#nothing i love more than writing about husbands who love their wives ;;;;;

[desireangel]

Dark Cherry [2] | Aemond Targaryen

Part Two

Summary: after months of a marriage that hardly harbours the passion that you'd dreamed about, you stumble across the reason for your husband's indifference and decide enough is enough. Aemond will learn just exactly what he's been missing out on.

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x fem!reader and also some Aemond x some random girly pop ;o

Word Count: (I'm... sorry?) 7.1k

Warnings: smut - mdni 18+!!! UNEDITED!! infidelity, kinda angsty? second-hand smut? power struggle both in bed and out, reader is a cheeky voyeur, oral (f receiving), thigh riding, degradation, Aemond is a fucking asshole but he's sexy, talk of masturbation. as always, let me know if I have missed anything!

Author's note: Entirely unedited because here I am posting this at 2:30AM having just finished writing this bad boy even though I have to be up for work at 7:30. yay :/. Anyways, thank you all so much for the love on this series so far! I'm thinking there could potentially be some more to come. Reader ain't done with her revenge so soon. I will reblog with the taglist tomorrow! or today I guess--after I've had some sleep! I would also love to hear your thoughts!! So pls hmu in my inbox to chat abt things xoxo kisses!!!! <3

Masterlist!

Part One

Distancing yourself from Aemond was not a difficult task. You’d barely see much of him aside from the meals you shared and your occasional stroll through the gardens anyway. It still felt odd, knowing that you were avoiding him when only days ago you had been grasping at whatever crumb of his attention you could reach. 

His existence was ghostly. Always talked about but never seen and it made it remarkably easy to ignore him. You spent most days between your chambers and Helaena’s, idly passing time with embroidery and small talk. But you were distracted - your mind foggy and your usual grace and poise replaced by clumsiness and a constant flustered jumpiness.

It was always on your mind. Always. 

Your mind was a problem of its own and as soon as you lay down amongst your sheets for a night of sleep, it took you back to the memory of your name lewdly falling from Aemond’s lips. As days had passed, you could have convinced yourself it was a hallucination - an odd dream of some sort.  

And while it had become muscle memory for your hand to find your soaked sex at the midnight hour, the scene of your alluring husband in the throes of pleasure bringing you to a quick peak, the first two nights had been marred with silent tears of humiliation, hurt, betrayal–jealousy and anger. 

Maybe it was for the best that you had not seen the face of the whore in his private chambers. If you had any idea of who she was, you would have had half a mind to have sought her out and suffocated her yourself.

You had to remind yourself that if she were, in fact, a whore then you could hardly let yourself seriously consider choking a woman out for simply doing her job. 

Frustration was an understatement. No matter how hard you tried, there was nothing that you could do which would calm the mix of emotions inside you. You considered declaring Aemond’s infidelity at dinner–or even at the small feast that was held two nights ago. But it wouldn’t be enough and it was too early to show your hand. 

If you had come out and made it known to all at Court, nothing would happen. At all. 

Most husbands take on whores and mistresses. And despite the pain and hurt of it that the wives suffer, it’s simply accepted as the way things are. Men are innately animals and so they must fuck like it too. So nobody would bat an eyelid at Aemond. Instead, you knew that they’d turn it on you in one way or another. 

On the sixth day, you were surprised when Ser Tunsley knocked on your door to announce your husband’s presence. When Aemond took a seat at the small table where you usually shared your breakfast, he barely spared you more than an inquisitive look before telling your handmaid to bring your breakfasts promptly. 

Aemond leaned back, letting his legs rest comfortable but still maintained his effortlessly flawless posture. He reached for the book that lay forgotten on the side-table, holding it open with one hand and his other arm stretching over the back of the seat beside him, where you sat all tense and surprised. A barely-there frown crossed your face at the foreign gesture and you willed yourself not to think much of it.

You would have fumbled to snatch the book from his hands, if this had been a week earlier. But it wasn’t, and with a curious and conniving sense of calm, you let him read the first page of a story riddled with obscenity and romance. The first couple chapters were perfectly appropriate.

The prince looked at you with a gentle tilt of his head, unmoving aside from . “You have been withdrawn.”

Silence. You were sitting beside him, unable to meet his eye as you usually would, scoffing so softly at his words that he almost mistook it for a cough. 

Aemond, who was far more observant of you than he knew you believed him to be, found that he was bothered by it. Whether it was because of the loss of the devotion that he had always seen in your doe-eyed gaze, or the flippant shift in your attitude, he did not want to know. 

“Have I done something that has bothered you, dear wife?” His eye returned to the book and moved from one side of the page to the other as he read. 

Aemond clearly did not see you watching them on that night. The fact that you had faced no repercussions for sneaking up on him and eavesdropping on such a moment was enough confirmation of that. 

But Aemond’s presence re-ignited the red hot resentment you had for his actions and the hurt that you felt because of him. How any man could seek out the company of his wife for the first time in a week, sit beside her and pretend so shamelessly as if he cared for the repercussions of his own vile actions was beyond you. 

Nonetheless, you forced a polite smile onto your lips and turned slightly to face him better. You let his question linger in the air between you as the maid returned, placing a plate of cheeses, fruits and an assortment of breads on the table in front of you. 

Thanking her, you reached to pour yourself a cup of the sweet vanilla and rose tea that had become your favourite part of your mornings in the Keep. When you answered his question, it was purposefully less than what Aemond was seeking. 

“I have been ill, lord husband,” you murmured. When you rested against the back of the seat, you tensed at the feeling of Aemond’s arm grazing your shoulder. You had forgotten it was there. 

Your reaction to his proximity and while you had initially been shy around him–not so much since you had started your little performance–, you never flinched away from his touch. 

Aemond placed the book down beside him and hummed in thought. He reached over you, to take a piece of fresh bread for his plate and to put some fruit on your plate, his chest pressing against your shoulder and his hair brushing past your nose. 

If you had moved, just an inch, your lips would be against the milky skin of his throat. Despite your disdain for your husband, you could hear the thrum of your heartbeat in your ears and stopped yourself from dragging your fingers through his hair and tracing your lips across his jaw. 

There was an unfamiliar sense of purpose behind what he was doing. It dawned on you that he knew what he was doing. The bread was already on his plate but the son of a bitch placed the fruits piece by piece on your plate, his movements lazy. 

He smelled like lavender, leather and dragon smoke. Like an intoxicating drug that overwhelmed your mind until piety and sin were indiscernible. It was far too easy for you to see Aemond as more godly than just a mere man, to feel the need to worship him in the most sinful ways you could imagine. 

No man in any realms was as strong, as beautiful, as terrifying, as educated as the prince who breathed fire onto your skin. And he was your prince. 

A drop in your stomach was the least of your problems when the image of Aemond enjoying another woman’s passion invaded your thoughts. You wondered if his scent drove her just as mad as it made you and you had the urge to drive a knife through Aemond’s hand for you knew he’d have let her indulge in him. 

But when he looked at you, his violet eye a mask of indifference yet still failing to hide something that you couldn’t for the life of you put into words, you hated that your desire for him burned just as strong as your rage. 

Aemond’s eye met yours, humming in thought as he brought a cherry to his lips and glancing down at your own. He took a bite out of it first and then brought it to your mouth, dragging the open side across your bottom lip. The soft fruit dripped delicately onto your chin and left a stain on your perfect lips. The sight of you with reddened lips, gazing up at him with blown out pupils, shining with an uncorrupted devotion and a pure desire sent his blood rushing. 

The cherry was sweet and chilled, a stark contrast to the darkened, heated want that Aemond watched you with. And again, you had an urge to ignore everything and take what it was that you had been hoping Aemond would give you. You obediently took the cherry into your mouth, holding his gaze, chewing the flesh of the fruit and rolling the pip on your tongue. 

When you looked hard enough into Aemond’s eye, you could see the reflection of yourself morph into a reflection of the unnamed woman and you turned from him, turning away to drop the pip of the cherry onto a napkin. 

Aemond’s hand fell softly to rest on your knee and he only moved back a nudge. You refused to meet his eye but you could feel his warm breath on your cheek as he spoke, his voice slightly strained yet still calm and smooth. “I’ll send for a maester.” 

“Thank you,” you pushed the words out of your mouth and nodded towards the food. “You should eat your breakfast, my prince.”

Aemond raised an eyebrow as you rolled your eyes at him and slid back into his previous posture, sitting against the backrest of his own seat. An infuriating grin played on his lips. “Don’t worry about my breakfast. Why did you roll your eyes at me?”

You rolled your eyes again. “As if I cannot call for a maester myself.”

It crossed your mind that you could have told him right now of what you had seen. And the urge to scream at him became so strong you almost did. 

But what would come of it? Not enough. Aemond would only offer you an apology if you were lucky and carry on as if nothing was amiss. Because that is just how it is for husbands–they could cheat and lie all they please to no consequence. And you wanted him to regret the moment he chose to disrespect you. 

You wanted him to suffer for it. To feel as insulted, as embarrassed and as inferior as you have.

So he would suffer. But you had to be patient if you were to make it hurt. 

A thought crossed your mind as Aemond said something you didn’t quite hear, with that unbothered expression he had mastered years ago. 

He didn’t linger long after that. You ate your breakfast in silence, while Aemond, much to your distaste, finished the first chapter of your book. And when he finally left, he took it with him, giving you a knowing smirk as he tucked it under his arm. 

One punch. Surely, you would be entitled to that. 

Initially, the idea of seducing Jason Lannister was a gruesome one. But upon hearing of his prolonged and unbusy presence at King’s Landing, you recognised an opportunity as it presented itself to you. Simply because of pride and ego, there were few men who enjoyed the idea of his wife turning to another man for what they could not provide. 

Alas, if there was any part of Aemond that made him weak, it was his pride and his arrogance. 

And so here you were, enjoying your afternoon tea with the Lannister twin, listening to stories of his life at Casterly Rock. You made sure the house staff had known of Lannister’s presence and that the Kingsguard were well aware of the pot of tea you shared in the Courtyard. Easily within sight of where you knew Aemond was training with Ser Cole and some other men you had no interest in knowing.

For the past thirty minutes, you could feel him watching you. But when you lifted your head to look, pretending to the man across from you that you were interested in watching your husband train, Aemond would turn away. Yet he finally seemed to have finally had enough and you could see him walking over from behind Jason, his shoulders stiffer than usual with a sour expression. 

“This tea,” you covered your mouth gently, letting out the remnants of a laugh that had been pulled from you. If you were being honest, Jason Lannister was turning out to be surprisingly fun company and the smile you had expected to fake ended up being real. Not bothering to look at Aemond, who was much closer now, you held your teacup towards the Lord Lannister with a pretty, sultry smile. “It is incredible–I’ve loved it so much, t’is the only tea I will drink. Have a taste of mine, I insist.”

With a look of blatant excitement, Jason leaned into where you held the cup, fingers grazing yours as he held the cup but never took it out of your hold and took a sip. It was slightly awkward, the way his eyes held onto yours, but you brightened your smile nonetheless. 

Aemond visibly inhaled a sharp breath and cleared his throat, covering the both of you in a dark shade. The prince was looming over Lannister, who never looked away from you even as you peeled your eyes away from him with exaggerated difficulty to meet Aemond’s eye. You dropped your smile so slightly that only Aemond could notice. 

There was a tense, awkward silence that lingered. Lannister’s head tilted ever so slightly and a wave of annoyance ran through you at the cocky tilt of his head regardless of the fact that it was exactly what you needed him to do. The two men stared at each other, Aemond’s typical dark repose and Lannister’s challenging chagrin at the disruption. 

“How nice of you to join us, my prince,” you beamed. “Lord Lannister has been sharing this pot of tea with me. It’s lovely to enjoy some company for once.”

You took pleasure in the way he squared his shoulders at your remark. Lannister snickered but was quick to cover it up with a cough at Aemond’s narrowed eye. 

“Yes, I’m sure it is,” Aemond’s voice was sharp. “I happen to have some time on my hands before I take Vhagar to flight, lady wife. Perhaps you would care to join me for a stroll through the gardens?”

Aemond was behind you in a blink, tugging your chair back gently into himself and holding a hand out to help you stand. The air around you became soft lavender and leather and something very Aemond. And despite the slight flutter of your eyelids, you straightened and held strong. 

Weakness would get you nowhere. You were out here for a reason and no matter how strong the pull was, your lust to hurt him back was much stronger. 

You shook your head gently, looking at Jason who seemed to stiffen under the prince’s eye. “What kind of host would I be if I were to abandon Lord Lannister? Considering it was I who invited him to tea. We can enjoy the gardens another time, my prince.”

The fire in Aemond’s eye rivalled Vhagar’s. It gave you a sense of satisfaction that was much unlike yourself and you wondered how he’d burn with rage if you decided to take Jason to your bed. You’d lose everything you had to your name but you knew it would not be difficult to convince yourself that it’d be worth it.

Jason Lannister was no fool. He understood the wrath of the Targaryen prince but he knew that you would never be subjected to the extent of it. As much as Prince Aemond pretended he did not care, the Lords and counsellors of the Red Keep knew that he had his weaknesses. At the end of the day, Aemond would not dishonour himself by tarnishing the image of his pious, kind wife who was loved by all. 

Lannister also had his doubts about you. Again, he was no fool to fall for whatever game you were playing. An honourable, devoted Lady such as yourself would never actually be so easy to adulterate. Whatever it was, Jason was not against indulging himself in some fun here and there. 

But he did prefer to keep his limbs and so he shook his head gently and stood from his seat. 

“You have my thanks,” he took your hand in his and placed a kiss on your knuckles. A bold move from a man who could so strongly feel the Prince’s pointed glare. Jason turned and bowed his head gently towards Aemond. “But I fear I have some business to attend to, so do not stay back on my regard. It was lovely to sit with you, my Lady.”

Aemond scoffed loudly as the Lord took his leave. He waited for you to take his hand to help you out of your seat before dropping it to your waist. 

“My prince-”

“If you are so starved of company, dear wife,” he drawled, looking straight ahead with a tightened jaw as he led you in the direction of the gardens. It was a habit now, whenever Aemond had you on his arm, to walk that route. Not surprising seeing how it was the only place where you two would see each other apart from your chambers. “I would expect you to call upon me rather than some toady Lord who would certainly misjudge your intentions. I am your husband, am I not?”

The thought of keeping a list of the times he spoke as if he were faithful crossed your mind for barely a second. Aemond was infuriating. 

You offered him half of a smile and pulled him back slightly as you came to a stop. “You are. But your mind is never with me and I am well aware your time is far more precious to you than I am.”

If Aemond’s composure was not so ingrained into his existence, he may have spluttered and gawked at you. Instead, he barely frowned. 

There was little he could do about the unemotional, unkind man that he had become perceived as. Aemond understood that it was his own actions that meant people viewed him as little less than a monster. And truly, it was how he tried to be perceived. 

So why did it disturb Aemond that his own wife thought him so uncaring? He knew he had only himself to blame for it. 

“I am afraid a stroll in the gardens will have to wait,” you continued in his silence. Being alone with Aemond was not how you intended to spend the afternoon. The risk that you’d lose your composure and tell him all that you had seen of him was still high. “I am still feeling fairly unwell. It may be better for me to rest in my chambers with a book.”

Aemond knew that you were retracting into yourself, pulling away from him where you would have been at his beck and call only a week ago. He hummed. “Tomorrow then.” 

And with that, Aemond escorted you to your chambers in silence. It was hardly two hours that you had spent in the Courtyard with Lord Lannister but it had been tiring nonetheless. The peace and quiet that came with your reprieve from the man that had set your nerves into a frenzy just at the knowledge of his presence while you pressed at his patience was welcome. 

A few hours passed slowly in your own company. Dinner was brought to your room at your request. The mere thought of sitting beside your husband and putting on a display for his family exhausted you. 

The sounds of footsteps and conversation outside your door pulled your attention from the embroidery you had forced yourself to practise. Your chambers were fairly secluded compared to the rest and so it wasn’t often that anyone wandered this area. Expecting the Queen or your husband to be the source of the noise, you were hastily at the door, a sudden flush of anxiety shooting straight to your gut. 

You waited barely five seconds for Ser Tunsley to knock on your door but your impatience pushed you to step out first. There was nobody there. You could see Ser Tunsley stalking away from the direction of the private chambers. You didn’t question it, assuming he was probably stepping away for a brief break, given that his position hadn’t been replaced. 

Footsteps. Again. 

Curiously turning your head in the direction of the sound, you saw a flash of brunette hair and a dark grey dress. Fuck. 

It was impossible not to recognise her. Even as she walked away from you and clearly in the direction of Prince Aemond’s chambers, you knew who she was. 

So with one final glance back into your room you followed her, thankful that you were barefoot so that your own footsteps couldn’t be heard.  Even though your body was running hot with a mixture of heartache and rage, there was an icy stiffness that had spread from the back of your neck to your shoulders as you rounded a single corner after her and helplessly watched her enter Aemond’s chambers. 

You held back tears. She had left the door open. Again. It did little to ease the knot in your throat when you realised that while she may be good enough for Aemond with her mouth, she was not the smartest.

Unable to move, you stood planted in that one spot a few feet away for what must have been ten minutes before you heard the same shuffling and muffled voices. You could hear her more clearly this time and it took you another two minutes to build the courage to see, once again, how Aemond dishonoured you. 

If the circumstances were different, it may have been one of the sexiest sights you had ever laid your eyes upon. But it struck you in a way you couldn’t have expected and it took all of your willpower to stay standing. 

But what else had you expected?

This time, the woman was sprawled out, her head hanging off of the bed and if her eyes weren’t screwed shut in bliss then she would have been looking directly at you. Her left hand gripped the sheets and the other was tangled amongst Aemond’s silver hair, her thighs on either side of his head. 

Gods, you had never known anything like it. 

Aemond was devouring her like he had been starved of her for weeks (you knew he hadn’t), the obscene sounds of his mouth against her sex striking you with distress. He held her down as she writhed against him, a strong, clothed arm keeping her in place at her waist. 

You had hardly been watching them for thirty seconds and you didn’t even have time to consider turning around and walking away to save yourself the misery. 

Because Aemond’s eye opened and he gazed straight through his lashes, lifting his head so he was looking directly at you. A piercing violet eye accompanied by a glimmering sapphire that watched you dangerously, as if he had seen you standing there the entire time and this was all entertaining to him. 

For what may well have been the tenth time that night, you couldn’t move. You stood at the door, chest heaving and jaw slack as you felt a tightness in your throat. How could you feel so powerless in a game you managed to believe you had the upperhand in? 

Aemond still held your eyes with his own, pulling away from the whore he was toying with, and fucking smirked.  

Like things were going exactly how he had planned. 

Red. And a loud gasp and then panic and a flash of arousal and all of a sudden you were running back to your chambers, falling to your knees over your empty bathtub and dry heaving. It was all too much. 

The shock, the fear, the jealousy, the fear. 

And it dawned on you as you tried desperately to catch your breath. Ignoring your arousal–you cursed your body for reacting faster than your mind once again–panic continued to flood your veins like an ice-cold burn. 

