#is it a divorce if he leaves you At the altar

[crowfatherd]

thinking about k!schlatt today

[leaderwonim]

❀﹐𝐒𝐏𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐒𝐍𝐎𝐖

pairing: park sunghoon x fem!reader

synopsis: in which married couple park sunghoon and park y/n are on their way to court to divorce when they suddenly get into a car crash, losing their memories entirely. over time, they start to fall inlove with each other all over again.

genre: angst, exes to lovers + strangers to lovers (ynhoon are soulmates your honor!!) fluff

“You are the most immature person I have ever met!” You shout, “I should’ve never married you in the first place!”

“Finally, something we can both agree on.” Sunghoon seethes, and you just know the taxi driver is uncomfortable by the way he’s awkwardly looking in the car mirror.

The both of you crossed your arms stubbornly, huffing like little children who just threw a tantrum.

The only reason why you and Sunghoon were getting a divorce in the first place was because he was so busy at his office, inheriting the CEO position from his father just months earlier.

You felt lonely, and it really didn’t help that Sunghoon didn’t give you any reassurance because he was too tired.

“Aish, why is this red light taking so long?” Sunghoon angrily mumbles underneath his breath.

“Well maybe it’s your negative energy.”

“Can you be mature once in your life?” Sunghoon snaps back.

The taxi driver, very annoyed with the both of you, continues driving when the light turns green.

Then all of a sudden, a car rams through the intersection, crashing directly into the taxi.

You scream, and Sunghoon instantly puts his arms around your frame, shielding you.

Then, all goes black.

For a second, you could see the day that you and Sunghoon got married.

It was a Sunday, at the beautiful church nearby Sunghoon’s parents house, and you were wearing what Sunghoon called the most beautiful dress he’d ever seen. It was plain white, but long and so beautifully designed that it didn’t need any other colors.

When you arrived at the altar, Sunghoon had bursted into tears. Some of his friends, Jake, who had traveled all the way from Australia to attend, patted the boy on back as comfort.

That day was nonetheless the happiest day of your life. You don’t know if Sunghoon feels the same, and looking back, it feels like such a shame that you’re throwing it all down the drain.

❀﹐

BLEEP. BLEEP.

Your body jolts awake, head practically killing you with the amount of ache it produced as you tried to sit up.

“Patient is up!” The nurse says before walking into your room with a tray. “Good morning, are you feeling okay?”

You raise your hands to touch your head, which was bandaged by some soft tissue material.

“Where am I?” You say, looking around the room. You spot a unknown man groggily getting up, and for a second, you can’t help but notice how handsome he was.

That was besides the point, though.

“You’re in the hospital.” The nurse says, smiling softly. “Do you remember the events leading up to this?”

“I.. I don’t remember anything, actually.”

The nurse still smiles at you reassuringly. “It’s alright lovebug, it seems as though you two have lost your memories.”

“Us two?” You question.

“Yes.” She points to the guy on the other bed right next to you who just looked like he woke up from death. He too looked badly injured like you, having a broken hand and bandage around his head. “Park Sunghoon-ssi was in the same car as you and got injured as well.”

Park Sunghoon. Why did that name sound so familiar?

“Well since you're both awake," she said, relief evident in her voice. "You've been in an accident. Do you remember anything Sunghoon-ssi?”

Sunghoon shook his head slowly. "No... I don't remember anything."

The nurse nodded, sympathy in her eyes. “It's not uncommon for victims to lose their memories after a traumatic accident. Memory loss can be temporary. Just focus on resting for now.”

The nurse leaves the room, leaving you and Sunghoon alone.

“She said we were in the same car together,” you say slowly. “But I really can’t remember what you are to me.”

Sunghoon shrugs. “Me either. All I remember vividly is my parents. You must’ve been an acquaintance of mine, then.”

You nod, stretching your limbs. “You got more injured than me.”

He lets out an airy chuckle, lifting his broken arm which was in a cast into the air. “Yep, broken arm.”

You want to remember so badly what had happened leading up to all of this. What were you doing? Where were you going, and why were you with this Park Sunghoon guy in the first place?

“What did you get for breakfast?”

Sunghoon breaks the silence between the two of you, and you slowly look down at the tray in front of your bed.

“Uh, the nurse got me tiramisu and oatmeal.”

“Tiramisu?” Sunghoon’s mood automatically brightens up. “Can we please switch sweets? I really love tiramisu.”

You laugh at his childlike behavior, but nod anyway. “I’ll bring it to you Sunghoon, wait.”

You don’t know why, but it feels so right saying his name. Sunghoon must’ve felt the same way, because he swore his mouth went dry at you calling out his name.

You carefully make your way out your hospital bed, making sure not to accidentally detach any monitors that were attached to you. Grabbing the tiramisu cup, you make your way over to Sunghoon, who’s already shaking in excitement.

Then you make your way back, opening the lid of your oatmeal bowl.

“I may not know what happened in the accident,” Sunghoon says. “But I know this tiramisu is so fucking good.”

You shake your head, laughing at his words. “Yah Sunghoon, you think we were best friends before all of this?”

“Maybe.” He mutters, the mascarpone cheese of the tiramisu leaving a mark on the side of his lips.

“Well our humor is alike.” You say. “Would explain why we were in the same car together. Maybe we were going out to lunch.”

The rest of the day was spent with Sunghoon and you cracking jokes then and there, the awkwardness of the two of you being strangers quickly faded.

❀﹐

The next day, you were given tiramisu once again while Sunghoon was given cookies.

You descended from your bed, once again, and gave the tiramisu cup to Sunghoon while you grabbed his bag of cookies.

“You know what’s funny?” You say, biting into the warm chocolate chip cookie.

“What?” He says, although it’s muffled from the amount of tiramisu he’s stuffed into his mouth.

“Yah, you gotta stop doing that, it’s gross.”

Sunghoon sticks his tongue out at you, which makes you giggle.

“We’re both Parks, isn’t that funny?”

“Huh,” Sunghoon looks up at the ceiling, thinking for a brief second. “Park Sunghoon and Park Y/N. That is funny.”

Maybe both of your humors are broken because you hit your head too hard during the crash, but even though you were at the hospital, you’re glad you have someone like Sunghoon to keep you company.

“Do you want to watch the stars with me tonight at the balcony?” You ask the boy, who nods softly.

“I’d love to, actually.”

And that’s what the two of you did. By the time it hit 10pm, you two tiptoed out to the balcony, making sure to not let any of the night nurses see you.

“Whoaaa, it’s beautiful.” Sunghoon says, letting his broken arm lean against the railing. “Why didn’t we do this sooner?”

You smile, leaning your head on Sunghoon’s shoulder.

“Sunghoon.” You say, voice barely above a whisper.

“Yeah?”

“I’m not sure what we were before the accident,” you stop for a second. “But I’m glad we knew each other.”

Sunghoon turns his head to look down at your face, his expression morphed into a genuine smile. “I’m glad we knew each other too Y/N.”

That night, you slept the most compared to the other nights at the hospital. In your dreams, you see Sunghoon—only instead of being at the hospital bed right beside you, he’s in the kitchen, wearing a black suit.

“You look nice today.”

“Thank you baby.” Sunghoon leans down to give you a kiss on the lips. “Is that tiramisu?”

You nod, your eyes full of love. “Of course, you’ve been working so hard so I decided to make your favorite.”

He wraps his arms around your waist, letting the two of you swing back and forth slowly. “Thank you my love, I seriously don’t know what I would do without you.”

You woke up in a cold sweat, the dream feeling all too real.

“What’s wrong?” Sunghoon says, and you swore your heart almost leaped out of your chest, not expecting the brunette boy to be awake.

“It’s 2am, why are you even awake?” You say croakily, hands coming to rub your tired eyes.

“Couldn’t sleep.” He shrugs. “Hey, I had a really weird dream just now.”

“Me too.” You say, “you were in it.”

Sunghoon raises an eyebrow, but doesn’t further question it. “You were a lawyer in my dream, you just graduated from Seoul University. We bought a house, and you told me you wanted to continue with your career.”

At least his dream was somewhat normal, you think. I can’t just tell him I dreamt of us being together and being all lovey dovey. He’d be thrown into a coma!

“Ah, mine was similar.”

Nice save Y/N.

Sunghoon suddenly gets up from his bed, deciding to sit at the dining table the nurses had brought out for the two of you yesterday night.

“Come sit with me.”

You slowly creep out of your bed, sitting on the empty seat next to Sunghoon.

Suddenly, you’re hit with a sudden pounding headache.

“You’re the worst, Sunghoon!” You scream on the top of your lungs, “I hate you! I hate you!”

“Stop screaming!” He grabs your arms gently, eyes directly looking into yours. “Y/N-ah, stop it.”

“So I’m Y/N to you now?” Your voice breaks. “No more baby or love? Am I just another person to you Sunghoon?”

“Of course not, why would you say that?” He pinches the bridge of his nose, taking in a deep inhale. “Let’s just talk about this calmly, okay?”

“What’s there to talk about? You are never home, you’re always cooped up in your office! We might as well get a divorce!”

Sunghoon’s hold on your shoulder makes you snap out of your daze.

“Hey, you okay?” He says concernedly, “you were breathing heavily.”

“What?” You gasp. “Yeah—yeah, I’m okay. I just think I had a flashback.”

“Really? What was it?”

You don’t want to tell Sunghoon that it was the two of you fighting. Why did you even mention divorcing in the flashback? Were you and Sunghoon something more than just friends?

“Just the crash.” You say. You want to tell him the truth, you really do, but you’re not sure if these were hallucinations from how hard your head was hit during the trauma or if they were actual flashbacks.

“Well, I’m here.” Sunghoon whispers reassuringly. “I’ll always be here. We survived a car crash together anyway, we’re kinda bonded to each other.”

You laugh, smacking him on his shoulder softly. “You’re insane.”

“Maybe.”

❀﹐

“Do you remember what your passion was before all of this?” Sunghoon asks, peeling his orange with his injured hand.

“I haven’t really thought about it,” you say, “l think I really would’ve liked becoming a mother. I love kids, the thought of them makes me happy.”

“I think you would be a great mother.” Sunghoon says quietly. “Even though we don’t know each other much, I can tell you’re loving.”

You look down at your lap, trying to suppress the bright smile forming at the corner of your lips.

“Thanks Hoonie.”

“Hoonie?”

Your eyes widened. “I’m sorry! Did I make you uncomfortable? I should’ve not—”

“It’s okay Y/N,” he chuckles. “It’s fine. I like it.”

You can’t help but laugh along with him. “Okay.”

The next few days go by quickly, with you and Sunghoon already warming up to each other.

You were both comfortable enough to speak your thoughts freely around one another, no matter how silly or ridiculous some of them seemed.

When the nurses brought you two breakfast, Sunghoon almost dropped his fork in shock.

“They gave me tiramisu.” He says, eyes glistening with joy. “They finally gave me tiramisu.”

“I don’t know why you’re so excited.” You snicker jokingly. “You’ve been eating my tiramisu this entire week.”

He turns around to look at your tray, which had a bag of snickerdoodle cookies on it.

With shaking limbs, he makes his way over, handing the tiramisu cup to you and swapping it with your cookies.

“I thought you hated snickerdoodle cookies, Hoon?” You ask, eyebrows furrowed.

“I do.” He admits. “But you’ve given me your tiramisu all week, I wanted you to have mine this time.”

Your heart swells at that, and you point your spoon at him accusingly.

“Yah, is this because you want my chocolate pudding at dinner?” You joke.

“Pffft, what? Nooo.” He quickly defends himself. “But if you’re willing to share—”

“Shut up Park Sunghoon!”

“Yes ma’am!”

❀﹐

You don’t know why, but you’re starting to feel giddy whenever you talk with Sunghoon.

Your palms does this thing where it sweats profusely, and your tongue feels like dried sandpaper.

There’s no way you like Park Sunghoon, right? You’ve barely known the guy for two weeks, so why was the heart racing at the thought of him?

“I’ve convinced the nurses to get us two bottles of coca cola,” Sunghoon says, practically jumping up and down as he entered the room.

“Really? Out of all the drinks you could’ve persuaded them to get us, you got us coke.”

“Don’t diss Coca Cola like that!” Sunghoon says, crossing his arms.

Just like Sunghoon had said, the nurse approaches the two of you an hour later, 2 bottles of coca cola in her hands. She hands one to Sunghoon, then to you.

"Enjoy." She says, smile reaching her eyes.

Sunghoon's eyes light up when he opens the bottle and takes a sip. "Ah, for some reason, this feels so nostalgic."

A little memory pops up in his head, one of him playing at the park with his mom and younger sister.

"Sunghoon-oppa! Mom says she brought us coca cola!" The young girl, Yeji, says. "C'mon! Come with me!"

The young Park Sunghoon lets his younger sister take his hand, running towards their mom who was on the other side of the park.

"What's wrong Sunghoon-ssi?" You ask, noticing how his thick eyebrows were furrowed and his grip on the bottle had tightened.

"Huh?"

"You zoned out for a bit."

He chuckles nervously, glancing around the room. "Sorry, I think I just had a flashback." He says. "Park Yeji."

"Who?"

"My younger sister." He explains. "I could see her clearly. I wonder where she is right now."

You too wondered where your family was. Maybe they were too busy to come visit you. You could briefly remember having a younger brother. Jungwon. Yang Jungwon.

"Cheers." He says, mood changing quickly. His canines shined brightly as he smiled, making him look all too gorgeous in your eyes. "To the car crash, for bringing me and Park Y/N together."

You giggle, raising your bottle in the air. "Cheers to the car crash, for bonding me with this weird guy named Sunghoon."

"Yah!"

❀﹐

"Is it weird?"

"Hm?"

It's 11pm, and you and Sunghoon face each other as you're both laying on opposite ends of the room.

"That we've known each other for only a few weeks and I already feel like I've known you for an entire lifetime?"

You smile at his words, shaking your head. "No, I feel the same way Hoonie."

"Would it be stupid to say out loud how much I want to kiss you right now?"

Your mouth almost drops at his boldness, but you quickly shake your head.

Sunghoon takes your silence as approval, sitting up to come over to your side.

He brushes the hair away from your face, leaning in to close the gap between your lips.

When the both of you pull away, you automatically lean in again, the feel of his lips on yours felt so right.

"I love you Sunghoon." You say as you cup his cheeks. "I don't want to fight anymore."

"I know," he whispers. "I love you. Cause even though we were both going down, we were going down together."

"I hate you." You say, a smile playing on your face. "I hate you for being the only person who I can't stay mad at."

"And I love you," he says. "For being there for me, always."

"Sunghoon."

"Hm?"

"I love you."

He smiles down at you, uninjured hand coming to hold yours. "I love you too."

❀﹐

"What?" You say flabbergasted.

The next morning was the date of both yours and Sunghoon's discharge, and both your families decided to come visit.

"You two were married." Your father explains, a bewildered expression on his face. "How could you not know? Was the Park Y/N not obvious?"

"I thought that was just my last name!" You say, defending yourself.

"Your last name is Yang, noona." Your little brother speaks up. It was Jungwon, the same boy you kept seeing in your flashbacks, only this time, his face looks more clear and matured. "It was before you married Sunghoon-hyung."

"You're telling me we got married and divorced?" Sunghoon says, stuttering over his own words.

"Yes son," Sunghoon's mother explains. "Well, not quite exactly. We don't know why you guys wanted to divorce, you kind of shut yourselves out when you were arguing. You didn't officially divorce yet, you got into an accident on the way to court."

That made so much sense now. The flashbacks of arguments between you and Sunghoon, the makeups after the arguments, the cute moments, everything. It started to all click in your head.

"You still share houses and everything, the lawyers had to put your case on hold because you were both hospitalized." Jungwon says. "We were here to pick you up separately, in case you weren't comfortable staying with each other."

"It's fine." You and Sunghoon both say at the same time.

"Are you sure honey?" Sunghoon's mom asks concernedly.

"Yes mom, I'm sure."

The drive home was awkward, you both drove in different cars but to the home you had bought before the accident happened.

"Noona," Jungwon calls out to you. Your parents are still in the car, looking at the scene in front of them.

"Yes Jungwon?"

"Listen, I may not know a lot about love," he says, "but I know what you and Sunghoon-hyung have is real. I could still see somewhere in his eyes that he remembers parts of you and he still loves you whether or not his memories came back or not. I could tell you love him too. I don't know why the two of you decided to divorce but I know you called me crying hysterically because of it. I just think you two needed to talk it out, without the lawyers, without the paperwork. You two are the two most stubborn people I know, but also the two most loving people I know, you wouldn't just leave each other like that."

You want to cry at your younger brother's words, tears already leaking from your eyes. "Thank you Won."

You reach your arms out to hug him, a hug that he instantly melts into. "I love you noona."

"I love you too."

❀﹐

"This isn't what we expected, huh?" Sunghoon says, leaning his head on the marble island in the middle of your kitchen. "This whole time I thought you were my best friend, turns out you were my soon to be ex-wife."

You laugh quietly at the irony of the whole situation. "Whatever we were in the past is in the past Hoon."

He nods. "I can't believe we were going to divorce."

"I can't believe it either."

"You know what my mom told me in the car?" Sunghoon sits up straight to look at you. "The reason I have a broken arm and you don't was because during the crash, I put my arms around yours to protect you. Isn't that funny? Even though we hated each other at that moment, my first instinct was to protect you."

You stay still at that, his words sinking into your brain.

"It's like the universe wanted us to be together." You say quietly.

"Hey Y/N?"

You turn around to face Sunghoon. "Yeah?"

"I'm glad I married you."

Even though you and Sunghoon aren't sure where you stand in terms of relationship, all you know is that you love him, and that is enough for the both of you.

[romanoffsbish]

The One That (Almost) Got Away

Natasha Romanoff (Intersex) x ChubbyMilf!R

GN!OC (Ryan) x Fem!R (Freshly divorced)

Natasha’s not the step-dad, she’s merely the dad that stepped up | WC: 9,218

Warnings: Ryan is dickhead coded | R Ghosted Nat so she is too | Confusing Feelings | Insecurities all Around (Body / Worth) | Everyone’s Horny | Happiest of Endings Though 🥰

Smut: Natasha has a penis | Oral - Both | Multiple Positions (Wall / Doggy / Guided Dick-Riding) | Praising / Degrading | Dirty Talk | Face Slap (R) | Heavy on Breeding | KO (R) | Needy R -> Cockwarming | Switch Energy but R basically Bottoms

——

Natasha watched you intently, just like she always did, and just like every time before now she wasn't left disappointed. Well, besides that time when you married Ryan, you looked gorgeous stood up at that altar, but you were painfully mismatched. They were the first person you had ever dated, but you never truly loved them. You loved Natasha though, she knew that deep within her yearning soul, felt it deep in her bones, but alas you chose the stable familiarity over love.

Natasha told you every time you two had made love that she wanted the whole thing, but you were in a committed (open) relationship. You had a child with another, and you decided she (deserved better) wasn't ready for that sort of responsibility. So, for the both of your sakes you had stopped coming over a year ago, without a word of goodbye—like a coward.

It broke you just the same, but at least you had a distraction with your infant around. All Natasha had was the haunting memories of a genuine love and, dangerous missions, a nearly lethal combination. It was only last month that the redhead stopped being reckless, which coincidentally, is exactly when she had heard of your unexpected divorce proceedings.

