#Can You Save An Unhappy Marriage

[ariaste]

listen ok so i made some good jokes yesterday about Lestat having an onlyfans but i am back today with a new essay and this one is entitled

Why The Invention Of Social Media Is Going to Permanently Save Loustat's Fucking Marriage

come on this journey with me.

ok so on one hand we have Louis, who does not like to leave the house except when he absolutely fucking has to and even then he resents it. my man wants to be at home with a book 100% of the time and he's so fucking valid for that. When he leaves the house, bad things happen to him. He has learned this and honestly i can't fault his evidence. it sucks out there. it truly incredibly sucks out there.

the problem is that sometimes he is married to lestat, who starts clawing at the walls if people aren't paying attention to him for 12 consecutive seconds, and being Out Of The House is the best place for him to go foraging for People To Pay Attention To Him. my man once had a rock star career the way that some people get addicted to meth brewed in a trashcan in someone's garage. Louis, through no fault of his own, is simply not capable of filling this psychological need no matter how hard he tries, except he should not even HAVE to try like that, because no one can do it, because Lestat is fucked up and like wasn't hugged enough as a child or something

this imbalance in their relationship is the core source of all their marital problems since day 1: THIS man's idea of a good time is chilling on the sofa in silence and maybe staring contemplatively at the wall for a while, and THIS man starts self-destructing at a truly astonishing rate if no one is making eye contact with him. If you make Louis go outside and socialize with people, he's miserable and sulking and whining about "are we done can we go home". If you make Lestat sit in silence in a chair for five minutes he starts crying and claiming that No One Has Ever Loved Him, Ever, Ever, And No One Understands Him, And He Hates Everyone In This House and He Is Being Actively Neglected And Cruelly Mistreated Right Now And No One Even Bothers To Feel Sorry For Him, This Is BASICALLY Domestic Violence Against Him Personally, If Only Anyone Knew About The Quiet Hidden Tragedies Of An Unhappy Marriage, and then he breaks some furniture and a window and isn't seen again for six weeks and comes back like "you will not believe what just happened, i [checks notes] met Merlin and also a dragon who gave me three wishes, brb i'm going to write another book about it :))))"

all you fucking have to do to fix their problems is to hand Lestat a cellphone and say the words "do you know about social media? you can say whatever shit you want and there's always someone awake in some time zone to talk to you." Suddenly Lestat is now very interested in sitting quietly on the couch, Lounging Alluringly and posting thirst traps on instagram and finally getting emotional fulfillment from all the likes and comments of "omg???? omg this is the hottest man alive". he does not have to leave the house anymore to get his attention meth. His yawning abyss of neediness is being fulfilled by having parasocial relationships with millions of strangers online who all think he's sexy and don't have to experience how fucking awful he is up close. he can flirt pointlessly with 200 people at once which is FINALLY ENOUGH FLIRTATIONS FOR HIM TO SATISFACTORILY JUGGLE

Meanwhile Louis is 3 feet away, vaguely reflecting to himself that HE is feeling all emotionally fulfilled because they're spending this great Quality Time together in perfect silence while he reads his book and Lestat plays on his cellular telephone and only OCCASIONALLY giggles to himself or says "louis which of these photos do you think is sexier, the one with four buttons undone or the one with five buttons undone" Louis is feeling like his Opinion is being Valued, Louis feels like he is being Consulted on Matters that are Important To Lestat. He has opinions about the photographs. It is not that much trouble to be interrupted from staring philosophically at the wall to spend five seconds looking at a photograph and then saying "that one". Finally he is experiencing Cozy Domesticity. he is so horny about it. lestat is surprised and bewildered about the sudden sharp increase in the amount of sex he is now getting but before he can make any vaguely mean comments about it (bc he's confused and vaguely defensive and worried that it's going to stop out of nowhere and he doesn't know any other interpersonal skills for expressing a thought) his phone pings about how he's just broken 5 million followers on instagram and he totally forgets to even mention the sex thing, which means that he continues getting the sex instead of inciting an argument about the sex and going through his 800th divorce from Louis

all their friends are extremely confused when a whole month, and then six months, and then a year goes by without another Loud Divorce happening and no one crashing through their front door like "I HAVE TO SLEEP IN YOUR GUEST COFFIN FOR THE NEXT MONTH, HE IS INTOLERABLE". They are worried. they are concerned. what is going on over there. are they both dead. no, they can't both be dead, Lestat just posted another tiktok of him sucking on his own fingers, which he would not be doing if Louis were dead. there is an ecosystem collapse happening in the groupchat and it's because the main Drama Vectors have been neutralized

[jacesvelaryons]

Can you write something about Jacaerys velaryon x targaryen wife reader

Where she gives birth to a baby that looks like jace and it bothered alicent but they don't care? :3

Saving Face (Jacaerys Velaryon x Targtower!Reader)

(a/n): i’m sorry this request took over a year but my, what a great idea! i hope you like it

word count: 3.0k

summary: with what was supposed to be a happy moment in the new chapter of your family with jacaerys, only wounds linger when your mother is unhappy with your child's appearance.

warnings: slight angst, family tensions, complicated family relationships, implied incest (the targaryen way), not alicent hightower friendly

request status: OPEN

The joy of his newborn child is nearly eclipsed by the fear that his beloved would be called to face the same humiliation his mother endured upon his birth.

Even in distress, his beautiful wife still looked otherworldly silver hair spun in gold, and with her pale lavender eyes, he would not have that ginger sucker of joy to rob him from this life changing celebration. His relief that his beloved survived the precarious birth, worried about her lithe frame and the prostration it weighed on her during the pregnancy.

His little boy, his beloved son, a fragment of the other half of soul and his own. He is perfect, with his ten little toes and fingers, and he is all his.

Jacaerys is thankful his mother was in the birthing room with him and his wife, breaking protocol (as always) to be with the mother as she went into labour. Without her, he thinks he would’ve been hysterical and lost his mind without her guiding hand and comforting presence in seeing Y/N in distress.

“Where is my mother?” Y/N cradles the babe to her breast, as he suckled in his mother’s warmth and he feels his heart drop to his stomach as her face contorted in disappointment.

The child yearned for nourishment, and the midwives guided the young mother so she could feed the child with her milk.

The Dowager Queen remained unyielding even as her step-daughter arose as Queen, and she was still given some privileges even with her dispute with his mother. The marriage of Jacaerys and Y/N, her youngest daughter, was made as a desperate attempt to patch the two sides together and make peace as his mother sat on the Iron Throne.

Her mother attended the wedding, wearing a dark muted forest green that still appeared obsidian in certain angles, but the flame patterns could not be missed on her gown.

A mockery indeed as if she did not accept his mother’s ascendance to the throne and wanted her small rebellions in forms of cloth, he would not grant her the satisfaction of his reaction, for the sake of the realm and his wife, her daughter. It would be too scandalous to do so.

When his beloved was called abed, all pretense of dignity and calm collapsed underneath him. Whatever confident front he had broke apart as fear consumed him, sweat dripping from his forehead, hands shaking, heart beating wildly as he realized his wife was to cross the barrier between life and death to birth their child.

Seeing Y/N’s clean white robes stained the bed in scarlet as she quickens and the pain increases as the babe nears reminds him of the chills whenever he walks the path from the princess’ chambers to the queen’s, the same path forged in blood when his mother then Princess Rhaenyra, the crown princess and heir to the Throne, had to face the humiliation called upon by her stepmother, now Queen Dowager Alicent.

His blood boils when he sees the auburn former queen walk that path meekly nowadays on her way to see her daughter, as if it was all an act when she had pulled rank and caused so much suffering to his beloved mother. Jacaerys fears his wife, now the Princess of Dragonstone will have to walk those same halls, perform the same walk of shame and mummery with all the courtiers of the Keep to bear witness.

There is no possibility he will allow her to endure the same, he would bring fire and blood to all of Westeros shall she have to face that, yet it brings him relief when he reminds himself that woman is no longer Queen but his mother is, Queen of her own right and first of her name, and yet all the same, that woman is also his mother-in-law, mother to his darling. And grandmother to the child that shares his blood.

Jacaerys never left the side of his wife even when her birth continued onto the hour of the wolf, his hands intertwined with her own, assuring kisses on her temple and cheek and encouraging her when she would cry she wanted to relent. Across from him stood his mother, whose locks resembled her half sister and his wife, an experienced mother who has felt such joy and such sorrow too, with a maternal comfort gained with experience.

He would not allow a woman filled with hate to the brim in her heart to rob him of the joys of fatherhood and the relief of his wife safe and sound after such birth to their babe. Jace felt relief like no other when he began to see the dark haired head of the child crowning, and the guttural, final scream she exerted as the child exited her womb.

Jacaerys comforted and whispered assurances of gratitude and encouragement to his lady wife, that she be reminded how grateful he was of her efforts to grow their family, of her devotion and love for him, and fulfilling her duty with nothing but grace, peppering kisses all over her flushed face.

As he caressed the fine hair of his child much like own while he fed from his mother’s breast, his elated expression dropped as if in a chilling reminder when she asked for her mother. As despicable as that woman was, he could not deny her wishes if it brought her reprieve. Jace smiled and promised her that she would be coming and has been informed of the birth of her new grandchild.

When Y/N was beyond earshot, he approached the young midwife with a hardened gait, grinding through his teeth. “If the Dowager Queen wishes to see the prince, she will make her way here herself. She can walk, can she not?!"

While his wife was preoccupied and in isolation during the last few months of the pregnancy, Jace had made efforts to convince his mother to move the Lady Alicent to the second floor below the palace where the current royal family lived. “To remind her of what she’s done to us and may feel the pain we have endured.” He told Queen Rhaenyra, who was hesitant but accepted afterwards.

Jacaerys marched his way outside the ornate doors where his wife and their babe rested, raising his chin and standing with his chest puffed out, a cold indifferent expression, back straightened and fists clenched white as his wife’s mother made her way up the stairs with difficulty.

In the years since her queenship, the then young queen had begun to develop striking pain all over her body, especially down her spine and legs no matter what the maesters or foreign healers would advise. Jacaerys thought it was fitting for when he would make his mother walk up with him and his newborn siblings, bleeding across the hallways and staircases due to the green queen’s attempt to humiliate them.

Perhaps he is his mother’s son, as diplomatic, gracious, intelligent and cunning as he may be, grudges linger.

He could hear a pin drop as the auburn haired woman nearly stumbled down the final stairs and tripped over her gown, with a few septas rushing over to assist her but he showed no commiseration.

The doors swung open as Alicent limped towards her daughter’s bedside, slightly softening in consolation her daughter was safe in childbirth and the child was kicking like a goat.

“Praise the Mother, my girl.” She brushed her blood-smeared fingers over her silver hair shakily, whispering. He did not miss the glimpse of disappointment when she noticed the dark brown hair of the child, even when the boy had her pale lavender eyes.

Alicent cleared her throat, avoiding the gaze of those around her. “I see that the prince strongly resembles his father.”

Jacaerys’ eyes narrowed in suspicion, instinctively reaching towards the pommel of his Valyrian steel sword. “Is that supposed to be a problem, Dowager?” He stomped forward, hovering above his wife and child.

“Not at all, my prince. He is a handsome boy-”

Queen Rhaenyra noticed the tension beginning to develop and interrupted with a smile. “She means no ill, Jacaerys. Merely an observation.”

“An observation?! She wished to have us named as bastards to replace you as heir with one of her spawns and humiliate you.” He raised his voice, accusatory at his mother’s former adversary, and he could feel Lucerys next to him, pulling him away to calm him.

His wife Y/N, exhausted and delirious from the birth, began to grow pale and overwhelmed from the commotion around her, just as her babe broke out in tears and wailed. The Queen ordered everyone but Jacaerys to exit the room and give the family their space. The door shut with a thunderous thud.

…

Hours later, the midwives finished cleaning up the afterbirth, bathed and cleaned the lady and the child before they both fell asleep in new linen sheets and fed.

Jacaerys never left his young family’s side, despondent he had lost his cool, distressing his family during a vulnerable moment, turning what should have been a celebration into an altercation.

He cringed as he could only imagine what the murmurs and whispers about his behaviour and the events that followed with his wife’s mother would share about him. He had brought this upon himself and his family.

AS Y/N began waking from her first rest since the labours, he turned to her as soon as he could hear her rise from her sheets, reaching for her hands in his.

“I have failed you, wife. I should have protected you but I have only raised in anger over old wounds and created altercations when I should have.” Jacaerys felt his tears brim, cheeks red with ignominy and shame.

Her eyes fluttered awake, still weary from the long delivery but visibly more rested already. She shook her head in understanding with an enervated sigh.

“I understand your relationship with my mother has been tense, for what she had done to Her Grace and your family. But I can assure her she has changed, if she is not with me, she is on the knees at the Sept begging for forgiveness and giving alms-”

“She looked at our son the same way she used to look at me and my brothers as children, when she would use her tongue to call us bastards! I fear she will do the same to you and the boy. What good will alms do if she still wishes to see me and our son six feet under ground for the colour of our hair!?” Jacaerys exclaimed, lips quivering in fear as he felt tears brim in his eyes.

Y/N brought their son closer to her arms, only comforted by the sight of her child and her beloved.

“I will handle her, trust me. She thinks I do not pay attention to these things, but I do.” She reaches her free hand to his, unmoving to not wake the babe and squeezes his larger palms into her own.

Jacaerys sniffles, wiping his tears with his sleeve. “I do not wish to drive you apart from your mother, my love. I only worry about you and our family’s safety, and the throne. That you and our son may not suffer on my behalf.”

Their son had just begun to fall asleep in her arms, and she began bouncing him instinctively, quickly gaining the ropes of what it took to be a good mother. Jacaerys knew she would be nothing like her own mother, eagerly learning from his mother Queen Rhaenyra, speaking with other royal and noble mothers and even listening to wet nurses and nannies on how to rear children best.

“Are you sure you can handle this conversation? Would you like me outside or in the room with you?” He asks with uncertainty, not entirely confident with his wife even with her own mother.

The wife of the heir to the Iron Throne and Princess of Dragonstone nods fiercely. “You forget I am a dragon too. We do not bow to these snakes that suck from their prey.”

…

In the overmorrow on the first day of spring, Y/N had just put her son in his cradle, handcrafted in limestone and marble with seahorses and dragons, lined with sheets of silk with pearls and aquamarines, befitting the future King, and the scion of Houses Targaryen and Velaryon.

She hummed as she watched him sleep, having gone through feeding him herself to the surprise of the wet nurses she had followed through, unlike most royalty. She swore she would leave nursing and care to others if she had no other choice.

Underneath sat the hearth of the magenta and mauve swirled dragon egg surrounded by pieces of coal, emitting whirls of smoke that signified the life alive in those eggs. The egg was special as it was the first from her young ride, a nervous flighty thing who only managed to hatch when she found out she was expecting herself, rarely only having one dragon when most on Dragonstone laid many.

As she hums old Valyrian nursery hymns from the crypts of ancient Valyrian text retrieved from the tombs of the Keep’s libraries, she recognizes the steps of her mother without a glimpse.

In her jade hued robes, Lady Alicent was quaint yet undaunted to remind the court of her former standing as once the queen who ruled these halls. A black veil hid part of her auburn hair that turned to flames in certain lighting.

Her mother grimaces with a smile that does not reach her eyes, but relief is painted all over her being. “You are well, daughter? I presume so is the babe.”

Y/N curtly interrupts her. “The babe is your grandson, my child when I am your flesh and blood, mother. Most importantly, he is the future heir to the throne, second in line to my husband.”

Alicent frantically fidgets with her fingers, tugging at her old emerald rings in consternation.

“Of course, yes. His name, Aemon, is fitting for a future monarch.” She could hear the strain in her mother’s words, laced with lies. All her life she had learned those sealed with malice and deceit.

“You forget yourself, mother. My husband and my children are of the blood of the dragon, as do I. You do not understand the ways of the dragon, in your jealousy of wanting to unseat my sister and put Aegon on the throne. Your attempts to disgrace and dispossess my future husband and his brothers has brought the Stranger hanging over mine and my own son’s head!” Y/N chides in betrayal, voice tinged with disbelief her mother would do such a thing.

“Y/N-”

“I could not believe you, mother, that you still harbour such ill will after many years. My marriage with Jacaerys should have buried whatever disagreements you may have had with Queen Rhaenyra, but you value imbuing hate and division on this house more than choosing the peace and stability of this kingdom!”

“Your husband and your son are unbecoming of what Targaryen princes are supposed to look like-” The Dowager attempted to reason, but was impeded as her daughter held an imposing hand towards her.

“Unbecoming? Have you not glimpsed into a mirror? You are nothing of what a Targaryen queen should be, a mere second son’s daughter who brought nothing of value to the throne, and only sought discord to advance her family. Who replaced the Targaryen tapestries with ones of the Seven in hopes of bringing your radicalism to the rest of the kingdom!”

Guards barge in the doors of the babe’s nursery, their armour and swords clattering loudly in the quiet hall.

“What is the meaning of this?”

Y/N coldly turns away from her mother, even as she frowned the same way she would. “By order of the Princess of Dragonstone with the seal of approval of the Prince of Dragonstone and the Queen of the Seven Kingdoms,

I order your arrest for treason, and insubordination not only for your past grievances but your efforts to call my son a bastard. You will be stripped of your privileges of Queen Dowager, and turned into a septa who will serve the Seven for all her days.”

The former queen is astonished, struggling among the grips of the soldiers who surround her. “Daughter, you are mistaken, please do not do this to me. For all I have sacrificed for this realm and for your father, you must understand why I am the way I am.” She pleaded on her knees, hands clasped as she cried for mercy.

“No, you have served your ambitions and my late grandsire’s treacherous longing for power and the throne, that you would put the Hightower banners and replace Targaryen customs with the Seven and southern ways, that you would tear the kingdom apart for it. I have given you too many chances, forgiving you and turning the cheek in hopes you have accepted it and at least been happy for me, but I am a fool. I am not as forgiving as my father was to your digressions!”

Y/N paced slowly around her mother, sorrow on her face, but no regret or forgiveness.

“You are lucky I will not be putting you in a cell, because for better or for worse, you are still the mother who birthed me. But you would understand, there is nothing a mother would do to grant protection to her children.”

The princess dazed into the window, grasping onto the rails as she heard her mother being dragged out the halls and stripped of her royal ordinances. She could feel herself biting into her nails nervously after years of no longer doing so.

Jacaerys sauntered carefully, approaching his wife with comfort, rubbing her shoulders and bringing her into his arms, looking down at their son as he slept.

“Was I not too cruel, Jace?” She whimpered, weeping into his arms as she was devastated at whether treating her own kin in such a way was a fatal mistake.

He rests his chin on the top of her head before pressing kisses on her temple. “I understand why this troubles you, wife. As abominable and misguided she was, you still are her blood, her daughter.”

She glimpsed at her son, cooing at him as he quietly sleeps. “As a mother, I want to be nothing like her. My son will never be safe while she is around.”

[mononijikayu]

the other woman — ryomen sukuna.

“Do not mistake this for affection.” he warned, his voice low and rough. “I am still who I am. I am still the monster you should fear.” But you could only nod, your heart aching with a mixture of sorrow and hope. “I know,” you whispered. “I know, but I’m still here.” And for the first time, you thought you saw a hint of softness in his eyes, a flicker of something that could almost be… understanding. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to reach him, one fragile step at a time.

GENRE: alternate universe - heian era;

WARNING/S: nsfw, angst, one sided romance, conflicted feelings, hurt/no comfort, unhappy marriage, hurt, physical touch, character death, mourning, loneliness, pain, grief, unhappy ending, depiction of one-sided relationship, depiction of grief, depiction of complicated relationship, depiction of illness, depiction of canon related violence, depiction of loneliness, mention of grief, mention of illness, mention of loneliness, heian! sukuna, long suffering concubine! reader;

WORD COUNT: 11k words

NOTE: this was always going to be long, because it's heartbreaking. and heartbreaking ones have to be something that has to be expressed well. i listened to this in a audio software like its a podcast and i actually liked it. the other woman by nina simone was the constant in the writing. also, this is the aftermath of ashes of love, which is a series i did about heian sukuna. anyway, i hope you enjoy this!!! i love you all <3

main masterlist

the other woman masterlist

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YOU KNEW THAT YOU WERE THIS UNLUCKY. The moment you were born, there would be a bleak fate for you to live. You were an accidental child, and multiple times, your own mother had nearly miscarried. Perhaps even as a fetus, you had always known this. How cursed you were. Even if you had done nothing. 

When your mother brushed your hair as a child, she would tell you of how you were born. She said that when you breathed the air for the first time, you were melancholic in the silence to the world. Somehow knew that you were built for this miserable world. And every day since that day, you knew. You were meant to live life without true joyous jubilation.

It did not help that the day you were born, there was a lone dark star in the morning sky, one which had been considered a bad omen. And with that, the whispers of fate echoing long before you had even had consciousness to know. Your village nestled in the shadowed valleys of Hida province, a place of whispered dread and ancient pacts. And for the longest of times, the once prosperous Hida province was in turmoil. 

And so, in those days, if there was anyone who controlled the ruins of Hida, it was that god-like curse user Ryomen Sukuna. His name alone was a talisman against the unknown horrors that lurked beyond the mountains, a deity whose power and wrath commanded fear and reverence in equal measure. And all either quivered at the sight of him or drew fanatic fervor. 

The Ryomen clan, his kin at one point, were at war—embroiled in brutal conflicts with neighboring clans for so long. And this had been going on before you were even born. The blood had soaked the earth for so long that the soil seemed to thirst for it. And the people were exhausted. 

The clan struggled to maintain control over Hida for a long time now, their influence fraying like an old tapestry torn at the seams. And with that, a power vacuum had long been in existence. The chaos of the era was a tide that threatened to drown them all, and Ryomen Sukuna's protection became the last fragile hope for those who called this land their home.

Your parents spoke in hushed voices of the offerings, the sacrifices made by the villagers to appease their god, the man who can save them,  this man to fear and worship, Ryomen Sukuna. To ensure his protection, they said. For years, the sacrifices continued, the chosen ones becoming mere footnotes in a history written in blood and fear. 

It came upon you rather quickly when you were young and it struck you—that the villagers saw you not as one of their own, but as a piece on a board, a pawn destined for slaughter. A sacrifice to their god. You would be among the countless, one more life to be cast into the jaws of the demon god they all feared.

The day of your sacrifice came as the sky was painted with hues of blood and gold, a cruel irony that did not escape you. The air was heavy with incense and prayer, but there was no comfort in their muttered words, no solace in the chants that pleaded for Sukuna's mercy. They adorned you in ceremonial robes, marked with symbols and sigils, your skin painted with the sacred ink that was supposed to cleanse your soul before the offering.

You were led through the village, a procession of death that seemed to stretch on forever. The eyes that watched you pass were filled with a mixture of pity and relief—relief that it was not them, not their child, not their blood that would be spilled today. Mothers held their children close, men bowed their heads, and the elders chanted in a low, continuous hum that sent shivers down your spine.

At the shrine, they bound you to the altar, thick ropes biting into your skin as you stared at the sky, searching for a sign, a miracle that never came. The high priest began his incantation, his voice rising above the murmur of the crowd. You could feel the cold seep into your bones, the air around you thickening as if the very world held its breath.

And then, you felt it—the shift in the air, the heavy presence that pressed against your chest like a vice. You had never seen him before, but you knew it was Sukuna. The villagers gasped, a collective intake of breath as his form materialized from the shadows, a figure cloaked in malice and power.

His eyes, crimson and unforgiving, swept over you like a cold blade. You felt your heart hammer against your ribcage, fear clawing at your throat. You were nothing to him, just another offering, another desperate plea from a village clinging to survival.

Ryomen Sukuna smiled, a slow, cruel smile that sent a tremor through the crowd. He stepped forward, each movement a ripple in the air, as if reality itself bent to his will. You met his gaze, defiant in your fear, knowing that you were one of many. Countless lives had been given to him, countless souls lost to his hunger.

And now, it was your turn.

  

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YOU HAD NEVER EXPECTED TO MEET THE MAN IN THE FLESH. But before you stood this man, this god, with dark crimson eyes. Taller than any tree, intimidating than any curse. Frightening than hell itself. You could remember when you were younger. The whispers reached you before you even stepped foot in the shrine, everyone has. Tales of Ryomen Sukuna had traveled through the villages like the wind, carrying with them rumors that were both terrifying and tragic. 

You had always known that the man was delighted with the worship of the human people. But they said he had taken no other concubines, that he showed no interest in any woman who dared come near him.

And if he did, they were more likely to be servants than anything close to a concubine. And some were not so lucky. Some spoke in hushed tones, their voices trembling with fear, that he was a monster of unspeakable debauchery, one who had killed the women for even daring to breathe in his presence.

But the truth, as you had come to understand it, was far more tragic. At least from how you see it. The people of Hida knew—oh, they believed—the story was told long ago. There was someone who had been so loved long ago and most of all, by Sukuna.

Ryomen Hiromi, the one who had captured Sukuna's heart, the one he had loved beyond reason. There was another Sukuna a long time ago, many were aware. But there was nothing proven.

If anything, the children of Hiromi reject any notion of such a relationship. But the tale was woven into the very fabric of tales told, whispered among the elders late at night and shared in riddles among the children who barely understood the weight of what they spoke.

Hiromi, they said, had been his sun, his moon, his stars. A woman of beauty and strength, whose laughter could calm the wildest storms and whose voice was like the sweetest song. She had been the only one to ever touch his heart, to see the man beneath the demon god. But she was gone now, lost to time and tragedy, leaving Ryomen Sukuna to languish in his grief. 

No one dared speak her name aloud, not when Sukuna’s rage could split the earth itself. People have seen it. It was said he mourned her loss every day, that his fury was born from the emptiness she left behind. And that was why he would not tolerate any other woman. No one was going to be like her. None would match her wit, her beauty. Why should the king of curses settle for less when he had the world? 

As you lay on the cold altar, the ropes cutting into your skin, your thoughts were consumed by the stories. What kind of man—no, what kind of creature—was Sukuna? You wonder about this paradox of a man, this creature like god.

Did he truly mourn, or was that just another tale spun by terrified villagers to make him seem more human? What was he, actually? You had a million questions, and you know they will never truly be answered.

A gust of wind stirred the trees around you, the leaves rustling like whispered secrets. You heard the shuffle of feet, felt the eyes of the villagers upon you, their fear palpable. Then, you heard his voice. You could feel it all, that powerful cursed energy, coming from one direction. For a moment, you had no words. Only uncertainty.

"Why do they send another?" Sukuna's voice was like a low growl, rumbling through the air with the force of a storm. "Do you think I am so easily appeased, you fools?"

You dared to lift your head, the ropes pulling at your skin as you met his crimson gaze. He was tall, imposing, and every bit as terrifying as the stories had painted him. But there was something else there—something in his eyes that spoke of deep, simmering pain.

"Do you truly want to know why they sent me?" you found yourself saying, your voice steady despite the fear clawing at your throat.

His eyes narrowed, and for a moment, you thought he might strike you down then and there. But he didn’t. Instead, he tilted his head, a cruel smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Speak, then, girl." he said. "Tell me why I should not turn you to dust where you lie."

You swallowed, gathering your courage. "They send me because they fear you, because they believe you will protect them if they give you what you want. But… no one knows what you truly want, do they? No one speaks of her. Of Hiromi."

His expression shifted, a shadow passing over his face, and you knew you had struck a nerve. The air grew colder, a chill that seemed to seep into your very bones.

"Hiromi is dead." he said, his voice quiet but filled with an edge that could cut through steel. "And no one speaks her name. It is what I command.”

"But you still mourn her…." you continued, unable to stop yourself. "Do you not, my lord?”

His dark gaze bore into you, the weight of it almost unbearable. For a long moment, he said nothing, and the silence stretched on like an eternity. Then, slowly, he laughed—a sound that was bitter and hollow.

"You dare ask?" he repeated, as if the word was foreign to him. "What do you know of it all, little one? What do you know about such a life lived?"

You felt a tremor run through you, but you did not look away. "I know enough, my lord." you replied softly. "I know enough to see that your anger is not born of hatred, but of grief."

