#Mrs. Saint Writes

[wide-nose-and-wonderful]

SNOWFALL SEASON 3 Franklin.

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black Fem Reader!

Warnings/Type: Established Relationship. Hurt, Comfort, A little bit of Fluff, Use of the n-word. Prequel to RockABye Saint. ONE SHOT!

Summary: You loved your brother Leon dearly, but damn could he be super over protective! No guy you brought home to meet your mom or talked to was ever good enough for you according to Leon. Hm. Not even a childhood friend who went by the name, Franklin Saint? Never in a million years would you consider it. Well, until one night. 

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Had there been any way to get in touch with Leon, you would have called him to pick you back up. He and Eva were likely already at their destination by now. Wherever that might be. You never got around to asking about his plans for the evening, too preoccupied with the concerns of a now ex boyfriend for any useful details that might have helped the situation. Damn the cloudiness of your thoughts, and damn Darnell.

The direction in which you faced seemed ominous. The walk home would be a long one, descending the almost pitch black street with a gown you hugged to your chest like a childhood security blanket. Your single benefit of protection. One that had failed you. 

For weeks, you saved the bit of money you’d gotten from your part-time job at the ice cream shop in order to get the one that caught your eye. The first time you tried it on, you felt like you were stepping out of the pages of some fairytale where princesses and knights lived. The color sat breathtakingly against your skin tone, and most importantly, a result of your own effort. No help from your mother, and not Leon, who held his disdain for Darnell since the first day you’d introduced them. Funny how, after tonight, you would carry that same sentiment. 

The argument, which happened no less than twenty minutes before, persisted, playing like a never-ending VHS tape on repeat, and you understood all too well why fictional stories were confined to the pages of books. 

“Liar. Didn’t even have the decency to cover your tracks! How long were you fucking her? Be man enough to at least tell me!” 

Anger stirred within you, which undoubtedly caused you to lose control for a brief moment and swim in an emotional turbulence. Leon always warned you to keep your hands to yourself. Both you and Leon inherited your mother’s temper. “Listen,” he said one time on a casual Wednesday afternoon, “I love you to death, sis, but don’t put yo hands on no nigga when you mad, less you ready for what comes next. I don’t give a damn how big and bad you pretend you are. He’ll fuck you up. If that happens, I’ll be in jail.” 

You halfway thought Darnell would haul off and hit you clean across the face. The impact of his back knocking against part of the TV and dresser caused some things to fall to the floor as the girl scrambled to gather her clothes when you pushed him. The sheets were still ugly and tangled with the scent of after sex. The bed. Once upon a time you both laughed together on it, played games and watched movies, sometimes in each other’s arms before his hands reached your pants zipper, and the kissing was just too much tongue that you urged him to stop. 

“Whole time. Fuck you gonna do about it? I know one thing, you better keep ya got damn hands to yourself.”

You were glad you held your composure and headed the warning, both from Darnell and Leon. The last thing you wanted was to be the reason your brother went to prison, but it didn’t stop your mouth and its taunting invites. You felt a glint of satisfaction in challenging him. 

“Or what? What are you gonna do? Tell me?”

He smirked, and you balled your fist in response to his arrogance and lack of remorse. 

“Nothing. I’ll tell you what you bout’ to do though. Get yo ass the fuck up out ma house.” 

“Are you serious right now?” 

“As a heart attack.” 

“Why? Just tell me why? I deserve that at least, Darnell.” 

“Because I’m tired of waiting for you. Shit, you act like a nigga gotta marry you to get some pussy. Shit’s sickening. I shouldn’t have to go through that as your nigga. All the bread I spent on yo’ ass. Time and attention. I literally gotta beg you! You won’t even let me taste that shit without yo’ ass being scary. Bottom line, I realized that stuck up prudes aren’t my thing any more.”

“Oh, and that is.”

You knew her. Not directly. Some girl you briefly saw around. If you cared enough, you would have heeded to the whispers about the reputation she carried around the neighborhood. Why bother? You assumed you were far removed. Had nothing to worry about when it came to your boyfriend. But he decided to put the cherry on top and defend her. Brooklyn Shepherds. She lived two buildings down. 

“Don’t be mad. Shit, at least she’s living her life having fun. Not acting like she better than ever’body. Stuck up!” 

“I never acted like that. You did all this because I wouldn’t have sex with you. Typical though.That’s all you ever fucking thoght about Darnell. I just wasn’t ready, damn!”

“Whatever man. No explanation needed. We done.”

As a brief bit of wind passed by, you shut your eyes momentarily before heading on. You’d held suspicions after the phone calls became less and less, although your heart wouldn’t let you believe it. Darnell, your first serious boyfriend falling out of love with you. 

In the beginning of the relationship, you spent almost every day with one another. That’s why you loved beginnings. With things so new and fresh, forever could be a real possibility. After spending months learning one another, you had developed a habit of taking mental notes of what different facial expressions and certain body movements meant for him. What he liked and didn’t. 

Nearing the end, you sensed some frustrations when you rejected his advances a little too often, or made excuses for them not to happen. The furthest it had gotten was him fingering you in the back seat of his dad’s car. An experience you wanted to forget. A mundane occurrence really, like some forgiven object had ended up in places it shouldn’t have been. Shame on you for not listening to your instincts. What they called a woman’s intuition. You forgave him. Some guys just needed practice. Of course, that strange love thing had a way of blinding logic. Fear ruled both. If worse one way, then surely he’d be downright terrible where it counted. If nothing else, you wanted the first time to be special. Or, at least something you wouldn’t mind talking to your friends about with some type of smile that wouldn’t be forced. 

A glance down at the dress, and tears burned down the side of your cheeks. Frantically, you located a dumpster and made your way to shove the dress inside, inch by inch. The pretty lilac would be solid by grease and grime from the years of remaining remnants of stinking residue the dumpster accumulated. You cursed, over and over again, haunted by those sweet words, smiles, and gentle touches. Everything! 

When the dress disappeared you found a ledge nearby and sat down. The end of a relationship was like a close death in a way. All the evidence of the breakup would live on your face. Puffy red eyes would be hard to explain away, unlike a missing ball gown. Whimpers turned into sobs. With no way to see what contorted facial expression you held through it all, you covered your face.  

“Beanz?” 

You shot up, scanning the area for whomever called out your nickname. Your gaze landed on a car, although the darkness didn’t help you identify who it belonged to right away. From where you sat, a face didn’t register from beyond the window that rolled down. The car door opened. You stood to your feet. The exposure the streetlamp provided had the tension in your shoulders loosen, extinguishing your fight-or-flight response. “Franklin….” you uttered before wiping away any trace of tears. 

“What are you doing out here?” 

His face looked every bit suspicious and concerned under the dim lightning. You shrugged. Your mind ran a million miles a minute. 

“Uh. Just walking. Getting some air.” 

Franklin lifted his chin. With his eyes, he seemed to scan round about the area you’d stopped to throw away the dress. 

“You know it’s not really safe to be out here like this, B.”

“It wasn’t intentional. No phone to call for a ride. I was at Darnell’s House just now.” 

Franklin cocked his head to one side. “So he couldn’t drive you?” 

You rolled your eyes up to catch any tears. “No. See, we um, we kinda got into it, so I left.” 

One of his eyebrows lifted. “What do you mean, got into it?” His dark gaze traveled. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Yeah, I’m fine.”  

Franklin took two steps forward. His tall frame blocked more of the light. 

“You sure? He didn’t put his hands on you or anything, did he?”

You shook your head. He held a concerned older brother type of tone when he’d asked. It brought a bit of comfort. The same kind that Leon would have whenever you hurt yourself, falling off your bike, or accidentally standing too close to the pan when frying chicken and getting popped by grease. In that way, you felt like you had two brothers looking out.

“No, no, he didn’t.” 

“Alright. What’s this?”

Your eyes found the place on your arm. There, over pretty brown skin, different colors mingled together. A little red, and a hue that resembled a faint purple. 

“Damn. Um…”

You hadn’t noticed. It probably happened when Darnell had to drag you out the front door after you refused to go on your own. You bumped into walls and door frames during all the pushing and shoving, trying to resist his attempts. He’d gotten frustrated. With a shrug, you locked eyes with your brother’s best friend.  

“It’s nothing.”

He didn’t blink or move. 

“Doesn’t look like nothing. He still home?” 

Franklin faced the direction that led back to Darnell’s block. You turned to face the same path. 

“What? Why?” 

He shrugged. “Just wanna talk to him.” 

“What do you mean by that? Why would you talk to him?” 

Franklin grinned, but it appeared to be laced with a type of malice. Some form of vexation lived behind his stare. The way he’d said it, nonchalant and casual, meant otherwise. You weren’t that dense. It wouldn’t be just talking. 

Franklin, more subtle, unlike Leon who, when mad, you could absolutely tell was mad, temper on one thousand! Franklin Saint, on the other hand, was the type to keep things chill until all the chill left and hell visualized in the form of a man. That hadn't been the case growing up, but Franklin wasn’t the same anymore. He’d made for himself quite the reputation, and you’d heard stories. Rumors you weren’t sure you believed but headed all the same. You were mad at Darnell. Hurt, even devastated with the way things had ended, but you didn’t want him physically hurt, or worse. Franklin proceeded to take another step forward, but you’d raised your hands to keep him in place. 

“Wait, wait. No, stop. Hold on!” 

Heart pounding, images flooded your head of how everything could end up if he actually went to Darnell’s house for real! 

“It’s fine,” you assured him. “I said I’m good.” You took a deep breath. “Listen. I’ve had a really eventful night already. Can we just go, please?”

…

The warm night air streamed through the open window of the car, carrying with it the distant noise and the occasional horn from the bustling streets of Los Angeles. Beneath the star-sprinkled sky, the city pulsated with energy. You sat in the passenger seat, a bittersweet smile lingering on your lips as the heavy bass thumped through the speakers. Lights flickered through the windshield, casting playful reflections on your forehead as you leaned your head against the glass. With the windows down, the sweet sound of Little Micheal Jackson and his other four brothers’ voices drifted through the car, reminiscent of summer days and carefree moments as one of their best tunes played. 

Don’t you know I sit around with my head hanging down and I wonder who’s loving you…

“Want me to change it?” Franklin asked, glancing at you from the driver’s seat. His tightly coiled mini afro had lifted and side burns grew in with the promise of a beard starting. 

You sighed, your gaze still fixed outside. “No, it’s fine. I like the Jackson 5,” you replied. 

You wouldn’t mind a more upbeat song. The melancholic lyrics were too close to your current situation. At Least it hadn’t been… Never Can Say Goodbye. 

Franklin turned down an empty side street, further immersed in the story of your heartbreak. “You sure you good,” he said, his voice edged with frustration. 

“I’m fine. Thanks again for driving me home.”

The drive became silent for a moment. The quiet punctuated only by the soft strumming beats filling the car. 

“I guess I was just really excited about tonight. Everything else came outta nowhere and ruined it.”

“Excited? Why? What was tonight?”

“Well. It’s silly because I don’t really do the church thing.” A short chuckle had you brushing off the idea of being some crazed religious fanatic. “If anything,” you added, “our mama made us go but. It might have been a month past, maybe. I’m not really sure of the date and time, but they were talking about this dance they’d been planning. It was supposed to be real classy, like ballroom Cinderella fancy.”

Franklin nodded, but kept his eyes on the road ahead. “Okay, I got a good mental picture. White folks speaking that proper English, like good, ay’ Morgan! With the pinky on the up and all that?”

You didn’t want to laugh, but his switch in accent came out unexpectedly. Warmth spread through your chest. The moment was fleeting, but it mattered. 

“Yeah, something like that. Real fancy, sept no white, just black folk.” 

A little grin lifted the side of his mouth and you noticed. 

“I could see it. You’re into all that stuff. Even back then.” 

You smacked your teeth and rolled your eyes. 

He chuckled and threw you a glance. “Don’t you remember? Chocolate on your face. Little fairy princess dress trying to follow me and Lee around.”  

You sighed with a purse of the lips and dismissed the memory, shaking your head. “Well, anyway. I kinda thought it would be different. You know something new to do aside from going to the movies or the skating rink.” 

Franklin caught your gaze, his expression serious for a moment. “Darnell was supposed to go with you tonight,” he implied, his tone genuine. 

Something about the way he looked at you felt so different from before, like he truly saw you. Not just as his best friend’s little sister, but as you, the girl with hopes and wants behind the surface.

 “Yeah. But I lucked out twice, right? No dance, and now no boyfriend either.” You sank down in the seat. “Oh well, huh, maybe it was all just stupid,” you muttered. 

The songs changed in and out. The night wore. The weight of the past was heavy as the car ride continued until Franklin had parked. You gathered yourself to move and open the door when you realized you weren’t looking at your house. 

“Franklin, where are we?” 

You were greeted with the large sign that read Amusement Park in the distance. 

“Well, what does it look like?”

The gates loomed ahead, vibrant and inviting. Each flickering with a promise of joy and thrill behind their standing. The scents of popcorn and cotton candy wafted through the air when you stepped from the car. 

“I thought you were taking me home.” 

Franklin got out. “Naw. It’s too early. It’s Friday, right?” He shrugged. “I figured since you missed the dance, this might make up for it.” 

“Oh. Okay listen…” 

“I was planning to come here by myself. Figured it might be fun with someone else, though.” He opened the door. “But hey, if you’d rather me take you home…”

The whoosh of the roller coaster and the delighted screams of riders soared. 

“Mm. Okay. Let’s go.”  

Franklin walked around to the other side, took your hand and led you forward. 

“See now, that's the spirit.”

…

Families and clusters of friend groups bustled around. Rides whirled in a kaleidoscope of colors against the dark backdrop of the night sky, and under a sprawling canopy of stars, the amusement park buzzed with life. The Smells were the first thing that caught your attention stepping past the gate. More specifically, the funnel cake window. One server handed an awaiting customer a large order of two! The white powder was enough to make you drool with envy for a taste. 

“Oh my gosh,” you pointed. “I haven’t had one of those in like what, how long has it been?” You tried to comb your mind for the answer while your feet guided you closer and closer. You were stopped by Franklin’s pull of your hand. 

“Hold up. We can do that later.” 

“Later?” The window appeared to stretch further and further with his halt. “But when would be a better time for funnel cake, Frank?” You couldn’t think of any. “Funnel Cake is the reason people come to these things.” You pointed again, your voice expressing much more urgency than before. “Please! I won’t even get a large one,” you bargained. 

Franklin laughed, but shook his head. “You never eat first. How can you ride the roller coaster if you eat? I love you n’all lil bean pie, but I’m not sure I want you to throw up all over my new shirt so soon. This not even two days old.” 

Only when he said it did you notice what he was wearing. Navy blue short sleeve Polo t-shirt with brown khaki pants, and those Adidas he liked. One word stuck out among your observation of his outfit. 

“Uh, Rollercoaster. Like right now?” 

“Yeah, why not?”  

“Franklin. I mean, we just got here. I don’t know, I was thinking something a little less extreme to start out with. Maybe those.” 

You pointed toward the tea cups. Franklin shook his head, a grin plastered on his face. 

“Nope. This is go big or go home. Plus, what was all that talk bout’ you being this Coaster Queen? Unconquerable and all that?”

You smacked your teeth. You remembered the conversation. 

“Franklin, I said that two years ago.”

“Right, reputation noted. So come on.” 

He threw his arm over your shoulder and directed you the opposite way of the funnel cake window and the line for tea cup ride. 

As you both waited, you couldn’t shake the fluttering anticipation in your chest. As experienced as you were, it never failed. The path ahead was lit by glowing lanterns, and you caught snippets of conversations. Eager chatter, some couples giggling. 

“Are you ready for the ultimate test of courage?” Franklin teased, nudging you with his elbow as you walked past a glowing sign that read ‘IRON RAIL’ in bright green letters. 

You turned to Franklin, a wave of determination washing over you. You had very much grown the kinda reputation he talked about as the Coaster Queen. Why be modest? 

“You mean, are you ready? I’m pretty sure I’ll be the one holding your hand when we plunge into the abyss,” you joked, flashing him a confident grin. 

You both meandered through the crowd, pushing past throngs of exhilarated fans of all ages. Nearby, a little girl screamed with delight as she spun around in a colorful spider ride. The first stop was the Devil’s Fury. A monstrous structure that twisted and turned at dizzying speeds.

“Just gotta remember, it’s not about fear. It’s about conquering it,” you said, leaning over the rails to gaze ahead of the line. 

“Exactly. And I’ll be right next to you making sure you stay fearless,” Franklin added, his voice playful and goofy.  

You flicked his arm. “Yeah, yeah. Whatever. Like I said.” 

The climb into the coaster broke down the binds of your worries with each click of the safety bar. Strapped in, you were surrounded by clanking sounds, the clicks of the roller coaster gearing up almost drowned out the pounding of your heart. 

“Here we go!” Franklin shouted over the clamor, his enthusiasm contagious. 

The ride took off, hurtling upward as the ground fell away beneath you. You squeezed your eyes shut, but you could feel the rush of wind whip across your face and tease the two small sections of hair you’d parted by each of the corners of your forehead, before making your low bun earlier that day. With some blue magic and a bit of water, you had created two curls that you were satisfied with, and as light as they were, you felt their frolic. 

Just when you thought it couldn’t get any higher, the coaster reached its peak, and then plummeted! You screamed, but laughter came soon after, a mixture of exhilaration and joy. You could hear Franklin laughing beside you. “WHOOOO!” He shouted over the rush of wind. Adrenaline sparked as the coaster plunged down for the second time. 

After the ride, both you and Franklin stumbled out, breathless. 

“See? That wasn’t so bad. Rollercoaster first,” Franklin closed space to pinch one of your cheeks. 

You gave him a light push. “I can’t believe I let you talk me into that. That was my first time riding in the front cart!”

“First time for everything.”

You stopped. A smirk began to form. 

“Let’s do it again!” 

…

With each ride, with every twist and turn, you found yourself bolder and more adventurous. From one attraction to the next, moments melding together, the exhilarating heights, the spiraling drops, the way Franklin would take hold of your hand during the scariest moments, you were immersed in the present. 

You got your funnel cake after the bumper cars, then a second that you ended up splitting with Franklin, not including the chili dogs and fries. You were almost full by the time you spotted the pink ice cream truck. Franklin stepped up, exuberantly placing the order while you stretched your arms out, relishing the cool breeze that wrapped around you like a hug. 

Balancing two oversized cones on his way back, neither of you managed to keep hands clean. Ice cream dripped down wrists, sticky and sweet. Another coster speed past and the park’s pulse reverberated.  

“Hey,” Franklin said, giving you a sidelong glance, one cone raised in a mock toast. “To the Coaster Queen. May she reign fearless.” 

“Much obliged,” you echoed, clinking your cone against his. 

The park still jumped with life by the time you both came across the games. All the windows lined perfectly on the boardwalk. Various challenges for prizes, big and small. Franklin took out his wallet, and in exchange for the green cash slapped down on the countertop, he’d gotten back a row of tickets for both you and him. 

He beat you at basketball, and the balloon darts, and you surpassed him at boat racing with a very close tie at throwing bean bags. Only when it came to fishing did your luck run out. You smacked your teeth by the second loss and pouted a little, which gained his attention. 

“What?”

“Oh nothing. No one ever wins. I was going for that big one right there.” 

Franklin averted his eyes to a large booth adorned with bright lights and plush stuffed animals hanging in every direction. 

“It’s the pink and purple one,” you said to clarify your choice of selection.

“Hm. Well, let’s see what we can do.” 

He extended the half eaten cotton candy your way, and you took it reluctantly as he reached in his pocket for the tickets he had left.

Hook the end of bottles and lift without the bottle falling off. Looked simple enough. You narrowed your eyes. Oh, how looks could be deceiving. You watched Franklin take the pole in hand. Your eyes stayed on his movements. 

A loss on the first try. 

“Shit,” Franklin spat with exasperation, yanking out four more tickets. “Let me do it again.”

You released a breath you didn’t know you were holding. “It’s okay, it’s harder than it looks.” 

You knew he wasn’t about to lose. If it took all the damn tickets and he needed to buy more tickets, he would find a drive somewhere deep down inside himself to win. Even when it came to a stuffed animal you didn’t need. Franklin closed his eyes and sucked in air. The employee over the game tossed a glance and shook his head before folding his arms to watch him attempt a second try. Franklin cleared his throat, moved his head from side to side and rolled his shoulders, this time moving his hand with more caution. 

Again, another failed attempt. 

You concluded the game had to be rigged, but the determination stayed with him and he ushered out more tickets as a couple people began to stop and stare. Franklin licked his lips, and with another exhale he was at it again. Refocused, he regarded the hook, his mouth falling open as he steadied his hand to rise. 

“There it is…” He mumbled, raising it carefully, higher and higher, until! 

“Yes!” 

You jumped up and down and squealed with delight. A triumphant smile found Franklin and he shot his fist in the air over and over. The employee grabbed the stuffed bear that cost Franklin three fails and several tickets to achieve. He took it and said a kind thank you to the worker before he turned, extending it out toward you. 

“All yours lil’ Bean.”

You reached for it happily, grinning from ear to ear as you cradled the stuffed animal in a tight squeeze. 

“It’s so soft. Just the one I wanted to, Mm! Thank you Frank N’ Franks.” 

You offered him his cotton candy just before his pager buzzed loudly at his hip. You watched his brows crease as he took it off his belt to look at the number. 

“Give me a second. Gotta make a call.” 

His voice had gone from playful to serious in a matter of seconds. 

Work Franklin had arrived. 

Your smile faltered. 

“Yeah. Sure of course. I'll meet you over by the garden.” 

He left and You’d found a weathered wooden bench that hadn't been occupied near by the small gated greenage that had potential to flourish into a full grown garden, with time. You sat, and absentmindedly began to trace the intricate designs of the promise ring that somehow escaped being tossed away with the same dress you had worked tirelessly for. 

Gaze drifting around the park, a couple in the distance soon caught your eye. Young, radiant, and oblivious to the world around them as they leaned into each other, fingers intertwined, whispering sweet nothings. Joy bubbled over, illuminating their surroundings. The girl’s smile, beautiful, unguarded as her lover, looked as if he held the universe in his hands. It could be a scene from a romance movie. You imagined that all girls wanted to be looked at that way.

A sudden pang of longing hit.

Had there ever been a time Darnell felt that way. Truly? 

With every gentle touch between them, the weight of grief and envy pressed down. A torrent of emotions swirled inside. Love seemed to evaporate. Or at least the thought that it could be real for you. 

The urge to remove the promise ring that had until that moment seemed like a part of your identity overcame your desire to hold on to the past. Trembling slightly, you slipped it off your finger, revealing the bare skin beneath. One night had changed so many plans. Unwoven dreams unraveled by a few careless words and a change of heart, and you found yourself biting at your lip in order to hold what whaled up from all the memories. In a similar manner, anguish resurfaced and, inexplicably, time suddenly became a crucial thing to be aware of. 

Upon seeing Franklin making his way back, you sat the ring down on the bench and got up. 

“Did you see a clock around when you went to make your call?” You asked. 

Franklin nodded. “Yeah, eleven o’clock.” 

That meant the dance had come to its end. Franklin’s voice made you grip the bear a little tighter.

“We Been here for a good five hours. Rode damn near everything, I think. We probably should start heading back to the car. I need to get you home, so yo’ mama don’t worry. Trip or nothing.” 

You nodded, but shifted your gaze eastbound. “We didn’t get everything. Just one more left.” 

…

Children chased each other around colorful booths. You shifted your feet, glancing at the entrance where the wooden structure of the Ferris Wheel loomed like a giant spinning dream. 

The line moved quickly, filled with the chatter of eager riders. 

When you both finally reached the front, the operator waved you on. You and Franklin climbed into a small enclosed car. As the wheel began its ascent, the sounds of the amusement park faded into a distant hum.

As the ride carried, you and Franklin settled into a comfortable banter, like slipping back into an old pair of shoes. As you reached the top the ride would pause periodically for a moment to let other riders board. The fairgrounds spread out beneath like an intricate tapestry.

“Member guy in bumper car number three was tripping? I mean, the ride is called bumper cars. You’re gonna get bumped. Like why even get in the line if you had any reservations?”

“Right, but he wasn’t hearing it. That’s why I kept bumping him.” 

You dropped your head as your shoulders bounced with laughter. The memory, still so clear. The guy would zoom by, careful not to collide with the other drivers, then Franklin came out of nowhere and side swiped him. 

“You was wrong for that. Just when he thought his life got on a good smooth path, here you come to bump him outta it.”

Franklin shrugged, but a grin stayed on him, smug and careless. 

“Aye. He can’t blame that on me.” 

Your head shot up, and you snapped your fingers in his direction, eager to share the memory before it passed. 

“No, my favorite was the one ride where, wait, what was it called? I don’t know but the one that went upside down and twirled. Now that, beside the roller coaster, was the best.”

“Yeah, I could tell. You screamed the entire ride. Damn eardrums still achy.”

You waved him off with a laugh. “Oh whatever. Good times though. Good times.” 

The phrase offered a pause. Franklin trying to hide his smile had you tilting your head and rubbing your lips together, unable to let the moment pass by. Almost instinctively, you and Franklin began to sing the familiar tune. It started softly, voices hesitant, but soon the lyrics flowed easily. 

Franklin bounced his shoulders and you tapped your foot. 

“Fish don't fry in the kitchen, beans don't burn on the grill, took a whole lotta tryin’ just to get up that hill, now we're up in the big leagues, gettin’ our turn at bat, as long as we live, it's you and me baby, there ain't nothin wrong with that, well we're movin’ on up to the east side to a deluxe apartment in the sky!” 

The cart reached its peak, and you and Franklin grew quiet for a moment as you both soaked in the breathtaking view. You were cradling the stuffed Teddy Bear in your lap, denim jacket clinging to your arms in a comforting embrace while the colorful lights glowed and the cart swayed gently in the breeze. You’d experienced a sensation of lightheadedness. The excitement of the Ferris Wheel mirrored the feeling of being with Franklin. He presented a sense of freedom from the worries and uncertainties that plagued your mind. You found yourself hoping for a longer ride. All of a sudden, you didn't want to go home. His laughter since arriving had lifted the weight from your shoulders, but the smile left you.

“You good lil Bean Pie?” His eyes softened when he looked at you.

“Yeah, why do you ask Frank N Franks?”

“Noticed the energy shift.”

“Oh, that.” You run your fingers through the synthetic animal fur.“Trust me it has nothing to do with this. You know I couldn’t leave without riding the biggest attraction.”

“Then what is it?”

“I remembered the dance. Crazy because the entire time we’ve been here I’d forgotten about it. Guess I’m curious how it turned out. If it was nice. This was kinda my way of avoiding that without even realizing it. 

There came a long pause. 

Franklin. Tell me the truth,” you said softly, breaking the comfortable silence. 

“Alright. Hit me. What you wanna know.” 

“You planned this, didn’t you? You were never gonna come this way. Be here tonight by yourself. Like you said in the car.” 

“Huh,” he laughed. “For real, yeah, I was. I love doing things by myself like this, all the time.” 

“Franklin….”

He threw his hands up toward the sky. “Okay, so I took a detour on the way to your house. Damn, can a nigga do a nice thing?” 

You sighed and smiled. “Okay, I just. I didn’t want you to feel sorry for me, is all. Like you were obligated or anything.”

He shifted slightly closer, the space between you both shrinking. 

“You still want me to be honest.” 

The air tingled with a charge that both excited and frightened you. Your heart raced faster than all the rides combined. 

“Yeah,” you answered, wondering what he would say.

“I was very much obligated.” 

“So I'm basically a charity case. Got you,” you held your breath, stomach fluttering with indifference.

Franklin looked over at you, his gaze filled with something you hadn’t seen in him before. Something deeper.

“Okay. So let me clean that up with some context.” 

You looked at him. The frown waning from your lips.

“I saw you,” he began, “a little before you made your way to the dumpster. I was following behind just to make sure you were good. I don’t know what it was, but the way you were holding on to that dress hit me somewhere right here.” He touched his chest over the place where his heart sat. 

Surprised by how deeply his words resonated, your eyes began to water. 

“You made it seem like it wasn’t that big a deal during the car ride, but you really wanted to go,” he said. His own eyes, warm and sincere. 

A silence fell over the conversation for a brief moment, punctuated only by the gentle swaying of the ferris wheel.

“Yeah,” you breathed. “I did.” You moved the teddy bear and let your hands sit in your lap. “It’s stupid. But I always thought girls like that were so elegant. The ones who got to go to dances. I thought I looked real good in the dress, too. Not trying to be funny. But I imagined myself a princess with it on. I imagined that he would find a nice suit to match it. I would walk down these long sets of stairs. And people would look at me like I belong there. They’d whisper. Who’s that? I wanna meet that young woman. After that my favorite song would come on, and Darnell would take my hand and bring me to the dance floor. And it would be like everyone disappeared, except him and the music. Maybe we’d laugh a little, looking into each other’s eyes for too long, but it would be our moment.” 

Franklin reached for your hand and searched your eyes for answers that had no words. Then with a reluctant nod, he lifted his chin and stared up at the night. 

You pulled the bear closer and pressed your face in its softness. “My Mama always said I dream too much. Anyway, I’ve enjoyed myself. I’m glad you made the detour,” you admitted. 

Realizing he’d pulled you closer, suddenly the world around you blurred. Franklin leaned in, and you welcomed the gentle kiss he’d placed on your cheek before he snaked an arm around you. 

