling in front of you, wrapping you into his arms as you continued to sob. “But Simon took most of the impact from the explosion.”

The reality scared you so much. You tried you best to remember the last interaction you had with Simon, the hug, the promise of a new beginning, and everything else in between. It all came crashing down to this very point.

There was a very big chance that you will finally lose Simon and it scared you so much more than anything in this world. You couldn’t lose him, not like this, not when there was so much left between the two of you to make up for.

“He can’t leave me, John.” You whimpered. “He promised me he wouldn’t leave me like this.” You screamed at the top of your lungs.

You were made aware of the vows you had made to each other when you got married at the court house. Of how he had promised to the best of his abilities that he wouldn’t die in the line of duty before he could have the chance to retire. He promised you a family, he promised you the world, and he promised you your happiness. He was your family, he was your world, and he was your happiness that you realize only when it was too late.

For the next few weeks, the world around you had become blur. You were now much of a permanent fixture of the Taskforce’s base. Morning and the afternoon was spent still working for Price, especially with the piling number of paperworks the mission had caused and your nights were spent in the infirmary, watching over Simon that has yet to awake from his slumber.

When the doctors had given you the green light that you can see him—it took you hours before you did. Even after John, Soap, and Gaz had finished with their own visit, it took so much of what little strength you had to finally see him in his state.

Broken bones, laceration, head trauma, blood loss and amongst the other injuries that the doctors has informed you should have killed him but he was still alive even in his current state. He still had fight in him, he was still fighting to keep alive.

“I’ve come to realize that post-mission Price was a whole different breed of a grump, more than he usually is.” You began talking to your still unconscious ex.

The doctor had told you about him being able to hear your voice and you took the opportunity to talk his ear off with him unable to give his usual sarcastic comments or grunts as response. There were days you told him about your day at work, days where you told him about what you had been doing since you left your home and tried and failed to move on from him, and there were days where you apologized to him, regretting the divorce and everything else that been the reason for the demise of your marriage.

“I think since the divorce I’ve realized a lot of shit about us.” You sighed leaning against the uncomfortable plastic chair. “If you wake up, I’ll try to do my best to convince you to take me back.” You mused arms crossed against your chest. “I know you don’t have as much of a happy memory after what happened to your family, but when you wake up, I want to make sure we make as much happy memories as we could together, I want you to tell me about what your Ma was like, what kind of brother Tommy was like, and how adorable Joseph was, I want all of that and more with you.”

You wiped away the tears that have yet to fall, you didn’t want to cry. You thought that you didn’t have any more tears to shed. The gravity of almost losing Simon was the wakeup call you needed and now it was nothing more than a waiting game until he wakes up.

“I fucking can’t be your friend, Si.” You admit. “I can’t be happy with just being your friend. I want you to be my husband again, Si. After almost losing you I know I can’t live knowing we haven’t fixed our relationship. I’ll do anything and everything to make it up to you, all the pain and hurt I’ve caused you.”

“Anything?”

You almost jumped from where you sat at the sight of the man whose eyes were now focused on you.

“Simon?”

“Am I just high or did you say what you did?”

“What?”

“That you would make up for everything?” He muttered groggily.

“I did.” You nodded blinking in disbelief that he was here, awake. Alive.

“Then marry me. Let me make it right this time, Love. I promise I’ll make it work, I’ll do my best to make you happy the way that you deserve.”

“Yes.” You answered almost immediately, finding yourself giggling about how ridiculous his second proposal was with his current state—but you didn’t want it any other way.

He requested for you to take his dog tag around his neck off and only then did you notice that your wedding ring enclosed around his necklace. Even with the years that passed, he still had it with him. The very same ring you two had brought together before you had headed to the courthouse for your marriage.

“Can I add another stipulation?” He held onto your free hand.

“Anything.” You smiled rubbing your hand against the callousness of his hand. “Anything to make it work, Si.”

“No more blind dates from the Sergeants.”

“They could never hold a candle to you, Simon.” You giggled leaning in for a kiss, the weight that rested on your shoulders slowly easing away.

You were home, you were back in the arms of Simon after all was said and done.

[sgt-tombstone]

au where Johnny never joined the military (his knee got fucked up before he could and they wouldn’t let him enlist) but it’s okay because that means he got to go to college and study engineering, which is the closest he could get to being a civilian demolitions expert

Anyway, the city his college is in has an army base nearby, which means that every dating app he opens is flooded with army boys looking to marry the first person who so much as looks at them the right way. Johnny’s never been relationship-oriented; he likes hookups too much to settle down like that, but he loves scrolling through to drool over all of the gym pictures

And then one catches his eye. Simon. He doesn’t show his face on his profile, but his muscles more than make up for it. His appearance, though, isn’t what Johnny is most interested in, because his bio says…

Anyone interested in committing marriage fraud?

And that’s… something.

So of course Johnny swipes. He doesn’t expect to match, because Simon looks like a Greek God, and he almost throws his phone across the room when the little heart appears, telling him that he and Simon have both swiped on each other. Which means that Simon swiped on him first. It’s a heady feeling, but he’s not really sure why.

John: marriage fraud?

It’s not his strongest first message, but sue him, he’s curious.

Simon: I’m not interested in a relationship or even sex, but I have a very vested interest in being able to move off base

John: so, what? we get married and then…?

Simon: we don’t have to live together or even like each other. You can finish your studies, get the tax benefits, and live your life as you choose while I get to move off base and maintain my privacy

Honestly, it sounds like a win/win to Johnny. He’s not struggling financially per se, but being able to live exactly as he is while also gleaning tax benefits is… an attractive choice.

John: and if I meet someone else that I’m serious about?

Simon: I have no qualms about an uncontested divorce

John: let’s meet up for lunch and discuss the details

———

Lunch is a simple affair, just a local restaurant, frequented by students and soldiers alike, so they both fit in well. Simon is unfairly attractive, even if he only reveals the bottom half of his face to eat or drink. He’s massive and blond and his eyes do something to Johnny’s insides that he can’t bring himself to dissect further. They chat over their food, sharing details about themselves. Johnny shares more than Simon, and he has a hunch that that’s on purpose, but he doesn’t mind. They click instantly, and Johnny can tell that Simon is taken aback by that. It’s sweet, almost, the way that such a large military man is floundering in the face of genuine human connection. After they’ve finished, they turn to business.

With a quiet, deep voice, Simon lays out his entire plan, and Johnny is fully on board. He’s ready to sign the papers today, but they legally have to wait a month.

It’s the longest month of Johnny’s life.

They text constantly, or as constantly as they can. Sometimes Johnny feels inordinately young and sometimes very inferior; while he’s talking Simon’s ear off about some explosive compound used in building demolitions, Simon is off… doing god knows what, god knows where, serving the country. But Simon always listens, always sounds engaged over the phone when they call, always has follow-up questions that show he’s actually interested. And while Simon can’t talk much about his work, he can talk about details. Small stuff; the awful food, the hot dust where he’s stationed, the day-to-day activities that don’t give away too much. Johnny learns that he’s a lieutenant, a sniper (though that’s more through context clues than anything else), that he wears a mask all the time to protect himself, that he doesn’t like scrambled eggs (or at least, not military scrambled eggs), that he has a very complex skincare routine, that he respects the hell out of his captain. That he’s a good man, or tries to be. That he’s a sweetheart, deep down, despite trying to hide it.

They eventually get married, down at the courthouse, with Simon’s captain, Price, and Johnny’s best mate, Kyle, as witnesses.

And then life goes on. Johnny continues his studies, continues going to parties and hooking up with people every weekend, continues living his life. He assumes that Simon does the same. They keep in contact, for the most part, except when Simon’s in the field and he can’t have his phone, but he always brings back little inconsequential stories when he returns. It’s nice, in a way. They’d never exchanged rings, but sometimes Johnny wishes they had, just so he had something tangible to tie him to his husband.

I’m not sure how it would end, though…

Maybe it would be Sweet Home Alabama style, where Johnny finds someone that he thinks he loves and has to get Simon to sign the divorce papers, only to realize at the last minute that he really doesn’t want to, that he’s been in love with Simon all along

Maybe Simon gets medically discharged and ends up moving in with Johnny, where they both dance around their feelings for each other, despite already being married

Maybe they just… realize one day, that they’ve slowly but surely fallen in love with each other over the years and suddenly, nothing else matters because they’ve got a lot of lost time to make up for

[onmyyan]

hi again i'm the Anon who asked if you take commisions only or requests as well. I love your writing style<3

Soo could you write about Batmom reader, where reader took care of bruce's children as her own. But then bruce gets a mistress, reader still stays becuz of the kids but when everyone started to become cold to her and insult her ' X (mistress) is better mom then you ever were' she leaves gonthem. Then everyone realises she (mistress) was just after their money. They go to batmom's room to apologize only to find it empty. They try to find her everywhere but couldn't. And finally when they do, reader rejects them since she was having the time of her life without responsibilty but gets kiddnapped by the batfam?

Honestly i wanted to commision but i'm flat broke and i'm too busy studying to work and on top of that i don't have my own phone (i use my dad's old laptop) soo yeah... I hope you consider this.

A/N: Loooove this request thank you for sending it in <3 fem reader yandere themes lmk if you want a part two

The (L/n)'s were a wealthy and prominent family in Gotham, right up there with the Wayne's when it came to power over the city, the two families were in business together which is why when Bruce Wayne personal attorney came to you with a marriage proposal, you weren't surprised.

A marriage of convenience. You thought you knew what this would entitle, you knew this wasn't out of love, that this was required of you, it had nothing to do with what you actually wanted, but you were dutiful and signed, inking your name on the paper felt like a deal with the devil.

Bruce hadn't bothered to officially meet you until the day of the wedding, it was beautiful and well done but lacking any form of love of affection, CEOs and other rich folk you didn't recognize filled the pews, the ring felt cold when he slipped it on, his vows perfectly rehearsed, and not an ounce of warmth in his eyes, you knew that night you should have annulled the marriage, but something made you hold on, something your mother had said to you as the makeup artist turned you into the visage of a bride.

"You'll learn to love each other, your father and I did after all." And she wasn't lying, your parents married for convenience as well but had grown to love one another, so maybe you could do the same?

A year after the nuptials Dick Grayson is thrust into your life. Haley's circus was famous in Gotham for its incredible death defying shows, but on this night death would walk the stage, taking with them Dick Grayson's parents in a horrible display, You and Bruce had consoled the boy for only a moment before Bruce was talking to the officers, he'd decided Dick was coming home with you, of course without asking your opinion, but it didn't matter, you felt such pity and grief for the boy, it made perfect sense to you, he was shut down for the first few months, he called you by your name and you had no problem with it, making it clear you never wanted to try and replace his mother, the ice between you two melted one day, one kind word at a time, he couldn't help but confide in you about school or his friends, because you were more emotionally there than Bruce was.

Like the night you caught him sneaking out, a packed bag in hand and the keys to one of Bruce's many cars in his hand. Instead of yelling for Bruce or Alfred you simply smiled at him, "you should take the audi, it's the safest car here."

"..You're not going to try and stop me?"

You shake your head no, still offering that kind smile.

"You know yourself best Dick, if you're unhappy here I won't stop you from finding your peace." He took a moment before tossing you the keys and reluctantly making his way back inside.

You find out about Batman because of Dick. He'd come home with some nasty bruises and it wouldn't take long to put two and two together. Them both being missing at the same time, Dick started to pull away from you, one night, after hours of trying to get to sleep in a bed much to big for one body, your legs decided a walk was necessary, the halls were dark and quiet, giving the manor an eerie air, quietly you walked the long hallways intending on stopping by the library, as you turned the corner you seen Dick in a hidden elevator, the doors just slamming shut as your eyes tried to register what was there. Seconds after the doors close a wall appears, as if nothing was ever there. It's not long after that you see a brief news clip of the caped crusader and his new sidekick, because the longer you stared at the screen, the more familiar they began to look, that dead tight lipped scowl on Batman's face, it was one you'd had the pleasure of looking at for the past few years.

That night you confronted Bruce, he seemed surprised you'd figured it out, but he didn't deny it. Simply saying, "It's late (Y/n), get some sleep."

You nearly divorced him then and there for endangering a child the way he was, but after a moment of thought, you realized Dick would need a real parent around so you stayed, making Bruce swear to be careful.

Jason comes next and he takes to you a lot faster than Dick. He craved the warmth you offered, you two had inside jokes and a closer relationship than him and Bruce, but that all changes the day he dies. You're broken, a ghost haunting the manor with your presence, and Bruce is no comfort throwing himself into the Batman role, you begin to hate him a little with this particular betrayal.

Tim was another hard egg to crack but you were desperate after Jason's death, so you took his verbal lashings with a smile, were always there to offer a helping hand with any of his projects despite the help never being accepted. Tims wound from losing his father is too raw, he takes a lot of his anger out on you. And you weathered the storm with a soft, warm smile.

Damian hated you, from the moment he arrives, which is bitter enough as is because it meant Bruce was unfaithful, he's spitting out insults and comparing you to his 'perfect' mother.

Things weren't great in your life, but one day they started getting noticably worse. Dick no longer responded to your check in texts, Jason (now reanimated which was a heart attack in and of itself) saw you as the enemy, you didn't leave Bruce after what happened to him, so in his eyes you betrayed him, Tim ignored your existence as best as he could, and Damian? He'd started staring at you with this smug look on his face, like he knew something you didn't.

Bruce had all but ran from you, he didn't sleep in your shared room anymore, he barely spoke to you at breakfast, if it wasn't for the cameras he wouldn't touch you.

And it's all because of a woman named Rachel.

Apparently Bruce had introduced this woman to the family, bringing her around when you weren't, slowly replacing you, it was no wonder they started to pull back.

Alfred is the only reason you find out, having enough of the blatant disrespect, he calls you to come home early one day saying it's a dire matter. Of course you comply, and walk in on a discomforting sight. The whole family was gathered at the dining room table, plus a woman you'd never seen before, she sat close to Bruce, toying with his hand intimately. Her green eyes lock with yours and the smile she gives you forms a pit in your stomach.

There's silence before Bruce stands up, he walks over calmly, "Can we take this in the other room." But it wasn't phrased as a question.

"No" you licked your lips, a nervous habit from your youth. Bruce seemed taken back by your sudden backbone. He nods silently.

"I want her gone Bruce. I am your wife. You will show me that semblance of respect."