Sukuna's cruel smile quickly faded, and for a brief moment, you thought you saw something in his eyes—a flicker of vulnerability, quickly swallowed by the darkness. He hated how you said it, you know it too well. But there was no other choice. You were here for a purpose and you must fulfill it. You must. 

"You are bold, little one." he murmured. "Bold….for someone so close to death."

"Perhaps, my lord." you whispered back to him. "But if I am to die, I would rather die knowing who you truly are, rather than the monster they say you are."

He stared at you for a long time, his expression unreadable. Then, he stepped closer, so close that you could feel the heat radiating from his body, the power that thrummed through him like a thunder strike.

"Then you are a fool, little one." he said quietly. "For believing that I am anything more than a monster."

But there was something in his voice, something that made you wonder if perhaps… he wished you were right.

For the meantime, you were lucky to have your life, despite speaking so boldly, despite saying her name aloud—the name that everyone else dared not utter. Sukuna’s silence stretched on, his crimson eyes still locked onto yours, unreadable, cold yet burning with something darker beneath the surface. He could have ended you with a flick of his wrist, reduced you to ashes for your insolence. And yet, he did not.

He leaned closer, the edges of his form blurring into the shadows that seemed to ripple around him like stabbing waves in the ocean. His breath was hot against your skin, his presence overwhelming, suffocating. You felt your heart pound in your chest, each beat a drum that signaled your fragile hold on life.

“Perhaps you are simply foolish. Many have died for far less than what you dared to speak.” Sukuna finally said, his voice low, almost contemplative. “Huh, you speak brashly.”

The villagers around you seemed to hold their breath, waiting for his judgment. They looked at you with a mixture of horror and awe, unable to believe you were still alive after uttering the forbidden name. You, a mere sacrifice, a lamb thrown to the wolf, had survived what so many others had not.

“Why do you think I will let you live?” Sukuna’s voice cut through the tense silence, his tone curious, but with a dangerous edge. “Do you think I find you interesting? Amusing? Or perhaps I see something of her in you, something worth sparing?”

You swallowed hard, the reality of your situation settling in. You had survived speaking out of turn, but you were still bound to this altar, still at the mercy of a being who could destroy you on a whim. Yet, something in his words gave you pause, a flicker of something unspoken that lingered just beneath his surface.

“I do not presume to know your reasons, my lord.” you replied carefully, choosing each word like a step on thin ice. “But if you see something of her in me… then perhaps I am not so different from you after all.”

Sukuna’s gaze sharpened, his eyes narrowing. “Not so different?” He laughed, a sound that was both mirthful and bitter, filled with a deep, aching emptiness. “You compare yourself to me? To Ryomen Sukuna? You are a child, a mere mortal who knows nothing of gods or demons, of love that scorches the soul and burns the world to ash.”

“And yet…..” you dared to continue, feeling the tightness in your chest. “If my lord felt nothing, you wouldn’t care enough to be angry… or to remember.”

He stiffened, and for a moment, his expression faltered. The shadows seemed to deepen around him, his aura flickering like a candle flame caught in a strong wind. You sensed that you were dancing on a razor’s edge, but you could not stop now. There was something here, something raw and real beneath the monstrous exterior.

“Enough.” Sukuna hissed, his voice a sharp command. The air grew colder, and you felt a shiver run down your spine. “You dare much, human. Too much.”

You pressed your lips together, bracing yourself for the inevitable blow, the moment when his patience would finally snap. But instead, Sukuna’s lips curled into a faint smile, one that did not reach his eyes.

“Perhaps I will spare you.” he murmured, almost as if speaking to himself. “If only to see how long that fire burns before it is extinguished. Or perhaps to see if you will end up like the rest—broken, hollow, pleading for mercy where there is none.”

He turned away from you then, his back a wall of power and darkness, his form towering against the dim light of the shrine. The villagers started, stunned, as if waiting for the other shoe to drop.

“You will reside in my temple.” Sukuna commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. “You will remain there, under my watch. Let them see what comes of those who speak of things best left forgotten.”

A murmur rippled through the crowd, a mixture of fear and shock. They did not understand why he had spared you, why you, of all people, were allowed to live. Perhaps they thought you were cursed, or perhaps they thought Sukuna had some darker plan in mind. But you knew better. You knew that, in some small way, you had touched on a wound that had never healed, a scar buried deep beneath his monstrous exterior.

And as Sukuna vanished into the shadows, you realized that your fate was no longer in the hands of the villagers, or even in the hands of the gods they prayed to. No, your fate was now bound to his—a god who mourned like a man, a monster who remembered what it was to love.

══════════════════

IN A WAY, IT IS NOT SO BAD, BEING HIS CONCUBINE. You spent your days in isolation, your life confined within the walls of Sukuna's palace. You were nothing more than a servant, though they called you a concubine. The title meant little, for you were given no special privileges, no adornments, no tokens of affection. 

But it was a life. Your life. And it lived in some comfort, more than what is experienced by the rest of Hida province. You had multiple meals a day, you had rooms to yourself and even servants that address every bit of your needs.

Still, your world was small, your days filled with the quiet tending of the gardens, watching the shifting sky as the hours bled into one another. The flowers you nurtured became your only friends, their petals a fragile comfort against the cold indifference that surrounded you.

Perhaps the peace came from the fact that you did not see Sukuna often, and when you did, his gaze never lingered on you for long. He had no interest, no affection, no fondness to spare. You were simply there, like a shadow in the corner of his realm.

A figure lost amidst the vast emptiness of his domain. And perhaps that was for the best. It was better than being forced into Sukuna’s bed. You think that all women in the harem think that it was better that way.

But slowly, ever so slowly, something changed. His dark scarlet eyes began to linger, just a fraction longer than before. You felt the weight of his gaze like a chill running down your spine.

The other servants noticed it too, their whispers growing louder, bolder. You finally caught his attention. But it wasn’t because he had come to care for you, to see you as anything more than the nothing you were.

No, the truth was much crueler than that.

You were a spitting image of Ryomen Hiromi, the woman who haunted his every step, the ghost who lived in the shadows of his mind. At least that’s what the people say. But you did not want to believe them. Yet, looking at the murals at the glass gardens, the resemblance was uncanny.

It was obvious somehow. It was similar, everything. Your eyes, your hair, the curve of your smile. Every feature, every gesture seemed to remind him of her. And though you knew you could never be her, you had become a cruel echo, a reflection of something he had long lost.

And soon enough, the people talked. Of course, they did. They always talked. You tried to shut them out, but the more they whispered, the more people listened. And the more they listened, the more people spoke.  

“She reminds him of Hiromi, I am certain!” they whispered. “She is nothing but a shadow, a poor replacement for the one he truly loved. She lives in her image, as if she could ever hope to fill her place.”

You became the other woman, even when you didn’t want to be. No, not even that. You were a pale imitation, a mockery of a woman who had captured the heart of the king of curses. Every glance Ryomen Sukuna spared you was not a look of admiration or desire—it was the gaze of a man staring into the past, into a memory that was forever out of reach.

And so, you lived your life as another woman. No, the other woman. To a dead woman. To a love that had died long ago, but never truly left. 

Sometimes, in the dead of night, when the silence was so thick it pressed against your skin like a heavy shroud, you would wonder about her. About Ryomen Hiromi. Who was she, really? What had she meant to him, this fearsome god, this creature of darkness who now watched you as if searching for something he had lost in her eyes, now reflected in yours.

He never spoke of her. He does not want to. He does not dare to. Not to you, not to anyone. Some servants have been here longer than you and they have seen people killed over even a mumble of a prayer for the lady. And so you don’t ask. 

Not even when there were times he would come closer, when his dark eyes lingered on your face, searching, always searching. Yet he will never truly find it. He knew this, as much as you did. But it was as if he was trying to see her again, trying to find her in your skin, in your voice, in the way you moved through the gardens like she once had, perhaps. It was hope, a foolish hope. And yet you cannot escape this foolish hope.

The weight of her memory suffocated you. You were not allowed to be yourself, to have your own name, your own identity. You were always, always compared to her, measured against a ghost that you could never be, never touch. And Sukuna, with his cold gaze and his empty eyes, reminded you of it every day.

"You’re not her, little one." he said once, his voice low, more to himself than to you, as if testing a truth he could not fully accept. “You’ll never be her.”

His words cut deeper than any blade, leaving you with the bitter taste of something unnameable, something that tasted like defeat, or perhaps longing, or perhaps both. You had never wished to be her, to be anyone but yourself. But here, in his domain, under his shadow, you were not allowed that freedom.

You were trapped, forever bound to a life that was not your own, in the shadow of a dead woman who would never release you, and a man who could never let her go.

Days bled into nights, a blur of routine and solitude, and you began to feel like a ghost yourself, haunting the corners of Sukuna's palace, where life seemed to move around you but never through you. The servants kept their distance, wary of your resemblance, as if fearing you might be some ill omen, cursed to echo the tragedy of the past.

And Sukuna… he watched you, always watching, his eyes a deep crimson that saw too much and yet revealed nothing. He was like a storm contained within the fragile walls of the palace, his presence a force of nature that you could neither escape nor fully comprehend. His mood was mercurial; one day, he would barely acknowledge you, and the next, his gaze would linger on you, heavy with something you couldn’t name.

“Do you enjoy the garden?” he asked one afternoon, his tone deceptively casual, as if he were simply inquiring about the weather.

You glanced up, surprised that he had addressed you at all. He rarely spoke directly to you, even when his eyes seemed to follow your every movement. “I do,” you replied, careful, measured. “It is quiet there. Peaceful.”

“Quiet…peaceful.” he repeated, almost as if tasting the word. A faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips, but it did not reach his eyes. “Yes, she liked the quiet too. Always wandering among the flowers. Trees too. She’d like that then.”

You stiffened at the mention of her, the ghost you lived with every day, who lingered in every corner of this place. “I am not her, my lord.” you said, a tremor in your voice. You had repeated these words to yourself countless times, but they sounded fragile, almost insignificant when spoken aloud.

Sukuna's expression did not change. If anything, his gaze grew sharper, like a blade pressed against your skin. “No, little one.” he agreed softly, almost mockingly, “You are not her. But you will do… for now.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat, refusing to let him see the fear that coiled within you, like a snake waiting to strike. “Why do you keep me here?” you dared to ask, your voice barely more than a whisper. “Why do you watch me as if you expect me to become someone else?”

He laughed then, a low, rumbling sound that sent a shiver down your spine. “You misunderstand, little one. I do not expect you to become her. I know you never can. But you… remind me of her. And that is enough… for now.”

The way he said it, the way his eyes darkened with something unreadable, made your blood run cold. You were nothing more than a stand-in, a living, breathing reminder of something he had lost. A cruel joke played by fate, a shadow dancing in the place of the one who truly mattered. To be kept alive, your village kept alive — because you look like a ghost. 

“I am not a replacement, my lord.” you insisted, your voice firmer this time, surprising even yourself with the strength behind it. “I hope my lord knows that I will not live my life as a mere echo.”

His smile faded, his expression turning serious. “You think you have a choice?” he asked, leaning in closer, his face so near to yours that you could feel the warmth of his breath. “You are here because I allow it. You exist at my whim, not because of who you are, but because of who you resemble. Do not mistake this for anything more than it is.”

The reality of his words hit you like a blow, the finality of it sinking deep into your bones. You were nothing to him, nothing but a passing fancy, a painful reminder of a past he could not reclaim.

“I am not her, my lord.” you repeated, your voice shaking with defiance, with a spark of something that refused to be extinguished. “And I will not be her for you. You must understand.”

For a moment, something flickered in Sukuna's eyes, something almost like surprise, perhaps even respect. Then, just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by the cold, unfeeling mask he always wore.

“Brave words, little one.” he murmured, his voice low and dangerous. “But words mean little here, in my domain. You will learn that soon enough.”

He turned away from you then, leaving you standing alone in the empty hall, your heart pounding in your chest, your hands trembling at your sides. The silence closed in around you, heavy and oppressive, and you knew that nothing had changed. You were still trapped, still living in the shadow of a dead woman, still bound to the whims of a god who mourned like a man.

And yet, deep inside, something stirred—a flicker of defiance, of hope. You might be a ghost to him, a reflection of a lost love, but you were still alive. You were still you, and as long as you drew breath, you would not allow yourself to be consumed by his shadows. Not without a fight.

Time passed slowly in Sukuna’s palace, and with it, your heart began to change. You did not notice it at first; how could you? Day after day, the monotonous routine of your existence lulled you into a sort of numbness. The gardens became your refuge, the sky your solace.

Yet even as you tried to find comfort in these simple pleasures, you found your thoughts wandering back to him—Ryomen Sukuna, the fearsome god, the monster, the man who mourned like a human.

At first, you hated him, hated him for what he represented, for what he had made you into: a replacement, a mere shadow of someone who had meant everything to him. But as you watched him, as the days turned to weeks and weeks to months, you began to see more.

You began to notice the things others did not—the subtle tension in his jaw when he was angry, the way his eyes softened just a fraction when he spoke of her, the quiet moments when he thought no one was looking, and the mask slipped, just a little.

You were in the garden one afternoon, trimming the roses, when you heard footsteps approaching. Sukuna rarely came to the garden, but today he seemed restless, pacing along the paths with a dark expression on his face. He stopped by the old cherry blossom tree, his eyes distant, his hands clenched into fists at his sides.

Without thinking, you moved closer. "Is something troubling you, my lord?" you asked quietly, keeping your tone as neutral as possible. You had learned not to provoke him, to keep your words soft and your gaze steady.

Sukuna looked at you sharply, as if surprised you had dared to speak. "Why do you care?" he snapped, his tone harsh, but you had seen the flicker of something else—a fleeting vulnerability, perhaps? “Such matters are none for you to care about, little one.”

You hesitated, choosing your words carefully. “I see you every day, my lord.” you replied softly. “I see how you… struggle over something. And I cannot help but… care.”

He scoffed, but it was a hollow sound. “Care?” he echoed, almost mockingly. “You think you understand me, mortal? You think you can comprehend the depths of what I am, of what I have lost?”

You bowed your head, feeling the sting of his words but refusing to back down. “I don’t pretend to understand, my lord.” you murmured. “But I see the pain in your eyes, the way you linger in places she once loved, the way you… look at me.”

He was silent for a moment, his gaze unreadable. Then he turned away, his shoulders tense, his hands unclenching. “You are a fool, little one.” he muttered, almost too softly for you to hear. “A fool to think you can feel anything for me.”

And maybe you were a fool. A fool to care for a man who did not care for you, who saw you only as a shadow of someone else. But you could not help it. You could not stop the way your heart ached when you saw him, the way your breath caught when he looked at you with those sad, tired eyes.

Day by day, you found yourself drawn to him, not by his power or his beauty, but by the quiet moments when he thought no one was watching. The moments when his face softened, and you saw the man beneath the monster, the man who had loved so deeply and lost so terribly.

You saw the cracks in his armor, the places where he had been wounded, and you wanted, desperately, to reach out and touch them, to soothe the pain you knew he carried.

You found yourself thinking of him when you were alone, wondering what had made him this way, what had broken him so completely. You imagined him before all of this, before the darkness, before the loss, and you felt a strange, deep sorrow for the man he might have been.

One evening, as you were leaving the garden, you saw him standing by the cherry blossom tree again, his face turned upward, staring at the pale blooms against the darkening sky. He looked so lonely, so unbearably alone, that you felt your heart tighten in your chest.

Without thinking, you approached him, moving slowly, cautiously, as if approaching a wounded animal. “My lord, look.” you said softly, and he did not turn away. “The blossoms… they’re beautiful this year.”

He glanced at you, his expression unreadable. “Hiromi loved them.” he said quietly, his voice thick with something you could not quite name. “Fond of them.”

You nodded, your heart aching for him. “I imagine she did, my lord.” you replied. “They’re… peaceful.”

He was silent for a long time, his gaze fixed on the flowers. Then he spoke, his voice barely more than a whisper. “She was… my peace.” he admitted, his tone so raw, so vulnerable, that it made your chest tighten painfully. “And now… there is only emptiness.”

You wanted to reach out to him, to touch his hand, to tell him that he was not as alone as he thought, but you knew he would not accept it. So you stood there, beside him, sharing the silence, hoping that maybe, in some small way, your presence could ease the ache in his heart.

And slowly, painfully, you realized that you were falling into the saddest position in the world. You were beginning to care for him, truly care for him, despite knowing that he did not, and could not, care for you. You were beginning to understand him, to see the depths of his sorrow, to feel the weight of his loss as if it were your own.

You were living as a shadow, and yet… you found yourself wishing, hoping, that someday he might see you as something more. Even if you were just a reflection of a memory, even if you could never be her, you wished, desperately, that you could become someone to him.

But as you looked at him, at the emptiness in his eyes, you knew that day might never come. And still, you could not help but care.

Days continued to slip by in a blur of silent moments and stolen glances, and though you tried to keep your heart guarded, you felt it slipping further and further away from you, like water through your fingers. You had resigned yourself to your fate—a concubine in name, a ghost in truth. You had accepted that Sukuna would never see you as anything more than a mere echo of what he had lost.

But as time passed, you noticed a subtle change in him. It was in the way his gaze lingered on you a moment longer, or how his tone softened when he spoke to you. It was in the quiet moments when you would catch him watching you, his expression inscrutable, as if he were trying to decipher some mystery he could not quite solve.

As the sun dipped below the horizon and painted the sky in shades of crimson and gold, you found yourself in the garden again. Sukuna was there, seated on a low stone bench beneath the cherry blossom tree, his face turned upward as if searching for something in the dying light.

You approached cautiously, unsure if he wanted your presence or not. He did not turn to look at you, but he did not send you away, either. You took it as a small mercy, a silent invitation to sit beside him.

For a long time, neither of you spoke. The silence stretched between you like a fragile thread, delicate and unbroken. Finally, Sukuna spoke, his voice low and contemplative. “You are always here, little one.” he murmured. “Always watching. Why?”

You hesitated, searching for the right words. “Because I see you, my lord.” you replied quietly. “I see the way you carry your pain, the way you hide it behind your eyes. I… I understand it, in a way.”

He turned to you then, his gaze piercing, searching your face as if trying to find the truth hidden within your words. “And what do you think you understand?” he asked, a note of challenge in his tone.

You took a deep breath, feeling the weight of his stare. “I think you loved her more than life itself, my lord.” you said softly. “And I think losing her broke something inside of you that will never heal.”

He was silent for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he laughed—a harsh, bitter sound that cut through the stillness like a knife. “You presume to know my heart, mortal.” he said, but there was no true malice in his voice, only a deep, hollow emptiness. “You think because you look like her, you can speak of love and loss?”

“I do not pretend to be her, my lord.” you answered, your voice steady, even as your heart pounded in your chest. “But I know what it is to lose, to live with emptiness. I know what it means to be alone, even in a crowded room.”

His eyes softened, just for a moment, and you could almost see the man beneath the monster, the one who had loved and lost, who had once been capable of kindness, of tenderness.

“You think you know loneliness?” he asked, his voice quiet, almost vulnerable. “You think you know what it is to love someone so deeply that their absence is like a knife in your soul, cutting you with every breath?”

“I think I’m starting to understand, my lord.” you whispered. “More than I ever wanted to.”

He looked away, his jaw clenched tight, and you could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands curled into fists at his sides. “You are a fool.” he muttered, but there was no heat in his words, only a weary resignation. “You should hate me. You should despise me for what I am, for what I have made you.”

You shook your head slowly. “I can’t, my lord.” you admitted, your voice breaking. “I don’t know why, but I can’t. Maybe it’s because I see the pain in your eyes, the way you look at me… the way you remember her. I can’t hate you for that. I just… I wish things were different.”

He turned to you sharply, and for a moment, there was something raw and desperate in his gaze, something that spoke of a longing he had buried deep within himself. “Different?” he repeated, almost scoffing. “There is no ‘different’ for us. This is the world we have been given, and we must live in it.”

You felt your heart clench painfully, knowing he was right, knowing that no matter how much you wished for it, you could never truly reach him, could never become more than what you were—a shadow, a reflection of a woman long gone.

But you could not stop yourself from caring, from hoping that somehow, someway, he might see you, truly see you, not as a ghost or a replacement, but as a person in your own right.

You sighed, turning your gaze to the blossoms above. “I know, my lord.” you murmured. “I know that better than anyone. But I still… I still want to understand you. I still care, even if you don’t care for me.”

He was silent, his expression unreadable, and for a moment, you feared you had said too much, crossed a line you could never return from. But then, slowly, he reached out and took your hand in his, his grip firm but surprisingly gentle.

“You are a strange one, little one.” he said quietly, almost as if to himself. “To care for a monster… to care for a man who has nothing left to give.”

You felt a tear slip down your cheek, and you did not bother to hide it. “Maybe I’m just a fool, my lord” you whispered. “But I can’t help it. I can’t help but care for you, even when I know you can’t care for me.”

He stared at you for a long moment, his eyes searching yours, as if looking for some answer he could not find. Then, without a word, he pulled you closer, his lips brushing against your forehead in a gesture so tender it took your breath away.

“Do not mistake this for affection.” he warned, his voice low and rough. “I am still who I am. I am still the monster you should fear.”

But you could only nod, your heart aching with a mixture of sorrow and hope. “I know,” you whispered. “I know, but I’m still here.”

And for the first time, you thought you saw a hint of softness in his eyes, a flicker of something that could almost be… understanding. Maybe, just maybe, you were starting to reach him, one fragile step at a time.

══════════════════

TIME FLEW BY AND WITH THAT, YOU AGED TOO. Slowly, like the steady drip of water carving its path through stone, Ryomen Sukuna began to accept your presence as something constant in his life. At first, it was subtle—the way he no longer sent you away when you appeared by his side, the way he allowed you to linger in his chambers or the garden without a word of complaint.

Over time, it grew into something more. He began to call for you, not often, but enough that you noticed. Sometimes, it was just to sit in silence while he read or stared into the fire, and other times, he would speak to you, his voice low and distant, as if he were speaking to himself rather than you.

He did not love you; you knew that much with painful certainty. His heart belonged to another, to a woman whose name he whispered in his dreams, whose memory seemed to haunt his every step. You were not her, and you never would be. You were a shadow of what he had lost, a pale reflection of a love that had burned too bright and consumed itself in the flames.

But he tolerated you, and in this dark, twisted place where fear ruled and love was a forgotten dream, that was enough. You had learned to find solace in the little things—the way his gaze would occasionally soften when he looked at you, the rare moments when his voice held a note of something other than indifference. 

You knew you would never escape Hiromi’s shadow. Her ghost lingered in every corner of this place, in every whispered word and hushed breath, in the way his eyes darkened whenever he spoke of her.

You were not foolish enough to think you could ever replace her in his heart, nor did you wish to. You had come to terms with your fate, with the cruel twist of destiny that had brought you here, to this palace where the walls seemed to whisper her name.

For the finite years of your mortal life, you would be what you were to him—an echo, a shadow, a living memory of something lost. You could have fought against it, could have railed against the injustice of it all, but you chose not to. You chose to make peace with what fate had given you, to find what small joys you could in the fleeting moments he allowed you to be near him.

There were times when the weight of your existence threatened to crush you, when you longed to scream, to demand that he see you for who you were, not for the woman you resembled. But those moments were few and far between, and you had learned to push them down, to bury them deep within your heart where they could not hurt you.

Instead, you found contentment in the little things—in the way his presence filled the room, in the rare, unguarded moments when he would speak to you of things he had buried deep within himself. You listened to his stories, the ones he told in quiet tones when he thought no one was listening, and you treasured them like precious gems, tiny fragments of the man he had once been.

You learned to be grateful for what you had, even if it was not what you had dreamed of. You accepted that you would always live in the shadow of Hiromi, that you would always be the "other woman"; the one who was not loved, but merely tolerated. And for as long as you had breath in your lungs and life in your veins, you chose to find peace in that.

You sat beside him by the fire, you felt a strange sense of calm settle over you. He was quiet, his eyes fixed on the flames, his expression thoughtful. He did not look at you, but you could feel his presence, warm and solid beside you, a reminder that you were not entirely alone in this world.

You turned your gaze to the fire, letting the heat warm your face, and you whispered, almost to yourself, “I do not ask for more than this. I am… content with what I have.”

He glanced at you, his eyes narrowing slightly, as if trying to understand your words. “Content?” he repeated, a hint of incredulity in his voice. “You are content being nothing but a shadow?”

You smiled softly, a hint of sadness in your eyes. “Contentment is a choice, my lord.” you replied. “I chose to be content with what fate has given me. It is not happiness, but it is enough.”

He looked at you for a long moment, his expression unreadable, and then he nodded slowly. “Perhaps you are wiser than I thought now, little one.” he murmured. “To find peace in a place like this… it is no easy feat.”

You nodded, knowing he spoke more to himself than to you. You had accepted that you would never be more than a shadow in his life, but even shadows had their place, their purpose. You would be content with that, for as long as your mortal years allowed.

The days passed with a creeping heaviness that settled into your bones, a fatigue that no amount of rest could cure. You began to feel the strain in every step, the way your breath came shorter, the way your limbs feel heavy and uncooperative. At first, you dismissed it as exhaustion, a lingering effect of sleepless nights and endless thoughts that twisted in your mind like shadows.

But then came the coughing fits, each one more violent than the last, leaving a bitter taste in your mouth and a sharp pain in your chest. You ignored it at first, waving away the concerned glances of the servants who attended you. You kept your back straight and your face serene, refusing to acknowledge the way your body seemed to betray you.

Yet it grew harder to hide. The pain became more frequent, stabbing through your lungs like a knife with every breath, every step. The first time you coughed up blood, it was a shock—a bright, vivid red staining your hand. Your heart raced as you stared at the crimson stain, panic rising like bile in your throat.

You quickly wiped it away, glancing around to see if anyone had noticed. Thankfully, you were alone in your chamber, and you pressed a trembling hand to your chest, willing yourself to calm down. There was no reason to be afraid, you told yourself. It was just a momentary lapse, nothing more.

But it wasn’t. It happened again, and again. You found yourself waking in the night, gasping for air, your throat raw and burning. The servants began to notice the dark circles under your eyes, the way you would clutch your side when you thought no one was looking, the way you moved a little slower, a little more carefully.

There was a day that you sat in the garden, trying to find solace in the soft petals of the cherry blossoms, a violent fit seized you. You doubled over, coughing hard, and felt something wet and warm splatter against your lips. You wiped your mouth with the back of your hand and saw the unmistakable smear of blood.

A sharp gasp came from behind you. One of the younger servants had seen, her eyes wide with fear and concern. She rushed to your side, her hands trembling as she reached out to steady you.

“My lady, oh my!” she whispered, her voice filled with worry. “You’re… you’re bleeding.”

You shook your head, forcing a smile that felt like a grimace. “It is nothing.” you said, your voice hoarse. “Do not worry yourself over me.”

The servant looked unconvinced, her brow furrowed with concern. “I must tell Lord Sukuna.” she said quickly, glancing toward the entrance of the garden as if she expected him to appear at any moment. “He must know—”

“No, no…..” you cut her off sharply, your voice firmer than you had intended. “There is no point in that.”

She hesitated, confusion clouding her eyes. “But, my lady… you are unwell. He should—”

“He would not care, little girl.” you said softly, looking down at your blood-stained hand. “There is no use in troubling him with this. It would make no difference. Sukuna does not love me, nor does he care for me in that way. Do you think he would be moved by something as trivial as this?”

The servant bit her lip, clearly torn between her duty to you and her fear of Sukuna’s wrath. “But… if he knew, he might—”

“Might what?” you interrupted, your voice edged with a quiet resignation. “Send a healer? Take pity on me? No, he would not. I am nothing more than a reminder to him, a shadow of a past he cannot let go. He tolerates me, yes, but that is all.”

The servant looked at you, her eyes filling with tears, but she nodded slowly, understanding the weight of your words. She knew as well as you did that Sukuna’s heart was a barren, desolate place, filled with ghosts and haunted memories. There was no room for you there.

“Promise me, little girl.” you whispered, reaching out to touch her arm gently. “Promise me you won’t tell him.”

She hesitated for a moment, then nodded, her expression tight with worry. “I promise, my lady.” she murmured, though you could hear the doubt in her voice.

