#that's the wife you chose! why that's your issue now

[barnbridges]

anywho, marion and brady are terribly amy and nick dunne coded.

[g1rlken]

┏ Like real people do 2. ┐

Aemond Targaryen x wife!daemon’s daughter reader

⋆˚࿔ read part 1 here ˚⋆𝜗𝜚˚⋆

summary: blood and cheese, where daemon [the best dad (satire)] also orders for his daughter smuggled back to him, violent aftermath

an: there is no brothel Aemond subplot involved

word count: 5.2k

warnings: blood and cheese, canon violence, violence, daddy issues being mocked, arguments, once again blood and cheese

The war was afoot, degeneracies increasing, treacherous plans and endless councils. Amidst all of that y/n still found time to pay Haelena a visit as frequently as she could. Both of them had found impeccable friends in each other and the twins were always a delight. Striding through the halls of red keep, prodding her head inside with a soft knock on the queen's doors which were wide open as it is, "look!" y/n entered with a wide smile on her face. Twirling around she showed Haelena the dress she wore, it was a dress Haelena had embroidered for her with special spiders and other custom animals. Haelena had remarked on y/n's elegantly plain dresses, the edges could all use embroidery and y/n was more than glad to let Haelena design on her dress. "You made it so much better, the small bugs in blue thread it’s so beautifully assembled-" before she could comment more on the beauty of her queen sister's embroidery she was there to showcase, y/n was under attack of her niece and nephew, "why good morrow to you two!" she giggled as the two tugged at her dress for consecutive raise-me-ups. 

"I am very glad!" Haelena said offering her a smile as she scanned those designs, Haelena was warmly elated that y/n chose to wore the dress she had embroidered and the fact that she let her do it in the first place.

"You must teach me your ways" y/n commented whilst actively engaging with jaehaerys and jaehaera, she couldn't carry both the babies at the same time but she was trying to entertain them regardless, the two were latched to their auntie's knees like monkeys.

"I could always make you more, save you the time!" Haelena offered instead, she tried to distract whichever one of the children with a toy but both were way too smitten with their ever so busy aunt, now that she had the council she spent supposedly lesser time with the twins.

"That too would be so convenient!" Y/n said, Jaehaera was raised on her back, making mischief with her aunt as she tried to close her eyes with her tiny hands from behind. Both the twins laughing as she did so, regardless y/n laughed along trying to maintain her balance the best.

"That is enough..." Haelena trailed off in amusement as she helped Jaehaera off of y/n's back. The babe did not let go before whining about it, jaehaerys still tugging at his aunt's dress to get her to bend down so he could talk.

"It's alright" let out a small chuckle y/n's attention was caught down to the little heir pulling at her dress, for her to bend to his level. "Yes little prince?" She asked, attentive to her nephew's whims and demands.

"You said you were going to read to me" Jaeherys reminded her in a rather witty sense, having a sense of one upping her since she forgot about it.

"Oh did I now?" She paused for a second trying to remember when exactly was the reading session arranged for.

"Yes! The-the one with the fox and the-crows...where you do the voice!" The little prince was soon to remind her of which exact story they had left off from. He liked it better when his auntie read it to him than the wet nurses or his mum because she often did those giddy voices and the stories she read in were more entertaining than the ones with septa.

"Gods I must have forgotten" she said in a somewhat melodramatic tone to make the child think she took their reading session as a serious matter, "I have got some work on my hands at the moment but I assure you I will come continue the story-"

"When!" Jaeherys whined with a sort of tired expression given the delay in his story.

"Tonight." She answered genuinely, "Right after dinner!"

"Do you promise?" He asked wanting to take her aunty's word for proper surety.

"I promise." She said holding his tiny hands in hers giving them a gentle squeeze to assure him of her promise. Kissing both her niece and nephew on the forehead as she stood up, in attempt to take her peace Haelena stopped her.

"Are you not afraid?" Asked her sister in law with a tense look on her face, like those times when she would be out of it. As if she spoke another language and saw other things. "When the stones call you back?"

"What...what stones?" She asked, at first y/n thought Haelena was referring to some palace. Could this be in correlation to something with the council, is what y/n presumed.

"The stones. They will call you back!" Haelena gripped her elbows tighter, to emphasise the gravity of the situation she felt. "They'll take you away!"

"Nobody is taking anyone away..." y/n trailed off, shaking her head slightly as she ran her hand down Haelena's in a soothing way. "We are all safe here and there is nothing to be scared of. I promise you. I am not going anywhere." She assured her. Y/n assumed that it would worry Haelena to lose the best friend she had in herself if she were to go back because of the war waging. In her father's name perhaps, her worry was not unsolicited but y/n was sure her father's was a house not hers that is even before her marriage with Aemond.

Haelena could never seem to get her point across for some reason, she couldn't digest her wearies in a coherent way herself so she nodded with a small smile. The restlessness still consistent within her as y/n took her leave. Ever since the intimate moment with Aemond, their relationship had grown rather awkward. Aemond was closed off as always, unable to convey his infatuation. Awkward in this area, the young lovers found it difficult to navigate through a conversation. Bristling fingers through glasses, stealing glances, speaking out their love in small gestures.

That did not account for the fact that the council matters too seeped into the newlywed's marital bliss phase. Aemond too had a seat now, on the king's word. He would attend those meetings and at times the two would have drastically counter opinions. His lady wife, she would sit in the same line of seats after the hand and his mother. Speaking their minds against him, just as they had intended for her. A council within the council. "All you do is account for grand sire and mother, no such thoughts of your own. A mere puppet." Aemond scoffed as they were currently in a conversation in their chambers reflecting to that day's council meeting.

The day was at its end and as was y/n, end of her wits. His bickering was just what she needed, "And you?" she said in a tone more accusatory than his, rightfully so "all you add to the discussions is the warpath Ser Criston weaves."

"I stand for it, you just chew out what the council within the council spews" he scoffed, coming out harsher than intended but now this had become usual."I know you informed the hand of my meetings with Cole."

"Didn't do it as a snitch, had you asked me I would have told you I informed the hand." Y/n said trying to counter his condescending remarks. She wasn't a 'puppet' how he implied "Just because I do not agree with you doesn't make me a puppet to those with better judgment than yours."

"Better judgment than mine?" He let out a low huff finding it absurd that she believed Otto and his mother had a better judgment over the war than his, "you think writing to other castles, pleading, awaiting their help whilst we have three large dragons is a better judgement?"

"And what? What do you plan to do with the dragons? Burn all those against us?" She asked him growing agitated having this conversation again, "You are in favour of a lot of unnecessary bloodshed-"

"It is necessary. To make an example, to lay out a path." Aemond interrupted her, taking in a small breath "Raise your banners or watch them burn. This is what the blacks are already set to implement whilst we sit hand on hand sending out messengers!"

"You want to create a sense of fright! That is all you will accomplish with burning houses." She said in an assertive tone as she crossed her arms. This is what Ser Criston had told him too, the words struck him a small remembrance.

"Are you eavesdropping my meetings with Cole?" He questioned, as the reference resembled similar words to Cole's. Cole didn't exactly have the same notion as his wife but the words were vaguely same.

"You sit right across this room" she gestured to the adjoining room after their bedchamber. The small opening after their room led to the table against the wall where Cole and Aemond had their meetings, "The meetings you have after you assume I'm asleep, as it is too loud enough for me to not eavesdrop or be able to sleep."

"Of course" he couldn't help but roll his eyes, "You must have told the hand about it word for word yes? Like a parrot"

"Don't think of yourself too highly, your conversations are rather predictable even to those who aren't present" she replied. He wasn't wrong that she informed the hand about it but she took accountability for that.

"At least my conversations hold a spine" in two strides he reached the table she was leaning on to pour himself a glass of wine, "Unlike yours, but well that is what was intended for you" he shrugged.

For a moment, y/n sighed shutting her eyes "What are you implying?" She asked trying to maintain a calm composure because she was aware he would have words that would make antagonise her.

"You know, why you are in the council in the first place" he said in casual harshness. "Otto needed someone to voice his opinions like the righteous little lady that you are."

"I am on the council because of the seat I have inherited through my father." Y/n referred to the original conversation for her being on the council, he wasn't even part of that decision yet acted like he knew better than anyone. Smugly sipping his wine as he set his cup aside, the inherent smirk on his face irritated her to no end.

"You are claiming the father's seat who didn't even want to claim you?" He scoffed, Aemond could attest for the fact that he did not hate her in full surety. Rather fond of her too, but he was fond of his lady wife. The soft lover he did not knew he needed, big eyes that held love for everything they were laid upon. Tenderness and warmth seeping out the cracks of her which would mend the hollow cracks in him but it was the council member in her, otto's silent weapon which he could not stand.

In the process of wanting to get back at righteous council member he couldn't stand he truly hurt the daughter that begged for her world to sun, tears brimmed her eyes and she could not help it. She struck him across the face, the nerve of him. Shattered the home she thought she might finally have. He simply flinched at her action, his eyes widened a bit not at her gesture but at her tears. Registering her tears before the slap she landed her, at loss of words. "Leave." She spoke with a shuddered breath, couldn't even meet his eyes. Feeling stripped of the hope and pride she spent days building. Y/n had never raised a hand to anyone, that didn’t exactly harm Aemond in any way still the gesture in itself made her feel ugly after a moment’s silence marinated the interaction.

Without saying a word Aemond did leave, he didn't want to retaliate with her in any way. Because in that very moment both of them took a misstep and he did not want that moment to last longer. In a few strides he was out of their chambers. Y/n gripped the table to steady herself as the tears streamed down her face, a restlessness made home within her chest as she took heavy breaths.

The weight of all her despair was so heavy, at times she would just shut them in case and shove them deep inside her heart and inside her mind so she wouldn't have to face them in retrospect. It all just felt so inescapable, how she begged to be her father's daughter and how she was rejected the whole time. Now, farther away from him, bit by bit being at peace with the people she now surrounded herself with. Even in such state of distress she didn't feel alone any longer, she even felt loved. As far stretched as it sounded she even felt at ease with Aemond and he shattered all of it with just one sentence.

She lost the track of time since the moments of Aemond walking out as she just stood there falling apart, but when she felt some footsteps behind her she wiped her tears trying to compose herself. If there was anything she learned from her father it was that, nobody ever cared how much you fall apart so don't give them a reason to hold against you. Daemon always hated weeping children. Quickly she wiped her tears, she wouldn't want Aemond to think of her weak in these times. With a deep sigh she turned to face the footsteps she assumed was Aemond.

Apparently it wasn't. "Yes?" She asked with furrowed brows to the stranger who just walked into the room, not even a knock or an announcement like the guards or servants. The man wasn't even dressed like a guard or a servant. She stood alarmed taking a step further into the table as the man forwarded towards here without a word. "Guard-" she tried to yell as loud as she could but the man grabbed her head in a swift motion and shoved her into the table's edge. As if to knock her unconscious.

"Not another word or I kill you." Blood said with his hands around her neck, about to choke her as she struggled against him. Trying to grasp against his hands on her, trying to suffocate her she kicked her legs. Tried to scream regardless of his warning. With an extreme distaste for her, obviously, in blood's eyes the princess wasn't even worth so much and too much trouble to smuggle out. "Your daddy wants you back."

-

By the time the guards did find the princess, in the hallways, she was already half unconscious. Immediately rescued into the safest place in the keep, the council. Retrieved but not at all unharmed. The council was already set into course for the subject of the young prince when Larys walked in with y/n. He had previously informed her of what had happened with her nephew, his passing it hadn't really struck her yet given she could barely process all that had happened.

Queen alicent gasped as she stood up quickly running to y/n's side, all the bruises on her face, open cuts and bleeding out the torn sleeves in her dress. "Gods..." she exclaimed in horror as she helped her onto her seat. "What happened to her?" She asked Lord Larys.

"The guards found the intruder, trying to smuggle the princess out of the keep. A gold cloak known for his brutal nature, found with her, having inflicted his brutality upon her and...the prince's head, in a sack." He briefed the council as they all listened to him, everyone else but the king at loss of words. As Lord Larys left alicent was still tending to y/n, cooing at her, she seemed to be in a half conscious state.

"I am alright" she muttered to her mother in law as Alicent nodded but held her hand in hers to provide her whatever consolation she could. Just the sight of having suffered such assault sent the queen into a huge distress. Weakly holding her hand back as if to steady herself into this nightmare. When Lord Larys told her of Jahaerys's tragedy she did not believe it at all. She was confidently positive there must be some mistake in his information because that would not be possible at all.

If it wasn't for Aegon screeching in the background, y/n couldn't make out if she was actually awake in this very moment. The ringing in her ears still hadn't gone out and she wished that she would perish with that same ringing if it were to happen because living through this seemed so difficult. No way to navigate, circumstance so heavy she felt paralysed to meet anyone's face. Aegon was screeching as he wept for his son, blind with rage to kill the man found guilty for the crime. The member advised otherwise saying the king has a lot of enemies and they don't know for sure whose hand it could be.

"I suppose you are right..." Aegon trailed off slowly pacing down the table back to his seat, with an accusatory demeanour towards everyone else "it could be anyone of you, in this room."

A small silence fell, strengthening the tension and grief in the room as y/n just stared at the empty seat beside her. That very morning, just the day prior, where her nephew sat. Then Aemond after him, empty now. "It was Daemon." She declared of what she knew for sure, first time in her life she referred to Daemon with his first name instead of her father. After everything that he did, every misery she endured at the hands of her father, what happened now made her want to be distanced and foreign from him as much as she could. "His doing." She breathed and looked at the council, the drained colour on everyone's face she just registered-it was blinding her. "The man—the gold cloak" she continue, "trying to get a hold of me, h-he—he said 'your daddy wants you back.'" Repeating the words sent a chill down her spine as if she was in that very moment again, she still felt those hands on her, suffocating and heavy. A disgusting play in the mix. “That man came here, on Daemon’s order.”

The rest were comprehending that still, how a man could be so crude not only killing a child but having his own assaulted and kidnapped back home like this? " In one sense, as we determine what happened and...if we in the keep are still in peril. In another sense of course...it doesn't matter." Otto said and looked at Y/n. The princess surely did not seem to understand the hand's implication.

However Lord Tyland did so, "You mean to blame Rhaenyra." He said in a beat. "Tell the realm she had done this." Tyland spoke out Otto's implication.

"I'll have the realm told nothing! We were assaulted within our own walls, within our own beds!" Aegon spoke up almost immediately "Y/n, my brother's wife! The fucking princess almost beaten unconscious—being smuggled out?" He emphasised on the word brother, enraged even for his sister in law and the lack of his brother's presence when it must have mattered the most. "I will not be seen as weak!"

"You are already seen as weak aegon." Otto replied once again sending the king into a manic breakdown as he threw around more cups and vases. Otto theorised about how important it was to name Rhaenyra as a cruel person. Killer of infants, despite of whose direct orders those were. The narrative would be what they made.

"You would change, the blood that is on daemon's hand just to spite Rhaenyra." Y/n questioned, red eyes and characteristically on the verge of tears since she walked in here. Alicent found it so hard to look at her face, the cuts and bruises, poor thing. The heavy torment inside her head must be unimaginable, Alicent thought whilst holding y/n's hand a bit tighter. It felt like one of those moments when she was just a child, so many years ago. She would recall, the girl child was such a loner, always speaking in short words that is if spoken to. The shy little girl, who would just sit in a corner and colour or read. So much like her Aemond yet so different. When they would be in public settings, too many people, she would meekly hold Alicent's hand. Amongst all those unfamiliar faces. Little y/n just deemed Alicent familiar, comfortable. What was so wholesome years ago held such horror now. Alicent holding the lady's hand to provide her comfort her words won't be able to, the protection she could not. "Why won't you paint that man for the monster that he is?!" Y/n spoke as her voice broke, it felt unfair. Daemon not being held accountable yet again.

"Because, Daemon isn't the pretender to the throne. He would be the king consort. Banners are being declared for Rhaenyra, not in his name." Otto explained, to his preference narrative was just a useful toy. One name here or there did not make a difference.

"That is unfair." She said shaking her head, tears brimmed her eyes, taking in short breaths. In all these council meetings she did not speak up against Otto considering him respectable and more learned yet today, "how can you keep on accounting for him...again and again?!" Y/n asked but she was begging in agony. "Y-You were here. Always present. And you never did anything—all his heinous crimes! You always had the opportunity to hold him responsible and you did nothing!" She exclaimed, not being able to help herself as she thought back to a conversation at this very table. A conversation she must not have been there for, but the hand would have.

"It is perhaps your shock and grief speaking for you." Otto replied, not moved by the young lady's accusations at all. "I for one, do not understand your place of reference"

"When he murdered my mother!" Y/n said, growing more and more restless with her speech. Otto must be right, it was all the piled up grief inside of her speaking for her in this very moment but she could not let the monster that was her father be off the hook again, "You could've held a proper council, had him pay for what he did and we wouldn't be seeing this day today! We have that chance now and yet again you would rather Rhaenyra take the blame for his barbarism!"

Otto felt silent for a moment, the girl's rage was justified to the extent of him having no answer for her but he knew to trust his wit more, "I cannot undo...my regrets. I assure you I hold a lot of remorse in having a part in letting daemon go from daemon to the rogue prince and now this...monster. But if we don't do this, he would become king consort. The word consort is a feeble adjective." What he said was supposed to make sense to y/n but she could not see past the rage and need for vengeance she held against her father. Looking away, she wiped her tears. "A funeral progress. Let them see the child. Let them look upon the works of this pretender to the throne." Otto proposed once y/n was assuming-ly settled.

"Father" Alicent said with weary and concerned eyes, such tragedy being shouted out as a public funeral procession sounded so vain.

"My king..." Otto waited for Aegon's presumedly understood voice.

"No..." Aegon answered firmly "I will not have my little son's body dragged through the street like a dead dog." As he said that y/n felt nearly faint. To this very moment she did not accept that the child had passed.

"Not dragged, honoured." Otto corrected. "Escorted to the dragon pits to be burned as a Targaryen prince!" Otto went on and on about how he loved his grandson, his heart was in the right place with the grief yet the path he set was in accordance with the warpath. Just plots and schemes. Falling silent, paralysed y/n looked down to her lap. She refused to even register this conversation because it meant registering the fact that a darling child, Jahaerys...was gone.

Aegon couldn't stomach this proposal which came as an already arranged firm announcement either, looking around the room nobody said a word against the hand's plan. "You would say nothing?!" He demanded of y/n, why won't somebody help this mad notion. "Your dear nephew, have you nothing to add?" He was almost begging, hoping she would get the hand to change his mind for this funeral procession. She didn't, y/n just looked up at Aegon and then Alicent, tears in her eyes which just didn't seem to stop flowing. "Mother." Aegon called out when y/n couldn't speak up.

Leaving y/n's side Alicent walk's up to aegon, "the hand sets a difficult path, my darling. But it might be the right one." She told her inconsolable soul.

"Let the silent sisters ready the prince for his final journey." Otto said without waiting a moment for the king or anyone to come forth with opposition "And riding behind him, his mother the queen, the princess and the queen dowager."

"No, I do not wish to be spectacle." Alicent opposed instantly, the weariness and fright in y/n's eyes speaking the same "Especially y/n, not in this state. She can barely talk-stand, she has been terrorised. You can't simply—"

"The realm must see the sorrow of the crown. A sorrow best expressed through its gentle souls." Otto said followed by alicent sighing, then he looked at the side to y/n, "We need to display our heavily victimised as well" he said, the bleeding wounds on her face seemed like little trophies of sympathy to Otto. "I think you'll all agree the king himself must be spared."

-

A deafening silence lingered within Aemond, he had been out, sharpening out his swords, practising. Fucking practising on jute bags when he should've been there. Y/n was in Alicent's chambers because she could not walk into her own, couldn't even take in the sight of it. The thrashed furniture, from her struggling against the intruding gold cloak. The...the sack. In which he had stored the boy's head. Where the man had placed it in her chamber, at the entrance, it had created a circular stain of blood. Jahaerys's blood. She could not even think about the room within those four walls without picturing the insidious crime. She sat on the floor against the bed, windows open and soft white light of the day seeping in yet to y/n it still felt like a night of hailstorm. She didn't even look up to the footsteps of the stride coming inside the room, Aemond. He walked to her, kneeling down to the floor to her level.

Aemond was drenched with so much guilt in his heart, he felt pathetic to even breathe the same air as his lady wife. She had her face turned away from him, he could just see the small cuts on her face, the torn dress, still seeping out dried blood, her weary stature. It was all mortifying in the first place. He was so livid, with himself, with the intruder. Even with Larys, who informed him about the happenings at the last. By the time he rushed back inside the council was already done with. He had nothing he could say to y/n, no way of consoling her either.

It's not as if she would want to be consoled by him too, the emotional support he would want to offer her walked out with him when he walked out after their fight the previous night. With the disturbing things that had happened with her, she had almost forgotten the words he said. She couldn't even remember why she was crying before it all, that sick with grief. Aemond gently held her chin, hesitantly afraid she would turn him away. She had every right to do so. She didn't move him away, had no energy to do so. His heart sank as he saw the blood streaked stitches, poorly done and most of her wounds left untreated. "Why are these open?" He asked her softly, referring to her wounds, "Where are the maesters?"

"The hand, has asked for these to be left raw as they were planted." Y/n briefed him, her voice was so wavering, all that crying. "He means for them to be displayed for the funeral procession...so the realm can see" y/n scoffed softly as she repeated otto's exact words.

"You don't have to go." Aemond told her in a firm way, sure that he could get the hand to change his mind whether he liked it or not because y/n's comfort was his priority.

"No..." she trailed off, in agreement refraining to look at him her voice held no emotion. "But I do. I have to." She continued "Wouldn't want Haelena to be alone"

"Mother would be with her." Aemond added taking her hands in his softly, finally getting her to react to his presence as she looked down upon his gesture. Apparently to take her hands out of his grasp.

"But then I would be alone here..." She trailed off, a hint of frustration and fright in her tone. "I don't want to be alone."

"I would be with you, y/n." Aemond cooed softly fixing the loose strand of her hair, tucking it behind her ear as he leant forward. “You won’t be alone.”

"I find myself unable to put faith in you, Aemond." She breathed looking down, she felt like a cornered animal, just so scared and full of distrust. "...in your assurance. I'd rather not."

Aemond had nothing he could say to that. She did not trust the integrity of his principles and rightfully so. He knew he had broken that trust of security within her. "My heart, I apologise for the distress I have caused you. I did not mean any of it" he told her but the heaviness in his heart told him his words would change nothing. She couldn't talk either, bursting into tears and her stitches seemed to hurt because her face moved but she was so much numbed to the physical pain in comparison to how she felt inside. Aemond could just offer her his embrace in this time and that is what he did. Enlacing her into her arms, rubbing her back in soothing circles her let her cry into his chest. "They will pay for this." He muttered softly as he continued to hold her. Even with the pain he made her feel, the distrust and hurt she felt just in seeing Aemond could not let her turn away the familiarity of his comfort. His was the only comfort she had ever known.

-

Once again clarifying that the brothel subplot is absolutely NON EXISTENT in this fic Aemond Targaryen is a lot of things but not a cheater <333

Pls let know what you think about this + added to the tg list🫧

-

🏷️ @love-is-a-dagger @daddzawa @1109002 @void21 @annedub @teapartydreams @batmans-love @ih8books @oopsdownloadedrumblragain-blog @aemondwhoresworld @unsweetenedpeatea @immyowndefender @aleemendoza2425-blog @vane282-blog @atargaryenlover @targaryenswhxre @sabii5 @vibescanner @darylandbethfanforever9

[strawbeerossi]

Dress

Pairing: Husband!Spencer x Wife!Reader

Description: When you’re getting ready for an event over at Rossi’s, you express how you feel you don’t look your best in the dress you had your heart set on. Spencer is gonna do his best to show you just how beautiful that you are.

Content/Warnings: Body image issues, full body kissing, oral (f receiving), praise, pet names, just some good love and fluffy sex.

Word Count: 1.9K

Kinktober Day One: Body Worship

Navigation || Kinktober Masterlist || AO3

The dress looked so beautiful whenever you bought it. The black silhouette did good at hugging your frame, highlighting every dip and curve. Most people would’ve loved to wear a dress like this one, to steal all the attention of the night and feel nothing short of a beauty queen. It was elegant, a smooth velvet that showed poise. However, it didn’t really work out that way for you the more you looked at it without the presence of wine and the loving encouragement of your friends.

That’s why you found yourself standing in place, trying to smooth out what you deemed as imperfections that just wouldn’t go away. This was a nightmare.

“We are going to be late, my love.” Spencer called from his spot in the shared bedroom, looking in the standing mirror on the back of our door as he was fixing his tie. Formal events at Dave’s house were always a fun time. You’d actually managed to feel fancier than normal, the champagne and pleasant conversation adding onto that. You were also quite fond of the idea of socializing with some of the people who had known Dave or even the other members of the team at any step in their lives.

“I think I’m gonna have to pretend to be sick..” You sighed while making your way out of the bathroom, heels clicking against the wooden tile and catching Spencer’s attention. “Why would you pretend to be sick?” He asked, voice filled with concern as he was approaching you, his hands gently cupping your warm cheeks.

Now there are many answers that you could’ve come up with to deter from the overwhelming amount of insecurity festering inside of your mind and body from the dress that you so desperately needed to buy online. Marrying a profiler meant that he would be able to call you out on the lies.

You opted for honesty.

“I just..” Your eyes were trained on the mirror across the room. There was hatred for the sight looking back at you. In a way, it felt as if you were drowning in poor self esteem. Fuck this dress. Why did you have to pick one right off the rack without trying it on first? JJ told you that it was sleek, sexy. It felt the complete opposite. “I don’t like the way I look in this dress. I don’t have anything else to wear over to Dave’s house and I don’t know if I could show my face wearing this.”

There was no doubt that Emily, JJ, Tara and Penelope would be elegantly dressed with flattering attire that highlighted every positive about their bodies. While all having different body types, it was easy to see the beauty in each of them. They all had such well defined features, their bodies being sculpted from the finest stone. They were all four Persephone reincarnated.

Then there was you, the awkwardly shaped one who never felt like she fit in. Your hair wasn’t as nice as theirs, your teeth weren't as nice and perfect.. Sometimes you found yourself wondering why Spencer chose to marry you whenever he had such fine women on his team. The self deprecating thoughts were cut off by Spencer, a soft shushing sound leaving his lips. You’d been crying for a minute without realizing.

“I think,” He began while leaning forward to press his lips against yours. “That you look,” He continued on with his soft, sweet kisses as they moved to your jaw. “Absolutely,” His lips were soon on the flesh of your neck as he let his arms wrap around your waist. “Ravishing.” He finally finished, his hands running over your hips in an effort to soothe those wandering thoughts.

“You don’t believe me.” Spencer’s voice stayed steady, a frown forming on his face while you were blinking away a few tears.

“It’s okay, I will have to just show you just how beautiful you really are.” With his hands moving to the zipper of the dress, you could feel your cheeks heating up. “We are going to be late,” You spoke while letting your eyes fall shut as the wet kisses were slowly trailing down to your shoulders. “I think David would understand. Besides, I can promise you that it’ll be an all night affair.” He chuckled. Which, yeah.. That made sense. David Rossi could keep an event going all night if he truly wanted.

As the black dress pooled by your feet, you offered a shy smile as the kisses continued, your skin being filled with warmth from all of the love radiating off of Spencer’s lips from each kiss that was littered across the skin of your shoulders and collarbones. “Besides.. I’ve been punctual for the past fifteen years in every aspect. I think that I can be late just this once.” He chuckled, hands coming up to unclasp the black bra you’d picked out, letting it fall with the dress before he was lifting you in his arms, prompting you to let your arms to quickly wrap around his shoulders. “We shouldn’t take too long anyway.”

Your body hit the clean duvet when you were laid back on the bed, the cover still smelling of the sea breeze fabric softener that you’d become so obsessed with. Your husband’s lips continue to trail wet kisses across your skin, his hands running up your body as he was on his knees beside you. “You’re so beautiful, my love.” His words were soft, sweet. “Especially laid out like this for me.” You’d been nearly bare, panties separating your wet pussy from his loving gaze. His hands massaged the skin of your hips, lips littering more kisses around your chest area. “My perfect girl, I don’t know how a guy like me could be so lucky.” Love dripped onto your skin akin to the feeling of the bright sun shining against your skin on the hottest days. Your response came in the form of a soft breath, feeling his tongue flick over your right nipple.

His tongue flicked over the sensitive bud, the male humming in delight as he could feel it hardening at the wet muscle massaging over it. He knew the sensitivity of your body, his hands kneading at the warm flesh of your breasts. You were reduced to soft moans, encouragement for more as your fingers tangled in the once neatly styled curls. “Fuck, Spence.” Your words were a melody to his ears, the male not always being so fond of partaking in swearing or really listening to it. However, whenever you did? He enjoyed it. That meant he was doing his job in the intimate positions that you both had found yourselves in.

Pulling off with a loud ‘pop’ filling the room, the honey colored irises were focused on your face, still contorted in pleasure as his hands were massaging your tits with his large hands. He repeated the same action with the opposite nipple, one hand dropping and his fingertips trailing down your skin, the goosebumps on your body standing at attention as his thumb was pressing against your clothed clit, hips wiggling in an effort for more.

Who was Spencer to deny his amazing wife the pleasure that she so desperately deserved?

Even if he didn’t want to, the male was detaching his mouth from your chest while his long fingers were hooking into the waistband of your panties. Your hips lifted out of instinct, body feeling hotter than ever as you were desperate to feel more of the touch you craved in the place that you needed it most.

After the panties were tossed somewhere behind him, the male let his hands carefully push your thighs apart, eyes focused on your slick cunt that looked more beautiful than he could put into words. His mouth was agape at the sight, those pretty honey eyes slowly disappearing in the black of his pupils.

“Fuck,” The swear was rare, yet hearing it fall from his voice in the dulcet tone never failed to surprise you.

“We’ve got twenty minutes before Dave starts calling,”Spencer spoke while glancing at the alarm clock, eyes falling on the mouthwatering sight nestled between your thighs. “So, think you can do it?”

The question was rhetorical. He knew by now how your body operated.

Before you could answer, his face was disappearing between your thighs, lips pressing kisses to your inner thighs as he sucked and nibbled at your skin. Leaving hickies between your legs was the best place, mainly because they were for his eyes only. It wasn't something unprofessional to where you couldn’t go to work without covering up. Less headache. The man was practical.