"I- of course." You don't wait for the words to settle instead, you calmly walk to your room, face unreadable.

Locking the door behind you, your body slides against the frame, a silent sob wracks your frame, your hands covering your mouth, you wouldn't give them the satisfaction of hearing your cries.

The next morning you wake up to breakfast in bed, a generic yet elegant spread of food lay on a tray in the empty spot Bruce used to stay. The man himself sitting in the chair beside the bed, staring at you with that practiced smile he used to appease people.

"Good morning."

"What's this?" You sat up straight, sleep evaporating from your form as you took in the threat before you.

"An apology. I never meant for yesterday to happen."

"What a comfort that is." Your piercing (e/c) eyes stare at him blankly, unreadable. "How long."

"A year." You scoff pushing the breakfast away from you like it was poisonous. "But its not what you think, Rachel is a childhood friend, a year ago our relationship, evolved into what it is now, but I was never intending to go behind your back."

"Ah of course, your intentions were pure." The words dripped venom, grabbing your robe you quickly dress before standing and walking to the door, "Thank you for the wonderful talk Bruce, really your people skills are top notch." Your hands gesture to the door. He leaves without a word.

The rest of the day is as usual, Bruce avoids you like the plague, the rest of the family acted as if you weren't there. Which made leaving all too easy.

Your lawyers had the divorce papers ready and hour after you called them, signing them felt like the first act of self love you'd done in years. Slipping them into Bruce's study you took the time to analyze the room you never entered.

It matched Bruce that's for sure, pictures of every single person in the family. All except for you.

Walking out the door, wrapped in your ankle length black faux fur coat, the garment whipped in the wind, the designer sunglasses on your face hid your eyes from the world, hair in a slicked back bun, your heels echoed against the pavement, a sleek black car was waiting for you, you look back at the house that had caused you so much misery then got in the back of the car, never looking back.

Life goes on for about a week, your absence goes unnoticed, that is before Rachel is trying and failing to blackmail Bruce out of a billion dollars, she'd collected evidence he was cheating on you with her and presented it to Bruce with a grin, it was only as he went through the pictures of himself and Rachel, did he notice the yellow envelope with his name written on the front.

Hey puts the heartbreaking matter of Rachel's betrayal on the back burner, Bruce opened the envelope and felt his heart completely stop at the word divorce written in bold lettering across the top, your signature was already there, waiting for his to join it.

Ignoring Rachel completely now he turns in his chair, turning the paper over and over as if it would magically change. But it remained the same. Alfred knocking on the door of his study broke him from his trance. "Master Wayne, miss Rachel." He says the latter's name with no warmth. "Escort Rachel to her car Alfred."

"Bruce have you heard a word I've said? I'm serious I'll go to Gotham daily right now if you don't -"

"Now Alfred."

That was all it took for the screaming woman to be firmly escorted off the premises. Bruce all but ran to your room, he didn't bother knocking, and despite knowing in his heart you were already gone, he couldn't help but check anyway.

Your room was empty and cold, he couldn't believe the date he'd read on the divorce papers, it was dated a week ago, meaning you'd been gone for a week and he hadn't noticed. No one had.

That is until Bruce remembers there's someone in the house nothing gets by.

"How long have you known she was gone Alfred?" He asks leaning on his knuckles the divorce papers stared back at him taunting him. "Since the moment she left." The older man replied simply his hands behind his back. "Why didn't you tell me immediately?" Bruce felt himself tense, "Because you've hurt that woman enough Bruce. She deserves at least this." He gestures to the daunting divorce paperwork before turning to leave Bruce with his thoughts.

The news of Rachel's betrayal shook the manor each member feeling violated by their trust being broken. But it was nothing compared to their reaction once they finally realized you were gone.

"That was rough." Jason says after watching Rachel being dragged out of the manor, he blew air out of his cheeks arms crossed over his chest, he looked towards the hallway that lead to your room, you had to have heard that he thought to himself.

Dick sighs through his nose, "Someone should check on (y/n), Rachel was screaming so loud she definitely heard that." No one volunteers so Dick rolls his eyes and heads towards your room.

He lifts his hands to knock but noticed the door was open, pushing it further he's met with a baren room, his brow furrowed in confusion before he makes his way to Bruce's study. "Hey B, have you seen (y/n)? Her room is like weirdly empty."

Dick found his Father where Alfred left him, leaning over the divorce papers silently a storm in his eyes.

As he steps closer and reads the paperwork Bruce was staring so intently at, his heart stopped.

"Holy shit- are those real?"

"Yes." Bruce finally spoke his voice horse. There was a moment of silence before Dick left the room practically running down the stairs to alert the others.

"(Y/n) left Bruce." He said still processing the information, "No fuckin' way." Jason says pushing himself off the counter he leaned on. "Her room is empty and he has the papers, she's gone."

Each member of the family had different reactions to this information.

Dick tries calling you only to be met with a disconnected number, his heart hammering in his chest, he wasn't as close to you as when he was younger sure, but you were a constant in his life, always had been, a pillar of support, and suddenly you weren't. It felt like the floor had gotten pulled out from under him.

Jason curses under his breath, his mind working a mile a minute, he had barely spoken to you since his Resurrection, something he deeply regretted as the information of your leaving sinks in like a brick thrown into a river.

Tim, ever calculating is trying to figure out where you went, you were a figurehead in his life, someone that was literally never not there, sure he wasn't close to you in the slightest but that doesn't mean he wants anything to happen to you, someone as quiet and soft as you on your own in Gotham? It didn't sit well with him. Not one bit.

Damian didn't know what he was feeling at the news, he supposed he should feel nothing, after all you were nothing to him, but there was this nagging feeling in his chest that he couldn't quite place. And he hated it. How dare you leave and upset his fragile ecosystem?

Meanwhile in the Bahamas, far from Gotham and the neglectful family you'd left behind, you sat lounging on a private beach, a knitted hammock cradles your body, a designer baby pink bikini covers you, a matching sunhat protects your face from the hot sun, you can't wipe the smile from your face, humming a tune from your childhood you barely flinch when someone takes the seat besides your hammock.

"Do I want to know how you found me?" You ask, eyes still closed as you bask in the warmth. You knew only one person had the sources to find you on your own island, and despite how much you resent the man, even his presence can't ruin your shine in this moment.

"You're my wife (Y/n), I'll always know where you are." Bruce speaks softly as if trying not to startle you. "Former wife." You correct cracking an eye open, a small smirk curling on your lips.

"Not until I sign those papers- which I never will."

"huh, I thought you'd be thrilled." You muse to yourself before folding your tanning mirror and setting it aside, you take off your Louis Vuitton sunglasses, blinking your pretty (e/c) eyes up at him, "Figured you and your little Twinkie would have tied the knot by now." You laugh softly, the sound, unfamiliar to Bruce, sent warm shivers down his spine, it causes his lips to quirk up in a small grin.

"She's gone."

"Well, I don't care."

There's a beat of silence before he's offering you his hand. "Will you walk with me? I know I don't deserve it."

You sigh before getting up, ignoring his hand, you nod your head reluctantly, "Well? Hurry up I've got dinner at six."

His smile remains as he begins leading you along the shoreline. It's relatively quiet between you two as you walk side by side, a peace between you both you hadn't ever felt. "The manor isn't the same without you." He breaks the silence, "I sincerely doubt that." You laugh at the very notion. "It's true- it's colder, quieter, I want you to come home."

"That was never my home, you made that abundantly clear."

He winces as if your words cut him, "I know I haven't been a good man to you, I know I've failed you time and time again but I..I looked at those divorce papers and my heart stopped." He admits running a hand through his hair.

"You can't leave me."

"I can't?." You scoff, your movement halting, "I'm a grown woman- I'm taking responsibility for my own happiness, you can't stop me."

"I wasn't asking." He says softly, his hands in his pockets, he had this fond look on his face, like he was staring at you for the first time, in a whole new light. "You can't make me." You say, brows furrowed, "You belong back home, you're supposed to be with me, till death do us part, remember?" He steps forward making you step back, your eyes wide, hands shaking, you back into a wide chest, spinning to face Dick, who's grinning at you, he's in his Nightwing costume, he gives you a small wave of his hand, you scrunch your face in confusion, "What the hell-" your thought is cut off by a small pinch in your neck, the needle in Bruce's hand is empty in seconds, he's cradling your stumbling form, holding you tightly, "Don't worry - I'll fix this."

Your sleeping body is gently carried to the batplane, Bruce holding you close to his chest as Dick pilots the plane, he whispers promises into your hair, rocking you against him as he swears on his life to make things right, weather you liked it or not.

[onsomenewsht]

from the vault:

she's unpredictable, unforgettable

》 Beautiful Crazy, Luke Combs

》 Leah Williamson x Reader

》 wear one's heart on one's sleeve [idiom]: to show one's emotions very openly

“My love, just one more”

“Don’t my love me, Williamson!”

“Use my full name if you want to make it believable”, she smirks as she comes closer to you.

After years together, the blonde footballer still manages to amaze you with that effortless charming attitude.

Whipped around her finger, that’s who you are.

“I’m still on time to call the wedding off”

“Jokes on you, we already signed the papers”

The work you’re trying to finish is forgotten on the kitchen island as soon as she slots herself between your legs, hands on your thighs too strategically placed to be casual.

Leah closes the distance, kissing first your forehead to then carefully graze her favourite features of your face – the tip of your nose, your cheeks, even the hidden space behind your ears.

When she finds your lips, the kiss is soft and tastes a lot like the comfort of home.

“Nice try, we’re still not adding another one”, you whisper with your eyes still closed.

“Oh, come on!”

“You’re turning it into a country concert”

“And how could that possibly be a bad thing?”, she genuinely asks, folding her arms in the stubborn way you learned to love.

A child-like behaviour that, despite her frown, always gets a loud laugh out of you. One more proof you actually just married a tall, blonde, stubborn toddler.

You prompt her to sit on the kitchen island top, holding her waist in your hands - work long forgotten.

“I want to renegotiate”

“Let me hear your terms”

You realised pretty soon in your relationship with the English skipper that the best way to deal with her in a mood to get what she wants is letting her think she can have her way.

The fact that you usually end up giving her anything she wants regardless is a completely different story.

“You let me add one more country song on the reception’s playlist and I’ll take that cooking course with you”

“You promised that three one-more-songs ago”

Leah’s frown grows in contemplation. You can’t tell if she forgot or she just hoped you did. Either way, she needs to find something else to bribe you with.

“I’ll dedicate my next goal to you”

“You’re a defender”, giggles escape you as a finger traces the deep line between her eyebrows, “and you already do”

“Ohi, I will stop buying those big boy shorts you hate”

“You promised that on our first anniversary and I can’t even remember how many times you broke that promise at this point!”

“I never promised that, I said I would try for you”

Another country song is not gonna ruin the party you two are planning to celebrate your marriage, you know that. But the curiosity to see how much she’s willing to put on the line to win this little game of yours is just too much fun.

“You could let me add it just ‘cause you love me”

“Already done that one Taylor’s Version ago”

“My love, please!”

The athlete’s blonde head drops dramatically on your shoulder, her arms enveloping you and holding you firmly. The calm lasts a second, though. Your hands barely reach the back of her neck when she sprints away with a new determination on her face.

“Just listen to it, you will like this one”

Laughs fill your home as she runs to find her phone, almost tripping on her own feet, to come back in the kitchen with a cocky smile and two country hats.

“Don’t even try–”

The acoustic version of a familiar song resonates in the room. Leah carefully places one hat on your head before finding the right key to join the singer in an quite impressive duet.

And here you were, thinking you couldn’t fall in love with her more.

When she offers you her hand, lovingly guiding the two of you in a slow dance in the middle of your kitchen, you’re sure she is more than the love of your life.

The song stops, and you don’t even realise. Her lips and hands fade the world around.

“Just one more”

[cherryredcheol]

practice makes perfect

tldr: practice makes permanent a/n: could technically be read as pt. 2 to this but not really. reader referred to as "wife"

not for the first time in your life, do you find yourself grateful that you are right-handed. throughout your years with mingyu, you’ve seen him struggle with his left-handedness. you don’t think you’ve ever seen his signature not smeared in some way by his hand dragging across the wet ink. in fact, you’re pretty sure his signature will be a little smudged on the marriage license that you two will be signing following your ceremony in a few months. 

but as you sit at the kitchen table, addressing invitations with an inky gel pen your fiance could never dream of using, you’re grateful the characters are crisp and legible. moreover, you’re grateful that the pretty ring on your left hand isn’t at risk of being soiled. mingyu picked it out himself and did a great job. it was exactly what you wanted. you hadn’t taken it off since he slipped it on, bent at the knee, gazing up at you with all the love in the world in his eyes, a confession of love that rivals shakespeare tumbling off his lips. it was the easiest yes you’d ever given. 

getting used to the weight of the ring took some time. not used to having jewelry on that finger, you constantly felt the ring on your hand. it was distracting at first, but as time went on the feeling became natural and you hardly noticed. the same happened when getting used to you and mingyu’s new titles for each other. his chest puffed up when he called you his fiancee, proud and happy to show you off. the first time you introduced mingyu as your fiance to someone you blushed like a tomato and stuttered over your words. it was embarrassing to you but mingyu was endeared, proud he still could make you shy after all the time you’d spent together. the idea of calling each other husband and wife was not even something you could think about. 

thinking about mingyu’s signature got you thinking about your own. it suddenly dawned on you that you were going to need a new one. following your marriage you were going to have a new name. you’re going to have to learn to reprint your name too. the muscle memory of writing your full name would have to be relearned with his name, your family name. it would take some practice. no time like the present you assumed. pushing the invitations to the other side of the table, you pulled out a piece of scrap paper and with your pen in hand, began to retrain the muscles in your right hand. 

mingyu woke up feeling refreshed. it had been a long week and he was facing down another one but a saturday afternoon nap had really hit the spot. the apartment was quiet when he woke up and he wondered if you’d fallen asleep too. you had told him you were going to address some envelopes for the wedding but maybe you’d laid down on the couch instead. coming down the stairs, he could hear the faint scratching of a pen on paper so he followed the sound, he guessed he had been wrong in assuming you’d fallen asleep. 

stopping in the doorway of the kitchen he admired your hunched form. bent over the table writing addresses on–no, you were not writing on envelopes. you were scribbling on a piece of paper full of other, similar looking scribbles. after every scribble, you’d sit back and assess your work before leaning back down and starting the cycle over again. he watched you do this about four times before he spoke, “what are you doing, angel?”

you jumped and turned to look at him, hand to your chest, “christ, gyu. i’m going to put a bell on you or something. for someone so big you sure are quiet.”

he caught sight of the ring on your finger and it made him smile, “sorry, angel. i thought you’d heard me. but i guess you were too focused…on that…” his eyes darted pointedly to the paper you’d been writing on. 

your heart sped up, a blush colored your cheeks. you’d been so focused on practicing writing your married name you hadn’t thought how embarrassed you’d be if you were caught.

seeing your cheeks turn color, mingyu’s smile widened. “what were you doing, angel?”