Tony had very loudly, intent obvious, offered a sobbing you a spacious, well-equipped place to stay since Ryan decided to kick you out, of your house. He also got you a better divorce lawyer. When she pestered him for a why though he had refused, stating 'you'll know soon enough' in the most ominous, almost threatening, way.

The reactions to your tumultuous entanglement around the compound were mixed. Most thought you two were a great match, those who met Ryan felt this way, others felt Natasha could do better than the girl who left her hanging. Then there was Tony, who alone believed the both of you to be aloof little cowards.

Ergo his childish response. Yet here you were, at the compound she still lived in, and she still hadn't been informed... It was driving her crazy, but she kept her cool, or at least she tried to, but you made it hard.

So damn hard not to run over and yell at you, just to then kiss you breathless, then she figured she would yell at you some more; but with less clothes, and in a passionate reunification of two desperate souls.

But she stood stuck to her spot, wishing desperately that she had Wanda's handy ability to read minds...

You stood across the field in a moment of uneasy silence. Pepper had to leave in a hurry, Tony excused himself with a promise to return. So now, without distraction, you were left lost in tumultuous thought.

Ryan and you had called it quits just six months ago after you gave birth to your sweet little girl, Delilah. To the outside world they looked like a bad guy, but with one peak into the carseat hood that currently shielded your daughter from the sun, everyone would know.

Know that maybe everyone was a bit wrong here...

There was only one rule the both of you set, don't let anyone else create life with you, and with Natasha's enigmatic charm you broke it easily. Ryan was still somewhat involved with Carter, but they denounced you and Delilah instantaneously. You knew better to expect anything else, but you were too petrified of being alone with two littles to see it all clearly.

Fortunately though, Tony adored you and had set the three of you up in a cushy upscale home just outside of the bustling city. There was a park on the corner, it was your only safe haven as you waited for the divorce to finalize, it was where you processed your grief over the entire situation, and realized this was always the way life would work out. One day the redhead would be there with you, scooting down the wide, curvy red slide with Carter, and Delilah giggling in her lap.

It was an inevitability of the rawest proportions.

You couldn't stop loving Natasha if you tried, which you halfheartedly did, and she loved you without the intent to stop—fate finally felt the need to intervene.

You felt her burdened gaze the moment you entered the party, and you were burning under the weight of it. There was a blip of fear that she would never forgive you for keeping her daughter from her, but you also figured she'd understand. If you were going to work as a couple, it had to be without Ryan's interference, and they were hellbent on making sure you weren't happy even though they were with Rochelle, the supermodel.

If you so much as contacted Natasha they were ready to claim this was always your plan. Not that they'd have much of a leg to stand on, but you weren't risking them winning so much as partial custody, simply because it was just to spite you. Ryan never wanted to be hands on, it seemed they more so liked the title of being a parent and spouse, but never the actual role. If they had won you know your son would only suffer.

Disappointed was an understatement, but you didn't hold pity for yourself because everyone warned you of their immaturity from the jump. Natasha warned you everyday leading up to the wedding, she pleaded with a hurt that broke your heart wide open, yet you were stubborn, and now you are right where you deserve.

The fear of a harsh reaction held you back from approaching her, hearing an 'I told you so' or a 'what did you expect to happen?' wasn't exactly something you could handle. Even if it was what you deserved, so, you decided to leave it to her. You wanted to give her the chance to take the first step in case she was only seeking to scream at you for breaking her heart and never returning any of her calls or texts, and oh yeah, for the icing on the fucked up cake you'd baked you would have to add keeping her child from her.

Natasha couldn't focus on anything but you since you had arrived though, she actively willed you to look up at her, but she soon realized you were purposefully ignoring meeting her gaze. The ill advised thought that even when single that you wouldn't want her around broke her spirit down into nothingness.

Was she really not good enough for you?

Who was she kidding? Of course she wasn't... You were clean of a harsh origin, with a compassionate aura that bled right into your ability to be an amazing mother. Natasha wanted kids, yours specifically, but with her cold upbringing she feared she would never be what they would need, and in turn she would let you down.

Natasha didn't get to linger in her sadness for long before Maria was nudging her shoulder. "For fucks sake Romanoff, could you at least pretend to be interested in my plights?" She was reminded of the riveting conversation she'd been engaged in moments prior with a raging Maria and an instigating Wanda. Her silly relationship problems with Danvers no longer interested her when she was faced with her very own problems rooted in an extended period of longing.

Natasha rolled her eyes, and adjusted her pants to better conceal the hard on she was suddenly sporting. You just looked too good, motherhood had only ever enhanced your beauty, her purest desires for you only surplussed after your son's birth. It pained her so that you'd lived like your beauty was lost due to a miracle, and it was that night that she showed you otherwise.

The night she gave actual life to her love...

Ryan had made the first distasteful comment, it was why you were at the compound that day after all. Using the free gym six months out from your son's birth, which was fine, but you were indeed overdoing it since you had a bad back, and it was Nat who stopped you.

"Y/N, you need to take it easy, you like just had a baby," she'd tried to help, but you glared at her with angry tears in your eyes. "It's fine Nat, I need to do this. I am literally in terrible shape, I am so ug—," you'd muttered in obvious frustration, but she didn't dare let you finish your sentence. She took you right there on the mat, then again in the showers, and finally she took you to her bed and gave you all of her love.

That wasn't the start of your sinful relations, but it was the beginning of the deep lines officially blurring. Where the love the two of you felt for the other was finally released through breathy moans, soft kisses and the heat of the moment filling of your barren womb.

Every time you didn't see the beauty in your body she did, and she reminded you so well... It was not a shock to you when you saw the test; more like a total relief.

Natasha obviously knew something happened, it changed everything for her, because you and her best friend, Carter, were no longer coming around. The redhead actually sobbed on his first birthday, and she still has all the gifts she bought for him in her closet.

Wanda followed her best friend's gaze to you, and she smiled sadly. The witch was the first person you came crying to over the news, and it hurt her heart to keep this secret from Nat, but she knew that today was the day it all changed. You were going to make it all right.

Your divorce was finalized after Tony's lawyer put Ryan in their place. The open marriage was their choice, you had proof that they pushed you into agreeing, so the judge deemed your daughter's paternity a natural consequence. Now that they lost, they moved outside of city limits with their younger lover, and you contently remained in the upper-scale house, the one that didn't burden you with memories.

"Go talk to her Nat," Wanda encouraged, "Take the chance, I promise you it'll at least be cathartic."

Natasha sighed, "She's better off without me."

The redhead kicked up a cloud of dust as she sent one last longing glance your way. Her heart stuttered at the sight. You'd moved, this time her eyes found you leaning back against a table. A soft look in your eye as you watched your giggling son, Carter, clumsily chase Morgan around the field. It'd been awhile since you've been back here so you were involved in a conversation.

The grey sundress you wore was perfectly hugging your curves, and the skirt of it was flowing with the light breeze, giving her a glimpse of the silky skin of your legs beneath. It was tastefully cut, but it still allowed her to see the curve of your swollen, sagging breasts.

Natasha's eyes were focused in on the way you sucked on your popsicle though. Her cock twitched in her boxers as she saw you hollow out your cheeks, her dick longing for the oh so familiar feeling of the gesture. You mindlessly wiped away the sticky mess of artificial juices with your fingers, and her eyes were locked on them, you lifted them to your lips to suck off the sticky mess and it reminded her of that time she'd shoved hers, covered in your shared arousals, down your throat. It was the most intimate moment she'd ever shared with another, and that made her resolve fall.

The redhead couldn't stand any of it anymore, not the ache in her chest, nor her boxers, so she rushed inside the compound, ignoring the awkward stares. The door that slammed afterwards caught your attention.

Tony shoved your arm. "Go after her Y/N!"

You stared down at the stroller, admiring the peace your daughters sleeping face brought as your nervous fingers fidgeted with the strap of the diaper bag. You felt nothing but guilt after a moment though when her little eyes fluttered open to reveal a sea of familiar green. You began to wonder if Natasha would be better off without you since all you seem capable of is hurting her. All she's ever done is pour her love into you, and you actually ghosted her—the perfect woman. The longer you thought it over, the sillier your reasons felt.

Tony invited you over for this barbecue to celebrate his retirement, but you weren't dumb enough to not know why he wanted you to come. Steve, and Natasha were also retiring, the notion that the redhead was giving up this life regardless of you made your skin crawl.

Was she retiring for you? Did she know you are divorced? You knew Tony blabbed a lot, so it wouldn't surprise you if that's how she had found out.

Or was it for herself? She'd earned the right and it was a bit narcissistic to think you played any part here.

Did she have plans to find the life she wanted with someone else since you were a coward? It would only serve you right, you knew you didn't deserve her.

Tony saw the turmoil in your eyes as you picked at the foam, he gently pulled your hands from the stroller, and nodded to the door with a stern expression. "No..."

"Y/N," he sighed, ready to fight you for being a coward, but then his face fell in offense as you spoke, "You are not exactly baby proof Stark." The man scoffed, "You can't be serious, I am a perfectly functional dad!"

You deadpanned, "You are the fun dad to Pep's productive. You have her while Pepper is at a meeting and Morgan's shirt is now on inside out, she's ate off everyone's plate and if my eyes aren't deceiving me, she has a contraption from your lab. My son better..."

Tony immediately took off and you giggled, enjoying the moment of peace just before your daughter began to cry. If only Nat would have waited a minute she'd have seen you pull the tiny redhead from the stroller. It was uncanny how similar to Natasha she was.

Infuriating was more like it really, you carried her for ten excruciatingly long months, and all she got was your hair texture, lip shape, and unfortunately—temper. Everything else was Nat, aside from the blend of her skin tone, it was a beautiful mix of you both.

"What's the matter lyubov'?" You coo'd and pulled the sniffling baby girl to your chest. Unaware of the presence of your former teammates behind you. Wanda beamed at the knowledge of you learning Russian for your daughters sake, she knew Nat would likely cry at the notion too, but Maria merely gasped.

"Oh my gosh, is that Romanoff's?!" Wanda elbowed the nosy woman, at this point she wondered if Maria being the second in command for Shield was a good idea with the way she loved to gossip and tease. "Mhm..."

Wanda's hand fell on your shoulder, you were never much for staying silent, so you simply humming gave way to your obvious anxiety. "She's only crying my dear, because she knows you have unfinished business to tend to." You turned to her with a teary gaze of your own and she used the pad of her thumb to wipe them away in comforting strokes. "Hand me my niece, and go fix things with Natasha dorogoy, it'll be okay."

Delilah instantly stopped crying, her wobbly head turned slightly as she recognized Wanda's voice. The two shared excited smiles, one adorable and gummy, and the other accompanied by the faintest of wrinkles to show a long life lived. Wanda's nose was scrunched as she regarded your daughter with pure elation, and you had no qualms leaving her behind with Wanda.

"I'm sorry," you whispered as you passed her off, and Wanda wrapped her arm around your waist to offer you a comforting embrace. "All is forgiven as long as you don't fumble this time. Tell her how you feel, and let her feel it all too, she'll understand and forgive."

You nodded, offering a nervous smile then left in a hurry to get to the woman you wanted to be with for an eternity, hopeful that she still wanted the same as you.

The way to Natasha's room was quick, your muscles remembering the route without any need for a refresher. The path now forever engrained into your heart as the safest one. You pondered knocking, but then you heard the most gut wrenching sobs and felt the urgent need to push the door right open. As you opened the door though you were met with a far different sight than you had anticipated.

The sobs were ones of pure sexual frustration.

"Oh fuck!" You'd gasped at the sound of her raspy voice, the gorgeous redhead was leaning her head against the glass of her vanity as she jerked herself off with a pair of red lace panties that you'd left behind.

Natasha watched you in terror, her stomach tied in a more dreadful knot now that overpowered the arousal she needed to release. Once the shock wore off you stepped in, expression neutral as you shut her door with your foot, then used your powers to lock it.

"Y-Y/N, I can explain," she stuttered as you were silently approaching her. "How about you just let me take over instead, yeah?" Natasha nodded, her mind in a trance of sorts as she allowed you to remove her hand and use your own. The strokes you gave were feather light, but just because it was you she was on edge.

Pre-cum dribbled onto your thumb, and you used it to lube up her cock, and make your hand have a slicker surface to increase speed. You felt your panties dampen the longer you stroked her pulsing shaft, eyes locked in on the way her mouth was hung open, and her moans were raspy, melodious gifts for your ears.

"Y/N," she gritted out your name as her cock twitched with an increased warning, but you abruptly let her shaft go instead, and she sobbed without shame.

Natasha was frustrated with you on so many levels, but this had her feeling embarrassed. The way that she hasn't been able to get off without a piece of you in over a year shameful. Then when she was finally about to climax, with the real thing, you took it from her...

Again—you just kept taking, and taking from her, and now she was unsure if she had anything left to give.

"We need to talk," she rasped angrily and you nodded, but then you dropped to your knees with a wink. "We do need to talk Natasha," you purred her sentiments against the sticky red tip of her cock, reworking her mind into a haze as you prepared to give her head.

"Shall we do it now then?" You asked teasingly, but with your mouth inches from her throbbing member she could only frantically shake her head. "Later," you hotly voiced for her, you kissed her tip then licked her essence up with a soft flick through the sensitive slit.

All Natasha offered was a delayed, husky, "Mmm," too engrossed by the exhilarating sensation of your warm tongue swirling around her shaft as you slowly lowered your head until the tip of your nose brushed against her fuzzy abdomen to say much of anything else.

This was exactly what she needed. You knew it was only a matter of time before you two would have to face the reality. But, for this brief moment in time, you wanted to use your mouth to pleasure her, to soften the blow if you will, as you gave a physical apology.

After proving to yourself that you could still take all of her you pulled back and let her slick dick go with a pop so that you could admire it. While keeping your eyes locked on hers you lowered so you could lick a slow stripe up from her balls, over the underside of her shaft, flicking over the pulsing veins; building her excitement way up until your lips finally wrapped back around her head to give her some overdo pleasure.

"Oh fuck, I've missed your perfect mouth," she cried out, her hand suddenly fell atop of your head and she used all of her strength to still your bobbing so that she could fuck her cock deep down your throat instead. It was never not uncomfortable to be gagged for you, but your dampening panties gave way to the enjoyment.

Natasha felt even hotter as your excess drool pooled at the base of her shaft and slowly dribbled onto her balls. It was like every one of her senses was heightening as she felt as her auburn pubes became matted and clung to her balls. You felt it too, as they swung with each deep thrust and slapped into your sweaty skin.

There was no way the moment could improve, or so she thought, because with a firm tug on her sack, and the hollowing of your cheeks as your throat contracted around her tip she was no longer in control, her release torn from her with a throaty scream that made your arousal increase tenfold, and stain the black carpet.

The familiar taste of her was enough to bring you to the edge of glory, coupled with the way she continued to fuck your throat without so much as a thought to your needs arousing and you found yourself painfully ready to bust. Her cum was inched down your throat with every continued thrust, and you moaned along happily as you continued to suck her dry, all the way up until her member fell flaccid in your mouth.

You were nearly there, your thighs rubbed together just right, but the redhead would be damned if you were to waste your cum on her carpet instead of her readied tongue. "There's no going back after this Y/N," she rasped against the shell of your ear as she pulled you to your feet while tucking her cock back into her briefs. "If I kiss you now, then you are mine for the claiming. Understood?" You hated so much that her glossed eyes shone with immense fear and hurt.

"Do it," you pleaded, a part of you hoping that what you are going to say later doesn't change her promise; you desperately wanted to be hers for good. "Please!"

Natasha gripped you by your hips and pushed you back onto the bed as her lips met yours. Her skilled hands unclasped your bra while her tongue slowly swirled around yours, tasting herself and silently vowing to never let you go a day without being filled by her in someway. All she wanted was to be yours, and make you hers in every sense, and that included breeding you, but not before she gave you the sloppiest head.

"God, you're so hot Y/N!" She practically screamed, the need for emphasis obvious. The way she stared down at your forever changed body with admiration made you want to cry. You gulped as her eyes trailed up to yours, she offered you a loving smile but her heart broke at the sight of your petrification. "Don't lie..."

Natasha was going to kill your ex. One final mark...

"Oh my beautiful girl," she sighed, her hot breath brushed over your slick mound and she admired how your body twitched and arched at the pleasure just a breeze gives to your cunt. She placed a gentle kiss to your clit, but kept moving up instead so she could kiss the stripes that adorned the plush skin of your belly.

"You are the hottest woman around detka," she admitted without any waver in her voice, her nose nudged against the soft skin of your stomach as she wordlessly continued to admire your body and the sacrifice you have made twice now. "I can't wait to etch more of these lines, to stake my claim to your womb."

You whimpered, but something about the sound wasn't rooted in pleasure, so she came back up to hover your face. "What's wrong detka, am I moving too fast?"

You smiled sadly, and shook your head, "No, it's just.. I-I," you couldn't help but to stutter now, "The claim is already yours Natasha, and it always should've been."

You don't regret Carter, how could you? In spite of all the turmoil surrounding him, he was a lovely toddler. With a natural curiosity to keep him fun, but a cautious approach that kept him safe from the lingering dangers of the world. Your son was the definition of perfect, and was never regretted, you merely rebuke Ryan.

"How so?" Natasha challenged, and you gulped, "We divorced because Delilah is yours Nat, our daughter."

"Yeah," she sighed with a sad smile, "But this time I'll be around to help as your body changes, to take care of you as you deserve while carrying my love around."

It stunned you to see nothing but love and solace behind her eyes, she wasn't angry, she was visibly relieved. Which meant this wasn't exactly news to her.

"You knew?" She nodded, and you felt your throat go dry; of course she did, Natasha wasn't regarded as a top tier spy for nothing. You frantically moved to defend your decisions, "I-I wanted to tell you Natty, but I was so scared." Natasha kissed your trembling lips tenderly in an attempt to cut off your anxiety, and for a perfect moment there was nothing but peace.

"I understand," she eventually whispered as she parted from the kiss, "You couldn't be sure of your feelings, you were only six months postpartum when we made her." Her, Delilah, Natasha's precious mini me that she'd yet to meet and the product of a destined love.

"No," you insisted, "Please do understand that I was never confused about my love for you. Every time we made love that ring would burn on my finger like the devil himself possessed it, because the greatest sin I've ever lived was pretending not to be in love with you."

You watched her eyes narrow in confusion and sighed resignedly. "You deserved someone better, I knew I wasn't enough for you. You're a model with a heart of gold, and I'm just a—." You were both momentarily stunned as her hand made contact with your cheek. The both of you blinked back your shock, and after she saw you were okay her eyes completely darkened. "I'm going to kill them Y/N, they deserve despair for ever making you question even an ounce of your beauty."

"Natty no," you pleaded for Carter's sake, "I mean yeah, Ryan wasn't good, but they were a bad I deserved," you saw the way her eyes narrowed and your speech flinched, "I-I am trying to say that you were too good."

"Me?" She scoffed with a twist of pure disgust, "How could I ever be too good for you?! Y/N, you are —."