His tongue lapped over your clit as he was delving in, eyes fluttering shut. His favorite place had to be between your thighs. Stressful case? He’s licking and sucking your wet cunt from the safety of your hotel room. You want intimacy but he’s not in the mood for sex himself? He’s disappearing under the sheets.

He was intoxicated by your sweetness, drinking in every ounce of arousal that you were so happily giving him. His tongue ran alongside your velvety inner walls, your pussy spasming from the muscle that was darting in and out of you, having to alternate between your clit and your core.

Your hands were tangled in the now messy curls, your back arching off the mattress while the sounds of your moans and cries filled the room in addition to the suckling and groans coming from your husband, who was so focused on licking every inch of you.

You felt the familiar warmth deep in your stomach, a knot tightening inside of you as your pulsating walls were closing in on Spencer’s tongue. With your hands shoving his face deeper into your weeping pussy. “I’m gonna cum, Spence.” You panted out, eyes fluttering shut as your head tilted back against the pillow behind your head.You know that you couldn’t hold back any longer, your body giving every indication that it was ready to unleash a wave of ecstasy.

The man licking and sucking didn’t let up, his hands having to hold your hips down as your orgasm was building. The more you wiggled and thrashed, the more that he knew that it was coming.

“I-” You tried to get out, however that didn’t work out in your favor as a moan was chasing what was supposed to come out of your mouth. Your legs were shaking as you were finally hitting release, your nails digging into your husband’s scalp while your mouth was agape.

The warm muscle was licking and cleaning up your thighs before you were seeing your husband’s face again. His chin was wet and his hair was an absolute mess as he rubbed your thighs.

“Let's get you in that pretty dress and get to Rossi’s.” He breathed, letting his teeth playfully bite at your inner thigh before he was pushing himself up.

Which you didn’t argue, the post sex haze making it difficult to speak. Even after you were redressed and Spencer had his hair fixed once more, he was coming to wrap his arms around your waist as he noticed you in front of the mirror.

“Feeling better? Cause I promise that you are going to be the most gorgeous woman there, you’re gonna have all of Rossi’s friends flirting with you.” He mused, nuzzling his nose against your cheek as you let out an airy laugh.

“Let’s get going, hmm? I need my beauty queen to make me look good.” He offered his arm out to you as they linked together, his free hand on your arm as you both made your way downstairs.

[s-4pphics]

soul ties. part I (e.w.)

SYNOPSIS: a product of brokenness. WORD COUNT: 13.4K WARNINGS: ellie’s a painter/art dealer, heavy angst[oc is suicidal and has dissociative episodes + abusive parents/SEXUAL ABUSE(nothing explicitly written but aluded to) + patriarchy/men being predatory/traditionalist households + mentions of cheating + alcoholism + disordered eating/self-harm(cuticle picking) + thoughts of murder + mommy issues/daddy issues + parental grief + homophobia + more patriarchy but with dykes + unhealthy relationships with sex(coping) + brief mention of masturbation + sexual tension + making out + fondling + slapping + DUBCON + just matching freaks to avoid trauma], miscommunication, just 2 socially inept crash outs lol  A/N: hellloo lol. fixed plot bc im venting… s been a very rough few months. i was convinced i lost my very acute skill so uhhh consider this a test. uhh what else… idk when i’ll be back bc im now a piano player #NEWFOUNDESCAPISM LOL.  suggestion: this technically could b read alone but if u care ab context read this first. then this. that is all LOL byeee :p hi taggies we back: @dyk3ang3l @acidblum @mellifluousgirll @elliesatchel @callmewhenyoukan @natgf123 @elliesstella @spaceforescape @floridaopal @lonelyfooryouonly @ellies-converse @amiorca @darkerstarsstuff

fuck the bitch that made this game.  dont buy his shit.

aid links from my inbox: one, two, three, four

What to do, what to do… 

Ellie is a wreck. An agitated, craving, mess. 

What to do… Love your wife, fuck the daylights out of your wife, kill your wife before she kills you… What to do… 

It can’t be that hard to hide a body. Is it still murder if it’s self-defense? Ellie’s sure the next bath you run for her will either be filled with bleach or result in her being forced underwater until she’s lifeless. There are lots of people willing to get their hands dirty for her if that’s the case. Not a trace of you or her would be left and she’d finally be able to escape with only the clothes on her back. The weightlessness in her pockets wouldn’t move her in any way. Nothing compares to freedom. What a suffocating life she lives. 

The guest room mattress becomes less and less plush every time she lays in it. The sheets are itchier and cold and she’s stuck pondering with each swirl of the ceiling fan, wet hair wrapped in a bath towel; restless, fidgety, and honey-like ache in the pit of her stomach, mind warped with lecherous thoughts of her wife that she despises but not as much, her supposed life partner and fuck, how did you two get here…

Stuck with a tension so thick it permeates your home; if you’d even call it that. You’re both successfully trapped between your own walls; Elegant windows take the place of rusted, metal bars that confine you from the life you both dreamed of before all this; one soft and doting and colorful, one where your light isn’t dulled. 

Why does she feel so guilty, suddenly? You’re not lovers, and neither in love, so why does her chest ache with every glance she steals when you’re unassuming? The pain that’s always etched on your face, and if not, in your eyes — fills her with regret. She would abandon you for days — weeks at a time, not at all concerned about what you might be experiencing to rid herself of shame. And to think that you were merely a younger version of your mother; villainous and cruel and greedy when… when you’ve barely spoken. She finds herself, unfortunately, reminiscing on how bushy-tailed you were after marriage. So eager to please and prick her mind and annoyingly mechanical. You cooked at the same time everyday. Cleaned, did both your laundry, sunbathed, swam in your pool. She hated how rehearsed your lifestyle was; it reminds her of the worst parts of her childhood. When her mother was alive. So, Ellie chose to step out on you the second you took her last name; ravaged other women, released her anger and desires on strangers when she should’ve had you beneath, above, on your knees for her. Where has that craving to harm you gone? For months, she’s ached for your suffering to mirror hers, but now… What’s happening to her? What’s happened to you? 

Ellie believes you’ve lost it, and somehow she’s found herself chasing that unforeseen part of you; unfiltered and angry and wild. This manufactured doll your mother molded you into is shattering at the core and Ellie craves to see more of you. Guilty. As hurt as you were, that night was the most alive she’s seen you be. You shouted and cried and tore at the seams, desperate for someone to hear you, and Ellie did. Loud and clear. She saw you for what you are. Mangled from the inside out, entirely hopeless. Just like she is. An unspeakable link that binds the two of you.

Soul ties. 

She shook and pleaded for you to enter the bathroom and see her battered against the shower wall with a hand between her legs and your name dripping from her lips, but the knob never twisted. Her orgasms were unsatisfactory, and she accepted with irritation that it was because you weren’t there. She ignored the throbbing between her legs and vacated the bathroom. Ellie, with legs that trembled, found you wrapped in satin and snoring. They sounded like whistles. 

She stood for a while, just watching you twitch and wiggle in your rest, eyes glazing to the space beside you that could easily fit another body. The sheets are already warm from where you lay. The two of you have never slept in the same room, let alone bed. 

Her feet carried her out. Silently left the room with an unfamiliar ache in her chest. 

Her mind made an enemy out of you because that’s what you are. When she thought her life couldn’t get any worse, you appeared and destroyed everything in her path. Left her world in ruins. Disrupted her pattern. You’re an enemy and deserve to hurt. 

Aren’t you? Don’t you? 

Everything is unclear. Ellie hasn’t been this conflicted since she was 15. She wishes she could sleep forever so she wouldn’t be forced to think. 

If she had any sense left, she would paint her agony away. In the past, her mind would shut down with every splash of color on a canvas to compensate for the darkness that conjured in her mind. She refrains from that now, though. She’s horny; scared she’ll start imagining what your pussy looks like and sketch it all over the bedroom walls. That’d be too much; a boundary that will remain untouched.

But her brain knows she’s not a good person; she can’t help but imagine how gorgeous your pussy is because you are and she’s known that since the beginning, the second she saw you drenched in white. Drenched in sorrow. 

She clutches your wedding band in her palm. 

What to do… what to do… 

Birds are artists. 

They never fail to sing every morning; sonnets aimed to awaken life as sun rays spill from behind mountains. You've always appreciated their tunes whenever you were pulled from a hollow rest, no longer surrounded by darkness. 

Maybe it was the routine your mother set for you from young. You were 9 when she first coddled your drowsiness as she shook you awake at five in the morning; the early bird catches the worm, a saying you naively assumed as preparation for the day, for your homeschooling. An energy booster, possibly. Motivation. Something to get you through. 

How stupid could a child be? 

You were 12 when your cycle started. You were 12 when you realized that your mother never envisioned actual birds and worms like you had. Your mother has games she plays and she cheats. She’s had you on a leash for the past decade; the scars around your neck are forever a reminder of the hell you’ve endured under her hand. It took no effort on her part to be uncaring of your suffering, and somehow that aches more than anything else. 

Even more than the existence of him. A demon walking.

Animals aren’t like your family. Birds aren’t. The minute specks of sunlight begin, their job starts, and they complete it happily without compensation or praise or the slightest acknowledgment. Everyone wakes, and they fly to anywhere to wake the next. 

But wealth is dirty. Wealth makes people dirty. They swindler and lie and experience life with a vacancy that’ll never be filled with anything but greed. Your mother trained you for years to accept whatever was given as long as you were taken care of. Play your part, she’d say. It took you years to learn her strategy — and unlearn yourself — but you’re here. Married. Successful by association. Rich. Unhappy. Unloved. 

Birds guided you. They never shy from their duty, and you hadn’t either… 

But you’re human. You crack and cry and scream and you hate. You despise so strongly that you lash out and everything in your path becomes victimized. Sometimes it gets to a point where you crave blood. You want to drown in it, drink it until you’re sick. Your soul is dead. Everyones’ should die with yours. 

You don’t know who should go first. Your mother, your stepfather, or your wife. 

You want to swallow Ellie whole—

“Good morning.” 

You’ve never seen Ellie not dolled up. She clearly just awakened with her wrinkled MILFS ONLY shirt and sporadic hair. Timidity doesn’t suit Ellie. You're so used to seeing her exasperated. Her weary eyes don’t meet yours. You should tell her your plans to adopt a hummingbird. Or maybe you shouldn’t. She might laugh at you.

“Hello.” 

“… Hi.” She seems like she wants to say something. You sip your coffee. 

“My dad called.” 

You hum around the rim of your mug. “Woke you up?” 

She merely shrugs. “I uh… did anyone tell you about tomorrow?” 

“Of course not.” 

You don’t expect Ellie to flinch at your tone. You weren’t that sharp, were you?

You might’ve been because she slows her speech. Like she’s approaching a wounded animal, “Dad’s hosting a dinner. Corporate bullshit but we have to go.” 

“Why.” 

She squints at you. “Why what.” 

“Why do we have to go.” Your mug lands on the table harder than expected. 

“To make mommy and daddy look good.” She sneers while approaching her seat, “Did you forget?” 

“I just thought they wouldn’t want two dykes contaminating their spaces anymore.” 

Ellie snorts. “They don’t. Companies do. Gets their cocks hard. Two gay daughters, how progressive!” She mocks and plops on the chair directly across from you, wiping at her eyes. Your throat dries when you notice her wedding band. She hardly ever wears it. You don’t know where you left yours. Since when does she care to wear it? “They’ll do anything they can to get on their good side. They’re… merging organizations or whatever the fuck he said.” 

She swallows. Shrugs uncaringly, “We going?” Her eyes watch your hands squeeze your mug. 

“Are we.” 

She regards your cup with caution. Does she think you’ll throw it? The thought nearly makes you laugh. 

“Yes.” She answers. 

“Okay.” 

Your wife finally looks up and stands, nose upturned, “Okay? That’s all you got?” 

“Yes. Okay.” You sip silently. Your foot taps on hardwood. 

“Excited to see your family? You like ‘em now?” 

Excited is laughable. 

“No, I don’t.” 

The sudden calamity from your wife confuses you. She tugs at the strands that flop on her head in agitation. They look soft as they bounce with her pacing. You’ll never feel them. Or you might later. Who knows with her. Who knows with you. 

Ellie’s still talking. Her arms flail like she’s annoyed by you. You’re not sure why. You’re following. You’re allowing her to guide. To control. That’s the entire point of this. That’s why you’re going to dinner with her. She told you to go and that’s it. 

Play your part play your part play yo—

You don’t remember much of anything; the past, the present, but you recall what Ellie sounds like when she’s angry, whether it’s at you, her father, the woman her father is fucking or married to or whatever. If you’d listen, you’ll discover what ticked her off, but your ears ring too loud. Much louder than her screaming. 

You sip your coffee silently. Ellie leaves you at the dining table with a slam of a door. 

You think it’s the first floor’s guest room. 

The sun sets. Ellie can’t remember the last time she’s been home this long. 

She hates the weekends. The gallery is never open and she can’t drown herself in deals. She hates being home when you are. Why the fuck are you always here? You don’t have friends, a job, a life outside of this goddamn house? There’s a sinking in her stomach at the thought of your isolation, but she ignores it. Tries to ignore it.

… Can’t really ignore it. How pestering. You��re a pest. 

She knows nothing about you, only bits of your past expressed through photographs at your mother’s or outbursts in your bedroom. Your stepfather is fucking creepy and your mother’s glare is killer, but that’s about it. Still, she doesn’t think she can hate your parents more than you. 

You’re so fucking weird. Just like them. Unforgiving and unchaste one day then apathetic the next. How the fuck can one communicate with a person like that? 

That feeling in her chest again. Sharp and annoying. Try try try, it says. Begs from her. 

Try and do what? Do fucking what—

It took Ellie 3 seconds to unlock the guest room door and fly down the stairs when a crash rings from the first floor. Glass clatters and you sound in pain and oh fuck did someone break in

There’s red all over the kitchen floor but it’s not blood it’s red wine. Red wine red wine it’s not blood— 

You’re on the kitchen floor surrounded by green shards and dressed so pretty. Hair coiled and free and your face is done up and you’re wearing flowers. There’s flowers all over and your skin shines and why do you have heels on like a play doll?

Ellie palms at the scattered racing of her heart. Everything’s fine, her brain blares, She tripped, that’s it. Clears her throat. Rustles her hair to appear normal. 

She’s not dead. 

“… You good?” 

An unsteady hand rises to throw her a thumbs up. Your body wobbles when you attempt to stand. Ellie ushers to the counter to slide on her slippers, tells you to stop when your palm nearly plants on a shard. 

“Move back before you hurt yourself.” Ellie takes a quick lap around the kitchen for the broom and dustpan. Finds you just as quickly so you don’t accidentally slice an artery. 

Your lashes flutter and her heart follows suit, taking in the mess. “I think I fucked up.” You croak.

Hearing you curse is always odd. She huffs, “It’s fine. Can you stand?” 

Your head shakes and your bottom lip juts. “My… my shoes…”

You slowly plop onto your bottom and rest your back against the dishwasher. You struggle to grip your buckles to pull and slide the strap and Ellie remembers why she hates heels. She sweeps the glass away from you and realizes she should’ve mopped first because the bristles are soaked and streaking the clean parts of the crystal porcelain. When was the last time she cleaned? The maids always do. Sometimes you help. 

You look stunned when Ellie moves to squat in front of you. Jumps back when she adjusts your ankle. 

Her palms hang in surrender, “I’m gonna help you. Relax. Do your knees hurt?” 

You landed right on them. They should. You don’t disarm, eyes guarded and body locked tight, but you shrug. It’s good enough for Ellie. 

She unravels the buckles around both your ankles and tosses them next to you and you just watch. Ellie’s glances are quick and flitting, but she follows the traces of her hands; the sharp inhales whenever her fingers brush against the skin of your leg. You’re not as close as you were last night but she can smell you. Her chest is throbbing. You look like you’re about to cry but you’re drunk. It’s meaningless. Drunk people cry. 

Try try try try 

“Can you stand now?” She croaks. 

It takes a second for you to register her inquiry, but you shrug, and she sighs. When Ellie stands, both her hands extend out to you, but you don’t accept them; She gets jittery under your scrutinizing gaze after nearly a minute passes. Her throat dries and her face burns when you brush her hands away; standing on your own is an unstable journey, but you do, back against the counter to stabilize yourself. You look ill. Your brain must be jumbled. 

“Can you get upstairs on your own?” 

“You talk a fucking lot. Shut up.”  

The corner of Ellie’s mouth rises, but she says nothing. Gives you space to move. 

You take one step, then two more, then your eyes shut and your throat jumps. Uh oh.

“Oh shit, come—“

Ellie guides you to the garbage can near the front of the counter, away from the glass, and you dry heave. Liquid splatters inside the can and Ellie hates this so fucking much. The sounds are enough to make her own stomach lurch. It’s been a while since she’s been around someone this drunk. 

But she holds your waist so you don’t faceplant into your own vomit. 

“Get it out,” She hums with a grimace, “You’re fine.” An I gotcha almost rolls off her tongue but she catches it. She glides a comforting hand over your curved spine because you’re drunk and you won’t remember such gestures in the morning. She prefers it that way. 

You’re not gagging anymore so Ellie removes herself from you. Until she hears a whimper. And a sob so quiet she assumes you’re trying to mask it. Drunk people cry; she’s seen it countless times. Why does that seering feeling spark in her chest for what felt like the billionth time today? Fucking try, for fucks sake! 

“Let’s… let’s get you—“

“I wish I was dead.” 

Your prayer is hollow. Not even sad despite your tears. So, so empty. Ellie’s seen this before, experienced that nothingness countless times, but despite it all, she never learned how to console. Hell, she barely knows how to self-soothe without falling victim to her dark temptations. Even her paint brushes can’t eliminate the constant ache she feels. She just watches the tremble of your shoulders from behind. 

“I really don’t wanna go tomorrow.” You whisper. 

Ellie sighs. There’s no other choice. You know the stakes; follow your families’ commands or lose everything at the drop of a hat. They’ll leave you both on the streets to rot with no remorse if they please, replace the two of you with two normal children. Het children that won’t deviate. You’re both on thin ice as it is. Mainly because of Ellie. She can’t seem to keep herself out of trouble.

“I…” 

I’ll be with you the entire time. I don’t like being around those cunts either. 

“It’ll go by quickly.” She settles. 

“I hate when p-people look at me.” 

“Me too.” 

“I wish my family loved me.” 

Ellie’s softer now. Only slightly. 

“Yeah…” 

A tug in her ribcage. Try. Please, try. 

“Me too.” 

The pounding beneath your skull wakes you quicker than the birds. You shove your face in the pillow you rest on. 

The devil tells you to check the time so you do. The bedside clock says noon, meaning a new day, meaning it’s Saturday meaning you’ll die. Maybe not physically but mentally. You’re so drained and you’ve barely opened your eyes; the idea of leaving bed alone is enough to exhaust you. Your wrists and legs ache like fucking hell on top of that. 

You make fists with both hands. Repeatedly clench and unclench. The weight is different on your wedding finger. Heavier. You haven’t seen your ring since yesterday… or a few days ago — you’re not really sure. You must’ve found it in your drunken stupor. Just when you hoped to never see it again. 

The universe will always remind you who you are. 

If you stand you’ll vomit but your phone is ringing from the drawer you stuck it in weeks ago. How is it not dead? You know your mom’s calling. You hate that she is… 

The ringing stops and you thank the heavens. 

You curse them when it starts up again. 

The drawer slides open with reluctance. The ringing sounds 20 times louder. You retrieve your device blindly and your throat snaps shut when you speak. 

“You rang.” 

“Did your… partner tell you about tonight.” 

Hard and distant. That’s how she speaks to you. Your heart cracks. 

Your mom already knows Ellie did. She loves to bother you with nonsense. You don’t think she’s ever called Ellie your wife. 

“Yes.” 

“You’re attending.” 

“Yes.” 

“Good.” 

“Is that all.” 

“Your gown was delivered here. Come by well before 8 to get ready.” 

And she hangs up. Just like that. Always. She’s never told you to have a nice day, or to rest well, or that she loves you, at the minimum. And if she had, you don’t remember any of it. There’s a lot you force yourself to forget. 

The selfish part of you disregards the burning of your eyes to stare at your phone — low battery and… no messages. No texts, no phone calls from anyone except your mother, no likes on Instagram because your mom scared you into not making one when you were a teenager. No one cares about you. People care about your wife, though. Maybe because she’s talented; she’s certainly not nice. 

Your darkest memories are always the most prominent. 

Your phone drops to the floor and you don’t reach for it. You just pray to sleep again. 

Tonight will be interesting. 

The ride to your mother’s is silent. 

At least she chauffeured the two of you. Ellie can be scary when she drives. You’ve never been in a car with her, but she did ram into a lamppost on the sidewalk a few nights after your wedding. 

Your wife is already dressed despite the party being hours away. She sits right next to you in all black; in a trenchie and turtleneck and slacks and loafers with fur and gold jewelry. When she descended the staircase, you gawked when she wasn’t looking. So simple, but she had your heart fluttering when she’d asked, ready? You’re still in your sleep shorts, teeth unbrushed and starving. When was the last time you ate? 

What an embarrassment — you’re an embarrassment, but you can’t bring yourself to care anymore. If only newly wed you could see herself now. 

You swallow a lump when you feel eyes on the side of your face, but yours remain glued out the window. The closer you get to your mom’s, the faster your mind starts to shut down. Everything passes you by in a blur. 

By the time the gates with your father’s initials come into view, your thoughts go silent, only filled with the calming images of nature and the song of birds. Your only escapism. 

The only way you’ll make it out of here in one piece. 

Ellie! Darling! We’ve missed you! Give us a smile! 

Ellie! Ellie, look this way! 

Ellie, where’s your wife? 

She wishes she knew. You’d barely made it into your mother’s home before getting swept down the hall by 4 other people who poked at your appearance. Ellie didn’t even get to give your mom the passive, spine-chilling hi, mom like old times before another SUV came to whisk her away from that hell hole. Her dad always knows somehow. 

She hates being at your mom’s; it’s stifling and quiet and the aura is dark. Like mother, like house or whatever the fuck. 

She scowls when the bombarding questions redirect to you. Some concerning, some sarcastic, some raunchy — those get under her skin in particular — and she can’t stop fiddling with her ring. Her chest tugs tugs tugs. 

Trouble in paradise? 

You were caught leaving the bar with another woman on your arm a few weeks ago! How’d your wife react to that? 

She doesn’t know. She’s never home to see you break. 

Guilt ate at her when the door of your mother’s mansion shut behind her, but she disregards it now. You shouldn’t be forced to listen to their guised jabs; You get enough of that from everyone in your life. She hopes you’ll go through the back entrance when you arrive. 

When will you get here? 

Ellie’s never made an event appearance without you. You’d pose and fidget and display awkward affection so that they’d buy your love a little bit, then enter the gathering as two separate hearts, riddled and torn, never to cross paths until the bustle is over and it’s time to go home. 

Finally, security moves and barricades her until she gets past the 20 foot gate and treads the steps. The flashing cameras are still blinding from behind. 

The tended garden is the first thing she notices. Wide and green. The daisy and rose bushes are no longer tangled with weeds and surrounded by dead grass and gnats. How could Joelene not see that and be vengeful? Ellie and her dad may not be close anymore, but she knows him; maybe even more than he knows himself. He still misses her mom after everything, and chooses to express it through her favorite hiding spot. Keeps the flowers that bloom and trims the ones that don’t so she lives through them. Ellie hardly remembers a time when her mother wasn’t covered in dirty overalls and sunburnt. 

She manages to hold it together when the large double doors open. The violins suddenly sound like nails on wood. 

Voices fade into nothing. People are outside your car. Light hurts so terribly. 

One second you’re here, the next you’re not. Your mom and her husband sit across with twined arms and the lace from your dress is itchy and you wanna disappear. When you blink, you’re gone. You only exist on this plain if your eyes are open. 

Something hard and leather brushes against your ankle, scratches against your stockings, slow and snake-like. You know what it is, who it is, and you freeze, eyes locked onto your mother. No matter your hopelessness, there’s still a young girl in you that wishes your mother would defend, act on anger, be disgusted at minimum. At least when his crimes are done in secret you can’t blame her for not knowing. 

But you’re here and she’s here and he’s here. A shared secret between the three of you. 

His shoe doesn’t halt on your leg. Your mother never looks at you. 

Birds and songs and sonnets. You’re a bird and you can fly against the strongest winds. Music is your guide and you follow the clouds. 

Your fingers twist together in your lap and the black interior of the car glows red. If only… he’s not the only one with sick intentions. If only. 

You’re flying you’re flying you can fly and there’s someone who’ll love you gently. They’re out there somewhere and you’ll find them and they’ll find you like every trial was worth it. 

Patience. That’s all you need. Just be patient. 

The rest of the car ride is unbeknownst to you. Next thing you know, your door is being opened and two men await your entry at the glass door. 

Champagne is good. Tequila is better. The two mixed is hell. 

Ellie’s throat burns and her mind swirls but she plays it off well enough. Mingles with pensive, old bastards while their daughters’ gawk at her with bright-eyed curiosity and you haven’t arrived yet. 

She lost her dad somewhere in the night. He greeted her briefly upon her arrival, pointed out the important men of the night, called your mother a selfish bitch, then walked off with his mistress by his side. Ellie’s eyes keep meeting the back door from the living room. 

Where are you? 

“Ellie!”

She downs the rest of her chute and guards her agitation with a grin. Shakes the hand of… 

What the fuck was this dude’s name? 

“It’s an honor! Your art is incredible! I’ve truly—“

—Fucking Ronald? Reginald? … Ronald might be it—

“—Your father, ya know, he’s an interesting man, incredibly smart! I’ve never—“

Her dad gave her a run-down of the … merging or whatever the fuck but what the fuck did he say and holy shit, is she sweating? The man’s handshake threw her off, frankly; almost snapped her wrist in two. Fucking old piece of shit. More business jargon that she pretends to understand and care so much about because it’s a show after all. All cheers and stiff laughter. 

“And your wife! By God, what a looker!”

Her jaw clenches. Where are you where are you where are you

“What we’d give, I mean, c’mon!” Men that pass laugh with him and it’s taking everything in Ellie not to smash this glass over his head. One quick swing and it’s over. For him and her. How promising.

“Where is she anyway? You two didn’t come together?” 

“She um, she’s with her parents right now. They’ll be here.” She jerks her chin toward the entrance. 

“How lucky are you. Treat her like the star she is!” It looks like the shithead’s leaving, but not before taunting, “Holler when she arrives, will ya?” 

And just like that, he leaves Ellie to simmer. Three deep breaths. A man in a suit and tray filled with champagne waltzes passed her and she snags two glasses. Downs the first in one thick swallow before another clinks with hers. 

Why does everyone keep fucking with her? 

“Cheers.” 

Ellie doesn’t need to look to know who it is. She scoffs. “Sounds like you’re having fun.” 

Jolene stands next to her, shoulders slouched and dress glowing under the chandelier. She arches a dark brow, “Who wouldn’t? Men are the most entertaining when they’re on ego trips.” 

“Same goes for my dad?” She snips, and Jolene shocks her with a smile. 

“Meh.” 

“Why are you here.” 

“I just told you—“

“No, where are you here.” Ellie gestures between them, “Why’re you talking to me right now?” 

Jolene downs her drink and shrugs, “My attempts at bonding. On a scale of 1 to 10, how shit were they?” 

“900. Leave me the fuck alone.” Before Ellie can run, a hand clamps down on her wrist. 

“I know—“ The woman rushes, “I know we don’t have the best relationship, but I’m not—“

Ellie almost corrects her out of pettiness; They don’t have a relationship, period. There’s no best or worst. But her sudden desperation halts her. 

“—the enemy. There’s not a lot for us in these spaces. I just wanted to try and establish something. Anything. Between us. It can be so lonely without a real support system.”

Ellie hates the direction her heart turns her mind. Suddenly you’re there and you’re crying and clawing at your chest and Ellie just watches like she did that night. So powerless. So empty. 

But Jolene isn’t you. She chooses to be selfish. Yours comes from self preservation and nothing else. 

Ellie snatches her hand back and throws her the deadliest stare. “You don’t know shit about being lonely. You’re the one who gave up everything you had to fuck my dad when my mom wasn’t looking. How much did you care about her loneliness then? Hm?” 

The timing was perfect, really. 15 year old Ellie watched her parents get into one of their most abhorrent arguments; her dad leaves first, then her mom, then only one of them returns, and it was not her mother. Imagine her shock when a news reporter confirmed that her mother’s body had been thrown in a garbage bag and left in a dumpster to rot. It only took two weeks to mourn before he was marrying another woman. 

Nobody cared that her mother had been shot or stabbed or gutted. She was just a woman married to a successor who raised a deviant child. 

Ellie forces herself to not point fingers, though. Anyone could’ve killed her, she always reminds herself; to keep her from going fucking crazy. But timing… 

How telling is time. 

Jolene’s eyes widen and her grip weakens. Ellie takes that as an escape before she has a breakdown in front of the caviar platter. 

She barely takes a step before she collides with a body. 

Funny. 

She bumped right into a star that shines a royal blue. The woman of the hour, for sure. In her mind, at least.

“Sorry.” You whisper.

“You’re fine. All me.” Ellie says lowly as she takes you in, and you do the same to her. Shy, but yearnful glances. Glossed lips tightly sealed and brows tense. Your dress shimmers and holds you snug and she feels guilty for staring at your curvature. She’s suddenly hyper aware of the vultures that disguise themselves as men and she has an instinct to hide you. And your ring is on. The thumping in her chest picks up. Only slightly. 

“It’s great to see you again.” Jolene says shakily from beside Ellie and she almost loses it before a grating voice interrupts. 

“You, as well. And your husband is…?” 

Your mother. And her lap dog wagging his tail beside her. What a bitch. Both of them. 

Your stepdad says something and you inhale sharply and no one notices but Ellie. She studies you carefully. You look like a frightened cat with a frilled tail as he speaks. Claws out, not because you’re ferocious, but so, so scared. She glances at your stepdad; greasy smile while he ogles at Jolene; what a nasty son of a bitch. 

Ellie whispers to you, “Is everything o—“

“Joel! Man of the hour! How are—“

“Where’s the bathroom again?” You whisper back. 

Ellie takes your hand in hers and flees while the family’s distracted, leading you down a hallway that’s way too long with lights too bright. 

She gestures towards the door. “It’s… This is it. One of ‘em at least.” 

“… Thank—“

“What’s the matt—“ 

“I’m fine.” 

“You look like you’ve seen a fucking ghost. Did that piece of shit say something to you?” Ellie glances to make sure no listeners are hiding in the shadows. 