Darnell but not Darnell. 

Pretty quickly the moment passed of being so close to heaven. The wheel began to turn again, the descent followed and there was nothing you could do to stop it. 

…

As you climbed out of the gondola, you could feel Franklin’s gaze linger on you. 

“Wait Beanz,” he said softly, stepping closer. 

You stopped, but didn’t turn to face him. Emotion came from nowhere and locked your baby blue canvas flats to the surface. Like being stuck in cement. 

He’d taken the stuffed bear. You weren’t certain where he’d sat the toy down when he brought his arms around you, bringing you into a hug you hadn’t expected. 

“You’re gonna be okay.” 

Scary how he could read your thoughts. The daunting question knocked in the back of your brain the entire night. You raised your hands up and pressed palms against his back to strengthen the embrace while his cologne danced on your senses. The amusement park’s vibrant chaos faded into a muted backdrop. The gravity of the earlier moment hanging. Such a sensitive part of yourself had been revealed, but the truth kept coming, more and more. 

“It’s crazy that in the entire time I was with him,” you countered, feeling the stirrings of anger and vulnerability. “None of that ever felt like tonight. Tried so hard to be perfect for him. Be what he wanted. I was blind Frank, I couldn’t see what kind of messed up relationship I was in, despite the warnings. But yet, I’m still sad it’s over. What sense can be made of that? Maybe I’m fooling myself. Maybe it’s really just the fear of being alone.”

The song in the above speaker over a section of the park shifted, becoming a soft ballad, inviting a different kind of intimacy. 

Golden touch, it happens every time your lips touch mine, there’s a feeling that’s so divine, there’s a magic in you... 

“Why you crying?” Franklin asked.

A place on his shirt had become wet with your tears. 

“Cause this is my favorite song,” you answered back with a shaky breath.

Why would it be playing right at the current place and time you found yourself? Some cruel joke? Golden touch, I wasn’t very strong till you came along. You made me realize that by your side, is where I belong…

“Dance with me,” Franklin whispered.

His statement caught you off guard.

“So what if it’s not quite like you imagined it would be. You believe you need a dress, but you don’t. Remember, Cinderella was still Cinderella without it by the end of the story. It's not quite midnight. We got some time to make a dream come true.” 

At first, hesitation held you back, but as the music surged, a bubble of spontaneity welled up inside. Franklin sang the next part of the song, maybe as a form of encouragement. He was a horrible singer, that much was certain. Rose Royce might even sue him for slander if he ever decided to do anything publicly embarrassing with their music, but it kept your attention. You giggled, not out of obligation but from the sense of freedom, and let him lead you into the rhythm of a dance. You and Franklin moved together, his hands warm on your waist, your growing smile blending perfectly with the melody. He spun you around, making you weightless as you twirled under the twinkling lights. You swayed slowly, lost in his gaze. The noise of the amusement park dulled into a background hum, leaving you in the midst. A flutter of uncertainty washed through you. For the first time in what felt like an eternity, you found yourself having confidence in the potential of something new. 

But this was Franklin Saint, someone you had grown up with, Leon’s best friend! 

Then, it all replaced by an overwhelming sense of rightness. The weight of the breakup slipped away, and you let yourself float on some unseen cloud. The world became insignificant. Caught in the moment, you leaned, so close you could feel his breath warm against your skin. Before you had the chance to contemplate the consequences, Franklin closed the distance and softly pressed his lips to yours. Contingent at first, but the kiss deepened, and a wave of butterflies enveloped you. This new thing, bright and sparkling. 

You separated your lips from his. The world came rushing back. The sounds, the lights, reality, but Franklin’s hand found its way to your cheek, cradling your face as if to anchor you back in. You wondered what he was thinking. Your own thoughts swirled with confusion and curiosity. What might be going through his mind? What he felt. His steady gaze met yours, riddled with the same determination he held when trying to win the prize for you. Something shifted in the atmosphere as the weight of unsaid words lingered.

“Franklin,” you whispered. 

The intensity made your pulse quicken. He closed his eyes and so did you. His lips met yours a second time. Your heart raced. Delightful, the kiss tested the waters of possibility. It deepend, tender and sweet. A lingering moment where nothing else mattered. But just as you melted into the possibility to explore more of him, the harsh sound of your brother’s voice shattered the moment. Your heart sank. The spell of the occasion broke, leaving in its wake a swirling chaos of questions. You pulled away from Franklin, suddenly feeling the weight of Leon’s gaze on you. Just like that, the magic faded. 

Leon’s slurred words echoed across the rise as he stumbled into view, a goofy grin plastered across his face. His eyes, barely focused, settled on Franklin, narrowing with a protective instinct that only older brother’s could possess. 

“Aye, the hell you doing here Beanz? Saint? Fucks going on?” 

You could smell the liquor on his breath, pungent and strong. Clearly he’d had the same kind of night you did, only he thought about Wanda Bell, his ex-girlfriend. You wondered if Eva knew she’d been a means to fill that void somehow. The first time you ever saw Leon cry over a woman. A thing you would keep secret all the way to the grave. You knew he loved Wanda. Really loved her. 

“Leon, it’s not what it looks like-” You began, but the mixture of concern and drunkenness in his expression cut you off. 

“Well then maybe y'all would like to explain. Explain Why you have me drop you off at that nigga Darnell’s house if you wasn’t gonna be at that dance tonight.” 

Your heart raced, torn between the urge to defend Franklin and the obligation to Leon’s suspicions. You glanced back at Franklin, whose expression was a blend of disappointment and concern. 

You hesitated. “It's kinda a long story Lee. One I don't think you're really up for right now,” you said quietly, wishing you had the courage to close the distance. 

“Oh, damn it, Leon! There you are,” Eva cried, running up in her yellow jumpsuit. “Sorry. He's drunk. Got away from me.”

“What happened,” Franklin's voice chimed in from behind. 

“A long island iced tea. Couple shots of vodka. Jin probably, after that I stopped paying attention. He just kept ordering.”

“Leon…” you started, the aftermath of the kiss lingering over your lips.

“Why you ain't stop him Eva?”

She folded her arms.

“Oh yeah right Franklin, stop him? Sure. You know better than anybody, Leon doesn't listen to no one but Leon.”

“Mama's gonna cuss you out coming in her house all drunk. You better hope she sleep.”

Leon shrugged. His eyes drooped as he sucked in air. “Man, so what. She act like I'm the only one who drink. Besides, she might be more concerned with why you weren't at that damn dance tonight.” 

“Okay okay, come on let's get you back. I'll drive us.” 

“Naw fuck that, no body drive ma’ shit but me, I got it.”

Franklin closed his eyes a second and exhaled a breath. “Lee man. Let Eva drive. Get home in one piece.” The sound of his beeper made him peer down down at his belt.

“Uh huh. In one piece. Who’s that Saint?” 

Franklin's eyes traveled over the number. “Not your concern right now. Go home. Get some rest. Peaches can go with me if it becomes necessary.” 

Leon chucked, then offered Franklin a glare. “If it becomes necessary. Nigga what?”

“Okay okay it's fine. Let's go. Bye Franklin. Have yourself a goodnight.” Eva rushed to Leon, who swayed alarmingly close to the edge of the pavement. “Lee, c’mon. Let’s get you some water and get to the car.”

Leon nodded. “Yeah Saint. We gon’ talk tomorrow so keep yo shit nearby cuz imma damn sho’ page you when I wake up. We family nigga, but ma lil sister need ta’ be the one thing off limits to you. No exceptions. Drunk or not, I'll still beat yo’ ass.”

“Yeah,” Franklin brought on a quick grin that faded out as he placed his hands behind his back and raised his chin. “Okay. Night Lee.”

Leon huffed, a snarl pulled his lip. “Hm, yeah, night motherfuckea’, you think I'm bullshitin’. Bring yo hot ass on, Beanz.”

You offered a glare to his comment. “My hot ass? Seriously Leon?” 

“You heard what the fuck I said, let's go!” 

You rolled your eyes, but didn't argue. The same temper your mother gifted you would only hold out so long in your brother. As you made your way through the park, you stole glances back at Franklin, who watched you leave, an unreadable expression on his face. The connection lingered in the air like the scent of fireworks, but now it felt distant, almost like a dream you were walking from too fast. 

When the three of you made it to Leon's Buick Regal, only then had you realized you'd left the stuffed animal Franklin had won for you behind. Probably the only real emblem that such a night ever existed between you both. 

The entire car ride back Eva had a finger pressed at the side of her forehead, indication of a bursting headache on the rise. Leon, who hadn't stopped talking, became repetitive in the reasons why falling for one of his homeboys was entirely out of the question. You hadn't heard a word. The only thing that danced on your thoughts was the Ferris wheel, your favorite song, a cotton candy kiss, and Franklin Saint. 

A/N: This one was fun to write. I couldn’t help it. At first I wasn’t going to bother. I mean RoackABye Saint was a ONE SHOT work that could stand alone so it didn’t require a sequel, but then the idea just started screaming at me to jot it down, and I was like, why not give the readers a look at what happened before that fateful day. So this is what you have my friends. I wonder if ya’ll feelings will change reading this one and then going back to read RockBye Saint now that you know what happened. Was he wrong, or was it a little more complex a situation? You be the judge. Happy reading Saintettes!

PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR CLAIM ANY OF MY WRITING. -Wide Nose And Wonderful.

[wide-nose-and-wonderful]

Yaaaaaas!!! That's what I'm talkin' bout. Found myself another one. 😌✨

And girl, same. Not part 2 but part 3. I definitely need to check out your story then 😯 Really I need to set aside some time for reading and nothing else. 🤔

The writing process be a whole monster sometimes, but you have fun moments along the way so it's worth it 😁

Thank you for the sweet words, I'm so glad you like the stories and the blog 🥺 Learning as I go, but learning none the less. Me? I'm doin' good. Can't complain. 💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

But tag me when your fic is ready to be gobbled up ma'am. 🧁😏

You know. Maybe I should look over profiles more often. Do my eyes deceive me? Or have I stumbled upon another Franklin Saint Obsessor?

Ayeeee' how you doin' sis?

🙌🏾💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙💙

Heyyy sis and yes I am franklin saint obsessor I love your blog by the way it’s amazing the way you write about franklin it’s perfection 💕but I have been good I’m currently working on chapter 2 on my story but yeah I’m excited 🎉how you doin’ sis?

[e-jewel]

"Bishop to G7" and "A Sermon for Everyone Else"

My submissions for the @fallenlondonficswap secret swap for @superoffbatter

So, funny story. Originally I was struggling a little bit to figure out what to write because Mr. Veils, Fingerkings, Fiacre's, and the Church in the Wild all fall outside my area of expertise when it comes to this game. I was familiar with them, just not quite familiar enough to be confident in writing about any of them. So I did some research and some brainstorming, and eventually came up with something I thought was pretty fun. Aaand I got about halfway through writing that story when this month's ES came out. And Fiacre's was in it. And I was immediately struck with inspiration for something entirely unrelated to my first idea to write about the Bishop. But I also didn't want to completely abandon my other story. So I ended up writing both! Here they are, hopefully at least one'll be to your liking

Bishop to G7

Word Count: 1890

Spoilers: Bag a Legend, Railway

Summary: On his weekly train ride to Burrow-Infra-Mump, the Bishop of Saint Fiacre's receives advice from an unexpected source

The Bishop of Saint Fiacre’s gazed drearily out the window as the train sped along to his destination. It was not that he wasn’t looking forward to giving his weekly sermon at the newly established Church in the Wild, in fact he quite enjoyed the variety that the difference in doctrine added to his otherwise familiar routine. Rather, it was the location of this new chapel that he found somewhat… drab. The “Hinterlands” as Londoners had taken to calling them were composed entirely of barren wastelands followed by small villages of esoteric outcasts followed by more wasteland. While the Bishop was himself a city man, and had been nearly as long as the Bazaar had been dragging them down to the Neath, he did at least feel some kinship with the outsider civilizations scattered across the Hinterlands. He himself had had millenia to work on and refine his identity, and yet still he faced hardships almost on the daily in London on account of what he was. So, perhaps visiting one of those enclaves wouldn’t be so bad, except, The Bishop wasn’t visiting an enclave. Or a town, or a village, or anything of the sort. No, for some reason when faced with the two parts of the Hinterland, rather than found their new Church in the “civilization” half, they chose to found it in the “barren wasteland” half. A baffling decision if you were to ask The Bishop, but then again they knew the Director well and knew that they could often be a baffling person, and not always in a bad way. For example, the recent outcome of the ordeal with The Youthful Naturalist and his studies had initially shocked him, but upon reflection the outcome that was reached certainly has the potential to be wondrous. If the Naturalist and Director continue to play their cards right, that is. 

The Bishop’s thought process was interrupted as the train horn blared loudly and the vehicle rolled to a stop. Soon after he heard the conductor shouting 

“Ladies and Gentleman, welcome to Station VIII, where Masters and Mysteries await! If you’re getting off here I hope you have a lovely rest of your day, and for everyone else we’ll be departing for Burrow-Infra-Mump here in just 15 minutes!”

The Bishop sighed and laid his head down on the table in front of him. Just one more stop, he thought to himself. One more stop and he can finally actually do the thing that makes this whole trip worth it. Perhaps rehearsing his sermon one more time would pass the remaining few hours till he arrived at Burrow. But, just as the Bishop was retrieving his notes from his coat, a large burly figure obscured in a flowing and silky robe appeared outside his booth.

“Excuse me. Is this seat taken?”

The Bishop immediately recognized that it was a Master. Specifically, the fine material the robe was made of would suggest this was the greatly feared Mr. Veils. And it was… asking to sit with him? Intrigued, The Bishop maintained his cool and responded with a simple

“No. It’s all yours.”

The hulking figure made its way into the seat across from the Bishop, lowering itself slowly onto the bench so as not to snap it in half with the force of its weight. Then, for a long while, the two sat in silence. The Bishop calmly reviewed his notes, trying to ignore the imposing presence of his seatmate, while Veils only stared directly ahead of itself, watching the Bishop intently. Eventually though, after the train was over halfway to Burrow, the silence was broken by Veils’ shrill voice. 

“You are giving a sermon today, Yes?” 

The Bishop looked up, startled, as he’d just nearly managed to succeed in forgetting Veils was there. But still he did not show this fright to Veils yet, he was not a fool after all.

“Yes I am. Why? Will you be attending?”

Veils let out what the Bishop could only assume was a laugh, but really more resembled a scream. He frowned, uncertain why Veils found his simple question so uproarious. The Bishop was not one to assume that anyone’s relative interest in attending Church, be they human or otherwise, and Veils was no exception to that. So the Bishop simply sat stoic and impatient, waiting for Veils to finish with its laughing fit and answer his question. Eventually, Veils recovered from whatever it found so humorous and replied

“No no my dear Bishop. I’m terribly sorry but I am rather busy and have no time to engage in such petty mortal things as religion, truly it is commendable that you yourself make time to do so. But that is precisely why I’ve sought you out. As I said, as skilled as I am in the art of persuasion, religion is not my forte, but it is yours. And today, there will be a number of… people of importance in attendance at your sermon, so I’ve simply come to ask what it is you’ll be speaking about.”

The Bishop’s eyes narrowed. This was clearly Veils the Intriguer, as some had taken to calling it, and was not someone to be dealt with lightly. Where other times Veils might tear you to shreds physically, when it got like this it was known to rend you in a psychological and political manner, moving the chessboard’s pieces with skill and ruthlessness not seen in some of the greatest agents of the Game. Luckily though, The Bishop did not seem to be the target of its current hunt, rather it was these “people of importance” that would be attending his sermon that Veils was after. Knowing this, and hearing the question implied by the end of Veils’ statement of “and what will they be hearing?”, the Bishop responded by saying

“It is funny you should ask that, as I myself have been struggling with finding the answer. I am not used to preaching with this doctrine, or to these people. It is beginning to feel like I’m trying to navigate through a maze without my eyes. Since you bring it up, and you seem to know the people who will be there, would you perhaps be able to assist me with some guidance?”

This was largely true. Despite having worked with it for some time now the Bishop was less familiar with the ideals and practices of the Church in the Wild and did often struggle to create sermons that felt as impactful as his usual ones. That being said though, on this particular week he had had a sermon planned which he was rather proud of and felt would truly connect with the congregation, but considering the circumstances he figured he could simply use that one next week and for now he should attempt to play to the desires of great power sitting before him. That great power was currently chuckling, pleased that the Bishop was so quick to play into its hand.

“Well my good sir, I am in fact intimately familiar with your guests this week, yes, so I suppose I could make a few speculations as to what they’d want to hear, if that would be to your pleasure.”

The BIshop turned his notes around and removed a pen from his pocket before looking to Veils, imploring it to continue. Veils grinned with a disgustingly human grin and said.

“There is a concept of which the two of us are intimately aware, dear Bishop: the many sides of a singular coin. In any given individual, countless personas and continuities can be found, coming together to form a singular ‘person’. I wonder then, if you wouldn’t be particularly well suited to bring that perspective to the Burrow Church? If I understand correctly it is quite relevant to the doctrine, to teach that a person needn’t be so rigid as to align oneself with a particular faith and cast out all others and, indeed, that same logic can be applied to a great multitude of things? That is to say, if you ask me, I’d wager a lesson in fluidity and flexibility could prove most fortuitous for you and the members of your congregation.” 

The Bishop finished jotting down what Veils had said and then sat there, stunned. That was all… remarkably good. He did know what it was like to wear many faces and still be one person, and that was very relevant to the beliefs of the Church in the Wild. He had expected some thinly veiled (no pun intended) political scheme that he’d have to bend over backward trying to work into a sermon, but he found himself quite liking what Veils had suggested.

Just then, the train slowed to a stop and the conductor could be heard once again.

“Ladies and Gentleman we’ve now arrived at Burrow-Infra-Mump! All those seeking saintly salvation, this is your time to get off! Everyone else, our next stop is Moulin and we’ll be leaving in 15 minutes. That's all for now; enjoy your day folks!”

The Bishop’s head snapped towards the window, surprised to see the large hill that the Burrow Church resided on directly outside it. Were they really there already? He could have sworn there was at least an hour left in their trip when Veils started their conversation. Unfortunately, before the Bishop could further ponder this apparent time skip, Veils spoke once more

“This is your stop, yes? I do hope your sermon goes well, and that you take my advice into consideration. While I won’t be attending nor getting off here, I have business further down the line, I am… truly glad that I could help you in your time of need.”

Its last sentence was punctuated with that same inhumanely human smile it had before, and for a moment the Bishop flinched ever so slightly, expecting an attack, but none came. The Bishop then gave his own small smile to Veils in return as a farewell, before quickly gathering his notes and making his way off the train. As he began his long walk up the hill towards the Church, he wondered if what he was about to do was really a good idea. Often the goals of the Masters were not aligned with the goals of the denizens of the Neath, and Veils in particular had a reputation of something of a sadist. On the other hand, by that same reasoning it likely wouldn’t be wise for the Bishop to directly contradict its desires lest he find that bloodlust taken out on him instead of its original target. And anyways, the more he thought on it the more he genuinely came to quite like the topic Veils had suggested he use. Something about it just… spoke to his very soul.

Meanwhile, as the train pulled away from the bottom of the hill, one of its passengers sat wearing a horrific smile which was growing ever wider. It wondered who would actually be in the Church with the Bishop; if there would actually be anyone of note or if it would be the same dirty nomads of the hinterland it always was? It didn’t trouble itself with that thought too much though, as really it couldn’t matter less. It had done what it came to do. The Bishop was now in place, and as Burrow-Infra-Mump became nothing but a speck on the horizon Mr. Veils whispered to itself “Checkmate.”

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

A Sermon for Everyone Else

Word Count: 668

Spoilers: Death and Tax Evasion

Summary: After the death of the Scabby Layrat at the Hands of the Oft-Offed Revenuer, the Bishop of Saint Fiacre's delivers a sermon at the rodent's funeral

“Hello, everyone. I would like to thank you all for gathering here today for someone whom many of you likely wouldn’t usually gather for. But this is a day to question that fact. A day to ask ourselves, why do we not mourn our fallen rat brethren just as we mourn our fallen man? Why has it taken the death of this poor Layrat, who wished nothing more than for us to accept him the very same way our loving God would and then died for that wish, for us to see the truth that we were blinded to? The fact is, my friends, we live in a time that is not the age of man. It is a time far different, stranger, and more diverse than the ones depicted in any holy text we read. And for too long now we have clung to these texts as tight as we could, making only the most undeniable of adjustments and remaining willfully ignorant of all else. But no more I say. No more do we choose to exclude the intelligent and compassionate beings around us from holding the same holy love that we do. No more do we insist that people are the only true children of God which all others should serve. We need to accept that these new beings are just as loved by God as we are, and I truly hope that this sermon can begin to make that change. As stated, it is a tragedy that it was not until an innocent had died that I came to help fight this issue, but it is a tragedy I will not allow again. Truthfully, on the very same day this rodent’s shining eyes sparkled for the last time, I was approached by the Archbishop of St. Algernon’s. He pleaded with me to request a synod, to begin the process of recognising the rats in the Bible and in the Church. Regrettably, he approached me whilst I was giving a sermon, and I became afraid. I was afraid of what associating with rats would do to my reputation, afraid that my congregation would no longer listen to me, and so I said no. That is something that will now haunt me to my grave. Knowing that a simple yes likely would have saved this young life from being extinguished in so awful a way, well, it is a sin that I can only pray has been forgiven by his now immortal soul, and it is something I will never stop trying to make up for. Starting with this: my sermon for everyone else. This is not a sermon for you who attend my church every Sunday, who attend balls on Saturdays and palaces on Fridays, this is a sermon for the drunkard, for the Rubbery Man, for the Rattus Faber, for the Cousin, for the Master, for the Drownie, and for all others who are intelligent, kind, and curious to know the word of God but have been told for some reason in the past that they cannot. My new friends,  Wish to assure you this: you will not suffer the fate of the Layrat. From this point on, should you ever approach the door of a church, any church at all, you will be welcomed in with open arms. We will sing with our hymns, say with you our prayers, and love with you our God. Perhaps this is merely me assuaging my own guilt, but our faith decrees that everything happens according to God's plan. Thus, I can only assume that this loss was itself an answer to the Layrat’s prayers for unity, a sacrifice he has made for the future of all those like him and all those not like him and all those not like anyone at all. And we cannot let that sacrifice be in vain. So, we will now commence the burial of the good Saint Rodere, the Patron Saint of Everyone Else. May he smile down on us indefinitely.”

[erisnxxi]

Organized Love and Deepspace Non-Mc Fic Recommendations

Sylus

☆ Angel of Her Own Making - by bwennie (link here)

☆ Dragon!Sylus x Non-MC!Reader - by clairewritesfanfics (link here)

☆ Heartbreak Anniversary with Sylus - by mephisto-reporting (link here)

☆ Sylus with non!mc reader - by yukithestar (one, two, three, four)

☆ enough - by captivating-flavors (link here)

☆ away (loosely part 2 of enough) - by captivating-flavors (link here)

☆ wilted promises - by shaiyasstuff (one, two, finale)

☆ delayed beginnings - by shaiyasstuff (one-shot, sequel, epilogue, bonus)

☆ The Great (Unnecessary) Divorce Incident - by mangooes (link here)

☆ The Winner Takes it All - by misshuntereevee (one, two)

☆ one in the head, two in the chest - by comatosebunny09 (link here)

☆ hurst so good - by comatosebunny09 (link here)

☆ The Sin & The Sinner - by saintobio (link here)

☆ Calm and Serenity - by blueivyy99 (masterlist)

☆ Impartial Hearts - by ladsonlads (link here)

☆ A Blooming Predicament - by subliminalwish (link here)

☆ merry christmas, mr. sylus - by comatosebunny09 (link here)

☆ merry christmas, mr. sylus (aftermath) - by comatosebunny09 (link here)

☆ sylus x non mc reader - by comatosebunny09 (link here)

Zayne

☆ Nocturne of Twilight - by chuluoyi (part one)

☆ Dawn's First Light - by chuluoyi (part two)

☆ pit-a-pat - by shaiyasstuff (one-shot)

☆ Heartbreak Anniversary with Zayne - by mephisto-reporting (link here)

☆ Heart of Glass - by shaisuki (part one)

☆ The Snowflakes on your Shoulders - by shaisuki (part two)

☆ My Heart in your Hands - by shaisuki (part three)

☆ My Wedding Vow Is To Divorce You - by kira-loves0905 (link here)

☆ Claiming Something That's Not Yours - by authorssmc (link here)

☆ evermore - by shaiyasstuff (link here)

Caleb

☆ Rotten Apples - by rcvcgers (masterlist)

☆ mine - by captivating-flavors (link here)

☆ The Colonel's Keeper - by saintobio (link here)

☆ The Colonel's Saint - by saintobio (part two)

☆ The Terminator's Curse (spinoff of The Colonel Series) - by saintobio (link here)

☆ weightless paradise - by huxhsz (masterlist)

☆ back to friends - by hxlxnaaa (link here)

☆ Heartbreak Anniversary with Caleb - by mephisto-reporting (link here)

Xavier

☆ glass half full - by shaiyasstuff (drabble)

☆ 3:07 a.m. - by shaiyasstuff (one-shot, sequel)

☆ we can't be friends - by kitimeq (link here)

Rafayel

☆ Heartbreak Anniversary with Rafayel - by mephisto-reporting (link here)

☆ Ocean Memories - by yuansie (masterlist)

☆ fate - by shaiyasstuff (one-shot, sequel)

☆ Loathe To Paint You - by rcvcgers (masterlist)

☆ You Were Meant For The Ocean - by sapphirexsolarium (link here)

◇ There's probably a lot of non-mc fics out there that i haven't read/seen BUT these are the ones that I'm currently reading / already read!

◇ To the authors mentioned THANK YOU FOR YOUR AMAZING WRITING/WORKS AND I LOVE YA'LL 🙈💗

◇ All links are up to date / will be updated!

◇ This list will be updated as well!

Last Edited April 24, 2025 09:47 pm

♥ dividers used is made by enchanthings ♥

[rottenherbs]

Saint Like

Pairing: G.W x Reader Request: Would you write a George x reader where Molly doesn't like George's girlfriend and she's kind of mean towards her but when she sees reader take care of George after he loses his ear she starts to slowly accept her? W/C: 2.2k A/N: finally back to writing! Yippie!! That sickness actually was the worst I've had in years. [masterlist] Much love, Saige

It hurts to be dismissed by your boyfriend's mother. Year after year you arrive at his home, welcomed by others in his family, banter with his father, and simultaneously given the stark cold shoulder by the woman who gave him life.

It confused you to no end. She never supported the twins' endeavors; she consistently dismissed and shrouded any thought of their joke shop, practically banning any conversation of the idea in the burrow indefinitely. In her own world, Fred and George would magically wake up one day and decide that they wanted to pursue a career that was more lucrative. Her own fear of poverty inflamed her distaste in their aspirations — purely because it had the possibility of their own financial demise. She wanted better for her boys, and unfortunately you were the easy scapegoat to place blame.

It poked and prodded every nerve on you. You wanted nothing but success and love for George and his family, but you were seen as a threat to the possibilities that they might turn out… normal.

—

The climate of the wizarding world was beyond bleak. Everyday you rose to the sun, beyond blessed to be living another day, but filled with anxieties that it truly may be your last.

Your addition to the order was practically mandatory. With no ties to your parents it was easy for you to sign away your life for the greater good. Your heart lied with George and your friends and fighting next to them would be an honor.

As it came up on Harry’s seventeenth birthday, figuring out how to transport the boy became more trivial. The magical protection given to him by his mothers sacrifice would wear off and he would be more vulnerable to Voldemort than ever. Every movement or spell he made was under the view of the ministry and it had to be done with extreme caution.

The burrow was the next safest place for him, but getting him there bred confusion and limited options.

“What if we just had him apparate out?” Ron asked. The order sat around the kitchen table at the Burrow, just days before operation Free Potter.

”He is still underage Ron, it’ll be flagged immediately.” Hermione replied, rolling her eyes slightly. Ron shook his head.

”We’re already breaking the law, why not one more!” He chuffed, disappointed how easily his idea was shut down.

“Pius Thicknesse has gone over, which gives us a big problem.” Moody interrupted “He’s made it an imprisonable offence to connect this house to the Floo Network, place a Portkey here or apparate in or out.”

The table silenced at his arrival, everyone soaking in the new information and the loss of yet another helper on the inside.

“That’s pointless, he is protected anyway -“ You started. You were honestly just thinking out loud, soon realizing everyone’s eyes on you.

“All that’s done is stop Harry from leaving safely.” You coughed, attempting to find your voice again. Moody shook his head in agreement, those in the order all now speaking among themselves. George arrived at the kitchen taking a spot next to you. He nudged you quietly, smirking down at you.

“Anything juicy?” He whispered, leaning down. You smiled and shook your head no, leaning over to reply.

“Just all hobgobble about how we will get Harry here. Even moody is stumped.” You whispered. George scoffed.

“Moody stumped? Give him like 4 minutes, we’ll be out of here in no time.” He chuffed. The feeling of his hot breath tickled your neck, causing you to shiver slightly. Giggling, you looked over the room, unfortunately making eye contact with Mrs. Weasley. She pursed her lips and scowled.

“I think we ought not be distracted.” She stood, walking around the large table to the sink. She stood with her hands firmly on the ledge leaning away from the crowd. As much as you felt targeted by the statement she was right.