"You're so beautiful Natasha," you sighed, cutting her off, "I don't even mean your looks, I am appreciative for them, sure, but it's your heart that I adore."

You couldn't fight the smile that took over your face, the veins of her cock pulsed through the thin material of her boxers, felt pulsing against your thigh along to the beat of her racing heart and you knew you'd said the right thing. Natasha's eyes were welling with tears as she leaned in to kiss you, it was tender and not at all foreign, but it was a feeling you'd nonetheless missed.

She always regarded your body with love, even in the more rougher moments, when she'd abuse your body like you'd beg her to, she would whisper her hearts reassuring thoughts. Deep down she always knew you asked for what you thought you deserved, so she gave you it, but not without what she knew you needed too.

"You're so good Y/N," she practically pleaded, her eyes shed hopeful tears that dripped down your temples, "I'm blessed to be in this position with you right now, the mother of my kids," she proudly said, her subtle claim to your son made you sniffle. "You deserve to be loved just like you love everyone else; without limit."

"Natasha," you whimpered, and she pecked your lips. "You're my wildest dream come true; a sight for sore eyes, an absolutely amazing mother, with the physique of a goddess. You are a blessing worthy of worshipping, I can swear to you that there's no one more perfect for me than you detka, you are the love of my life."

"Fuck," you scoffed over a sob, "So damn cheesy..."

Natasha hummed softly, "Can you feel it?" and offered you an amused smile. You blinked up in a daze as she brushed your knuckles over her lips, and you felt her dick twitch against your skin as she husked, "My love."

Your body took her words as a sign to start working towards pleasing her, you were desperate to feel it wholly. Natasha threw an arm around your waist as her back arched, securing you to her as she thrusted up involuntarily and reached a prime point of pleasure that made you both scream, yours shrill and hers a rasp. The way her throbbing tip was rubbed raw as her briefs smeared your arousal around your clit had you both already breathless, it took everything in her not to enter you then. If not for her desperation to taste what she'd been missing she would've given in instantly.

"Natty please," you tried, but ultimately failed, her raspy voice denied your pleasure, "Not yet, I need to return the favor first, I miss having your taste on my tongue and smelling you on my lips hours later."

It infuriated your cunt, who's hollowed walls clenched with need, but in the same breath her tone turned you on beyond belief, to not only feel, but to hear just how affected she was by her lusty desires centered around eating you out alone had your legs naturally spreading.

"There's my good girl," she praised against the plushness of your thigh, her tongue laid flat as she slowly licked up the essence coating your skin on a scandalous route to the grand prize, your oozing core.

Or better known to her as paradise.

After teasing you enough, with abrasive nibbles and her tongues follow up soothing caresses she felt it was about time to give you exactly what you both needed. Her lips twitched as she purposefully breathed your arousal in, and you choked in contrast when she lunged forward and began to eat your puffy pussy out.

There was no more gentle, loving Natasha; her eyes blackened, the carnality shown she was nothing short of feral, the filthy moans vibrating you into an orgasm as her tongue lapped at your core proof enough. But, for the sake of imagination, picture as if she was actually outside right now. Forced to participate in the watermelon eating contest, her hands tied behind her back and her face hovered over the three thick pieces on her plate; she'd beat both Sam and Bucky in record time, twelve seconds—four per slice, and still have enough time to make you scream around the corner, pinned to a wall while the boys struggled to focus.

The Falcon's wings would dip when informed it took him thirty seconds, but not as disappointed as The Winter Soldier who took thirty five. Fortunately for the boys, Natasha was buried in a more fitting place, winning at life as the soldiers tied, but lost to Thor who did it in ten, followed by a burp and plea for more.

You also endlessly pleaded for more, then rather suddenly for less, but inevitably you went unheard as your thighs deprived Natasha of both air and the ability to hear. Yet she kept going, making you scream out her name seconds later, and cream on her tongue.

Natasha felt your thighs relax, and with a firm grip she separated them, digging her nails into the skin as she took in an exaggerated gulp of air. You mewled and threw your head back to avoid her scarily arousing gaze. The both of you knew she was trained to hold her breath for extended periods of time, but it was hot nonetheless for you to witness, and her to pretend.

Truthfully, you internally, always made her breathless, so she was simply emoting. After a moment of you both coming back to your senses Natasha groaned, her red tip brushed against the sticky fabric of her boxers and she was disappointed she came outside of you.

"You always do this Y/N," she groaned, "I can't even help but to fuck the air to the sounds of your cries."

"Sorry," you whimpered, Natasha watched with a smirk as your entire body shivered. Then her face dropped as she realized something, "It just wasted our greatest chance at making a baby Y/N! The first round is the most potent, so now I'll have to fill you twice."

"Delilah is only six months," you panted, your words of concern not matching the clear state of your arousal. "Yeah detka; that means we are, quite frankly, behind."

"Behind?" Natasha nodded as she avoided your gaze to focus down on the mess of her boxers as she took them off and flipped them inside out. "Detka, we don't waste, so finish your treat before you get answers." There was no hesitation as you sucked the cotton fabric clean of her, moaning and soaking through the pair.

"You want this, don't you?" Natasha asked, her confidence dimmed as the fear of rejection emerged. You spit out her boxers and shrieked, "of course I do!"

Natasha hummed, "Then yes my love," as she gently stroked your cheek before pecking it. "We're gravely behind, so let's just call this an efficient way to catch up. I'll overload you on my love, and swimmers."

"Okay," your voice absolutely breathless as you allowed her to pull you up off the bed, having accepted the hand she'd extended out just so she could pull you close and kiss you until your were both breathless.

When you were distracted enough she spun you around and pressed you into the tacky wall with her muscular frame, her hot breaths fanned across your skin and your clit pulsed. She drove you wild, evidence of that being the way that your slick dribbled down the sides of her length that curved beneath your cunt.

"Are you ready to be bred?" Her fingers fondly traced over the marks on your hips. "To be full of my pulsing cock as it busts? I promise I'll leave you beyond full."

"Mommy please," you whined and pushed back with all your might to curve her dick up and into you. "Oh, you know what that does to me detka; you're in for it now."

Natasha pressed her body up, and rocked her hips until she'd smeared enough of your slick onto her length. It was a precautionary measure to ensure you minimal pain as she never failed to stretch you to your limits.

"Fuck mommy, you're so big," you mewled as her tip barely pressed into you, the redhead chuckled and slammed her hips forward, swiftly bottoming out and causing your body to lurch painfully into the wall. "Mmm, mommy loves the way you feel wrapped so tightly around me detka, suffocating my dick like the filthy whore that you are." She sloppily pecked your cheek. "This is right where you belong."

"Wanna stay like this forever," you sighed contentedly as your heated cheek brushed against the chilled wall with each shallow thrust she rewarded you with.

"That can be arranged," she rasped into your ear as her hips began to move a bit more. "Nobody else will ever get to see you like this again," she added, her growl and grip possessive as she picked up a pace you never could keep up with. Enhanced as you were with powers, the strength and stamina were all more Natasha's forte; fucking you limp a cherished specialty of hers.

"Nobody has seen me since you," you cleared the air in a dizzy slur, and felt as she prematurely shot into you, but Natasha recovered her composure fast and continued to fuck you while holding back her orgasm.

"Because this pussy is mine," she grunted, her hips now swirled with each thrust as she sought out your sole pleasure. Hearing that you were celibate in her absence a major ego boost as she rammed her fat cock into your spongey sensitivity with each precise jolt of her body into yours and pulled out those glorious supporting moans of a job well done. "Say it!"

"All yours mommy," you cried out sharply as her finger rapidly swirled against your swollen bud. "Damn straight," she groaned as she twitched and spasmed against your quivering walls. "Fucking hell, I'm going to fill you to the brim," she groaned against the base of your neck as she hastily pounded your body up against the wall.

Her hands gripped the fluff of your hips and fully drove her pelvis into your backside so that she could push you over the edge. "I'm so close mommy, please." Natasha obliged your pleas with a swift plan, her tongue teasingly licked the shell of your right ear, "Go on then sweetheart," her free hand moved to grope your breasts that leaked nonstop with warm milk while the other hand continued to stimulate your needy clit. "Let go and drench my cock; make a mess of me."

"Oh, oh, oh shit," you shrieked as you felt the coil within you snap into jagged pieces of pleasure. Nicking every inch of your body—setting your nerves ablaze. Pins and needles lasted for a perceivable eternity as you swore and soon enough you moaned a chorus as she fucked you through the toe curling orgasm.

Natasha shifted your bodies with ease, her cock still driving into your needy hole as she carried you over to lay your front down on the bed, she kept shallowly thrusting, but her strained cock managed to hold out. Even though she wanted to stay true to her words, she continued to hold back her own release for you.

"Your moans are my favorite," she whispered amusedly against the skin of your shoulder before placing a gentle kiss there, and thrusting in deep, pulling sultry cries from the depths of your needy soul. Only to then suddenly pull out so that she could admire your bare backside while calming her need to breed you.

Her hands groped the skin of your sore ass, you whined as her cold fingers trailed over the already bruising skin, tempering the sting from her hips prior assaults. "Daddy please," you whimpered, and she dug her nails into the skin. "Stop being so impatient detka, we're making up for lost time here—be a good girl, and don't rush the process."

"Sorry mommy," you whimpered, and though she couldn't see you she smiled at the remembrance of your usual pout. "There you go," she praised, "Always so good for me baby, I promise that I will never tire of having you like this," she paused, lining her tip back up with your dripping entrance, "Spread wide open as your pretty, puffy cunt devours my shaft."

That was the only warning you had before she slid her thickness back inside of you and began to give you the type of strokes that made your spine shiver; slow, and deep enough that you could feel your guts shifting.

You whimpered softly, "Fuck, I'm already so close again..." Natasha chuckled, "I know, I can feel you trembling detka, fuck, your walls are squeezing me so tight." The redhead stilled for just a second, much to your bodies dismay too, you pressed your ass back and your cunt somehow sucked her in even deeper. It took everything in her not to bust, but she wanted to be truly levelheaded about this before she lost control.

Two kids under two was no easy feat, to be ready for a third required a sure mentality. It was your body after all, talk all she wanted of her possession of your body, that was only in part true. You were in charge of what she did next, whether that be to cum inside you, or to release her potent load onto your back. Either way she'd be satisfied, and all she really wanted was you to be happy with the overall outcome too.

"Want to carry my baby again detka?" Her lips gently pressed into the skin of your shoulder, the moment was far less sexually charged, she gently marked your surrounding skin up while patiently waiting for your eventual, labored response. "Please..."

"Are you sure?" Natasha doubled down, her cock twitched in anticipation for your final reply. "Yes," you were breathless, "Please, just breed me already! Wanna be full of you." Natasha hummed, then picked her pace up, she still reached your greatest depths, but this time she went much faster—leaving you to moan nonstop.

"Gonna fill you until I'm sure I've succeeded," she rasped confidently after a moment of nothing other than listening to skin slapping, and juices sloshing. "Then I'll fuck you from the back every month and feel the way your body changes for our fetus," she placed a sloppy wet kiss behind the shell of your ear and your body shuddered as your walls clamped down on her thick shaft. "Fuck, I heard that pregnancy makes you even hornier detka. Maybe I'll hit it every night. I'll destroy this pussy before the birth ever could."

"Fucking hell Natasha," you shrieked, but it faded into a low pitched moan as the tip of her spurting cock hit that glorious spot deep within that blurred your vision. It happened just as she pressed her wandering hand against the bulge pushing your stretched skin back out.

Your vision blacked out, your cheek pressed into the sheets harshly as the redhead continued to thrust against your pussy's tight resistance to prolong your orgasms and to also allow your walls to effectively milk her cock, ensuring maximum breeding efficiency.

When even she couldn't take anymore she fell into your backside a panting mess. "You did so good," she reassured you, her hands tight grip on your hips loosened so she could stroke your sides instead as you both took a moment to regulated your systems.

After a few moments Natasha became restless, her stamina bouncing back fast as she rose up and slid out of you, leaving behind a sticky mess of your arousals as she did; her clean sheets never stood a chance. It was a moment of total joy for her to watch as your pussy contracted, sensitive walls pushing the excess of her cum from you a sight worthy of marveling. The way it bubbled and popped was absolutely mesmerizing...

There was hardly a lull in her cocks erectness, she stood there still slightly out of breath, with her sticky member inches away from her rock-hard abs in a sweaty glow. Tension held her body captive as she picked her next move. "I want you to ride me detka, bounce on mommy's cock for a bit, suck me dry."

"Mommy, I..." you sighed, "I'm tired."

"I know honey," she coo'd as she sat down on the edge of the mattress, her nimble fingers wrapped around your thigh and teasingly squeezed. "I'll do all the work." With the promise of the needed assistance you slowly shuffled over to her, and threw your leg over her spread set, opening your slick lips back up and allowing her to slip herself back in. You moaned into her shoulder as you felt your mixed slicks gush as your core met the base of her cock at a new, delightful angle.

"Mommy," you called shyly, as if you weren't already in the midst of a raw fucking, your glossy eyes fell to her lips, and she shook her head in amusement as she chuckled, "Come on detka, take what you need."

The way you kissed her every single time was how she knew your feelings for her went beyond that of lust. It was always soft, and sensual with a sense of urgency. Sometimes she felt like you were out to devour her entirely, and if you were, she wouldn't even mind. To be taken out by your lips on hers sounds heavenly.

"Oh god," you whimpered, overrun by a pleasure only she could offer you, her hands on your hips guided you, but she let you control the kiss. "I need you all the time Natty," you panted harshly against her lips as you only briefly disconnected them. "I can't get off without you. Not even listening to your old voicemails work."

"You'll never need to again detka," she growled, hands possessive as they pulled your body back down by your hips to meet her desperate thrusts, "I'll fill you up every day if that's what you need—mhm, yeah; this pussy of mine will never have time to miss me."

"Please..." you begged as your lips left hers so your head could fly back in pleasure, and your hands clawed at her neck, leaving behind angry red lines. Natasha's breath stalled, the grip she had on your hips tightened, then she dropped you mid lift because of how dizzy she felt with the way that your walls squeezed her shaft every damn time it left your warmth. Your face fell to her neck, lips latching onto her pulse point, and with you working to claim her too she busted. The warmth of her seed splattered against your walls, again, the stream nudged your g-spot with a firm flow, joined by the harsh slam of her tip; it was all too much, and in some strange way it never felt like it was enough.

Arousal gushed all over the redheads skin, and slowly dripped down the oak bed frame, polishing it anew.

The way your combined releases ran down from her abdomen and saturated the skin of her balls made her body tense as she produced even more of her seed. Natasha hadn't stopped thrusting, in fact she flipped your body onto the bed, and sent you into another wave of pleasure, and your mind to another dimension.

It had been exactly fourteen months, and ten days since she last felt as her cock rearranged your insides so she wasn't ready to stop. Natasha panted against your neck as she kept fucking your unconscious body.

Eventually she fell semi-flaccid, and her breath was so erratic she had to stop her body from continuing to ram into you. Even if the urge persisted, you were more than fucked out, so she was mostly satisfied. There's no way her diet super soldier swimmers weren't going to fulfill their duty. If the redhead is lucky she'll get a two for one reward. She can't wait to be waiting on you hand and foot. There'd never be a night you went to bed hungry, or uncomfortable.

You'll carry her kids, and she'll carry the rest of the burdens that come with life. The redhead admired your still face, your eyes tracked behind your lids, and your even, cool breaths fanned across her warm face. This was what she believed bliss to be at its core.

Natasha gently slid right on out of you, but it didn't last long before she was sheathed within your velvety warmth again. After you awoke she'd kissed you tenderly, and as her tongue explored your mouth you reached down to pump your hand up and down her cock, it was loud and wet, your hand growing sticky with your mixed arousals and her body shuddered.

"Inside," you breathed in a fit against her lips, she chuckled in disbelief at your needy behavior, and happily guided her cock to your entrance and watched as your walls sucked her in and your wetness gushed all over. "Oh fucking hell detka," Natasha groaned as her fingers flexed against your hips, "Eto ray."

(this is heaven)

"Mhm," you softly hummed your agreement, your hazy eyes fluttered open a moment later as you cheekily smirked up at her. "That dick game is god tier Natty."

Natasha rolled her eyes, then chuckled against your skin as she happily burrowed her face into your neck. All of the lust had faded, for now, and all that was left was to soak in the fact that this was finally happening.

Nothing could ruin the moment, well, almost nothing.

Your phone dinged about half an hour later, and if not for being a mom you'd have ignored it. You lazily lifted it from her nightstand. A soft giggle left you as Natasha grumbled in annoyance at the shift of her cock that was still inside of you. The woman turned her head on your chest and peered at your phone suspiciously only to see that it was lit up with an innocent text from Wanda.

Shall I take the kids back to mine ? 👀♥️

"Tell her to wait," Natasha pleaded, then in a rush she jumped up, leaving you hollow and raced into the shower. You did as told, then followed behind, and the two of you tenderly, yet speedily cleaned the other off.

Wanda sat in the living area with Carter asleep on her bump, and with Delilah laying on the play mat below her, happily kicking her feet. You quietly moved to sit beside your best friend, and watched with a smile as the love of your life cautiously approached your child.

"Hello there moya malen'kaya lyubov'," she was so soft spoken as she spoke to Delilah that you almost didn't recognize her voice. Tears brimmed your lids as you watched the way that your daughter lit up at hearing the spoken Russian, of course Natasha noticed too.

(My littlest love)

"Detka," she whimpered, and looked up into your eyes "Do you speak to her in Russian?" You nodded and sent her a playful wink to cover your emotional gaze. Natasha however turned stone cold serious as she said: "YA sobirayus' sdelat' tebya svoyey zhenoy."

(I'm going to make you my wife)

Wanda giggled from beside you when you frowned and looked to your love with a pout. Natasha smirked this time and winked back, "We'll work on your Russian, then we'll return to that phrase when you understand."

"Oh," you chuckled softly, "I understood, I just expected a first date, then the fat diamond ring."

You turned away from your blushing lover, and scooped your son off of Wanda. "Thank you for the offer, but I'm not leaving you with my two gremlins when you already have two growing inside of you." Wanda went to protest but you leaned into her ear to whisper: "The walls at my place are soundproof..."

You walked away with a proud smirk as the women sat there with collective reddened cheeks. Wanda left a moment later with a kiss left on your daughter's cheek, and a rush in her wobble. Natasha shook her head and chuckled softly at your daughter, "Tvoyu mat' ne zrya prozvali 'Ubiytsey'" Delilah tilted her head, and Natasha was perturbed by Wanda's obvious influence.

(Your mother wasn't nicknamed "Killer" for nothing)

"Detka, where are we going?" She asked as she trailed behind you with a curious infant sat atop of her hip. "Home," you replied flatly then turned around with a contradicting grin. "You ready to shack up darling?"

"I don't know," Natasha teased, "that's a lot of responsibility to place upon a free flyer like me."

"Then I guess," you were cut off by a kiss that left you speechless, yet slightly humming as you grinned against her plush lips. "You've been tamed by a," she cut you off again with a peck and answer: "Beautiful, perfect in all of the ways that count, sexy ass milf."

"You're such a hopeless romantic," you teased, and she matched your grin with a suave lift of the mood. "I'm never hopeless with you Y/N, just soft, and absolutely, undeniably in love with you."