You leaned back against the tree, closing your eyes and letting the cool breeze brush against your skin. You knew there was no point in hoping for more than what you had. Sukuna had given you a place by his side, but it was not out of affection. He had lost the woman he truly loved, and you were only a semblance of her—a shadow he tolerated, nothing more.

You were dying, that much was clear. Perhaps it was a blessing in disguise, a way to free yourself from this liminal existence, to escape the torment of being a living reminder of what he had lost. You could find peace in that, you thought. At least, you could try.

You would not burden him with your illness, with your slow, inevitable decline. You would carry it quietly, with dignity, for whatever time you had left. After all, what was one more life in the grand, cruel scheme of his world? You were just another fleeting moment in the endless march of time—another sacrifice, another offering to a man who had already lost everything he had ever cared for.

══════════════════

YOU DECIDED TO LET FATE RUN ITS COURSE. You let time pass by, letting the illness be hidden in the shadows of low whispers and painful tears in your long suffering days and nights. And sure enough, Ryomen Sukuna had returned from his long and exhausting trip within the next few days.

He had been famished from his trip and sent word that he would be having supper with you that night, which you had obliged without another word. You dressed in your finest, watching the servants prepare the table in your chambers and calmly thanked them one after another as they left.

The evening had settled into its usual quiet rhythm, with the two of you sharing dinner in the dimly lit chamber. The flickering candlelight cast long shadows across the walls, and the scent of roasted meat and simmered vegetables filled the air.

It was a routine you had come to accept with a resigned sort of familiarity, a ritual that offered a small measure of normalcy in your otherwise constrained existence.

You sat across from Sukuna, picking at your meal with an absent-mindedness that spoke more to your weariness than any lack of appetite. His presence was imposing, yet tonight, he was unusually subdued, his attention focused on the food in front of him rather than on you. And somehow, you were a bit more grateful for it.

As you took a sip from your cup, you looked up at him, your expression earnest. "My lord, do you not think you should be more understanding of your subjects?" you began, your voice gentle but firm. "I must implore you once more to be more lenient with the people. The fear you instill is one thing, but mercy could win you their loyalty and respect."

Sukuna's eyes, dark and inscrutable, met yours. He did not respond immediately, his gaze lingering on you as if weighing your words. This was not the first time you had made this plea, and it was not likely to be the last. You had grown accustomed to his silence, to the way he would listen but rarely act upon your suggestions.

"It is not for me to coddle them, little one." he said finally, his voice low and dismissive. "Fear is a more effective tool than mercy. It ensures obedience."

You sighed softly, knowing well that your words often fell on deaf ears. Still, you persisted, driven by a conviction that even the smallest act of kindness could make a difference. "I understand your perspective, my lord,  but sometimes even the harshest rulers find strength in showing compassion. It can—"

Before you could finish your thought, a sudden, sharp pain gripped your chest. You gasped, doubling over slightly, and a violent coughing fit overtook you. You struggled to steady yourself, but the force of it was too strong. Blood splattered onto the table, the vibrant red stark against the white of your kimono and the pale wood of the dining surface.

Your heart raced as you quickly wiped the blood away with your sleeve, hoping to hide the evidence of your distress. You tried to maintain your composure, but your hands were trembling as you looked up at Sukuna, who had gone still, his eyes fixed on the crimson stain.

For a moment, there was a silence so thick it felt like a physical presence. Ryomen Sukuna’s gaze was heavy and unyielding, his red eyes locked onto the blood that had marred the table and your attire. You could feel the weight of his scrutiny, his silence, a heavy burden that pressed down upon you.

"It's nothing, my lord." you said hurriedly, forcing a weak smile as you tried to brush off the incident. "Just a momentary lapse. Please, continue with your meal."

Sukuna’s expression was unreadable, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studied you. He did not speak, but there was a flicker of something in his gaze—perhaps surprise, or concern, or something deeper that he quickly masked.

You could feel the tension between you, an invisible thread connecting your quiet plea to his unspoken thoughts. It was clear that your condition had not gone unnoticed, even if he chose not to acknowledge it openly. You had always been a presence in his life, but tonight, the reality of your fragility seemed to cut through the usual indifference.

He took a deep breath, his gaze finally shifting away from you as he turned his attention back to his meal. The silence that followed was filled with the soft clinking of utensils and the low murmur of conversation from the servants who hovered at the edges of the room, their eyes darting to you with barely concealed concern.

You ate in silence, each bite of food tasting like ash in your mouth. The pain in your chest had subsided, but a deep weariness remained, a lingering reminder of your deteriorating health. You glanced at Sukuna from time to time, but he was absorbed in his meal, his expression unreadable.

The conversation you had tried to initiate was now buried beneath the weight of your illness, and you knew better than to press further. The battle for his leniency would have to wait for another day, another time when you were not so overshadowed by your own suffering.

As the meal drew to a close, you felt the oppressive silence settle around you once more. Sukuna’s gaze was distant, his thoughts seemingly occupied with matters beyond the confines of the dining room. You could only hope that, in some small way, your presence had made a difference, even if it was not the kind you had hoped for.

When the servants cleared away the dishes and the room began to empty, you excused yourself, retreating to your chamber with a heavy heart. You knew that your time here was growing shorter, that the end was approaching with each passing day. But for now, you would carry on, finding what small measure of peace you could in the fleeting moments you had left.

And as you lay down in your bed, staring up at the ceiling, you could not help but think of the blood you had tried to hide, of the way Sukuna’s eyes had lingered on it. You could only hope that someday, he might see you not as a mere shadow or a reminder of what he had lost, but as a person who had tried, in her own way, to make a difference in his world.

The next morning, you awoke to a disorienting cacophony of shouts and harsh reprimands. The once-familiar silence of your quarters was shattered by the sounds of chaos from the courtyard. Your heart sank as you stumbled out of bed, a sharp pain reminding you of the night before.

As you made your way through the hallways, the noise grew louder, mingling with the harsh, angry tones of Ryomen Sukuna’s voice. Your mind raced, dreading what you might find. You knew it already. You have seen it in the other households of the other concubines. And you can only know what had caused such a commotion. When you reached the courtyard, the scene before you was both startling and terrifying.

Your servants were gathered in the center of the courtyard, their faces pale with fear and their postures crumpled under the weight of Sukuna’s wrath. He stood at the center of the commotion, his expression thunderous as he raged at them. His anger was palpable, his words a relentless storm of fury directed at those who had failed to inform him of your condition.

Your breath caught in your throat, and without thinking, you stepped forward, your heart pounding in your chest. The courtyard fell into a stunned silence as Sukuna’s gaze shifted to you, his eyes dark with a mixture of surprise and irritation.

"My lord, please." you began, your voice trembling as you bowed deeply, your forehead nearly touching the ground. "This is my fault, not theirs. I beg for your forgiveness and mercy for my servants."

Sukuna’s eyes narrowed as he took in your contrite posture, his anger momentarily faltering. He regarded you with a mixture of disbelief and curiosity, his dark, unforgiving, gaze sharp as he assessed your sincerity.

"It was my decision to hide my illness, my lord." you continued, your voice barely more than a whisper. "I did not want to trouble you or cause unnecessary concern. Please, spare them your anger. They were only following my wishes."

Ryomen Sukuna remained silent for a moment, his anger still simmering beneath the surface. The servants, though still shaken, dared to lift their eyes to you, their expressions a blend of relief and apprehension.

Finally, Sukuna's gaze softened, a hint of resignation creeping into his expression. He took a deep breath, his anger dissipating as he looked at you with a new intensity. "You would take the blame for them?" he asked, his voice low and edged with incredulity.

You nodded, maintaining your bowed position. "Yes, my lord. It was my choice, my responsibility. I could not bear the thought of them being punished for my actions."

Sukuna’s expression hardened slightly, but the fury in his eyes had dimmed. After a moment of consideration, he gave a curt nod. "Very well. You will accept any punishment I shall put upon you.”

You swallowed the bile down your throat. “Yes, my lord.”

“Then I will call for healers. You will see them immediately." He says, as though it was the final verdict. “You will see them, all of them. Do you understand?”

“Yes…yes, my lord.” You whispered back to him.

He turned away from the servants, his gaze now fixed on you with an inscrutable intensity. "Go." he commanded, his tone leaving no room for argument. "See to your health, you foolish girl. Your servants too can go. They will tend to you, no matter what you ask.”

You straightened slowly, a mixture of relief and trepidation washing over you. You dared to look up at Sukuna, meeting his eyes briefly before turning to address the servants.

"Thank you, my lord." you said quietly, your voice filled with gratitude. "You have done nothing wrong. Please, return to your duties."

With a final, respectful bow, you turned and headed back toward your quarters with the help of your servants. As you entered your quarters, you felt like you had lived a thousand lifetimes in that one moment. Your servants were bowing at your feet, asking for your forgiveness. But you had all but shooed them away, telling them it was your duty as their master.

You wanted to be alone right now. At least when you still had the chance. When the healers arrive, you would have a life to yourself any longer. You would be stuck in their mercy, with their potions and their whims.

You must prepare yourself for the arrival of the healers. You groaned lowly as you clutch your chest, a wave of pain hitting one after the other. It will be over soon, that’s what you hoped. That’s what you want. You want to be free from this pain. You wanted nothing more than to be free.

══════════════════

THE PAIN WAS RELENTLESS. The days dragged on in a relentless cycle of pain and futile hope. Despite the best efforts of countless healers, none seemed able to bring you any real relief.

If anything, your condition worsened, each new treatment only seeming to accelerate your quick decline. Ryomen Sukuna’s frustration was palpable; his anger had become a regular presence, casting a long shadow over the already bleak atmosphere of the estate.

You had heard the whispers of the fate that befell each healer who failed to improve your condition. It was a grim reminder of Sukuna’s volatility, a dangerous mix of desperation and rage. The once-bustling quarters were now filled with an air of fearful tension as new healers arrived, only to face Sukuna’s wrath when their efforts proved ineffectual.

On one of the rare days when you felt well enough to leave your bed, you chose to sit by the garden. The fresh air and the sight of the vibrant blooms were a welcome distraction from the constant ache in your body. You had managed to position yourself on a stool under the gentle shade of a cherry tree, finding some small comfort in watching the birds flit about, their cheerful chirping a stark contrast to the turmoil that had become your life.

Sukuna appeared in the garden, his presence as imposing as ever. He walked with a deliberate pace, his gaze scanning the surroundings with an air of detached observation. As he neared, you looked up and greeted him with a smile, though the effort felt heavy, as if each movement was a strain against the burden of your illness.

“My lord.” you said softly, your voice barely more than a whisper. “The skies are beautiful today, aren’t they?”

Sukuna stopped, his eyes narrowing slightly as he took in your serene expression. The silence stretched between you, an unspoken tension that lingered like the heat of a summer day. He said nothing in response, his gaze fixed on you with an inscrutable intensity.

After a moment, he broke the silence. “How is it that you can accept death with such… calm?” His voice was low, edged with curiosity and something else you couldn’t quite place.

You blinked, taken aback by his question. A laugh escaped you, soft and brittle, more out of surprise than genuine amusement. “Accept death, my lord?” you repeated. “I haven’t accepted death, in truth. But there is no way to avoid it.”

Sukuna’s eyes remained on you, his expression unreadable as he listened. You continued, your voice tinged with a philosophical resignation. “Death will come for all of us, eventually. It’s a natural end to this life. We all must face it in our own time. In that way, we are all freed from the burdens of this world.”

He studied you with a mixture of skepticism and something akin to contemplation. “You speak as if it is an inevitability you embrace, little one.”

“Not embrace, my lord.” you corrected gently, sighing. “But acknowledge. It’s a part of life, as much as the beginning is. We can fight it or we can accept it, but it will come regardless.”

Sukuna’s gaze softened slightly, though his expression remained stoic. He seemed to be weighing your words, his usual fierceness replaced by an unusual quiet. “And you are not afraid, then?”

“Fear?” You tilted your head, considering the question. “I suppose I am afraid of the pain that might come before the end. But fear of death itself? Not so much. It’s merely another step in the journey, my lord. That is what I believe, at least.”

For a moment, there was a stillness between you, punctuated only by the distant chirping of birds. Sukuna’s eyes flickered to the sky, perhaps contemplating the vastness of existence you had spoken of. The anger that had once seemed so consuming in his presence now appeared subdued, replaced by a contemplative silence.

“I see.” he said finally, his tone carrying a trace of grudging respect. “Your words are… unusual.”

You smiled faintly, a tired but genuine expression. “Perhaps. But sometimes, facing the truth can be a way to find peace, my lord.”

Sukuna stood there for a while longer, his presence a dark silhouette against the backdrop of the garden’s tranquility. Finally, he gave a curt nod and turned to leave, his demeanor less harsh than before. The sound of his footsteps gradually faded as he walked away, leaving you alone once more with your thoughts and the gentle rustle of leaves in the breeze.

As you sat there, watching the birds and the shifting clouds, you felt a small measure of contentment. Sukuna’s visit had brought a moment of introspection, a reminder of the fragile balance between life and death. Even in your suffering, you found a semblance of peace, understanding that acceptance was not about surrendering to fate but about finding a way to live with it, even as the end loomed ever closer.

And just like that, the day you had dreaded finally arrived. And truly, you were left feeling an unbearable weakness that signaled the end was near. The once-familiar confines of your quarters now seemed like a distant world, and the pain of your illness was a constant, gnawing presence. Each breath was a struggle, each moment of consciousness a battle against the encroaching darkness.

To your surprise, your lord Sukuna appeared by your side as you lay on your bed, his imposing figure contrasting sharply with the fragility of your own condition. He had not been a part of your daily existence in the past weeks, his visits sporadic and his presence usually marked by anger and frustration. But now, he was here, seated beside you in a rare display of stillness.

You looked at him through the haze of pain and weakness, your voice a mere whisper. “My lord, it seems this is my time to part from you.”

Sukuna’s eyes were steady, his gaze betraying an emotion you could not fully decipher. “I know, little one.” he replied simply, his voice holding a note of finality.

A pained laugh escaped your lips, the sound mingling with a shuddering breath. “I only wish… I could avoid being reborn into such misery again. To be the other woman, to be nothing to you.”

Sukuna’s silence stretched between you, a weighty pause that seemed to deepen the divide between you. After a moment, he spoke, his voice low but firm. “You were something.”

You shook your head, the effort to move even slightly causing a fresh wave of agony. “You lie easily, as you breathe, my lord.” you said with a faint, sorrowful smile.

The silence that followed was heavy and palpable, filled with the unspoken complexities of your relationship. As you lay there, the end drawing closer with each passing moment, you found a strange clarity in the finality of your situation.

“I love you, my lord.” you said softly, the words carrying a weight that transcended the physical pain. “As sad as it is, I do. But I have no intention of having it returned. I hope that, in the next life, I never meet you again.”

Sukuna’s expression remained impassive, but there was a softness in his gaze that belied his usual stoic demeanor. As you took your final, labored breaths, his sigh was a mix of resignation and something deeper, something that spoke to the complexity of your intertwined fates.

“I hope so too, little one.” he said quietly, his voice carrying a rare touch of vulnerability.

With those words hanging in the air, you felt a sense of release, the weight of your suffering beginning to lift. As your consciousness faded and the pain finally ebbed away, you left behind the world that had been both your prison and your refuge. Ryomen Sukuna looked at your lifeless body, pursing his lips into a flat line.

“Live on in a better life, little one.” He whispered, his fingers brushing against your hair. “May you be loved by someone who loves you. May we never meet again, my other woman."

[poppy-metal]

MARRIAGE COUNSELING W ART PLEASEEEEEEEE GOD THE DEVASTATION THAT TAKES PLACE ON THAT COUCH

i think about it alot. tashi staying with patrick, her injury never happening. your arts college girlfriend and now you're married and it feels fucking stagnant, your relationship. but neither of you wants to give up. neither of you wants to reveal to the other true feelings.

under the cut because this got long and i have a whole au in my hear around this concept

you're only in counseling because of tashi. because shes still in your lives, her and patrick. and she recommended it to art when they were having one of their 'friend' lunches. and now here you are, because of course art took her advice.

he hasn't said anything, though. despite pleading for this. saying he wanted to save your marriage, that he wanted to love you how you should be loved but he didn't know how.

so here you are, on opposite ends of the couch, with the counselor staring at the empty space between you like that in itself is very telling. you suppose it is, in a way. couples who want to stay together should be unified, shouldn't they? you imagine how it would feel, if art had sat next to you. put an arm around you. squeezed you to his side. would you even be able to relax into him? its been so long since you touched eachother that way.

"so im picking up on some distance here," your therapist says. shes a small woman. almost swallowed by her chair. her glasses are perched on her nose as she gazes imperiously at empty space separating you and art. "not just physical either, though thats rather obviously there. but emotional distance. do either of you wanna comment on that?"

you cut a glance at art, expecting him to speak up since this was his idea - well. tashi's. but he just looks down at his lap, quiet. spins his wedding band around his finger.

you feel an anger so intense it pricks your eyes with tears.

"well, i guess you could start with the fact that coming here wasn't even either of our idea. it was his friends."

and now. here art speaks. his head jerks up and she shoots you an annoyed look. "you don't have to say it like that. you always say it like that. her name is tashi and she is my friend. and it was her suggestion, yeah, but it was a good one."

you look at the therapist - janet. raise your eyebrows in arts direction like, get a load of this guy. your legs cross and you start picking at a stray string from the couch.

"first words of the session and its to talk about another woman."

arts inhale is sharp and you can feel his eyes on you but you dont look at him. you can't. you wont. you're right, anyway. he can try to deny it all he wants but you know - you know what you are to him. you know where all your problems stem. you dont need to be here to make any grand discoveries over a fact you've resigned yourself too.

"i see." janet says. "and art having a relationship with this other woman upsets you."

"everything upsets her." art cuts in, sounding tired. his elbow is braced on the arm of the couch and hes chewing on his thumb in one of his nervous gestures. he always did that, as long as you've known him. he was a nail biter, he'd chew his lips raw, he'd nibble on straws, the ends of his pens. he was either lost in thought or agitated. your guess was the latter. "nothing i do makes her happy."

"is this true? are you unhappy with art?"

your skin feels hot. you shift around in your seat. the attention is all on you, and it feels like you've done something wrong, even though you know its literally janets job to ask questions.

"more like i know I'm not what he wants and that makes me...... really fucking sad."

art knees almost knock against yours as he turns his body to face you, giving you his full attention the first time today. you cant meet his eyes still, so you look at the faded spot on his jeans. light blue, like his eyes. you wonder how hes looking at you. cant make yourself look up to see.

"what." he stops. seems to gather some thoughts. tries again, with a steadier tone. "what are you talking about."

you try not to roll your eyes. your arm flings out limply.

"just that this whole thing is a joke, art." and you let out an exasperated laugh, even though nothing is funny. nothing has been funny or light between you two in a long time. "we're only here because the girl you really wanted to marry, told you to get your fucking shit together. you didn't ask us to come here because you wanted to mend something, you're here to please tashi. because if playing a good husband is a role she wants for you - well, you want to play it right, dont you?"

its quiet after that. in the silence you cant help but think about those early days. when you'd been full of love and light and art seemed to be really happy with you. you'd go on dates to the movies, walk through the park together with your hands swinging between you. laugh together and steal kisses whenever you could. you felt high back then.

it didn't even matter that art had a crush on tashi, because hell, you had one too, at the time. but she'd started dating patrick, and they seemed to mesh well together. they were both so intense and passionate. back then, you'd been alot closer to tashi yourself. patrick too. you remember the way she'd rant about how much she fucking hated him, pacing around your room and calling him every name under the sun. and you'd sit there with eager curiosity, and ask her why she didn't end it then. if he makes you so angry, why stay?

and she'd get this faraway look in her eyes. kind of wistful. kind of sad. kind of happy.

"because he makes me feel fucking alive. hes like a - like a drug or something. i cant quit. its addictive, you know?"

that stuck with you. it still sticks with you. you remember being envious of that kind of passion. youe relationship with art had always been so easy. you dont think you'd ever fought by that point. you loved art. you felt safe with art. but were you addicted to him? if you broke up - would you feel withdrawal symptoms?

sometimes you layed awake at night and thought about starting a fight - breaking up for no reason. just to see if he'd fight for you back, if the missing of eachother would be so intense one of you would cave.

but somehow you knew that wouldn't be the case. thats just not how you and art operated. if you got angry, he wouldn't rise to meet you, he'd back down. if you ended things, he wouldn't chase you, he'd let you go.

patrick and tashi were fire and brimstone and you and art was ice and you were....... dirt. solid. walked upon. dependable and not at all exciting.

when art had proposed to you after college graduation it wasn't spur of the moment as it had been with patrick when he'd swept tashi up with a ring and a elopement to vegas. it was talked about and agreed upon and you knew it was coming.

you still said yes.

"you think," and arts voice has a barely concealed tremble to it that makes you look up, finally. you're shocked to see he looks wounded. so many of his expressions you can count on one hand - and this - this wasn't one of them. his eyes are dark, stormy. "you think i dont care about our marriage beyond what someone else has to say about it? you really think that?"

you hate the sliver of guilt you feel, because its not a crazy thing to feel.

"yeah, i really do."

because well, that's the truth of the matter isn't it? you and your husband stare at eachother. and it feels like you're looking at a stranger. not the man who's freckles you used to kiss. who's fears you knew. who's hands you know every callous of, every divot and fingerprint.

"it seems you two have very different views of how the other views this marriage." janet cuts in, sounding curious. she taps her pen against the open notepad on her lap. "art, would you like to chime in on why you wanted to come here? even at the suggestion of someone else?"

art stares at you for a long moment. his face is unreadable to you. his jaw works before his chest expands on an exhale and he looks away.

"i guess i - i just didn't realize how..... stagnant things had gotten until it was pointed out to me. harshly." he winces, and you wonder exactly what tashi had to say to him. you haven't talked to the other woman for some time. contact fizzling out after your marriage to art. he flicks a glance to you, then away again. "im not the best at being aware of shit going on around me." his hand comes up to rub nervously at his neck. "i guess you could say im good at brushing things under the rug. going through the motions. that sort of thing."

janet nods like this makes sense to her. well, great, you think. you know my husband more than i do.

"you're not a fan of confrontation, are you?"

art actually laughs. a genuine one. one that brings a dimple to his cheek and flashes his teeth. you stare at it, like its an exotic animal, and you wont see it again. quickly you catalog the expression in your memory, so you dont forget what he looks like when hes happy.

"yeah, no." he shakes his head. "but I think thats part of the problem. I've obviously let too much shit get put under the rug and now its so full other people are noticing."

you look down at your hands, lips pressed together. your face burns at the knowledge that tashi and by extension - patrick - know your marriage is in shambles. how embarrassing, to be caught lacking in such a momentous way. to come up short and have your husbands friends know about it. you wonder - does he talk about all the ways you make him miserable with them? does patrick shake his head, say, "she's sucking the life out of you, man." does tashi look at him with pity? like hes some poor abused cat that needs to be let in from the rain?

the rain of your marriage.

the rain of you.

you're the storm. you're the problem. you're not enough. art needs fire. you're not even dirt, you're glass. and you can feel yourself breaking.

"that clearly hit a nerve, my dear." janets voice is soft. soothing. she hands you a tissue and you realize you'd begun to cry. "do you want to explain what you're feeling about what art said?"

"i...."

you dab dab dab at your eyes. sniffle. look around the room, trying to collect your thoughts. they feel like flyaway dandelions. you dont know which of them to grasp.

a warm hand settles over yours in your lap and you startle. its arts hand. warm and calloused and tan, covering yours. the gold glint of his wedding ring winks at you, the engraved words etched into them, "my soft epilogue". a shortened version of your favorite qoute i think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love.

at the time, that's what art was to you. your life before him hadn't been easy. being with art had felt like coming home from a long day and falling into a soft bed. it had felt like being able to land after weeks of being made to fly.

you turned your palm up, so he could slide his fingers between yours. he squeezed your hand.

"i think, i. i think i just think - I'm a failure." your bottom lip wobbles. you look at your enterwoven fingers and it makes you so sad that you haven't done the simple gesture of holding your husbands hand in months. "the two most important people in your life are. are so passionate and loud. and i see. i see how happy they make you - and i cant - i cant b-be that for you. we aren't - im not - you dont need me. im not a limb for you how they are. you could extract yourself from me and be. be happier."

your breath shudders out of you.

"you don't need me." you echo.

you wait for him to pull his hand away. this is more than you thought you'd share. some of it you weren't even aware of till the words were spilling from your lips. but they ring true.

without patrick and tashi art would drown. without you..... he'd float just fine.

"and that's important to you." janet says. a statement not a question. "you want to feel needed by art, and you feel as though you aren't. that his needs are met better with his friends than with you."

you nod slowly.

"baby." the word sends a shock through you. not the word itself but how its said. art calls you baby all the time, in a monotonous kind of way. routine. now he says it softly. with feeling. he lets go of your hand in favor of cupping your cheek, still damp with tears, turning your face to his. he looks pained. "of course i need you. i know i haven't been good at showing it. i just - you shut down - after we got married. you've been like a fucking ghost. like you dont want me to touch you. like i could dissappear for all you care and you'd just carry on. i don't know. but i need you, okay? i. need. you."

both hands cup your face, he makes you stare right into him. the conviction in his voice takes your breath away. theres a fire burning there you've thought long put out.

"obviously we have shit to sort out, and we will. but you've got to. you've got to know that. tashi only pushed me to do this because she how - how desperate i was. that's all."

you inhale deeply. exhale. swallow hard. tears cling to your lashes. you reach a hand up to clutch at one of arts wrists. eyes fluttering automatically when you do. you feel grounded again. less like you might float away.

"okay."

"yeah?"

"yeah...." and you smile. it trembles across your lips. but its there. "we'll sort our shit."

art lets out a relieved breath. kisses your forehead, lingering there. the gesture so tender you get emotional again. you want to crawl into his lap, have him wrap you in his arms. you want to feel held by him, like you used to.

"our time is up." janet sets her pen down. smiles. "but i think that was a wonderful first session. i can see the love between you hasn't faded, and that's more i can say for alot of couples who come to see me. keep your chin up."

[eccentricallygothic]

|| Wrong Turn ||

Pairing: Mountain Man Silver Fox Nomad!Steve Rogers | You. 

Trope: Neat and clean ‘civilized’ Princess-like young trophy wife X Filthy beast of a wild and scary man who only got her because he has the power. 

Description: In a desperate attempt to save your life from the wrath of the mountain people that your friends and you stumbled upon and accidentally killed on a hike gone wrong, you had to offer yourself up to their Leader to use as a ‘resource’. But little did your ‘husband’ know, you had been actively getting rid of his seed to avoid actually getting pregnant. Naturally, when he does find out, he is very unhappy… And also very determined to make sure you don't make it out of your punishment without a child, or two.

Warning(s): Dubcon, barbaric!Steve, breeding kink (gone wild), unprotected p-in-v, reverse cowgirl, doggy style, missionary, he has a wife bod kink (but it is inclusive), misogyny, smut with perhaps too much plot, fear kink, size kink, exhibitionism, possessiveness, jealousy, age gap, hair pulling, spanking, biting, allusions to painal and Steve being a teasing sicko about it but he doesn't actually penetrate, overstimulation, dirty talk, humiliation, degradation, boob play, squirting, Lloyd makes an appearance with his own young bride, dacryphilia (it's me), self degradation, Stevie is a perverted old meanie, infantilization, mind break.

Disclaimer: Very loosely based off of the movie that I do not own. You don't need to know it to read this piece but do note that it takes place in a fictional setting. Minors do not interact. 

Inspo-ish: This post.

Note: For someone who was on their period, I should not have been this horny. But I need this marriage, now. Ps, though this rotted in my drafts for a long time… in honor of Chris growing out his beard again, ig.

MASTERLIST

. . .

You have no idea how long it has been since that fateful twilight when everything changed in your life, leaving you to a lifestyle you could never have even imagined for yourself.  