“Its risky but it’ll take cooperation… from all yous.” Moody thumped, his fake eye spiraling around the room. Thievery fell into a hush, waiting for what he had to reveal.

“Everyone will be a potter. As many heads as we can round up. They’ll be confused, won’t know who’s who.” He coughed, opening his flask and taking a swig.

“Polyjuice potion?” George asked. It was more of a rhetorical question of course, a small smirk tugging at the corner of his lips.

“Aye boy.” Moody nodded.

“They’ll just kill us all.” Molly shrieked, the idea of everyone now the face of the target became increasingly daunting.

“No they won’t Molly.” Remus coincided. “We ride on brooms, quietly through the night in groups eh” He raised his eyebrows, checking the feelings of the table. Most people nodded in agreement.

“It’s the order Molly. We’ve been in danger from the beginning. It’s not the time to become fearful.” Moody coughed, standing up from the table.

“One month from today. Stay vigilant.” Moody snapped from the room, leaving everyone in silence.

—

The month came and went in a flash. It felt as if the sky was grey every day since that meeting. No sign of summer or joy, only the steep consequences that were to come.

“Hi my love.” George purred from behind you. He wrapped his arms around your torso, resting his head on top of your.

“Hi.” You whispered, leaning back into his body. You both swung lightly in each other's arms enjoying the feeling of peace.

“They just got word of who’s flying.” He mumbled, keeping his head steady. You kept swaying, but your body stiffened slightly at his words.

“You’re going.” You sighed. You knew he would, and you kicked yourself daily for worrying about his demise. It wasn’t exactly a positive situation to be in, but your milling about danger wouldn’t help.

“I know you wish I could stay, but Fred and I fly well, and they need people who are confident in their brooms.” He murmured, rubbing your sides lovingly. He turned you around to face him, his cheeks warm with glow, beaming down at you.

“What am I doing?” You asked, holding his arms tightly. Part of you wished to be in the sky with him, as if your presence could protect.

“You, my beautiful bird-“ George leaned down, kissing your forehead after every word. “You are meant to stay here. Look for signs and send alerts back if anything happens.”

You didn’t respond, you just sighed and smiled.

“I know you wanted to go.” He whispered. “But it’ll be good. A good opportunity to help from the ground.” He smiled. You could tell he was trying to reassure you, his eyes darting between yours looking for any sign of disapproval.

“Okay.” You whispered, leaning up so your nose grazed his. “I’ll be waiting for you, and you better come back in one piece.”

—

The night finally arrived and you spent every waking moment with George. You hated to think it was your last time seeing him, but the reality was clear. Anything could happen tonight and you would be sure that it was spent with him.

After dinner, Moody arrived at the burrow rallying up those who were going.

“5 minutes and we must be out, got it?” He looked around the room, heads nodding in acceptance. He turned to you and Molly, softening his face.

“You two will be the first to know if anything happens. I will send a message once we have left the Dursleys, then we will be back here in approximately 30 minutes.” His eyes widened in question, looking for any look of approval between you two. You dare not look at Molly and keep eye contact with Moody.

“Yes sir.” You choked, the air in your chest seizing.

“Atta girl. Alrig’t move out.” Moody winked, turning on his heel and walking out of the room, numerous bodies following. George paused and jogged over to you, kissing your cheek and squeezing your hand before joining the fray.

Once everyone left the burrow became quiet. Molly soon looked for any way to busy her fingertips knowing she’d have to distract her mind or else she’d go mad. You stood by the window for a short period, looking at the sky and prairie out past the horizon looking for any sign of movement. Hearing a hefty sigh behind you, you turned to face the sound, already anticipating a lecture.

“Could you help me make supper? I bet they’ll be hungry when they get back.” Mrs. Weasley spoke softly, her back turned to you still maneuvering pots and pans in the kitchen. You nodded to yourself and took a deep breath in, walking over near her.

“Maybe start with the potato’s, rid the eyes and peel the skin for me.” She didn’t look at you, instead speaking into her hands, sniffling after ever few words. She wasn’t crying, but you could hear the trouble in her voice clear as day. Grabbing a peeler, you got to work, trying to pass the time as well.

“I hope you know I don’t .. loathe you like you may think.” She whispered, just loud enough so that you’d hear but quiet enough that the words don’t linger in the air.

You stood in silence, peeling the potatoes, confused entirely by her statement.

“I don’t think-“ you lied, thinking it was the right thing to counter, even deep down you felt that she thought you were better off dead most days.

“You have every right to think it.” She snuffed, pausing her work and biting her cheek. “I just….”

“I understand a mothers love.” You whispered, picking up another potato and holding it softly. “I understand wanting the best for your children, but ..” you choked. You didn’t know if you had the confidence to say yet another thing that would make her angry.

“But sometimes their best interest isn’t yours and it’s out of a mothers control what their adult children do.” You finished. You knew it was the truth, but on the heels of Percy abandoning the family it had to have stung just as hard.

Mrs. Weasley didn’t respond. She didn’t move her head or acknowledge your statement but stood and pondered what you said. You couldn’t tell if she was boiling with rage or the words finally penetrated the field of deep affection that clouded her judgement so.

Just from the window, a owl rapped the glass, begging to be let in.

“That’s them.” She muttered, wiping her hands on her apron and rushing over to let the owl in.

“Thirty minutes.” She sighed

“Thirty minutes.” You repeated.

Time moved extremely fast after that. You both were taking turns by the window to cool down your nerves with the cold night air. The meal was brewing magically on the stone and didn’t need the tender touch of either of you to finish. Even though very little was said between you two, it felt as if you had become closer because of tonight. At least, we understood a little more about each other retroactively.

The sound of loud snapping wood alerted you both that people were apperating at the burrow. Running out of the burrow, you locked eyes with Harry, who was barreling off of Harris’s motorbike, stumbling towards the house.

“Death Eaters, loads of them — we were chased —" Harry coughed, falling into Mrs. Weasley's arms. Your mind raced, searching the sky for any one else who would arrive.

“Death eaters-“ You whispered, fear overtaking your body. You could taste the adrenaline in your mouth, a sour foul feeling overcoming your every sense. Luckily the pain of unknowing was only for a moment more, as Lupin and George followed suit.

“George!” You cried, running over to the boy. His hand held the side of his head, blood was dripping down his shoulder and across his cheek.

“I’m okay im okay.” He mumbled, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and hoisting himself upon your small frame. You tugged his body indoors, flopping him on the family couch in the living room.

“It’s just my ear darling.” He smiled weakly, his face was pale from the loss of blood but still held your hand tightly. Mrs. Weasley quickly began to tend to her son, allowing you to hold his hand and be with him through it all. Even though you were slightly inconvenient to her tending, she dare not ask you to move. Both Fred and you had been tied together, your sobs uncontrollable.

“Honestly I think I’m way cuter without an ear. Don’t you think?” George tossed, rubbing your hand affectionately. Mrs. Weasley had successfully stopped the bleeding and bandaged what she could, leaving you both alone in the room. Just in the kitchen, Lupin and the order continued to talk about their now sudden loss of Moody and who could be trusted.

“It definitely makes you stand out.” You laughed, finally feeling comfortable in his state. You both smiled at each other, the everlasting admiration you had for him only grew, how resilient and fateful even in the face of death he had been.

“I’ll always get the last laugh-“

[pencil-n-pen]

YOU BEWITCH ME

꧁ ༺ ✧ ༻ ꧂

─��───────────────────

Oh baby I am a wreck when I’m without you- I need you here to stay.

Line Without a Hook, Ricky Montgomery

──────────────────────

benedict bridgerton x eldest daughter! reader

summary: Benedict Bridgerton has been the least tolerable Bridgerton since you arrival to the ton. You are a lady of respectable means, though nearly forgotten by society due to some extenuating circumstances. But no matter how hard you try, you can’t stay away from him.

cw: time period typical treatment of women in society. btw when i say eldest daughter i mean SHE IS THE FIRST BORN OF HER FAMILY SHE IS NOT RELATED TO HIM NO INCEST THAT IS NASTY !!!! also no smut

a/n: i’m writhing on the floor foaming at the mouth im dying dead. my girlies from the books know that Benedict is a Tier One Yearner (tm) and im utterly obsessed with the dynamic of elizabeth bennet and fitzgerald darcy so i bring you the bridgerton version

i wrote this before i watched season two so shhhhh i didn’t steal her backstory from Kate’s i had no idea they were gonna be so similar T-T

please excuse the crazy long playlist my brain is infected

songs i listened to while writing: Somethin’ Stupid by Nancy and Frank Sinatra, Bewitched by Laufey, Line Without A Hook by Ricky Montgomery (these fools are yearning CRAZY) Amore mio autami by Piero Piccioni, Valentine- Live at the Symphony by Laufey & The Iceland Symphony Orchestra, Someone to Say- Reprise from the Cyrano Motion Picture Soundtrack, Hopelessly Devoted to You by Olivia Newton-John, The Way I Loved You (Taylor’s Version) by Taylor Swift, A Lovely Night by Ryan Gosling and Emma Stone, The Swan by Camille Saint-Saëns, Sebastian Comberti, and Miriam Keogh

──────────────────────

title taken from Bewitched by Laufey (GO LISTEN TO LAUFEY)

✧˖°.

In your short time at the ton, you have met every Bridgerton. Eloise in particular is your favorite- her determination to carve her own path despite the vice grip societal standards have on her is nothing less than refreshing and inspiring. Violet, their mother, is the most likeable of all the ones you have met. Anthony is respectable, Colin is nice, and the children behave well enough for their age. That just leaves one left.

Benedict Bridgerton is the least tolerable and easiest to dislike out of his siblings and family. His cavelier disregard for anything of true substance —besides the art he covets so dearly— grates on you. His smirk prickles your skin whenever he flashes it at you (which is, of course, much too often) and his general manner of being make you desire nothing more than to leave whatever party or ball you are at and never return.

And he, no matter how hard you try, does not seem to get the message.

"Ah," He bows slightly as you enter, "The lady doth grace us with her presence."

You give a tiny curtsey —enough to appease Portia Featherington, whom you have arrived with— and a thin smile, which drops the second she is out of earshot.

"Mr. Bridgerton," You greet, purely out of formality and however might be eavesdropping, gossip is especially rife in this town, "How... nice of you to leave the comforts of your canvas to charm us ladies at this party. I'm sure there is someone else here in attendance who would wish to speak to you more."

Indeed, there are several ladies eyeing the pair of you. To Benedict, with very obvious heart eyes, and to you, barely contained sneers.

If only you could assure them you are of no threat to their dear Benedict. Not a threat to any gentleman well and truly looking for a wife, to speak plainly.

"But who would entertain you? It must be difficult, being here, so far away from your friends and family in..." He trails off, leaning in to you expectantly.

"Cheltenham," You respond, smile paper-thin.

"Cheltenham," He nods. "I hear they have the most magnificent gardens. We do have some impressive ones here in London, but we are not quite known for them."

"Oh, yes. You must be quite familiar with these gardens by now. I must suppose this is our third time having this exact conversation."

There. Right there, his smirk almost falters. As usual, your sharp-tongue and quick-wit catches him off-guard. It is the easiest way to disarm a one Benedict Bridgerton long enough to make a quick escape.

Except this party is rather boring (even though you have just arrived) and well. With almost no chance of possible suitors approaching you and your usual preference of lingering on the fringes of parties and analyzing what happens in them, there is little better to do than subject Benedict to whatever mood you are in.

"You'll forgive me," he affirms, "It is hard to find topics of conversation when one's partner is adamant on not continuing past formalities."

The usual flame begins to spark in your chest. "Oh? Then let us continue, if that's what you desire. I had believed you would want to save your best conversation for the ladies who are much more... diverting."

"My, my," He tilts his head, smirk widening. "Do you consider yourself plain?"

"I consider myself un-agreeable," You remark, words rolling so easily off your tongue. Something about arguing with Benedict specifically always makes your words easier to find, easier to say. "I think you will find that most, if not all, of the gentlemen here agree. Even Lady Whistledown writes of my abilities to repel any and all suitors."

"So I have heard," Nearly in sync, you both pluck glasses of wine off a passing tray, "I do worry, my dear Lady. You sound almost proud of this feat."

"I am. I have worked tirelessly for the title."

He takes a sip of his wine. "I recall several suitors calling upon you back when you first arrived, at the start of this season."

"Ah yes, well," You take a sip of your own, "Nothing makes a woman think of marriage like being fought over like a shiny new toy."

Benedict chuckles, looking down at his glass and then back at you. "I see now why you and my sister get along so well."

"I believe that was evident from the moment we met. Not just anyone deserves the right of befriending Eloise Bridgerton."

"Ah! There we go," He raises his glass as if toasting. "Something we both can agree on."

The conversation lulls into silence, neither of you bothering to start it up again. You merely stand, an appropriate distance apart, and watch. Benedict, likely watching his brother, who has taken to the dance floor, and you, watching a young lady who bears a rather striking resemblance to your one of your sisters.

A stab of homesickness plunges deep into your chest, so sharp and so quick you almost suck in an audible gasp. You haven’t seen your sisters in quite some time. Each of them married and in love and happy- something you worked so, so hard to achieve.

Even if it meant you yourself are likely to become a spinster.

Benedict notices your momentary grief. He follows your eyeline, and when he speaks next, it is surprisingly soft.

“Do you miss your sisters?”

You sip your wine, at the same time using the glass to cover the slight shine of tears that has risen in your eyes and to take a moment to gather your words.

“Do you miss Daphne?”

“Of course I do,” His voice is firm, almost vehement. “But I gather that the bond between sisters is different than sisters and brothers.”

The wine begins to settle in your stomach, rich and heavy.

“It is,” You say, nearly a whisper, “My sisters and I were all very close. I miss them a great deal.”

You allow your words time to hang in the air before continuing. “But they are all married now, and they are happy. Most of them have children of their own. They’ve all gotten fine lives for themselves.”

Benedict makes a noise in the back of his throat that has you turning to stare at him.

“You are the eldest, yes?” He asks, something you can’t identify in his eyes.

“I am.”

“And you have not yet married,” He continues, “I would think that the eldest would get married first, and her sisters would follow her lead.”

You stare down at your gloves. This topic of conversation has come up several times over the course of your stay —Especially because you’re staying with the Featherington’s, being old family friends of your father, and Portia does love a good piece of gossip— and it never gets easier.

“My mother died before any of us entered society. I was raised by our governess, and my sisters were raised by me. Our father has… little interest in the affairs of match-making and courtship and everything it is young ladies get up to.”

Benedict is silent while you speak, eyeing you curiously.

“And my mother had always spoken of how she wished for her daughters to marry for love. And with her gone, well,” You swallow harshly over the lump in your throat, “Somebody had to ensure that came true. How could I prepare my sisters for society and guide them to their matches if I was busy and married?”

He doesn’t respond for several long moments. When he does, there’s an edge to his voice that wasn’t there before.

“I had not considered you so selfless.” He admits, eyes flicking over your face. “I must say, I am quite surprised. So many layers to the ton’s most infamous suitor-fighter.”

And just like that, all the air seems to return to the room, and whatever momentary tension was there leaves, and you remember that you are speaking to Benedict Bridgerton.

You give him another fake smile. “We can’t all be so one-dimensional, Benedict.”

—

You’re not sure how you have found yourself a seat at the Bridgerton dinner table.

Of course, you are not surprised at all to have found yourself at dinner with the Bridgerton’s. Eloise is always insisting you come to dinner— the dowager Bridgerton has heard of her pleas so often that they’ve almost come to save you a seat- you are there at least once a week.

The surprise falls in the matter of who is sitting next to you.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” You say, voice just loud enough for him to hear, “Your wine glass is a bit close to mine, don’t you think?”

The smile he sends you —that you can barely see from the corner of your eye— is sharp and full of teeth.

“Nonsense. I’ve found that a little proximity is good for things every now and then.”

“Every now and then,” You repeat, voice firm, “Somehow I find myself seeing you more and more.”

“Oh, surely there are worse fates.”

“Hardly.”

“Tell me- are you this sharp-tongued with all whom you meet?”

“Only the ones that deserve it.”

He raises his wine glass to his lips. “And what have I done to deserve such cruel wit?”

“Oh, don’t play ignorant to your intentionally aggravating behaviors.”

Benedict rests a hand over his chest in mock pain. “You wound me. Truly.”

The sip of wine you take is a little too large to be considered a sip. “Somehow, I find that hard to believe.”

“Tell me,” He tosses back a generous gulp of wine, “Were you born this stubborn and sarcastic or did it come naturally over time?”

“Hmm,” You pretend to think, “I suppose I’d consider myself that of a fine cheddar. Only tasting sharper with time.”

Benedict laughs, a private thing, clearly already tipsy. “That doesn’t even answer my question.”

“Why do you even want to know?”

“I want to know what your sisters endured during their childhoods. My word. I can only imagine why you haven’t had any suitors since arriving here.”

Fear races up your spine at his words, a sudden a rather unwelcome reminder of why your father sent you to London.

“Yes, well,” You answer, your mouth suddenly dry and your hands sweating in your gloves, “They should know there is no accounting for someone’s personality.”

He’s silent for a few moments. It makes you nervous his silence, so you turn your head, just a little, to see what expression he’s wearing.

Only when you turn, he’s already staring. Not even the half-head turn that you’ve done. He’s staring. Right at you.

His brows are furrowed, little creases on the skin in between them, and his eyes are bright and searching.

“Are you alright?”

You have been in London for two months, one week, and three days.

Benedict Bridgerton is the first person to ask if you’re okay.

“Fine,” You say, smoothing out your features with force, “Wine does not always agree with me.”

He doesn’t believe you. But he doesn’t pry, either.

“Shall you be giving the wine a thorough lecture, then?”

“Wine does not have ears. A lecture would be wasted on it,” You pause, “However, if we can track down the winemaker…”

Your words have their desired effect. He laughs, this time a little louder than something just for the two of you to share, garnering a couple glances from Anthony and Eloise, so you sip your wine and pretend you did not just make Benedict laugh. A real laugh, not the fake one he does when you’re arguing.

You suppose there are worse ways spend an evening.

—

It is an almost pleasant day in London. Almost being that the temperatures are fair, but the weather overcast.

You find garden parties the most interesting of all the parties to be had by the high society families because it means you get to escape to the gardens. Of course, there are others milling about in them, but they offer much more privacy than a ballroom and have the added bonus of reminding you of your home in Cheltenham.

“What is it liked to be overlooked by society?” Eloise asks, ever lacking decorum. It is, honestly, refreshing. She does not beat around the bush or sugar-coat her words.

You think on her words before responding, taking the time instead to eye some rather nice roses. “Honestly? It is not as terrible as you might think. Everybody always says that spinsterhood is a fate worse than death, but if it’s anything like this, I can’t think it to be that painful.”

She nods, thinking over your words. “But didn’t you want to marry? You must be lonely.”

You elbow her side as you walk, arms entwined. “How could I ever be lonely with such incorrigible friends?”

You both laugh, raucous and cackling and nothing close to lady-like.

“Is there a pack of hyenas roving about the gardens?”

You hear the rush of footsteps swishing across the grass, then feel the brush of fabric on your arm.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” You sigh, cutting him a glare, “What are you doing here?”

He loops his arm through yours, the same way that Eloise has done to you.

“Mr. Bridgerton.” You warn, tone sharp

“Oh relax,” His smirk is in high form, today, “I am protecting you ladies from those hyenas. We haven’t found them yet, have we? It’s the gentlemanly thing to do.”

“Eloise,” You pause, craning your neck about the garden, “Do you see a gentleman around here?”

Eloise snickers behind her glove. “I can’t say that I can see any.”

Benedict rolls his eyes. “Humor me, then.”

You continue walking. “I suppose we will. It’s good to engage in charity, dear Eloise. You must not think yourself above those less fortunate.”

He scoffs. “Since when do you consider yourself charitable?”

You flap your fan a few times. “I have a great many qualities. Do not fault me because you are so caught up in yourself to notice anything other than what you want.”

His fingers flex. “And what is it you think I want to see?”

You shrug plainly. “Me as I present myself. Unbecoming and, probably by the standards here, vile.”

“No.” He says, the word more of a sound, sort of ripped from his chest.

You look at him in alarm and he meets your gaze evenly. “You are a great many things- stubborn and irritating, but never vile.”

His words and the vehemence in which he said that stun you into silence. You’d never imagined Benedict, of all people, to take such an issue with that word. Vile. You’ve been called vile often over the course of your life, by mothers and suitors and other debutants and even on occasion your father. Its meaning has been mostly lost on you, the cruel nature in which it is said no longer barbed and painful. It is just a word, like every other word.

He’s staring at you, an almost pained expression on your face, so you figure you should say something.

“I see,” Eloise’s arm tightens on yours, “I suppose I should take your words to heart. I am glad to know that there is at least one gentleman who does not think me a vile woman.”

Benedict smiles, but there’s a flicker of something else in his eyes for a moment, something you don’t manage to place before it is gone.

“Ah! You called me a gentleman. Have I won you over?”

“For now, at least.”

—

You miss dancing.

Since you are the most un-agreeable lady in the Ton, you are seldom asked to dance, and since a partner is a requirement for the activity, you tend to spend most parties on the fringes, either talking with Eloise or merely observing.

Or arguing with Benedict. But you’ve found it a little harder to truly poke at him with any real malice or criticism since he defended your character so passionately that day in the gardens.

“You’re watching the dancers like they personally offended you.”

He always finds you at parties. Actually, he always finds you no matter where you are.

You gaze at him out of the corner of your eye. “I’m envious. Pay me no mind.”

He snorts. “Envious of the dancers? Whatever for?”

“I miss dancing. The only problem with scaring away all your suitors is that you also scare away all of your potential dance partners.”

You both observe them quietly for several moments, eyes tracking the flowing and sweeping movements.

“Do you,” he pauses, clears his throat when his voice cracks over the last syllable, “Like to dance?”

“Yes,” You admit, a tad embarrassed, “I always have. Most of society’s expectations for women are quite sedentary or still. But dancing is… its movement and passion. And sometimes, when your partner is agreeable and the music fair, it can almost feel like you’re not dancing at all. That there is no one else there, just the two of you.”

Your face heats, the realization that you’ve been talking so long about something you really do care about striking you. “Or so I’ve heard. I haven’t actually experienced that last bit.”

He inclines his head. “Where did you hear about it?”

“From my mother, as she regaled me on the day she met my father.”

You both stand, shoulder to not-shoulder, more like mid-upper arm, observing the spins and steps of the pairs of dancers.

“Would you dance with me?”

You snap your head to him. “Dance?”

“Yes,” He says, voice a little breathless. “I have yet to do my duty dance for the evening and it would be unfair to keep a lady from the dance floor.”

He extends a hand. “Especially if she longs for it.”

You stare down at his hand. “People will talk of you dancing with me. I would not want to bring reproach—“

“Dance with me,” He says again. “Please.”

Who are you to deny such an earnest request?

He marks a spot on your dance card- your first and only of the night.

As the next song comes a close, he leads you onto the the dance floor, and for the first time in awhile, you feel… conscious, of the eyes on you.

Everybody always watches for the who the Bridgerton’s dance with. Except now Anthony has Kate, and he is much less interesting than the second Bridgerton brother taking a partner to dance. Especially a partner with the reputation you have.

The song begins, and you glide your way through the steps.

“You didn’t have to dance with me. I’m sure we’ll—“ you pause, spinning, “—appear in Lady Whistledown’s review in the morning.”

He grasps your hand tightly. “Let them talk. I have never been the brother anyone is well and truly worried about.”

You begin to feel more and more alive and the song plays on. Movement— real, fluid, passionate movement thrums in your veins, the music jumping through the air.

But all good things must come to end.

Eventually, the music comes to a close, and you must curtsy, and allow Benedict to leave the dancefloor.

“You dance well,” He praises, eyes alight, “I see why you miss dancing. You glide like a swan.”

The smile that tugs at your lips is entirely involuntary. “You are too kind. I do not dance that well. I just have a passion for it.”

He raises a brow. “Oh come now, accept the compliment.”

You shake your head, chuckling a breathy laugh. “Then I must pay you one in return. Not once did you step on my toes or lose your way. Color me impressed.”

His face lights up, joy evident. “And the night grows better! A compliment from our dear spinster.”

“I have always proclaimed myself a fair judge, have I not?”

Benedict’s expression is alight with amusement. “You have. But that doesn’t mean I’ve been all that inclined to believe you.”

You can’t help but roll your eyes. “Well, there’s no accounting for opinions, even if they are wrong.”

“I thought opinions above being right or wrong.”

“Only sometimes.”

Benedict looks all together too pleased with himself as he gazes at you, lips quirked up and cheeks still a little flushed from the dance.

He extends a hand.

“Care for another dance?”

You smile down at your gloves. “I couldn’t possibly. Dancing with me once could be forgiven, but twice? What would your mother think?”

“My mother happens to like you a great deal,” He says smoothly, “And I think I might enjoy dancing with somebody who actually dances.”

How could you refuse?

You place your hand in his.

“I’d be delighted.”

—

As has become a particular habit of yours recently, you’re lying away, staring at your ceiling and pondering Benedict’s actions.

Why did he ask you to dance? Why did he allow you the joy of two dances?

Why did he care?

Why can’t you stop thinking about it?

In your heart, and probably your mind, you know why. The warmth of his hands through the gloves and the dappling of the candlelight on his flushed cheeks is stuck fast in your mind for the exact same reason you’ve hated him since the moment you met:

You love him.

You didn’t love him when you met, but you know yourself. You know he is the type of man that you would love- the type that would break your heart because he is charming and kind, and he will never choose you. And why should he? You’re sharp and sarcastic and nowhere near the shining qualities and perfection of this season’s diamond- any of the season’s diamonds, really. You’re a spinster in the making with an attitude and standards.

It is a most unfortunate combination. For your upbringing to have made you so hard to love and have also instilled such a deep want for love and romance in your heart. You know you were not made for it, not for the kind your father sent you to London to get.

He wants you married to whoever will take you- only problem is, now no one will. Especially not Benedict.

But… could he?

You turn over in bed, smushing your face into the pillow.

No, you tell yourself, Don’t go down that road. Don’t even think about it.

You barely sleep a wink, that night.

—

The morning brings the post, and the post brings a letter from your father.

Not even Portia Featherington’s threats of grounding stop you from racing into a carriage to Bridgerton house.

You enter through the back entrance and upon seeing your disheveled appearance and tear stricken face, a servant rushes inside to fetch Eloise immediately.

The girl herself looks harried and concerned as she meets you in the back garden, a million questions etched in her face and streaming out of her mouth.

“My father,” You half-sob, “Has found me a husband. Baron Dunsmoor. He is— he’s horrible. He has had two previous wives, and then all died in childbirth. He is disgusting and revolting and treats women like, like cows.”

Eloise’s expression crumples. “What is, what can be done?”

You shake your head, pressing the back of your hand to your mouth. “It is too late. He’s ordered me to come home at once so the proposal can be made official.”

The younger Bridgerton girl grasps your shoulders. “What if you were to get a proposal? Here? Now?”

“Eloise!” You say, “Who are we going to find to marry me before tomorrow?”

Her eyes shine when she answers. “My brother. Benedict.”

The cruel, twisting stab to your gut that hearing his name, now, here, gives you is nothing short of agonizing.

If you were not crying before, you certainly are now.

“How could you say that?” You ask, breath hard and stuck in your throat, “He would— He will never marry me. That is, it’s cruel to even suggest that.”

“No, no I promise, he loves you, I am sure of it—“

“Eloise, please do not—“

“He has painted you, drawn you, I swear he must have illustrated your likeness more than—“

“Eloise!” You snap, patience thin and tears thick, “That is enough. Benedict will not marry me. I cannot—“

“Marry me.”

You snap your head up at the sound of a familar, rich voice, eyes meeting Benedict’s as he marches over to you eyebrows drawn tight and lips set.

He looks… distraught. Utterly wrecked.

“Mr. Bridgerton,” You gasp, “You—“

“Benedict. Please. You never call me Benedict.”

His words come out like a dying man’s wish, despite you being the one stuck in a hopeless situation.

“Benedict,” You start, “I cannot marry you.”

“Why not?” He snaps, words and expression immediately becoming sharp and confused, “You would rather live a life with that wretched man?”

“Of course not,” You retort, “But it’s not that simple—“

“Yes it is!” He cries, throwing his hands up and taking another step towards you, “Tell me, honestly, if you wrote to your father and told him I had proposed and you had accepted, would he not choose my proposal over the baron’s?”

“Yes, but—“

“But what?”

“But I cannot accept!” You shout, aware of Eloise standing only a few feet away and servants no dough crowding to watch from the door, “I can endure a loveless marriage to a loveless man. I could not endure a loveless marriage to a man that I love.”

Benedict sucks in a gasp, and you refuse to meet his gaze. How can you, after saying that?

Birds chirp overhead. There is the distance noise of carriages moving about in London. Somewhere distant, a dog barks.

“Do you truly think our marriage would be loveless?” He says, voice scraped raw and quiet, “How could you not know the depth of my affection for you?”

You look up, taking a half step forwards, searching his face for any hint of a lie, for deception.

You find open, painful, vulnerable honesty.

“What reason would I have to believe that I had a chance?” You ask, voice hushed, “All we do is argue. I have been cast out by society and you are a Bridgerton.”

He reaches forwards, grasps your hands in his. Your breath hitches.