The widest smile grows on your face as you laugh, hearty and loud with your head thrown back. Ellie stares in confusion. 

“Oh, Ellie! You’re so silly,” She jumps when your hands hold her cheeks. You’re fucking freezing and they tremble. Your eyes are a dark void. 

You lean in closer, lips right against her mouth and they part slightly on instinct. She’s concerned and should ask more questions, but your skin is so soft. Are you gonna kiss her, she wonders? You haven’t kissed since your wedding; your breath hits her mouth and her tongue swipes her lips. Her eyes flutter shut and she aches to touch you—

“Save a seat for me, love? Please?” 

It happens so fast; the frost of you is gone and the bathroom door slams shut while an elderly woman fondly whispers, “young love,” as she walks by. Ellie only nods with a rigid curl of her lips, throat cinched too tightly to swallow. 

You puzzle her. She’s tempted to wait for you, to ensure you make it back safely without bombardment, but then 

“Ellie! Why didn’t you call me! Your wife made it safely, I see!” 

A hand claps on her shoulder while men laugh from the side, boisterous and predatory and so wide their fangs show. Ellie’s sick and a war rages within her. 

“Your father sent me to find you! It’s time to eat!” 

She sends them a weak smile. She rushes away from the door and they follow close behind. 

Anything to lure them away from you. 

Attendees have dwindled, only Ellie and her family and you and yours and some CEOs that are really getting on her fucking nerves. But you’ve eaten, thank God. She can breathe a little. 

Only a bit, though. You’re putting on a fucking show and it’s scaring her; Even her dad seems impressed. Charmed by you. Clinking glasses and telling jokes and smiling. Did your mom hold you at gunpoint before you got here? How much did you drink? Not much from what she’s seen. 

That one fucker from earlier — Raymon or Robert or whatever the fuck — keeps leaning over the table whenever you do. Peeping at your chest, probably. She wishes these steak knives were sharper. 

“So! Our young couple,” says Old Bitch with a Combover and wiggly brows, “When are we getting those heirs?” 

You cough uncomfortably and Ellie squirms in her seat. Your mother scoffs, “Two women can’t have children—“

Said Old Bitch shrugs, “Well, not biologically—“

“My point exactl—“

Ellie’s father cuts in with a tense grin, “When they get to that point, we’ll discuss their options. There’s… many nowadays, evidently.” 

Neither you or Ellie interrupt, but she notices you’ve moved closer to her. Inched your seat a bit. You squeeze your hands so hard in your lap she’s scared they’ll shatter where they lay. You’re not smiling anymore. 

Her dad and your mom are subtle with their blows at one another; snarky with brutal stares, unremarkable to strangers, but you and Ellie know. When dinner ends, you’ll both be caught in their crossfire. 

“There’s no shame in me wanting my grandchildren to be by blood. I shouldn’t have to go shopping for an heir.” Your mother hisses. 

“Sh—“ Joel huffs with disgust, “Shopping for an heir? That’s what you think adoption entails?” 

“Does it not?” Your mother’s tone rises. 

Reggie, Rory, or Russell interjects with a dismissive wave, “C’mon, you too! No need to argue. I’m sure girls like them will be fine with obtaining children! It might be more… complicated, I will say!” 

“May I be excused?” You croak, and Ellie straightens. 

“Why? So you can wallow about dying childless?” 

The table silences. No laughter, no wittiness. Completely still. That wasn’t from your mother. Ellie doesn’t remember the last time she’s heard your stepdad speak so clearly. Her blood thrashes beneath her skin so harshly that her tongue unties. There’s a darkness in her that whispers, “grab that steak knife”. Brutalize him. Just for a second. Do it for you. 

Do it for her. 

“Go fuck yourself.” She spits. 

Your neck almost cracks with the speed you turn to her, eyes wide as the moon. Her father condemns, “Watch your mouth, Ellie.” 

“Or what, you old fuck?” 

Her heart rattles noisily in her chest; her hands shake where they rest on her lap, her cells trembling with the instinct to harm. The gaze of her father is distant and filled with inadequacy for his only line. Nothing unbeknownst to her, but there's a flash of something so deep, so forbidden for them, but she sees it every time they hold contact. Beneath all the loathing and lesions left to drain, there’s longing. An inkling of gratitude that she knows he’ll suppress until he’s buried underground. He’ll never look the same to her, and she imagines the same for him. Too many bridges burned. 

“How’d I do?” Ellie rasps to him, “Hm? The night went how you hoped?” 

Look at what you’ve done, she hopes her eyes say. Tears welt against her will. When was the last time she cried in front of him? She hadn’t even given him that honor at her mother’s funeral years ago. 

Ellie’s stiff stature nearly cracks at the light brush atop her knee. A wind catches in her throat when a pinky turns into three fingers, then five, then a palm that squeezes comfortingly, desperately. Maybe partly to keep her glued to this chair. She gulps the dryness down and a flame lights in the pit of her stomach. 

Her glance to you is brief, barely out of the corner of her eye, but you’re watching her. Intensely, and it scorches her cheeks, all the way down to her neck. Scared cat. Scared cat. Shrilled and cold and frightened to hell and she despises it. 

What changed? She’ll always wonder. That look hardly shook her a week ago and now it makes her teeth ache. 

Suddenly, it’s too warm here. 

“Get up,” Ellie rushes you. Grabs your arm and yanks you from your seat, “Not dealing with this fuckin’ bullshit tonight. We’re leaving.” 

There’s suddenly shouting from all directions of the dinner table with each step Ellie takes for you, but you never drop her hand. She clenches it tighter when you finally reach the back door. 

The door slams shut on the wreckage behind you. 

Consider plan MERGE a bust. 

Ellie’s a thief. You think. Maybe. 

Is it stealing if the car belongs to a family member? Where she snagged the keys from? You don’t remember. One second you’re at dinner, then watching the city pass you by the next. It’s silent in here. 

“Stop.” 

You slam back into your body. Still in the car. You wish you were asleep. 

“Huh?” 

Her eyes watch the road, but a hand rests on both of yours to pry them apart. 

“Stop. I hate that sound.” 

“… Wha—“

“You’re gonna rip your skin off if you don’t stop.” 

… Oh. Yeah. Bloody cuticles. It was all accidental, you swear. 

“Sorry.” 

“Don’t apologize.” Her eyes shut briefly and she sighs, sounding so worn. Exhaustion is her white flag. “Just stop.” 

“Alright.” 

“Thanks.” 

It’s quiet again. The red from the stop light reflects in the car and you’re instantly reminded of your stepfather. 

“Ellie.” 

“Hm.” 

“We should get a bird.” 

“… And do what with it.” 

You shrug, “Pet it. Feed it, too.” Sing with it, you wanted to add. Ellie would’ve probably laughed at you. 

She snickers dryly, “That’s usually what you do with a pet.” 

“I never had one.” 

The light turns green and the car revs. Your wife hums, “I had a fish once or twice.” 

“Lucky.” 

A small — very, very minuscule grin quirks Ellie’s lips and your heart hollers. For joy? In warning? 

“Not really. They kept dying so I gave up.” She snickers to herself, and you can’t help but stare. She starts talking then. Eyes gone, tension gone. She’s suddenly relaxed. 

“My mom… she, uh… loved water. Was always in it or… watching it on TV or something. She always bought fish from fucking… PetCo—“

“PetCo?” You laugh, then Ellie does. 

“Right? She’d take me and be like, “get one”. And I went home with a new fish every time.” 

“I thought you only went once or twice?” 

“… Times 100,” She giggles, “My mom lived there. She would always talk to the cats through the glass.” 

You don’t hesitate, “I wanna go.” 

“To PetCo?” 

“Yeah.” Why not? 

Everything is almost over. So, why not? 

“… K.” 

“So we’ll go?” 

“Mhm.” 

And the conversation ends. The car is silent. Suddenly tense again when you ask, 

“Do you think we’re cut off?” 

Ellie’s jaw clenches and the car is suddenly tense. Back to square one. “Possibly. Tonight was a shit show. It went by fast, at least.” 

“What’s gonna happen to me?” 

“What do you mean?” 

“I’m…”

Alone. You’re fucking alone and know nothing about life outside of what was built around you. Without it, you’ll spiral and fail and face a dreadful reality. No more rose colored glasses even if they’re browned and wilted as is. You’ll be eaten alive by the creatures in the night without a protective border. 

But the curse will end. You won’t inherit or be forced to lie or play a game that ends in fire. Decades of legacy down the drain just like that, and by your own hand. It fascinates you, that power. A force you’ve been withheld from. 

“I don’t know.”

“Still thinking about divorce?” A void in Ellie’s tone. 

“I don’t know.” 

“They’ll never allow it, you know that, right?” 

“What if I just leave?” 

“And do what?” Her voice raises. 

“Who knows. Who cares.” 

“Please,” Ellie exasperates, “Your mom will get fucking SWAT to bring you back.” 

“What good will a corpse do for her?” 

You’ll be dead but you’ll have a bird. A colorful one. That’ll be your legacy. That’s all you need, really. Ellie doesn’t say anything. Neither do you. 

More buildings flash by and suddenly you’re home. Parked in the garage with Ellie beside you, gazing off into opaque walls. You wonder what she’s thinking. If she sees everything in black and white like you do. Maybe she’s the opposite, vision bright and full of suppressed color. She is a painter after all. 

“What’re your plans?” Ellie suddenly whispers. 

“For?” 

“Life. The future. Anything,” She pries and digs for something, “There has to be something that interests you! That gets you excited! There’s so much shit to do.” 

You shrug. Not much. Not anything. 

“I used to be excited for my wedding,” You mumble, “Like… as a kid. White dress and flowers and everyone’s just excited to be there. For love, and whatever, you know? That’s how it was in movies, at least.” It’s embarrassing to admit, but it’s off your chest. The unhealthy romanticization of the happiest day of your life ended up being just another day to honor the greed of your families. Everyone was so lifeless when they watched you and Ellie kiss. It hadn’t even lasted 3 seconds before she shoved the band on your finger with teary cheeks. Such beautiful scenery was wasted on misery. 

You look over and Ellie’s eyes are roaring, palms squeezing together in her lap while her wedding ring twists around her finger. You watch it cycle. 

“Now I…” You chuckle sadly, “I just want a bird, to be honest.” 

With your heels and purse in hand, the car door opens and you exit, forcing yourself not to peek through the windshield at Ellie again. 

The second floor, your bedroom, your bathroom, are all quiet. Did Ellie not follow you inside? For a while, you envision what it would be like if you weren’t married. If you weren’t born as you, would your world be this still? 

It haunts you in the shower. Wolffish eyes and dry hands grasping at your shoulders and waist but everything’s quiet. 

You wash your face, brush your teeth, wrap your hair alone. You wonder if anyone is actually in the house. Was Ellie a figment of your imagination? Is this one of the nights that proves she doesn’t exist and that your brain is your greatest enemy? You shove your face into the mattress before your thoughts venture. Silence rocks you to sleep, but not forgetting the taunting desire to know 

Is death this quiet? 

Your mom’s calling. 

Vibrations rattle in your bedside dresser. The sun isn’t up yet. The birds are still resting. She never calls this early… or late. Something bad must’ve happened. It takes 17 seconds for your drawer to stop shaking before it starts again. 

You can’t move to answer, though. Your body isn’t yours at the moment. Your soul will reclaim its shell soon enough. Or maybe it won’t. 

Your drawer shakes shakes shakes. Your heartbeat eventually matches the pace of its vibrations. You think it’s been 20 minutes. Maybe longer. When will the birds wake? 

Finally, the calls stop. Your eyes shut again. Instantly taken by darkness. 

You never wear normal clothes. 

Ellie’s only ever seen you in thousand dollar dresses and high heel shoes that scrape your achilles and cloth that squeezes you so tight she thinks she might explode by just looking at you. No matter how fucking good you look in them. 

So what the fuck is that? Moreso, why does she like it so much? Her cheeks are on fucking fire and her heart is trying to flee its enclosing. 

You have a t-shirt on. A simple, non-Gucci white tee that says LAS VEGAS and black shorts and a scarf on your head and socks with squirrels on them. Is this the fucking matrix? 

You never wake up this late, either. It’s 20 till 10. 

“Did my mom call you at all?” 

No… no she didn’t… Why can’t Ellie speak? She’s sitting there gaping like a fish and taking guilty glances at your nipples through your shirt. She shakes her head. You nod yours. 

“I uh…” She mumbles with a cotton mouth when you step into the kitchen, “I made coffee.” 

“I smelled it.” You serve yourself at the counter. 2 Splenda packs, no cream.

“Did your mom call you?” 

“Yes.” 

“What’d she say?” 

“I didn’t answer.” 

… Interesting. Odd. Her calls are never missed by you. 

“I hope it’s something bad.” 

Ellie swallows her sip thickly. “… Damn. Why?” 

“She deserves it.” You say calmly while stirring. “He does, too.” 

“Your dad?” 

“My stepfather,” You hiss and slam your mug on the table. Ellie flinches, “Yes.” 

Her palms raise in surrender, “Sorry.” 

“Where do you go at night?” The chair across from her scrapes on hardwood when you sit. 

Nowhere, recently. Ellie shrugs as nonchalantly as she can, “Anywhere. Wherever I want.” 

“Take me next time.” 

She pauses her sip to ogle. “Hm?” 

“Take me. I wanna see what’s fun for you.” 

Ellie huffs a shocked laugh, “No, you don’t.” 

You squint, “Yes, I do. That’s why I’m asking to see.” 

“It’s not your scene, dude, trust m—“

She jolts where she sits when a hand — your hand, soft and agile and cold, slams down on the table, rattling both your mugs and the vase that holds dead flowers, nearly shattering the glass with an accusatory finger. 

“You dunno know shit about me! I’m fucking going whether you like it or not! Whether she likes it or not, and if I have to do it myself, I fucking will, you fucking psychotic fucking bitch!” 

You rise and stomp to where she sits with a pounding heart and a lecherous swirl in her gut. You look about ready to slice her open with a blunt butter knife. 

“You treat me like fucking trash just like everyone else,” You whisper venomously, and Ellie shakes, “The least you could do is listen for once. Scared to take me to the place you cheat on me at? Don’t want me to see it? That’d be too real, huh?” 

Ellie exhales a shaky breath of your name, but your nails, cut and manicured to perfection, sink into her cheeks so tightly that she winces and blushes and her tummy twists with heat. You don’t flinch when her fingers delicately entangle around your wrist; doesn’t want you to think she’s holding you there even though she is. 

“You’re gonna show me a good time tonight. If it’s as fun as you say, that shouldn’t be an issue, right?” 

Her eyes must read yes, yes, it’s not a problem; Your grin is wild like a hyena; pretty lips swelled around pretty teeth and you always smell good. Caramelized sugar and nectar.  

“Who knows,” You purr and Ellie feels goosebumps forming, “Maybe I can meet one of your little friends.” 

She chokes around a gasp before her lips curl into a conniving grin, cheeks plush around your fingers, “Aren’t you a little hussy.” 

“Fuck you.” You shove her so hard her back collides with the seat but her eyes glow pink. She watches you leave the kitchen and stomp up the steps with a burning chest until a door slams from upstairs. She releases a breath she didn't realize she was holding, wracked and desperate. 

-

-

-

Ellie will never admit — or maybe she will, but she purposefully uses your shared bathroom to catch glimpses at you. She always expects to find you out cold and wrapped in warm blankets, chest fluttering with each twitch of your socked feet that peek from below the blankets. 

What she doesn’t expect to see, though, is your phone shattered to pieces and left to drown in the clogged sink. Right next to a weighted rubber mallet; Where’d you find that? All your pent up emotions were taken out on your device… and the counter, apparently. The marble is chipped. 

She can only laugh in astonishment. Amazement. Fear when she realizes… 

Your mom.

Did you ever answer the phone?

Another day you’ve slept away. Either you were dreaming or someone was holding you suffocatingly tight; you enjoyed it, strangely. The sun is completely gone and there’s rustling and music echoing from the bathroom. Ellie’s in there. 

All the blood rushes to your head with how quickly you sit up, but your feet carry you past your closets until the light from the room sizzles your vision. 

Your wife stands by the mirror, drying her hair with a towel with a cigarette between her fingers. The guitar synths coming from her phone are grinding in your ears. 

Is she really keeping her promise? 

Did she promise to take you? You don’t remember. 

“Hi.” Her eyes meet yours in the mirror and your spine twitches. You say nothing, so she chuffs with a teasing lift of her lips, “Chickenin’ out?”

“No.” 

“K.” 

“What do I wear?” 

She shrugs, “Whatever you want to.” She speaks around smoke and her timbre’s dry. 

“What are you wearing?” 

“Whatever I want to.” 

She must sense your skepticism because she’s suddenly reassuring, voice crackly, “You’re not under any expectations tonight. You wanted me to show you what I do for fun, and I’m gonna. You just have to do your part and enjoy it.” 

Your nails dig into your thighs while you watch her. She has her ring on and her body wash coats the room in cinnamon. With a pounding heart, your hands slowly drag up your sides, fingers dragging at the hem of your shirt. She’s not looking. 

Enjoy it…

“Did you eat today?” 

“No.” 

She gives you a look. Stern. What is she mad about? Your tummy flutters, “There’s leftovers downstairs, you can have ‘em,” She shakes her wet hair and puts on her glasses, checks her watch, checks her phone, hits her cigarette. “We’re kinda behind so you should get read—“

Enjoy it. 

Her eyes meet where your shirt drops to the floor, breasts on display while your hands inch up your legs to drag your shorts down, all while you watch her. And she watches you. It’s overwhelming, your wife as an audience while you undress. But she told you to enjoy it. Enjoy the night. Enjoy the stares. Enjoy the attention. Enjoy her, for once. It all seeps into your pores. You step out of your bottoms and peel your socks off. 

Ellie drinks you in slowly. Says nothing. Simply takes her time memorizing every line, curve, dip, scar of you. You like how ravenous she looks. The sin in her pupils only darkens when your thumbs hook in your underwear to shed them. They dangle from your index finger when you walk; You smile when her throat jumps. 

She watches your filled hand travel to her pant pocket to shove the flimsy cloth in. The muscles in her back twitch when your finger traces her spine. Ellie’s pretty, littered in cute, red and brown spots. 

“I’m gonna shower.” Your lips brush her ear, and goosebumps rise all over her arms. Her eyes flutter in a pleasant blink, nodding in understanding. 

Your wife takes her lighter and reignites your favorite candle while your water warms. How sweet of her to set the mood for you. 

Ellie finishes her cigarette while you lather, watching her through the fogged glass of the shower walls, massaging soapy hands into your breasts and your legs and everywhere. She lights another at some point, bent over the counter while she smokes, ogling you through the mirror shamelessly. You smile when it settles in your chest.

You’re gonna fuck your wife tonight. 

What a fucking oddball you are. It’s cute. A little sexy, too. Only a little, she swears. 

… Fuck. 

She waits for you on the bed, dressed and jewelried, fiddling with her watch out of nerves because what the fuck are you playing at? Whiplash; that’s what she’s had all fucking day because of you. She works in the morning, for fucks sake. 

Still…

Does she deserve this sudden… What the fuck even is this? Certainly not affection; you nearly strangled her at the dining table. Attention, possibly? Seduction? She’s wired to hell, she wants you so bad. Fuck fuck fuck fuck fuck

She could act on her attraction, sure. She’s positive you’d allow her to take whatever she wanted because that’s what you’re trained to do; to satisfy your partner — husband, she imagines your mother grating — in any way he desires. But Ellie’s not a man, and she doesn’t want that. She needs you to love it, to crave it as much as she does. To take from her like she dreams of taking from you. Ellie needs you to batter her, and if you’d like, she’ll do the same to you. 

If only you’d give her something tangible. Teasing isn’t enough. She’s desperate to get a grasp on your headspace; she wishes she could prick and prod at your brain for a second. What an experience that would be. 

You enter the bedroom like a ghost; hair still wet and coily, dressed in all black like she is, only decorated with gloss and earrings. No heels either. Just very shimmery looking flip-flops. Ellie bites down a smile. 

“Where are we going?” 

She shrugs at your inquiry, “Somewhere really, really loud.” 

“Will people find us?” Paps, you mean. Ellie denies. 

“Not where I’m taking you.” 

“Must be secretive.” 

She tuts, “Not… well, maybe. It’s fun though. I think you’ll like it.” 

“Okay.” 

Ellie stands with her wallet and keys and kiddingly offers you an arm to hold onto. “M’lady.”

But you don’t accept it; back turned, halfway out of the room towards the stairs.

Pleasant. She doesn’t mean to smile. 

She makes sure to grab the to-go box from earlier before locking the front door behind her. 

It is very loud here. And hot. And raunchy. 

… You like that. Your mom would have a heart attack if she were to ever walk in here. 

The trip to this whatever, wherever place was pretty far. You counted every second of the nearly hour ride, mainly because Ellie’s jittery knee made you nervous. It’s smaller than you assumed, but not quaint. Not at all. There's a ruckus from the entrance to the back exit, people your age and older, screaming and shouting words that you don’t know while people pound on drums and shred on guitar. They sweat through their clothes while their makeup streaks down their faces as they make love to microphone stands. 

… Better than tea time, you suppose. How exhilarating. Your heart’s pounding like crazy.

Not much can be said between you and Ellie. You can’t hear over the bass and rumbles from the floor but she holds your hand and small purse. Guides you to a small section in the back with a bar. She hands the tender her card and… that’s it. Four clear, questionably large shots are poured and slid to her like nothing. You want all of them. 

Ellie seems so at home as she guides you, already a burning shot down, into the crowd. You’re shoved instantly by party goers, but she catches you, holds you strongly. You look at her, puzzled with shock, but she uncaringly lifts her shoulders, downs a shot, and starts thrashing. 

Your jaw slacks and lights beam and flicker at a rapid pace but you’re smiling. Your wife meshes with the scene so nicely. You wanna be like that. So you follow. You drink and jump and flail and scream your head off. 

You and your wife are synched for once. Terrible dancers. No rhythm whatsoever. Who cares who cares who cares.

You wish your mom was here to see you like this. You hope your mom’s dead so she never has to see you like this. A thought so dark shouldn’t bring you this much joy. You laugh and holler at the imagery. Blood all over the marble. Blood all over the doors of your childhood home. Blood blood blood everywhere because they deserve it. Look at what they’ve done to you. Sick evil people.

You wanna kill your stepfather. This music makes you wanna kill your stepfather. It’s gorey in itself, almost. Abborherent verbiage. You think Ellie wants to kill your stepfather, too. You should ask her later. Maybe when you're both sober. Maybe you should make your mom watch you skin him alive. Him dying would damage her more than you ever could. 

When your eyes open, Ellie’s gawking at you, seemingly surprised. Impressed? She holds your cheeks to get your attention, gesturing, asking if you want another drink. You nod and shout in her face and she laughs. Ellie holds you by the waist and guides you to the bar. The bartender must like Ellie. You leave with a full bottle this time. 

You and Ellie pass it between yourselves, the night becoming more and more broken. Touchy. Feely. Ellie rubs all over you while you pour liquor into her mouth. A bit dribbles down the sides but she doesn’t care. You don’t either. So you lick the drops from her neck like a cat with milk. Ellie stops and you stop and everything stops. It’s just the two of you, suddenly; all other patrons evaporate to nothingness. Her eyes are blown and heavy as she searches your face, and they halt their wandering at your lips. She’s thinking about it; You want her to see how bad you crave it. Even if it’s just for a second. She smiles, pleased. You shudder. 

But she doesn’t do it. She spins you so your back is against her chest, lips at your neck while she pushes her hips into your ass. She’s messy, drenching your already sweaty neck in spit. Her nails dig into the fabric of your dress, guiding your hips, swaying you on her. You follow. You follow so blindly because you like her hands on you a little too much. You drink and drink and drink. Everything feels light. Good. 

You think Ellie’s speaking to you. Or singing words in your ear. Or maybe she isn't speaking at all. You’re not sure, but your face is burning hot. She tongues at your ear and you make a noise that you can’t hear but hope she can. You need this. 

Her hands are suddenly slow where they crawl up your sides until they rest on your breasts. Your empty hand lands on one of hers to squeeze so that she can squeeze you. You feel her smiling on your skin when your jaw slacks. 

Your head turns to chase her mouth, but she does you one better. Whisks you once more so your chests smash together. She snatches the bottle from your hand, takes one last swig before passing it to eager, drunk hands that wave from behind. You gasp when her thumb catches your bottom lip, pulls it down to get your mouth open enough for her to dribble liquor into. You moan loud enough for Ellie to hear over those booming drums, swallowing down everything she gives, nails sank into her waist while her hips push into yours. When you swallow the last drops, she kisses you. Messy and hot, tongue and teeth; it gets your heart singing. Her pink muscle swirls inside of your mouth and your arms wrap around her neck, yanking her into you so no space is left. Her hands are everywhere; tangled in your hair, grabbing at your hips, your ass, your thighs. Everywhere everywhere everywhere like she can’t get enough of you. You’re overwhelmed and high out of your mind but you follow her guide. Anywhere she wants you, you are. 

Maybe you’re just as bad as she is. After everything she’s done, you should hate her. You think you do. You hate her for leaving you. You hate her for embarrassing you. Abandonment. Her only gift to you. Maybe that’s why you kiss her with such conviction. 

Her touch is passionate; strong but not forceful. She breathes you in like a rarity, something she treasures, all while she licks and tugs at you like a slut. There’s a pulse deep within you when her lips enclose around your tongue to suck it. Your thighs squeeze and she grins madly, giving you one last innocent peck before she grabs your hand to spin you. You laugh and twirl with her. 

You understand why people fall in love so fast. You hate that you’re one of them. 

Or are you simply as delusional as they come? 

You’re even more enthralling when free of restraint. 

Ellie’s drunk and sweaty and exhausted but she uses every last bit of strength to stare at you. She sits at the bar as the crowd dwindles, artist after artist, established or aspiring, all go on to perform, and you haven’t taken a break once. You simply twirl and spin and mouth incorrect lyrics with the widest smile on your face, all while Ellie brings you her drinks to finish. 

You’ve been here for hours it seems, but Ellie can’t drive. But the night is young. You certainly don’t look ready to go home. 

What more can she show you?

“Thank you all for comin’ out! Tonight was a dream—“

You’re a dream, Her chest screams. You you you you fuck—

You clap like the happiest seal on the planet before spinning around to face Ellie. It happens in flashes: you come closer and closer until you’re in front of her, warm hands on her cheeks, ears tingling when you whisper, 

“I didn’t get to meet your sluts.” 

You sound upset about it. Ellie stumbles about how they didn’t come, how they’re not here. How she doesn’t wanna see them right now and she means it all, but you don’t believe her, and her chest hurts. Guilty guilty guilty. 

“Get up.” You step away and Ellie pains to pull you back, savor the night a second longer. But she signs the receipt before following you towards the exit. The cold air feels so good. She needs water now. 

She gives you a little yank when you start wandering the opposing direction, “Come… come here. This way.” 

You grin and slur, “Where to?” 

Ellie’s brows wiggle playfully, “Gas station. You hungry?”

“…Yes.”

Ellie extends her hand for you to hold, and surprisingly, you accept. Her heart jolts to life. 

The walk is quiet. Your eyes are glued to the sky, wide and innocent; the large moon entrances you, surrounded by glittery stars. You both wobble down the sidewalk, trying to avoid bumping into pedestrians and other drunkards. She thought the rowdiness of nightlife would frighten you, but you seem drawn to the chaos.  

Soon enough, you’re both surrounded by aisles filled with chips and sodas and a fuck ton of candy. Ellie cringes at the fond stares she gives you holding 4 packs of watermelon sour patches. You’re cute as hell right now. Have you never been to a convenience store? What the fuck. 

“El! El, what the fuck! Where ya been!” 

Her sluggish brain is trying — really trying to figure out who the hell just left the staff room and is walking towards the two of you. It’s someone that knows her name or whatever shortened version they’ve created and the closer this person gets the more you shield yourself behind her fuck fuck fuck

Arms latch around her neck in a strong hug. Muscular, nice voice, smells like cherries. 

Abigail Anderson. Shoulda known. Great. 

“Jesus fuck, you smell like my dad’s liquor cabinet! We fucking missed you! We haven’t seen you in…” 

When Abby pulls back, her eyes immediately find you. Ellie steals a glance; eyes wide, soft with curiosity. They darken slightly when they lock onto Abby’s shoulders, all the way down to her arms and Ellie… why the fuck does that annoy her? 

“Who’s that,” Abby whispers suggestively and Ellie sighs. Scratches at her eye in irritation. 

“I’m her wife.” You say causally, and it shocks both of them. Abby moreso. Did Ellie never tell her? She’s sure she did. Everyone knows she’s married… right?

“Wh— wife?” Her eyes shift onto Ellie, “Bitch, you got married? What the fuc— when—“

“3 months ago.” You answer.

“Fucking — holy shit. Congrats? Uhh… sorry! Nice to meet you! You’re gorgeous, by the way,” She stutters to shake your hand, but you accept it, “I’m Abby!” 

“Hi.” You smile in delight and your shoulders relax. Abby smiles just as gently and Ellie thinks it’s time to go because you’re both getting on her nerves. 

“Alright, well, we're gonna pay, so… yeah. I’ll text you tomorrow or something. We’re tired.” 

“Mhmm,” Abby hums cockily, eyes glued to the mess Ellie made of your neck, “Looks like y’all had a great time.” 

“We did,” She confirms with pointed eyes, “See ya.” 

“Byeee.” Abby sing-songs with a chuckle before Ellie leads you towards the service counter to dump your snacks. Ellie gives the cashier a familiar nod. 

“Is she who you fuck?” 

Ellie chokes on her water and the cashier gawks at you from behind their reading glasses. You couldn’t have been any fucking louder in that moment, what the fuck.

“What—“

“Do you fuck Abby? I hope not in that bathroom,” You clumsily point to the gender neutral sign near the entrance. “I heard they’re filthy—“

Ellie whispers even though there’s no point, “Dude, are you fucking crazy—“

“… It's just a question—“

“Have a nice night.” 

The cashier rigidly hands Ellie the stuffed baggie and receipt. She snatches them before snatching you to leave. She drops your hand the second briskness surrounds you, “The fuck was that about?” Her chips are calling her. She needs a stress reliever. 

“What—“

She squeezes the bag and the pop rings like a gunshot, “Why the fuck are you asking if I fucked Abby? What the fuck—“

“She’s hot and you kinda are… to a certain degree, I guess. I just assumed.” 