“Eat up, woman” but as your barbarian of a husband commands you in his rough and animalistically deep voice, you cannot help but break out of your reverie and shudder at the sight of the barely cooked meat piled high on the platter in front of the two of you. “So you can bear me healthy children” although you're the one who was made to prepare his beastly dinner -that never fails to leave you aghast when it's gorged down- as you're his wife, you cannot help but gag under your breath and feel disgust for the loaves that sit before you in the company of a tall stone carved jug that brims full of the foul smelling mead that your husband is ardently fond of. 

You muster up your best coy smile. Keeping up the appearance of a happily mated pair is important. Or people stare. And then the old man becomes unpleasant. “I had quite a lot while I was cooking, dear” your lies sting your tongue out of the fear you feel of getting caught, but the mere hope of not doing so is better than eating this. “Y- You go ahead” you slowly turn in his muscle hardened lap, that you are always to sit on, to give him a small smile but your expression almost transforms into one of horror because of how wildly your heart jumps at the sight of his stern, predator-like face. You are quick to recover though, as it is a usual occurrence. 

“You need it. You work so hard—” there is just something about his rough looks that never fails to send a chill down your spine. You have never seen anything, let alone an actual human man like him before. 

A beard as thick as the very forest his people populate and as dark as the nights can get here in the absence of lanterns due to the heavy trees, age that streaks some of his gold locks with its silver has not marred the sternness of his jaw that remains firmly set under the heavy mane of his facial hair. His shoulders seem akin to the mountains that surround his village and his piercing dark eyes the mysterious waterfall that flows some way down south from the entrance of the settlement. The frightening mass of his shoulders is so toned that if the barely noticeable wrinkles that sometimes appear under the dark of his eyebrows and next to the crow-feather like lashes that frame his eyes, he can easily be mistaken for a man in his primeful late twenties and no older. His unrelenting strength and wolfish stamina would only further serve to bear testament to the misconception. 

Your strict husband bluntly catches your shaky hand that you extend in his direction to feed him some of the meat, the force that he uses coupled with the coarseness of his skin making you jump. You bite back a yelp and whimper when you look up at his dark blue eyes from where you were watching his bearded mouth to carefully place the food in.

“I don't care” Steve does not care much for being polite -unless it is you who disregards it in your behavior-, especially when it comes to you denying or diverting his ‘care’ for you. “You eat more” you bite back the scowl that threatens to break onto your face from how he turns your hand around in your direction instead. “Wives always need to eat more. They do so much at home for husband and children” he probably feels proud of these ‘values’ that have been transmitted to him by his elders. But all they make you want to do is to crack him across the jaw for being a misogynistic and backward shithead. Especially with you. 

Your ‘husband’ believes that everyone has a role to play; a contribution to make to their people and home. That is how this archaic village of theirs has survived in these mountains hidden away from the rest of the world for so long. 

The greasy piece of a disturbing excuse of a rare steak touches your lips and you've been here long enough to know better than to argue or worse yet, fight. So you smile and lean into his arm that cases your form against his through the embrace he holds you in from behind, his fingers playing with one of the many flowered braids your attending ladies had put in your hair a bit before his arrival at ‘home’. 

“O- Of course” you reluctantly open your open and grip your flowy dressing gown for a semblance of support for your sanity, taking the smallest bite you can -which is still a lot as the man pushes nearly the whole piece into your mouth the moment you open up- as you keep your eyes trained on his to avoid looking down. Your mind always becomes more aware of the taste when you look. “Thank you, dear” you focus on swallowing it without gagging and feel your smile split in places because of how uncomfortable you are.

He probably notices it because he slightly raises one eyebrow and snorts before hugging your smaller form -that is tiny compared to his- closer and puts the rest of the piece in his own mouth. If there is one thing you have learnt in your time with him, it's that you can never fool him. Not really. No matter how well you may think you have lied or pretended, he always sees through it. 

Sometimes you suspect he even enjoys it.

Steve finally begins to eat himself, silently offering you another piece that you politely reject by shaking your head and then quickly pressing an apologetic kiss to his scruffy cheek to lighten the blow. Apparently, a wife can never be polite enough to her husband. And though the change in his expression begins with an unhappy frown, your show of ‘affection’ seems to suffice him and he relaxes in satisfaction, now looking down the long table and at his clansmen and maidens that sit enjoying their dinner, their chatter and laughter a dull roar in the large eating hall of the Leader's dwelling. You pick up the heavy jug of mead with both your hands and obediently hold it to his lips to sip from. Steve looks away from what one of his main men are saying and gulps down a mouthful, rubbing your back as a gesture for thanks before moving his hand quickly down to squeeze your ass to heighten the effect of his expression of gratitude. 

His form shakes in mirth when you yelp and blush. He knows how embarrassing you find being openly ‘affectionate’ in front of people and that is one of the reasons why he enjoys it so much besides showing off that a thing of such beauty and youth like you is all his. You rest the jug between your boobs that he has fucked and squeezed into increasing in size and use your other hand to gently finger and stroke his golden locks that he keeps pushed away from his face outside the bedroom. Though he says nothing, you feel his usually vigilant and always firm stature slowly soften and you cannot help but smile, though what he says next quickly deflates it.

“Do you feel any change in you, wife?” You know what it means and now it's you who becomes tense. He only uses that name for you when he speaks to you as a husband inquiring about your marital matters. “Has my seed attached to your womb yet? Does it grow there?” You gulp and feign shyness, moving closer to his hair and nuzzling yourself in him. “Hm?” He closes his hugging arm around you and reaches for your stomach, fingers groping your covered skin as gently as he can -which isn't much- to feel it. “Answer me” he demands when you refuse to speak. 

“I… I don't know, husband” you always promise yourself that you'll demand more rights for yourself; ask him to treat you like the other husbands treat their wives, only to fail the minute he enters your vicinity. 

“What does that mean?” His tone turns blunt and you whimper at the tightness that snaps back in place between his shoulders. 

You get it.

That was the deal, after all. 

Healthy children in exchange for your life that was required by their judicial laws for bearing false witness to your friend accidentally killing one of their people in mistaken defense. Steve had promised you before accepting you as a citizen that if you failed to fulfill your task you'd walk the darkness in the dungeons. He had shown you how it would be before declaring you a member of their tribe and the sight you had seen was something that had given you nightmares for days. 

But that did not mean you actually wanted to have your old captor's children.

You doubted it would ever be something you'd look forward to.

“I- I mean” regret shoots up your spine in the form of fear and you lose your speech to it momentarily. But then two of your main attending ladies -by that you mean Steve's top agents when it comes to you- enter the horizon of your sight and you hurriedly blubber out the first thing that comes to your mind. “I've n- never been pregnant before, s-o I d- don't know how to…” Your husband turns to look at you, his handsome features twisting into a rogue scowl but before he can scold you, one of the two ladies, Kaira, speaks in their language to Steve. 

Not everyone here can speak English and those who do speak it do so a rather odd version of it. Naturally, you don't speak their language and so they give you the full experience of an outsider when they need to discuss the business they want to keep private from you. The thought makes you want to laugh, like you'd be able to do something with whatever informations they withhold.

But it doesn't really bother you, because you don't care.

You've also learnt that ignorance is bliss here. 

Especially for someone like you.

Better to be the doe eyed trophy wife of an angel who can't tell her head from her ass.

“Is that so?” Your heart jumps when Steve chooses to speak English. That means that this definitely concerns you. You place the mead down and wrap one arm around his broad shoulders before nervously combing his thick beard with your other hand. Since you have no interest in or desire to learn their language, the only word you manage to pick up on when you focus really hard is ‘baby’ and that is solely because of the annoying amount of times it comes up for you. 

“Is not this strange?” He speaks once the women step back after finally ending the nerve wracking conversation that seems to go on forever. “Do you hear what they say about you, little one?” Fuck, you're definitely in trouble. 

He is reminding you of your place. 

You put on your best charming smile but you're painfully aware that your nervousness gives it away. You can feel it. “W- What do they say, dear?” They were such bitches. They knew how to speak English, that's why they were your attendants, but yet they chose not to. And now they were glaring at you like you weren't above them— oh no, not these thoughts again. You will never become like them! No, no! 

Steve pushes his plate away now. Your head spins from the realization. It's only half finished. Your husband never wastes his food. It is a near sin for them to do so. “They tell me the most odd things” oh just fucking tell me! You mentally scream but outwardly tilt your head to the side in confusion, your chest vibrating with the rising beats of your heart. “And now that I think about it myself…” His fingers wrap around the mead before he raises it to his lips. “I see the—”

“What did they say, Steve?” Your mouth works faster than your better sense and he pauses mid sip, dark blue eyes flickering up from the stone jug to look at you. Your face flushes a noticeable hot and your ears get sweaty from the awareness. 

Fuck. 

“They say you've been getting rid of my seed” he feels played and thus angry at the both of you. Perhaps more so towards himself than you; his silly little child-wife. How could he let a thing as tender and small as you fool him so? “... Do you?” It is obvious you are guilty. Besides, he is confident that his people would never lie to him unlike one young and beautiful girl that he had found kneeling in front of him in his court while bawling her eyes out one fateful night, fear stricken as his people surrounded him like a doe trapped. 

And of course, your expressions and reactions don't help your case, as always. “W- What? No…” Your mind becomes erratic.

“No?” He himself knows not what kind of a chance he offers you with that. But typical to your nature, you make it easy for him by refusing it.

“N- No! Of course not! W- Why would I ever do such a thing to m- my husb- hubby and my b- babies?!” Steve has to clench down his scoff. 

“You wouldn't, would you?” Your naivete never fails to amuse him.

“No! I- I don't know why they accuse me so—” you mend your speech from the archaic form that tries to leech to it everyday. “I don't know why they would accuse me of that but they must be mistaken! This is a misunderstanding!” 

He hums. “I see…” His scarred fingers begin to toy with your braids again. “So you remain devoted to me and faithful to our family, don't you?”

“Of course!” You nuzzle closer to him, your heart thundering into his chest. “I don't know why they still treat me like an outsider” you purr as you nervously stroke his hair, playing a card of your own and making an absolute fool of yourself by doing so. “I try my best… like I promised.” 

“Yes, your promise” his distant eyes -they get like that when you disappoint him and you hate the sight because it never fares well for you- travel down to your empty stomach. His gaze makes it wrench. Your fear skyrockets at the same rate as your anger. If only there was a way for you to get back at those bitches without having to give birth!

“I- It takes time sometimes, dear…” You hug his shoulders with one arm. “But it will happen. I know it…” Your other hand reaches for his fingers that rest on your abdomen now. 

“Oh?” Steve raises one dark eyebrow at you. His hair is the most fascinating combination of blonde and dark brown. “Is that what your modern day sciences say?” His people were not always like this, he had told you. They did not originate from here. Rather, some families had abandoned ‘civilization’ when it was going to hell -in his words- by killing each other for meaningless constructs such as caste, creed and color differences and migrated up here to establish a system of their own; one free from such nonsense. 

Apparently.

You take a deep breath. “Stevie—” you only call him that when you find yourself dangerously close to the dungeons.

“If that is what you believe in, wife,” he never cuts you off. Usually, that is. His age that streaks his blonde strands with its silver ones has granted him enough patience. Normally, he waits for the other person -who is most often you- to mess up themselves. But whatever the ladies have told him seems to agitate him into rebelling against his own nature today. “I'll do it your way. After all, happy wife happy life, is that not what you tell me often?” Okay, you might have said that during a particularly cocky moment in bed once. 

But the intention behind that had not been nearly whatever he is moving towards now. 

“Y- You don't have to, l- love…” You nervously giggle. “You're perfect the way you are” you run your nails that he insists you keep trimmed for hygienic -as if- and practical purposes through his silver-blonde hair.

“Oh no…” Now he pushes his food farther away. “I will indulge you, little one” he moves your other leg over his laps so now you face the people down the table with both of your legs on either sides of his, ass to his… fuck. “Time conspires against us, and so we must make haste.”

Your eyes widen and your heart leaps up in your throat. “M- My love?!” 

Steve moves your flowy gown out of his way, keeping a firm hold on one of your thighs even though he doesn't really have to. Your fear of him would never let you attempt an escape. “Yes, my stars” the name is so full of sarcasm it nearly pierces you open. “Let us leave time to its devices, and us ours” your husband is usually a very possessive and private man when it comes to you, but his ire seems to get the better of him today. You hear the buckle of his own clothes come undone. The table goes silent and heads turn in your direction once they realize what's going on. Oh no… Your stomach drops. Not in front of everyone. Not when Steve makes you so vulnerable in that condition. Not in front of these lowlifes!

“Husb—” blood bubbles hot under your cheeks as you feel him align himself against you. 

Holy shit.

You feel one of his coarse hands wrap around your throat and he pulls you closer to his mouth so he can whisper in your ear. “You will contribute, my stubborn little wife,” you whimper from the menace his words hold, your well trained cunt obediently squelching open against his thick hard tip as he lowers you on his cock with the hold he has on your thigh. “Whether you like it, or not” sometimes, deep down, you fear that the dungeons are not an option anymore. 

He keeps you in the horizons of his sight too much for them to be. 

It appears as though the sentence has changed. 

It is now Steve, or Steve.

You cry out from the strain his log-like girth puts on the narrow band of your entrance. God. You will never get used to his size regardless of how many times and ways he tames your pussy in. Yes, it does not refuse him or rip around him now as it used to in the beginning -and it did that for a long time- but the size to which his cock makes it expand is like a mini-birth. Feels like it, looks like it. Only, it feels way too good. And that's why you don't mind it—

No. You don't know what that was or meant. But you don't take responsibility for that thought!

“Oh!” The balmy velvet of your cavern grazes down the bulging veins and hard skin of the brute's cock until your petals squish against his heavy and very eager balls. Your head spins when you feel his tip tickle your cervix. It never takes his dick long to find it.  

His hands are pushing you back up almost instantly so he can slide you back down. You look anywhere but at the tens of faces in front of you, instead choosing to look at the wall on the opposite side of the table. You never thought these people were capable of being this quiet until now when your pussy makes an embarrassingly loud squelching noise as Steve tugs you back to his leaking tip and then allows gravity to suck you back down. You desperately bite your lips and try to focus on ignoring the way your insides are beginning to thrum with the excitement and stimulation; to show these brutes that you're better than them and aren't some animal of nature. But to no avail. His slimy precum mixes too well with yours, the rough skin of his hands digs into your thighs too well and the manner in which your petals rub against his cock when he lifts you yet again -now forming a momentum- before letting you slide in again is too much for you mask with nonchalance. 

Indifference has never been among your strong suits.

“Tell me, my pretty” Steve begins again, his dark eyes now finding the young and hormonal pack of unsuspecting boys who clearly do not know better. “Have you ever had a cock like mine?” He says it in their own language so the foolish miscreants see, understand and learn the fact that you’re only his. You belong to him and he will go to war for you, not that a pack of rug rats will ever be a cause of worry for him. “Has anyone ever fucked you as good as I do?” He switches back to the language you understand, roughly fumbling for your jaw before he grabs it and bounces his hips into yours at the same time. 

Your traitorous legs have begun to do what they always do; fuck yourself against him -if he hasn’t bound you, which he hasn’t- in whatever position he has you. You only realize that your breathing has become heavier when you open your mouth to answer. “Only you, my husband! Only you!” Your brain is running too fast for reason or reflection to catch up so you leave wondering why you answer him with the only words he has been able to teach you in his language to later. Your words are muffled as his fingers that grip the lower half of your face nearly slip in your mouth from the disordered urgency of the both of your actions. 

“That's right” your mouth falls open and you begin to softly pant in that animalistic way that you detest when he makes you watch yourself in a mirror while fucking you sometimes. In your defense, it is always unintentional on your part; you barely even notice it while taking his fucking. And yet, it is inevitable due to the force he does it with. “Look at you; dutifully fucking yourself up and down your husband's cock like a bitch in heat” a twinge forms in your knuckles from how your fingers hold the edges of the table to aid the gliding of your fuck hole that now slams up and down his cock in a rhythm you're all too familiar with, the smacks of your bare ass slapping against his naked abdomen making appalling noises that you're too worked up to dread over right now. “And you're a bitch in heat for me, aren't you?” His fingers move down from your jaw to your throat. “Wanting to be bred over and over again until you're so full of my children that your little belly is round and heavy to the brim, hm?” In these moments, you tell him anything and everything that he wants to hear.

Steve knows it all too well.

And he loves it.

“Yes!” Your voice disappears midway from how he squeezes your windpipe. His hips meet yours midway now, the wetness of your cunt and the force of his thrusts causing for his balls to try and push past the tight boundary of your sexual cavern. “Yes! Yes! I am! Please!” Your eyes roll to the back of your head when his free hand finds your petals to play with. “Ohhh!”

“You want to be bred, don't you?” He rubs your drenched pussy lips while his hard cock pistons in and out of your sopping cunt. “Want to contribute…?” He chokes you once more and this time his fingers pinch one of your pussy lips punishingly at the same time and you cry out. “Provide your husband with a house full of heirs?” The oxygen in your mind depletes and your eyes flutter as a result, cheeks turning red and nerves becoming prominent on your glistening temples. Your horny yet defensive pussy finally relaxes around him a bit so it doesn't hurt his dick and he savours the moment by holding you by the curve between your legs and fucking into your form that gets limp by the moment to push you towards your first orgasm. 

It always gets better after that. 

For him, at least. 

You don't choke him out so much then.

“Y- Yes!” When Steve finally lets go of your throat to let you breathe, you blubber out an an answer obediently once the light returns to your eyes. Your walls stiffen around him once more. But by then he has already worked himself closer to your womb. “Yes! Yes!” It is all your mind can muster.

“Good” he makes a point of taking both of your boobs in his hands and thoroughly massaging them to show off his ownership over you. “Now ask me to breed you” the fence of heat that has formed around your loins becomes tighter when his hands that previously fondled your clothed breasts slip under your gown -for Steve is too possessive to actually expose you to the eyes of others- and he softly rubs your tense sides a couple times before his fingers form pinches around your hard nubs. 

“Please breed me!” Your voice is so loud and strained that its quality is nearly blood curdling. “Please breed me and s- stuff me full your children!” Your hands fly to grip his from over the dress as you throw your head back and slip from the edge of your anticipation, parrotting all the words he has taught you over the course of your marriage. “Oh GOD! Please!” Your back arches from the coming undone of the hot belt of expectation and scorching gratification spills from it, seeping down your legs in the form of a nearly unbearable electric feeling that transforms into a subzero energy when it reaches your toes that curl, causing them to feel as though they are freezing. “I need your b- babies so bad, hubby!” 

Steve's own ears blush from the heat that courses through them in the form of adrenaline as he snorts, some of his blonde strands coming loose from the push and tug that he plays with your cunt. “Tell them” his balls ache from the strength it takes him not to fill you up right then. “Tell everyone that you want me to fill you up with my babies” since your sensitive body tries to curl and move away from the overstimulation, the older man wraps both of his hands around your thighs to keep you going. “Say it!” And he makes you say the words that he desires in the language of your spectators that look embarrassed for the first time since you got here. 

Save for your husband's best men who look equal parts aroused and proud. 

You want to cringe and be disgusted but your sensitive pussy is being pounded too hard for you to attempt a conjuring up of any dignity. 

“Need hubby babies bad!” You cry out again from memory when Steve's thick seed begins to fill you up at last. “Oh, my God!” The feeling of his hot cum filling you up and painting every inch of your sensitive walls penetrates your already hazy mind and the warmth that steams out of the pearly liquid steams its way up to your womb, making you shudder at the feeling. Your opening tightens around him in protest of the overstimulation and it instead causes for a barrage of bitter-sweet electric sparks to explode through your abdomen in the form of a half post-climax orgasm. Your body grows tired.

But your insatiable is far from done.

“Flattering, but no” Steve pushes you against the table before standing up when he is done fucking his orgasm as deep as he can reach into you. “The father of your children will suffice” your eyebrows furrow at his words but the older man does not give you a chance to ponder over them because now he is hooking his hands under your thighs that your rapid and messy fucking has covered in both of your juices. 

“W- What?!” Your vision is hazy and your mind dazed as you incoherently tap about. “What's— oh!” You wince from how much easier it is for him to move inside your worked open and much lubricated but torturously overstimulated walls now. “Oh! Oh…” Your hands blindly feel behind you to try and get him to stop. “Oh, no! No, please!” You cry out weakly, your upper body hanging low in the opposite direction from the exhaustion. 

“No?” The older man darkly chuckles, paying no mind to your flailing. “You think you can say that to me?” One of his hands desert their post on your thighs to roughly grab at your hair. He hasn't forgotten what started all this. “You think you have the same rights as everyone else around here, wife?”

But you're scowling from the burning pain in your walls, mind hazy and unwise. “Stop! Stop!” Your puffy folds ache from how his stiff skin rubs against them as he moves in and out of you at a normal pace… for now. “It hurts, stop!” 

“That is the part and parcel of having children” your body curves outwards as he pulls you further back and closer to himself by your hair. “And is that not why you're here?” His cocky tone along with the hungry and wondering eyes of the wildlings make you angry. “What you were spared for in the first place?” A twinkle in the eye of a man pisses you off and…

“It hurts, you old bastard!” Your young blood gets the better of you and your mouth runs before sense can catch up. “Stop, stop, stop it!” Since your hair holds you closer to him you manage to land a few smacks to his rock hard arms before you try to snake your fingers under his to pry off the hand that he coils around your thigh in a weak attempt to move away. 

Steve only chuckles, clearly unfazed by your fighting as he bounces your smaller form up in the air with each thrust. “Did your mother not teach you anything, wife?” He lets go of your hair only to restrain both your arms on the small of your back. “Good girls never tell their husbands no” your body flops forward again and you've no choice but to face the long table full of people. “They lay down pretty with their legs spread and let their husbands fill them with their children and then they express their gratitude for being granted a family.” Though your mind is confused and rather disoriented from the influx of sensation, you can make out new additions to the crowd of your humiliation from the corners of your vision. 

“Ugh!” You grunt from the rapid jabs he gives to your sore pussy, his firm hold nearly searing into your wrists. “I don't wanna have your stupid blonde babies!” Steve breathlessly lets out a real laugh at that. “Let go!” 

“There” he can swear he will never tired of you breaking the little character of the obedient wife that you so naively think you have mastered only to break it when he has you all riled up like this. “Right there, easy now” his other hand leaves your lap and he pushes your head down and against the table in the most condescending manner imaginable. Steve has got you to expose yourself for the brat you are, no need for play anymore. “Now I make a bunny out of you” his dark eyes now meet with those of the boys sitting at the other end of the table and his use of their language is a silent message. The Leader knows how his wife is desired. And he doesn't appreciate it in the least. The young males all panic and look away, gulping to themselves and praying for their lives. 

You try to struggle again, your lip curling in disdain and protest as you feel him fuck his cum right up your cervix. The bitter pleasure you get from it makes your head spin and your fingers and toes flex defensively. “Ooof!” Your cheek rubs against the table and you puff out your face to express how tense you feel down there. 

“Brat” Steve shakes in silent mirth as he reaches for your ass with the hand that he was holding your face down with. “Don't you move a muscle.” You're too busy rocking over the table and being held down to try. 

“Hubby, please!” You whine when one of his veins twitch deep up your walls and your knees shiver from the sensation. “Please!” Maybe if his cock wasn't so comically huge, it would have been easier to move past the rough friction of your raw, orgasm worn skins. But it is and so you are ready to abandon the dam that begins to form in your abdomen again if it means to avoid this pain. “Owwwiee!”

“Aw” Steve cooes as he now moves to a pace that falters your vision and causes for the great table to shake with each thrust that he gives you. “So small and sore, aren't we?” The spank he lands on your unsuspecting ass right after is the stark opposite of his tone. “Maybe we shouldn't act out so much when we are so weak and pathetic, huh, wife?”

“Oooof!” One of the shyer ladies get up before she carries her young son who stood next to the group of the young ones away and the realization of the fact that your spectators are all real people who see you everyday and will continue to do after this drips down your limbs like ice cold water. Your hips cannot help but clench from the embarrassment that you dully feel in some part of your mind way far at the back. “Hubby, please!” The spanks increase with each snap of his hips and though the turmoil between your legs takes up most of your sensory powers, your cheeks now begin to noticeably sting from the pain that builds from how the swings of his hand against your poor ass increase with each thrust. 

“Please?” Steve muses like he isn't balls deep into you and fucking the literal daylights out of you like a crazed heathen. “Oh, but I thought I was a mean old bastard” of course, your pleas always only mean that you want more, according to the brute you are married to. They cannot mean anything else, apparently. “And you didn't want my stupid blonde babies” you grunt from the frustration and land a helpless fist on the table. You are in an uncomfortable tug of war between the mutilation of your sensory glands and the tall barrage of tight hot anticipation that cannot help but form in the base of your stomach again because of how hard and rough he fucks you. 

Your husband's main man, Lloyd, laughs in a comically daft voice to tease you and be the insufferable asshole that he is. “You've got yourself a feisty little pup there, Steve” he is the only one who can refer to the blonde haired man by his name. Or maybe, he doesn't care to use the honorific and his usefulness backs him up. You wouldn't be surprised if the latter really is the case. “Don't you agree, my sweet?” He side hugs his own young bride who ironically is one of the sweetest and perhaps the only nice person in this entire village and Lloyd grins down at the girl whom you now notice is blushing furiously. 

Before you can let the humiliation swallow you whole, Steve spreads your burning cheeks and chuckles at the sight he finds glistening and blinking up at him, the madenned hammering of his cock unceasing. “Look at this adorable little button of yours, darling” you are not personally familiar with any of the faces that witness you trying to pathetically crawl away when your devil of a husband begins to tickle your pucker so you realize it was actually not quite hitting you as bad as it does now when you become hyperaware of Rainie's gaze. If it weren't for how your eyes roll because of Steve's hot seed shooting deep up your cavern again and nearly searing into your very flesh this time around from the brutality of it all, you reckon you would have tried to hide. But now all you do is let out choked blubbers as your wide eyes sting from tears due to the sensory overload. “I think it's time we deflowered it, what do you think?”  

Oh, no. 

His cock is not something that you can handle in your ass without splitting all over the place!

“No answer? No?” It feels as though you are the one who is cumming and not Steve because of how good he is at wearing the mask of nonchalance. “Hm,” he roughly pulls you backwards by your hair before hooking an arm around your waist to keep you from trying to get away from how he toys with your trembling pucker. “Maybe we should let sweet Rainie decide for you, hm—?”

“OH, GOD!” You cannot help but scream over him. 

He is too much.

Steve ignores your exclamation, thrusts delayed -more jab like- but so strong that his tip spears into your cervix with each thrust, thus causing for your head to spin from how he chooses to fuck out his orgasm. “She's your friend, isn't she?” Steve's beard gently stings the sweaty and teary skin of your jaw from how his mouth presses into your ear. “Aren't you, Rainie dear?” 

Yep, you are never looking her in the eye ever again. 

“Answer him, sunshine” Lloyd eggs his wife on and you notice through your cloudy vision that he is making her palm his own bulge. You nearly cringe back into Steve's chest from the obscenity of it all. 

The girl, a new bride herself, is shy and small next to her own flesh boulder of a husband as she meekly peeks up at you through her lashes. “Y- Yes, sir. We are friends” her voice is barely audible and both your husbands chuckle. 

If it weren't from how a dull orgasm rips itself apart somewhere deep between your loins, you would have felt angry.

It is like the assholes know that you're friends, and they're having their fun with it.

No wonder they are best mates.

“Good, good” you can feel Steve's cum splattering your thighs with each brutal jab, the sound and sprays of his shaft making a mess of your juices underneath your dress ample in its audibility. “So, do you think it's time your girlfriend's dirty little button was opened up, hm?” He keeps one hand on your pucker and reaches for your boob to grope with the other.

Rainie blushes again and furiously lowers her head the moment her eyes connect with yours. Though you don't know it, her own has been deflowered not too long ago and she isn't sure what response would be favourable by you, so that and the embarrassment of the Leader questioning her for something like that about his wife when she is on amiable terms with the girl makes her choose silence for as long as allowed. And her own husband cockily leaning into her and mansplaining into her ear how it would work for you by comparing it with what he did to her pretty ass only makes her curl further. 