Aemond had definitely seen you watching. But had he known all along? 

It made no sense. Did he see you that night when he moaned your name instead of that damned woman’s? 

You couldn’t even be sure how long Aemond had stared at you from his spot, his attention diverted entirely from the nameless woman, who whined and stirred incessantly at his distraction, to you. Caught like a thief in the act, wide-eyed and dazed.

Aemond knew. And he must have known the entire time. With the way he looked directly to you, as if he were waiting for you. As if Aemond knew exactly where you stood the first night. As if he had finally caught you in his trap.  

He wanted you to see. 

Aemond had already bested you at your own game with even more cleverness than you. Before you had even started to play. 

Sleep did not come easy that night. 

 

You were dressed and ready far earlier than usual the next morning. Even though you dreaded the worst - that Aemond had convened to have you punished for watching as you had, you let your scheme motivate you to take back the control you had lost. If you had ever had it in the first place. 

The dress you wore was hardly decent and it left you bare from your chest up, a wide slit running through the skirts. It was a deep green that had a shine to it and clung to your skin, making it clear that you had foregone your smallclothes for the day. 

For the sake of decency within the hallway, and because you detested the idea of either of the Cloaks at your doors seeing your attire, you donned a heavy cloak over top. It was Aemond’s; he had left it behind after breakfast once.

Aemond was still asleep when you had talked your way past the guard at his door and pushed through the doors to his chambers. You stood at the foot of his bed, tracing the place where that woman lay with your eyes. Quietly, you dropped the cloak to the floor.

It was your first time in Aemond’s private chambers. And would things have been different, you would have taken the time to observe all the things that made this space his. Instead, your eyes scanned every centimetre of every part of his chambers for any trace of that wretched woman. 

There was none. Not a single strand of hair. 

You sat at the edge of his plush bed, taking a moment to get your head straight before you stood and walked around to the side of the bed where he lay. The scent of him was overwhelming as you stood above him. 

“Well,” Aemond barely moved aside from his lips as he spoke. His eye remained shut. “Look who finally figured it out. Why are you here?”

You let out a drawn out sigh, shivering gently. “I would like to talk.”

Aemond sat up lazily and you noticed he was naked save for the sheet that covered his lap. From the way he was sitting, you stood in between his legs and his head was slightly tilted as he looked at you over the swell of your breasts. His hands found a resting place on your hips and you were hyper-aware of his touch, which felt heavier than boulders and hotter than lava. 

He looked at you as if he were ready to devour you. As if Aemond were a man starved of air and you were his only chance at breathing. 

The prince let out a hum. “Dressed like this?”

“Since you seem to prefer a whore over your own wife, I figured I would dress akin to one,” you kept your voice stern and stepped further into him so that his chin almost had to rest in the valley of your breasts if he wished to keep his gaze on yours. “If this is what it will take to have your attention.”

Not once did Aemond’s heated stare falter. “I think you are well aware of where my attention lies. What with your childish attempts at seduction.”

“I did not think you cared to take note.”

“Oh, I noticed,” Aemond said, dragging a finger up and down the side of your waist. He enjoyed the soft feel of the fabric and the way your nipples perked through the dress at his touch had him resisting a primal urge to bite. His patience had been astounding thus far but it was wearing thin. “I would have expected that kind of behaviour from a common whore, not a lady such as yourself. You are a princess, after all.”

Trying your best not to squirm under his touch, you held firm in your hardened gaze. “You seem to enjoy whores.”

“I do not.”

You scoffed. “So you have been fucking her just to spite me? Or have you fallen in love?”

“Such filthy language from such a well behaved girl,” he mused. Aemond’s cursed smirk had you holding back from both cutting him and kissing him. “I never would have guessed that my wife is so full of surprises. It seems I do not know you as well as I believed.”

“Answer my question, Aemond.”

“I never fucked her properly, since you insist–”

“As if it makes a difference whether you fucked her cunt or her mouth,” you spat. He was maddening. “You are my husband. I should be the only woman you have in your bed.”

The grip on your hips tightened almost painfully before he brought one hand up to caress your jaw. Aemond didn’t hide the longing he felt, pulling you closer and admiring every inch of your skin tenderly. “If only you had been good and asked me nicely for what you need. Instead of acting like a desperate slut every time we were in the same space. Things could have been so much easier for you, my love.”

Aemond had always spoken to you with respect. And yet here he was, speaking to you as if he already knew exactly what sent your cunt wild with need. He harshly held your chin, forcing you to look up at the roof as he straightened, pressing his nose into the crevice of your neck. The tickle of his hot breath on your skin made you gasp and you felt the velvet of his lips smirking against your throat. 

“The whole time,” you panted, bringing your hands to his shoulders and digging your nails into his skin. “You knew. It was-”

“Hm. It was for you.” Aemond let his teeth graze against the dip of your jaw. 

There was a fire alight on your skin. You could barely make sense of his words but you forced yourself to hold it together. “You are insane.”

“I was only playing the game that you started,” Aemond chuckled. “Only, I have played it far better than you. Perhaps we are lucky that you did not present more of a challenge, considering I was not above taking her on your bed instead.”

Fuck that. You despised him and loved him and lusted for him all at the same time. 

The control you had was slight to begin with but whatever little there was, it was slipping through your fingers. You threaded your fingers through Aemond’s hair–which was silkier than you had expected–and pulled him away from your neck. 

When you saw the hunger for you in his eye, the slight pink flush of his cheeks, a warm flood of invigorating energy made it’s way through your veins. You fought the urge to run your hands down his shoulders, his chest, his bicep–any part of him you could reach. 

You swallowed thickly. “You should have. I need only one more reason to cut her.”

“I shall have her hanged if that is what you wish.” 

For a moment, you thought you might scratch the smug expression off of Aemond’s face. You groaned, pursing your lips at his indifference and squeezing your thighs together at the passion in his eye. “Fuck you, Aemond.”

“I’m going to give you another chance. Ask me nicely to fuck you until all those doubts you have are replaced by the empty space I will fill your pretty little head with,” He pulled at your hips, so that there was no empty space between you, your torso flush to his chest. Aemond felt deathly tense yet strangely relaxed at the feel of you gasping against him. “And we can put an end to this contest. I do regret that I have left you, my wife, unsatisfied but I want you begging first.”

You watched him closely, challenged him with your gaze. There was no chance you would beg and let him win. The air between you was charged with energy, hissing and stinging. It became heavy and despite the way both of you were breathing so heavily, chests rising and falling dramatically, you couldn’t get enough oxygen to fill your lungs. 

The thickness in the air only became heavier as you gripped his wrists, and moved slowly so that you straddled his right thigh. Aemond fisted the thin fabric of your dress and when you lightly pressed your leg against the hardness at his crotch, you felt his steady breath against your lips which lingered above his own. The skirts of your dress rode up to your hips. 

Lavender, leather and him. 

“You want me to ask you nicely, my prince?” You purred, relishing in the way Aemond’s jaw clenched when he felt your bare cunt press against his thigh. It sends a wave of pleasure straight through your body. “You want me to beg you to tear this dress off of me? To fuck me until I can no longer think of any word other than your name? To make me yours properly? Beg you to fuck me how you should have every night since our wedding?”

Aemond’s hands were grasping at the flesh all over your body, pulling at the fabric of your pathetic excuse of a gown until it ripped. There was a weight on his chest that only grew at the sight of your perfect skin through the torn fabric, your nipples slipping into his view. 

His voice was low and guttural. “The final chance. Be good and beg.”

“If you wish for me to be good,” you whispered into his ear, moving hastily to grip the back of his neck with one hand and the other holding his chin tightly as he had held yours minutes ago. He let out a strained sound through his teeth as you shifted against his cock, pretending to get comfortable.  “You should not have indulged in that whore.”

Aemond scowled at you. And he could have thrown you off of him but his hands continued to scorch the skin on your hips.

You realised you had never been so close to Aemond as you pressed a trail of tender kisses to his jaw. You were infinitely closer to him than all the times you had held onto him while walking the gardes or while he had bedded you with feigned disinterest. And you were aching with want and desire just as he was, your wetness seeping onto Aemond’s thigh. 

It was nothing in comparison to the rage that you had pent up. With a gasp you ground down on the strong muscle of his thigh, eyes fluttering at the sensation. Holding back a moan, you rested your forehead against Aemond’s and rocked your hips against him. 

You tightened your legs, well aware that Aemond could overpower you and have you under him in seconds. He was allowing you to have your moment and you pulled your hand from his jaw only for it to stay tightly locked as his fingers dug into your hips.

There would be bruises left on your skin for weeks but you couldn’t bring yourself to care, almost groaning out loud when Aemond took control of your movements, pushing and pulling your hips so that your clit rubbed against him perfectly. “Prince Aemond Targaryen. You think you can just do as you like and that there would be no consequences. That I would come crawling back to you so easily?”

A moan slipped from your lips when Aemond shifted his leg. You knew you were getting carried away, that the power you had over him was getting to your head but fuck. It didn’t matter. 

You dropped your hand to where Aemond’s cock pressed against one of your thighs, touching him gently over the sheet that covered him. It still surprised you just how perfectly big Aemond was, thick and hard in your palm. And then you held him firmly, rocking your weeping cunt against his thigh even harder when he groaned. It sent shock after shock straight through your core.

“Did you think I would be on my knees for you so easily just like she was?” You spat, whining at the pleasure that was incomparable to the way you had been touching yourself. Aemond hissed as you slid your hand up and then back down so slowly. “After those shows you put on for me, there is not a chance.” 

Countermoves. Aemond was good at them, even when struggling to even out his breath and regain his composure. “Tell me, which part did you enjoy the most? Was it when I fucked my seed into her throat? Or when was calling your name?” 

You gripped the back of his neck so hard, pushing your soaked pussy harder onto his leg. “Do not-”

Aemond hummed, his grip tightening painfully on your hips as he moved his leg in motion against you. He smirked when you shuddered, caressing your cheek with his nose as he spoke lowly into your ear once again. “I think I know. It was last night, when I had her on my tongue and thought only of how perfect your desperate little cunt would taste instead.”

“Aemond,” you couldn’t help but moan as he rolled your hips deliciously on his thigh. He let out a small, deep laugh at the way you trembled in his hands but you could hear that he was losing himself just as much as you were. “Gods.”

“I wish to know, princess. How many times have you touched yourself since that night, wishing you were in her place?”

You sucked in a breath, rutting against Aemond violently and he only pulled you in harder when you refused to answer his questions. Another moan. “Be quiet, Aemond.”

“Hm,” Aemond nipped at your earlobe. “Do you really want me to stop talking? You know that I can feel how wet it makes your perfect cunt. Desperate little slut.”

Whining and cursing him under your breath, you let yourself really look at him. Aemond’s sapphire eye shone under the early morning light that spilled in from the windows, his eye dark with lust and his jaw clenching as he watched you fall apart on his lap. 

Hips buckling as he continued to pull you back and forth on his thigh, spreading your wetness on the soft expanse of his skin, your legs failed to hold your weight and you had clearly resigned to letting Aemond take control of your pleasure. 

You were right at the edge and just as you started to ride out your orgasm, Aemond spoke.

“If you do not beg me,” he threatened. “I shall stop.”

“Gods, no–do not sto-”

Aemond held you still in response and no matter how you writhed against his grip, you couldn’t move. He was keeping you at the tipping point, smirking at the way you were gasping for air and squirming on his lap. But he was in no calmer state himself and you could tell his resolve was about to shatter. 

“Stand up. I want you on the bed,” He demanded. And when you didn’t move, he let go of your hip to lay a stiff smack to your backside. “Now.”

“No.” 

It was almost too easy and you snatched his wrist before he could return it to your hip, moving your hips and rubbing yourself against his leg again now that he only had one hand to try and control you.   

Aemond’s leg was slick and your clit was sliding deliciously across his skin. Fingernails dug into the flesh of your hips and you could feel Aemond’s frustration as he yanked his hand out of yours. But you blindly grasped at it again, shockwaves of white hot pleasure striking you suddenly as you came undone, your forehead falling forward to rest on Aemond’s as you let out a loud, drawn out moan. 

You shook through your orgasm, holding Aemond tightly. His cock throbbed against your thigh and you almost felt bad. 

“You should understand, my prince, if you continue to bring that whore to your bed then I am not above bringing another man to mine.” You struggled to catch your breath and your legs were still trembling as you stood, stepping away to pick up the coat you had dropped to the floor. 

Aemond glowered at you, his glare strong enough to have made you crumble before him were you not so high on adrenaline. 

“You would not dare,” he all but growled. 

“Have I not surprised you enough already, Lord Husband?” 

Aemond stood, the sheet falling to the floor, entirely naked and stiff against his stomach as he watched you don his coat. The anger in his voice only served to spur you on. “You will not leave. You would not dare to leave.”

“I am a princess, after all,” you looked at him over your shoulder, lip caught between your teeth at the sight of him bare, hard and infuriated. There was disbelief written all over his expression. “You will need to work much harder than that if you want me to give in.”

There was something new in the way Aemond looked at you. As if he was impressed. Admiring you, even through his frustration. And without giving yourself the chance for second thoughts, you walked right out Aemond’s chambers with a triumphant smile. 

[redfoxwritesstuff]

A Misdemeanor Of The Heart, Chapter 10 (Human!Alastor x Married!Reader)

Chapter Trigger Warnings: Graphic aftermath of domestic abuse and sadly typical post abuse love bombing

AN: Listen- see those warnings above? I fuckin mean it. If you're not in the right headspace or you need to walk away for a bit, do so. This shouldn't need stating but I will anyway, Laurence is a terrible man and his views are not that of my own.

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Masterlist AO3 KoFi

“Honey, I’m home!” Laurence’s voice pulled you from the darkness you had taken shelter in, beating it back with a razor wire wrapped bat. Now it was time to be awake, to perform the song and dance of a wife. The time for rest was done. 

You sat on the floor, at the foot of the stairs, though you had no memory of actually making it down them at any point. There were large black spots in your memory, almost as big as those you blinked from your vision. 

Blinking the eye that still worked, you tried to make your mind work. The cogs in your mind felt rusted, seized, as if they hadn’t turned in years, long abandoned and forgotten. 

The shadows were growing long across the floor as the day came to a close. So much time had been lost, slipping from your fingers. If you were stronger, you would have been able to hold on to the fleeting hours. You hoped Laurence wouldn’t be angry that the cleaning hadn’t been done. 

Dinner. You hadn’t started dinner, had you? You couldn’t remember. Hopefully, you had. Laurence needed to be fed. He worked hard, long hours to provide for you. It was your duty. 

His footsteps were heavy across the warm wood floors he hated so much. Anxiety grew in you with every footfall, but you couldn’t do much more than groan in protest. Standing, you willed yourself but you couldn’t. Everything hurt. It hurt to breathe. 

“Oh, honey,” Laurence knelt by your side, brushing hair out from your face with a tender hand. “What are you doing down here?” 

“I couldn’t,” you croaked out the words, throat raw and dry, “get the washing done.” 

Laurence’s arms hooked under your legs and scooped behind your back. He lifted you, cradling you against his chest as he carried you to the small breakfast nook just inside your kitchen. There was a sweet smell that clung to the neck of his shirt. Floral. You liked it. Where had it come from?

“I brought you dinner,” Laurence said as he settled you onto the padded bench. “I figured you weren’t much for cooking tonight, so I treated us. It took calling in some favors but I’ve got the roast chicken from that diner you love so much.” 

The act of kind consideration touched you more than it should have. A tear rolled down your cheek, leaving a wet trail. It was always like this, after. Laurence would care, after. He was soft, after. Always after. 

You slumped in your seat as Laurence set a glass of water in front of you. He left you alone, heavy steps taking him through the house. He walked through the house as if he hadn’t been the force behind your blood splatter on the stairs. Was that abnormal? Did other wives wake loose hours or days after an argument with their husbands? That’s all that was, right? Just an argument? 

If it had been anything more than an argument, what did that mean? It was better to not think about that. Your hand trembled as you brought the water to your lips, letting the cool liquid pour down your raw throat, washing away the question as you tried to ignore the way your little finger didn’t move quite right, didn’t sit quite right. 

Laurence came back into the kitchen, humming as he carried a ceramic baking dish and set it on the counter. You could count on one hand the number of times he had dished up a meal, but you said nothing as you watched him portion roasted chicken, vegetables, and rice onto plates. 

You remembered back to the dinner you had prepared for Alastor, how the guest helped serve instead of Laurence. You tried to not think about Alastor or of how your husband had embarrassed you, letting a guest serve the meal when you hadn’t been fast enough. You blinked the thoughts away as Laurence settled into the seat next to you. 

Scooping some rice onto the fork, you tried to keep your hand steady while you brought it to your lips. Most of the rice fell off and what didn’t was pushed off by your lips as you struggled to open your mouth. Your jaw hurt. Your lips hurt. It hurt to open your mouth. 

“Honey, let me help you.” Laurence’s hand was soft as he wrapped it around yours. 

He took the fork from you and fed you like you were some small child. You watched passively as he shredded the chicken, feeding stands through lips you struggled to part. Black dots swam in front of your vision, blocking out the view of Laurence cutting the food. Would you fall over? 

You mashed what you could with your tongue, avoiding working your jaw more than you had to. Laurence helped you wash down each small bite with a bit of water. Every time you swallowed a bite, he had another ready for you, not giving you a chance to do more than gasp a breath between bites. Eating was exhausting, and you wanted nothing more than to sleep again. 

“You have to eat,” Laurence said, hand resting on your back as he scooted closer to you. “You need to eat so you can heal.” 

“Yes, Laurence.” It felt like you were speaking through cotton balls as you looked at him. You had to look at Laurence when you talked to him. He didn’t like it when people didn’t look at him when they spoke to him. Fear coursed through you as your eye looked into his bright blue eyes.

His hand came to rest on your face, a touch soft as the way he looked at you, brows knitted together in clear concern. For a moment, you thought his eyes were brown. Warm brown eyes and soft hair and then you blinked. No, it was just Laurence, the man who caused the damage, looking at you with pity and sorrow but not an ounce of guilt. 

“You know I’m sorry, right?” Laurence’s thumb ran over the swelling in your face. “I just, you make me so mad sometimes. I love you so much. The thought that you’d want him instead of me…” 

You said nothing. What was there to say? You didn’t forgive him, but that didn’t matter. It would do no good to tell him that when you faded in and out, it was someone else’s eyes you saw in the place of your husband’s. Another tear fell from your eyes, tracing a messy line down the swelling in your face as you wondered why your mind dared to betray you now. 

“You make me so crazy,” Laurence said, standing up from the bench after he decided you had eaten enough. “It happened because I love you.” 

Laurence disappeared into the living room again before returning. He had a bouquet, large and wrapped in colorful paper. Small blooms surrounded a wide arrangement of a dozen bright red roses, all expertly picked, arranged, and tied together, held in the hands of the man that had ruined your last floral arrangement.

“I got these for you because I love you,” Laurence said, setting them on the table in front of you. 