Ellie’s appalled, but doesn’t have the energy to look offended. “Stop assuming, it’s… that’s fucking weird—“

You simply shove tiny watermelon slices in your mouth and steal her water to chug it. She watches you impatiently before you hand the crumpled, half-empty plastic back to her. She downs the rest and discards it some-fucking-where. 

Her thoughts are clouded. Did she fuck Abby? Are you forreal—

“I don’t care, you know.”

“About what?” 

You shrug, “If you fuck her.” 

“Please be quiet.”

“Okay.” 

You both do for a while, dead grass and Dorritos crunching around you. 

Until Ellie speaks again. 

“You’re quiet.” 

“Mhm.”

“Sleepy?”

“Nmhm.” 

Wide awake, actually. The world passes you by with each step the two of you take, swirling with bright lights and laughter. You follow Ellie closely, handfuls of candy shoved in your mouth while she munches on her chips. You never had those orange triangles before. Neither of you are in a rush to make it back to the car. Can Ellie drive in this state?

“Do you, uh, like places like that? Concerts?” 

“Yes.” You break out in a grin. 

“What else do you like?” 

“I dunno. I haven’t… experienced much.” You shrug, accidentally brushing against your wife’s shoulder. Electricity sparks near the end of your spine where a steadying hand rests. “Your friend… does she go with you? To concerts?” 

“Who?”

“Aaabby.” You tease, mocking the blonde girl from earlier, and Ellie’s expressions flattens. She's unsure why. 

“Oh, uh… yeah,” Her chip bag is suddenly very interesting. “Sometimes. I met her at one a few years back after a showcase I hosted.” 

“I like her.” She’s nice and smells nicer. You regret not shaking her seemingly strong hand a few seconds longer. Strong all over, actually. 

“… Uh huh.” 

Your brow arches at that, “Does that bother you?” 

“Why the fuck would it bother me? You can like whoever.”  

“Exactly how you like whoever, huh?” You sneer lazily, and Ellie goes stoic. And just like that, the conversation dies once more. You’re glad for it; selfishly, you’d rather refrain from telling your wife about how attractive you found her friend. She’s left you guessing under too many circumstances. Consider this a sliver of revenge. 

You both make it back to the parking lot in silence, minus Ellie’s agitated crunching. You lean against the passenger door while you watch her dig around for the keys. 

“Where to?” 

“It's almost 4 in the morning.” She hisses. 

“So?” You came home later than that for weeks. You wanna say it. You should say it. Grind your thumb deeper into that open wound, but you save it. Another day, maybe. Maybe not. 

“So we’re going home. I’m tired.” 

“Well, I’m not.” 

“Okay? Whatever, I’ll drop you off somewhere.” 

“You wouldn’t leave your poor, defenseless wife unattended, would you?” You whisper slowly, and Ellie tenses when you plant a soft hand on her shoulder. She doesn’t acknowledge you, just stares through the window behind you. You scoff and drop it by your side. Cross your arms stubbornly. 

“You’re mad because I like Abby.”

“There’s nothing for you to like! You just met her.” Her voice raises, and annoyance flares in you. 

“Exactly! I just met her, and I like her! The fuck did you think I was gonna do? Flash her right in front of the gummy worms?” 

“I don’t know! Fucking maybe!”

“So you can fuck other people but I can’t?” 

Ellie’s very close to you suddenly. Your heart jumps, “Oh, now you wanna fuck Abby? She’s the first person you’ve interacted with besides me since we got fucking married!” 

“SO?” You holler. 

“SO YOU’RE NOT FUCKING MY FRIEND! ARE YOU INSANE!” Speckles of spit land on your face and it sizzles into your pores. You might be. You fucking are. Maybe, maybe, maybe. Ellie’s forcing herself into your space, so why do you fight? Why are you hungry? 

Your palms crash into her chest and she nearly loses her balance, “I DON’T NEED PERMISSION FROM YOU! WE’LL FINALLY BE EVEN, YOU FUCKING WHORE!” 

“Yeah? Think Imma fucking whore?” Her grin is sinister, and excitement coils in your belly. Gets your fingers twitching from how hard they’re clenched. 

“Maybe I do.” Vehemence scathed your tongue. 

“You know what I think?” 

“I don’t care—“

“I think you do.” She mumbles against your cheek, “I think you’re jealous.” 

You still. Ellie’s eyes pierce through yours, burning and hot, nostrils flared: she looks like she could snap you in half. Your spine tingles with delirium. 

“You’re mad because I get to be. I can exist and fuck and party and come and go as I please and you hate it. You wish you could do what I do.” She stares like you killed her mother yourself. Strangled her with your bare hands. “I don’t have mommy and daddy breathing down my neck every 2 seconds. You want that so bad it makes you sick.” 

“So why stay?” 

It shocks her. You don’t waver; passive as usual. 

“You’re free and can do whatever you want, right? Why are you here? Go and be that. Be whoever you wanna be because you can.”

Everything will be over soon. Might as well. Ellie simply glares through you. 

Curiosity is your worst enemy. Might as well ask. 

“Why’d you defend me at dinner?” 

What does she know what does she know what does she know what

She rubs her eyes stubbornly, “Oh my fucking god, who gives a fuck!” 

“Me! I give a fuck! Why’d you do it! Why! You’ve never done it before!” 

She knows she knows she knows she knows she knows she knows

“BECAUSE FUCK HIM! FUCK EVERYBODY THAT DID THIS TO US! FUCK YOU, TOO!” 

You might cry, you might not. You’re unsure of everything and you’re angry and hurting. Ellie’s a reflection of you, and vise-versa. You hate her hate her hate her. 

Hatred. It might be the reason why kissing her feels so good. Because it shouldn’t be happening. Ellie shouldn’t have you trapped between her and her car, grinding so harshly into you that your spine bends. You shouldn’t tug at her hair to expose her neck to lick and suck and bite her neck red while she curses in your ear. 

This is the distraction you’ve been desperately searching for. To think you’d find it in your wife after all this time. 

“I’d be a whore for you,” She shamelessly seers against your throat, hands wandering to unbutton her own pants, “You know that, right?” 

… That’s cute. Makes you blush. 

“Yeah?” Her laugh is thick like syrup, “Gets you hot? Knowing how easily I’d give it up for you?” 

That sideways grin makes you tick. Your hand closes tight around her throat and she nearly bloodies her bottom lip with her fangs. Your wife looks pathetic; thumbs hooked into her pants, so ready to drop them for you in the middle of the parking lot. People are wandering about; she’s willing to fuck in front of them? 

How pretty would she look trying to be quiet for you? Nervous eyes searching for privacy, praying no one walks by and sees her on the edge with your hand down her underwear. Hopefully no one recognizes her, pulls out their phone, records the two of you. Blasts you both on social media while Ellie moans in your mouth. What would people think? Your families? How ashamed would they be? Their two girls making a mess of themselves in public. 

The thought makes you smile. Scares you. Makes you choke her harder. Her pained whine vibrates in your palm. 

“Get the fuck in the car.” 

The windows fog with the heat of your bodies; her body trapped beneath yours in the back seat that’s roomier than you anticipated. She rolls your hips on top of her, desperate and eager to rip your fucking clothes off and feel you for real. Your dress rests around your hips, your panties on display and she wishes she could see them. She only has her hands for reference, tracing over each thin seam littered with lace and patterns she tries to memorize. Your tongue belongs in her mouth. You feel so fucking good; you’re not close enough. She needs you closer. 

Her mouth chases yours when you finally separate, only connected by a thin string of saliva, but a stern hand collides with her chest to keep her flat. Her hands tickle your waist. Rests your dress even higher until she can see your belly button. 

“Wanna know a secret?” You whisper down at her, and she smirks. 

“I know you’re a virgin, baby.” She whispers giddily, and your teeth grit. A flame coils in your chest. You ignore her.

“You could’ve had me after our wedding, you know? With my face buried in the pillows and my ass in your face. I would’ve let you do whatever you wanted that night.” 

Your sudden vulgarity stuns her silent. Your wife looks like she’s imagining it; lip bruised from both your and her teeth, mind racing with filth of you in every position she can think of. She wouldn’t have been able to separate from you if that was the case. It’s one of the reasons she kept her distance; those pretty brown eyes rolled back would’ve put her underground. She’d never tell you that. 

“But no,” You say like it aches, “You wanted to go and bend over all those girls that follow you around like fucking dogs. You wanted a bitch, not a wife. Right or wrong?” 

She can barely breathe and your hand pressing on her chest isn’t helping; reduces her to sharp gasps that make her lightheaded. The more ragged they become, the harder you press. Your brow arches when she innocently bares her teeth. 

Her palms squeeze at your ass, “I thought about you the entire time—“

Your hand cracks and her head flies to the side. Right on her left cheek is the already reddening imprint of your hand. The crackles in your palm are numbed by the alcohol and your core burns at the shock on her face. She gawks off to the side, that meddling smile dropped completely, chest ragged with her breaths. 

“Ellie, put your hands down.” You spit, and they drop from you completely, palms flat on the seat beneath her. 

“You had every chance to do right by me and you wasted every single one.” You sound like you’re about to cry; Ellie’s too scared to look at you. Not the good scared that she’s felt around you this entire time, but a hollow scared. The one that freezes you. Her fight or flight is triggered. 

“I think you owe me an apology.” You whisper against her burning face before you kiss it gently. A pained groan escapes her, and you laugh. Loud, in her face. Even louder when she tries to grind her hips up into you. 

“Take us home, wife.” 

[deliciousangelfestival]

The Imperfect Couple - 10

Character: politician!Bucky x ex-wife!reader

Summary: A separated couple must pretend to be happily married while the husband runs for Vice President, dealing with old issues and political pressures during his election campaign.

Warning: The couple's arguments could be triggering.

Chapter 1 , Chapter 2 , Chapter 3 , Chapter 4 , Chapter 5 , Chapter 6 , Chapter 7 , Chapter 8 , Chapter 9 , Chapter 10 , Chapter 11 , Chapter 12 , Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || If you enjoy my work, please consider buying me a coffee on Ko-fi 🙏🏻

Thank you to everyone who has read this chapter. Leave a comment and Reblog, please. I'd love to hear your thoughts. ❤️

Feeling the tension rise, Greg nervously tried to leave, but you stepped in. “Don’t!”

“Yes…?” Greg’s voice wavered.

“Don’t tell them I’m pregnant. Because I’m not. I can’t lie about that.” You rubbed your temples, feeling the weight of the situation pressing in on you, even though it was still early in the morning.

You shot a glance at Greg. “Schedule a press conference. Both of us will speak.”

Greg nodded rapidly. “Yes. Yes, that’s great.” He scurried out of the apartment without a second thought.

Bucky muttered under his breath, “I paid millions for this campaign team, and this is what I get.”

You snapped back at him. “No! Don’t change the subject!” Your voice was sharp, frustration burning in your eyes. “All of this is your idea.”

Bucky didn’t flinch, his calm demeanor frustrating you further. “My idea, yes. But it’s your choice now,” he replied, as if everything was calculated in his favor.

“Me? Lying about being pregnant? Have some humility, Bucky!” You threw your hands up in disbelief.

Bucky’s lips curved into a small, calculating smile. “I’m proud of you for making that decision,” he said smoothly, as if this was some twisted game he’d already won. His calmness was unnerving, like he already knew the outcome.

You sighed deeply, your breath heavy with exasperation. Bucky casually walked over to the coffee machine and offered you a cup. You took it, reluctant but exhausted. When you sipped, the familiar taste made you pause. It was perfect—exactly how you liked it. He still remembered.

But even the perfect coffee couldn’t wash away the bitterness and exhaustion hanging over you like a dark cloud.

You set the cup down and looked up at him, your eyes narrowing. “What’s the deal you made with Steve?” The question hung in the air, sharp and deliberate, like a card you were waiting to play.

Bucky leaned back slightly, his eyes never leaving yours. “The deal?” He sipped his own coffee, his expression unreadable, but there was a flicker of something—calculation, maybe? “Let’s just say... Steve’s skeletons are a lot messier than mine. I was always just the distraction.”

There was something chilling in the way he spoke, like he was always one step ahead. You realized then—you were in deeper than you thought.

Bucky took a slow sip of his coffee before setting it down on the table. His gaze stayed sharp, his voice deliberate. “The reason he chose me is simple. I’m the gatekeeper. Let’s be real, picking me as the youngest candidate? That’s a huge risk.”

The opponent was formidable—strong, relentless, and hungry for any opportunity to exploit weakness. So, what other option was there?

Bucky was the safest choice, not just because of his background, but because he held Steve’s deepest secrets—truths that couldn’t be silenced with money or threats. Bucky came from wealth, from power, from a lineage that made him untouchable. Steve knew that. He also knew something else: Bucky’s weakness was you.

Despite the disagreements within the party, Steve silenced the dissenters. He’d calculated every move. Choosing Bucky was risky, but Steve needed someone he could control, someone who could take the fall if necessary.

Bucky knew why he was chosen. He understood the game—Steve, the elder statesman, needed a younger face to shield him from the inevitable attacks. Bucky was to be his defense, the gatekeeper, the distraction.

The rumors about you and Bucky were intentional, designed to take the heat off Steve. Let the world believe Bucky was struggling in his personal life. Let them focus on his public spectacle while Steve worked in the shadows, untouchable.

Edgar and Brock—the opponents—would see the headlines and think Steve had been weakened by Bucky’s scandal. But they were wrong. This was the plan all along.

Bucky would take the blame. He would absorb the media’s attention, while Steve quietly solidified his path to the presidency.

For Bucky, it was more than a political maneuver. Accepting Steve's offer wasn’t just about power—it was his chance to break free from the chains his mother had shackled him with. And it was his chance to get you back.

He knew Steve had calculated his every move, and yet, Bucky had his own agenda. In the end, he wasn’t just a pawn in Steve’s game; he was playing his own, too.

You sighed heavily, rubbing your temples. “This is why I never wanted to cover elections. Everything is rigged.”

Bucky chuckled softly, a knowing look in his eyes. “That’s politics for you, sweetheart. It’s not about being clean—it’s about playing the game better than everyone else.”

You shifted, suddenly feeling the urge to get answers. “What about Steve’s skeletons?” you asked, your voice edged with curiosity.

Bucky had just picked up a chocolate muffin, but he stopped mid-bite. Setting it down, he met your gaze, dead serious. “I’m the only one who knows,” he said quietly. “I can’t tell you. I’ll carry those secrets to my grave.”

His loyalty to Steve was unsettling, a bond you could see ran deep.

“And don’t even think about digging for information,” Bucky warned, his voice firm, eyes hardening. “You’ll put both of us in danger if you try.”

The finality in his tone hit you like a wall. He was serious, and it was clear that stepping into that territory wasn’t just risky—it was deadly.

“Bucky,” you said softly, your voice filled with exhaustion.

“Hmm?” He didn’t look up from his phone, his attention split.

“If I can’t do this anymore... I want to leave.”

The silence that followed was thick. Bucky didn’t respond immediately, didn’t even look up at you. Instead, he remained still, his fingers lightly tapping against his phone. Finally, he spoke, his tone low and measured. “Get ready for the press.”

You sighed heavily, frustration and defeat settling into your chest like a heavy weight. Leave? Could you even escape at this point?

The thought circled in your mind, but Bucky had already made it clear—he wasn’t letting you go that easily. His control, his manipulation—it had all tightened around you like a noose.

And despite everything, despite the lies, the secrets, the betrayal... you could see it in his eyes. He didn’t plan to lose you again.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Soon, you stood next to him in front of a swarm of cameras, bright lights burning into your skin.

Bucky adjusted his suit jacket, offering a polite smile to the flashing lights. He stepped up to the podium, and as soon as he began speaking, it was as if a switch had flipped. The man beside you was no longer just your husband—he had become the perfect politician.

“I want to thank you all for coming here today,” Bucky began, his voice smooth, confident. His gaze swept across the audience, calculated and calm. “Marriage is never easy. It's a journey filled with highs and lows, and like any relationship, it can face... turmoil.”

The word hung in the air, a subtle indication of the cracks beneath the surface.

“Over the last few years, my wife and I have faced our share of challenges. We chose to take separate paths for a time, not because the love was lost, but because we believed it was what we needed. We both needed space to grow as individuals,” he said, pausing to glance at you.

You stood there, silent, watching him weave this narrative so effortlessly. Seeing him like this—so fluent, so convincing—it was almost sickening. He was lying, and yet every word that came from his mouth seemed to be wrapped in a veneer of truth.

“But sometimes,” he continued, “fate brings people back together. We crossed paths again, and in doing so, we rekindled that old romance we once shared. This has not been an easy journey, but we both realized that our love—despite everything—was worth fighting for.”

You forced yourself to stay composed, even as your mind raced. How had he become this person? So skilled in deception, so willing to put on a performance for the world. This wasn’t the man you had married.

This was a man molded by ambition, by politics. He had learned to manipulate truth, to twist it to his advantage. And now, he was using that skill to reshape the story of your marriage.

He went on, his tone softening just enough to appeal to the emotions of the audience. “I know many young couples out there experience similar struggles—times when things seem too difficult to overcome. But I stand here today to tell you that it’s possible. Love is complicated, but it’s also worth the fight.”

The live chat on the screen buzzed with comments, many of them expressing support, calling your relationship ‘inspiring,’ applauding your ‘courage.’ They were buying it. Every single word.

Bucky turned to you, offering a practiced smile. To them, it was a look of adoration. To you, it was a silent warning. Stay in line. Play your part.

As Bucky wrapped up his speech, the room filled with the sound of reporters typing, cameras flashing, and the quiet hum of people whispering. His words had been perfectly delivered—calm, composed, and persuasive. But it was the next moment that truly sealed the deal.

He turned toward you, and for a brief second, his eyes met yours. You could see the flicker of something—regret, perhaps, or exhaustion. But before you could fully process it, he stepped closer. The cameras zoomed in, the world seemed to hold its breath, and Bucky pulled you into a tight embrace.

His hands rested on your waist, steady, as though he were trying to ground himself. You stiffened at first, the tension between you impossible to ignore, but the weight of the press watching forced you to respond. Slowly, you lifted your arms and hugged him back, trying to make it look as natural as possible.

Then, without warning, his lips brushed against yours. A kiss, soft but purposeful, meant to sell the image of a couple rekindling their love. The cameras went wild, and you could feel every flash burning the moment into eternity. But beneath the act, you could sense the hollowness of it all.

"Still think we’re good at pretending?" you whispered, your voice barely audible.

Bucky’s eyes flickered with something unreadable, and a faint smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "Maybe it’s not all pretending."

You stayed locked in his arms for a moment longer, both of you playing your roles. To everyone watching, you were the perfect couple, finding your way back to each other. But to you, it felt like a performance—one more layer of the deception you both had to endure.

And yet, for all the pretending, there was an undeniable truth beneath it. The way Bucky held you tighter, as if he needed that connection to steady himself, made it clear. He wasn’t just showing the world something—they both needed this.

🌸🌸🌸🌸🌸

Once the press conference ended, you felt drained—emotionally and physically. As you walked off the stage, Bucky’s phone rang. He glanced at the screen and answered immediately.

“Steve,” he greeted, his voice low. You stood beside him, listening quietly.

“Didn’t expect it to go this well,” Steve’s voice crackled through the line. “Good job. I was hoping you could drag this out for a few more days, though.”

Bucky leaned against the table, his tone casual but firm. “I couldn’t do that. My wife’s already pissed about this. I’m not pushing her any further.” His eyes flicked to you as he spoke, his face unreadable.

There was a pause on the other end. Then Steve’s voice came again, smoother this time. “Still, you handled it well. Let’s hope the media stays focused on you two and not... anything else.”

Bucky smirked, the expression barely reaching his eyes. “They will. This whole mess? It’s just a distraction, Steve. You know that.”

Steve chuckled lightly. “I’m counting on it.”

Bucky ended the call without another word, sliding the phone back into his pocket. He turned to you, eyes narrowing slightly. “See? Everything’s under control.” He reached out, his hand resting lightly on your arm, but you pulled away.

Control. That’s what it was always about with him. And for now, he had it. But for how long?

You noticed something you hadn’t before—Bucky’s jaw was clenched, his shoulders tense, and his grip on the phone was tighter than usual. His usual confident façade seemed to falter, even if just for a moment. He looked... uneasy.

You had never seen him like this, not even during the press conference. Something about that call with Steve had rattled him. The way his eyes darkened, how his fingers twitched slightly as if restraining himself from saying more—it was a side of him you rarely witnessed.

And in that fleeting moment, you understood. It wasn’t just you who felt trapped in this web of lies and manipulation. It was Bucky, too. For all his calm demeanor, all his calculated moves, he was just as cornered.

He wasn’t in control like he wanted you to believe.

For the first time, you realized that Bucky wasn’t just pulling the strings—he was tangled in them. Just as trapped as you, if not more so. The weight of Steve’s power over him, the pressure of the campaign, the expectations, the secrets—it was all bearing down on him, too.

And in a strange, twisted way, it made him seem... vulnerable.

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[mrsparrasblog]

Makarov x John Price daughter pt.3.

Pt.1. Pt. 2 PT.4

Tw: Stockholm Syndrom, Daddy issues, smut

You were already two weeks here; you couldn’t believe that it had been so long since you got kidnapped in this kind of life. You didn’t see Vlad often, and you slowly craved his contact. You were lonely; the only human things near you were your scary Russian bulky guards.

They didn’t communicate with you, touch you, or even look at you. Maybe because it would be a death sentence for them to even touch you. You were Vlad's property, and everyone knew it.

Only you didn’t know about the power you actually had. Well, you couldn’t leave because you would get killed by the guards or put in the basement. But if you were only a bit smarter, you would have realized that the guards didn’t have permission to kill you; only shots in your legs were allowed, where they could be healed. Why would Makarov want his beautiful future wife dead?

You wondered why your dad hadn't saved you already. Aunt Kate always told you about an elite team he leads that saves hostages all the time, but why not you? Why were you still here, and with every following day, your hope was reduced to finally nothing? He won't save you.

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

On day 22, you finally crumbled. You were so desperate for human interactions that you searched for Makarov. You tried to ask your guards, but of course, they didn’t answer. You were asking yourself if it was because of the lack of English or because they just wanted to ignore you. Either way, you needed to find him on your own.

After a bit of wandering, you reached his office; at least this was the room that smelled the most of his rich, scented cologne. When you entered the room, the hardwood tiles cracked under your weight, and why were you sweating so much? He wouldn’t kill you, right? He would have already done it if he wanted to.

"Oh, got bored, Princess? “

You walked inside, and you almost forgot how unbelievably attractive he was, even more now with his priceless suit. You had a thing for men in suits, but for your kidnapper, really, were you so desperate? Obvious yes.

You noticed a man was completely beaten up; blood streamed from his face; he hadn’t got many fingers left; he looked horrifying overall; some of Vlad's men stood beside him; he was as bloody as the man on the chair, but it wasn’t his blood. You were fucking afraid looking over Vlad with your big teary eyes.

“Shh Princess, come sit on my lap,“ you obeyed, sitting down on his lap, ruining his perfect suit with wrinkles. He traced down his fingers alongside the thin dress you chose today—his unbelievable selection for you. His hard-on was pressing against your perfectly shaped ass, making you wonder if he had one because you sat down on his lap or because a man was tortured in front of him; he was fucking crazy.

His delicate fingers traced down the hem of your dress up to your soft thighs. “I see you like the lingerie I got you,“ he smirked as if you had any choice anyway; all of your clothing was basically his; it was his mercy that you’re still alive. His hand slowly wandered to the lacy fabric of your panties, finding them wet to your embarrassment.

You pushed your thighs together; you couldn’t let him touch you. There, he kidnapped you. What would your dad think about you? And especially not in front of a poor tortured man. You didn’t know what he did, but maybe he wasn’t innocent; maybe he deserved it. Vlad always had his reasons. Stop. You can't justify his acts. What’s wrong with you? You asked yourself all over again. Why did you have a small blink of sympathy for him?

He pushed your thighs apart. „Open up, Princess; there is no need to be shy." You thought it would be better to listen to him

„Если ты посмотришь на нее, я убью тебя.“ He said it in Russian, and the guard only nodded, continuing to torture the man in front of you. He ripped off the straps of your summer dress, revealing to you what you knew all over again - He wouldn’t be a gentle lover, not in the slightest.

Your breasts were now fully exposed, just as your thong was ripped apart.

It had something strange about you being completely exposed on top of him, and he sat there still wearing his expensive suit. The guard didn’t look at you for a second, which made you feel at ease, at least.

Vlad cupped your breasts, roughly playing with your nipples, pinching them hard, only making you shudder under his touch. „Mhm,“ you moaned, getting embarrassed at the same time. How do you get so easily flustered?

„Извините за отвлечение, мой питомец требует моего внимания“ (Im sorry for the disturbance, my pet needed attention) he said to the tortured man and continued to ask him questions, but not for a second he left his thick palms from your sensitive hard nipples.

The wetness between your thighs only becomes more evident with each second, while your resistance and embarrassment became less. Your slick flowered down from your thighs, making a big mess on his expensive suit pants. "So eager, Princess ?“

You could only moan as a reaction to not being able to talk properly, but he didn’t start to rub your pleading clit. God, he was probably the kind of guy who wanted to make you beg for his touch, but you had enough dignity to not beg, but you hadn’t got enough dignity to not start to rub your throbbing cunt against his thigh.

He noticed it and flexed his thigh, so you felt more pressure while he continued to pinch your nipples. His lips occasionally brushed your neck, leaving small kisses and, more importantly, bites on your neck, showing everyone that you were his property.

„God, Vlad, please,“ you whined as you rubbed yourself harder against him, his thighs hitting your clit all over again, making you wince and squeal.

With a firm grip, he kept you in your place. Your whimpers only fueled his desire towards you; his erect cock was pressing hard against you, begging to finally be in his rightful place.

He glanced down at the mess you made, your juices staining the expensive fabric of the suit. His grin turned into a smirk as he realized that you were indeed the perfect plaything for him. You may not be as powerful as him or psychotic, but you were naughty enough to satisfy his sick desires. He thought about how to reward your brazen display later. Maybe he would try for the first time to eat a woman out; he never knew the appeal, but with you, he wanted you to feel pleasure. He was fucking proud of how he made you squirm just with his leg; he occasionally shook his leg, making you clit whine in happiness.

The tortured man dared to look at your cunt and before you even realized what was happening, Vlad spoke in a cruel voice to him, „Ублюдок, почему ты смотрел на мою жену?“ (Bastard, why did you look at my wife?) He gestured to the guard and told him something in Russian. You didn’t notice it; you were too caught up in almost bringing yourself to release.

The guard took some kind of trinket and poured it into the eyes of the tortured man. The man screamed in shock, and you scrunched, afraid like a dear, hugging Vlad for comfort. The person you were most afraid of was the one you searched comfort for; it was so twisted. „Shh, princess, turn around. I'll protect you like your dad couldn't.“

You turned around now, sitting with your face towards him. From your beautiful eyes fell tears, and he flicked them away with his tongue. The desire to kiss him in search of comfort was so high. „Thank you, Vlad.“

He only nodded, and you tried your best to blend out the sounds of the tortured man. Vlad's hand slowly went down on you, trying to calm you down, and it worked. Like a love-drunk girl, you pressed yourself harder against his fingers, who drew circles around your clit making you shake so desperately. “ Oh god, Vlad.“

„Such a good girl for me, so eager for her Daddy’s enemy,“ he grinned wickedly as he slowly put two of his delicate fingers in your pleading hole, making you squirm again. He started to scissor his fingers lazily inside of you, still fully concentrated on getting the answers out of the man. You asked yourself how he could still be so calm while you were a whimpering mess.

The bulge of his cock pressed against your ass, giving you even more pleasure than his hands already did to you. He started to search for that spongy spot in your gummy walls, a spot many men had missed before, but he immediately found it, making you scream in pleasure, and he only chuckled darkly at your needy responses.

„Mhm, so close, Vlad.“

For a second, you were afraid that he would deny you the satisfaction of an orgasm, but he added a third finger, fingering you against your sweet spot while holding you still, so you couldn't escape the pleasure.

„Cum for me, Pet,“ and you did. With a final pump of his fingers, you reached the most intense orgasm of your life. Coating his suit with your juices, he let you ride out your orgasm.

He pulled out his fingers after you calmed down and licked his fingers clean, letting out a growl as he tasted your delicious taste. Vlad gave you his dress shirt so you could walk back to your room in dignity. As he removed his dress shirt, you couldn’t stop staring at his exposed chest; it was filled with tattoos, and you wanted to scratch down and kiss every inch of it.

„Like what you see, моя жена?“ (My wife)

„Yes“

„You will see it often enough, and now go. I have a business to do.“

———————————————

In the following days, you felt guilty for allowing it and confused. You should have been afraid of him, but he never hunted you. Okay, he kidnapped you, but still, he didn't beat you or torture you. That's nice, right?

He walked inside your room a few weeks later.

„моя жена“

„What does that mean?“

„Not important, princess, I got you something.“

„I have more than enough material things, Vlad.“

„It's not material; I know how much you loved your study as a midwife; I brought you the best private teacher; when you’re bored, you can continue; and a Russian teacher is necessary for you to learn Russian.“

You couldn’t believe it. Your dad didn’t even support you when he wasn’t even around, and Vlad just bought a private teacher for you. „That's the nicest thing someone ever did for me.“

——————————————————

Learning Russian was hard, but you managed better than you thought, getting better and better every day, much to the liking of Vlad. He always praised you for something you yearned your whole life for.

„моя жена, you deserve a reward. What do you want?“

„You already gave me so much,“ you said, blindly forgetting that he did in fact not do everything for you; you hadn’t been at your work for 4 months now, the place you loved, and you hadn’t seen your dad, and you still yearned so much for him; you loved him after all more than anything. If a therapist had looked at you, he would have noticed how, in your heart, you were still a little kid fighting for the approval of your dad, and since you didn’t get it, you searched for it from another man, and you got it from Vlad. And he would tell you you had the biggest case of Stockholm syndrome he ever witnessed, but you weren’t a therapist.

„No everything for my моя жена“

„I want to dance ballet again.“

„Perfect, I'll get you the best teacher in Russia."

——————————————————-

And he did. Another month passed, and you became better than you ever were before, enjoying the time dancing so much. You told Vlad how your dad hadn’t seen one of your Ballet performances and how it always made you sad since he was at the fencing events of Tina.

Needless to say, the next day, a tutu was placed in your room, and you were performing Clara from The Nutcracker in front of him. You cried after the performance, and he praised you for how elegant his wife was. You noticed yourself referring to him slowly as your husband. Every day you forget more and more that you weren’t free; in your mind, you were free.