“Shy little thing, isn't she, my precious?” So your husband turns his unwelcome attention back to you, bending the both of your bodies forwards so he can smack your asshole with the back of his hand easier, the impact making you rock violently forward. “Maybe you should learn some manners from her, huh?” The howls you let out from getting your pucker pinched and hit is something you would rather not narrate. All you choose to disclose of that ordeal is that sobs echo in the hall, another orgasm rips out of you and you are sure your body releases more liquid than normal for an average orgasm. “Look at how polite and nice she is, hm? While all you want to do is to curse your husband and be an ungrateful little sloth” it sounds as though a newfound annoyance causes him to grit his teeth towards the end and the tip of his fingers finds recourse in seeking for itself a passage past the tight barrier of your unwilling button as a result. 

And so your mouth begins to run in the desperate way he loves. “N- No, no, no hubby! No!” You vehemently shake your head as you feel your knees start to buckle from the exhaustion. “I- I didn't mean it!” The bearded corners of his mouth pull into a deep smirk. He knows its coming, and he loves it. 

“You didn't?” How can he not when he is the one who trained you to it and taught you the words to say during. 

“No! No!” Your voice comes out child-like from your mind's succumbing to its defeat. For the day, at least. “I d- didn't!” 

Steve is a jackhammer in how he fucks his children into you and works towards giving you more. “Oh, I see” now he speaks to you like an elder speaking to a young one, like you are no older than five winters. “Then, will you tell me why you said such naughty words to your husband who does so much for you?” He knows you're small now and so he chooses his words accordingly.

After all, it is Steve's meticulous tailoring of your mind and body which brings you to act out this specific sequence. 

Nothing less, nothing more.

Just this. 

A shrew tamed into a compliant wife equipped with the mind of a babe. 

He may never admit it outright simply because it goes against his very code of life but Steve knows in his heart of hearts that it is this very push and pull you put up in your own passive little way that keeps him alert and your marriage interesting. 

Addictive.

“Is ’cause— hnnng, cause—!” He pulls both of your bodies back up with the intention of turning you to face him but he chooses not to do it just yet. He wants you, those silly boys and everyone else who suspects that his judgement grows soft because of his fancy for your youthful beauty and adorable personality, to hear it. Steve can always pull you right back down if wants. Your reins will always be in a hand's reach to him. Just because he lets you sneak in your foolish ways sometimes doesn't mean you've conquered his nature-gifted better sense.

“Because, what?” Everything in life calls for balance and so each time your misbehavior that you think you hide so well from him begins to rise above a level he deems no longer amusing, he is there to hammer it down. 

Quite literally. 

“Because I am j- just an i- impudent,” Steve grunts and moans, feeling his cock twitch from how you always mispronounce imprudent when you are in this state. He taught you that word and true to your little baby self and mind, you can never get yourself to say it right. “Little wife and I am a d- dumby—”

“Fuck…” Steve feels a drop of cold sweat trickle down his back from your little vocabulary. He feels himself pant from how hard he fucks you, his windpipe alight from the friction caused by the air he heaves in with each desperate inhale.

You are a proper trouble; something he has never had before, and he loves it.

“— D- Dumby sloth who dunno any real worries besides e- eating and b- being spoilt b- by my lovu hubbsy—” your tongue is kinetic jelly between your teeth and Steve has begun to moan from how fucked stupid you sound. “So I get shtoopid and u- ungateful” Steve cannot contain it anymore. In a fevered and desperate confusion of how to express the thunderstorm you cause in his head, he slaps your hair away, causing for some of the flowers to go flying about, and sinks his teeth into your flesh, growling so deep into your skin that you feel the vibrations cause ripples in your blood. Perhaps that is what Steve yearns to taste. “B- But husby always fixes” your head goes limp against his as he sucks your skin like a crazed animal for you lose a track of how long. Your vision and hearing bolts away from your comprehensive faculties like a bullet train and your body gets sucked into the vacuum of your husband's beastly grip. You are just a lifeless doll rocking in whichever direction and manner he pleases.

Next time your brain catches on with your reality, your body has been placed under his with your back against the table. You faintly notice when your dress begins to get wet that splashes of mead cover it due to your brutish husband's depraved madness. 

“Look at me, hey” he pats your incoherent face until your wandering gaze settles on him, teary eyes distant. “This is the face that you will see in those of your children, and children you shall have until this residence cannot contain any more” his promise echoes in your buzzing ears like the bestowing of an ultimate truth upon you by some powerful deity. “This is the face you will look up at as you spread your legs,” his tip is so swollen, raw and hot against your worn skin that you can feel it even in this state. Your features scrunch from the discomfort. “This is the face you will kiss and cherish” his fingers find your throat again and your eyes roll to the back of your head when he puts pressure on your windpipe. “And this is the face that you will look at until you breathe your last” he holds you until you are on the verge of losing consciousness, though letting go only to stifle the gasp you let out to resume your breathing with a hot sealing kiss.

Your muscles twitch and your body spasms in the position he has you in. Laxness washes over your limbs and you begin to violently shake from the dull and yet stinging quakes of sensation that bloom through your whole form. 

For some dark, twisted and depraved reason, you cum from the helplessness of your situation and it is present in Steve's amused and proud smirk that the knowledge is not lost on him. Swiping an arm around you from behind with an air of satisfaction, he collects your limp body closer to his and walks off to your chambers with your drenched sexes still connected, leaving a crowd of embarrassed, curious, satisfied as well as tamed spectators in his wake. 

You surrender yourself to him and close your eyes as your body collapses on top of his. Your mind barely works but you know one thing— fact as clear as day; you are not making it out of this without at least one child on the way. 

And there isn't a single thing you can do about it.

. . .

[fakescenariosbeforesleepblog]

Have you had enough?

Targaryen reader x Aemond Targaryen x Aegon Targaryen.

Your husband and brother, Aemond, have been taking everything that belonged to Aegon. You're tired of it, the drop that spilled the glass was Aegon's incident. Your brother, the one who you actually love, badly injured, that was the end of your patience.

Warning ⚠️: Credits of this images goes to whoever they belong to, I took them from the Tumblr blogs: bbygirl-aemond / Winterswake/ tarth. Grammatical and spelling errors, I haven't watched this chapter of HOTD yet, I just needed to take the idea out of my mind so I can continue with a new chapter of the story (By fire and heart).

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used nor do I claim to own them.

Everybody running and walking from one room to another, you didn't understand at first why all the scandal until you saw a group of guards carrying your brother.

Aegon and you were close, spending much time together which your mother clearly didn't see with good eyes, you loved him in the way you couldn't love your husband.

Aemond took you as a wife and treated you with respect but not love, he never loved you, he simply took you because both were single and your little brother was far away from home to save you from that terrible unhappy marriage, it was only you and him, when he heard about your little secret romance with Aegon, he made you his wife before you could dishonor yourself that was his argument, but the truth was he did it for the simple fact to not give Aegon the satisfaction to also be the owner of you, or your body, silly Aemond never thought what actually mattered it was your heart, Aegon was deep inside your heart. A thousand men could be between your legs but only one could have your heart, loyalty and devotion.

You walked behind the guards questioning what happened. None of them could answer you, once they're in the king's chambers, one of the masters asks you to not interfere and wait out of the room.

- My princess, please you have to wait and let us work. In your conditions the least you need is stress.

You're going to respond when you see Aemond walking inside, he doesn't even stop to see you, you're sure he didn't listen to what the master told you, he walks directly to Aegon's bed. You walk and stay behind him, your tears falling as soon as you see your beloved brother, his precious face now half burned as much as the rest of his body, you're sure Aemond was behind all that, you left the room looking for Ser Criston, you found him on the way to your mother's chambers.

- What happened?

- My princess, I don't know, everything was fast, I just saw the king and his dragon falling.

- Don't dare to lie to me. Did my husband have something to do with this?

He doesn't talk but silently nod at you. Your body is burning with rage, you're furious you would love to burn your husband alive. His thirst for... power? Revenge for the traumas of childhood? Whatever it was, has taken it too far. Your nephews death and now your brother fighting for his life, Rhaenyra claiming the throne, dealing with a war and the pain of her newborn and Lucerys deaths, the poor Helaena trying to accept her son's death too and now carrying with a husband who probably will end as your father ended, in that bed looking the days and nights go until the gods have mercy and let him die.

You've been avoiding Aemond since they arrived, you spent much of your time with Aegon, Helaena doesn't complain, she's okay with it, she always knew your feelings for her husband, she's glad you're taking care of him and occasionally visit the king's chambers to help you or at least to talk with you. Even your mother visited Aegon, but there were no signs of Aemond.

Until one evening, you were holding Aegon's hand, whispering something close enough to him hoping he somehow could listen to what you were sharing with him, when the doors of his room opened, you did not see him but you were sure it was Aemond for the sound of his boots on the floor, you know his way to walk by heart.

- Ao spend olvie jēda kesīr (you spend much time here)

- Se ao spend olvie jēda sitting va zȳhon dēmalion (And you spend much time sitting on his throne)

You don't Even look at him, you're still holding Aegon's hand, contemplating what once was his face.

- Perhaps my wife could support me as much as she's supporting our brother. Your devotion to him is admirable, but it's what I'm expecting you to give me, not to him.

- Why would I support you? All the atrocities you've been causing and you expect me to congratulate you, to love you?

- Are you accusing me of something, wife?

His jaw tensed, his eye looks at you full of anger.

- Don't pretend you're innocent, I know you. You always wanted to take Aegon's place. You always take what is not yours, tell me husband, have you had enough? What else do you want?

Before he can argue again, Aegon opens his eyes, with the few strength he still has, he squeezes your hand.

Aemond notices it and pushes you aside, he starts to talk with Aegon, asking him what he remembers, he insists it wasn't his dragon who attacked him. Aegon simply says he doesn't remember anything, but you know he's lying, Aegon always has been good to keep himself safe, his facility to preserve his own survival and right now his only chance to survive it was to pretend he did not remember what happened.

Aemond was not going to leave the discussion in the air. He left but you're sure he will be back to try to make you regret your accusations.

Just as you predicted, At the hour of the owl, he appeared in your chambers, you were awake, looking through your window, you know how much he hates your indifference against him.

- So, what else will you take from our brother this time?

You say without any worry. Aemond walks until he's right behind you, you can feel his jaw against your head.

- What he expected to claim too. You.

He whispered while placing his hands around your waist, you couldn't contain your laughing, Aemond confusion made it harder to keep. You laughed loudly on his face, you are now face to face with your husband, he has never seen that look, your eyes darkened and your smile was full of evil, giving him a small kiss on the lips, murmuring almost whispering.

- Oh Aemond, do you seriously think I was still a pure untouched little princess?

He stepped back, his face doesn't show any emotion but you can feel his blood boiling.

- I am pregnant.

- Liar. I made everything to be sure he would not put a finger on you.

- Ask the master, I'm waiting for my first child.

Seeing his body tensed and full of anger brings you a new kind of feeling, it's an addictive pleasure you didn't know could exist.

-You know what makes it funnier? Even if one day I have your child, he will be just like you.

- What do you mean?

- A Second son who will not inherit anything. Or even better you will never have a child with me because I will prefer to be burned alive before giving birth to your children.

He quickly takes you by the neck and slams you against the wall, pressing his body against yours, even with the lack of air in your lungs, the pleasure of seeing him frustrated makes you feel alive, excited. He released you and left the room without saying more.

Once you take some air, you smile to yourself, your husband and his poor try to keep you away from Aegon, expecting to have you all for himself, but not even your body belongs to Aemond, he never thought he would be so frustrated about such a little thing like that, not having your love or your respect was the last thing he thought he would care about, the last thing he would desire to have more than anything else.

[satxnsupreme666]

Tainted love: Dark!Wanda Maximoff x fem!reader/Agatha Harkness/Agnes x fem!reader

Masterlist

Pairing: Alright so this starts as a Dark!Wanda Maximoff x reader and then it turns to be Agatha Harkness x reader (I really like the idea of Agatha helping and saving reader)

Based on the cover songsTainted love by Holy Wars and Hannah Peel´s cover of the same song

Summary: You´re living an unhappy marriage with Wanda and your neighbor Agnes decides to help you to get away from the person who makes you suffer.

Warnings: Toxic relationship, angst, Wanda maintains you captive inside Westview, mentions of kidnapping, Wanda manipulates and alters reader´s memory, gaslighting, mentions of blood.

Word count: 12k+

Author´s note: This was one of the first stories I wrote three years ago, I had posted them on Tumblr on my old account, but due to my mental health, I had to take a break from Tumblr and the toxicity and hate that had suddenly increased, I deleted all of my stories and my old account, now I have decided to upload them again here on Tumblr and also on Ao3.

I hope you like it!

If you enjoy, could you comment, like or reblog? it would help a lot really ♥️

Taglist: @midnight-lestrange  @eliscannotdance

 Sometimes I feel I’ve got to

“Printsessa you don´t have to worry about anything! You´re fine here with me, what´s outside doesn´t matter to us, there´s nothing important outside!” You remembered Wanda hissing at you all of those words, but you didn´t understand why it felt like a dream, as if it wasn´t real, you were sure she had yelled at you the day before today but then, why it felt as if you had dreamt about it, the memory was a little blurry but you could remember her frustrated face, was it real? If it was, why were you discussing about? You couldn’t tell.

You couldn’t remember what had happened yesterday, had you gone out for some groceries? Had you gone to Dottie´s place? Why you couldn’t remember?

You sat up in your bed, and more questions came to your mind, at what time had you gone to sleep yesterday? Why you couldn’t remember simple things like that? You started to feel frustrated and tried to focus on your mind, what were all of these images of Wanda and you discussing?

“Why do you want to go outside so bad? Here you have everything you need, I´m giving you everything you want, I don´t understand why you want to leave, it doesn’t make sense to me!” Was this a memory? Have you dreamt about it? Wanda would never yell at you right? She wouldn’t never yell at you; she had told you that many times, you repeated yourself in your mind.

“Printsessa? Are you alright?” You heard Wanda asking beside you, you felt her hand passing around your waist

“I don´t know” You said while closing your eyes.

“Are you having nightmares again, my love?” You frowned

“Nightmares?” You asked with a confused look on your face

“Yes, don´t you remember? You´ve been having nightmares for the past days, you always wake up in the middle of the night, and I have to calm you, did you have nightmares again?” Wanda was really concerned, so they were just nightmares? That had to be.

But why were you doubting? You believed her right? She couldn’t be lying, could she?

“I don’t remember having them, but-“ Wanda suddenly moved herself to get closer to you and her sudden action made you feel scared, unconsciously you moved to the side and you blinked, why had you done that? You weren’t scared of her, then why did you do it?

You could see the hurt in her eyes, and you couldn’t help but feel bad, you had wanted to touch her hand to say something, but you felt there was something wrong, you couldn’t shake the feeling off.

“I can make them go away if you want lyubimaya moya” You saw the worried look on your wife´s face, there was something missing in the way she spoke, her soft tone was still there but you couldn’t tell what was missing, it felt different, and you felt frustrated, why couldn’t you remember anything from the other days? You only had some glimpses of some things, but you weren’t even sure if they were memories, dreams or nightmares.

“No!” You hastily said, you were surprised with your own behavior, why were you suddenly feeling so afraid of her magic?

“Can I hold you?” Looking at her face the only thing you saw was sadness, but why? You felt the need to let her hold you and rest your head on her chest but there was this part of you, a voice in the back of your head that told you to stay away, but you didn’t get why, she was your wife, you didn’t have to be afraid of your own wife.

Deciding to ignore that unnerving feeling in your heart, you slowly nodded and Wanda started to come closer to you, this time she did it slower, her hands up in the air as if she was letting you know she wouldn’t do anything to you, oddly her action made you feel a lot more comfortable about what she was doing, she passed her hand around your waist, her grip was soft but firm at the same time, you started to relax in her arms and slowly you pressed your head onto her chest, for a moment you felt calmed again, you felt the love she promised you, the heat of her body against yours made you remember of how a home felt.

“I´m really sorry printsessa, I just want us to be happy, but you don´t let me help you, I will make these nightmares go away, nothing will ever make you feel this way, I just want you to be happy” Before you could separate yourself from her, her grip around you became stronger, it wasn’t soft anymore, you could feel her hand on your waist, holding you tightly against her but in a harsh way, you wanted her to stop holding you so harsh but she was stronger, before you could do something else she put her fingers on your temple, you couldn’t do anything else, closing your eyes you felt unconscious in her arms.

Wanda held your unconscious body against her, she hated doing this to you, but the real memories were messing with the fake ones she had put in your mind, she couldn’t lose you, no one more time, she was not going to let that happen, you had been gone for so long and now that she had you back, she was not planning on letting you go, after all you were alright with her, nothing could hurt you anymore.

“I´m doing this to you because I love you y/n, you´re safe here with me, just with me, I would never hurt you” Wanda whispered into your ear, her eyes closed, her grip on you started to become softer and with her free hand softly caressed your face, Wanda hoped you would understand why she was doing this, it was all for you.

Get away from the pain

 You woke up to an empty bed, where was Wanda? Frowning you stood up from your bed, you couldn’t help but feel as if you had already woken up hours ago, was it in the morning or in the middle of the night? Or maybe you just hadn’t slept well, and that was why you felt so sore.

Maybe taking a shower would help to ease the pain in your head, your headache was growing and you just wanted to lay back in bed again, but you felt as if you had already slept for many hours, you really didn’t want to go back to bed.

Physically you felt exhausted, the constant headaches were awful and the tiredness you felt almost all the time was unbearable, you wanted to go out to do something else, but at the same time you didn’t feel like going out.

This made you feel conflicted you just wanted the pain to stop, but you didn’t know how.

You were supposed to be happy; you were sharing your life with Wanda, you were her wife she had given you everything you had asked for, a family, you were living peacefully with her, but then why you felt so miserable? It made no sense at all, you felt so alone in this big house, there were so many rooms and you felt like every single thing hid something inside them.

A piece of paper on your nightstand distracted you from your thoughts, you knew it had been Wanda the one who left the small paper, taking it into your hands you saw Wanda´s handwriting, she had gone out again, this time she told you it was something about her job? Last time it had been something about a committee, it was alright, you started to relax a little but, why? You missed her terribly but at the same time there was this part of you that made you want to get away from her, she had never yelled at you or hit you, but whenever she was close to you, the way her hand gripped you a little too harsh, the way she told you everything would be alright, made you feel a little uncomfortable, there was a memory of her in your mind, a memory of a loving Wanda who used to hold you against her chest, singing Sokovian lullabies into your ear when you were afraid, her touch used to be soft, now her touch was severe.

A bunch of new thoughts started to come to your mind, Wanda said they were nightmares, but were they really nightmares? You tried to focus on these thoughts, how her behavior had changed, all the little things that she now did, you remembered she had always been a jealous person, but her new possessiveness scared you.

If she saw you talking to someone, she would get so jealous, so jealous that you even feared her reaction.

What she used to do was what made you stop talking to everyone who was just being nice to you, you didn’t understand her harsh tone against the others, but what made you feel more confused was that the others didn’t mind Wanda talking to them the way she did, like that time when Dottie had asked you how your days had been going at the supermarket, you were sure Wanda was on the other side of the store, she had told you she would go check for some fruit and you wandered around, you bumped into Dottie near the cereals isle, Dottie only asked you a simple question and before you could even answer, Wanda appeared out of nowhere, telling Dottie to go bother someone else, that she was not in the mood to deal with her, your wife didn’t even give Dottie time to explain herself, you couldn’t even hear a word Dottie said, because your angry wife took your wrist with such an angry and harsh grip, guiding you to the entrance, you didn’t even buy anything!  

Wanda dragged you to your house, all the way to your home she didn’t say anything to you, you felt so scared to even talk to her, Wanda didn’t notice she was hurting you, you tried taking her hand off you but that only made her angrier.

You blinked several times, here there were those memories again, at this point you were pretty sure they were memories, but when had they happened? You just wanted to know what was going on, Wanda told you that she loved you, but why it didn’t feel like that anymore?

Trying to ignore all of these thoughts you decided to go for a walk, now that Wanda wasn’t at your home, you had the chance to go out without her constant surveillance, maybe you could even talk to someone other than just your wife, it didn’t matter who, you just needed someone else to talk about anything, at this point you didn’t even care what it could be, you even wished you could find Dottie to just hear her talking about her meetings.

After changing your clothes, you went downstairs, looking around everything you felt there was something so strange about this house, and you couldn’t even put your finger on what it was, you felt awful, frustrated, you couldn’t even remember many things, and this only made you feel worse.

Going outside your house you notice how everything was so nice, the day was really pretty, the sun wasn’t too bright and the wind was refreshening, it was good to be outside, you didn’t even remember when was the last time you had been outside alone, it felt like it had been days since you were on your own here outside.

Walking through the streets you noticed there wasn’t anyone outside, what was going on? Why nobody was in the streets? Not even Dottie was in her garden, there weren’t children playing in the street, how was that even possible? You tried to think If the other times when Wanda and you had gone for a walk, there were people a lot of people for what you could recall, you even went to some houses to try to see if there were people in there, but you couldn’t see anything, and fear took over you, your lips started to tremble, everything was quiet and you found the silence unsettling, there was definitely something odd happening, after some more minutes of wandering alone through the solitary street and with your pounding heart you decided to walk back to your house.

“Y/n sweetheart?” A voice distracted you from your thoughts, you turned yourself around too look at the person who had called you.

 “Agnes!?“ You exclaimed with a happy tone, you were happy to see someone else, and Agnes was a gentle person to you, so you felt really happy to see her

"Thanks you’re here, it seems like you’re the only person around here” You said, with your voice trembling a little.

Agnes noticed your agitated state and felt concerned about you, you were really upset and she could see it, the way you were constantly rubbing your hands against your clothes, the way you were looking your surroundings as if you were afraid of something appearing, she was sure it was because Wanda wasn’t near this place, she was sure Wanda had gone to the limits that was why no one here was moving, but she didn’t want to scare you or upset you more.

“Oh darling it may be because it’s Sunday and everyone must be watching that show that airs on Sundays” She tried to reassure you with a smile on her face, her answer seemed to calm you a little bit because you stopped biting your lip as well as you stopped turning your head to look at your surroundings, your shoulders also seemed to relax a little more, and that made her feel a little calm, she didn’t like seeing you in such a distressed state.

You thought a little about her answer and it made sense to you, you remember that show that Wanda liked to watch on Sundays, but another thought came to your head, if it was Sunday then why Wanda had told you she had left for something related to work?

“Isn’t Wanda with you?” Agnes noticed how you shook your head a little at the mention on her name

“She’s not home, she left for-” You thought a little about whether was right to tell her or not, Agnes wasn’t a bad person, you couldn’t remember interacting a lot of her, but at the same time you felt you had already talk to her many times, she made you feel calm, her presence was recomforting and there was this feeling that made you trust in her.

“She left for something related to work” You saw how Agnes frowned at that.

It didn’t make sense to her, Wanda didn’t even work? She was going to ask you more things but the way you looked, she felt bad, you looked too tired and the sadness and you had in your eyes, she couldn’t see you like this, it was clear you were suffering.

“Would you like to come home with me? You can help me with a new recipe I’ve been wanting to try for some time doll” She softly asked you and you liked the idea, you really wanted to do something else so you nodded, you saw the way she smiled and you smiled too, she waited for you to start to walk and the two of you walked side by side, arriving at her house she opened the door for you and a quick memory of Wanda opening a door for you in a complete different place came to your mind, you blinked a little, what had been that?

“Are you alright sweetheart?” Agnes noticed how your expression changed for a confused one.

“I’m alright” you told her in a rush and she let you in, you slowly entered and you felt different, it was a different feeling to be inside her house.

Agatha knew you weren’t alright, she knew what Wanda was doing, she knew everyone else was under Wanda´s mind control, but why would she do it to the person the red-head was supposed to love? Her first plan had been to take Wanda’s powers, but now her plans had changed, she wanted to take your suffering away, she had tried to wake you up many other times, using her powers and it didn’t work, Wanda’s powers were really strong, the only thing that could wake you up was that you went outside Westview, but she knew Wanda wouldn’t let you do that, so she had to think of something else. She needed to do it quickly you were really suffering and she was sure Wanda’s magic had started to mess with your head, you didn’t know what was real and what wasn’t. For now, she could only try to make you feel a little better. She had to try to make you feel a little happy in all this messed up situation.

“Alright doll, so wanna start with the fun?” She asked you with her cheerful tone.

“Sure, yes, I love cookies, I want to help you bake them, where do we start?” You asked her trying to ignore the intrusive thoughts that came to your mind.

“First you will need an apron, you don’t want to get yourself stained with eggs and chocolate powder, right darling?” You nodded and she showed you a really pretty apron, she handed it to you and when you were about to tie it, she took the laces that were in your back.

“Let me do it for you darling” You felt shy at her action, you knew she used to be like that all the time, so you let her tied them for you, it was a nice gesture.

“Alright darling there you go” Agnes winked at you and you shyly smiled.

“Then let��s start, shall we doll?” You nodded and she grabbed different bowls, spoons and containers and placed them on the kitchen Island.

You came closer to her and she asked you to start pouring the eggs on the bowl but when you were about to do it, she stopped you.

“Wait darling, aren´t you going to take your pretty ring off your hand?” She inquired eying the ringer in your finger.

You blinked your eyes and slowly turned your look to your fingers, you didn´t think about it and a question came to your head, when did Wanda and you got married? Why couldn’t you remember it? You frowned a little thinking about that, why couldn´t you remember that? It was supposed to be an important moment of your life and you couldn’t recall that day.

“Are you alright doll?” You heard Agnes asking behind you.

“Yes, yes I´m alright” You said slowly to her, and took off the ring of your finger

“Do you want me to put that in a safe place so you don’t lose it?” You gave the ring to her and she took it in her hand, you saw that she put it in a small box in one of the shelves.

“Alright doll, now you can keep doing what you were going to do” Agnes said walking back to the kitchen island with her typical smile on her face.

You smiled and started to mix the ingredients in the bowl, you were really grateful to do something new, you couldn’t even remember when had been the last time you had done something else than just staying at home with Wanda and sometimes going out with her for some groceries or a short walk, Wanda was always with you now that you thought about it, but it was more like if you were under her surveillance, you shook your head, you were really enjoying your time with Agnes so you tried to push aside these thoughts.

Agnes was a really sweet person, she was attentive all the time you were there with her, if you had a question on how much of something you had to add she would explain you carefully, step by step, her perfume was really sweet you liked the vanilla smell that came from her.

“Honey you have some, let me help you” First she gestured to your face and when you try to clean whatever it was in your face Agnes laughed because you had just spread more the flour in your face, so she came closer to you, and with a napkin on her left hand she softly removed the flour off your face, her touch was so delicate, you wanted to stay like that a little bit more, but you quickly thought about Wanda, so you quickly separated yourself from Agnes and kept cleaning the kitchen island.

Agatha pouted a little, she would have liked to keep caressing your face, but she wouldn’t do it if you were uncomfortable about it.

You had a lot of fun with her and you enjoyed your time with Agnes, she was hilarious, you felt happy here with her, she made you feel good and you liked the feeling.

The older woman put the cookies in the oven and when she closed it, she went back to help you put everything you had used in the correct place.

“Can I put some music?” You asked shyly

“Of course, darling” She answered you and you happily went to turn the stereo on, the music started and it was your favorite song playing, so felt happier, at home you didn´t listen music at all, or did you? You couldn’t even tell, not again the thoughts.

“Hey doll would you like to do something else while the cookies are ready?” She asked you because she saw the distressed expression on your face, she just wanted you to be busy with something else.

“Yes” You blurted out, you didn’t need to think twice.

“We can play a boardgame, would you like that angel?” You nodded and felt your heart melt at the endearment, it felt so different, the way Wanda used to call you scared you, and you didn’t even know why.

You saw that Agnes went upstairs and minutes later she came back with a boardgame, you helped her placed everything on the living room´s table and when finally everything was placed and you had your tokens you started to play, it was awesome, Agnes had always a funny remark to say, you couldn’t stop laughing at her comments, you really enjoyed playing the game with Agnes, you were at peace, you felt inner peace, you didn’t feel like you needed to stay away from her like the way you felt with Wanda, you felt genuinely happy here with Agnes and you loved the feeling.