You picked them up mechanically, looking at them. The corners of your mouth twitched up in a mockery of a smile. It was good enough for him, though usually such a poor performance would earn you the back of his hand. 

Laurence hummed as he took the flowers, unwrapped them and put them in water. 

“Oh, honey-” Laurence rested a large hand on your shoulder. “I’ll be working late for at least the next week. The radio station liked our marketing plan so much they wanted more.”

“That’s wonderful,” you said through swollen lips. Maybe with the success Laurence would let you buy a mechanical washing tub. Having one of those would be mighty helpful right about now. 

“Do you ever tire of fetching Mimzy’s dresses?” Susan asked as she packed up yet another custom dress. She hated working on the woman’s designs. They were off fashion, unique and a proper pain in the ass. 

“Is there something bothering you, Susan?” Alastor leaned on the counter, not taking her bait. “Neighborhood boys got you in a bad mood? Want ol Al to put them in their place again? Or is there actually something on your mind?” 

The woman behind the counter huffed, shoving her brown waves back before running her hands down her face. Her elbows rested on the counter on either side of the bag. 

“Boss bothering you?” Alastor asked as he pulled Mimzy’s bag to him. 

“Not any more than usual,” Susan sighed. “Remember Mrs. Latimer? With the bloody nose?”

“How could I forget you overcharging me for a handkerchief?” Alastor leaned on the counter, arms crossed as they spoke like conspirators. 

“I charged you what the boss wants me to charge everyone.”

“Which is too much,” Alastor countered, smile growing wider.

“You could go somewhere else,” Susan snapped, “And take Mimzy with you.” 

“And miss out on your lovely face?” Alastor chuckled, “I would never. Now what’s got your mood more sour than a lemon and what’s it got to do with Mrs. Latimer?”

“She hasn’t been by to pick up her dress. It was due for pick up three days ago. Ticket’s unpaid too. Boss just loves that. He’s been down my neck about it. Sen’t out a notice, but I’m not sure what he expects me to do about it.” 

“Is that so?”

“I don’t-” Susan sighed, “I don’t talk about what I see or the things I know about people in town. But I repair a lot of torn shoulders for Mrs. Latimer. I’m worried about her.”

“Torn shoulders?” Alastor hummed. 

“Don’t ask me to explain. I won’t.” 

“Let me get her dress,” Alastor was already pulling his wallet back out. “I’ll pay the ticket and bring it to her. I’m sure she’s fine, just under the weather.” 

Alastor had stood across the street from the Latimer home long enough to be sure that the man of the house was not home. He could see that someone was moving around inside before crossing the street. He walked swiftly up the pathway to the front door and rapped his knuckles against the dark blue door.

He waited, listening to the chirping of the birds and the rumble of a car in the distance. When you failed to answer, he knocked again, harder this time. The fluttering of curtains in the window told him someone was peeking out. 

He knew it wasn’t Laurence. Unless you had gotten a pet or had guests, it was you. 

So why did you not answer the door?

“Mrs. Latimer?” Alastor calls for you, thinking twice about using your given name while on the street. “I’ve got a delivery for you. Susan sent me.” 

“Just leave it outside,” your voice muffled too much for just coming through the door, “Thank you.” 

Alastor leaned closer to the door, speaking softer, but still clearly intending for her to hear him. “You’ve not picked up your dress. Susan’s worried for you, as am I.” 

“Susan?” 

“The seamstress from Markin’s tailor?” Alastor offered, bemused that someone could not have an annoyingly close relationship with the woman regardless of if they wanted to or not. Alastor had known her since they were children and it seemed he could never shake her. “I’m not leaving until you open this door. She’ll skin me alive if I don’t tell her I laid eyes on you and verified one of her best customers is indeed safe and sound.”

“I,” you hesitated inside your home, a block of ice wrapped in cloth hanging from your hand. The swelling had gone down, but the ice soothed the pain still. “I can’t, Alastor.” 

“I’m not leaving, so you may as well open this door. I’ll stand here all day if I need to.” Alastor’s lips twitched into a wider smile as he heard the lock on the door and watched the doorknob turn. 

You peeked through the opening. “I’m fine, see? Now-” 

Alastor leaned to the side, giving himself a better view of you. You watched his face drop from the smile he seemed to wear, and you knew in that moment he had seen too much. 

“Fuck,” the word was soft, spoken under his breath and not intended for your ears, but you caught the naked truth of it. 

He saw. 

“Let me in.” His voice was little more than a tense hiss, but it lacked the threat of Laurence’s voice. Alastor didn’t wait for you to decide if you were going to allow him in, though. 

As you readied your words of protest, Alastor looked each way and shoved the door open enough for him to slip inside. The force knocked you to the side, but you had no strength to put up any sort of fight.

This was wrong, you thought as the door squeaked. Improper. You were alone with him, or you would be if he dared to close the door. It stood open, just enough for his frame to have slipped through, though someone could still see. 

He looked at you as if he was seeing someone else. A few heartbeats passed before he shut the front door behind him, sealing you off.

Alone. Laurence would kill you if he had found out, but in the haze and fog of pain, you struggled to care beyond the sharp spike of fear. It was done. 

“Did he do this to you?” Deep shadows settled on Alastor’s face. Rage, an emotion that looked wholly misplaced and yet right at home, settled over his face in place of the smile he usually wore. 

You shrugged, not brave enough to meet his eyes. “It’s not as bad as it looks.”

“Like hell it’s not.” Alastor reached out, fingers ghosting over the dark blue bruises over your eye, “If I had to bet, I’d say it’s likely worse than it looks.” 

“It’s fine.” You needed Alastor to leave, “I’m healing. Please, you need to go.”

“I’m helping you,” Alastor’s lips twitched up into a calm smile, “Because it is my fault, isn’t it?” 

“No! No, not at all.” 

“The flowers were too much of a risk,” Alastor did not outright say sorry, but the words were written on his face. “I’ve patched my fair share of people up.” 

Somehow, you found yourself led through your house as if you were the guest. Alastor’s hand was light against your back, only a slight pressure when you would hesitate. It was hard to hesitate for more than a few moments. The pain and fatigue stole the fight from you. 

Alastor pulled the chair from your workstation toward the center of your kitchen and lightfully pushed you to sit in it. It was surreal seeing him in your space as if it was his once again. 

With a start, you realized how improper this really was. You were alone with a man that was not your husband. What’s worse, you were alone in your home with him and your husband didn’t know. You had no intention of telling Laurence, and that made it all the worse. 

It didn’t matter if nothing happened between you. If Laurence found out Alastor was in his home without a third party to ensure things were proper, you would be branded an adulteress. He could leave you ruined in society. Your family would disown you.

“It’ll be worse if he finds out you came.” 

Alastor seemed to hear your whispered words easily as he put a kettle of water on the stove to warm, though he disregarded them. He opened drawers until he found the kitchen rags instead of responding to your protest. 

You sat quietly as you watched Alastor pick herbs from the little pots that sat in your kitchen window. He put the leaves between two layers of the rag and grabbed your heavy stone rolling pin. Leaning forward to put his weight into it, he rolled it along the cloth until there was a slight green color to the white kitchen cloth. 

“What are you doing?” 

“Something Ma taught me.” You smiled softly at his words. Though he still spoke in that irritatingly perfect transatlantic accent, he called his mother ‘Ma’. “It’ll help prevent infection in your lip.”

You wanted to ask him how he knew about patching up beaten women, why his mother needed to teach him how to prevent infection beyond washing a cut, but you didn’t. You didn’t want to know. He was too kind of a man to have a childhood where a harsh man’s hands left bruises and weeping wounds. 

“When do you expect him back?” Alastor asked as he dipped the folded rag into the steaming water. After squeezing the water out, he took the wrapped chunk of ice from you and re-wrapped it with the damp green tinged cloth. 

“Usually just before dinner,” you answered, “But he said he’s probably going to be working late on the extra work for the station.”

“Extra work for the station?” Alastor scoffed but didn’t elaborate. You didn’t ask, though you wanted to. It wasn’t the place of a woman to insert herself into the affairs of men. 

“I’ll be gone before he’s back. I didn’t park near either. He won’t know.” 

You wanted to trust him. There was no energy left to argue with him about it. 

Alastor took the damp rag that had been wrapped around the ice and dropped it into the kettle. He waited for a moment before fishing the rag out and ringing the water out. How it didn’t burn his hands, you did not know.

“Hold this to your eye.” He tilted your head up with a finger under your chin. The action was strangely intimate. Softly, he pressed the warm cloth against the bruised skin. “After the first two days, heat is better to treat bruises. Helps your body break it down so it’ll fade faster.” 

“I didn’t know that,” you were not sure what to say to Alastor at that moment. Instead, you slowly reached up with your other hand to take the rag from him, folding your fingers over his hand as best you could with your little finger still not working right. 

Alastor noticed your finger, sitting out at an angle from the others as your hand ghosted over his. As he let you take the rag yourself, he leaned forward to get a better look at the finger. 

Your heart beat hard in your chest as his face drew closer to yours. You could see the different shades of brown in his eyes, making them look like freshly tilled soil. He had his attention focused on your hand, but the way his hair had just a little more curl at the root, giving it more volume, captivated yours. His long lashes framed his eyes, such a normal color, and yet you couldn’t look away.

“It looks like your finger is just dislocated.” his words were soft. His breath ghosted over you, bitter coffee rich in it. “It’ll hurt, but if you don’t relocate it, it will just get worse.”

“What’s a little more pain?” You tried to sound brave, but your voice still faltered. 

Alastor nodded before rummaging through your kitchen again. He came back with twine as he fished a small folding pocketknife from his pocket. He dropped another rag into the kettle before taking both the rag and hand over your eye in his hand. 

You marveled at how much bigger his hand was than yours as he plucked the rag from your palm and tossed it into the kettle easily. He held your hand close to his face, using his fingers to feel how the bones sat under your skin. 

“Three.” He said, taking your hand in both of his. 

“Two.” He wrapped his fingers carefully around your pinky. You took a deep breath, clenching your teeth together and held it.

“One.” He pulled your finger out and toward the rest of your hand with a strong, steady pressure. 

It wasn’t slow, and for that you were thankful. Pain swirled in your head as you cried out. And then, with a pop, you could instantly feel relief. The joint throbbed, but the pain was duller now..

You didn’t realize you were swaying until Alastor’s hands on your shoulders steadied you. “Are you alright?”

“Dizzy,” was all you could say, “I’m okay.” 

Alastor nodded, dropping his hands from you but stood, watching you for a few moments longer before fishing a rag out of the hot kettle with tongs. 

“Give your lip a break from the ice,” he directed over his shoulder as he worked water out of the rag using the side of the kettle and the tongs. He clumsily folded it on the counter, pinching the steaming edges of the fabric and flipping them over. 

As he tossed the folded cloth between his hands a few times, you pulled the cloth from your lip. He folded the cloth in his hands one more time before resting it against your bruised eye again, holding it to your darkened skin until your fingers slipped under his hand. 

Then his face was once again too close to yours. Your heart pounded as he looked at your lip closer, directing your head this way and that with a few fingers under your chin. 

Never in your life had you been this close to a man who was not your father or your husband. All it would take was leaning just a little forward and your lips would be on his. Such a silly thought that was. The pain was surely getting to you. 

If someone walked in and saw him holding you like this, they would think he was about to kiss you, and that thought wasn’t so silly. Fear flooded you as your eyes ripped from his to glance at the doorway.

“Don’t worry,” Alastor whispered, “We’ve got plenty of time still.” 

“Why are you helping me?” You asked, dressing gown clutched to your chest as you held the back of your blouse up for Alastor, trying to preserve as much of your modesty as you could. 

He had insisted on checking the rest of your injuries and you don’t know why you agreed. Maybe it would make him leave sooner? Maybe it just felt better to be taken care of. While Laurence had provided a meal, flowers and water, he hadn’t provided any actual care for the injuries themselves. 

“Because no man should lay a hand on his wife.” Alastor spoke around the end of the bandage he had gripped in his teeth. “I don’t enjoy seeing it and I enjoy causing it even less. You deserve better.”

“But it’s what it is. I’m his,” Alastor only hummed at your words, passing the bandage to your side. You took it and wrapped it around your front, passing it back to him on the other side, where he pulled it tight. The pressure around your ribs was comforting, just as he promised it would be. 

You still were not sure it was worth being in such an indecent position with him. He said nothing of the yellow and green bruises you knew were on your back, healing marks from prior times you had disappointed your husband. 

“What are you doing later this week?” Alastor asked, breaking the tense silence that fell between you while he finished wrapping your ribs. “While he is working?” 

“Cleaning,” you weakly shrugged. “Cooking. Healing. Being a wife.”

“And if you took a break from that?” Alastor felt the adrenaline trickle into his system just as it did whenever he took a risk while hunting. Interesting. Unexpected. He filed that reaction away to examine later. 

“What?”

“I’ve spent all afternoon here patching you up. I was supposed to go pick up some curtains.” 

“I’m so sorry!” You sucked in a breath as he tied off the bandages. “I’ll make it up to you somehow.”

“I know just the way!” Alastor’s voice returned to the cheer you had grown to associate with him. It had been subdued in the last few hours and you had missed it. Its absence had left you feeling tense. “Why don’t you assist me in making the selection? My home is dearly missing a woman’s touch. We can go next week, so you’ve had a chance to heal.” 

“It wouldn’t be-”

“Proper, sure it would. We’ll be in public and I can assure you that Laurence wouldn’t find out. Just you, me and the rest of the shoppers.” 

“Alright,” you chewed your lip, “If you’re sure he won’t find out… I could assist and then we’ll be even? The debt paid?” 

Next? Masterlist

[sukunastoy]

There’s really no plot to this, just writing as I randomly thought about a scenario. I have such a soft spot for Heian Era Sukuna that takes a wife without the intention of love but slowly grows fond of them.

Cw/Tw: No smut/not suggestive. Gender neutral reader. Forced marriage. Very brief death of no one important.

WC: 1.6k+

Thinking of Heian Era Sukuna, and you being forced to marry him. It's a cruel act to your parents who had pissed him off by hunting and harvesting berries on his land. In their defense, they weren't aware that Sukunas personal territory spread so far, but it made no difference in the end. As you were preparing breakfast for your parents the next morning, the king showed up in your village.

You weren't even able to finish cooking, you were to go with him, immediately. Your parents had begged and apologized, but the King took what he wanted, when he wanted it.

You followed dutifully, knowing resisting would only get you killed, and possibly your parents as well. Sukuna planned to only keep you for a few weeks, just to let your parents wallow in misery. You were confined to a room with nothing more than a place to sleep, and a small desk with a candle.

The weeks passed slowly, and you rarely saw the King. His right had servant, Uraume, would bring yon food and water daily, and a small bucket of warm water and a cloth to clean yourself. Otherwise, you were alone.

It was sad, and frightening, as you weren't sure of his intentions. But, despite having a window in your room, you never thought about running away. Unfortunately, someone tried to "rescue" you. They snuck into your window one night, thinking they would be able to get you out of there. When you refused to go, and begged they leave, it was still all too late. Sukuna was well aware someone was lurking near his home, and he entered your room quickly, catching your failed rescuer.

Sukuna dragged you and the now dead body of your would be savior back to your village.

He threw their mangled body at the feet of your parents, and declared in the moment you would be married to him and remain with him forever. Since they wanted to play stupid games, they'd receive stupid prizes. You'd be included into his collection of wives and concubines, cutting you off from your parents.

Your parents wailed and pleaded for his mercy, but you knew there was no way out of this. The king claimed you as his wife in-front of your village, and the two of you drank sake from the same cup, sealing this abrupt arrangement.

You left with him once more, only this time as one of his declared wives.

Back to the room you went. Though, you were told you may come out if you wanted to. But not to leave the property. You passed time by working on your calligraphy and poems, and even learning to properly sew. Sukuna never made appearances to you, and though you were grateful that he wasn't going to abuse you in some way, it was, rather unfortunately, very lonely.

You asked Uraume one day about his other wives, if they lived here too. To your surprise, they didn't. In fact, most of them had been killed off or sent away to slavery villages. Sukuna merely punished those who wronged him by taking away their offspring in one way or another. He'd claim them as one of his brides just to degrade the family name, and to cease their bloodline.

So you waited, waited for when the King would eventually dispose of you. What more could you do?

However, while you took a small walk through his expansive home one afternoon, you crossed paths with him.

You immediately went to the floor in a submissive bow, asking your husband forgiveness if you've gotten in his way or disturbed him. He told you to rise from the ground, and to just carry on as you were. Before he could get far, you called out for him in a cracked voice, asking if you could accompany him for at least a little while. Even if he only let you near him for a few minutes, you'd be okay with that.

He stopped while looking back to you, a curious expression on his face.

When he gestured with his chin for you to come along, you happily did so, hurrying to his side. The two of you walked along in silence, but some form of relief washed over you. Sitting alone in that room or just roaming the home without any interaction was causing immense stress in your heart. In the village, you had multiple interactions daily, and now, you rarely saw anyone else. Apart form Uraume, or some maids, who weren't allowed to really talk to you anyway.

Passing near your room, you stopped and bowed to your husband, expressing your gratitude for being at his side even if it was only a moment.

The next day, you found yourself encountering him in the hall again, and same as before, you were allowed to be in his presence.

This continued for a couple of weeks, before Sukuna met you at your room for the first time. It made you nervous, for some reason. But you stepped aside of course and he came into your room, looking around with a small glimpse of interest.

"Your calligraphy is very elegant and refined." He commented, looking down to your small spread of papers along the desk. You bowed immediately at his praise, thanking him. His voice and tone seemed so much different now, compared to when he took you from your home. It was calm and gentle.

One of the nights, a particularly bad storm tore you out of your sleep. You went out into the hall with a small candle, in search of someone to not be alone.

As you passed the doorway to the garden and balcony, you spotted someone outside.

It was your king. He was seated beneath the covered area, just relaxing and watching the rolling and flashing sky. Before you could even say anything, Sukuna patted the wooded planks next to him, briefly looking back to you.

You ducked your head in a quick bow and went to his side, kneeling down in the presence of your King.

He leaned back while putting his kiseru to his lips, inhaling slowly. With every clash of thunder, your body trembled and you subconsciously moved closer to Sukuna.

"The storm bothers you?"

"Yes, I've never enjoyed them." You spoke honestly, wincing at another bright flash of lightening.

One of Sukunas hands came to your side, pulling you more against him so you didn't have to worry if you were allowed to or not. You glanced up to him in shock, but he paid no attention to it. With a grateful smile, you rested your head against him, feeling more at ease that you weren't alone during the storm. The covering over the balcony went out far enough to keep the rain off of both of you, so you could sit comfortably.

These small interactions went on for a while, and each time it stormed, you found your king out on the balcony. He had even began bringing a small cushion for you to sit upon while next to him, anticipating your arrivals. It became something you looked forward to. Storms couldn't happen quick enough.

You never doubted his ability to be a monster however, just because he was being gentle to you in these moments. It was very clear he enjoyed doing horrendous things to those that irritated him. But you felt like you could relax a little, knowing you weren't someone getting on his nerves.

