#so they have no choice but to stop w the arranged marriage

[malereadermaniac]

Arranged Marriage ~ Byakuya Togami x Male Reader

The Togami's never get a choice in their partner, the choice is made for them to the benefit of the family; whether that be for more heirs to be made, or to join forces with other families Partially inspired by 'The swan princess' - 'This is my idea' Regular, non-despair au - Top!Byakuya x Bottom!Reader word count: 1.3k Sfw & Nsfw (headcannon form) / MDNI ~ amab m!reader / FDNI

You had known Byakuya since you were both very young. Everyone knows of the affluent Togami's, and most people know that arranged marriages are common for them; however you wouldn't expect the arrangements to start so early. Ever since the age of seven, your summers were either spent within the Togami's main mansion, or the Togami's spent their summers in the (l/n)'s mansion. Your parents (the powerful, yet less than Togami, (l/n)'s) had done everything in their power to ensure that you were to marry into the Togami's via Byakuya; from suggesting a powerful alliance to his parents in meetings, to outright proposing that you two boys wed. Shockingly, Byakuya's parents were very open to the idea - your family was the next most powerful in the country, and it would not only benefit the Togami empire but also the family's face in the public eye; a gay marriage within the mostly traditional Togami family would surely uplift their image. So, every single summer since you two boys were seven has been spent together; whether you like it or not!

And good lord did you both hate spending time together. Unlike the BORING Togami heir, you had a bit more pep in your step - which inevitably led to you annoying the hell out of the affluent progeny. You would try to convince the blonde to play some game with you but ultimately get ignored in favour of whatever book the boy was fixating on that day, or Byakuya would play along with your game but make fun of you the whole time! And as the two of you got older, your relationship stayed the same - mutual dislike, for changing reasons however...

At the age of 14, Byakuya found himself still annoyed by you, yet not due to the sound of your voice of your obnoxiously high levels of energy, rather because you were one of the few people on his level! In fact, you were above his level most of the time. No matter what the young blonde would do, you would one-up him constantly; you have won almost every game of cards the two of you have played, the two of you have always tied on your 'over-summer' academics, and the affluent adolescent could never impress you with his riches due to your parents buying you things to try and impress the Togami's! Byakuya had grown up with the idea that he needs to be above everyone else in all facets of life, so you coming along and beating him at everything made the rich teen see RED. However, every night, of every summer you two were spending together, Togami's parents would remind him that the two of you were pre-destined to be together, and that the blonde 'must accommodate for his future'.

Later, at the age of 18, your presence annoyed Byakuya for different reasons. This time, for reasons he chose not to think too deeply about. It was a known fact throughout the entire country that as you two young boys had grown up, puberty had done you both very nicely - tabloids and online forums wouldn't stop discussing how dashing the Togami heir looked in recent photos, and many times you were also discussed. Your perfect skin, your lips, your body, your hair, your personality; you were praised and adored more and more everyday. Byakuya wasn't jealous of this though, he'd get hit on constantly at events and other such things. What specifically annoyed the blonde was the fact that people acted on their liking of your looks; and worse, that you responded to advances. Again, Byakuya would never analyse his emotions too much, because he'd realise that he was in fact jealous that other men were getting your attention, however he would feel irked and pissed off whenever he saw you flirt/be flirted at by staff. The heir has fired many body guards of his and house staff due to them taking a liking to you, and Byakuya has also been a dick in passing to staff at your own home which flirts with you. But again, Byakuya's jealousy of others receiving your affection isn't something he dwelled on, very rarely would the handsome man think about his feelings late at night and spend hours spiraling about the possibility of him actually liking you!

At the age of 20, it fully dawned on Byakuya just how charming you truly were. Sure, you were the heir of an inferior family, and an annoying man at that, however during the summer you had both turned 20 the blonde truly couldn't deny his feelings towards you. Byakuya had come a long way from when you were both young boys, he had gone from his father forcing him to kiss your hand every time the two of you met to kissing your hand voluntarily. Byakuya was awe struck by you; not just by your looks, but by your kindness to others (something he'd never though he'd cherish or admire), and also due to the way you complimented him so nicely - like two pieces of a puzzle, you and Byakuya just fit together, not overlapping but rather harmonising. The smug look on both your parents' faces was enough to make you two men want to argue once again, just to wipe the satisfied looks off of their faces, however you simply couldn't. The summer you two turned 20 was the first time the two of you didn't mind spending time together. Byakuya had finally put down his books in favour of talking to you and getting to know you, and you couldn't deny just how attractive that was from him; the handsome, rich man was interested in you, and not even sexually like other men you had sneaked around with, but rather he was interested in speaking with you.

At the age of 22, the time had come for you two heirs to fulfill your responsibilities; via inheriting your places as heads of the family, and by marrying each other. But unlike how you'd thought your wedding day would go as children, you cried tears of joy rather than of frustration - Byakuya spoke his vows with truth coating his tongue and lips, and you both celebrated the day rather than giving fake speeches and smiles. And the night of your wedding was well spent as well; don't you worry!

As you'd expect, Byakuya is so god damn DOMINANT

His body is also sooo perfect - slim, muscular, tall, he's really just made to ooze sex appeal

The blonde barely has to even speak in sentences to have you on your knees at the foot of your (now) shared bed

His dick is average, a nice fit; skinny and a little veiny, 6-7inches, and his pubes are perfectly trimmed and well kept

Byakuya loves to always feel in control, his masculine fingers threatening through your hair to control your pace as you suck his dick with surprisingly good skill

He also really likes to eat you out, the small noises you make egging Byakuya on as he pushes his warm, wet tongue into your hole along with two of his long fingers

This man is also so into dirty talk, calling you nasty and whorish for enjoying his dick ramming into your ass

But the moment Byakuya lays his eyes on you as your back arches up off of the bed and your dick twitches as you shoot your load..? all the sexy man can say is 'pretty'

Exhibitionism is also something your HUSBAND enjoys on the low - your poor staff!

Seriously, Byakuya loves either getting walked in on as he's wrecking you in doggy, or he really likes to call staff in when they need something, making them watch as you keep sucking his dick under his desk/ as he cums inside of you/ as Byakuya makes out with you desperately as the two of you dry-hump into each other

But in summary, Byakuya can't get enough of you, he'd never thought that he'd be able to say that: he fucking loves you...

[bucknastysbabe]

IGHT THIS IS GONNA BE FOR YOUR BINGO POST !! 🩷🩷and you can throw this in the garbage is it ain't to your standards 🤪 but I'm thinking: Aegon ii x Bethroned! Reader-- LITTLE AGNST , FLUFF, SMUT (maybe if you want to) (Arranged Marriage) where Alicent has gotten extremely tired of options with what she can do to keep Aegon in line from committing more atrocious acts that she and Otto decided it was best to not only have a noble that is the complete opposite of him --keep him in line but to also form relations with against the blacks since (readers family) contains good army and weaponry.

Aegon is not fond of this marriage but changes his mind when he sees (reader) for the first time.

YENI YENI BO BENI!!!! I loved this w my whole heart and had tons of fun, so refreshing! We got a little angst, plenty of fluff, and some devious smut😏 I’m so glad you sent the ask, enjoy mwah mwah mwah!!!!

AU Bingo - Arranged Marriage - Aegon II

Rating: Mature, explicit at the end.

Tags: Arranged marriage, douche Aegon falls in LOVE, Redwyne!reader, Cringefail baby Aeg and his shifty family dynamics, TW: verbal abuse, Aegon’s derogatory thinking, non-descript throwing up, fluffity fluff fluff, big tiddy Arbor gf, soft kissing, a little groping, cumming in pants, clitoral orgasm, crying erotically, oh it’s happily ever after tonite, Aemond and Criston stay being done w Aegon

In the dimly lit council chamber, Lord Hand Otto Hightower and Queen Alicent pondered over a map of Westeros. A bottle of wine was split between the pair, something to dull the utter stress that was marrying their eldest. He had already refused Helaena and succeeded by torturing enough bugs. Or that the heir walled himself up in a whorehouse surrounded by gold cloaks until Ser Criston announced that Prince Aemond would wed the princess.

Outside the whorehouse.

Aegon’s antics had worsened as he grew older with no ‘ball and chain’, so to speak. Otto sighed, “I fear we have no more choices left,” his long fingers curled tighter around the golden cup, “Not a house with enough power, that isn’t already pledged to Rhaenyra.

Alicent wanted to scream. She grabbed the bottle of wine and went to pour. Then stopped suddenly, brown eyes searching up at her father. The queen asked, “Say, what about the Redwynes? They have money, daughters, and that precious fleet. 200 warships.”

Otto’s once dull eyes gleamed and he smiled pleasantly. He hummed, “Smart, smart girl. Marten has two beautiful maidens from what I’ve heard. The Arbor is always loyal to Oldtown.”

“I’ll send a raven immediately.”

Aegon had begged the maidservant to pull his cock until she had ran off crying. He shrugged and grabbed the bottle of wine, slugging it with no care in the world. Until it was ripped from his greedy lips. The blonde sputtered and water splashed as he met his mother’s disappointed eyes. No surprise there.

Alicent spat, “Do you ever spend your time doing something productive? Aemond’s been in the yard for hours.”

“Aemond’s a stiff cunt.”

Aegon frowned when a hand crossed his cheek. His mother hissed, “You will not speak of your brother like that! Pay attention, there’s news regarding your bachelorhood.” Aegon rolled his eyes and sat up, staring silently, sullen. He knew this was to come but dreaded it every night.

The queen opened a scroll and read off, “I, Lord Marten Redwyne of the Arbor— approve of the betrothal between my eldest and Prince Aegon. Good tidings and we hope to arrive with some ships within a fortnight.”

Aegon giggled, “You’re marrying me to the wine house’s daughter? How fitting.”

Another crack on the cheek. Aegon shut up, tears now stinging his violet eyes. His mother hissed, “She’s from a very powerful, devout, and noble family. That fleet will keep your head on your shoulders when Rhaenyra comes to lop it off. Clean yourself up!”

As she exited the room with a dissatisfied scoff, Aegon felt more tears well up. He suddenly felt very alone and frightened. Gods forbid she can’t stand the sight of him like any other nobility. He wept softly, shaking fingers clinging to his bottle. Funny enough, it was Arbor Red. His favorite.

Aegon busied himself drowning in whores and spirits the weeks, then days, leading up to his betrothed’s arrival. So much so that he hadn’t left the Street of Silk since the announcement. They hadn’t sent Criston out either. He desperately hoped they would magically forget about him here.

The whore sucking his cock hummed softly, Aegon arching a bit into her mouth. He wondered what the girl would look like. Not that it mattered. He closed his eyes and slid a ringed finger into her hair, fucking the whores throat with a soft moan.

As soon as he came, the door flung open. Aegon jerked away from the light pouring in, hissing and cursing the fiend who so dared to interrupt his climax.

Long fingers grabbed his arm and jerked the blonde off the bed into a mess of limbs onto the floor. A familiar voice uttered, “Pathetic.” Oh joyous day, it was Aemond, his knight in shining armor. Aegon whined in annoyance, “You didn’t have to manhandle me like some Yunkish brute!” The younger prince crossed his arms, face impassive.

“You fucking reek. Get your clothes on, it’s time to meet your betrothed.”

Aegon pressed a forefinger and thumb into his pounding eyes, mumbling, “Fine, give me a second.” Aemond hummed in distaste, shifting on his feet. The whore scurried out, the clink of coin hitting her hands from the younger. He shuffled blearily over to where his clothes were last, putting them on haphazardly.

Aegon realized his breeches were on backwards but really couldn’t give a bigger fuck. He needed a drink for this hangover. Aemond barked from behind, “Let’s go! You’re so slow brother.” Aegon cursed him again and followed behind, shuffling. Fear and bile were beginning to rise in his throat.

The ensuing ride on horseback with a lecture from Cole had Aegon throwing up on some poor peasant’s blanket covered in wares. More coin had to be given out from Aemond for that. The heir felt absolutely horrid by the time they had reached the Red Keep.

He remained silent through his mother’s verbal torture, the scrub down and dressing, then left alone in his chambers. Aegon’s headache had died down a bit but he was shaky. He idly got up and stared into the mirror. A haggard, dull eyed face met his own. Aegon thumbed at the red rims and dark bags under his eyes, frowning.

He skimmed a hand down his midsection, growing further despondent at the residual puffiness from overindulging at meals and the drink. Maybe she would see something in him. Probably not, the rumor mill was rampant around Westeros. Aegon was aware there wasn’t much to him but an inherited title, a name, and a dragon.

Ser Criston peeped in the door, brown eyes squinting. He asked, “Are you ready my prince? You look…groomed.” Aegon sighed and followed along the white knight, tremors threatening to overtake his frame. They walked and walked to the throne room, his decrepit father having managed to make it onto the Iron Throne. Some smaller lord was petitioning him and Otto.

Aegon searched the crowds of people, looking for something. He didn’t even know what their coat of arms looked like. Probably burgundy. Wine. He wanted wine so bad. Otto cleared his throat as soon as Aegon joined the retainer of the Targaryens.

The Hand dismissed the lord and peered at Viserys for approval. The king nodded and rasped, “Lords and ladies, we have a grand announcement.” A gasp erupted across the crowd, Aegon curled into himself. Otto boomed, “House Redwyne please come forward!”

The nobility peered at the group of burgundy and blue clad group coming up towards the throne. There were two girls clad in the rich red, one distinctly more gorgeous than the other. She had thick hair elegantly done, soft glowing skin, and pretty eyes. Aegon prayed over and over that she would be the one.

He was so struck with desire all thoughts and whims had flown out the doors. The young woman’s body was shapely— heavy tits pushed up by the dress. Fuck, Aegon might be in love. If that existed. Aemond had pushed him forward, the elder prince realizing they had called his name.

Aegon cleared his throat and walked towards his father and Otto’s intense gaze, eyes glued to the beauty. She was singled out now, family having stayed behind. The lady smiled gently at him, demure and gentle. Aegon held a hand out and took her hand, kissing the soft skin as his grandfather announced the betrothal to the excitement of the people.

Then she was whisked away, Aegon almost crying from the suddenness. Alicent had him back on the sides now, whispering, “You did good son. Don’t ruin her like you do everything else please.”

Aegon swallowed heavily. He didn’t want that either.

They sat together again at dinner. Aegon tried to suppress his urge to gorge and suck down anything alcoholic. She nervously peeked at him, smiling still. He finally leaned closer to the beauty and hummed, “You are the most gorgeous maiden I have laid eyes on. If you ever need anything, please let me know. The Red Keep will swallow anything whole.”

Her eyes widened a bit, pretty hand dropping her fork. The Redwyne girl blushed and demurred, “I’m honored you think so my prince, all I ask of you is to accompany me to the sept and mayhaps around the Keep. Just so I do not get swallowed whole.”

Aegon wanted to screech at the idea of sitting in the cold, domineering sept. But he found himself agreeing enthusiastically, “Yes, yes my dear lady, I’d only be doing my duty to keep my lovely betrothed safe.” Watching her grin and stifle a giggle made the prince’s nausea at being a lovesick buffoon die down.

He walked her to her quarters after the meal, disposing of the delightful vixen at the door with a courtly kiss of the cheek. Too bad the dog Cole was watching with dark eyes behind them. Looming like an angry ghost.

Once back in his own rooms, Aegon sipped on his wine, grinning like the fool. She was perfect. Maybe a bit stuffy and devout, but a ray of goodness in his debauchery laden life. Miserable life. The sweet thing didn’t even coyly bring up his past, like most of the ladies who wanted into the blonde’s bed. He found himself waiting for the morn, eager to walk with her to the Sept.

The family was rightfully surprised at their wily heir becoming the picture of courtly love. Attentive, sober, and kind as he tended to the new additions simple and kind requests. They attended the sept every day, had luncheons in the Godswood, even made it to court for petitions.

Alicent and Otto even visited Aegon to praise him for his good behavior. Which the blonde scoffed and hissed, “It’s not me, it’s the girl. Glad I needed an attachment to garner approval.” Which did not end well but Aegon needn’t care, he had his Redwyne waiting on him afterward.