"Jeez Nat, keeping charming my pants off and we'll literally end up with a baseball team." The redhead chuckled, "A team of tiny assassins and witches," then sidled up to you, and slid her free hand into yours in perfect rhythm. "You're insane." Natasha swung your connected hands and grinned up like a devil. "I sure am crazy for you, so yeah, I'll claim it." She winked slowly and snorted when you glared, it was entirely heatless and she knew it.

Then to make the moment all the more special she leaned forward and smiled at your son. "Hi there sweet boy, I'm," she went to introduce herself but the nearly two year old interrupted her excitedly, "Mama!" Natasha was stunned and you elated to see it was a good thing, her eyes lit up with so much love, and she dropped your hand so that she could snatch Carter right from you. "Hey! You already have a baby!"

"You hush," she hissed playfully, then you saw her eyes glisten as he nuzzled right into her neck like she was safe and she emotionally whispered to him in Russian: "Moy ideal'nyy syn, ya budu lyubit' tebya bez ogranicheniy."

(My perfect son, I will love you without limits)

"Moya dragotsennaya Dalila, ya nauchu tebya vsem svoim znamenitym dvizheniyam," she placed a gentle kiss to her face. Then her gaze turned to you as you scoffed, "Not happening if she takes after me for once."

(my precious delilah, I will teach you all my famous moves)

"Don't worry, I didn't forget about you," she turned around and came to a sudden stop. Forcing you to nearly bump into her, but she took a smooth step back with a stupidly hot smirk on her face. "I could never." Natasha leaned in and kissed your lips with a precise tenderness. "I love you, and I plan to for the rest of my life," you blurted, stealing her thunder but she loved the sudden declaration of yours more than her own repeated ones. "I'm so glad you're the one who almost got away, because I'd forever be lost without you."

"My rodstvennyye dushi," she whispered as she pecked your tear tracked cheeks, "Ty byl moyey sud'boy," this time she was pressed against your lips. Then she pulled back with a smile as she continued to speak as her lips met her sleeping babies faces. "Oni nashe naslediye." Then she perfectly crouched without jostling the kids to kiss the skin of your tummy. "For good luck."

(We are soulmates / You were my destiny / Them our legacy)

——

[3rinbkk]

jungkook’s masterlist💗

SERIES 

risqué by @mercurygguk - on going

genre: age gap au, angst, smut, fluff. summary: in which Jungkook struggles to keep his relationship with you strictly appropriate and it’s not like you’re making it easy for him. 

runaway by @archivedkookie - on going

genre: best friend’s brother au, fwb, 4 years age gap, smut, angst, fluff, slow burn. summary: when your best friend’s brother, your first-ever crush, offers to help you explore your sexual desires, you just can’t refuse. especially when it’s someone as irresistible as Jeon Jungkook. 

mutual help  by @personasintro - on going

genre: fluff, angst, smut, slow burn, fake dating au.  summary: in order for you to pretend to be his girlfriend, he helps you with your sexual desires– he calls it a mutual help. 

bad influence by @noteguk

summary: in which you know Jungkook is a bad influence on you, but you can’t avoid falling for him every time.

practice by @chryblossomjjk

genre: college au, fwb, smut, fluff, angst. 

blackout by @jjungxkook

genre: best friends to lovers, roommate and college au, fluff, crack, smut. summary: utility bills shooting up like this should be an international crime. luckily, Jungkook has the perfect idea(s) to save up money and make your night sinfully unforgettable. 

the dilf installments  by @mercurygguk - on going

genre: established relationship, smut, angst, fluff. summary: this series follows Jungkook’s life as a divorced father. but wait, how exactly does one balance being a father, a boyfriend, a friend, and a respectable boss at the same time?

to turn a bad thing good  by @chateautae - on going

genre: series, arranged marriage!au, fwb!au, haters to lovers, smut, fluff, angst.  summary: Jungkook’s drunken one night stand goes awry when he comes to learn not only is he being forced into an arranged marriage, but it’s to the very girl he abandoned that night– and things get a lot more complicated when you’re the best hookup he’s ever had.

the weekend  by @chryblossomjjk

genre: m/18+, fwb, angst, smut. summary: every weekend, you give Jungkook a little taste of something he’s missing monday through friday.

hair dye: the collection  by @mercurygguk

genre: established relationship, fluff, sumt.  summary: series about Jungkook’s different hair colors. 

denial by @girlygguk

genre: fwb au, secret-ish situationship, smut/fluff-ish/angt-ish. summary: it’s been a plethora of secret meetups, quickies in the bathrooms of his awards shows, and 2 am ‘you up?’ texts during you year-long situationship with Jungkook. you both agreed in the beginning that your careers are far too hectic to commit to anything serious, but you can't shake the shitty ache in your chest every time the high wears off, or when you’re crawling out of his bed in the middle of the night, trying to exile the shitty feeling of longing that you harbor for him, you spend time with another one of your guy friends. Jungkook sees, and he’s mad.

colour me in by @taegularities

genre: fwb, fake dating, college!au; fluff, angst, smut. summary: Jungkook’s door only opens for you when there’s a barter: a trade of lust and haze. but today you knock for something more, as intriguing as it is frightening- and you hope it doesn’t close his door forever. 

gradation by @shina913

genre: bf2l, fwb, slow burn; fluff, angst, smut. summary: on your wedding day, your fiancé leaves you at the altar. while reeling from the embarrassment and heartbreak your best friend, Jungkook, wants to do everything that he can to help you heal.

in the seom by @thvhoe

genre: college au, fwb to lovers, smut, angst, fluff.

p&p by @yoon-kooks

genre: smut, fluff, college!au.

spicy n' sweet by @thvhoe

genre: established relationship, fluff, smut, angst, dance au x boxer au. summary: Jeon Jungkook is the perfect guy... to piss off your parents. he's buff, inked up and the definition of their worst nightmare but hey, when love comes knocking on your door there's not much you can do. it's not like you planned on falling for him... it just kinda happened, and honestly, you're not even mad about it. not at all.

in which by @onlyswan

genre: established relationship, fluff. NOTE: this is one of (if not MY) favorite series i've ever read. it's so beautiful and heartwarming and it brings me so much comfort,,, thank u so much for this amazing work of art <3

bitchin' by @kinktae

genre: 1980s au, eventual smut, e2l. summary: the 80s were a time of choices. which perm was right for you? what color neon would you wear next? none of these choices, however, were more questionable than a certain deal you made with Jean Jungkook.

gold rush by @onlyswan

genre: fluff, smut. summary: what must it be like to grow up that beautiful? with your falling into place like dominos.

candles & flames by @taegularities

genre: enemies to lovers, royal!au: angst, fluff, smut. summary: he wasn't supposed to be yours. his foolery wasn't supposed to target you. tis wasn't supposed to happen.

ONE SHOTS

make you mine by @mercurygguk

genre: college au, friends to lovers au, fluff, angst, smut. summary: your first day at your new college is quite eventful to sa th least. but everything seems slightly less chaotic when Jeon Jungkook offers to help you on your way - if only knowing him wasn’t an even bigger mess than the day you first met. 

never be friends by @jjungxkook

genre: best friends to lovers, fluff, crack, suggestive. summary: a healthy mix of irritation and amusement leads to kissing and making out with your best friend. everyone knows that. 

white lies by @noteguk

genre: smut, fluff, very minor angst.  summary: in which Jungkook lies his way out of and into trouble. bet he can’t tell white lies when it comes to you. 

happy birthday loser  by @jungk0oksthighs

genre: idiots to lovers, smut. summary: after three years of limping over your roommate, you give him one hell of a birthday celebration.

what if I love you too much? by @taleasnewastime

genre: fluff, angst, smut, single mum reader. summary: jungkook. it’s only a name you learn after your son kicks his ball over the fence. before that you only knew him as the hot new neighbour who mows his lawn topless. and though you have no intention of getting to know him anymore than that, inevitably you do. you don’t necessarily fall, it’s too slow for that, but you definitely develop feelings you don’t intend to feel. because you know men like him, and you know that whatever you’re feeling, he’s probably not feeling the same. all the same, however hard you try, you can’t help yourself.

roommates by @jjkeverlast

genre: roommates to lovers, roommates au.  summary: you’ve been roommates with jeon jungkook for quite some time now, not having a single thought of him other than a roommate. but things take an unexpected turn when you accidentally catch him in the act.

on my knees by @jjkeverlast

genre: smut (seriously this is pure smut) summary: who needs a vibrator when Jeon Jungkook is here to do the job? not you. 

the act of falling by @kooktrash

genre: smut, angst, fluff, established fwb, fuckboy!jk x fem!reader. summary: what was supposed to be a meaningless fling has turned into much more before you both realized you were falling. now all you can do is hope that all the challenges you’ve faced are worth something.

stay by @koostarcandy

genre: fluff, angst, slight smut, this is the “she fell first bet he fell harder” trope. summary: Jungkook comes in and out of your life like a recurring side character in a 90s show. you wish that he would stay, just like the main character that he is.

eat me by @7deadlysinsfics

genre: pwp, fwb au, f2l au, smut, fluff. summary: you accuse all men of not knowing how to make women cum, and your best friend, ever the competitive one, challenges you to let him show you that he doesn’t fall into that category. blame the tequila for what ensues.

the boy with galaxies in his eyes by @oddinary4bts

genre: fwb to lovers, idol!au, angst (a lot), smut (a whole lot too), fluff. summary: you had never thought the night sky could be found in someone’s eyes. that is, until you met Jeon Jungkook and his gravity pulled you in. will he crush you with the galaxies in his eyes, or will you learn to explore his worlds and make them yours?

changes in between by @taegularities

genre: roommate au, s2f2l; some crack, fluff, angst, smut. summary: “does that mean that I can kiss you now” becoming the roommate of Jeon Jungkook is the biggest change you’ve ever gotten thrown into- but little do you know that the addition of another man will bring even further turbulence into your (love) life. 

rockstar 101 by @jeonjcngkook

genre: rockstar au, pwp, established relationship, smut, just pure unadulterated filth. summary: in the words of christina aguilera, “there’s nothing more dangerous than a boy with charm” and Jungkook is certainly coated in it.

groupie by @joonsy2k

genre: smut, fluff if you squint. summary: your best friend Jimin invites you to see his band, painted duck, perform at your local bar. you didn't expect to end up backstage with the bands lead bassist.

feel better by @mercurygguk

summary: your boyfriend arrives home after the Grammys, seeming annoyed and disappointed. and as his girlfriend, you want to make him feel better.

seven days a week by @back2bluesidex

genre: pwp, smut, fluff if you squint. summary: Jungkook promised himself that he will be fucking you right seven days a week.

primrose by @jeonjcngkook

genre: romance, established relationship, fluff, smut. summay: "I said... we're not done. understand?"

concrete king by @bratkook

genre: fluff, smut, limbo energy. summary: when a cute boy in a tacky hawaiian shirt lands a trick in your honor there's no way you could ever say no to him.

part two: hit the slopes.

cockblocked by @mercurygguk

genre: roommates au + friends (idiots) to lovers, smut/fluff/angst. summary: in which a pair of best friends are hopelessly in love with one another but they're too dumb to realize, even when everyone around them are dropping hints every five minutes. or alternatively; "you're an idiot for thinking i wouldn't love you back."

wicked by @noteguk

genre: smut, demon!jk. summary: in which incubus!jungkook likes to ruin pretty innocent things, and you might just be the perfect target.

many moons by @onlyswan

genre: royalguard!jk x princess!reader, strangers to lovers; fluff, angst a bit, slightly suggestive. summary: your father sets off to find a way to get you the moon, not realizing he has already given it to you.

all over you by @taegularities

genre: fantasy!au, HP!au, exes/e2l!au, light angst, fluff, smut, a lot of smut. summary: you just wanted to win the prize in options class, but it seems as if your ex has other plans.

DRABBLES

strawberry lips by @personasintro

genre: fluff  summary: it’s not your fault your professor is extremely young and oh, so hot. 

tryna smoke by @kooyeux

summary: little weed smoking sex session with you fuck buddy Jungkook in his lil' studio.

squirtle by @kooyeux

summary: "if you were a pokemon, you would be squirtle".

[fangdokja]

He didn’t believe in love, but she made him question everything.

❤︎ Synopsis. He claims to hate her, but his obsession says otherwise. A deadly game of spite and desire unfolds as enemies collide, and lines between hate, love, and possession blur in the most dangerous ways.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Divorce Attorney x Fem. Reader

♡ Novella. Skin of the Saint - Part 1

♡ Word Count. 1,137

It was an odd place for a man like him—a place of sanctity and light—but there he was, framed by the dim glow of stained glass and the quiet, golden shimmer of candlelight. The old church sighed with the weight of incense, its faint, smoky tendrils curling like dying prayers through the still air. He hated it here. Everything about it—from the stooped pews worn smooth by piety to the murmurs of hope drifting from unseen mouths—repulsed him. Hope, forgiveness, love. Lies, all of them.

But he wasn’t here to confess. He was here on business. Another husband seeking escape from the charade of matrimony, another case that would add to his unblemished record. Marriage had become his personal playground, and the courtroom was where he played king. He tore apart vows as if they were paper, stripped promises down to the fraud he knew them to be. Ribbons around wrists disguised as chains—and he was their undoer.

He sat near the back, slouched, his broad shoulders spilling over the curve of the pew. His long legs stretched deliberately into the aisle, forcing passersby to step around him, though no one dared look his way. He liked it that way—their unease, their silence.

Then he saw you.

You were at the front, seated where the shadows couldn’t touch. Your back was straight, unmoving, a perfect line of poise and defiance. Draped over your hair, a white veil cascaded like the soft edges of a phantom. In your hands, a rosary dangled loosely, the beads sliding between your fingers with an elegance he found irritatingly methodical. You looked like a statue—a piece of ancient marble carved by hands too reverent to leave flaws. Untouchable.

You didn’t turn to look at him. Not once. And that alone ignited something ugly in him—a spark of curiosity edged with irritation. Most people noticed him, whether out of awe or dread. You seemed immune, locked in your private ritual. Your thumb traced the beads one by one, every motion measured like a clock counting down.

When the priest’s voice finally rose above the hush of whispers, he watched you. Watched as your eyes—calm, yet alight with something unsettling—lifted toward the altar. Devotion. True, unwavering devotion. He could see it in the way your lips pressed together, in the fire hidden behind your stillness. And it made him sick. No—worse. It made him envious.

The words of the service washed over him, unheeded and unimportant. He was too focused on you. You, who radiated a cold kind of purity—a power that felt older than the stones of the church itself. Beautiful, yes, but it was a beauty he found mocking. As if you knew something he never could.

When the priest dismissed the congregation, he moved before he could think better of it. His footsteps carried him forward like a blade slipping from its sheath. People parted without a word, their voices quieting as his presence cut through them. You were still there, rosary in hand, unmoving until his shadow swallowed the space around you.

“Do you really believe in all this?” His voice was low, edged with the kind of arrogance he wielded like a knife.

Your head tilted slightly, the fabric of your veil catching the soft light. When your gaze met his, it was frost-sharp—cold and unblinking. “Do you?”

The question threw him, though he refused to let it show. He was used to submission or anger—something easier to read and dismiss. Not this quiet, unshakable composure. Not eyes that looked through him as if he were a thing to be studied, then forgotten.

“Not in the slightest,” he said, a smirk curling at his lips. “But I’m not the one sitting here, pretending God cares.”

Your fingers stilled over the rosary beads. The pause was brief, almost imperceptible, before you answered. “Then why are you here?”

“I’m working.” He let the word drawl, savoring its weight as he flicked a glance toward the altar. “A man wants out of his marriage. I’m here to assess the battlefield—figure out what’s holding her back. Probably a priest telling her to stick it out, that it’s all ‘sacred.’”

Your expression didn’t change, though something in your gaze sharpened. “Marriage is sacred,” you said, your voice steady and deliberate, “a choice to love even when circumstances demand otherwise. It is not mere feeling.”

He huffed a low, humorless laugh, leaning closer, his presence suffocating the space between you. “Sacred? Sure, until it isn’t. People fall out of love every day. Or worse, they let love fester until it poisons them. Your ‘choice’ is nothing more than a leash.”

For a moment, you didn’t answer, and he thought he’d won. That silence meant concession. Then you did something he hadn’t expected.

You smiled.

It wasn’t soft, and it wasn’t kind. It was a sharp, glacial thing that cut through his bravado. “You don’t understand love,” you said quietly, each word precise, “because you refuse to.”

Something in him bristled—a string pulled too tight. His hand twitched with the desire to close the distance, to grab your wrist and demand you look at him properly—to see him. But he held back. Barely.

“Careful,” he said, voice dropping lower, darker. “You don’t know who you’re talking to.”

You tilted your head again, utterly unshaken, your gaze locking with his as though you were looking at something less than a man. “I don’t need to,” you murmured. “You’re not my God.”

The words landed harder than they should have, knocking the smirk clean from his face. Not because of what you said, but because of how you said it—with such cool dismissal, as if he were beneath you. Insignificant.

His smile returned, but it was empty now. “You’ll care soon enough,” he muttered, the edge of a threat slipping into his voice. “They always do.”

You rose then, your movements fluid and unhurried, stepping neatly around him as though he were just another obstruction in your path. He watched you disappear into the slow-moving crowd, that sharp veil of white drifting like mist behind you.

For a moment, he didn’t move. His pulse still hummed with something restless, something unspoken. But as the candles flickered and the incense thinned to smoke, his mind was already at work—unraveling you, dissecting you. You were the kind of challenge he couldn’t resist. The kind of puzzle he had to solve.

If words wouldn’t break you, he’d find another way.

[squad-724]

MAMMA MIA (but not exactly) STAR WARS PREQUELS

Brought to you by me, @viennainbloom @ofteasandherbs @arctech-fox and @stormyblue90

It all starts with Anakin’s second wedding

⋆ ∙ ∘ ✧ ∘ ⋅ ⋆ ∙ ∘ ✧ ∘ ⋅ ⋆ ∙ ∘ ✧ ∘ ⋅ ⋆

Second wedding??

And you might think, Koshmareq you idiot, Anakin would never divorce or remarry after Padme. And you would be right. But it’s still wedding with Padme, just this time he’s having a party for his whole family, and they’re adding Rex to the relationship. Rexanidala if you will.

And here begins the issue; who is supposed to walk Anakin down the isle? The answers might be obvious, Obi-wan, but that’s where it starts getting complicated.

Because his boyfriend Alpha 17 says that Skywalker is his kid too. And Obi-wan said in the past that he sees Anakin more like a little brother. He put him in a headlock and sparred with him when the jedi’ika was frustrated; for clones it’s more than enough to earn the title of a buir.

At the time Anakin is unavailable to join the discussion, picking his own very pretty wedding dress with Ahsoka and Shmi (she’s alive and well thank you), so the male parental figures are discussing it between themselves.

And then Cliegg Lars comes back from a walk and says that in the eyes of law he is Anakin’s father by the fact that he married his mum.

Unfortunately only a few sentences in and a draw in arm wrestling later Qui Gon pops up from beyond the grave and argues that he was supposed to be Anakin’s master and he has the right to the title too in some capacity.

