#I LOVE PRICE HE WOULD BE SUCH A WONDERFUL HUSBAND

[beloveds-embrace]

(Arranged marriage to duke john price except it means you married four instead of one 👁️👁️)

Your marriage to Duke Price is one out of necessity: you need a husband before high society begins rumoring you to be a barren woman and too old to be married off, and Duke Price needs a wife who is able to take on Duchess duties of his duchies.

You do not expect love, though you suppose it’d be a nice bonus. You are merely glad that Duke Price is a reasonable handsome man, and he informs you on your wedding night that he will not force himself on you, and there is no need to immediately begin attemtping for an heir.

You take admirably to your new duties, have been raised practically for this purpose though the head butler Kyle is wonderful in helping you as well- actually all the servants have been wonderful towards you. You have regular dinners with John, though they are a bit stilted but at least Chef Johnny’s food is good enough you can easily forget the tense atmosphere. You can tell your husband is hiding something- you are sometimes barred from going to his office to him, certain rooms are not allowed for you, and you are not allowed anywhere near the letters addressed to him- but as long as it isn’t hurting you, why should you bother him? So you never ask, and he seems happy enough that you don’t.

Until you accidentally stumble upon him and Duke Riley exchanging tongues. Very heatedly, hands grasping and tugging on each other’s clothes and Duke Riley sat on your husband’s desk.

It’s hot.

What’s not so hot is the way they both look at you when they realize you are there. You stutter, face a red so fierce it’d put a furnace to shame, and bolt out of the room despite hearing John call your name.

And you also skip out on the dinners for now, pretending you are sick with the help of your maids and their makeup skills.

But suddenly, it’s like your eyes have been opened. It’s not just Duke Riley who seems to hold a part of your husband’s heart; the one time you gather enough courage to maybe go speak with John and address the situation, you see Kyle stumbling out all disheveled and flushed, though he has a very satisfied air around him. He freezes when he sees you, and your jaw drops.

“My lady-“

“I- I’ll just- I’m taking a walk! Alone!”

You go to the kitchens instead, hoping that Johnny would have something delicious you can eat. Maybe something cold enough to wash away the blush on your cheeks.

Johnny is weirdly silent, however, even as he whips up chocolate mousse for you. His silence is not normal, it feels… almost guilty…

You sighs, take in a deep breath, and gather your dress. “Johnny… are you too…-?”

“Aye, m’lady. But-“

You can’t take it anymore. You leave the kitchens, and go straight back to your bedroom to bury your face in your bed. It’s not as if you are upset! It’s just- a rather befuddling situation?

Two nights later, it’s John himself who comes to you. You had assumed it was one of your maids returning with a new jar of oil for your nightly hair routine, but it’s your husband. You are glad it’s winter, and you aren’t simply in a thin nightgown.

“Wife.” He says, voice steady yet strained.

“John.”

You can’t call him husband. You’ve spent the last two days thinking and you were… rather sad. You were in the way of whatever they had (you saw Kyle and Johnny kissing, Johnny specifically sending food addressed to Duke Riley), weren’t you?

John sighs, sitting down on the settee while you remain on your vanity. After a moment of awkward silence, he opens his eyes and looks at you. “…what do you want to remain silent about this?”

You blink, raising an eyebrow. “…huh?”

John’s fists clench. “How much do you want in return for your silence?”

Frowning, you set your brush down and fully turn to him even if you feel exposed despite your thicker nightgown. “Is this about your… partners?” You say the word delicately, then shake your head. “I want nothing, John. If you are worried about me starting anything, I won’t. I just… hope this doesn’t mean you will divorce me?”

Being a divorced woman might as well be a death sentence on its own.

He looks at you, shocked into silence, and you quickly explain; his relationships have nothing to do with you and you aren’t a petty woman, who are you to come between what he and they have? You only hope this won’t take away the protection this marriage gave you.

That night, thus, you and John reach an agreement you are sure both of you are satisfied with.

Except, months later, John is no longer satisfied.

With the ice broken between the two of you. The dinners have become so much more… relaxing and comfortable, far less than they had been. No secrecy was needed when you were around anymore, and you only giggle and look away, feigning innocence when they share tender kisses between one another… and the less polite kisses.

John can’t remain satisfied with this arrangement. You are such a sweet thing, now that he’s become to know you far better. He can see the way his men are looking at you now, something between fondness and hunger and want; Kyle helps you far more often now, despite your insistence that you can do it yourself. Even when you do it yourself, he stays by you and ensures you are comfortable.

And he joins your evening walks, arms looped as the two of you speak, laughing and giggling.

It’s similar to your late night chats with Johnny, where he plies your full of sweets and desserts until even your dreams are full of sweeter kisses you are sure will never be for you. Johnny, who cooks your favorites on hard days and who you heard from Kyle is even more serious about only having the best of the best in vegetables and meats and seasonings.

And Duke Riley… for all his stoicism, he is gentle with you. Even when he’d stared at you with doubt and mistrust, no doubt believing you to be lying to John and simply waiting for the shoe to drop and for you to ruin them. Yet it never happens, and now, during the galas you attend all dolled up on John’s arm and ignoring all murmurs about still having no children, you even dance with him and giggle at his terribly dry jokes, even share a few of your own with him.

Steadily, slowly, obliviously, John has watched each of his men fall for you. This, obviously, made you theirs. It made you his, more and more than you already were.

It’s why your current request is making him clench his glass in his hand, with Kyle looking on in displeasure as well, giving him subtle glances.

“-So that’s why I was asking, John,” you remain sweetly oblivious, adorned in a pretty dress Simon had gotten for you recently. “He will not spread any rumors, I’ll personally make sure of that-”

Your cheeks darken then, and you glance away. “I- I am… merely a bit- unsatisfied, if you understand my point. And the stable man is loyal to you, he wouldn’t say anything.”

It’s clear he needs to keep a better watch over you. Where and when did you even interact with his stable boy, Graves? Though he focused on your words.

Unsatisfied.

Well, he can’t have that, can he? You’ve done your wifely duties so admirably, it’s about time he took care of you as well… and maybe dealt with the baseless barren rumors as well. A baby would keep you nice and content and focused on them alone, wouldn’t it?

Oh yes. Yes, it would.

dukedom au masterlist

Part two

[chuluoyi]

𝐂𝐀𝐓𝐂𝐇 𝐌𝐄 𝐈𝐅 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐂𝐀𝐍

- sylus x reader

when your husband went away without so much as a proper notice, you thought you wouldn't forgive him so easily. but he tries everything to capture your heart back: spoiling and indulging you… little do you know that he expects a reward in return

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—rotten fluff, domestic bliss, explicit smut, cunnilingus, fingering, mating press, taking elements from sylus' card night of secrecy, secret times approaching dusk and spoilers! from myth beyond cloudfall

note: my first sylus x mc fic! with this i'm spreading the soft!sylus agenda and that spicy 4-star approaching dusk has destroyed me :') loosely based on this post

Sometimes, you do wonder... does Sylus really think you're that easy to placate?

On one chilly morning, you woke up only to discover your hunk of a husband gone... and in his side of the bed, a sticky note.

Your eyebrow twitched as you read the audacious message scrawled on it:

Hey, kitten. I need to leave for a few days. There are things I have to handle on my own. Take care of yourself while I’m away. I’ll come back soon.

That was it. No clear explanation, no further details. Just those vague words in such short notice. The day before, he’d seemed like his usual self, not a hint of this sudden departure in sight.

It irked you. It made your heart clench at the same time. Because even after marrying you, Sylus remained elusive, playing his cryptic games. It was beyond you how he didn't even stop to consider how you were left worrying about him while he drifted in and out of his dangerous world without a second thought.

You understood the reality of your lives—that you were a hunter and he was the Onychinus leader, and that to be with him meant you had to walk that fine gray line between light and dark.

And you'd already made your choice. You had accepted it—accepted him—wholly. Even when your marriage had been a rushed affair and registered under false names to protect both your identities.

Things couldn't go on like this. You had to teach him a lesson too.

As your irritation simmered into determination, a devious plan began to take shape in your mind—a way to spite him just enough to make your point crystal clear.

Two days later

Sylus was done with his dirty business faster than he thought, and to appease you, he had come bearing gifts.

The precious little thing that is now his wife, of course he missed you too. But your safety was a price he wasn’t willing to gamble. If going away to take care of those pests meant your peace would be unperturbed, then he would leave without hesitation.

However, as he stepped inside the base, his relief quickly turned to unease. The space was eerily empty, the usual hum of activity conspicuously absent.

Normally, you’d be at the center of some commotion, locked in a spat with either Mephisto, or Luke and Kieran. But now—

“What do we do?! She’s gone!”

Sylus immediately rushed to the source of the ruckus, thinking something bad had happened to you. He found his henchmen standing in a tight, anxious circle around the coffee table.

“What happened?” he demanded.

Without a word, they stepped aside, revealing the object of their concern: a single note lying on the table.

He snatched it up, scanning the words. Then, he let out a sharp exhale of relief, a smirk began tugging at the corners of his lips.

Catch me if you can.

Typical. Absolutely typical. And maddeningly you.

. . .

That night, you had a very strange dream, it felt almost felt like stepping into the pages of an ancient tale.

You were a fallen princess wrongfully accused as a sorceress, who began consorting with the fearsome fiend from the Abyss.

The sorceress and her dragon. Together, you were an infamous pair, a dark legend whispered across generations. Your union had ignited Doomsday itself... and yet, amidst the turmoil and destruction, the sorceress fell in love with the dragon... deeply and irrevocably.

The dragon, in turn, was utterly bewitched by his little witch. He indulged your every whim, no matter how mischievous or perilous, and though he rarely spoke of his true feelings, he always found ways to show his affection.

The lucid dream felt as though it might go on forever, but you were pulled from it by the soft brush of lips against your forehead. The warmth lingered, blurring the lines between dream and reality, until your eyes fluttered open.

“Sylus...?” His features, fresh from your dream, now materialized in your reality. It took you a few seconds to realize that he had come here—

“Morning, sweetie.” His voice was rich and smooth, with that familiar, mischievous edge. A smirk curled on his devilishly handsome face as he leaned in, garnet eyes gleaming with playful intent. “Caught you now, hmm?”

The haze of sleep vanished in an instant, and you were suddenly wide awake. In a flurry, you shoved him away and turned your back on him, trying to regain some semblance of control.

You’d left the N109 Zone for one of his safehouses in suburban Chansia City, thinking it would take him some effort to track you down. Clearly, you’d underestimated him.

“Oh. The kitten is in a bad mood, it seems.” Sylus’ gaze lingered on you, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Well, what do I owe the ire for?”

“...”

“Silent treatment, huh? The lady of the house is getting better at our little games while I was away.”

“...”

“Remember, sweetie, there’s no divorce in our relationship, hmm? If you’re tired of me, keep taking naps.”

You felt the weight shift as he rose from the bed and stalked away. The door clicked shut, leaving you in the silence of the room.

You wanted to resent him for coming and going on his terms, for never offering even an apology. Yet, no matter how much you tried, a part of you remained hopelessly tethered to him. The part that couldn’t ignore the reminder of the dragon from your dream—captivating, powerful, and infuriatingly hard to resist.

You love him, really you do.

. . .

When you didn’t come down for breakfast some time later, Sylus barged into the room once again, and this time he came up with a different approach.

“My lady,” he began, his voice sickeningly low and sweet, but his eyes gleamed with a touch of mischief. “You haven’t had breakfast yet. Please come down.”

You shot him a look, unamused, and decided to play his game as you crossed your arms together. “What if I don't want to?”

His smirk only grew, his tone dripping with mock formality. “And what must I do to change your mind?”

Despite yourself, you couldn’t help but notice his persistence. He had chased you here, given you more time to sleep in, and now stood before you to get you to eat. You felt your resolve beginning to soften—maybe just a little.

“Carry me there,” you said with a hint of defiance, lifting your chin high, daring him to follow through.

Sylus tilted his head, failing to restrain his snort. “As you wish, my lady.”

He placed his arms around you effortlessly, one hand beneath your knees and the other supporting your back, lifting you into a flawless princess carry. You instinctively put your arms around his neck, and he turned to you.

You opened your mouth, ready to fire off a sharp retort, but before you could, he dived in—

Smooch!

—and planted a bold, wet kiss on your lips. You, wide-eyed, punched his chest in retaliation. “Sylus!”

He chuckled, entirely unfazed. “Careful now, sweetie. Wiggle too much, and you’ll fall.”

He carried you downstairs, effortlessly navigating each step with you still in his arms. Once there, he gently set you down onto the dining chair, and that was when you noticed the table.

Salad, slightly burnt toast, scrambled eggs, milk—simple dishes by all means, but the thought the big, bad Sylus making them?

Wait. When you arrived last night, this place was a dusty shell, and the refrigerator had practically nothing—

“You cleaned the place?” you asked, your tone laced with surprise as your turned from the spotless room to him.

He shrugged nonchalantly. “Why is that so surprising? I can cook and clean just like everyone else.”

It sent a wave of warmth through your chest. He’d prepared food and cleaned the place knowing you’d be hungry and uncomfortable with dust all around.

You huffed, trying to hide how your heart fluttered. “No, your cooking skills are questionable at best.”

As if to prove you wrong, Sylus disappeared into the pantry and reemerged with a tray of warm, freshly baked dough that filled the room with a heavenly aroma.

“You are... baking?” You approached him, mystified at the sight of your husband, who usually at the scene of crime, behind the counter and started frosting the cupcakes.

He set the frosting bag down and picked up a cupcake, holding it to your lips with a teasing smile. “Here. Open up.”

Dutifully, you nibbled on the cupcake, and the sweetness immediately spread into your mouth. “It's tasty,” you mumbled, blinking at him. His eyes crinkled with satisfaction as he gestured toward the tray.

“Go have some more.”

Grinning, you grabbed another cupcake and eagerly took a bite. Munching away, you missed how Sylus’ gaze softened, his bright red eyes focused solely on you.

He couldn't resist pinching your full cheeks at that moment.

“Sy-wus!” you protested, glaring at him. His laughter broke free that instant, warm and unrestrained.

Utterly funny, utterly precious—that’s what you were to him.

Indignant, you scooped up some icing from the cupcake and smeared it right across his face. The stunned look he gave you was priceless, and before he could react, you burst into a fit of giggles and bolted out of the kitchen.

But as you reached the base of the stairs, a strong arm caught your waist from behind, halting your escape. You squealed in surprise, “Noooo!”

Sylus leaned closer and pressed you to his chest, his voice rumbling in your ear. “Ha. Did you really think you could get away that easily?”

He lifted you up with one arm and brought you back to the kitchen, setting you down on the counter and trapping you in place with his arms braced on either side. His eyes sparkled with mirth as he leaned in, and with a grin, he bumped his frosting-smeared nose against yours, leaving a sticky smudge.

“This is unfair!” you protested, still caught in a fit of giggles as you looped your arms around his neck for balance. Sylus chuckled along with you, his gaze steady and warm, never leaving yours.

Being with Sylus in the kitchen like this, savoring simple meals and smearing each other with frosting, it made you realize that you craved this domestic bliss more than you thought.

As the laughter subsided and you both settled into the quiet, your expression softened, all your previous grievances forgotten. The tenderness in your eyes said everything you didn’t need words for, and Sylus could see it clearly—you adored him, just as much as he adored you.

The one who gazed into his jewel-like eyes, embraced his burning soul and sang to him in the night wind... is once again in his arms. A part of him was almost sentimental at the thought.

Instinctively, he closed the distance between you, his lips hovering just a breath away from yours. But as they were about to meet, he paused, as if hesitating, leaving you puzzled.

Then, without a second thought—

To hell with it.

You chose to abandon all senses. You seized the moment—yanking him to you and capturing his lips, claiming him for yourself.

“…!” Suck, suck, bite, suck— You were relentless, and you didn't really know why. At first, even he was taken aback, but then his hand slipped behind your head, fingers threading through your hair as he deepened the kiss, his tongue tangling with yours in an intoxicating rhythm.

“Mmm...” You sneakily began to undo the buttons of his shirt one by one, your fingertips grazing his warm skin with each deliberate motion. Feeling it, Sylus broke the kiss just enough to smirk, his voice husky. “Getting bold, aren’t we?”

But before you could respond, his hands trailed down your sides, firmly pulling you closer, leaving no space between the two of you. His gaze burned with desire, as if daring you to keep going.

Then, without warning, his lips began their descent, grazing your jaw softly before trailing down to your neck and chest, leaving a trail of warmth and shivers across your skin. The feeling was intoxicating, even as his hair tickled you, making it hard to focus on anything but him.

“Ahh,” you couldn’t help but sigh, pressing him closer.

His lips left wet marks on your neck, and he whispered, “Now tell me... what made you so upset that you left home?”

When you didn't answer right away, one of his hand slid beneath your blouse, unhooking your bra and grazed your skin—

“You... keep coming and going as you please...” you stammered, feeling him begin to cup and squeeze your breasts, your breath growing erratic.

Sylus bit down on the skin at the nape of your neck, and you almost gasped.

“It's almost as if— Mmm—” The way he fondled your chest made the space between your legs grow warmer. “—you wouldn’t... miss m-me at all...”

How untrue. He stopped his ministrations, and the steel behind those eyes you loved so much met your gaze once again.

His wife was a mess of sweat already. He swiftly hooked your thighs around his waist and claimed your lips once more. With effortless movement, Sylus guided you to the long recliner in the room, laying you down there, still lost in the heat of the kiss. His hand intertwined with yours, pinning you to the soft surface.

“So...” he rasped, breathless against your lips, “You’re upset that I didn't miss you when I was away...”

His other hand worked to unzip your skirt. “But don’t you know? I... was worried about my wife getting into trouble when I wasn’t with her too... That’s why I was in a hurry to go home...”

Sylus pulled away, both of you panting for air, and he took a moment to savor the sight of your glazed eyes.

“But then I couldn't find her anywhere.” His voice was low and taunting, trailing his fingers on your belly. “I made it back as soon as I could, just like I told you and you are the one who misbehaved... Don’t you think I deserve something as a compensation?”

It took you three solid seconds to realize that the lower half of your body was now exposed. Your husband parted your legs and settled his face between them, pressing a kiss on your knee.

“So I believe at the very least... I deserve this.”

He dived straight for your clit then and you let out a loud gasp.

“Ngh! Aaah...!” You let out incoherent moans as he devoured your folds, lost in the cloudy haze of pleasure. It didn’t take long to unravel you at all.

“Mmnh—!” Your eyes almost rolled to the back of your head. Ticklish, hot, wet— all in all, it felt like a sin, but you just had to get this heavenly taste. “…a-ah!”

Sylus felt how you were this close to get your orgasm, so he moved faster, licking and sucking your clit, while adding a couple of fingers to bring you to the peak faster. You unconsciously moved your hips against his face— too far gone to be thinking anything else, grasping the leather of the sofa and pulling his hair—

“Ahh— S-Sylus!” And then you came hard, screaming his name, feeling how much it was— were you squirting?

You didn't know, didn't care either, as it was the sight of his ruby eyes that grounded you. You were spent, spread on the sofa (most probably ruined it, even), your chest heaving to catch your breath.

Sylus let out a low rumble as he wiped your juices off his lips with a thumb and tasted it, looking so sinfully sexy like a forbidden fruit while at it.