He wanted the maiden so very bad. But he wasn’t going to ruin the wait. Something about tearing her open with his cock for the first time had Aegon stripping himself raw every night, gasping her name and staining his belly white. Mayhaps he could play with her a bit, but he’d be the good prince for once and keep his manhood tucked away, almost regretfully.

She had tested him a bit as of late. Curling into his frame under the heart tree, holding hands that somehow ended in her lap. Shared sweet little kisses that turned breathless, the lady’s heavy bosom heaving from excitement. She wanted him too, the heady haze in her eyes if they were too close for too long.

Like now for instance. They had supped in the Godswood yet again. After a long and arduous conversation about Aegon’s past. The sweet thing thumbed away his tears and murmured, “I do not judge you, seeking company in a loveless place. We all can be slaves to our vices. I only hope that I may fill that hole in your heart, dearest betrothed.”

Aegon tried not to weep, sniffling a bit. He smiled, lips puffy from biting them, and kissed her ever so gently against the lips. He sighed, “Is it so bad that you may be the best thing that has happened in my dim life?” She stroked his soft curls and simpered, “No, my dear prince, you’ve brightened my days since I’ve come. I was so scared you’d find me unbecoming.”

“Never,” Aegon promised with intense pecks, “Never, I have been struck since I first saw you.” She cried his name softly, throwing silk covered arms around his neck, pressing her soft body to his own. This was the closest they had been, the maiden practically in his lap. Aegon reached a hand around to her lower back for stabilization, the other coming to her cheek to tilt for better access.

She was less experienced as he predicted, but that made the possessive streak in his heart grow tenfold. He would show her, show the sweet nymph the pleasures of touch. All his.

They lapped into each other’s mouth in slow movements, Aegon leading the way. She was tentative and slow, gasping when he suckled softly on her tongue. The adorable thing pressed closer, whining softly as Aegon dominated the kiss.

She hiccuped, “Oh, my prince, ah, we mustn’t.”

Aegon smiled as she drew closer, curling lithe fingers into his chopped locks. He murmured, “I will save your precious maidenhead for our wedding day, as befits the pact.” Pausing for a effect with a sharp nip to her plump lower lip, earning a yelp, Aegon continued, “I can show you other ways to achieve pleasure, if you’d like.”

She warbled needily, “Please Aegon, oh, but we cannot be seen!”

“Come on then my lady,” Aegon offered as he scrambled up, holding a hand out.

They giggled nervously as Aegon pulled them into a sculpted Alcove, hidden by shrubbery and a statue of a snarling dragon. He laid his cloak down and gestured for her to sit between his thighs. Her cheeks darkened as she whimpered, “I- I’ve never.”

Aegon cooed, “Our little secret, my sweet girl.”

She climbed down and rested flush against Aegon’s front, breathing sped up again. He nuzzled and pressed featherlight kisses to her neck, humming, “Do you trust me my lady?” The girl whined, “Yes, yes, you’ve given me no reason not to.”

“Good.”

Now he nosed up to the sensitive skin under her jaw, lapping and suckling soft enough to leave no marks, but she whimpered and shivered like it was heaven. One of her dainty hands clutched at his thigh like a lifeline. Aegon reached a ringed hand around to massage her heavy breast, earning the most wanton moan.

She squeaked in shock, covering her mouth, cheeks aflame. Aegon huffed a laugh, “Poor sweetling, I bet they’re so sensitive, gorgeous tits like yours aching to be touched.”

“More, yes Aegon, please!”

So he groped and got his fill, eventually easing down her top to expose busty chest. Aegon plucked and thumbed her plush buds, growing harder and harder at her little whimpers and bitten-off squeals. Gods, she was divine,

“Sweetness, sweetness,” Aegon hummed.

Teary eyes and swollen lips slowly turned to look at him, face wrought with ecstasy. He rambled, “I will not go near your maidenhead, but let me help you, is your sweet cunny aching?”

She whined, eyes shut tight, “Ohhh- yes it hurts!”

His violet eyes shifted to see where her plush thighs were rubbing together with need. He grinned and held back his snicker, “I’ll make you feel better my sweet. Poor, poor nymph. I’ve got you.” She turned and buried her head half into his shoulder, whimpering and shaking.

Aegon kissed the crown of her head, snaking a hand to get under her long velvety dress. His eyes rolled at the feeling of her engorged and slick cunt, throbbing with blood. Poor thing really was riled up, squealing when he slid his pointer and index across the collected slick.

The prince instantly swirled around her plump button, watching her arch and spread those shapely thighs. Those teats of hers bounced as she heaved and whined. Aegon rubbed her in tight little circles, knowing she’d be a proper mess. So he went back to tweaking a nipple, cooing when his perfect betrothed’s eyes rolled back in her head.

Drool slipped down her full lips at the onslaught of pleasure, Aegon praising and promising filthy sweetness in her ear. The nymph began to twitch and tremble all over, whimpers turning into huffy little sobs. She hiccuped, “A-ah, Aegon! I-I-I oh!” He grinned as she seized tight as a bow and gushed slick, thrashing when she reached the precipice.

The heir worked her through the intense feeling until she pushed his hand away, yanking up her top. Aegon pet her sweaty hair, suddenly aware that he too, had spent all in his breeches like a green boy. He’d laugh, but focused on coddling and holding his pretty girl until she had calmed.

She finally turned to him with wide eyes, questioning so achingly small, “This wasn’t bad right? We will not be cursed no? I- It felt so good my love.”

Aegon cooed yet again, violet eyes soft, body feeling like a puddle of mush. He shook his head, promising, “We keep your precious maidenhead intact, then this is nothing but a little play. A forecast of what’s to come when we’re truly one.”

She nodded slowly, reaching out to straighten his frizzy locks. The lady of the Arbor puckered her lips, reaching up for Aegon. He chastely kissed her— humming in full content.

“Oh the gods have blessed me, yes they have,” he almost weeped.

[peakyswritings]

Heart, Body and Soul || Tommy Shelby x OC

PART VII

Summary: after failing to propose to Agnese, Tommy is given an ultimatum. But the events of the previous night only complicate things further, and Tommy and Nina are forced to have a conversation they can’t escape. Meanwhile, Pietro has something to ask his sister.

Warnings: mentions of arranged marriage, slow-burn, small age-gap (Tommy’s 30, Nina is in her early 20s), time-typical misogyny, references to past attempted assault, no proofreading, English is not my first language. This is set between season 1 and 2.

A/N: the wait has been awfully long, and I’m sorry for that! I’m trying to find the way to be more constant with my updates🤍

PREVIOUS PART

SERIES MASTERLIST

Gif credits

Dividers credits

One week.

They had given him one more week of time to propose to Agnese, or else the deal would be off.

He would be lying if he said that he didn’t expect it, though. He was playing with fire, and he knew it. When he had decided to go for lunch at Agnese’s house the previous day, he had indirectly made it clear that he’d finally propose. And that was the intention, at first. But he just couldn’t bring himself to do it. Under the expectant eyes of Agnese’s family, Tommy couldn’t find it in himself to pull the ring out of his pocket and ask that fateful question. Why was it so damn difficult?

That wasn’t how things were meant to go. He was supposed to go to Italy, court whatever woman they preferred, and get on with it. He’d stop the war, he’d help the Ferrantes in their own war with Sabini, and everyone would be happy. He would keep his head, and the Ferrantes would keep their place on top of the racing business - alongside with him. He thought he had considered all the obstacles that could possibly get in his way, and yet there was one he would’ve never taken into account. That obstacle had a name and a face. A quite pretty face, too.

He was fucked. He was utterly, inexorably fucked. After last night, he was sure of that. The worst thing was - he had been truthful when he had said that he didn’t regret it. Because he didn’t, not even a bit. It felt like all the choices he had ever made had brought him to that moment, to that kiss, to having her in his arms, to be enveloped by her warmth. And God, did he feel cold when she walked away.

He just wished Polly were there. She would know what to do. She’d yell at him, probably, maybe even slap him. But she’d help him. She was half of him, and understood him so much more than he understood himself. He hadn’t imagined it would be so hard to even function without her being by his side. However, he knew better than to write to her, because he was well aware that the letter would pass through other hands first. Those people trusted him no more than he trusted them.

After lunch, Tommy took advantage of the fact that Nina was washing the dishes on her own to approach her. He had the impression she had been actively ignoring him, averting his gaze and leaving every time he tried to get close to her, avoiding the conversation they couldn’t really escape. Leaning against the counter, he allowed himself a moment to look at her. Her eyebrows were furrowed in that frown that had now become so familiar to him, and that he had grown to find rather cute. A rebellious lock had escaped her braid, falling in front of her face, and he had to restrain himself from giving in to the temptation to reach his hand out and fix it.

“We should talk about what happened,” he eventually murmured, making sure to keep his voice low.

Nina’s posture stiffened, but her face didn’t betray any sort of emotion. “What are you talking about?” She asked, keeping on scrubbing a plate without sparing him a single glance.

He blinked, opening his mouth to say something, but words failed him at her question. Out of all the things she could’ve said, that one he didn’t expect. Collecting himself, he spoke again. “Yesterday night.”

“I don’t recall anything happening yesterday night.”

Her words caused his eyebrows to shot up, and he couldn’t hold back a scoff. “Are you serious?”

“I’m always serious.”

“Nina, we need to discuss-”

“You want me to discuss something I don’t recall?” She quickly interrupted him, not even giving him the chance to finish his sentence.

The muscles in his jaw clenched, and it took him more than a moment to shake off the annoyance. He couldn’t believe she was seriously doing that. It wasn’t just her words that managed to get under Tommy’s skin, but her completely indifferent attitude, and the way she was treating him as if she was doing him a favour just by giving him her attention. They had gotten so close he had forgotten how aggravating she could be. “You can pretend all you want, sweetheart. It won’t make what happened any less real.”

“Sweetheart.”

“But if that’s what you wanna do, then fine,” he continued, his tone switching to the one he reserved for business. Apparently, that was the game she wanted to play. But he was a good player, too, and he wouldn’t let her see how much her indifference stung. With a swift motion, he took ahold of his pocket watch, clearing his throat. “It’s late,” he changed the subject, with the air of a man whose time had been wasted long enough. “I have a meeting with your father.”

“Then go.”

Finally, Nina looked at him, eyes glaring with a silent threat to leave her alone. There was something else in her gaze, though, something he couldn’t quite read. It was frustrating, not being able to read her. He could usually tell about people, yet she stayed a mystery. It didn’t matter how much time they spent together, there was always something that eluded him, a missing piece that prevented him from getting the whole picture. For a short while, they just stared at each other in silence, and Tommy was hit by the foolish need to feel her close again. It was as if the more Nina pushed him away, the more he felt himself drawn to her. It was overwhelming. So overwhelming that he had to immediately leave the room before he did something that would put the both of them in an awful position. He hated the way Nina’s mere presence was enough to make him lose any sort of power he had over his emotions, melting into dust the control he had worked to hard to achieve. He couldn’t afford to lose that control, not when there was so much at stake.

Fucking hell.

As soon as Tommy left the room, Nina exhaled, letting out the breath she had been holding under his stare. Why was it so hard for her to keep him at a distance? Why did it pain her to treat him as if she didn’t care about him in the slightest? Why did she care about him?

It was messed up. Absurd. She couldn’t get the events of the previous night out of her head. The scent of his aftershave, the taste of whiskey and cigarettes on his tongue, the tender firmness of his rough hands. Just thinking about it made her knees go weak again. No one had ever kissed her like he did, looked at her like he did, made her feel the things he had made her feel. She had never even thought it possible, and now there she was, replaying it in her mind again and again, craving way more than the mere memory.

It had been a mistake, a terrible mistake.

“Nina, can you come here for a second?” Pietro’s voice resounded in the kitchen, snapping her out of her thoughts.

Her cheeks heated as she felt as if she had been caught doing something she wasn’t supposed to do. She hid it by staying with her back on him, under the impression that her betrayal was written on her face, and that just by looking at her he’d be able to tell what she had done. She put the last plate in the cabinet before drying her hands with a rug. “What?”

“Sit.”

When she turned around, her brother was sitting at the table, waiting for her to join him. Although he had spoken in his usual authoritative tone, there was something strange in his demeanour, a hint of uneasiness that breached through his facade of unwavering composure. Furrowing her brows, Nina took a seat in front of him, waiting for him to speak. The silence seemed to stretch into an eternity as Pietro clasped his hands on the table, visibly pondering his next words.

“I know about Stefano.”

The blood froze in her veins as her brother uttered those words, her heart thumping in her chest at implication that he might know what Stefano had attempted. She gulped, her throat feeling suddenly dry. “What?”

“Dad told me he wants to marry you.”

Nina had to hold back a sigh of relief at his statement. She had no idea how he would react, if he’d keep her secret or tell their father about it, if he’d help her or blame her. Because even though in her heart she knew she hadn’t done anything wrong, she didn’t have the certainty that her family would think the same. Then his words sunk in, and it didn’t take long for her worry to turn into disturbance, her blood boiling at the sensation of having her strings being pulled, again.

“You want to convince me?” She asked with an undertone of accusation in her voice.

“I want to know what you want,” he said carefully, testing the waters. After a brief pause, which served to ascertain that his sister would listen to him and not verbally attack him before he could say another word, he started again, this time more firmly. “Nina, the balance between our families might shift at any given moment. A marriage between the two of you would avert any prospect of war,” he pragmatically explained, causing Nina’s expression to harden. But it didn’t take long for his mask to slip, and his features softened with understanding. “But that means nothing if you don’t want to marry him.”

“I don’t want to.”

“Then you won’t have to,” he leaned forward, and Nina could read the glimpse of a promise shining in his gaze. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Her brother’s calmness, along with the assurance in his voice, managed to partially quieten the storm going on in her mind. But it still wasn’t enough to make her feel safe. She shook her head, leaning back in her chair with her arms crossed. He couldn’t really make that promise, after all. And as much as she deluded herself to have a say in what would happen in her future, Nina knew that if things went down she wouldn’t really have a choice. “It’s decided, in dad’s head. He said the choice’s up to me, but we both know that it’s not.”

She despised the undertone of resignation in her voice. She had never voiced that thought, she had never even allowed herself to indulge in it up until that point, but she knew that was just another addition to the pile of problems she’d have to face, sooner of later.

Pietro didn’t seem to intend to let the matter go. He leaned with his arms on the table, his dark eyes stubbornly looking for Nina’s gaze. “Do you trust me?”

That question was enough to make Nina falter. Did she trust him?

She used to, up until before the war. Blindly. They were so close she would’ve trusted him with her life. He was the one who convinced her father to let her finish school, he was the one who took the blame - and the punishment - for her wrongdoings when they were children, he was the one she turned to when she had a problem. Then he left for war, and never came back. But his eyes were telling her that he would be by her side no matter what, that he would always have her back. And she wondered - what if she told him? What if she opened up and and shared with him the burden she had carried on her shoulders for too many years? Maybe he would protect her. Because fragments of the boy she grew up with were still scattered somewhere deep inside him, and that boy would do anything to keep her safe.

“Pietro, I…” she hesitated, shifting in her seat. “I need to tell you something.”

“What?” He frowned.

“I…”

He’ll blame you.

That thought poisoned Nina’s mind, stopping the words from coming out of her mouth. He wouldn’t protect her, he’d blame her. He’d tell their father, and he’d blame her too. Because if Stefano had gotten so obsessed with her, chances were she had done something to accommodate that kind of behaviour.

No one could protect her. No one would protect her. She only had herself.

“What, Nina?” Pietro’s impatient voice brought her back to her senses, and the weight of his stare was suddenly too much to bear. Gathering her emotions back under her control, she shook her head, brushing the matter off with the a gesture of her hand.

“Nevermind. It’s not important.”

Standing outside the door of Tommy’s bedroom, Nina nervously fidgeted with her fingers, debating whether to knock or chicken out and go back to her room. Or maybe she could wait for him in the kitchen. Maybe he’d join her, like every night.