When the cold months arrived, your king still sat outside to relax on occasion, and you found yourself staying inside more, unable to handle the chilly temperatures. In the middle of the nights, you'd stay in the kitchen for a while, soaking up the warmth from the irori so you could get to sleep. But it was difficult...

With your village, a few families would bundle together in a larger home, and everyone would sleep next to each other for body heat. The kitchen irori would keep you warm, but once you had to go back to your room, the cold quickly found its way into your bones again.

Passing back to your room from the kitchen, your King was stepping in from the outside. You immediately bowed down in his presence, though visibly shaking from the cold.

A soft chuckle made you lift your head, and you saw him gesture with his hand to follow. He took you into his personal chambers, and you felt out of place for being in here, as only Uraume was allowed in to clean.

He had his own irori in the middle of his room, and it made it so warm and cozy inside.

You sighed out quietly as your body adjusted, feeling at ease from the warmth.

Sukuna leaned down to his bed, moving the blankets aside before motioning you over without words. For once, you had a moment of hesitation, worried what he was wanting. The two of you rarely spoke, and apart from him letting you be against him outside during a storm, you never touched. You swallowed your fears, and went to him as he expected.

He laid down on the cushions and pillows, seeming to save a spot next to him for you. You crawled into the space besides him, shuddering even more when you felt the heat from his body mix with your colder one.

One of his arms came around you, and pulled you closer, making you gulp.

"Relax." He said finally, pulling the blankets over both of your bodies.

"I'm just...I'm not sure what to do."

"You don't have to do anything. Just sleep." He reassured, caressing your back gently while closing his eyes.

You looked at him fondly, a small smile taking over your lips as you cuddled closer to him. His scent was so amazing, almost intoxicating actually. You nuzzled into his warm chest, so honored that the King was allowing such a thing. It certainly didn’t take you long to fall asleep after that, feeling safe and warm against the monster that was your husband.

[happy74827]

Take Me Over

[Nick Blaine x Wife!Reader]

Synopsis: In the heart of Gilead’s oppressive regime, you find yourself thrust into a marriage with Nick Blaine, a man whose silent demeanor hides a truth you’ve realized to be shared.

WC: 2189

Category: Lime/Spice, Slight Fluff {TW — Forced Marriage}

I’m back at it again with another character that no one seems to write about 🥲 (I love him your honor)

『••✎••』

The dim light of the candles flickered in the oppressive silence of the room. You sat on the edge of the bed, your hands tightly gripping the stack of letters tied together by a brown string while you contemplated what you were about to do.

It’s been a total of two days since you were placed to be a part of the household of Commander Fred and Mrs. Waterford. Two days since you were forced into a role that you were not comfortable with. Two days since a new life was placed before you.

Two days since your marriage, and now here you are, sitting on the edge of a bed, dreading the moment that the door would open and once again reveal the man who was forced to be your husband.

Nick Blaine, that was his name, and it was all that was given to you. You knew nothing about him. All you knew was that you were his wife, and he was your husband, and you both had a role to play. Though, if the letters that you currently held in your hands were anything to go by, Nick Blaine, your husband, played the role of a rebel.

Shock. It was the first thing that you felt when you discovered the stack of letters hidden behind one of the drawers in the room. Then, curiosity. What exactly were they? You were so intrigued that you couldn't help yourself. You had to find out.

You didn’t regret it.

You didn't even want to.

What you had found was something you could not believe. Something so secret and dangerous that you could not fathom. The contents of the letters, the words written upon the papers, were like a breath of fresh air.

Stories, that's what they were. Stories that you would tell in hushed whispers. Stories that were passed around. Stories of the world before Gilead.

They seemed to be all handmaids. Handmaids telling their side of the story. Brave women who would take such risks, who would defy the rules, just to let their voices be heard.

They were inspiring, and as you read through them, you realized the more dangerous these letters were, the more powerful. And the more powerful they were, the more they were needed.

It was a small act of defiance, but it was enough. It was something that could keep the flame of hope alive, and that is exactly what they needed in the current situation.

But the question still stands. What was Nick Blaine doing with them?

You weren’t sure how you were supposed to feel, especially now that you were aware that a man of his stature and position could risk everything for the sake of those who were fighting against Gilead.

So many things were racing in your mind, but then it hit you. The soft glow in his eyes whenever Waterford’s handmaiden was around. The way he looked at her. Sympathy and guilt. He cared for her.

The revelation was almost jarring, but you weren’t too surprised. Nick always seemed different from the others. Hell, it’s been two days, and he hasn’t touched you.

You could almost guarantee that all the other men who were promoted and newly married would have already taken their wives by now. They would’ve taken their wife that night after the ceremony. But not him. Not Nick.

You were grateful.

He had a heart, and that's all that mattered.

A knock on the door snapped you back into reality, and before you could even respond, the door was opening.

It was Nick.

For a split second, the two of you just stared at each other, his eyes moving in slow motion as they trailed from your face to the stack of letters you were holding.

Of course, as he did so, all you could do was look at him in admiration. He was always easy on the eyes before, with hair and eyes that were darker than the luxurious dark chocolate you once loved to eat before Gilead. But, knowing what you know now, everything about him was just much more attractive.

But then, a flicker of fear was shown in his eyes, and all at once, the atmosphere seemed to grow tense.

Without saying a word, Nick stepped into the room and closed the door behind him. You could visibly see a sweat drop trickling down his neck as he tried to compose himself, his eyes never leaving the letters that were clutched tightly in your hands.

"Nick." You whispered, and you could see him stiffen at the mention of his name. The poor man was terrified, and it was heartbreaking.

"How much did you read?" His voice was rough and gravelly, and the sound was music to your ears.

"Enough." You answered, and without missing a beat, you slowly stood up and began to make your way toward him. "Enough to know I can trust you."

Your response was met with a surprised look, and it was clear to you that he was not expecting that. Truthfully, you were surprised yourself.

This was all new to you. You've never spoken so freely before, and you never expected the day would come when you would have the courage to defy the rules. But today was a strange day.

"I’ve never believed in miracles," You whispered, taking a few steps forward. Your eyes were locked with his, and you could see the surprise and curiosity swirling around in his beautiful, dark brown eyes. "but you might be the closest thing to one I could get."

A soft smile tugged at your lips as you slowly walked towards him, and as the two of you were only mere inches away from each other, you raised the stack of letters and gently pushed it towards him.

"You need to do better than hiding them behind a drawer, though. I almost tripped on it when it fell out." You said, and for the first time since you had met him, you saw his lips curl up into a ghost of a smile.

"Noted."

And then the two of you lapsed into silence. A comfortable silence that was filled with the soft glow of the candle and the faint crackling sound of the fire.

That night was the night your trust was built and the beginning of a bond that would eventually bring the two of you together.

It was a couple of months later, when he returned from Canada with the Waterfords, that your relationship from close friends to lovers began.

He’d gotten the letters out. He’d finally gotten them out, and as the news of the failed union between Canada and Gilead left his lips, all you could think about was the relief and the excitement.

Your heart was overflowing with joy, and your body was filled with a sense of warmth that you had long forgotten. Nick had done it. Nick had finally done it.

As soon as he finished recounting, you rushed to embrace him. A strong grip wrapped itself around his waist, and your face nuzzled into the crook of his neck.

Nick, on the other hand, was stiff as a board. Even though you two were married to each other, he still felt that it was inappropriate for him to touch you in such a manner.

The thought didn’t last long, however, as you pulled away and gave him a smile that made his heart skip a beat.

Your smile was radiant. Your eyes were twinkling, and your face was glowing. For the first time in a long time, you were truly happy. And Nick didn't think that he'd ever seen anything more beautiful.

"I'm proud of you."

Your words were soft, and as you placed your hand on his chest, you could feel his heartbeat quicken beneath your palm.

His eyes were locked on yours, and he could see the emotions swirling around in your eyes.

Relief. Excitement. Happiness. Admiration.

The list could go on, but in the end, all that mattered was that he could see the love that you held for him.

And that… that look was all it took for his hands to gently grasp your shoulders and guide you backward as you told him another set of words about how he was a hero and that he was amazing.

You didn’t even realize what he was doing until your back felt the concrete wall. Once you realized you weren’t moving anymore, you paused and looked at him, and the moment you did, your breath got caught in your throat.

Nick was looking at you with an intensity that made the hairs on the back of your neck stand. His hands had moved from your shoulders to the nape of your neck, and the warmth of his skin sent a shiver down your spine.

"Nick." You whispered, watching as his thumb grazed the outline of your bottom lip. It was a simple, tender gesture, but it was enough to send butterflies fluttering in your stomach.

You couldn’t get a response out, not even a single word, as you watched his eyes glance down at your lips, his own tongue darting out to lick his.

Then, his head was moving forward, and his lips were brushing against yours. It was a ghost of a kiss, barely touching your lips, but the electricity was there. It was a spark that made your entire body tingle and your heart race.

When Nick pulled away, he was met with your intense gaze. You were almost upset at the weak display. Even though you understood his hesitation, a part of you was hoping he would be braver.

"That's it?" You murmured, a hint of teasing in your voice.

And the moment those words left your mouth, he was smirking. He was actually smirking, and his fingers were running through your hair.

"Are you asking me for more?" He asked, his voice low and deep, sending another shiver down your spine.

"I’m not asking," You breathed out, leaning in close and pressing your forehead against his. The moment you did, his grip tightened around your waist, and his free hand slid down to your hip, squeezing it slightly. "You were brave enough to get those letters out. Be brave enough to kiss me like you mean it."

Those were the magic words.

He didn't say anything in response.

He didn't need to.

Instead, his hands went back to the nape of your neck, and his lips were once again on yours. Only this time, it was not a ghostly touch. It was real, and the moment his lips were on yours, all your senses were flooded with him.

You could feel his warm, plush lips molding against yours and the gentle way his fingers were running through your hair.

But what made you absolutely weak was the taste of him. Your legs were almost wobbling the moment his tongue slipped into your mouth. It was like a dance, his tongue brushing against yours as if it were the most natural thing in the world.

And as the two of you kissed, all the tension and the desire that had been building up in the past months slowly dissipated.

Your heart was racing, and your mind was in a daze. The only thing you were thinking about was Nick and his lips. And as his fingers gripped onto the strands of your hair and the way his hips began to press against yours, all you could think about was getting him closer.

So, your hands traveled down from his chest and to his back, gripping the material of his jacket as you pulled him towards you.

The action elicited a groan from the back of his throat, and his hips began to press firmly against yours. You could feel the way his hips were subtly grinding against yours, and as his hardness began to rub against the thin material of your dress, the moan that escaped your lips was swallowed by his mouth.

The kiss was turning heated and passionate, and your lips were swollen and bruised. Your fingers were tugging on his hair, and his were clutching at the strands of your own.

His teeth gently bit down on your bottom lip, and a moan escaped your lips; the sound was swallowed by his mouth, and you could feel him smiling.

You and Nick were so lost in each other that night, so focused on the taste of one another and the way his body was pressed against yours; it created a bubble where you both were safe, warm, and blissful.

It was the first time in a long time either of you had felt that way, and that feeling continued to grow, and eventually, it blossomed into a love that was deeper than the ocean and brighter than the sun.

And that was when you realized that no matter what happened, the two of you would always have each other, and no matter how cruel the world was, the two of you would always find a way to stay true to yourselves.

[thebadgerclan]

Hatred

Pairing: Nikolai Lantsov x reader

Summary: A visit from the Dowager Queen...

Tatiana Lantsov had never liked you.  You were too bold, too outspoken, too independent; a woman with a mind of her own, a woman who wasn’t afraid to stand up for herself.  A woman who was not worthy of her precious Nikolai, you’d heard her say that yourself.  But Nikolai didn’t care, he saw a beautiful, independent, fierce woman whose affection he was lucky to have earned.

The former Queen fought your marriage at every turn, going so far as to feign hysterics when Nikolai proposed.  Tatiana would have objected at the wedding too if Nikolai hadn’t threatened to revoke her invitation.  What made it worse was that you tried so hard to earn her approval, but to no avail.  You dressed in her preferred style, you attended salons with her ladies, you were quiet, demure, only speaking when spoken to.  But you might as well have done nothing, as Tatiana still despised you.

When she was sent away towards the end of the war, you were secretly giddy.  It was a tumultuous time; your husband being crowned, both of you figuring out your new roles as King and Queen, stitching Ravka back together–your mother-in-law’s criticism was the last thing you needed.  But all good things must come to an end.

“Darling,” Nikolai entered your study, lacking his usually buoyant attitude.  “This just arrived.  I wanted you to see it first.”  Your husband handed you a letter which bore the Lantsov Royal Seal, and you cocked your head as you unfolded it.  My darling Sobachka, it read.  I must confess disappointment; I thought you would have invited me to the Palace for a visit by now.  I understand the initial months of your reign were busy, but you’ve settled into the Crown now, surely you can set aside some time for your Mother?

I won’t harp on it, though.  I write to tell you that I will be arriving at the Palace just after the feast of Sankta Neyar.  I wanted my visit to be a surprise, but I believe Y/N could use some time to prepare.  I have been keeping up with the goings on in Os Alta, Nikolai, and I must say, I am impressed.  Your Y/N has done well, especially for a girl of near-common blood.  But…she could benefit from my knowledge.  Her summit with the wives of the Kerch merchant council?  A disaster!

I miss you, my son.  Two years with nothing more than letters.  You would not believe the conditions here!  But I digress, I won’t bore you with the lack of accommodations.  If the post is swift, I shall see you a week after you receive this letter.  I love you, Nikolai.  -Madraya.  You set down the paper, anger flickering in your eyes.  “I could ‘benefit from her knowledge’?” you said, rising from your desk.  “She’s impressed?  Nikolai, I–”  “I know, love, I know.  We can’t turn her away, and she’s likely already departed.”

Your husband knew of his mother’s dislike for you, and while you were courting, he’d done everything he could to shield you from her cold words.  Nikolai had spoken to her at length about the issue; how you were a wonderful girl, how in love with you he was, how she was being unnecessarily harsh.  But Tatiana persisted.  Her treatment of you had been part of his decision to send her away–of course he cared for his mother’s safety, and of course he loved her.  But Nikolai loved you more, and if she would cause you distress, he would do whatever he could to prevent it.

You sighed, your head in your hands.  “Nikolai, I know she’s your mother, and I know you love her, but she hates me!  I can only imagine what she’ll find to nit-pick at when she’s here!”  Your husband rounded your desk and knelt before you, taking your hands in his.  “She will do no such thing, because I won’t let her.  Y/N, my love, you are a perfect Queen, I don’t care what anyone else says.  The people adore you, I adore you, and I will remind you every single day of how wonderfully you’re doing.”

“Was my summit with the merchers’ wives that bad?”  Your husband scoffed.  “No, my love, it went off without a hitch,  She’s just being critical, unjustly so.  Y/N, sweetheart, look at me.”  You did, seeing only love and adoration in his eyes.  “You are the Queen I chose, you are the woman I chose, and I’ll be damned if I let anyone make you feel less than that.”  “Even your mother?”  Nikolai nodded, kissing your knuckles.  “Especially my mother.  And when she arrives, you will be exactly who and what you are:  My perfect, beautiful, beloved Queen.”

***

Nerves consumed you the morning of the Dowager Queen’s arrival, and Nikolai did his best to soothe and comfort you.  “She won’t say anything,” he said, kissing your hand as the two of you entered the parlor where you’d be receiving her.  “I’ll make sure of it.”  You tried not to pace, but only a few minutes after you entered the parlor, an attendant opened the door.  “Announcing Her Royal Highness, the Dowager Queen, Tatiana Lantsov.”

She swept in, her train of blue silk trailing behind her.  “Nikolai!” she cried, hurrying to her son and embracing him. Despite your history, you couldn’t begrudge her this: she was his mother, a mother who missed her son.  “And Y/N.  You look…well.” Your wardrobe had been selected intentionally: purple silk and tulle, a color formerly reserved for royalty; a crown of amethyst–the second rarest gemstone in Ravka to the emerald–atop your head.  White silk gloves adorned your hands, your wedding and engagement rings on your left hand, the Lantsov Emerald on your right.

The message was clear: you were the Queen, not Tatiana, your position commanded respect.  “Thank you, Tatiana,” you replied coolly.  “I must say, we were not expecting you to visit.”  The Dowager sat, breaking a dozen protocols in the process.  “Yes, well, when I didn’t receive an invitation from Nikolai, I took matters into my own hands.  Oh, before I forget, Nikolai, you must have your footmen review proper titles.  All day they’re been calling me ‘Your Royal Highness’!”

“Because that is your title,” you said.  “You are a Dowager Queen, not the wife of the current monarch.  ‘Your Most Royal Majesty’ is reserved for the monarch and their spouse.”  Tatiana bristled.  “Nikolai, are you going to allow her to–”  “I don’t allow Y/N to do anything,” he interjected.  “She does as she pleases.  And she is correct.”  You could feel the irritation rolling off of her, but she let the topic drop.

Conversation turned to lighter subjects: legislation being passed, the latest court gossip, Nikolai’s inventions.  It was painfully obvious that Tatiana became irritated by your contributions to the conversation, and Nikolai noticed.  He kept your hands in his, squeezing gently when she rolled her eyes or muttered under her breath.  You could do this, you could endure her for another few hours.  Or so you thought.

“...And I’ll be hosting a charity dinner next month benefitting children orphaned by the war.”  “Oh, that’s wonderful, dear!” Tatiana responded, not a hint of irritation in her voice.  “I’d be more than happy to come back to help you plan!”  “There’s no need for that,” you said.  “I assure you I have everything under control, but I appreciate your offer.”  “After the fiasco with the Kerch?” she muttered, just loud enough for you to hear.  “I don’t think so.”

You were just about to retort, to let your temp fly, when Nikolai stood.  “That is enough!” he shouted, stunning both you and Tatiana into silence.  “I will not tolerate you berating and disrespecting my wife anymore.”  “Nikolai,” his mother said, her tone that of one soothing a petulant child.  “Surely this is–”  “No, Mother!  From the very first, you have had something against Y/N.  First she was too low-born, then she was too outspoken, then she was too independent, then her gowns were ‘whorishly scandalous’.  You’ve never liked her, and I cannot piece together why, but I’m beyond caring.  It ends now.”

Tatiana rose as well.  “Nikolai, please!  I have only ever wanted what’s best for you, and what’s best for the Crown!  You could have had anyone!  A duke’s daughter, an heiress to a ruby mine!  But you chose this?”  “Yes, Mother!  I chose Y/N!  I chose the woman I love, the woman who never made me feel like I was less than because I was a second son!”  “You deserve more!  Deserve better!”

Nikolai was seething with rage, and he felt the demon writhing within him.  “She loves me!  I love her!  Why is that not enough?  Why has my happiness never been enough for you?”  You watched with a shocked expression: you’d never seen your husband so upset, so angry, and despite the tension of the situation, your heart fluttered to know he would go to such lengths to defend you.