The Mamma Mia is not who’s the father, but who’s the most deserving the title of dad to walk Anakin down the isle.

Now this argument debate starts picking up everywhere, among the Jedi, clones, Skywalkers and anyone involved in this whole mess.

No one knows who suggest conga line, but everyone suspects Yoda.

A big thing turn happens when Alpha 17 drops the request; Rex asked him for the honor of being his father figure during the ceremony and the big bad Alpha did not cry, don’t listen to Fordo guys.

The only quick consensus was achieved when a letter addressed from Palpatine arrived from jail. He asked, as Anakin’s mentor for years, to be allowed to walk him down to the altar. The paper has been burned very quickly.

The grooms and bride are out picking their outfits (Cody agreed to help Rex get a beskar armor), while Padme is trying on the suit.

At some point someone suggests that the Force might want to „give away” their son, but every Jedi present gets a massive migraine that feels like motherly scolding and no one argues what the cosmic entity sees themselves as in Anakin’s life.

The day of the rexanidala wedding arrives and no one has decided on who walks Anakin down the aisle.

Tbh he doesn’t even know about that tradition and is planning to do it himself while Omega and Boba (flower girls) help him with his veil.

There is a fight about to break out, weapon or two raised, knives held and lightsabers clenched, before Shmi shuts everyone up and says she will do it. Absolutely no one argues further and all the other parental figures leave to sit and watch the wedding from them front seats.

The ceremony is about to start but the officiant is missing. Rex starts to panic a bit, and Obi-wan asks if anyone of the invited guests can officiate the ceremony.

A tall, white haired figure wearing expensive clothes stands up in one of the back rows. Count Dooku, allowed to leave his house arrest for his great grandpadawan’s wedding, as a leader of his planet has the power to do it.

Even with the GPS ankle monitor he looks distinguished while he perfectly recites the words of the ceremony, even his cold eyes warming up a little as he watches Anakin join his partners at the altar.

Padme has Sabé, Riyo and Mon as her bridesmaids, Anakin picked Kitster, Owen and Ahsoka (he beat Rex in rock paper scissors for her) and Rex got Cody and Domino Twins (Fives is unhappy he didn’t get to be the flower girl).

Many tears are shed, and laughs given as the three of them tie their souls forever.

Of course R2 is the ring bearer, rolling up to the altar, taser ready when the words ”speak now or forever hold your peace” are said. Rush Clovis has been stunned hours before the wedding.

The party goes without bigger problems if you don’t count the one assassin.

He’s quickly dealt with as Anakin chases him with lit on lightsaber screaming bloody murder for daring to mess up his special day. Ahsoka enthusiastically joins, happy that she has an excuse to ”loose” her shoes.

Jango is there too, his Saturdays scheduled for the next 10-15 years because of his fucking kids clones. But he still has holopicks of Boba as the flowergirl saved. His ankle monitor looks much less distinguished than Dooku’s.

Flower bouquet toss is done, and Fox catches it with his face. Every time he demands a retoss, but after fourth time he has to finally accept it.

No one knows how Ventress got invited (Ahsoka is the biggest suspects) but she only has a few drinks, fistfights Wolfee and in the end reconciles with him and apologizes for the eye.

”Mr Skywalker why are there multiple war criminals at your wedding” ’’Mind your business”

Just as the wedding is about to end, everyone exhausted, a little drunk and ready to give the last toast to the thruple, they have the last announcement to make

Padme is pregnant with twins

⋆ ∙ ∘ ✧ ∘ ⋅ ⋆ ∙ ∘ ✧ ∘ ⋅ ⋆ ∙ ∘ ✧ ∘ ⋅ ⋆

Thank you all very much for reading this crazy thing we came up with on the @astral-veil ’s discord server, feel welcome to add your thought and ideas to this insanity

[jainydoe]

Misdirection, Ch. 1

Chapter 2 Chapter 3 the sugar daddy au I promised...

This is not a love story. 

That’s not how he looks at it, anyway. 

Because he is, at his core, a hopeless romantic. Devout in his worship. Ever since he could twirl a flower and tuck it behind someone’s ear, he’s kneeled, their bodies his altar, every act of service his own type of prayer. In his youth, he couldn’t go days without it. After his classes, then in between classes, then sometimes, under the table, one hand writing notes, the other up a girl’s skirt, he’d whisper covenants in their ears, verses upon verses of the old poets and the new on how their beauty would snuff him out right there. It’s why he’s got his sights set on the Bureau - boots on the ground, hands in the dirt, paid to bring justice for souls ripped before their time. There’s nothing more terrifying than death - and in that, there’s nothing as seductive.

Then he gets to college and meets Johanna. The ultimate love story. Boy meets girl. Girl convinces boy the best solution to their raging hormones is a casual sexuationship where he can rail her and make her cum as much as he wants and he’ll let her cheat off their orgo and anatomy exams as payment. Boy is stupid enough to fall in love with girl and she’s bored enough by the rest of the riffraff to actually marry him. 

In a shock to all, girl runs off and leaves boy with a baby, a soft little thing with grabby fingers and a gummy smile. He ignores the fact he has her eyes. Tells himself it doesn’t make him love him any less. As if branded and bruised, he can’t bring himself back to church. Not for a while. Not until the sting wears off. He tries meeting men at bars, women at libraries. He smiles and kisses hands and hopes they can see in his demeanor that he’s a man of faith. But maybe they aren’t believers. Maybe they find him dumb and naive. He’s flailing. Begging. Deranged. The spare times once or twice a year, eventually, that he’s pitied enough to be dragged to some hotel room, the Single Dad, the Divorcee, he’s gone for hours, babbling praise and praying on high that he hopes this will work, that this will make them stay, his devotion, his care. Everyone wants passion until it’s from Emmrich, it seems. 

When he turns forty six, it marks a full year since the last time he’s had someone, and maybe it’s the time to reflect, but it’s allowed his allegiance to rot into hate. He’s a prude, now. A stiff. He’s always looked down on his colleagues who, in their happy marriages with their happy wives and happy lives, live in secret disgust, wasting away their bodies and wallets on themselves. Agnostics. Romantic on the holidays. Phonies. 

It takes years to beat the love out of him. He’s celibate. He’s focused on fatherhood. He’s hardwired into work, the tsunami inside washing itself over the lives that intersect his area of expertise. He’s promoted. Then promoted, again. He’s at the top of his game. He’s the shit. He’s working 36 hours a week with the Bureau, and teaching at Nevarra U., and his students adore him, and the faculty worship him, and he tells himself this kind of love is enough. He’s Mr. FBI, Mr. PTA, Dr. Genius, and nothing and no one will have him on his knees ever again. 

Then he runs into Archibald at the annual faculty gala. 

SUBJECT: CLICK NOW for HOT Singles in YOUR AREA! XXX

Archibald Battenberg, PhD, JSD <abattenberg@nu.edu>

to evolkarin

Hey old pal,

Glad to have run into you. Mimi thought you were quite the charmer - just like old times, right? If you’re interested in other girls like her (or even her for that matter I’m all for liberation and whatever) I’ve included the link below. I’m sure you’ll pick a winner from the litter. Let’s get drinks, yeah? Celebrate the divorce? On me.

- Archie https://msdirection.com/ The code is SUGAR4BABY

Archibald was a fuck-wit and a menace. Had been since college. But Emmrich was notorious for skipping things ever since Manfred - really, ever since Johanna - and he wasn’t gonna go to the gala, seriously, but then he had a glass, then another, then Myrna called his private landline and there he was, cocktail in hand, counting the minutes until his alarm would indicate it’s time to vaporize into the night. As he’s nursing his manhattan and ignoring eye contact with the dean, he spots a woman, satin and sleek, a pampered panther in a sea of slippery sea beasts. She’s not a believer, he can tell, but the way she’s looking at him - she sees him for what he is and slinks his way before he could protest. They shake hands and she speaks eight languages and compliments his watch. Says she likes men who appreciate the real deal. He laughed in that breathless way he does when he’s shocked and on edge, watching her blunt hair frame her jaw in a way that made her attention all the more cutting and examining. Like a surgeon assessing their canvas. When he learned she was on the arm of Sloppy Archie-berg, he was a bit stunned. With Archibald’s signature ham-fisted tie, hoggish way of holding himself - Emmrich was pretty sure he didn’t even own conditioner. It was only once his date excused herself, though, that he’d revealed her secret. That Miss Mimi was a creature of the night. A call-girl , he called her, and Emmrich could tell Archie felt naughty even saying it. Like a child admitting they’d eaten sugar before bed. When Mimi returns and kisses Archibald’s cheek, Emmrich aches. Not for her, but for God. For the light of eternal delight to shine on his lips once again. He used to consider Johanna’s mouth the kingdom of heaven, and wonders, for the first time, if he’s been a misled fool. 

He couldn’t remember a time when he ever found Archibald charming, but when Save-the-Dates went out for the big Volkarin-Hezenkoss wedding, he was the only one to respond with condolences. Emmrich decides to email back a yes to drinks and notably forgets all about Mimi and her company until the postcard from Antiva arrives in his mailbox. 

Dear E,

Fuck you. I miss you. I’m moving back to the area. Say hi to the little guy for me.

Rot in hell,

J

There’s a verse he thinks of, about how the armor of God will protect you from the devil’s wiles, and maybe, he considers, God’s armor could be purchased through a subscription to Ms. Direction’s. It has to be. Because, for once, here are women who want it. Who want him. A man willing to tithe. This is for the Real Deal, he thinks. Not pussy-footing, quick-fuck, cheap-date juveniles. He’s dizzy as he locks the study door, Manfred in bed, all the lights out, and stares at his laptop as if it will begin whispering a beckoning call. Emmrich, come quick, come now, come enter your credit card information. 

He does. 

In a manner almost chaste and sweet, the website is basic. Bare-bones. He appreciates it. The way the black background and red font make it clear you’re here for sex. It’s been years since he’s let his eyes roam over others, and, for a quick moment, he thinks it’s a bad idea. Shallow biographies. Stupid usernames. Feet? Maybe he’s too old. Maybe he’s too tired. He’s on page four, wind wiped out, he doesn’t investigate why he thought Ms. Direction would have a slew of Nice Girls waiting, hands outstretched. If that hand were holding a crop, however. He crosses his legs and continues perusing the digital classifieds, willing himself to focus. Eventually, that leads to work-brain. He reminds himself these women aren’t in danger. They’re not minors. This isn’t illegal. His eyes gloss over in boredom. 

MARIANNE, 19 Looking for a stud to treat me like a princess.

JULIA, 29 Just a naughty girl who needs to be punished. 

RAVEN, 25 Let me treat you like filth-

He actually does click on her profile. But as he looks through her photos, sees her bedroom, the clothing on the floor and vat of lube - he wishes her well and leaves with a feeling of murky disgust. 

It’s as he’s exiting her profile, deciding to exit the site altogether and possibly consider asking for a refund that he spots her. 

Her. 

It’s straightforward. A photo of her face. She calls herself Rook. Doesn’t explain why. She needs money for rent and is hoping to spend time with someone interesting. He can be interesting. If he tries. In that moment, he’s twenty again, looking purposefully at a girl’s mouth, then in her eyes, asking if she believes in the afterlife. Of hauntings. Of spirits and the occult and drawing little symbols on her palm that, according to legend, will connect her more deeply with the beyond. 

He types a message. 

Dear Rook,

You seem pretty interesting, yourself. I’m, certainly, interested in learning more. Would coffee be of interest?

For fuck’s sake, stop using the word interesting. You’re a doctor. Be eloquent. Fuck.

Dear Rook,

Coffee?

Too chaste. This is a stranger. 

Rook,

No. 

Darling Rook,

God.

Dear Rook,

I’m interested. Wanna get coffee?

Emmrich

He clicks send and feels the air rush out of chest as if sucked up by some phantasmal vacuum. He shuts off the laptop, tosses it on his desk and quickly paces up the stairs to his bedroom, working a knot into his robe. This is about as daring as he’s been since signing up for the gym membership, and we all know how that went. 

The next morning passes quickly. Daycare then a morning class on elementary forensics then a quick lap on the track at the academy. He’s catching his breath, gulping down an icy reprieve when an email comes in. 

SUBJECT: Re: Message to rookie24

His phone slips out of his hand, falling face down onto the grass. A student looks his way. He waves a hello, beginning to itch all over. His fingers shake as he opens the message.

Hi handsome,

Coffee sounds good. I’ll be at Crossroads by Fade Ave at noon this Saturday. Hope to see you there.

Rook x

He knows that means a kiss. He feels it, too. Standing there, sweaty and pulsing, he feels his heart rate quicken even more at the promise of something over the weekend. A date. A cheap miracle.

–

“You have got to be KIDDING ME,” she yells, ignoring the passerbyers and scared parents, beginning to grip their children tighter. She’s not one for making a scene, especially on the train, but this is the final straw. 

Her medical bill is thousands. For an IV and aspirin and sitting in a cot. Look, hindsight, twenty-twenty, blah blah blah, point is she thought maybe fighting people for money could be a good way to get the bills paid. Taash said so, themself. And Lucanis and Davrin taught her how to properly throw a shank into someone’s side. And she wasn’t even that hurt, ultimately, but she did black out after Rowdy Regina Rockhouse (stupid name) got her in the back of Bellara’s Suburu and icing herself in the ER until 3am. She’s made a list on her fridge of sure-fire ways to get money without signing up for a third job or selling body parts. But after crossing out Underground Fight Club , she writes in gently, small, at the bottom ask Neve about selling body parts. Thankfully, she has lunch with Bell before giving Neve a call. 

“I’m, like, poor. For a while, I thought I was poor, now I realize I wasn’t. This is it. And shut the fuck up, I know you’re gonna say some shit about rock bottom, going up and whatever, I don’t wanna hear it.” 

Bellara is sympathetic in a way that’s not suffocating. Rook loves her for it. Trusts her for the life she’s lived that should’ve made her jaded, but didn’t. Maybe it’s that trust that has her not totally dismissing Bellara and calling her immediately crazy for her suggestion. 

“You could always join a dating site.”

“I beg your pardon?”

She twirls a stick of honey in her tea, looking at the patrons surrounding them. “Check out that couple. That guy just bought her a pastry and latte. They look so happy. Maybe, oh, I don’t know, maybe meeting someone nice could help distract from all the ugliness?”

“You want me to whore myself for pastries.”

“I didn’t say that.”

“I’m gonna have to beg Mauricio to not evict me for the third month in a row and you think pastries and dick will fix that.”

“I’m not trying to minimize your issues, Rook, I mean, I can help with your bills for a little, or you could come stay with me, maybe, you know I don’t mind,”

“I don’t want you like that, Bel. You have a great ass, don’t get me wrong,”

“Rook,”

“But if I’m gonna be giving out the sugar, I’m gonna need some considerable sugar to make up for it. Oodles of sugar. Like, piles.”

“I don’t know how to talk with you when you’re like this.”

“You’re a genius, Bel.” She kisses her on the forehead and steals her apple turnover, taking a chomping bite as she makes her way to the exit. “Sugar for sugar, Belly baby.”

It takes about a half hour of careful research before she finds the perfect site. It even looks sexy. Catered towards brats and babies to be worshipped. She snorts. She’ll bite. She’ll fashion herself the nymphette of some old guy’s fantasy if it means paying off a credit card, or two. Hell, she’s fucked uglier men for less benefits. She tells herself this will be a cake walk. 

She tries taking photos. Lacy edits of her with big eyes and red lips, but the thought of attracting anyone with it makes her nauseous. She figures her face will do. They’ll be looking at it a lot, probably, may as well see it for all it’s worth. She chooses one where she’s smiling and not still bruised from Raging Re-bitch-a-zilla Rockfart and calls it a day. No one will message her. She’ll forget she made the account. She will show up on Lucanis’ doorstep and promise him her firstborn in exchange for a roof over her head and possible bodyguard duties, because Mauricio will threaten her life in a week. It’s two in the morning and she’s almost finished with the final episode of Love is Kind when she gets a message. He doesn’t have a profile photo. He’s messaging potential cash-sluts past midnight. All signs say Do Not Interact. Which is why she brings it to Neve. 

“Jesus, Rook, is it really that bad?”

She squints at her, knocking back a shot of bourbon and ignoring the way her throat widens up into a retch. “Was the direness of my situation not clear when I joined Taash’s fucking fight club? Or did that nude modeling bullshit? Or that outward-bound type camping gig where I slugged tents and crap for Lace?”

“It was very sweet of you to help those kids.”

“Yeah, well, now I need help.” She twirls the bottom of her glass against Neve’s desk. It’s ten in the morning but Neve doesn’t mind. She never does. Rook doesn’t know if it makes her feel better or worse. “Besides, some of those kids might be my competition now for cradle-robber-cock.”

“I don’t think your new friend will want you to call him, or it , that. Besides, he seems to like your profile. I say just go for it.” Rook shifts in her seat. “What’s stopping you?”

Nothing. Everything. This would be another person to disappoint. Another crutch. Another life she ruins. Neve is a mind-reader. “Stop being melodramatic, Rook.” She takes her hand, offering her quintessential, moody smile. “Whoever this Emmrich is, I’m sure he’s a big boy who can handle the likes of you.”

She messages him back. 

–

Saturday arrives and a pile of clothes sits on Emmrich’s bed, vests and trousers splayed as he stands in the mirror, posing. 

I look like hot, wet shit. 

He grabs at his hair, pulling, eyes closed and breath slowing. This is fine. He’s fine. It’s just coffee. Something he drinks often. 

This is meant to be pleasurable. 

He holds that to his chest as he begins the ritual of preparing to leave the house. Lotions. Colognes. Hair gel and face creams. Would she like the way he smells? Does she hate facial hair? Or neckties? Or kids? 

Saturday arrives and a pile of clothes sits on Rook’s floor. Is this the kind of guy who would want her in a dress? Should she wear black? Or something bright? Is this an interview? Should she shave? She calls Bellara and Davrin, hoping for a balanced review. They can’t agree on an outfit. She feels like hot, wet shit. Then comes the text from Lace. I’m stranded in the middle of Arlathan but Bell’s at work and I know you live close to the lab so I was wondering if maybe you’d possibly rescue me? Also Bellara’s agreed and Taash is here, too.

Rook is used to playing the hero. It’s the role she’s been cast in for years. But in this moment, she hates Lace Harding. She hopes her and Taash get stampeded. Or that they drown. These images provide comfort as she begins the trek to Bellara’s 2011 chariot. She’s never been a romantic. But for once, she feels truly hopeless.

[persuasivetfs]

The Prodigal Son Returns

“The future site of Our Lady of Sacred Contentment’s second church. A project funded in part by the Virkov Foundation,” read the sign plastered on the fence that surrounded the closed down Saint Zofia’s Bulgarian Orthodox Church.

Olga Tsanov was conflicted. She was glad to see the male-centered church of her upbringing brought to its knees, even if it was by another male-centered church. When she heard that Father Kiril, the pompous high priest of Saint Zofia’s had even converted to this new Protestant denomination, losing all his priestly status so he could be demoted to the role of a mere usher, Olga had burst into laughter. Yet as happy as she was on the surface, the church’s closure had reopened a fissure in her heart that she once thought closed. She felt it when she saw the icons of the Virgin Mary and Saint Zofia taken down from the comfort of her bedroom window. For at one time in her life, those icons and the saints they represented had been everything to Olga. Foundational even, to the woman she strove to become as an adult: temperate, responsible, compassionate, wise.