After the performance, you spend the whole night in his room, thanking him for being so nice to you.

—————————————————-

One time he wasn’t returning home for five days. You were panting and afraid. You locked yourself in your room, not leaving it for a second, only to open the door for your food and drink order from your servants. You noticed the sting in your heart. What if he found someone better? What if he left you? What if someone killed him?

After the 5 Day, he came back blood-covered, and without a word, you cleaned him up with a gesture he never allowed someone else. He was vulnerable around you, and this was the first time you stayed with him, only cuddling him and making out with him, something neither of you believed could ever happen.

———————————————————

After the accident, he told the guards that you had full permission to command them, and you felt easier when he left. The power felt nice at first until you met the man who got your Vlad so bloody, and you ordered the guards to kill him.

Now blood covered your innocent fingers; you killed for him; you were a monster; you sobbed for hours before Vlad came in; he was disgusted at your weakness but somehow intrigued at the same time you killed for him, something that meant so much for the emotionless men.

————————————————————

9 months

„Vlad, is my dad dead?“ You asked him. How could he care so little that he didn’t save his daughter? You thought, but he loved you. Maybe he died on deployment.

„No, моя жена, he isn't dead; he just - its hard, but he doesn’t want to fight to get you back,“ he said with a sorry expression. His eyes got you so manipulated that you believed him, oblivious to the fact that your dad and his team burned the world down to find you. They didn’t act anymore on rules; your father left a kill count in the nine months bigger than in his 20 years in the army. But how could you know?

That day you cried in his arms for hours, and he listened to your rambling, and you knew Vlad would never leave you. He is about you, and you shouldn’t resent him; he treats you better than anyone else in your life.

——————————————————-

„Why do I need to wear this dress, Vlad?“ You asked while you wore a dress in the price range of a house in London. It was sewn for you and filled with little gemstones; it suited you, and you never felt more beautiful before.

„We are going out.“

„Outside ?“ You couldn’t believe it; you weren’t in the real world for over a year, only in the mansion and the garden.

„Yes, I show you Moscow.“

You were so happy, and Moscow was indeed the most beautiful place on earth. You knew now that you were 100% free; he left you alone. You could have run away, but you didn't. You were there.

To your surprise, he fell on his knees in front of you, a gesture he never did before; it was weakness, and he had no weakness well besides you; you were his only weakness, and this would stay this way.

„Princess, we have been together for over a year now. Would you give me the honor to become my wife?“

A year ago, you would have said no, but now you want to be his wife, so you nod and start to cry.

He finally had what he wanted: revenge on John Price, a queen of his empire and soon an heir

Tag list: @multifand0midi07 , @whos-fran , @cassiecasluciluce

[b00kdiary]

Okay I've been debating about requesting this. However, I think you would do this lovely.

Reader is shopping for her wedding dress and is really excited only for the workers. They treat her terribly for her size and make her feel uncomfortable, so she leaves trying on only like 2 dresses and feels icky and when her mate (Cassian) wants to cuddle he can sense somethings off especially when he evades his touch.

Take some liberties with it. But I had this experience recently with my bridesmaids, and we didn't feel insecure, but we all left feeling really angry and upset

Full disclosure I did write something similar to this with Rhys, but I would honestly love your take with Cassian because I think you write him beautifully 😍

Mine | Cassian

Cassian X Plus Size reader

Y/N goes wedding dress shopping and is confronted with females who make it clear that they think she’s unworthy of being Cassian’s mate, that she shouldn’t be his wife. Cassian shows her just how fucking wrong they are.

Warning: Mature themes (18+), swearing, body image issues and mean comments, fluff, angst and Mild Smut. (A/N to the lovely person who requested this I am sorry this happened to you, and I hope this work is how you'd like!)

MASTERLIST - 1 and 2

"A size 18?"

The female before me asked again – for the third fucking time.

And just like the first and second, her beautiful face twisted, lips curling in a cruel smirk, blue eyes widening and her tone – I could hear the condescension in it. But what really took the cake was how her eyes raked down my figure, from head to toe looking at me like I was dirt on her shoe.

"Yes," Mor breathed, speaking sharply through her clenched teeth. I glanced sidelong at her, nervous at the anger simmering in her golden eyes. "She said that already. Thrice."

The female's eyes slid from me to Mor, and she had the good sense to look uneasy at the blonde's wrathful expression. I kept my face neutral when she met my gaze, a faux-innocent smile on her pink lips before she dipped her head in a bare nod and scurried away.

I glared as her long, slender legs carried her, shapely hips and slim waist swaying with every graceful movement. No wonder why she was looking at me like I was the fucking elephant in the room. She was tiny, as was every other worker in this stupid shop.

"I am going to pluck her eyes from her head," Mor seethed quietly from beside me. I turned to her, bracing my hands on my soft hips as I met her furious frown. "And tear her tongue from her mouth. She is awful."

"Yes, she is," I chuckled, pushing down the ache in my chest as I met Mor’s stare. I wouldn’t let her meanness affect me. Nor would I let Mor try and defend my honour. “But we’re here for a wedding dress, this is meant to be fun. Just ignore her.”

Mor sighed, tucking the strands of her long blonde hair from her face. I gave her a hopeful smile and I could see her physically forcing down her anger for my sake. A second later her golden eyes met mine and she beamed.

“You’re right, this is meant to be fun,” Mor grabbed my hand, smirking as she tugged me along the shop floor to the dressing room, passing the dozens and dozens of gorgeous gowns. “And you're going to marry your mate. Cassian is one lucky male.”

We passed a group of female workers, re-organising the rack – and it was almost comical how they all halted at Mor’s words, eyes widening. Mor’s smirk broadened and she shot them a cruel, amused look.

“Mate and soon-to-be wife of General Cassian of the Night Court,” Mor continued, feigning ignorance to the group of females now listening. Their faces ashen as they flickered their gaze to and from me. “You really do need the perfect dress.”

I rolled my eyes at her gloating tone, slapping her hand in mild scolding as we stopped before the dressing room doors. I tried to ignore how the workers watched me, but I could feel their deadly stares boring holes into my back, all over my body – I could feel the awful judgement.

“I think the one we chose will be perfect,” Mor continued, oblivious to the stares I was getting and the whispers behind my back. I swallowed the lump in my throat, forcing an easy smile onto my lips as she gushed. “The neckline, the bodice, the skirt – Cassian won’t know what hit him.”

“Let’s wait and see if they have my size first,” I muttered, drumming my fingers impatiently as we waited. Mor shot me a look, frowning but I just stared ahead. I didn’t want her to feel bad for me.

“If this store doesn’t another will,” Mor said, her tone a shade softer now. “Besides, we have the best tailors in Velaris, we could have a gown fit for a queen made for you if you wanted. I know Cassian would want nothing less than the best for you. So do the rest of us.”

A gown fit for a queen. Something fit for the mate of the General. The thought made me feel nauseous for some reason. Still, I gave Mor another smile, nodding along as if I liked the idea.

Mercifully, the female worker arrived before Mor could press me anymore about what I thought. Or unmercifully if the fake smile she wore as she approached was any indication. Or how she held that size 18 dress like the largeness of it might rub off on her.

Mor was right. She is fucking awful.

“Here we are,” She chirped, draping the bag over my arm with more force than necessary. She eyed the dress, disdain in them. “Size 18. Sadly, that is the largest we do. So, hopefully, it fits.”

Hopefully sounded more like I hope it doesn’t – sounded like she wanted to laugh at me when it didn’t.

“Hopefully,” I gritted out, shooting her a bland smile before walking away without another word.

Mor chuckled quietly as she followed after me, leaving that awful female standing there – dismissed. Perhaps it was mean, I was not someone who was ever rude to staff and yet this woman had brought that side out of me.

She’d also brought out the side of me that felt sick with nerves at the idea of trying this dress on.

***

Mor began crying the second I stepped out of the changing rooms wearing the dress.

“Oh Cauldron,” She laughed, red-painted nails coming to her face, wiping the endless tears away. I smiled as I descended the steps moving toward the mirrors. “You look beautiful, Y/N. Truly, you’re a dream.”

I smiled at my friend; throat too tight to voice how much her words meant to me. My legs shook a little as I moved toward the mirrors. The dress had fit, and she was right – I did look like a dream.

“Gods, it’s beautiful,” I whispered, voice shaking. I ran my trembling hands along the tight-laced bodice, down the soft silk material as it draped along my curved hips and fell in soft, elegant weaves down my thighs and to the floor.

It fit me like a glove. The simple, sweetheart neckline accentuated my chest, the bodice moulded perfectly against my waist and hips and the material looked rich, looked like it was made for a queen.

“You’re beautiful,” Mor said softly, coming to stand behind me in the mirror, tears glistening in her eyes as she ran her hands through my hair, “I think this might be the dress.”

“I think so too,” I laughed, my eyes burning with emotion as I stared at myself. Beautiful – it was a feeling I rarely experienced and yet, right now I did. I felt beautiful. “This is my dress.”

Mor shrieked, and I flinched at the shrill sound as she laughed, hugging me so tight I could scarcely breathe. I giggled, sniffing as I wrapped my arms around her slender frame, and I was beaming just as broad as she was.

Until the door cracked open.

And that female stood in the doorway. Frowning at me.

“You’ve found your dress then?” She said tightly, interrupting Mor’s elated nonsensical muttering about Cassian and the wedding and something about drinking. “It fits.”

I straightened as Mor pulled away from me, all remnants of a smile gone from her lovely face, and she was as stiff as me as we turned to that female. I swallowed as her blue eyes racked across my figure, something akin to disgust rippling like waves through her gaze.

“Yes,” I said tightly, my arms unconsciously folding over my chest. As if to shield myself from her judgment. “It fits.”

“Excellent,” She replied, sounding anything but thrilled. But still, she smiled, an ugly sight, before she beckoned Mor to follow her. “We can figure out the details while she gets out of the dress. I imagine it might take a while.”

Mor’s canines flashed and the female took a step back in surprise when Mor looked as if she might lunge for her – and rip out her throat with her teeth. But I clamped my hand down around her wrist before she could. Her golden eyes turned to me, incredulous, but I merely shook my head with a warning in my eyes.

“That’s fine,” I said sharply, meeting her blue eyes and raising my chin, “I’ll see you both in a few minutes then.”

“Fine,” Mor muttered, sighing as my fingers uncurled from her wrist. I could see the anger on her face as she followed after the female. And rightfully so, the female kept a good distance between them as they exited the room.

I released a tight breath as I moved back to the changing room, locking the door and slumping back against it once I was inside. And just like that, I felt awful again. I felt big like I was taking up too much space. I felt ugly like this dress wasn’t for me. And most of all I felt unworthy.

A mixture of anger and sorrow washed over me as I slipped out of the dress and back into my usual leggings and top. I tried to not dwell on how that female had looked at me, how swiftly she had yanked me back to reality with something as simple as her words.

It shouldn’t have mattered and yet, for some reason it did.

“Did you hear-“

I heard the soft giggling voice as I yanked my shoes on, two pairs of footsteps and rustling clothes sounding in the main part of the dressing room. Admittedly, I might have softened my movements to hear them. I had a horrible feeling I knew what they were talking about.

“The female who came in before asking for a size 18,” She whispered, spitting the size like it was acid on her tongue. My chest tightened. “She’s mated to and marrying General Cassian. Cassian who looks like a God is tied to her.”

“Cauldron spare him,” The other female choked on a laugh, and they both sounded almost sorry for him – like they pitied Cassian for having me as a mate. “The least she could have done is lose some weight for the wedding. I’m a size 2 and I would have tried to get down to a 0, never mind being her size.”

Her size.

Hot, searing embarrassment spread over me like a fire. But I forced down the humiliation and the bile twisting in my gut as I rose to my feet grabbing my purse and unlocking the door as loudly as I could. They stopped speaking and moving, instantly.

And my face was like steel as I stepped out into the main room. And watched their eyes widen, faces turning ashen. It would have been amusing if they hadn’t just torn my sense of self to shreds.

“Oh-“ One of the females gasped upon seeing me. Dumb struck. I saw them both glancing at each other, faces reddening and scrambling to find the words to explain what I had overheard.

I said nothing as I began stalking away, but I kept my face hard and my back straight as I exited the room and moved back through the shop floor. They were scurrying after me, like the rodents they were, likely to beg me not to say anything.

“Y/N!” Mor grinned as she stood at the counter, the first female and another, older female by her side, sorting through some paperwork. Mor’s smile dimmed when she saw my stormy expression. “What-“

“We’re not buying that dress,” I said simply as I stopped at the desk. All eyes latched onto me in surprise. “I won’t be buying anything from this store.”

Mor blinked at me. But upon seeing the severity on my face, the way my hands were clenched around my purse until my knuckles turned white, she didn’t push it.

“All right,” Mor nodded, dropping the papers in her hand, and slipping her bag around her shoulder. She looked at me and smiled, “Let’s go.”

“Wait. Wait-“

I glanced at the older female, seeing the confusion and panic on her face. But it was nothing compared to the panic of the female worker beside her. She looked like she might pass out.

“I’m the manager here, ladies,” The elder female said, and her eyes were kind. She seemed kind. “If you have any issues, please I will do whatever I can to remedy it.”

“You’re the manager?” I asked, and she nodded. I smiled - it was not a kind sight. “Then you should know that I intended to buy that dress, it was lovely. But I won’t.”

“Because of her,” I looked at the first female at her side, my tone as sharp as a blade. She stiffened, like a doe caught by a predator as all eyes fell to her.

“And them,” I turned back to where the two other females stood. Just as stiff, just as caught off guard. Still holding the garments, they had been fixing when they were discussing my body in the dressing room.

“I’d re-think the kind of people you employ here, how they speak and treat your customers,” I said, turning back to the eldest female. She had anger in her eyes now – like this wasn’t the first time. “Because I won’t pay to be ridiculed. And I will ensure that no female I know will come here either, not with the likes of them working here.”

“I apologise for whatever offence they caused, my dear,” She frowned, shaking her head at me. She genuinely looked upset. “I will deal with this accordingly.”

I turned my attention to the workers, to the anger and tears in their eyes. They glared at me as if this were my fault. I shot them a saccharine smile before turning, Mor on my heel as we walked away.

“Are you all right?” Mor asked me softly when we left the shop and walked back into the bustle of the main street.

“I’m fine,” I lied, keeping my eyes straight ahead. “I just want to go home. It’s been a long day.”

***

I hear Cassian and Azriel’s laughter the second Mor and I step into the house. And Cassian must sense my presence because I feel a soft brush down the bond, adoring and needy as if trying to coax me to come to him faster.

“Sweetheart,” Cassian grins the second I walk into the room, his handsome face lighting in the most breathtaking way as he rushes over to me. His arms are around me in a second, enveloping me in a great, crushing hug.

It would be sweet. Except his hands dig into the flesh at my back. I can feel my stomach pressing into his hard, carved chest. And he’s lifting me, Gods, I cringe as my feet lift off the ground and he’s bearing all my weight.

“Hey, Cass,” I mutter, trying to force an easy smile onto my lips as he drops me gently to my feet. I push at his chest, pulling free from his hold as I step back, and I don’t miss the small, confused frown he gives me. “Hey, Az.”

Azriel smiles at me, but the smile doesn’t reach his eyes as I stiffly move around my mate, every inch of me hard and wilting from his loving touch.

“You don’t have any bags with you?” Cassian noted from beside me, his hazel eyes moving from Mor, who was shoving her several bags onto the counter and then to me, with none. “I thought you were going wedding shopping?”

“I didn’t find anything,” I said simply, moving on stiff legs to the dining table. I brush off Cassian’s hand on my back as I do so, and Azriel’s eyes narrow. But again, I ignore it all as I pour myself a glass of water, staring at the clear water as if fills my cup.

“That’s not true, she found a beautiful dress, the dress,” Mor said, her voice exasperated. And my fingers tightened around the glass as I brought it to my mouth and sipped. “She was going to buy it, but the workers were such assholes to her-“

“Workers?” Cassian cut in, voice sharpening. I sighed when he marched to me, towering height peering down at me with anger and concern in his eyes. “What shop? What did they say-“

“Nothing, Cass,” I kiss my teeth, brushing away the hand he brought to my face, annoyance flaring in my eyes. His frown deepened, and so did the tension in the room. “Nothing happened, it’s fine.”

“It’s not fine,” Mor argued, and my jaw clenched, as I looked away from my mate to the glass in my hand. “They were mean, Y/N and the way they spoke to you and looked at you, the way they treated you-“

“Mor!” I slammed the glass onto the table, so hard the wood shook from the impact. My sharp yell echoed through the silence as everyone stared at me – shocked. “I said it was fine. Just stop.”

Mor blinks at me, her face falling. I regret yelling at her immediately.

“I’m sorry,” She mutters, guilt in her eyes. I feel Cassian and Azriel’s attention unwavering on me and it’s too much. “I didn’t mean to-“

“It’s fine,” I whisper, voice shaking. My entire body is shaking as I step away from them, unable to meet anyone’s eyes. “I’m- I’m going to go get some rest.”

“Y/N,” Cassian called my name as I turned, but I could feel the tears burning in my eyes. So, I kept walking, and walking, and walking.

***

I’m sitting on the chaise in one of Cassian’s old shirts, reading and re-reading the same line in my book when he comes in.

I don’t lift my eyes from that one page, even as my heart thunders in my chest as he silently stalks over to me. I know he can hear my heavy breathing and erratic pulse; I know he can feel my sorrow in waves down the bond.

His footsteps are nearly silent as he moves toward me, and I feel his eyes like a brand on my skin. I suck in a harsh breath when he stops and drops to kneel before me. His large hands brace on my thighs, his face levels with mine and I’m shaking as I keep my eyes down.

I hear his throat work and I clamp my eyes shut when his hand comes forward, gently taking the book I wasn’t reading from my hands and discarding it on the floor beside him. So gentle, so tender, I could feel it just in the way he watched me.

“Look at me, my love,” Cassian whispers, fingers curling around my thighs. I cringe as he kneads my flesh, but his touch is adoring. “Please, look at me.”

I took in a stabilising breath before I fluttered my eyes open and lifted them to meet his. My heart broke at the pain in his eyes, that lovely face twisted with hurt as he beheld me.

“I’m fine,” I muttered. My voice broke. But still, I shook my head, trying to smile. “I’m fine Cass.”

“No, you’re not baby,” Cassian frowned, and a tear slid down from my eyes when his hand lifted and cupped my cheek, darkness in his eyes as he tracked that tear. And the next. And the next. “What happened? What did they say? I can’t fix it if I don’t know.”

My bottom lip trembled as more tears fell from my face, and Cassian released a broken, desperate groan as I tried to fight back my sobs. I curled one hand around his strong wrist, just needing to hold him, to anchor myself to his strength.

“They were looking at me like I was disgusting Cass,” I whispered, unable to say the words any louder. I kept my eyes closed as I spoke - I couldn’t face him. “Like just for existing in my body I should be ashamed.”

He shook with rage. I felt it down the bond, that primal, deadly anger that he rarely ever exhibited but when he did it was catastrophic.

“And when they heard, I was mated to you, that I would be marrying you,” Another sob broke free from me and his hand tightened at my jaw. He leaned forward, trembling as he pressed his forehead to mine. “I overheard them talking about how gorgeous you were and how fucking awful it was that you were mated to me.”

Pain danced through the bond, his pain not mine.

“And I just felt so guilty,” I breathed, sniffing as the tears leaked into my nose and mouth, as Cassian let them soak him too. “You should have a female walking down that aisle who is beautiful and thin, I didn’t even try and lose weight for the wedding, I’m sorry Cass-“

“Stop.” He snarled. And my eyes blinked open latching onto the searing, furious rage in his gaze. “Stop.”

“Cassian – “ I gasped as he grabbed me, fingers curling around my waist and hips and before I knew it, he was lifting me, spinning us so that he sat on the chaise, and I was straddling him. So fast. So easy. Like I didn’t weigh a damn thing.

“Listen to me, Y/N,” Cassian said severely, hand cupping my cheek and forcing my eyes to stay on his. I had never seen him so serious. “I’m going to speak and you’re going to listen, okay?”

I nodded slowly, blinking away the tears as I stared at him.

His hand stayed on my jaw, the other curling around my thigh and keeping my body flush with him. Every inch of me felt every inch of him. I tried not to cringe at what he could feel.

“Do not ever let anyone, male or female, make you question your worth and beauty,” He said, his voice steady and firm. So were his eyes. “Do not ever let anyone make you feel like you are not enough. You are worthy of the world and more, do you hear me?”

I swallowed, my throat painfully tight but at the command in his gaze, I nodded again.

“I should kill those females for speaking about you like that, for making you think that any inch of you is ugly,” He snarled softly, canines baring, and I hated how he frowned, wanting to rub away the crease between his brows. “You are beautiful. You are the most beautiful female I have ever seen in my life. And I thank the Mother every fucking day that she made you mine. That she made me yours.”

A tear trickled down my face. Cassian’s eyes softened and he rubbed that tear and the next away with a tender brush of his thumb.

“Don’t ever think I don’t love your body, I do, I love every curve baby, I can’t resist them,” He sighed, and my eyes fluttered as his hand began to languish across my thighs, moving over my fleshy hips and the rolls at my back with need. “I don’t want you to change anything about yourself, not for me, or a wedding, or to fit into a dress. I want you just as you are.”

“Are you sure?” I whisper, my voice so weak. And Cassian’s face falls at it, at the doubt and vulnerability in my words. “I don’t want to embarrass you Cassian.”

“You could never embarrass me,” He scoffs, and my body melts into his as his hand curves around to cup my ass, dragging me forward so that not even an inch of space remains between us. “I am nothing but a brute. A bastard. But with you? I am the luckiest male in the world, I get to have your heart, your smile, and your body to love and worship and comfort for the rest of my life. I pity other males who don’t have you.”

“You’re not a brute or a bastard or anything else of the sort,” I frown, denial sparking like embers in my eyes. Cassian laughs, his throat thick with emotion, but he laughs at the immediate anger in me. “I love you Cassian. Just like you love me.”

I knew he did. I never should have questioned it.

“And I love you, baby,” He smiles, that kind of smile that knocks the air from my lungs. “I love you so fucking much. I don’t want you to forget it but if you do, I will always be there to remind you.”

My eyes flutter shut as he presses his lips to mine, and the feeling is just like home. It’s like finding the other half of my soul and feeling it slot into place the second we meet. It’s perfect.

Cassian grins as I moan, my lips parting to let his tongue sweep in, hot and exploring, tracing against my teeth and tongue like he wants to devour me. His hands ravish along my body, palming my ass, cupping, and toying with my aching breasts, rubbing that deliciously thick length up into me.

“So responsive,” Cassian praises, running his tongue along my lips teasingly and I whimper as he rolls his hips against my wet, swollen clit, so hard I can feel him through his slacks and my underwear. “So beautiful when you’re rubbing against me, my love.”

“Cass,” I moan, eyes fluttering as presses wet kisses against my jaw, his hands cupping my ass and dragging me back and forth over his cock. He groans a rough, lewd sound, one that goes straight down to the heat between my thighs.

“I think you should forgo a dress on our wedding day,” Cassian grumbles against my cheek, hazel eyes flashing mischievously as I grind down against him, faster and harder. “I couldn’t imagine a better sight than you walking down that aisle completely naked, looking like the goddess you are.”

“Cassian,” My back arched, the slickness between my thighs growing more and more, especially as he growled those filthy words into my ears. His hands do not stop for a second, exploring and touching every inch of me.

“Whatever dress you wear will be on the floor anyway,” He chuckles darkly, and I clench around nothing when he shifts me back, his hand slipping between our bodies to untie his slacks. I groan when he pulls his cock free, eager as I push my underwear to the side and line him up to my entrance.

“I plan to make love to this perfect cunt from the second you’re tied to me,” He snarls softly and I’m a moaning mess as I sink, taking inch after inch into my wet core, loving how good he stretches me. “A dress would just be an unnecessary obstacle.”

His teeth nip and bite against my throat as he maxes out inside me and I have to brace my hands on his chest to calm myself, stretched so wide, feeling him so deep. He grins at how breathless and desperate I am, seated inside me like this was his home.

“You want me to walk down naked on our wedding day?” I lift my eyes to him, clenching around him and watching his eyes flutter at the feeling. I smirk, cupping his jaw as I slowly roll my hips. “With so many males present?”

His eyes darken. Like death.

“Rhysand, Azriel, Helion, Varian,” I roll my hips again, moaning at the spark of pleasure that runs through me. Cassian’s hands tighten on my hips, hard enough to bruise and my smirk broadens. “Lucien, Jurian, Eris-“

“I will kill them all before letting them see you naked,” Cassian bucks his hips up violently, slamming his cock to the hilt. I choke on a gasp, slumping into his awaiting embrace.

“Every-“ Thrust. “Last-“ Thrust. “Fucking-“ Thrust. “One.”

I cry out as he drives his cock into me, the sound of my arousal dancing through the air, mixing with my moans. Cassian groans, and I can feel that primitive Fae instinct in him as he fucks me as if he wants to imprint himself onto my very skin.

“You’re mine, baby,” His canines bite against the junction of my throat, just as his cock hits a deep, spongey spot inside me. “All fucking mine.”

“I’m yours, Cass,” I whimper, panting as he slides in and out of me at a brutal pace, every shift of his hips rubbing against my swollen clit. “I’m all yours, yours, yours – “

He smiles.

And fucks me for hours like I was his.

And he was mine. 

_________________________________________

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[flower-boi16]

Helluva Boss Season 2: How to Assassinate Your Characters

Option 1: Force them into being out of character for the sake of a forced conflict or "joke"

Seeing Star assasinated Loona by making her far more aggressive compared to how she used to be in the first season, which was done as a way to force a conflict between her and Blitz. Western Energy then goes on to continue Loona's derailment by just straight up turning her into a wild animal with her attacking the doctor. The writers are forcing Loona into being out of character in order to create drama that doesn't feel organic at all.

The same could be said for Moxxie, who Unhappy Campers made out of character by turning him into an attention whore jelouse of Millie, despite him never displaying that trait in the first season and him having no reason to even give a shit about this since he was sent here for a job.

There's nothing indicating that he suffered from neglect from Crimson so there isn't an explanation here. Moxxie especially comes across as a massive hypocrit in his argument with Millie; where he asks why Millie cares so much about what the teenagers think when Moxxie has been jelouse of Millie through this whole episode, yet it is NEVER called out.

This is done as a way of trying to add forced and contrived drama between the two just so the episode can have a conflict, because the writers most likely coulden't find a way to create a conflict that was organic.

Option 2: Make past issues with the characters worse by adding in new ones or just refusing to address them

A big issue with Millie as a character is that she doesn't have much of any real depth beyond being Moxxie's wife. The show tried to add depth to her in Unhappy Campers but all that did was create a new issue where they constantly introduce new stuff for Millie as a character out of nowhere in a failed attempt to give her depth.

Moxxie meanwhile suffered through a issue in Season 1 where he went through the same arc twice in the same season, but hey that was only two times so it's nothing to sneeze at...except that Season 2 not only has Moxxie repeat that arc again, it slaps daddy issues onto him in a poor attempt to give him further depth which not only feels tacked onto him but also just creates more issues with Moxxie as a character due to him now having truama that never gets explored.

Season 2 continues the issues with the first season but makes them worse as well as adding in new ones, which is the exact opposite of what a second season should do.

Option 3: Destory and remove everything that made the characters interesting and replace it with something completely unreconizable compared to how they previously were.

Stolas in Season 1 was arguably the most interesting character in the entire show, there was a lot you could analyze from him and he had the most potiential out of any other character in the show for a compelling arc where he grows as a person...

...that Season 2 completely destoryed in favor of turning Stolas into an UwU soft boy who the narrative frequently coddles and goes through little actual character growth...at all. His bad actions are downplayed by the narrative and the people who get mad at him for those actions are all demonized by the narrative, treated as if they don't have a reason to hate him even though they do.

Season 1 Stolas was a flawed person that realized his mistakes and chose to become better, Season 2 Stolas is an UwU soft boy that just wanted to be loved. These do not feel like the same character.

Season 2 completely assassinates the characters and removes everything that made them good in the first place with the only exception being Blitzo, as although Season 2's handling of him has issues he still isn't nearly as ruined as the other characters.

[strawwiibernyy]

Ice Prince - Park S.

____________________

[Prince!Sunghoon x Princess!Reader]

warnings! suggestive, cursing, family issues, violence (a slap), other idols mentioned (yuna, wonyoung).

words: 6k

╰┈➤ You didn’t choose to be a princess. All you wanted was to be free, but that would never happen. Especially now, that they chose you among the ten princesses battling for Park Sunghoon. Everyone feared him, expect you. Will you be able to warm the prince’s cold heart?

____________________

Park Sunghoon is South Korea's most handsome prince.

Everyone knew him for his perfect face, decorated by beauty marks. Also his nice shaped body, taller than most boys at his age. A lot of princesses had fallen into his mysterious trap. However, that wasn't the case with you.

You disliked Park Sunghoon. In your eyes, he was a cold-hearted prince who looked down upon others because of his handsome face. His grades were average and his social skills poor. So what was Park Sunghoon other than a handsome face?

And to think that you were chosen as one of the ten princesses to become his future wife was even worse.

Hours and hours, you were sitting at your castle's library, reading the same romance novels over and over again. You were jealous of the protagonists's freedom, while your entire life was in the hands of your parents.

You didn't want to disappoint them. That's why you followed every rule. However, there were times you wanted to escape.

Every time you would step a foot outside of the kingdom, your father would yell at you. At the age of five, you received your first punishment.

"When will you understand that you are a princess? You are not allowed to do anything before I tell you to!" He shouted, his hand coming in contact with your cheek. A loud slap was heard, marking a big print on you.

The moment you left the room, you noticed people were standing outside. First, your maid looking at you with pitiful eyes. On the other hand, your two older brothers were red from their anger. However, they should know better than to go against the king. Your father.

"Ready?" Your maid asked, snapping you out of your thoughts. In your mind, the man you would marry would love you so much that he would sacrifice himself for you. But which prince in their right mind would sacrifice themselves for a stranger?

"I think so." A sigh left your mouth, twirling around the mirror. You weren't a teenager anymore. Now you were eighteen years old and ready to fight for your marriage.

The dark blue dress you were wearing played around with the wind and a smile overtook your lips. Your hair was curled and pulled half up-half down. You looked gorgeous. But for the wrong guy.