“You said... I wouldn't miss you.” He traced one finger on your face with such tenderness. “Now, I'm going to show you, and you'll be judge of it. Are you sure you don't want me to stop?”

If you said no, he would comply. That was the kind of person he was and you knew it. Sylus had always looked out for you since the very beginning, no matter how nonchalant he made himself to be.

“No.” You met his eyes, your voice steady. “Show me.”

It was the only affirmation he needed. He began unbuckling his belt and pants, keeping his unclouded gaze on yours, and soon he too was bare before you.

He was thick and long, and while you had taken him many times, it was never fully easy to ease the intrusion. His tip was already slick with precum, and he spread it along his length.

“You know the rule,” he murmured with a meaningful smile. “If it becomes too much, you scream, and I'll stop.”

He positioned himself at your entrance, sliding in slowly. The sharpness of the stretch seeped into you bit by bit, and you couldn't help but groan.

“—!” A sharp hiss escaped you as he fully sheathed himself inside, hitting that sensitive spot. Had your eyes deceived you, or was there a slightly noticeable bulge in your belly from where he was?

Sylus seemed to notice it too, but he folded your knees, spreading you further. His gaze intense and filled with something deep, something possessive. The room seemed to narrow, your entire focus consumed by him as he settled in close.

“Eyes on me, kitten.” He gave you a smile, and with that, he started pounding you—

“Ah, hah, ahhh!” You couldn't stop moaning beneath him as he thrusted into you. The feeling of him so deep inside, coupled with the way you tightened around him, sent waves of blind pleasure through you.

Sylus’ eyes darkened, his jaw clenched as he watched you squirm under him. Your skin glistened with the heat of the moment, and the sound of your breaths, frantic and needy, filled the room. His control slipped, just a little, as he pushed deeper, his movements faster, chasing the release that quickly building within both of you.

A pretty mess, his wife is. Your face contorted in a mix of pleasure and pain as he bred you, and he swore, of everything he had gone through, this look in your face was always worth it.

“Sylus—!” you almost wailed, nails digging into his back, and he growled, knowing full-well that he was finally losing it.

Just like that he shot his cum straight to your womb, his own body shuddering, thoroughly rutting into you. You cried, tears falling from your lashes as you too reached your climax.

Full, too full... Yet you knew that you wouldn't have it another way.

. . .

It felt warm and comforting.

Your eyes fluttered open hours later, and the first thing you noticed was Sylus' sleeping face, and that you were now in the bedroom.

He looked so vulnerable like this. You couldn’t help but be drawn to how serene and unguarded he was, a side of him that only you got to see. Even in his sleep, his arms were wrapped around your waist, as if to protect you from anything that might disturb your rest.

Your lover... and then husband. He was rough around the edges, sometimes didn't make any sense at all, and often reckless enough to burn himself playing with fire.

“You sly crow��” You gazed at his profile, still in awe that this elusive man was your husband.

Sylus was easy to read sometimes, and you couldn’t help but smile at your earlier doubts about him. How could you not see just how deeply he was attached to you?

Just like the inseparable pair of dragon and sorceress in your dream, you knew you’d stay by his side until the very end.

Out of a playful surge of affection, you tapped his nose, and he grunted softly but didn’t wake, instead nuzzling his face into the crook of your neck, seeking more of your warmth. It was cute, how he was so worn out that he sought comfort in your embrace.

You pressed a soft kiss to his forehead then, vowing with everything you had that you’d never let him go, and that with him by your side, you would definitely made this life you shared a happy one.

Several weeks later...

“Thank you, miss!”

The boy bowed his head with a wide grin as soon as you handed him the red pocket money for Linkon New Year. You waved at him, smiling warmly as he skipped away, clutching the envelope in his hands.

The festive occasion inspired you to pay a visit to a nearby orphanage, driven by a desire to share more of the joy and blessings. You brought small gifts and red envelopes, hoping to bring a little light to the children’s lives and make the celebration even more meaningful for them.

Of course, Sylus tagged along too. He was the benefactor, after all.

“Sir, thank you for your generosity.” The headmistress approached Sylus, who looked effortlessly sharp in his red suit, and gave his hand a shake. “The children are really happy with the cupcakes and pocket money.”

He merely chuckled and pointed at you with his chin. “Thank her, my wife is the one with the idea.”

You joined the conversation shortly after, and it didn’t take long for the topic to shift from the orphanage to your personal lives.

“So, do the two of you have plans to start a family soon?” the headmistress asked, her tone warm and curious. “Both of you are still young, and you're so good with kids. Having children of your own might bring even more joy into your lives.”

You mustered a polite laugh, the words to gracefully deflect her comment forming on your lips, when—

“Soon,” Sylus interjected smoothly, his arm slipping around your waist, pulling you closer. “Very soon, in fact.”

You blinked at him, startled by his bold declaration, while the headmistress’s face lit up with approval. You nudged him discreetly.

As soon as the headmistress went on her way, you turned to him with a frown. “Why would you tell her that?”

Your gaze met his, clear and utterly clueless. Sylus snorted, so tempted to pinch your cheeks, but settling instead for a tender pat on your head.

“You'll see soon enough, sweetie,” he replied, his tone laced with playful mystery.

Epilogue

It was the dead of night when a sudden wave of nausea overtook you. Stumbling out of bed, you rushed to the bathroom, barely making it to the toilet before retching up the contents of your stomach.

Your body trembled as you stood, dizziness threatening to topple you. Leaning heavily on the sink for support, you rinsed your mouth, trying to steady yourself. The effort left you shivering, your legs almost buckling beneath you.

Before you could even comprehend the blur in your vision, a pair of strong arms got a hold over you. “S-Sylus...?” you murmured faintly.

Without hesitation, he lifted you into his arms securely as he carried you back to the bedroom, his expression shadowed with concern.

As he settled you onto the bed, he held you close, pressing your face against his bare chest that peeked from his unbuttoned shirt. “Take deep breaths,” he urged softly, his voice grounding you.

You inhaled shakily, letting the familiar warmth of his scent calm your frayed nerves. Slowly, your breathing steadied, though the nausea still lingered in the back of your throat.

“Is it the first time?” he questioned, smoothing your hair. “Have you thrown up before?”

You shook your head. “No... I get dizzy spells but that's it... This is the first time.”

Nausea, dizziness, vomiting. It wasn't hard to piece together what it was. Amidst your dazed thoughts, the realization hit you, and you turned to your husband almost in wonder. “Sylus... a-am I...?”

Sylus broke into a smirk, ruffling your hair. “Told you. I know your period is late.”

Your heart skipped a beat—and it was the only thing you could hear in that moment. The thought that a baby would enter your lives left you briefly speechless.

“Yeah, at the rate we're going, it’s like we’re bunnies,” you quipped sullenly, trying to regain a sense of control as you leaned into his broad chest.

You really thought he would poke fun at you for your highly possible pregnancy, but instead you were taken aback when he pressed a fond, lingering kiss to the side of your head. His arms tightened around you, his soft chuckle reverberating through his chest.

And when you found his gaze again, his jewel-like eyes softened into such an extent that made your heart soar.

“Well, aren’t I the luckiest man— having this fair lady be the mother of my child?”

[thundersoothers]

spike, the dog (still derogatory)

who: John Price x wife!reader

what: continuation of this fic and this thought about john price being a softie for his wife and the dog you found on the side of the road (y’all LOVEDDDDD this, thank u omg)

word count: 0.9k

“We are not naming the fucking dog Gremlin.”

“Pooh Bear.” 

“No.” 

You and John are sitting in the living room, staring at the dog you picked up from the side of the road a few days ago, trying to come up with a name for him.  

Convincing your husband to let you keep the dog was a challenge.  It felt like you were debating with judge, jury, and executioner.  Stakes were high.  He was sitting across from you at the dining room table, leaning back in his chair, arms crossed.  His eyes were narrowed at you and his face was expressionless, giving nothing away as you plead your case. 

Somehow, you won. 

So now, here you both are, brainstorming names to replace “Puppy”.  You’re holding the dog in your arms on the couch and John is sitting across from you in his chair. 

“And where the hell did you come up with these names?” 

“I have a list.” 

“You have a list?” 

“I have a list,” you say, “of dog names and baby names.  Every girl does.” 

And then, for just a second, the room stills. 

“Baby names?” John asks. 

A shiver runs up the bottom of your spine and you sit up a little straighter.  You feel the air buzz and John’s heavy gaze on you. 

“Yeah,” you say, glancing at John and then back at the dog in your lap.  “But—Pooh Bear?” 

After a long second, he says, “No.”

“Georgie Banks.” 

“The actress?” 

“Wha— no, fucker, Georgie Banks from Mary Poppins.” 

“… I’ll consider it.  What else.” 

“Ja’Marcus.” 

“My love,” he says, leaning forward to put his elbows on his knees and clasp his hands together, looking at you seriously.  “What the fuck are you talking about.  It’s a dog.” 

“Tra’davious.” 

“I’m making a list,” he scoffs, sitting back again.  “Jesus.” 

“It’s a nice name!” you exclaim.  “What are you gonna name him, Scout?” 

He looks at you.  

You look at him. 

“No.”  Your face drops and you almost shudder.  “No, John, that’s not even funny.” 

“Oreo?”  The corner of his mouth twitches but he quickly steels himself. 

“Stop.”  You hold the dog close to your chest, horrified. 

“Rocky?” 

“No!” 

“Buddy?” 

“John.” 

“We could just call him Puppy.” 

“What is this, Bird Box?  When Sandra Bullock named her kids Boy and Girl?  We can’t just name the dog Dog.  We would sound like neglectful parents.” 

“Your friend has a dog named Cat,” John says. 

“And that gets confusing because she just got a cat.  I think she’ll have to rename Cat.  And by Cat I mean the dog.  Jesus,” you mutter, shaking your head, eyebrows furrowed.  What a mess that would be. 

“We could name him after your team…?” you say, the idea popping into your head.  Then, you frown.  “I’m not calling him Kyle, though.  That’s too human.  Ghost?  He is—you know.”  You rub over the dog’s mangey back gently.  “A little ghastly, still.” 

“Riley?” 

“Who’s Riley?” 

“No one.”

You eye him.  “Must be one of your other wives…” 

He ignores you.  “It would inflate their egos too much.  They’re already insufferable enough.  And,” he adds, “they don’t need another reason to suck up to you.” 

“They don’t suck up to me,” you say. 

“Sweetheart,” he says.  “They suck up to you.” 

“A pun with Price?  Uhhhh… High?  Low?  Buy one get one?  Bogo?”  You hold up the dog, as if to present him.  “Bogo Price, son of Mr. and Mrs. John Price?” 

“You think you’re funny,” John says. 

“I think I’m hilarious.” 

“How about Mackie?  For Mack?  Soap’ld love that–Scottish for ‘my son’.” 

“… I’ll consider it.” 

“You did find him near Notting Hill.  Maybe Notting?” 

You shudder.  “No.” 

“Why not?” 

“Knotting.  It’s a—I’ll explain it to you later.”  

(By later you mean never.  Explaining A/B/O to your husband who doesn’t have any social media?  And has never heard of the website Ao3?  He’d have an aneurysm and then wonder why you know about it.  And you cannot have that conversation.) 

“What are the characters from Notting Hill again?” he says, scratching his chin. He needs to shave—well. You need to shave him, rather. “We just watched it.  William Thacker, Anna Scott, uh, her shit husband, what’s his name—“ 

“Jeff King.” 

“Jeff King, yeah.  King, maybe?” 

“Look at him, John.”  You turn the dog to face him.  He wiggles in your hands and yips, his tongue falling out of his mouth.  “He’s not a King.” 

He sighs and shakes his head.  “He’s not a King.” 

“What about William’s weird roommate?  Uh, Spike?” 

“Spike,” John repeats slowly. 

You nod.  “Spike.” 

You both focus on the dog. 

“I like Spike,” you say. 

“I like Spike, too.” 

You hum, considering this.  “Spike…”  You narrow your eyes and study the dog closely, holding him tighter in your hands. 

He yawns with a high-pitched whine and then hacks.  

“Jesus,” John mutters, shaking his head. 

“Better than Georgie, Banks, or Mackie?” 

“Yeah,” John says, “look at ‘im.  He’s a Spike.” 

“He’s such a Spike,” you muse.  “He’s gonna be huge, too.  I mean, look at his ears and paws–they’re already too big for him.  Shit, he’s probably gonna be 70 pounds or 30 kilos.” 

“We need to train him.” 

“Yeah.  I can hire a trainer?  Find one online.” 

“I could get a trainer from base.” 

“I do NOT want an army dog.” 

“It wouldn’t be an army dog.  It would be a dog trained by the army.” 

You eye him.  “John.” 

“Love.” 

You sigh.  “Fine.”

“Good girl.”

note: prob gonna make wife!reader and spike a universe/series bc i loveeeee them. I hope you enjoy!!!!

posted 01.02.2025.

do not repost or modify any of my original words on any other platform.

to masterlist.

[bunny-jpeg]

baby fever

capt. john price

cw: smut/pwp, dirty talk, breeding/pregnancy, filthy, husband!price, slight age gap (reader is early 20s, price late 30s), military formal wear, oral (m receiving), doggy style, unprotected

bunny says: i thought about built/chubby price and him in his military formals and my brain turned off. this was the end result.

price wasn't beating the bear allegations. while he wasn't a gay bear, he knew that there were a lot of women who loved his physique. dusting of hair, built but enjoyed a good sunday roast. thick fingers and broad tongue. he was a built man after his years of service.

but if price had to pin you as an animal, it would be his little chickadee. small and fragile with a cute little song. the most loveliest thing he had ever laid his eyes on. no wonder within a year of dating, you were already engaged.

price knew when he had a good thing going and didn't want to ruin it. you were still in university, but he'd never make his darling girl quit school for his sake.

"'ey, love." he said as he walked past you on your laptop. he leaned in and kissed the side of your neck, "studyin' well?"

you looked over and smiled at him, "of course, big bear." you took him by the face and kissed him on the cheek. your engagement ring gleamed in the light of the living room.

but even the brightest university students could easily crumble against a man like price. it didn't help that there was a spike in your baby fever. it was almost embarrassing when you watched price in the living room, shining his uniform boots. it also didn't help when he was making sure that formal attire still fit.

he noticed you staring, you didn't try to hide it.

he stood there in front of the full length mirror in your shared bedroom. the beret, the jacket, the medals. hands on his hips as he looked at you. he smiled, his eyes crinkled at the sight of your jaw almost on the floor.

"tryin' to see if everythin' still fit. need to go back to the gym, your cookin' is gonna be the death of me, love." he chuckled. he dragged his tongue across his top teeth and said, "now that i know, why don't ya help me get out of it."

maybe a man in uniform was your (not-so) secret kink. you've seen him in everything under the sun, but every time it still made your throat dry. you were in your sunday pajamas, paired with fuzzy slippers.

he reached out for you, "ya like when i'm dressed like this, huh?" he chuckled as he tilted his head down to kiss the top of your head.

"i mean." you said, "you look good." you blushed a little bit more and looked away from him, but he took you by the chin to look at him. those blue eyes peered into yours.

"don't be shy, love." he said, "i like when ya stare."

you held onto the front of his jacket, the thick material felt heavy in your grasp. you could feel the wetness between your legs. damn price. you said, "you look good, big bear."

he reached down and took a handful of your ass, "and you look even better, my chickadee. now c'mon, undress yer man." then licked his top lip at the sight of your delicate hands trying to undo the formal jacket. he then took you by the head again and said, "pants first." then helped you onto your knees.

you swallowed and looked up at him. if anyone looked inside, they'd see a weird power dynamic. but all price saw was an eager little birdie trying to get her hands on her husband.

"those medals look nice." you said as he reached for his belt.

he chuckled, "not as nice as your lips on my cock." then dragged a hand through your hair. the belt soon came off as his pants were unzipped. he was thankful that he knew how to get any stains out of his uniform, because he knew you were a messy girl.

you took his cock out of his slacks. it stood was full attention and even after all this time together, the sight of it was still arousing. cut, thick, a deep pink (not quite red) and almost eight inches in length. you once joked it was a "porno dick".

you kissed the underside of it with such warmth that it made the man shudder. then started the slow, small licks against the shaft. you chuckled to yourself at the feeling of his cock under your tongue. he felt like a dream.

"that's a good girl. my darlin' girl." he said with a hint of pride in his voice. he loved the sight of you on his knees. even if the sweat down his back was making the heavy jacket more uncomfortable.

you stroked the base of his cock with one hand while you put your mouth fully on the tip. you teased it with wet strokes of you tongue. you could hear the gruff noise your husband made.

you squirmed a little while on your knees and could feel a dull throb between your legs. price's cock was an impressive sight and a task to fully get in your mouth.

"ya got a small mouth, love.' he remarked jokingly, "too small for all of this. but i know you'll do your best.' he combed his fingers through your hair once more before it rested on the back of your head.

he supported your head while you continued to orally pleasure him. he loved his woman on her knees in front of him. while he held you in high regard, he thought you were the sweetest things since strawberries on cake, but there was something about seeing HIS woman like this.

you looked up at him and a groan got caught in his throat. you gave him a cute little wink before you continued to stroke him off. your other hand was on his strong thigh for support as you pleasured him.

"oh sweet fuck." he groaned.

you knew you'd never take all of him in your throat but you made the most of what you could. his cock was heavy in your mouth as you continued to move your head.

he gripped the back of your head, he felt hot all over as pleasure pumped through his veins. he loved his girl, his darling sweet angel. yeah the age difference was to raise an eyebrow at. but if they knew the angel he managed to get a ring on, they'd understand.

his little chickadee.

you looked up at him once more. the way he looked down at you with a guiding hand on the back of your head. you pulled your mouth off his cock and looked up at him with your tongue out of your mouth.

"fuckin' doll eyes." he said, "get back to what you were doin', i want to see you take every last drop."

you once again went back to orally pleasuring him. your hand dug into the meat of his thigh as you tried to take more of his cock in your throat. the noises that came from your husband made your core ache.

the bright pink in his cheeks made you smile as he messed up with hair with his broad hands. he felt so big next to you. his little precious wife doing everything in her power to get him off.

with a few more thrusts of your head with his cock nudging the back of your throat. you moved to keep the tip against your tongue as he came down your throat. you didn't want to choke on his cum but you savored every last salty drop.

maybe a man in uniform did things to you.

when you pulled away, you looked up at him. "i want you, john." you said as you licked your lips and wiped your chin with the back of your hand, "i want to have your babies." the baby fever was thrumming in your veins, "fuck me, big bear."

he raised an eyebrow, "babies, huh? i thought you wanted to be a working woman." he said cheekily.

you rose to your feet, your legs were shaky as you grabbed him by the front of his uniform jacket and kissed him deeply. you almost toppled over him but he held you by the middle for support. when you pulled away, you panted as you said, "breed me price, or i'll find someone else to do it."

his expression darkened, "don't be sayin' things like that, love." he pulled you close to him. his cock was still hard between you two, "you better not run off with some runt." he kissed your heated cheek, "now face down, ass up, chickadee."

you pulled away from him and turned towards the bed. you shredded your clothes and almost threw yourself onto the large mattress. your face against the pillow with your back arched and hips raised.

you felt the bed sink soon after with your husband's large hands on your hips and his cock rested against your ass.

"your uniform." you squeaked.