No, he wouldn’t join her. Not after the way she had treated him. She had been childish, and insufferable. But truth was - she didn’t want to have that conversation, because talking about it meant admitting that something had, indeed, happened. That she had betrayed her cousin, her family. Herself. And she felt like a terrible person. However, Tommy was right. Pretending wouldn’t take back what was done, and her problems wouldn’t solve themselves. If she wanted to make things easier for herself, she should start somewhere. So in a fit of determination, she had left her bedroom and crossed the corridor, knowing that she needed to act before the urge to take back control of her life faded. It was safe to say she already regretted it, though. Finally, she mustered up the courage and delicately knocked on the door, her heart racing in her chest. There was some noise, then the door opened, and she was met with Tommy’s surprised expression.

“Can I come in?” She shyly asked, suddenly aware that showing up at his door in the middle of the night was probably a bit too bold, even for her. After recovering from his astonishment, Tommy moved to the side, allowing her to walk inside the room.

She hadn’t entered that room since before his arrival. It was somehow curious, to see how he had made himself at home. It was just like she expected it to be. Tidy, clean, and it smelled like his expensive cologne. For some reason, the belongings placed around it made him seem more human. The shoes paired on the floor next to the closet, the clothes for the next day neatly folded on a chair, the cigarette case placed on the bedside table, next to a flask. She would bet his gun was in the first drawer.

“How did the meeting with my father go?” She stalled, asking the first thing that came to her mind while she thought about how to start the actual conversation.

Tommy apparently wasn’t in the mood for small talk, though, because he completely ignored her question. Instead, his piercing gaze followed her as she took a few steps around the room, a mixture of bewilderment and annoyance on his face. It was clear to Nina that he was thoroughly fed up with her bullshit, and she couldn’t really blame him. As much as she hated to admit he was in the right, she was aware she was treading on thin ice. A heavy silence fell into the room, and Nina felt a faint sense of agitation starting to creep up on her. It wasn’t just the weight of Tommy’s glare on her that made her feel uncomfortable, but the feeling of general awkwardness that felt so unnatural between them now. Then a hint of doubt crossed his features, as if he had been suddenly struck by some realisation.

“Why are you here, Nina?” He squinted his eyes, taking a few steps in her direction. “Information? Is your family sending you?”

Nina felt like the rug had been pulled from under her feet. She opened her mouth to say something, but no sound came out of it as she was too shocked to put a whole sentence together. “What?” She eventually said under her breath.

“You know, I’ve been thinking,” Tommy went on, walking until he stopped right in front of her. “And I’ve been wondering why your family hasn’t had my head yet for not proposing. Are you hiding something?”

“What would I be hiding?”

“You tell me. Why did you get near me, eh?”

“Fuck you,” she spat out. His accusation felt like a harsh slap to her face. How dared he say something like that after how close she had let him? After she had opened up to him about things she had never even admitted to herself? After she had let him see her?

Tommy regretted his words as soon as they left his mouth. The hint of hurt behind the anger on Nina’s face made his stomach clench, and he cursed himself for how cruel he had been. Whatever it was that they had built over the last month couldn’t be some kind of farce, a trap set to act behind his back. It was too real, too sincere. And Nina wasn’t Grace.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured after a moment of hesitation. “I didn’t mean it.”

“But you said it.”

Tommy looked away from her, as the pain in her eyes only added to the gnawing guilt eating at him. Guilt. It was something he hadn’t felt in a long while. He had become kind of numb to it, he often pushed it back without second thought, not allowing himself to dwell on things he could’ve done differently and things he shouldn’t have said. In his line work, guilt was a weakness, and a dangerous one. It had become way too easy to say, do and take whatever he wanted, whenever he wanted it, no matter how many people got hurt in the process. Yet there it was, that strange, niggling feeling, stinging him like an annoying splinter.

Shaking off the mixture of anger and hurt, Nina took a few steps back, concluding that it was time to stop dancing around the subject. The sooner they had that conversation, the sooner things would go back to normal. Straightening her back, she took on a facade of fake confidence, hoping it wouldn’t crumble as soon as Tommy’s eyes would be on her again. “What happened…” she started, drawing his attention back on her. “Was a mistake. We’ve…” she paused, carefully choosing what to say next. “…acted impulsively. It was a moment of weakness, nothing more.”

Tommy fixed his gaze on the wall behind her, pondering her words. “Right,” he nodded, returning his eyes to her. “It didn’t mean anything,” he confirmed, but something in his expression was telling her that he was only saying that to see her reaction, silently daring her to agree with him and keep on denying the existence of what was right in front of them.

“So we’re clear.”

“We’re clear,” he repeated.

The silence of things left unsaid echoed in Tommy’s bedroom, but neither of them dared to break it, for they knew that once they took that step, there would be no going back. It had been just a kiss. They had cleared things out. Everything was normal again.

Nina took a look around the room, hoping that focusing on the small details would take her mind off that awful tension. It worked, to some extent, because her attention was soon grabbed by the only item that seemed to be out of place: the peaky cap lying on his bed. With slow, measured steps she made her way towards it, unable to hold back her interest.

“What I’ve said before,” Tommy’s deep voice resounded behind her. “I didn’t mean it. I know I said it, but I didn’t mean it. I need you to know.”

“It’s fine,” she said absentmindedly, observing how the razor blades sewn in it glistened in the dim light. “You know, they say it’s bad luck to put a hat on the bed,” she murmured.

“Do you believe it?” He asked with an undertone of skepticism in his voice, almost certain that Nina wasn’t the superstitious type.

“No,” she turned to face him with a half-grin, confirming his suspicions.

As if naturally drawn to the peculiarity of that choice of weapon, Nina looked back at the cap, but this time she couldn’t restrain herself from reaching her hand out to it. She wavered for a second, but then the curiosity took the best of her, and she grabbed it to take a better look at it. The crown of a King. She couldn’t help but wonder how many faces those razor blades had cut, how many eyes they had blinded, guided by the same hand that had handled her with such gentleness. She couldn’t picture Tommy losing his calm. He had a charm, a magnetism that clashed with his reputation, and he was so composed in the way he carried himself that it felt almost impossible to believe he was as ruthless as everyone said. And a shiver ran down her spine as she realised how little she actually knew him.

But it wasn’t fear. She hadn’t been scared of him the first time she had met him and she wasn’t scared now.

“Why do you keep them if you have guns?” She asked, handing it back to him. Although she didn’t believe that stuff, the thought of putting his hat on the bed didn’t sit well with her.

“We’re called the Peaky Blinders for a reason, sweetheart,” he explained, earning a glare from Nina as he brought back the pet name that had bothered her so much earlier that day. “And it’s a good backup if they take away your weapon.”

With a nod of her head, Nina quietly agreed with him. It did make sense. “I guess you can never be too safe.”

He uncovered the central blade, exposing it to the light. “My sister and my aunt always have one of these smuggled under the sole of their shoe.” Tommy paused for a few seconds, as if thinking about something, then he took ahold of the razor blade and ripped it off the cap. “Here,” he said, handing it to her. “Keep it.”

His unexpected gesture made Nina falter, but then she carefully grabbed the blade. The sensation of the cold metal between her fingers gave her an odd feeling of security, and she asked herself how something so small could cause so much damage. When she raised her gaze on Tommy, he was already looking at her, his blue irises deep with an emotion she couldn’t really define, but that disarmed her nonetheless. They were so close she could perceive the warmth radiating off his body, and she had no idea how that had happened. She could feel him, solid and secure, and the only thing she could think about was having his hands on her again, his arms enveloping her, his whole body pressed against hers.

Tommy wasn’t immune to that proximity either, and the urge of closing the distance between them was getting bigger and bigger. Her lips, her eyes, her scent, everything was calling him, and it took all the self-restraint he was capable of not to give in to the temptation. Why did she have to look at him like that?

Inhaling sharply, Nina took a step back, leaving a cold, painful emptiness in the spot she had previously filled. “It’s late,” she whispered, rubbing her arms in a soothing manner. “Goodnight.”

Without waiting for an answer, she turned around, starting to walk away. Driven by the unreasonable need to have her with him just for a little while more, Tommy moved to reach out to her, but his body froze in place as reason struck him like a blow. It was pointless. They were nothing, they would always be nothing.

So he let her leave.

NEXT PART

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Tommy Shelby tag list: @50svibes

[it-happened-one-fic]

Congrats on 300! Glad your writing is finding an audience. I'd be happy to submit a request for your event! Can I have TWST, Earl Grey tea and Angel Food Cake? Thank you!

Thank you so much for the congratulations! I recognized your name as soon as I go this request from the various comments you've made on my fics and it made me so happy! I hope you enjoy this Earl Grey Tea and Angel Food Cake fic!

A Pretty Good Choice – Floyd

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fluff/ romantic/ Earl Grey Tea and Angel Food Cake prompt

Word Count: 1922 words

Azul had come scrambling into Ramshackle, his pale blue eyes bright as he looked at me with raw excitement and a certain level of smugness that often seemed to come with success when one was dealing with Azul.

“I’ve done it! I’ve found a way to keep you here!” He stated those words with utter pride, which had me practically dropping Grim in shock.

In truth, we’d discovered that I couldn’t stay in Twisted Wonderland due to my status as a foreign entity. Crowley had been utterly delighted when he’d explained it to me.

“You see? I have, of course, been looking into the matter, and, as it turns out, we need not worry about sending you home! Rather, you will be sucked back into your world before long simply because you aren’t originally from Twisted Wonderland and have nothing to hold you here.”

His words had been a heavy blow because I’d become quite attached to the people here and to the friends I’d made quite some time ago. I no longer wanted to return home. Especially since I had no clue about what awaited me. 

Everyone I knew, even my family, could be convinced I was dead and had probably already moved on, considering how long I’d been here. 

To reappear now would throw everyone’s lives, including mine, into disarray. I wouldn’t even know how to explain what had happened, and I was almost positive that no one would believe me.

“Crowley told you it was just a matter of not being tied to this world, right?” Azul’s questioning dragged me out of my thoughts and back to the present. Causing me to nod even though I felt totally out of my depth.

“Yeah… He said that since there was nothing to hold me here, this world would eventually eject me.” Even the words tasted wrong, but I forced myself to remain in the moment.

Azul had said he’d found a way to keep me here. So maybe, just maybe, there really was a way.

I watched as the housewarden pushed his glasses up in what I could only call a smug manner, “Well then. All you have to do is get married.”

I gaped up at the young man as Grim let out a shocked yowl that perfectly matched my thoughts.

Azul rolled his eyes at both of our reactions and gestured for me to follow him, “Come with me. I’ll explain on the way to the Mostro Lounge.”

And explain he did. 

Apparently, I would be entering into a contract with someone else that would be officiated by Azul and would essentially serve as an arranged marriage contract.

“You won’t actually be marrying someone, and should you find a partner who you wish to be with, you will be promptly released from the contract to marry that person. This is just a measure to keep you in this world,” Azul pushed open the door to his lounge as he finished smoothly.

I nodded slowly before frowning slowly, “And the matter of payment?”

Azul’s hand went to his chest in a feigned shock, “You think I would make you pay for such a service? Angelfish, I’m doing this to help you out of this truly unfortunate situation you’ve found yourself in. Let your partner-to-be handle the payment.”

So whoever was in this contract with me would be handling the payment… Well, Azul had said before that I had nothing of interest to offer him. 

“And who is this partner-to-be?” At my words, Azul stopped. A genuine frown appearing on his face as he twisted to better face me.

“That’s the problem at hand. I brought you here to go ahead and sign the contract, but you’ll need to find a willing partner.” He looked back at me, worry shining slightly in his eyes in a way that reminded me that he was actually doing this because he cared.

Because I’d befriended the octatrio shortly after Azul’s overblot, and since then they’d been far more genuinely benevolent, though they did still like to be repaid for their kindness whenever possible.

“So I’ll be looking for someone willing to enter into an arranged marriage contract and foot the bill for your services?” My tone sounded wavering and uncertain to even my own ears, but Azul simply waved off my concerns, his own way of being comforting I supposed, before gesturing for me to sit at a table.

“You have plenty of close friends; I’m sure you’ll find someone willing. Just sit down, and I’ll be right back with the contract.” He twisted on his heel, looking towards the bar, “Floyd!”

At Azul’s call, the lanky young man in question looked up. His expression was initially one of boredom until he spotted me, at which time his eyes brightened. 

It was odd that he hadn’t noticed me the moment I’d stepped into the room. Normally Floyd was almost inhumanly fast when it came to noticing my presence.

In fact, he’d often appear by my side with a smile on his face and my nickname on his lips before I’d even managed to spot him in the crowd.

“Get them something to drink while they wait,” After giving his orders, Azul glanced back over his shoulder at me with a grin on his face that told me he’d thought of something to sweeten the deal.

 “Don’t worry, it’ll be on the house for today. Think of it as a celebration.” With only those words, he strolled off, not even giving me a chance to object.

And even if I had wanted to object, Floyd was already strolling over with a smile on his face as he whipped out a notepad and clicked his ink-pen in preparation, “What’ll it be, Shrimpy? I recommend something expensive since Azul is paying.”

I smiled slightly at his advice before shaking my head slightly, "How about something light… or maybe something to calm my nerves?”

I pondered my order out loud and got to watch as Floyd’s smile disappeared and a frown appeared in its place. 

He sat his notepad down on the table and slid into the booth across from me, “What’s wrong? Having second thoughts about staying already? That’s no good, Shrimpy.”

Despite his light-hearted phrasing, Floyd’s tone was filled with something I was less used to. Concern.

Both his worry and questions startled me, causing my eyes to go wide before I shook my head vehemently, “No! No! Not at all. I definitely want to stay; it's just….”

I trailed off as I considered the situation that now lay before me, “It’s just that marriage seems so sudden. I haven’t considered it at all, and I certainly can’t think of anyone to ask to enter into this contract with me.”

I shifted awkwardly in my seat as Floyd’s gaze seemed to all but drill into me. Pushing me for answers and forcing me to sort through my own thoughts, “I mean, who would want to be in an arranged marriage contract, much less with me? And that’s not even considering the matter of paying Azul.”

The more I thought about it, the more it felt like I’d exchanged one massive issue for one slightly smaller but still very difficult problem. What made it worse was that if I didn’t find anyone, I would be back at square home. 

Getting sucked back into my world even though I knew I wanted to stay here. Because I had people I cared for here. Floyd, Azul, Deuce, Ace, Grim… And that was only listing a small few of a very large number.

Floyd tilted his head, staying silent as Azul reappeared with a glowing yellow contract in his hand and a smile on his face. Or at least there was a smile on his face before he spotted Floyd sitting at the table that had no drink on it.

“Floyd, I thought I told you to get them a drink?” Floyd waved off Azul, eliciting a sigh from the housewarden before his smile returned, though gentler this time.

“Here Angelfish. You’ll just need to sign here,” He pointed at a dotted line as he laid the paper in front of me before offering me a pen.

I paused, hesitating before letting the pen’s tip touch down and I started carefully signing my name.

 I had a myriad of concerns, but I had to at least try. Even if I couldn’t think of anyone, someone may yet show up who’d be willing to enter into this contract with me. Though who that was I had no clue.

I had barely pulled the pen away from the paper before Floyd had reached out, deftly spinning the paper so that it faced him.

“Floyd?” I questioned him aloud, but he didn’t answer. Instead, he continued on about his business, and I soon received his wordless explanation in the form of his signature on the dotted line right next to mine.

Me and Azul gawked at him as he nonchalantly unclicked his pen and pocketed it. Azul looked from the paper to Floyd and then over to me, while Floyd just grinned at me, completely unperturbed.

“Floyd, are…” I stumbled across my words, causing the grin on Floyd’s face to only grow as I fumbled, “Are you sure? This is an arranged marriage contract, you know? And-”

“I’m like you, Shrimpy~ I hadn’t put a lot of thought into marriage either.” His tone was a happy one as he leaned down until his arms were crossed on the table with his head resting against them as he continued to look up at me.

“But I like you, so if I had to get married, I think you’d be a pretty good choice. Doncha think?” His smile softened ever so slightly as he looked up at me, and I felt myself go still, my eyes widening as I looked down at him.

Half of me was still surprised by his impulsive decision, but the other half of me was beyond touched and even a little flustered as I looked across the table at the young man, who, I couldn’t deny, was one of the main reasons I wanted to stay in Twisted Wonderland.