“Of course your happiness is important to me!” Tatiana replied.  “But when you insisted on courting her, I had to question your long term plan!  I had made peace with it, you know?  You marrying the daughter of a low-born baronet.  You were never meant for the throne!  But then your father was murdered….and Vasily, and suddenly she was Queen.  The girl had no training, her manners were unfit for a Queen, she–”

“Enough!”  Nikolai’s shout made Tatiana fall silent.  “You forget your place.”  “I forget–”  “Y/N is not only my wife, but she is your Queen, and I will not stand for you disrespecting her in either capacity.  I have never cared about Y/N’s status, never cared about her manners, I care about her!  And for years, you have tormented her, made her feel unworthy, and I won’t stand for it any longer.

“Either change your attitude, start treating Y/N with respect, or get out.”  Tatiana looked scandalized.  “You would kick me out of my own home?”  “This is not your home!  It’s ours, mine and Y/N’s.  I don’t expect you to love her, I don’t even expect you to like her.  But this treatment needs to stop, and it needs to stop now.”  The Dowager Queen remained silent, and Nikolai took it as an answer enough.  “Guards!”

Four Palace guards entered, on edge after overhearing the argument.  “Escort my mother from the grounds.  She is not to return unless explicitly invited.”  Tatiana blanched.  “Nikolai, you can’t–”  “Can’t I?  No, you’re right, this shouldn’t be my decision…”  Nikolai turned to you, taking your hand in his.  “My love?  Do you want her gone?”  His voice was so gentle, a stark contrast to moments ago.

You stood, straightening the skirts of your gown.  “I do.”  You then addressed the guards.  “As King Nikolai said, she is not to return unless invited.  Which I feel may not be for quite some time.”  When the guards hesitated, Nikolai snapped, “You heard your Queen!”  Tatiana was dragged from the room, and as soon as the doors were shut behind her, Nikolai gathered you into his arms, holding you tightly.

“I’m so sorry, Y/N,” he whispered, kissing your head.  “I can’t…I never thought she’d….fuck, I’m sorry.”  You lifted your head to look at him, to find that he was crying.  “It’s not like it’s a surprise that she hates me,” you said.  “But it hurt, hearing her say it.”  Your husband held you tighter, sniffling softly.  “I love you,” he said.  “I love you so much, Y/N.  I’ve never cared about all the stuff she said, I care about you.  And that she hurt you….Saints, can you forgive me?”

“There’s nothing to forgive, Nikolai,” you said, wiping his tears away with a gloved hand.  “Her hatred for me is not your fault.  And I love you too, more than anything else.”  He kissed you, soft and sweet, wishing he could erase all the hateful things his mother had said to him.  “I don’t want you to cut ties with her,” you said when the kiss broke.  “She’s your mother, and you love her.  I don’t want me to come between you.”

Nikolai shook his head, guiding you to the settee where he pulled you onto his lap.  “I know, darling.  But right now…I can’t even think about her without wanting to break something.”  You cupped his cheek, guiding him into a kiss.  “Thank you for defending me,” you said, and Nikolai wrapped his arms around you, keeping you close to him.  “I will always defend you.  Be it on the battlefield or from my mother.”

You laughed, and he smiled.  “There’s my girl,” Nikolai said, kissing you again.  For several minutes, the two of you sat in silence, enjoying the other’s embrace, before you spoke.  “If this drives a wedge between you two, I don’t think I could forgive myself.”  “Hey, don’t think like that.  If there’s a wedge, it was driven from the first time she rolled her eyes at you.  She’s my mother, yes, and I love her.  But you, Y/N, I love you so much more.”

[she-walks-on-starlight]

Can u write some fluff and comfort for grayson.

i would appreciate it <3

Of course! Thanks for the request - ✨

Duty Bound

a/n: added in some hurt/comfort and a slight touch of angst for this one, it's just how the story came to me :) my requests are still open, send me your ideas I'd love to hear them 😊

Warnings: almost break-up, arguments, feelings of neglect

Summary: Grayson has been busy with work, and you're starting to feel tired of coming in second. When you deliver an ultimatum, will it make or break your relationship?

Word Count: 2k

“I think you are the most beautiful girl I have ever laid eyes on, y/n, and I want to spend my days and my nights making you happy. I will do anything you ask, will take you anywhere you wish to go as long as I can come with you. Just please say you’ll be mine, and nothing could possibly make me any happier.”

A beautiful memory.

You sighed as you packaged the baked macaroni cheese into Tupperware containers and labelled them before putting them in the fridge, yet another dinner you’d eaten alone.

Your cat, Whiskers, wound himself around your legs and staring reproachfully at you with his wide, green eyes. Rolling your eyes, you filled his feeding dish and put it on the floor for him, earning a grateful squeak. You scratch just behind his ears, when you hear the lock turn in the front door and the heavy thud of your girlfriend’s work boots as she finally arrived home.

“I’m home, beloved! Oh, do I smell cheese?”

She appeared in the kitchen archway, her Enforcer jacket slung casually over her shoulder and her pristine white shirt unbuttoned to just above her cleavage. You fix her with faux annoyed stare.

“You do smell cheese…I’ve just put your dinner in the fridge.”

Grayson huffs, running her hands through her messy, silver streaked locks. “I’m so sorry, my love. There was a situation in the Undercity that required my attention.”

You rolled your eyes but smiled. “I suppose I’ll have to let you off then, won’t I? Sit down, I’ll warm up your dinner.”

She obeyed, sitting at your small table as you warmed the macaroni cheese and started a spinach omelette for her lunch the next day. Grayson started unlacing her boots, lightly smacking your ass whenever you passed her because she knew it made you blush. Whiskers however soon realised she was home and pawed at her laces until she lavished him with attention. She looked tired, and you knew she must’ve had a very busy shift. It seemed with every week she was the Chief Enforcer more lines carved their way into her handsome face.

“I swear, more and more Shimmer is being pumped into the Undercity and we still haven’t got a single idea on how, or who is behind it all. Every factory I shut down, two more pop up to replace it! Not to mention how many Enforcers I’m losing to those Shimmer crazed thugs! I’ve had to inform three more wives of their husbands’ deaths today! Three!”

You kiss her cheek and run your hands through her hair, massaging the nape of her neck to help her relax. “I think you need a break, Gray.”

She groaned with pleasure at your ministrations but scoffed at your words. “If I take a break, I think the entire station will collapse.”

You tried to remain bright, placing her meal in front of her and grinning as she dug in eagerly. “Well…maybe we can do something this weekend? Maybe go to that little vegan café we both like?”

“Sorry my love, I can’t. I volunteered to lead a seminar on firearm maintenance on Saturday, and the Council wants me to make an appearance at the charity gala on Sunday.”

“Oh, a gala! That could be fun, it’s been a while since we’ve gone to one, I’ll have to see if I can dig out one of my old dresses…”

Grayson swallowed, eyeing you apologetically. “About that…I’m sorry. I’d like nothing more than to have you on my arm, but as I’m there to represent the Enforcers, it wouldn’t please the Council.”

You try to keep your breathing even, turning back to the stove and flipping the spinach omelette carefully.

“So, I’m not going to see you this weekend at all?”

You hear the scraping of her chair and close your eyes to prevent tears from falling as strong, broad arms wrap around you and the scent of her fresh, citrus cologne fills your nose as she kisses your cheek and your neck, her short curls tickling your face.

“Please don’t be too upset, my love. I have a duty to the people of Piltover.”

You sighed, your entire body filling with leaden disappointment. You were so sick of this. “And what about your duty to me?”

Grayson pulls away from you, her mouth agape. “What do you mean?”

Your hands ball into fists. “This apartment is haunted by you, Gray! I’m only graced with the presence of your shadow!”

“My love, I-”

“You’re always working, and when you’re not at work, then you’re at the gym! It’s like you have no time for me anymore! You’d always rather be doing something, anything else, than spend time with me, your girlfriend!”

Grayson crossed her arms. “That’s not true. My work is very important, beloved. I cannot simply drop everything to indulge in personal leisure.”

“But your work doesn’t have to take over your entire life, Gray.”

Grayson’s eyes were like liquid steel, sharp and cold. “My work IS my life. I have spent years, decades getting to where I am now! I thought you understood that.”

Your chest felt tight, your whole body felt stiff, and a prickling heat was coating your skin. This was a losing battle. Grayson was a woman of honour, a paragon of justice and was bound to her duty. Serving and protecting the people of Piltover was her lifeblood. That would never change, perhaps could never change.

“Then I think I should stay with my sister for a while.”

Before Grayson could reply, you turned on your heel and headed into the bedroom, burying yourself under the duvet and letting your salty tears burn into your face.

The next day had gone by in a blur. Grayson hadn’t been in the apartment when you’d woken up, so you assumed she’d gone into work early. Weary from working so late, but pleased you were able to complete the wedding cake on time for that lovely couple, you stabbed your key at the rusty lock in your apartment door until it finally clicked open and allowed you entry.

The apartment was dark and silent, but you expected that. Grayson was either at her office or she was hitting the gym. Again. The satisfied high from working at your small bakery was ebbing away, leeched from you by the depression radiating from the walls that had once surrounded you with love and warmth. You were too melancholy to cook, so you order chilli oil noodles from your favourite takeout place and trudged into the bedroom.

Opening the wardrobe, you were greeted with several Chief Enforcer uniforms, all starched and ironed to perfection, the belts and buckles gleaming proudly in the dim lighting of the bedroom. You carefully pushed them aside, not wanting to crease them and reached for your jumpers hanging beside them. As you folded them, you tried to ignore the sharp aching of your heart which only intensified when you pushed Grayson’s uniforms back into place on the rail.

You were pushing her out of your life.

You growled internally at the intrusive thought. Grayson had pushed you away first, now you were just letting yourself fall from the impact. If this is what Grayson wanted, then she would reap what she had sown.

On the bed lay your frayed duffel bag, beaten up from the many camping trips you and Grayson took. Used to take. It was open, the soft material hanging apart like a mocking, laughing mouth. However, as you approached it to put the jumpers inside, there was a folded piece of paper that wasn’t there when you’d left for work. As you opened it, you gasped as you recognised Grayson’s efficient scrawl.

Giovanni’s. 7pm. Wear the red dress. Please come.

Your eyes widened. Giovanni’s, a small Italian restaurant where you’d had your first dinner date with Grayson. The red dress she mentioned had been the one she’d slowly peeled you out of that evening, the first time she’d ever touched you like that. It had been the perfect night. Your heart fluttered at the implications of the note. Did she want to recreate that night? Or was this the final goodbye? Glancing the clock, you quickly put on the dress she requested and touched up your makeup before dashing out of the door and hailing a cab.

When you arrived, the waiter smiled knowingly and led you to the private terrace which was lit with candles and fairy lights. There was only a single table, by which Grayson stood wearing a crisp, black dress shirt, matching trousers, and a red paisley tie exactly the shade of your dress. She pulled out your chair for you as you sat, somewhat dazed, and kissed your knuckles before taking her seat opposite you.

Her eyes were serious, her forehead creased with stress. “I came home at lunchtime. I wanted to surprise you, to apologise for my recent behaviour…but I forgot today was one of your workdays. Just another way I’m failing you as a partner, I suppose.”

You reached for her, entwining your slender fingers with her larger ones, the warmth of her hand travelling up your arm and into your chest. “Gray…I-”

“I saw the bag.” Her voice was a whisper, the dreadful confession staining her lips with sadness. “I realised then, that you meant it when you said you were leaving. You were absolutely right. To have driven you to this, it’s unforgivable.”

You can feel your own heart swell at her words, tears pricking at the corners of your eyes as you take in your forlorn lover, such a great, upstanding woman reduced to despair, her eyes pleading and so very remorseful.

“Gray, I do understand-”

Grayson silenced you with a gentle finger to your lips. “Please, my love, I need to tell you. You are the sun that wakes me at dawn, you are the stars that watch over me at night. You are the beat in my heart, the reason I thrive. I love you more than anything I have ever even comprehended. To neglect you this way, is the greatest pain I could have ever inflicted upon myself. You are why I work so hard, so make sure you will always be safe and never have anything to fear. But you were right, I let it consume me. It almost cost me everything I hold dear.”

It's everything you’ve needed to hear, and it takes every shred of your emotional self-control not to burst into relieved sobs. “Gray, I love you. Your sense of honour and your need to fulfil your duty are all part of you, and I love you even more for having these qualities. I just want to be able to share my life with you and know that you’ll always want to come home to me, see me, be with me.”

Grayson leaned forward, cupping your cheek. “I want for nothing more. My soul sings when I am with you, and you alone, beloved.”

Then she kisses you, and it’s just like the first time all those years ago. She cups your face with her warm hands and wipes away any tears falling, her soft lips caressing yours with care and reverence, the two of you pouring your deep love for each other into a kiss that’s been a long time coming.  When you break apart, you’re sure you are blushing, and Grayson’s look of pure adoration warms you from the inside out. You eat a beautiful meal and as you stand from the table, Grayson ceremoniously gathers you in her arms, bridal style, making you squeal with surprise and delight.

“Hey! Gray! What are you doing?”

She nuzzles into your neck. “We are going home. I have a weekend of pampering to spoil you with.”

“But what about your weekend obligations?”

Grayson kisses you, tender and slow. “Marcus is leading the seminar on Saturday, and I’ve informed the Council that I will not attend the gala. They will likely not miss the Enforcer representation anyway. Now come, I have many plans for this evening and many of them involve much less clothing. Shall we?”

Sighing contentedly, you rest your head on her shoulder as she carries you away. “Let’s go home.”

[h0mocodes]

H 0 M O C O D E S 🌙

I figured I would talk a little about my life experiences beyond the spam posting of gifs ✨There is person with a story to tell 😭

My name is Dhyrek Grigorieva. Most just call me Derek. My partner thinks it's funny to mispronounce my name or call me comrade Zady 🤨 I'm 45 years old and I work as an administrator for CMS/SSA at a local hospital. I enjoy cookery (more specifically paleo/keto based), weightlifting & writing. I actually have four novels I am working on 😊

A lesser Evil which was a novel length witcher fan fic that I have removed all the copywritten stuff from & did a complete re-write.

Halycon is a classic cyberpunk series.

Quillington is a male queer Lovecraftian horror romance. It is written exclusively in Polari which was an English Pidgeon language used by gay men in Victorian/Edwardian period.

The Abysmal Horncall is Dracula but from the perfective of Draculas' wives.

I am also a musician. I make sample based lofi/cloud rap/vaporbient or drone noise music under the name h0mocides.

Music | h0mocides (bandcamp.com)

I'm creative but can also be very a bit standoffish with most people. I'm in decent shape; Average-height with olive skin, naturally dark auburn hair but the light makes it look darker with blue-gray eyes. I'm Serbian, well, to be specific my mother's side of the family are Bosnian and Balkan Jews who settled in Serbia. My father's family were from Hungary that came to work the molybdenum mines in Serbia. My extended family are Sicilian, Turkish and Hawaiian but I never met them. I grew up in a working-class neighborhood. I was raised by my mother; my father having left when I was young. I had a brother who killed himself about 2 decades ago. I have one stepbrother and two stepsisters; The sisters I have met twice. I feel like that was enough 🙄 My stepbrother is pedophile that made me sexual advances towards me, and I feel to some degree is a reason why I struggle with internalized homophobia. My stepfather...How do I describe him:

Well, insane but there's a bit more there to pick apart...

He believes in the great replacement theory

He believes that Jews are at the center of controlling the world bank (he doesn't see us as Jews because we don't present as he puts it 'New Yorker Jews')

He believes that America should not be a democracy but rather a Libertarian based theocracy

He believes in a strange Venn diagram where non heterosexual sex/gender meets with pedophilia and bestiality.

He supports project 25 and says there is no place in the modern age for faggots, embryo murders or California styled Bolsheviks.

He believes that the president is representative of God's will and no other religion than Jesus has a place in this great country.

So, simply put we don't see eye-to-eye. When my stepbrother was convicted of child sexual assault, he went off the deep end and then Trump appeared. I should note had it not been for a blood clot we later found out from text messages he fully planed on going to the J-6 rally to 'save America.' Won't shock you but he also is fatphobic and racist. The aforementioned was something he used to bully me about a lot which is why I yo-yo in-between BED and AFRID.

When I was 14 years old, we left Serbia because of the Bosnian War. Lived in Germany and the UK for a year. I loved living in the UK, but our solicitors fucked up and we were shipped to Canada but sadly they were over capacity for immigrants, and we were sent to Anchorage, Alaska while our claim was processed. We got citizenship and lived in Isla Vista, California, Yuma, Arizona and later Aurora, Colorado. That's where the rest of my mother's family is and I will post about it another time, but for obvious reasons I have nothing to do with them. My mother met her husband, and his family was from Tennessee; I lived here from 17-25 and then left for New York after series of bad events; Friends overdosing, physical abuse from my stepfather, etc. So, before the pandemic I was living in Floral Park, NY. I won't lie I was doing sex work, DJing and Mobile Messenger Service (those are the guys on bikes delivering documents to corps in NY). Then my mom got very sick. My lease was up so I decided to move back home briefly to take care of her. The intent was to move back to NY or CA but it didn't pan out that way. I actually almost moved to CA but that too is a post for another time. We found out what she had would later be called Covid related Tapia syndrome and Covid induced AFIB.

Within 5 days of arriving New York was shut down; I was rather lucky. I lived there from DEC 2019-MAR 2023. Sadly, my step and I had been on a long slow burn over issues with me accusing him of stealing money from my savings, creating credit cards in my name, stealing and destroying my personal effects and his issues with my religion (Rodnovery, or Slavic Native Faith), my clothing (apparently it looked 'too gay') and how I was flaunting the faggot shit. I will not make this already long ass entry long but just summarize. He attacked me and tried to kill me. Police were involved and watched until I safely got my stuff. My mother was beyond traumatized but I needed to leave for my safety, and I didn't want the stress to further impact her health. From March until August I was completely homeless without work or money living out of my SUV (mom was paying for it and buying me food secretly) under a bridge. I was talking to my new life partner, and I ran into my ex-boyfriend, Cory, who had me move in with him. Shortly later, Stephen and I went from boyfriends to partners and were in a position to move in together. I will say I love with living with him (despite the differences in our daily routines and our approach existing) but Christ on a stick I 🤬 hate Preakness apartments with unbridled passion lol 😖It has been interesting for two in love gay boys, one autistic with C-PTSD and the other with ADDHD moving in together building a life.

Sadly, the experiences of seeing murders, rapes, drug culture and gang violence along with my experiences throughout my life had a deeper impact that I realized. It was during that time I lived off of credit cards and recently the creditors have become particularly aggressive with litigation, but I am lucky that most have been charged off and I'm now with CCCS of Chattanooga which is helping me get back on track. I am pending 2 accounts to be added, on Oct. 4th I am going to court to see if one can be forgiven and 1 is with another agency so I am honestly making an attempt to fix my life and now that I am with a brilliant and loving man I feel hopeful but at the same time living in this Trump age is making us both consider our options. Japan, Scotland or Canada is on our short lists and we're going to Japan from Oct. 25th-Nov 15th so it's definitely a possibly. What a strange age to live in. Also, we're going to move out of Antioch in March as I literally hate this city 🖕 We have a few tours set up with nearby complexes at Tusculum, Stewart Ferry, Piccadilly and Heron Pointe.