"Oh, come on!" Your maid said, noticing your sadness behind your eyes. "Park Sunghoon is extremely handsome and the wealthiest out of all them. Any princess should be thankful to God for having a change with him."

"Yes, till he starts completely ignoring her." You turned around to look at the older women, leaning back on the small table behind you. "When I met him at eleven years old, I thought he was mute. Handsome, but very antisocial. Oh, and very prideful!"

"Mr. Darcy from Pride and Prejudice was also like that, but you didn't seem to mind it." She mentioned, and you both giggled at her comment. You lowered your head in defeat, hearing your favorite character’s name.

"Alright. Ready now?" She asked one last time, opening your bedroom's door.

"Ready."

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

"Your highness, we have arrived." The man on the horses said, giving them a last whip. You frowned at the harsh action, and suddenly your door was open. You had to abandon the carriage that protected you.

With one step on the ground, you felt your heart beat raise dangerously. You mustn't feel so eager to see Sunghoon's pretty face, but you are.

"Your highness." The only bodyguard who was accompanying you stretched out his hand. Placing your palm on his strong shoulder instead, he curled it back to him.

Numerous voices had already filled the palace, and you had arrived five minutes earlier. The tall door in front of you was open, two guards at each side of it. They bowed when you stepped foot, and you gave them a smile.

The place was enormous. Nothing like the rest of the palaces you had visited. You knew Sunghoon's kingdom was the wealthiest, yet you weren't ready for what you were about to see.

The walls were light brown, while gold details were decorating it. A line of flowers hung on the celling, creating a cross with the other one which started from the other side.

Lastly, a big white-clothed table was next to the door. Your stomach groaned seeing the delicious food, and you decided to pay it a visit.

"Ah, he is gonna choose her for sure!" A woman next to you at the table said. She was holding a glass of red wine, drinking small sips here and there. The other women in front of her had signifying cat eyes.

"Don't say that. You are like one of the prettiest princesses in South Korea as well." The cat-eyed women comforted her, taking a sip from her white wine. None was eating like you did, and the bread in your hand fell back down when you noticed it.

"Not when she is here!" The complaining women replied, pointing at someone with her finger. Your eyes went by themselves in the direction, curiosity washing over you.

And you recognised the princess by the minute you led eyes on her. Jang Wonyoung. The most beautiful princess of South Korea.

Her parents, along with Sunghoon's ones, had already decided a long time ago to pair them together. Their unmatched beauty and witty mind would create the perfect future kingdom.

That's when you realized that this ball was only typical. The wife had already been chosen, the rest of you had come here for the humiliation.

"Welcome people. I am so delighted with your visit to celebrate together my son's twenty birthday." The king of the palace took everyone's attention, and the once loud room fell silent.

"And, of course." He continued. "To find his future wife." The man was sitting at the throne at the back of the room. Next to him was his wife, and then Sunghoon.

The king was so sure about his first son that he didn't make more like the rest of the kings usually did. Sunghoon's cold gaze found his father, and then his guests.

His eyes alone made you shiver. It was like an invisible armor protected him, making him feel better than others. Well, more sure than others. He had the face, and that's all he needed to win.

"The dance may start!" And with that, the piano began playing. And the violin next to it joined as well. The eyes of the ten princesses for Park Sunghoon, were on him.

He must choose a princess to dance with.

People hadn't started yet to feel the music. All eager and curious about his decision. Sunghoon's eyes wondered around the princesses. Starting from the first till the last. However, he gave clues with his gaze which stopped a bit on certain ones.

And guess what, his eyes almost completely skipped you. He was quick to move to the one next to you, not even moved by your friendly smile. You scoffed under your breath, and the princess next to you heard it.

"I know, right?" The women who was complaining from before whispered to you. Now that you could take a proper look at her, you saw how pretty she actually was. And you also finally recognized her.

"Princess Yuna, you are prettier than her." And you didn't lie. In your eyes, she was gorgeous. Shin Yuna smiled at you, her face titling to the side.

"Thank you!" Was all she replied and turned back to Sunghoon. You felt a little annoyed that she didn't return the compliment, but you brushed it off.

"Jang Wonyoung."

"Perfect! Let's dance!" Wonyoung's smile reached her ears, rushing to the black-haired prince. He didn't return the smile. He stayed cold like always.

"Of course the ice prince would choose her. We can't compete against Wonyoung." Yuna turned to you again, her previous smile long gone.

"Wait, how did you call him?"

"Ice prince. You didn't know? Everyone calls him like that." No, it was your first time hearing it. However, a tiny smile creeped on your lips. 'Yes, the nickname suited him perfectly.' you thought.

"Yuna, what do you say for a walk around the garden?" You asked, wanting to leave the crowded room. Even if you didn't like Sunghoon's personality, your chest hurt to see him dancing with another princess.

"Yes, please!"

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

"He is a dick!" Yuna suddenly shouted, your eyes becoming wide. "But a very handsome dick." She sighed and furrowed when she noticed your surprised state. "What? Princesses can't curse? My father is not here anyway. I can do whatever I want."

She scoffed and started walking towards a bench. It was outside of the ballroom, and the music flew through the walls. You clenched your jaw, pictures of Sunghoon and Wonyoung flying back in your mind. And Yuna seemed to have the same memories, because her eyes became watery.

"No, Yuna-"

"Are we really that average next to Jang Wonyoung?!" She shouted, her hands shaped into fists. You didn't know what to reply. Yuna was breaking down in front of you and all you could do was stare. But after that, she felt better.

She cried a few tears, yet after that she was so happy. Her suppressed emotions escaped her chest. Now she was back in her calm state, a small smile on her lips.

Maybe if you express those emotions too, you wouldn't feel that hurt.

"But he is so handsome-"

"And what? What else is he?" You stood up from the bench and Yuna's eyes got wide. "He is nothing more than a handsome face. It's really annoying how he thinks he rules the world because he was born pretty. But you know what? He is dump and boring!"

"No Y/N-"

"His face doesn't cover for his falling grades and his poor etiquette skills. He is rude to everyone and looks us down. But you know what? Park Sunghoon is the dump one for thinking his face can solve anything!"

"Y/N stop-"

"Someone has to bring that ice prince back into reality! Make him realize that he is nothing else than a rude asshole!"

"Ice prince?" The male voice behind you made you froze. Yuna stood up, big-eyed, to see the man behind you. Looking at Yuna, frightened, she nodded at you, and you didn't want anything else to understand who was behind you.

"Prince Sunghoon." Yuna bowed, raising up the edges of her dress. Slowly turning around, you took some steps back, realizing how actually close he had come. His hands were interlocked behind his back, while his head had leaned down at your height.

Your breath got caught at the back of your throat seeing him. Maybe you were lucky enough, and he hadn't heard his name. However, his gaze told you something different. It wasn't his cold, usual one.

He was burning your face with his dark brown orbs. Every part of it turning into ash. You swallowed a hard knot down your neck, not daring to compete against his intense eye contact.

"And who are you exactly?" He asked, a teasing tone hiding in his voice. You couldn't believe in your unluckiness. The one moment you decided to talk. Yuna minutes before was saying even harsher things, yet now she was silent in front of him.

"I asked you a question." He repeated when your mouth stayed close. You wanted to ask him what was he doing out here. Wasn't he supposed to dance with his future wife? But clearly in the situation you were, you couldn't even form a word.

"P-princess Y/L Y/N."

"Mmh." He hummed in approval, straightening his back. His eyes looked at you up and down with his usual critical gaze. His chin was raised, looking down at you like he was doing to everyone.

"Um, I-i am sorry." Suddenly Yuna interrupted, going to stand in front of me. "I am princess Shin Yuna. My kingdom is-"

"I don't care." His words shut Yuna's mouth, a gasp escaping from her. Even if you could only see her back, you could imagine her glittery eyes. She wanted to marry Park Sunghoon more than anyone else, despite her prior words.

Sunghoon took the road back to the ballroom, leaving me and Yuna behind. Yuna spun around, her jaw hanging open. You didn't look at her, your eyes instead on the grass. The humiliation from before wasn't enough. When he almost completely skipped you.

You were sure that you were the princess he had noticed the least. He didn't even know you, or your name. And after your words, he wouldn't even consider you as a friend.

"The ceremony is starting soon. We should go." Yuna informed you, and you nodded. The ceremony in which Park Sunghoon will pick the princess he wants to be with. The princess that is going to accompany him from now on till forever.

The ten princesses were in line in front of him, while his parents sat at the thrones behind him. He knew what he should do. Jang Wonyoung was smiling warmly at him. She knew too.

"So, my son. Which princess are you choosing to create memories with and born the next king after you?" The king said, a smile on his lips. They knew already the results. Yet his final answer shocked everyone.

"Princess Y/L Y/N."

"What?!"

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

"Welcome to our palace, your highness." A butler said, pushing open the door. You could tell from everyone's expression that they didn't expect you here.

"Your room is next to the prince's. Let us settle your things." The butler took from your hands roughly the suitcase, rushing with the maid up the stairs.

Your maid had informed you that the palace had been deep cleaning since yesterday morning. The glasses were glittering against the sunlight and the floor was still slippery.

All those preparations. Yet they weren't for you. They had made a deal and Sunghoon broke it. People probably still wonder what you are doing here instead of Wonyoung. But to be honest, you didn't know what you were doing here either.

"You arrived." The queen acknowledge you, her son standing behind her. You bowed at her majesty, nodding at her words. Your gaze immediately went on Sunghoon, whose stone cold expression never left his face.

"Sunghoon, once our maid is done, you shall show her the bedroom. We choose the best one for you."

"Thank you so much, appreciate it." And with that, the queen left. Now you and Sunghoon could talk freely, without hiding behind your masks.

"Why did you choose me?" You hurried to ask him. Judging from his face, he was waiting for that question. It stayed exactly the same, not a muscle moved. It had already become tiring trying to read past him.

"Not even a good morning, or a bow?" He asked ironically, stepping closer. Whatever you did, it felt like he was above you. The power he held was stronger than anyone's and it made you weak on your knees.

"Good morning. Why did you choose me?" You repeated, and he frowned at the pressure. 'A good achievement for a starter.' you thought. "I-i mean, I said a-all those things."

"That's none of your business." He was quick to end the conversation, not giving you any more space. It felt so weird. Minutes before, the dress you were wearing was enough to warm you, yet now it felt too light.

He was really the ice prince.

"Prince Sunghoon." The maid from before came down, gaining Sunghoon's attention. He took some steps back from you, turning towards her. "Her room is ready."

Your nose scratched in annoyance at the maid. She was in a lower class that you, but she called you 'her'. Even the workers here didn't want you.

It made you sad. Your chest was heavy as you walked up the stairs, trailing behind Sunghoon. You would live here alone, without even your dear maid or your brothers. Here, everyone hated you.

'Sunghoon, I hate you.'

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

Life with Sunghoon was better than you thought. On the first days, you cried yourself to sleep. Gripping the blankets, trying to drown your sobs. However, as the time passed, people seemed to get more comfortable with you here. Sunghoon as well.

"You play the piano too?" His long fingers gently pushed on the piano's buttons, creating the melody that was currently entertaining you.

You had gone to the library to pick up a romance novel. Something good to pass your time, since Sunghoon wasn't the most talkative person. His schedule was full anyway, so you barely saw him through the day.

This moment was one of the few ones that you caught a glimpse of Sunghoon. A piano was laying across the library, next to the bookshelf that contained your favorite novels.

"Of course I do. Every prince should know at least two instruments." He replied, taking his eyes off of the piano for a moment to look at you. "You don't?" His gaze travelled up and down, raising an eyebrow at you.

"Um, my father made me learn harp, but I must admit I am not good at it." You scratched the back of your neck, an awkward smile on your lips.

Suddenly, you felt self-conscious about your lack of knowledge. Usually you didn't fear admitting that you only played piano. Instead, you supported your unusual decision.

However, seeing how perfect was Sunghoon, made you feel worthless for him.

"Alright." Was the only thing he said, turning back to his work. Seeing him so peacefully hitting the notes made your stomach twirl. The sunlight was caressing his face. But its warmth annoyed him and he closed the curtain.

"W-what are you doing?" Your figure slipped next to his, pushing him aside a little to sit next to him. Your bodies were stuck together at the small seat, your bare arm brushing against his clothed one.

Your finger tapped on the button, creating a noise. Once you got more comfortable, you began playing normally. You tried to copy Sunghoon's prior melody, waiting for him to join you. Yet that moment never came.

Sunghoon could feel his heart beating fast. It was the first time another person made him feel nervous. He was used to making others feel uncomfortable with just his presence. Now his cheeks were on fire, and the fear that you would notice got over him.

He stood up, turning his back to you in order to hide himself. That's when you realized what you had done. You stood up as well, looking at his back.

"I-i am sorry." You said, not knowing what to do. "Continue playing. I am gonna find a book." You rushed back to the shelves, before you could hear what Sunghoon had to say to you.

This was not good. You had started liking Sunghoon, and it was not good.

Going back to your room, you made a promise to yourself.

'Don't fall for Park Sunghoon.'

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

The promise soon enough broke when today's incident happened.

"I am sorry. Do you know where prince Sunghoon is?" You stopped a maid, placing a hand on her shoulder. She was holding a basket of dirty clothes against her right hip. Glancing at them, you recognised the suit as Park Sunghoon's.

"Yes, he currently takes a bath, your highness."

"Alright, thank you so much." You let her go, sighing to yourself. The butler had told you to call Park Sunghoon, because they have to talk about something.

Going down to inform him about where the prince was, he replied that it was okay. He even mentioned that once he was out, it would be a pleasure for him to call Sunghoon down.

So that's what you did. You waited some minutes and went up to his room.

First knock, nothing. Second knock, nothing. Your hands began to sweat, thinking that maybe you should wait for him down. However, the door opened without needing Park Sunghoon.

'He had left it open? Or the maid from before?'

Taking slow steps inside, you looked around. It was empty, and the running water indicated that he was still showering. With that on mind, you should have left. But instead, you walked further to his room.

It was way bigger than yours. His bed was in the center of the room and next to each side was one small table. To the one in the left had a candle and a letter. The one on the right was empty.

Your fingertips brushed on the letter, feeling the hard paper. It was plain white and already opened. The paper from inside was peaking, begging you to read it.

You bit down on your lip, shaking off the sinful thoughts. One step back to exit his room, only for you to rush back in. The water was still running. Maybe you had time. You wouldn't read it whole, just the name of the sender.

What strange power had pushed you to do that? Any second Sunghoon could walk in, and then all those friendly feelings would vanish. But you shouldn't care, you don't like him anyway.

Then if you don't, why your heart dropped at the name?

"Jang Wonyoung?"

"What are you doing here?" You hadn't noticed how the water was no longer heard. The letter flew out of your hands, falling on the floor instead of the table you were aiming for.

Sunghoon was right in front of you. Only a towel hanging around his waist. Water was still dripping down his body, caressing his hard abs.

You knew Sunghoon was very fit. He did horse riding every day and practiced dancing three times a week. Your gaze wouldn't leave his figure when his clothes were too tight on his body. Plus points if he was wearing a white shirt.

A lot of fantasies had taken over your head at the sight of him. Imagining how his body looked like under those heavy clothes. And how his skin would feel under your hand.

"Sunghoon!" You covered your eyes, cheeks red as dirty thoughts filled your head. On the other hand, Sunghoon didn't mind that you saw him like this. He even seemed to enjoy your flustered state. You swore you could see a smirk growing before closing your eyes.

That made your will to open them bigger. You were so eager to see Sunghoon pull off another expression. Actually, that was your only comfort and entertainment here. But now you were guilty, and your eyes wouldn't open.

"What is that?" He asked, the smirk from his lips dropping. His attention went on the letter scattered on the floor and his eyebrows furrowed. "Did you read it?"

"No, I swear! I-i am so sorry. Your butler asked me to call you and-" You stopped once you felt his hot breath hitting your neck. Your eyes were still closed, yet the warmth he brought you burned into your skin.

'Could the ice prince be more than just a cold prince?'

The water drops from his hair landed on your face, rolling down from your cheek till your jaw. Your fingers parted, leaving a small line open. Only to make eye contact with Sunghoon. His bored eyes were gazing into yours.

He lowered his body down. Right hand holding the towel, while the other going down with him. Your hands left your face, seeing his fingers hold the letter. 'Oh no.'

"Are you sure you didn't?" He asked once again, standing up to wave the letter in your face. You could see it from his eyes. He didn't believe you. However, you wouldn't let your guard down. You swallowed a hard knot, your eyes pinned on the floor.

"Y-yes."

"Did you see who send it?"

"N-no."

"Stop lying." He came closer to you, his fingers brushing the skin of your hands. It was meaningless to lie to him. He already knew the truth. Sunghoon had seen how fast your eyes went by the letter. And how wide they got once you saw her name.

"Y-yes. I am sorry." A breathy giggle left from his chest. Looking out of the window, then back at you while licking his lips. The smirk came back. Oh, how much more it suited him than his bitter expression.

"And what? Are you jealous?" It was happening. There were all the signs. His head leaning closer to yours, then titling it to the side. Plump lips coming closer to yours, until you pushed him away.

"I am so sorry. I am going now!"

You didn't want to disappoint your parents, but the freedom tasted better. Settling for your parents' standards wouldn't bring that. Maybe that's the moment you have been waiting for.

Rushing back in your room, you reminded yourself of the promise you had made.

'I won't let myself fall into the ice prince's trap.'

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

"My butler advised me that we should sleep together tonight."

"What?!" A shout escaped your mouth at his words. After what happened yesterday in his bedroom, you were scared to even talk to him.

The maids had noticed that too. Every time Sunghoon tried to approach you, your body moved away. And every time he questioned you, and you couldn't escape the conversation, your reply would contain only one word. That word was either yes or a no.

You could see from Sunghoon's face that he was getting annoyed. When you ignored him, he would frown or clench his jaw. You admitted it that you felt bad for him. But involving yourself with him would result in unwanted emotions.

Sunghoon opened his bedroom's door, stepping aside to let you in. After his butler's demand, you couldn't do anything other than follow. It would be very suspicious for a couple to not want to sleep together.

"I am gonna change. Please settle yourself as I do." He said, disappearing into the bathroom. The room had stayed the same since last time. Simple and neat. Expect that the letter on the small table was gone.

He must have hidden it in his drawers. After you noticed it, he couldn't do anything else. But you wondered why would he choose you if he wanted Wonyoung instead. Or maybe he choose you, but regretted it?

It doesn't matter. You don't like him in reality as well. And tonight, you will prove it once again. At least that was your first plan.

"You can go change. I am ready." Sunghoon stepped out of the bathroom, revealing his pajamas. It was the first time you saw him in something other than his prince's suit. And he still looked gorgeous. Dark blue satin pajamas, covering him from head to toe.

Seeing his pajamas, you were too shy to wear yours. It was a cute night wear dress. Pink with lace at the edges. At least it reached down your knees, and it wasn't that short. However, one wrong move on the bed and it would ride up.

You swallowed a gulp, slowly stepping out of the bathroom. Sunghoon was sitting at the edge of the right side, a book in his hands. When he heard the door cracking, he raised his gaze to you. And his cheeks reddened.

He froze in place, eyeing you up and down. You had crossed your hands behind your back, your gaze firmly down. You let his eyes wonder on you, and you shifted awkwardly.

"Um, on w-which side of the bed you sleep?" He asked after clearing his throat. You noticed he had already claimed the right side, so you replied left.

"No, it's alright. You can continue reading." You said, watching Sunghoon closing the book and leaving it aside.

"No, I had finished the chapter anyway." He explained, adjusting himself on the bed. You walked to your side, sitting down. Then one leg came up, following the other, and your hand holding the edge of the night wear.

"Um, if you fell uncomfortable, ah. We don't have to do this."

"No, it's alright." It was your change to escape, but as the time passed you were only falling deeper into his sweet trap. He was fighting himself to keep his gaze away from you, till you covered your body under the blankets.

He couldn't believe he had you next to him. His body was already so warm, and with the blankets, it felt like he was on fire. Sunghoon pushed them a little lower from his chest, letting himself breathe.

That was not good. It was easy for him to contain his calmness before, but now he was losing control.

You turned your back to him, curling in your spot. It was obvious that you didn't want to sleep next to him, and his heart dropped. Looking around his bedroom, he finally closed the lights.

He was thankful you were so cold towards him, because if you weren't, he didn't know what he would do. The images in his mind were already sinful enough, and your excitement would make it worse.

"Goodnight." Your faint voice was heard, and his head turned towards you. A smile creeped on his lips, a smile that none had seen. You would kill to see that smile, but he did it only when you weren't looking.

"Goodnight." He replied, turning his back to you.

Morning came fast. A loud knock woke up Sunghoon while you were still sleeping.

"Yes?" He said, rubbing his eyes. It was his maid. She was announcing that you must come down for breakfast. Sunghoon promised you will be down in a minute, and her footsteps faded.

The hand rubbing his eyes went back to its place, humming a bit before closing his eyes. Yet they popped open when he felt exactly what he was touching.

He was still shocked about how you ended up between in his arms. Your small body curled up in his chest, your hands resting on it. He had wrapped his hands around your body. One under your head, caressing softly your hair, while the other on your back.

Sunghoon took his hand away from your back, sitting up a little. He was breathing fast. And he placed his free hand on his chest to calm himself down.

You shifted a bit, and his eyes got wide. His body fell back on the bed, afraid to wake you up.

He shouldn't have chosen you. He knew this might happen, but he didn't think it would be so soon. However, he liked it. Sunghoon's fingertips began twirling the strands of your hair, and you hummed at his touch.

The smile on his lips was getting bigger while his hand discovered more of you. From your hair, it went on your cheek. Drawing a variety of shapes on your skin, your eyes finally opened.

The last shape was a heart, before you flew up. Escaping from his hands, you sat up. Sunghoon mimicked your action, both looking at each other. You were big-eyed, and he had that smile. Your heart skipped at the sight, cheeks heating up.

His smile only added to his beauty. One that you could stare at forever.

"Sunghoon-"

"Breakfast is ready!" The maid cut you off, knocking again at the door. Sunghoon's smile dropped, fixing his hair before standing up. He had forgotten about that.

"We will talk about it another time, Y/N."

"What time?" Sunghoon took his freshly washed clothes, entering the bathroom.

"Today, at 7:00 am, garden." He said, closing the door behind him. Your finger checked your pulse, which was speeding up dangerously fast.

Maybe a future with Sunghoon wouldn't be so bad after all?

.・゜゜・　　・゜゜・．*Time Skip*

You had come five minutes earlier, curiosity eating you out. Biting your nails, you reminded yourself that you were a princess. But who cares? You didn't want that title.

"Hello." Sunghoon behind you said, and you turned around. The sun hit his face, turning his dark brown eyes into a honey like colour. His hair was messy, and he was in his horse riding uniform.

You liked that side of him. The raw beauty of Park Sunghoon, and not the unrealistic one the rest saw. Under the sun, some face scars were visible, and small pores on his nose. Like a normal person, and not a porcelain doll.

"If I remember right, you had mentioned something about wanting to try horse riding?" Your eyes widened, realizing the reason for his appearance.

It was true; you had told him that you would like to try horse riding. However, you weren't allowed to do so since you were a female. But you loved horses. They looked so elegant and were so kind.

"No, Sunghoon-"

"Oh, don't worry. I will help you." He said, taking your hand in his. Then he drove you towards the stable, where all the horses were. "That's mine." His finger pointed at the only black horse on the stable, and a giggle left your mouth.

'Of course he would choose this one.'

"Choose your horse, and we are ready to go." Your eyes travelled around the thousand horses. You didn't have any particular colour in mind, but the plain white one caught your eye.

"I will take the one that its colour is the opposite of yours." You said, smiling teasingly at Sunghoon. He smirked in response, going towards the one you wanted.

"Was that supposed to imply something?" He asked, bringing the horse close to you.

"Maybe."

"Yes, but you should know that love and hate are two sides of the same coin. With simllar way we can perceive white and black." You caressed softly the horse, and Sunghoon handed you a carrot.

"Mmh, and which one are you, Sunghoon? White or black?" He didn't reply, instead he smirked wider at you.

Sunghoon guided you to feed the horse, then put on the equipment, and helped you settle on it. At first, you were terrified. Your hands were trembling, gripping as hard as you could the saddle. Sunghoon was laughing at you, and your hand pushed playfully on his shoulder.

You thought he wouldn't look prettier after you saw his smile, but his laugh was angelic.

"Are you alright?" Sunghoon got more serious now, since you were ready to start your ride. Your fingers were still twitching, scared at the new experience. Yet you comforted him with a thumbs up, and the ride began.

Sunghoon was patient, going unbearably slow for you. The green paths you crossed were everything, and you whished you could ingrave them forever in your mind. You whished you had practiced more in drawing. So you could carry the scenery on the paper forever.

The sun started going down, and by the time you came back, it was night. The moon had replaced the sun, indicating it was time to go back. You were sure the maids would have gotten worried, but Sunghoon didn't care about it.

It was the first time you saw Sunghoon so free. And the first time you felt so free.

"Here." Sunghoon stretched out his hand, and you placed yours into his. You gave him a tight squeeze, and the other held his right shoulder. Once your feet were on the ground, you raised your gaze at Sunghoon.

He wasn't leaving your touch. His hand still interlocked with yours, while his other was on your arm. You blushed, clearing your throat. Your hands tried to move, but Sunghoon's grip was stronger.

"Y/N, why don't you give me a change?" He blurted, and your eyes popped open in surprise.

"W-what?"

"Since day one, you have been distant from me. Don't you think this could work out?" Emotions flooded in your heart. A unique experience for you.

You thought you could manage it. You thought that a relationship with Sunghoon would be good. But now that he says all those things to you, no words come from your mouth.

"Y/N-"

"Why Wonyoung send you a letter?" The question you wanted to ask since you saw her letter. It finally left your mouth, taking Sunghoon aback. He furrowed, anger building up in him.

"You don't think I secretly talk with Wonyoung or something?"

"I don't know what to think." You replied, and his grip loosened up a little. His hands left yours and fell to his sides. You shouldn't have said it, but you needed an explanation.

"She send me this letter, because I was supposed to choose her. I mean, everyone knew about our parents' deal. But I didn't reply back to her."

"Why?"

"Because I love you." Your shoulders tensed up, looking at Sunghoon's raw emotions drowning him. The ice prince had opened up, and his feelings were anything but cold.

"Sunghoon, I don't want to be a princess."

"Then don't be."

"But what about you?" Sunghoon stepped closer to you, leaning to your eye level.

"I will follow you."

"No, Sunghoon. I don't want to hold you back-"

"You won't." He cut you off, taking your hand back into his. Then he brought it closer to his lips and placed on it a light kiss. You couldn't stop the hot tears rolling down your cheeks, but Sunghoon kissed them all away. One by one.

"Sunghoon, I love you too. But I want my freedom."

"And?" He asked, his hand leaving yours. That same hand then rested on your waist, while the other brushed off some strands of your hair behind your ear.

"Y/N, let's be free together."

And with that, he smashed his lips on yours.

___________________

A/N: Fun fact; this whole one shot was insipired by a tik tok edit. To be honest, I rushed a little the ending bc otherwise it would be way too longggg. That's it, requests are open!

© all rights reserved to me — i do not allow anyone to copy, translate, or repost my works. all my stories are purerly fictional.

[lightlycareless]

Naoya's reaction when y/n's thighs expand 3 times its size when she sits down. For my girlie's that have thick thighs 🙏🙏 plus me. Serious insecurity but damn wouldn't that be Naoya's 2nd favourite thing after tiddies. Definitely would give some criticism that y/n don't exercise enough and that's why her thighs are like that,but would br also smother his face between her thighs? Yes

Hello anon!!

Ngl when I first read this ask (the beginning) I was like HUH? But then I read the rest and was like ugh same. I kind of relate to what you feel, that plus chafing and what not 💀

ANYWAYS I hope you enjoy this debauched piece. :) ehehehe dunno what was going through my head but I liked it.

warnings: NSFW. THOUGH NOT DETAILED, THERE'S SMUT. MINORS DNI. Naoya and the Zen'in are perverts, some more explicit than others. Also misogynistic views, unwanted commentary about bodies.

Happy reading!

You know what I was thinking?

Naoya being so obsessed with your body, that the moment he sees you he doesn’t even bother to make formal introductions or anything; nope.

He just needed to see you sit down one time, one time, unwittingly getting a very detailed look of how your thighs just become bigger underneath your skirt, alongside the adorably cute way you attempted to tug the edge down to avoid revealing too much (Naoya had seen more than enough at that point, of course he did.) and that was it for him to know you’d be the perfect wife.

So, fast forward a few weeks, after making the right arrangements, you’re effectively married to him, “happily” living in the Zen’in estate, where he can keep an eye on you, close to whenever he might need to make use of your wifely commitments—but most importantly, underneath constant scrutiny that not even your role as future Lady of the House could save you from.

The torments you’re subjected to here aren’t ones you haven’t heard before, in fact, you’ve heard enough of them to not care anymore…

But perhaps being married to Naoya, something that many cautioned would probably never happen due to your appearance, was enough to finally make them hurt.

His family just couldn’t… wrap their mind around the fact that from all women in the world, literally anyone else, he chose you: the epitome of laziness as they’d like to say. The sheer example of not being able to control one’s selfish desires in favor of temporary satisfaction.

In a world where thinner, athletic physiques were encouraged, you sure stood out like a sore thumb.

It wasn’t your fault, though. Some people were simply born that way, with different genetics and there was nothing wrong with that.

But to them, that was not enough of an excuse, if there ever was one; and once you heard for the last time how Naoya was simply tolerating you because, well, because of some unknown reason, you had enough.

You were tired of constantly hearing them belittling your worth, comparing you to whichever woman they brought along to hopefully convince Naoya into divorcing you—or at least sow his seeds on a more suitable candidate; a fact made worse when he seemingly didn’t put a resistance to their invitations, chipping away at your confidence.

And above all, you were exhausted of unwittingly highlighting the faults in your relationship, the clear signs that Naoya was never truly happy with you, such as those scarce moments of intimacy the two shared. Those that you didn’t think much of, outside of fear and pain, for he never struck you to be the kind, patient lover (and he wasn’t).

But now that these issues were highlighted… you could only feel sorrowful.

Naoya, while insatiable when it comes to lust, seemed to have only spent the night with you for political reasons. To fulfill his duty of securing the future of the Zen’in—not because he ever harbored desire for you.