“umm…” you knew you had two options here. you could try to hid this from him and save yourself the embarrassment or you could just fess up and get the teasing over with. you chose the latter. “i was practicing writing my new name.”

mingyu froze. he blinked once, twice, a third, and then,”your what?”

“my new name. you know, when we get married and i take your name, it’ll be new to me. so i’m trying to figure out what my signature should look like but i don’t like any of the ones i’ve done so far and it’ll be for the rest of my life so i want it to look good.” you word vomited at him, cheeks heating up even more than before. 

mingyu did not think he could love you any more than he already did, then he proposed. and he swore that nothing would top that. the look on your face and the way he felt, he knew it was something that would last with him forever. but now, standing in the kitchen doorway, hearing you tell him you’d been down here practicing writing your married name so you could have the perfect signature, he once again felt an overwhelming love for you that could bring him to his knees. 

“okay well, let’s keep trying then. you know what they say, ‘practice makes perfect.’”

[spacedace]

“Hey, I need to get married for bullshit Infinite Realms reasons, you two in?”

“Tt, of course.”

“Sure thing! Do we need to get going for that like, right now? Or later?”

“Eh, like in a couple of hours? The Observants are demanding some Royal Ball or something and they pulled out some stupid old laws out of their collective asses that if I’m not married by the time it starts they can assign me spouses of their choosing, can you fucking believe that shit?”

“Woah, what the hell? Can they even do that?”

“I was under the impression they were only permitted to observe.”

“Right? It’s total crap, but apparently there’s like this super old law on the books and they didn’t bring it up until now when there’s like no time left to try and force me to marry someone they pick.”

“They are training to gain influence over you?”

“Eh, more like they’re trying to get control of my Dad by way of me. But still fucked as hell.”

“So why do you need to marry both of us? Or do you just need to marry one of us and we should play rock paper scissor for it?”

“Technically I only need to marry one of you, but I don’t want them pulling out any loopholes or something. So, it’d be great if one of you could be my consort for my role as Queen of Mirrors, and one could be my consort for my role as Crown Princess. You two can figure who’s who on that all that, I’m good with whatever.”

“Oooh, can I be consort for the Mirror Court? I can annoy Kon more that way.”

“I am amenable to that. Grandfather will have a fit when he learns that I can cut his access to the Pits off at my discretion and there’s nothing he can do about it.”

“Awesome, okay are you two good for meeting up at like, three? We can pop over to my Lair and get everything sorted out there.”

“Works for me, my only class til this afternoon is at one and the professor already said we’re cutting out early because she has to go out of town this weekend.”

“Four would be more agreeable if possible, I have to take Titus to the vet for his checkup.”

“Okay let’s aim for four then. It’s just signing some paperwork, making some quick blood-slash-ectoplasm pacts and swearing a couple binding oaths… Should only take like five or ten minutes?”

“They’re not gonna make you have a huge royal wedding or anything?”

“Nah. Dad keeps things pretty chill so as long as the paperwork is all in order we’ll be good. Though once Auntie Dorathea finds out she’s absolutely gonna make us have one. She loves planning weddings. Swear its what she makes her hoard out of somehow.”

“So long as we have a say in some of the proceedings I have no issue with that eventuality.”

“Same, it sounds like it’d be a fun way to annoy the Observants even more.”

“Don’t for get all the weirdos trying to be my suitors and all that bullshit.”

“We have an accord then. We can reconvene at the usual place.”

“Awesome, you two are the best! I gotta jet and let everyone know and get the ball rolling on the paperwork stuff. See you guys at four!”

With that, Nomad - Stella Phantom, Crown Princess of the Infinite Realms, Queen of Mirrors, Core of the Speedforce and ghostly hero of the Titans and the Justice League - tore a rip in the fabric of space and time and darted out of the room the same way she came. Through the mind-bending tear in reality the eerie, eye-searing green of the Infinite Realms glowed in all its unsettling glory, Phantom Keep a glittering expanse of night sky made solid in the distance.

Jon waved at her cheerfully as Damian gave a nod of farewell before both silently turned their attention back to their respective tablets as the portal closed behind their friend and teammate and the glimpse of the Ghost Zone disappeared again. Completely unbothered by the conversation just held or the life changing implications that came with them.

Jon was humming as he tapped away at something on the screen before him, Damian propping his head up on his fist in vague boredom as he frowned down at the information he was reading.

The rest of the room Nomad had left behind was caught in a frozen, stunned silence in the wake of the baffling conversation they’d all just been witness to. All eyes in the room darted between Flamebird and Pheonix seated calmly at the end of the table, then to the space where Nomad had disappeared to, back to the young men, and then towards the head of the table where Superman and Batman sat looking bewildered and a bit on the verge of heart attacks.

The short status update meeting was about to become much, much longer it seemed.

Though a lot more entertaining.

[aftgficrec]

Favorite Neil/Jean or Neil&Jean fics?

In the aftermath of the publication of The Sunshine Court the relationship between Neil and Jean has been put under the spotlight a little more (no spoilers here though!), but there have always been authors who have shown this combo the attention it deserves. In addition, many fics under our raven!neil tag feature friendships or relationships between Neil and Jean. - S

Previously recommended:

Neil Josten & Jean Moreau:

close friends Neil & Jean here

BFFs Jean & Neil here

Neil/Jean tumblr fics and headcanons here

‘Afterthoughts Chapter 68’, ‘Jean, Neil, and Kevin hanging out’ here (plus some more Neil & Jean under previous recs)

‘not very good at this’ here

Neil Josten/Jean Moreau:

Neil/Jean fics here (you can also find a link to our Neil/Jean tag here)

More Jean/Neil fics here

‘we’ll survive, you and i’, ‘Heart on Your Sleeve, Eyes on the Street (the Heart-Eyes Remix)’, and ‘Doves & Ravens’  here

Some of our favourites from previous posts:

Your humble and silky life by moonix [Rated G, 3582 words, complete, 2019, locked]

Jean’s life these days is quiet, uneventful. His best friend has a hopeless crush on the unattainable Minyard, Jean’s colleague at the botanical garden. Jean has a standing appointment every week with the most beautiful woman in the world, who is happily married to someone else—but that’s okay. There’s still Jeremy the waiter, whose smile is the highlight of Jean’s week.

tw: animal death

Black As Is The Raven, He’ll Get A Partner by nekojita [Rated E, 644156 words, complete, 2018]

When Wymack, Kevin and Andrew came to recruit Neil Josten in Millport, Neil decided to say 'no' instead of 'yes' to joining the Foxes and does what he does best, which is run. Unfortunately, that brings him to the attention of the Moriyamas, who return him to his 'rightful' place. Now Neil has to learn how to survive at the Nest with his only ally another 'asset' long kept under Riko's heel.

tw: violence, tw: rape/noncon, tw: dubcon, tw: blood, tw: panic attacks, tw: drug use, tw: alcohol, tw: minor character death, tw: homophobia, tw: involuntary outing

Apart from Your World (A Part of Mine) by ApprenticedMagician [Rated T, 17647 words, complete, Aftg Big Bang 2018, locked]

David is shipping him off to the Isle of Anglesey and, frankly, Neil could use the time and distance away from an ugly break-up that still hasn't smoothed over. The problem is, if he isn't being reminded of his ex (courtesy of working alongside his identical twin brother), then he's being reminded of the mother who abandoned him (courtesy of their assigned patient who suffers the same affliction she once did). All around, it's shaping up to be anything but the trip he signed up for.

tw: references to past abuse

NB: find art for this fic by @llheji here

So Keep Your Heart On Your Sleeve (And Keep Your Eyes On The Streets) by CasTheButler [Rated T, 4162 words, complete, Aftg Winter Exchange 2018]

Cause it's a God damn long drive fall, Back to normality. Jean starts at a new school on a new soccer team, makes some friends, and spends the whole time falling in love with a punk. Written for the 2018 AFTG Winter Exchange.

tw: panic attacks

And here are some fics we haven’t rec’ed yet:

Neil Josten & Jean Moreau:

Je crois en la chance de rejoindre la mer by Elyant [Rated T, 2007 words, complete, 2021, locked]

Part 4 of The Devil Makes Three

Jean has chosen the café whose tables were closest to the large windows overlooking the tarmac. After spending so many years underground and under the harsh fluorescent light of the Nest, he doesn't think he will ever have enough of the natural warmth of the sun. A duffle bag of clothes that are too new to feel like his, the tin of home-baked cookies Renee thrusted into his hands before he left, and a small package wrapped in kraft paper are his only baggage.  He's waiting for a plane from London to land because of a phone call he received a few nights before. He is therefore purposefully two hours too early for the flight that will take him to South California, to meet the team in crimson and gold that will become his family, even if he doesn't know it yet.

tw: implied/referenced abuse

from rain by ratbandaid [Rated T, 62807 words, complete, 2023]

Over time, Jean grew unsure as to why he'd been so intent on running from the mafia. He barely took care of himself and could hardly call whatever he was doing living. After all, he knew that one day, he'll be caught and dragged back, kicking and screaming, to be killed or worse: put back in the hands of Riko Moriyama. But when a snot-nosed, cocky brat, Neil, stumbles into his life, Jean slowly realizes what he's running for.

tw: implied/referenced abuse, tw: implied/referenced child abuse, tw: violence, tw: nightmares

based on this art by @estavs

NB: This one contains slight spoilers for The Sunshine Court:

epic understatement by LadyTimelessness [Rated T, 335 words, complete, 2024]

he's pissed off that jean had to go through this. they're basically nothing to each other, but damn it, neil wants to crack grayson's skull open that second. faith in the world finally burns out in the fire of disillusionment.

tw: implied/referenced rape/noncon, tw: implied/referenced murder

Neil Josten/Jean Moreau:

Skip the Last Dance For Me (the Trojan Horse remix) by justadreamfox [Rated T, 3572 words, complete, Aftg Remix 2020]

Neil and Jean are free of the Nest, and wearing the Trojan red and gold, but they've still got "normal" life to navigate and friendships (past and present) to juggle. Really, sometimes you just want to be alone with your boyfriend.  Ft. Exy, pizza, and Steven Spielberg.

Nothing Mattered Until You by Lostintheuniverseslies [Rated M, 22497 words, complete, 2023]

On the docks in Marseille, Neil fell in love. But his mother ripped him away and for years he never dared hope to see Jean again. He believed that he would die before ever getting the chance. But when recuperating with his uncle after his father is killed, Neil's chance comes. Unfortunately, he isn't the only one who went through some horrible things over the years. Despite their horrible pasts, they decide to try for a future together. Going to college and even making some friends along the way. But Riko has other plans and wants back what he considers his.

tw: implied/referenced torture, tw: implied/referenced domestic violence, tw: stalking, tw: harassment,  tw: dissociation

It's Friday, I'm in love by Greenfallleaves [Rated T, 5834 words, complete, 2023, locked]

The day Neil had found himself pushed into the strong chest of their school’s new student Jean Moreau had been one of his luckiest in hindsight.

Hold my breath in your hands by Greenfallleaves [Rated G, 2154 words, complete, 2023, locked]

Adapting to the world outside the nest hadn’t been easy for either Jean or Neil but now that they had had a few years to get used to it, they got to complain about (i.e. enjoy) spending quality time with their friends.

sleep notes by nanatsuyu [Rated T, 2928 words, complete, 2024, locked]

Neil smokes a joint and discusses the possibility that Kevin is an honest to God vampire.

tw: recreational drug use, tw: implied/referenced abuse

A kiss while someone watches by @stabbyfoxandrew [tumblr, 2024]

Nathaniel never really saw the point of kissing until he was brought to the nest. Or rather, until the first time Jean Moreau backed him up against the wall of their shared dorm during an argument.

Art

Jean & Neil by @ziegenkind094

Raven!neil au - napping by @dawnatlas 

Raven!neil au - partners by @dawnatlas

‘Stitch by stitch, tape and gauze…’ by @dawnatlas

two by @02511213942

Neil and Jean find an empty pool at night by @aminiyard

i believe in jean moreau supremacy by @caraleadraws 

secret santa gift for @nekojitachan by @aminiyard

Hello sunshine court by @estavs

[smolvenger]

A Court of Mischief and Purpose Chapter Eighteen (Loki x fem! Reader Hiddlesverse Crossover Series)

Series Summary: Based on Sarah J Mass's A Court of Thorns and Roses series with the Tom Hiddleston characters. You are a woman of 1880's in Aldwinter in Essex, England, dying of tuberculosis. Never to be married to the local Lusty Vicar. When Loki appears to you and offers to heal you...if you spend a week of every month with him

Chapter Summary: Longing to return to your husband and friends, you take the next steps for revenge, both big and small. Your powers perform a miracle for the town to get you into their good graces. Then, an unexpected invitation arrives.

Word Count: 4K (for me, that's short. Don't wanna write super long chapter bc I fear people hate it)

Chapter Warnings: No smut, but mentions of sex and masturbation with references to and deconstructing the canon events The Essex Serpent the book, and the show, including not portraying Cora or Will or their affair sympathetically so if you don't like that don't read this, discussions of cheating and a brief mention of the fear of sexual violence. Loki gets jealous for a hot second. Some angst, but some humor. Supporting Women's Wrongs. Reader causing problems on purpose. Portrayals of religion. My saltiness slips out into roasts.

Series Masterlist

A03//My Ko-Fi//My Etsy Shop//Masterlist//Wattpad

Taglist: @asgards-princess-of-mischief @jennyggggrrr @five-miles-over @fictive-sl0th @ladycamillewrites @villainousshakespeare @holdmytesseract @eleniblue @twhxhck @lokisgoodgirl @lovelysizzlingbluebird @raqnarokr @holymultiplefandomsbatman @michelleleewise @wolfsmom1 @cheekyscamp @mochie85 @fandxmslxt69 @skittslackoffilter @mischief2sarawr

The first letter had its destination. You got out a piece of paper, writing down the address of the seminary that appointed him the vicarage of Aldwinter. Then you began writing.

