c : / / maryse & damian . ‘ 𝒂𝒍𝒍 𝒊𝒔 𝒇𝒂𝒊𝒓 𝒊𝒏 𝒍𝒐𝒗𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝒘𝒂𝒓. ’ bridgerton sentence prompts , accepting . @eraofviolence , #infamousarcher .
𝙰 𝚃𝙰𝙻𝙴 𝙰𝚂 𝙾𝙻𝙳 𝙰𝚂 𝚃𝙸𝙼𝙴. she’s been doing this long enough to know the extent of what most would do to get ahead - to win one singular match. but it’s been awhile since she’s had to step in on her husband’s account; awhile since maryse has had to shoulder the weight of ensuring a win because he couldn’t do it on his own . . . and maybe she’s tired of it. tired of having to come to his aid because he can’t get the job done, tired of being the person he calls when things go wrong and he can’t fix them himself. it’d felt good, once upon a time, to be so needed - to be the one person he could count on time and time again. but things have changed, and maryse isn’t the foolish girl she was once was; isn’t the same woman who’d accompanied countless men to the ring for the sake of relevancy. she’d thought her time fixing things for the miz had been over - and then damian had happened.
𝙷𝙴𝙰𝙳𝚂𝚃𝚁𝙾𝙽𝙶 𝙰𝙽𝙳 𝙷𝚄𝙽𝙶𝚁𝚈. tall, dark, unmistakably handsome. she’d have been lying if she said she hadn’t noticed, hadn’t let her gaze linger across his frame in ways she shouldn’t have. maryse ought to have let michael handle this one on his own, taken her own warnings and gone home without thinking twice. but he’d insisted - and what kind of wife would she be if she hadn’t complied to her husband’s wishes? much like her eyes, maryse had begun lingering. helping. if one could call it that. that’s what had led to this, a meeting in a darkened hallway, her husband nowhere to be found. “ i suppose it is. ” her reply is spoken softly, a shrug of slim shoulders in the finery of her dress, “ and so i would imagine this is your way of saying there are . . . no hard feelings? ” a quirk of her brow as her mouth curls into a teasing grin. maryse is testing the waters, toeing along the lines of whatever boundaries she imagines should exist - one hand closing the distance between them to toss a few strands of hair over his shoulder. “ after all, it was war, no? ”