"i'll iron it tonight." he replied, "right now, my darlin' girl needs her pussy fucked." his vulgar language made a shiver run through you.

when he bottomed out into your pussy, you felt the air escape your lungs. you clutched onto the pillow. he got a perfect view of your backside, his gaze felt hungry against you.

"please."

"my darlin' girl." price said softly. he leaned in and kissed you on the shoulder. you felt like a tight heat around him. "my beautiful wife." price adored that you were his wife. that you decided to marry him, now he got to feel up your beautiful figure every moment.

"god, john." you moaned, "was it always this damn big?"

he chuckled lowly, "you make me hard, love. i see ya and i just go wild." he then started to kiss at your shoulders and neck.

you held onto the pillow and panted in the pillows. you felt the sweat at your back as you were fucked. you panted into the fabric and felt your husband thrust into you.

"sweeter than jam and more fuckable than a toy." he chuckled lowly as he began to pick up the pace. he could feel your heat under him, you were a dream in his eyes.

the precious wife to be a beloved captain, almost twenty years her senior. the bed creaked under your movements and the sweet sounds of your sex filled the air. it was also joined by your sweet noises that encouraged your husband to keep fucking you.

you felt hot all over as the man fucked you. the pleasure rolled through your body as you moved against the bed. you panted and moaned into the pillow and let your husband thrust into you.

"my sweet girl." he purred.

"please, john." you whined.

the sex between you two felt hot, like you were on a knife's edge as he rutted against you. you could feel the heat pool in your gut as he moved against you. sweat clung to your chest and neck. your hair stuck against your skin.

"that's it." he murmured. his cock throbbed inside of you.

your love making continued, you pushed the hair out of your eyes the more he fucked you from behind. your hands were deep in the pillow as you moaned into the fabric.

price loved the sight of you. he just thought that you looked amazing, HIS girl was like this under him. he was your big strong bear and he loved the sight of you under him. just a dream to him. his heat raced in his hairy chest as he placed more weight on you.

"shit, john." you groaned.

"I got ya. i'll be finishin' in ya soon. give ya all the babes you want." he chuckled as he kissed your heated cheek. his thrusts were quick and made you see stars behind your lids.

you were heated all over and your head was swimming. you panted wildly into the bed and with a few more strokes of his cock, you came around him.

price groaned at intense heat around his cock. he went as fast as he could and felt the sweat down his toned back. he pressed himself further into you and finished.

his cum shot to the back of your cunt and you let out a pleased noise. his pace slowed down until he stopped and pulled out. he wiped the sweat from his forehead and scratched his hairy chest, "how's that, love?"

you laid fully flat on the bed and nodded your head, "we're going to have to keep goin' though, big bear. you've done so much damage to yourself that your swimmers aren't as strong as they used to be." so you rolled onto your back and reached for him, "c'mon. fuck me again."

he chuckled as he leaned back on his heels and stroked his cock, "of course chickadee. anythin' for ya."

[sourvers]

WHEN YOU'RE PRICE'S BELOVED WIFE who exudes class and the fine mist of confidence through the click of your leather boots, the gentle swish of your trench coat and the glimmer in your earings. When you walk into base for the first time- delivering your husbands forgotten paperwork from your office- of course the boys can't help but soak up your velvety voice and candid laugh like the tint of red wine on your pretty lips. No wonder Price said, “My wife is beautiful.”

WHEN YOU'RE PRICE'S BLUNT WIFE who wants nothing more but to ensure a breathing Price walks through you're house doors. Which means you want the 'boys' to be safe too! You chide them firmly, crossing your arms over your chest, your voice that of a captain giving orders or a mother you can't refuse. Price can't help but stifle a laugh; attempting to nod his head while you point your fingers at towering men who could crush you with a flick of their finger. Yet, the three of them remain paralyzed. You shoot a glare at Price. Best not anger the missus...

WHEN YOU'RE PRICE'S HARD WORKING WIFE who stands firm in your opinions and speaks cut, clear and concise. When the boys find out you're a university professor: an academic of considerable standard, their not entirely shaken. They learn how hard you fucking worked for your position. While their out in the fields, you're teaching the next generation; plunging yourself into the heart of ignorance and rooting it out, lifting it up to the heat of the sun, watching it melt in palm of your tender hands. Price says its a relief you're so strong, just in case things go south.

WHEN YOU'RE PRICE'S KINDHEARTED WIFE who has the imagination of child and the freedom of a bird. You lift kids up in the air, make snow angels, bake cookies at 12 in the morning and laugh until the rest of the world can hear you. While your face may be riddled with acute angles and sharp turns- the curve of your smile shines like a star. You invited them over to your place for a night, cooking Price's favourite for all to share. That was when they saw you, really saw how much love was swelling in your big heart as you danced and sang with no care; pressing a kiss on Price’s cheek with each new song.

WHEN YOU'RE PRICE'S SECRETLY SAD WIFE who wishes life didn't have to be this way. Who wishes you didn't have to be so 'strong' all the time. Who questions if you were even strong from the start. Who desperately desires a stable life as the years go by— maybe your own kids in your arms and not your coworkers. You didn't think Soap would hear you that night in the backyard, crouched down drying your tears while muttering words he couldn't understand except the single phrase, “I wish my husband wasn’t a fucking captain.”

WHEN YOU’RE PRICE’S LONELY WIFE who thinks it’s best if you stopped visiting him at work— “I think I’m distracting you love.” Inviting the boys for dinner— “I’m afraid I’m busy as of late.” Or even talking to Laswell— “Best not disturb her!” Because the void of your home feels even deeper now despite all the years.

YOU’RE PRICE’S WIFE. You wake up and trace girlish hearts over your husband’s face— muscle memory. He pretends to sleep. You giggle. He brings you closer to his chest. You close your eyes and burry yourself in the tenderness of his heart: fighting the dread at the back of your mind. He whispers to you through a smile, “I can’t believe you’re my wife you know?”

Your lips form a tight smile, “Me too.”

cod masterlist. / similar posts

⤷ it honestly wasn’t meant to be this angsty. oh well. reblog and comments are highly appreciated!

[maximoff-pan]

the ultimate deception | benedict bridgerton (part one)

summary: you are a well known artist who paints under a pseudonym. What happens when Lady Whistledown comes to know of your identity? How will your relationship with Benedict evolve?

pairing: benedict bridgerton x fem!(artist)reader

word count: 4k

warning(s): poor writing and dialogue (sue me, I'm rusty lol), very unedited so if there are mistakes, I apologize, misogyny, penelope aka Lady Whistledown's biggest defender

a/n: this is definitely going to be more than one part, but I wanted to post something after so many months. Let me know how you like it (or don't like it haha)...comments and feedback are much appreciated <3

• • • • • •

“I wish I possessed merely an ounce of your talent.” 

Benedict’s gaze seems to be wholly absorbing your latest painting, a depiction of the botanical wonders of London’s Royal Kew Gardens. 

You puff out a breath, blowing on the feathery end of one of your writing quills. In your haste, it had gotten loose, tickling your face irritatingly. Tucking it back behind your ear, you wave him off. “You have much more talent than you give yourself credit for.” You admit through squinted eyes, scanning your work. “You simply lack conviction. And you worry far too much about what others think of you.”

Benedict smiles, receiving your words as the highest of praise. He reaches out to take a better look at the piece of art before him. “You flatter me.” He mumbles in awe. “But I suppose there’s a chance you could be right.”

Chuckling at his words, you grin knowingly. You’re right. It’s more than a chance…you just are. He knows it too. 

You both continue to steadily eye the painting, you out of critical evaluation of your work, and him in sheer admiration of it. 

Benedict’s favourite part remains the beautifully bloomed magnolias that are scattered across the canvas. He’d been sure to tell you numerous times of their elegance while you’d been working on it, eagerly awaiting the finished product. As you’ve come to realize, Benedict loves watching you work. It’s one of the prices you’ve had to pay for his allowance of your workstation being at Bridgerton House, if you could even call it that.  

You are grateful, truly. You wouldn’t be able to make your own living without his kindness. And you certainly wouldn’t be able to keep to yourself in the way you prefer to. 

“When will Augustus Leighton be displaying his latest work of perfection?” Benedict’s question reminds you of your fate as an artist. 

Augustus Leighton is the pseudonym you paint under. Using his name, you have become a well known artist among the ton, even going so far as to have a painting hung at Buckingham Palace. It’s difficult, you must admit, pretending to be someone else. But it’s a necessary evil.

Painting as a woman would get you nowhere. Especially as a woman with no money (particularly at the time you began), no status, and no husband. 

Your mother is a seamstress with little to her name and your father was a servant to Violet and Edmund Bridgerton, before his heart became too weak. He passed away when you were thirteen, only a few years after the Bridgerton children had lost their own father. You’d grown up with little money, but Violet had been kind to both you and your mother, seeing how close you’d become with her children. 

You were raised alongside them, Benedict and Eloise becoming your closest of friends. At three and twenty, there are five years between you and the two siblings in either direction, with Eloise being freshly eighteen, and Benedict having turned twenty eight. To this day, they remain two of only three people who know of your true identity, outside of Penelope Featherington. 

You hadn’t exactly meant for Eloise or Penelope to find out about it, but once they had, it became comforting to have more than just Benedict to speak to about your predicament. Especially considering, although Benedict has been wonderfully supportive, he could never understand the struggle a woman must endure in a male dominated world.  

“Likely never. This one is a gift for Lady Danbury.” You answer Benedict’s inquiry after a bout of silence. “She’s spoken about her love of these gardens quite regularly, so I thought, why not have Mr. Leighton recreate it for her?” 

“How will you get it to her?” He questions. 

A smile pulls at the corners of your lips. “I have my ways, lest you worry about it.”

• ж • ж • ж • ж •

The next few days are interesting to say the least. You’d somehow managed to get the painting delivered to Lady Danbury, and as far as Violet had been willing to speak of her latest visit with the formidable aforementioned woman, you have been made aware that she adores it. 

You’d also heard more about it from Benedict, who’d mentioned something about her being at a loss for words, an ultimate shock to both him and his mother. They’d never seen her look so bewildered. 

According to Eloise, Lady Danbury had been surprised to receive such a gift, especially of something so near and dear to her heart. She’d said it reminded her of her time with the Queen, telling the young Bridgerton woman about the months just after her husband had passed, when a new independent lifestyle began to bloom for her. 

The painting itself reminded her that women like her could be free, and one day, they would be. That sort of metaphorical mindset had definitely appealed to Eloise’s sense of social justice. She’d been more than excited to tell you about the older woman’s reaction to your art, claiming it to be a wonderful revelation. 

Today though, as you sit in the Bridgerton’s common living room, the opposite representation of said female autonomy rests in your hands. The paper feels rough against your skin as you pass it to Eloise who’s propped excitedly to the left of you. You’ve never been a fan of Lady Whistledown’s gossip column, although you can admire her unabashed confidence. But despite her strong will as an author, which could be seen as an inherently empowering trait, you are of the impression that she goes about it in an entirely backward way. 

Women don’t need to put each other down to build themselves up. It accomplishes nothing, consequently acting as a source of nourishment for the patriarchy you find yourself trapped in. 

“You’re not going to read it?” Eloise asks as she takes the pamphlet from you. 

“I never do.” Is your instant reply. 

Penelope perks up at the mention of the column, eyes trained curiously on you. If you had known better, you’d say she was a little too interested. 

But at this moment you shrug it off, listening with no suspicion as she asks a simple, “Why?”

You don’t have the hindsight to understand why your stomach turns at her question, but you respond anyway. “I tend to think of Lady Whistledown as a poison.” It’s the first time you’ve voiced such an opinion. 

Penelope and Eloise turn to you in surprise. “Come again?” Penelope’s soft voice cuts through. 

“She is a poison.” You repeat before explaining yourself. “Do not get me wrong, I hold admiration for her bravado, but her words, the things she writes, they cause nothing but pain and conflict for those she chooses to sink her teeth into.”

“But she’s an independent woman.” Eloise interjects. “One who is doing more than any of us could dream of. She is making a name for herself!”

You try to think about your next words carefully, but your mouth makes quick work of a reply. “A name which she hides behind, casting stones through the guise and safety of anonymity.” 

Penelope lets out a scoff from beside you. She’s always been one to defend the infamous gossip columnist. “At least she does not hide herself behind the mask of a man.” That feels like a shot. “The people know full well of her gender, despite her true identity remaining a secret.”

You hear the implication on her tongue. The same cannot be said for you. 

And she’s not wrong. You do hide yourself behind the mask of a man. You’d never once denied that.

You sigh. “I know you must think of me as a hypocrite.” 

Eloise agrees hesitantly. “Only a little.” She admits. “It’s just that you do the same as Mr. Leighton.”

You soften at her honesty. Truthfully, you understand where she’s coming from, but you can’t help the urge you feel to defend yourself.

“I disguise myself as Augutus because I know that no artist or art critic alike will take me seriously as I am. I want to share my work with the world, that is simply all I want. It’s all I have ever wanted.”

“Does that not make you a coward?” Penelope inquires, although it feels less like a question and more like an opinion. This is what she believes. And she's entitled to that. 

“Perhaps.” You nod in acknowledgment. “But it has also made me uniquely successful. And I take great pride knowing that my work is highly regarded, in spite of the fact that I have to be someone else to succeed.” 

“Does that ever bother you?” Eloise persists. “Knowing that no one will know you for the work you have done?”

Before you can respond, Penelope chimes in with a query of her own. “Does it ever make you feel guilty, lying as you do?” This feels like a challenge. 

You turn to Eloise, answering her first. “No, I feel quite unbothered. I like the privacy it provides me.” Your gaze flicks between the two girls, a fire in your eyes as you speak. 

You answer Penelope’s question next. “Guilt is one of the last feelings to cross my mind.” You feel content with it. “Because of Augustus, I have my own money, my own independence. I do not need a man to survive or to be happy. I have choices. And that's a facet of my life I never dreamed could have existed. If there is anything more empowering for a woman than that, I cannot think of it.”

Eloise listens to your words carefully, absorbing them, reveling in them. She hadn’t thought of it like that, but you’re right. Independence is a sign of true equality. And you have that. Not because of the name you hide behind, but because you’d used the insecurities of men to your advantage. You’d played the game and won. 

“I suppose I have been quite short sighted.” There’s much less arrogance in her tone. Eloise sounds humbled. “You’ve given me a new perspective to think about.”

Penelope does not enjoy the direction this conversation has headed. “Surely you cannot think yourself above someone such as Lady Whistledown.”

Your face scrunches in thought. “Above?” You stipulate. “I do not think myself above anyone, gender aside. But I do think I have a much higher sense of self respect than she does.”

“And how could that possibly be?” Penelope has to bite her tongue. She wants to say more, defend herself more. But she cannot. 

Eloise cuts in. “Lady Whistledown has the utmost confidence in herself. I dare say more than all the women in London combined. As much as I have come to see your side, I cannot agree with that.”

“One’s high level of confidence is of little concern here.” You deliver. “Often, in matters regarding the human condition, such as these, it can act as a detriment.” Your eyes narrow as you speak. “Self respect and self confidence can coincide, but they are not the same.”

Eloise laughs out of confusion. She’s not used to being this clueless. “I don’t understand.” She says.

“Ah,” you decide to stop tiptoeing around the subject. “I merely think that no self-respecting woman would use the pain and suffering of other women, or any other person for that matter, for their own profit and entertainment.” 

Eloise’s smile drops. “Oh.” Again, she hadn’t thought of it that way. But what resonates with her most is that you’re not wrong. 

“Is that what you truly think of Lady Whistledown?” Penelope’s voice is calm and collected for the first time this afternoon. It almost scares you. 

“Yes.” You say, before voicing, “However, I mean no offense to either of you. I know how much you girls adore her column. I just want more for you than what she does. A life of gossip is dangerous, and you deserve so much more.”

If you had known you’d been talking to Lady Whistledown herself, maybe you would have kept those opinions to yourself. But little did you know how much your life was about to change, how dangerously you’d walked the line, and how much vengeance rests in Penelope Featherington’s soul.

Future note to self, do not play with fire if one does not wish to get burnt.  

• ж • ж • ж • ж •

“(Y/n), I think you need to see this.” Benedict holds up the newest edition of London’s famous gossip column. 

Your heart sinks at the look in his eyes. I’m sorry they seem to say. 

You haven’t even read it and you already know it’s bad. Handing it to you, Benedict looks hesitant, almost in preparation of what's to come. As you take it from him, you glance down at the ink on the paper, her handwriting etched in your brain. 

You swallow the lump in your throat as you begin to read:

Dearest Gentle Reader,

It has come to this author’s attention that a certain individual is playing an unforgivable game of deception within the world of classical art that this ton so highly regards. This artisan has gone to great lengths to keep their true identity from you, painting under a well recognized pseudonym. 

By now you may have guessed, this artist is a woman. One who has tricked you and lied to you by passing her work off as that of a man’s. What a horrid crime it is to keep such a secret from you, and a desperate one, I must admit. A woman so foul as to seek such attention for her art, far too greedy to be content with the life so many of the wonderful women of the ton lead. Instead, she parades around disguising herself so she can live a life she feels entitled to. 

This author asks you to consider the arrogance of it all. But the question remains, as I am sure you are desperate to uncover: who is the serpent who remains among us?

And so it is with great sorrow that I announce the once beloved Augustus Leighton is a fraud. A man never seen in the public setting, has given us a reason why. He is a woman.

And her name, ladies and gentleman of London, is (Y/n) (L/n). 

As I am sure you, gentle reader, are shocked at this revelation, I will take a moment to address the woman this particular entry concerns.

May I remind you Miss (L/n), I have ears and eyes everywhere. Or did you forget? It would do you a world of good to remember that the next time you think about besmirching me. And, as I write this, I must say, this warning goes for all. Heed it, live by it, breathe by it. I am not a woman you want to cross. 

Yours truly,

Lady Whistledown

Panic crawls through your body. You want to cry, scream, maybe even simply die from the anxiety you’re feeling. 

“What am I going to do?” 

Your voice cracks, it sounds like glass breaking. Shattered, ragged, and tired, and Benedict can do nothing but hold you. 

Again, as your body shakes and caves into the pressure you think, what am I going to do?

• ж • ж • ж • ж •

The moment Eloise enters the room with Anthony at her side, your mind is sent ablaze. Only three people had known about Augustus. Only three people could have possibly let it slip, and you know for a fact it wasn’t Benedict.

As much as you want to believe Eloise would never do something like that to you, you can’t help but feel like she might have offhandedly mentioned it to someone. Her mouth had always worked much faster than her brain.  

Benedict’s gaze meets yours in understanding. He hopes his sister hasn’t done this; he’ll be furious if she has. 

You’re about to say something when a certain eldest Bridgerton catches you off guard. Anthony smiles when he sees you, eyes twinkling uncharacteristically so. 

“I had no idea you could paint like that.” He says. “I must admit, I’m quite proud of you.”

You blink rapidly in confusion. Proud? In all the years you’ve known Anthony, he’s never told you he’s proud of you. 

“So you’ve read the column then?” Your head hangs in shame. Everyone in London has probably read it by now. 

“Everyone has.” Eloise pipes in timidly, confirming your suspicions. 

She’s nervous, understandably so, fingers fiddling with the hem of her dress. You assume when you finally catch her gaze that she’ll avert it quickly, but instead, she holds it well. 