“Dear sirs,

I have some unfortunate news. I suspect the Reverend William Ransome is not of moral character fitting his position here. He is engaged to marry…”

You hesitated. Thinking carefully, if you signed it with your name, Will would know it was you. No, you couldn’t risk that. You continued writing. 

“... a Miss Y/L/N.  However, an intact love letter from a woman named Mrs.Seaborne was discovered in his possession. It is dated during his still current engagement to Ms. Y/L/N. It is enclosed here. There must be an inspection in his vicarage to see if he encouraged Mrs. Seaborne and if there were other incidents. If found that he behaved in a manner not befitting godly character, it is doubtful he can have the right to sacred orders and to function as a public figure of the church at least in Aldwinter.”

Sincerely, 

An anonymous member of the congregation.”

Stuffing both this paper and the first letter in an envelope, you then sealed with wax. Then wrote down the address of the council. 

You hurried to the post office, paid postage, and quickly mailed it out before anyone could see. Too many talking mouths.

You heard Loki congratulate you.

‘I couldn’t have done better, my dear. You’ve learned from the best. You’re a wife to the god of mischief indeed.’ 

Once you got home, though you skimmed over the book of Matthew beside the fire, you weren’t focused on the scripture. You would have to figure out where to send the other two letters. One would have to get to someone in town, anyone who attended church would do. You’d figure out the how later.

But the third one would require research… Mrs. Seaborne’s ambition in life was to become recognized as a woman of science. 

Too bad sleeping with another’s fiancee typically results in a woman’s utter ruin. 

And now you had the evidence in hand. You had to figure out where to send it to. Which department of science? Who received her research? What if she wasn’t sending it at all, what then? Would she gather up her fossils as Stella loved to gather up seashells?

Your thoughts then returned to Stella… your friend who shared a fate with you. 

Had you not been there…it would have been her. She would have married Will and fell in love with him. Been the dutiful, obedient wife who carried the Word in her mouth and his children in her womb. Stella, stricken with consumption, about to die…and for William to repay her devotion and life with him with inconstancy. Doomed to do nothing about her husband’s obsessive lust for another woman and in fact, smile at it. 

His happiness was what mattered. His happiness. Not hers. 

And she would have borne it without even speaking a complaint. She’d be their matchmaker like a dutiful little wife all while she never let her heart sway to another man, much less bring him to the marriage bed that her upright, moral, virtuous, godly husband had the freedom to. The marriage bed Will would have set on fire and destroyed into bits all while she smiled and laid in it and let him burn her into ashes.  

She’d want them to be together. Content and not the least bit unhappy that she never mattered to Will in the first place. She’d even attempt suicide- end her own life- so they could be together!

The perfect wife to a man who couldn’t be decent. 

…what would she get out of it? 

At the end of the day, who was kissing their lover, and who was the one about to drown?

And even for her selfless and complete and utter devotion to Will…it wouldn’t be the same from him. He wouldn’t be willing to sacrifice or control himself for Stella…not one bit. He was a man who did not deserve her. Did not deserve the great, selfless love she had for everyone in her life…even you.

You were the same not long ago. The self-sacrificial, dutiful, passive wife who wanted nothing but his happiness. That was why you agreed to that bargain on that fateful day.

You had to avenge Stella. Even if now it wouldn’t happen, you had to. For you and she were one half of one whole fate. And in this one, the abandoned woman would not passively sit until she killed herself for such selfish monsters. 

 If Stella were the one destined to not fight….you would.  For her sake as well as yours. 

You paused, remembering how frightened she was in Grendel’s cave the last you saw her.

‘How is Stella?”’ you asked Loki. You knew you asked him a hundred times before. And he would tell you.

‘She was having nightmares keeping her awake. Flinching, bursting into tears and fits of great fear of anything involving Grendel…but she is getting better.’

“When will she be home? Her family keeps asking after her…they mourn her as if she died. I cannot stay long with them without weeping. It destroys me every time”

“She was in her house when Grendel took her…she doesn’t feel safe there now.  So she wants to stay here...”

“Without it being safe for Thomas to deliver letters…They think she’s your whore for good now.”

“If I forced Stella to be my whore, I think my wife would have something to say about it. Not to mention Jonathan.”

“Oh, he’d say something. His fists can make a whole sentence itself.”

His warm laughter made you smile over the large, thick book in your lap.

“Oh, Loki, bless him-I knew from when he gave her those flowers. But I don’t think he’ll admit he is besotted with her already,” you added on.

“Jonathan is not a man who will easily admit anything, why else did he become a spy?”

In the night, you couldn’t sleep. Your mind was still racing, refusing to shut off. You went to the window in your room, sitting on a chair to stare out. You looked outside at the country darkness outside. For only the stars and moon above showed any light on the little town.

Out of curiosity, your senses reached out. You sensed Will was not asleep at all and not in his house. He was in the field alone of all places! And standing before a bonfire. Then you could sense he was speaking…

“Oh Lord, I renounce my sins…”

Atoning and cleansing his sins? Looks like he was going to need a lot more firewood then.

You stopped your powers. But you went back to here and looked up at the starry sky. You missed them- all of them. Sif’s little glares when something annoyed her. Stella trying on the Asgardian dresses. Robert making quips as he lit a cigarette. Thomas happily chatting over whatever device he was working on Jonathan observing everything stoically, but when someone spoke gently to him, a beautiful smile on his face. Hal’s bright eyes as he taught everyone how to fight with a sword during training. Thor’s loud laughter. Queen Frigga coming in to ask over all of you, for it was her role as an AllMother to be Mother to all.

And Loki- dear, funny, charming, mischievous Loki, your True Love, your husband…you missed him most of all.

You had to be patient. It would only motivate you further. Once this was all done and you figured it out, you would return to see all of them without a minute’s delay. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The hairy dog that kept humping things was approaching your front yard. 

His pet was with him.

“Ah, dear Reverend, will you stop by for tea?” your mother hurried off from your gardening together to greet Will. 

“Yes, you are welcome,” you repeated, though your voice felt small.

He was in his overcoat and his formal green vest. The spaniel barked at his feet, tail wagging but held close thanks to the leash. You smiled and leaned down to pet him, for had you become married to the Lusty Vicar, the dog would be the most loyal man in your life. 

“I only have time to stop and say my hellos- especially for the lady here, please,” Will greeted, his eyes shining at you. 

You returned up. You fluttered your eyes down in a picture of docility and chastity.

“It’s nice to see you too,” you greeted sweetly. 

He then did something you were surprised he did in your mother’s presence. With his free hand, he found the ends of your skirt and gently tugged you a little closer to him. He smiled up at you.

“Why, how are you, my dear?” he asked.

“Doing alright,” you answered.

“I hear your headaches have been better, are you getting rest?”

“Yes, plenty as I can, Will,” you answered.

“That’s good, my darling,” he replied. 

You heard Loki cut in.

“That’s MY word for you!”

“Hush!” you sent back

“I just sent a telegram to Bishop Anderson. He has been promised there will be no disruptions and he will marry us next month,” he announced, his voice soft and almost on the edge of seduction. Completely unaware of the letter you sent to the council and the disaster about to hit him in at least a few weeks. 

Loki cut in again- “You do know that every Thursday he goes to the ocean and relieves his seed in it to thoughts of Cora!”

“I’m not surprised- hush!” you silently urged your husband again.

“Oh, that’s wonderful!” you replied, smiling at him. 

“Are you going to be at the dance tonight, Y/N?”

The thought of being in there and having to endure potentially being in the same room as Mr. I-Can’t-Think-Straight-Around-Her and Cora and not screaming at both of them made you feel nauseous.

But he didn’t need to know that now.

“Oh, of course, I shall!” you replied. 

“Ah, then I hope to dance with my wife then,” he prodded.

“We are not yet married,” you reminded him meekly, folding your hands and looking demurely down.

“Yet you are mine already in my heart. For nothing shall stop me from joining you in Holy Matrimony and for us together to spend a life doing God’s will. I shall escort you there tonight, Y/N,” he promised.

He wasn’t wrong about the first bit, as Grendel told you.

He took your hand and kissed it. You grinned up at him with a loving look on your face. 

Yes, Y/N, smile. Be polite. Charming even. And never let him know you want him dead.

Then, urging his dog forward with his leash, he went about his way through the brown and white town. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

That night was the promised dance. You kept your word and went with him. 

So many others would gather- that dance hall with candlelight that made the brown walls orange. Some people dressed in dark colors, but young people eager to flirt and laugh. Tables full of punch, cake, and fruit. A piano constantly playing. 

And Will in a tuxedo like the other men, ever the picture of handsomeness. You had three dances with him. The number permitted for an engaged couple. As tempting as it was to grab the neck of his bow tie and strangle him with it was there, you fought it back. 

No, you looked up at him and smiled. Curtsied at the end of dances as people clapped around you. 

Of course, Cora was there in her grey dress. But when she arrived, you put on a smile and curtsied and greeted her like any other person. Not talking to her more than you had to. You kept your eyes down for the rest of the party- sensing her like you were in the ocean and felt the presence of a shark. You knew Will would still stare at her intensely in your own presence. You would pretend like you didn’t know, and keep your eyes down again like a docile lady with no thoughts but love and marriage.

Maybe he had you both in boxes. For surely he thought you didn’t consent to be in Loki’s bed and that was why he pitied you as opposed to hated you. There was also the loophole- you were still considered chaste even though you weren’t. Since you didn’t want to bed Loki but were forced to.

 You were his Virgin. Cora was his Whore. 

He wanted to marry you because you fit being the chaste wife who sipped tea and quoted Philippians. And he could do whatever he wanted whenever he wanted with Cora. One for his house and the other for his hand. Cora couldn’t be that wife for the vicarage. And you couldn’t be the one who could spit out some stupid science fact to make his penis erect. 

He wanted both. To have his cake and eat it too, like what Robert would say.

But as the party progressed…it occurred to you that you might be a little wrong at least on your part. Will’s touch on you was still proper- an arm to drape yours over. But only slightly more amorous, sometimes a hand to touch your back. Sometimes a brief, chaste kiss. Becoming slightly more amorous. 

It then hit you…Did Will…lust after you?  It wasn’t just chaste affection or passion he felt for you-  but did it include the Lusty Vicar’s Lusty Penis? 

You stopped for a moment and mused on it. Will left you to talk to some friends, promising he’d be back.

Honestly, It flattered you to be desired. And you had to have the shield up to not hear Loki’s complaints of jealousy right now.

You knew Will wouldn’t urge you to his bed before marriage. At the most extreme, not publicly. 

But…what if…what if that passion was still there? With the wedding re-planning, you knew it would happen soon. If you let time slip, you will find yourself a bigamist! You knew the Lusty Vicar would live up to his nickname and want to fuck you right after you said your I do’s! 

At the most extreme, if that happened…you could say no. Will had done some disgusting and reprehensible things…but you couldn’t imagine him forcing himself on you.

Perhaps you could tell him “no” on your wedding night. Tell him you were still distressed from being the Trickster God’s whore. Tell him you weren’t ready to consummate your (second) marriage. Will would very likely comply.  Maybe even tell him to sleep on the couch alone. Now- there was a funny picture! You- safe and snug in that blue bed and asleep. And the tall, hairy man curled up on his couch as much as his height would allow him. The cold air deflating the Lusty Vicar’s Lusty Penis like a balloon after a party.

But…how long would that last? He’d respect you but suspect something was up. Then, how could you discreetly get revenge on him after you wedded him? 

You had to cool him. 

But looking up, you saw with silent horror that he was staring at Cora again. There was a piano playing-a dance theme like you heard in your old dream. A song urging them to dance. Rage burned in the bottom of your stomach.

He needed not only cooling but the equivalent of a swift kick to the groin- and you had an idea of how to do both at once.

Looking over, you noted the tablecloth of the refreshment table was a dark green. Your True Love’s favorite dark green. 

Perfect.

You went up to the refreshment table for punch, taking a little cup and going to the glass bowl. A few guests talked nearby- a couple of gentlemen including a young surgeon the town had.  Dark hair and a round face, an apparent friend of the woman who ruined your life, and an expert in new ways of his profession. Chatting about amputation or other polite topics.

You then looked down and pretended to see the deep green cloth.

You dropped the glass in your hand it shattered on the ground. You let out a scream seeing the tablecloth. Conjuring tears and shaking, but careful not to step on the glass shards.

The party stopped, even the stupid piano trinkle music, to look at you.

You put a hand over your mouth and burst into tears. With the anger, the sadness, and the grief you had inside, it wasn’t hard.

“Why…what is the matter?” one woman in a dark dress asked.

“It’s Loki…like Loki’s-green like his-his-” you muttered out.

You then turned to the first man in that little group of men next to the table. Before Will could interfere, you flung yourself  at the surgeon. Wrapped your arms around him in a shaking embrace. You recalled his name- what was it again? Oh, yes!

“Lucas! Oh, Lucas! Help me! The trickster god!” you cried.

You held him tight and sobbed into the white shirt of his suit.

“What, uh, is the matter, Miss?” he asked, unsure of what on earth was going on.

“It’s green! The very green like his bed was! The trickster god is going to get me! He’s going to force me to bed him again! Oh, Lucas- please! Protect me! Say you’ll protect me! Anyone, please!” you wailed.

There were a few whispers of pity from the crowd. Lucas was stiff and uncomfortable of being labeled as your protector.

“There there, Miss Y/L/N. Sure I-we will keep you, uh. safe. it’s alright, you’re safe, no need to make a fuss, shhh,” he patted awkwardly, rocking you back and forth as you clung to him.

You peeked out and saw Will look absolutely white and silently angry seeing you embracing the surgeon. 

A taste of his own medicine.

You heard Loki’s voice.

‘Hal’s dying of laughter right now over this. Jonathan is cracking a smile despite himself. Stella is telling them all it is not funny and excusing herself to go to a corner and giggle.’ he said.

Lucas took note of Will and you heard a little panic in the surgeon’s voice.