Neither of you are wearing gloves.

“I am so in love with you it makes my chest hurt and my bones ache. Eloise was right. I have drawn you hundreds of times because there is just so much inside of me and it has nowhere to go,”

His lips quirk up a little, almost sad, “I loved it when we argued, because it meant you looked at me. It meant I held your attention. And you are remarkably smart and so, so much more wonderful than you give yourself credit for. I would sooner burn everything I’ve ever drawn than let you marry that man, than let you believe that you can never marry for love.”

He squeezes your hands once.

“Please, marry me.”

Your eyes are burning with a fresh wave of tears, but there’s something warm and alive unfurling and beating in your chest, something that glows with every word he says.

You laugh a strange noise, somewhere between a chuckle and a sob.

“Yes,” You gasp, your smile practically splitting your face in two, “Yes. I will marry you.”

Benedict’s smiling too, the both of you looking like fools, smiling and laughing in his garden.

Eventually, he turns to Eloise. “You’d better go tell mother she has another wedding to plan.”

Eloise scoffs. “Oh, please. She’s been working on this one for ages. I’m absolutely positive everybody knew this was only a matter of time except the two of you.”

He looks baffled, and you note in the back of your mind that he’s still holding your hands, “What? I wasn’t that obvious.”

“You danced with her. Twice. In a row.”

“So?”

Eloise rolls her eyes. “You don’t dance with anybody, especially more than once. You’ve been making love eyes at each other over verbal spars for ages. It’s been disgusting to watch.”

You snort. “Then look away.”

“Absolutely not. You insult my brother too well.”

You laugh again, then look back to Benedict.

“My father, and the Baron—“

“I will write to him today,” he soothes, “And have the letter sent with the fastest post carrier. You’re my wife now. I’m not going to let anyone else have you.”

Your cheeks heat. “I’m not your wife yet.”

He shrugs. “Only a matter of time, my love.”

Eloise retches in the background, and Portia will be an absolute nightmare to deal with when you get back, and part of you still wonders if Benedict is serious, but none of that seems to matter.

Not with how he’s looking at you now. Not with your hands in his.

You’re really looking forward to that first kiss.

✧˖°.

──────────────────────

taglist: @mythical-goth @sfotiegiuls @shoyooss @booknerdlife @gratuitous-and-superfluous @got-the-cheese-touch @amysfav @pear-1206 @purplefluffycows @secretisme4 @my-queen-rhaenyra-targaryen @s0mewhereweaknessis0urstrength @twistedkisses @vcnillafairy @labellapeaky @fxiryeon @eddiiiieeee @kalanthra @soniiyi @famouslywaiting @deeninadream @moschinocherries @monaskydancer @bobo-bush @agreeeeeeeeeee @tardis--tea--time

[supercutszns]

rotten to the touch; luke castellan

series masterlist

wc: 3.2k

pairing: pre-tlt luke castellan x f! reader

synopsis: you’re pretty sure you’re an awful person. you’re pretty sure luke castellan is too. and you’re pretty sure you want to make out with him.

warnings: reader is flawed & not the greatest, luke is ... a little dark🫣, small mention of blood, swearing, lots of making out but no explicit nsfw, a bit toxic, & no more more ‘i can fix him’ or ‘i can make him worse’ it’s ‘he can make ME worse’

notes: this is… sluttier than my usual stuff so it’s not as good but i’m trying, feedback is appreciated! also i wonder what cabin we think this reader would be in, let me know where you’d place her im curious :) maybe i’ll write more of her in the future she’s interesting!! and thank you for 100 followers i am so grateful<3 designated song for this fic is crush by ethel cain

You are a miserable, wicked, asshole of a person, and everybody knows it. Including you.

It’s unclear to you why you turned out this way—every reason to blame never satiates the fury searing your insides. All the campers hate you. The counsellors, too. Even Chiron looks down on the viciousness inside you. You are Camp Half-Blood’s black sheep; a mean, bitter person with no love for the people around you. And it’s not just for show. You know you’re rotten. You know the anger will never go away.

It’s evident in the things you think about other people—the way you pick them apart in your head, toss them aside, because they just don’t see it. This miserable, unforgiving world, with children sleeping on wooden floors because the people who created you think you disposable. Because they can just make more of you. More, more, more, until one of you comes out rotten, born of all the ugliness they have inside them. You are the worst parts of Godly blood. The wrathful parts.

Everyone hates you. Everyone hates a person with an unquenchable anger.

But everyone loves Luke Castellan.

He’s a saint at Camp Half-Blood if there ever was one. Handsome, generous, kind. Goes out of his way to help out the new kids and gives them homes in his cabin. He’s the best swordsman in camp by a mile. Shit, you’d even love Luke Castellan if you didn’t know any better.

But you do, and you don’t, and it’s complicated, okay?

Because there’s something you know about Luke Castellan that nobody else does: he’s miserable and wicked, too.

You see it in his eyes sometimes. The way they look at you at dinner, when you’re picking at your food away from anyone else at your table. Something familiar rises in them, and your stomach twists. His body tenses whenever someone mentions his father, but the smiles he flashes are so charismatic nobody notices. But you do. It’s exciting.

During sword practice, he quips back and forth with the kids and laughs whenever they take a jab at him. He’s light, easy, carefree. But you see how he holds back, the tension in his shoulder, the way the arc of his sword never fully finishes. So you wait until everybody leaves and he’s alone, with the training dummies and the setting sun. And you. Hiding.

He slashes through them and spears through their heads. You see it, the gnashing of his teeth, the sweat curling down his cheeks. There’s something there. A chasm he’s hopeless to fill.

Before you know it, you’re going out of your way to catch him training alone. It’s creepy, you know, and awful, you know, but the more you watch him the more you see a sort of violence scabbed under his skin.

Whenever you see him now, the feeling you get is entirely foreign to you. It’s almost . . . longing.

Wherever she is, you’re pretty sure Aphrodite’s having a cosmic fucking laugh. And you’re sure she’s laughing double tonight.

The Aphrodite cabin is hosting some secret party for the older counsellors. You’re definitely of age to be a counsellor, but you’ve never been made one because that would probably make half the campers drop out. Chiron and Mr. D don’t know what to do with you. You’re sure you’ll be kicked out of camp soon for good.

But you’re here anyways, for a reason you don’t want to admit, and you stay tucked in a corner as the world around you mingles. Luke is on the other side of the room, lovely as always, laughing with a few other counsellors. He brings a drink up to his lips, and you have a startling thought of what it would be like to kiss him. And you’re fucked. You’re so fucked. Because for the first time in your life you want something tangible, something real. You want to hear him and feel him and pry him apart, and a part of you wants him to actually see you, see all the awful things that might make you the same. You feel like a teenage girl with a crush, and it is infuriating.

An Aphrodite girl comes up to you with a foolish smile. “Hey, sorry, you want a drink?”

“Fuck off, you idiot,” you snarl.

You wait for her to leave. She doesn’t. “You know, you don’t have to be so mean all the time,” she says evenly. “If you’re here, you might as well enjoy it. So yes, I want to give you a drink.”

“Have you ever thought that I’m not being mean? Maybe I just am.”

You glare at her. She looks you up and down. “Sure,” she shrugs, walking away. There’s a vivid picture in your mind of her falling through a hole in the cabin floor. It doesn’t soothe you, but at least the fantasy is there.

The night drones on. You’re sick of the smells and the laughs and the heat. And you’re sick of yourself. You can’t believe, underneath all your sourness, you came here to stare at a boy you barely know, and you don’t even know why. He’s fascinating, and you resent him, and he’s also beautiful. But he’s looked back at you all of three times tonight and you’re sick of the way your skin crawls when he does.

Leaving the cabin brings the relief of the cool night air, and the singularity of your body. You are the only one who feels this rage. You are the only one who hates.

To stave off your discomfort you walk around to the back of the cabin, to the crest of the hill facing the water. The stars above twinkle at you in spite. There’s a bitterness in your throat you want to wash down with something worse (maybe you should have taken that drink), but you know it won’t matter. Nothing matters. Those stars and whatever they hide are apparently the only important things in the universe, so why should anyone care about anything?

They stars only get brighter. It’s probably their goal to piss you off. You grunt, “Oh, fuck you,” to them. It’s not enough, never nearly enough to expel the rotten part of you. “Fuck you. Fuck off!” You groan at the sky. Nothing happens. Until:

“I’m guessing you’re not having a fun night.”

You whirl around. It’s hard to see in the dark, but whatever light is left catches a long scar on a cheek. Your stomach knots.

“Yeah, me neither,” Luke Castellan says, hands in his pockets as he meanders towards you.

Even when he’s close enough, you don’t say anything. If you do, you’re afraid it’ll be something ugly. Like I kind of want to make out with you. Are you awful too? I need a lobotomy.

The thoughts almost make you laugh. Been a long time since you’ve been funny.

He nods at the sky. “Those things don’t talk. You do know that, right?” He’s still so captivating, so self-assured, even when there’s no one around but you.

“Gods, you’re the worst,” you scoff. You really mean it, so you can’t look him in the eye.

“Then why have you been staring at me all night?”

It catches you so off-guard that you whip back to face him. He has an eyebrow raised and the itch of a smile that makes you burn with shame. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

He shrugs, leaning against the cabin wall. “I’m not stupid. You’ve been brooding in the corner watching me the second you came in.” He cocks his head to the side, adding, “Actually, you stare at me all the time. At meals and stuff. I really hope you don’t think you’re being subtle.”

You huff. “Okay, if we’re really being honest here, you started that! You do it too! All the time!”

His hands shot up like he was being arrested. “Hey, I never said I minded it. A guy’s . . . just gotta wonder. What’s up with you spying on me when I’m training alone, anyways?”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“You watch me when there’s nobody else around. I’m not blind. It’s weird. If you want tips you can just ask me. Or if you like what you’re looking at, at least be upfront about it.”

You speak before you can take in that last sentence, or the way his smile took pride in itself when he said it, or how embarrassed you should probably feel. “You didn’t answer my question about why you started staring at me first.”

The anger (shame) blinding you made you forget how close you are to him right now. Close enough to touch, but not enough to see. But almost there. Almost.

“People think you’re mean,” Luke says after a moment, his dark eyes probing you. The words curl out of his mouth slowly, like he’s choosing them all with care. “You’re rude. You never listen to anyone. You judge everything. They all think you’re awful.” Again, he looks you over. “I’m not so sure.”

“If I’m awful, then you’re awful,” you spit before he can say anything else.

He just shrugs. “Well, I guess that’s why I’m not sure.”

It’s irritating, his calmness. He has the same anger you do. How come he can just . . . shove it down? You try to unearth any fury in his eyes, but it’s too far back. Simmering. “Jesus,” you mutter, “You’re worse than me.”

He looks genuinely taken aback by this. His scar deepens when his brows wrinkle. “What?”

“You’re a pretender—that’s what you are.” It’s your turn now, to step closer, to make his skin crawl. “Look at you. Everyone loves you. You’re this perfect golden boy and you’re sweet and attentive and whatever the fuck but you know it’s one giant lie. At least I’m honest, but you just sit pretty and act like you don’t have that . . . thing that I have. Resentment. Insanity. Whatever you want to call it. We’re the same, but I’m the only one getting shit for it.”

Now, you are close enough to really see him. The patterns on the wood behind him frame the vision of his ever-shifting face. You realize that this, like most things are to Luke Castellan, is a challenge. You also can’t remember the last time you saw him lose one.

But when you play, you play to win.

“You don’t know that,” he dares.

“Oh, I do. You’re rotten, Castellan,” you sneer, index finger jabbed into his chest. You can feel his heartbeat if you concentrate. “And you’re not owning up to it, so you’re also a coward.”

However scathing you look, it isn’t enough. If anything it only makes Luke’s manner more playful. Nothing feels playful anymore. Everything, inside and outside of your mind, feels like constant, exhausting war. Maybe that’s why you don’t slap his hand off you when it wraps around your wrist, keeping it pressed to the middle of his chest. His heartbeat thrums through you.

He tilts his face towards you, grinning, “Then why do you want to kiss me?”

All right. What the fuck. It feels like you’ve been electrocuted.

“What the—what are you talking about?” You blunder, but he knows, of course he knows, because there’s something between the two of you that has been formed and understood by eye contact alone. He can probably read your mind. As much as you don’t want to admit it, you’d like to read his just as much.

He cocks his head. “I mean, you did call me pretty,” he teases, and it’s almost endearing. “You’re pretty like this too.” His other hand comes up to your face, and you’re surprised you don’t flinch when his thumb gently smooths the crease in your eyebrows. “Don’t call me a coward, heathen. Then we’ll both be embarrassed.”

The nickname makes you want to fight, but the touch makes you dizzy. “You don’t want to kiss me, Luke,” you say with all the control you have, which, right now, is increasingly sparse.

“You’ve gotta stop telling people what they want,” he muses. The hand on your wrist traces further down your forearm. The one on your face snakes around your hips. “One of your more disagreeable qualities.”

His words fan over you. That fire simmering in his eyes has finally come to the surface.

“One of?” You challenge.

“You let me make out with you and I’ll give you a whole list.”

You snort, hoping it hides the shortness in your breath. “What a charmer you are.”

His lips brush yours. “Well, that’s what makes me so rotten, isn’t it?”

There’s hardly time to unravel if that’s a question or a statement because you grab a fistful of his shirt and he kisses you. Your heart detonates. It is not rotten in the slightest.

His body is warm and firm. You smell the cabin wood and the drink on his breath. It all matters, and none of it does. You’re warm everywhere as he wraps both arms around your back, and the way he kisses is, unfortunately, exactly how you thought he would. Your hands are tentative in his hair. So is your mouth on his. But Luke is so deliberate in the way he kisses that you know he’s thought about this, too. It makes you all the warmer.

His hand takes your jaw and tilts it up. You know your neck is shaky with breath, and you’re pretty sure he’s admiring it. You don’t complain when he presses a kiss to your jaw, then another one, like he’s testing the waters. “You’re so nice like this,” he mutters almost to himself, thumb running across your neck. “If only people could see you.”

“Then they’d see how mean you are too, no?” You huff. “You don’t want that.”

Another kiss to your jaw. “Not yet, sweetheart.”

Whatever feeling is harbouring in your body right now, it’s so fulfilling it almost makes you uncomfortable. You want to reject it. You’re not supposed to want things. Worse, you’re not supposed to get things. Luke starts marking a path down your neck and you are so determined to enjoy this that you’d kiss a fucking baby if someone asked you to. You might as well be a saint.

He bites the pulse point on your neck, sure to leave a mark, and a shudder rips through you. You’re pretty sure the bastard starts laughing. You hit his shoulder in retaliation.

“Easy, heathen,” he reprimands in your ear, and you know he’s still smiling.

“Don’t—don’t call me that.” You hate that you start to smile, too, and that your stomach burgeons with butterflies when he pulls back to look at you.

He touches the corner of your upturned mouth, kiss-bitten and red. His expression is boyish. “Hard to when it makes your face do that,” he goads. “I thought it was impossible for you to smile.”

“Be quiet.” You thread a hand through his camp necklace and bring him closer. You can almost taste his mouth on yours, but he sweeps past you at the last minute.

He gently tugs your earlobe with his teeth and whispers, “Yes ma’am.”

Fuck him. Seriously. You might have to.

It’s a tangle of teeth and hands and smiles kept hidden, as you slip your fingertips beneath his shirt and he does the same, and you’re both angry and greedy and incredibly destructive, but it doesn’t matter yet. Now you’re just teenagers fooling around at the back of a party, and it’s the first good thing either of you have had in a long time. Luke leaves you gasping whenever his mouth hits certain places, maybe too many places, and he teases you accordingly. “So sensitive,” he taunts, pressing his knee between your legs so he can see you squirm. You rake your nails through his scalp and he tilts his head back to groan. It shuts him up for a while.

He bites your neck until you say his name. You trace lines on his stomach till he takes your hand in his own. You’ve been hungry for something your whole life, and you finally have something to sink your teeth into. For better or for worse.

After Hades knows how long, laughter floats out from the front of the cabin. Sounds of feet tripping over each other and muffled goodbyes. You pull away from Luke, chests heaving together. His hair is wild, his shirt crumpled, and he looks entirely satisfied with it. Smug little shit. “Party’s letting out,” you mutter.

“What a damn shame.” His hand rubs your jaw, and it’s too tender a gesture so you angle your head away to peek over the side of the cabin. You barely pay attention to the kids straggling back to their bunks.

“Is now the time you tell me all my horrible qualities?” You ask once you’re ready to look at him again.

He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Actually, I came up with more since I said that so I’m pretty sure it’ll take more than one night.” He fakes a wince, “Might have to spread it out for a few days.”

You roll your eyes, “Oh, you ass.”

“I’ll give you one for starters.” You feel like a tornado when he kisses the juncture between your jaw and your neck. “Your hands are too cold.” They’re tucked underneath his shirt right now, pressed against his back. You don’t move them. “And,” he adds, “you’re incredibly crass.”

“Thanks, dipshit.”

“Thank you for proving my point, heathen.”

The commotion at the front gets louder, and you know your time to go undiscovered runs short. “You meet me again tomorrow, and I start telling you the rest?” He raises his brows.

The prospect both repulses and excites you, although perhaps they’re hand-in-hand. You tentatively reach up to trace the scar on his face. A faint, jagged line that holds scripture within it. His eyes flutter shut for a moment. “Even though I’m rotten?” You ask, and there’s an echo of mischief in your voice, too.

He’s got a strange expression when he looks at you. “That’s not true.”

He leans down, angles his head to kiss you. It’s slow, but bitter, and he bites down on your lip until you’re pretty sure there’s blood. “Luke,” you murmur, and he kisses you softer. You lean into him like a hapless, lovesick fool.

After you part, he loosens his grip on you. The bumbling campers have gotten louder. He stares at you, and you see the chasm in his eyes again, brimming with fire. Same as yours. You know you’ll see him tomorrow.

He says, “You’re not rotten. You’re right.”

And damn it, you really do believe him.

[dollishmehrayan]

# TAKE EVERYTHING AS IT WAS WRITTEN FOR YOU ── .✦ ( batboys x writer!reader who writes ⋆౨ৎ˚⟡˖ )

dollish note ౨ৎ: hey so I’m back from the dead apparently, anywaysss omgg I missed you guys Hii and I will posting more content from now on and taking this seriously and these past days I was super stressed out over moving but hey my lovess anyways I decided to base this writer s/o over like anyone, like whether you write fan fic like me or write actual books, it matters to this hcs !! Tags: (batboys x writer!s/o)

© dollishmehrayan — ( all rights reserved to me. These works cannot be reposted, translated, or modified. Thank you for understanding dollies! )

# DICK GRAYSON ── .✦

He loves that you're a writer ( listen he just LOVESSS creative women like hello !? God forbid a guy likes creative people 🫠) he's your #1 fan and biggest hype man.

Tries to read your work over your shoulder while you're typing, even if you hate it “Babe, I need to know what happens next!” Like constantly over your shoulder seeing what you’re drafting and etc.

Occasionally offers cheesy plot ideas like “what if the love interest also knows parkour?” (His ideas suck)

Will 100% brag to everyone: “Yeah, my partner’s a genius novelist. Ever heard of them? You will.” OOOOO

Falls asleep listening to you ramble about story arcs and character development. It's his favorite sound.

Writes you little encouraging notes like, “You got this, Hemingway 💪” and sticks them on your laptop / tablet or wtv you have bbg.

# JASON TODD ── .✦

Loves your dark, gritty writing especially if there's violence, angst, or moral grayness involved since a lot of people don’t write angst that casually.

Offers surprisingly insightful edits or plot ideas: “This villain's motivation is weak. Give them a tragic backstory and don’t make them redeemable.”

Low-key wants you to base a character on him but will pretend he doesn’t care.

Has a soft spot for reading your fluff pieces though and will be quietly emotional about them.

Will threaten anyone who leaves bad reviews on your work. "Just say the word. Username 'Booktoklover93'? I got 'em."

He buys you fancy notebooks and pens and acts like it's no big deal, but he's proud of himself.

# TIM DRAKE ── .✦

Absolute king of writing dates you'll both sit in a café typing furiously and sipping terrible coffee.

Helps you fact-check obscure things at 3am without complaint (okay, maybe some complaint).

If you write mystery or thrillers, he treats it like solving a real case. “Wait… that clue in chapter 5…”

He totally has a secret folder on his computer labeled “[Your Name]’s Writing – Favorite Stuff” with all your pieces saved.

You’ve accidentally inspired him to write fanfic once and he WILL take that secret to the grave.

Sends you prompts or memes like “this is so your OC.” (Sorry I just keep cringing at oc 🥲)

# DAMIAN WAYNE ── .✦

At first, he might not get why you write fictional stories… but then he reads them.

He's completely blown away and demands to know what happens next immediately.

Occasionally critiques your logic but ends up emotionally invested in your characters.

“Why did you kill him off?” Because it served the story—” “You’re a monster.”

Will sit next to you while you write, drawing or sketching your characters in his own style.

Has probably told Alfred he thinks you’re a genius at least once when he thought no one was listening.

# BONUS WHICH MR WAYNE! ── .✦

Loves that you're creative and has the patience of a saint when listening to you rant about plot holes.

He doesn’t read everything you write, but when he does, he’ll quote it back to you at random times like a proud husband.

“Chapter 7 really showed growth. I was impressed.”

Offers to fund your writing career or self-publishing venture without blinking. “You’ll need an editor and marketing team.” SIGN ME UP !!

He also gently reminds you to eat and sleep when you’re on a deadline: “You’ve been writing for 16 hours. Come to bed and go to sleep.”

[tinycoffeeroom]

you and i | lando norris

face claim: bela juliana ♡

request: here !

pairing: lando norris x leclerc!reader

requested: Can I request a social media AU leclerc reader x lando based off of the song ‘You and I’ by Rita Ora Thanks so muchhhhh

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liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 679,154 others

y/nleclerc oh to be the girl someone writes love stories about

fan I WILL!!!!! give me 10 minutes and garage band i can pull it off!!! ♥️ y/nleclerc

alexandrasaintmleux every love song is about you gorgeous girl x ↳ y/nleclerc when are you gonna stop pretending you like my brother and just date me instead x ↳ charles_leclerc ?? rude.

landonorris d4vd is so good! can't wait for his show in london :)

lewishamilton pipe is right there 😉 ↳ y/nleclerc that is NOT a love song sir lewis hamilton!!!! ↳ charles_leclerc back off grandpa i will put sand in your petrol tank ↳ lewishamilton woah calm down there bud i was joking i promise ↳ y/nleclerc play nice boys ↳ charles_leclerc he started it ↳ y/nleclerc well stop, i dont want ferrari in my dm's telling me y'all are throwing hands on the grid ↳ georgerussell63 if they do, can someone film it? ↳ y/nleclerc ffs

carmenmmundt prettiest girl in the whole wide world 🩷 ↳ y/nleclerc MWAH MWAH MWAH love you carm 💜

francisca.c.gomes getting ed sheeran on the case rn ↳ y/nleclerc i still bawl my eyes out to cold coffee nearly daily ↳ pierregasly really y/n? ed sheeran? ↳ y/nleclerc ok mr listens to crazy frog when he thinks no one can hear

fan lando being the only one y/n airs everytime ☠️ ↳ fan feel bad for him at this point 😭 ↳ fan y/n you want a lover boy, he is RIGHT THERE

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y/nleclerc uploaded 3 pictures to their story

[caption: y/nnies song recs of the day] replies:

charles_leclerc need to find you a boyfriend immediately so you'll stop posting sappy songs on ig ↳ y/nleclerc as long as its not one of your colleagues ↳ charles_leclerc whats wrong with them? :((( ↳ y/nleclerc i hear enough about cars from you i dont need it from them too

landonorris iris is a certified BANGER

heidiberger wanna go get coffee?? i need you to give me new songs for my danny playlist ↳ y/nleclerc y'all are so gross but yesssss ↳ heidiberger i think you misspelt cute 😋

fan y/n can i recommend turning page by sleeping at last? i'm not sure if you have it on your playlist already ❤️ ↳ y/nleclerc team edward FOR LIFE!!!! was one of the songs that got me into my lover girl era ❤️❤️

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liked by charles_leclerc, landonorris and 607,285 others

y/nleclerc garden party with my favourite leclerc saint mleux ❤️

charles_leclerc wow i see how it is... ↳ y/nleclerc not my fault your son is cuter than you ↳ oscarpiastri aw i knew you thought i was cute 🥰🥰 ↳ y/nleclerc the cutest piastri-leclerc! come round for tea soon, i miss my nephew x ↳ oscarpiastri will you make that pasta dish again? ↳ y/nleclerc i will just for you! ↳ landonorris osc save some for me please ↳ oscarpiastri get your own y/n this ones mine ↳ landonorris just you wait

fan the adoption is going strong i see ↳ fan i think y/ns the biggest instigator for it 😭

alexandrasaintmleux am i your favourite saint mleux? 🥺 ↳ y/nleclerc always x

landonorris leo!! miss my little man ↳ fan day 2947 of y/n airing lando ↳ fan leave him be, his little crush is cute

arthurleclerc if leo's your favourite leclerc saint mleux, am i your favourite leclerc? ↳ y/nleclerc not even close, that spot is for maman only ↳ leclerc_pascale 🥰🥰

fan where's the dress from?? its so gorgeous!! ↳ y/nleclerc it's from a little boutique in monaco! let me see if i can find some alternatives online 💜 ↳ fan my queen thank you!!!

fan oh to be at a garden party with the leclercs...

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charles_leclerc uploaded to their story

replies:

fan you and alex are so cute ↳ charles_leclerc 😉🤫 ↳ fan what does that mean im scared

fan alex was wearing a floor length dress,, whomstdve is THAT mr leclerc?

arthurleclerc i don't like the way he was looking at her ↳ charles_leclerc don't you dare say anything ↳ arthurleclerc you want.. lando???? to date our sister ↳ charles_leclerc oh he's absolutely smitten, it's cute

y/nleclerc is... is that me and lando? ↳ charles_leclerc you guys looked so cute i couldn't help it ↳ y/nleclerc stalker alert!!! ↳ charles_leclerc deflect all you want, i know you liiiike him ↳ y/nleclerc 🙄🙄

landonorris mate can you send me this please? ↳ charles_leclerc yeah sure 😉

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liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 679,253 others

y/nleclerc i believe the kids call it serving cunt

alexandrasaintmleux most gorgeous girl in the whole wide world 🩷 ↳ y/nleclerc come give me a kiss xx

charles_leclerc ??!!!?!?!?!???!!!! text me rn!! ↳ y/nleclerc i'm busy ↳ charles_leclerc i have a key to your flat, i'm not afraid to use it ↳ y/nleclerc damn ok so needy

arthurleclerc and who is that. ↳ y/nleclerc why do you wanna know? ↳ arthurleclerc oh god its Him isn't it? ↳ y/nleclerc you say that like its a bad thing 😭 ↳ arthurleclerc it is

fan UMMM??? 3rd pic???? deets please miss y/n ↳ y/nleclerc if all goes well, i'll give you all a full debrief

fan MOTHERRRRRRRRRRR

fan never mind the man DATE ME!!!! ↳ alexandrasaintmleux ^^ ↳ lilymhe ^^ ↳ lilyzneimer ^^ ↳ alexalbon charles stop bringing your sister to races i dont know if i can fight PLEASE ↳ y/nleclerc you would lose with those lanky arms wimp

fan poor lando in the likes... watching the girl he fancies go on a date with someone else ↳ fan how do you know he fancies her? ↳ fan he's constantly in her comments even if she airs him, he gets the goo goo eyes whenever she's near and don't even get me started on hungary 2022 ↳ fan ... please continue ↳ fan ok SO! she was in the paddock before the race and some guy came up to her and was asking her for a photo and then he asked her on a date ??? like dude use critical thinking skills for one second ... lando was across the paddock with daniel and there's a photo of him somewhere staring DAGGERS into this mans soul... charles came over and shooed the man away and lando literally deflated.. i'll see if i can find the photos ↳ fan tag me in them please ↳ fan me too! ↳ fan me three!! ↳ charles_leclerc me four!! ↳ fan CHARLES???