We need to talk. 

Benedict, reading the room perfectly, coughs in apprehension. “Brother, how about we let these ladies be for a moment? I’m certain they have some things to discuss.”

“Of course.” Anthony nods with a smile, not before reminding you how proud he is of you.

If anything good can come of this, it might just be that. 

Once alone, Eloise is eager to assure you of her innocence. “I spoke to no one.” She promises. “Blood be forgotten, you’re my sister (Y/n). I would never betray you like that.”

The look on her face is one of pure panic; she needs you to believe her. And despite everything, you do. It almost makes you feel guilty that you questioned her. 

“It’s alright.” You assure her. “I know you wouldn’t.”

But that only leaves one person…

“I think Penelope is Lady Whistledown.” You're taken aback by Eloise’s words, like a stab to the chest. Twisting the knife in further, she corrects, “I know she is.”

Moments of silence pass before you can collect your thoughts. “How long have you known?”

This is where Eloise loses her composure. Pure shame is etched upon her features. “I caught her a few weeks ago.”

A few weeks. A few weeks… A FEW WEEKS?

“Oh.” Your murmur is dejected and weak.

Eloise had known you’d been slandering Lady Whistledown in front of Lady Whistledown, and she’d done nothing to stop you, except defend her best friend’s honour. No wonder she’d been so reluctant to agree with you. 

“I wanted to say something.” Eloise stammers. “But I couldn’t. Penelope doesn’t know that I know.”

You inhale a staggered breath of air, face falling to your palms. “I’ve been such a fool. How could I have been so stupid?”

“You have not.” The girl beside you opposes before continuing, “Trust me, I am furious with Penelope. The things she’s done and said about me, about the people I care about, I’m not sure I can forgive her for it.”

You scoff lightly. Trust her? How are you supposed to do that?

Sure, Eloise has certainly been burned by Lady Whistledown before, but she’s always had her name to fall back on. “You have no idea what it’s like, Eloise.”

“I’m sorry.” She slumps in apology, shrinking in on herself. Eloise likes to think she can understand where you’re coming from. She’s a woman, same as you, one who has the same struggles against the patriarchy, and yet, hers are much different.  

“Don’t.” You dismiss her apology in frustration. It feels harsh but necessary. “You always speak about feminism and the difficulties of being a woman. How it is impossible for you to hold title and rank, or to be recognized for your accomplishments. But you are a Bridgerton Eloise, and that comes with more privilege, more title, more rank, and more acknowledgment in society than you seem to understand.”

Eloise’s brow furrows. “More often than not, that name is a burden, something you could not possibly grasp.”

“And I should not have to.” Your lips pull into a thin line. This isn’t a competition, but you feel it necessary to defend your point wholly. “I am the daughter of a servant and a seamstress. I have no money, no control, and no future if I am not to marry. Since the day I was born, I belonged to someone else. You talk of struggle, but you have no idea what it truly means.”

Eloise doesn’t like what you’re implying. “You think I live a life of luxury? That I am a stranger to the adversities life has to offer? I can assure you, I know much more about the struggles of which you speak. My mother has prepared me for the purpose of my future; finding a husband is imperative.”

“You plan to remain unmarried, correct?” You ask her seriously.

“With every fiber in my being.” Is her scathing reply. And it only serves to prove your point. But you can see her side of things too. 

“El, you defy your mother with your distaste for society. And while I applaud your determination to fight for equality, your fault remains in your failure to recognize the entitlement that has been bestowed upon you simply by having that choice. Unlike so many women, you can choose to live your life as a spinster. For you, those options exist. For me, I have not one choice besides finding a well suited, at best, middle class husband, because that is all I am suited for.”

In this moment, her heart shatters for you. Is that really what you think of yourself? “You cannot possibly mean that.” 

“It’s how it has to be.” You affirm. 

“It’s not.” She disagrees. “There’s so much more for you than a husband.”

Both your defenses are down, walls have collapsed, and you’re starting to get through to each other. She’s starting to grasp the gravity of what this means for you. Your career is more than likely over, as is the steady source of income you’d managed to build. Except where before you’d had less than no money to your name, you now had a healthy dowry (that you’d earned no less) to find a more comfortable suitor. 

Eloise sees it now. What Penelope has done is monumentally life changing. 

However, as emotional as this circumstance is, you still feel the need to reach out. She’s your sister after all. 

“Eloise,” your eyes search hers. They tread in a sea of empathy. “I never meant to imply you have lived a life without misfortunes. I’m not trying to diminish your hurt. But I thought if you heard my side, you might come to understand mine.”

She softens at your admission, having gotten carried away in defending herself. Nodding, she smiles gently. “I do.” She says. “And while you may not bear the Bridgerton surname, you do have us. Every Bridgerton will stand behind you, always.”

Against every fibre in your being, you believe her. Somehow you’ll always have this little family of yours, somehow you hope you’ll be okay…

[juletheghoul]

educational

a/n: I still have so many asks for this man, and I have not forgotten them! Thank you to everyone who voted, to everyone who takes the time to comment and reblog on my posts. You have no idea how you all have reinvigorated my love for writing, a million hugs and cuddles for all of you. I always welcome any and all comments and questions or deep dives! This isn't beta'd, barely proofread. Hope you enjoy 💕xo

Warnings; 18+ no minors, vague but big-legal age gap, piv sex, dirty talk, let me know if I missed any!

Pairing: Marcus Acaciusx F!Reader

word count: 2.3k

reblogs are appreciated

Masterlist series masterlist

The sun was oppressive. It beat down with a vengeance and the fan in your hand did nothing to alleviate the waves of heat permeating the market. You had half a mind to head right back to the villa, to ask Marcus to bring you on another day when you could focus on anything other than the drops of sweat sliding down your spine, making your new robes stick to your skin. Or the way the stiff leather sandals on your feet rubbed your ankles raw. 

Running back to the villa didn’t seem right however, it tasted too much of defeat, of a refusal to accept your new place in this world and the thought of your General, your husband being disappointed in your inability to shop for yourself put eels into your belly. Gritting your teeth, you continued your hunt for the things you needed. 

“What about this Domina?” Your new attendant, a girl a few years younger than you had been when you’d first joined his house pointed at a blessedly covered stall, golden trinkets glittering where the sun poked through gaps in the covering catching your eye. 

“Let us look.” You smiled, making your way over. There you found a lovely perfumed oil for your skin, at a fairly reasonable price. You also found some of the incense Marcus liked, and a new brush for his hair. You bought them, even though he had sent you with the intent to buy things for yourself. With your purchases made and in the hands of your guards you decided to finally return home, when another stall caught your eye. Gauzy sheer linens covered most of it but when the warm breeze blew them aside, glittering jewels flashed. 

The woman running the stall smiled when you entered, she had streaks of grey in her hair, lovely oiled skin and eyes as dark as night. 

Opals with fire caught inside them hung on golden racks, rubies the size of walnuts, emeralds as green as fresh laurel leaves glittered, all of them entrancing you enough to pull your hands out to touch them. 

“With your skin, those would look lovely.” She walked over, pulling dark blue sapphire earrings from their place on her wall and holding them to your ears. “Beautiful.”

“They are gorgeous, I must admit.” Marcus had told you to buy whatever you wanted, had given you enough coin to splurge but you hesitated. Your eyes fell to a small book on a shelf, a picture of a man and a woman on the cover. 

“That is… very educational. Especially for a married woman.” She pulled the book off the shelf, placing it into your hands for you to peruse. The contents made you gasp. It was a guide book, a guide for the art of love. The art of copulation. There were diagrams, positions to try, all manner of things you’d never even thought of. 

Heat rushed to your face, the thought of showing Marcus, of trying them with him made the heat grow and spread to the place between your thighs. 

“You must have it, I have no doubt your husband will enjoy it, you as well.” She winked and you laughed a nervous little laugh, nodding conspiratorially. 

“You should adorn yourself for him, something glittering, something precious.” She gestured to the jewels once more and you bit your lip, wondering what to choose until you saw what looked to be a belt of different coloured gems. 

“I like this–is it for my waist?” You slid your fingers across it. 

“That would be perfect, not just your waist my lady.” She undid the clasps and arranged it, draping it onto your body. “Usually the ladies wear them over a simple robe to elevate it, but I think it would look just as beautiful against the skin, if you take my meaning.” You could see it, the top part of it like a necklace, with a long line of gems between your breasts leading down to connect with another line of it like a belt. 

With an ache for him, and a considerably lighter purse, you left with your purchases and made your way home once more. 

-

He was occupied, held up in his study with representatives from the Emperor, a senator and a whole host of others taking up his time with important matters. You left him to it, and busied yourself with your own preparations.

The tub was steaming and fragrant when you submerged yourself. Dried flowers and sweet smelling oils swirling with every movement, all manner of different elements coming together to soften your skin and make you shine for him. Thoughts of what he would think of your book fill your mind as you cleanse yourself of the day, musings about what he might choose pull at the corners of your lips as you run the clean washcloth across the expanse of your chest and thighs.

You oil your skin once out of the tub, arrange your hair and adorn yourself with jewels. Golden bracelets and anklets he’d gifted you on your wedding night, an armband shaped like a snake, earrings that dangle and trap the light when you move, the special body chain from the stand. You feel like a goddess, like a priestess readying yourself for worship. 

By the time he comes to bed the need, the arousal is fierce enough to make your hands shake. 

“Apologies my love, I was hoping to have been done sooner but—“ he catches sight of you then, sprawled out on the bed, an airy robe leaving nothing to the imagination, the small book in your hands. His eyes devour you, robbing him of his words, making your heart race.

“I have something for you, something for us.” You rise, exaggerating the swing in your hips with every step you take towards him. Your adornments jingle, a pleasant sound rings with every stride. 

“Do you now?” He licks his lips, and presses his palm to his growing bulge at the sight of you. “I have something for you too, growing stiff and aching.” His hand reaches for you as you get closer, pulling you into his embrace. 

“I do not doubt that.” You laugh, pressing your palms to his chest to keep him from pushing you onto your bed.

“I would very much like to give it to you, nice and deep.” His eyes are so lust blown that the warm brown is now a cold black. A moan escapes at his words, at the feel of his kiss on your throat.

“First, I would like you to look through the book I bought today.” He frowns, confused at the apparent shift. “I believe it could be very educational for us.”

If you weren’t so aroused, so excited to experiment you might have laughed at his expression. Naked shock was all you could see on his face. Never, in all your years within the villa, within his presence had you ever rendered him speechless before. The effect is titillating.

Wordlessly he peruses the pages, cheeks flushing, attention rapt at the diagrams and instructions shown within.

“Gods above.” Your smile deepens at the low whisper of his voice, nerves fraying with anticipation. 

“I am particularly curious about this one.” With trembling hands, you flip the pages to a certain diagram, where the woman is sitting on the man's lap but facing away, her legs closed tightly between his legs underneath her. The thought of Marcus having you that way floods your body with heat. His mouth at your ear, his hands free to slip between your legs or hold onto the weight of your breasts. 

Silently he studies the book, eyes intent. His quiet intensity fills the air between you, it makes you wring your hands with nervous anticipation, almost makes you wonder if you’ve gone too far. Your nerves fray the longer he stares, the old fear of disappointing or upsetting him creeps up your spine, until he smiles and licks his lip. 

“You, my love, continue to surprise me.” He closes the book and sets it aside. 

“Do I?” You take his hand in yours, and press it to your lips, desperate for his approval and for his love.

“Oh yes. Just when I think I cannot be any more fortunate, you spoil me and show me another facet of your love.” He pulls you forward, guiding you to stand between his spread legs at the edge of your bed, pulling the robe off to expose your nakedness.

“Look at you.” His palms slide from the sides of your thighs past your hips where they touch the jewels that adorn your waist. Up, up, up until his thumbs flick at your nipples. 

“You are yourself, my most precious jewel. So beautiful–” He presses his face to your breast, his lips gliding across your skin between words, “-kind, adventurous and brave, sweet as summer fruit,” he skims his nose over the top of your breast before licking at the stiff peak. With a sigh you hold him close, fingernails scratching at his neck, slipping through the fine grey waves, cradling his head close. 

Your heart races as he pours his love onto you, any and all fears are quieted to nothing under the silky slip of his palms against your back. His mouth forms a tight seal around your nipple, enough that it makes you gasp. His smile is predatory, confident and it makes you laugh; half nervous, half exhilarated. 

Your breasts shine with the oil, and his spit when he lets go. You take the opportunity to pull his robes up and off. Your mouth waters at the sight of his manhood, hard and leaking for you. 

“Turn around.” His voice sends a shiver down your spine, deep and commanding, irrefutable. His lips press to your shoulder, moving down to your lower back, you squeal in shock and delight to feel his teeth on the meat of your ass. 

“I could devour you whole, do you know that?” You can hear the smile in his voice.

The arousal is enough to choke you, enough to ease the glide of himself against your sex. Butterflies swarm as he pulls you back, guiding his own weeping tip to the tight fist of your cunt until you sink, slowly onto him. You gasp at just how deep, just how full you feel like this. 

“Gods above, woman.” His grip on your hips is tight enough to bruise, his voice strangled in your ear.

It is so much better than you had imagined.

His thighs bracket yours as you adjust to the fullness, slick dribbles out of you and drenches his lap when his hands do exactly as you hoped they might. With deft fingers he pinches and pulls at your sensitive nipples, teasing the peaks mercilessly as you begin a tentative bounce on his lap.

“Is this how you wanted it?” His breath tickles your neck, painting your skin in gooseflesh. 

“Yes, yes Marcus, just like this-“ your head falls back onto his shoulder, the arousal so fierce it burns through you, sets your heart beating like the wings of a hummingbird, trapped in the cage of your ribs. 

“Take it, take your pleasure from me my love, ride this cock—“ he bucks up, pulling a pained moan from somewhere inside you. 

“That’s it, you can do it, milk my fucking cock.” His arm tightens around your middle and you can feel the jewels pinching at your skin, the edge of pain only heightens the pleasure coursing through your veins, ripping a swathe through your body in the shape of him, always him. 

Thick fingers force their way between the tight press of your thighs, pinching at your swollen clit and it’s almost too much. Sweat beads in your hairline, slips between your bodies as you roll your hips harder, clenching around him with every tight bounce. 

There are no more words, only the harsh pant of his breath in your ear, the slick, vulgar sound of your wet arousal; the whimpering heralding your climax. 

His fingers leave your clit and you whine, the demand for them to return on the tip of your tongue but he quells it, pressing those same fingers into your mouth. He takes the saliva from your mouth, and returns his fingers to their task. The slip is just right and with a silent scream you freeze, squeezing him tight enough for him to hiss, tight enough to do just as he wanted and milk him for all he’s worth.

His grip around your middle softens, the jewels have left indents in his skin as well as yours, you pull his arm up to press your lips to it. 

Once the blood has settled and you’ve caught your breath, you pull away from him, turning to settle in his lap again only this time facing him. 

His expression is pure bliss, flushed with exertion and smiling with the ghost of his climax still painting his features. 

“I must send you to the market more often, spoil you as you spoil me.” You laugh, wrapping your arms around his neck just as his wrap tightly around your waist.

“So you are pleased with my purchase then?” Your lips press to his mouth, his cheek, the little hairless spot on his chin, your favourite constellation to map out. 

“I am more than pleased with it, but I must study it in depth. So many things to try, so many lessons for us to learn from this book, hmm?” He skims his nose across the column of your throat, smiling into your skin as your heart races for him even with your pleasure still coursing through you. 

“…And you know that I am a quick learner, my love.”

-

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[gothghostiie]

cw: glory hole, handjob, Oral (reader giving), deepthroat, spouse!reader, gn!reader

The boys have been.. frisky. on edge. and Price noticed. they're pent up, not able to go home, very little to no privacy due to missions and just a lot to do frankly. the tension grows and Price knows he has to do something. so he calls his spouse.

nobody even notices when you come on base. the boys don't realise, of course john helps you sneak in. it's not really hard to sneak past the three of them, they're so up in their heads these days. john sounded desperate on the phone. He was genuinely worried about them, and what kinda spouse would you be if you refused to help your husband? so now you're there, sitting in his lap in his office while he explains what he wants you to do, caressing you all over and placing gentle kisses on your skin.

"you don't have to, by any means love. but if you want to.." he trails off, his eyes wandering over your face, nothing but love for you in his eyes. "I'd set it up, they won't even know it's you. 'less you want them to, that is." he gives your ass a squeeze, making you chuckle. he watches you closely as you think, before giving him a nod.

"okay. I'll do it." he smiles brightly, pressing a kiss to your lips.

"you're so good to me." he hums. "get comfy in here, I'll organise everything." he sits you on the small couch that he's fucked you on countless times by now before heading out. the boys wonder what the hell he's doing, why on earth he's clearing out the supply closet by his office - and more importantly why the fuck he's drilling into the door with that hole saw.

"he's finally gone mad." soap mutters as they watch him from afar, no matter how much they have to do, theyll always have time to question what the hell the old man is doing. Price glances over at them and chuckles, shaking his head as he smoothes the edges and tapes them over with duct tape.

"go get washed up you muppets. can smell you from here." he orders, if theyre gonna be using you they better be clean. "now!" the three men huff but decide to humor him, going to the communal showers. all three of them are tense and pent up, balls looking full and heavy. price almost wishes he could watch them, but he pushes the thought down. instead starts lining the closet with some pillows and blankets; puts a few more because the ones that come on the bunks aren't very soft. he puts a few bottles of water, some towels too, and a plushie he got on his last mission, that he meant to give to you once he got back home. no time like the present.

ge gets back to you, giving you some spare sweatpants and a shirt so you dont get yours dirty, doting all over you to make sure you're fully okay. even carries you to the closet and sets you down inside, kissing your head. "safeword?"

"red. orange if I need a break." he smiles lovingly and caresses your face.

"good. i love you."

"I love you, john." with that he gently closes the door and locks it. you have a spare key to get yourself out, but he doesn't need his boys to try and open the door. once he makes sure you're settled, he radioes them. he knows one of them always has their walkie talkie or in ear on them.

"Muppets. Get your arses over here, now. don't keep us waiting." the boys look puzzled. us? they know they have to go find out. so they go, finding price with his arms crossed next to the closet. they look at him like he's crazy.

"Cap, what's going on?" Kyle asks, price smirks.

"Lads, I've noticed youve been.. pent up, recently. i get it, i truly do. you lot are young and still full of energy, eh?" he teases, the boys frown in confusion. "anyway.. got a little something for ya. to help you relax." he knocks on the door - the boys freeze as they see your mouth through the small hole. its just big enough for each of them to get their cock through while keeping you hidden. Price chuckles, sticking his fingers through the hole, demonstrating as you suckle his thick fingers. "go ahead. don't be shy now." they hesitate, before Soap steps forward.

"is that..?"

"a glory hole, yes." Soap gulps softly. he's seen this happen in porn but this? he looks at price who gives him another nod before unzipping his jeans, already rocking a semi. he blushes slightly as the others snicker, scowling as he slowly shoves his cock through the hole. he waits impatiently, heart racing - before he feels your hands wrap around his cock, stroking him. he gasps, hips already trembling as he has to grip the door handle for supoort, it only gets worse when you wrap your lips around his thick tip. he grunts, leaning his forehead against the door. it doesn't take him long when you start bobbing your head, taking him all the way into your mouth, tongue running along his veins, suckling just enough for it to feel almost a little painful - just like he likes it. curses like a sailor when he cums, even louder when you swallow around his cock, only then letting him pull out once you do. he pants, trying to get himself dressed as he stumbles back.