Yet, why did you even expect otherwise? For he too demeaned you with cruel commentaries, and with the one thing you were mostly self-conscious about…

“You know, your thighs wouldn’t be that big if you actually worked out or something…”

“Don’t wear that. I don’t want you to show your legs—it’s already unbefitting a woman, but in your case… well, it’s only necessary.”

That was more than enough to finally push you to the edge and do the one thing many were constantly pestering you about: not to eat. Though in your defense, it’s not like you felt like doing so anyways, the voices and faces of those that hurt you were quick to put you back in your place if you even did as little as consider it, ruining your appetite.

And you managed to keep this way for a few days, at least until you began to grow sick, tired, unable to tend to your duties as you did before, which did not escape your staff’s attention, and subsequently, Naoya’s.

“What the fuck is wrong with you??” Naoya would exclaim first thing upon returning from a mission; tired. The last thing he wanted to do was deal with the complaints of your lacking commitment, the only goddamn thing you had to do around the estate. “To go ahead and cause problems to my family, taint my name—have you got no shame?!”

“I didn’t mean to…” you murmur, yourself tired as well, due for other reasons, made worse by Naoya’s reproach.

“Then do you mind explaining what the hell were you thinking? What were you planning to do? Get my attention??” He frowns. “Dramatic, but what else could I expect from a woman like you?”

“Please, Naoya… I don’t feel like arguing…”

“No, of course not. You don’t feel like doing anything, do you? Not even eating!” He remarked. “What? Trying to lose some weight, now? Is that what’s gotten into your mind?”

You remain silent, giving him enough of an answer. He laughs.

“So it is that!” He boasts. “I can’t believe it, Y/N! I didn’t think you’d be so stupid to actually do that!”

“Leave me alone…” you whisper, tears beginning to pool around your eyes.

“To what? Puke your guts out, now? Don’t be stupid!” Naoya continues to jest. “I knew women were desperate, but I didn’t think you’d break the mold!”

His words, perhaps out of your already brewing insecurities, or simply because you’ve grown tired of his mockery, wash you over with an unprecedented wave of anger, dropping your heart to the pit of your stomach as you sharply turn around, ready to take a stand for yourself once and for all.

“And why do you care so much, hm, Naoya?!” You cry. “Weren’t you also one of those that always bothered me about my weight? About how embarrassing I am to your name simply because of the way I look?!”

He flinches, startled by your reaction at first, but soon angered by it as well.

“I won’t tolerate your disrespect—” he frowns, yet you don’t let him continue.

“You even ask me to cover myself up!” you gasp. “You’re so—you’re so disgusted by how I look that you—you wouldn’t mind if I spent the rest of my life locked away so you won’t ever have to see—”

“Do you hear yourself?” Naoya seethes, taking your hand and pulling you to him with such strength that instantly startles you, making you squirm in reaction, trying to move away but he keeps you still, understanding you’ve officially made him furious. “Do you hear the stupidities you’re spewing?!”

“Leave—leave me alone.” You whimper, tears sliding down your cheeks. “You’re hurting me!”

“I ought to hurt you more for insulting me!”

“Insulting… you?” you repeat, confused. “How was this insulting to you?!”

“You think I’d let you walk around the estate like a whore? Let you display what’s mine?!”

“Naoya, you’re not—you’re not making any sense.” You respond, shame settling in your heart. “If you’re going to make fun of me—!”

“You’re fucking stupid, did you know that?” Is all that he says before pushing you against the wall, making you whimper when roughly hitting the wooden pillar behind, a noise that is quickly shut by his lips landing on yours, wasting no time for his tongue to battle yours, subduing you. “So fucking stupid…”

He’d murmur, you moan.

“Na—Naoya—” you breathe, torn apart by his desire and your confusion. Didn’t he… dislike you? “St—stop!”

“What is it that you wanted me to do? Stand aside as my family ogles at you?!”

“Don’t you mean—don’t you mean scrutinize?!” you gasp, flinching when his lips move from yours, down to your jaw, then neck… “Stop—stop mocking me!”

“I should feel offended by your stupidity, if anything.” He responds, pulling away from you to take a good look into your teary eyes—as if trying to assess if you really declared such atrocity, or if it was work of his own anguished mind. “Your blindness to acknowledge what I truly think of you.”

“They—they hate me.” You tremble, why would he want you to remember such an awful thing? “You hate me—”

“No, Y/N.” Naoya groans, pressing closer to you while taking your hand once more to move it down to his groin where his hardening cock was in full display for you to feel, destroying the perceptions you had of everything around you—around him. “This is what you make them feel— what you make me feel!”

“Nao—Naoya—” you tremble, trying to move away your hand from his growing length, intimidated that he somehow felt even bigger underneath your palm; giving the impression his desire for you right now was much stronger than any other instances. But… how? Or more likely, Why? “I don’t—I don’t get it—!”

“Do you really think I’d be blind to the way they stare at you? To their futile attempts of bringing you down, of changing you, just so they’d stop thinking what your skin feels like underneath their fingertips—or how sweet your cunt tastes like?” Naoya breathed, continuing to rub your hand against his cock, desperate to let you know how much he needs his release—how he wants to throw this senseless discussion away…

But not without declaring his upper hand, the one he always had with his family, of course. “But they can’t” He smirks. “The moment I saw you, I knew you’d be the perfect wife, the perfect mother for my children.”

The thought of harboring such desire from Naoya made your cunt tighten, the same way his cock twitches.

“They’re just jealous I got to you first.” He continues. “That I was able to see your worth just by your wide hips and ample bosom—you’re the epitome of femininity… but even better—

You’re all mine.”

“But you—but you said horrible things to me—” you cry, his lascivious words still not enough to remove the pain from those awful moments. “Why…?”

“Aw, my love.” Naoya chuckles, cupping your face with his hands and squeezing it so softly, making you pout, a face he always loved to incite from you, amongst others. “I just can’t help it; your reactions are so adorable; you simply make it too easy.”

His hands then travel down to the edges of your skirt, lifting your kimono just enough to reveal your smooth legs to him, the same ones he always had touch and kneed whenever you were close, the mere sight of them enough to make him further spiral into his desire—

If not anger when seeing the flimsy piece of cloth covering your cunt, fingers quick to grab the edge and rip it apart, letting out a quick gasp from your mouth.

“How many times have I told you to stop wearing these stupidities?!” He hisses. “You know damn well than to go against the words of your own husband!”

“But you—you hadn’t touched me.” You fret. “Since that night, we… you hadn’t—I didn’t think it was necessary.”

“You truly couldn’t be any dumber, could you? Just because I’ve been busy does that mean you can go on and disobey my words?” Naoya accuses with a jesting tone that serves to place the direction of his following actions. “My lovely wife is really that naive… luckily for you, I’m the one in charge of doing all the thinking, while you—you just have to stay like this, ready for me…

To take my cock like the good whore of a wife you are, with that lewd body of yours that is only mine. Exclaiming for me to give you a baby, make you a mother, make your hips wider, your breasts bigger, filled milk—”

And the way your body tightens against him, letting out a moan when his hands parted your legs, guiding his cock onto your dampened slit and gently pushed the head into you, let’s him know this desire has settled in the back of your mind for quite some time, but never revealed itself by the stupidities of his own family, his too undeniably.

But after these agonizing days away from you, forced so by his job, if not those insignificant whores his family brought in an attempt to push him away from you, failing to do so for he quickly discarded them as soon as they crossed his sight…

He’ll never let the opportunity to claim you pass again.

Naoya will do whatever necessary to drill that idea into that little, pathetic mind of yours, even if it means fucking you in the middle of the hallway, where all servants and relatives alike would be able to hear his message loud and clear.

The reality they could only dream of in their most desperate moments—but to him, it was only a matter of taking.

“Naoya—Naoya please—not here.” You whimper, your husband had effectively forced you onto the ground and made you take his cock, either from behind, hands and knees on the wooden floor as he teased and kneaded your ass and hips; he was an avid enjoyed of many positions, but this one had to be one of his favorite ones. To see your skin bounce whenever his hips slammed into you, savoring the way your lewd cunt swallowed him whole, down to the base, with no intentions of letting go, regardless of what you said, it was surprising he still had some restraint. “Please—they’re—they’re going to see!”

“Let them.” Naoya moans, the thought of being caught sends a shiver through his spine; and while it’s not something he necessarily advocated for, the constant, tiring need to be proving his authority over you is what forced him to do so. You might as well play along. “Let them hear how tight your cunt is around my cock! How only I can make you come undone like this—”

“N—No—I don’t—I don’t want…!” you whimper, but even when he changed positions, having you on top of him, giving him sight of the breasts he couldn’t wait to see grow when you’re inevitably pregnant, you still do not stop jumping on his cock, moving your hips up and down alongside his, clenching whenever hitting that sensitive spot that always had you seeing stars. “I don’t want to cum—!”

“Then maybe—Maybe you shouldn’t have this lewd body.” Naoya moans, truly believing that he would never be able to stop himself from using every inch of your body for his own pleasure—from fucking his cock between your soft thighs and boobs, admiring the way they completely cover his cock, drowning it in a combination of softness and his own seed, barely able to see where the tip of his head was…

To relieve that same sensation with his own face, asking you—no, demanding you to smother him with your thighs, a sensation that has him thinking if he were to die this way, cock hard, eased by your soft licks and moans, while deep in the sweet taste of your cunt, he wouldn’t mind it, not one bit.

In fact, he hopes that’s the way he goes.

But he’s in no rush to avoid enjoying the present, the warmth of your body besides him when the two eventually stop, careless to acknowledge if they ever gathered an audience, certainly so when Naoya’s mind was firmly set in getting you pregnant, as heard by his following words.

“I’ll see you tonight.” He declares. “It’s about time you give me a heir.”

And you do nothing but oblige, though you doubted all the cum nestled inside your cervix hadn’t done the job already.

“Naoya, you’re—oh!” You gasp when instead of waiting for you to stand up to properly greet him, he lowers down to your level, taking a seat before eventually resting his head over your lap, taking a deep sigh and resting for the first time after a long week of work. “Is… everything alright?”

In fact, you relished the idea. If it meant getting this side of Naoya’s desire, attention you didn’t think to be deserving of, or even capable of obtaining…. Then you were nothing but obedient.

“I’m tired.” He responds, adjusting himself into an even better position and sighing once more. “I don’t want to talk.”

So, you don’t, preferring instead to softly caress his head, moving some of his silky black threads away from his face and letting him relax, enough to dive into the beginnings of his slumber, but not before clearing his mind from one doubt.

“Our baby—”

“He’s fine.” You murmur, placing your hand over your stomach. It’s still very early during the pregnancy to know so, and yet, there was something about you that just made it so obvious that you were carrying a life inside you—

Perhaps it was the way you glowed, or how you became softer with him ever since it was first announced.

Though the latter was mostly the fact that you started to feel… wanted by your husband, a kind of desire that while far from perfect, was enough for you to change your perspective of this marriage, allowing you to open up to him, mostly so when Naoya now defended you from those unwanted comments from his family.

You’re carrying the future of the Zen’in, after all, some decorum must be maintained.

Yet something tells you his changed demeaner ran far deeper than what Naoya wanted to reveal. «All in due time» you suppose.

“I love you, and our baby too.” You say, instinctively taken by this calm moment of domesticity with your loving husband, not expecting a response considering his somewhat cold nature—only to be proven wrong when he turns around to see you, silently placing his gaze on yours in such way that initially makes you think you might’ve ruined this moment, just for him to pull you closer to him, taking your lips in a soft, quick kiss before returning to your lap, closing his eyes and sleeping.

He may not have said it, but the sentiment was the same, and that was enough for you to be happy.

Naoya is still a jerk, but I like to think he eventually got to genuinely care about you. Also, he got real lucky that one time he thought with his dick, imagine if you were a piece of shit too? NAH He'd lose it. He got real lucky that you were nice, I tell you...

Also, I'm still with the pregnancy stuff :) sorrynotsorry.

OH! and also!! It's safe to say that the things Naoya said are NOT a reflection of what I think!! Everybody is beautiful and deserving of love, no matter what body type ❤️

Now, thank you so much for sending this niche ask... I gotta say, I have been thinking about it since I do relate to it............... but I try to keep my work pretty open-ended so anyone can relate :) Still, if there's something you'd like me to write a bit more detailed, just let me know! I'll be sure to try my best tho, some I might reject if I don't feel like I know much about the matter....

Anyways, thank you so much for this ask ❤️ take care, and hope to see you soon ❤️

[lowtaperfeyd]

Feyd x diplomatic reader, think padme but she doesn't want to change feyd. Reader is the go to for diplomatic issues in lower houses/ minor politics and yet for all her words and actions when arranged to marry feyd she doesn't want to change him. " you would fight for me and defend me if needed it is only right I do the same, why try and change you when I respect who you are".

Uxorious Duties

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x fem!reader

author's note: slightly submissive feyd, but not sexual? Yes please!

warnings: death, mentions of death, blood, normal dune things, house harkonnen

wc: 1158

Being sent to Geidi Prime was not surprising for (Y/N). She was a go to for the emperor to send to planets and sort out political issues. The part she didn’t expect was being arranged to marry Feyd-Rautha. His actions were the surprising part. The way he fought and his prowess in and out of the arena. He was overconfident, even arrogant. But, since he was going to be the new governor of Arrakis. Why not give him a wife who could take care of business when he is off slaughtering. After all, is that not the duties of a wife? 

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

As (Y/N) was sitting in the mammoth Harkonnen dining room eating breakfast alone, she started to look over the letters she was sent from people who thought her marriage was a death sentence. That it was only good for securing a short alliance with houses that the Harkonnens wanted to import from. Everything went along the lines of, 

Your husband will kill you once you’re not of service. You’re nothing but a pawn for him.

Think twice before asking for mercy. That will make it more amusing when they kill you. 

You should've gotten away from the emperor when you had the chance.  Other places need you more. 

While she knew what she was getting herself into, the acceptance that she would die, at the hands of her husband, disturbed her.

Those feelings washed away when she watched him fight. It was entertaining for everyone watching and for Feyd-Rautha himself. But, for (Y/N), it was a testament of what he would do for his wife. The wedding day vows of him not letting anyone hurt her, touch her, or disrespect her. Because sure, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen was a harmful man who wasn’t afraid to kill, but that meant his wife could say whatever she wanted, no matter how vehemently, and who she said it to, could not disagree, out of fear for their life. It only took one time for this to be instilled, two days after they had gotten married. 

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“Na-Baroness Harkonnen, while your idea for this trading route is good. Compared to others it’s mediocre at best.” The imperial advisor scoffed, “Who ever said it was your place to make these things?” 

The other people at the sides of the table chuckled along with what he was saying. But (Y/N) knuckles were tensing up at just how hard she was gripping the arm of her chair at the head of the table. White hot anger flashed through her mind and over her eyes.  

The advisor kept on going, mocking her ideas and diminishing her accomplishments on other planets, saying they were mere flukes and shouldn’t have been taken seriously.

“... and your marriage to the Na-Baron,” he snorted out, not realizing that he was walking through the door now to listen in on what his wife had to say, “he chose an alien from a different planet, not a Harkonnen highborn. At least that shows to us you won’t be around for much longer, so we don’t have to look at your atrocious ideas anymore!” He finished, guffawing. 

“Are you done?” replied (Y/N), smirking, as she saw the angry look on her husband’s face, “because I think there is someone behind who would like to speak with you.” 

As the advisor turned around he saw Feyd-Rautha glaring at him. Before could say anything, Feyd grabbed him by the neck and threw him against the wall.

From the outside of the room, you could only hear the screaming of the poor advisor, who had dared to speak badly about the Na-Baron's new wife, as he had his head stomped in by the Na-Baron’s boot. 

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

The letters now seemed irrelevant to her now. She had a good life so far on Geidi Prime. She had respected and she had earned it too. But it did help to have a husband who invoked fear in those around him. Speaking of her husband, the doors opened and in walked Feyd. 

“Why are you here?” She questioned while looking up from her assortment of papers, letters, and documents, “Why aren’t you training?” 

“I finished early,” He uttered as he began to walk closer to the table with his bloodied knife still in his hands.

“While I don't mind you sitting with me,” She said, not surprised at the fact her husband had a knife that was covered in blood, “please clean your weapons off before coming to visit.” 

Feyd reluctantly took a cloth that was on the table and wrapped it around the knife before setting it down. 

“You say you don’t want to change me and yet you make me follow your rules.” Feyd retorted in slight irritation. 

“Rules don’t necessarily imply change, Feyd.” She responded, “I just don’t want blood on the table while eating. Iron is a very important part of one's diet, I don’t prefer it in the form of blood.” (Y/N) joked. 

“Then what do you want me to change!” he shouted angry at his wife for not asking him for anything, including change. Because he knew that’s something she strived for and he just wanted to make his wife happy. 

(Y/N) was not scared by his outburst, she had been witness to many of them, but none of them pointed at her before. 

“I don’t want to change you, Feyd,” She said as she got up from the table to walk to him, “you would fight for me, defend me if I needed it.” She stopped right in front of him and gently grabbed his forearm, “why should I try to change you when I respect who you are?” 

Feyd looked at his wife who treated him like an asset to herself. It surprised Feyd because he had never heard her say something about why she needed him. Only the reasons why she didn’t. But even then it wasn’t words that came from her, voices from other planets. The confession of his wife tugged at a place in his chest, a feeling that he hadn’t felt before. He took his rough hands that were calloused from fights and placed them on the soft skin of his wife’s jaw near her ears. 

“Then use me as your sword if someone needs slashing,” he whispered as he laid his forehead against his wife’s, “and use me when someone disagrees with your ideas and plans.” he continued softly, “If someone chooses not to hear you; I will make them, no matter the cost.” 

“Thank you” (Y/N) said softly, knowing she had that man right where she wanted him to be. She now knew that Arrakis would be hers if asked. And it was in her cards and plans to ask soon to take over spice production when they would leave, under the guise of allowing him to hunt down a well known fighter.        

And why would he say no to her?                   

[st4rgzer]

now playing…FORTNIGHT (spencer reid)

-“ˈfɔːtnaɪt: a period of two weeks”-

summary: in which your unlawful affair with fbi agent spencer reid must come to an end

genre: angst, flashback of fluff

cw!: allusions to cheating, kissing, inappropriate innuendos

a/n: this is acc so long but i promise its worth the read, first of many to come!

you watched as spencer methodically fiddled with his tie, a sign that no matter how loose he’d get it to be, it felt like he was choking. you grinned reminiscent, this had brought back to your mind the memory of your first date with him. except he had shorter, neater hair and a less bitter smile.

“how’s your wife” you said, pettiness laced in your words. your arms crossed over your chest, putting up invisible walls, distancing yourself mentally from him. pretending you weren’t thinking about how pretty he’d look under you.

“she’s…well.” he had given you a short, wary response. his eyes studied your face, landing on your lips, he licks his. most likely, he was trying to memorize everything, as if you were a fleeting moment. but you were. you were uncertain about his intents when his eyes wandered for a few seconds.

“how’s dan?” the word ‘dan’ came out with a petulant smile, and sour tone. flourishing the little likeness he had toward him.

the conversation bored you out of your mind. he was holding back. he could’ve said about a million things by now but he chose to keep silent, neglecting your tortured heart even more.

“i think he’s cheating on me, though im still not sure. but i have strong points on the subject, good reasoning” you say dismissively, looking down at your nails. the issue didn’t seem to faze you. after all, some could say you had committed certain behaviors that could allude as cheating.

spencer tried to bite back the grin that was forming on his face, he looked down to try and conceal it.

“i’m sorry about that…” his tone seemed untruthful. he wasn’t sorry about it, because he knew the things he’d done with you while both of you had a ring on your fingers.

you gnawed on your bottom lip. thinking of an ingenious comment that would make him laugh. a quip to start some friendly fire. something that could break through the crushing tension that lingered between the both of you, like thick vines wrapped around your neck, making you unable to speak.

‘i love you, it’s ruining my life’ was all that your brain could come up with, but of course, this wasn’t exactly the best thing to say given the setting and circumstances. but it was how you felt. you treasured every touch and every word, hanging onto every detail desperately. every fortnight that his wife would be out of town. it was unlawful, but, who were you to neglect an invitation with spencer reid? until then, your mornings are all mondays. stuck in an endless february. unable to move on from what should be yours.

you meet his gaze, regretting it almost immediately. knowing the lethal effects he had on you, like some sort of drunkenness that had turned you into a barely functioning alcoholic. his eyes change, his smile differs. he swallows, clearing his throat.

“we can’t do this anymore.” he speaks, his voice sounds brittle and unsure. you don’t break eye contact. you listen intently to his words.

“my wife…my wife knows that i don’t stay late at the BAU as much as i say i do.”

“im a profiler, i can lie but- it doesn’t take away from the fact that this can’t happen anymore.”

“i mean you know how i feel about you, i just- i just can’t keep up with the ruse. i love you and it’s ruining my life.”

your eyes widen at the last sentence, appalled. you tried to decipher spencer’s words. reading between the lines, seeking for some sort of clue that hinted towards the truth. if he loves you, why can’t he stay?

“okay…can we at least stay friends?” you ask him cautiously. even if it meant no more sneaking around, his eyes would at least stay in your life.

spencer swallowed harshly, your eyes lingering over his adam’s apple as he does so. he looks uncertain. you figure maybe his wife was the one with the real issue, not him. you wanted to kill her.

“sure” his voice was slightly above a whisper. he looked away. almost as if, if he continued to hold your gaze he’d had no choice but to give in. that’s what you wanted him to do, to cave in, like always. you wondered if this would be the last fortnight spent with him, and suddenly, realization hit you like a 10 ton truck. you looked down as well, confidence derailing.

“but you’re still my best friend, spence” your voice was nearly a whimper, sounding like a wounded dog. you look up at him with glassy eyes. tilting you head to the side slightly, eyebrows furrowed as you try to control your emotions. you look down, hands fidgeting nervously.

“yes, of course…we just can’t have those benefits anymore” he wants to do nothing more than to grab you and hold you in his arms. to say sorry for everything he had put your through. instead he looks to the waiter.

“check, please” he clears his throat and hopes the sound of his tearing heart isn’t too loud as you look up to look at him with tear rimmed eyes. you bite your bottom lip to stop it from trembling. spencer pays the tab, leaving a generous tip. you get up from your seat, incapable to look at spencer in the eye.

you don’t notice him stepping towards you. your breath hitches as you stare up at him, the closest you’ve been to him all night. his calloused hand cups your cheek, fingers tracing your face, to your under eye. you blink, cursing yourself internally as a tear slips. you look away. he sighs, wiping the tears carefully with his thumb.

“im sorry, you know what i’d do if i could…if things were different” his words are just more salt to fresh cuts. even if he sounded regretful, even if he was sorry, you still had the right to be sad.

“it’s fine, you aren’t mine, i shouldn’t be this sad” you harshly take a step back, wiping your eyes with the back of your hand. his mouth stays slightly agape at your sudden movement. he bites down at his lip, sighing, admitting defeat. you were right, he was never yours and you were never his. two parallel lines who never got the chance to see what could’ve been if the circumstances were different.

he had corrupted you, nights that belonged to only you would fade into a memory. the touches that lasted a fortnight. the feeling of his hands in your hair, your clothes on his bedroom floor.

you loved him, and it was ruining your life.

“goodbye, reid” you tone was purposefully cruel, and the choice of using his last name. you looked at him for a second, fighting the instinct of kissing him as a goodbye. he stared with pitiful eyes as you walked away, bell chiming as you opened and closed the door. for a moment he regretted everything said, wishing to just run away and live in the mountains, to follow through on that quiet life you had both talked about when the night passed 3am. tangled in bedsheets. he curses his eidetic memory for remembering your tearful expression, comparing it to the soft, sweet smile you had on every time you left him. can he erase every curve, every dimple he knew you had, every tiny change in your expression he could read like a book, over and over? no, he will be cursed with the gift of knowing, just like you’ll be cursed with the sound of his voice. soft and tender, the sound of his whispers of foreign words against your ear.

“Я тебя обожаю.” his voice is quiet, nose brushing against your neck as he places soft kisses against it. you giggle at the ticklish feeling, grabbing his face delicately to stop him.

“what does that mean?” you ask with a smile, pressing gentle kisses to the bridge of his nose, his face heating up in your hands.

“i adore you” he grins, leaning against your hand and kissing it.

“i know that but what does the sentence mean?” he rolls his eyes as you break out laughing, throwing your head over his shoulder, giggling as if it was the funniest joke you had ever told. you look up at him, both of you grinning widely as he places a proper kiss against your lips.

he loved you, it was ruining his life.

[delulu-is-the-solulu-843]

Me or the ps3

Abby Anderson x fem reader

Summary: you have a day off and want to spend it with your girlfriend, only issue is she won’t put down that damn game

Warnings: smut, arguments, threatening to leave, cursing, fingering, cunnilingus, strap on mention.

-

You never minded when Abby would come home from work and play a video game to decompress, that would make you a hypocrite because you did the exact same thing. You didn’t care that Abby played video games,hell the reason you two met was because of a video game. But what you did mind was when a video game saw more of your girlfriend than you did.

Which brought you to where you are now,sitting next to Abby on the couch as she played. You go between watching her and the tv. You watched her as she played, the way her fingers would move over the controller, the way her muscles would tense at certain parts of the game. She looked mouth watering in her black boxers and grey wife beater (or a wife pleaser as she would call it.)

that just made you even more mad because it’s been a good week since she’s touched you, you could understand why most times during the week she didn’t feel like being intimate, you both have to get up early for work. You understood and respected that, but it was a Saturday, Saturday was always the day you both stayed in bed and became reacquainted with each other.

But apparently not today because Abby was already out of bed when you woke up and playing that damn game. You didn’t even want sex right now you just wanted your girlfriend.

She was right next to you but she felt a thousand miles away. It wasn’t like you were trying either when ever you tried to talk to her all you got was a mumbled

“hold on babe” as she continued playing and even if you tried talking to her about the game, because maybe you thought talking about something that interested her would get her to at least have a conversation failed because all you got in return was a distracted

“there’s some really good summaries of it online” her eyes never leaving the screen.

You loved Abby but you couldn’t take this. You sighed at got up hoping that maybe abby would ask yoy to stay because then she at least acknowledged your existence but all you got was a “don’t walk in front of the tv” you rolled your eyes and walked behind the couch and going up stairs.

You opened up your shared closet and grabbed your luggage out of it. You loved Abby you truly did do. She’s the woman you intend on spending your life with, but right now you couldn’t deal with her.

You had to go before you do or say something you regret. So you start opening draws and putting clothes in the bag(and you steal one of her hoodies from the closet to put in the bag) you go down stairs and put the bag by the door, and of course Abby is still playing her damn game. You go up back up stairs your footsteps a bit heavy aggravation at the forefront of your mind.

A leg cramp from sitting so long is what made Abby pause the game, she sat up straight from where she was hunched and saw you weren’t next to her on the couch anymore.

She twisted her body trying to crack her back when she saw it. Your suit case next to the door. Her blood ran cold, why was your suit case by the door? You never said anything about having to go somewhere, you wouldn’t just up and leave her right?

She took her headphones off and put her controller on the coffee table and rushed

upstairs

“Baby?” she called out

She could hear your angry mumbling from the bathroom

“Babe?” She asked walking into he bathroom to see you putting your toothbrush in your full toiletry bag

“What are you doing?” She asked apprehensively almost like she was afraid of what your answer would be

“I’m leaving Abby.” You told her flatly and you could see her heart break

“What? Why?” She rushes over to you her hand holding you arm and your snatch it from her grasp

“Don’t act like you don’t fucking know.”

“I don’t!”

“I just wanted to spend time with you but no you chose your stupid fucking game. I just need to go Abby I can’t do this right now.” You tell her brushing past her to walk out the bathroom

“Baby wait please” she follows you

You sit on the bed to put your shoes on and she kneels In front of you and you do your best to ignore her.

“(Y/n) please can we just talk.” Her voice cracks and you look at her. Her blue eyes wet with tears that threaten to fall

“Please can we just talk and if you still want to leave after I won’t stop you.”

You were quiet for a moment, you were angry but you knew that talking was better than just leaving.

“Okay.” You tell her and she stands up and sits on the bed leaving some space between the both of you.

“Why were you going to leave?” As asks looking over at you

“I just needed to get away before I said something I regret.” You tell her still looking down at your hands unable to look at her because you know you’ll fold the moment you meet those blue eyes.

“Why would you say something you regret.” She asked confused

“Because I’m mad Abby.”

“Why-“

You cut her off before she can finish her sentence

“All I wanted was to just spend some time with you, but you chose that fucking video game over me Abby, and that hurts okay. It hurts so fucking bad to be sitting next to you and feel like you’re a million miles away.” You finish and take a deep breath quickly wiping your own tears that feel.

It’s quiet and you look over at Abby. Her jaw is clenched and the tears she fought so hard to not let fall are now falling. She stared straight ahead with her fists balled.

“I’m sorry, I’m so fucking sorry.” Her voice breaking

She looks over you you and you see the anguish in her eyes. She rarely made you cry and but when she did she hated herself for it and you can see that now, right now she didn’t hate herself no right now she loathed herself.

She never wanted you to feel pushed a side with her and that’s exactly how she made you feel.

You hesitantly reach out to touch her arm, the muscle hard under the skin from how tense her body was.

“I’m so sorry baby, I never wanted to make you feel like that.”

You look at her, the way she looks so dejected. You know Abby, she has a heart of gold. She messes up and she owns up to it and goes out of her way to remedy the situation.

You know she would never intentionally push you a side and make you feel unimportant. You’re quiet for a minute you trust Abby you know if she says she’s sorry she means it.

“I love you Abby so much that it hurts, and I don’t care if you want to spend time playing games. But just please don’t shut me out like that again or I will leave.”You tell her grabbing her hand giving it a squeeze.

She sniffles using her other hand to wipe the tears from her face

“Knowing I’m the reason for your tears kills me, I’m sorry. I don’t know what I would do without you, you the best thing I have in my life and I’m sorry I made you feel second best.” She says, unclenching her fist to give your hand a squeeze back.

“I love you.” She tells you her eyes meeting hers.

You scoot closer to her on the bed and cup her cheek with the hand that wasn’t holding hers. You use the pad of your thumb to brush her tears away.

Her eyes flicker to your lips before meeting your eyes again. She debates if it was even an appropriate time to kiss you.

You make the decision for her as you lean in, your lips meeting hers in a sweet kiss.

Abby turned her body towards you and held your waist with her hands. She poured every “I’m sorry” and “I love you” into the kiss.