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y/nleclerc uploaded to their story

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liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 708,256 others

y/nleclerc flowers from lover (?) boy :)

fan oh she's down Bad ♥️ y/nleclerc

fan guys dont call me delusional but i think she's dating a driver ↳ fan charles would burn the world down before he would let that happen ↳ fan i gotta say... they have a point, remember when they did that tiktok where they asked drivers who they would introduce their sisters to on the grid and charles said lando immediately ↳ fan and then they did the f2 gang and arthur threatened to kamikaze anyone who tried to go near y/n? ↳ fan going off the comments i'm putting 2 and 2 together and getting 4 ↳ y/nleclerc ironic ↳ fan Y/N??????

fan pls show us lover boy its been 84 years i am begging you ↳ y/nleclerc it's been like 3 months silly but soon :)

charles_leclerc i know i should feel sick seeing you so happy but it's nice to see you be treated how you deserve ↳ y/nleclerc charlie 🥺 ↳ alexandrasaintmleux he's giggling and kicking his feet rn ↳ charles_leclerc wow ↳ fan ik he's picked out a suit for the imaginary wedding ↳ charles_leclerc i reject that statement ↳ alexandrasaintmleux it's bookmarked on his laptop

landonorris pretty flowers! ↳ y/nleclerc thank you :)

fan ???!!!!! SHE REPLIED TO LANDO???? ↳ fan i know he's squealing rn ↳ fan adding it to my "y/nlando dating REAL" spreadsheet ↳ fan omg share the link ↳ charles_leclerc yeah share the link ↳ fan this feels like confirmation but we all know charles lives for the drama

leclerc_pascale don't forget to bring him to the garden party tonight! ↳ fan another one? ↳ y/nleclerc we do them quite often in summer!! it's an excuse to drink champagne at 3 in the afternoon ↳ fan ur so real for that

carmenmmundt lover boy 😔 that should be me ↳ y/nleclerc i've got two hands for a reason babygirl x

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y/nleclerc uploaded 3 pictures to their story

[caption 3: lover boy (no ? this time)] replies:

landonorris lover girl ❤️ ↳ y/nleclerc lover boy ❤️

charles_leclerc photo creds? ↳ y/nleclerc nope!

alexandrasaintmleux its not too late to run away with me x ↳ y/nleclerc meet me at the port at midnight, we can steal charles' boat xx ↳ alexandrasaintmleux y/n it's charles i will bomb the port. ↳ y/nleclerc oh you're Crazy crazy ↳ alexandrasaintmleux only for her ↳ y/nleclerc gross... put my gf back on the phone

fan the sign 🥹 we need to know all the deets ↳ y/nleclerc all i will say is he gave me a mixtape :))))) ↳ fan A MIXTAPE??? LIKE A PHYSICAL MIXTAPE??? oh we stan

fan WHO !!! IS !!! LOVER BOY !!! ↳ y/nleclerc all will be revealed soon ;)

arthurleclerc maybe he has rights ↳ y/nleclerc shush you love him ↳ arthurleclerc thats before he started fancying 🤢 you 🤢

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liked by landonorris, charles_leclerc and 789,502 others

y/nleclerc he may not be able to write me love songs, but his voice is my favourite melody ❤️

fan we've officially lost her boys 💔💔

carmenmmundt just looked at george and sighed ↳ georgerussell63 ?? why am i catching strays?? ↳ lilymhe me with alex ↳ alexalbon what he say fuck me for?

fan lover girl x lover boy era <333333 ♥️ y/nleclerc

fan guys that's lando's necklace i'm like 99.9% sure ↳ fan you're onto something there lemme look at pap pics from the last race!

fan guys the flowers are orange... papaya even...

landonorris the guy sure likes his bouquets ↳ y/nleclerc yeah he's a real romantic 😋 ↳ fan WHERE'S THE FAN WITH THE SPREADSHEET ↳ fan I'M HERE !!!!! typing as fast as my fingers can handle!!!!

alexandrasaintmleux just so you know charles is crying at the caption ↳ y/nleclerc big softie x ↳ charles_leclerc i just have a lot of feelings :(((((

arthurleclerc i will allow him to live another day ↳ y/nleclerc i'm sure he's shivering his timbers rn ↳ arthurleclerc >:((((

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👤 landonorris liked by landonorris, alexandrasaintmleux and 903,185 others

y/nleclerc lover boy x

fan miss rabbit has fainted

fan spreadsheet fan we just got a HUGE update ↳ fan i'm gonna break my laptop in 2 with my bare hands

charles_leclerc :))))) my scheme worked ↳ y/nleclerc i still hate when you do that shit ↳ alexandrasaintmleux same 🙄

landonorris lover girl x ♥️ y/nleclerc

landonorris so gorgeous, i love the way you look tonight xx ↳ y/nleclerc you said the same thing the night we danced together 🥺 ↳ landonorris i meant it then and i mean it now x

mclaren scuderiaferrari we stole your girl xx ↳ scuderiaferrari you and your ugly colours can get BACK 🤺🤺🤺 ↳ fan the girls are fighting!! ↳ mclaren UGLY COLOURS??? oh its on

carlossainz55 now he'll stop blowing up my phone about you ↳ landonorris nah now i can just annoy you about how cute my GIRLFRIEND is ↳ oscarpiastri you've been dying to say that, haven't you? ↳ landonorris mate i thought i was going to die

fan sorry can we circle back around to charles saying his scheme worked??? ↳ fan yeah charles_leclerc spill. ↳ charles_leclerc a magician never reveals his tricks ↳ y/nleclerc he forced me and lando to talk at the garden party and then pretended to get a phone call from ferrari so he could play eternal flame over the speakers ↳ charles_leclerc y/n :(((( ↳ y/nleclerc you used my love song weakness against me, you don't get to have secrets

alexandrasaintmleux can't believe he stole my girl :( ↳ y/nleclerc you know my heart is always yours x ↳ landonorris WOMP WOMP i didn't pine for years to share

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a/n: thank you for requesting!! i think i've listened to the song about 400 times writing this! needed a lil break from the gote series and this was the perfect thing to get me out of my slump <3

taglist: @golden-hoax

[wide-nose-and-wonderful]

Pairing: Franklin Saint x Black Fem Reader!

Warnings/Type: Established Relationship. Brief use of the n-word.  Some Fluffy, Goofiness and a little bit of Smutty Goodness to send you on your way. Imagine One Shot, or something like that.

MINORS DNI! AT ALL! This is not for you.

Word count: 4,444k | Summary: There was a reason we got 1985 Franklin and not 2024 Franklin. Just imagine the husband wit’ a cellphone. A damn fool. That's what. And Leon a fool to cause he'd be right there wit' him. Like y'all ain't done no kinda work. Tick tockin’ n’shit. Haha ain't he sexy tho' em em em. Mr. Saint Mr. Saint you can get it all, you can get it all. And so without further ado' drum roll please....

A smile itches to make itself visible. You instantly become playful because he's playful, and his antics are infectious. “Franklin. Why you got it on black and white mode?” you ask, tilting your head just shy of youthful curiosity. You contend yourself with discovering just why he does things, but the mystery keeps you apt. The camera zooms in on his face, then zooms out. “Cuz we classic babe,” he says, a hint of laughter in his otherwise sexy voice. “We old school. Ain't that right Lee?” 

You wait. Noise from the camera indicates it’s changing direction. The view turns on a cornrow Leon dressed up in his plaid regular, briefly. “Yeah. Nigg-,” he says, giving a wave off, ever moving. His demeanor is not as enthused. You hear Franklin suck his teeth and watch the biggest grin emerge on his face as he turns the phone on himself again. “You know how it go beautiful. Niggas be camera shy n’shit.” 

A laugh escapes because he's horrible with angles. You shake your head and sigh. “Hey, Lee wassup,” you call into the phone. Although he's out of sight, his voice comes in on the speaker from somewhere like an echo. The room they are in must be huge! “Nothin much,” he calls back. “Just here wit’ yo’ annoying’ ass Husband. Glad he decided to call you. Gettin’ on my damn nerves. He don’t got nothin’ ta do.” 

You pay attention. The word husband, ringing in your eardrums. This word makes your heart skip. You consider that if you smile any harder your cheeks might begin to ache. You try not to tempt it. They were already brimming with so much happiness and you'd be subject to their sting every time you got flowers, or a text that came through that said a simple good morning. To have that feeling be permanent! You always wanted to be married, someday. If he was really serious, you already had the colors and venue plans decked out on a vision board you'd made in your free time months before. Maybe the manifesting began to take hold. Somewhere secluded but serene. You visualize a place with Mountains in fall with the changing colors to bring life to the special moment. Perfect! The pictures would be gorgeous, you both in white surrounded by color. 

“Husband?” You repeat, not expressing too much excitement, but just enough. “Oh. You said that, Franklin?” You ask.  

The phone is doing a close up on his face again. Part of his nose and one eye fit the entire screen. “Yep. I sure did.” He eludes with confident confirmation that has you smiling. “Imma get you pregnant. Marry you, all that.” 

You chew lightly at your bottom lip. Cheeks, officially sore by the prospect of that happily ever after. Not the one found in story books, but one that fits your story. “Um boooooy, dang, I get a say in any of this?” He shakes his head. His expression is a smug one flashing across the screen. That familiar smirk that always has your knees weak and your heart at a beat of engrossment. Your mind, sharp and steady, hurries to take these photographic moments of him and store them away deep in files within your memory. 

“Naw, you just be happy and taken care of,” he clamors out. “Anyway, How's things at the house?”

You nod your head. “Deal. Things at the house. Oh you know, same ol’ same ol’. Your mama came by. We talked for a while.” 

He smirks, shakes his head. “Oh shit. Bout’ what? What the hell Cissy Saint don’ said now?”

You laugh. “I’mma tell her you be calling her by her government name, watch.” You smack your teeth at his question. “But, nothing. None of ya’ business. Mother in law stuff.” 

“I already know it was bout’ me.”

You purse your lips and lift an eyebrow. “It was actually about plant soil, but M’Kay Franklin.” 

A knock comes through the phone speakers somewhere off in the background possibly to interrupt whatever comeback he’d muster up to say. You watch instead to notice his attention shift. You can’t see what he’s looking at, but he presents more seriously from his side profile.  

“Yeah, wassup. Y'all ready?” You hear Leon’s voice ask. “Aight. Saint. Let’s go,” he says after. You watch him nod then turn to face your view again. “Gotta go. Call you when I'm done. Love you.” 

“Kay. Love you too. Bye,” you say and blow a kiss before the call ends. 

“Baaaaaabe, what ya dooo-in,” he emphasizes zooming out. You watch. The camera lowers. He provides a good view of his outfit. All black. You hold the phone for his entertainment, a display of you on the bed to answer his question visually. Fresh Poetic Justice braids hide underneath the bonnet. Your face, clear of any makeup. A little smile pulls after hearing the playfulness in his voice come back. “Just reading ma lil ol’ book.” Eyes on him, then down where a makeshift bookmark resides in effort to salvage the place left off, you turn to the next page, held tight to the words of the author.

“Show me.” he coos.

“Franklinnnnn….” you plead. His face zooms in. A cunning grin appears on the phone screen. The forefront for your viewing. “Come on,” he says once more, “Show me.” 

You try to stifle a giggle but it escapes despite your efforts. He's handsome, even more with all the goofiness. “Baby move back you to close,” you encourage and with one hand hold the phone up. With the other you lift up the book, trying to angle both just right so he’s able to see. You sneak a peek of his expression. It bestows one of excitement and joy when you put eyes on the phone. 

“Oh shit, you got Toni out tonight? That’s wassup!” 

You nod, smiling. “Yes yes. I was in the mood, and the movie don’t hit like the book do.” 

“What Chapter you on?” 

You hear footsteps, Leon passes by and walks into the other room. “Five,” You answer.

“Chapter five. Chapter five.” He rubs at the hairs on his chin. “Tryna remember what happens in that chapter. Some crazy shit, probably.”

You smack your teeth and roll your eyes, but the smile remains. “Boy stop frontin’ like you read Beloved. You really over there actin’ for ya’ life right now. Doin’ tha most.”

He throws his head back, laughs and repositions the camera. You get a birds eye view of his forehead. “Damn, why you do me like that? But okay okay,” He shifts the view zooming out so that you get a fuller view of where he’s seated. “I haven’t read it. Saw the movie tho’. I’m sure it's about the same. Concept wise.” 

You shrug. “Hm. Maybe. But you know the books are usually always better than the movie.” 

“Yeah. True that.” 

“Franklin baby. Why you be lying so much,” you say, and blink slowly to look at him. 

He laughs. “I’m not. Stop actin’ like the only book she wrote was Beloved. She got other books too.”

You make a face. “Yeah. None of which you’ve read.” 

“I’m not messin’ wit you go head,” he says with a grin and waves you off.

“Stop frontin’ so much then.”

There are seconds when neither of you speak and you take the opportunity to sneak a peek at a few more lines of the paragraph you're on. 

“Oh yeah, I forgot to tell you. Made another tik tok video today.”

You smack your forehead. “Lord, another one, Franklin.” He had been against the entire thing in the beginning, until you both did one of the trending couple dances that you forced on him. Then challenges, and some more dances. A bonafide tik tok monster. “What have I done? You're like, addicted at this point. You already made one the day before.” 

He smiles. “Naw, listen tho’ this one was fire. It’s me makin’ macaroni n’ cheese, babe.”

You hold the phone away from your face so he can’t see the puzzled expression. When you pull it back, it’s still very much present. “Whaaaaaat?”

“Yep.” This time he smiles proudly. “And my mama taught me her recipe, so you know it smacks.” 

You sigh and nod looking into the camera. “Okay. If the recipe came from Mama Cissy then there’s hope. I’mma let you make it for me so I can taste it when you come back home.”

“Shit, hell yeah. And you know what,” he shakes his finger at the phone. “I’mma fry you up some chicken as a bonus.” 

You shoot up from your comfortable position on the bed waving your hand in protest, almost dropping the whole phone in the process. “No, No, you do the macaroni and cheese, I'll do the chicken! We can’t have another grease fire. Almost burnt down my whole kitchen last time. I couldn’t believe you!” 

He sucks his teeth, whining. “How was that on me? Grease got too hot too fast. It’s yo’ stove. That’s the problem. But that’s wrong tho’, how you ban me forever! Like, I could see if it was for a few months, but forever is a stretch. You mean as hell for that babe. I’m actually hurt.” 

His voice didn’t convey hurt, but he put on his puppy dog eyes through the screen. His sad expression, tempting to believe and otherwise nurture, only because he was cute doing such a performance. You fight through the desire of giving in to it, like you always seem to do, to instead this time hold your ground firmly, and clear your throat. “Because Franklin, nun uh. But,” you smack your teeth. “Since when do you cook? That’s my thing. I’m on dinner duty. Not you. Now all of a sudden you wanna audition for Hell’s Kitchen,” you argue. 

A light chuckle leaves him. So much for puppy dog eyes and being hurt. All that out the window. He appears as a man puzzled. “I said that shit as a joke,” he confirms. “You know me and Gordan would throw down. Like the motherfuckin’ spaghetti can only be cooked one way.” The camera zooms out. You get a fuller view of his form. “But hell back to the point, I gotta learn somehow don’t I? How I'm spose to cook for you after I put that baby in you and you all laid up? Huh, answer me that.” He pauses and grins, like the thought stays on his mind as he licks his lips. You can only imagine what he’s thinking. You wonder whose thoughts are nastier. Diving back into your memory files, you consider which position might align with the impregnation. Missionary eye to eye, doggie style had been the favorite so far, but legs thrown over his shoulders just might win the vote, hands down. “DoorDash,” you rebuttal to his sentiment. 

He nods his head, getting up and moving around the hotel room. “You said DoorDash? Wow. That's cold.” The view takes you into a closet while the new moisture in your panties becomes extremely uncomfortable. His Polo shirts hang in the semi empty space and he searches through them, choosing a Royal Blue out of the bunch. “That’s okay. I’ll remember when the zombie apocalypse comes, won't be no damn door dash, ubereats. None of that. I got the last can of green beans too, and I won’t be sharing that shit.” 

You let go a breath of relief and allow your shoulders to sink. Thank your lucky stars that you mastered the art of the poker face. He wasn’t aware that you were still thinking about him fucking you silly. At Least he’d taken the L for his chicken cooking fiasco. Moved on. Zombie's happened to be a simpler subject to dive into, strangely. “Okay so we’ll both starve then,” you interject. “Cause guess who got the can opener Mothersucka’?” 

You stare at each other. Silence on both sides of the phone until he breaks it. 

“Yeah, okay. I got you.” 

You grin. He’s salty. He always is when you win an argument. 

“Have you eaten yet?” You close the book and focus all your attention on him. 

He shakes his head. “Naw. Me and Lee actually bout’ to go down soon. Imma shower real quick and change.” 

“Okay, well I won’t hold you. Eat well. May you have an abundance of green beans before the end. Love ya much, handsome face.” You finish off with your Whitney Houston impression with a taunting sault. He frowns but there is a hint of a smirk attached to it. He almost laughs. “Love you.” 

You, two points. Franklin, zip!

Your phone is propped up on the dresser providing a full view as you dance. The music from your laptop fills the room. “Come on Frank fuck it up. Show off them famous Saint dance moves!” Shoulders bounce, fingers snap and it all becomes a sing along. Your eyes are on him until you turn, letting yourself feel the music. You spread your legs apart and your ass begins to bounce to the beat, cheeks clapping to its rhythm in your fresh black lace panties. “Oh fuck you givin’ me a whole show, okay. Hell yeah,” you hear him yell out against Paul Russell. You laugh and clap your hands as the song ends and grab the phone, throwing yourself on the king size bed in your shared bedroom. Only after you catch your breath do you notice the bowl of deliciousness. “See Franklin. Got my ice cream melting.” You lift up the phone and switch its position with that of the colorful scoops. A banana split you fashioned just for yourself after the late night craving crept up unexpectedly. You grab at the spoon eagerly taking some nuts and whip cream into your mouth. 

A chuckle comes from the phone speakers and you notice a small flash. “How? You the one got up,” he says with enthusiastic sarcasm. 

“Hecks yeah, that’s my song! My lil boo thang. Mmm.” You notice the room he's in is darker with less light filling up the space when you look in the direction of the phone. The flash might have been him turning off a light, or at the very least, dimming it down. You can see a smirk emerge from where you sit on the bed, back propped up by pillows. There's a bit of ruffling on his end. “You ma’ lil boo thang,” he says.  

It's your turn to laugh. “How? That nigga singing about some other dudes girl. You didn't take me from no one,” you run a spoonful of strawberry ice cream over your awaiting tongue. 

“That's not the point. I could if I wanted to.”

You sigh and poke your lips. “ Oh, hush the hell up Franklin, with yo’ cocky self.”

“Am I lyin’? You know you love it over here on team Saint.”

“Whatever,” you say, eating more of the chocolate and rolling your eyes. But you do smile. 

“Hm. See. That ass ain't say no. But anyway. I liked the lil’ dance you did just now. You look sexy in them panties. Those the ones I bought you?”

The compliment had you feeling yourself. “Oh why thank you. And yeah they are actually.” 

His head tilts just slightly with a squint of his eyes. “I thought it was a set?” 

You nod and look down at yourself. “It is. I just like your T-shirts way better though. Especially when you're away.” 

A smirk finds its way on him. “I see.” 

There's some electricity that runs up your spine. Something about his tone is enticing. You clear your throat to change the subject. “So uh, how was the food?” 

The smirk turns into a smile. “Well I didn't have any green beans as you suggested, but the steak was cooked up perfect. Had that and just a side of fries.”

“Hm. No desert?”

You can hear movement on the other end. Probably him shifting his position. “That's usually reserved for dinner, I thought,” he says. 

You toss a glance at the bowl. “Hm. Not always.” You move the phone and hover it above your face. “Especially ice cream. You can have it any time of the day. Now, make that a banana split and I guarantee you'll get your fill. You like banana splits babe?” Grabbing the edge of his shirt you slowly start to move it up and up until your belly button is exposed, then even further to rest right under your chest. 

“Yeah, I like um,” he licks his lips. “What you doin'?”

How long had it been? You could count the days. Too long. Long enough that you would remove his shirt and your panties, the ones belonging to the set he'd bought, to lay butt ass naked in front of a phone camera. Desperate times, you couldn't take how much of a temptation he became throughout the day. You point your toes as if to model for him, your legs moving in slow motion as your hands begin to explore. The camera tracks this entire process until you position it on the dresser, creating for him a more open view of the bed and you.  

“What do you like about um?” 

You change your voice. Much more sensual. A way to get his attention as you ignore his question and ask more of your own. “What's your favorite part?” You dip your finger and run it through from flavor to flavor. “It's got so many elements to it.” You sit the two fingers on your neck and drag. Your breath doing a hiss from the coldness. You bite at your bottom lip and shut your eyes with a continuous motion of your fingers to the top of your titties. “And the best part, you can design it how you want it. Three scoops, chocolate, vanilla and strawberry.” The heat from your body makes the clump cascade in drips running over the fullness of your breast and some over your nipples. “Chocolate drizzle,” you moan. “A little caramel. Whipped cream. Nuts. So many nuts.” 

“Oh damn. You tryna make a mess. What about the banana?” His voice is different too. Much more involved and curious like pressing you for what might come next. You grin and turn your head to glance at him. “Oh your right, how can I forget the banana?” You face the opposite side where the bowl sits on the bed and pick it up. “That's gotta be my favorite part,” you utter, moving it over your skin. “The texture. It's fullness. The way it feels in my hand.” First it touches over your legs, then the inner thighs. You part your knees and run the furthest end over your exposed clit. 

“Shit, for real…” 

You don’t know what this answer is pertaining to, either in relation to your favorite part of a Sundae, or his reaction to seeing a banana slink over your pussy so eloquently. Either way, the breath he’s let out tells you if he wasn’t already locked in for the ride you were planning to take him, he definitely is at this point. 

“Mmhmm. And you know what,” you whisper.

“What,” he utters in response. 

“It's even better, coated in cream.” You lift your hand, take one end and dip it into the ice and whipped cream, already beginning to melt. When you pull it back out, the white decorates its tip and a bit of its length. You move it slowly toward your lips. Some little drips happen along the way that only roll down your skin as a result. “I remember how you taste Franklin. How your warm cream felt sliding down my throat right before you left.” Finally the tip reaches your plump lips. You part them as the end inserts inside your welcoming mouth, more and more to the back of your throat. You can hear him, noises, a hum, or maybe a moan. You don’t look to confirm any suspicions, instead your smile wraps around the banana once you hear the struggle he's having with his belt. 

You do your best to breathe through it, your mouth now pooling with saliva mingled with the cream as the tip reaches back and tickles at your uvula. A hum of satisfaction at his breathy approval before you start to bob your head. The Saliva and cream stretch as the sensual sounds of sloppy head fill up the room. To busy filling up your throat, you give your free hand its own job to do. What a feeling of bliss to comfort  such tense muscles. You pretend it's his hand that's touching you so tenderly as you listen to his breathing from your end of the phone. Because you see his face and hear his voice, the sensation is more intense when you glance over. All those elements help push for more pleasure. You pull the banana, cream runs down the side of your mouth. “Ahhh, I love feeling you inside me, both ways.” 

“You love it baby.” 

“Yeah, I fuckin’ love it.” Your eyes sink down to your pussy, fingers trailing gently along the slick opening. With your mouth full again, this hot smoldering sensation courses up your spine. You gasp against the weight of the banana and repeat the motion. The sensation served only to grow. An involuntary shiver, the aftermath as his voice encourages you, keep going. Slick, and tight, your clit jots out hardened by arousal, and you do indulge her. His voice triggers the reaction. “Go a lil deeper for me.” So you add another finger to caress your mound, this time slowly, with more pressure applied to your bundle of nerves. A warmth explodes within you and numbs your legs. The desire intensifies. You roll your eyes back in effort to suppress a moan. It's stopped anyway by the blockage. Another push and the slight hit makes you gag. You pull it's end and even more saliva and cream break free as you try to catch your breath. 

The yearning building up in your throbbing center causes you lose interest in the banana and cry out his name, “Franklinnnnn, Mmmmmm…yessss.” All the blood in your legs runs to your pussy, steaming it. And not even the cold from the ice cream can cool it when you dip your hand to apply more, over the surface of your naked body. You are literally burning from the inside. You lift a finger into your mouth and begin to suck and taste your juices mixed with all different flavors. 

“Got damnnnn, baby.” His voice comes in, encouraging you to return pleasure onto yourself again. Moistened from your suckling, the same finger slowly descends downwards and strokes against your tingling bud. The moment your fingertip touches your sensitive core, a loud husky moan of pleasure erupts from your mouth and you shiver slightly as a result. As your fingers dive into your tight, sticky hot cavern, you shut your eyes. Your stroke harder, faster, with a sense of urgency. Moan in this unbridled ecstasy to buck your hips against pleasuring fingers. Yours, but you pretend they are his. “ Fuck your beautiful. I always love the way you taste….I wanna taste you so fuckin’ bad right now it hurts. Lick all that off. Bet that shits hella tight to,” he breathes out. 

With those words and the addition of your name coming in right after, you can almost feel him groaning against your slick lips. If he wasn’t really about his business, he might catch the next plane back home. You were pretty much a living breathing human sundae ready to be devoured, and you wanted so desperately to feel his warm tongue taste every place where the ice cream had run. So you moan, and rest your head back on one of the pillows with that image. “Give ma’ girls some attention…” Pulling at your nipples and needing your breast, you do as instructed. You start panting. You feel a surge of wetness. The very same sensation that came when you thought about all the past positions he'd had you in. “Franklin, I'm almost there…” The vibration of fingers, the wild thoughts swirling, and the fact you can hear him pleasuring himself, moves you closer to orgasm. It doesn't take much. You feel this ripple at your sweet spot. You ride it, bucking your hips while your inner walls squeeze tight, your legs slump down against the mattress, trembling before they go completely, lifeless. 

Closing your eyes to hold the state of euphoria, you catch the sound of his elaborate breathing almost identical to your own. It calms, little by little. 

“Fuuuuck. Didn’t realize how much I needed that, babe.”

You smile but keep your eyes shut to drag your hand and lay it on your stomach, coated by the aftermath of release. “Me too,” you offer as a light murmur and wipe your mouth. With a satisfied sigh you lean over to grab the phone and watch his expression go from happy and otherwise calm to indifferent. You lift your head in concern. 

“Hey. What's wrong?” 

“Nothin’. Just wish I could be there, cuddled up.” He pauses. “I miss you.” 

“I miss you too. But soon, like four more days and you’ll be back home. We can do us a reply, only in person.” You sit up. “It won’t be forever. And even if it was,” you smile. “I’d wait for you.” 

A grin blossoms and finds its way back on his face. “Yeah?”

“Yeah, duh. I’m wifey, remember.” you say to reiterate, laugh and look at the ice cream, completely melted into liquid form. “Well, I should probably hop in the shower before I get all sticky. I’ve already made quite the mess. I’ll call you in the morning.” You snap your fingers at a sudden realization. “Or, damn time difference, you call me? That way I don't interfere with business.” You pull the sheet, toss it aside and stand to your feet. Your bare chest, partially in view. 

“Wait. Take me wit’ you.”

You hold the phone up. “Where?” 

“To the shower.” He has the nerve to look you up and down. Turns out you had a certain charm in creating monsters. “I wanna see the clean up process,” he smirks. “Got about thirty more minutes until my next meet up.” 

The grin on your face begins to grow. You look at the life of your battery. 53%. Just enough for a little bit more Saint FaceTime. 

………………………………………………………………………………………………………

PLEASE DO NOT COPY OR CLAIM ANY OF MY WRITING.  -Wide Nose And Wonderful.

Taglist: @fairy-cores-world @megamindsecretlair @notapradagurl7 @hopelessdisasterr @slippinninque

[abbygracerecs]

Sebastian Stan and Co Fic Recommendations

❤️‍🔥 - Smut

🤰 - Pregnancy/Parenthood

⚠️ - Potential Trigger

♾ - Neurodivergent!reader

❤️ - Soulmate AU

Mob!Seb Alphabet - @sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

Ardor - sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

The C Train - @peterparkerneverland

Bucky Barnes

The Unseen - sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

A Sweeter Place - sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

Yes Daddy - sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

Too young to love you - sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

Cuffing Season - sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

Middle of the Night - sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

Heartless - sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

Scary? My god, you're divine - sinner-as-saint ❤️‍🔥

Left gasping for air - @bucksfucks ❤️‍🔥

Fuck me like you hate me - bucksfucks ❤️‍🔥

Dreamland - bucksfucks ❤️‍🔥

Mr. Brightside - bucksfucks ❤️‍🔥

Happy Accident - bucksfucks ❤️‍🔥

His Omega - bucksfucks ❤️‍🔥

Backseat of his car - bucksfucks ❤️‍🔥

Brother's best friend - @kinanabinks ❤️‍🔥

Into you - kinanabinks ❤️‍🔥

Waiting on fate - kinanabinks ❤️‍🔥

Not for me - kinanabinks

Beefy Bucky - @buckyalpine ❤️‍🔥

Yours to claim - buckyalpine ❤️‍🔥

One Night - buckyalpine

Ink on his heart - @bitsandbobsandstuff

I'm not ready - bitsandbobsandstuff

The (not naked) pin-up calendar - bitsandbobsandstuff

Doctor Daddy - @mypoisonedvine ❤️‍🔥

Dishonorable Discharge - mypoisonedvine ❤️‍🔥⚠️

My Heart, My Angel - @paintedface

Ex’s and Oh’s - paintedface

Intertwined - paintedface

Hello gorgeous - @fatecantstopme ❤️‍🔥

Unrequited love? - fatecantstopme ❤️‍🔥

Accidental Pictures - @alisonsfics ❤️‍🔥

Fake girlfriend - alisonsfics

Do you want me? - @metalbuckaroo ❤️‍🔥

Long awaited - metalbuckaroo ❤️‍🔥

The divorce - @becca-e-barnes ❤️‍🔥

Playdate - becca-e-barnes

Toxic & jealous - @sweetsweetnuit ❤️‍🔥

On his knees - sweetsweetnuit ❤️‍🔥

Purgatory - @wkemeup

The Safest Place In New York - wkemeup

Operation Mistletoe - wkemeup

The third wheel - @writing-for-marvel

Liability - writing-for-marvel

A Solid Foundation - writing-for-marvel

Everyone's Watching Him - writing-for-marvel

A true hero - @onceuponastory

Part of a family - onceuponastory 🤰

Finders Keepers - @sacredsorceress

Cake - sacredsorceress

Three’s a Crowd - sacredsorceress

Who’s She? - sacredsorceress

The Long Run - sacredsorceress

Interference - @navybrat817

What Goes Around - navybrat817

Meet The Parents - navybrat817

Soulmate Quiz - @ofstarsandvibranium ❤️

Best Friend's Brother - ofstarsandvibranium

I'm Not Playing - ofstarsandvibranium

How Do I Do This? - ofstarsandvibranium

You Belong With Me - ofstarsandvibranium

I Got A Question To Ask - ofstarsandvibranium 🤰

It's A Set Up - ofstarsandvibranium 🤰

Block Party Barbeque - ofstarsandvibranium 🤰

[ccwpidsblog]

SAINTS AND SINNERS — iwtv

SUMMARY : Edmée Heart, the dutiful daughter of a pastor, lives a sheltered life bound by rules and expectations. But her quiet world begins to unravel when she catches the attention of Louis de Pointe du Lac and Lestat de Lioncourt, two enigmatic men with dark secrets. Drawn to Edmée’s innocence, Louis and Lestat vie for her affection, each offering her a taste of freedom and danger.