Price chuckles. "you okay lad?" he pats soaps shoulder, then ruffles the sweaty mohawk, the man can only stare at the door in awe.

then kyle steps forward. he's a bit unsure still, even after seeing johnny get his soul sucked out, but he's definitely not letting that opportunity get to waste. getting his cock out and giving it a few strokes as he walks up to the door, shyly pushing a bit more than his tip through the hole, you chuckles softly. he feels his face heat up but holds still, hand still wrapped around the base of his cock and pumping the back a bit, unintentionally squeezing when you run your tongue over his tip. swollen lips wrap around the head of his cock, sucking gently and using your tongue, essentially making out with it. the moan that escapes his lips is anything but manly, eyes shut tight as he bites his lip to hold more back. "christ- feels fucking incredible.." he hisses, you smile around his cock, it makes him chuckle. he pushes in a tiny bit more, you double your effort when you taste the precum on your tongue; soon enough followed by his actual cum. he groans, riding out his orgasm until he's spent, letting you milk him for all he's worth. pulls back with a semi, some cum still dribbling from it as he smiles in satisfaction.

price rubs his back gently, whispering a word of praise to him that almost makes him wanna use the glory hole again right away.

but ghost is already in front of the door, eying the hole quietly for a good minute before he speaks up. "put your mouth to the hole. and open wide." he orders in a quiet tone, not wanting to scare you away. you swallow the water in your mouth and do as you're told, wishing you could see his pretty face right now. simon unzips his pants, his cock hard and heavy in his hand as he pushes through the hole and into your mouth, until his pelvis meets the door. he groans, knowing hes deep in your throat, the soft gagging confirming it. "hold still f'me, yea?" he mutters, before finally moving his hips, thrusting at a slow pace for now. he moans softly, the sound full of relief and pleasure, it's rare to see him like this. his hips soon speed up, making the door rattle slightly by the force of his muscular hips slamming against it, in and out of your poor throat. you gag softly, gasping for breath but not pulling back, you know how badly he needs this - and you really want to keep hearing those sweet moans, even if it's not for much longer. he holds out the longest, hold still when he finally releases in your throat. his eyelids flutter, eyes rolling back, making prices semi twitch slightly. only when you pull back to gasp for air he pulls away too, stepping away and dressing up.

its quiet between the four for a moment before kyle finally speaks up. "Cap?"

price looks at him, making a soft "hm?" sound.

"who the hell is in there?'

[cherie-doll]

Cheriee, some mood on harmless funny prank? Asking husband to leave the room so we can change.

https://youtube.com/shorts/Bz1JXk4WU3I?si=VrSSHU4aEDT2cngj

This is the cutest one I found- maybe because there's children? Haha.

Please have fun and take it easy ❤

Aww, I love this video.. I've been rewatching it

Asking your cod husband to leave the room while you change

♡︎ Price, Ghost, Soap, Gaz, Roach, Alejandro, Rudy, Phillip Graves, Makarov, Keegan, König, Horangi, Nikto

ɞ Price would immediately turn his head at any sign he might pick up on your feeling down. He figured this might be one of those times. So he's turning to you and asking what's wrong. Did someone say something? You're worth a lot in his eyes.

ɞ If you asked and didn't sound serious Simon would only grunt and laugh, shaking his head at your request. He would think there would be some truth or meaning so he'd get up because he understands wanting space.

ɞ Johnny was probably talking, going off about something as he waited for you to finish getting ready to go out. That is until you interrupted him to tell him you wanted to change your outfit but if he could please walk out. He sat there speechless for a minute before asking if you were okay.

ɞ Kyle would think it might have something to do with your self-esteem. Maybe you didn't feel well that day so him being the caring and gentle husband he is, went over to you gave you a peck on the cheek and started reciting all the reasons why he loved you.

ɞ Roach would be the one to be the most understanding and doesn't question anything. Silently crawling out the door saying you look great in anything you wear and he loves you and will be waiting outside. ARGGH- go give him a kiss.

ɞ Alejandro is raising an eyebrow at you right now. Would think you might be having a bit of body dysmorphia and start reciting beautiful verses of how beautiful your body is that would put Shakespeare and Napoleon's letters to Josephine to shame.

ɞ Rudy was understandably confused at first. He wondered if he'd done something or said anything that made you feel uncomfortable showing your body around him. Still he understood that perhaps you wanted some privacy, he sweetly smiled and nodded as he stood up.

ɞ Phillip is sighing as if he didn't watch you give birth, as if he hasn't showered with you before. He's glancing over to the kids and just going "yep, okay I'll go".

ɞ Makarov bought the clothes you're trying on right now. He thinks he has the right to watch you try it on AND change in front of him. Unless... something is wrong?!

ɞ You're crazy if you think Keegan is walking out as simple as that. He's leaning back and getting comfortable. "You act as if I haven't watched you change before".

ɞ König just holds up the baby like going "??" and you just nod and point to the door. Yeah, okay he's leaving. Takes the kid too, maybe he'll be in the kitchen making a bottle for it while you finish up in there.

ɞ Horangi is grounding himself to that chair and not moving. Matter of fact he's getting up and helping you get out of those clothes and helping you change personally. Would drop a few teasing lines here and there.

ɞ Nikto would just stare at you. The logic is not there for him right now, he's holding the fat baby you BOTH made on his lap as he watches you show him your new clothing item. He just stays silent but doesn't move, if you don't want him there just go into the bathroom and change there.

[roosterr]

Hi idk if you're accepting requests but I literally just read the amnesia fic, and I was wondering if I could request where reader suddenly remembers everything, and sprints around base trying to find them, and just jumps on them crying and apologizing for forgetting them. Just some really fluffy comfort? It's okay if you don't want to write this lol

the 141 when you have amnesia – p2

note: i have received your therapy bills :)

wc: 5.2k

warnings: still a bit angsty I'm sorry I couldn't resist, fluff, hurt/comfort, mild injury and blood, happy endings for all I promise

ao3

[part one]

price

✹ john thought your initial reaction was a good sign. you seemed to be taking things well, considering the extent of your injuries, and it was only a matter of time before your memories returned.

✹ your spirits are high when you're reintroduced to the team, and though you don't remember them either you do say they feel familiar, which he takes as a good sign for your recovery.

✹ when you're finally discharged, he takes you home, to the house that the two of you bought together. he shows you the photos of the two of you that decorate the walls, fondly retelling the stories of each one to you even though you were there, and these are your pictures.

✹ if you notice the way he chokes up when you get to your wedding photos, you don't say anything.

✹ like the true gentleman he is, he insists on sleeping on the sofa and leaving you to take the bed, despite your protests about it being his home too. even though you were receptive, he would never risk making you uncomfortable by sleeping in the same bed when he was, essentially, a stranger.

✹ in all your years of marriage, he's never slept on the sofa before. the two of you rarely go to bed without each other, apart from the times you're separated by your job, and consequently he finds himself not getting much rest.

✹ you're still on leave while you're physically recovering from being in a coma, so john has to go to work without you every morning, something he also hasn't done since you got married. he wishes he could bring you with him anyway, just to have you near him, but he knows that's selfish and you still need time.

✹ the base is dull without you.

✹ again, he keeps up the appearance that he's okay, and maybe it's a little more true this time now that you're actually awake, but he still feels your absence like a weight on his shoulders.

✹ the other three are pleased amongst themselves about your recovery, gaz and soap constantly asking him how you are; and he knows they mean well, but it's still irritating because how could you be okay? you don't even remember your own husband, nothing about this is okay.

✹ he keeps his grievances to himself though. he's still their captain, he can't afford to fall apart when he still has a job to do.

✹ he's woken up one night by soft footsteps in the living room. his neck aches as his eyes snap open, every sense on high alert until he realises it's just you. a quiet grunt escapes him as he sits up, massaging his sore muscles from sleeping on the sofa.

✹ when the sound of muffled crying reaches his ears, he's immediately on his feet, his heart racing as he shuffles over to where you're standing with a hand covering your mouth.

✹ he presses a hand to your back, rubbing soothing circles between your shoulder blades. you don't look at him, your crying only increasing in volume now you're not worried about waking him.

✹ now that he's right next to you, he sees through the darkness that you're holding one of your wedding photos. it's his favourite picture, the one where he's lifting you with an arm around your waist and you're both gazing into each other's eyes with the most lovestruck expression on your faces.

✹ "i– i know i love you, so wh-why can't i just remember you?" you sputter in between sobs, and you might as well have just ripped his heart out of his chest, because he can't stop the way he breaks down at your words.

✹ john wraps both arms tightly around you, caging you to his chest and nestling your head into the crook of his shoulder while pressing his own tear-stained face into the top of your head.

✹ "it's alright, love–" his voice cracks pitifully, and he's never felt quite as hopeless as he does in this moment. "it'll be alright, you'll remember, i promise…"

✹ he's not sure who he's trying to convince, you or himself as you both sink to the floor in each other's embrace. you stay like that for hours, crying for your lost memory into the early morning.

✹ after that, he can't be bothered to pretend he's okay anymore.

✹ he starts drinking again, shamelessly in the middle of the day and grumbling at gaz and ghost when they wrestle the bottle away from him. he knows you'd disapprove, but the toll of lying to himself and everyone around him has caught up. all he wanted was his partner back, the love of his life, you.

✹ the others try to knock some sense into him, but talking to him becomes like going back and forth with a brick wall. gaz even gets kate on the phone to yell at him, but nothing seems to get through. he orders them to leave him alone, stop asking about you, and it really feels like he's lost hope.

✹ it goes on like this for a week straight, nearly a full month since you first woke up.

✹ and then one boring afternoon, there's a commotion outside his office. john hears cheers and shouts from down the corridor, but he can't bring himself to care enough to investigate.

✹ he's not in the mood to celebrate whatever it is they're cheering about anyway.

✹ john's just about to stand and yell at them to shut up, but then you're suddenly standing at his door, slamming it behind you as you rush over to his desk. his face must be the picture of surprise as he swivels in his chair to follow you as you approach, opening his legs for you to stand between them.

✹ his breath catches in his throat as you cup his face, your touch so tender it has his heart hammering against his sternum like the very first time you touched him all those years ago. he plants his hands firmly on your hips, too afraid of getting his hopes up to say a single word as he watches you get closer.

✹ your face hovers just above his, warm breath fanning over his face as you inch ever closer. he sees your eyes glistening before they flutter shut, brushing your lips against his with an anticipation that has his skin tingling.

✹ when you pull away, his eyes stay closed, but he can hear the smile in your voice when you whisper,

✹ "i remember you now."

✹ his heart might’ve actually stopped at your words, surprise shooting through him like a bolt of lightning as his eyes snap open.

✹ in a second, he's lifting you by the waist and dropping you onto his desk, uncaring for the various papers that he brushes out of the way to make room for you.

✹ he can't stop the overjoyed laugh that rumbles in his chest now he's the one standing between your legs, gripping your face and pushing his lips back against your with all the passion he's been bottling up during your recovery.

✹ you smile into the kiss too, wrapping your arms securely around his neck, running your fingers up his neck and through his hair. it feels like a weight has lifted, something heavy in the back of his mind finally dissipating and allowing him to relax into your hold.

✹ the two of you break away after a moment, keeping him close to you as you press your forehead to his. "i'm sorry that i ever forgot you."

✹ "i can think of a way you can make it up to me, love…"

gaz

✹ you're so apologetic about your amnesia, it breaks his heart all over again. what's worse is that he has no idea what to do; he doesn't want to try and force you to remember, that would just stress you out more, but he wants you to remember him so desperately he feels it ache in his bones.

✹ in the end, he decides to just let things play out. he wants you to recover at your own pace, and not just because of him and how he feels about you.

✹ he also doesn't say a word about your relationship, but with how he initially reacted, he's sure you got the idea. you don't mention it either, which admittedly hurts a little, but he's sure the confusion of waking up to having a boyfriend who's name you don't even know is worse than how he feels about it.

✹ kyle vows to take care of you the moment you're discharged. he takes you to your room, shows you where everything is, makes sure you know where he is should you ever need anything, and he even introduces you to the others again.

✹ you still remember your job and how to do it so, once you're physically well enough, you get right back to it. they carry on as normal, the rest of the taskforce – assimilating you back into their nights of drinking and fucking around as if you'd never left.

✹ kyle still doesn't feel right about it.

✹ he doesn't want to treat you like glass, because you're exactly the same as when he first met you. you're still quick-witted, stubborn, and one of the toughest people he knows, you just… don't know him.

✹ it kills him on the inside, but he stays strong for you; the last thing he wants is to become the mess of a man he was when you were out, he doesn't want you to see him like that. he sorely misses spending his nights with you, and talking endlessly about your days to each other. he sends you longing glances every time you look away, wondering if you'd ever feel the same again.

✹ if you can go back to living normally, why can't he?

✹ but as the weeks go by, kyle notices how you start to withdraw, the loneliness that blocks out the light in your eyes that he loves so much. you fade into the background of conversations, sticking to listening rather than engaging.

✹ you watch them from afar, and he still knows you well enough to know what's going through your head. feeling somehow like you belong and also like an outsider at the same time, wishing you could understand the inside jokes you were a part of.

✹ he wishes more than anything that there was something he could do – make you understand that you're wanted, and you're a valuable part of the team even without your memories, but any time he brings it up you simply brush him off with that far away look in your eyes.

✹ three weeks go by before anything changes.

✹ it's the first time in a while they finally have an afternoon off, so of course they decide to spend it playing football on one of the fields within the bounds of the base. soap and ghost on one team, gaz and the captain on the other, with you spectating and keeping score on the sidelines. 

✹ kyle offered to sit out if you wanted to play, but you'd brushed him off with the excuse of wanting to rest and read your book, laying out your jacket on the grass to sit on.

✹ he could tell you weren't all there, but he didn't know how to help you; so he just reassured you that you could call him over if you needed anything, and left you to guard his own jacket and water bottle before running off to join the game.

✹ the whole time he was sprinting around the field, he couldn't stop looking over to you over by the sidelines. he wasn't with it, he hadn't been since you woke up, really, and the others could tell.

✹ price abruptly calls half-time, clapping gaz on the shoulder and giving him a knowing look. "just talk to 'em, before it eats you alive." he chides, pushing him in your direction before he can think to protest.

✹ with a deep sigh and a glace backwards to the others, who shoo him away without a word, he jogs over to where you're sitting. the way the late afternoon sun hits you just right stops kyle dead in his tracks when he catches how it glows in your eyes. he feels a pull in his chest as he approaches you.

✹ you look up from your book as his shadow reaches you, shooting him a tiny smile as he drops himself next to you. he takes a swig from his water bottle as he catches his breath, extremely conscious of the way your teammates are pretending not to watch him while he comes up with the words.

✹ "so, who's winning then?" you ask, turning so you're facing him. he sees how your smile doesn't quite reach your eyes.

✹ "aren't you supposed to be keepin' score?" kyle chuckles, shifting slightly closer to you as you look away with a bashful expression. he allows your hands to brush, wanting nothing more than to lock your fingers together.

✹ "i'm not really paying attention."

✹ there's a beat of silence and that helpless feeling is back as he watches you look back out to the field, where the others are still kicking the ball back and forth.

✹ "how you doin'?" he asks, keeping his voice low as he leans in even closer to you. your mouth opens to respond, that slightly off smile back on your face, but before you can he places his hand fully over yours, giving it a comforting squeeze. "actually."

✹ you sigh, heavy and tired, and bring your gaze back over to his. "it's… hard." you begin, your eyes betraying the internal struggle. "and i'm… i know, before, we were–"

✹ he blinks and you're being sent over backwards by a football flying into your face with a smack that makes kyle's ears ring.

✹ immediately he's crouching over you, helping you sit back up and pressing the sleeve of his jacket to your nose, uncaring for the blood that stains it.

✹ "you alright?" he murmurs, gently holding your face as he inspects your nose. you nod, wincing at the movement, and take the sleeve of his jacket from him.

✹ once he's sure you're okay, his vision turns red with anger. it's pretty obvious who kicked the ball when he whips around to see soap kneeling on the ground with his head in his hands.

✹ "oi!" kyle shouts, sending him a deadly glare as he gets up. "soap, what the fuck!"

✹ the man in question looks up from his hands, an incredibly guilty look on his face. "i'm sorry pal! i dinnae ken what happened!"

✹ "just piss off, you prick!"

✹ kyle looks back to you, crouching down again with a concerned frown; but you're already looking at him, the silhouette of his own form reflected in your wide eyes. your nose is still dripping blood, but you drop his jacket and your hands to your lap anyway, mouth agape as you stare back at him.

✹ "what's wrong? are you–"

✹ you cut him off by tackling him to the ground with your arms around his neck, squeezing a surprised 'oof' from him as you land on top of his chest. one of his hands flies to your waist to steady you, the other carefully cradling your head.

✹ "i remember!" you cry, an elated laugh bubbling up as fresh tears wet your cheeks.

✹ kyle lets out a relieved laugh of his own, craning his neck to plant his lips firmly on yours with an infectious grin. in the background the others groan at the display of affection, but neither of you pay them any mind.

✹ eventually the two of you pull away, a wide smile still plastered on both of your faces as you get up from the grass. he pulls you in with the hand that still hasn't moved from your waist and leans to whisper in your ear,

✹ "fancy kickin' soap's arse?"

✹ "you read my mind."

soap

✹ johnny's enthusiastic with your recovery. anyone could've guessed that from the moment you woke up he'd be doting, eager to help you in any way you could need.

✹ yes, you didn't remember him, but be was just so ecstatic that you were okay – apart from the amnesia – that he couldn't find it in himself to be disappointed about it. you'd get your memories back soon enough, and then everything would go right back to the way it was.

✹ sometimes he gets a little carried away, forgets that while you are technically in a relationship, he's not much more than a stranger to you right now. more than once you end up having to ask him for some space because he's so incredibly touchy, and you're not sure how to handle it.

✹ you also request a temporary room to sleep in while you recover, separate from him. johnny's not sure how he feels about it.

✹ he feels that sinking feeling in his chest whenever you push him back with a hand on his chest, a polite smile tugging at your lips. it's disheartening, but he tries not to let it get to him. you'll remember soon, and then this will all be in the past.

✹ maybe you'll even laugh about it, how you could ever forget your wonderful boyfriend.

✹ he takes it upon himself to read up on amnesia, so he can better understand how to help you in any way you might need. once he learns that exposure to memories that you've lost can help your recovery, he eagerly convinces you to let him show you places that have meaning to you and your relationship with him.

✹ you agree, and he didn't actually need to do much convincing because you seem just as interested in the idea as him. he knocks on your door the following evening, offering you a single rose before whisking you away with a charming smile.

✹ he takes you on your first date all over again, with the same level of enthusiasm as before. he treats you to dinner at a relatively nice restaurant, telling you all about how the two of you got together in the first place, and memories you have together. he even orders you dessert, recalling with a chuckle how he accidentally guessed your favourite on your actual first date.

✹ once you both finish eating, he guides you by the hand to the canal for the second half of the date, a romantic moonlit stroll by the water. he pulls you close with an arm around your shoulders, meeting your eyes with a fond smile and a blush dusting his cheeks.