“I, uh, think you should- should get home and- er, drink some tea and get some rest,” Lucas advised, desperately peeling you off of him before you went to Will. Pure terror on the surgeon's round face noticing the awkward situation he was in.

“I will escort my fiancee back home,” he said coldly, glaring at Lucas. 

You were escorted sternly by Will, you pretended not to notice the jealous little huff in his voice when he said goodnight at your door. 

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The second Sunday was the right Sunday to do the next part of your plan- for it was bright and sunny.

You were already early there to help teach Sunday School as promised. You made sure to talk in a sweet voice as you handed out the little snacks for the children forced into stiff, fancy clothes. The older teacher fussed at them to remain still. You practiced looking at a window when they turned to her. The children sat bored and sleepy hearing about Jonah. 

You saw one little light reflection out of the window flicker on the floor. Then it settled to normal before any young eyes could see. 

For the longest time, you wondered why you had these gifts of moving light around- the flash from the sun, from windows, and its reflections. It wasn’t helpful against Grendel…but it would be helpful for revenge.

Service began, and people filed over the floors, made of clear tiles of white and black, almost like a chessboard. And what a move you had in store if it was successful.

You looked up at the light shining through that brown church so it no longer looked dreary. 

The service began as normal. Blessed be God’s people now and forever amen and all that. A few hymns. Scripture readings. Will gave a sermon about King Saul and David. The men who were a part of Grendel’s army sitting in the congregation smiling. More intrigued to hear about swords and violence than patience and gentleness. 

A prayer would be the right time. Everyone ducked their heads down to repeat what was in the Book of Common Prayer.

“Lord in your mercy,” began Will.

“Hear our prayer” the congregation intoned, as did you.

You stared at the sunlight streaming down all of the windows.

“Lord, hear us,” began Will.

“Lord, graciously hear us,” replied the congregation.

Taking in a deep breath, you silently urged the sunlight to move. 

“God of love,” began Will.

“Hear our prayer,” responded the congregation.

The lights moved from the windows over the heads of all. First one stream of light, then another, and another. Everyone’s heads were down to pray, they didn’t notice. 

The lights glowing on all the windows were directed at you like stage lights. You felt warm beneath it. You squinted beneath it, smiling, your magic keeping it at you. But kept repeating the prayer responses from the service.

“Lord, meet us in the silence,” began Will.

“And hear our prayer,” replied the congregation.

When their heads turned, they saw the sunlight was all pointing in your direction and beaming right at you.

There were gasps. You heard a few books of Common Prayer taking a tumble to the floor from people dropping them in shock. They gaped at you- the frightened and superstitious town. For many things happened that scared them…this was harmless.

The service went to a halt as they all looked at you.

“It’s a sign! From God!” one murmured.

“He blessed her!” whispered another.

“A blessed lady!” another agreed.

They lost interest in Will, whose mouth dropped wide, then broke into a smile. He saw a miracle before him.

The congregation turned to you. One woman went up to you and you offered your hand, she kissed it.

“God has blessed you, my dear- it’s a sign from him!” she gasped.

“He has redeemed her…redeemed her from the Trickster God!” agreed another.

They all loved and looked at you favorably, their eyes soft and their faces turning to smiles. You released the magic and suddenly Will had to re-direct everyone’s focus back to him and the service.

But they went up to you, smiling and in awe and admiration and coming in droves to smile in awe of you once it was over. 

Now you had to keep it up for a good reputation in this town was as good as an alibi.  

─── ･ ｡ﾟ☆: *.☽ .* :☆ﾟ. ───

The next day, you received something in the mail- something completely shocking you almost dropped it, but it was shaking in your hand.

“I do cordially invite you to a celebration of my birthday- held on the date below. Please write back if you will be there. We plan for only a few gifts here and there, some nice beef, and plenty of cake and ice cream. We shall prepare enough seats for the dinner.

Mrs. Seaborne.”

She invited you! She invited you! To her birthday celebration! What was she thinking?! Why? Did she want the new miracle woman in her circle? Was she trying to perhaps re-acquaint herself with you after sticking Will’s penis up her-

You caught yourself, catching your breath. When your parents arrived, they hurried and saw the paper. Their eyes went to you.

“I am only…only…”

Calming down your racing heart, an idea hit you. If you were at her house, you would figure out which departments of science she was contacting. You would know who to send the blackmail to.

You brought up a smile.

“I am only Thrilled! I shall write to her at once and accept! How fun!” you replied.

You would figure out where to send the second letter to ruin Cora there.

“Wonderful! Good to know your silly jealousy of her is done,” agreed your father.

“But there will be gifts- you must go and find something for her,” your mother reminded you.

…and a new idea came upon you.  Another act of revenge on her, even worse than sending a few letters. One where none would ever suspect it to be you.

“I shall, mama.”

You knew what you had to do now, you just had to steel yourself and do it. 

[honorary-knight-of-favonius]

Communication - Dainsleif

Summary: Your husband is a terrible communicator.

Warnings: Mentions of potential divorce, Dom!Dainsleif, Sub!Reader, Possessive Sex, Nervous sex, First time with Dain, Angry!Dainsleif, Fem!Reader

Dainsleif, a man of few words even with me, his wife. He would respond to my questions with a mere hum or a disgruntled groan. He kept his word minimal, when I arranged to marry him I was in awe by his looks and his voice as it was deep and alluring. However I never heard his voice much after he said his vows. Yet I couldn’t simply divorce him as both our families pressured us in this spot. The one time I went to his work I was curious how he managed a company but when I got to his office he was already busy. And from the secretary’s expression I knew it was more or so with another woman, or man. 

So I left his office and went home. When he came home he didn’t look any different, he looked nonchalant and emotionless he only mumbled a short half-assed ‘hi’ before going to the bathroom. When I learned of his affair partner I wanted to end it there but my parents forbade it and so I had to suffer this loveless marriage for years until my parents passed and Dainsleif’s mother stopped caring about his affairs. I waited at the table like many other times and the moment he walked in he mumbled his ‘hi’ then went to go shower but I stopped him. 

“Can we talk?” I ask, the blond looked at me puzzled before nodding and sitting at the table. When he did I pushed the paper towards him and he read it through as he did his eyebrows knitted together then furrowed in anger. I suspected he would just sign it but he picked it up and tore the paper several ways before getting up and storming off to the bedroom. I thought he would sign it with no questions asked but instead he got angry and tore it up. He didn’t even ask why I wanted the divorce, he didn’t utter a word. I sighed and took out my phone to call the lawyer for another paper but my phone was snatched away the moment I said divorce. 

I looked to see Dainsleif who had my phone in his hold and his eyes were furrowing. Dainsleif looked at the phone before hanging up and taking my phone, I chased after him but even when I managed to touch my phone he wasn’t letting it go and instead he placed it in his safe with his sniper rifle before going to the bathroom to shower. 

“You can’t hold my phone like it’s police evidence!” I snapped, following him into the bathroom, he remained unbothered as I watched as he undressed. 

“Answer me you asshole!” I pushed him, or at least I tried, he looked at me with that annoyed expression and huffed, “Return my belongings you prick!” I shouted 

A scoff came from the blond and I furrowed my brows, “You’re unbelievably! Why won’t you sign the papers! I’m sure it’s something you want!” suddenly the man placed a hand on the back of my neck and face before planting his lips on mine, I hummed slightly as his tongue entered my mouth, when he pulled away from me his pulled me towards him by taking my bottom lip between his teeth in a rather gentle way which only made my head fuzzy and I dove right back into those lips and he continued exploring my mouth to his heart's content. When he pulled away for good his expression was still angered. 

“Never assume stupid shit like that ever again!” He scolded, before getting in the shower and I was left there standing dumbfounded as I registered that my husband of six years had held me and kissed me until I was breathless. When it finally settled I rushed out of the bathroom holding my reddening face. I felt like a  teenager who had just kissed their crush, but scratch the inexperienced crush and replaced it with a very experienced man who could make me soak my panties with his voice alone. 

I gathered myself and placed myself on the bed in our shared room and he came in to throw his clothes in the laundry basket before looking at me with a cocked eyebrow. 

“Need something?” I say, at my words he smirked and came close. He put his arms at either side of my waist before one of his hands went back to my neck, his hand massaged my neck as he leaned in close and without his lips even on mine he was making my head fuzzy. I placed my hands on his shoulders and he began backing away. 

‘That’s not what I wanted! Damn it! Come back here!’ I thought wrapping my arms around his neck and pulling him back in harshly, he chuckled and leaned our foreheads together. I tried to kiss him but he wouldn’t let me and I had to tangle my fingers in his hair to even try to get him to kiss me but he still wouldn’t kiss me!

“You’re adorable when you're frustrated.” He chuckled. I hit him, “Ok, ok, don’t hit me,” 

“Why won’t you do it!” I  grumbled. 

“Do what?” He asked

“Y-Y’know what! You did it in the bathroom!” I whined, he chuckled again and placed one of his hands on my thigh. 

“We did something in the bathroom?” He asked, which made me realize he was teasing me! And as much as I wanted to hit him he was incredibly sexy doing it. 

“W-we did.” I said. He hummed, and pulled away. 

“Refresh my memory, what did we do in the bathroom?” He asked

“W-we. . .k-kissed.” I say, under his gaze I felt so embarrassed whatever he was doing had to be some method of humiliation. 

“So, what did you mean by ‘why won’t you do it?’” He asked

“I. . .k-kiss me please?” He smiled. 

“If you want something from me you just gotta ask for it.” He said before easing me into a kiss, he was being gentle as I whined, he managed to work me up as he kissed me though and he even laid me down on the bed as the hand on my face was used for stability besides it and his other hand on my thigh rose to fall on my hip which had me short circuiting. However as the kiss continued my breath was running out and I pushed his shoulder to signal I needed to breathe. He of course pulled away and planted a kiss on my cheek before standing up. I reached out to him, and I managed to grab his forearm. 

“Where are you going?” I asked, he chuckled. 

“Well I’m going to eat and then watch TV.” I looked at him in disbelief. 

“Don’t you want to finish what we started?” I ask

“Hmm? I don’t remember you asking me to do anything else besides kissing you.” I was stunned. Dain left the bedroom and ate dinner before he went to the couch and found an action movie and all the while I was close by hoping he’d take the hints, but nothing, after two action movies I was becoming restless and I took the initiative. I straddled his lap and he looked at me. 

“How can I-” I planted my lips on Dain’s and he responded in an instant I began rolling my hips and he pulled away but I wasn’t having it so I brought his lips back to mine but he noticed I wouldn’t let him run away and moved so he could pin me to the couch. 

“Hey!” I protested

“I thought I was pretty clear, tell me what you want and I will do it.” I furrowed my eyebrows. 

“That makes me sound like I’m forcing you to do something.” I retorted. 

“So do you rather I force myself on you?” Dain asked, “Or maybe you’d prefer it if I just used you like a toy anytime I want?” Dain asked, I looked at him. 

“Y’know what forget it,” I pushed him off and got up from the couch to go to the bedroom, “I guess you’re too tired from doing it with your mistress anyhow.” I began walking away but in an instant I was pinned against the wall. 

“Repeat that,” I groaned and repeated myself louder. 

“I guess you're too tired from doing it with your mistress anyhow!” I shouted, Dain seemed annoyed. 

“Who the hell has a mistress, because I know damn well it’s not me!” Dain’s lip twitched in annoyance. 

“It’s obviously you!” I said. 

“Uh huh, why do you think I have a mistress?” He asked

“Because she’s always in your office at work! Even your Emma said you were in your office with her.” Dain scoffed. 

“I fired that bitch the moment she tried unzipping my pants! And to put it clearly my mother is a meddler! She was always at the office meddling until your parents passed!” I stopped. 

“Emma tried unzipping your pants?” I ask

“Yes, I was on a conference call when I felt my pants being pulled when I looked under my desk that bitch was under with my zipper in her hand. I called in my bodyguard and she had charges pressed against her.” Dain said, “regardless of that I never heard anything about you coming to the office from anyone.” 

“Why didn’t you tell me any of that?” I ask

“Because what kind of wife wants to hear how their husband almost had their cock pulled out by another woman?” Dain asked. 

“Wait a second, then what about the past six years?” I ask

“What about them?” 

“The barley talking to me, the no intimacy, the fact we lived basically like roommates who hated each other? What was all that?” I asked

“Archons, I’m terrible at conversations my mother signed me up for lessons in conversations and whatever else she thought would help before our wedding because I  -in her words- ‘be able to talk to my drop dead gorgeous woman of a wife and I won’t allow my grandson to become as strange as you’. So the first two years of our marriage I was still doing that but it could never make out more than a few words before coming flustered, and then the intimacy. . .L-listen I’m not inexperienced in that department but I mean it’s different when your doing it with someone who you met at a masquerade sex club then your wife who’s showing herself entirely and I didn’t know if you lost your virginity and well I didn’t want to hurt you so I controlled myself -which might I add is extremely hard when your not used to sleeping next to someone-.” He stopped and took a deep breath and backed off. 

“And about the roommate thing, well. . .I never hated you, I don’t know if that wasn’t mutual but I without a doubt never hated you, in fact I hated myself. I couldn’t be the ideal husband and that is extremely hard but that is what I wanted to be for you. And I couldn’t.” I took Dain’s hand. 

“B-but you said your vows well.” I said

“B-because I wasn’t looking at you, I was looking out the window at a bird.” Dain confessed. 

“B-but. . .s-so Emma lied to me, your mother is a meddler, you're so shy to an anti-social point, you slept with someone who wore masks, and you never hated me? Woah, I think I learnt more about it in five minutes than I have in six years.” I say

“I guess I know why you wanted the divorce now.” Dain said, “I mean, look, this is the first conversation we’ve had since, what, our match making?” He said

“I don’t entirely think that counts.” I say

“Yeah, I didn’t talk at all then.” Dain said. 

“So, the thing about me needing to ask you for something?” I ask

“W-well, god, my mom always told me to make sure you wanted anything I was going to do, I’m sure that’s partly to blame on my father, as he’d never ask anything of my mother and would instead force it upon her. I always assumed if you wanted something from me whether it was sexual, romantic or anything else you’d simply ask, but I guess it did kind of sound like you’d be forcing me to do it. Which isn’t the case at all!” Dain explained. 

“So, you wanted verbal consent not just physical?” I ask

“Yeah,” Dain said, I smiled and went closer to him before hugging his neck. 