RATING : 18+

CONTENT WARNING: season one spoilers, not entirely accurate to the show but we’re all grown here it shouldn’t matter much, eventual polyamory, heavy religious themes, daddy issues, more to be added

CWPID NOTES 🏹: this is a great way to come back and show how much my writing has improved. redeeming myself from the trash fiction i was writing before. ON A03 N WILL ONLY BE UPDATED ON AO3 (if im not being lazy)

Edmée remembered the Sundays before Louis de Pointe du Lac avoided the sun, somehow, he’d managed to arrive at church after a long night of sin. He was always late, slipping through the heavy wooden doors just as her father’s booming voice began the first prayer. From her family’s high pew, she could see him moving down the aisle, the faint scent of booze and perfume lingering on his clothes—a sinful whisper of the previous night’s indulgences.

He’d take his usual seat beside his brother, his strong frame settling heavily into the creaking wood. His head would bow, his eyes would close, and for the rest of the service, he remained still. Unmoving, like a statue carved from marble. At first, Edmée thought he might be sleeping, but there was something too deliberate about the way he held himself, his hands clasped loosely on his lap, his expression unreadable.

She couldn’t stop watching him. From her elevated view, she memorized the way the sunlight filtered through the stained glass windows, casting fractured colors across his dark skin. He looked ethereal, caught between shadows and light, the kind of beauty that left her breathless and guilty all at once. She tried to focus on her father’s sermon, but her gaze always drifted back to Louis.

At the end of every service, as her father stood by the doors shaking hands and offering blessings, Louis would rise with a graceful ease. He’d move through the small crowd, a charming smile on his lips, and when he reached her father, he always made a point to praise the sermon. “Your words speak straight to the soul, Pastor Heart,” he’d say, his voice like velvet dipped in honey.

Then he’d turn to her mother, taking her hand and pressing a gentlemanly kiss to her knuckles. “A vision of grace, as always, Mrs. Heart,” he’d say, his words smooth and effortless.

But when his gaze finally reached Edmée, it changed. He wouldn’t kiss her hand, wouldn’t offer a compliment. Instead, he’d nod at her, a playful, knowing smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. That smile—the one that made her feel like the only girl in the world and completely invisible at the same time. If her skin had been any lighter, she knew she would’ve turned as red as the pew cushions beneath her.

In passing, he treated her the same. A quick nod, a flash of white teeth. But she noticed how he greeted the other women—the kisses, the murmured words that made them laugh and fan themselves, the lingering glances. With her, there was none of that.

Only a nod. A smile.

And it made her stomach twist with jealousy. The last time Edmée saw Louis was at Grace’s wedding. The church was packed, and the air was thick with the scent of lilies and the murmur of joyous chatter. Louis was everywhere that day—his laugh echoing above the music, his face alight with a rare kind of happiness that made him seem untouchable. He was glowing, his usual quiet intensity replaced by something brighter, freer. Edmée stood by the punch table, nervously clutching a glass, when he approached her. She didn’t see him coming; one moment she was alone, and the next he was there, his presence commanding and electric.

“You’re beautiful,” he said, his voice low enough that no one else could hear. “Maybe even more beautiful than the bride.”

Her breath caught, her cheeks burning.

“Don’t tell Grace,” he added with a wink, leaning in just enough that she caught a whiff of his cologne—a mix of cedar and something darker, richer. Edmée could only nod, her voice stolen by his closeness, her heart pounding so loudly she was certain he could hear it.

Months.

Many months without seeing him.

The pew Louis shared with Paul and his family remained empty every Sunday, a silent memorial to all that had unraveled. No one dared to sit there now, not after everything. Not after Paul’s tragic passing, not after the whispers.

The whispers.

They followed Louis like a shadow, stretching long and dark through the town. The women at her mother’s so-called “Bible studies” spoke of him in hushed tones, their voices dripping with scandal and sanctimony. “Dancing with the devil,” they’d say, the words lingering in the air like smoke. Edmée would sit in the corner, quietly stitching or polishing silver, her ears pricking at every mention of his name. Her brothers were no better. On Thursday nights, they’d gather in the attic for their card games, their voices low and conspiratorial. Edmée wasn’t allowed to join, of course, but she’d found her own way around that rule. If she sat at the top of the stairs, just out of sight, her father wouldn’t scold her.

There, she could catch snippets of their conversations, each word painting a more vivid picture of the man she hadn’t seen in what felt like forever.

“...seen him with him again...” “...spends his nights where no decent man would...” “...more dead than alive, if you ask me.”

The words made her chest tighten, her heart ache. She couldn’t bring herself to believe them. Louis de Pointe du Lac, the man who nodded at her with that secret smile, who complimented her at Grace’s wedding, couldn’t be what they said he was. Could he?

But her father’s rules were ironclad. She couldn’t ask, couldn’t go looking for answers. The world outside their home was a forbidden one, especially now. Edmée’s days were measured in prayers and chores, her nights spent reading scripture or mending clothes by candlelight. Her father had made it clear: the streets were no place for a proper young lady, especially after dark. The world out there was dangerous, filled with temptation and sin. But tonight, as she stood by the forbidden window, the temptation was unbearable.

The house was quiet, her family long asleep. The window, a heavy thing with rusted hinges, had always been forbidden. “Nothing good comes from looking where you shouldn’t,” her father had said countless times. But tonight, Edmée couldn’t help herself. She pressed her fingers to the cool glass, peering into the moonlit street below. At first, there was nothing. Just the empty streetlamps and the soft rustle of the wind through the trees. But then, she saw him.

Louis

He was walking slowly down the cobblestone street, his hands tucked into the pockets of his coat, his head slightly bowed. The gaslight caught his face, illuminating its sharp angles, the deep shadows beneath his eyes. He looked different—thinner, wearier, as though the weight of the world had settled on his shoulders.

Her breath hitched in her throat. She pressed closer to the glass, watching him with the kind of hunger she didn’t dare name.

“Not tonight,” Louis said, his voice low but sharp. Another figure emerged from the shadows. He appeared with a startling grace, stepping into the lamplight as if conjured from the darkness itself. His hair gleamed like spun gold, his sharp, angular features both striking and unnerving.

There was a wildness about him, a dangerous energy that made Edmée’s heart race in an entirely different way.

“Louis,” Lestat’s voice purred, low and teasing, the sound carrying up to her window. “Out for another pensive stroll, are we? Tell me, do you plan to sulk your way through eternity, or is this just for tonight’s entertainment?”

“I’m not in the mood for your games, Lestat,” he said, his voice soft but heavy with frustration. “Oh, but you never are,” Lestat replied, stepping closer. “And yet, here I am, devoted as ever. You should be flattered, mon cher.”

From her perch, Edmée couldn’t look away. The two men stood in stark contrast—Louis, somber and grounded, and Lestat, all sharp smiles and restless energy. Their connection was undeniable, charged with something she didn’t quite understand but found utterly captivating.

Lestat reached out, brushing an invisible speck from Louis’s shoulder with a flourish. “And speaking of devotions,” he said, his tone turning sly, “you’ve been spending an awful lot of time on this street. Seems that you miss the little church mouse lately? What’s her name again? Edmée?”

She could see the shift in Louis as he seemingly snapped, finally turning to face Lestat. “Leave her out of this,”

Lestat’s grin widened. “Oh, mon ami, you wound me. I only meant to say she’s... enchanting, in her own way. So innocent, so untouched by the world.” He tilted his head, his gaze flickering upward as though he might sense her watching.

Panicking, Edmée ducked away from the window, her heart pounding in her chest. She pressed her back against the wall, trying to steady her breath.

Had he seen her?

Had they seen her?

Who was he?

What was he to Louis?

As she sat there in the dark, the questions swirled in her mind, each one more troubling than the last. And though she couldn’t explain why, she felt as though she had glimpsed something forbidden, something that would change everything if she let it.

[fandom-imagines-stories]

Fire Drill

Aaron Hotchner x Reader

Words: 2020

Requested by Anon: Hi can you do one where the reader is pregnant and she comes to visit Hotch at work and when she’s getting ready to leave she trips on the last step and hotch and the team rush to her side and hotch force her to go to the hospital to get checked out

Notes: Okay, I know I don’t do requests, but this just seemed like such a nice break after finishing part one of The In-Betweens S3. I’m not opening requests, but thank you for sending this in because I had fun writing it. I’ve never written for Hotch before, so it was nice to branch out! I hope you like it. 

More Criminal Minds: HERE

-

He hadn’t been expecting you, otherwise he would have told you not to come. It was chaos in the bullpen, FBI and CIA scrambling about to finish wrapping up the case- a rogue agent on a kidnapping spree to get information on his family’s deaths. 

Aaron couldn’t help but pity him. The man’s wife and two daughters were killed in a car accident, but the nature of his work made him paranoid enough to convince him of foul play. And, while the CIA had been reluctant to cooperate, the working teams were able to reach a peaceful conclusion, the agent facing trial and the victims sent home to their families and lives.

You were surprised to find the BAU so busy. Of course, your husband hadn’t been allowed to disclose anything about the case, but you suspected it must have been big to require all this manpower. 

“Mrs. Hotchner!” A friendly voice called over the commotion. 

Agent Jareau’s smiling face appeared from a sea of serious scowls. 

“JJ,” you smiled, relieved to finally see someone familiar. “What’s going on, Strauss’s retirement party?” 

She laughed and made a face of ‘I wish.’

“Big case. Long story.” She took your hand to lead you through the wall of suits. “Hotch is in his office.”

“I think I see him.” You stood on your tiptoes to get a glimpse into the elevated office but there were just too many people. “Where’s the team?” 

JJ laughed and pointed to the conference room. “Hiding.” 

Sure enough, you could just spot the lanky form of Dr. Reid standing in front of the board, solving some long and complex equation. Agents Morgan and Prentiss were discussing something about the file in front of them and Dave Rossi looked like he just wanted to go home. 

While you watched them, another agent barreled by you, hardly noticing that you were even there, let alone that they’d almost knocked you over. Stumbling back, you reached for something to grab onto. 

A hand took hold of yours. 

“Careful,” Aaron, despite his cautious tone, gave you a small smile. “It’s a circus in here.”

“So I noticed, Mr. Ringleader,” you beamed, kissing his cheek. 

“Is everything okay? You didn’t tell me you were coming.” His eyes flicked down to your middle, worry growing with his words. 

You held up a to-go bag with your free hand. 

“Lunch emergency. Code red, Agent Hotchner.”

He chuckled, shaking his head. “Alright, come on.” Keeping hold of your hand, he guided you through the mess to the somewhat quiet refuge of his office. He closed the door behind him, sighing with relief. 

“You have no idea how nice it is to see you.”

“I should hope so.” You gave him a mock pout. “You’ve been holed up here for two days. I missed you.”

“I know.” He leaned down, kissing you sweetly. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be.” You rustled his hair. “Hence, lunch.” You set the bag of pasta on his desk. “Mariano’s.”

Aaron smiled, leaning his head back with a happy sigh. “You’re a saint.” 

“I know.” You took the containers from the bag and placed them on his desk. “The team looks tired.” You handed him a fork.

“It’s been a long few days.” Aaron took on his serious work-voice. He gazed out over the bullpen. There was a tension you knew all too well built up in his shoulders. Like he held the weight of the world on them. 

“Seems like it.” Tearing off a piece of garlic bread, you watched him watch the world. He stood there for a while before you gently grabbed his hand. “Aaron.” You brought his hand to your lips. “Eat.”

Like snapping out of a trance, your husband returned to himself, his eyes softening and the hard set of his mouth lifting into a smile. 

Aaron moved his chair around his desk to sit beside you rather than across, his leg grazing yours. You passed him the garlic bread. 

“So,” you started, popping a piece into your mouth, “anything not super-secret-classified about your day?” 

He thought for a moment. “Reid recited three pages of Freud from memory, Garcia continues to scare me with her hacking ability and my beautiful wife brought me lunch.” His leg nudged yours again affectionately. “What about you?”

“Nothing special,” you shrugged. “I just got assigned the Brunner case.” 

Aaron coughed, nearly choking on his chicken parm. 

“The ADA’s giving it to you?”

Your face broke into a wide, excited smile. You nodded. “She said, and I quote ‘You’re the only one I trust to get that bastard behind bars.’” You beamed. 

Aaron set his food aside and pulled you into his arms. “Sweetheart, that’s amazing.” He kissed your forehead, then your lips. 

Your husband wasn’t one for PDA, so any exception always made you feel like a blushing schoolgirl. 

“I start prep on Monday,” you said as he sat back again. “Then maybe you’ll be the one waiting up for me.” You stole a bite of his meal. “Lot of late nights in my future.”

His excitement slowly morphed into concern. 

“Before you say anything, I already spoke with Dr. Brown, and she said I'll be fine as long as I still get plenty of rest.”

“And do you actually plan on getting plenty of rest?”

You raised a brow, teasing, “Are you the pot or the kettle in this scenario?”

He snorted. “Well, honey, I’m not four months pregnant.” 

“I could still kick your ass in court and you know it, Agent Hotchner,” you smirked.

“I don’t doubt it.” He picked at his food, seemingly lost in pleasant thought. 

You, content that you’d won the potential argument, glanced back out at the office. A harsh tension still hung in the air, the two agencies clearly not thrilled to share their success with the other. Familiar faces emerged from the other room, prompting your question.

“Have you told them yet?” 

“Told who what?” Aaron asked, pretending to be more focused on his food than what was on his mind. 

You rolled your eyes. “The team. About…” You pointed at your almost-showing belly. 

“Oh.” He cleared his throat. “No.”

“You should.” You looked at Reid’s fidgeting hands and Prentiss’s tired frown. “They look like they could use some exciting news.”

He nodded but didn’t say anything. He didn’t have to. You may not have been a profiler, but you knew your husband. 

Telling them made it real. Real meant the real world. The real world meant danger. Danger meant loss. The longer you could both live in the beautiful, safe, fantasy world, the easier it seemed. 

“Aaron-” You started, but were interrupted by an awful shrill mechanical shriek. You grimaced, putting your hands over your ears. “Don’t tell me there’s a fire drill.”

Aaron shook his head, worry settling into his expression. 

“Stay close to me.” 

You made no argument there. Regretfully abandoning your meals, Aaron kept an arm around you as you reentered the chaos. People were cramming around the staircase doors, shouting and grumbling at each other. 

“So much for ‘calm and orderly fashion’,” you muttered. 

Aaron gently tugged on your arm. “This way.” 

One of the doors had a shorter line, but only slightly. By the time you made it through the door, the stairwell was packed with people hurrying down, paying no attention to the people around them. At some point, Aaron lost hold of your hand. 

“Y/N?” He called out.

That’s when he saw you fall. 

You didn't even see who ran into you. They just rammed into you from the side, pushing their way down the stairs. Your foot caught on the wall, your arms reeling for something to grab onto, but unlike last time, you weren’t fast enough. You tumbled forward. The people in front of you kept moving, leaving a set of hard stone stairs to break your fall. 

“Y/N!” Aaron yelled. 

You hit the ground and were pretty sure someone stepped on you. Catching yourself with your left hand, you felt a sudden, painful snap. You bit back the scream of pain, but it escaped nonetheless. 

“Everybody move!” Aaron’s commanding, panicked voice took over the stairwell, joined by other voices. 

“Mrs. Hotchner, are you okay?” Dr. Reid appeared in front of you. “What happened? Are you hurt?”

“It’s my wrist,” you winced, trying to move your fingers. “But I think I’m okay.”

Someone lifted you up. 

“We need to get her to the hospital,” Aaron said. His dark eyes were wide and frantic and focused on you. 

Morgan rushed by. “I’ll get the car.”

“Aaron, I’m okay,” you said again, but he ignored you. 

“Prentiss, find out what’s going on,” he ordered. “There shouldn’t be a drill.” He feared the worst. This was planned. Someone was waiting outside to gun everyone down. Someone was after you. 

“On it.” She hurried off as well. 

“I didn’t get a chance to examine it fully, but it looks like it might be broken,” Reid added. 

“Aaron-”

“You’re going to be okay.” He spoke more to himself than to you. “You’ll be okay.” 

-

You were, in fact, fine. A broken wrist, sure, but all together could have been worse. But then came his second concern. One you could clearly see on his face as he spoke to the doctor. 

“You really freaked him out,” Agent Prentiss said. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen him like this.”

“I told him everything was fine,” you sighed, laying a hand over your middle. You didn’t know how, but you could just tell everything was alright. It had to be. But he needed to be sure. “Thank you, Agent Prentiss. For getting to the bottom of it all.” 

“Please, call me Emily.” She smiled. “He must have thought it was something planned and sinister.” 

Someone had put a fork in the microwave. Apparently, agents are definitely not geniuses. Except for Dr. Reid, of course. 

You laughed. “The dangers of your job, huh?”

She shrugged. 

A moment passed. 

“So are you going to tell everyone?” She blurted. 

Your mouth fell open. 

Emily raised a brow. “It isn’t hard to guess by the way he looked at you. And you haven’t taken your arms off your stomach since you got here.”

You scoffed, crossing your arms fully. “Profilers.”

She laughed and put a hand on yours. “I’m sure everything is fine.”

Aaron walked into the room with the seriousness he usually reserved for cases. But when he looked at you, he let out a sigh of relief. 

“Dr. Brown said everything is fine.”

“I told you.” 

You wouldn’t admit it, but for a second you were terrified. But seeing him happy and relieved made it all go away. 

He was at your side in seconds, kissing the top of your head. 

“You thought Brunner was after me, didn’t you?” You asked, realizing why he’d been so interested in the alarm. 

“It crossed my mind.”

“Yeah, well,” you gripped his tie and pulled his lips to yours. “He’s going to have to try harder than a spoon in the microwave.”

“That’s not funny.”

You kissed him again. “It’s a little funny.”

-

The whole team was waiting, each looking more worried than the last.

“Guys, I didn’t get shot,” you teased. You held up the cast on your arm for emphasis.

“We know.” Reid gulped, fidgeting with his sleeve. “You just seemed to fall pretty hard and-”

“We just wanted to make sure you’re okay,” JJ said.

You peered at each of them and put your good hand on your hip. 

“Alright, how many of you know?”

The pretend confusion on their faces told you all you needed. You cast an exasperated look at your husband. 

“Damn profilers.”

The group laughed. Dave gave you a hug and Morgan shook Aaron’s hand.

“Congratulations, Mrs. Hotchner.” Dr. Reid said, smiling through his usual timidness. He turned to Hotch. “I’m really happy for both of you.”

“Thank you, Reid,” Aaron said. The two embraced, the sight warming your heart. 

You wrapped your arms around your husband. Aaron kissed your temple. 

And you would be okay. 

[messrmoonyy]

- The gilded cage

Arthur Morgan x Fem!reader

Request- how about some of the girls going along to the mayors party in Saint Denis. Have you seen the cut content of Molly when she was meant to be at the party? So Dutch takes Molly along, Arthur takes reader? And what if Arthur gets a a little jealous of reader mingling and then they sneak away for some smutty time together…

A/N- this is my first Arthur fic so he may be a lil out of character whilst I get to grips with writing him. I also have not written straight smut in like 2 years. But we vibe. Enjoy

Also shoutout to @devnmon for supporting and enabling my rdr2 brainrot. You’re a real one

Warnings- 18+ | smut: unprotected p in v, semi public sex ( wc - 7.7k )

Masterlist / AO3

Saint Denis was a little too rich for your blood. You’d only ventured into the city a handful of times, but the times you had you’d decided you didn’t really like it. You felt too… common. You never had liked the wealthy, flaunting their security and safety that was wrapped up in dollars and gold. 

But. You loved money. God did you love money. And as much as you hated the residents of the city, you sure loved robbing them blind. You always had had a knack for making the rich mysteriously lose their dollars and their watches, it had been the sole reason you’d ended up in Dutch’s gang in the first place. 

You’d even tried picking his pockets at first.

But you were on best behaviour tonight. Under Dutch’s orders. And you figured as boring as that sounded, you’d oblige. Simply because the men rarely let the girls get involved with any of the interesting stuff in camp. There was only so much laundry you could do before your brain truly went numb from boredom. Only so much listening to Miss Grimshaw nagging at you to do some work or Micah antagonising someone over something stupid. 

So even with Dutch’s strict orders to behave and your dislike of the city, you had jumped at the chance to come along to the party. 

“ i can practically smell the money “ you sighed as you took Arthur’s hand to step down from the coach, already hearing the bustle of the party happening somewhere out the back of the mansion in front of you “ you sure I can’t go pickin? Just a lil “ you were half joking, half not. On the times you had wandered into the city, the stuff you’d gathered picking your way around the saloons and back alleys had been a decent haul. The stuff some of these people carried around on the average day was enough to fund the food for the whole of camp for a couple days or more. 

Who knew what kind of goodies they’d have on them in their finery. 

“ no miss “ Dutch’s stern voice sounded, but he was sporting a small look of amusement “ keep those talented hands of yours to yourself. This is about business. We steal nothing. That goes for all of you. Steal. Nothing. Unless it’s information “ 

“ don’t worry. I’ll keep her in check “ Arthur spoke with a small chuckle, placing a hand lightly to your back. 

“ this is why we shouldn’t have brought the women. They always cause trouble “ Bill complained, as he stepped out of the second coach with Hosea, making you scowl. 

“ I hope you aren’t grouping me into that Mr Williamson “ Molly piped up with a disapproving scowl of her own as she stepped out of the coach, seemingly more mad at Dutch for not helping her out more than at Bill though. Arthur offered her his hand instead, helping her step onto the path without breaking her neck in her extravagant dress. 

Always the gentleman. 

She looked wonderful and you had begun to wonder if she had owned that dress all along or had gone out and got it special. Maybe Dutch had picked it up for her. It wouldn’t surprise you if she had been lugging it around from place to place, waiting for some perfect moment to pull it out. She always did look more put together than the majority of camp. Though you really didn’t understand how she could walk in the dress she was currently wearing, skirts full and you guessed pretty heavy too. 

“ no need to bring you “ Bill continued. 

“ I ain’t even causin’ trouble “ you piped in, throwing your own scowl Bills way again “ When did you last contribute to the box anyways huh Bill? I don’t see you doin’ nothin’ but sit around all damn day. No need to bring you I say. Jus’ cause you ain’t got no lady on your arm you’re complainin’ bout me and Molly “ 

“ what? A lady like you? I should be damn lucky I ain’t “ 

“ why you- “

“ Bill I suggest you leave it “ Arthur murmured lowly, planting himself between you and Bill before you did in fact cause some trouble. Bill grumbled something, spitting on the floor with a look of disgust and turning away from you. 

Dutch sighed heavily, looking increasingly pissed off at the group in front of him and held his arm out to Molly. 

“ Miss O’Shea “ It pained you a little to know he was probably only being nice to her tonight for appearances sake. He’d been practically ignoring her recently. And wasn’t doing Molly any good. You hoped a night out of camp would do her well “ now would you all just calm. Down. We, are simple distinguished gentleman, here for business. So start damn acting like it “ you scoffed at that, making a pointed look in Bills direction as you did 

“ distinguished my ass “ 

“ play nice now “ Arthur said quietly, but you heard the smile in his tone as he did. He then offered you his arm as Dutch had done to Molly. But unlike Dutch the act didn’t feel performative, a way to blend in and appear far higher class than they actually were. Arthur actually was a gentleman. For the most part anyways. 

“ why thank you mister “ you said in a cheery tone, throwing him a coy smile and slipping your gloved hands into the crook of his elbow. 

It did feel a little funny to be walking beside him like that. All dressed up and in clothes that weren’t smeared with gun oil, dust or god knows what else. It made your mind drift a little to what life could’ve been like. 

Your group crossed the street, promptly being stopped at the gates 

“ gentleman “ the guard greeted, taking the invitation from Dutch’s hands “ the mayor doesn’t allow guns at official functions “ the way he looked at Dutch and the others was almost demeaning. Like he knew you were all riff raff and of course would be the sort to attend such an event armed “ Not after last years incident “ none of the boys seemed particularly thrilled to be handing over their firearms. Arthur in particular sighed heavily beside you as he handed his pistol over. 

He didn’t like being unarmed. Especially when he was out with you. You usually also had your gun belt permanently fixed at your waist. But it wasn’t exactly fitting with your current attire. 

Though you did note the guards didn’t even spare a glance to you or Molly, which in turn made you all the more smug knowing you had your knife tucked into your boot. Just in case of course. 

“ Luca here will take you gentleman to Mr Bronte. I believe he is expecting you “ 

“ I know you got that knife in yer boot “ Arthur said lowly so that no one else would hear. 

“ he ain’t said anythin’ about knifes. Only guns “ Arthur smiled and shook his head slightly, placing his hand over yours for a moment. 

“ that’s my girl “ 

You walked up the neat cobbled path to the mayors house then, unable to do anything but look in awe at the huge house in front of you. You’d thought Shady Belle was something spectacular, had walked around every room imagining what it had looked like in all its glory. Amazed at the vastness of the place and all the rooms it had. 

And yet it was nothing compared to this place. This was real money. 

“ I look okay? “ you asked, suddenly feeling ever so slightly nervous, smoothing your hand over your skirts. Even in your attempts to look as clean and put together as you did, some part of you felt like everyone would see you were a walking sham. 

All in all you knew you probably did look fine. The dress was the most lavish thing you’d ever owned, you didn’t even want to guess how much it had cost Arthur. It was still on the simpler side, skirts not quite as full as Mollys and not as detailed. But it was beautiful. Pale pink and ruffled shoulders and details on your skirts, gloves up to your elbows in a material so soft you’d sighed when you’d first pulled them on. 

It all made a nice change from the usual simple clothes you wore, hips weighted by skirts rather than your gun belt. And skirts that didn’t have a million holes darned over. 

And Arthur had picked it all out. Had picked it himself especially for you. 

It did make you smile to imagine him in the tailors, completely out of his depth when it came to women’s fashion but determined to find you something nice. Your big, tough cowboy staring blankly at fabric swatches and fancy hats. 

“ gonna be the prettiest girl here “ you smiled warmly at his words, hand smoothing over your dress again. 

He’d turned up that morning into your shared room of shady Belle, finding you hiding away from Miss Grimshaw on the balcony, the dress draped over his arm along with some fancy suit and tie get up for himself. He’d looked almost sheepish as he’d shown you it, promising to go get you something else if you hated it. Which of course you hadn’t. 

You’d practically jumped with joy at being able to go out on a job. The boys so rarely let the girls do anything meaningful other than tend to camp. Though this particular outing you knew Dutch had only brought you and Molly along because it would make your group seem a little more agreeable. Something about women making them look a little less intimidating. And of course Dutch and Arthur’s partners were the most obvious of choices. 

Much to Mary-Beth and Karen’s dismay. Though they had very quickly changed their mind at the idea of having to hang off Bills arm all night. 

It wasn’t exactly the reason you wanted to be brought along. But you took it. 

The inside of the mansion was as glorious as the outside, it almost made you angry that people had such wealth. That these people could sleep in a new room each night of the week if they felt like it, when people were starving outside of their gates. 

“ Hosea, Bill. Take the ladies out and enjoy the party. We’ll join you after we pay our respects to signor Bronte. Arthur, with me “ Arthur gave a curt nod 

“ I won’t be long “ he assured, hand slipping down around your back and leaning down to your ear “ hands to yourself “ you scoffed as he said it, looking up at him as he stepped away from you. 

“ I can’t promise “ you caught his smile as he walked over to Dutch and the staff. Disappearing up the stairs. 

“ it’s just this way “ one of members of Lemieux’s staff spoke, gesturing the four of you in the direction of some doors leading out into the party. 

“ let’s go ladies. You fancy a drink? “ Hosea said cheerfully, following closely behind you and Molly as you headed outside. You were ushered out into gardens, a mass of the rich and wealthy of Saint Denis all crowded around. Drinking and laughing at things you were sure were not as remotely funny as they were making it out to be. 

Bill quickly made himself scarce, disappearing into the crowds to do lord knows what, much to your joy. 

“ right. Champagne? “ Hosea excused himself to collect some drinks and you stood on the back porch looking down at the groups of people. 

So far removed from what you were used to. You wondered how they’d react knowing you and your little group were currently sleeping in a barely standing plantation home, half of you out under the stars. That you were frauds. Not glamorous and wealthy like them. 

In your experience the rich liked to pretend the poor didn’t exist. Unless they were hiring them as help. 