✹ "hold on…" you mutter, a pensive expression taking over your face as you stop walking. you turn to gaze at the water, seemingly working something out in your mind. "this… this is where gaz fell into the river that one time, right?"

✹ johnny's heart misses a beat, his eyes lighting up with renewed, excited hope as he grins at you. "you remember?"

✹ "a little, yeah," you smile, dropping your gaze and hands from his with a sorry scratch at the back of your neck. "the rest is still blank, though…"

✹ his smile falters, but he's quick to make sure you don't see his disappointment by pulling you into a reassuring hug. "that's still somethin'! you'll be good as new in nae time!"

✹ the next morning, he finds you and gaz in the rec room on one of the couches, talking animatedly with each other. that familiar shine is in your eyes, the sight johnny's been missing for the last few months. it makes his heart feel light, finally seeing you acting like your normal self again after so long.

✹ he approaches you both, watching you fondly as you talk and laugh with gaz, but his good mood is soured when you only briefly acknowledge his arrival when he sits down across from you, before resuming your conversation with gaz. his brow twitches downwards.

✹ gaz is one of your closest friends, and he’s glad you remembered him. he's happy that you got part of your memory back, even if it wasn't a part that included him.

✹ this was a good thing. you'd remember him soon, he was sure of it.

✹ a few more days pass until anything else notable happens. while you were in the gym together, you told him you felt a headache coming on, so he offered to walk you to the infirmary for some painkillers. the casual conversation you made on the way wouldn't have bothered him before, but he just couldn't shake the image of you and gaz being so comfortable, while he's still stuck on the outside.

✹ he doesn't say anything though. making you feel bad about it won't solve anything, and it's not like you're doing it on purpose, he knows you wouldn't do that to him. you were just excited to have a familiar face, that's all.

✹ while you're waiting for the medic on call, your head suddenly snaps to attention and you get that same pensive look on your face as that night by the river.

✹ "you got something?" johnny asks, bringing his hand up to rest on your upper back. he doesn't want to get his hopes up, but he can't help the way his heart flutters with optimism.

✹ you nod, a smile growing on your features. "i remember that time lt. dislocated my shoulder, and price basically forced him apologise to me," you laugh, thankfully facing away from johnny as his lips turn downwards, "god, he was pissed, it was honestly kinda funny."

✹ "what, uhm…" he lightly clears his throat, hoping you don't hear the dejection in his voice, "what about me?"

✹ you meet his eyes again with an apologetic shake of your head. "i'm sorry, soap…"

✹ "yer fine, it's–" he swallows thickly, waving you off with an exaggerated smile that doesn't quite reach his eyes, "this is good, it's progress."

✹ since then, he's given you more space. it's clear to him that his efforts aren't helping you remember him, it actually feels like it's having the opposite effect. of course, he's glad you remember your friends, but you still don't remember him – your own boyfriend.

✹ it's wrong, and he knows it is, but he's jealous.

✹ he has to watch you carry on like usual, without him. you haven't set foot in the room you used to share together since before you were comatose. he's done his best to disguise how much it hurts, but it still annoys him how no one else seems to notice how wrong it all is. the others don't need you like he does, they don't lay awake at night going over every moment, treasuring the time you called him yours, yearning with every fibre of his being to go back.

✹ it's been a month and a half since you woke up, six weeks of being so close yet so unbearably far from you. he prays to any god that will listen to bring you back to him, allow him to hold you in his arms once more, but nothing ever changes.

✹ the thread he's been hanging on by ever since you went down on that mission gone wrong is one more bad day away from snapping.

✹ he's approached by gaz one morning, while waiting for the others to begin training, who takes it upon himself to ask johnny about how you're recovering. when gaz teases him about how he was the first person you remembered, and johnny thinks he might just strangle him.

✹ "careful, soap, i might steal 'em away," gaz laughs, patting his shoulder with a camaraderie soap scoffs at.

✹ "shut the fuck up." he snarls, his face bunched in a strikingly out of character scowl. his hands twitch at his sides, nails digging painfully into his palms.

✹ gaz blinks, his eyebrows shooting up, clearly taken aback by the hostility from his friend. "alright, i was only jokin', mate."

✹ "aye, well, i'm nae laughin'."

✹ the tension is stifling. he can tell gaz wants to say something more, but he holds his tongue – too worried about upsetting soap any further.

✹ they stand in silence with each other like that for a while, gaz watching him from the corner of his eye while he keeps his gaze firmly on the grass below him.

✹ thankfully, after not too long the uneasy atmosphere is interrupted by a shout from the direction of the building, "johnny!"

✹ his head snaps to attention to see you, grinning uncontrollably and sprinting towards him at full speed.

✹ "wha–" he's caught off guard by how you leap into his arms, hooking your arms around his neck as he stumbles backwards in surprise.

✹ before he has time to question your actions, you're smashing your lips against his in a searing kiss that has johnny's head spinning. he wastes no time in reciprocating, securing one arm around your waist and bringing the other to the back of your head, using it you press you impossibly closer to him as he groans into your mouth.

✹ you reluctantly pull away, just enough to take a shaky breath, but johnny's had stays put on the back of your head. "i'm sorry i forgot, i'm sorry…" you mumble against his lips, dragging your fingers through the unkempt hair of his mohawk.

✹ he drops his head into the juncture of you neck and shoulder, inhaling deeply the scent of you that he's gone so long without. he laughs into you, slightly delirious and just so overjoyed to have you in his arms again that feels his eyes sting with tears.

✹ "i've missed you, bonnie," he chuckles wetly, pressing his lips back to yours in another desperate kiss, "i've missed you so much,"

✹ "i'll never forget you again."

ghost

✹ he avoids you like the plague.

✹ or he tries to, at least. but truth be told, after spending so much time learning to be vulnerable around you and allowing you into his guarded heart, it's difficult to go back to being a stranger to you.

✹ that, and he doesn't actually want to.

✹ but he needs to. being around you, the love of his life, knowing that you don't remember him, it's like a knife stuck between his ribs. any time he's in the same room as you he finds himself fighting the urge to grab your hand, or press his forehead against you.

✹ he knows you don't want him anymore, the last thing you deserve is a giant of a man – who you're clearly afraid of, even if you won't say it – hanging around you like a shadow.

✹ you're still kind to him, because of course you are, checking in on him and trying to talk to him any opportunity you get. it's nice, sometimes he can even pretend everything is normal when he shares a laugh with you, but then he sees the hesitance in your eyes and he's brought back to the cold reality of the situation.

✹ the weeks drag like this, every fleeting look from you another bleeding wound on his heart.

✹ he keeps it together surprisingly well, all things considered, but the breaking point comes when you find him having a smoke one night, on a bench just outside the barracks.

✹ "simon?" your voice cuts through the silence, his eyes snapping to you as you sit down next to him. he takes another long drag from his cigarette as he watches you, uncertainty in your voice as you continue, "can you tell me about… me? and us?"

✹ no matter how much he thinks he should, he can't look away from your pleading gaze.

✹ "we… you're everything to me," simon mutters, dropping his cigarette and putting it out with the heel of his boot, "i've never felt the way i do with you before, you've helped me more than you could ever know…"

✹ his vision blurs with unshed tears. the sadness on your face starts and ache in his heart, the desire to take you into his arms and just hold you making his skin bristle.

✹ "you don't have to feel the same way, but…" he pulls the balaclava from his head, setting it on the bench in the space between you, bearing his face to you like he always does, "even if you never get your memory back, i'll always love you."

✹ the way you look at him makes it so incredibly difficult not to cry. your eyes are glassy and far away, your bottom lip pulled between your teeth with an expression that screams guilt – but it's not your fault, and he'd never blame you.

✹ you open your mouth to say something, but the words never materialise. the night stays silent, and simon expects it, but it still makes his bones ache with a heaviness that he knows he can't shake.

✹ he stands, picking up his balaclava, and walks quietly past you to the barracks door. there's no fleeting look, not this time. he disappears to his room without another word.

✹ he's not sure how much later it is when he hears a knock on his door. minutes, hours, it didn't matter. it all blends together now.

✹ when he doesn't bother to answer, whoever it is lets themselves in, shutting the door gently behind themselves. he sits up with the intention of chewing them out, but when he opens his eyes they land on your form, curled in on yourself and shuffling quickly over to him.

✹ you're here, in his room, with a face that looks like you've been crying for hours, puffy and tear-stained with bloodshot eyes.

✹ he almost thinks he's dreaming, but the warmth as you wrap your arms around him and bring his face to your chest is too real, too familiar. he brings his arms up  around your waist, releasing a shaky sigh into your skin as he squeezes you tighter against him.

✹ a few hot tears meet the top of his head as you whisper to him the words he's been waiting, longing to hear, rocking gently from side to side.

✹ "i remember, si."

✹ it feels like he can finally rest, like the state of being he's been living in for the last few months melts away with your touch and he feels safe again.

✹ with his grip around your waist, he hoists you onto his bed to lay back down with him, holding you tightly against his chest, your heart right beside his own racing one.

✹ you cradle his face again, pressing your lips to his face over and over, touching every inch of him with your love.

✹ "i'm sorry…" you whisper like a mantra, punctuating every kiss with an apology that makes his throat constrict with the raw emotion he feels. "i'm sorry,"

✹ "don't be…" he mirrors how you hold his face, tangling his legs with yours as he captures your mouth and pours every ounce of passion he has into the way he kisses you. "don't be, love."

[witchthewriter]

Poly141! | Mission Pixie Dust

Okay so... I was making up scenarios in my head as I was falling asleep last night and I made myself cry ... so I obviously had to share...

Poly141; the four men are your husbands and all deployed at the same time, leaving you home with your three kids at the beginning of the school holidays.

This turned out longer than I thought it would but I just had to write it out. I love Poly141 AND them being dads :')

Da = Johnny

Papa = John P.

Dad= Simon

Daddy = Kyle

School holidays had just started, and your three pups were buzzing as soon as they came home. Bags were thrown on the floor, school shoes unlaced and scattered around the shoe stand. They knew the rules, but first day of school holidays meant they were allowed to get a little wild.

Your oldest, Paesha, had just turned eight and her father was obvious. Thick curls, dark skin and warm brown eyes made it plain to see. But all your husbands loved her the same. In fact, she had a special bond with her Da (Johnny).

Malachai, your second, could have been any of the three other men's. Light brown hair, fair complection, and utterly/overly protective of his sisters. He had been born a year after Pae.

And your youngest, Felicity (known as Flick), had started her first year in big school. She was known for having exceptional blue eyes.

None of your husbands wanted a DNA test, they thought it useless because everyone treats the children with the same love, compassion and warmth.

Throwing your keys on the counter (Paesha picked them up and placed them on the hook). You rubbed the bridge of your nose and tried to quell the longing in your soul. You didn't know if it was worse when the kids were gone or with you. Being completely alone let the terrible thoughts attack but you didn't want your kids to miss out on having their fathers'.

Calming the oncoming tears, you turned around and asked, "who wants pizza for dinner?"

"YES!" Yelled Mal, a fist punched in the air. Paesha nodded her head enthusiastically while Flick did a little happy dance.

Paesha halted and squinted at you, "Not homemade right?"

After dinner arrived, the four of you sat on the large dark green couch. Your two ex-military dogs, Moth and Teddy, sat on either end of the lounge.

Turning onto the streaming service, you found the exact movie you were looking for. The 2003 version of Peter Pan.

With the lights off (except for the kitchen, the kids were still scared of too much darkness), you watched as one of your cats jumped into Pae's lap. Barnaby started purring instantly. His fluffy white tail settled around his body.

The seven of you settled in. Your four human babies snuggled up to their mama, smiles already on their faces.

When the movie had finished, your kids still wouldn't go to bed.

"Oh wait, I know why it isn't working - we don't have the pixie dust!" Flick pulled on your sleeve with a huge gap-toothed smile.

You had been watching as they jumped around the room. Lights flicked on, bodies flinging from one couch to another.

"I know! But ... we don't have any in the house..." You grumbled.

Paesha was staring dreamily at Peter Pan, a cheek resting against her face. "Where do we get some?" Her head turned slightly to look at you, her eyes nearly heart-shaped.

"Ugh-" god trying to keep childlike wonder alive was bloody difficult. Like a sign from the Universe, your phone started to ring.

All three kids ran over to it, knowing exactly who was calling at this time of night. Swiping the screen, four familiar faces popped up.

"Da! Papa! Dad! Daddy!" Smiling through the screen, the men had been just as eager to see their kids as their kids were to see them.

"Hello little munchkins, ya been good for mum?" Simon greeted first. His mask was off and no black could be found around his eyes. He never showed that side to the children.

"We're going to fly!" Flick chirped, her arms outstretched and running around.

"You're - what?" Price said with a slightly panicked face.

"But we need pixie dust," Malachai explained. Shaking his head like this was obvious information.

"I introduced them to the ... live action Peter Pan," you explained and a smile of regret grew on your tired face.

"Oh honey," Kyle replied, understanding the situation. He was the first of the men to.

"But we don't have any and we have to go buy more!" Pae said while leaning against you.

"Eh, pixie dust ...?" you heard Johnny mumble in the background.

"Oh! I have an idea!" You said with a faked expression, "why don't the Dada's get us the pixie dust!"

The chorus of cheers was heard throughout the house. Alerting the the tired Moth and Teddy.

Kyle shook his head. And Price's nose flared. Mum: 1 - Dads: 0.

"We'll bring back the goddamns finest," Simon said. You couldn't help but let out a small laugh.

"See! You heard Dad! Now get your butts' upstairs and in bed."

"Yes ma'am!" They said in unison (a nickname they'd heard their father's use one too many times.)

Once the kids were upstairs, your face dropped.

"I miss you guys," you whispered into the phone. The tears welling and spilling down your cheeks.

"We miss you too," John said, his words strangled with his feelings.

It was always hard to hang up.

It hurt.

But tonight's farewell felt like the hardest. You could just imagine how the scenario would've played out if their father's were there with them. With you.

'Can't always get what we want,' you thought bitterly.

"Not long now," Kyle said. You stared at his eyes and then his lips. God how much you wanted to kiss him.

"You better make sure you bring back some fucking pixie dust or there'll be a riot."

"Aye, Laswell definitely knows someone-" Johnny replied, giving you a wink. "Miss you gorgeous." He always tried to uplift the mood. And it nearly always worked.

You fought out of your misery, knowing the four soldiers couldn't bear to see you upset. And as they said their goodbyes, you said so in return.

"We love you, our precious wife. We'll all be together soon."

[beloveds-embrace]

duke au angst, but könig isn’t a knight. He’s either not in it and reader just sinks into a pit of depression and withdrawals so much that rumours start speculation around the ton that reader is either dead or murder and it starts to take a toll on john reputation (they start going after why him, simon, johnny and kyle are so close) or a könig is an Austrian duke/way closer to royalty and when he’s over for business with John and/or simon, he and the reader hit it off (much to the boys dismay) and reader plans on leaving without a word, leaving nothing more than a vague letter that details why and a set of divorce papers (helped achieved by könig) and by the time they realise their mistake readers already living the high life in austria

….okay but the first one’s got me downright obsessed, anon 😩 second one too and i feel like i will absolutely end up caving and writing it later but for now, have this!

Angst dukedom post

Non-angst dukedome post(no konig in this one)

No but seriously, there is only so much you can take. Between everyone’s dismissal of you, the lack of any meaningful company, the loneliness- it was only a matter of time before you just… can’t do it anymore.

The change, though it starts slow, is impossible to hide. You stop having dinner with John, finding no solace in the taste of lukewarm, half-heartedly prepared food. You tell yourself it’s not worth it- the stilted conversations, the empty looks, the way his eyes always drift to anything but you. He’s too busy sharing hidden glances with Kyle, exchanging quiet touches with Johnny when he hand delivers the food, speaking to Simon with an intensity that has never been for you.

You stop attending the endless galas and balls you are meant expected to attend as the Duchess. You withdraw from the tea parties, from every suffocating event where you were paraded as nothing more than an ornament on Duke Price’s arm. You withdraw from the public eye itself.

Instead, you drift through the duchy, through the rooms that are suddenly empty when you arrive. You drift to and fro, in a haze of lonelinthat and slow-setting exhaustion.

The maids whispered of you before, but it used to be out of your earshot; now, you can hear them clearly, none of them afraid of being punished when not even your own husband can stand your sight. They mutter about how sickly you look, how your eyes are dull and lifeless.

She’s wasting away.

Maybe it’s for the best.

No one can love someone who fades into the walls.

But of course, the whispers aren’t just within the duchy. Rumors ripple out beyond the duchy’s walls-

The Duchess has gone mad, they say. Locked away by her husband, for her own good.

She ran away in the dead of night, they say. Couldn’t bear her husband’s coldness. Maybe he drove her to it.

He’s always with Duke Riley, isn’t he? Or the butler. Or the chef.

Poor thing. No wonder she vanished.

All of it gnaws and bites at John’s reputation, at yours, but he never comes to you and it doesn’t surprise you at all. He would rather find a way to bury it all then simply check on you. The facade has always been more important, and he keeps it with half-hearted excuses half-believed by some and dismissed by others.

But they are relentless, and soon they taint every interaction he has. No one meets him without a hint of suspicion in their eyes. How much of it is true, they seem to ask. What did you do to her? Is she really gone? She was a good woman, how could you do that to her? There is more scrutiny now on the time he spends with Simon, with Kyle, with Johnny. He starts to avoid public events himself, unwilling to face the relentless gossip that hangs over him now like a dark cloud.

Eventually, you stop dressing for the day, leaving your hair unkempt, your gowns crumpled and out of style. No one comes to check on you, the maids happy at having less work, and you tell yourself that you prefer it that way. No eyes to judge. No lips to lie. The solitude is nothing new, even if it’s never been this severe before.

Time blurs, too. You stop looking at the newspapers when they stop being delivered. The days mean nothing when every morning brings only a new kind of numbness, and some days you spend entirely in bed, too tired to even think about taking a step outside.

Yet, even with your noticeable absence, nothing changes. No one knocks on your door, not even once. No one checks to see if you’re eating, breathing, surviving. You feel so achingly lonely.

John doesn’t approach you once. You have become a specter, more distant than ever. And though he and the others feel a creeping sense of guilt- Kyle finds himself lingering outside your door, only to turn away with clenched fists; Johnny’s jokes die in his throat when he hears your name; Simon stares at the spot you used to take during the dinners and lunches he’d join; John stares at the very few portraits of you that line the walls and wonders how he’d even go about approaching you- none of them move to truly mend the gaping distance between you. They regret their neglect, but they do not know how to fix it. Or maybe they are simply too late.

dukedom au masterlist Part Two: Fix-it

[springtyme]

𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬, 𝐃𝐚𝐝𝐝𝐢𝐞𝐬 ♡

afab/mom!reader x Price, König, Ghost, Gaz, & Soap

tags/warnings: Some angst but mostly fluff, (like, so much fluff!) Pregnancy, mention of birth. Makes more sense if you read part one first, but can easily be read as a stand alone.

word count: 6.3k

Part two of Confessing They Want A Baby

Price ♡

As you stand at the airport gate, holding your little boy in your arms, anticipation and nervousness consume you. This is a day you have looked forward to for a long time—the moment John returns home from deployment. It’s been a long and challenging journey for both of you, especially since John had to leave shortly after you gave birth to your son.