So it was a great shock, even to herself, that Olga found herself breaking and entering Saint Zofia’s church in the dead of night. Armed with a pair of bolt cutters, her ex-husband Micheal had left behind in the divorce, she was able to force her way past the surrounding fence and into the back of the church.

Despite every part of her screaming that this was crazy and that there was no point, Olga continued on with her plan, walking through the back office and into the nave.

To her horror much of the renovations had been finished much earlier than she’d expected. The icons as Olga remembered lining the walls had been torn down, and repainted white and beige. The sacred relic, one of the alleged fingers of Saint Zofia herself, too was removed, with only a potted fern left in its place. Even the cupola, the wide dome that had stretched over the congregation, that had depicted Jesus in heaven with the angels and saints was destroyed. Painted white and to her continued surprise somehow flattened despite the lack of long and intensive construction such a job would have required.

It left this church, the site where Olga’s devotion once dwelled into an empty shell, sucked dry of meaning.

At least all the male saints were gone, Olga could be happy with, and even Jesus himself was only depicted by a plain wooden cross rather than the twisted face of pain writhing about like Olga was used to. But without all its art, the church looked like an office building with sandalwood pews and stone altar. What kind of god would be worshipped here?

“Stunning isn’t it?”

A man was standing alone in the darkness, making Olga twist her head around.

“What are you doing here?” Olga asked, blurting out the first thing that came to mind.

“Examining the Lord’s fine work in one of His newest sacred places. Same as you,” the man answered, with a thick Italian-American accent, pulling himself away from the wall and walking towards her.

Wearing formal dress shoes and a refined dark suit, the stranger came to stand next to her, his body faintly gleaming under the glow of the moonlight.

“So tell me Olga Tsanov. What are you doing in one of our churches so late at night?” He asked, his eyes casting a fiendish glimmer upon her. She shivered.

“How do you know my name? What are you, a stalker?” Olga asked defensively. The man simply laughed, making her take a hesitant step back.

“The Lord knows all that happens in His churches and all who happens to enter them. And your name and address happened to be on the registry the Orthodox Church left behind,” he explained, his voice shifting from megalomaniacal supervillain to down to earth youth pastor from one line to the next.

It left Olga unsure where she stood with this man. Was he planning on calling the police on her? Or was he just toying with her?

“I was just leaving. I’ve seen what I needed to see,” Olga blustered, walking off. The door to the back office suddenly slammed shut ahead of her. She turned her head back to the priest whose smile filled her with dread.

“Did you really think you could leave that easily?”

“What do you want, priest?” Olga asked, snarkily, trying not to let her fear show. She was used to the old wooden doors of the church slamming shut whenever the wind blew, but this priest was unsettling. She didn’t even hear him breathing and yet there he was, lingering in the shadows as if waiting for her.

“It’s not about what I want, it's about what the Lord can provide you, my child,” the stranger said cryptically, taking a step forward against the polished wooden floor.

“I’m fine, thank you. I was already raised in one penis-centeic religion, I don’t need another,” Olga bristled, turning away from him. She stepped to the altar and wiped her hand along its marble surface. Father Kiril had once struck her on the side of the head for touching it. The act of a woman who didn't yet know her place. Olga gritted her teeth.

Despite her reverence for saints like Zofia or the Virgin, Olga had never fit inside the restrictive environment of her church. For only men and boys were allowed to read the Epistles or hold the communion cloth or serve at the altar. If Olga wanted to serve God, she was told, she should wait until she could become a nun, otherwise her sex had marked her as morally inferior and less “clean” to do the tasks of men in the church. Even female saints like Zofia or the Virgin had to take on the role of a subordinated wife and mother before the power of the penis and this had enraged her.

“But Olga, the word of God is open to all people, men and women. It is only true that we have different roles in the world as decreed by the Lord,” the pastor explained, stepping next to her at the altar.

“Yes, for men are biologically created to be brutish and violent and disgusting and cruel, while women are biologically smarter, kinder, and weaker to men and thus men's perpetual victims. I’ve known enough of that from my pig of an ex-husband,” Olga said bitterly.

“So why did you come here my child? If the ‘penis-centeic religion’ as you called it in your childhood was so distressing?”

“I… I don’t know. I’ve always wanted to serve the Lord. To reach people. To even be a voice for the Wentworth Falls Bulgarian community. It just never felt like I could because of who I was. Because the woman my people wanted me to be, that submissive housewife and mother could never exist,” Olga explained, suddenly feeling more casual and open with this priest about her private thoughts than she had any good sense to.

An oddly satisfying sense of warmth had begun to flow into her, lowering her defences. Her muscles loosened, her shoulders eased. The warmth left her feeling like a ball of wet clay, ready to be remolded.

“While we are all meant to be equal brothers and sisters before the eyes of the Lord, maybe a different path would be beneficial to you. We do need a pastor for this community in line with the Bulgarians,” the pastor said but frankly Olga was finding it difficult to care. The comforting sensations made Olga feel too good to think, too good to protest.

Then as the rivers of comfort flowed in and out of her body, Olga felt from within her a pulsating energy radiating out from her vagina. Her labia throbbed, releasing wave after wave of pleasure, as her clitoris began to enlarge, expanding outward as skin grew in and out over Olga’s lips.

Then with a lurch, Olga felt her vagina close up and disappear and in its place, a penis and a pair of gradually dropping balls.

“This can’t be happening. What are you doing to me?” Olga demanded to know only to quickly become horrified at the deep masculine voice that left her lips.

The priest laughed.

More changes were overcoming her body, twisting and reshaping Olga Tsanov into a form unrecognisable. Her signature long straw blonde hair was shrinking back inside her head, only stopping at the crown of her head before turning a dark brown. Then across her face and forearms, the hair that had disappeared from the top of her head re-emerged, forming a tightly sculpted beard and mustache. As her hair shifted so did the bones in her face, giving her a pointier chin and higher cheekbones, while her crow’s feet and wrinkles wiped away, giving Olga a youthful glow she hadn’t had since her late 20s.

This youthfulness soon extended to the rest of her body, leaving her feeling energized and excited.

Eager to witness what came next, Olga ripped out of her dress shirt to be amazed at the cobblestone abs that were forming. Her breasts, once saggy with fat and age, had in their new youth and new burst of testosterone firmed up with muscle. In fact much of her body, from her triceps to her thighs were packing on muscle. Not enough to make a bodybuilder blush, but enough to gain noticeable attention should she wear a tight-fitting shirt.

“You look wonderful, Olga, absolutely wonderful,” the priest said with a chef’s kiss, before putting his arm around Olga’s shoulders and laughing.

At any other time Olga would have pushed the man away and thought him a pervert, but now his touch had a sense of comradery. Just bros being bros.

“I knew you’d make a wonderful man. I just knew,” the priest positively declared.

“But how is this possible- I-“ the stranger shushed her.

“But first I believe a new name is in order. Let’s try Boris on for size. Introduce yourself,” the stranger commanded with a clap of his hands.

”Hello, I’m Boris Tsanov,” Boris introduced, her voice deep and refined.

It was strange just a moment ago she could have sworn her name was Olga, but that name like much of her past was fading away like a disappearing dream soon to be forgotten.

“Outstanding, Boris. Now, let’s think about your past for a moment. Who is Boris Tsanov?” the priest asked. Boris took a deep breath.

“I’m the head of Women and Gender studies at the Wentworth Falls Community college. I’m 39, divorced, agnostic, and a proud biological woman, or at least I thought I was,” Boris said, confused at how his words were not matching up with his new body.

“No, I don’t think that sounds like you Boris,” the stranger said, shaking his head.

“I think you’re 28, recently graduated from divinity school and ready to spread the true word of God to the masses and trusting me Pastor Agosti as your friend and mentor,” the stranger explained. Except he wasn’t a stranger, was he? He was Nico Agosti, a trusted advisor and confidante, who had guided Boris through years of divine education and study, helping mold him into the proud Christian he was today, eager to save the Bulgarian masses as he himself had been saved. Except, wasn’t he a woman or at the very least used to be married to a man? Wouldn’t that be a sin?

“Pastor Agosti,” Boris nervously addressed. “I trust you and everything you say, but I’m still so confused. I used to venerate Saint Zofia and the Virgin Mary so highly and sought to be like them in every way. How does that make sense if I’m a man?”

“Oh my sweet brother. You weren’t looking to be those saintly women,” Pastor Agosti said, sympathetically, hiding his glee. Boris, unsure, scratched at his temple.

“You were looking to marry a saintly woman: Pious, dependable, temperate, and wise. The perfect wife and mother and you were lucky enough to find her. One of the youngest priests of our congregation but the only one among us bachelors to be married,” Pastor Agosti said, shaking Borris’s shoulder in admiration. Boris Tsanov smiled warmly.

While before when he thought of his spouse, he thought of swarthy and loud-mouthed Micheal, now in his head all he could picture was sweet and homely Miranda. She was everything Boris ever wanted in a woman and he was grateful to have her. At that moment, Miranda was likely asleep across the street, having been saying her bedtime prayers before Boris had left to check on the church. She was so supportive, having dropped everything to take care of the house while Borris continued to work on his divinity degree. He would in return reward her with a lifetime of devotion and many future children who would help spread the Lord’s message as he did.

Still there were a few buzzing questions about his head. How had construction finished so quickly? Why did Boris leave the Orthodox Church for this Protestant denomination? Where did these bolt cutters he held on his person come from?

All these he wished to ask, but Nico waved them all away promising they’d all be answered once Boris was exposed to the “Divinity” as he called it as had all the priests of the church before him. Before they left, Nico was kind enough to make him put on a white dress shirt in just his size, so no one could get any strange ideas of what was going on in there.

Yet while Boris was leaving with more questions than answers he was satisfied knowing he was on the path to lead more people to God just as he had been. There were always more wayward souls that needed saving.

[allwaswell16]

A fic rec of One Direction fics that are romantic comedies or have a rom com vibe to them as requested in this ask. If you enjoy the fics, please leave kudos and comments for the writers! You can find my other fic recs here. Happy reading!

—Louis/Harry—

🧡 You Drive Me Crazy (but it feels alright) by MrsStylinson

(T, 102k, movie au) Bridget Jones' Diary AU.“Harry is not short for Harold,” he corrects, his voice as thick as molasses. He lowers his eyes to Louis’ sequined lapels, rubbing one between two fingers. “Is this small or extra small? It looks lovely.”

🧡 Don't Stop Thinking About Tomorrow by @1diamondinthesun

(NR, 84k, movie au) the American high school AU loosely inspired by She's All That.

🧡 Gemma's Dad (Could Use A Guy Like Me) by @lululawrence

(NR, 82k, age difference) Louis wasn't planning on getting home and learning that Gemma's dad had gotten the house in the divorce and was dealing with things by focusing on work, the house, and his newly planted garden. It becomes obvious early on that Harry is a bit lost and Gemma is worried about him. To help both of them, Louis is more than happy to help Harry find himself again.

🧡 Let Our Hearts Collide by @crinkle-eyed-boo

(M, 76k, movie au) When Harry, a lonely transit worker, saves the life of the handsome commuter he's been secretly pining for, an innocent mistake results in Liam Payne's family believing that Harry is engaged to their son. A While You Were Sleeping AU

🧡 i must admit i thought i'd like to make you mine by @disgruntledkittenface

(M, 50k, girl direction) Blindsided and scrambling to save face, Louis lets herself get talked into a fake relationship with her new friend Harry. 

🧡 From Dust to Lust by jacaranda_bloom / @jacaranda-bloom

(E, 45k, Australia) the one where Louis and Harry are fly-in-fly-out mine workers, coincidences are totally a thing, karaoke is an underrated form of foreplay, and the universe most definitely works in mysterious ways.

🧡 Love Isn't Always on Time by @softfonds

(E, 45k, movie au) Falling in love with your best friend sounds like a good idea, until he comes back from a work trip engaged to another man. A Made of Honor AU.

🧡 Until That Day by @kingsofeverything

(E, 44k, movie au) Hoping to witness Harry leave another groom at the altar, Louis heads to Holmes Chapel, where nothing goes as planned, and he finds himself falling for the serial heartbreaker. A Runaway Bride movie AU

🧡my only working remedy by YesIsAWorld / @louandhazaf

(E, 42k, famous/not famous) His Team steps it up a notch when Harry is in between movies and they do a promo by launching the contest “Win a Date with Harry Styles!” Everything goes wrong for Harry's Team when the winner is a guy, Louis Tomlinson. 

🧡 crown me with your heart (your love is king) by @perfectdagger

(G, 41k, movie au) The Princess Diaries 2: Royal Wedding au in which Harry is the Crown Prince of the small island of Eroda and Louis’ uncle is trying to take the throne from him, with a slight a/b/o twist and some more.

🧡 Set the Sky Alight, Oh Holy Night by LadyLondonderry / @londonfoginacup

(T, 33k, roommates) One house, five almost-strangers (plus Niall), six new beginnings.

🧡 From the Start by @allwaswell16

(E, 32k, fake relationship) Louis has no idea that one act of kindness will cause his life to spiral out of control. But that's what happens when his new friend fake proposes to him and a video of it goes viral.

🧡 Making Waves by @haztobegood

(E, 30k, movie au) the one where Louis can’t remember, Harry needs money, and Niall has a plan. An Overboard AU.

🧡 Supposed to Be by kikikryslee / @flamboyantommo

(M, 26k, movie au) the Geek Charming AU where Harry's a film geek, Louis' a popular jock, and they both need each other to get what they want.

🧡 Retiens la nuit by TeamLouis / @teamlouis2023

(E, 26k, movie au) Everything is too much for Harry. His exboyfriend, his job, his whole life actually. Flying across the globe to find a quiet place for Christmas holidays is exactly what he needs. The Holiday AU

🧡 And I’d Marry You Harry (Because You Forced Me) by @2tiedships2

(NR, 24k, movie au) The Proposal AU featuring Harry as Sandra Bullock, Louis as Ryan Reynolds, and all the fun a fake relationship and forced engagement can bring.

🧡 in the end I started thinking about the beginning by @infinitelymint

(E, 21k, wedding planner) When Louis returned from Malaysia to attend his best mate Zayn's wedding, he hadn't expected their wedding planner to be Harry Styles.

🧡 i'd never sing of love if it does not exist by wildestdreams / @lavendrhaze

(M, 20k, movie au) “This…,” Louis said. “Use each other for sex…at all hours of the day and nothing else.” or a No Strings Attached AU

🧡 Your secret's safe with me by lightswoodmagic / @lightwoodsmagic

(M, 7k, royal) when Louis' favourite singer comes back and announces he's performing again, him and the rest of his group chat decide to go. When Haz, the man Louis' fallen in love with without meeting him, says that he can't, Louis tries his best to convince him with a drunken phone call, hearing his voice for the first time. 

—Rare Pairs—

🧡 Eight Days by LadyAJ_13 / @ladyaj-13

(T, 22k, Liam/Louis) Louis and Liam got hitched in Vegas, completely forgot about it for more than a decade, and it comes back to bite them. Sort of.

🧡 I Got the Recipe (And It's Called Black Magic) by @fallinglikethis

(T, 10k, Liam/Louis) Louis needs to believe in love again, and with a little help from Almost-Liam Payne, Harry makes it happen.

[maryangelex]

hey hey !! I just read your recent ex husband price fic and it’s EVERYTHING , your writing is impeccable 💕

I was also wondering if i can request angst/hurt no comfort ex-husband price! Is it bad that I kinda want to see this man suffer ?? 😭

a/n: thank you so much anon!!!! and ofc you can because...i too love a man in dispair D: something about price in shambles just mmmmmmm delicious!!!

i hope you love it :D (maybe cry a lil)

c/w: afab! reader, divorce, angst, hurt no comfort, grown man crying, alcohol use, fertility issues, age gap

He should have known better than to take you for granted. He shouldn't have anticipated you'd be fully okay with his line of work and everything that came with it. He should have made more of an effort to be there for you rather than feigning ignorance about how you were feeling, how lonely you had been, how difficult it had been for you to be alone when you needed him most when every pregnancy test would come back negative, or the pregnancy wasn't viable.

Instead, he'd come home to you pretending there was nothing wrong between you two. You gave him the benefit of the doubt time and time again; this was the way he coped coming back from missions, by coming home to the 'perfect' life he had built with you. You don't know what hurt you most, the facade he put on that everything was fine and dandy and there was nothing to be resolved or the cold shoulder he gave you when it was just too much for him to put on a fake smile.

He should have taken it as his cue to drop the act and be the husband he swore to be the second you brought up divorce. And instead, he kept his mouth shut, nodded his head, and gave you a mask of understanding. Once again, being passive about your marriage because too much of his energy had been put into his work. Not only that, but he already knew how much of a failure he had been at being your husband.

He knew you were too good for him since the very beginning. He was too old for you who had just started your life. He was too busy to even begin dating you, much less marry you. He was mentally (nor physically, really) not fully there to provide for you.

So when the divorce was finalized and a year passed, it was no surprise to see you had moved on. You looked happy in the pictures with your new beau, happier than he had ever seen you leading up to the divorce; maybe since after your honeymoon. Your smile was radiant and wide, your skin glowing, and your eyes glinting with newfound hope that this other man would be the husband you really deserved. He knew you deserved better, accepted it, even.

He dwelled on the fact that he failed you at providing you the love and dedication he vowed to you at the altar. The warm feeling of whiskey had become more familiar on his lips than the feeling of your lips.

He missed you like hell, he couldn't think of anything else he wanted back more. He sobbed himself to sleep thinking about how he let you slip between his fingers and lost you, his precious wife. The thought of being with another woman made his skin crawl, feeling repulsed by it. He requested extra missions to get away from the city and the apartment you two shared, but only got himself extended leaves for his mental state.

At the two-year mark, he found himself sick of moping and grieving and decided it was about time he took action. Moving on to someone else was not an option; it was you or nothing. When he picked the pieces of himself back up and could finally stand on his feet, he made his way back to you.

He hadn't heard from you since he saw that picture of you and the new guy on your social media, but he got in contact with your mother and she willingly gave him your new address. And when he stood at your doorstep, a bouquet of tulips in hand and his best attempt at a smile, you opened the door to him and it hit him like a trainwreck.

Seeing you with an infant on your hip made his knees nearly buckle.

"John?" was all you could say, and the sound of your voice after so long made his ears ring.

John Price was a man of steel, a man with infinite courage who braved terrorists and bullets aimed at him. But the sight of you with the babe he couldn't give you, the love he couldn't fill you with, the life he swore to provide and failed to, made him lose any will to live that he had gathered in the last year.

[sissylittlefeather]

Just when you thought it was over...

A Very Quiet Life: Epilogue

A/N: Y'all know I couldn't leave you without ANY smut to end this series! This really is it, though.

Warnings: 18+ minors DNI, smut, fingering, kissing, cussing, oral sex (both receiving), reader calls Elvis daddy in a sexual context... don't want to give too much away here...

Links to the rest of the series in case this is the first you've seen it:

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Just a little happily ever after...