I found myself smiling at him, fondness creeping into my tone as I answered him at last, “And I certainly can’t complain about this arrangement either.”

Floyd outright grinned at my words, sitting up and even leaning forward a bit with his excitement. His gaze was almost expectant, like he knew I had more to say.

And, to be fair, I did. Because how could I not when he’d just solved my issues with a single signature, “Thank you, Floyd.”

Azul let out a sigh at my soft words, shaking his head a little even though he had the slightest of smiles on his face as he looked between the two of us, “Then the two of you are sure?”

I looked up at him, nodding with a smile still on my face, as Floyd bobbed his head cheerfully and responded in his customary sing-song tone, “Absolutely.”

Azul looked down at the contract, still smiling, as he signed his own name on the only remaining line, sealing the deal and causing it to light up with a brilliant flash of magic as he worked his signature spell. “Well, I suppose there’s only one thing left to do then.”

He looked up at both of us as he finished, “We just need to tell Jade that he now has a sister-in-law.”

[theboywithburninghands]

Oh boy, who’s ready for more Arranged Marriage? No I mean seriously, I hope you’re ready. I’ve been planning this chapter for a while, at least one part. I hope it’s up to snuff, enjoy! @fernstarsblog

T/W: Implied homophobia, drug use, era-appropriate sexism

Primum Peccatum Ch. 11: She Gave Me Sleeping Powder

“Pomni, eccoti qua! The tailor got here half an hour ago, where have you been?”

Mirella hurried across the foyer as soon as her daughter entered the Shutnyk Estate. Pomni scarcely managed to get the door shut and locked before Mirella began to fiddle with Pomni’s hair.

“Good morning to you too, mother.” Pomni drawled.

“Darling, when was the last time you washed your hair..?” Mirella fussed.

“Yesterday afternoon, Zooble can attest to it. Before you ask, I was visiting Sister Ragatha and Miss Gangle.” Pomni twitched an eye and moved her head away from her mother’s hands. “Mother, please stop that.”

“I’m sorry, piccola, I simply want everything perfect for today. I think you’ll be delighted by the dress I picked out for you!” Mirella clasped her hands together and beamed.

“If you managed to select one that isn’t an affront to fashion, that is,” Pomni replied tartly. She told her mother five days ago and in no uncertain terms that she wanted a dress without any frills, in the figurative and literal sense. Pomni warned Mirella that if she tried to force her into a gown that made her resemble some kind of albino peacock, she would set the manor ablaze.

“Oh, pish-posh, just wait until you see it! I had the tailor bring along a facsimile for us! You can make any changes you like, it is your wedding after all!”

Pomni chewed her lower lip to keep from blurting anything out. Her wedding? Ha. This had been entirely her parents’ wedding since the outset. It just happened to involve her.

A few dividers were set up in the northwest corner of the dining room, Vladimir seated at the head of the table with the newspaper. Zooble stood off unobtrusively in the corner, hand and claw behind their back. They gave a slight nod to Pomni as she passed.

“Ah, the paper is here. Has the post arrived as well?” Pomni asked, trying to remain inconspicuous.

Vladimir looked up from the paper with a raised eyebrow. “It has. Were you expecting something, Pomni?”

“Yes, I… subscribed to another literary journal, I was expecting it today…” Pomni said, looking down. A lack of eye contact would have betrayed suspicion, but Pomni already abhorred locking eyes, so her gazing at the floor was hardly atypical.

“Eyes up darling, the tailor has everything prepared,” Vladimir said.

From behind the dividers, a fellow with an appearance like Pomni had never seen before stepped out. He was the shape of an alligator, but his body appeared to be composed of some sort of jelly, slightly transparent lime-green and yellow with a white underside traveling up the length of his jaw. He wore an impeccably tailored navy blue suit with a red pocket kerchief. He bowed politely.

“This is Mr. Gummigoo, Pomni!” Mirella said. “He’s half-shapefolk, half-beastfolk, isn’t that interesting? You so rarely see such a combination around New Hirnantia.”

“G’day, Miss,” he said. His accent marked him as from The Elsewhere Isles of New Hirnantia.

The Elsewhere Isles were an archipelago of around 75 islands off the southern coast of New Hirnantia that human settlers explored centuries ago. While some of the islands were uninhabitable deserts or jungles dense enough to keep even the most intrepid explorers away, the largest island, Lulilaloo, was a more temperate island populated by a race of beastfolk. There was, of course, a war for the land and resources. However, the beastfolk of the island proved themselves quite advanced, having discovered how to make explosives and crude metal through their millenia of alchemical research. As such, the New Hirnantian army only managed to colonize roughly half the island before exhausting their budget and manpower. The prime minister had no choice but to sign a ceasefire with the leader of Lulilaloo’s beastfolk tribes that prevented humans from encroaching any further on the island, but tensions remain high on both sides to this day.

“How do you do, sir?” Pomni curtsied.

“Mr. Gummigoo is a renowned tailor throughout the world, Pomni!” Mirella exclaimed. “You have no idea the strings your father had to pull to commission him for your dress.”

“I hope this isn’t too inconvenient for you, sir.” Pomni said.

“Pomni, eyes up and on our guest,” Vladimir chided.

Gummigoo held up a hand. “It’s no issue, Mr. Shutnyk. Miss Shutnyk, would you like to see your dress?” he asked.

“I would, yes. Thank you.” Pomni replied, keeping her eyes down.

Mirella made a delighted noise, causing her daughter to flinch.

“Right this way, please,” Mr. Gummigoo said, leading Pomni to the dividers. “I took your requests for simplicity to heart, but your mother was adamant I include a bit of flourish in the design.”

“To nobody’s surprise,” Pomni muttered.

“Indeed,” Mr. Gummigoo said, a laugh on the edge of his voice. “But, I believe I’ve reached a happy medium. Now, please keep in mind, dear, that this is just a facsimile. I’ll prepare the actual dress for you when I have your measurements and your complete approval.”

Gummigoo smiled and pulled away one of the dividers. A mannequin, headless and legless, stood on a wooden stand behind it, clad in a dress.

Pomni walked a bit closer. She knew next to nothing about dresses, as fashion didn’t interest her, so she hadn’t the slightest idea of the fabric, although one material was abundantly clear. The lower half of the gown was decorated with white feathers. Beginning with just a few solitary wisps, they gradually thickened to cover the entire bottom half of the dress. Pomni touched it. It was pleasantly soft.

“Pomni, ask before you touch,” Mirella scolded.

“There’s no issue, Mrs. Shutnyk. It’s just a facsimile. And it is going to be her dress, after all.” Mr. Gummigoo replied.

She looked at the top half of the dress. It was patterned with small, modest white pearls of fabric, lacking sleeves or shoulders. There wasn’t anything else. No unnecessary ruffles or bands or tassels. It was…

“…It’s very nice.” Pomni said after a moment. She looked at Mr. Gummigoo with a small but earnest smile. “It’s… I quite like it.”

Mirella clapped her hands in delight as Mr. Gummigoo gave a satisfied nod.

“I knew you would like it, piccola, I just knew it! You’re an artisan, Mr. Gummigoo!”

Gummigoo raised a hand modestly. “It’s my pleasure, Mrs. Shutnyk. Now, may I have a few moments with your daughter? I still need to do her measurements.”

“Of course, of course! Oh, I’m so thrilled Pomni!” Mirella threw her arms around her daughter, who managed one hand on her back in return. “Very well, come along Vladimir, let’s allow Mr. Gummigoo to work his magic!”

Vladimir folded up his paper and scoffed. “Magic, indeed. For the amount of crowns I’ve given that gentleman, those feathers should come from a pegasus…”

The two of them left the room, Zooble following suit after a moment.

“Now, it's my understanding that you dislike being touched.” Mr. Gummigoo said.

“That’s correct.” Pomni replied.

“Shouldn’t be an issue, if you don’t mind holding my tape measure. Can you please hold out your arms?”

Pomni did so, Mr. Gummigoo unraveling a whip of measuring tape and looping it around her torso.

“Put your hand here if you don’t mind,” he gestured to a spot on her side where the tape intersected. Pomni put her palm over the tape, Mr. Gummigoo making some notes in a ledger with a fountain pen.

“Mr. Gummigoo, may I ask you a question? It isn’t about my dress.” Pomni said.

“Certainly, although I’m afraid I don’t have much expertise in subjects outside of tailoring.” he replied. He adjusted the tape measure around her hips.

“...How many women have you done this for?” she asked.

“Hm… going on 300 now, I believe.” he said, motioning for Pomni to hold the tape while he made another note in his ledger.

“300, gracious,” Pomni said. “Well, another query, if you don’t mind. Out of those women.. How many of them were happy to be married?”

“A good amount of them were very happy. It is their marriage, after all.” he replied. “Some were so overjoyed they were in tears. And some-”

“Were simply in tears?” Pomni concluded.

Mr. Gummigoo glanced over his shoulder for Pomni’s parents or Zooble, then looked back at her.

“Yes,” he replied, continuing to take Pomni’s measurements. “A few were forced into unions with distant relatives, or with complete strangers, out of financial necessity. Some of them whispered to me, or even tried bribing me to get them out of the arrangement. Of course, there’s nothing a tailor such as myself could do.” he replied, morose.

“That is what happened to me. I’m being married off as a ‘favor’ to one of my father’s clients to get him out of debt. Not as though he deserves it…” Pomni grumbled the last sentence mostly to herself.

“The man you’re marrying is not your ideal partner?” Mr. Gummigoo asked.

“The man… I am reasonably content with the man. Everything else can sod off-” Pomni covered her mouth. “Excuse me. Everything else is… unpleasant.”

“‘Reasonably content?’ You’re condemning the fellow with faint praise.” Mr. Gummigoo said, smiling. He had her hold the measuring tape around her shin and made another note.

“Believe me, it’s an improvement over last week. I’d have seen him tarred and feathered then.”

Mr. Gummigoo coughed lightly.

“But… things have changed. He was forced into marriage just as I was, and I’ve met his family. His home life makes mine look like a jaunt through a field of flowers.” Pomni admitted.

“And what of his character?” Gummigoo inquired, looping the tape measure around her neck.

“His character is pleasant. Although, as I said, I’ve only known him for a week…” answered Pomni.

“I would spend the rest of your time before your marriage getting to know him. If you appreciate his character, perhaps he can become your ideal partner.” Mr. Gummigoo said.

“That is what I’ve been doing, some of it purposeful, some through happenstance. He is well-spoken and charming to a degree, but… he has many skeletons in his closet.”

“Unfortunately, that’s true of most of us,” Mr. Gummigoo said, jotting down the last of his measurements. “This country thrives on the philosophy of keeping all problems out of polite society.”

“‘One must have some pressure within oneself to truly change within their chrysalis.’ Liz Armitage. I agree, Mr. Gummigoo.” Pomni said.

Mr. Gummigoo closed his ledger and smiled. “I’ve never read her. But, I can tell you this. I believe people have told me more secret worries than most clergymen have heard. Because I’m just a tailor. I create wedding gowns, and then I’m never heard from again apart from my invoice. Who am I going to tell?”

Mr. Gummigoo set the dividers aside, putting his ledger and measuring tape into his bag and picking it up.

“People are expected to smile and bow in polite society, keeping all their pain on the inside until it starts to fester. I can tell you this, Miss Shutnyk. Pain is part of life, and we should stop pretending it isn’t. The day someone, a man, woman or otherwise, can admit they’re in pain to a complete stranger without the worry of being shunned. Then this country can start moving forward again.”

Pomni looked at Mr. Gummigoo, who bowed and smiled.

“I’ll have your dress ready in a week’s time, Ms. Shutnyk. G’day.”

“Good day,” Pomni replied.

With one last bow and smile, Mr. Gummigoo stepped out of the dining room, and out of Pomni’s life.

—

Pomni put on her sunhat, the black one. She intended on paying Jax Krolik a visit today. Mr. Gummigoo made a compelling point. Several compelling points. But most immediately, she should spend more time with her husband-to-be. There were so many questions that she hadn’t asked him yet. So many books to discuss.

She exited the estate, crossing her mother’s flower garden and heading up the road to The Rooker Estate.

“Pomni!”

From further uo the road, an orange rabbit in a purple dress waved, carrying a brown wicker basket draped with a red and white blanket.

“Kali! Hello!” Pomni smiled and went over to Jax’s sister-in-law. Unsurprisingly, Kali hugged her, but, also unsurprisingly, she didn’t mind. A warm, sweet smell came from the basket.

“Let me begin by saying that I’m so very sorry for yesterday… I did want to warn you about Jax’s father, but you were already so frightened…” Kali put a hand to her own cheek and looked off guiltily.

“It isn’t an issue, Kali. I was braced for something unpleasant to happen already, truthfully… Jax told me about Boone.” Pomni nodded to the basket. “What have you got there?”

“Ah, I brought over the leftover tea cakes for Jax! I took them home with us last night, it would be a shame to waste them.” Kali chirped, taking the blanket off the basket and showing off the baked goods within. They had been warmed and re-dusted with powdered sugar. “Would you like one?”

“Yes, I would… I haven’t eaten this morning.” Pomni took one, forgetting to ask if she could first. Her mother would have slapped her hand.

The two women sat beneath a nearby pine tree, taking care to shift any pinecones aside before being seated. Pomni had a bite of her cake. It was just as delicious and tart as it had been the previous night. It tasted even better knowing that she could savor it, not having to worry about Drexl or Boone. It still sat like a weight in her stomach, but that would just make her feel more full after missing breakfast.

“These really are wonderful… Zuzanna is a wonderful chef.” Pomni said, brushing some stray powdered sugar off her cheek with her knuckle.

“Isn’t she? I think her cooking is half the reason for my… girth.” Kali put a palm on her soft stomach.

Pomni scoffed and shook her head. “Don’t be silly. Plumpness just shows that you have enough to eat, and that’s something to be thankful for. Besides, you’re perfectly attractive as you are.”

“Oh, listen to you! You should write a book with that silver tongue of yours.” Kali had a bite of a cake, her face pink and smiling. Pomni finished hers, sitting full and content. She looked up at the sky through the pine needles. Gray light peeked through in faint glittery flashes.

“Oh, speaking of, have you had the chance to think about your vows?” Kali asked.

“I haven’t. Truth be told, at first I was just going to select a passage about love at random from one of my books… But, now that I’ve gotten more comfortable with him, I should look into it, shouldn’t I?” Pomni’s eyes remained on the sky.

“I’m delighted that you’ve grown to like him, Pomni. He’s a good man. He can be a bit sly at times, but he’s got a warm soul. Unlike his father.” Kali sighed, wiping her mouth with a handkerchief from her purse.

“Are Osvaldo and Boone alright? I hadn’t even thought to ask, how wretched of me…” Pomni replied, chewing her thumbnail.

“Boone will be fine. I know it may be difficult to believe, but that’s not the first time his father has grown upset with him,” Kali said with a smirk. “Osvaldo…Oh, Osvaldo, the poor thing. He’s such a sweet boy, but his father just wants a perfect copy of himself.”

“I do question why Drexl hasn’t tried marrying him off…” Pomni wondered.

Kali opened her mouth, then closed it. She thought for a while.

“Well, if you’re going to be part of the family, you may as well know. Osvaldo is only interested in men. He has been since I’ve known him at just 15 years old.”

Pomni looked at Kali, then down at the grass. “Ah. Well, I suppose that would make it significantly more difficult for him to be married to a woman, hm?”

Kali giggled. “Considerably. But now you understand why his father is so hard on him and less so on my husband…”

Pomni crossed her arms over knees. “What an odious little man… Things have been so difficult for Jax. I really had no idea. Even now that he’s out of that house, I worry his father will try and keep him ensnared. It’s no wonder he-”

Pomni stopped herself.

“It’s no wonder he..?” Kali asked, raising her brow.

Pomni thought a moment. Kali could be trusted. She may have even been the only one in this family that could be trusted to keep a secret, since she was away from Drexl’s grasp. Altonicus maybe, but… it felt better to confide in one of her sex. Besides, Kali trusted her enough to tell her about Osvaldo.