The airport is bustling with people, each lost in their own world of arrivals and departures. You scan the crowd, searching for any sign of John’s familiar face. Your heart skips a beat each time you see a man in uniform, but it’s never him. Doubt begins to creep in, but you quickly push it aside, reminding yourself that he’ll be here soon.

Your little boy squirms in your arms, sensing your restlessness. You adjust his blanket, feeling the warmth of his tiny body against yours. His innocent eyes meet yours, and you smile, finding solace in his presence. He is a constant reminder of the love and strength that binds your little family together.

Just as you’re about to give in to panic, you spot a group of uniformed soldiers making their way towards the gate. Your heart leaps with joy, recognising the SAS emblem on their sleeves. Among them, you catch a glimpse of John’s familiar face, his eyes scanning the crowd. 

“John!” you call out, your voice filled with relief and excitement.

He turns towards you, a wide smile breaking across his face. “Darling!” he exclaims, his voice filled with a mix of exhaustion and joy.

As he finally reaches you, you see the weariness in his eyes. “I missed you so much,” you say, tears welling up in your eyes as your husband’s strong arms embrace you and your little boy.

“I missed you and our little guy too,” he replies, his voice filled with emotion. 

You hold each other tightly, cherishing this long-awaited reunion. At this moment, time stands still as the chaos of the airport fades away. It’s just the three of you, together again, united by love and an unbreakable bond.

“I can’t believe you’re finally home,” you whisper, your voice trembling.

John pulls you even closer, his arms wrapped tightly around you and your son. “I can’t believe it either,” he  murmurs, his voice filled with a mix of relief and disbelief. “But I promised you, didn’t I? I promised I would come back.”

You nod against his chest, the tears flowing freely now. It has been a challenging six months for both of you - the sleepless nights, the endless worry, and the long distance that separated your family. But through it all, you held on to hope, to the love that strengthened your bond. You hands your little boy over to his father, letting him hold him for the first time since he was a newborn 

As John cradles your son in his strong arms, you watch their interaction with a mixture of awe and tenderness. It’s a sight you’ve longed to witness, the connection between father and son. You can see the love and adoration in John’s eyes as he gazes down at your baby boy, his fingers gently tracing the contours of his tiny face.

The fatigue from his journey is evident, but it doesn’t dampen his spirits. John’s smile remains unwavering as he looks up at you, his voice filled with gratitude. “Thank you for taking care of our little man while I was away,” he says, his voice filled with emotion. “You’ve done an amazing job, love.”

Tears stream down your face as you watch the two most important people in your life bond in this precious moment. You can’t help but feel a sense of overwhelming joy and relief. The weight of the past months slowly lifts from your shoulders, replaced by a renewed sense of hope and happiness.

“He is so wonderful, John,” you say, your voice filled with awe. “He’s grown so much since you last saw him.”

John’s eyes well up with tears as he continues to hold your son. “He has, I can’t believe how much I’ve missed,” he admits, his voice choked with emotion. “But I promise, I’ll make up for lost time.”

You smile, feeling the warmth of his words. “We are just happy to have you back again,” you assure him. 

John looks at you, his eyes filled with determination. “I’m not going away again, love, I’m retiring from fieldwork, I should have done that a long time ago, should have done that when we married,” he says, his voice filled with determination and relief. “I want to be here with you and our boy, to build a life together that we’ve always dreamed of.” 

Tears of joy fill your eyes as you embrace this news. The thought of having John by your side, no longer having to endure the hardships and uncertainties of deployment, fills your heart with an indescribable sense of happiness and peace.

“I couldn’t be happier to hear that,” you say, your voice filled with emotion. “God, John, I’ve missed you so much.”

John smiles, as he transfers your son back into your arms, a soft and tender smile that shows how much he longed for this moment as well. His strong, protective arms sneaking around you and your boy, holding you both close. “I’ve missed you both more than words can express,” he whispers, his voice filled with love.

As you leave the airport, the weight of the past months begins to lift. With your baby boy in your arms and John by your side, you walk towards a new chapter, grateful for the strength and resilience that has brought you here.

König ♡

You let out a tired groan as you stare into the fridge. It’s 2:43 at night and you can’t sleep. You’re feeling hot and uncomfortable, and now you’re also hungry. 

You’re so done with being pregnant, having to waddle around like a penguin, your feet and back always hurting, your ankles constantly swollen, and not being able to see your own feet anymore. The weight gain feels like a burden you can’t escape, and you yearn for the days when you could move freely and comfortably and you still have two months left of this, despite looking like you could pop any minute. 

You’re pretty sure you’re already the same size as your colleague was at full term, but you also have two in there, and it doesn’t really help either that the father of your babies is a bloody mountain of a man. 

You’re always tired, and if you’re not tired then you’re hungry. König is taking good care of you though, making sure you have everything you need and indulging your cravings whenever possible. He’s been incredibly supportive throughout the pregnancy, always reminding you how beautiful you are and assuring you that he loves every inch of you, baby bump included. 

But none of that is really able to comfort you at this moment. You are so looking forward to finally meeting your little ones, and having all this pregnancy stuff be over with, but having to go through this for two more months seems like an eternity. You are so tired and you hate that you don’t feel like yourself. Your hormones are all over the place and you find yourself constantly on edge. The smallest things can set off a wave of emotions, leaving you in tears one moment and irritated the next. It’s frustrating, knowing that you can’t control these sudden shifts in mood, and you can’t help but feel like a stranger in your own body. 

There is nothing in the fridge that seems appetising to you, despite it being well stocked, and you feel how  tears are beginning to well up in your eyes. The overwhelming mix of exhaustion, discomfort, and hunger is getting the best of you. You’re just about to let out a measly sob but instead you let out a surprised shriek as a pair of big, strong arms sneak around your body. The shriek turns into a relieved sigh as Königs big palms settle at the underside of your belly, gently lifting up your heavy bump. You instantly feel the relief in your sore back.   

König’s deep voice whispers soothingly in your ear. “I woke up and you weren’t in bed. Are you okay?” 

You lean back into König’s embrace, grateful for his strong presence, both physically and emotionally. “I just couldn’t sleep,” you mutter, trying to mask the maelstrom of feelings you’re having, but failing, your voice shaking with emotion. 

“You could have woken me,” he says softly, pressing a kiss to the top of your head. You can feel his warmth behind you, his calming presence bringing a sense of comfort to your tired body.

“I didn’t want to disturb you,” you reply, your voice barely above a whisper. “You need rest too.”

König’s hands continue to support your belly, his touch gentle yet firm. “Schatz, you are carrying our children,” he reminds you, his voice full of love and adoration. “Your well-being is my top priority.”

Tears blur your vision as his words wash over you, and you find yourself choked up with gratitude for this man who has been your rock throughout this pregnancy. He’s gone above and beyond to make sure you feel loved and cared for, even when the weight of it all feels overwhelming.

With a small sigh, you turn your body around to face him, resting your head against his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat against your cheek. He holds you tighter, but still being careful of your bump as he leans down to place a tender kiss on your forehead.

“I’m just so tired,” you admit, your voice trembling with exhaustion. “I feel so exhausted and uncomfortable all the time. I miss feeling like myself, and I’m tired of being so emotional. I just want this pregnancy to be over.”

König rubs circles on your back, his touch providing a soothing rhythm. “I understand,” he murmurs, his words filled with empathy. “But remember, meine Liebe, you’re growing two beautiful lives within you. Your strength is immeasurable. And when they are finally here, all of this will be worth it.” 

“Yeah, it will,” you agree. Despite all the tears, sleepless nights and sore muscles, it really is going to be worth it in the end. You take a deep breath, trying to gather yourself. “I just... I don’t feel like myself anymore,” you whisper, your voice breaking slightly. “Everything feels so different. I know it’s for a good cause, but still…”

König’s arms tighten around you, providing a sense of security. “I know it’s been tough for you,” he says softly, his voice filled with understanding. “But please remember that you can always talk to me.”

He wipes away a stray tear from your cheek and leans down to place another gentle kiss on your forehead. “I may not fully understand what you’re going through, but I will always be here to listen and support you,” he assures, his voice filled with love and reassurance.  

You are just about to answer him when you’re cut off by the beeps of the open fridge behind you. König releases his hold on you to push the fridge door close but his arms find you again as soon as the door shuts. 

“We don’t have any food, by the way,” you murmur into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. 

König chuckles softly, his deep voice rumbling against your cheek. “I don’t know if that’s really true, Schatz.” 

“Well, we don’t have the right food,” you retort, letting out a small sigh. König’s arms tighten around you, bringing you closer to him. 

“Would ice cream be the right kind of food right now?”

“It would, but we don’t have any,” you sigh, nuzzling yourself into his broad chest. 

“Yes, we do,” he hums. “I bought some more yesterday.” 

Your eyes widen in surprise as you look up at him, a mixture of disbelief and delight washing over you. “Really?” you ask, a glimmer of hope in your voice. 

“Yeah,” he chuckles, clearly amused by your reaction. “I knew you’d crave it sooner or later, so I stocked up.” You can’t help but smile at his thoughtfulness as König releases you from his embrace and walks over to the freezer, rummaging around before emerging with a tub of your favourite ice cream flavour.

He returns to you, a triumphant smile on his face, and hands you the tub of ice cream along with a spoon. You can’t help but let out a small laugh, feeling a wave of gratitude wash over you. 

“Thank you, König,” you say sincerely, taking the tub of ice cream from him. “You always know how to make things better.”

He smiles warmly, his eyes filled with love and adoration. “It’s the least I can do, my love,” he replies, leaning down to press a tender kiss to your temple. “Seeing you happy and comforted is all I want.”

You waddle into the living room and settle back into the sofa, snuggled close into König’s side, and as you take your first bite of ice cream, snuggled up against the giant man beside you, you can feel the stress and exhaustion slowly melting away, as you rest your head on his broad shoulder.. 

As you continue to eat, König wraps his arms around you, his presence providing a comforting stability. The two of you chat softly, sharing light-hearted moments and making plans for the future. It feels like a respite from the weight of the pregnancy, and you find yourself able to let go, even just for a little while.

You’re so grateful for this moment of solace and for the unwavering support König has shown you throughout the pregnancy. Together, you finish the tub of ice cream, savouring every last bite. As you place the empty container aside, König pulls you closer, his arms enveloping you in a warm embrace.

“Thank you for being there for me,” you whisper, feeling a sense of peace wash over you.

He presses a gentle kiss to your temple, his voice filled with love and tenderness. “Always, meine Liebe. Always.”

Ghost ♡

As you sit in the car, your heart swells with a mix of emotions. The exhaustion from giving birth to your beautiful baby girl still lingers, but so does the overwhelming joy and love that fills every inch of your being. Next to you, Simon grips the steering wheel tightly, his knuckles turning white as he slowly drives the car forward at a much slower pace than the speed limit. The weight of responsibility rests heavily on his shoulders, and you can see the mixture of excitement and nervousness in his brown eyes.

You can’t help but smile as you look at him, his blond hair tousled and his strong jawline set with determination. You reach over and place your hand on his, intertwining your fingers. “We’re really parents now,”  you say softly, the reality of it sinking in. 

Simon glances at you, his lips curling into a tender smile. “Yeah, we are,” he replies, his voice filled with both awe and disbelief. “I can’t believe she’s ours.”

“I can, she looks so much like you,” you say with a soft smile on your lips, constantly stealing glances at the tiny bundle of joy in the rearview mirror, marvelling at her delicate features.

As the car moves along the familiar streets towards home, you can’t help but notice how the people outside are going about their daily routine, seemingly completely oblivious to the life-altering event that has just taken place in your little world. The inside of the car being your own little cocoon of love. You can’t help but reflect on the journey that brought you here. From the moment you found out you were pregnant and telling Simon, to the hours of labour and delivery, it’s been a whirlwind of emotions and anticipation. And now, you’re finally taking your little girl home, to start a new chapter of your lives together.  

As you pull into the driveway, Simon turns off the engine and looks at you, his eyes filled with a mix of love and concern. He unbuckles his seatbelt and reaches over to unbuckle yours, his touch gentle yet reassuring. “Are you okay?” he asks softly, his worry evident in his voice.

You smile gratefully at him, nodding your head. “I’m tired, but I’m okay,” you reply honestly. “Just a little sore and adjusting to everything.”

Simon nods understandingly, his thumb gently brushing over your cheekbone. “You were amazing,” he whispers, his voice filled with admiration. “I’m so proud of you.”

Tears well up in your eyes at his words, overwhelmed by the love and support he continues to provide. Becoming parents had not been planned, but it was the best surprise life had thrown at you.  

Simon opens the car door and steps out, walking around the car and opening your door, extending his hand to help you out as well. As you step onto the pavement, you take a moment to soak in the warmth of the sun and the scent of blooming flowers in the air. It really feels like a perfect day to bring your little girl home. 

Together, you make your way to the backseat. In the car seat lies your beautiful baby girl, fast asleep with tiny, peaceful breaths. You can’t help but marvel at her, feeling a newfound sense of protectiveness and love wash over you.

With carefully coordinated movements, you lift your daughter into your arms, cradling her close to your chest. Simon stands beside you, his hand resting on your back as you both walk towards the front door.

Inside the house, you’re greeted by an excited bark as Riley, your furry family member, rushes to see the new addition to the pack. Simon gently scoops up your baby girl, cradling her in his arms, and introduces her to her four-legged sibling, making sure that Riley doesn’t lick or touch the baby, despite seemingly being very eager to do so. You watch with a mixture of love and pride as Simon gently guides Riley’s sniffs and licks away from your precious bundle, ensuring both the safety of your newborn and the happiness of the overjoyed German Shepherd. 

As the introductions between Riley and your baby girl continue, you take a moment to admire the scene before you. The bond between Simon and Riley is undeniable, and seeing them both showering your daughter with love fills your heart with warmth. You can already tell that they will be inseparable companions as she grows up.

As the initial excitement settles down, and your little girl has been changed and fed, you make your way to the nursery, where everything has been prepared with utmost care and love. Soft pastel colours adorn the walls, and a cosy rocking chair sits in the corner, ready to cradle you and your little one during those late-night feedings. Simon follows you quietly, his eyes still filled with awe and disbelief.

Gently, you settle your baby girl into the crib, ensuring she is comfortable and at ease. Simon watches every movement, his expression a mix of tenderness and protectiveness. Simon wraps his arms around you from behind, his warmth and presence offering you solace and support, and together, you stand beside the crib, gazing down at your sleeping angel. “We created something beautiful, didn’t we?” he whispers into your ear, his deep voice filled with awe and wonder.

Tears of overwhelming happiness escape from your eyes as you look at the little sleeping girl. “Yes, we did,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper.

Simon gently rests his chin on top of your head, his grip on you tightening slightly. “I never thought I would have this,” he confesses, his voice filled with sincerity. “I never thought I could deserve something so precious.”

You turn around in his embrace, tears streaming down your cheeks, and look into his eyes, filled with love and gratitude. “Simon, you deserve everything,” you say softly, your voice filled with emotion.  

Simon’s eyes well up with tears as well, and he presses his forehead against yours, his thumb gently wiping away your tears. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice filled with so much love it almost takes your breath away. “And I will spend the rest of my life making sure you both know how loved and cherished you are.”

You lean in and capture his lips in a tender, heartfelt kiss, sealing your love and commitment to each other and to your little family. In that moment, as your lips meet and the world fades away, you know that everything will be alright. As you break the kiss, you rest your forehead against Simon’s chest, relishing in the closeness and connection you share. “I love you too,” you whisper, your voice filled with an unwavering certainty. 

“Thank you for having given me this, sweetheart,” Simon whispers, his voice choked with emotion.

You look up at Simon, a soft smile playing on your lips. “You’re welcome,” you say sincerely. “I couldn’t wish for a better man to do this with.”

Simon pulls you into a tighter embrace. He leans down and kisses the top of your head. “I wouldn’t have wanted to go on this journey with anyone else,” he murmurs, his voice filled with warmth and sincerity. You close your eyes, resting your head against his chest again, feeling the steady beat of his heart against your cheek.  

As you stand there, wrapped in each other’s arms, the room fills with a peaceful silence. The sound of your baby’s gentle breaths lulls you into a state of tranquillity, and you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of contentment and gratitude for everything that has brought you to this moment.

With a newfound sense of peace, you both turn your attention back to your daughter, who is still sleeping soundly in her crib. The room is filled with a serene calmness, and you can’t help but marvel at the little miracle that is your daughter, and the love you and Simon share.

Gaz ♡

“Babe!” your voice echoes through the flat. “Babe, quick, quick, come!” 

“What, what! Is everything okay!?” Kyle comes running into the living room, his eyes blown wide as he looks at you with a worried expression. He has always been a little overprotective when it comes to you, but it has reached a whole new level after you found out you were pregnant. 

Now, at a little over four months, you have started to show, not by a whole lot but enough for you to finally look pregnant, which only has made Kyle’s protective instincts kick into even higher gear, he won’t even let you carry your own purse when you walk up the stairs to your flat anymore, you can’t even imagine how he’ll be when you enter your third trimester, but you know that he only means well, and you do find it cute how much he worries about you and the baby. He is so excited to be a dad and you love seeing him embrace this new role. 

You can’t believe that it was only a year ago he accidentally confessed that he wanted to have a family with you, and last week you found out that you’re having a little baby boy. The sonogram of your little bean now hangs on the fridge and you have caught Kyle looking at them with a mixture of awe and anticipation many times throughout the past week. It warms your heart to see the love and excitement radiating from him whenever he catches a glimpse of those sonograms.

But now, as you beckon him urgently, his worry is etched all over his face. You take a deep breath, trying to calm your racing heart before speaking. “He kicked!” you exclaim, your voice filled with a mix of excitement and disbelief. Both your hands placed at your slightly protruding belly you look up at him with teary eyes and a smile threatening to split your face in half . 

Kyle’s worried expression instantly turns into one of sheer amazement. He takes a step closer to you, his hand trembling as he reaches out to touch your belly.

“He kicked?” Kyle repeats, his voice filled with awe.

You nod, your own excitement beginning to overflow. “Yes, just now! It was like a little flutter, but it was definitely a kick!” you confirm, feeling another surge of emotion welling up inside you. This moment, this connection with your baby, it’s everything you’ve been waiting for. “Our little guy is definitely making his presence known.”

Kyle’s eyes well up with tears as he gently rests his hand on your belly. He places a soft kiss on your forehead, his voice filled with overwhelming joy. “That’s our boy, already letting us know he’s here. I can’t believe it.”

You wrap your arms around Kyle, feeling a surge of happiness flowing through both of you. It’s a moment you’ve been eagerly awaiting, the first tangible connection with your unborn child. The months leading up to this point have been filled with anticipation and wonder, and now, with this simple kick, it feels like everything is falling into place.

As you both stand there, basking in the joy of the moment, you can’t help but reflect on how far you’ve come. From that accidental confession a year ago to now experiencing the first movements of your baby, it feels like such a beautiful journey of love and growth that is just about to grow even deeper.

“He’s going to be so loved, Kyle,” you say softly, your voice filled with tenderness as you look deeply into his eyes. “And he’s going to have the best dad in the world.”