Song that started it all:

Gif set to end all gif sets:

Epilogue

It's been a year since the day the kids call "Happy Breakfast Day". Elvis moved into your house the next week, rocking the neighborhood with a bigger scandal than it had ever seen. Susan Walter still won't speak to you, but you don't consider it much of a loss. Beth successfully sold the house to a nice family from Chicago with 4 kids that love to play with yours. She moved downtown to be closer to her office... and her boss.

Today is your wedding day. You and Elvis didn't wait long after his divorce was finalized to start making plans. Now, you're standing in a dressing room looking at your dress hanging on the back of the door. It's a modest little number in eggshell with a knee-length skirt. This being the second wedding for both of you, you decided to keep it small and informal.

You're holding a crumpled piece of paper in your hand as you stare at the dress. You can't do this without telling him. You poke your head out of the room and holler at your sister.

"I need Elvis! Will you get him for me?" She looks at you like you're crazy.

"You know that's bad luck."

"I don't care. I need him."

"You're literally going to see him at the altar in two hours."

"Yes. And I'm telling you, I need Elvis now." Just then, he rounds the corner.

"Who needs me? Ack! I'm not supposed to see you!" He covers his eyes and tries to walk over to you, bumping into a chair on the way.

"Oh, will you just come in here? I'm not even in my dress yet." He uncovers his face and looks at you with his eyes lit up, hoping you're naked. He walks into the dressing room and is disappointed to see you're wearing a robe. Still, he puts his hands on your hips and looks at you lustfully.

"If ya need me that bad baby, we can just skip the wedding..."

"No. Elvis. I-I, well, here." You push the piece of paper into his hand and stand back waiting for his reaction. He looks down at it.

Ms. Y/l/n, the blood test confirmed your pregnancy. Please schedule another appointment as soon as possible.

He stands there speechless for a second. Then he looks up at you with tears in his eyes.

"Pregnancy?"

"Yes."

"A baby?"

"Yes."

"Our baby?" This time you just nod your head. There's a lump in your throat that keeps you from speaking. He drops the paper on the floor and wraps himself around you, kissing your cheek and pressing his face to yours. You feel a tear escape and slide down, not sure if it's his or yours. He pulls back and kisses you fully on the mouth. Then, he presses his forehead into yours and closes his eyes.

"This is the best news, honey." You figured he would be happy, but this is even better than you expected. He's downright elated.

"The kids! Do they know?"

"I figured we would tell them together later. Jane will be thrilled. She's been asking for a baby for years. Michael's a wild card, but he won't mind as long as you still read comics and build cars with him." He nods fervently.

"They're still our kids. This is just another one to add to the pack. Oh, baby, I'm so happy!" He nuzzles into your neck and squeezes you. Then, he pulls back quickly.

"Was that too hard? Can I squeeze you?" He looks at you with a concerned frown on his face. This is going to be fun. You laugh and assure him that you can do pretty much everything you normally do.

"Everything?" He raises his eyebrows suggestively. You respond by running your hands up his chest and kissing him deeply. He takes the hint and grabs the back of your thighs, lifting you so that your legs wrap around him. He carries you to the little couch and lays you down underneath him. He kisses down your neck and chest to the place where the robe comes together between your breasts. Slowly, he pulls on the belt and slides the pieces of your robe to the side and off of you.

His eyes widen when he sees your white lace bra and panties. They were supposed to be for tonight, but you don't care. He presses his lips to your nipple through the lace before removing your robe and bra and then kissing down your stomach. He stops at the top of your panties and kisses gently just below your belly button. Then, he runs his tongue along the line where the lace meets your thigh. His closeness to your center has you dripping with desire. He slides his thumb between your legs and under your panties, feeling the wetness.

"Mmm. That didn't take long."

"Blame the pregnancy hormones." You both laugh. He uses his thumb to make circles on your sensitive button. A soft moan escapes your lips and he smiles. He pulls your panties to the side and slides two fingers into you. He loves to watch you be undone by him, so he moves his fingers inside you, eliciting another moan and more wetness from you. Eventually, he pulls his fingers out to slide your panties down. You whimper a little at the sensation of emptiness. When he gets back up to your center, he presses his mouth to you and swirls his tongue in a circle.

"Oh my god..." you moan loudly. He laughs.

"Shhh, baby, everyone is right outside. You're going to have to be quiet for me. Can you do that?" You whimper and nod. He lowers his face back down to you and drags his tongue up your slit slowly, then goes back down and pushes his tongue into you. You arch your back and suppress a moan, somewhat unsuccessfully.

"If you can't be quiet, I'll have to stop." He says sternly. Now it's a game. You whisper frantically.

"No! No, I can be quiet. Don't stop." You weave your fingers in his hair and gently push his head back down to you. He smirks, enjoying your need for him, and then goes back to work with his tongue. You bite your lip and squirm a little, trying desperately to stay quiet. As your climax builds, the softest moan escapes your lips and he pulls back.

"I said quiet." You nod wildly and without even thinking a response slips out..

"Yes, daddy." His eyes widen and darken. Hearing you call him daddy impacted him in a way he didn't expect.

"Say that again."

"Yes daddy." You feel his breathing speed up and he goes back to licking you with a new urgency. When he can tell you're right on the edge, he whispers into you.

"Come for daddy." And you do, pleasure rushing through you until your fingertips tingle, wetness spilling out of you uncontrollably and your legs quaking. It feels like your body is disconnected and floating while he continues to move his tongue over you. Finally, you come back to earth. Elvis stands up and takes his shirt and pants off. Before he can lay back down on you, though, you sit up and pull his hips in line with your face. You wrap your hand around his hard dick and begin to pump him slowly, pulling his foreskin back to reveal his sensitive head. He closes his eyes and moans softly as you lean forward and run your tongue around him.

"Is this what you want, daddy?" His eyes pop open and he looks down at you sitting there with his dick in your mouth. He tangles his fingers in your hair as you move on him.

"Yes, good girl. Keep going." You hum a little and the vibration makes him almost double over. You reach around and grab his ass with both hands to steady him. Then, you open your throat and take him all the way into your mouth, pressing your nose into the patch of soft hair at the base of his shaft.

"Oh, fuck." He moans loudly. You pull back off of him entirely.

"I thought we had to be quiet?"

"Oh no, baby, please don't stop." He whispers. "I'll be quiet." My how the tables have turned. You smile to yourself, knowing that you can make him fall apart too. You lick small circles around his head and then run your tongue along the bottom of his shaft and back up again. You pick up a steady rhythm and he thrusts softly into your mouth, matching your pace. After a little while of this, he grunts quietly and whispers again.

"Gonna come, baby." You decide to let him and save the real fun for your wedding night tonight. You keep going, tightening your lips around him slightly. When you feel him twitching, you pull him fully into your mouth again and suck. He shudders and fills your throat with his warmth as you swallow it down.

"Oh, god, y/n" He groans as he nearly collapses on top of you. He falls onto the couch next to you and leans his head back with his eyes closed.

"Wow."

"You'll have to wait until tonight for the rest. We're not married yet." You laugh and he chuckles with you, putting his arms around you and pulling you close to him. He kisses the side of your head.

"I'm so glad you moved in next door."

"Me too, Elvis. Me too."

******

Fin

*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*

Taglist:

@itlover8000 @deniseinmn @elvisalltheway101 @ccab @hernameisnoellex3 @ashtag6887 @arabellapresley @littlehoneyposts @dkayfixates @elvisxsposts @joshuntildawn13 @msamarican @returntopresley @mrsbutler99 @blog777e @cattcb @delulubutidontcare

This series is done, but if you'd like to be added for my future work, let me know!

[thepunkmuppet]

have you thought about anyiles because I have Thought About Anyiles. strap the fuck in guys

first question. why does anya like xander?? like obviously anybody can be attracted to anybody, that makes perfect sense and is fine, but WHY does she love him and pursue a relationship with him?? she’s not actually a teenager, they have literally nothing in common! he makes it very very clear that he doesn’t understand her at all, not to mention constantly belittling and undermining her. when he tries to be “helpful” and teach her social skills and cues, he only does it because it embarrasses him, not to actually help her understand, and is just so fucking condescending and rude!!!! (can you tell that autistic/neurodivergent-coded anya in relation to the way xander treats her makes me mad??)

basically, regardless of how much I just don’t really like it, I genuinely never understood why that relationship ever even happened.

anya and giles however. it’s not necessarily my favourite ship in the fandom as it is, but the idea of what the show would have been had it been canon instead of xanya makes me love it more and more by the second.

let’s talk about canon moments. they have a connection! when they bicker, buffy compares them to her divorced parents, he calls her “dear” at one point for literally no reason, and the biggest one is of course tabula rasa. sure they pieced together the context that they ran the shop together and then just ran with it, assuming they were a couple, but tara and willow were fully attracted to each other and seemed to somehow know that they had a connection, as did xander and willow. xander and anya barely even speak to each other, while anya and giles fall into the role of a couple so easily, kissing passionately without even breaking a sweat

so just think about an alternate version of the show, where instead of liking xander for absolutely no reason, anya pursues giles.

they are both incredibly knowledgeable on demons and history, they both have crazy evil pasts, they both have dry senses of humour, they’re both way more powerful than they come across. and just the poetry of it - giles was the one to destroy her necklace and essentially curse her with humanity. him being the one to make her fall in love with humanity and want to be human again is so FUCKING BEAUTIFUL! and just the idea of exploring his trauma around jenny, unwillingness to love again, etc.

also ik it makes perfect sense for xander’s character so I don’t have beef with it from a writers perspective, but it needs to be said. GILES WOULD NEVER LEAVE HER AT THE ALTAR

[hazbinsponsoredbyvee]

Now, I want to say that while every marriage in my family has ended in divorce, I want to say that the Vox-Lucifer pairing at least seems to be a healthy one. Not sure about Alastor-Vox but we will see.

What I'm trying to say is not worry about how things will go at the ceremony. You will look back at it in a good light in the future. As long as you someone to love til eternity, you will be happy.

"Nothing in Hell is healthy. There's a reason Sinners pretty much never get married. Believe me, I never thought I would. Just a few months ago, I hated the idea. Now, I just... I know I want them both for eternity, but I am fucking terrified that they're gonna realize they don't want the same. Okay, I'm mostly worried about Alastor. He is definitely enough of an asshole to leave me at the altar."

[fangdokja]

A stolen kiss, a forged marriage, and a choice that would ruin more than just your life.

❤︎ Synopsis. He claims to hate her, but his obsession says otherwise. A deadly game of spite and desire unfolds as enemies collide, and lines between hate, love, and possession blur in the most dangerous ways.

♡ Book. A Heart Devoured: A Dark Yandere Anthology

♡ Pairing. Yandere! Divorce Attorney x Fem. Reader

♡ Novella. Skin of the Saint - Part 7

♡ Word Count. 2,592

The slap came fast.

Not fast enough.

Your hand met his cheek in a sharp, echoing crack that reverberated through the quiet of the church. He didn’t flinch. He barely moved, only allowing his head to turn slightly with the force of it, like a man indulging in the strength of a child’s blow.

You'd never hit someone before.

He could tell.

Your palm lacked the intent to hurt, the weight behind it more shock than fury. It was adorable, really. A sorry attempt at defiance. His lips twitched into a slow, deliberate smile as he looked back at you, letting the heat of your touch simmer against his skin.

“Was that supposed to scare me, Church Girl?” His voice was velvet over steel, faint enough to make you strain to hear it, but edged with the kind of mocking and deathly malice that made your stomach tighten.

You were trembling, the remnants of your anger dissolving into something far colder—fear. The clarity in your wide eyes betrayed you, mingling uneasily with the blush that still painted your cheeks. That kiss had shaken you, more than you wanted to admit, more than you could control.

“Don’t,” you whispered, your voice fragile but firm. “Don’t touch me again.”

His smile widened.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he said, leaning in just enough to make you step back. His hand didn’t leave your neck, his fingers curling possessively against the curve of your skin. “You don’t get to make demands. Not with me.”

Finn took a hesitant step forward, his youthful bravado betrayed by the nervous set of his shoulders. “Hey—hey, stop that! You’re scaring her!”

He chuckled, low and dark, the sound wrapping around the room like smoke. “Am I?” His eyes flicked down to you, taking in the way your body stiffened, the way your breath hitched every time his grip tightened. “She looks fine to me.”

Finn bristled, his voice rising despite the tremor in it. “Let her go. She doesn’t want this—”

“Doesn’t she?” He interrupted smoothly, his gaze never leaving yours.

And then, without warning, he dropped the bomb.

“We’re getting married anyway.”

The words were a low drawl, as casual as discussing the weather, but they hit the room like a gunshot.

Your breath caught in your throat, your body going rigid against his touch.

“W-what?” Finn stammered, his expression a mixture of disbelief and bewilderment.

You managed to find your voice, the icy calm you usually wore cracking under the weight of your anger. “What are you talking about?!”

His fingers flexed against your throat, a silent warning to keep your tone in check. “It’s all very simple,” he said, his free hand reaching into his coat. He withdrew a neatly folded document, the thick paper crinkling softly as he spread it out on the altar. “See for yourself.”

Your eyes darted to the paper, your heart sinking as you scanned the official-looking script. A marriage certificate. Names, dates, signatures—all meticulously prepared.

Finn’s brows furrowed as he leaned in to inspect the documents. “This… this can’t be real,” he muttered, doubt lacing his voice even as his face betrayed his growing uncertainty.

But it was all there. The seals. The signatures. The vows.

“You forged this,” you said, your voice trembling with barely contained fury.

He tilted his head, amusement simmering darkly in his eyes. “Forged? That’s quite the accusation, wife.” He let the word linger, watching the way your composure faltered further under its weight.

“I’m not—” you began, but he cut you off, his lips ghosting over the shell of your ear as he murmured, “You are. And you have been for quite some time.”

The paper was thick in his hands, its weight purposeful, deliberate. He unfolded it with the kind of care a predator shows its prey, the crinkling sound amplified in the church's oppressive silence. He smoothed it over the altar, each motion slow and intentional, drawing your eyes to the stark black ink against ivory parchment.

The marriage certificate itself was immaculate, the script meticulously penned with an authenticity that defied scrutiny. Your name was there, bold and undeniable, paired with his own in a grim parody of unity. You couldn’t breathe as your eyes skimmed the ornate seals, the signatures that you’d never given, the dates that bound you to a lie you hadn’t chosen.

“This is unreasonable,” you managed to choke out, your voice thin and trembling.

He smiled, the unsettling kind of smile that chilled blood, his fingers tracing the edge of the paper like it was a perfection of art. “Unreasonable? No, my dear. This is art. A masterpiece, really.”

Finn stepped closer, his confusion now joined by growing horror. “You can’t expect anyone to believe this,” he retorted, though his tone lacked conviction.

“Why wouldn’t they?” His tone was light, conversational, but the edge beneath it was razor-sharp. “Everything is in order. The signatures, the dates, the witnesses.”

“There are no witnesses!” you snapped, the sharpness in your voice cold and deliberate, trying to hide the anger beneath.

He tilted his head mockingly, amusement glittering in his sharp eyes. “Aren’t there? Look closer.”

Your gaze flicked back to the document, to the names scrawled in elegant handwriting. People you’d known, trusted. Names that made your stomach churn.

“They didn’t—” you began, but he cut you off with a soft laugh.

“Of course they didn’t. But how would anyone know that?” He leaned closer, his baritone voice dropping to a low conspiratorial whisper. “A forged signature looks just as real as the genuine article. And if someone were to dispute it, well…” His hand slid down to tap the bottom of the page, where an official-looking seal gleamed. “Good luck arguing with the courts.”

Finn’s face paled further, his hands clenching into useless fists. “This is fraud. It’s criminal. You could go to prison for doing this.”

He turned his gaze to the younger man, his expression one of exaggerated pity. “Oh, Finn. Naïve Finn. Do you really think anyone would question this?” His eyes shifted back to you, sharp and darkened with unspoken intent. “Do you think she will?”

You glared at him, your trembling hands betraying the defiance in your eyes. “This won’t hold up. I’ll dismantle it. This isn’t real.”

His smile widened, sharp enough to cut. “Ah, but that’s where you’re wrong.” He flipped the paper document over, revealing a second page, extremely dense with legal jargon. He slid it toward you, his fingers brushing yours as he did. “This,” he said, his voice soft but filled with quiet menace, “is very real.”

Your eyes scanned the text, the words blurring together in your growing panic. Clauses, liabilities, penalties—all woven into an airtight web designed to trap you. Each line was more damning than the last, outlining the consequences of disputing the marriage, of breaking the “sacred bond” it claimed to uphold.

At the bottom of the page, a single clause stood out, the words bold and cold and final:

Any attempt to annul, void, or dispute this marriage will result in the forfeiture of all personal assets and the assumption of any and all debts accrued by the involved parties.

Your chest tightened as you read the following lines:

Additionally, failure to comply with the terms of this contract will result in the dissolution of all affiliated organizations, including but not limited to charitable entities, religious institutions, and educational programs.

He watched you, his gaze heavy, unrelenting, as the weight of his words sank in. “You see,” he murmured, his tone almost gentle, “this isn’t just about you. It’s about everything you hold dear. Your little church, your precious charity work, the people you claim to care about. They’ll all pay the price if you even think about defying me.”

“This… this is monstrous,” Finn whispered, his voice shaking.

“No,” he corrected, his smile returning. “This is meticulous. Thoughtful, even. I wouldn’t expect you to understand.”

You tore your eyes away from the paper, your breath coming in short, shallow gasps. “You can’t do this.”

He stepped closer, his presence extremely suffocating, his shadow swallowing the light around you. “Oh, but I can. And I have.”

His hand reached for your chin, tilting your face up to meet his gaze. “So, you see, Church Girl, there’s no point fighting anymore. You can hate me all you want. You can cry, scream, pray to your God for deliverance.” His lips brushed against your ear, his voice dropping to a low, mocking whisper. “But in the end, you’ll always be mine.”

The room felt too small, the walls closing in as his words wrapped around you like a noose. He straightened, his expression softening into something almost tender as he looked at you.

“You’ll thank me someday,” he said, his thumb brushing over your trembling lower lip. “For saving you from a life of shallow mediocrity. For giving you purpose. For making you mine.”

────────────

The church was silent, a hollow expanse of shadow and failing light. Stained glass windows filtered in faint beams, casting ghostly patterns over cracked wooden pews and worn stone floors. The air was heavy with the faint tang of incense, long burned out, a haunting reminder of devotion now displaced. The old church was a sanctuary—your sanctuary—but tonight, it felt like a trap.

His hand was still on your throat, possessive, commanding. The way his thumb brushed the pulse beating just beneath your skin was maddeningly deliberate, a soft counterpoint to the tension that coiled between you. His eyes—dark, bottomless pits of control—bored into yours with an intensity that burned through the icy veneer you so desperately clung to.

“Do you think I don’t see it?” he murmured coldly, his voice a dangerous melody that reverberated in your chest. His lips hovered close enough that you could feel the heat of his breath against your cheek. “The way you look at him.”

You didn’t respond. You couldn’t. The words lodged in your throat like glass, cutting every time you tried to summon your defiance.