Anyways, here's a survey to get to know me 💀❤️

Hobbies - I like Papier-mâché, Candle making and Walking

Have you ever collected anything? What was it? Yes, I collect enamel/button pins, vinyl stickers, vinyl's/cassette's.

How many relationships have you been in? 6-8, I think.

Turn ons - Confidence, Needing Me, Trust, independence

Turn offs - Ego, being the 'bitchy gay'

Favorite food - Riced Cauliflower Onigiri and ika sashimi

Favorite drink - Macha Latte and Water

Are you optimistic or pessimistic? Neither... I ama realist.

What is the most expensive thing you own? PS5, Gucci Shoes and SUV.

What is the cheapest yet most useful thing you own? knock off Plushes from China and maybe...my Tamagotchi lol

Text or call? Text...call if it is an emergency or our first time talking.

What is your definition of success? Being happy. Periodt.

Favorite song? VØJ, Narvent, KoruSe - Euphoria

Favorite artist? Yoshitaka Amano

Favorite flower? Chrysanthemums, Mushrooms & Ghost Flowers

What is the best gift you could receive right now? A kiss from Stephen

Do you like anime? Yes, but only 80s/90s magical girl, horror and cyberpunk. I absolutely hate harem, Isekai and mecha.

What was the name of the last book you read? Vampire Hunter D Volume 29: Noble Front

Do you believe world peace will ever exist? No, conflict and dominance is part of the human condition unfortunately.

Do you have any allergies? Onions, Dairy and gluten.

If you won a trip to Hawaii and you could take 5 people with you, who would those 5 people be? Stephen, Toby, My mom, Stephen's mom and best friend, Bree!

How many countries have you visited? 10 (Japan, South Korea, China, Iceland, Germany, UK, Canada, USA, Russia and Italy)

Do you consider yourself mature? LOL....No.

What is your favorite quote? “Transient guests are we.” ― Hideyuki Kikuchi

If you could live anywhere, where would you live? The place can be in an imaginary, fantasy, or the real world. If mythical I would love to live in Shangri-La, Toussaint from the witcher or maybe Night City from Cyberpunk 2077. IRL - maybe France or Portugal.

What were you like in 2013? A junkie. A Miss. I don't miss her.

If you could change one thing about society, what would it be? Get rid of all this MAGA bullshit.

Are you LGBT? Yes, Gay/Top.

What is the funniest joke you have ever been told? How does Darth Vader like his bagels? On the dark side.

What is your favorite animal? Narwhals, Cats and Goats.

What is one thing that everyone is bad at? Remembering shit.

What time do you normally sleep? How many hours of sleep do you usually get? 9-10. Maybe 6-7.

What is your favorite clothing store? Vapor95 and Incerun.

If you had the power to erase one person from the world so that nobody remembered him or her except you, would you, do it? First, it would be Donald Trump and hell yes, I would.

What do you fear the most? Losing Stephen. He's my heart.

If you could travel back to one year and relive it again, which year would it be? 2009. Would've kept clean and dumped Michael. He ruined so much for me.

What is the weirdest thing you have ever seen? RNC causing Grindr to crash lol.

What is something you will never forget? Grace and Compassion.

Is it harder to love or to hate somebody? I will say this quote ....Doug, you think killing is hard, huh? You wait in the bushes, the animal might outrun you or charge you. It's not easy to get your shot, hm? Try healing something. That is hard. That requires patience. You can break something in two seconds. But it can take forever to fix it. A lifetime, generations. That's why we have to be careful on this earth and gentle.

Coffee or tea? Both. Honestly.

[howyouloveyourdragon]

Hello. I hope I'm not bothering you. I wonder if you are getting requests, can you write for yandere husbands Aegon 1, Maegor, Baelon, Rhaegar, Eddard Stark, Rickard Stark, Jaime Lannister? I would like to see what kind of relationship they will have with their wives and children. Please

you can never bother me dear anon and thank you for this request :)

𝕬𝖊𝖌𝖔𝖓 𝕴 𝕿𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖆𝖗𝖞𝖊𝖓

he wouldn't obsess over you instantly, it would start as something small and very slow-burn esque, maybe you shared an obscure common interest and he found you suitable to wife as his other wives are unfortunately not providing him with the heirs his council demand of him

but moving onto what it's like after marriage

he's very careful when he speaks to you, he doesn't want you uncomfortable with him and his sisterwives

he visits you regularly enough to give you his seed but also to spend time with you, he enjoys your conversation much more than his council's

it is when you swell with his child that his tendencies show themselves, he refuses to allow you anywhere without his presence and his comforting arm

the kingdom grows shocked to learn that he has limited his nights with Rhaenys and stopped visiting Visenya all together

he is known as a King wanting for peace but that goes out the window when you're involved

there are at least five guards stationed to you at all times that you can hardly breathe but he doesn't care so long as you and the babe are safe

he will detest the idea of you having another lover but so long as you are careful and do not bare another man's child he will allow it however he will not shy from reminding in your marital bed why he should be top priority...

will never hurt you but if he is feeling particularly jealous that day he will talk freely about court of his love for Rhaenys

when the babe comes he will not be in the room as he values duty but it causes inner turmoil when he hears your screams

i picture you marrying in 10AC and your child being born in early 11AC

so he is still deeply fond of his first son Aenys and will heavily guide them to befriend one another and if your child in born a girl then you won't have time to think before he has set a match between them

he is still fiercely protective of you so you are allowed more freedom to roam without his presence but the guards remain

he finds that he enjoys doting on and will often find himself wanting another child from you every time he catches sight of your firstborn

anyone who suggests anything vaguely mean of you are exiled and he makes a show of it

he doesn't want more bloodshed but he does want you safe so he finds it the only suitable option

𝕸𝖆𝖊𝖌𝖔𝖗 𝕿𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖆𝖗𝖞𝖊𝖓

Maegor is much different than his father

in almost every sense

the moment he sees you he has internally claimed you as his own

if he is king by this point or not he will wed you with or without his kingdom's consent

you are likely his favourite because you are his mother's favourite

in marriage he will deem himself your only protection, heeding to his ego and when you are pregnant his feelings for you will only intensify

he will see little need for his other wives but still keep them to ensure you know that you are replaceable even if he does not believe so himself

he will scare you often with tales of his deceased wives so that even the thought of betraying him will send shivers rolling down your spine

your child is the most spoilt of any Targaryen and Maegor has no qualms about making this obvious

Unlike Aegon, he will demand his presence is allowed in the birthing chambers after the results of his other wives pregnancies

the second your child arrives healthy, he is the proudest man alive and will seek to create offspring frequently

you are pregnant almost every year from that day onward and if your first was born a male then nothing will stop him from lavishing them with plentiful gifts

you are likely confined to your chambers for long hours but that is not to say he does not allow you entertainment

anything you enjoy will be ensured and a large balcony will greet you

he wants to give you everything except freedom

you are strictly disallowed from leaving the castle and it is not up for negotiation

his child/ren however will be taught sword fighting the moment they are able to walk

he will be harsh on your children in public but smother them in private

if someone starts any rumour of you they are slain before they can utter the last word

he is more possessive than he is protective, if you speak too harshly or reject him he will physically harm you but not enough to scar however he will not while you are pregnant

𝕭𝖆𝖊𝖑𝖔𝖓 𝕿𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖆𝖗𝖞𝖊𝖓

he is lovestruck early but not before he is properly introduced to you

he goes about starting a match with you carefully

you come before everyone else and he means that

if you even slightly hint that you are tired during festivities then he asks if you want them ended

he is very attentive at will seek your advice always

whatever you say goes which in turn can make you a target

if his brother Aemon approves of you he will have the biggest grin on his face

he longs to impress you, entering tourneys and competitions as though they are mere sport among friends

however he will get jealous frequently

he will not stop you from dancing with others but he will pout in your arms afterward, manipulating and gaslighting you until you soothe his fears

he sees you becoming pregnant as becoming his and it makes him ecstatic

he dotes on you and presents you very often, displaying his affections for you brightly

he wants everyone to see you and his child

when it comes for the first baby to be born he will be present, he doesn't wish to see his wife in pain but he does want to support her during this difficult time

however when the second is born he will hunt with his closest men and find the largest boar for you for celebration

the first three years of each child's lives are spent in his or your arms

he wants to protect them above all else as he wishes to protect you as well

like Maegor he spoils them rotten but will not hide it from the public eye

𝕽𝖍𝖆𝖊𝖌𝖆𝖗 𝕿𝖆𝖗𝖌𝖆𝖗𝖞𝖊𝖓

we know from Lyanna that if he truly loves you then he will not care what other people think, he will simply steal and wed you regardless of what he is called

however if this is an approved match then i assume he would not in the slightest shy from pda

he would be as honourable as able when you are concerned, requesting your hand from your father and spending a lengthy courtship with you

he will try and enchant you with his harp and even when married he will play for you frequently

he will be delighted to find that you are pregnant and without fail read to you every night even if you ask him to stop

he believes he knows better than you and wants for intelligent offspring

he will not tolerate any disrespect toward you and even less toward your union

he is possessive of you but unlike his ancestors he will not actively confine you to your chambers nor the castle

he wishes to please you but will not beg you, he is firm in that

if you dislike this union then too bad, you are his now and he will not tolerate your denials

he is an obsessive and delusional yandere i envision so anything he could closely relate to you being kind to him will become tenfold in his mind

he will lavish you in gifts regardless and speak of you often

nothing can keep him from staying at your side while you are giving birth

once the child is born he will wrap his arms around the both of you whenever given the chance, day, noon and night

unfortunately nightmares will plague him of you and his child being injured and so it is likely that he would whisk you away from Kings Landing so that you may live peacefully away from the danger court provides

he doesn't care if it means you both have to leave family and friends behind, all he cares about is the dream where you lay lovingly at his side

𝕰𝖉𝖉𝖆𝖗𝖉 𝕾𝖙𝖆𝖗𝖐

fiercely loyal of you and any future children you share

he's grateful for your company and ensure you know it

honour is too important for him to start any kind of relationship with you until you are wed but once you are then he is the most attentive and loyal husband there is

he tells you everything and entrusts you to keep it private

if you are wed during/before Robert's Rebellion then he will build a tower to keep you safe if he has to, he will not allow any harm come to you

his protective instincts are strong and he will assign everyone he can to keep watch over you

when you come to be with child he will not double the measures but he will be elated

he promised when you were joined as one to give you everything befitting of a Queen and with that comes children

it is entirely for your pleasure when he gives you a child, if you wish for none then he will not force them upon you though he may desire them

he hopes when he brings Jon Snow to you that it will open a nurturing in you

the worst thing he can imagine is you resenting him and so with a mildly cautious recount, he tells you that it is the babe of his sister and Rhaegar Targaryen

he asks you to care for it as you would your own and if you do so he will pledge even further his undying loyalty to you

if any man attempts to come between you both he strike him down quickly and publicly as a warning but he will not kill them

whilst you are pregnant he will treasure your affection dearly and if Jon ever calls you his mother by mistake he will not correct him only encourage

𝕵𝖆𝖎𝖒𝖊 𝕷𝖆𝖓𝖓𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗

i (personally) don't see Jaime as the marriage type so you must mean a lot to him

i think he would use marriage to lock you into the relationship

intimacy is an important way for him to show his love for you so most important conversations will take place in the comfort of your bed

he acts rashly and with little care for opinion so regardless of whether your parents accept this union it will be made

however his love for his children is great and now that he is able to express this they will live a long, sheltered and comfortable life

he cares more for your feelings than his own or his children's

he has truly placed you above a pedestal and so he will certainly join you while you bare his child and anyone who disagrees with him can meet the end of his sword

being away from you feels like a punch to his gut so he spends as much time possible in your presence guising it with a need for solitude

if Cersei ever acts jealously toward the union he will not hurt her but he will reprimand her but i am not certain with which woman his loyalty with lie

he will personally teach his children everything possible and ensure that they have the finest septas and respect

he will not shy from bloodshed if it appeases you

he may not care for his own honour but he will care for yours

and he will protect it with his life

he is possessive so while he may not entirely stop with relations with Cersei he will kill or threaten any man where he stands if they make an advance upon you

[elderflowergin]

Hello, hi. I hope that you are well and I hope you don't mind me kinda rambling in your inbox. I see that you've watched The Double! May I just say as great as the show was, I think I have one niggling issue with it, maybe two. The og Jiang Li was forgotten in the end and not even her father mourned her for real - as much as I love that Xue FF got her justice, that poor girl died not knowing that she was loved. It would have been nice to see her father, at least stand by her grave or something to remember her. Then Wanning(poor girl best girl mean girl)! I hate that she died like that. There was no way she was ever going to concede power to man after the treatment she received in that other kingdom, I don't even think that she wanted to corrupt Sheng Yurong, but her trauma will not allow her to trust or yield to man for any reason and I am so curious as to why she trusted her brother to be emperor knowing that she detests men in high positions. Lastly Jiang Li's fake pregnancy ploy was beyond cruel, of course she had no context, but to Wanning, it was everything. I cried for her. My heart broke her. Despised by her own people after what she endured for them, maybe a a little madness is not unrealistic. I cried when she cried. Wept with her. I hope this makes sense. Anyway, wish the show had more space for all three of them. That's all.

hello hi anon! I’m good! And I completely agree with you - I didn’t write my concluding thoughts on the show here (I did it on twitter) but yes, real-Jiang Li never got her due, and XFF’s reveal to Jiang Li’s father gave short shrift to the girl who suffered for ten abusive, lonely years. And I don’t think redeeming Jiang Yuanbai was fair to Jiang Li’s righteous rage at her total abandonment - Ji Shuran may have been the agent of destruction, but she managed to commit all these horrors because Jiang Yuanbai was a lousy father and husband. This man’s negligence led to the deaths of two wives and two children! Crying for thirty seconds of screen time is not enough imho.

Wanning’s end was indeed gutting to watch, and the only point at which I was weeping too. She’s sacrificed so much for her kingdom and suffered far more than anyone can imagine, and yet these grand old men turn up their noses and avoid her because she didn’t wield a bow and arrow. No wonder Shen Yurong’s meagre gesture meant so much to her. My guess is Wanning did not have enough power to drive succession - the men around her don’t trust her or think of her as smart, including Lord Cheng and yes, the emperor, and she’s nothing more than an inconvenience to be handled. I think Lord Cheng only pretended better than their younger brother does, and I guess being full siblings close in age helped them build a bond.

The fake pregnancy broke my heart as well, and I know it was aimed at saving the Yan, but it was so cruel considering Wanning’s backstory. How much indignity did she suffer, my god, and for LI JING to loudly mourn her! Blech!

I have to admit that all things considered this was an incredibly entertaining show! I enjoyed so much of it, and I was especially surprised that I enjoyed watching Shen Yurong. I find TV misogynists to be very boring - how many different ways can you hate women, after all? - but he was a compelling character till the end, like layers of a rotting onion. I’m hoping someone picks up Wanning’s plot and writes something that does her justice.

Thanks Anon, for giving me an opportunity to talk about this inexplicably compelling show!

[sweetcarrotsandroses97]

~ Blossom of Affection | JJK

Pairing: CEO!husband!Jungkook x writer!fem!wife!Reader

Warnings: this is mostly fluff guys, a sprinkle of angst if you squint, idiots in love, more progress!, food ingestion. (let me know if I missed anything!)

Summary: We take another glimpse into yours and Jungkook's marriage and how things seem to be improving between you both. It all was perfect, it all was meant to last forever. That is his intention: to keep you by his side as Jungkook realised a truth his heart had known for quite sometime now. Affection bloomed in the desolated desert of the arrangement, now you both have to keep it and treasure that affection that morphed into something else without neither of you knowing about it.

Word Count: 4.3k

A/N Hi guys! Welcome to the third chapter of "Sweet Marriage: A Handsome Husband Series" I hope you are as excited as I am for this part. I struggled a bit to write it as- well it's really fluffy and has the good stuff in it but I personally find it easier to write angst O.o

ALSO, thank you guys so much for 100 followers! You all make me so happy and I am over the moon there are people out there who enjoy my writing. I just finished writing this that I couldn't resist to publish it while also gifting you something for all the support I've received since I started this blog. Thank you so much, sweet ones! 💜💜💜

~ Let me know your thoughts in the comments please!

Drabbles are open for this series! 💜

Time seemed to fly when you were with Jungkook. It flew out of your hands, leaving you with sweet memories of shy smiles and delicate touches here and there.

Neither of you had brought the conversation with his parents at the restaurant. So it seemed that subject was clear, it would be explored in the future by the two of you. No-one else.

You were currently in the kitchen of the large apartment you shared with your handsome husband, you were looking down a list of ingredients and instructions as you were determined to cook Jungkook a nice meal for when he'd come home after work.

You wanted to surprise him, to thank him for all the soft attention he has had with you since the beginning of your married life alongside him. It was the least you could do and you sincerely hoped he'd like your little surprise and maybe allow you to do more things for him.

It was something you wanted, something your heart needed you to do. A soft smile was plastered on your face as you took out a knife from the drawer and prepared yourself to cut the vegetables.

The idea of making him something to eat came to you in the form of a YouTube video after having searched for tips for wives. And after reading the comments, you wanted to make something for Jungkook too. Hoping that he'd like what you'd cook for him.

"I already sent the report to Hoseok, he also confirmed the deal with Mr. Cha was closed. We expect the shipment to arrive on the 15th."

Jimin said, finishing his report to Jungkook. It was a normal day at the corporation, slightly busier than other days but nothing out of the ordinary.

"Thanks, Jimin-ah. If that was all, you may go."

The younger man began typing an email on his laptop for Mr. Cha thanking him for the deal they were able to pull together. Jungkook's eyes snapped forward, seeing as Jimin was still standing in front of his desk.

"Do you have anything else to tell me?"

The shorter man gave him a teasing smile that made Jungkook roll his eyes in an almost playful way as he shut down his laptop and paid his friend and colleague all his attention.

"Go on, spit it out."

Jimin was quick to take a seat in one of the two chairs in front of him. The eagerness radiated from his body like the heat from the sun.

"How are things going on? Between you and (y/n)?"

Jungkook sighed, his eyes locking momentarily on his silver wedding band around his finger.

"Fine, I guess."

Jimin clicked his tongue, shaking his head in disappointment.

"Things cannot be just fine, Kook. In married life, things are either bad or good. Fine is practically a synonym for bad in this field, aish you still have a lot to learn."

The younger one frowned at his friend. He better have Mrs. Baek’s signature on the property contract instead of gossiping with him about his married life.

"Well, things are fine, Jimin. They are not perfect but they are not bad either. It is a slow progression."

"You wish for things to change yet you are scared of moving too fast, isn't it? I've met some couples in your same situation, Kookie, trust me it will get better."