You played with her many rounds until you heard the alarm Agnes had set thirty minutes ago and you and her stood up from your sits to go for the cookies.

She took the cookies out of the oven and she placed them on the kitchen counter to make them cool a little, they looked really great and they smelled delicious.

“These look awesome Agnes” You said to her while pointing at the cookies with the pretty different shapes.

“That´s because you helped me, that´s why they look so good sweetheart” You couldn’t help but feel a little shy, you smiled at her biting your lip a little, you waited some minutes until she told you could start to eat them now that they weren’t too hot.

You were excited and you took one in your hand you were about to start eating the cookie you were grabbing in your hand but you heard a harsh knock on Agnes´ door.

You and Agnes frowned, who could it be? You saw how Agnes burrowed her eyebrows and she gestured you with her hand to wait for her, you understood and she went to answer the door

When she opened the door, you heard an angry Wanda and at the sound of her furious tone you instantly tensed in your seat.

“Where´s y/n?” You heard Wanda asking in an angry tone, fear took over you, you knew she wasn’t happy she was mad, really mad, maybe it hadn’t been a good idea to come into Agnes´ house, you started to regret your decision.

“Calm down darling, she´s here with me, we baked some cookies” You were too scared to even turn around when you heard quickly steps getting closer to you.

“What are you doing here?” You heard Wanda´s voice really close to you and you tensed more.

“I just, I helped Agnes to bake cookies” You said in a fearful tone, why were you so afraid of her?

“But you could have baked them all by yourself at home, you could have waited for me to arrive home and we could have baked them, you didn’t need to come here” You didn’t know what do or what to say, you just stared at the table in front of you.

“Oh darling, why are you so angry, I´m pretty sure she just wanted to get some fresh air, we haven’t seen her outside in days” Agnes said I a light tone, but when you heard she had said days, you lifted your head to look at your wife and you saw how her eyes went wide.

“Where´s your ring?” She asked you in a harsh tone changing the topic.

“I took it off so it didn’t get stained” You quickly said to her, you didn’t know where the courage had come out.

“Where is it?” She asked you again.

“It´s here darling I put it in a small box so she didn’t lose it” You saw how Agnes went for the small box and she took the ring out of it, she was giving it to you but Wanda quickly took it from her hand, she took it And you saw how Agnes burrowed her brows.

Wanda stretched her hand out to you with the ring on her hand and you got confused.

“Put it back” Wanda demanded, Agatha felt her blood boiling, how could she treated you like that? You deserved more, but she had to wait, she couldn’t risk it, she had to think carefully what to do next so Wanda didn’t hurt you, or mess with your mind again.

You were doubting, she was your wife yes, but she didn’t have to talk to you like that, you slowly took the ring from her hand and put it back on your finger.

“Let´s go” She said and started to walk towards the door, you turned your head to look at Agnes, and she saw the fear and doubt in your eyes.

“It´s alright doll, you have to go, don´t be afraid” She told you and that made you feel better, you nodded and she gave you a quick squeeze to your hand.

  The love we share

 Wanda and you arrived to your house and after you entered you flinched when Wanda slammed the door.

“Why did you go outside?” Wanda demanded to know; you didn’t want to turn yourself around to see her angry face.

“Why did you go outside?” You heard asking again.

“I just wanted to! I can´t stand being here all the time” You blurted out

“But we go outside! You can go outside when I´m here with you!” She answered back

“Bu why can’t I go outside alone?” You started to raise your voice a little, you didn’t understand why she was acting like this

“Just look at what you did today, you went to Agnes´ house and you even took your ring off!” She was being irrational.

“I didn’t do anything! I just talk to you, you don´t let me talk to anyone else anymore”

“How do you remember that?” Wanda quickly inquired.

“What? What do you mean? What are you implying?” You started to question and you saw how Wanda´s expression changed, that scared you a lot.

“I´m sorry printsessa, I didn’t want to scare you, I just, I´m worried about you” Wanda started to walk slowly and her sudden change of behavior made you fear her.

“Can I give you a hug?” You didn’t want to, you knew she was thinking something, you really didn´t want to let her hug you, there was something off, you just knew, unconsciously you stepped back

“Please my love I just want to hug you, like I always do” She started to walk faster towards you and you just felt the need to run.

You started to run towards your room but she used her magic to stop you from going upstairs.

“I´m really sorry my love, I can´t let you go, you´re mine, I´m only doing this to you because I love you”

“Wanda, please you don´t have to, this is not love, you don´t-“

“That´s not true! I love you; I DO love you, never said the contrary!” Wanda yelled at you making you close your eyes, you were trembling, at this point you were sure she had been the one messing and changing your thoughts.

“Please, Wanda you´re hurting me!” You squinted, it hurt, it hurt physically and mentally, you couldn’t keep with this.

“I´m sorry, I´m really sorry my love, I have to, If I don´t do it, you´ll get away from me, and I can´t let that happen, not again” She had tears in her eyes and you didn’t know why, you were the one who was in pain

“I swear to you, I won´t go away from you, I swear it, just please don´t do this again” You were pleading but she didn’t listen, Wanda came closer to you and she pressed her fingers against your temple, and once again Wanda caught your unconscious body against her.

“I´m really sorry for this printsessa, but I don´t want to lose you again” She whispered into your ear.

And I’ve lost my light

That night you dreamt of a different place from this one, you saw many people you couldn’t recognize, a tall blonde man who smiled at you kindly, a red-head woman hugging you and telling you that everything was going to be okay, a man with a serious expression and a metal arm saying comforting words to you, you couldn’t tell who they were but all of them seemed concerned they were worried, but why?

After that you started to had nightmares, there was a war, a big man, many people fighting against some type of creatures, and then you saw Wanda her eyes glowing red she was using her power to lift something big, but also you saw her crying over someone, that was really blurry, she was holding someone on the ground and then you didn’t see anything more.

 When you woke up again, you were surprised you remembered everything that had happened the day before, how could it be? This time you remember what Wanda had done to you, how she had used magic on you, it had been real, everything she had done was real, now you were aware, Wanda had been using her powers to erase some events and things that had happened.

You were relieved that Wanda wasn’t in the bed with you, there was another piece of paper on the nightstand and you quickly took it.

-I’m going out for work printsessa, I hope you slept well, I have a surprise for you, we can go outside if you want when I arrive home, love you-

Her small letter made you feel angry, how could she do this?

What caught your attention was the ring on your finger, she hadn’t taken the ring off your hand, but what surprised you was that the little diamond wasn’t white anymore, now it was completely purple, you thought about whether it was a good idea taking it off or not, but in the end you did it and left it on the nightstand.

You started to be more scared, now that you were sure Wanda was manipulating your thoughts so that you didn’t remember what she had done to you, you started to doubt more about her, what else had she changed in your mind? What was this place? Why where you here? What had she done to you? You couldn’t even remember more about your life. You needed to calm down a little, if you think about it, Wanda wouldn’t be back until noon, you didn’t know where she really went and you really didn’t care, you just needed to get out of this place, you couldn’t take it anymore, you used to love Wanda you were sure about it, even if you couldn’t remember you were sure you used to had something beautiful, what you and her used to have was like a dream, but now it had turned into a nightmare for you.

You really wanted to take a bath, but you didn’t even feel safe in your own house, there was no one else who could help you, everyone here seemed to live just to please Wanda, no one dare to contradict her, as if everybody was scared of her.

You went downstairs, you had the same clothes of yesterday, you weren’t even sure if it had been yesterday or not, did you even have a phone? You didn’t know, you were sure if you had one Wanda wouldn’t even let you use it.

The only important thing you needed to do was to get out of this house as possible as you could, running to the front door you took the doorknob to open the door.

“Damn it” You cursed under your breath, why was the door locked? Where were the keys? You started to look for them, but they weren’t anywhere, you didn’t find them on the bookshelf, they weren’t on the table, they weren’t on the kitchen on counter, not even in your drawers of your room.

Wanda had locked you in your own house, how could she have done that? You couldn’t believe it, why would she do that? You were terrified, this wasn’t supposed to happen, maybe she had just locked the front door, so you went to the back door of your backyard to try to get out.

“Dam it, it´s closed too” You hit with your palm the door, this wasn’t fair, you needed to get out of here, Wanda knew you would try to go out so she did this, what else could you do?

The windows! You quickly went to look for the windows in the first floor but they were closed and even if you tried using all of your strength you couldn’t open them, this was wrong, this was all wrong.

Going upstairs to check on the windows you noticed they were locked as well as the ones in the first floor, when did Wanda had the time to lock them like this? How had she done this? What if she had used her magic to lock them? You were feeling desperate you really needed to get out of here, but how?

You´ll have to break a window, it was the only thing you could do at this point if you wanted to get out of this prison.

You took some of the decorative medium size rocks that were around a potted plant, you didn’t need to think twice your next moves, so you threw the rocks aggressively against the window and you cover your face when it crashed against the big window, pieces of glass went flying and when the crashing sound you turned yourself to look at the now broken window, you smiled at the sight now you could be free from this house, you didn’t want to hurt yourself so you took your jacket off and placed it on the edges of the window so that you wouldn’t cut yourself, after making sure that all the sharp edges were covered, a little insecure you pressed your hands on the edge of it, this was not the time to be scared, you needed to do this.

Taking a deep breath you pushed yourself to be able to jump over the window of the first floor, half of your body had already passed but you didn’t notice there were some sharp edges at the sides of the table until you felt an awful pain on your left hand and arm, you tried to get out faster but your foot got stuck a little and a piece of glass teared part of your jeans, it got to your skin and you hissed, the pain was awful but you needed to get out of this.

You fell onto the grass and grunted a little, you would have liked to just lay there a little bit more, you felt exhausted but you needed to keep going.

“y/n? Oh god, what happened to you darling?” You heard Agnes´ worried voice, lifting your head to look at her she saw your tired eyes and the state you were in, she felt really guilty, she should have done something to help you, Agnes stretched her hands to help you stand and you gladly accepted them, she carefully took your hands carefully not to hurt you more.

“What happened sweetheart?” Agnes saw the broken window and some pieces of glass were covered in some blood and her heart jumped.

“y/n doll are you hurt? Let me see” The woman in front of you softly took your face in her hands looking for wounds on your face, you could see how upset she was, the worry in her eyes and the troubled expression she had, her eyes were so pretty and you felt a warm feeling growing inside your chest.

Stop, you thought, this was not the time for that, not now.

“I´m alright Agnes, I´m not hurt, you need to help me, Wanda locked me inside the house and I had to break the window to get out” You blurted out and you saw how Agnes clenched her jaw in ager, you couldn’t take it anymore and started to cry, you were desperate, you just wanted Wanda to stop, why couldn’t she just let you go? You threw yourself into Agnes´ arms and she carefully hugged you back, your sobs were breaking her heart, it had taken some time to understand what was going on with you and Wanda, at first when she arrived at Westview because of Wanda´s magic and she saw you, she just thought you weren’t having a great day, but your confused stare at what was supposed to be your house raised her suspicions, then the way she saw how Wanda dragged you to different places with harsh grip on you or the way she talked to you when someone else got near to you to start a nice conversation, she knew what had happened to Wanda,  but she didn’t knew anything about you, she didn’t know why Wanda had brought you here but she felt awful for you, your constant tired and sad look on your eyes, the way you would always look down at the ground, not even daring to look at Wanda, what had she done to you? Why did you look so scared of her? Agatha started to suspect there was something more going on between you and her, because sometimes you didn’t even get out of your house for days, the first time that she remembered that happening was two weeks after she had arrived for the first time.

All of you were in one of Dottie´s meeting, during the meeting you had been sitting next to Wanda all the time, with her hand on your waist and you even looked as if you were afraid to move, from time to time she kissed your cheek and you just stayed there, tensed the entire time, she had wanted to do something to make you feel a little less tense, maybe talk to you or made you laugh but Wanda didn’t let you alone until she found the perfect opportunity, when the meeting was over everyone dispersed and went to talk with different people some women were chatting with the others and she saw how Wanda told you something in your ear and you just nodded looking at the ground, then Agatha saw how you walked to the deckchairs and you sat down in one of them she followed you to talk a little with you, when she got near you, she saw how you just were staring at the water not even moving at all, and she frowned, why were you always so quiet?

“Hi doll, are you bored?” She asked you sitting next to you in the other chair, she saw the way you jumped a little at the sudden voice of hers.

“Hi Agnes” You shyly smiled and gave her a quick glance to her, turning your head quickly to look at the water again.

“I´m just a little bored, I would like to go now, but Wanda keeps talking to Dottie” You admitted to her, in that moment she frowned why wouldn’t just leave then? Maybe you didn’t want to go alone, she thought

“What if I accompany you to your house?” She kindly asked you and she saw how your eyes lit up for a moment.

“That would be great, but I have to ask Wanda first” The blue-eyed woman saw the way you thought about it for a moment and she nodded, you were Wanda´s wife after all.

“I´m going to ask her, wait here” You kindly smiled at her and she nodded again at you, she saw how you stood up from the chair but what disconcerted her was the way you walked towards your wife, as if you were scared of getting too close to her, she saw the way you hesitate to touch her arm, when you finally did it, you never dare to look her in the eyes, you  just stared at the glass Wanda was holding, Agatha knew there was something wrong, why would you be afraid of your own wife? She saw the way your lips almost trembled to her while you spoke and when you stopped talking to her she saw Wanda smiled at you and how she hugged you, you didn’t return the hug you just stayed still, after separating from you Wanda said something to Dottie and your wife took your hand to start walking towards her, when Agatha saw your face again she could swear you were scared, Wanda and you walked until you were standing in front of her.

“Thank you so much for offering to take my wife home, but I will take her home, you shouldn’t have to worry, I was almost finished, but thank you for the offer, right y/n?”

Agatha saw the way you quickly nodded and you didn’t even dare to lift your head to look at her.

“It was good to be here, but we´re leaving” Wanda was smiling at her but she couldn’t shake the strange feeling about her.

After that day she didn’t saw you for four days in a row, she saw how Wanda came out of your house and entered again hours later, the fourth day Agatha hadn’t seen you she decided to ask Wanda what was going on, so when she was in her garden and she saw that Wanda had arrived to your house she quickly went to say hi to Wanda.

“Hey darlin! I hope you´re enjoying your day at all, isn’t y/n with you? I haven’t seen her in a while” Agatha asked with a smile on her face, her expression didn’t match with the real emotions she was feeling, Wanda turned herself slowly from her front door and walked towards her, her annoyed expression changed into a fake smile just in the nick of time.

“Oh hi Agnes, I´m enjoying my day yes, I was just going to pass a lovely evening with my wife, she´s been feeling a little under the weather, that´s why you haven’t seen her, she decided to stay at home, but don´t worry, she´s getting better, so you don´t have to worry about her”  And with that Wanda went back to her door and entered to your house.

The next day she saw you, at the center of the town, Agatha had the unsettling feeling that there was something else behind all of this,  you were smiling and letting Wanda hug you as if nothing had happened days ago, you were holding hands with her and this time, you seemed to be happier, but Agatha had the feeling that was not the real way you were feeling inside.

And now that she was seeing you here, holding your trembling body against her she knew she had to help you, she couldn’t keep seeing you suffering.

Agatha had to do something, it had been so wrong to wait to do something, now you were here physically hurt because Wanda had locked you in your own house, your body was shaking with fear, this time she wouldn’t let that Wanda messed with your head again, not again.

“You´re safe with me doll, it´s alright, I won´t let Wanda get near you again, she won´t ever hurt you again” She was holding you tightly against her and for the first time you felt safe, you just wanted all of this suffering to end.

She took your hands in her and looked at you straight in your eyes, your beautiful eyes were red from all the crying, she needed you to explain things to you first, but she needed to do it quickly before Wanda came looking for you again.

“You´ll be fine” You heard Agnes say to you and she took your hand in hers waiting for you to walk, she guided you to the back door of her house and you followed her, she was holding you hand with a soft grip on yours, it felt so different as the way Wanda grasped your hand.

 Once I ran to you

 Agnes guided you inside her house and once again you felt at peace, you didn’t feel tense or afraid here with Agnes, the older woman made you feel safe.

“Sweetheart first I need to clean these wounds, would you let me?” You nodded and she made you sit in her couch.

Agatha couldn’t stand seeing you this way, you looked so broken, she knew there was more behind this, she wanted to make you smile, the times you had shared with her, the times you didn’t remember because she was sure Wanda messed with your memories, she was happy that you had asked her for help, she was sure that the spell she had put in your ring the day before had helped you, that spell at least helped you a little so that Wanda didn’t altered your memories, she wanted to tell you everything, but first she needed to take care of your cuts.

“I´ll be back quickly, I need to get some alcohol and cotton gauzes” She caressed your face a little before going to her bathroom, for what she needed.

You started to relax a little in here, you didn’t feel any pressure, it was good to be here with her.

You her quick steps coming closer to you and the sound of her rushed steps didn’t scare you as how Wada´s had made you feel when she came to your side demanding to know what you were doing with Agnes.

“Angel, let me see the cuts, I´ll be as gentle as possible, I don´t want to hurt you more than you already are” You felt touched by her words, so you showed her your arm and your hand, those were the ones that hurt the most, she cleaned the cuts and applied alcohol on them, then she put the cotton gauze and she did the same with the cuts in your leg, you really liked her gentle touch against your skin, it felt so nice to know that she didn’t want to hurt you, when she finished she placed everything in the small table in the living room and looked at you.

You saw how she brought her hand to your face and she softly caressed your cheek, unconsciously you lent into her touch, it was so nice to feel how she treated you with such delicacy, you were not expecting when she suddenly knelt in front of you, her hand were resting carefully in your knees and she was looking at you with almost pleading eyes.

“Doll I need to tell you the truth, but I promise you that you don’t need to be afraid, I just want to help you get away from this, you deserve so much more and I can´t let Wanda keep doing this to you” You said yes with your head and she took a deep breath and closed her eyes before speaking again.

“My real name´s Agatha Harkness” You had thought she was joking but when you saw the serious look on her face you realized, she wasn’t lying.

“I´m a witch, at first I came here, because I felt Wanda´s magic and I had wanted her powers, but my plans changed, I´m not interested in her powers anymore, I just want to help you, I can´t stand seeing the way you´re suffering” She felt some tears threatening to fall at the corner of her eyes, when Agatha saw that you weren’t saying anything and that you just stared at her with a blank expression on your face she started to fear the worst, she didn’t want to scare you, she needed to tell you the truth.

“Doll, I´m sorry I didn’t tell you this before, but please you don´t need to be afraid of me, I don´t want to hurt you, I just want to help you, I put a spell on your ring yesterday so that Wanda´s magic didn’t affected you, I was sure she was going use her magic on you, and before she took you back to your home days ago I knew she would do it, so I planned on coming to see you but in these two days she didn’t leave your house, she was constantly there until now, I saw she had gone out and I decided to go see you but then I heard a loud crash and when I arrived at your house you were laying on the ground that´s when I-“ She didn’t finish her sentence because you had hugged her, you passed your arms around her shoulders and when she felt how close you had pulled yourself to her she passed her arms around your waist, you started to sob again and she quickly removed a little from you to take your face in her hands and with her fingers she wiped the tears away from your face.

“You really did that to the ring?” You asked between sobs but with a smile on your face, you were amazed, thanks to her you got the chance to go out of that house, she nodded and you hugged her again.

“Thank you so much, you don´t know how that helped me, thanks to you I can remember the day you and I made cookies, you don´t know how much I love that memory, I can´t remember a lot of things but I can remember this and it makes me so happy that you did that for me”

“You don´t need to thank me sweetheart I want to help you, I´m so sorry I didn’t do anything before to help you, I tried to wake you up before but Wanda´s magic is too strong, her magic is tied to her emotions and when she´s angry her magic becomes stronger, I don´t know how is that even possible, but I assure you Wanda won´t hurt you again” She took your hands in your and gave them a soft squeeze to them, you nodded and closed your eyes, Agatha pressed her forehead against yours and you felt happy, you felt really happy that you had someone who wanted to help you.

“We need to go sweetheart; we need to leave as fast as possible” You whispered a small “yes” and the two of you stood up.

“Wait I´ll give something to cover yourself sweetheart, it´s could outside” You felt a warm feeling growing inside your chest and when Agatha came back with one of her jackets, she helped you to put on the jacket.

“Thank you” You said shyly and she smiled, you were so beautiful, you deserved to smile and be happy.

“Let´s go darling” Agatha took your hand in hers and she guided you to the door, the blue-eyed woman held the door open for you and she let you go out first, you really loved this gesture of her.

“We need to hurry darling; I don´t know if she can feel you or not, I promise I won´t let her get near you again” Agatha said to you and she started to guide you towards the other side of the street.

“We will have to go towards the other direction” You nodded and the two of you walked down the street.

This tainted love you’ve given

 After what felt hours of walking you finally arrived to the limits of the town and you felt horrified when you saw the people who were frozen on the street.

“What´s all of this?” You asked Agatha while covering your mouth, you couldn’t believe what you were watching.

“I didn’t want to have this conversation with you, I don´t want you to feel scared, but now that you´re seeing all of this, it´s necessary that you know the truth” The two of you stopped walking and she turned herself to look at you.

“This place is an illusion, Wanda created all of this, she´s using her power to make all of these people do what she wants, they can´t help but do everything what Wanda says, these people are frozen because Wanda´s not here, It doesn’t affect me because her magic isn’t able to affect me” She said and you quickly hugged her, it was awful what Wanda was doing.

“I´m really sorry you had to see this sweetheart” Agatha pulled you closer to her body and she softly stroked your hair.

“We need to keep going darling, we´re almost outside” She was right you could almost feel the freedom.

Agatha grabbed your hand again and the two of you walked towards the entrance, when you were close enough you saw something weird in front of you and you turned your head to give Agatha a questioning look.

“This is the magical field that covers Westview, doll, I want you to know that once we cross this field, all the memories Wanda locked inside your mind, you will be able to remember all of these, I know you´re strong enough to handle them, but I will be with you all the time alright?” You were scared you were going to remember everything you couldn’t and that scared you a lot, but you knew Agatha wasn’t lying she made you feel protected and you trusted her.

“Alright, I´m ready” You said to her with confidence, you really wanted to go away from this place.

You felt her hand squeezing your and she nodded to you, you and her walked at the same time and while you started to cross the magical field, you felt some pressure over you, but when you touched the other side the uncomfortable weight on you disappeared, the next thing you knew, a bunch of memories of your real life came to your mind.

You saw your old life back in the Avengers compound, the way your family had vanished into thin air, how Natasha had died for the soul stone, the battle against Thanos, how Tony had died for all of you, you remembered every single thing Wanda had blocked from you.

You also remembered how Wanda had cheated on you with Vision, the way you had felt when you saw her kissing the synthezoid.

You remembered what had happened that day, everything was clear now, she had proposed to you years ago, she used to be a loving and caring girlfriend, but that had been years ago, she used to loved you and you used to love her, you had thought you would be sharing your life with her, years ago she told you how much one day she would love to live with you in a beautiful house of two floors in a really pretty neighborhood, she had sworn to you that she would make everything to protect you from everything and that she would make you happy, but that day when she broke every one of her promises you gave her the ring back, she had pleaded you not to leave her, she had begged you many times to make you stayed with her but you didn’t accept it, and then everything happened so quickly, you didn’t even got time to mourn on your feelings, earth was attacked and after that you had just lost all of your family.

“Are you alright doll?” You heard Agatha asking you, you blinked many times and you noticed tears streaming down your face, you felt Agatha pulling you closer to her and once again you let yourself express all of your pain by crying into her chest, Agatha soothed you and stroked your hair, now that you were finally outside she could see your thoughts and she felt the same pain you were feeling, you deserve to be happy and she was going to make sure of that.

  Tainted love

“Stay away from her” You jumped at Wanda´s voice, there was that accent, you knew there was something missing when she talked to you inside Westview, and now you realized it had been her accent.

“No, you stay away from her” Agatha placed herself in front of you

“Who do you think you are?” You could see Wanda´s eyes glowing red just as well as her hands, for a moment you feared the worst, but when you saw Agatha´s hands glowing purple, you sighed feeling relieved.

“You´re hurting her Wanda, can´t you see it?  this is not healthy" Agatha said to Wanda

“That’s not true! I’m doing this for us, I need her and she needs me! We are meant to be together” Wanda yelled and it made you feel angry, she was hurting you and you were exhausted, you couldn’t believe what she was saying.

“You need to stop Wanda!” You yelled back at her, you placed yourself next to Agatha and all of the anger started to come out of you.

“You hurt me! You made me feel awful, you were manipulating my memories, you used you Magic to make me believe a false life!” You were gesturing at her and you saw how her hands stopped glowing red.

“I love you!” She yelled and you bitterly laughed at that, you wiped some tears that had fallen down your face and you felt Agatha’s hand caressing softly your back, that made you feel better.

“That’s not true Wanda, you don’t love me, this is not love, love is not supposed to be painful, love is not supposed to make you feel exhausted, love is not supposed to scare you, you don’t love me and I don’t lo-”  You were cut off by the read-head

“That’s not true! You love me just as much as I love you! I did this all for us, I did all of this for you, this is our dream, the one we share-”

“You kidnapped me Wanda! You took me away from my home! You kidnapped me and brought me here! That’s not love!” You interrupted her

“That’s not true, that was not your home, this is our home, we can go back to it, we can live peacefully we can go back to our amazing life and forget that all if this ever happened” Wanda started to walk slowly towards you and before she could touch your arm you quickly stepped back.

“Don’t touch me!” You quickly said and Agatha placed herself in front of you.

“You heard her Wanda, you better back off” You saw Wanda’s expression changed into a really angry one

“I won’t repeat myself y/n you better come with me; I love you” You couldn’t understand why Wanda kept saying the same.

“No, I won’t go back to you, you just made me feel awful, you made me feel exhausted, you locked me in that house, YOU DON’T LOVE ME”

“We are married” she quickly said.

“That’s not true, you know that’s not true, we were going to get married years ago but you cheated on me”

You argued back and you saw the way Wanda flinched at the mention of what she had done.

“It was a mistake, I really love you, I don’t want to lose you again, please, you’re breaking my heart, I need you” Wanda knelt in front you she was holding her arms in the air towards you, she was sobbing in front of you, but this time she couldn’t manipulate you, not anymore,  Agatha looked at you and she smiled at you, her smile was comforting, she made you feel safe and now that you could finally remember every single moment you had interacted with her inside Westview, you realized that was how love was supposed to feel.

 Now I know I’ve got to

Run away, I’ve got to

Get away

 You came a little closer to Wanda and you knelt in front of her, Agatha was next to you making sure Wanda wouldn’t do anything to you.

“I’m sorry Wanda, but I won’t go back to you, you don’t love me and I don’t love you, you have to accept that, I can’t be with you, this is not love, what we used to have years ago is over, you have to let it go” You said looking into her green eyes, you didn’t recognize the old Wanda, the person in front of her was full of rage and hatred, you couldn’t blame her at all, she had lost everyone but, this was not fair to you, she was hurting you and you didn’t deserve it, you didn’t feel the same for her.

“Love is supposed to make you feel happy, as if you’re floating on air, love makes you feel safe and protected, love makes you keep going, it doesn’t stop you” Looking back at Agatha she smiled at you and you smiled back at her, she had risked herself to help you get out of it, and you knew that was how love was supposed to be, with Agatha you were sure you could have it, a real love.

“So, you fell in love with her?” Wanda’s voice was louder and you could hear her accent coming back, this time it was more present than ever, you could tell she was really mad, her hands forming into fists and her eyes glowing red in anger, she hastily stood up from the ground and Agatha pulled you closer to her.

“Answer me! Is she the reason you’re leaving me?” You saw Wanda’s jaw clenching and her left eye twitching a little

“She’s leaving you because you just inflict pain into her heart, Wanda you’ve been messing with her mind! She was feeling anxious she didn’t know what day it was, you held her captive inside a place she didn’t want to be, you just made her suffer, she doesn’t deserve this, you’re hurting her, why can’t you understand?”

Agatha was shocked at how Wanda couldn’t see what was the real problem.