“ oh I missed this “ Molly said beside you, almost dreamily in tone. And seemingly more to herself than to you. It was quite possibly the happiest you’d seen her look in days. 

She fit right in. Her gorgeous dress rivalling that of some of the other woman down in the courtyard, her hair piled up on her head and her fancy jewellery that was actually hers. Not something stolen from an unsuspecting lady in town. This was Molly. Money and wealth. It still baffled you how she had ended up with Dutch, how she could leave that all behind for a life wandering. 

“ you go to party’s like this a lot? Before Dutch I mean “ she gave a small shrug, searching in her small purse for a moment before placing a cigarette between her lips. You could imagine an even younger Molly, a bright eyed teenager done up all fancy and weaving her way through a party just like this one. 

“ sometimes “ her eyes were scanning the crowds, practically sparkling at being surrounded by the upper class again “ wonder what kind of people are here “ she seemed to be talking more to herself than you again and very promptly dismissed herself, heading down the stairs and gliding between the guests. Like some true social butterfly, decked out in her finest. 

Hosea returned with three glasses of champagne and a slightly confused look noticing Molly had vanished. 

“ eh more for me “ he said with a smile, handing you your glass before promptly finishing his own and moving onto what would’ve been Mollys “ I’m going to do some snooping. You’ll be alright? “

“ I’ll be jus’ fine Hosea “ you said with a smile and watched him too disappear down into the crowds. 

It was interesting to watch them, to see them behave as if this entire event was a normal evenings activity. Maybe for them it was. But it all felt so… false. People who appeared to be friends but didn’t seem to even really like each other, some silent competition between everyone to have the better dress. The better hat. The biggest house. 

You’d take your creaky cot under the stars with Arthur any day, would much rather sit around the campfire getting tipsy and singing. Surrounded by real family. Real friends. Relationships built on loyalty and protection. Not on trying to out do each other. 

You walked between the small crowds, eavesdropping on conversations in hopes to find something useful. Something to take back to Dutch to prove bringing you along wasn’t a useless endeavour. But it was mostly women discussing their elaborate hats, sharing stories of the terrible jobs their maids did, or complaining about their husbands poker habits. Or gossiping about how they had heard one of their friends was in delicate condition. 

You heard mentions of Leviticus Cornwall, but nothing concrete enough to warrant telling anyone about. 

You tried hunting down Molly, simply to have a friend to stand beside and not feel so…out of place. But she had vanished into the crowds somewhere. So you planted yourself on the side of an ornate water fountain, simply hoping Arthur would return soon. Maybe he’d dance with you, or take you walking around the vast garden laid out ahead of you. 

You two never really got the chance to do things like that. Romantic things. Arthur had his ways, of course. He’d take you out riding or sit with you on his lap by the fire, telling you about whatever interesting thing he’d discovered that day. He’d bring you flowers he’d pick from time to time, find you interesting things when he went wandering, let you read aloud to him with the excuse he wanted you to get better at it. When in reality you had seen him confess to his journal that he simply just liked to listen to your voice. 

He was far softer than he appeared. With you anyway. And as much as you didn’t like the kinds of people in attendance, you thought it might be nice to pretend for the night. To be two wealthy young oil tycoons, dancing and drinking champagne together, gushing about your money and your jewels. 

You made your way through another flute of champagne before he returned, interrupting your frivolous daydreaming. 

“ there she is “ you turned your head with a beaming smile at his voice, relief at a familiar face “ been lookin for ya “ he sat down beside you, looping an arm around your waist “ you behavin’? “

“ course I am. Ain’t took as much as a pearl “ you said quite proudly, though decided not to mention that the temptation had truly been hard to deny. Not only were these people rich, they were getting drunker by the second. They were practically begging to be robbed. 

“ good girl “ 

“ it go okay with ugh.. what’s his name? “ you asked, turning to face him. He looked just as uncomfortable with the entire situation as you did. This wasn’t his scene. It never had been. He’d grown up just as poor as you had. 

Arthur robbed the rich, he didn’t fraternise with them. 

“ Bronte. Yeah. Fine. Dutch he’s tryna find the mayor or somethin “ he ran a finger between his neck and collar of his shirt, clearly growing uncomfortable with it. It made you laugh a little. 

“ you ain’t cut out for the finer life “ 

“ no. I ain’t “ he was looking around at the guests in a similar way to you. With a mild sense of disgust “ saw some woman back there, hat so big she were topplin over “ you smiled and leant your head against his shoulder, he tucked you in closer to his side and dropped a kiss to the top of your head. 

“ was daydreamin whilst you were with Dutch “ you mused. 

“ yeah? About what? “ 

“ playin’ pretend. Bein’ fancy for the night. Y’know dancin’ and pretendin’ we got buckets of money “ the small sigh Arthur let out made you wonder if he thought that was a life you pined for. It wasn’t. Not really. Yeah, you liked money but.. you just wanted to be comfortable. Little ranch or a cabin some place quiet. Not poor. Not rich. Just. Existing happily “ ain’t us though “ 

“ you and me we… we ain’t like these people. We ain’t ever gonna be like these people “

“ we don’t gotta be. Me, you. Some pokey lil farm someplace out west? Now that’s the dream cowboy “ he chuckled and nodded, dropping another kiss to your head 

“ that’s the dream darlin’ “ you both sat quietly for a short while longer, watching the rich get drunker and more foolish. The odd person acknowledged your presence, greeting you as they passed or tipping their hat. But mostly they left you alone. It was at the point that one man drunkenly stumbled into a bush a few feet away that made you speak up again. 

“ never thought I’d miss that damn swamp. But lord above… these people “ Arthur scoffed as he too watched the fool try and right himself again, leaves sticking to the pomade in his hair 

“ yeah. I think I need a drink “ he patted your side lightly so you’d stop leaning on him and stood up “ champagne? “ 

“ oh well ain’t you just so kind sir “ you said in your best attempt a dramatic upper class drawl “ and you gonna dance with me after mister? “ you asked with a teasing smile and he rubbed a hand at the back of his neck for a moment looking almost sheepish. But he was smiling, the sweet genuine kind he only really seemed to show around you. 

“ sure darlin’. But I’m definitely gonna need that drink for that “ he ventured back into the crowds then and you stayed put, continuing to watch the guests laugh and talk about how incredible their lives were. 

“ I don’t recognise you “ an inquisitive voice spoke, tinged with that accent that the wealthy had started latching on to in some attempts to make themselves sound more superior. Smarter. Whatever. You thought it was quite ridiculous. You turned your head to look at the man, seeing if he was in fact talking to you. 

“ talkin’ to me mister? “ he was eyeing you up and down like he was somewhat intrigued but amused by you at the same time. A stupid top hat on his head adored with plumes and the chain of a pocket watch hanging from his pocket. It almost made you laugh at how your brain immediately began thinking about how you could steal it and how much it was worth. 

“ I am indeed miss “ he stepped closer, puffing on his cigar and not taking his eyes off of you for a second “ I have frequented many of the mayors parties but you… I do not remember you “ a small wave of panic flushed your skin but you remained calm. Not recognising you was far easier to work your way out of than if he had recognised your face. 

“ I’m new in town. My… uncle. He’s friends with Mr Bronte “ the man hummed, sitting himself down beside you. 

“ so you’re here with your uncle? “ you shifted slightly at his closeness but remembered you needed to keep up appearances so forced a smile onto your face 

“ yeah. And my husband. He’s around here someplace “ the man’s eyes immediately darted down to your gloved hands, probably noting the lack of a ring on your finger. You and Arthur weren’t married. But you may as well have been. He often referred to you as his wife, and he as your husband. 

He’d ask you one day. 

“ a lucky man “ the man said, blowing smoke in your direction and still looking you up and down. You decided at that moment you very much wanted to steal his watch. Dutch be damned. Having to put up with the likes of slimy rich men for more than ten seconds… well you figured that warranted you at least getting something shiny in return. 

“ oh well ain’t you just a charmer “ you said with a smile, placing a hand to his arm “ you here with your wife mister? “ the man laughed and shook his head, scooting a little closer to you.  

“ I’m more of a… free spirit “ you gave a small laugh, trying not to crinkle your nose at the smoke blowing in your face again. 

Arthur often smelt of fresh smoke, both cigarette and fire, and that fresh air smell that clung to your clothes after being out in the open air for hours. And you loved it on him, because it was well… him. The smoke from this man was far from appealing. But that watch…

“ ohh I see. You ain’t one to be tied down huh? “ your fingers inched closer to the man’s pocket, wrapping lightly around the chain. 

“ everythin’ okay here? “ Arthur appeared behind you, a glass in each of his hands.  

“ ah is this the fine man that brought you along? Well aren’t you lucky sir “ the man spoke and you noted he didn’t even glance in Arthur’s direction as he spoke, you were now looping the chain of his watch around your wrist. Just one small tug…

“ Mr Callahan “ Arthur murmured, handing you a glass and standing behind you with a hand to your shoulder

“ wonderful to meet you sir. Me and your wife were having a delightful conversation weren’t we dear? "The pressure of Arthur’s fingers increased as he spoke the sweet name, though you weren’t entirely sure it wasn’t because he’d noticed the man’s watch was now safely hidden in the fabric of your skirt. 

“ oh yes. Wonderful mister “ the watch discreetly made its way into your boot and you were ready to get away

“ where’d you find a beautiful thing like this sir? I may need to frequent the place myself “ he placed a hand onto your arm and finally looked up at Arthur rather than at you. He made your skin crawl. You didn’t hold a single ounce of remorse for the stolen watch 

“ oh no where you’d like “ his tone was a little snippy, the kind when someone was starting to piss him off but he was trying to keep his cool. And Arthur kicking off in the middle of the mayors party wasn’t exactly a part of Dutch’s plan. 

“ now I am so sorry but i believe my husband did promise me a dance “ you rose to your feet, sipping your champagne before placing the glass down and taking Arthur’s from his hands “ ain’t that right my love? “ 

“ yeah… need ya to come with me “ he said lowly, offering you his arm. His face had gone slightly dark, not entirely able to read him, you frowned slightly. But let him lead you away from the man, completely bypassing the area with couples twirling to the music. 

“ where we goin? “ you asked with a small laugh, latching onto his arm again and having to take quick steps to keep up with his purposeful strides “ Arthur?”

He didn’t answer immediately, simply led you away from the crowds and around the side of the mayor's house. 

“ You mad cause I took that watch? Look he deserved it- “

“ ain’t mad “ he mumbled, still leading you along. 

“ okay… so we stealin’ somethin’ else? “ you asked with excitement filtering into your words, already trying to figure out what it could be “ need me to act like a maid? I can do that real good y’know. Is it money? Papers? Oh, is it jewellery? Gold? “ Arthur chuckled at your excitement and shook his head, bringing you to a halt between some elaborately trimmed bushes and trees in planters. 

“ we ain’t stealin’ a thing “ you pouted with a mild disappointment and he chuckled again, advancing on you and backing you up against the wall behind you “ don’t gimme that look “ he tucked his fingers under your chin, nudging your face upwards to look at him. He was a god few inches taller than you, but he always made you feel ten times smaller when he looked down at you like that. 

“ what’s gotten into you? “ you asked with a giggle, hands slipping under his jacket to slide over his waist. 

“ just wanted some time alone with you is all “ 

“ behind some trees? You are a strange man sometimes Arthur Morgan y’know that? “ he gave a heavy sigh and brushed his thumb across your cheek softly, watching you intently. He always looked at you like you like you were the only woman on the planet “ you sure you ain’t mad about the watch? “ 

“ no. I ain’t mad. Feller flirtin’ with my woman and only loses his watch sounds like a good deal to me “ he grumbled, leaning forward to press a kiss to your lips. 

And a light bulb suddenly pinged on in your head. 

“ are you jealous? “ you asked, unable to hide your complete utter joy and amusement as the realisation hit you. He grumbled some kind of an answer and tried to kiss you again but you turned your head to the side, so he settled for your neck instead “ why Arthur Morgan. You are jealous “ 

He didn’t answer you again, simply tilted your head so he could get at your neck more, his other hand splaying over your lower back to tug you close against him. A mischievous streak ran through you and you chewed on your lip for a moment deciding whether or not to push his buttons. 

“ he was kinda nice to me y’know. He seemed a nice feller “ Arthur’s teeth grazed your skin at your words and your smile grew bigger “ kept me from bein’ so lonely with you gone “ 

“ he wanted to do more than keep you company “ your fingers ran through the long strands of his hair, sighing softly as he continued to kiss your neck 

“ you think? You gonna keep me company now? “ 

“ oh I’ll keep you company “ you had said it only really to tease. Thinking that actually, a sordid little moment with your lover behind the bushes would be an incredible improvement on the evening. 

But it was hard to simply just kiss Arthur. He had wandering hands, had lips as addictive as whiskey. Even when you assumed he wasn’t particularly trying to work you up, he did. But the way he was tugging at your body to keep you pressed against him, the way his lips were burning a trail along your neck and across your jaw…

“ Arthur… y’know anyone could come round here “ 

“ stay quiet then and they ain’t gonna be none the wiser “ your skin prickled with heat at his words and your hips involuntarily rolled against him. Maybe it was the thrill. Maybe it was the fact that he was so… needy. Desperate to remind himself that you were his and not some stupid rich man in an equally as stupid hat.

He groaned against your hot skin as you pressed against him, the sound igniting something deep in your bones. Flaring up through your veins and cursing like lava through your veins. 

Your hands found themselves back under his jacket, fingers tugging at his shirt to free it from where it has been neatly tucked into his pants. You knew you couldn’t get it off of him but you still wanted to feel. 

You hummed softly when your fingertips met his skin, as hot as you knew yours must be. He loved to feel you touch him, loved when dragged your nails across his back, sunk your teeth into his shoulder to quiet your moans when you were dangerously close to other members of camp. 

You wished you could do it in that moment. Wished you were back in your room, truly the only good thing to come out of Shady Belle was the fact that you had a room. 

But Arthur didn’t seem keen on waiting. Seemingly having some point to prove to himself. And you were more than happy to let him. 

His hands drifted down to the floaty material of your skirt, reluctantly pulling himself away from your neck to frown at the material in front of him. 

“ why you gotta have so many damn skirts? “ he grumbled, fumbling with the layers of fabric hanging from your waist. 

“ you picked the dress “ you reminded him with a smile, chasing after his lips again. Desperate to kiss him properly now that he had stopped his assault on your neck. He kissed you with a energy that demanded your attention, that drew you in and locked you in place. Hot. Wet. Addictive “ least it ain’t as big as Mollys “ you said when you let yourself pull away. 

“ yeah well I weren’t plannin’ on keepin’ you in it when we- god damn there’s enough fabric here to dress the entire camp “ you couldn’t help the giggle that fell past your lips, watching him try to figure out how he was going to play out whatever sordid thoughts were running through his head. 

Your own mind had quite ungracefully fallen into the gutter itself, realising exactly what Arthur wanted. And your constant desperation for the man in front of you overruling all your concerns at the location. 

He seemed to be getting a little agitated with your dress and you held back the urge to giggle at him. Instead opting to try sooth the frown lines worrying at his forehead, reaching forward to palm at him through the material of his pants. In hopes it would be some kind of incentive for him to hurry up as well. 

As much as you needed him as badly as you needed air, you were also still aware of exactly where you were. And how long it would take until Dutch came looking. 

“ c’mon Arthur “ you whispered, desperation beginning to fill your words “ ‘fore they notice we’re gone “ it had been his idea to take you away, and yet you were seemingly the more desperate of the two of you now. But how could he or anyone else blame you? When he was all gussied up like he was. In truth you liked his normal attire a little more. Liked him a little more… rugged. But lord did he look handsome in his suit, his hair and beard all neat and tidy. 

Arthur’s breath audibly caught in his throat from your touch and it seemed to effectively spur him on. 

“ yes ma’am “ He spun you around with strong hands to your waist, your own hands bracing yourself against the wall. The next moments were a flurry of his hands hitching your skirts over your hips, grabbing at your undergarments before a strong arm looped around your waist to pull you back against him. 

His hand disappeared under your bunched up skirts making you gasp softly as his fingers dipped into the warmth between your thighs. 

“ this all for me darlin? “ you could hear the smirk in his words, feel it as he brushed his nose against your cheek. The short stands of his beard tickled at your skin, sending a shiver snaking along your spine. 

“ course it is “ the sound of a lady drunkenly laughing a little too close by made you freeze, hand reaching around to grab at Arthur’s arm. 

He didn’t seem discouraged by the idea of someone stumbling upon you both, simply moved his hand up to grasp gently at your jaw, turning your face towards his to kiss you. His other hand was still between your thighs, and you sighed softly against his lips as he drew a thick finger between the wetness of your folds “ oh Arthur…“ 

Your cunt clenched around nothing. As if silently begging for his fingers to just push inside of you, take you in a way you had always found so much more personal than just sitting on his cock. His fingers that held his guns, that he used to beat people to death more times than either of you could care to count. Those same fingers working you open, covered in the slick evidence of your desire for him instead of gun oil. Fingers that cause pain and damage, but also sent you spiralling into mind blowing pits of pleasure. 

And paired with the current location? It just felt… dirty. Erotic. You felt no better than a common whore loitering in a saloon for custom. You wanted him so desperately, needed him. 

“ Arthur “ you sighed, pushing your self against his hand as he toyed with your swollen clit. 

“ tell me what y’need pretty girl “ he said softly, tickling your skin with his beard and dragging his tongue across your neck before sinking his teeth into the flesh, making you whimper. 

“ you- Arthur. You. Please “ his hand continued its gentle movements as he worked at your neck. You pushed your hips back against him, grinding against the hardness still trapped by his pants in a way that couldn’t be comfortable. His breath shuddered against your skin as you did, holding you flush against him to let you wiggle your hips in a silent invitation to just take you already. 

A smashing glass drew your attention briefly away from him again. And as much as you could let him do that all evening, you were still hyper aware of your surroundings. 

You silently wished he’d just waited until you were back at camp, could take his time with you on that shitty little bed in the privacy of your room at Shady Belle. 

But there you were. And there were hundreds of others only a few feet away too. 

“ stop teasin we ain’t got the time “ at any other time he’d have worked you into a mess with his fingers, even dropped to his knees and disappeared under your skirts, have you coming on his tongue over and over again just because he wanted to. But he hadn’t planned the situation well at all, and you weren’t exactly in the best of locations. If anyone so much as peaked around the corner of the building a little too far you were certain you’d be spotted. 

And wouldn’t that be a tale. 

“ ain’t you bossy “ you opened your mouth to snip back at him, but your words evaporated into nothing but a soft whimper as Arthur followed your demands, pushing past his desires to take his time with you. Truly it was his own fault that he couldn’t though, as he withdrew his fingers and fumbled with the buttons on his pants. 

“ Arthur “ you whimpered softly, breath stuttering at the feel of his swollen tip brushing between the wet folds of your cunt. 

“ quiet now darlin’ “ He pushed in slowly, in the way he so often did. Making sure you felt every single devastating inch, your back arching against his chest as your body flushed with warmth. Even after so many times the stretch was still a lot, a deep burning ache that eventually melted away into a blinding hot pleasure that burnt its way through your veins. 

He pressed on until he was flush against you, the material of his opened pants scratching against your soft skin as he held you there a moment. He exhaled slowly, his breath warm against your skin. 

It was never fucking with Arthur. Not very often anyways. It was love making. Soft. And slow. And a brutal pace that made sure you remembered he’d been there the next morning, but oh so drawn out. He was gentle. Tender. It had always shocked you how violent he could be and yet become so careful and soft with you. And even there, concealed by a few perfectly trimmed bushes and planters, he was taking his time. Reminding you that you were his. And maybe reminding himself of the fact too. 

Reminding himself that maybe there were men only a few feet away that wanted you. That would pay for the pleasure of your company. But only Arthur could have it, that he was the only one you would ever offer it too. 

That this deep rooted instinct to protect what was his wasn’t entirely necessary but god was it wanted. That his desire made your blood boil with lust, skin burn under his touch. 

“ That’s my girl “ he whispered, tone low and steady as he set himself into a bruising pace, still tightly holding onto you as he did. His face had fallen to your neck again, lips latching onto every inch of exposed skin they could. 

You were certain you were going to walk back into the party looking like you’d taken a dip with some leeches. 

You tried your best to be quiet, teeth sinking into your bottom lip in some hopes that mixed with the sounds of the party happening only a few feet away you wouldn’t be heard. But it was so hard to be silent when he was fucking you like that. So determined, so strong, pulling out almost completely before pushing back in hard. 

Your hand was still gripping at his arm, blunt fingernails digging at his skin through his jacket. His pace increased a little, settling into a steady rhythm that carved a devastating stretch inside of you. 

“ y’know I think that feller- that feller back there. He wanted you like this “ you couldn’t help the smile that pulled its way onto your face, still flushing with joy at his jealousy. You knew Arthur desired you carnally. Always had done and always would. But a reminder like the present one was always nice. 

“ y’think so? “ 

“ I know “ he grumbled, his pace increasing a little more, clearly attempting to take out his frustrations with the handsy man. But also maybe simply trying to assure himself in the process too. 

Arthur didn’t like to admit it but he was a little self conscious. You’d heard him talk down to himself in the mirror countless times, had seen the way he spoke about himself when you peaked over his shoulder at his journal. Had an almost crippling fear of abandonment that sometimes he did need to be reminded that you wanted him. 

“ poor feller “ you said with a small sigh before pushing lightly at Arthur’s arm so he’d let you go. You winced slightly as he pulled out, immediately missing the heavy feel of him there, and spun around tugging him back towards you by the lapels of his jacket “ ain’t got nothin on you “ you hitched your skirts up in your arm and wrapped your spare hand around the now slick length of his cock making him stutter a breath. 

His face was flushed, bottom lip shiny from kissing you. You wanted to absolutely devour him, strip him of his fancy clothes and remind him just how much you wanted every part of him. 

The look in his eyes was almost primal. Desire and lust burning so brightly it made your chest ache, to feel so wanted. To feel so desired. 

To have a man so usually controlled and put together, be reduced to not being able to even wait until you got home. That he had to have you there. Right there in that moment. He couldn’t wait. 

You needed him to pull you apart. To worship every inch of you in the way he so often did. 

But the side of the mayor's house was truly not the place for such a thing. 

“ no one could make me feel the way you do “ you whispered, stroking him softly in your hand as you tried to stoke the fire under his ego. Make him realise he truly had no reason to be jealous “ and him back there? He thought he could huh? Poor feller “ 

“ poor feller “ he echoed, sliding a hand over your leg and hitching it over his hip, sliding back into you with a welcome ease that made your head fall back against the wall. 

“ Thinks he could fuck me better than this? Man must be damn crazy “ you said with a smile, breathless as he fucked into you. You were practically dripping around him, the lewd sounds between you enough to make your skin flush. 

“ you’re mine darlin “ you nodded immediately. Not a single doubt in your mind on the matter. You were his. And he yours. That was how it would always be “ all mine, you hear? “ 

“ all yours Arthur. Ain’t no man in this whole damn country could replace you” 

He moved with more determination, thrusting into you harder in a way you knew was going to bruise your back from rubbing against the wall. His all too familiar deep, hard pace. You pulled him down by the back of his neck, muffling your whimpers with his mouth cautious again that you were getting a little reckless. 

“ that good? Makin me feel so good darlin’ such a good girl “ the entire thing felt almost animalistic. Desires so strong they couldn’t be withheld. Dirty. Filthy. Perfect. 

“ God Arthur “ the look on his face alone made you clench around him, never wanting him to leave, needing to feel the heavy bruising sensation as he split you apart for the rest of your life. He hitched your leg higher, hitting some new devastating part inside of you that made you see stars. Eyes rolling to the back of your head and unable to contain the sounds escaping your throat any longer. 

“ There she is, jus’ like that darlin I got ya” his grip on your leg grew restless, fingers dancing over your skin and trying to pull you as close to him as he could get you. He always wanted you close. Always wanted to feel your skin against his own. A moment later his thrusts became sloppier and you knew he wasn’t far off. Though quite frankly neither were you “ so pretty for me like this ain’t ya? My girl “ his words only pulled you closer to the edge, knot twisting tighter. 

“ Arthur I- “

“ I know. I know darlin, can feel it “ he almost cooed, lifting a hand to cup your face gently “ that’s it look right at me. That’s a girl right at me “ with his gaze so intense you couldn’t hold it any longer, biting down on your lip as you attempted to conceal your sounds of ecstasy as you came over his cock. 

He was barely a second behind you, a stuttered groan of a sound leaving him as he dropped his forehead against yours, painting your slick walls with rope after rope of come as you clenched around him. Holding him in place so that not a single drop of him would go to waste. It was a risky business letting him finish inside of you, truly it was. But in your sex drunk haze you didn’t care, couldn’t give a damn because it simply felt too good to give up. 

He nudged his nose against yours, brushing his lips against your own and kissed you softly. So tender and gentle, his hand carefully lowering your leg back down, slipping his softening length out of you making you wince. He kissed the crinkles it caused to show at the corners of your eyes, whispering a gentle sorry. He soothed his hands over your waist with a care very few men had for women those days. 

“ my girl “ he murmured, littering kisses across your cheeks and nose. 

When he pulled back you couldn’t help but smile. The dopey, soft kind. He was looking far less put together than he had done when you’d arrived, the pomade in his hair no longer serving its purpose after your fingers had gotten to it. He’d broken a sweat too, his forehead shiny. His skin flushed. 

The smugness was overwhelming though, could see it in his eyes. In the small smirk pulling at his lips. He seemed incredibly proud of himself. 

“ you are somethin’ else “ he mumbled as he finished readjusting his clothes, reaching forward to slip the ruffled strap of your dress back up your shoulder from where it had slipped. Pressing a kiss to the skin there for good measure. 

“ I ain’t the jealous one “ you teased as you combed your fingers through his hair in some attempt to tidy it. 

“ ain’t jealous. No idea what you talkin about girl “ he said with a small clear of his throat in some attempt to hide the obvious lie, you simply smiled again and pressed a kiss to his cheek 

“ mhm sure “ 

There was something about having to go back out into the party with the light ache between your legs, with the evidence of Arthur’s jealousy slowly dripping down your thighs. And Arthur seemed to think so too 

“ now. I believe you wanted to dance? “

[writingoddess1125]

Mr. and Mrs. Riley pt 2

Once again, I had way too much fun writing this lol, Honestly this has been one of the longest word count stories Ive made!

<< Part 1

Simon 'Ghost' Riley xFemReader

NOTE: Its clearly in the story but just in case this will be almost 12-13 years AFTER COD MW2

WARNING: Angst, Weapons, Deaths (Nothing Major), Fluff

You continued to stand there, messing with your necklace. Biting your lip a bit as you struggle to look at Simon who was still on the other side of the room.

"I really didn't want this to ever happen-"

You manage to mumble out, Simon scoffing a little.

“What that you were apart same bastards I’ve spent years tracking down.”

You exhale sharply, rubbing your temples now. “It was brief, Simon. I left and went to Kortac after realizing what the hell they actually were-”

“Brief or not, you were one of them.” He cuts you off, voice edging dangerously close to anger now. “You wore their goddamn patch, took their orders. Tell me, love- how may war crimes under that belt love?"

You glare at him. “Oh, and I suppose you were some holy fucking saint? You didn’t lie to me for years about what you did? Or even the fuck you are?”

Simon’s expression doesn’t change, but his silence seemed to have spoken for itself.

"Listen- I didn't tell you I am apart of Special Ops or-"

"Oh! You're in the special Ops? Currently!? Not just in the past as that Mask wearing asshole?? Youre currently a MAJOR mask wearing asshole and in special Ops?" You say sharply, Simon closing his eyes at the slip of giving that 'particular' info.

You take a step forward, pointing a finger at him “You said you worked as a low level Cadet in Logistics"

He exhales sharply. “And what would you have done if I had told you? If I came home and said, ‘Hey love, I lead a black ops units, hunt down high-value targets, and wear a goddamn skull mask? Oh wait one of those targets are you?’”

“I should’ve known!” You throw your hands up. “Im Your Wife!”

Simon’s gaze left your face then. “And I would’ve known that you were one of the very people we were fighting. Im your Husband afterall”

...

You swallow hard, your hands balling into fists at your sides. “I left them... Well WELL over a decade ago!”

“But you didn’t tell me.” His voice is quieter now, but no less sharp. “You didn’t tell me who you worked for, what you did, who you might’ve fought against.”

You shake your head, stepping back slightly.

“Why would I? It was long before we even started dating! Youre the one who has been lying to me!”

"Well You lied too so why are you so mad?" He asked casually as if he was trying to sweep this argument away which only made your blood boil.

"I didnt lie to you, I just never brought it up- It wasny important" You scoff, crossing your arms. “And You lied to me first.”

"It doesn't matter who did it first- It was a matter of the gravity-" He shot back just as fast, looking down at you with a scowl on his face as he stood there now shifting a bit closer to you.

You shot him another glare- "Oh? So mine is worse then yours?"

He gave a light shrug and nodded, making you scoff in anger. "Oh really, We are playing this?"

"Yes we are- Fact is I shouldn't find out my Wife is a war criminal after 11 years of marriage"

"Well 'Major' since you do such fantastic work how haven't you figured it out huh? Guess shooting stuff and lying is your strong points instead of anything else hm?-"

You shot at him with a sarcastic smile, clearly aiming at his ego- Which clearly worked by the nasty little glare he shot you.