You cup the back of her neck and grip the back of her shirt with the other hand. She broke the kiss and looked into your eyes asking a silent question “do you want to do this?” You nod and she slowly pulls your top off. Taking an intake of air as she slowly uncovered your breasts.

She pulled her own tank top over her head, as you scotched back up the bed until you were in the middle of the bed with your head on your pillow.

Abby gets on the bed and situated herself between your legs, she had her hands on either side of your head as she leaned down to kiss you. Your arms instantly wrapped around her, hands splayed out on her back. Her tongue skims your teeth dipping into your mouth as you open your lips wider.

You make out and her hand holds your waist and slowly goes up your body and stops just below your breast. She breaks the kiss and starts kissing your neck, her lips warm against the sensitive part of your neck. Her teeth grazes the skin and your hips buck.

“Gonna make it up to you” she says against your neck before she sucks and bites at your pulse point drawing soft whimpers from your lips. She kisses down your neck leaving little bites in her wake. She leaves kisses across your collar bones then down your sternum, until she reaches your breasts.

She kisses the nipple before she wraps her lips around it. She sucks your nipple her tongue swirling around it. Her hand goes to your other breast, pinching the nipple between her thumb and forefinger.

You moan and arch into her mouth. Her teeth graze against your nipple before she releases it with a pop.

She switches to your other nipple giving it the same treatment.

She kisses down your body until she reaches the little shorts you had on. She could see a wet patch in the center of them.

Her fingers hooked around the band and she looked up at you

“Is this okay?” She asks you looking at you you her wanting and darkened eyes meeting yours

“Yes please” you breathe out

Lifting your hips so she could pull your shorts down your legs and tossing them onto the floor.

She lays herself between your legs and puts your legs over her shoulders

“So beautiful” you hear her say before her tongue licks up from your hole to your clit.

You both moan simultaneously, her at your taste, and you at the feeling of her tongue gliding through your slick heat.

She kitten licks at your clit drawing more moans out of you. She sucks your clit her tongue swirling around it. She eats you out like a starving woman having her first meal. She moves her hand to your hole and slowly inserts one finger.

You had bucked your hips into her and had one hand fisting her hair that she didn’t put into her signature braid that day.

“M-more” you pant out

She adds another finger and curls them hitting your sweet spot.

You could feel a knot forming in the pit of your stomach

“Abby ‘m close” you breathe out into a moan as she sucks your clit harder adding more pressure with her tongue that she flicked on your clit. She moved her fingers faster and she felt your walls tighten around her fingers.

The hand in her hair gripped harder as you came, your back arching off the bed moaning her name out. Your body burning in white hot pleasure. Your eyes rolling back as she slowly her movements letting you ride out your orgasm.

She pulled out her fingers and lapped up your juices. There wasn’t a drop left when she was done.

She kissed your cunt and inner thighs before she sat up panting. she watched as you came down from your high, she watched the way your body trembled and the way your chest rose and fell rapidly as you caught your breath.

Fuck she could have lost this, she could have lost you is the only thought on her mind as she kisses her way back up your body. You down at her with half closed eyelids as she kissed up your chest, giving your nipples a kiss.

She reached your lips and kisses you, you moaned at the taste of yourself on her lips.

“I’m sorry” she says against your lips

You open your eyes and see so many emotions swirling in her blue eyes and you cup her face.

“I know.” You tell her rubbing her cheeks with the pad of your thumbs.

“I love you so much” she tells you her voice heavy with devotion.

That day and into the night she worshiped your body, kissed every inch of skin.

she showed you just how much she loved you using her mouth, fingers, and strap.

She made a silent vow to you that night, she never again be the reason her angel was crying.

Before the night was up she brought your luggage back upstairs and put all your clothes back as you laid blissed out on the bed dozing off feeling sated and loved.

[holdmytesseract]

moodboard by @chennqingg <3

Surprising News

Jotun!King!Loki x fem!Æsir!Queen!Reader

Summary: You are suffering from circulation problems since a few weeks, which gets your husband quite concerned. Unbeknowst to either of you, is a sweet surprise waiting to be discovered.

Warnings: fluff, bit angst, protective Loki, some health issues, pregnancy stuff

Word Count: 3,4k

a/n: I'm back, guys! 😁 This oneshot is based on an idea @eleniblue had. I hope y'all like it! I do, 'cause it's definitely not how it 'normally goes'. 😊

P.S I have no idea why I chose that gif. 🥴🫡

Tagging: @lady-rose-moon @huntress-artemiss @muddyorbsblr @ijuststareatstuffhereok89 @chennqingg @smolvenger @theaudacitytowrite @alexakeyloveloki @jennyggggrrr @stupidthoughtsinwriting @eleniblue @evelyn-kingsley @chantsdemarins @vanilla-daydreaming @valencia-rou @loz-3 @simping-for-marvel @mishkatelwarriorgoddess @fictive-sl0th @bunny24sstuff @iamlokisgloriouspurpose @linaax @mochie85 @lovingchoices14 @goblingirlsarah @glitchquake @lokidbadguy @icytrickster17 @gruftiela @lulubelle814 @november-rayne @mandywholock1980

(Continuing in the tags :))

Ice Flower Masterlist ❄ Loki Masterlist ❄ Masterlist

It all started a few weeks ago, while taking a stroll through the royal gardens in Asgard, as you visited your family.

Circulation problems.

It wasn't that bad, though. You had felt a bit dizzy, but nothing more; brushing it off and telling yourself that it was caused by the sudden change of temperatures. Sure, it was summer. On Jotunheim as well, but there it was definitely colder than on Asgard. Problem solved - you thought.

But then it came back. Only a few days later, when you were on the way to the city with your husband for the monthly visit of your folk. It came suddenly. It was unpredictable. You swallowed hard; eyes squeezing shut as your hand gripped the fabric of your dress tightly; knuckles turning white.

Loki - who sat opposite you in the open carriage noticed your distress - of course and leaned forward; hand gently touching your hand with a worried look in his eyes. "Is everything alright, flower?" You nodded quickly; not trying to cause your husband to worry further. "Yes, my king. Just a bit dizzy." Loki frowned, but nodded. "Do you wish to return to the palace and do this another day?" Again, you shook your head. "No, no! It's alright. I'm good." "Very well. Your decision, my queen."

The next time it occurred, was on the summer hunt. Sure, you weren't hunting yourself, but you accompanied Loki - like you always did. In your eyes, it was an obligation as the queen to join in on the hunt. So, you did. Unfortunately, the circulation problems got worse... It wasn't just the dizziness which increased. Slight nausea joined the party as well. You shortly had the feeling you were going to faint. Everyone was immediately at your side - with Loki leading the way. Luckily, it subsided after a few minutes, and again you brushed it off.

But Loki really started to worry by now. So, it was no wonder, that he sought talks with you...

A knock on the door ripped you out of the documents you were reading; head snapping up. "Yes?" Ivan - one of your personal guards stepped inside; taking a deep bow. "The king wishes to speak to you, your majesty." You couldn't suppress the smile which instantly darted over your face at the Jotun's words. "Please, let him in." Ivan nodded and stepped aside; letting Loki enter your study. Before your husband went to greet you, he turned to the guard. "Leave. I wish to be alone with my wife." Ivan took another bow, "Of course, my king." and left the room. Almost giddily, you stood up and rounded the big, wooden desk. "Hello, my beautiful, precious flower." You immediately went to hug Loki; arms crossing behind his neck. "Hello, my king." You bit your lip; smiling, before you stood on your tippy toes to kiss him.

"What brings you here, my love?" At your question, Loki's demeanour shifted immediately. A sigh left his lips, and you could swear that you saw worry in his eyes. "We need to talk, darling." Your brows furrowed. "You seem very serious... What is it?" Loki took your hand and led you to the chair. He sat down, pulling you onto his lap and wrapping his strong arms around you. He took a deep breath; deep ruby eyes gazing into yours. "I am worried about you, my love." You blinked, but knew exactly what Loki was talking about. Nevertheless, you tried to cover it up. "Worried? About me? Why?" "Your circulation problems." You just wanted to open your mouth to speak, when Loki cut you off. "No, no, please... Don't deny it. I saw. I noticed. Flower, please... Go to the healers and get this checked. I need to know that the love of my life is alright."

You sighed; "Loki... I am alright. It's nothing. Just a few stress symptoms." brushing it off once again. But Loki wasn't very convinced. "I am not so sure of this, Y/N. You should really go to-" You interrupted your husband; shushing him with a kiss on the lips. "I am fine. Stop worrying."

At that moment in time, you had no idea, that you were going to eat your words only a week later...

"My king, I don't know if we can trust this convention. Something about all this seem off to me." One of Loki's advisors spoke up; scratching his beardy chin. The king of Jotunheim was in the middle of an important converging with his royal advisors. "And what is it you are suggesting?" He asked; crossing his bulging arms over his chest. "I suggest that your majesty-" The advisor didn't come any further; got interrupted by a guard, who just barged inside the room. It was Ivan.

Loki hated it, when somebody did that and was about to chide the man, when he spoke up quickly. "My king! I apologise for the harsh interruption, but..." The Jotun panted; trying to catch his breath. "...but it's urgent! An emergency! The queen, she... She almost had a circulatory collapse!"

The words had merely left Ivan's lips, when Loki immediately jumped up from his seat. Adrenaline shot through his body, causing his heart to fall over the cliff and beat as fast as if it had a race to win. "She what?!" The guard just nodded frantically; unable to form any words at the king's 'outburst'. "When?! Where?!" "I-In the gardens, your majesty. A few minutes ago. I-I was with her and brought her immediately to the healers." Loki gave the guard a last look, before he stormed past him; literally running towards the medical wing of the palace. Anxiety started to flood the king's system; infecting his body like poison. He had told you. He had warned you; had begged you to seek out the healers, but no, you didn't want to listen - and now you seemingly paid the price. A price Loki wasn't willing for you to pay. He couldn't lose you. Not today, not now. Every possible worst-case scenario played out in his head on the way to the healers.

To his surprise, he was already expected...

One of the friendly, Jotun female healers waited patiently in front of the big, wooden doors; hands clasped together in front of her body. "My king." She started and curtsied. "We thought you would come here as fast as possible." Loki didn't beat about the bush, of course.

"I want to see my wife! I demand to know what is wrong!" He was quickly losing his patience; his temper taking over. After all, this was about Y/N... About his lover's health and safety!

The healer gave him a short, soft smile. "She's well and asleep now. Please, your majesty, I can assure you that she is perfectly healthy." Loki blinked; totally confused. "But... Where are those circulatory problems coming from?! There must be something wrong!" "We should sit down and have a chat, my king." The healer answered calmly; gesturing towards one of the smaller treatment rooms. "Please, follow me." She started to walk towards the room - away from you, and Loki had no other choice than to follow. He wanted to know what was going on - and that was seemingly his only option.

Still walking the lines between confusion and scepticism, the king sat down on the chair. The healer closed the door behind herself and joined him; sitting down opposite of him. Nobody could hear what she told Loki then. He was the only witness of her words.

"What?!" Loki choked out; eyes widening. He couldn't believe what his ears had just heard. For the second time within minutes, he felt completely overwhelmed, like one of the biggest stones just had hit him. "Are... Are you certain of this, milady?" The elderly lady nodded. "We are, my king. We checked. Twice." An audible gasp left his lips, as his brain tried to fully process the information. "Does she know? Does my wife know?" She shook her head. "No. We didn't quite have the chance to talk to the queen, as she passed out in exhaustion as soon as we regulated and stabilised her circulatory." The king nodded. "I wish to tell her." "Of course, your highness."

"I... I need a moment now." The healer smiled. "Of course, my king." Loki had a hard time to not show his emotions so openly; needing to suppress some tears. "Am I allowed to see my wife?" "Whenever you wish, your majesty." With those words the woman left the room, leaving Loki alone. The king ran his hands over his face and through his thick, luscious locks, before he took a few deep breaths of relief and happiness; even letting some tears fall down his cheeks. He had definitely needed the small moment for himself - but then he couldn't wait to see you. 

Gently closing the door - not to wake you - Loki stepped inside the big, cosy, but medically looking room. With his eyes not leaving your frame, he walked over to you and sat down on the chair beside the bed. A smile grazed his lips as he watched you sleep so peacefully.

Loki would wait by your side, until you woke up again. He had no intention to wake you. So, that's what he did... Waiting.

The king had no idea how long he waited. Perhaps only half an hour; perhaps three hours. He didn't know; lost the feeling for time.

A soft, sweet groan left your lips, before you furrowed your eyebrows for a moment; eyes fluttering open. Loki reacted immediately; greeting you with his deep, gentle voice. "Hello, my darling flower. Did you sleep well?" You blinked a few times; head turning to face your husband. "Loki?" He nodded. "I'm here, my love, I am here." One of his big, cerulean hands went to cup your face; thumb gently stroking the skin of your right cheek. You leaned in his touch, of course; feeling warmth spreading throughout your body.

"Why am I here? What happened?" You asked; slightly confused why you were in the medical wing. "You almost had a circulatory collapse. In the gardens. Ivan brought you here and alarmed me. I came as fast as possible, but the healers told me you were asleep." You swallowed hard. You could remember that you had been, indeed, in the gardens, but then everything got blurry. "Oh norns..." "I was quite worried - and I told you to seek out the healers, but you just didn't want to listen..." You squeezed your eyes shut; feelings of guilt over rolling you. "I-I know that now. I'm so sorry, my love, I-" "Shhh..." Loki shushed you on an instant. "It's okay now, flower. You are going to be just fine. Everything is alright."

Now you were slightly confused. After all, something had to be wrong... But not just at your husband's words. About the fact that he had tears in his eyes. Happy tears?

And Loki? Loki saw the confusion reflecting on your face, but he just wasn't able to hold back his emotions.

Letting out a shaky breath, he lunged forward and showered you with countless kisses on your lips - which managed to confuse you even more. What by Odin's beard was going on here?

Between some moments, where his lips weren't locked with yours, you were able to take a few breaths and literally pant out: "L-Loki, what... What is going on h-here? I'd like to have an e-explanation."

Your husband smiled brightly from ear to ear and took your hand lovingly in his bigger ones. "My love, you... You are with child."

You blinked; needed a moment to process the information, but then your eyes widened; jaw dropping. "W-What? I... WHAT?!" Loki just nodded; softly squeezing your hand. "I-I am pregnant?!" A small laugh escaped the king's lips. "Yes, flower, you are. The healers told me. They checked. Twice." You blinked again. This was a little overwhelming for you at the moment. "A-And my circulation problems are-" "A side effect." Loki finished the sentence for you. You swallowed. "Wow, um, I... This is..." Your husband's cheerful expression fell; smile vanishing. "Are you not happy about this, my queen? Didn't you - we, wish for this to happen?" When you saw the troubled look in his eyes, you quickly lifted your free hand to cup his cheek. "No, no, my love! I am happy about it! I truly am!" You tried to reassure him. "It's just a bit overwhelming at the moment. You know, normally it's the woman's job to break such news to her man and not the other way round... I absolutely wasn't prepared for this." Loki nodded; smile returning slowly. "I see - and I understand. I am sorry. Perhaps I just should've let you rest first and tell you tomorrow, but I was just too excited. I wasn't able to control my emotions. Apologies, flower." You shook your head. "No, Loki... Do not apologise for that. Ever. It makes my heart beat so much faster, to see that you are so excited to become a father."

Loki's bright smile had returned. "Oh, I am so excited, my darling. So very much..." He leaned forward to press a lingering kiss on your forehead.

Loki hadn't left your bedside that evening; completely abandoning all his royal tasks and telling several guards and advisors, that he'd not be available in the next hours. Loki wanted to stay by your side - after all, you almost collapsed today... And he wanted to enjoy this happy, intimate moment with you. Only you.

Now he was laying in bed with you, after the healers had checked on you once again. His arms wrapped around your middle securely; keeping you pinned against his chest.

"I still can't quite believe this..." You mumbled; softly shaking your head. "A child, Loki..." The king's chest vibrated with a hum, "Me neither, flower." before he pressed a small kiss on the exposed skin of your neck. "You know what that means from now on, yes?" Your husband continued. "Umm..." "No more hard work for you, love. No stressful royal duties, no hunting, no long travels. None of it. Especially now. The healers said your body needs more rest." You wriggled around; turned in his embrace to face him. "But, my king, I-" "No, no, no." Loki cut you off immediately. "You are growing our child. That's already hard work enough." "Okay, okay, I understand that, but... Aren't you a tad bit overprotective now, my love?" You placed one hand on his strong pecs; right where his heart beat for you.

The king just shrugged his shoulders and started to gently stroke the clothed skin on your lower back with his thumbs. "Perhaps. But I can't help myself. It's in my nature; my genes; my instinct. I must protect my woman and growing offspring - at all costs."

Your mouth literally fell shut after these stern, but loving words; knowing that you had no chance in arguing with him anymore. His point stood. Despite that, what were you supposed to do against his DNA? So, instead you opted for a slight change of subject...

"We need to tell my father... And brother." Your husband nodded. "I know, yes. We should - but not now. We're not telling anyone right now. It's so fresh and vulnerable... This is our moment. Nobody else's. We should give it some time." "Yes," you agreed; knowing that Loki was right. "We should."

Three months later, it was time for you and Loki to tell the whole palace and kingdom. Thor and Odin knew it already. They've been told by you and your husband a month back. During those three months, you hid your growing baby bump as best as you could. Sure, it was unavoidable that a few guards and maids figured it out, but those who did had been bound to secrecy.

Like in almost every realm and kingdom was a pregnancy reveal quite a big event. That was the reason, why countless Jotuns gathered in the big courtyard of the palace and waited excitedly, but also anxiously for their king and queen to step out on the big, majestic balcony, in order to tell them why they got invited here. Nobody knew. Nobody had a single clue.

"Are you ready, my queen?" Loki asked you, as he came to stand beside you in front of the green flapping curtains, which led out on the balcony. You took a deep breath and nodded. It wasn't like you already stood quite often on this balcony for various reasons, but this... This was bigger... Different.

"I think I am, yes. I won't be able to hide those two much longer anyways." You placed one hand underneath your steadily growing bump; hosting your twins. Loki smiled softly; "That may be true, yes." cupped your hand and pressed a kiss against your temple. "I am by your side, my flower. Always have been; always will be. This is something good and I am happy to finally share this with our folk." You couldn't help but smile as well; heart fluttering. "Me too, my king, me too." Loki gave you another nod, then took your hand in his; fingers intertwining. "Let's do this." Together you stepped past the curtains, which got held open by two guards, and onto the balcony.

Silence spread over the courtyard on an instant, when the Jotuns saw the both of you appear. They went down on one knee or took a deep bow; showing their king and queen the utmost respect.

"Arise!" Loki started to speak; lifting his arms. Everyone raised to their feet again; all eyes directed on you and your husband. "I thank you all for your appearance." You were glad that Loki did the talking. He was by far better at that. A born king. "Now, you all might wonder why we - the queen and I ordered you all to stand before your rulers today."

Immediate whispers broke out within the crowd and everybody seemed a little... tense and afraid. You could feel it - and so could Loki. "Don't fret, my loyal folk. I can assure you, that the reason why we are all standing here today is purely good." And again the whispers picked up, but this time you could see quite relieved and happy faces. The built-up tension left the Jotuns.

You felt how Loki reached for your hand again; trying to help calm your nerves down a bit.

"My wife, the queen and I..." He spoke up once more, and you knew that the moment had arrived. This was it. Giving his hand a squeeze, you told him that you were ready. Nervous, but ready. Until now, the Jotuns were still unaware, since you wore a wide gown, which hid your quite pregnant belly. Nothing uncommon for you. Sure, it was summer, but for you, it was early spring.

Loki gave you an encouraging nod, alongside a smile and helped you to get rid of the gown - and the 'façade' to drop. Your belly was for everybody visible now, causing a murmur to go through the crowd. Everybody stared at you surprised, shocked; jaw slacking.

"We are expecting offspring!" Your husband announced then cheerfully; placing a hand on your baby bump. "The lineage of our family continues!" His words caused the dam to break and the realisation hitting your people full force. Suddenly, they broke out in loud cheers and claps. There were smiles everywhere; alongside some chants saying things like: 'All hail the king and queen!' or 'Long live king Loki and queen Y/N!' It was a firework of emotions - not just for them.

You and Loki bathed in the positive reactions from all of your people for several moments, until he lifted his hands again, in order to shush them - which worked immediately. The power this man has over the crowd, you thought. Everyone is so devoted to him.

"But with that not enough..." He continued his little speech; dropping the next bombshell. "My wife is going to give birth in a few months... to twins!" This caused even louder claps and cheers to emit from the Jotuns; and a shiver to run down your spine. It was so intense. You felt so much love, sympathy and support radiating from everyone who was standing to your and Loki's feet. You felt accepted. It was overwhelming. Incredible.

You couldn't help but smile and wave, all the while leaning over to kiss your husband; showing some 'public' affection.

[pigeonpeach]

Arranged marriage

Aka yanderes who manipulated circumstances to make you theirs

Character: Jean, Diluc, Pantalone

Cw: murder

Jean Gunnhildr, the Acting Grand Master. Jean Gunnhilr, the dandelion knight, Jean Gunnhildr, a murderer and your future spouse. You do not hate her, it is hard to do so. She is thoughtful and sweet, a friend of yours as you two were both upper-class daughters of traditional nutjobs whose traditions remain rigid. But Jean’s mother was better than yours.

Your mother had been eager to marry you off, your family owned a variety of homes and apartment complexes in Mondstadt, there isn't much skill to learn when it comes to managing properties; Just mark the list of who’s paid, send someone to collect payment or to pester the tenants. You were the only child, so there were no issues with who this would go to. You were well-liked and generally regarded as a beautiful and sweet woman. What did you do to attract the attention of some old and ragged man from Fontaine then? You had no clue why anyone didn’t see a 50+-year-old man who had 3 brides fall ill or die suddenly wasn’t suspicious for seeking another young bride with properties. Jean did however, she’s the one who told you so of the investigation she privately conducted. The second she heard of him she hated him, you hadn’t even mentioned his age when she scowled. The words “arranged marriage” seemed to already irritate her. But your family threatened to disown you if you rejected it, what would you do then?

Murder that's what. Jean swore to you she’d get you out of this situation. It felt cliche almost, the childhood friend saving the damsel from the marriage to a grumpy old man. You expected her to talk to your parents or dissuade them in some way. She had the evidence to do so, yet she chose murder. Your suitor was slain mysteriously while on a walk outside of Mondstadt. The knight concluded it was treasure hoarders, his fancy and expensive attires were stolen. But you knew from the look in Jean’s eyes that she had some part in it. She refused to tell you how it happened outside the version everyone in Mondstadt knows, but you know better. She quickly offered to marry you instead. Your parents seemed complacent now. You never knew quite what she did but you hadn’t expected it to unfold like this. She did a good job framing it as well, investigators from Fontaine came and came to the same conclusion. An eye would be kept on pawn shops or second-hand stores.

But maybe it isn’t so bad? You are married to your best friend and Jean is nothing but a devoted and perfect wife. She is loyal to you, kind to you, protective of you, and deeply in love with you. You don’t mind, she is a good wife and you have no reason to complain. You just wish she didn’t act like you couldn’t tell she had done it. Other than that, you are sticking by her side closely, to keep her hands clean of any new blood.

You didn’t know Diluc Ragvindr that well prior. You were set to marry someone else, not the worst situation. Your suitor was a decent man, you could see yourself living a quiet life with him. You weren’t infatuated or attached to him but you accepted him as your future husband. Until he just died one day. A mysterious death, possibly from an assassin? In his absence, Diluc emerged from seemingly nowhere to offer his hand to you. You weren’t skeptical then, you had met him at balls and events when you were kids. He caused mischief and you found that charming then. Nowadays he’s completely different, however, a well-put-together gentleman who was admired and almost worshiped in Mondstadt. You were a bit worried about his safety but he assured you he’d be fine. And he was, he promised you’d live a quiet and peaceful life. He was a bit off-putting for a husband, however. He seemed both reserved but also eager for your affection. You were happy to marry a wealthier man yes but also concerned about what happened to your previous suitor.

As a husband, Diluc is a very good one. You are comfortable and at ease with him yes. He is also an affectionate husband, a passionate love that had been hidden underneath a stoic mask. You were pleased, reciprocal with his advances, and even eager at times. You couldn’t help it, he’s a handsome and well-built man after all. You were happy.

While looking for a pen in his office you noticed a pin that unmistakably was from your deceased suitor. You could’ve turned him in sure but… you didn’t want to ruin things now. Your suitor wasn’t nearly as influential compared to Diluc, not as passionate or fiery as him. Diluc was extremely loyal to you. He’s known in Mondstadt for being a devoted husband, proudly displaying his ring at any hint of advances from some lowkey home wrecker. You had no say in either arrangement, but with him, you do now. Your family cannot push you around for you now belong to his clan and not theirs. He will not entertain any disrespect to you at all. You have more agency than you were used to here. Adelinde is fine with skipping corsets or preparing dishes that are more delicious than healthy. You love your new life here.. So what if you don’t tell the family the truth? Would you be divorced then? Returned to your more mundane life as just a bachelorette?

Maybe you’re guilty of knowingly hugging and kissing the man who murdered someone, but maybe that's also rather endearing. Every lady dreams of a devoted man like this… so what if he’s a murderer?

Pantalone was no less terrifying than being tossed off a cliff. You were shy, hardly outgoing. At parties, you clung to the wall and only chatted with friends. You found any excuse to hide yourself or dismiss yourself despite the dismay of your parents. You just HATE having so many eyes on you. You still do.

How you attract an actual harbinger is beyond you. But you had passed your parent’s office when you heard him talking to them. You didn’t know it was him then, you thought they had simply ticked off a business partner. Never had your father sounded so obedient or fearful to you. You didn’t stick around then.

Suddenly the arrangement had been tossed onto you with little preparation otherwise. You weren’t happy, you asked more questions than your parents liked. To your surprise they didn’t seem angry, for the first time, rather than yelling at you to obey, your father looked you in the eye and with a calm voice told you to go along with it. Fear in his eyes, and a stutter. Nothing like the man you had come to know. You just shut up after that. Nodding or shaking your head during the preparations. What was worse to you was probably that you didn’t even get to see Pantalone for a while. Your maids just told you he was handsome. When you met him for the first time, you felt like you were about to die. He seemed amused with your nervous nature and awkwardness. You wondered if you were a human marrying a human or a mouse handed to a cat. He delighted in hearing you stammer and shiver. He was bold as well, often he had at least a hand on you, your shoulder or waist were his preferences. He enjoyed your fear and obedience.

Your best days as his wife were in his absence. You had gotten used to him, yes, but he seemed delighted in how you were so nervous. His favorite thing to do was have you sit on his lap and then focus on his work. You were timid so this was quite nerve-wracking. Especially because you weren’t sure what to expect, what did he want you to do? But once you got used to just doing nothing and became more comfortable, he’d suddenly start to nibble at your neck. He always chuckled at your reactions.

He was a loving husband though, just maybe not the normal kind. He seemed obsessed with you at times, his hands mapping your body as though it were some sculpture. He was possessive, if you seemed to grow too fond of employees or guards, they’d be switched or ‘disposed of’. Your only company and ‘friend’ would be him. The mansion acts as a prison, and he is your only visitor and cellmate. You would prefer the cliff to his hand

[doodle-pops]

Marriage to Finarfin Would Include...

As His Second Spouse

A/N: Your healthy dose of Finarfin content :)

➳❥ When Finarfin stumbles upon you during his reign as High King, he is stunned. Why was he feeling warm and fuzzy inside when he gazed upon you? He knew this feeling, having experienced it with his spouse the first time they met, so he was confused. Had the Valar pardoned him and decided to grant him another chance at love?

➳❥ He knows second marriages and falling in love a second time is rare and he witnessed what happened with his family, so he’s cautious. As much as he tried to avoid approaching you, his loneliness caused him to make the first move and he felt like young ellon attempting to approach his crush.

➳❥ Here comes Finarfin attempting to swoon you using all his charisma and charm. He’s nervous and sweating bullets because of the potential rejection looming, yet he was willing to accept and understand if you did. However, luck was on his side.

➳❥ So here you are now, married to the High King and known as his second spouse. You’re worried and scared of what people would say and view you because you don’t want another incident to reoccur as history had told the story. But don’t worry, Finarfin is here to ease all your worries and insecurities, informing you that he genuinely loves and wishes to be with you.

➳❥ His lonely heart had never beaten so thunderously before, and it skips a beat whenever you are near. This elf truly adores you. Your treatment as his spouse will never be any less than what a spouse should receive. You have his ear to prattle, shoulder to cry on, arms to hold you, everything of him, and he makes an effort to be there for you and guide you through the etiquette of royalty.

➳❥ Seeing that he had been lonely for years, probably ages, he wastes no time revelling in the bliss of the newlywed honeymoon stage with you. Spending all the time he can in private and spoiling you as his spouse; Finarfin has never felt more alive.

➳❥ The good side to it is that the first of his children you would meet is Finrod, who would not express himself as Feanor, so the interaction is a lot better than what you expected. He would do his best to be polite, but that doesn’t mean he’ll come around immediately. You’re his father’s choice, he can’t do anything about that.

➳❥ At least you don’t have to worry about him complaining that you’re attempting to steal his mother’s place because he learned that his mother chose to leave the family. Finarfin would reassure you that the most you are getting out of his firstborn is his slightly pushy curiosity.

➳❥ Apart from that, your marriage to the King is quite lavish and full of comfort and security. He knows people would talk about the decision that Valar granted him and compare the situation to his father’s second marriage, so he does his best to show the public that it isn’t the case. It’s all done for your ease of mind.

➳❥ Plus, Finrod’s passivity towards your marriage, aids in calming your mind that he wouldn’t turn against you and rage (his other siblings would, but you’re not meeting them anytime soon).

➳❥ For now, your blissful life with Finarfin is peaceful and merry. You have a loving husband who goes out of his way to care for you. Always asks for your opinion on the matter, not wanting to unknowingly disappoint or push you away because of his individual decision. Long talks about your future with him and all that he wishes to accomplish with you at his side.

➳❥ He listens to all your issues, whether it be how the servants are treating you, or someone gave you a horrible side-eye, he wants to know to straighten things out. Even if it’s non-problematic and you want a getaway cottage when life becomes hectic, tell him. He’s getting it done.

➳❥ Finarfin’s major goal is to ensure that you are content with your marriage and life with him and that you don’t feel like a replacement or comparison to his previous wife. You are his new future, his focus and priority. You matter and he would hate to do something to drive away one of the greatest things in his life.

Masterlist

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