Jungkook stared at his friend, there was a gleam in Jimin's eyes, his voice sounded more cheerful than usual.

"How do you know so much about married life when you are the most single person on Earth?"

Jimin laughed, throwing his head back as the sound resonated across the walls of the office.

"Coaches don't play, though I must admit I have played the game of love from time to time."

Jungkook's eyes widened. Rarely had his shorter friend spoken about his love life.

"But that is not the subject at hand, Kook. We are talking about your marriage, your love life."

The doe-eyed man let out a deep sigh, his mind raising with thoughts of you, memories he cherished deeply.

"Tell me, what is it about her that has you so enamoured?"

Jungkook thought for a moment, all those times he had felt his heart pound in his chest, when butterflies had fluttered in his stomach, when all his mind could think of was you and you alone.

"Everything about her, Jimin, is simply... mesmerising. I love her voice, her personality, that gleam in her eyes, the way she chews her bottom lip when she's writing, how she welcomes me home every day and waits for me no matter the time. Her mere existence is enough to make me happy. It's just... her."

Jimin smiled knowingly. Even when he could be seen as a flirt and sometimes a tease, he knew more about life than people often gave him credit for.

"You love her, don't you?"

The blond haired man said, almost as if stating it. He had once guessed the crush his friend had on his own wife; it wasn't difficult for him to tell when Jungkook, one of his most expressive friends, was in love.

The latter took a second to think about the statement. Only a second. He didn't need any longer as he nodded.

"I do. I think I have for a while, I just didn't want to... I don't know, accept it then tell her and for her to not accept my feelings."

Jungkook was aware of the name his heart screamed. It was now pointless to deny it any longer as he had voiced his feelings out loud. He was in love. He loved you. Something as normal as love in a married man was as foreign as water on Mars for him.

Sometimes Jungkook wished his marriage hadn't been arranged. He, more times than often thought about different ways he could have met you, made you fall in love with him and then marry you. But his parents had complicated everything, he had started that cycle from the back and now it was tough to approach step two: make you love him.

But maybe, if his parents hadn't married him off, perhaps he'd have never met you. You both would have existed like parallel lines, living the same timeline but never meant to meet.

Jungkook's wish was for you to love him. He thought he had to make you fall in love with him without knowing that in your heart, his name was engraved in the golden letters of forever.

You had just finished cooking some Japchae for when your husband came home. You were really proud of the final result and now you only had to wait for Jungkook to come back.

Giving that he had been leaving the company earlier than before, you didn't doubt that he'd be home by dinner time. Now you just had to wait a bit, killing some time while giving your novel a final read.

The clock ticked by slowly, as if your life was in slow motion. But then you heard it, the electronic lock unlocked with its usual noise, the door opened and in came Jungkook. You smiled, a motion that you couldn't stop. As involuntary as the beating of your heart. As inevitable as the rising of the sun every morning and the moon rising at night.

It just happened. Existed in and on itself. Like your love for your husband that was kept in unsaid words and longing gazes.

"You're back early."

Was what you said as you stood up from the couch and walked towards the main entrance. He smiled at you. In a soft way. Delicate. Like a rose petal.

Jungkook didn't know what to say, he was so happy with seeing you that all the words he had previously rehearsed in his mind were erased. As if white paint had fallen over a canvas. Hiding every trace of his thoughts. His heart was beating wildly in his chest, a gleam in his eyes found your own (e/c) pools.

He didn't say anything. No words would have been enough to express what he was feeling. There was no way to describe such emotions. Jungkook extended his arm towards you and you gasped as you saw what he held in his left hand, the silver wedding band in his finger stole your attention for a moment before your focus was on the bouquet of sunflowers he presented to you.

"Kook."

That nickname again. It escaped your lips without you noticing it. Not that he minded, a soft blush dusted his cheeks and butterflies swarmed in his stomach when your fingers grazed his own as you took the bouquet from his hold.

"I was on my way home when I saw the flowers and thought of you."

You smiled, trying to hide the gesture behind the beautiful yellow flowers. Butterflies flew in your stomach at his words. The look in his doe-eyes made you flustered.

"I really like them, thank you."

Jungkook looked down as a smile grew on his face as well. The moment itself was perfect, innocent in its own way. Romantic in the name of love. Pure.

"I... I also have something for you."

You said before biting your lower lip. You felt a sudden nervousness creep up your spine at the thought of presenting your dinner to your husband whom you married as a stranger yet now owned your mind and heart like he couldn't imagine.

"You do?"

He asked, impressed. Lifting an eyebrow in curiosity, he gazed into your eyes with sincerity and happiness. A concept that made you nod, not being able to word out your raging thoughts.

Your hand took a hold of his own. You burned at his touch and your heart sped up, you walked toward the dining room taking Jungkook with you. He couldn't help the eagerness that cursed through his body. A smile on his lips as he followed you across the apartment.

"I made you some dinner. I hope you will like it."

He smiled. How could he not? He looked down at you and if you had looked at him that exact moment you'd have seen the absolute adoration his heart held for you. The woman who was able to call herself his wife.

"Why don't you put your flowers in a vase and join me for dinner?"

You nodded, suddenly remembering that your hand was still holding his. You retrieved it from his hold and walked back to the kitchen, trying to hide your very obvious blush over your cheeks.

Jungkook chuckled to himself at your reaction while his heart swelled with love at the surprise you had for him. He'd be lying if he said he hadn't wished for this precise moment to happen as he had often heard some of his colleagues and employees - married men at that- comment about their respective wives' cooking.

Leaving the misogyny aside, he loved the thought. A soft act of service. A gentle reminder of love, an existing pattern of compromise.

You returned to the dining room carrying a heavy looking vase where the sunflowers rested. You put it on the centre of the table and turned to look at your husband, a nervous smile on your face, one that he'd describe as cute, was painted over your lips.

"I hope you are in the mood for some japchae."

Jungkook sat in front of you on the dining table. There was a plate with japchae in front of him as well as a bowl of white rice and a bottle of soju to enjoy. It was silent between you both, the only thing that could be heard in the grand space was the sound of cutlery hitting the plates, of soju being poured and some sighs at the delicious taste of the food.

"You... This is so good, (y/n)."

Exclaimed your husband, you chuckled at his reaction as you watched him enjoy the prepared glass noodles with a frown of pleasure between his brows. A gesture you couldn’t help but find cute. 

"I'm glad you liked it. You can thank @tradiKfood on YouTube for the recipe."

He snorted, cheeks puffy with food and you laughed at his reaction. Jungkook noticed how much he liked that sound. Your laughter. It was sweet and breathy; refreshing like an autumn breeze on the beach during the early hours of the day. It sounded so carefree and safe. Genuine.

If you had been able to read his mind you'd have noticed how he vowed to himself to always make sure to hear that laughter. So joyous. So you.

"By the way, I have an appointment with my editor tomorrow."

He raised an eyebrow at you, swallowing his mouthful of food before saying, placing his chopsticks next to his bowl of rice.

"Really? Did you already finish your next book?"

You nodded in happiness and Jungkook couldn't feel more proud of you. He had read your first novel before you became his wife and he thought it was written so beautifully. The plot was amazing and the characterization was made with expertise. That was what he had thought. And that idea was still settled in his mind up until today.

You were a talented writer and he was sure you were going to get far with your amazing stories but he knew he'd be damned if he didn't offer you every kind of support at his reach to make your dreams come true.

"I did. I actually like how it ended, you know? I hope Mrs. Ming will share that thought with me."

He offered you a soft smile. And you took a second to marvel at how handsome your husband truly was. He had taken off his jacket, leaving him in only his white shirt with the first buttons open as well as rolled sleeves that revealed his inked art on his right arm. His dark hair was a bit dishevelled as he had run his hands over it once or twice since he arrived home.

His back faced the large windows that gave away the mesmerising view of the city lights, the moon was high on the night sky and the stars were in his big eyes.

"I wish I could read it."

You looked down at your unfinished bowl of rice as you tried to suppress a smile, a gesture that eventually marked your beautiful features.

"You can, once it's out."

You looked up at the sound of him clicking his tongue only to laugh at his expression, brows furrowed and lips pouting. He looked cute. And that was saying something given how hot and handsome he looked at that moment.

"I know it will be amazing."

His words warmed your heart. The love for your work had come to you in many ways but to hear such praise from your husband who you were madly in love with meant the entire world to you. Maybe even more.

"Thanks, Kook."

He smiled. Absolutely loving how that nickname sounded on your lips. He wanted to hear it every day, every morning when he woke up and every night when he came back from work. It meant something because it was you who were saying it. You made it special, like a magic charm only you had over his life.

Enchanting his days, bewitching his soul, transfiguring his life as the owner of his heart.

The night was still young. You were curled over the couch, eyes trained on the large TV hanging from the wall as you watched a movie. But this time it was different all because of a certain someone sitting next to you. And that someone was Jungkook.

He had also changed into more comfortable clothes, wearing a pair of grey sweatpants and a white t-shirt on. You wore your soft and comfortable nightgown in a light shade of blue.

The two of you decided to watch a movie before going to sleep. He suggested it, you accepted. With the one and only purpose to be close to him for a bit longer, even if you two weren't talking, if you weren't directly seeing him, the quality time still counted and fuelled your heart.

Jungkook felt how his heart sped up when you sat next to him on the couch, your eyes were trained on the large screen but he was going to enjoy this time with you. This indirect coexistence. It was natural on its own, lovely so as to describe it somehow.

You tucked your knees up to your chest, completely invested in the plot of the movie unaware of the soft and longing gazes your husband sent your way from now and then.

Is this how it feels?

Jungkook asked himself as his dark eyes rested on your side profile, the movie plot could be damned as he had the most beautiful woman on earth sitting right next to him.

Is this how it is to fall in love?

You smiled at the screen, laughing softly at one of the dialogues he didn't hear. You turned to look at him, a smile on your face and he felt how his world stopped turning. It was magical. Like a spell you casted over him. Like a sweet candy after taking a sour medicine.

You bit your lip and directed your gaze back to the TV but your focus was on your husband. He occupied your mind, owned your thoughts, claimed your soul without knowing. Your heart soared at the fact of having him so close.

So close yet so far. There were so many things you wanted to say, so many things you needed him to know, things you wished to speak about. But he was unreachable in that level of intimacy. Something you wish to break and you thought that the crystal wall that existed between you both was already cracking. Cracking with the dagger of love. Of the blossom of affection that began to grow in between the marriage.

"Love is not something to be ashamed of, you should tell her."

Said one of the characters in the movie. That single sentence of dialogue felt like a punch to reality for Jungkook. Should he really tell you?

"But what if she doesn't love me back? I prefer to love her in silence, in silence there is no refusal on her part."

This movie was getting too personal for Jungkook. Those thoughts had also swarmed in his head for so long. Days in which his mind was plagued with the image of you, when your voice spoke his thoughts and your presence invaded his heart.

He looked at you softly, watching how you relaxed on the couch and covered your mouth with the back of your hand as you yawned.

"It's late, (y/n). Do you want to go to bed?"

But you shook your head, a sleepy expression on your face as you looked at your husband, loving the caring tone in his voice.

"No, I wanna see when he confesses."

He chuckled, running a hand through his already messy hair.

"You can always watch it later, it's on Netflix for a reason."

You shook your head again, a cute pout over your lips.

"But I want to watch it with you."

That left him speechless. His mind was blank, an empty canvas with no words for him to express freely. You did that to him, that and other many things he had only experimented with you by his side.

Jungkook lifted his arm and rested it on the back of the couch before his hand took a hold of your shoulder as he pushed you towards him. It was a bold move. You gasped. Thankful that the flat was swimming in darkness so that your husband couldn't see your pretty obvious blush painting your cheeks.

A second passed in silence, then another and another. Maybe a minute or it could have been an hour in which the both of you stayed there, too stunned to speak, too afraid to break the moment.

"Just relax, if you fall asleep you could fall off the couch and hurt yourself."

Lame, he thought to himself. Jungkook mentally slapped himself at the weak excuse he said, he thought it was stupid. His brain malfunctioned when you were this close yet it also pressured him to say something so as to break any crumbs of awkwardness between you both.

"Thanks."

You replied, feeling your skin burning where he touched you, tingles travelled up your spine and along your body. It was magical. Perfect. As if he had planned it all completely when it had only been a spur of the moment.

After some time leaning against Jungkook, you relaxed completely so as to rest your head on his shoulder. The motion made his breath hitch in his throat. He was the most fortunate man in that moment, in that fragment of time for he was able to hold you and keep you close.

You trusted him, you were safe being near him and that made his heart soar with happiness. The simple fact that you stayed by his side willingly made him feel happiness like never before. Fortunate. Lucky. Chosen.

The one and only man who was destined to love you, he was meant to worship you as his wife, to protect you from the world and to give you all the love he was physically capable of carrying in his heart.

The soft patter of rain against the large windows reached his ears and calmed his soul. It was perfect, that exact moment was absolute and pure perfection. The definition of that word was that moment, with light rain falling over Seoul, a nice movie as background noise with you cuddled by his side in cosy clothes. 

Jungkook felt your body lean further into him as you grew lax in his embrace, the soft sound of your calming breathing made him smile, squeezing your shoulder a bit from where his hand rested against you. He knew you were tired but the mere thought of you wanting to stay a bit longer by his side warmed his heart. 

He looked down at you, eyes trailing over your sleeping figure. He smiled in adoration, in contemplation, in admiration. In love. 

As discreetly as possible he paused the movie and turned the TV off, leaving the apartment in an aerie silence. Only the sound of rain along with this racing heart were heard. His inked hand caressed your cheek in a delicate motion. Almost as if you were a glass doll and he was afraid of breaking you. 

Because you were so precious to him, his perfect gem he ought to keep, love and protect. As a husband, as your lover but most importantly, as your man. For he was already yours even if, in the end, you’d change your mind and left him with his own memories of you. He was yours. In this life and the next one. 

When Jungkook loved, he loved hard. Completely. Wholeheartedly. And now, you were the owner of that love. 

Your skin was soft under his touch, slightly chilly from the coolness of the flat but soft nonetheless. As soft as he had ever touched in his life. Jungkook lifted you into his arms, cradling you against his chest with precise yet gentle movements as he began walking towards your shared bedroom. 

Passing Bam’s house on the way, he smiled at his already sleeping Dobermann before resuming his destination while carrying you in his arms. If you had been awake at that moment, you’d have heard the loud thumping of his heart beneath his ribcage. It was such a strong motion Jungkook feared for a second his heart was going to leave its confinement.

He laid you down on the bed delicately, making sure you were comfortable enough before he climbed on his side of the bed and dropped the cover over you both, chasing the chill away and enveloping you in a warmth that dropped you further into the land of dreams.

His hand found your own underneath the blankets, long fingers trailed softly over your wedding band. The sign to the world that you belong with Jungkook. A promise of respect and love; of sincerity and happiness. 

“I love you, (y/n).”

Those whispered words were meant for your ears only, but not yet for your mind to comprehend. However, Jungkook couldn’t live another minute on this Earth without him speaking such words of adoration. 

The whisper was so soft that only he could hear it, afraid that if he spoke any louder the perfect moment would shatter like a glass colliding with the merciless reality. He wished to persevere in your affection, a blooming love that grew in between the cracks of a twisted marriage. 

“I love you so much, my (y/n).”

You turned to him in your sleep and had it not been for the darkness of the bedroom, the blush in his cheeks would have been evident as you pressed yourself to his chest, your face nuzzled into him as you sighed in your unconscious state. Almost as if you had heard him declare his love for you, perhaps you had. But he couldn’t know that. 

It was a simple assumption that pierced his thoughts over the blossom of affection between you two. Between husband and wife and the slits of unspoken love in the middle of the relationship. 

Maybe it had been arranged, but that doesn’t mean the feelings were fake. It was a move of fate, a destined meeting. The blooming of care and its transformation to love. It all happened for a reason, and there was nothing Jungkook desired more than for you to stay by his side forever and claim that place next to him; the place of his wife. Loved by her husband in a world of lies and vanities but with affection still able to bloom and grow in the depths of his heart that only screamed your name.

~Masterpost

Sept/17/2023

~ Drabbles are open for this au! My inbox is open, darlings!

☕Caffeinate me so I can keep on writing! ☕

[crypticsketchpad]

mkay sorry for the messy sketches but i came up with this au a while ago and figured i'd finally share it

so basically: what if Emily was movie!Hatty's first wife- and partner in crime?

we don't learn the names of any of Alistair Crump's wives in the film, in fact there's nothing about his first wife mentioned at all (iirc, ive only watched the movie twice lmao), so personally i hc that his first wife was named Emily at least because lol

but for this au, what if she was actually a big part of the plot?

as a mortal, Emily falls in love with and marries Alistair, knowing nothing about his ties to the occult. after some time though, she finds out about his seances and sacrifices, but instead of being disgusted and frightened, she wants in. after some time, the two hatch a plan together to bind their souls together and increase their paranormal power in both life and the afterlife. Emily allows Alistair to sacrifice her in a private ritual between the two (pics 1-3), while Alistair covers it up by claiming another person murdered her, continuing his seances under the guise of wishing to contact his deceased lover. meanwhile, Emily is able to assist Alistair from beyond the grave, using her ghostly powers to aid in his dark rituals (pic 4). after Alistair passes away, they reunite in the afterlife, gleefully terrorizing other spirits and mortals together.

now of course, some of the events in the movie's story would be different:

Emily initially poses as benevolent, acting sympathetic towards the mortals and pretending to protect them from the "evil spirits", while eventually luring them right into her husband's clutches

she's the one who shapeshifts into Alyssa to trick Ben, and the one who pretended to be Eleanor Gracey in order to convince William Gracey to commit Die

Alistair continues to pretend she was murdered by someone else, using his loss to relate to Ben; “I know how it feels to have your love taken away from you so suddenly Ben, but I can help you reunite with her at last, just as I have with my dearest Emily…”

rather than Alistair possessing Bruce near the end, Emily possesses Harriet while she's distracted by Bruce's heart attack; due to her cause of death being that she was stabbed in the chest, Emily's ghost form has a tendency to bleed from the mouth when using her powers; instead of Bruce's nosebleed giving it away, blood starts coming from Harriet's mouth as Emily's deception comes undone

both Emily and Alistair end up banished at the end, with Alistair going first and Emily grabbing Ben's ankles as she's pulled down in order to try and take him with them

so yeah! that's my evil!Emily au. maybe one day i'll write a fic about it, i've already started one actually but if i could do a full movie rewrite i would... the mortal parts are good and all but we needed more ghost action tbh

[lovedreamer11]

Westeros couples with large age gaps

Okay, today I want to write about the age gap among Westeros couples. This will be a long post. I got this idea after seeing a post calling Daemon a pedophile for the hundredth time. I would understand if this was written by people who are concerned about Rhaenyra’s well-being, but no. The authors of such statements are most often green fans who don’t care about Rhaenyra and are looking for another reason to write nasty things about Daemon.