Kyle’s face lights up with a mix of emotions - pride, happiness, and a touch of nervousness. “I hope I can live up to that,” he admits, his voice tinged with humility. “But I promise you, I will always strive to be the best father I can be. Our little boy will never doubt how much he is loved.”

You lean in closer, brushing your lips against his in a gentle kiss. “I have no doubt about that,” you whisper, feeling overwhelmed with love for both Kyle and the baby growing inside you.

Kyle chuckles as you break the kiss, a mixture of pride and adoration shining in his eyes. “And he’s going to have the most amazing mom, someone who will love and protect him every step of the way.”

With a smile, you rest your hand on top of Kyle’s, pressing it gently against your belly. “We created this little miracle together,” you say, your voice filled with awe. “And now, we get to watch him grow and I can’t wait to witness the beautiful person he will become.”

Kyle’s eyes never leave your face as he listens to your words. “I can’t wait either, thank you so much for giving me this, I’m so grateful for you,” he says sincerely, his voice laced with emotion.

You are just about to open your mouth to answer him, to tell him how grateful you are to have him, but you stop up your eyes widening with surprise, Kyle’s beautiful mahogany eyes mirroring yours. Your little boy just kicked again, this time even stronger than before and his tiny foot had aligned perfectly with where Kyle’s palm is resting against your tummy.   

You both gasp in amazement, feeling the undeniable connection between you two and your son. It’s as if your souls have already intertwined, creating a bond that will last a lifetime. Tears stream down your face as you witness the look on Kyle’s face as he feels his baby move for the first time, overwhelmed with emotions you can’t quite put into words.

A mixture of awe and disbelief radiates from Kyle’s expression as he looks down at your belly, feeling the strength of your son’s kick against his hand. “Did he just..?” he whispers, his voice filled with a mixture of wonder and excitement.

You nod, tears of joy streaming down your face. “Yeah, he did,” you reply, your voice trembling with emotion. “I think our little boy wanted to say hi to his daddy,” you sniffle.

A radiant smile spreads across Kyle’s face, his love and amazement shining in his eyes. “Is that right, buddy?” he says, his voice full of affection. “You’re already showing us how strong and determined you are. We’re so proud of you, little one.”

He kneels down in front of you, placing gentle kisses on your belly. He whispers sweet words to his unborn son, promising to be the best dad he can be and vowing to protect him with all his might. It’s a beautiful sight, and it makes your love for him grow even stronger.

In this moment, you know that the love between you and Kyle will only continue to grow, nurtured by the beautiful bond you are forming with your unborn child. And as you stand there, you can’t help but feel an overwhelming sense of gratitude for the incredible journey you are embarking on as parents. 

Soap ♡

You stand at the threshold of the living room, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as you take in the heartwarming scene before you. The last sunlight of the day spills through the window, casting a gentle glow across the room, and there, on the middle of the carpet stands Johnny, tenderly cradling your precious little two-month-old daughter in his strong arms. 

You watch as Johnny softly hums a lullaby, his voice soothing and comforting as he gently sways back and forth. Your daughter, oblivious to the world around her, nestles contently against his broad chest, her tiny fingers curling around his shirt.

Mesmerised by the enchanting sight, you lean against the doorway, your heart swelling with an indescribable joy. You drink in every detail, the way your boyfriend’s eyes sparkle with adoration as he gazes upon the tiny being in his arms, the way his fingers carefully trace the delicate features of her tiny face.

The warmth in your heart fills your entire being as you witness the immense love and adoration Johnny has for your little girl. It’s a sight that makes you realise just how lucky you are to have him by your side. The way he handles her with such care and tenderness reassures you that your daughter is safe and thriving, and that you chose the best man in the world to be the father of your child. 

The three of you are staying at Johnny’s parents house for the night. There had been a big family gathering earlier in the day, but now the last guests have left. Only you, your daughter, Johnny and his parents are left in the house, but the joyful atmosphere from the gathering lingers in the air, still infused with laughter and love. It had been the first time that a lot of Johnny’s extended family had met your daughter, and the love and excitement they had showered upon her had made your heart swell with gratitude. 

Johnny had been so proud as he introduced his daughter to everyone, beaming with pride as he showed off her tiny fingers and button nose. 

Johnny’s nephews, who have seen her multiple times before, absolutely loves her, already wanting to play with her, and showering her with affection. Noah and Oliver had taken turns holding her, their joyful laughter filling the room as they interacted with the newest member of their family. Even little Alfie, at only a year and half, had been curious about her, clearly intrigued by seeing a human even smaller than himself. It was truly adorable, and you and Hannah, Johnny’s sister in law, had laughed heartily at their interactions.     

As you stand there in the doorway, taking in the beautiful moment between Johnny and your daughter, you feel a warmth in your heart that is unmatched. It’s moments like these that make you appreciate just how fortunate you are to have Johnny by your side.

Suddenly, you hear a soft rustling sound, and you turn your head to see Johnny’s mother, Teresa, quietly walks up next to you. The smile on her face mirrors your own as she watches her son bonding with his little girl. She gently places a hand on your arm.

“Isn’t it just incredible?” she whispers, her voice filled with awe and joy. “She is so wonderful. You must be so proud, my dear.”

You meet Teresa’s eyes, feeling a lump forming in your throat. The love and admiration that shines in her gaze mirrors your own feelings. “I am,” you reply, your voice barely a whisper. “I know I’m biassed as her mother, but she really is the most wonderful little girl in the world. And I truly couldn’t have asked for a better father for her. Johnny has been so amazing.”

Teresa nods, her hand tightening ever so slightly on your arm as she looks back at Johnny, a proud and tender smile gracing her lips. “He’s always had a big heart, but seeing him with his own child... it’s something truly special.”

You both watch in comfortable silence as Johnny continues to sway and hum, apparently unaware that he has an audience, the room fills with the enchanting melody. The love in the air is palpable, and you can’t help but feel overwhelmed with gratitude for this precious moment. Taking a deep breath, you turn to Teresa and speak softly, “Thank you for raising such an incredible son. I really couldn’t have asked for a better family to become a part of.”

Teresa’s eyes well up with tears, and she pulls you into a warm embrace. Her voice is filled with emotion as she whispers, “No, my dear, thank you. Thank you for bringing so much happiness into Johnny’s life, and ours. You are truly a blessing, dear.”

You hold each other for a moment, basking in the love that surrounds your little family. As you break away from the embrace, you glance back at Johnny, still lost in the world of fatherhood with your sleeping daughter in his arms.

As the late evening sets in, and you and Johnny have bid his parents goodnight, you retreat to the guest room. The soft glow of the bedside lamp casts a warm light on the room, creating a cosy atmosphere. You gently lay your daughter down in her travel crib, careful not to wake her from her peaceful slumber. Johnny, still beaming with love and adoration, watches the two of you with a tender smile.

Once your daughter is settled, and you and Johnny have changed and brushed your teeth, you climb into bed, snuggling close to each other.

As you lay there, Johnny reaches over and intertwines his fingers with yours. He leans in to press a soft kiss against your forehead. “I love you,” he whispers, his voice filled with a mix of affection and gratitude. You smile, feeling the same emotions swell within your heart.

“I love you too,” you reply, your voice filled with tenderness. “And I love our little girl.”

Johnny pulls you closer, his embrace comforting and reassuring. “I couldn’t ask for anything more,” he says, his voice sincere. “Everyone really loves her, huh?”

You nod with a smile, the room filled with a gentle warmth. “Yes, everyone adores her. They have good taste.”

Johnny chuckles softly, his laughter filling the room with a sense of joy. “Well, who can blame them? She is truly something special.” He brushes his thumb against the back of your hand, his touch sending shivers down your spine. “I never thought I would get her back from Maighread,” he chuckles, his voice filled with a mixture of amusement and adoration. You laugh softly, recalling how Johnny’s aunt had playfully refused to give your daughter back after holding her for the first time, claiming that she was too sweet not to keep. 

“I have to say, I’m glad she finally handed her over,” you tease, playfully nudging Johnny’s side. 

He grins, his eyes twinkling mischievously. “Yeah, she put up quite the fight. But I prevailed in the end.”

You both share a moment of lighthearted laughter before the atmosphere turns more tender. Johnny’s expression softens as he gazes into your eyes, his voice filled with unspoken love. “I’m so grateful for you, and for our daughter. I never knew I could feel this much happiness.”

You reach up and gently cup Johnny’s cheek, your touch conveying all the love and gratitude that fills your heart. “I feel the same way,” you whisper, your voice filled with sincerity. “Having you, and our little girl, has brought so much joy and meaning into my life. I couldn’t imagine it any other way.”

Johnny’s eyes shimmer with unshed tears, his voice cracking with emotion. “I promise to always be there for you both, to protect and love you with everything I have. You two are my entire world.”

Tears well up in your own eyes as you lean in, pressing a gentle kiss to Johnny’s lips. The air is filled with an electric mix of love, contentment, and a promise for a future filled with happiness. As you lay there, wrapped in each other’s embrace, you silently savour the moment, knowing that this love, this bond, is something truly extraordinary. You drift off to sleep, grateful for the blessing of having each other and excited for all the beautiful moments that lie ahead for your little family.

Thank you for reading! Comments and reblogs are always greatly appreciated 💕

[miss-vanta-likes-to-write]

I'm not over Price's Widow, so I'm subjecting you all to it as well. Continuation to this right here

"Was he alone?" She asked quietly.

"No, we were with him till the end, ma'am." Kyle says softly as he sits next to her. He's turned fully facing her. He wants to cry himself but knows that won't do her any good.

She closes her eyes, her hand clutching onto his hat. Her tears kept falling silently, and she stopped her gut-wrenching, pain filled screams and cries only twenty minutes ago. Kyle can still hear them echoing in his thoughts. Such a mournful sound, it's going to stay with him more than the echoes of gun fire and bombs. Her hand, the one trying to self soothe by rubbing her stomach, is trembling.

Simon is still as statue. He won't come further into the cozy living room. He blames himself for Captain not coming home, and he doesn't feel like he has a right to be here trying to comfort his friend's widow. It doesn't matter if he's told it's not his fault and it doesn't matter that Mrs. Price insisted he could sit down in the living room with them.

JoJo has taken a liking to Soap, and the kid is completely oblivious to the life changing news that was just dropped. Little baby keeps pulling on his mohawk and babbling nonsensical words. It then dawns on all of them, really, that Mrs. Price is going to be raising Jojo and the new baby by herself. She's going to be alone during her pregnancy and suffering through grief and post-partum, a time when she's most vulnerable by herself.

None of them can have that.

Her voice cracks, "I'm glad you were all with him. I know you three were his boys. He talked about you so much, he loved you all so much. If there's anything you need, please let me know."

And the lump in Kyle's throat feels like it's closing up because of course Mrs. Price is a good woman, a doting wife, and cares for the three men who couldn't get their Captain - her husband - help in time. She's offering to look after his team during their time of grief, too, despite being thrown head first into a reality that was talked about but never thought to be a true possibility. He briefly wonders if John told her he'd be back before she could miss him. He knows the cup cakes on the kitchen counter with the pink and blue sprinkles were supposed to be his welcome home present. Captain John Price was supposed to be surprised with news of another baby. The man was robbed of this reality, and his wife left with just his hat and dog tags and the date that his body would be at the morgue.

"Thank you for stopping by." She moves to get up, but her hand is gently grabbed by Kyle's. "Yes?"

"Would you like us to stay for a while?" He asks. He's hoping she lets them stay, even if she only wants them on the front porch the second she becomes angry that they couldn't bring her husband back safely. He doesn't want to leave her alone with Jojo, alone to grieve by herself. They promised they'd take care of her, that promise is the only thing keeping all three of them steady.

So when Mrs. Price nods her head she looks at all of them. "Stay for as long as you need."

[homeofthelonelywriter]

Night Sky

(A/N) Drunk Simon...I love him.

Pairing: Simon x Reader (no Y/N)

Warning: mentions of alcohol, Simon being drunk and freaking adorable

Synopsis: A rare moment that the Reader and Simon just get to enjoy.

A knock woke you from your slumber on the living room couch. You looked around, confused about where you were and how you’d woken up. The TV was still running in the background as you grabbed your phone to check the time. A bright 11:21 blinded you as another knock echoed through the house.

“Coming. Coming!”

You stumbled to your feet and slowly made your way to the front door while trying to rub the sleep from your eyes. Who the hell would knock on your door so late? You hesitated for a second, wondering if you maybe should grab your husband’s gun in case it was not just the neighbor who had locked himself out again. But now you were already standing before the front door, you might as well open it.

“Wha-?”

The word died on your tongue as you came face to face with Price. A sight that you’d always been afraid of and for a moment panic gripped your heart. But then you remembered, they had gone to a pub earlier that night. They hadn’t just come back from a mission, so there was no way something had happened to Simon. Right?

“Where is he?”

Price chuckled and stepped to the side so you could see what was going on behind him. There was your husband, lying in the grass with Soap and Gaz standing over him. He was pointing at the night sky, mumbling something incoherent. It was clear that he was wasted. In no other state would you find Simon just lying on the ground.

“Do I want to know what happened?”

Price shook his head, a bright smile on his face.

“No, but he is all yours now, sweetheart.”

You smiled yourself as you shook your head in slight disbelief before you grabbed your keys and walked outside, closing the door behind you. As you ventured closer, both Gaz and Soap looked up and smiled at you.

“Thanks for bringing him home, boys.”

They all nodded and bid their goodbyes before leaving. As soon as they were gone, you laid down next to Simon and grabbed one of his hands, interlacing your fingers. That got his attention and he looked at you, his eyes widening once he recognized you.

“Luv.”

He sounded so excited as he slurred the word, making you chuckle and roll over to face him properly.

“Hi, Si.”

He grinned, his usual mask gone, an unusual sight outside the house. He too rolled over and quickly wrapped both arms around your waist, before rolling back onto his back. A surprised squeak escaped your lips before you started to giggle as you were now lying on top of your husband.

You looked at your husband as he gazed back at you as if you were the most precious thing in the world. A grin spread on your lips as you held eye contact.

“Hi.”

It was only a whisper, but Simon’s ears easily picked it up.

“Hi.”

You smiled at him, before lowering your head against his chest, a content sigh leaving your lips. His arms around you tightened and for some time all you two did was lay there and cuddle underneath the night sky.

Moments like these were rare with Simon. His trauma often prevented him from enjoying the simple things in life, so you were set to enjoy it even more. But soon the cold started to seep through the small amount of clothes you were wearing and shivers started to run through your body.

“Si? Can we go inside? I’m cold.”

His head snapped to look at you and while his eyes still held adoration, they now looked determined. For what exactly, you didn’t know. With a nod, he quickly scrambled to his feet while still holding onto you. He expertly shifted you, so that he was carrying you bridal style into the house, opening the door and kicking it shut behind himself.

You giggled as he quickly went up the stairs, taking them two at a time. Within a few seconds, you were in your bedroom and Simon gently sat you down on the edge of the bed, before he started to strip. If he weren’t drunk you wouldn’t have been able to not enjoy the show. But now you were rather concerned since he seemed to get stuck with every piece of clothing.

With a light chuckle, you got to your feet and gently helped your man out of his clothes. Once he was only wearing his boxers, you led him to his side of the bed and told him to lie down, while you quickly grabbed some water and pain meds for him. By the time you returned to the room, he was already softly snoring, sleeping peacefully. The sight painted a smile on your lips and you couldn’t help but just stand there and look at him for a few moments.

Once you were sure you could never forget that view, you laid down next to him, cuddling up against the behemoth of a man. And with a content smile on your lips, you fell asleep next to the love of your life.

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Call of Duty - Masterlist

Master-Masterlist

[auspicioustidings]

Based on this. You are in Finland full of self-loathing and the 141 needs a fat wife if they want to win some beer.

You aren't exactly on holiday in Finland. It should be your honeymoon but since you caught your groom balls deep in your maid of honour you instead have used it as an escape from the country. You just cannot be around the people you love right now, can't have them all look at you with all that pity. Even worse is that some of them probably don't even blame him. Your former best friend is a size 8, perfect hourglass figure. Your former partner is trim and decently fit. They look like they belong together more than you and him ever did.

You hate yourself. You hate looking in the mirror. You hate how clothes fit you. You deserved it you think.

"Not a chance MacTavish, that's my wife!"

"Away and biel yer heid, I saw her first!"

"Actually I saw her first!"

"I outrank all of you muppets so I think you'll find that is my wife!"

It's a racket in the little cafe but you don't pay much mind, still just staring out the window and wondering if you could ever deserve anything. One of the servers comes to take your empty cup and grins at you, telling you in her heavy accent that she would personally go for the one with the mask since he's the biggest. You don't understand when you look around and there are a lot of locals smiling happily over at you while four Greek Gods of men are having a scuffle, moving slowly in your direction. More people chip in, arguing about who you should pick, some lamenting that they would claim you themselves if they thought they could.

One big man does try, basically some Viking God, but he's playfully (you hope it's playful) spear tackled by the man with the mohawk before he laughs and backs off.

When Gaz with warmed cheeks and excitement in his eyes gets to you while Soap is busy with the viking and Ghost and Price are wrestling one another he asks if you'd do him the honour of being his wife. You nearly choke, but he explains that the wife carrying competition is today. You look around, bewildered, ask him why he wouldn't pick any of the other women in here given that they are all gorgeous slim things.

"Fuck all use to us, need a nice soft bird with lots of fat" says the man in the mask.

Price scowls and whacks his lieutenant upside the head because he sees how you look a second away from crying.

"You're gorgeous sweetheart, he didn't mean anything by it. The prize is the wife's weight in beer though, so he's right about a little lady not being much use."

You don't know what to say. You don't know if this is mortifying or not given that everyone around you seems to not be looking at you with sneers or laughing at you, but instead looking with soft smiles that convey fondness. They think this is adorable.

"Dinnae listen tae their nice soft birds and sweethearts! I'll be a better husband bonnie. I'm shorter aye bit look at the power in these legs, naw going tae drop ye. And I'll split that beer 50/50!"

And then they're arguing. The four of them are arguing and trying to put forward a case to you about why they would be the best husband. When it starts to get raunchy, you fluster and stop them. But fluster is something. It's not self loathing. It's been weeks since you felt anything but self loathing. So even though you are sure everyone can feel the heat rolling off of you in waves at how bashful you are under so much attention from such attractive men, you pick one (the others are devastated but vow that you're only a wife for the competition, that after they should get another shot at convincing you that they're the best option).

And they do. Even though the man you picked doesn't win (gets DQ'd actually since you are heavy and he decided that you were getting over that damn finish line so the four of them took turns) they take you out for drinks after. You think you feel humiliated that they couldn't carry you a long distance, but you don't have time to sit with the feeling because they drown it out with how warm and giddy they make you feel.

They insist that they will compete next year, so you have 365 days to pick a husband. When you make a quiet comment about how you'll lose weight by then so they can carry you the whole way, they nearly riot as they assure you that they would be a shit pick for husband if they didn't spent the year getting stronger so they can carry you just how you are. Plus they'll not be losing any beer thank you very much.

By the time the next wife carrying competition rolls around you are a different person. You're wearing clothes that fit instead of trying to hide your body. You laugh and flirt back with the barista instead of assuming they are making fun of you by flirting. And you don't care if your husband makes it over the finish line, just that you have fun and laugh and joke about the attempt. Of course it's not entirely certain who that husband is yet, got to keep them on their toes after all.