“You aren’t to tell your husband, but… Jax has a weakness for laudanum. I only found out three days ago, but… it is quite severe. I stumbled onto a bottle when I was looking for an alkalizer. He must have stashed it away for a trip like this. He takes it upwards of four times a day…”

Kali put a hand to her mouth and looked away.

“I’m dreadfully sorry I’ve burdened you with this, but I needed to tell someone. He told me he became addicted when Boone threw him off of a bridge. I’m hoping to wean him off the awful tonic, but… I don’t know if I can do it alone. His father certainly won’t help. Perhaps you could help when the ceremony is over?”

Kali covered her face. Pomni immediately sat up straighter.

“Oh dear, Kali, I’m sorry, I-I shouldn’t have said-” Pomni began.

“No… No, I’m the one that should be apologizing…” The rabbit’s cheeks were streaked with tears.

“What? You haven’t done anything, Kali…” Pomni looked around, hoping no one else would come along and see them.

“Yes I have…Pomni, It was me. I gave him opium.”

Pomni’s eyes widened slightly. “Kali..?”

Kali wiped her eyes and sniffed. “Jax was in so much pain after he broke all those bones, and the pediatric tonics that Alton had for him did no good… They weren’t meant for that level of pain, but he wasn’t allowed to administer opium to a 17 year old…”

Another chain of sobs broke through. “I only gave him enough so he could get some sleep at night… I didn’t know it would be so addictive… I found him in Alton’s drug storeroom after his arm was taken out of the sling, sweaty and wide-eyed, digging around for it… I didn’t want Alton to find out and Allfather forbid Drexl found out… I’ve been giving him some to keep the withdrawals away for 4 years…”

“Why haven’t you told anyone?”

“I have!” Kali shouted. “I’ve told the Gray Sisterhood in confession for years now… I even told the one on this island just so I could have someone new to cry to… Alton would divorce me if he ever found out, and I could be arrested for giving opioids to a minor…I-I just wanted him to be able to sleep…”

Pomni put a hand to her mouth. The day of the downpour. Why Kali went to the church and why Sister Ragatha looked so upset when Pomni first saw her… Why Jax was out looking for her, he might have been paranoid Kali would tell someone… the whole reason she came to the island that day in the first place, to give him-!

“Oh, Kali…” Pomni said.

This only made the older rabbitwoman cry harder. Pomni hesitated for a moment before wrapping her arms around her.

“I’m a fiend…” Kali sobbed.

“No, Kali, you’re not… You only wanted to help…”

Kali sobbed into Pomni’s shoulder. “I’m sorry… I’m sorry…”

“Shhhh… Kali, it’s going to be alright… Don’t cry… .” The gentleness in Pomni’s voice surprised even herself.

Pomni looked at the Rooker estate, rubbing her sister’s back.

“I’m going to help you fix this.”

[audreysfanfics]

𝐂𝐇𝐑𝐎𝐍𝐈𝐂𝐋𝐄𝐒 𝐖𝐑𝐈𝐓𝐓𝐄𝐍 𝐁𝐘 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 (Aemond Targaryen x Fem!Sand/Martell! OC)

— Chapter I: A promise of Dragons

AO3 link (kudos & comments are appreciated 💚)

ᴘʀᴏʟᴏɢᴜᴇ || 1

────── ☀ ──────

I was born on a rainy dawn, in a pillow house in Sunspear. I’m the daughter of the then Prince of Dorne and his paramour, said to be of the dragonseed, the offspring of a Targaryen lord.

As you can see, I’m a contradiction: Dornish people hate Targaryens, and Targaryens hate Dornish people. I’m both rhoynar and dragon, and for that very reason I was hated and feared all my life. My father and brother knew how to accept me, but they kept me away from the Old Palace for my safety, they said.

For twenty-four years, I lived a quiet life in a modest palace on the shores of the Narrow Sea, away from Dornish politics and those matters that my lord father and brother considered important to them, but insignificant to me. I was free and fortunate: I read, I enjoyed myself, and I travelled through Westeros and Essos. I loved freely, unabashedly, without fear, and I knew how to reduce men to tears by turning down marriage proposals that other ladies would find tempting.

That is why I did not believe my brother's messenger when, one morning in the year 129, while I was eating dates for breakfast in my garden, he came looking for me, claiming that Prince Qoren was planning an arranged marriage for me.

“Tell my brother that he’s more likely to make a deal with the Targaryens than for me to marry someone he imposes on me," I attacked, thinking myself very clever.

I saw Prince Qoren's messenger redden. He was a young boy, probably under fifteen.

“That's the point, Lady Alaessa," he said, embarrassed for some reason. “The Prince has come to terms with House Targaryen, and that is why he has arranged a marriage for you”.

I choked on the date and began to cough vehemently. The messenger approached me with concern and a maid ran to fetch a glass of water. By the time I could finally breathe normally, my eyes were filled with tears and my heart was pounding. Not because of the date.

“Qoren has gone mad," I coughed again. “A deal with the dragons?! What would our father think if he were alive!”

“It's a deal that will favour Dorne, my lady," the boy assured me, but, like me, he looked unconvinced. “Let the Prince explain it to you. I know no more than what I have been commanded to tell”.

And so, I had no choice but to climb into the litter my brother had sent and, trying hard to keep a lifeless expression and hiding my rage, I crossed the city towards the palace.

Qoren was waiting for me in his chambers, sitting at the wide marble table where he took his breakfast, his shoulders straight, a glass of wine in his hand. When he saw me enter, striding in a way that revealed my fury, he raised his face and an eyebrow, challenging me. It had always been that way: we had such similar personalities that it was impossible not to expect them to repel each other. We were both worthy children of the sun.

“I'm going to kill you," I said, mumbling, and with both hands on the table, I lunged at him.

My brother smiled and took a sip of his wine. Then he stroked his dark bearded chin.

“And what will you do after you kill me, dearest sister?”, he provoked me. It was not the first time I had threatened to kill him. “What will you do with my body? What will you tell my lady wife, my children and my vassals? Are you going to proclaim yourself Princess of Dorne? Do you think that by doing so you would be able to stop the dragons from killing you too?”

“So that's what this is about," I observed, enraged. “You're afraid of them. You're afraid of dragons”.

“Only an idiot wouldn't fear dragons, Alaessa," he spat, and I noticed that, as I had intended, his pride was hurt, "but fearing them and surrendering to them are not the same thing. We can defeat them even with fear”.

At this point, I could not believe my ears. My brother had never been a coward; on the contrary, he was a man too reckless for my father's tastes. Superb at times and passionate with his mistresses, he had already recognised three bastards. He had the tanned skin of the Martells, feline eyes of gold, and thick black hair. He was ten years older than me, but if not for that, anyone would have sworn we were twins.

“I can't believe I'm talking to the same man who betrothed me to a Targaryen," I was stunned.

“Believe it," he said, standing up, "because what I said earlier has a lot to do with my decision”.

“You're giving me to the dragons as you would give a fucking lamb”.

“No." Qoren's countenance had darkened. He was beginning to lose patience. “Have you not heard the rumours? There is a war growing in the womb of Westeros, and Dorne is, sadly, part of this land. Two ravens came to me, Alaessa; both from opposite sides, but with the seal of the same house," he explained, hands behind his back. “Both missives were full of kind words and diplomacy, but a good ruler knows that before war, all possibilities are exhausted, even if it means the loss of dignity and temporary amnesia”.

Yes, I was aware of the winds of war blowing from King's Landing and Dragonstone, but, Maester, you must bear in mind that nothing mattered less to me than a bunch of Targaryen killing each other. I thought myself oblivious to such matters, even though I knew Dorne had always been a thorn in the Targaryen side, even when I was aware that such a conflict would affect me in some way.

I was young and ignorant.

“What do the letters say?”, I asked, knowing part of the answer.

“They ask for Dornish support”. Qoren let out a scornful chuckle. “The Greens and The Blacks, each in turn, want our support, and as if Rhaenyra and Aegon II had written their letters together in the same room, both offer me exactly the same in return”. My brother looked at me. "To join our houses in marriage and a promise of dragons”.

"A promise of dragons”. The key phrase was that. I knew the moment Qoren uttered it and his eyes flashed with ambition.

“Reject them," I said, my body trembling. I knew it would be impossible to save myself from a fate that already seemed sealed. “Tell them you don't want to mix our blood with theirs, and that since the Targaryens came to Westeros, we, the Dornish people, have had enough of their flying lizards”.

But Qoren wouldn't listen. Or rather, he pretended not to.

“Rhaenyra Targaryen offered her son Joffrey and reminded me in a very cheeky way that I have a daughter of fourteen who is of marriageable age. Aegon, on the other hand, offered his younger brother Daeron and much better advised, told me he was leaving the bride to my choice”.

“And you liked Aegon's proposal better, for then you could give me instead of your daughter”.

“Aliandra is my heir," Qoren said, hurt by my words. “Giving her to the Black Queen would be tantamount to giving Dorne to her when I die. You are my sister," he cut me off and took me by the shoulders. I immediately rejected his touch with violence, “and a woman who has lived and seen enough not to be fooled”.

“And I'm a bastard" I blurted, bile burning in my throat. “Aegon II may have given you the freedom to choose his brother's bride, but I'm sure he won't like the idea of her being a woman whose surname is not Martell but Sand”. I gave a sarcastic laugh. “The King's brother himself married to a dornish bastard. Fuck, the bards will wear out their tongues singing those songs”.

“If they don't like it, that's their problem, for my candidate is you. The Targaryens are not fools, Alaessa, they know the laws of Dorne are different, that bastardy is no shame in our land and that a woman has the same right to inherit as a man”. He took a moment to look at me. “They will accept, I know, and they will do it because they need Dorne”.

"Of course," I thought, knowing I was doomed. "And you don't turn down this proposal because you want dragons”.

I turned away from my brother and strode across the room with a quiet, feigned pace, towards the sideboard where the decanter of wine rested. I took a goblet and poured until I was practically over the glass. As I lifted the drink to my mouth, I savoured the sweetness of the drink.

I needed to get drunk as soon as possible, if I was going to endure all this.

“Besides the dragons, what made you agree to this madness?”, I wanted to know, turning my back to my brother. I heard him approaching.

“Victory”.

Confused, I turned and looked at Qoren.

“Victory? Over what? Over whom?” I snorted. “This is not our fucking war, brother”.

“Not this war, no. But it’s the one we've waged for over a century against House Targaryen," I saw him grit his teeth. “We'll never make peace with them, because we'll never surrender. The ‘quiet’ we enjoy now is a truce. A truce that will be broken as soon as they feel like it”.

“They won't feel like it just yet, I assure you.” I took a long sip of wine until the goblet was half empty. “Perhaps, they will when the war is over, and by the time it is, we'll have to see if there are any Targaryens still alive”.

“That's why Dorne must seize the opportunity”. Qoren brutally took the goblet from my hand and placed it on the sideboard. “I want to beat the Targaryens, sister, and I will beat them by outsmarting them. We must use the crack in that house for you to bear silver-haired children, and with them, bring dragons that belong in Dorne”.

"War and dragons”. I didn't bother holding back the tears any longer and stared down at my feet. I was ashamed to cry in front of Qoren. I was ashamed to show weakness in front of those who thought I was strong.

I heard my brother hold his breath and, as if I was suddenly the barefoot, dirty-haired girl he had adored, he hugged me.

Let me tell you this, Maester, and pay attention, for I want everyone who reads my chronicles to be clear on the following: Qoren was not a man given to affection. Yes, he was Dornish. Yes, he was passionate with women, or so I was told, but his lack of closeness sometimes made him seem more like a Stark than a Martell. He had always had a predilection for me, and even so, I could count on the fingers of one hand the number of times he'd given me a hug.

“Alaessa, do you remember our house words?”, he asked, still hugging me.

Pulling away, I looked up into his face in dismay. How could I forget? Those three words were burned into my soul.

“Unbowed. Unbent. Unbroken.”

“Exactly," he nodded. “Please don't bend, even to me. Don't break. I want you to know that I'm still willing to back out of the arranged marriage and stay out of the Targaryens if you wish. I have not yet sent my reply to Otto Hightower. Tell me once more that you want no part, and the raven will never leave its cage”.

I smiled through my tears as I found it pathetic that, for the first time in my life, getting my own way was not pleasurable. On the contrary, it had awakened a sense of guilt in me: was I condemning Dorne to another hundred years of Targaryen torment just because I was incapable of assuming the responsibilities that came with being the Prince’s sister? Bastard or not, I was a Martell, and before me loomed the chance to free my land. My people.

“I will do it, Qoren. I will marry Daeron Targaryen”.

My brother nodded, silent. He knew that accepting the marriage was the best option, but apparently the idea was still repulsive to him in some ways, even weighing all the benefits.

“It is these kinds of sacrifices that make us worthy descendants of Nymeria, my dear sister”. He grabbed my face and smiled. “We will protect her promised land, even if I have to see you married to a fucking dragon and you have to bear him children”.

“Yes," I said, and the knot in the pit of my stomach grew tighter.

“I'll send the raven. They will surely demand an audience as soon as they receive it." Qoren suddenly looked worried. “We'll have to go to King's Landing. Are you ready?”

“You fool, I’m always ready”, and we both laughed.

But beyond the laughter, though, I recognised a flame inside me that burned and hurt. It was anger. It was disgust. It was fear.

I would be lying if I told you, I didn't hate my brother that day.

[ristoranteivorykeys]

the thrill of tragic tales — oneshot

it's another one of your late nights with malleus draconia, when he asks you a question you thought you'd never hear from him. ft. reader and malleus draconia

╰┈➤ 𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐞𝐬: reader is referred to as they/them; mom look i'm posting again after 84 years owo; this is born out of the stress real life is putting me through, so the style is also slightly different and a bit experimental. nonetheless, i hope this might be enjoyable =w=

“I do not mean to intrude on any… intimate matters, Child of Man.” Dry leaves and fallen branches crunch and crackle under his feet, a tiny show of a power no mortal can seek. “But I am curious on one thing about you.”

His question does not stop their walking pace, but they turn their head to his pale visage and shining green eyes. “What is it?”

“Why do you set your sights on him?”

They don’t respond, except with the raise of their brows and a tiny momentary jolt of knowing who exactly he is alluding to.

“I’m… surprised that you of all people are asking me that.”

“Why so?” He doesn't hide the small smile on his face. It amuses him that even an indirect mention of him can unbalance you.

“You never struck me as the type to be curious on matters like love and crushes.”

He chuckles. “You aren’t mistaken, Child of Man. I never cared for them. After all, it was that very same infatuation that brought the Almighty Fairy of Thorns from the heavens to the ground.”

“Did Lilia ask you to ask me?”

“… Again, you are not mistaken." Briefly, he wonders how long have they known him to recognize Lilia's involvement in his life. "Lilia brought me here to learn more about the human world in preparation for my future ruling.

“But I also ask out of my own curiosity," he adds. "You are not expecting an arranged marriage, so I assume you have the option to choose who you want to spend the rest of your years with. You have many choices within the school, friends that you laugh with. But that boy. He is…” He hums, looking for kinder words to continue his sentence.

“I understand,” they answer with mirth. An understanding smile blooms on their face, colored with a faint note of sadness. “I know that I haven’t quite spent much time with him, and the few stories you know seem so superficial. Truthfully, I don’t understand why either. It frustrates me, and sometimes, I wish to find a way to end it. But I see his gait and his grin, and I feel it again.”

“Human emotions... how contradictory."

“I sadly can’t disagree.”

“... Is that all?”

“Not at all." They shake their head. "There’s a lot I can say, but after pondering about it, I think it all boils down to one thing.”

He doesn’t speak. The floor is completely hers.

“You are a string player. You should know Brahms, yes?”

“Of course.”

“Have you heard of the story of him and Agathe von Siebold?”

He blinks. “That, I never have.”

“Agathe von Siebold was Brahms' lover. He had proposed marriage to her, but one of his concertos had an unsuccessful premiere. It worried him that he would not be able to provide for her, so he called off the wedding.”

“I... see.” He nods slowly. He knows what they say is sad, but he does not know how to react.