“That’s not true, you’re the one who is manipulating her, you’re a liar, you’re not even who you said you were” Wanda kept talking and you felt desperate

“Stop, just stop, I don’t want to listen to you anymore” You said to Wanda while holding your hands in the air, you pressed your fingers against your temple, a headache started to form and it felt awful, you closed your eyes and  you put more pressure of your fingers into your temple.

Agatha came closer to you to softly touch your arm.

“Are you alright sweetheart?” You heard Agatha asking you.

“Don’t call her like that, you don’t have the right, she’s mine, and she will just be mine” Wanda had started to come closer to the two of you.

“Don’t come closer Wanda” you heard the blue-eyed woman warned Wanda.

“What? Do you think I’m afraid of you?” Wanda asked with a mocking tone

“Oh dear, I could easily destroy you with a flick of my hand” the dark-haired woman next to you scoffed, you could almost sense the smirk Agatha had on her face.

“Stop right there” Those were new voices; you lifted your head to see who were they and you saw many soldiers pointing their guns at the three of you.

“Not you again, not this time” The red-head started to move her hands in the air and she made all of the soldiers point to the sky, but the moment you felt you couldn’t move, you realized she was using her magic on you as well.

“Y/n!” You heard Agatha calling your name, purple magic enveloped you and you felt yourself being released, she used her magic to stop you from falling harshly against the ground.

“You need to stop trying to take her, she doesn’t want to be with you, y/n doesn’t need you!”

“That’s not true! She needs me just as much as I need her, I love her-

"STOP!” You snapped and didn’t realize the wave of magic coming from your body, your magic was f/c and when you opened your eyes again you saw Wanda covered in a new different magic, you saw your hands and your eyes widened when you realized it was you the one who this time stopped her from moving.

You gasped and this time you saw all the soldiers on the ground, they were covered with your magic too and you started to panic a little, but when you felt Agatha’s hand on your shoulders you started to relax a little.

“It’s alright sweetheart, I know you can do it, focus on what you’re feeling, don’t let the fear consume you”

Slowly you nodded and focused on what you wanted, you wanted the soldiers to go away, so you moved your hand and when you heard noised this time you opened your eyes to see all of them started to walk away from where they had coming.

“I’m so proud of you darling, you did it amazing, I will make sure they don’t come again” She caressed your cheek and you smiled at her, she stayed with you making sure no one else came to where you were.

“You think you she loves you y/n?” You heard Wanda’s laugh and turned your head to look at herk kneeling on the ground with her hands behind her back and all of your magic over her, she didn’t stop laughing for some minutes, you just couldn’t believe what was happening to Wanda.

“No one will ever love you the way I do” Wanda said back to you when she stopped laughing, you looked straight into her eyes and the only things you could see in them was madness, you felt bad for her for a minute, you knew what she had passed through but all the things she made you passed through as well, you even doubt your own sanity, you couldn’t forgive this, she had kidnapped you and she had messed with your mind, you didn’t even know how many time you were inside with her.

“You don’t love me Wanda, this is an obsession Wanda what happened-

"What happened was a mistake, let me make things right this time printsessa, I really love you, you’re the love of my life! I need you!” She begged you again, but you this time you weren’t going to fall for it, not anymore, you closed your eyes for a moment and took a deep breath before speaking again.

“You don’t really want any more from me, to make things right, Wanda, you can’t make things right, this is messed up, not only you hurt me, but you’re hurting thousands of people, let them be free, let me be free Wanda, please, I want to be free” Tears started to fall down your face

“You need someone to hold you tight printsessa and I’m the one who can do that, I can-

"You can’t Wanda, you broke what we had years ago! You broke me, and there’s no way you can fix this! If you want to make things right, you’ll let me go with Agatha, if you love me, you’ll release me”

“I can’t do that printsessa, you’re mine, you’re just mine I won’t let her or anyone else take you away from me” You saw how Wanda’s eye’s started to glow red and you moved your hands to stop her hands from moving behind her back, she wasn’t going to use her magic on you again, not anymore.

“I’m not yours, I’m not yours, the problem is Wanda that you think love is to pray, but I’m sorry, I don’t pray that way, you won’t get to me again, I don’t love you” You whispered to her loud enough to hear you, Agatha took your hand in hers and you used your magic to pull Wanda back inside Westview.

“I will find you y/n and I will make you mine again, you belong to me” You heard her yelling and Agatha pulled you closer to her.

“I will come for the both of you and I will make you pay for taking y/n away from me, you will pay and I will make sure of that” Wanda tried to break free from your magical ties but you didn’t let her.

“You can’t get away from me y/n I will always be with you and no matter what I will find you-”

Finally, you put Wanda inside the town and Agatha started to make movements with her hands, a purple mist covered the entirety of the town, the magical field Wanda had created was replaced by Agatha’s purple magic.

“This will only keep her inside for some weeks, maybe some months until she realizes how to get out from this, I trapped her inside Westview but this won’t last forever doll” You felt the older woman’s hands taking your face in her hands.

“I’m not afraid” You answered to her and you saw a proud smile on her face

“I know you’re not afraid, you’re so strong and brave, I will be with you, no matter what, I will be with you, I know you can protect yourself but I will protect you too, and when the time Wanda comes for us, I will be by your side, she won’t take you again doll, I promise”

You felt safe with her, she made you feel alright and you couldn’t help yourself, you took her face in your hands and slowly leant into her, Agatha passed her hands around your waist and she pulled your body close to hers, you felt her soft touch on you and that made your heart melt, this is how love is supposed to feel, you knew it, you presses your lips against hers, she captured your soft lips, it was a soft but needy kiss, she needed to feel you and you needed to know she was there for you, you needed to know this was real.

When the two of you broke the kiss, she pressed her forehead against yours her hands never leaving your sides.

“I know it will take a time for you to get used to this, but I promise I won’t hold you back, I want to make sure you’re alright, I want the best for you y/n” You trusted her, you knee she was saying the truth, and you were grateful with her, without her help you wouldn’t have been able to get out of your prison.

“I believe you Agatha, I want to be with you, I know you will help me to heal” You whispered to her and she smiled, she hugged you again, the feeling of your body against her made her feel alive and you felt the same, you weren’t free at all from Wanda, but you knew that Agatha would there for you to help you.

You felt something bothering in your pocket, there was something in it and when you pulled your hand inside it you felt shivers down your spine, pulling out the small piece of metal you saw it was the ring Wanda gave to you because of your “marriage” you were Wanda had been the one who placed it in your pocket with her magic, you eyed it for a minute before throwing it against the grass.

“We have to go doll” She was right, you had to go now.

Taking your hand into hers, Agatha guided you towards the forest, you didn’t know where you were going but you were sure that Agatha would make everything, she could to protect you.

The two of you walked through the forest, between the tall pines, the sound of some branches breaking because you stepped on them was some of the only sounds you could hear, the night was a little cold and from time to time you still feel a little afraid, but when you felt Agatha’s hand softly squeezing you hand to reassure she was there and she wasn’t going anywhere made you feel strong.

You knew Wanda would come for you, you were sure she would do everything she could to find you, but you were sure you wouldn’t be alone this time, you weren’t afraid of her, she didn’t have that power over you anymore.

When Wanda comes for you, you were sure you were going to be prepared, just as Wanda wouldn’t let her take you, you were going to fight Wanda, you’re not afraid of her.

Now I’m gonna pack my things and go

[somedayillbepeterpan]

Penelope and her robe of power

Shoutout to @whistledownbad for invoking and taking this out of my subconscious. I didn't even realise I was thinking about this deeply (I shouldn't be surprised anymore since S3 has burrowed deep in my brain).

A short discussion on the Polisanity discord (a very very lovely, creative, and hilarious discord community of the residents of the Polin brainrot) showed me how this robe represents Pen's power-- not just in sexuality but in her character.

And it is shown on moments where she loses something, where her power was seemingly taken from her.

S3Ep3 - Forces of Nature

The first time we see this robe, Pen has just lost a flirting battle against Cressida for Debling's attention while pretending to be someone she is not. She looks defeated and annoyed which contrasts a similar scene on Ep 2 (after the fan encounter) where she looks more embarrassed and slightly amused at the situation.

S3Ep4 - Old Friends

The second time we see it is at the beginning of Ep 4. Pen is losing her battle from her resolve to follow the familiar tide of the marriage mart (I elaborate more on this scene here because it's not just Pen who is losing their resolve) on the day that Debling asks for Portia's permission to propose to Pen (where we get this poignant statement from Portia about security being romantic. Which I actually agree on coming from a poor family/country. Also, can I just say Nicola looks absolutely stunning in this scene).

She is distraught and seem to be in the middle of convincing herself that she is doing the right thing.

S3Ep5 - Tik Tok

In the middle of the chaotic 24hrs of Penelope's life (where she gets proposed to by the love of her life and experiences her first sexual encounter), she is seen crying and having to write about herself on Whistledown for the 2nd time for the current season (she probably writes about herself regularly in the column so as not to arouse suspicion but she would have most likely focused on mundane things) when we see this robe for the third time.

She loses the chance to feel completely and irrevocably happy about her engagement when Eloise points out that she is harboring a heavy secret from the man who just lovingly confessed that he would rather feel tortured with love for her than to carry on living.

S3Ep6 - Romancing Mr. Bridgerton

Ahhh...Pen and this robe. I'm so curious now what actually is the design on the robe and the decision behind using it for these scenes.

The fourth time we see this robe, Pen seemingly decides to lose Whistledown forever, hiding a part of herself in the "name of love". A crossroad that she never thought she'd have to go through when she began that season, Pen gives up all power and decides (tentatively) to follow her mother's advise. It's admirable on one part as real life will tell you that sometimes, there are sacrifices you need to make for your partner. But this really is sometimes up for debate whether that action is made in love, out of love, or for love (or not at all). I've always thought that Pen also suffers the same hero complex that Colin has albeit more subtle than his. I think this was part saving Colin (from whatever trouble Whistledown brings) and also part penance for what her writing and decisions have put him through regarding Marina.

AND THEN-- the last last time on this season that we see her in it is so viscerally powerful that it probably made everyone forget that:

This wasn't the same wedding night robe (where Colin openly lusted on Pen and stubbornly wasted his opportunity).

That whenever we saw Pen on this robe in the earlier episodes, she seemed to be unhappy and devoid of power and agency within herself.

S3Ep8 - Into the Light

This wonderfully and deliciously short scene encapsulates Pen's embracing of her power-- the parts that she has been losing and letting go whenever she wears this robe. I also love that it's with Colin that she finally embodies the full strength of this power.

Come S4, I need this robe to be slowly taken off by Mr. Bridgerton off of Mrs. Bridgerton please.

[brynn-lear]

Note: these are all yandere characters I had back in 2022. I'm describing them very vaguely. I can't bring myself to spoil even minute details I find intruiging even though it's unlikely I'll make this webtoon-isekai-otome game concept come to life. Shoutout to mochi and harmony. I would've forgotten these men exist if it weren't for them lol

Yan!Butler: People kept mistaking your deceased brother's butler as a nobleman, especially with how you both appear to be best friends rather than master-servant. His butler is one of your greatest allies and critic; not once has he missed his chance to tease you in such “polite” yet convoluted ways. But you at least know his sharp tongue comes from a place of affection, and not from disdain as he would with other nobility. Your older brother took him under the family's care when his small village was brutally extinguished by unknown assailants. That butler thinks all other nobles deserve gruesome ends. There's not a single day where he does not feel paranoid. So when you feel as though the pavement you passed by in your private gardens had splotches of red… you turn a blind eye. You trust your brother and his allies. As long as you ignore that what he does is far beyond ensuring your brother's safety, you can go on sleeping peacefully at night.

Yan!Eccentric Immortal: You honestly thought it was so weird for a wandering pink-haired tourist to wear red shades and a short-sleeved shirt with tons of hibiscus printed on it, but whatever floats his boat. At least, that's what you thought at first before you struck a conversation with him out of pure boredom. No matter how… “modern” he looks, he was dejected enough at the time to confess that he came to see how his hometown looks— only to discover it is practically unrecognizable. He kept pointing to business shops, claiming some used to be parks, a small forest, his favorite bookstore, and a place his old buddy used to have a successful shoe factory on. And then it hit you. This man you're with… is one of your ancestor's mayor turned revolutionary best friend who struck a contract with the devil. There's one small problem... You're involved in said contract.

("Oh, so he's immortal, huh… no wonder he was burying his face in his mushroom hat when we were walking around in the museum. On one hand, impressive that he was the first man ever photographed, but he's also the first photobomber ever. He was just cleaning his shoes and got in the way…")

[More descriptions utc]

Yan!Crown Prince: He is your childhood friend crown prince, who was once a quiet and lonesome kid. You belonged to the very few children who properly befriended him, but in each playtime, he always clung to you tightly. The adult nobles in your life had always made it a point to remind you to be wary of his lineage. “The royal bloodline’s first love is their last— and such obsession reigns supreme.” There is also a legend of how the first king confessed to his tactician after the war. However, he dismembered & hid her limbs when he faced rejection. The royal family has been plagued with unrequited love and unhappy marriages since then, yet you don’t believe him capable of perverse and violent thoughts. He harbors a hopeless puppy-like “one-sided” affection on another childhood friend of yours (THE main female lead) but he takes it “like a champ”, you're sure of it!!! Plus, the prince has grown so mature and independent, always asking for your counsel on politics more than personal affairs. You haven't met a man who enjoyed his duties as much as he does. If anything, he has distanced himself from you… Right?

Yan!Doctor: As a child from a loving noble home, you had remained firm in your stance on committing acts of kindness. When an injured kid your age was starving outside your estate, you did not hesitate to order your brother's butler to fetch food and drinks. Since he was nameless and you weren't one to gloss over a book of baby names— you gave him one that sounds like a dog’s. Years later, you've fallen gravely ill. No physician across the continent could help you despite your philanthropist reputation. But there was one who had done the impossible. The doctor cured you in under a month, and when you tried to cover his services, he said everything was paid with “three glasses of milk and a box of biscuits.” Honestly, you should've remembered who he was sooner, considering how strange his name was. Despite such a grand revelation that he apparently owes you his life, there's unbridled hunger beyond his “kind” eyes. Something lonely and unhinged.

Yan!Ex-Hitman/Politician: There was a boy you've always seen each time you went to church. You see him every week that you both watched each other grow up. Apparently he came from a noble bloodline just like you, but despite being the eldest, his parents greatly favored his younger sibling. Deciding he had no talent to best him, the boy went to the monastery to practice the word of God instead. You always thought he was an ambitious and good-hearted person— especially since it's not exactly common for someone in their late twenties to aspire for the position of prime minister and appear so incredibly wholesome. On your quest to find someone to help you solve the mystery behind your older brother's death— you found out that the kind mint-eyed man who often carved wooden toys and sewed plushies for the orphans was the notorious hitman who killed plenty of corrupt nobles in his prime. Could he be behind your brother's death…?

[gremlingottoosilly]

The Horror and The Wild [Emperor!Konig x fem!Reader] Medieval Fantasy AU (ch.4)

You had a nice, simple life. Serve the princess, obey the princess, protect the princess with your life. You never thought that this nice, simple life would bring you to be kidnapped by the infamous Northern Emperor. Konig never thought that kidnapping a wife would be much easier than courting one.

CHAPTER 1 CHAPTER 2| Chapter 3| Chapter 4| you're here! AO3 Word count: 3469 Tags/Warnings: Medieval fantasy/Alternative European history AU, Age gap, Enemies(one-sided)to lovers, Hurt/Comfort, Kidnapping, Forced marriage, Size difference(Konig is absolutely huge), Somewhat one-sided slow burn, Yandere Konig Warnings for this chapter: Dub-con oral sex(f!receiving), outdated views regarding sex

— Now, dear princess, your husband will expect certain…qualities of his wife. Please, you must listen to this as closely as possible if we want to avoid…traumas. 

You pout, eating the apple that was provided to you by a group of servants who looked way too scared to be appointed to a princess. If Her Highness saw this, she would order them whipped – a servant shall never look unhappy in front of their patron, as not to invoke nasty feelings of sadness, misery, and empathy in the royal rulers. Princess made you smile and laugh through hours of her extensive, albeit a bit improvised and amateur, singing. You were to hold her hair while she was doing it, listening to the melodies of desire to escape the castle. 

The servants in front of you were sent by the Emperor – König, to…teach you something. You were not too interested in his, way too invested in weird fruits from foreign countries that they provided – still, you are too well-mannered to ignore them. 

— Traumas? Is his Emperor’s Illustrosicy going to torture me? 

Servants look over at each other, nervous. You tilt your head to the side, trying to see if you can decipher their gazes – but you see nothing but sympathy. Sad, miserable kind. Your blood runs cold as you get another bite of that apple. 

— You’re as innocent as Emperor said, your Majesty. 

You weren’t, in reality – you’re a liar, a traitor to your nation, the only one of the servants who was too scared to die alongside the royal family and performed that foolish gamble in order for a chance to save your hide. Such silly things like an untouchable hymen between your legs or lack of knowledge of intimacy, saved for a few books, are nothing compared to the life you are saving in your mind, There is nothing innocent about you or your actions. 

— W…well, you see…you are of child-bearing age. 

That was up for discussion. You might be an adult by all standards, a bit too ripe even, too sheltered for the age in which young men are already taking their family’s businesses and women are giving birth to their second and third children, but it doesn’t mean you want to bear someone’s kid. Definitely not conceive from a man who destroyed your future. 

— I won’t do it. 

You act like a princess would – bratty and pouty, all the new dresses and the room they place you in acting like a perpetuar of your ego. 

— My Lady, this isn’t up for discussion. Please, we need to…we need to teach you how to do it, in order to prevent…accidents. 

— What accidents? 

The other servant, an older lady with tired eyes and snappy gestures, took out a pile of drawings from the bag she was holding. Quite a lot of drawings. Quite detailed drawings. Quite nasty drawings. 

Quite…bloody drawings. 

Gods, is this what a woman must endure during lovemaking? Is this even lovemaking, or is this a dissection straight from the medical book? The drawings are lewd and horrifying – whoever was the artist, they didn’t spare the details of the act. Pain, blood, torn flesh…god, if they wanted you to learn how to take your husband properly, they did a horrible job – now you don’t ever want to see him again. Not without armor plates protecting…that thing. 

— I w…won’t do it. Behead me this instant.

Your voice is weak, horrified. Servants look equally scared. 

— Your Majesty, you must know that it’s just…the worst outcome. If you listen to your lessons and relax, you will escape such a fate. 

— How could a living being relax while they are being impaled on a spear?!

— With certain balms and extracts, such fate can be escaped. 

— How can a balm prevent this?! Too angry to ever listen to the servants, you drip the drawings from your hands, along with a half-eaten apple. Un-ladylike, but you need to preserve your life – and your dignity – before they would show you even more horrifying things that would never let you sleep again. Tugging on the heaviness of your skirt, you ran to the nearest hallway as soon as possible. 

The emperor’s palace is disgustingly big and dark – you’d say it was magnificent in that scary, gothic style, but you don’t have the time to think about all the artistic choices that the architects made by installing so many dark hallways in a place that suppose to protect Emperor from possible assassins. Still, you drop to the nearest dark corner, hoping that no one will follow you. 

With a calm sigh, you brush the dust from your skirts. God, you had to bring that apple with you – it was delicious. 

— I never heard anyone calling my cock  a spear before, Liebling. You’re full of surprises. 

Big, gloved hands are enveloping your waist, putting you in the hug you didn’t want. This embrace is all too familiar and too terrifying – you forget that this castle serves the only true owner, and your desire to escape will never be considered an option. Like a rabbit in the wolf’s mouth, you freeze. The worst company you could expect after such a horrifying lesson – your only hope is that, like men from the novels you and Princess were reading sometimes, The Emperor was into his comrades more than he would be into you. 

His warm hands, pulling you into a tight hug against his body, however, make you think otherwise. 

— Let go of me! Pl…please. 

You plead because the drawings installed a new fear into your body. You're not afraid of death – if anything, you wish for it. However, the fait of constant pain and suffering which each nightly visit makes you more terrified than any death sentence would. 

König only laughs, holding you as close to him as possible. A warm hand grazes over your stomach, making you shiver from anticipation. You don’t know what he is thinking about – you also don’t want to. 

— Why would I let go of my precious wife? 

— I’m not your wife yet. 

— And won’t be for quite a while, considering the lessons my servants taught you? 

Blood drains from your face. Even the slightest reminder makes you whimper – like a puppy without its mother, you let go of a pathetic little sound, and your face finds comfort in the armor plates that Knog wears even in many of his castles. Cold metal makes you slightly calmer, and you can force the dreams of touching his chest instead of deep in your mind. Bane to all the lewdness, as you saw the amount of blood it would drain from your body. 

— I will never succumb to such fate. 

— I promise it won’t be that bad. I can whip my servants for installing fear in you if you want to, little princess. 

No matter how scared they made you feel, you will never bestow such fate on any of the servants – you, perhaps, the only one who knows how hard and horrible work as a lady in waiting might be. You might not be the perfect princess, but you certainly aren’t a cruel one. 

— No. They…they shall not be harmed, Your Majesty. 

He chuckles, pushing a hand on your face. A few tears fall down your cheeks – he drains them with his gloved finger, making you whimper only more. God, you look divine like this – eyes are glistening with tears, the face is hot from fear and embarrassment, the mouth is open with a sweet little pout…it takes every last inch of his self-control not to simply pick you up and bring you to his bedroom before you could say anything. 

— You’re kind for a princess. 

There is suspicion in his voice – but you quickly try to brush it away by forcing yourself out of his embrace. Unfortunately, he only holds you tighter, making you bury your face in his armor again. To be honest, it’s not the worst place to be. 

— Shouldn’t you be in the courtroom? 

— I ran. Never liked to greet new people. 

You almost choke on your breath. Is he serious?! His face betrays his emotions – despite how confident his mask is, you can see that his eyes are colder than usual. More nervous than usual. His hands are shaking, if only for a little bit, holding you tight, as you can simply escape through his fingers like sand. You’d love to have such powers. 

— I thought the Emperor had responded. 

— I do. And an army of men to do these responsibilities for me. 

— You’re hiding from my country’s Ambassadors? 

— Collaborators and traitors of your people, yes. The only ambassador I care about is in my hands. 

With this, he quickly pushes you up in his hands, forcing you to sit on the cold stone ledge. The new dress design makes it possible to manipulate and move the skirt as he pleases – you hate this new fashion because it makes it ridiculously easy for König to simply push your skirt upwards, revealing your legs and your dignity, concealed by only a pair of short, frilly white underpants with so many bows and ribbons, it feels obscene. 

You try to kick him in the face, but he catches your ankle before you can do anything. He was a horrible, terrible man – totally unfit for the ruler of half of the world, you have no idea how a man this villainous could still be held in high regard for his people. This place is just as barbaric as their ruler, you presume – no dignity or sense of taste as König holds your skirt up, tearing apart the delicate fabric. God, it probably cost a fortune! 

Emerald green fabric lays like green ocean waves under your legs. You must admit, even the cold of the inner parts of the palace does not make you feel uncomfortable – if anything, this moment of exposure of your legs makes you feel a bit more comfortable and fresh. The light breeze caresses your legs, and you almost want to close your eyes and just enjoy wearing clothes without the stuffiness of the full gown. 

With your corset, torn skirt, and underpants, you almost feel like you’re wearing pants – an obscene picture, you assume, a lady should never show her ankles to anyone but her husband…and you would do everything to stop him from being marked as one. Still, König places his large imposing body between your legs, and you panic immediately – is this monster terrible enough to show you what those illustrations meant, not even in the comfort of a marriage bed, but in the coldness of the stone hallway? You close your eyes, kicking him to your heart’s content – and he is laughing every time you’re trying to resist, only catching both of your ankles in his grip and forcing them open. God, this is the end. Torture that you never wanted to experience will be bestowed upon you right about…

His tongue goes to rub you through the rough fabric of your underpants. Dispute all the layers of expensive material, your maidenhood feels like it had been set on fire. 

You are suddenly aware of the silly things you have between your legs. You can feel them too well right now – every second of movement of his tongue against sensitive flesh makes your legs kick him less and less. Your nails are trying to dig into the stone of a small ledge you were sitting on – but you can’t do anything to stop this sweet torture he is perpetuating. You want for everything to stop this instant, and you want for him to finally take off your undergarments. 

— Wh…wha…what are you doing?! You don’t scream as loud as you can, only because you know that the maids are nearby and you don’t want to be making a scene. Putting the emperor back in his place and revealing him as a pervert would be nice, of course – but it wasn’t as nice as having your dignity saved. You bite your lips, feeble attempts to save at least parts of yourself – still, you feel like you’re being boiled alive by his masterful tongue, without even the need to bring your pants down and feel him on your flesh directly. 

— I want to show you how nice this could be. 

— How nice what could be?! You are still kicking your legs, and he is slowly taking down the fabric of your underpants. You wish he had exposed hair so you could tug on it – you wish he wasn’t afraid of showing you his face, just so you could break it properly. A lady should always protect her virginity from a man with evil intentions, and König was certainly the most evil person of them all. 

Still, his tongue felt so good, circling around the parts you were only finding accidentally, blindly searching for pleasure like a dumb kitten, trying every little button in your body to see what would make you squirm. He is masterful at this, every action is deliberate and strong – every little thing in his movements makes you wonder just how many women he bedded. 

You can still feel the little tremble in his hands, his fingers that supported you and kept your legs apart are trembling, if only just a bit – you wonder if he truly is nervous about everything he is doing or if he just wants to make everything perfect. His touch leaves a trail of bruises on your inner thighs and you never thought that you’d yearn for a man whose touch is literally hurting you. 

— I know how to make… consumation go painless, little princess. Certainly have the experience for this. 

— Is fondling my undergarments a part of this experience, Your Highness? 

— If you wish for me to lost my control, little princess.

Before you could say anything else about not wanting for him to simply take off your underpants and throw them on the cold floor of the castle, he had already lowered them to hang around your ankles – revealing your sensitive folds, already glossy and wet from all the fondling he performed to make you nice and ready for him. 

König knew he shouldn’t be doing this – losing control would be too easy in this case. Little princess, out of her own depth, can barely stop him when he wants to take something precious from her – still, he wanted to at least try to be slower, softer, to make everything perfect and make her his precious trophy. Her dread over bedding him would prove horrible for their marriage – if she didn’t wish for the workers to be saved, he would already sent those dumb maids away. 

Princess is adult enough to learn the pleasures of being a woman – still, he understood why a king would want to hide a precious flower like this. You don’t behave like a spoiled brat would, no matter how much you want to make him think you were nothing but a pouty face and frowned brows, and he wants to see your true self – your inner nature, revealing itself in front of him. And he knows just a way to do this…

Your cunt is perfect – he is a soldier, a man of war and little romance, he can’t sing you a song of how beautiful and perfect your maidenhood is, but he can lick it and tease it and make you come on his tongue more than you ever could with that dainty fingers of yours. 

He isn’t ashamed of touching your sweetness when he is burning his face between your legs. Not even caring that his hood, which he had to draw back as fast as possible, is going to get messy with all o your juices, he licks and tugs on your clit, your folds, on every sensitive bit of skin of your body. 

And, by god, are you sensitive? 

Soon, your little cries of pleasure are turning into moans that you are pathetically trying to hide. Soon you are marking his rough, rugged face wet with your juices – his nose is pressed on your clit constantly, and that well-mannered, perfectly bred royal woman in your body is moaning like a common whore. 

König isn’t trying to be too gentle – his mind is filled with that boyish nerves and anxiety, the fear of getting spotted not because anyone would have anything to say to the literally fucking emperor, but because he doesn’t want anyone else to see how easily he can drown little princess in pleasure. She is a perfect girl, so pretty for him, so nice and wet when he pushes his tongue in and out. 

He forgot the last time he experienced such pleasure – his dick only grows with each gentle stroke of tongue in your folds, and he doesn’t even need to touch himself. You’re perfect for him, writhing under his touch, he had to force himself to stop putting too much pressure on your poor swollen clit. König almost forgot just how sensitive you are – he had to introduce you slowly to the world of pleasure, not pushing you into the depths before you could even get married, but…well, he was never one to follow the rules – and you, as his precious bride, deserved something nice outside of the wedlock. 