“If you needed that you should’ve told me, I would’ve given it happily.” I smiled. Dain looked down and smiled too, “So, Dain, please take me to the bedroom and fuck me.” Without holding up Dain picked me up by my thighs and carried me to our bedroom where he laid me down on the bed and went to get rid of my clothes. But stopped halfway and I took note of why, he still didn’t know if I needed to know how I wanted it. 

“Slow, at first.” He smiled and got on his knees the moment my pants were off he leaned in close and used his tongue to earn a long awaited taste of his wife. When his mouth filled with the taste he pulled away and kissed my thighs. 

“Fuck, I really should’ve tried harder to talk to you.” Dain said before diving into my cunt once again. He swirled his tongue around my clit and even with all the toys I’ve used in the past six years Dain’s mouth was the best out of all of them. I tried closing my legs to keep him in place but Dain held me open by my thighs making sure I was on display for him. I felt something in me and I saw Dain’s eyes glimmer slightly before that thing intruded further. I looked and still saw Dain’s hands, so using my limited braincells I knew that ‘thing that intruded was his fucking toungue!

“H-Holy shit, holy shit! D-Dain~” I whined, he hummed, adding vibrations onto his tongue that I couldn’t help but moan at. I grabbed Dain’s hair and he nuzzled his nose into my cunt having his nose brush against my clit. It was insane the sensation at minor things was clouding my mind. As a knot began forming in my stomach I knew that I wasn’t going to last much longer. Dain had casted a spell on me and I was practically begging for it to never end. 

“I-I’m gonna. . .I’m Cumming~” I moaned, Dain pulled away slowly and used his fingers to help me through my orgasm by playing with my clit. When my body finally relaxed Dain began praising me. 

“Good job, you did very good.” He said as he situated me into a better position on the bed, “You did so good, how are you feeling?” 

“P-princess.” I say, Dain tilted his head with a look of confusion, “P-please call me princess.” I say Dain smiled. 

“You tasted so good princess, thank you for letting me eat you out.” I looked at him and I noticed the innocent eyes he held even though his words were far from that. Dain went to go but I  weakly grabbed him and he hummed. 

“Something wrong princess?” I nodded

“W-we don’t leave this room until I cum on your cock and you cum in me so get back and listen to your wife.” I scolded, Dain smiled and got undressed and he got back in between my legs and helped me take off my shirt before he lined up to my expecting cunt, when he began making his way inside. I have to admit it was painful, since I didn’t have a dildo his size but it was a good pain. 

“How are you feeling?” I looked at Dain and smiled. 

“G-go slow,” Dain nodded and started moving his hips slowly but with the curve of his cock he managed to hit my g-spot without fail and it was mind numbingly good. I quickly wrapped my arms around Dain’s neck and pulled him close. 

“Shit, f-faster,” without any verbal confirmation Dain began moving faster which had me digging my nails into his back, Dain praised me without any pain in his voice and kept moving in me. This was the first time I was having sex with my husband and he was gentle, soft, understanding, he was following my words and made sure to pay attention to my body in case I didn’t tell him my pain. It's like he’s filing each one of my reactions into his mind as reference material. 

“Fuck~ D-dain!” I held him impossibly closer, I felt his lips on my neck and he continued his movements, Dain didn’t speed up or get rougher he kept that same mind numbing pace and I was so close to unraveling but he stopped. I pushed Dain to look at his face. 

“Dain~ I was so close~” I whined, Dain smiled. Before kissing along my collar bone. I tried to grind against his hips to finish but Dain held my hips securely waiting until my impending orgasm left. I whined and hit Dain since I was so close. 

“Ouch!” Dain said as I hit his chest to which he responded with pinning my arms down, “Come on now princess, be good for me.” I tried fighting him but Dain kept my hands down without much force. 

“I was so close!” 

“Oh I know princess, I know, but I haven’t shown you all my party tricks yet.” I huffed at his words. 

“You’re more of a knight than a Jester.” I retort, Dain came close and planted a chaste kiss on my lips. 

“Oh princess I can be anything you want, Jester, Knight, or even a dog but allow me to show you a party trick I know you’ll like.” I pouted but agreed. Dain pulled out and I hadn’t registered how but he got behind me and I was using my arms as a leverage point Dain slipped back inside and he managed to feel bigger and before he started moving he snaked one of his arms around my hip while the other went to my chest. It made me feel like I was in a warming hug despite being naked, cold. But when I noticed where I was positioned I noticed those blue eyes looking at me in the mirror right across from us. 

“Fuck, your look amazing like this princess.” Dain whispered as I looked ahead into the mirror, “This almost makes me want to throw away my plan and tie you up.” Dain spoke in a low voice, he was giving off the possessive husband aura and I couldn’t handle just how good he was at that. 

“You’d look irresistible with a pretty collar on this neck, don’t you agree?” Shit he wasn’t even moving but my head was going fuzzy just by his words. 

“D-dain~” I whined, I felt a slap to my ass when I whined. 

“Bad girl, my name isn’t Dain, come on say it.” I whined, what the hell would his name be? I was going blank but then I spit out the only name that came to mind. 

“Master~!” Dain chuckled and began kissing my neck. 

“Good job princess, now does my good girl want to cum?” Dain asked, with a hint of condescension.

“Please, please, please, master~ wanna cum please~” Dain bit my shoulder leaving a nice indentation before he started moving again. I wasn’t sure how I managed to get close to orgasm in just a minute but I did.  

“M-master~ G-gonna cum~!” I whined, 

“Not yet, you’ll wait for me.” I whined but listened, after a few more thrusts Dain began using his fingers on my clit which made it that much harder for me not to cum I was so fucking close but forced to keep it at bay. 

“You fucking need it don’t you? Your cunt is practically begging to cum, you wanna cum pretty girl?” Dain asked

“Please Master, please let me cum~” I whined. 

“Ready princess?” I nodded, he placed a kiss under my ear before whispering, “Then cum.” 

My body convulsed as my orgasm washed over me but my moans didn’t cease in fact Dain was still going at it which drove me crazy until I felt something warm paint my insides, finally dain stopped and instead of pulling out he moved to lay us down on bed and he began praising me again. 

“Good job princess, you took me so well. You did such a good job for me. You can go to bed, I'll clean you up.” I felt soft kisses and I have to admit his voice made my eyes feel heavy and I fell asleep in his arms.

[bullet-clubs-bitch]

Can you please make a part 2 of Old flame?

Old Flame II

Summary: In an attempt to get under Billy's skin Bullet Club Gold interrupts The Acclaimed to request a trios title shot. During the confrontation, Austin and Colten bring up Y/n and how Billy is secretly in love with her after all these years. What happens when Y/n runs into Austin and Colten after Dynamite and learns that the words exchanged were indeed true.

Part 1 Part 3 Main Masterlist Billy Gunn Masterlist

Word count: 1092

Yn’s pov

When I signed with AEW I knew that would mean I would be working with my ex. That idea never bothered me, it had been so many years I had almost completely forgotten about it. I wouldn’t even call him my ex because we never officially dated, we were just friends that slept together. Billy got married, had two children and moved on like I did. Shortly after we split I got the opportunity to move across the world to work in Japan and I jumped at the opportunity. Even though Billy and I were never an item when I told him I was moving to Japan it was almost as if I was handing him divorce papers. I had never seen him in such a state, he thought he was the one who made me move but the job opportunity was just a pure coincidence. 

“Y/n, you don’t have to do this. Please stay, stay with me” Billy begged as he held onto me as if he was drowning and I was a life preserve. “I’m sorry but I can’t pass up this opportunity” I told the poor man. “If you really want you can move with me?” I knew he would never say yes but I had to at least throw the idea out there. “You know I can’t do that” he told me. “You have to let me go, Billy. It’s not like we are dating, you did that to yourself. You can call me if you need anything even with a 14-hour time difference” With that I left, hopping on a plane wondering if I was making the right decision. 

Fast forward 30 years here I am in AEW. Japan taught me many things, although I did spend some time wrestling I was more focused on writing. I became a creative director and producer for some of the big leagues in Japan. During that time I had a daughter and met many different people, people who I would be friends for life with. That was how I ended up in AEW. The forbidden door PPV brought me back to the States where I decided I would stay, signing with AEW. 

It was weird when I first saw Billy for the first time after so many years. I knew he was there but seeing him in person was a whole different story. He was more attractive now and more muscular if that was even possible. Billy and I didn’t spend too much time with each other as we were both busy but I did spend a lot of time with his sons. When Austin and Colten asked if I could help train them I accepted the offer, training the two of them with my daughter Ashley. At first, I found it weird how many questions Austin kept asking about my relationship with his father but just ignored it. It wasn’t until I heard the words exchanged between Bullet Club Gold and The Acclaimed that I got it. All of these invasive questions were to get under Billy’s skin. It was a smart idea but I didn’t know how it was relevant. 

 After the show, I ran into Austin and Colten Gunn to which I asked them about their choice of words on dynamite. “You know what we said was true right?” Colten asked me

“What do you mean by that?” “I mean my dad is still in love with you!” I was shocked by what I was hearing. “What?” I asked in disbelief  “It’s true” Austin said “I mean just look at the guy. Since the moment you stepped in here, he hasn’t shut up about you. Have you seen our mom, she looks like a bad ripoff of you” The more I thought about it I guess it made sense. He was quite upset after the whole incident, more than I was. Although the mention of Billy getting with someone with similar features as mine was funny, I didn’t think it was true. That it was until I saw a picture. “See! I told you, the same person!” Colten said to me as I looked at the photo in my hands. Sure we both had Y/h/c hair and Y/e/c eyes but I would say that was a coincidence. 

“I think this is a bit far-fetched don’t you think? That’s also mean to your mom, I’m sure she’s a nice person” I told the boys. “I don’t like my mom. I like my dad more and that’s saying something” Austin told me. “Yeah, I wish you were my mom. Billy even showed us all of your old matches when we were little. He talked about you a lot. I think my mom was jealous, that’s why she dipped” Colten confessed. 

This was a lot of information for me to process. Sure I was in a similar situation, being a single mom after Ashley’s father couldn’t handle the wrestling lifestyle. But that doesn’t mean I’m going to throw myself at Billy like I was back in my 20s. Sure it was nice to see Billy again, age served him well. He was way different than I remembered. He was more mature, wiser, he was kinder and everyone liked him. The Billy Gunn I remembered was an Ass man. People were jealous of him, women threw themself at him, he had an attitude and bad temper he was a walking red flag but I knew deep down inside was a good guy. 

This Billy Gunn was Daddy Ass. He was respected, looked up to, and a mentor. He was kind to people, going out of his way to make young talent feel welcome. His title of “Daddy” Ass was accurate as he just had this “Daddy” aura to him. Not in a DILF way but a Daddy way. An overprotective kind soul, the guy I knew was hiding under the cockiness he had during his youth. 

I didn’t know what to do with this new information. If Billy was in love with me he should be the one to tell me, not his sons. “I think it’s getting late don’t you think. We can chat more about this next week at your next session. If what you told me is true it should be your dad telling me this not you. Good night boys” I told them as I left the arena. I didn’t even notice that I angrily stormed past Billy until I heard him calling my name. Stopping me in my tracks. 

[fountainpenguin]

I am back on my Kick Buttowski: Suburban Daredevil nonsense and I have to say, no canon ship will ever hit me in the way that Kendall/Ronaldo did.

I am so incredibly in love with the vibe that is "Two absolute NERDS are head over heels for each other and go out of their way to do nice things for each other" - supporting each other in presentations, remembering each other's birthdays, arranging dinner for each other, covering for the other in front of the principal, gasping in horror when the other gets in trouble - "but as time passes, the viewer gets to watch the slow unraveling of one of them secretly falling out of love with the other but not being emotionally ready to admit it yet." That is incredible.

I adore the K/R ship because it lasted so long and it was never considered a big deal. It was just "Yeah, they're dating. They do dating people things. Literally no one is jealous of them and no one ruins their social life. Keep scrolling." It was mainly in the background and they were adorably obsessed with each other up until they weren't. And again, that was that. No explosive break-ups, they were just... sweethearts.

Ronaldo gushing over Kendall's Halloween presentation instead of going trick-or-treating is my everything. He adores her.

Diagnosed with loving his girlfriend disease.

They are a TEAM!! Do not separate them!!

The "show, don't tell" between them with the way they behave is fantastic. Kendall went spelunking for cave sap so her boyfriend would have a nice birthday present AND she took him out to dinner. Ronaldo brings her "educational chocolates." He writes poems for her in binary code. He supports his girl during class elections even when she's frustrated and snippy with him.

He went to her Delaware Awareness Month party. He brought a sign that said "I've been to Dover." He came back for Poster Awareness Month. He's so supportive and she's so silly. Kendall's wild and she seems like she should be the "popular girl" trope but she is actually just a massive nerd who likes algebra and stocks and I love her.

I love Ronaldo hiding in a cabinet and Kendall spinning her wheels to distract the principal so he won't get busted for sneaking into the office. Ronaldo went out of his way to be nice to his rival and learn new skills so he could impress her. They're so good.

They are not even main characters and we still got scenes of them being adorable, as a treat. Kendall literally calls him "the dark one." That's hilarious. They lean together and whisper in the hallway like goofballs. Then they scamper off to hide in the AV closet with papers covered in doodles and poems, being romantic little NERDS!!

This scene's funny because they weren't even holding hands a few seconds ago- they just grabbed for each other when they realized they weren't alone. Apparently the canon is that they were a thing for a while before this episode and I think that's beautiful. Just... out there living their best off-screen lives. Love that for them.

imo we need more media that plays puppy love relationships with all the adorable sweetness of potentially being endgame even if they're NOT intended to be endgame. I'd like to see more kids' cartoons showing that it's okay to have a good time with someone else, and you don't have to grow up to marry the first person you dated... It's okay to consider your options... It's okay to date and have fun and explore your feelings and like people and then go your separate ways and not be endgame. I wish I had more of that.

I've binged Kick Buttowski multiple times- it's a good pick-me-up and it's one of my silly faves. I really like the character relationships in it. It's got a down-to-earth contemporary vibe despite being all about action. It has one of the truest "We really are best friends who support each other through everything" friendships I've ever seen. It's got pathetic noodle rich boy Gordie. It's got Mouth, king of the shopping mall after-hours. It's got Emo Kid who's... Emo Kid. It's got Brad and Brianna... It's got Ronaldo/Kendall... They're all hilarious.