Gritting his teeth a little he took a steady breath.

"Listen- This is a problem" He gestured to you overall making your jaw drop in anger.

"Is there anyone else that I know who is a 'Former' War Criminals? Cause the fact is clearly I can't tell since you guys are wonderful at lying-"

Simon asked sarcastically clearly trying to take a shot back at yoh, however saw the look on your face and narrowed his eyes.

"...Who-"

"Rozlin.. She was one who moved to Kortec with me" You said softly now not looking at him.

He throws his hands up at hearing this and curses under his breath as he turns away from.

"The God-Mother of our Children- Fan-Fucking-Tastic. Are the women in my life War Criminals?"

"Will you stop calling me that! I wasn't a damn War Criminal you rat bastard!"

He snaps back at you now with what could only be described as a 'I'm about to jump out this god damn window' look to his face.

"Okay Now I clearly gotta know- Why!? Why would you enlist with a terrorist group? Like Fucking Hell, what was it that made you go- Hm this seems like a good idea!"

You sighed heavily now just running your hands over your hair, stressed by all of this.

"I.. I got offered the position by a boyfriend at the time"

You manage out, and swear you can see 20 different emotions go over your husband's face before settling on a blank almost soulless look.

"Oh- So a boyfriend suggested it? Please do tell, did you leave after a bad fight between you two?"

He grumbled out, making you shake your head at the clear just nastiness of his current anger.

"No asshole. He died- and.."

You took a seat on the corner of the bed and shifted your feet with a heavy sigh- Simon still irritated but by the look on his face the guilt was clear...

"Sorry..."

You waved off his apology

"Afterwards I panicked, I thought we were the good guys and afterwards I learned we weren't- I got prepared to jump ship with one of my peers who learned what was taking place.."

You sighed and messed with your necklace again-

"I felt a few weeks after that- And ironically after a encounter with you"

Simon immediately stiffed up at learning this- that anger seemingly almost fully evaporating in seconds, looking to you as his eyes seemed to rapidly scan over your body.

"Wher-"

"Afghanistan" You say calmly, Gesturing to the little knotted scar an your arm. Having looked at it a thousand times but now it made his stomach churn at the realization what it was.

"I.. Shot you?"

"Well.. Back then you didnt know me, Good thing you missed and couldn't find me" You chime trying to lighten that up and look back at him- However Simon had a unreadable look on his face. His hand over his mouth as he seemed to be in a different place.

Seeing how that settled on him.. for one of the few times in your whole marriage you could see his thoughts written on his face- I shot my wife.. Oh my God I shot my wife..

You sigh heavily and reach over grabbing the strings of his sweats to pull him to you gently and plopped him down next to you on the bed.

"Simon.. Its really okay-"

He shakes his head quickly, looking forward still a bit out of it- After that the two of you sat in silence, unsure if it was just the situation at hand or the adrenaline dying down.

Simon finally glanced at you after this period of silence, clearly just trying to figure out what to say.

"So.. What was his name?"

"Vance" You say with a casual shrug, You werent going to tell your husband he had been mainly a guy you kept around just to knock boots with on the regular.

Simon stared at you for a moment before huffing a small laugh under his breath.

"Well who knew dick was apart of your benifits pl..."

He closed his eyes, Knowing immediately he fucked up- He had been trying to make a joke to ease things and knew immediately those words left that was probably the worse thing to possibly ever say. You turning to look at him in fucking rage on your face.

"Thats it-!"

Standing up you grab one of the pillows from the bed and throw it at him which he caught with ease.

"You get to sleep in the office-" You say sharply, As Simon face scrunched up in confusion-

"Not the sofa?"

"No- Office. Rozlin helped us pick that couch so I'm sure Major Simon 'Ghost' Riley wouldn't want to sleep on a couch picked by two war criminals"

You say mocking his voice at the last one, Also tossing him the small throw blanket right at his face.

"Don't forget your knife too asshole-"

You wave in the direction of his tactical knife still on the bed. Simon reached over and yanked the knife off the bed a bit dramatically as he put it back in his holster, Clutching the Pillow and Blanket.

"Lov ya-"

"Love you too"

You both grumble, Not due to actually saying I love you- but clearly just mad in general.

Simon walked out of the room and closed it behind him. Looking up the the ceiling in frustration, rubbing his face as he knew he fucked up with that last little comment. Silently walking to his office to sleep on the floor.

Truthfully it had been a miserable night for both of you...

The next morning the routine had been fairly the same as everyday it had been. However this time you two were still a bit frosty with each other to say the least- if not Simon staring at you a bit more as if trying to figure out something.

By the time Simon had gotten out of the shower and seeing how you had folded them and placed them on his desk instead of their usual spot on the bed. He stared at them for a bit longer then normal, before getting dressed and walking into the kitchen.

Simon stopped as he picked up his cup of coffee which was in the place it always was. Looking to you as you made him and Elijah some breakfast toasties- seemingly having some extra time this morning to do so.

Handing over the two wrapped in foil to him before putting some more on for your son.

You two locked eyes, Before Simon reached to his side and held out a thinned file and placed it in your hands much to your confusion.

"Burn that for me.... afterall you're my wife before anything else"

He said softly, Kissing your forehead as he took his breakfast and coffee with him- leaving you standing there in nothing but shock as you stared at the file in hand and your husband leaving to his car.

He got promoted to the sofa after that-

However Simon really didn't want his stay on the sofa forever which after the first week was starting to seem like the case.

While he wasn't having a blow up fight with you it didn't mean things werent.. Tense-

Snide comments rained free from both of you, small checks for holsters and weapons almost daily- And he even got a knife flown next to his head landing in the drywall when he almost mumbled a certain word equal to a female dog-

It was.. stressful to say the least for both of you-

Simon once again in his work office- Mentally and physically exhausted.. He always had been used to the hard uncomforble beds of the military- he essentially grew up on them. But now he was so used to when he was home being next to you, so the idea of you just being down the hall was making it fucking torture.

He hadn't even gotten to the piles of files thag demanded his attention. Domestic Terrorist attacks, drug moves- It was highly important but he was so mentally spent it might as well be just be bricks he would need to deal with later..

He heard the door open and sat up, prepared for some agent to invade his space.

"Look whit we got here!"

"Fuckin Hell-" He grumbled, Seeing Johnny 'Soap' Fucking-MacTavish walking damn near strutting in. Simon Leaning back in his seat as the scott smiled and plopped himself on one of the chairs across from him.

"Johnny not today-"

"Aww work got ye in a shit mood?"

Johnny was one of the few who knew of you or the kids for that matter. He had needed witnesses for his elopement anyway and Johnny was trustworthy- paired for when he was in town a easy babysitter.

Even if he was a pain in his ass- He grumbled under his breath, rubbing his neck which was a bit sore from the arm of the sofa.

"No.. Sleeping on the damn sofa-"

"Awww fucked up bad huh?-" Johnny chuckled which earned him a nasty glare from the masked man.

"How long have you been banished for?"

"...1 Day on the Office Floor and 9 days on the couch" Simon grumbled, crossing his arms as he looked to his desk. Johnny Hissing in shock at hearing this-

"Damn- You truly fucked up" Johnny said with a chuckle, smiling like the devil as he leaned back in his seat.

"Wad ya do?"

"Nothing that concerns you-" He grumbled out, earning a chuckle from Johnny who sat up to lean on his palm.

"Well if ya don't tell me how am I gonna help ya mate?"

Simon looked to Johnny, while the scott couldn't see it from his mask Simon was biting his inner cheek in thought.

"A bad situation on all fronts.. and my smart comments didn't exactly assist in that either.. and now it's a God damn battlefield-"

Johnny raised a brow at this, knowing that even with what little info he had this wasn't good. At All.

"Hm.. Start with the classics then- cooking a dinner together, some candles some nice words to smooth it over?"

Simon shook his head no immediately at that. He could see that going wrong really fucking quick- A enclosed space, knives, possible fire discussing a heavy topic with a lot of emotions?

Yeah fuck that-

"No no- Nothing with... Sharp knives.. Or fire for that matter"

Johnny gave him a bit of a wide eyed look, clearly having questions but not brave enough to ask him.

"Okay? Uh Fancy Resturant? Why not Bocca di Lupo? You took her there for ya guys 10 year anniversary right? Familiar space, Romantic atmosphere?"

Simon thought for a moment, nodding that it was a fairly good idea- even if his pockets hurt at just hearing the Resturants name again.. He remembered nearly popping a blood vessel when he paid 27£ for a beer.. a shit beer at that.

"That should work.."

He grumbled, before narrowed his eyes at the male and sighed heavily- He knew Johnny, and he knew this wasn't for free..

"..What do I owe for this?"

Johnny gave a cheeky grin.

"Depends- Need a babysitter?"

-

Simon ♡: 'I want to take you to dinner tonight, It will be nice, Dress Up'

You'd raised a brow at the text, apprehensive and worried however decided not to argue it.

You were fortunate enough to know that your darling husband wasn't the best with Text so this wasn't rude either.

Just him-

Setting up bottles for Lily and silently wandering what was planned- However decided to just go with it.

Afterall couldn't be any worse then how things are now..

The day did seem to fly by however not peacefully, Lily having decided that today she wanted to remind you how much a 11 month old can rain terror.

Aka it seemed she wanted only her Dad that day so just- Fuck You I guess.

Which lead to a lot of trying, Lily finally falling asleep crying- Then waking up..

To More fucking crying.

When Simon got home with Elijah your son running up to you while you stood there holding a still sobbing Lily as he showed you the lasted- everything from his classes.

"Look Mummy! We gotta do a assignment on our parents! Will you help?"

"Yes of course Baby" You say softly, trying to remain as sweet as possible as one child screamed in your ear and the other decided to want to show you ever peice of paper that has ever been printed.

"Alright Lad. Go shower, get your homework out and take a seat at the table" Simon gruffed out, Elijah nodding as he ran off to do as asked.

"Well don't you look like a joy-" Simon said as he stared at you, You making sure to cut him a nasty ass look as you hand your daughter over to him.

"She has decided you are the one of the day. Seems she has terrible taste once more" Simon held Lily who leaned into him immediately calming down-

"Hey Least one of the women in this house like me-" He said softly. You rub your face a bit, clearly exhausted.

"You said you wanted to go out?"

"Yeah we are gon'a head to Bocca di Lupo for dinner.."

You look to him confused, Bocca di Lupo? You knew he hated that place, It had been one of a funniest anniversaries for you when the two of you stepped foot in that place- Remembering seeing how he seemed like a bull in a China shop looking around the place, trying to figure out why he was getting one bite of food per plate and asking the waiter why was he being served decorations on a plate then food-

You had died laughing the whole time and seeing it all in a very fond light- "Are you sure?- Last time we went you got McDonald's on the way to the Anniversary suite"

"We aren't talking about the Maccies thing- I feel like a space outside of the house were we can.. talk I suppose is nice-"

You raise a brow hearing how this seemed a bit rehearsed, but shrugged-

"Okay"

"Good.. The reservation isn't for a few hours, so you can take a bath or- whatever.. I'll watch the kids for the time being"

He saw the way your face softened, looking at him both greatful and suspicious. "Thank you, That sounds really nice actually"

He nodded, a bit awkwardly as you walked off to go take a bath anf unwind.

Simon silently thanked Johnny for giving him this script and convincing him to make the reservation for later that evening. Looking to Lily in his arms as she stared up at him-

"Let's see if this works eh Sweet Girl?"

After a admittedly heavenly bath and a short power nap. You got ready for this evening out.

Stepping out of the bedroom in your nice black dress as you put on earrings and nice heels. Hearing the front door slam open.

"Looking Lovely as ever Bonnie" You see Johnny in the livingroom- Also holding Lily as she seemed while not as happy, at least not screaming her head off, as Elijah was there eating what seemed to be pizza and chicken dippers.

"Hey Johnny, Simon has you as the babysitter?" You chuckle as you walk all the way out to the livingroom.

"Well ya know, always wanna help a Mate out of course!" He said cheerfully, Simon was at the dining room table seemingly patiently waiting to enter the bedroom to grab his nice clothes.

"I'm sure-" You say softly, Adjusting your dress a bit. Before looking yo Johnny calmly as he snagged some chicken dippers himself, now having grown suspicious of the man himself as he had always been a 'friend' from the military.

It didn't take long for Simon to come back out dressed in his nice dress pants and white button up, Shifting a bit as he always had some problems with formal wear.

"Ah look at ya! You almost clean up nice" Johnny chimed, earning a glare from Simon and a chuckle from you.

"Don't wait up Johnny-"

He grumbled out, After some quick goodbyes to the kids and you swore you saw Simon snag a slice, you both headed to his car-

This leading to possibilities the most awkward car ride of your guys lives, it had been almost dead silent- as if you two didn't know how to even start a conversation.

Taking a soft breath you reach over to turn on the radio-

Before Careless Whisper blasted through the car.

...

You two sit there, Simon silently driving but you swore you saw him blink one eye then the other like he was seconds away from losing it. You also closing your eyes as you collected yourself mentally.

You turn the radio back off.. Silence filling the car once again.

It was almost an hour to the resturant like this, Simon paying for parking once you two arrived.

Looking at the overly stuffy resturant ahead of you.

It would be funny how the two of you seemed to loath having to enter the place.

You took his arm and leaned to his side like how you two had walked in here before to try and seem normal- Till you felt it.. A clear handle on his side, Looking up at him with a glare.

Simon wrapped a arm around you quickly as well- He already felt the holster under your dress as he leaned into your ear.

"You leave yours in the car I'll leave mine.."

He said lowly, You narrowed your eyes at him before nodding in agreement. Both of you going back to respective sides of the car and taking off the hidden holsters- Simon pulling out a massive fucking knife that made your blood boil- Before you pulled out a small Pistol.

He stared at you in disbelief when you set the gun under the passenger seat.

"You were gonna shoot me!?"

"They are non-lethal bullets! Im not gonna murder the father of my children" You Hiss back as you point to the massive Rambo blade in his hand.

"What about that- It's literally the size of my damn head" You point back to him.

"I would have clipped your arm or something- Nothing of true damage"

"Oh wanna make sure I match the other shoulder?" You hiss, You see the way he gritted his teeth as he stashed the knife under his seat.

This leading the two of you to rather angrily march to the restaurant. The two of you sit at the very nice table in dead silence... It was painfully tense.

So bad that other tables were seemingly just as tense.

Simon scowling while sipping the 27£ Beer that tasted like honey piss and you barely tasted the far too bitter wine.

Only snapping out of the painfully angry silence when the waiter came back over.

"Are you two ready to order?"

"Just uh.. A few more minutes please?" Simon said softly, the overly stuffy waiter leaving with a curt nod before walking off.

....

You look to Simon and give a gentle sigh.

"Simon.. This feels, Well very- Tense. Do you want to go back to the house.."

"Fuck No.." He grumbled, You narrow your eyes at your husband unsure if he was being rude or simply upset over this all.

"Do you seriously want to have this kind of talk here?" You whisper.

Simon leaned his face on his palm as he gave a soft smirk "Safer then at home- it seems.. Or in the car with the gun"

You pick up the steak knife and point it at him in a silent threat which he narrows his eyes at you in a silent- I fucking dare you.

However Simon suddently stopped, looking towards the front of the resturant as he seened to be scanning- His eyes narrowing. You look to him confused as something seemed to have his interest- His eyes widen suddently.

"Down!-"

Simon reached for you as it felt like the world slowed down for a second- Seeing a flash of light at what used to be the front door as Simon grabbed you hard and yanked you to the floor.

A yelp leaving you as Simon shielded you with his body fast, a rain of glass and wood seemingly raining down.

Loud explosion hitting your ears that make your ears rings and dizzy. God the memories of this before coming back in full swing- 'Why did I ever do this shit again?..'

Simon pulled up as you stared down at your dazed face with concern, his hand going to you cheek to look you over.

"You alright?" He ask, his eyes wide as you give a shaky nod.

"Yeah, I'm fine. I'm fine" You say softly, Hearing the sound of gunfire and shouts for everyone to get down.

You sat up quickly and the two of you hid behind the broken furniture- Hearing patrons scream as they were herded like cattle.

Simon closed his eyes as he thought back to one of the files on his desk 'Domestic Terrorist' Fan-Fucking-tastic... and this defiantly would be a good spot- bunch of rich fucks in a flashy spot?.. Yeah.

He turned ready to tell you to run and hide elsewhere however saw you not far off, Your gaze focused as you seemed to be scouting out what was there- That dazed look of your gone.. It was focused, trained as you looked around.

He silently moves closer to you keeping an eye out.

"What are you doing?" He grumbled, feeling ready to snap and yank you to the nearest exit but you point instead.

"Hostages, This isn't to kill" You mumble pointing forward- Simon following your gaze and seeing the exact same pattern as you-

'This is to buy time- so something bigger was elsewhere'

"We looking at 11?" Simon hummed softly, you glancing to the side-

"Bakers dozen-" You whisper pointing to the right showing the addional two.

He nods and motions the two of you forward. Simon gesturing for you to move to the side to hide while he handled this. Grabbing a spare balaclava he usually kept in his pockets as he slipped it on.

You sent him a glare as you grabbed a medical face mask you uses during cold and flu season from your purse and put it on and taking off your heels and holding them.

"This is dangerous, Go hide-"

He hissed out and pointed to the side.

"Kiss my ass-"

Simon equally glared at you, Till the sound of footsteps approached and he spun around-

Seeing one of the mercs turning to look for other hostages as he was turned with his back to him Simon was quick to grab the man and slam him to the ground. Covering his mouth, as he was was fast to snap his neck to silence them.

Quickly you grabbed the dead man's gun a X16 and check the ammo.

That's when you heard that so welcomed scream near by of one of the women who had been seated near your table making a run for it- Catching the attention of the men who came in your direction to catch the idiot.

"Shit" "Shit..." You both say in unison-

"See if he has any hand to hand weapons- I work better with those" You manage to say to Simon as both of you fast to take cover as you hear the group fast to approach.

"See this is what I fucking mean..." Simon muttered clearly not expecting you to hear him as he searched the body more which came up empty.

"What do you mean?"

You ask anf load a magazine as you were behind the thickened table looking to your husband not far from you-

"Feels like I turn around and just- Boom another reminder my wife is keeping deadly ass secrets from me"

"It wasn't a matter of wanting to keep secrets, It was the fact that I didn't see that as a part of my life anymore after I left"

"To your left-" Simon said calmly as you aimed and shot the soldiers in the head coming around the corner fast.

This alerting of your guys presents as now gunfire could be heard coming towards the two of you, you quickly sliding your gun to Simon as you knew he was a better shot, while picking up a steak knife.

"Well it just sort of feel like I got blindsided is all- I mean even without knowing it could have still put us all in danger"

He stressed, Moving from his position forward quickly and reached over grabbing another armored male who had rushed towards them and shooting him in the back as he tossed his body to the side and went back to cover.

After another rushed over with a Automatic and starting to fire rapidly- Clearly burning through his ammo as the two of you waited for the reload.

"I understand where you're coming from Darling- and im sorry for not at least giving some sort of heads up about it.. Its just difficult"

You relent as you grab a fancy dressed man cowering near you and drag him to safety off to the side by his collar. As you saw the soilder who was walking closer reloading his automatic as fast as he could clearly not spotting you- you pounced, sinking the steak knife into the back of his neck making sure you heard the crack- He fell silently as you caught him and laid him down to the ground.

"Truthfully I really did think I was with the good guys- I mean come on there are a lot of registered soldiers that were apart of that at the time. I just thought I was one of them"

Simon thought for a second and nodded, seeing your perspective at that. Watching as you savaged the man's body for ammo and other useful weapons.

"Fair point actually"

Pulling up some more magazines and getting them to Simon as you saw nothing of use, few med kits, a couple of shit knives-

'God they got such bullshit stuff..'

"I do also want to talk about you lying about the rank however. Why didn't you want to tell me?"

Simon rolled his eyes a bit, Pausing for a second as he waited for his next target.

"It was dangerous and I know I shouldn't have lied about it- However I was worried you would have freaked out when we had first started dating and I just never wanted to bring that back up.. and Im sorry"

He admitted, Looking back at you with regret- Your eyes softening as you saw the remorse.

"Listen I wouldn't have cared about who you are or even your position- I would have supported you either way"

Simon mumbled as the two quietly crept through the resturant- Hearing the sound of several of the men clearly looking for the two of you.

"I know- I just didn't want to pull you guys into that life, I figured if I didn't speak about it. Then you guys aren't involved"

Simon turned the corner as he went to shoot one of the men in the back of the head, however it jammed and he instead dragged the man down with him covering his mouth as he looked back at you, You staring back at him.

"So- Ironically we were doing the same thing in different directions"

"Guess so"

The man in Simon's arms looking both terrified and utterly confused as Simon easily restrained him.

"I don't like that our relationship started out on secrets and lies- Fact is, we haven't in almost 11 years of being married even scratched the surface of our early lives" You whisper low- Seeming the way Simon face seemed to twitch at the mention of early life.

You hand Simon the steak knife as he sighed sinking the knife into the guys neck while keeping the males mouth covered still and tossing him to the ground lazily.

"Your right.. I think we just got so-" He tried to think of the word-

"Secure?"

"That's the word Thank you. Secure in not addressing it, it let this type of thing take place"

You nod in agreement at this. Hearing the sound of vans and other shouts from outside the Restaurant.

Simon saw that the authorities and one of his teams were arriving, glancing back at you as he gestures to the closest exit to sneak out of. Which you two quietly and quickly do, managing out by what seemed to be a Alley most likely for employees.

You smile from under your mask quickly slipping it off and set your heels back down and slipped them back on before leaning against the brick walls, a clearly winded and fanning yourself some.

"Little winded there love?" You could hear Simon joke a bit, earning a side glare from you.

"Hey- it's been well over a decade and two kids since I last did that shit. Give me some slack okay?"

The two of you giggle at this, Simon also rolling his shoulder a bit. While active still it had been a hot minute since he was down in the trenches like that.

"Listen- I'm sorry.. I shouldn't have assumed the worse and should have been.. more honest" Simon finally said looking to you.

"Im sorry too, I should have also been more honest and open about everything. Maybe after this, and with some time we can start to just unravel our- admittedly probably fucked up past?" He nodded in agreement, Glancing from the side of the Alley seeing how the remaining terrorist were already being handled in some way.

Glancing around as he gestured to the car still in the paid parking spot as he silently moved the two of you over to it.

Once to the car the two of you look to each other, Simon placing a hand on your hip as he looks at you softly. "I love you okay?.. I dont want stupid shit like this to affect out marriage"

Your eyes soften at this, and you place a gentle kiss on his masked lips.

"I love you too Darling, and I promise no matter what we will always handle things together. Team Mr and Mrs Riley forever"

"Thats stupid as hell" He grumbled making you laugh. He heard his phone go off as he pulled it from his back pocket, seeing ironically his job requesting him at the resturant.

"Fuck-"

He grumbled, you giggling at this.

"Oh the irony- Also let's get your hoodie from the back" You say softly as you pat his chest, Breaking the hold the two of you shared. Simon about to question why till he looked down at his white button shirt seeing it covered in a nice bit of blood.

"Damn.. This was expensive"

"This is why you wear black Darling-" You joke as you gesture to yourself still in your pretty black dress going to the trunk to grab the hoodie he kept in the trunk from the last hiking trip he took- also finding his sweats and his running shoes.

"Also good thing you didn't take these out of the car liked I asked- so they could be washed" You also shot at him, He playfully opened his arms at you as if showing his bloodied self off.

"My vices at times come to be blessings"

Walking back with a shake of your head and hand him the clothes, which he quickly changes into and tosses the bloody dress clothes into the trunk.

"Now- You go be Major Ghost okay. I'll see Simon back at the house" You say softly, You could see Smile through his mask as he nodded.

"And is Simon back allowed in the bedroom?"

He asked, Hopeful. You caress his cheek at this.

"You are more then welcome Darling, and possibly extra"

The second those words came out of your mouth you could possibly see the excited twinkle in Simon's eyes, As he carefully escorted you to the car with a firm hand on your lower back.

"I'll hold you to that, Now please get home safely Lov"

You had to snort back a laugh at this as you placed a kiss on his covered cheek.

"You be safe, I'll see you at home"

Getting into the car you started your way back off. Simon taking a moment to watch you drive off, before he silently do a fist pump to himself in silent celebration- turning onto his heel at the chaos of gun fire and more on the overly expensive restaurant he wasn't sad to see gone.

He had never walked into a Domestic Terrorist scene so damn happy before.

Tag List-

@itsmeamysworld @danielle143 @mileyraes

[museiest]

SPEAK NOW . . . . gojo satoru .ᐟ

LYRICS. horrified looks from everyone in the room but i'm only looking at you ──────ex-husbands!gojo x fem!reader ⋆

NOTES. part two of this scenario, i think everything is a bit rushed so i didn't like it so much but anw, happy ending!! i wanted to write something angsty but ended up doing this, enjoy and thank you for the support <3 .ᐟ

Gojo Satoru’s heart had never raced as wildly as it was beating at this moment. The anxiety and nervousness coursing through him as he sprinted towards the venue where his ex-wife was getting married was unmatched.

Had you already said “I do”? Were you thinking about him? Had Megumi and Tsumiki managed to delay the ceremony long enough for him to get there on time?

A flood of questions swirled in his mind, none of which would be answered until he reached the place where you stood at the altar, dressed in for the white veil occasion with a man that didn’t deserve you in the slightest.

When he got there, a man in a suit stopped him, asking what did he want.

“I’m Gojo Satoru, i'm here for the wedding of Yn Ln and Kenji Hirano, where are they?” he demanded breathlessly, the desperation in his voice growing more evident.

“Oh, Miss Yn and Mr. Kenji are on the third floor, the main hall to the right and—” the man began, but before he could finish, the white-haired man bolted towards the stairs, not wanting to wait for the elevator.

Please don’t say yes. Please don’t say yes. Please don’t say yes.

The voice of an officiant became clearer and clearer as he neared the hall where the love of his life was about to get married.

“If anyone has a valid reason to object to this union, speak now or forever hold your peace,” Satoru heard just as he reached the doors. A tense silence filled the room.

It seemed like his kids had executed the plan exactly as they'd rehearsed.

The man with ocean-blue eyes pushed the doors open dramatically, causing every head to turn towards him with horrified looks but Satoru didn’t care about anyone else in the room, his eyes were solely on you as he strode confidently to where you stood. Your surprised expression, as if straight out of a soap opera, met his.

“Satoru? W-what are you doing here? how did—?” you stammered, your eyes flickering briefly to where your kids stood, grinning in delight.

“I, Gojo Satoru, object to this wedding,” he declared, turning to face the man who was just minutes away from becoming your husband. Then, he shifted his gaze to the officiant as he added, “This man doesn’t deserve Yn, he doesn’t love her. And i don’t think she loves him either.”

“What the hell are you talking about, you idiot?” Kenji shot back angrily.

“I’m talking about how you’ve been using her all this time. Don’t think you can fool me, because i know you’re no saint,” Satoru said, eliciting shocked gasps from the crowd.

“Love, this man has cheated on you more than once, lying about loving you while sneaking around with other women behind your back,” he revealed, making your jaw drop in disbelief.

“What? Is that true, Kenji?” you demanded, your voice tinged with denial, unable to process what Satoru just said.

Obviously your fiancé immediately started to deny everything.

“Of course not! t-this idiot is just making things up to stop you from marrying me!” Kenji protested, growing increasingly nervous, so much that you began to suspect that Satoru was telling the truth but it was clear that your ex-husband was the only one being honest.

“I have photos, Yn, if you wanna see them. . .” Satoru began, pulling out his phone, but you stopped him by placing your hand on his.

Shaking your head, you replied, “You don’t need to show me anything. I believe you, Satoru.”

“You do?” he asked, hope lighting up his face.

“Of course i do, you would never lie to me about something like this. I know you, Satoru,” you said and the white-haired man smiled softly just as your kids ran up to join you both, leaving Kenji staring in disbelief.

“Let’s go, Mom! The car’s waiting,” Megumi said, and Tsumiki held up your car keys with a grin, making you smile softly as well.

“Well? what do you say?” Satoru asked eagerly, his eyes filled with that irresistible look you could never say no to.

The room buzzed with whispers as the guests ───and your family─── awaited your response.

You took a moment to think before soflty nodding, a soft smile gracing your lips. “Let’s go,” you said, smiling at the only man who had ever truly captured your heart.

With no hesitation, Satoru grabbed your hand, and the two of you bolted towards the exit, Megumi and Tsumiki following close behind as Kenji yelled after you, begging for you to come back.

This was a decision you knew you’d never regret.

BONUS .ᐟ

“You drive me crazy, angel,” said your now-boyfriend, Gojo Satoru, giving you a mischievous grin after what had been the best night you’d had in a long time.

Your bare body wrapped in nothing but a sheet, and the man of your dreams lying beside you made it feel like a dream you never wanted to wake up from.

“I love you, Satoru,” you murmured, looking at him with a smile as you leaned in to give him a fervent kiss. Satoru placed one hand on your waist and the other on your cheek, caressing it tenderly.

“I love you more, sweetheart,” he whispered, peppering your body with soft kisses, making you laugh and wonder how you'd ever thought of ending your marriage with someone as wonderful as him.

This time, Satoru wasn’t going to let you go, and you knew you’d never want to leave his side ever again.

© MUSEIEST 2025