Finn. Always Finn. The bright-eyed priest who spoke of salvation with a conviction that never faltered, even when the world around him crumbled. The one person who made this hell seem bearable to you.

His grip tightened, dragging you from your thoughts, forcing you to face the man in front of you—the man you hated, feared, and yet couldn’t seem to escape.

“Look at me,” he ordered, his voice low and venomous. When you didn’t obey fast enough, his other hand shot out, gripping your jaw and forcing your face toward his. The strength in his fingers was unrelenting, a reminder of just how easily he could break you. “You don’t get to ignore me, my little wife.”

The word felt like a slap, sharper and more cutting than any physical blow. It wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. And yet, the evidence lay spread across the altar, black ink sealing a fate you hadn’t chosen.

“Let her go!” Finn’s voice cut through the tension like a lifeline, his tone firm despite the quiver of fear he couldn’t quite mask. He took a step forward, his hands clenched at his sides, and for a fleeting moment, you saw the same resolve in him that had drawn you to his sermons. “You’re nothing but a coward if you think this is love. It's folly!”

The man’s lips curled into a slow, wolfish grin, his eyes glinting with amusement as he tilted his head toward the priest. “A coward?” he repeated, his tone dripping with mockery. “That’s a bold accusation coming from a bastard who doesn’t even know what it means to protect what’s his.”

Finn didn’t falter, though his eyes flicked nervously to the hand still wrapped around your neck. “Love isn’t about control. It’s about trust, respect—”

“Spare me the sermon,” he interrupted coldly, his gaze snapping back to yours. “Tell me, little wife—” His thumb pressed harder against your throat, making your breath hitch. “Do you trust him to protect you? To keep you safe from me?”

You wanted to speak, to say yes, to scream it, but the weight of his presence smothered your words. Instead, your silence answered for you.

His grin widened. “That’s what I thought.”

Finn’s anger flared, his voice rising. “You’re sick! She doesn’t belong to you—”

“She belongs to me in every way that matters.” His voice dropped to a dangerous whisper, the amusement fading as something darker took its place. “And if you keep pushing, you damn priest, I’ll make sure you understand exactly what that means.”

The threat hung in the air, extremely heavy and suffocating. Finn hesitated, his righteous fury dimming as fear took hold. He knew it wasn’t an empty warning.

You wanted to cry out, to beg Finn to leave before this man turned his wrath on him. But before you could act, his grip on you shifted, pulling you closer. His lips brushed against your ear, his baritone voice a low growl that sent uncomfortable shivers down your spine.

“Kiss me back, wife,” he commanded, his firm tone leaving no room for argument. “Or I’ll start with him.”

Your stomach twisted, a mixture of fury and despair boiling in your veins. You tried to pull away, to shove him off, but his grip was unyielding. His other hand slid to the small of your back, yanking you flush against him. The hard press of his body left no room for denial, and your heart pounded in your chest as his lips claimed yours in a kiss that was anything but tender.

It was possession, raw and unrelenting, his teeth nipping at your lower lip until the metallic tang of blood bloomed on your tongue. His mouth moved against yours with brutal insistence, his hands roaming with a hunger that bordered on violent.

Your fists clenched, your nails biting into your palms as you fought against the wave of helplessness that threatened to swallow you whole. The cold rage bubbling beneath your fear found an outlet, and before you could think, your teeth sank into his lower lip, hard enough to draw blood.

He pulled back, a low, pained chuckle rumbling in his chest as he wiped the crimson streak from his mouth. His eyes burned with something wild, something unhinged, as he looked at you with equal parts admiration and fury.

“There it is,” he murmured, his voice softer now, but no less dangerous. “That fire. That’s what I want.”

You glared at him, your defiance tempered only by the icy rage that burned in your veins. “You insult my God, my faith, and expect me to kneel to you?” Your voice was sharp, cold, but he only smiled.

“I don’t expect you to kneel,” he said, his fingers brushing over your lips, smearing your blood with his own. “I expect you to break. And when you do, you’ll realize there was only ever one altar worth worshiping at.”

His hand slid lower, possessive and unrelenting, and your stomach churned at the weight of his promise. Finn’s horrified gaze burned into you, but you couldn’t look at him. Not now.

[karizard-ao3]

Clueless Teens all grown up headcanons

I guess technically as the author I could declare this all fic canon but I think it's more fun to leave it open-ended so people can imagine their own things. Still, this is what I was picturing for them in the future. (Actually, for some of the couples, the kids I imagined for them got recycled over to my single parents au. Not Eremika's kids, but the other ones for the most part.)

Historia and Ymir have one daughter who they spoil the fuck out of. They also plan elaborate vow renewals approximately whenever they feel like it. When I was considering writing a one shot of them all grown up it was going to be everyone gathered at one of Yumihisu's destination vow renewal ceremonies.

Reibert. Oh gosh. They were going to "no homo" their way right to the altar and be very happy together.

Connie. He does not end up with Mina. I was of two minds with him: Either he is trying to find a milf to settle down with, or he is married to Sasha's cousin and they are struggling with fertility so he's the cool uncle with all the dogs and the secret pain of wishing they could have a child. I don't know why this is the case. It's just what I feel. Connie would be pretty much the ideal stepdad, imo.

Nicosasha. Again, I was of two minds! It's not realistic to have this many high school couples end up together in long term relationships/ marriages, but I also don't want to make anyone break up. Still, I can see Sasha and Nico having some kind of separation for a few years. Maybe getting married and then divorced and then marrying each other again ten years later or some shit. Why? I don't know. They are clearly very much in love, but that doesn't always last. Still, out of everyone I can see Sashe remarrying her first husband, with maybe a second husband in between. Greedy.

Aruani. These two go on their little date after Armin graduates and then proceed to not get together for another four years. Like, they still talk all the time and probably hook up when they see each other but they're like, "Meh, let's not do long distance. Let's keep it casual and if we still want to be together after college, we'll move in together immediately." It works for them and they eventually have a little boy, but Eremika are absolutely scandalized because they could never be so hands off.

Eremika. As you know, they have four kids super close in age. Mikasa makes a living streaming (she's the breadwinner. She's got that Azumabito business sense and Ackerman gaming skill) and Eren does civil rights law. So they have a pretty comfortable life and they spend a lot of time with their families. Eren walks around shirtless a lot, which is very popular on Mikasa's streams and he likes to come up and read the chats while she plays. If anyone tries to hit on her or says something sexual, he immediately loses his shit and starts threatening to find them and kick their asses. Mikasa is very pleased when she finally makes enough money to be able offer to fund Armin's dreams of opening a comics and games shop.

Pokkopiku. I think they also are the type to be parents to an only child. I'm thinking a girl. Pieck is very busy with her journalism career and Porco is living the stay at home dad dream. Maybe he becomes an influencer. He definitely keeps taking photos at every opportunity and he's got a bit of an online following. I think he might manage to book some gallery shows. When their daughter gets older he might get back into doing photojournalism again, and eventually they become a journalistic team once more, kind of like when they were in high school except this time with globe-hopping. I could see Pieck deciding to homeschool their kid so the whole family could go on assignments with her. In single parents au, I gave Porco twins, though (he's only in a couple scenes and we never meet his family, but he mentions them), and so I also kind of like the idea of Clueless Teens Pokkopiku having boy/girl twins. The point is, Pieck is willing to delay her career advancement long enough for one pregnancy and no more than that, so if they're going to have more than one kid, it has to be a multiple birth.

Am I forgetting anyone? I feel like I'm leaving someone out. I don't know! It's getting late and I have a few more things I want to work on before I go to be, so let me know who- Jeanmarco.

8. I don't really know if I think Jean and Marco end up together. I don't think they ever admit they have any kind of romantic feelings for each other because Jean is not totally comfortable with admitting to being bi at this juncture in time. I think they stay friends but Marco eventually moves on with a nice guy and Jean meets a nice woman who didn't know what a skeeze he was in high school and settles down with her and then eventually comes out when he's older and it's less taboo. He also does not revert back to being a creep.

Okay, now I think that's everyone. But let me know if I left anyone important to you out!

(Read Clueless Teens here)

[merryfortune]

I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do

August 15th: Marriage | Sea Bathing/Beach | Crossover

Title: I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do, I Do

Ship: Sideshipping | Anzu/Shizuka

Series: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters

Rating: T

Word Count: 2,191

Tags: Past/Referenced Child Abuse, Fluff and Angst, Hopeful Ending

   It was a little too late to have cold feet about it. 

   Not too late for a divorce, Shizuka reasoned, even though she and Anzu had only been officially married for all of what… two hours? The cake still had its knife in it in case anyone wanted to go for seconds after the bridal dance.

   Marriage was a big, bureaucratic thing. It also seemed like something well way off into a murky future tomorrow that would never actually become today but lo and behold. The bell now tolled for her and her lover, letting half the countryside know that she had become Mazaki Shizuka. 

   The thought filled her with bubbles for a while. Cheery, exciting bubbles of a happier future which was so faraway, it could never happen. Now it just filled her with bile. She felt like she could puke it all up and over her sparkly white shoes bought especially new for the occasion. She could taste everything at the back of her throat, the wedding cake, the main meal, yesterday’s breakfast, whilst she stared at the champagne slowly going flat in her glass. 

    “Are you okay?” Anzu asked. “Not feeling nervous for our big dance, are you?”

   “Oh, um, only a little.” Shizuka lied through her teeth.

   Anzu reached across the head table and placed her hand at the edge of it. She tapped the pristine tablecloth and coaxed Shizuka to place her hand atop of Anzu’s. That’s better. Anzu held her hand, stroked her skin. A tingle went down Shizuka’s spine as she listened to Anzu’s kind words that proceeded.

   “We’ve practised so much, you’ve done so well. We’re gonna stun.” Anzu encouraged her, entirely oblivious to the problems causing the obvious raincloud of Shizuka’s head.

   “Yayyy.” Shizuka weakly replied.

   That was true. Anzu’s words did spark joy - or at least the idea of it. Shizuka smiled sheepishly as she recalled all the effort that had gone into the wedding. The fraught discussions of if it should go ahead at all because of what Shizuka had witnessed as a child during her own parents’ marriage. It lingered but it didn’t lose her completely.

   She knew the sacrament and milestone meant the world of Anzu who was so full of so many dreams and Shizuka wanted to be one of them. So, she said yes with a heart in the right place and full of hope. The mania that followed was stressful but it was fun, too. She felt like the centre of not only Anzu’s world as her bride to be but the whole world’s.

   Shopkeepers bent over backwards for them as potential patrons since weddings meant an even bigger pricetag could be attached to their goods and services. The window shopping and actual shopping for an engagement ring. Cake testing and florist visiting. Dress shopping was the best and the worst, not a moment was spared in the pursuit of perfectly tailored glamour. 

   The result was that this was not a wedding that had happened overnight with little foresight or forward planning. It had been in the works for two years.

   Yet now, for all that preparation, Shizuka wanted to leave Anzu at the altar. Or she should have. She was regretting not doing that now but it would be a waste to spoil a good dress and a banquet and how much money it cost to hire venues and such.

   The sound of squeaky shoes on linoleum alerted Shizuka to the end of her reverie. Anzu looked up and over her shoulder, welcoming Katsuya back to the head table.

   “Hey girls, I mean, ladies,” he said as he held onto the back of Shizuka’s chair to say hi, “I just got done talking with the DJ, you two’s dance is queued up if you want to get ready. Powder your noses or something first.”

   “Thanks, Katsuya.” Anzu said and she glanced at Shizuka. “Do you need anything first?”

   “Er, nope, I’m good!” Shizuka chirped.

   Anzu gave her a big smile, the corners of her eyes crinkled with laugh lines and excitement. Shizuka’s stomach plummeted to the floor and she was taken by the hand, pulled along by Anzu to the centre of the stage. The lights around the dancefloor dimmed as they made their way to the middle of it. Their guests - only their nearest and dearest - whooped and hollered. 

   A wedding was a series of exciting events - the vows, the kiss, the cutting of the cake, and then of course the dance - but as the final one, this one had the most pressure on it to get right. Or wrong and be made a joke of for years to come. Shizuka hoped that it wouldn’t be the latter.

   She had the world’s best broadway dancer to guide her. She also had eight weeks of practice behind her with the world’s best broadway dancer and her favourite choreographer as well. In theory, she should be fine. Even with what felt like thousands of eyes on her, Shizuka took position with Anzu in front of her.

   Anzu’s hands were calm and steady amid the nerves. She was so effortless when it came to her passions, her talents. She worked hard and the rest, she just trusted in that hard work, that it wouldn’t be in vain but Shizuka wasn’t quite so free.

   “You ready?” Anzu asked, her voice a whisper.

   “As I’ll ever be.” Shizuka murmured. She so badly wanted to be sick.

   She had woken up this morning feeling like a princess. On top of the world. Now she felt like the pauper, or more accurately, the pauper who should have been inside of a pauper’s grave. She should have rolled over and pretended today was written off, that nothing of import was scheduled to happen.

   Their music started. Shizuka hazarded a smile. Those opening notes were so comforting and familiar. Even if they heralded the beginning of the choreography, there were so many things to remember and opportunities to make a mistake but this was their song. Or one of them, at least. It was light and silvery and reminded Shizuka of her and Anzu’s first night together in New York. It was Christmas and they went sleighing through the snow. Oh, it was magical.

   Holding onto that memory, with Anzu holding her hand through every motion, Shizuka allowed herself to re-enter her very own wedding. She was spun and twirled, dipped to and fro. Anzu took the “masculine” lead so she could show off her more masterful talents at dancing. She had the whole crowd proud with her moves. 

   Anzu looked so gorgeous as she danced a modernised version of the waltz. She was in her element, sparkling beneath her makeup and well coiffed hair. Her footwork was swift and delicate, the tule of her dress bounced in tune with the music and her movements. It was very clearly the happiest moment of her life.

   And for both herself and for Anzu, Shizuka couldn’t be happier and yet.

   She was still detached from it. Eaten away by her worries, merely going through the motions as though she were the doll inside of a ballerine’s jewellery box, turning on a screw. Not that she minded. The dance was simultaneously an eternity and not long enough as the music began to fade out. She had done it. She had survived dancing with Anzu to conclude the official matters of their wedding.

   It was a weight off. Literally. Shizuka’s shoulders no longer felt quite so sloped as Anzu changed how she held her wife around her waist.

   They paused long enough to take a vow. Katsuya’s voice was boisterous over all, he couldn’t be happier for his sister and his now sister-in-law. It embarrassed Shizuka.

   “Thank you muchly.” Anzu announced. “Please, feel free to enjoy more food, the music, let’s party until dawn!” She split into laughter.

   But Shizuka wasn’t.

   And that popped up on Anzu’s radar. Shizuka didn’t know if that was an “oh no” moment or a “finally” moment. Either way she felt guilty as Anzu readjusted herself. The music changed to more upbeat party songs to coax people onto the dancefloor. 

   “Hey, um, is everything okay?” Anzu asked quietly.

   She took Shizuka by her hands again, propping them up on Anzu’s shoulders and Shizuka let it happen. The distance between them, with Shizuka’s elbows locked, made them look like middle schoolers leaving a ruler’s worth between them. It was kind of silly. Especially as, together, they bopped along to a Top 40 favourite from twenty years ago. Shizuka stared at her feet though as they did so as she mulled over Anzu’s question. Anzu waiting patiently, not pressing it as they were in public and if Shizuka was close to a melt down, neither would want that as they were the centre of attention.

   “Well, um, there’s something I wanted to talk to you about.” Shizuka mumbled half way through the song.

   They drew in closer to one another. They were more romantically chest to chest whilst remaining appropriate for a wedding. Shizuka absorbed Anzu’s bodily warmth, deeply breathed in her pretty perfume and sighed.

   “I want a divorce.” Shizuka announced.

   Anzu snorted in disbelief, “What?”

   “Well, um, I’m… I’m worried. What if this isn’t such a good idea?” Shizuka rambled. “Like, this whole. Getting married thing.”

   Anzu’s expression softened. She had been ready to cop this as a joke but she could sense from Shizuka’s melancholy that this was really eating her up. Shizuka appreciated the shift as well. She licked her lips and was mindful of the heavy rhythm of how her heart was pounding in her chest.

   “I just remember being so scared of my father as a child.” Shizuka mumbled. “He was awful to me, to Katsuya-nii, and of course to our mother. He drank all our money away, pushed us around. I have no good memories of my parents’ marriage. I know I was so young and sickly but it was quite formative.”

   “Oh, Shizuka…” Anzu breathed, dripping with sympathy.

   She cuddled Shizuka closer. She rubbed Shizuka’s back and it made her arms twitch. They still danced. They slowed down, their footwork was clumsy and they were out of time with the music. To their friends and family, it looked like they were slow dancing. Not having a heart-to-heart as they whispered amongst themselves.

   “What if you start doing that?” Shizuka murmured, her brows furrowed. “What if you lose your job and blame me?”

   “I would never.” Anzu replied.

   “Do you really think I’m so awful?” Anzu asked, head tilted, trying not to be offended.

   “No, not at all!” Shizuka protested. “I think you're wonderful, the best woman in the world and I’m very fortunate to have you but…” Shizuka’s voice trailed off. Her tone of voice was frantic until it fizzled out. She took a breath. “Or, worse still, what if it's me? What if I wake up and start being horrible to you?”

   “Oh, Shizuka, you would never.” Anzu gasped, more offended at the idea of Shizuka turning abusive than her.

   “How do you know?” Shizuka argued, eyes watering. “What if I start drinking and start pushing you around?”

   “You wo-” Anzu stopped herself in her tracks and Shizuka cringed but looked up at her, studying her. Anzu took a deep breath and she nuzzled against Shizuka’s face.

   Shizuka requited the affection. Anzu’s face was soft but chalky with foundation and other makeup. 

   “You're right.” Anzu told her.

   “Huh?” Shizuka blinked.

   Anzu pulled back and shrugged, “I don’t know what will happen in the future. I don’t know what I’ll be like nor what you’ll be like. Anything can and will happens, I could get hit by a truck tomorrow-”

   “Don’t say that!” Shizuka interrupted.

   “That’s rich,” Anzu laughed, “but you get the point, right?”

   “Right…” Shizuka chewed on her reply.

   “Marriage is hard.” Anzu started again, reiterating. “We’ll probably fight, we’ll probably have really boring days and really busy days. We’ll have good ones and bad ones but we’ll make it work, I promise.”

   Shizuka smiled a small smile. The butterflies in her stomach were back but it felt oddly good. Not great but it was fuzzy and hopeful which was good enough for her to deem it, well, good. 

   “Thanks, Anzu,” Shizuka replied, “that… That I can believe. That we can do it, we can put the hard work in.”

   “I’m glad,” Anzu murmured and she leaned in, “but if there are days which are excruciating, which make you want to throw in the towel, there are steps we can take before we get to a point where… where we hurt ourselves or each other, you hear?”

   “I do.” Shizuka replied.

   She tilted her head up and she kissed Anzu on the lips.

   Her lipstick was glossy. Her breath had the tingle of champagne. Shizuka committed it all to memory and took Anzu’s words here more to heart than their actual vows that had been rehearsed many a time in the bathroom mirror. She kissed back and surrendered herself to the idea that perhaps marriage can be a dream of hers as well.