It's got Kick learning to respect his identity as Clarence the caring big brother as much as his identity of Kick the daredevil. It's got Kick protecting Ronaldo for a week because Kick's his understudy who desperately does not want to be Romeo in the school play. It's got the line "Let's go down to Foreshadow Park! Somehow I knew we'd all end up there." It's got the bee of the month club sending free samples in the mail, when will I ever be this funny.

It's goofy and fun to watch and that's why it's this week's Recommendation Wednesday <3

[fluentmoviequoter]

A Lot to Learn

Pairing: Michael Ormewood x fem!reader (tv show characterization)

Summary: After his wife leaves, Ormewood runs into you after not seeing you since high school. He realizes he has a lot to learn about you and french braids.

Warnings: fluff, divorce, Cooper is a matchmaker, r grew up in Atlanta and went to school with Ormewood

Word Count: 1.7k+ words

A/N: I grew up in the deep south and just need to applaud this show for their approach to the setting and the stereotypes. Also, Jake was the perfect choice for Ormewood and the french braid topic in 2x06 was begging me to write this. If there's an audience for this fic, I hope you find it and enjoy it!🤍

Michael Ormewood was destined for bigger and better things than Atlanta. You knew in high school, though you only watched him from a distance. He didn’t know you existed, let alone how much you believed in him and his abilities, even when everyone else doubted he’d do anything more than play sports and get into trouble.

So, when he came back to Georgia after the Army and got married, you were surprised, to say the least. The playboy you once wished to know had settled down, had a few kids, and worked his way to detective at the APD. Whenever you see his name in the papers now, you wish once again to know and love Michael Ormewood.

Spending your morning in the police station isn’t ideal, but when they asked for information about a building near where you work, you agreed to come down and answer any questions you could. While talking to the officer, you don’t notice two detectives walk in behind you. Or one stop in his tracks when he sees you.

“She looks so familiar,” Ormewood mumbles as he watches you.

“What’s in the envelope?” Angie asks.

“Divorce papers.”

“Oh!” Angie exclaims. “Are you, uh, are you going to sign them?”

“Oh, not that kind. These are the congratulations; you’re divorced now papers.”

“Ormewood, I’m so sorry.”

“Do you recognize her?”

“What?”

Ormewood points toward you, and Angie purses her lips before shaking her head. She doesn’t recognize you, but she feels like she's about to get whiplash from Ormewood’s quick change of subject. A text from Will draws Angie’s attention, and she directs a very distracted Ormewood toward the elevator to go to a murder scene.

Just as the doors open, you walk up behind Ormewood and join him and Angie in the elevator. He glances at you repeatedly before Angie sighs and leans against the back wall.

“I’m so sorry,” he begins. “But do we know each other?”

You smile and say, “We went to high school together.”

Your smile disappears and your brows raise when he says your name. There’s no reason he should have ever known who you are, but the fact that he remembers after all these years catches you off guard.

“Yeah, that’s me. I’m surprised you remember.”

“Me too,” Angie interjects. “And I didn’t even know you in high school.”

“I was pretty much the same,” Ormewood defends.

“No, you weren’t,” you say softly.

“What do you mean?”

The elevator door opens, and you step out. Leaving Ormewood feels wrong, but you both have lives now, and they are in no way connected.

“It was nice to see you, Ormewood,” you call as you leave.

“You went by Ormewood in high school, didn’t you?” Angie asks excitedly. “Oh, I should’ve guessed that!”

“Why did Mom come and get all of her stuff while we were at school?” Cooper asks. “Did you get divorced? Like Solange’s parents?”

“Yeah, sweetheart,” Ormewood answers carefully. “But that doesn’t mean we love you or your brother any less.”

“Does it mean you’ll finally learn to French braid my hair?”

Ormewood chuckles at Cooper’s choice of focus but promises that he will learn every hairstyle she wants.

“Let’s master the French braid first,” she decides.

The second time you run into Ormewood, he’s glad that Angie isn’t with him. She’s been teasing him about the encounter in the elevator since it happened. So, when he and Cooper are out shopping, and he sees you walking toward him, he sees another chance.

“Hey,” he says as he gets closer.

“Hi,” you reply happily.

“I heard the information you gave burglary was really helpful.”

You smile at Cooper, but her eyes are laser-focused above your face.

“Your hair is really pretty,” she tells you.

“Thank you! Yours is, too,” you reply.

“Dad’s learning. I’m Cooper.”

You introduce yourself before shifting the shopping basket in your hand to shake hers. “Braids are hard sometimes, but it looks like he’s getting there.”

“Did you do yours?” she asks.

“I did. I learned how to do a lot of braids and other things with my hair when I was a little older than you.”

“My mom can do French braids, but they don’t look like yours.”

At the mention of Cooper’s mom, you remember that you don’t know Ormewood anymore, and this is nothing more than a polite conversation. You do, however, notice that Ormewood doesn’t have a ring on his finger. It doesn’t matter, you remind yourself, because things were never going to be different between you and Ormewood.

“Well, good luck with the braids, Cooper, and it was very nice to meet you,” you offer.

“You too! Dad, I’ll get the cereal,” she says.

When she’s on the other side of you, you meet Ormewood’s eyes and smile.

“She’s great,” you say.

“She has her moments. Listen, thanks for the hair talk. I’m trying but I get lost after the first two seconds,” he replies with a chuckle.

“Just keep practicing. They’re only hard until you learn how to do them right.”

“And if I can’t do that?”

“Fake it. Or find someone who can teach you. It was great seeing you again.”

You disappear around the corner before Ormewood says anything else. Cooper skips back to him with three different kinds of cereal, and he doesn’t complain when she puts them in the cart.

“She’s nice. Are you friends?” she asks.

“I want to be. We went to high school together but haven’t seen each other in a long time.”

“You should invite her over for dinner.”

“You think?”

Cooper nods, and Ormewood wonders when she got smarter and more intuitive than him.

“Just don’t kiss until after I go to bed, Dad.”

Ormewood freezes and his eyes widen. He hasn’t considered what exactly he wanted to happen after you got close again - or for the first time, as it seems - but he can’t argue that it doesn’t sound nice.

“What are you watching?” Angie asks over Ormewood’s shoulder.

“French braid tutorial,” he mumbles.

“You can’t learn from a video, you have to do it,” Will interjects.

“And you’re the expert on French braiding, now?” Ormewood retorts.

“I’m better off than you. Angie made me learn to help her get ready in high school.”

“Then teach me, Trent!”

“No.”

“Detective Ormewood,” an officer calls. “There’s someone here to see you.”

“Yeah, I’ll be right there.”

Ormewood leaves the video playing, and Angie and Will begin critiquing the looseness of the braid in the video. He rolls his eyes and hopes that whoever asked to see him has something worth his time.

“I really hope you’re not here to confess a crime,” he jokes when he sees you waiting.

“Not today,” you answer lightly.

“Then… why are you here?”

“Uh, did you text me last night?”

“What? No. I don’t even have your number; not that I don’t want it, but I don’t have it.”

You pass your phone over, and your fingers brush against Ormewood’s as he takes it. He reads the text twice before shaking his head.

“Angie. My partner must have gotten your number from burglary. I’m sorry.”

“No, it’s okay. I just didn’t think it was from you.”

“Why not?”

“We’re not… we’re really different, Ormewood.”

“Doesn’t mean I can’t text you. Coop wanted me to invite you over for dinner, so maybe Angie actually did me a favor.”

“I, uh, I have to get back to work. If you decide to text me again, great, but don’t feel like you have to.”

“Are you rushing you because of Cooper or is something else bothering you?”

“Ormewood…”

“Just tell me. If you don’t want me to text, I won’t.”

“I remember what it’s like to watch you from a distance, and I don’t know if I want to do that again," you admit.

“Ormewood, we caught a break,” Angie calls from the door behind him. She sees your face and shakes her head. “Tell her you’re divorced and let’s go.”

“You’re divorced?” you ask as he says, “That’s what you meant?”

“Someone divorced you?” you rephrase.

“Look, I regret not getting to know you in high school, but- I’ll text you.”

“I’ll text back,” you promise.

The next invitation text comes from Ormewood’s number, but it’s clearly not him. When your phone rings a moment later, you’re not entirely surprised to hear Cooper on the other end of the line.

“Hi, Cooper. Desperate for a French braid, aren’t you?” you ask.

“Please!” she begs.

“Does your dad know you’re inviting me over?”

“He won’t care, I promise.”

“That’s not what I asked, Cooper.”

“Give me the phone, Cooper,” someone says in the background. “This is Special Agent Will Trent with the GBI. The French braid situation is growing violent and you’re an expert. Get down here now.”

He hangs up and asks Cooper, “Can I stop trying now?” as you look at your phone in confusion.

Cooper scrolls through your photos and asks questions about you and your life (including your nonexistent history with her dad) while you braid her hair.

“He’s texting you,” she says suddenly. “Wants to know if you’ll come over for dinner tonight.”

“What do you think?” you hum. “Am I too busy?”

“Maybe,” she answers.

You secure the end of the first braid with an elastic band and ask her to go look in the mirror to make sure she likes it. Her excited squeal is all the approval you need. As she gets comfortable in front of you again, you start the second braid. The door opens, and your hands stop in her hair as Ormewood steps inside.

“That’s why you didn’t answer,” he says with a smile.

“Special Agent Will Trent of the GBI told me I had to come braid her hair,” you explain quietly.

He looks at Cooper, who shrugs and says, “Angie was busy.”

“Thanks for helping,” Ormewood says. “Mind if I watch?”

You move to the right and he sits beside you, watching as you braid slowly. He asks a few questions about how you’re doing it, and you demonstrate as you answer.

“I bet you can do it now that you’ve seen it from the right angle,” you murmur as you secure the second braid.

“You can try tomorrow, Dad, I’m going to Abby’s.”

Cooper rushes out of the front door, and you turn toward Ormewood. He’s already facing you, and it’s impossible to break eye contact in the new proximity.

“So, dinner?” you whisper.

“Yeah. I’ve got a lot to learn about you.”

[angelkitty54]

Making yet more Sonic fankids! These be Dash and Nova from an AU where Sonic is a divorced single dad! Failed relationships galore in this AU!!

Bit of an info dump about them below the cut. Tho there's still a lot more that isn't mentioned coz I don't want this to get too long... You can ask them stuff if ya want! :)

Dash (actual name is David but no one really calls him that) is Sonic's first kid from a failed relationship with Amy. They got married too young and had a kid way before they were really ready. But where Sonic was able to adapt to being a parent, Amy wasn't able to.

Amy had stubbornly clung to her childhood crush and the dream of marrying the handsome hero, settling down with the white picket fence and the big family, but when she finally got everything she wanted instead of being happy she found herself feeling empty instead. She only realised that this wasn't actually the life she wanted for herself after she'd she'd given birth to Dash and by then it was too late. Things only got worse from there, in both her marriage and relationship with her son.

She and Sonic stayed together for a while but really only due to social conventions. Neither really wanted to stay together but they were just sorta stuck. One day Amy saw how much of an angry, hateful person she had become and just couldn't stand it anymore. So one day when Sonic was out, she just packed up and left, leaving divorce papers for him to sign and a note that said he could keep the house. At that point Sonic was so emotionally drained that he was honestly just kind of relieved it was over.

Dash doesn't have many memories of his mum, and the few he does have are not that great tbh. The clearest memory he has of her is the day she abandoned them. So yeah, he does not have a great relationship, and does not desire to have one, with Amy. Even after she and Sonic reunited and reconciled their friendship years later. He loves his dad tho and otherwise is having a pretty great childhood.

Nova was created by several GUN scientist that went rogue. They stole the confiscated genetic research done by Starline and combined it with what was left of Project Shadow to create a new living weapon for their own purposes. Fortunately they were discovered before they could finish their schemes, and they only specimen they managed to create was taken by Shadow.

He brought her to Tails and Sonic, mostly coz he didn't know what to do with her, and no longer trusted GUN security. And also the fact that she was made with Sonic's DNA too. Nova is constantly in a semi-super state, which is not good for her coz unlike her dads who when they run out of energy in super state would revert back to normal, she can't. So she taps into her own life force instead. Her inhibitor rings block most of her power and regulate her energy so that doesn't happen. Unlike Shadow's, they don't come off.

Nova might look like about 12-ish, but she's actually only about 4 years old. And she acts her age too. When she was first brought home she couldn't walk, talk or do much of anything really. Which of course made everyone very concerned about her development. Shadow had worried he'd been too hasty in pulling her out of her incubation tube. Sonic was the one to figure out that tho her body looked older she was, in fact, a literal baby and thus would need to learn how to do everything the same way a literal baby does. Good thing he already had experience raising one baby already.

Shadow moved in together with Sonic to help raise Nova. They got really close during this time, even tho they were constantly arguing over how to parent their tube baby. Shadow ended up being confronted with a few revelations about his "childhood" aboard the Ark as well as even more complicated feeling he had towards his creators. He found himself trying to push the same image of perfection onto Nova that had been placed on him, and being at odds with Sonic as a result. Over time he came to feel inadequate as a parent, especially given Sonic's methods tended to work better than his most of the time. After the first year he began to pull away and by the end of the second had moved back out entirely.

Nova was sad that Shadow isn't around as much anymore, tho she's a little too young to fully understand everything. For the most part she is a happy, healthy little girl who loves her daddy (and her other daddy too!) and her super awesome big brother!