The sexual relationship between Daemon and Rhaenyra began when the princess was 15 and the prince 31. From a modern point of view, this is terrible, I admit. If I had a daughter, I would never have allowed her to have a relationship with such a big age difference when she was 15. But at that time, others were more embarrassed by the fact of an extramarital affair than by the fact of an extramarital affair. age difference. Rhaenyra was lucky in a way. I mean, before the war, Daemon was good to her. They spent a lot of time together, expensive gifts, compliments. Maesters love to discuss Daemon and Rhaenyra's relationship during the war, but before the war there was not a single mention of adultery in the ten years of marriage. Moreover, shortly before the war, Daemon and Rhaenyra conceived another child, and the entire time the princess was carrying Visenya, her husband was always nearby. And even at 49 years old, Daemon was still an attractive man.

Let's look at other couples.

Rhaenys and Corlys. The age difference between them is 21 years. Corlys is older than Rhaenys's father, Prince Aemon. But this did not bother anyone. The princess's grandfather himself, King Jaehaerys, approved of this marriage and stated that Rhaenys could not have chosen a better man. And Rhaenys was only 16 years old, while Corlys was 37 years old. She was his wife almost all her life. 39 years of marriage.

What do you think of the age difference between Corlys and the mother of his illegitimate sons? 44 years old. My grandfather was 44 when I was born. And it wasn’t even a one-night stand, since there were two children. The boys lived with their mother in the village, while Corlys did nothing for the boys' well-being over the years, as he was too afraid of his wife's reaction.

Next up are Princess Daella Targaryen and Lord Rodrik Arryn, who are 21 years apart in age. I admit, I don't feel any animosity towards this couple. After all, thanks to them, Aemma Arryn was born, and after Rhaenyra Targaryen. But there are some points that confuse me. First, the reasons why Daella chose Lord Arryn is that he reminds her of her father. The second thing is that, according to Alysanne, Rodrik loved the princess for many years and did not hide it. I'm sorry, many years? Daella was 16 when the wedding took place. How old was Daella when a thirty-year-old man and father of four children liked her? There's an even better question. If Alysanne knew that the councilman was in love with her daughter, who was younger than his own eldest daughter, then why didn't she do anything?

What will people say about Lady Baela Targaryen and Thaddeus Rowan, who was 40 years older than the girl? Here is his description.

"Lord Rowan is forty years my senior, bald as a stone, with a belly that weighs more than I do."

Every girl's dream, isn't it? Fortunately, Baela was able to avoid such a marriage, but Floris Baratheon was not so lucky. Thaddeus was 42 years older than the girl, and Floris herself got married at 14. To make matters worse, a few years later the poor girl died during childbirth.

What about between the engagement between Princess Viserra Targaryen and Lord Theomore Manderly, who was 30-40 years older than the bride? To make matters worse, he outlived four of his wives and had several heirs. Viserra would be doomed to spend the rest of her life in a foreign land, with an old and ugly husband, and her children, if they were born, would not receive any inheritance. I just can’t believe that such a marriage was arranged for a girl by her own mother.

Princess Daenerys Targaryen (daughter of Aegon the Unworthy) at the age of 15 married Prince Maron Martell, who was 14-25 years older than her. The marriage was an arranged one and, according to GRRM, Daenerys herself was in love with her illegitimate brother Daemon Blackfire. But at least it seems that Maron was kind to his wife, and Daenerys herself became the wife of the Prince of Dorne. I would like to believe that Daenerys was able to find happiness in this marriage.

Lysa Tully was born between 266 and 268. Her first husband, Jon Arryn, was born between 218 and 220. The age difference between them is almost fifty years. Jon was old enough to be a father to Hoster Tully, Lysa's father. I have never felt love for Lysa Arryn, but I feel sorry for her. She was unhappy almost all her life, and due to her past abortion, she was unable to become a mother for a long time. Jon was kind to wife and their marriage gave Lysa power over the Valley, but still the power did not make Lysa happy.

Daenerys Targaryen and Khal Drogo. Their age difference is somewhere between 15-20 years. GOT tried to romanticize this couple, but I don’t see romance. I apologize to the fans of this couple. But Dany is a real victim of Stockholm syndrome. I really feel sorry for fourteen-year-old Daenerys, who convinced herself that there was great love between her and Drogo.

Lord Walder Frey and his eighth wife Lady Joyeuse Erenford. Attention, the age difference between them is 74 years! Walder is an old and rude old man who has more than ten heirs. The poor girl will just waste her youth on her husband and be unhappy all her life.

Larra Rogare and Prince Viserys Targaryen. Their age difference is only seven years. Not as much as previous couples. Everything would not be so bad if Viserys was 16 years old and Larra 23, but no. When the couple got married, the prince was only 12 years old, and at 13 he became a father. This is normal?!

The next couple will surprise everyone. This is Maegor Targaryen and Ceryse Hightower, who was 10 years older than her husband. Then again, if Maegor was 16 and Ceryse was 26, everything would be fine. But Maegor was only thirteen. At that time, he had not yet become a murderer of relatives and a usurper, he was a child. Problematic, but still a child. I blame Aegon and Visenya for allowing their son to marry so early rather than wait at least two or three more years.

The point is that in Westeros marriages with large age differences constantly occurred. This is truly terrible. Some were able to find happiness in their marriage, some avoided it, some remained unhappy for the rest of their lives. This post may seem chaotic to some, but don't judge me. I got sick a little bit.

[bonkbobl]

‧₊˚❀༉‧₊˚masterlist₊˚❀༉‧₊˚.

requests will always remain closed. i pretty much only have short spurts of writing when i'm feeling particularly passionate about a character.

please be aware of the content you consume. read the warnings. these fics may contain triggers for those who’ve experienced sexual abuse or people who just generally dont fuck with those fantasies.

❀ ROOSE BOLTON

daydreams | smut, 18+ | roose bolton loves cumming inside you and he loves knowing that you love it too.

beautiful fool | smut, 18+, NONCON darkfic | he had to have you. whatever it takes.

joyous laughter | prequel, no smut | roose's attitude to you is somewhat complicated: he agrees with you ideologically but his conflicted about your personality. meanwhile you feel some inexplicable need to win his favor. the mediator between the mind and the hands must be the heart | sequel, smut, 18+, DUBCON darkfic | taking roose to bed isnt too bad but that really just makes it worse. as does the several confusing feelings bubbling inside of you. you really are beginning to wonder if you truly hate roose bolton

sensitive and tender | heavy sexual content, 18+ | you're sure its just a flare up of hormones like it usually is during this time in your cycle. but you just wanted to make sure

make a deal or play a game | smut, 18+, DUBCON darkfic | You find out Roose has been plotting against your King but you know the Northern cause cannot survive with the North divided between the King's loyalists and a Bolton-Karstark army backing their martyred liege lords. You and Lord Bolton need each other more than either of you would care to admit, grasping for power over each other.

happy to please | smut, 18+ | roose bolton had two wives before you. so he thought he knew what to expect during the bedding but nothing could have prepared him for those sweet little noises and the way you writhed

state of undress | no smut but horny | roose needs to speak with you but its not the best time. but you have fun with it.

distraction | DUBCON darkfic, smutty flashbacks | roose bolton indulges his urges with lower born northern girls — by no means is this a very well kept secret. he stole your first night from you and your husband, just as he has done with many others in the past, but this time you remain cemented in his mind months after. that is out of the ordinary.

[mermaidsirennikita]

I don't know if a book like this exists. I am fairly new to the romance genre.

Can you suggest a book where a married couple falls back in love?

I just want to read a hopeful novel with hot sex. I did read the unhoneymooners but I thought it was a little boring.

Oh, def! This would be called "marriage in trouble", typically. And yeah, Christina Lauren used to write hot sex scenes, but sadly their more recent books have been quiiiite tame :/

Historical:

The Duchess Deal The Day of the Duchess by Sarah MacLean. One of my favorite marriage in trouble books. The hero and heroine were in love, but the marriage happened under very less than ideal circumstances, after which he cheated on her, and she lost their baby a few months later. She ran off, and is now back after a couple of years wanting a divorce. He does NOT want a divorce, so he decides to get her back by asking her to help him find a new wife, during which he plans to seduce her. Angsty and hot and very good.

The Courtesan Duchess by Joanna Shupe. These two never consummated the marriage, which was arranged, and he basically fucked off to the Continent and left her alone. She needs his baby for legal purposes six years later and disguises herself as a courtesan to seduce him, as he wouldn't recognize her anyway. They DO fall in love then, she DOES get pregnant, and when she leaves him he figures out what happened and shows up at their house like THE OTHER SHOE JUST DROPPED, understandably quite pissed. It's so fun. She throws up all over him. lOVE.

Lady Isabella's Scandalous Marriage by Jennifer Ashley. Maybe my favorite marriage in trouble book. They've been separated a few years, and she storms back into his life because she realized that someone is forging his paintings and wants him to know. And he's all "while you're here..... stay forever yes?" But she's all "stay forever... no" so he decides to put all of his effort and extreme sexiness into getting her back. This one is soooooo hot. The sex was never their issue, in fact lol it was maybe too good and basically helped them ignore their problems (including the fact that they got married like, right after meeting because they were horny for each other).

Private Arrangements by Sherry Thomas. The classic "he left her the day after the wedding and they've been separated for ten years and now she wants a divorce so that she can marry someone else and he's all ummmmm BABY FIRST" setup.

Her Husband's Harlot by Grace Callaway. This isn't really a "fall back in love" book because they don't know each other that well, though he is enamored with her and she does want him. They married for societal reasons, and he refuses to touch her because Dark Past, so she disguises herself as a sex worker to get him into bed. A SHOCKINGLY LARGE AMOUNT OF ROMANCE MEN WILL NOT RECOGNIZE THEIR WIVES IF THEY WEAR A MASK OR HEAVY MAKEUP IDK.

The Lady Who Came in from The Cold by Grace Callaway. OOOh this is angsty. They've been married like twelve years and have three kids and it's all happy... until he finds out she was a spy when they met and never told him. Then they separate, and she decides to get him back. SUPER hot, but TW for past sexual assault.

Return to Monte Carlo by Cate C. Wells. Set in the 80s, so technically a historical. Basically, he's rich, she's a good bit younger and comes from nothing, and they married very impetuously because the sex was hot. But a year in, she's miserable because he's distant and his family treats her like shit, so she leaves his ass and goes back to America. Only for him to find her five months later, discover she's pregnant, and go "ABSOLUTELY NOT".

Lady Charlotte and The Seductive Spymaster by Grace Callaway. They were married, she suspected him of cheating and they had a huge fight, and then he APPARENTLY died, which left her traumatized. Then, yeeeears later, she's finally ready to try to move on, and just as she's about to kiss her new suitor someone throws a ROCK through the window lmao. Turns out her husband had a lot of secrets and faked his death, but now he's back and IT WASN'T OVER FOR HIM AND STILL ISN'T OVER.

Contemporary:

Before I Let Go by Kennedy Ryan. In this one they're actually divorced and co-parenting pretty well when the book begins. They split because their third baby died in a stillbirth, and their marriage dissolved after that. But when he begins to move on, she realizes she's still in love with him. Hot, and angsty perfection.

Possession by Adriana Anders. Another where it's a little iffy because their marriage, while legal, was PR and in name only--he's a famous actor, she's a rising star. But then he's discovered "cheating" on her when a video is taken of him having kinky sex with a woman who looks suspiciously like her... So she follows him to this getaway he stays at to indulge these desires he's never shared with her before. SUPER hot, and surprisingly emotional.

Paranormal:

Winterblaze by Kristen Callihan. Paranormal historical. They've been married like... 14ish years, and she never told him she was a witch, or that, you know, there's an entire paranormal world. Then he gets maimed in an attack and discovers everything, gets super pissed, and leaves her. Months later there's a new case to investigate and they end up working on it together... And oof, there are still MANY. MANY feelings. I love this one soooo much.

[victimsofyaoipoll]

Round 2

Propaganda under the cut

Erina Pendleton

Erina is SO MUCH MORE than just a "Generic Love Interest" that was brought in the story to continue the bloodline after everything that happens (and it's made abundantly clear time and time and TIME AGAIN that she means everything to Jonathan, to a point that she was his exact reason to standing up against Dio for the first time) but without fail she's only ever allowed to be the supportive best friend. Or a wingman for Jonathan and whoever he's being shipped with. Or simply supposed to sit there and allow her husband to have a male lover (the amount of posts I've seen of ppl using the excuse that 'it was very common back in the Victorian Era for men to keep male lovers that their wives were aware of and quietly accepted so it isn't a stretch to say that Erina and Jonathan wouldn't be the same--especially given how progressive she's written". Or of course my favorite when they completely erase her from the narrative and pretends she doesn't exist Jonathan's got their son for some reason, but nope she ain't there! 

a lot of times ppl who ship her CANON HUSBAND jonathan joestar with speedwagon will put her on the back burner of HER OWN CANON RELATIONSHIP in favor of propping up jonawagon, to the point where 90% of the archive for jonawagon/jonawagon(eri) is either erina giving jonathan and speedwagon consent to be happy together while she acts like a #LoveIsLove wingman OR they'll have the audacity to write fics where erina comforts speedwagon at HER HUSBAND'S FUNERAL

Our hero’s hot wife who was the first (and arguably) only person to give him the emotional support he needed. She’s the only person who never expects him to fulfill some mythical role, she just loves him for who he is. She’s been his best friend and the love of his life since he was 12 years old. When it comes to hero/sidekick ship, she’s forced to be a wing woman for her own husband, either nobly letting him go or peacefully agreeing to an open relationship but only for him!!! She gets nothing out of it, she’s just a good Victorian wife who is “ahead of her time”. Usually, just so she can provide a womb so that the hero/sidekick can be dads and she can conveniently be offscreen. OR she’s written as a lesbian in order to completely and “justifiably” take her out of the equation but there’s a.) no other woman in her vicinity to even ship her with b.) there’s vaguely some faceless, nameless woman we’re meant to assume she’s pursuing, not even a real OC for her.

Alana Bloom

she kissed will graham in s1 and dated hannibal in s2 so you can imagine how bad the fandom is to her. fun fact she's in a canon lesbian relationship now tho <3

The show literally does the yaoi treatment of victimisation for the benefit of the male leads to her. And then the fandom mistreats her

I'm not sure if this even counts but...Literally a victim of Yaoi along with several other characters in-series, but she got it almost the worst. The entire show is just people dying because the two male leads are OBSESSED with each other and can't be normal about anything. Alana Bloom, actual PhD of psychology and consultant to the FBI, got kissed by one guy, fucked and fed people-meant by the other, and pushed out a window by the murder husbands' forced-surrogate daughter. Like. Actual victim of several crimes caused by yaoi. She's probably one of the few examples of a Yaoi Victim overcoming and evolving past her yaoi-related trauma into a stronger person/character, though: She gets an entire character overhaul and a hot, millionairess for a wife. She kills a man with an eel. She becomes head of the BSHCI, effectively putting her in complete power over her jackass cannibal ex-bf. She does quite well. Unfortunately, the rest of her screen time is spent trying not to get killed in the ongoing fallout of Hannibal and Will's fucked up courtship, but hey. Can't have everything. I don't even know if I'm saying anything valid here: the fandom loves her, but I supposed her position outside of the Hannigram relationship relegates her to a non-subject in a lot of Hannigram-focused fanwork. She's an 'obstacle' to their relationship only in the sense that Will had a crush on her once that went nowhere and Hannibal started an actual relationship with her SPECIFICALLY to piss off Will. I guess she's also a more literal obstacle as Hannibal's jailer and Will's friend who's constantly pointing out to him that Morals exist and he should try having some of those, maybe.

[bethanydelleman]

Was marriage as bad as it sounds during Jane Austen's time? From what I've heard, a woman with the means to stay single would be stupid to want marriage. They were considered property and lost any semblance of independence. Unless you really trust the guy and loved them, it seems like a horrible gamble.

A show made a joke about her being a lesbian because she never got married, which I didn't know. It just confuses me because she wrote so many romance books. I'm wondering if she wrote that way because marriage was purely a practical decision and she was a lesbian or asexual, or if marriage was just a horrible decision altogether.

That joke really rubs me the wrong way, especially in an era where man where scarce because they were fighting Napoleon! Not that there is anything wrong with being queer, but just because a woman with very little fortune didn't manage to marry doesn't mean she didn't want to.

It seems to be pretty well documented that Jane Austen loved/liked at least two men, Tom LeFroy and an unnamed clergyman, but neither proposed. The only man who did propose, Jane Austen decided against.

As for marriage in general, I am sure most marriages were nothing special but fine. I mean, a lot of people especially in the gentry class are marrying for wealth and rank and hoping they also like the person. Freakenomics talked about an analysis that showed most couples in the aristocracy just stopped having kids after the heir and the spare, except during one period where many members of the nobility married "down". Those couples kept having kids, probably because they actually loved each other. Which says a lot about the average upper class marriage.

People would also think about marriage differently than we would today in Western countries. I don't think anyone goes into marriage like Charlotte Lucas, because we don't have to. Women can get their own jobs and, while stigma has not been erased, staying single is no longer a huge taboo. But Charlotte and probably many other women went in knowing that neither side was in love, they were signing up for a roommate with procreation benefits. So if you husband did stray you might not even mind (as long as he didn't bring home any diseases and was discreet).

Most marriages we see in Jane Austen are fine, but not a huge romance. Take Sir John and Lady Middleton, they get along fine but have nothing in common. Clearly they have sex (4 children), but Sir John is getting companionship from other people, like Mrs. Jennings who he actually gets along with great. So they are both making it work and not expecting that their marriage partner will be everything to them. We also see marriages in Jane Austen where the woman is clearly in control (Fanny Dashwood).

Now the problem with Regency society and societies today that make divorce very difficult is not that suddenly all men are abusive, but that women (and men) have an extremely difficult time getting out of bad marriages. There is still divorce stigma of course, and even within Canada it matters how religious your family is, but the average person would not tell an abused partner to just stay to preserve their family dignity (I hope).

Throughout all of human history, let's say roughly 20% of marriages are great, 60% are fine/mediocre (nothing to write home about but your sex roommate is pretty chill), and 20% were bad. I don't think you can ever change the % that are bad, but what you can change is how easily people can escape from that bad situation. No fault divorce, abuse shelters, understanding family/friends, women being able to work, and birth control all help people to get out of abusive situations.

Also, even though a married woman lost some legal rights, it wasn't like she had a lot to begin with. A woman basically goes from the control of her father to the control of a husband. Married women didn't require chaperones so they probably on average had more freedom of movement than single women. In both Wives & Daughters (Elizabeth Gaskell) and Lady Susan (Jane Austen), married women travel to London solo during the season. An unmarried woman could not do that!

In Austen's novels, it's pretty clear the best possible position for a woman was rich widow. There you have freedom of movement, your own money, and social acceptability. And as for not marrying, even rich women like Caroline Bingley and Mary Crawford are trying to marry, not attempting to stay single. The social cost of spinsterhood was just too high.

Oh, and for a fascinating dive into lower class marriages, check out The Five, either the podcast or the book. Really great read.