— St…stop, it’s t’ much…

You are mumbling, holding his hood in your hands, and he is almost afraid you are going to pull it to reveal his face even more – but even your ruined skirt is enough of a cover to make his identity concealed, and he isn’t afraid of pushing your gummy walls with his tongue, gently caressing your insides. 

You are clenching around his tongue, the intrusion is unfamiliar to you – he makes sure he kisses your clit from time to time, holding the sensitive bud between his teeth so as to threaten you gently. He usually involves a lot more biting and would love to put some permanent marks on your thighs and soft lower tummy, but if you were scared of the drawings those dumb maids put on to you, he doesn’t want to fuel your fear any further. He could try later, making your perfect body into a canvas for his desire. 

— Patience is a grace for a princess, ja? Be patient, Meine Liebe. 

— Pl…please, stop, I don’t…

— What is it? 

— It’s too much, you shouldn’t…

— I’m not claiming you yet. God won’t be against a bit of fun, Schatzi. 

— I’m against it…

— Your moans tell another story, little princess.

He knows you don’t want to be patient – he tugs at every nerve inside your body, his tongue swings in and out, and his lips caress your soft folds, collecting any juice that might be escaping. He will have to gift you another dress after this – but he is so used to seeing you in torn clothes it becomes a thing that stirs his manhood again and again. You look perfect when you’re not perfect – by god, he is unable to control himself. 

You whine lightly as he presses a final kiss to your clit, catching your orgasm and drinking your pleasure. He is a messy eater through and through – his stubble makes you whimper from sensitivity, you sob lightly as he pushes back, a hood returning to conceal his face before your dazed eyes would be able to catch him. 

Hell, you look precious. 

Panting, with sweat beads glossy on your skin, with your lips open and moans escaping it – with your face completely turned into an expression of enormous pleasure, he doesn’t know what to do with himself as he watches you breathe heavily, chest going up and down. If he could, he would chain you to a bed in his bedroom, not ever allowing your precious figure to escape. 

He might just do this when you’re married.

You whimper under him, your eyes are still glazed with that pleasurable expression, making him smile under his hood. You may hate him all you want, but he sees the truth – knows just how perfect you are in your stubborn desire to defy him. 

— Wh…what was it? 

You are still shocked but regain some of your senses – you take on your underpants quickly, stubbornness spreading across your warm, embarrassed face. How he loves that expression. 

— I wanted to show you that our wedding night wouldn’t be as bad. 

— I would rather live without a wedding night, Your Majesty. 

— Now, was it that bad? 

You tilt your head to the side. 

— I am not here to feed your ego. 

— You’re sure it is feeding my other senses. 

He brushes his hand over your face. You allow him to – not because you wanted his touch, but because you needed some time to think, and his touch was gentle enough to ignore. Yes. That is the truth.

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Replacement Therapy

Yandere!Hannibal Lecter x plus size reader

In a desperate attempt to save your marriage, you begin to attend counseling with the famed Doctor Lecter but soon enough, things begin to take a turn. Based on prompt by @queenstarlight2

Warnings: mention of cheating, VERY INAPPROPRIATE RELATIONSHIP, reader has defined married name (let me know if you recognise it), reader is ever so slightly naive and easy to manipulate, insecurity (not explicitly mentioned what they are), murder, blood, little bit of humping and making out, implied smut, nudity

WC: 2.6k

A/N: I'm so sorry if I didn't do this prompt justice!!

Minors DNI

It was embarrassing, truly. Your husband said it was a disgrace too. But here you were, attending marriage counseling alone. There was no one else in the luxurious waiting room and you were grateful for that small reprieve, you don’t think you could have handled any more humiliation today.

Doctor Hannibal Lecter came highly regarded as the best (and most expensive) therapist in the state. So, foolishly, you had signed yourself and your husband of three years up for a session to see if you could fix your marriage. After all, it had been your fault that he cheated on you with his secretary, you were the one that selfishly denied him.

“Mrs Hansen?” You looked up to see a very well dressed older man standing in the doorway. His yellow eyes were fixated on you like a predator watching their prey but it didn’t scare you. You nodded and he shifted so his lean body was side on, gesturing for you to enter his office. Gathering up your coat and purse, you walked in.

The office was really quite lovely, walls covered in books, beautiful leather chairs and an ornate desk made you feel as if you had stepped into someone’s home rather than a psychiatrist’s practice. “Can I take your coat Mrs Hansen?” Dr Lecter stepped closer, offering his large hand to you.

“Um yes, thank you.” Your hands brushed as you gave him the expensive coat Lloyd bought for you. He smiled kindly at you before he turned his back so he could hang the garment up on the rack next to his own. You noted his suit, it was similar to the suits associates of your husband’s wore: expensive, exclusive.

“Take a seat and we can begin.” The smooth leather squeaked against the bare skin of your legs as you sat, the sound filling the otherwise silent office. Your heart dropped to your stomach and you quickly tugged down the hem of your dress over the expanse of your plump thighs. 

The doctor soon found his own seat opposite you. He unbuttoned his suit jacket as he did, taking on a relaxed air, as if he were about to watch television or read a book. It put you immediately at ease. “So tell me, why do you believe you are in need of counseling?” His voice was smooth and rich like an aged whiskey. 

“Well, recently, my husband and I have been going through a rough patch and I thought-“ You started, nervously playing with the gaudy wedding ring on your finger when Doctor Lecter stopped you.

“I asked why you needed counseling, not your husband. I do not doubt that he is in need of it but I make it a habit not to diagnose in absentia. So Mrs Hansen, I ask again; why do you need help?” The silence was deafening as his words sunk in. When was the last time someone offered to help? You were lost in your own mind, the questions consuming you.

But the doctor was patient, simply letting you experience your thoughts without any interruption. Too lost in your spiraling mind, you didn’t see how his eyes trailed down the length of your plump body, taking in each and every detail like you were some rare and beautiful creature. “I-I don’t know Doctor Lecter. I feel like I can’t be fixed but maybe my marriage can.”

“And why is it so important that you fix the marriage that is obviously making you unhappy?” Your head shot up with such a force your neck clicked.

“I’m not unhappy, I love my husband.” He tsked and leaned back in his seat, crossing one long leg over the other.

“Now now Mrs Hansen, I don’t tolerate liars in this office. I respect you enough to tell you to tell the truth and I expect the same respect from you.” You felt like a scolded child under the scrutinizing gaze of a parent. 

You didn’t realise you were crying until the tears fell onto your folded hands, rolling down onto your dress. “I love my husband.” You emphasised half-heartedly. Your voice thickened as more tears welled up, making your vision swim.

“And I do not doubt that my dear. But those we love can make us unhappy. And it is in your best interest to recognise that.” A box of tissues appeared before you, you took the whole thing. “How about we start at what makes you happy, do you have any hobbies?”

——————

Your sessions with Doctor Lecter, Hannibal as he insisted you call him, were the highlight of your week. Everything was getting better! Lloyd had even stopped pestering you about it, just sending you out the door with his black card to pay for it.

Hannibal had been wonderful, he helped you rediscover old passions and find new ones to keep your mind occupied during the day since Lloyd insisted you become a housewife after you were married. You felt lighter and truly happier. 

But the only downside to this whole thing was your unfortunate crush on the older man. Who could blame you? He was sauve and sophisticated but not condescending. He was kind but not a roll over. He was handsome but not unobtainable. He knew your soul better than Lloyd, he always seemed to know what you needed, whether it be a shoulder to cry on or someone to laugh with you. He recommended wines and getaways, museums and art galleries, he had even picked out a new perfume for you that had made your husband go absolutely feral for you.

A part of you wished you had met the doctor before Lloyd. You often wondered what your life would have been like if he was the one that swept you off your feet first. 

“How have you been this week? Have you been journalling like I asked you to?” You nodded, a large smile on your face. You pulled the beautiful leather-bound journal from your bag and handed it over to the good doctor without hesitation.

“Yep! Just like you told me to! One entry in the morning as soon as I get up and one at night right before I go to bed.” Hannibal winked at you from over his glasses.

“Very good girl." He purred before opening the book and beginning to read. It had been a strange request, to write down all your thoughts and actions through the day, including, well more like emphasising anything sexual that happened, especially if you pleasured yourself. But you trusted Hannibal and knew that he would do whatever was best for you.

“I see you and Mr Hansen had intercourse this week.” Your breath caught in your throat at his tone and the sudden frown marring his perfect face. Shamefully, you looked down at your lap.

“Yes we did.”

“But you write that you didn’t enjoy it. Can you tell me why?” Because I was thinking about you the whole time and what you would feel like inside of me instead of him. But you couldn’t say that to your therapist.

So you just shrugged. “I guess I wasn’t in the mood.” But like all lies you told him, Hannibal saw right through it, although, this time, he didn’t make any comment.

“I hope you were able to take care of yourself after then, I would hate to think that he left you feeling vulnerable and unsafe.” You most certainly had. A quick trip to the bathroom after he fell asleep with your waterproof vibrator and a tub full of hot soapy water and fixed the ache between your thighs. Especially when you called out Hannibal’s name when you climaxed.

“I took a hot bath and drank a glass of that red wine you recommended last week.” He nodded approvingly, the smile returning to his lips as he placed the book on the side table next to him. His legs spread slightly and you could not help but sneak a quick glance at the sizeable bulge hidden by his navy pinstripe pants.

Your eyes snapped back up to his own as he began to speak again. “Now this is a strange question but I find it useful to ask my patients this sometimes. How many times do you think you have had sex with your husband?” 

“What?” You breathed, legitimately shocked by the question. How could he even ask that? But like he could read your mind, Hannibal explained himself.

“I only ask because to a woman such as yourself who values intimacy and physical connection, sex is a very important and healthy part of a relationship. Knowing how often you and Mr Hansen engaged in such acts, and by focusing on how often it used to occur versus now can give me a better idea as to the state of your marriage.” 

Sceptically, you withdrew slightly, thinking about the many times you had been intimate with Lloyd. It hurt to reminisce on the times before your marriage when he was your whole world and you were his. When did it change? Or was it ever like that? “We dated for three months before we got married. We used to have sex at least twice a day. And then on the honeymoon it was pretty much a 12 hour affair every day. But about a month after we got back, the sex stopped. Since then it’s maybe been 10 or 20 times.” Hannibal slumped forward, his scruffy chin coming to rest on his intertwined fingers as he did the math in his head. 

“It isn’t unusual for couples to stop being intimate but it is certainly questionable for the sex to stop so quickly after it frequently occurred. Is there any reason you believe this has happened?” And like you couldn’t stop it, you started spilling your deepest and darkest secrets to him, just like all the times before.

——————

Fridays were reserved for Hannibal, you made that very clear to your life partner and apparently, he had taken full advantage of that. You stared at his computer in complete disbelief. There were thousands of messages from hundreds of women, each detailing the dirty and almost borderline illegal acts he committed with them.

You hadn’t meant to snoop, only wanting to find your mother’s pie recipe to give to Hannibal for today’s session but the logs were right there! Like he wanted you to find them. In a haze, you printed out as many of the chats as you could and stuffed them into your purse.

“Hmm.” Hannibal hummed as he looked over the various sheets of paper. His face remained neutral but inside he was seething. You had already confided in him about your husband's past ‘indiscretions’ and your insecurity about pleasing him sexually. “I won’t ask you how you feel about these chats because that would be unhelpful so instead I’m going to ask about what you wish to do about it.”

You had his undivided attention, his amber eyes locked on you as he awaited your decision. “I want to leave him.” Hannibal’s shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly. “B-but I can’t afford the divorce. All of our money is his.” 

Slipping from his seat, he knelt before you as if in worship. Your legs squeezed together, both to sate your arousal from his close proximity and to prevent him catching sight of your soaked panties. “You needn’t worry my flower, I have more than enough money to buy your freedom.” 

“I can’t let you do that Hannibal. You’ve done so much for me already and I’ll forever be grateful but this is something I need to do on my own.” His eyes grew softer, filled with swirling emotion. Palms skated up your leg, cupping the side of your knee in a grip far too tight to be friendly.

The doctor was close enough now you could study the details of his face far more than you ever could before.  Your gaze followed the lines of his wrinkles, going from the crows feet by his eyes to the smile lines on his cheeks. Then to his lips. “I would do anything for you, my flower, you never have to ask.” Slowly, his hands moved higher and his lean body closer. His broad shoulders forced your legs apart so he could rest between them. “If I cannot give you financial support, let me offer you my home, at least until you are on your own two feet.”

You could not speak, too lost in the idea of surging forward and finally kissing him. “Ok.” You murmured, conceding to his wishes. 

“Wonderful. Then how about we wrap up this session early so we can get you home and fed.” You whined low in your throat as he slipped away but thankfully, he didn’t hear you. He helped you to your feet and then turned to fetch your coats

“Whatever you want, Doctor.” You said jokingly. He laughed but you missed the truly wicked grin spreading over his face. Oh yes, whatever he wants indeed.

——————

You were truly beautiful when you slept. It was like all of your worries and stresses washed away, leaving you almost fae-like in appearance. Hannibal had lost count of the amount of times he had snuck into your home to catch a glimpse of your resting form. He had drawn you each time, and each time, he took something of yours. A lock of your hair, a piece of jewelry, even several panties from your hamper., things you wouldn’t really notice if they went missing.

But now, you were here, in his home and in his bed. You were his.

He had hoped that you would have come to your senses months ago and realised that he would be a better lover than this worm of a man could ever be. But it seems that you needed a bit more of a push to fall into his arms. 

The messages had been easy to fake. He knew you wanted a hero to come and save you from your husband, the chats had been the perfect excuse to come to him. 

You shifted in your sleep and the dark sheets pooled around your wide hips, exposing the way his own shirt stretched across your large body. He could even see how your nipples pebbled in the chilly air of the room. “Absolutely divine.” He could not help himself.

As quietly as he could, Hannibal slipped into the bed beside you, not caring that he was staining the bedding with the still wet blood that covered his naked skin. Your legs fell open easily, allowing him to crawl up your body, taking his rightful place above you.

Red began to seep through your white shirt, blooming like a flower. “My beautiful, perfect flower.” He nosed along your pulse point, inhaling your alluring scent like he needed it to live. You were so soft and warm, he had no doubt you would be absolutely delectable but he was far far too selfish to let you go.

His hips nudged into your own, unable to keep himself from seeking out the warmth of your core. “H-Hannibal?” Your eyes were barely open but they were dark with lust, almost as if you had been expecting him like this.

“I am sorry to have woken you my flower but you were far too alluring for me to just walk away.” He returned to your neck, now licking at your slightly salty skin. 

“Oh fuck.” You moaned, your hips canting upwards, bumping into his cock. You wrapped your arms around his muscular back, encouraging him to continue his ministrations. “Is this a dream?”

Hannibal planted his forearm by your head so he could guide your shapely leg over his waist. “If it is, I hope we never wake because I have lots I must do with you.” Your fingers tangled in his silvery hair, overcome with electricity in your veins.

“You have slept with your idiotic husband almost 400 times and I must scrub away his touch from your heavenly body.” 

“Should we get started then?” You asked coyly and Hannibal couldn’t help but oblige you.

Prompt: Imagine yandere Hannibal asking how often you and your husband have had sex during a therapy session, saying it might be making you unhappy. When the reason he asked was that he wanted to know how many times he was going to have to fuck you to make you forget about your husband

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[nostalgicmiscellaneous]

Colin's anger about Penelope/LW will be a good showdown, but i hope Pen reminds him that she never, ever manipulated him to like her or made herself look better using LW so that he could like her. And that she saved his ass from being used, from future unhappiness, as he can clearly see now that marrying Marina would've been a mistake, emotionally and with the child thing. HE was the one who went after her after, ruined her marriage proposal from Debling and compromised her in a carriage - yeah, he was the experienced partner there, she was the quite ignorant virgin who didn't really know what she was doing, her consenting means that she trusts him to not harm her and to do what he wants because she believes he will not do anything bad to her, and he didn't, but it's not like she knows what all of that meant. lol And then he basically steamrolled her with Proposal -> let's tell my family... And Eloise, that goes for you too.

[cosmic--dandelion]

Hot take: Blitzø's "arrangement" with Stolas isn't abuse. It's sex work.

From the beginning, Blitzø and Stolas's relationship has been mutually consential.

Blitzø is not going to starve to death in the streets if he doesn't fuck Stolas. He's a highly accomplished assassin/bodyguard/fighter-for-hire on par with people like Striker. (How else do you think he started dating a global superstar celebrity like Verosika? He was probably her bodyguard.) Hell, Stolas himself was perfectly willing to pay him regular money to be a bodyguard in "Loo Loo Land." Blitzø almost turned the job down because he wouldn't get to kill people.

Whatever his motivations are for starting his own business, it's not mere survival. It's probably a matter of personal pride since he always wanted to be his own boss and have his own circus, but he was an absolute failure as an enrertainer.

Blitzø is the one who built his entire business model off of having continued access to an infinitely powerful, one-of-a-kind magical artifact that belonged to a demon prince. Blitzø doesn't have any sort of right to the Grimoir; it was given to Stolas so he could serve the machinations of the upper echelons of Hell by interpreting the prophecies in the stars. So no, Stolas is under no obligation to just give it to him.

As seen in "Unhappy Campers", if Blitzø really, desperately wanted to travel to Earth, he could just steal an Asmodean crystal from a sucubus. He stays in this arrangement with Stolas because it's convenient for him. We're not shown how Blitzø actually feels about sleeping with Stolas, but he seems to be pretty neutral on the act itself.

This is Blitzø after sex that he hated. Dude looks borderline traumatized.

Blitzø looks, at worst, mildly annoyed when they're in bed together, and that's largely because Stolas wants the book back so he can perform a ceremony at the Harvest Moon Festival. Blitzø, in his own words, has a long list of clients waiting for heads to roll.

Blitzø straight up volunteered to fuck Stolas's brains out just to thank him for saving him and the rest of I.M.P. The first night they had sex, he spent the whole night with Stolas when he didn't have to. Stolas even offered to skip the whole kinky sex thing multiple times and literally just hand the book over, and Blitzø was relatively indifferent.

Blitzø can and has said no to Stolas when he isn't in the right headspace or just plain doesn't want to, and Stolas accepts it. He never gets angry or entitled toward Blitzø.

It's also worth pointing out as early as "Ozzies", Stolas was researching Asmodean crystal. He knows the transactional nature of their relationship is preventing them from forming any kind of meaningful connection, and it massively hurts the fiercely independent Blitzø's pride that he's basically Stolas's sugar baby.

So Stolitz is an absolute train wreck right now. It's been made very obvious that things can't continue as they are and lead to any sort of genuine, fulfilling relationship like what Asmodeus and Fizzarolli have. Their "arrangement" is unhealthy, sleazy, and exploitive on both sides: Stolas is using Blitzø as an outlet for all his pent up sexual frustration after being trapped in a loveless, sexless marriage with an emotionally abusive partner for almost two decades, and Blitzø is willing to seduce, manipulate, and lie to Stolas to get what he wants.

Look, I like Blitzø, but he is *not* a good person, or a good partner. Remember when Blitzø tricked Stolas into thinking they were on a date just so he could ignore him and spy on the M&M's? Or how he *aggressively* came onto a possibly drunk Stolas, shoving him onto the bed and straddling him when he clearly not ready for what was about to happen and was even protesting a little, all so Blitzø could steal from him. And this is totally in character for Blitzø. Look how he treated Verosika!

Ultimately, they're both very damaged, fucked up people who've done shitty things and hurt themselves and each other. I think they can cobble together some semblance of a functioning relationship when they actually start communicating with each other and admitting what they want.

[writers-potion]

Making Up Love Spells

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Rituals

Most common ingredients:

roses

something from each of he two people

red or pink candles

a fruit

a crystal

spices

herbs

a ribbon

red wine

Clients

Most clients are besotted with someone who doesn't reciprocate their feelings.

desperate clients looking for love

they believe that the love spell is in the best interests of that person

parents and politicans resort to love spells to bring about an advantageous match

couple seeking a solution to save their crumbling marriage

willing to pay any prize for the spell to free themselves from pain

Conflicts

Some magic systems consider it unethical to meddle with people's feelings.

Magicians may make good money from performing banned love spells or providing illegal love droughts.

Some magicians compromise by creating spells which work only if there are preexisting affection between the cople.

Other magicians may try to dissuade the client from focusing on a specific person. They may recommend a general love spells that will help them find a suitable match.

For a strictly ethical magician, requests for love spells can lead to terrible dilemmas:

what if the client is in so much pain due to unrequited love?

What if the client refuses to take no for an answer?

What if the client is a king (or someone in power)?

What if a ruthless magicians agrees to waive his principles and grant the hero the love spell...but only at a terrible price?

What if the magician suffers from unrequited love herself? Would she use her powers for their own gain?

Consequences

What if the love spells works at first, but wears off at the wedding/wedding night?

What id the two love each other, but it is an unhappy one that they can't extract themselves from?

What if the client loses interest first but the other person is still under the force of the love spell?

What if the victim's family offers even more money to the magician to undo the spell?

What if he heroine discovers that her best friend is about to get married under a powerful love spell? What if she finds out that her parents were forced to marry under a spell?

What if a rich heiress hires bodyguard magicians to protect herself from love spells?

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[pluckyredhead]

Okay but I am fascinated by Orion and Scott's relationship.

Because for Orion, there must be so much guilt, right? He got to grow up in Heaven because Scott grew up in Hell. Highfather Omelased Scott so that Orion could have a childhood frolicking in rolling green pastures with Lightray and sleeping in a bed made of unicorn farts.

But at the same time I feel like there's also some resentment. Because Scott had the unhappy childhood...so why is Orion the unhappy adult? Why is Scott the well-adjusted one?

(Is Scott actually well-adjusted? He's very good at pretending he is. And I don't think it's entirely a mask. I think Scott is genuinely a pretty lighthearted, upbeat person, and that's part of what saved him from being broken on Apokolips before he could escape. But it's also a defense mechanism. He's a performer by nature and by trade.

I also think he's a deeply avoidant person. Unpleasant feelings? Uncomfortable conversations? Oh no, Scott is going to escape right the fuck out of that! So even though he absolutely is deeply traumatized by his upbringing - King's Mister Miracle was not the first time Scott has canonically had suicidal impulses - he is simply Not Going To Deal With It.

And this is a mask Orion is completely unequipped to see through. No one on New Genesis is familiar with the concept of "not saying exactly what you mean and how you feel literally all the time." I think Orion might be misread as stoic sometimes but he is super not! He literally just says how he feels all the time always! He's never lied even one single time in his life except for how on Earth he goes by O'Ryan instead of Orion! He has no ability to unpack "This person is pretending to be totally okay but actually they're only somewhat okay." Orion has never been somewhat anything.)

So yes anyway I feel like Orion is a little jealous and resentful that...somehow Scott still landed in a better place than him, for certain definitions of "better"? He's happy, he's well-adjusted, he has friends, he has a loving and functional marriage. Meanwhile Orion is having regular rage blackouts on a flying scooter.

But then he feels guilty again because how can he resent Scott after what he took from him? (Not that Orion had any choice in or even real knowledge of the Pact, but if you think Orion is going to let himself off the hook because he was a traumatized bald child when it happened, you don't know Orion.)

The other interesting thing is that even though Scott seems like the affectionate people person, it's Orion who makes all the overtures. Orion is the one who consistently refers to Scott as his brother (Scott's a little all over the map on this one). Orion wishes out loud that they were closer. Lonely, lonely Orion, who has absolutely no one in the universe who understands the tortured duality of his nature ("I am two worlds - like New Genesis, and that demon's pit - Apokolips! - One drifting forever in the shadow of the other - "), longs to hang with the one guy who might get it.

Whereas Scott...well, Scott's harder to read because he doesn't make a speech every time he has an emotion. He doesn't ever display any hostility towards Orion (King's MM run aside, which...yes, please, let's put it aside forever), but he also rarely demonstrates the same interest in building a relationship. His most loving gesture was pretending to be injured one time so that Orion would have to go fight Darkseid in order to lay flowers on a mass grave in Scott's place (it did actually make Orion feel better, so there's that).

I don't think Scott blames Orion, intellectually. I think he blames Highfather, as he should. (Not getting into whether Highfather ultimately made the right choice, just saying that Orion didn't get a choice at all.) And I think Scott is VERY VERY UNCOMFORTABLE with blaming Highfather, because it means he really has to think about what happened to him. In general, I think being around both Highfather and (to a lesser extent) Orion raises a lot of extremely uncomfortable thoughts and feelings and very painful memories, and so he just...escapes. He avoids being around them completely. It's very telling that Scott lives on Earth by choice and almost every time we see him on New Genesis, he's longing to leave. Being on New Genesis makes it impossible to avoid the Bad Thoughts.

So yeah, as much as I want to see these two having adventures together and hugging it out on the daily, I don't know that they can ever have the closeness Orion wants. (And god, can you imagine how much he would beat himself up if he knew that his desire for closeness was hurting Scott? It would be delicious.) But one of the reasons I love Simonson's Orion is that they find roundabout ways to show caring with the limited vocabulary they have, and maybe that's the best we can hope for.

[zvtara-was-never-canon]

Nichya, your post about the way Zutarians view Katara struck a huge chord in me. 1 month ago, I was a naive multishipper who had just finished ATLA and was looking for good fics to read. Went on A03 and saw there were a lot of Zutara fics, sorted them out by kudos to see what the 10 most top-rated fics were. Katara is my favourite character, so I was really excited to see her post-canon life.

And. Oh, man. The experience was so fucking weird. I expected a lot of happy Katara fics, because canonically she IS really happy -the war is over, her family is reunited, her best friends Aang and Toph are alive, she can go home now to rebuild her tribe. That's NOT what I got.

The top-rated one was about how invisible and marginalised she felt being Aang's gf, and how she escaped it to be a world changing politician...in the fire nation??? When canonically Aang supported every one of her ambitions and all she wanted to do is restore her tribe?? Don't get me started on how the fic had Sokka, Toph, even Gran Gran all villanised Aang and blamed him for Katara's oppression.

Another one was a typical forced-marriage with Zuko because of duty?? And she and Zuko had children and her kids found 12 year old Aang??? Not even going to touch that one.

The 3rd was that Zuko pointed out to Katara how she fussed and looked after Aang as a mom or older sister, and Katara agreed she "coddled him". (did they miss the part when Miss Katara was a trouble-maker and Aang had to save her everytime?? And she canonically thought of Aang as the leader in the group???)

Another one was how Kataang had broken up, but Aang was still waiting for her and "hoped to marry her one day" and she was so indignant she fell into Zuko's sexy arms. (I literally laughed out loud at this, because canonically Katara was incredibly jealous of Aang's fangirls from S1 and Aang never gave af about Jet)

One incredibly gross one when Katara marries Aang out of duty because "she cannot break his heart" but always loved Zuko. KATARA. The girl who was ready to abandon her tribe to learn waterbending in ep.1!

And 2 more forced marriages, one where Katara is Zuko's captive and pawn of war, and they have sex literally when she's still a prisoner of HIM.

Like. I cannot tell you how shocked I was. It really disgusted me. I promise I did not know anything about Zutara before that.

It was obviously my mistake, clearly Zutara isn't meant for me. People can write whatever they want, I'm not here to police anyone's fandom.

But I was just struck by how much Katara was unhappy and so cut off from her canon best friends (Aang, Toph) and loving family (her tribe, Sokka, Hakoda).

Either she was cut off through force (forced marriage, captivity). Or because she personally felt secretly resentful and jealous of Aang, "parentified" and burdened by Sokka, disgusyed by her misogynistic tribe...

And how no one understood her except for Zuko. No one could give her the tools to empower herself except for Zuko. Only in the Fire Nation can she be independent and free.

It just felt so wrong!!!! I gave up. I couldn't stand to see Katara so resentful, bitter, and sad with her canon life unless she marries Zuko.

Anyway. Thanks for the blog. And for writing such insightful posts. It really articulated my discomfort.

Once again: for people who claim to be "the TRUE Katara fans", Zutairans hate everything about her character and arc, especially how happy she ended up being. Half the misery they put her through almost feels like trying punish her for not jumping straight into Zuko's arms.