[yunacoeur]

the choices we make

our last dance: chapter iii

chapter synopsis: you, as the oldest royal child of your family, are up to take the throne. in your search for a partner to be consort, the royal family is throwing a party in your name for you to meet potential suitors.

look at me like i’m the only person in the room.

word count: 3.2k

a/n: i apologize this is kind of the filler chapter to get us to the climatic ending of the main story! so excited to show you chapter 4, but in the meantime: enjoy!

taglist: @en-ct @dimplewonie @cherriegyu @zerobaseonefics @haesunflower @shiningstar-byulxx @kpoprhia @harus-simp @taerrrrrae @zhanghaos-hairclips @big-uwu-stan @seok02 @kpop17 @quanrui-vamp @mins-fins @huipinkhair @beomibeom @wonluvrbot @gyuvinie08 @flwrinn @wigobkm @deadlycute-cutelydead @ladyestelleofthesea @aerzb1 if you’d like to be on the taglist please fill out this form!

you wake up the morning after, after having been right to assume you’d be restless. the whole night was spent thinking about all of them. you couldn’t eliminate a single one without some part of your brain begging you to reconsider. a small memory shard would be given to you every time you tried to eliminate them. a moment that made you like them.

and then you’d be back to square one.

gyuvin seemed younger, but he was charming in a youthful way. he still had all the stars in his eyes, while the others seemed to only have a few. he had beautiful dreams and ideas and you wonder if maybe, just maybe, you could run away with him. to a place where nobody knew either of you.

matthew was polite and kind and everything you expected in a partner. he’s practically perfect for you. he’s strong and saved you from so much embarrassment when you fell. he kind of felt like the hero you needed in life.

hao was someone who felt real. he felt genuine. you didn’t feel like royalty around him, you just felt like you were someone and he was someone and you were destined to fall in love. you could see it when you were deciding whether or not to dance with hanbin. he felt it too. he was comfort and protection and calm. maybe that’s what you need a little more of.

taerae, the hopeless romantic. god it felt like a typical romance straight out of a movie. what’s nice is that these kind of movies are predictable. there are no surprises, just a guy who falls helplessly in love with you by the end of the story. you could be the happy ending that romeo and juliet never got.

jiwoong is familiarity, and also unfamiliarity. he’s someone you’ve known for years, and also someone completely unknown to you entirely. and while you have spent this time not really knowing him, he has spent his time falling in love with you, to your surprise. he said he’s wanted to marry you all his life. maybe you could make his wish come true.

yujin is also familiarity, but in a different way. you could never marry that kid, but maybe you should consider the possibility of giving the position to him on paper so he could get the chance to rule like how he’s always dreamed of, and your real lover could be someone else behind the scenes. perhaps that is a good ending too, is it not? sacrificing everything so yujin gets a happy ending?

gunwook, the noble scholar, who gives meaning to the stars in the sky. he’s smart, effortlessly so, and he’s beautiful, adorable, sweet, etc. he could say there’s meaning in the most innocuous things and you would believe him. the sun is shining a little bit brighter today? it’s a sign that we’re meant to be together, shine together.

and ricky. a ghost of a presence. an orange rose hidden in the bouquet, waiting for you to search and rescue it. he’s a mystery, but as you think more about him, ask around more, you learn how sweet the people around him think he is. they compare him to a kitten. you’re not sure you see it.

—

the night is slowly coming to an end. you can feel it in the air.

you look for a place to rest your unconventional bouquet, finding an expensive vase resting on a podium in the center of the room. you assume it’ll do the job. you put them in the vase, adjusting them so each one stands out just a bit more. they look chaotic and mismatched together, but even still, they’re all reminders of the beautiful people you’ve met tonight. it would be a shame to hate them and their lack of uniformness.

your eyes search for suitors with flowers still in their suit pockets, a sign that you must still speak to them. one last suitor stands out to you. he’s tall and his hair is bleached blonde. he's wearing more modern styles of jewelry and makeup, he looks cool. trendy even. it means he doesn’t fit in super well with the rest of the crowd, but he also stands out. he is incredibly attractive and his modern look is not doing him any disservice. he’s quite beautiful. you make your way over to him, but as he sees you, he walks over to meet you in the middle.

he tells you his name, but you don’t quite hear him, “my name is ricky.”

“hi, ricky,” you say with a giggle. it’s weird that you feel so shy, but the way that he’s looking at you is making you question everything. his eyes are enchanting, but he’s a little more reserved than he seems from far away and he’s quieter than he seems as well. he hasn’t said anything this whole interaction besides his name.

that’s probably the only reason you can keep talking to him without getting flustered, “i saw you fall earlier. you were with another suitor, i believe? it was so shocking.”

“what do you mean?”

“well, so many people saw but you kinda fell into that guy’s arms so no one said anything,” he shrugs, “are you normally that clumsy?”

a part of you is screaming at yourself to recognize that he hasn’t addressed you respectfully this entire time and that he’s talking way too casually. the other is too charmed by him to really care about the disrespect.

“i-i guess so,” you murmur.

“you should be more careful,” he advises. you mumble out a shaky acknowledgment as he looks at his watch for the time.

“it’s getting late,” he comments, looking back up at you, “did you succeed tonight? did you find ‘the one’?”

a part of you wonders how he even knew of your worries about not finding ‘the one’. a part of you knows he could of overheard. it’s still shocking.

“i don’t know,” you say, and he shakes his head.

“no, i think you do,” he says in return. he’s serious, and the fact that he’s so self-assured makes you believe him just a bit.

you remember talking to a staff member earlier in the day, from a neighboring kingdom. they had sent a son of a powerful, wealthy duchess. they had called him something, an adoring nickname that didn’t make sense nor matter at the time, and now looking back on it you’re wondering how someone like this could be so adored and practically babied by the people around him.

but they definitely referred to him as the one with the blonde hair.

the nickname was something you could not remember, but you could never forget how highly they spoke of him, like he was the sweetest person they had ever met. like he was a teddy bear.

which was ironic because the guy in front of you doesn’t seem like that. maybe there’s more under the surface.

because he is definitely a softer guy than he’s letting on. he can hide it with his intimidating energy and mystery, but you can see it in his eyes, in the way he’s nervous fidgeting with his hands. he seems sweet under it all.

you try to talk to him more, but he almost seems to be rushing to run away, disappearing practically mid-conversation into the crowd. it’s disappointing, but you can finally seem to drag yourself out of the spell you seemed to be under while he was around.

and then it hits you, he never gave me a flower. as you realize it, you walk over to the vase in the center of the room where you had put the other flowers.

you find an orange rose hidden in the bouquet. there’s a note attached to it, taped to the thorny stem.

“remember me. ricky.”

the party has been over for a while now. not literally, you suppose, considering all the people still here. they won’t start to trickle out until you leave.

you retreat to the bar, hoping to find a certain comforting face once again. now that all the dancing has stopped, most of the guests are standing around, drinking, and chatting with their comrades. it may be hard to find the particular face you’re searching for.

and yet, right when you wanted him, he appears before you. it might just be magic.

“hello, stranger,” you say to him. your tone is much warmer and more fond than before. it has lost all sarcasm.

“didn’t i tell you not to call me that?” he replies as he turns to face you. it makes you smile knowing he recognized your voice, your teasing before he saw you. maybe he’d see the personality before the status, unlike so many people in your life, “are you doing alright?”

“yeah, why wouldn’t i?”

“i told you to come find me if you needed a break, so i had assumed-”

“don’t assume anything, dear stranger. i can’t only come to you during bad times. that is not love,” you say, reaching for his hand. he lets you take it and hold it in yours.

“my apologies, your highness,” he says with the most endearing smile.

“but unfortunately you were right,” you say, and he breathes out a laugh. it’s such inappropriate timing, but he can’t help it. you playfully glare at him and he rushes to defend himself.

“i’m sorry, i shouldn’t have laughed,” he says, “what’s wrong?”

you look away from him to gaze over the crowd, eyes wandering to your bouquet sitting gently in the center of the dancefloor. it stands out even more on its podium now that no one is dancing.

it’s an ominous thing. just sitting there peacefully, holding a representation of 8 different guys who offered to marry you, and also yujin, who you think forgot to give you the flower that was sitting in his pocket. you smile fondly at the thought.

out of all the possible thoughts to share with hao, you choose a very unspecific one, “i don’t feel right about any of this,” you say.

“what do you mean, your highness? the party?”

“this isn’t right, hao,” you whisper anxiously. even though he can tell you didn’t mean to say his name so casually, that it just slipped out without you noticing, he smiles. you’re already comfortable with him and that gives him peace, “i don’t feel good forcing people to perform and be the perfect candidate for my husband so i can find ‘the one’.”

“hey, don’t say that. you’re not forcing anyone,” he squeezes your hand to get your attention back on him. you seem distracted.

“i just- it all feels so wrong,” you say, and he heaves out a big sigh like he’s preparing to make a huge mistake.

he pulls you by your hand into him, his free arm wrapping around you as your head rests on his shoulder. he rests his head against yours, letting you relax and breathe before he says anything else.

“i’m sorry,” he whispers, “i’m sorry i keep doing things without asking you. i’m sorry i keep disrespecting you as the future monarch of this kingdom. and mostly i’m sorry that you feel like you’re the villain here.”

you’re not crying, because keeping in emotions is something you’ve been learning to do for years. god if you aren’t a little bit close.

“this should have been a cute story. a love story. finding your perfect match and having a perfect, happy ending,” he taps his hand against your back as a soothing motion, “instead you’re here feeling like you’re the bad guy, like you forced everyone here. that must feel horrible.”

“it does,” you whisper back.

he chuckles, and you feel the vibrations from his chest. his rhythmic heartbeat comforts you.

“i’m sorry, your highness. if it’s any comfort, i can assure you that no one you’ve met tonight feels forced to be here.”

“how would you know?” you mumble against his shirt.

“because i’m standing here with you. i could not imagine being displeased with your company,” he smiles, you can’t see it but you can hear it in his voice, “i could not imagine disliking you. i couldn’t even begin to describe what that would be like.”

you raise your head to look at him. his eyes are so intense, but they’re beautiful, burning into your soul.

“thank you, stranger,” you whisper to him with a giggle, and he scoffs, letting you go but still holding your hand.

“you’re never gonna let that go, are you?”

“i don’t think so,” you smile, and he smiles back.

“are you thinking of calling it a night soon?” he asks.

“yes, i think so. i am tired. i will think it all over in the morning,” you say, thinking of the restless night you are about to have. all those pretty smiles and charming personas. it will definitely take some time to decide who you’re going to marry.

“then i suppose this is goodbye until i see you again,” he sighs, and it feels tragic. there’s this heavy feeling on your soul, “whether i see you again as my fiance or as an ally, please know that i will always be here to be your peace, should you ever need me.”

“thank you, hao,” you tell him, before suddenly, you remember something, “oh, my, i almost forgot!”

he looks shocked for just a moment, “what? what is it?”

you look back at him, apologetic for getting up to leave so suddenly, “i promised something.. to someone.”

of course, you see in his eyes that he’s not fond of what you’re implying. he looks subtly upset like he’s hiding it well. maybe your heart likes that he already wants you to himself.

you don’t have to do it. you could stay with hao and be comfortable. he seems to be the only real person here. he’s sweet and charming. he’s a perfect bachelor.

but you see hanbin from across the room. his darling charming smile and his cheek dimples stand out the most. he is exciting, breathtaking, and it would be a crime to not dance with him at the very least one last time ( hopefully this isn't the last).

“stay with me,” hao says, tightening his grip on your hand. you stare at your hand being held in his, desperately holding on, “stay. please.”

“i promised him,” you whisper, looking up at him. something is going on inside his head, an emotion you can’t exactly pinpoint. you give one last look to hanbin, who at very long last makes eye contact with you. his eyes shine impossibly brighter, like he’s found what he’s been looking for.

hao sighs, “then go,” he changes his mind suddenly, and you turn back to face him, “no, really. go. dance with him. it’s okay.” it’s confusing and heartwrenching to see hao let you go like that. you know he hates the words leaving his mouth.

you mouth a simple thank you to him before running off to fall into the arms of your final dance partner of the night.

you get to him easily. he’s still just as effortlessly beautiful up close as you remember. he immediately reaches for your hand to hold. he’s warmer than zhang hao is. he’s not as soft spoken. he’s brighter. his grip is less gentle. so many little differences.

“hanbin,” you smile, and he smiles back. he adores how softly you say his name. it’s only been hours, but he thinks he’s ready to fall in love. it feels too fast and too quick, but he’s been preparing for this moment his whole life. considering he has no chance for his own kingdom's throne, marrying you would be fulfilling his destiny.

plus, he likes the way you look at him. he likes how clumsy you dance, it’s kind of charming. he likes how humble you are despite your position. he likes a lot about you already.

“will you join me?” he asks, but when your face falls just slightly, he gets concerned. he’s faulting just a bit, his hand retracting slightly. he’s worried that you’re giving him this last dance as a final goodbye, “what is wrong, your highness?”

“you’re asking for the… last dance,” you mumble, and before he has a chance to even respond to that, you wipe the sadness from your face and take his hand, “very well, i suppose i will join you.”

he’s slightly stunned, but he follows. he feels out of place for wanting to correct you. you haven’t given him the opportunity, but he still feels like he must. for your feeling’s sake.

“your majesty, i had asked for your first dance as a formality. and i had asked for your last dance out of avarice for your time, but if i'm being honest,” he says, his grip on your waist as you sway together making the moment even more intimate. god, he’s so close to you, you can feel the breaths he exhales on your skin, “i think i’ll need more than just those two.”

“yeah?” that, in all your dazed glory, was all you were capable of responding with.

“i would ask for all of them if that didn’t feel just a bit too greedy, your highness,” he gives you a goofy smile and it just all stops. time freezes for just a second.

you let it all go for a moment, just enjoying your last moments of the night with him. he decides to relax and enjoy these moments as well, twirling you around and smiling so endeared when you giggle. he might just be in love already.

you’ve gotten a little bit more bold since the first dance with him, and now that it is the last one, he happily lets you lead him around in your clumsy rendition of the graceful dance he had led you in earlier. he is so much better of a dancer than you are, but he’s patient with you. you step on his toes at one point, and you hurriedly apologize, but it doesn’t even matter to him. his expensive shoes are replaceable; this moment with you is not.

people who look on simply see you and him, giggling and laughing at your silly dance, holding onto each other for fear you’ll fall, and they must wonder if all these other suitors thought they even stood a chance.

“i have a request,” you say to him, “could you promise me this is not our last dance?”

he smiles so endearingly, “your highness, no matter what your answer is in the coming days, should you ever lend out your hand, i will reach for it. i will always twirl you around and dance with you, and we will come right back to this moment,” he says. it gives you comfort for a brief second before the anxiety of the question of who to pick comes back to you.

hanbin?

with his perfect smile and dimples, are you going to choose to spend your mortal life ruling a kingdom with sung hanbin by your side?

“thank you,” you say, pulling his hand close to your lips to kiss the back of it.

he shakes his head adorably, pouting, “oh, your highness, that should be me. i should be thanking you for your consideration and time-”

“hanbin,” you stop him, “thank you. i should go now, but i thank you for everything.”

the feeling of the kiss on his hand still lingers after you’ve left him there.