“Mhm. Then years after, he heard that Agathe moved away to another country. At that time, he was working on a composition. That experience molded that composition into what it is now. Have you heard of String Sextet No. 2 in G major?”

“A familiar title, yes.” But he cannot remember the melody—there are many compositions with a similar title, and it must have been ages since his last listen.

“At a certain part—bars 162 to 168 if I recall correctly—there is a climax where the notes spell out Agathe’s name as A-G-A-H-E. H was the name for the B key in his local nomenclature.”

“Ah, how creative,” he smiles. "H is rather rare to hear of, and for him to use it to form a word in his song speaks of his genius."

"I agree. It's honestly touching to find a way to write someone's name to your song."

"But why do you tell me this story, Child of Man," he asks.

"So I bring up this story because it is one favorite love story of mine. Something about it tugs at my heart the way that most stories don't. I always wondered why. Maybe it could have been because I never understood it. I never had to go through that sort of experience. Or maybe at the time, I never understood love of that magnitude."

They place a hand on their chest. "But I understand now. It’s the fact that he did not have her. He wanted her. But life couldn’t let him have her."

They face him. Their eyes sparkle of a spirit that had been hurting inside. A fiery frustration, an ice cold sadness, a whirlwind of bitterness. For the first time, he understands why eyes are the windows to the soul. They're young, yet their gaze holds an intensity of a hundred years' worth of hurt.

“You don't understand how many things in this life I wanted but cannot have for myself." A shake of their head accompanies their words. "This love that I have right now, this silly little love," their hand clenches into a fist as they turn away from him, "irritates me for that reason. I can’t have him, I don’t think I can. Yet why do I want to grasp for one more thing that I can’t have?"

They pause. They put their hand down.

"Child of Man," he speaks up. "Why don't you just leave him behind? It sounds as if he tortures you."

They let out a chuckle. It's breathy, it's hard to tell if they were amused or annoyed. “Because see, there is so much more to it. You know Oedipus?"

"Of course I do." The question almost offends him, but he lets it slide. They're a dear friend, after all.

They nod. "Oedipus, the man fated to kill his father and marry his mother. There was something he wanted, what was it?"

"To deny that the prophecy foretold about him came to light. His mother and father also took measures to ensure that the prophecy does not come to light."

"Exactly. And he failed."

They stop. The door to their dorm stands in front of them. It surprises him for a moment. He didn't realize how invested he is in the conversation until now.

"I've come to realize that at their core, tragedies are what they are because it's a story of someone who wants to go against family, community, or divinity, but does not succeed. He can be stopped, but he'd refuse to let what they say rule over him. And you know? There’s something oddly thrilling about that."

He raises both brows. "Really now?"

"Knowing that you’re fighting a losing battle, yet willing to fight in hopes that you can grasp a slim victory. Maybe astrology class will tell me to give up, but why should I? Maybe I am not meant to be with him. Maybe I'm destined for something else. But who is to stop me from seeing how far I can truly go?"

He says nothing.

“Maybe liking him hurts me. Maybe pursuing him is torture. But..." They look at him directly once more. There is something else in their eyes now. The frustration, the sadness, the bitterness remain, but there's a new light. A glint of determination.

"I don’t care what destiny has planned for me. I want to see how much I can fight it until the curtain call. I want to fight against an ending that seems set in stone.”

They blink. Suddenly, the sparkle from their eyes disappear. Away from their emotions, awake to their reality. "Ah! Sorry, tsunotarou. I rambled too much. I hope you weren't bothered by my answer."

“Worry not,” he answers. “Your answer was not bothersome at all. In fact," he smiles, the widest he's smiled tonight, "I find you rather intriguing now.”

[crashdevlin]

Gone Girl 4- Running Empty

Author’s Note: Here we go, down the Walker hole! My beta for this is Miss Cupcake (@petitegateau991 on tumblr)

Summary: Y/n tells her story to the Ranger.

Pairing: none yet, past OMC x Reader

Word Count: 1897

Story Warnings: mentions of domestic abuse, mentions of arranged marriage, mentions of faking death, mentions of fear anxiety and ptsd, mentions of police corruption

~~~~

"Come over and talk to me. Lewis can handle the drinks." Cordell waved as he walked over to one of the tables. Y/n nodded and followed him around the bar to sit across from him. "Now, start at the beginning. What's your real name?"

"It really is Y/n. Y/n Y/l/n. I'm…" She licked her lips and cleared her throat. "I am on the run from my husband." She let out a little sigh as she clasped her hands politely in her lap. "'Start at the beginning', well that's...I really did grow up in Dallas...Highland Park, though. So, I didn't go to White High, I went to Cambridge Christian. My family became wealthy in the forties with oil money and Daddy's always been real good with investing and he...he made sure I went to the best schools. I never even saw W T White High...just heard the reputation of it. Private school, soccer scholarship to Rice that Daddy made me turn down so that I wouldn't look like I needed aid with my tuition...Daddy's priority is propriety and power. You'd think, with all the money he's got, that'd be enough influence. I mean, I've seen what a dollar can do but...it wasn’t enough for him."

She dabbed at her nose with the back of her hand before continuing. "He met Claude at a Texas RNC fundraiser. Claude needed money for his campaign. Daddy wanted someone powerful in his pocket so...he put us together. I told him I was too young to get married and he told me it was best for the family. He told me to be a good girl. He told me it was the right thing to do...and if I didn't marry the next Republican Representative from the great city of San Antonio, he was going to stop payin' my tuition and completely cut me off. He was gonna disown me.

Now, the money wasn't a big deal...but my degree and my daddy's love? I'd worked so hard for both of those things."

"So, you married him?" Walker asked, softly.

She nodded. "I didn't really have a choice. I wasn't forced, but I couldn't say 'no'." She gave off an unhappy noise and shook her head. "Twenty-one years old, married off to a man who barely knew me...for an exchange of money and power. It's like something out of some medieval storyline."

Walker had to agree. Some princess being forced to marry the king of a neighboring territory under the guise of peace or trade. It made him a bit sick to think of it happening in this day and age, in his Texas.

"Never got to finish my degree either. Claude wouldn't let me stay in Houston. Twelve credits short of a BS in Psychology and he...he said I'd never use that sh-stuff so what did it matter if I walked across that stage? Accordin' to him, I wasn't meant for anything except bein' his wife. So, I put everythin' into bein' his wife." She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes. "I was a good wife. I was always cleanin' something. I was always cookin' and bakin' for him. I didn't do anything wrong, but he always found somethin'. Ranger, nothin' was ever good enough."

"When did he start hurting you?" Walker guessed.

She gave a tight smile and looked down at her hands. "We were headin' to the pool, second day of our stay at this hotel in Maui. Second day of our honeymoon...I grabbed him the wrong towel...so he grabbed my arm and flung me to the floor...and then he acted like nothin' had happened." She scoffed and sniffled. "It's a common technique that toxic people employ. It keeps their victims on their toes...walking on eggshells and you'd think that someone who majored in Psych would have seen that and countered it, but I was so powerless. There was nothin' I could do. I tried to tell Daddy, but he wouldn't hear it. He wouldn't help me. He said it wasn't a big deal, that Claude was a man of passion and sometimes that passion would explode on me. Told me to 'suck it up', keep my mouth shut and 'be a good wife'."

"What about other support? Other family?" She shook her head solemnly. "Friends? Woman as friendly as you must have had-"

"Not since the wedding. Claude didn’t want me talkin' to folks. At all, really. He'd throw these parties and fundraisers and whatnot, and he'd remind me every time 'Seen and not heard'. He told me to be like a piece of art. I used to have friends. I used to be…" She trailed off as her eyes went unfocused. "My maid of honor died in a car crash three years ago. I didn't even know until I started tryin' to come up with an escape plan. He isolated me so completely that I had no one."

"I'm sorry."

"Thank you," she whispered before sniffling again and sitting up straight again. "I had nowhere to go, no one to hide me so...I really only had one option. There was this doctor Claude always called in when he went too far. Dr. Watkins lost his license 'cause he had an affair with a patient that blew up an' he started takin' cash work, under the table stuff for criminals. He spent his time pulling bullets out of gangsters and he...he would cringe when he walked in to take care of me. He flinched every time. So, he...he suggested faking my death. He said he could get me fake paperwork from one of his other clients to help me become somebody new and he could help me carry out the escape. I'd have to leave everything behind and never talk to anybody from my life ever again but...if I stayed with Claude, I wasn't going to have a life anymore. He was gonna kill me eventually. Broken arms and noses and teeth...eventually, it was gonna go even further. So, Dr. Watkins started takin' blood from me and I started takin' money out and hiding it in small increments. A hundred dollars here and there, that's walkin' 'round money in my old circles so he never noticed.

Took me a year, but when I had twenty thousand set away, Dr. Watkins got me in contact with this woman...she called herself Moses but obviously, that isn't her name. She, uh, runs what Dr. Watkins calls 'an underground railroad'...like for the slaves but-but for women like me. Women with no other options. Women who need to disappear. She took half of my money, got me all the paperwork I needed to become Y/n Salama...and after I got out, she gave me a place to hide for a few weeks. She had this little room in the back of her house...it didn't have any windows and the door was hidden behind a big bookcase. She kept me safe there for...a while. Longer than she would have for someone less prominent but...Claude is more than just a rich man. He's a-a manipulative man. He's a charming one. He...he has friends in every level of law enforcement, local beat cops straight to the Rangers and-"

"That's why you got worried when I mentioned my job."

She nodded. "I thought...I don’t know, that you'd tracked me down for him, or maybe that you were gonna recognize me and report back to him. You didn't seem to know me, though, so…" She ran her hand across her forehead. "I should have prepared better for questions and never should have helped you with your bruises. S'what I get for tryin' to be helpful. Never woulda caught onto me if I'd just gotten you your stupid whiskey."

"You answered the questions fine," Cordell soothed. "And it's good that I figured you out rather than someone else...and now you got a friend in the Rangers, too."

She looked up, shocked and a bit hopeful as she caught his eyes. "It's been a long time since I have had a friend. I've been so scared." She smiled a little and looked around the bar. "Seems kind of serendipitous that I got a job at the stomping ground of such an upstanding Texas Ranger."

"We'll call it 'fate'." He smiled back at her. "So, how exactly did you fake your death? I haven't heard anything about Representative Y/l/n's wife dying. According to what I've heard, you're a missing."

"He hid it. All the work I did, he hid it." She shook her head in confusion, her eyebrows scrunching together. "I made a lot of noise and I-I made a huge mess. I wanted the neighbors to hear because I never let them hear when he was hittin' me. It would be something noteworthy. So, I screamed and I threw things and I broke vases and paintings...and then I dumped the blood Dr. Watkins took from me on the rug in the great room. Five bags of it. So much that I wouldn't survive if I lost it all at once. There should have been no doubt that I was dead. But he…"

She shook her head again and scoffed angrily. "He didn't even call the cops for two days. I was sittin' in that safe room and he was...cleanin' it up. By the time he called in his cop friends and FBI friends, there wasn't a trace of blood. All that work I did...he replaced the art and the vases, cleaned the mess. I don’t understand why."

Walker licked his lips. "Is it possible that he figured out that you were alive somehow?"

Her jaw dropped. "M-maybe. He's very clever and I'm not that-" She stopped herself, glaring a bit. "That's not true. I'm smart. I got into Rice with almost perfect SATs. Don't let him-" She let out an angry huff of breath before taking a calming inhale. "He might've figured it out. It's not like I have experience faking my death. But why would he hide it?"

"If I had to hazard a guess...he's planning to find you and...ya know, finish the job."

She swallowed thickly, fear washing across her expression before she hummed. "Sounds about right. Claude would never abide me...making a mess or...takin' somethin' that belonged to him." There was silence for a minute as she stared at the table. "I don't know what to do here, Ranger Walker. I can’t let him find me and I can’t go back.

Cordell reached out and set his hand on her bicep. She flinched before looking up and catching his eyes. He had a feeling she hadn't had a kind touch in years. Her mind immediately went to the violent touches of her husband. "He isn't going to find you, Y/n. I'm not going to tell anyone about you...and I promise...I will keep you safe."

She seemed to try to hold down a sob as she nodded. "Thank you so much, Ranger."

He squeezed her shoulder reassuringly. "You're welcome. And you can stop with your daddy's propriety. Go ahead and call me 'Cordell'." She smiled a shy smile and he couldn't help but return it.

[phoenixrising0308]

Picktober Challenge: Falling for you

Picktober theme(s)- 

Flufftober: Sharing Clothes and Holding Hands,

Falltober: Pumpkin and Cider

Fanfiction (Choices The Royal Romance/ The Royal Heir & Perfect Match Fandoms)- Fictober prompt: I’m doing it, shut up.

Books: The Royal Romance 1-3 to Royal Heir and Perfect Match.

Rating: M (18+) Sexual situation and adult themes.

Trigger Warnings in this chapter: NS*W 🍋. Additionally, mention of miscarriage.

Pairing: Liam Rys x Jessica Garcia (MC), former. Damien Nazzaro x Jessica Garcia

Agent Phoenix Forged in Fire Series premise: This is a canon-divergent series set after TRR 3 Tariq is never found. Liam’s duty to his country forces him into marriage. Jessica and Liam enter into a Cordonian arrangement. Both of them wanted to have a life together. However, various obstacles prevent him from a divorce and having the life they both want together. With dreams of a future crushed, Jessica leaves Cordonia. Despite a five-year absence, they are still heartbroken and unable to forget each other and the life they once shared. When Jessica’s career path takes an expected turn, her duty to her country pushes her to Cordonia, back into the society that burned her, and back into Liam’s sights. Will she rise from the ashes or once again go down in flames? Catch up here

Disclaimer

A/N: This is my submission for the Choices Monthly Challenge: Picktober and Fictober.

*This is a oneshot that is a part of the main story, and events will occur in a later chapters and stories in between* in the meantime here is a companion piece to give you some background on the meaning of Koi in Liam and Jessica's life.

Chapter Summary: Jessica and Damien's friends-with-benefits relationship gets complicated.

Song Inspiration: Toothbrush - Dnce

Word count: 4,500 *, please excuse typos and grammatical errors*

Reading time: 10 Minutes

Damien Nazario apartment

Jessica jumped up from the couch and shouted, “Fuck yes! Thank you, Aaron Judge.”

Damien dug his head into the arm of his sofa and said, “Can we turn this off?”

“Why? Because the M-E-T-S are losing?” Jessica jeered.

“I just think I’m disgusted with my team at this point,” Damien mumbled while eyeing the tv remote.

“Damien, you are a sore loser.”

 Damien rolled his eyes. “Please don’t do that.”

“Do what?” Jessica said, knowing full well she was being obnoxious.

“You don’t have to rub it in.” 

“The fuck I do. All day long, you were talking sooooo much shit; look at this score. We have four more innings.”

Damien snapped back, “Tone it down, okay.”

Jessica rolled her eyes. “Such a baby,” 

Damien crossed his arms and huffed, “Just stop.”

 “Are you gonna make me, Sir…” Jessica said with a cheeky smile.

20 minutes later…

“Fuck” Damien murmured in a deep seductive tone; she moaned as Damien smacked her ass. She spread her legs, quickly aligning herself with him. Both of them are so hungry for each other. She was dripping while she slowly sank onto him, gasping as she felt him enter her inch by inch. She gave her body time to adjust to his length and thickness before she moved her hips in a figure-eight motion, arching her back in pleasure.

Damien reacted similarly, groaning her name as she got fully seated in his lap. Jessica began to rock her hips back and forth, moans mixing through the air as they were stimulated.

Damien held her hips, thrusting into her with determination. “Mmmm.” Jessica moaned, her head tilting back as Damien reached up to tangle his fingers into her hair again and tug. She squeezed her eyes shut as Damien’s thrusts up into her became rougher, his free hand reaching down to rub circles onto her clit, making her body taut and her pants of breath faster. Jessica could feel herself get close, her first orgasm of many barrelling toward her. She cried out as it hit her, the sound of her ass hitting his thighs becoming clearer and clearer. She heard him moan her name out in bliss.

Jessica stopped on top for a few seconds as she combed her hair with her hand before she laid her head on Damien’s chest and mumbled, “God, that was so fucken good.” They both gave a slight chuckle. Jessica lifted her wrist to look at her father’s watch and said, “So fucken late or so fucken early.”  

Jessica rolled off Damien’s side, gently brushing the hair away from her face while he whispered, “Preciosa, stay.”

Jessica pursed her lips. “I don’t know if that ruins our friends-with-benefits situation.”

“Worry when you’re leaving a toothbrush. You don’t have to work tomorrow. If it makes you feel better, just get some rest, and you can leave without waking me up.” Jessica responded by cuddling a little closer, allowing herself to relax; their two bodies were tangled in each other’s arms.

 “I’m gonna just close my eyes for a bit.” She murmured. 

Damien twirled Jessica’s hair and watched her eyes get heavy under his touch. When he was sure she had fallen asleep, he kissed her forehead and whispered, ‘Me Estoy Enamorado de ti (I’m falling for you).”

10 am …

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

Jessica and Damien both woke up at the sound of loud knocking. Damien wiped his eyes. “What the fuck?”

“What’s happening?” Jessica said, half asleep.

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Sssh baby, go back to bed,” Damien said without thinking as he rushed to put his pants on to answer the door.

Jessica looked at Damien, puzzled, and whispered, ‘Shhh baby go back to bed?’ to herself, silently cursing for oversleeping and confusing their arrangement.

Damien closed the bedroom door behind him and answered the persistent knocking at his door. A woman said, “Ángel, ¿Cómo estás hijo? (Angel, how are you doing, son?)

Damien said in shock, “¿Mamá? ¿Qué estás haciendo aquí? (Mom? what are you doing here?) 

“Well, we wanted to surprise you.” Another woman answered with a sassy tone.

“Lucilla.”

“We came to visit Hope and her wife. We are gonna go pumpkin picking. We know you hate that stuff, so we thought we could force you if we showed up unannounced.”

Meanwhile, in Damien’s bedroom…

Jessica covered herself in Damien’s comforter. ‘I want to die. Maybe they’ll leave, and I could just pretend I wasn’t here. Yeah, no sweat. They won’t know I’m here. Crisis averted.’ Jessica silently thought, plotting her escape.

“Dames, since when do you carry around a Marc Jacobs tote?”

“Carina?” 

“Goddamn, is this the fucken Nazrio family reunion?” Jessica hissed as she got off the bed and started frantically looking for her clothes.

“Is she still here?” Another voice whispered.

“Yea, she is still here. Shirts on the floor.”

“Hope, come on.”

“Oh Dios mío. Perdóname hijo. Te estás protegiendo, ¿Verdad? (Oh my God. Sorry son. You’re protecting yourself right?”

¡Mamá!

‘Fuck my life hard.’ Jessica cursed at herself in her head.

“You didn’t tell us you were seeing anyone.”

“Is it serious?”

“¡Lucilla cállate!” Damien snapped. 

“Bring her out; let’s meet her.” 

“She can come with us pumpkin picking.” Lucilla chimed in

“Okay… Okay… can I just talk to her? I’m sure she hears all your loud mouths.”

Damien walked into the bedroom, and a pillow was thrown in his face as soon as he entered. He could see the panic and worry on her face.

“Your whole family is in the living room; they want me to go pumpkin picking with them,” Jessica said in a harsh, whispered tone.

“Preciosa, I’m sorry I obviously didn’t know.”

“Cool it with the pet names! Where are my panties?”

KNOCK! KNOCK! KNOCK!

“Ohhh, nice bra.” Isabela teased from behind the door. Damien opened the door jar and collected Jessica’s bra.

“Just shoot me. Put me out of my misery.”

“Come on; it’s not that bad.” Damien mused as he held out Jessica’s bra. Jessica snatched it and put it on.

“Yeah, this is bad,” Damien smirked. 

“Gee, thanks,” Jessica said as she rolled her eyes.

Damien went into his closet and handed Jessica a shirt. Jessica looked at the shirt and looked at Damien with an annoyed expression. “Really? A Mets jersey.”

“You want me to go back out there and get your shirt off the floor or what?”

“I want to throw up.”

Damien gave a cringe as Jessica put on the Mets Jersey and said, “So I will just tell her we are dating like a couple saying we are just seeing each other will lead to other questions. The usual ones about settling down.” 

Jessica roughly adjusted the jersey in disgust and hissed, “You can’t be serious. We’re not an item, Damien!” 

He shhed her with his hand while speaking low and said, “I know that, but they don’t. Please, Preciosa. I will never hear the end of it.” 

“That’s not my problem.” 

Damien looked ready to get on his knees and beg as he gave a pleading stare and said, “Please, Jessica! Just one day of playing the part and pretending. I’m not asking you to go to trader joes or some shit couples do on a Saturday morning; I just want a day of pumpkin picking and you pretending we’re together.” 

Jessica stared for a long moment before they heard one of his sisters through the door, “Are you coming out or not? Come on and bring her out!”

Damien gave Jessica a pleading look and sighed heavily while pinching her nose bridge. “Fuck…Okay, one day. One day of pretending, and that’s it.” 

Damien released a relieved sigh and smiled before Jessica adjusted herself, and Damien opened the door to greet them. Jessica came face to face with an older woman and four younger women with curious stares her way.

Damien put his arm around Jessica while introducing her as Jessica plastered a fake smile on her face. "Mamá, Hope, Isabela, Carina, Lucilla; this is Jessica Garcia." He gestured to Jessica before gesturing to each sister and his Mother. “Jessica, this is my Mamá, My older sister Hope and my younger sisters Isabela, Carina, and Lucilla.” 

Jessica was bombarded by both Spanish and English as everyone seemed to talk simultaneously to introduce themselves and ask questions about her. Damien held up a hand and said, “Guys, I’m sure we can talk plenty on the car ride.” 

The one sister Isabela gestured to Damien’s Jersey Jessica wore, “Oh, you’re a Mets fan!” 

Jessica forced a smile even though she thought, ‘Fucking Hell.’ 

Twin farms Orchards, Freehold, New Jersey 

Jessica inwardly cringed when Damien held her hand while walking through the grass to the rows of Pumpkins lining the field. She gave him a sideways glare as he leaned down and whispered, “Preciosa, couples hold hands.” 

Jessica hissed, “Yeah, but we’re not a couple.” 

“One day, Jessica. Please. “ 

Jessica rolled her eyes as Damien’s sisters ran ahead of them. As she whispered to him, “I’m doing it, shut up.” 

Damien gave her a smile with a nod and whispered, “Just…Try to enjoy the day pretending we’re together. After today, we can return to our strictly friends-with-benefits arrangement. I promise…Please, Jessica?” His dark eyes held an intense gaze she had seen so many times in her past with eyes as blue as the Mediterranean Sea.

She stared at Damien a moment and thought to herself, ‘Stop it. That life is behind you now, and it’s not like you’re betraying anything or anyone here. This is just a casual little outing with his family. You’re just doing a friend a favor.’ She reminded herself as she huffed and looked away while Damien squeezed her hand lightly.

Jessica couldn’t help inwardly smiling as she felt his hand in hers, but this time it wasn’t a momentary touch; it lingered, and she enjoyed the feeling. A slight warmth bloomed in her chest as his fingers interlaced her own. She almost felt guilty for enjoying it, even if her brain told her she shouldn’t.

The feeling was cut short by Hope saying, “Hurry up, lovebirds! We need Damien for the heavy lifting.” 

Damien smiled and retorted, “So that’s why you called me out of bed to go with you all, and here I thought you missed me.” 

Damien looked at Jessica right when his sisters and Mother looked over, and Jessica forced a smile even though all she could think of was, ‘Great. I’m spending my Autumn Sunday in a fucken Mets Jersey with a guy that is strictly friends with benefits, and his family thinks we’re a fucken couple madly in love or some shit…Perfect.’ 

Jessica sighed to herself when Damien pulled them both towards the pumpkin patch. 

Isabela said, “What? Hope, that pumpkin is downright sad. It’s tiny!… Now, that one, on the other hand.” 

Damien’s face sagged when he saw the large misshapen pumpkin Isabela pointed at, and Jessica couldn’t help but lightly chuckle as Damien gawked.

“You can’t seriously expect me to carry that thing the whole time, right?” He argued.

Lucilla walked over to their brother with her own pumpkin in hand, “Isabela, it’s not even round. It’s so ugly.” 

“So? It’s getting carved anyway.” 

Carina gestured towards a row of medium-sized pumpkins and exclaimed, “Uh, who cares about the size and roundness when those aren’t even that orange, and they have bad spots on them.” 

Jessica and Damien watched the sisters talking over each other in minor disagreements as Damien gave Jessica a sideways look and mumbled, “On second thought, if you wanted to bail, I’m sure I can come up with an excuse.” 

Their Mom chimed in, lecturing them in Spanish as Hope replied, “Sorry, Mamá, we’ll just pick one each. So it doesn’t matter who picks what.” Hope gave while shooting a mild glare to her three younger sisters, who all collectively nodded or shrugged and went off looking for their perfect pumpkins.

"Preciosa, which one?" He asked while scanning the pumpkin patch. 

Jessica shrugged, “Doesn’t matter to me.”

Damien sighed, “Come on, Jessica. Try to act like this isn’t killing you to be here, for my sake.” 

Jessica blinked at that and said, “I never said it was. I guess I’m just rusty.” 

Damien ran a hand over his temple with a cringe. “I know, I know. I didn’t plan this exactly, but I want to make a decent impression, so I’m not hounded with questions.” 

“You mean more than what was already asked? Carina asked me how our first date was, and Isabela asked if I planned on coming to Thanksgiving, and Hope and Lucilla wanted to know every detail imaginable.” 

Damien gave an apologetic look, “Sorry for dragging you into this mess.” 

Jessica eyed him for a moment. The way he looked at her and had her insides twist a bit. She released an annoyed breath through her nose before glancing at the pumpkins. 

She thought, ‘The least I can do is try. It’s one day. ‘ 

“Okay.” She mumbled before walking over to a pumpkin. She bent down to pick it up and examine it. Her hand ran over the smooth surface before nodding. “This one.” 

Damien looked slightly surprised, “You sure?” 

Jessica nodded at the modestly sized pumpkin and said, “Positive.” Before she handed it to Damien, who smiled relieved and took it. 

“Thanks for not picking the biggest pumpkin in this field for me to carry all day.” 

Jessica gave a cheeky smirk. She looked around with a hum and said, “Hmm…Actually, maybe that one way over there?” She pointed to a much bigger pumpkin on the other side of the field.

Damien rolled his head back with a groan even if Jessica could clearly see a smirk; he tried to hide, “Oh God, please don’t start acting like my sisters. You already see what I have to fucken deal with.” 

Jessica let out a huff-like chuckle, “Save it. I grew up with two overprotective older brothers. I don’t want to hear shit.” 

They both walked together, giving the same witty banter and snide remarks they always did with each other, and Jessica couldn’t help thinking, ‘This really isn’t so bad. Damien’s a nice guy, his family is nice, and so far, his sisters and Mom haven’t been bad to me, and it’s a good pumpkin patch… It’s really kind of…Easy to pretend.’ She thought with a slight frown at her mixed emotions as she and Damien walked side by side. 

Jessica paused when she saw the Apple Orchard a ways away on the other side of the field. Red apples hung from the faraway trees as a few people with buckets picked them. She stopped in her tracks to stare as a slow sinking feeling dropped in her stomach at all the memories an apple orchard could bring back.

A particular memory of her and the Crowned Prince sneaking off into the Applewood Manors Apple orchard for one of their ‘in-between’ moments. Laughing as he chased her before he caught her, kissing her deeply in secret while Jessica swore she would spend the rest of her life with him.

Damien instantly noticed her expression and stopped alongside her. “Jessica, is something wrong?” 

Jessica shook herself and said, “No, just watching….” 

Damien eyed her as she forced herself to look away. Analyzing her as she had on her poker face. 

Suddenly, they were interrupted when Lucilla walked over to them and said, “Dames, Mamá, and Carina need help with their pumpkins… Jessica, if you want, we can go to the shop together and snag some cider and donuts for everyone. “ 

Jessica didn’t get to answer as Lucilla grabbed her hand, all while Jessica gave Damien a sideways glance as she was practically dragged away. 

Damien nodded, “Sure thing. That’s my job here, apparently, Pumpkin carrier…Try not to keep Jes- my Girl, too long.” He gave Jessica a slight cringing smile as he left.

"No promises, Dames." 

Jessica gave Lucilla a look as she let go of her hand, “... You’re gonna interrogate me, aren’t you?” 

Lucilla shrugged, “It’s not an interrogation, just…Just Girl talk. About things about my brother.” 

Jessica released an exasperated sigh as all she thought in her head, ‘Fuck my life.’ 

A short while later, Jessica and Lucilla had cider in their hands as they sat on a bench. Lucilla wasted no time asking, “So, how long have you known my brother?” 

“Long enough. A year.” 

“And we never heard about you because?” 

Jessica shrugged, “We were friends first. I actually never expected…This, but here we are.” Jessica laughed slightly, trying to come off as genuine as possible.

“And uh, how did…This happen? Like, was it endless crushing on one of your parts, or did you both just randomly decide?...” She asked while trailing off. 

Jessica shrugged, “I think it just kind of happened. A snarky remark here, a dig there, and before you know it, we hit it off.” Jessica gave a small smile. “I guess it was our way of flirting.” 

Lucilla watched Jessica intently as Jessica sipped her cider and asked her, “So, do you know everything about Damien?” 

“Um, yeah. I’m pretty sure I do.” 

“Do you? Because my brother plays this cynical tough guy act to protect himself. “ 

Lucilla continued, “He’s had a lot of heartbreak. He won’t tell us, but this one woman he claimed was only a ‘colleague’ on the force messed him up pretty badly. The minute she ‘left’ work and was gone from his life or whatever, he became bitter and depressed. We couldn’t even say Alana’s name without him getting the biggest frown on his face and looking like a kicked puppy. There was Kai Parks; she had led him on for months. Now she is getting married. Dames has never really found his ‘Perfect Match.’ He’s become such a pessimist about relationships. 

Jessica opened her mouth slightly to form the words. “I…I didn’t know.” 

“Yeah, well, that’s Dames. He hides everything because he doesn’t want to burden people.” She sighed and swirled her cider in her cup. “I just want to ensure he’s not dealing with another heartbreak.” 

“No, I would never do that to your brother Lucilla.” 

She gave Jessica a skeptical stare. “Yeah? Then can you actually see a future with my brother? He doesn’t need a fling; he needs a woman who will love him as much as he loves her. Long term.” 

Jessica sighed and sat her cider down to turn to Lucilla on the bench. “Listen, Lucilla. I get it. I have two brothers of my own and my own issues with the women they’ve dated. I don’t know where this is going with Damien and me, but we’re just testing the waters now. But I can tell you I have no intentions of hurting him.” 

“Then what do you love about him?” 

“What?” 

She sat back to stare at Jessica and replied, “I want some proof. Do you really give a shit about him, or are you just stringing him along?” 

Jessica groaned internally and thought, ‘God, I’m getting grilled by a teenage.’

Jessica cleared her throat and muttered, “Well, he’s… He’s actually the most annoying jerk but in an endearing way. He’s competitive, and we clash, but we also get along just as much…Um, He’s family oriented; I can tell that already … He’s kind and passionate…Responsible… He’s protective and puts others before himself… He’d be a great Dad if he wanted that.” The more she spoke, the more her voice trailed off as her mind wandered. 

Lucilla had a smile slowly stretched across her face as she said, “...I believe you.” She patted Jessica’s knee, “And I think he’s in love with you too. It’s why I grilled you so much just now, just to be sure he’s not going to get burned.” 

“Uh...You think so?” Jessica cautiously asked, taken aback and blinking at Lucilla.

Lucilla exclaimed, “Of course! Have you seen the way he looks at you? Every time we looked at you two, you were both laughing at something, and he had this dumb, goofy smile every time he looked at you. Trust me; a sister knows when her brother’s in love…Right?” Lucilla nudged her a bit.

Jessica felt a strange mix of emotions she couldn’t quite place as she slowly nodded. She cleared her throat and changed the subject, “So if the interrogation is over, I think we should get these donuts for everyone before we eat them all.” 

 “Or we could tell them they ran out and talk some more….” 

“I think the cinnamon sugar dust is a dead giveaway,” Jessica muttered as she wiped some dust off Damien’s Mets Jersey. “Besides, I told you everything so far. You want my social security number, too, in case?” Jessica chuckled.

Lucilla laughed and said, “Fine. Besides, I think that Damien’s like a prized possession you’re wearing. He’d instantly know you got something on it, and then the secret donuts would be a giveaway, and I know Isabela she’ll complain till we go back and get her some, and then Dames would cry all day that his prized shirt is ruined or some shit like that. “Lucilla gave an eye roll. “I mean, you’re a Mets fan too, obviously.” 

Jessica had to hide the grimace as she forced it out. “Uh yeah. I totally love that team…Just love them.” She lied as Lucilla got up with the bag of donuts, and they walked back.

Lucilla smiled at her and said, “Well, he must love you to let you wear his prized Jersey.” 

‘More like he thought it would be hilarious.’ Jessica thought. 

Lucilla continued, “I like you so far.” 

Jessica raised a brow, “Well, I like you too. So did I pass the test?” 

Lucilla laughed, “Yeah, I think Dames finally got someone.” She gave Jessica a smile, and Jessica gave a smile back.

‘You made it. You’ve been questioned; you did the cute couple thing like holding hands; you picked the stupid pumpkin together and lied through your teeth that you liked that shitty team…After this, you can just stop and go back to the arrangement you both have. No feelings, no romance, no future together. ‘Jessica reasoned with herself as she walked behind Lucilla.

They made it back to everyone as Lucilla handed out donuts and cider. Damien came up to Jessica with a donut in hand, and she couldn’t help noticing how he looked at her, whether it was just realizing it or paranoia from Lucilla.

He asked, “So, did you get to state your case to the judge, or were you thrown the book?” 

“I got my ass handed to me by a teenager.”

“Good. But hold that thought because the jury is still deciding the verdict.” He mumbled as both their gazes landed on Lucilla, whispering something to her sister Hope as they both not so subtly glanced at Jessica.

Jessica softly groaned. “Fucken great.” 

“No, I actually think they like you. I mean, they haven’t said one insult to you all day. For my sisters, that’s saying something.” 

Jessica gave a slight smirk as Damien bit into a donut and had sugar on the side of his mouth. Jessica pointed. “You have some on your cheek.” 

Damien raised his brows and swiped his hand over but missed it twice. She finally sighed and said, “Oh jeezus, here. “As she wiped his cheek with her thumb. 

Even after she got it, her touch unintentionally lingered. Both of them stared at each other as Jessica pulled away, and Carina said, “No, no! Hold that pose!” 

Jessica froze as she saw Carina trying to take a picture. Damien quickly wrapped his arm around the small of her back as Jessica smiled while turning towards Damien.

Carina scoffed, “Come on, be more romantic than that!” 

Jessica glanced at Damien before leaning up and hissing in his ear, “You owe me. Big.” 

Damien cringed and said, “I know, fuck, I know.” Before he leaned down to hold Jessica close and plant a kiss on her cheek while Jessica gave a big smile for the camera. Years earlier, gaining experience from posing for royal media paid off as she effortlessly made it look natural.

“Perfect! God, you’re so photogenic, Jessica. Where did you learn to pose like you’re on a red carpet?” 

Damien released her as Jessica shrugged, “Just practice, I guess.” 

Jessica started walking with everyone who all talked amongst each other, including her in the conversation here and there, before a body of water caught her eye. Some benches and a stone Koi pond were among the red and orange trees.

She felt her heart tightening at the sight of the koi fish swimming around and a couple with their little boy watching the fish.

Damien noticed first as he asked, “Hey, Preciosa?” 

She walked towards the pond away from the group as Damien looked concerned and asked again, “Jessica?” 

“I’ll just be a moment.” Jessica softly gave as she watched the koi fish. 

Damien stopped to watch her from afar as his sisters walked over to the koi pond. The only one behind was Damien’s Mom, who stood beside him watching the beautiful Koi pond, and Jessica.

Damien watched Jessica as she looked curiously at the Koi pond. He was falling for her hard, and there was just a softness about her when she fed the fish. His sisters were quite taken with her, with remarks here and there to Damien throughout the day about how she seemed to fit into their idea of who Damien should be with.  

“Ángel, I want to talk to you about this girl.” 

“Si Mamá dime (Yes, mom, talk to me).” Damien scrunched up his nose and listened to his Mother.

“I’m not a fool; this girl isn’t your girlfriend.”

Damien blinked at that as he looked down at his Mother and asked, “How do you know?”

“You look at her like you want her to be yours.”

“That obvious?” Damien gave a sigh.

“Si Hijo. What makes her special to you?”

“Mamá, when I’m with her, the nightmares go away. She makes me smile and laugh, and I can tell her anything, and she won’t judge me. I’m falling in love with her. I don’t know when it happened, but it’s happening.” 

Damien looked over at Jessica, laughing with Lucilla about something as Lucilla pointed at the water. “I want more with her; I’m just afraid to ask.”

“I like her. I like her for you a lot. She is hilarious, and you can tell she is very bright. Hope likes her a lot too, and she is hard to win over.”

“Wow, Hope doesn’t like anyone.” Damien chuckled.

“This girl, is she a family girl?”

“Yea, she has two brothers she is very close to. They are cops; one is Captain, the other a Lieutenant. I actually know the older brother.”

“What about her parents?” 

“They passed away. Her father was a detective, and her Mother was a Social Worker.  

“I see she knows what it’s like for you and your work.”

“She is a cop too. Don’t worry; she is nothing like Alana.” 

“Oh, that I can tell. Alana cared about herself. If she were like Alana, she wouldn’t be here.”

“Mamá, what do I do?”

“Sometimes you have to be willing to lose.”

Damien gazed at Jessica as she turned to give him a soft smile from the koi pond. His Mother’s words rang out in his head as they both stared at one another. Jessica’s smile slowly faded as she stared back, some unspoken conversation going on as they both struggled with what they wanted and what they allowed past the walls they built up.

Damien calmly walked over to her as she returned to looking at the koi fish with his sisters. Damien looked down at the fish as he stood beside her.

“They’re pretty, aren’t they?” Jessica finally said as Damien hummed in agreement.

They watched a bit longer before Jessica released a long sigh. Thinking to herself about her unspoken past. Of the child she lost, they nicknamed Koi, of the life she could have had with Liam.

Jessica frowned slightly as she thought, ‘Look at you, Jessica. You have a great guy standing next to you with a family that already accepts you. You have the opportunity for something here that you didn’t have in Cordonia if you just let it go and move on.’ 

Jessica sucked in a breath with a tight-lipped smile and thought, ‘I already said my goodbyes to Liam but not to you, Koi. I’ll never stop loving you or who you could have been, but I think I need to start learning to try and find some happiness in all of this.’ She almost felt tears in her eyes, but she closed them and held onto the sad smile on her face before walking away from the pond.

Damien watched her intently, a frown in place as he studied her. He followed her as his sisters and Mother started walking, pumpkins in hand, to pay and call it a day.

“...are you alright?” Damien asked.

Jessica nodded and replied, “Yeah, I think so.” 

She and Damien hung back as he spoke in low tones, “Thanks again for this.”

“No, it was…It was fun. I actually enjoyed today with your family.” 

Damien released a hearty chuckle, “Oh, don’t deny it. You secretly love my team.” 

“Really?” 

“Yeah, I did…But you owe me for wearing a stupid Mets Jersey in public, and now Carina has it on camera.” 

“Is that why your team ate shit last night?” 

Damien lowered his head to whisper as he slung an arm around her as they walked, “Remember what else happened last night?” 

Jessica smirked, “Remind me again later…You do owe, after all…SIR” 

“All night if you need.” He promised as they walked side by side, Jessica leaning into him for the first time openly in public as Damien smiled to himself and held her close. 

@choicesmonthlychallenge

@choicesficwriterscreations

@lovealexhunt

@fictober-event

[readerinsertsaremyguiltypleasure]

(Almost) 500 follower celebratory prompt game

It’s been ages since I’ve shared anything with you all and I am nearly up to 500 followers (with only a few of them possible bots), so who wants a prompt game?

The rules are simple:

Choose one letter and one number. Feel free to add any specifics you wish to see, such as fluff, angst, location, etc.

Prompts are for Billy and the Darkling only. I’m a bit rusty and don’t want to waste too much energy getting the feel of a character I haven’t written before. I get enough of that with my original stuff lol. Please specify which of the two character choices you wish to see in your prompt.

This is a mixed ratings prompt game, so unless you specify otherwise, any prompt could end up being smutty if inspiration leads me that way.

Prompts under the cut.

Trope/Plot Prompts:

A. Drunk Reader B. Drunk Billy/Aleksander C. Accidental love confession D. Planned love confession/marriage proposal E. First meeting F. Vampire AU G. Friends to Lovers H. Boss/Employee I. Fake dating J. Fake not-dating/hidden relationship K. Only one bed L. Arranged marriage M. Waking up together N. Jealous Reader O. Jealous Billy/Aleksander P. Fighting/almost breaking up Q. Soulmate AU R. Gift giving S. Reader is sick or injured T. Billy/Aleksander is sick or injured U. Unplanned pregnancy V. Snowed in/sheltering from a storm together W. Reader needs rescuing X.  Reader has amnesia Y. Billy/Aleksander has amnesia Z. Wearing the other’s clothes

Quote Prompts:

‘Please don’t leave.’

‘Why me?’

‘Let me hold you for a little while longer.’

‘I have never loved anyone the way I love you.’

‘I would kill for you. Easily.’

‘I don’t deserve you.’

‘I just want you safe.’

‘Don’t let the door hit you on the way out.’

‘You’re lucky you’re so [pretty/handsome/cute/etc.]’

‘That wasn’t so hard now, was it?’

‘Who the hell are you?’

‘I’m trying to help you, dammit!’

‘What happened to us?’

‘Wait, I’m not ready yet!’

‘Don’t stop on my account.’

‘Is this what you want?’

‘This is me. Like it or leave it.’

‘Don’t I get a kiss?’

‘I missed you.’

‘Why don’t you come over here and make me.’

‘I wish you were mine.’

‘One day we will look back on this and laugh.’

‘That looks great on you.’

‘This is the best day of my life.’

‘This is the worst day of my life.’

‘I saved the best for last.’

[cythoughtsnmemories]

16.05.24

Hubby on duty so I'm here alone wide awake since 1am

Pfft! Am thinking how mil will say all d reason for us to cont stayover wkend. Really don't uds y u wanna force us do such arrangement. Really don't see a point. At most we visit u when we r free. We have our own plans leh. This is definitely 1 issue if I ever get divorce w my hubby.

Anw, last jb trip was interesting to go see furniture cos acc colleagues whose getting hse soon. Dinner was d best.

Finally called d police cos there's 2 uncle being inconsiderate...brought 10 singing birds to trees along my hse n let them sing at 5.45am. Hello I still want to sleep leh.

Tried out fish maw soup n lotus soup for different week dinner.

Met up w my poly friends and had a good catch up and got many advice on dealing pregnancy and life after giving birth. But it doesn't ease me cos all I could think off is hubby bushing off my concern and the issue still there.

So...I've shared d news w hubby. Definitely stress for both of us but a joy too. At first, hubby said a few things which makes me feel like I'm all alone in this but after sharing more and explaining he learned. Guess we will have sleepless night next year. Am so glad hubby helped me cook and asked me to do some exercise for pregnant.

Although I'm not 3 mths yet but got to disclose to my close colleagues who I'm going Bali with. Now left my sup dk. Gonna share before we fly at airport hehehe

Oh right, last week was hectic. Besides sharing d joyous news, before that, I actually had heated conversation w mil over text. I mean it's a good chance to spill what are the issues since she asked what caused me unhappy staying over. Lol end up mil got triggered. To me, I'm just stating facts but she want it her way and be control freak. Lol end up wkend she also avoid seeing me. That's how she teach her kids lor. My hubby got his avoident style when managing issue.

Then during our weekly dinner, she got the chance to say go out eat so stress (lookingat d long Q), not good, still got to wait. Pls lah, go food court lo. Don't see how's that stress. Just wanna say me lah. Wah...I cannot take it when mil ask my hubby to help her apply medicated oil. Yes, it's ur son, but he should be d last choice u pick. Ur hubby for what, ur daughter for what. Then next choice is me then if they can't then pick my hubby mah. I'm quite unhappy about it but dud not shared w hubby cos he confirmed think I'm making a big fuss. It's not about helping ur mum, it's respect towards me...touching another adult woman. Then my hubby not there, mil whole week no need apply lo.

We had went to our 1st couple marriage preparation workshop over d wkend. Glad hubby participate. At least there's self awareness and tool we know what to use and what not to do. Can't wait for next session this wkend. Topic on in laws and family planning.

I feel really stressed out when I foresee issues and hubby just dismayed my concern and said I overthink. I often felt I'm alone in those situation where he thinks it's not that bad. Tell me I'm wrong:

- holiday plans often last minute and after multiple nagging (why do I have to nag u for dates and usually I have less than 3 mths to plan)

- I think we needs to move out to an apartment with d baby arriving (he thinks d child can sleep w us and no helper required. How I do confinement, how I rest, how I go back work, who takes care if there's no infant care. We both dw our parents to look after and we both working)

- so I've discussed w hubby that we will stop stayover his hse after I hit 3 mths pregnant. He agreed n I'm really grateful. (Oneness!!) But my mind keeps thinking how my mil will counter all her reasons or other pattern to force us go over besides weekly dinner. Very annoying to be controlled by mil and my fear is hubby just give in and nvr discuss me or he just flight and not say anything. I will go all out if this happens (Don't force me to say ur hubby don't acc u, u ask my hubby to acc u hor. He is ur son but my husband. He has his own family now, priority wife n child). I don't see a point being married w hubby anymore if he just hands off 😢 (ahhh am not supposed to cry)...and got to deal w this nonsense for 4 years I will go crazy. I hope mil don't force me to get abortion and divorce. 💔 你可以永远把宝贝儿子留在你身边

It's really bothering me 😭😭😭 3.40am liao

[gagmebucky]

24, 28 & 32 with charles blackwood, pretty please? and i loooove your blog so much!! also, i tried really hard to try and find the “before you request” page/link on your blog and couldn’t find it at all. so so sorry if i did something wrong ahh! 😩💗

you are SO polite and adorable! dw about it ❤️🥰 I got you 🥰❤️

“Behave.” // “I don’t want to hear your excuses anymore.” // “If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god.” (includes bodyguard!charles blackwood x princess!you, royalty au, violence in your defense, spanking, fingering, d/s dynamics, light bondage.)

do not repost.

—

“If you think because you’ll be queen, you speak to me that way—” Duke Eldridge is snarling at you. (or is it Eileen? Alfred? You don’t know. All you know is his nation is much smaller than yours.) His mature features are screwed up in red-faced, raging embarrassment, and his finger jabs out with the intention of shoving you backward.

Who knew pointing out an elder royal’s causal, insecurity-based sexism then making a joke about his overcompensating demeanor would have him seconds away from throttling you? Well, you did—it wasn’t necessarily your intention, but it was always a possibility.

It’s always a possibility, because you’ve done this many times before. But it’s like, being the princess, future queen, to kingdom powerful as yours that means you can go against these assholes in the way their people dream to.

Before the Duke’s index touches your chiffon clad shoulder, it’s being twisted around his back. A sickening CRACK! preluding his wimpish cries before combat boots swipe underneath his ankle that sprawls him across the ballroom floor.

The expanse had already been quieting at the confrontation, but now is effectively silent, grandiose gowns and tuxedos locked tensely on your personal guard’s wrath. A usually charming man, six feet tall with an equally intimidating mass, shifting in the physical embodiment of a tornado wrecking whatever’s in your path—and right now, he’s intent of ripping Duke Oldboy out of your way.

Charles sets a heavy, leather clad boot against his throat, blackened blue eyes narrowing. “Didn’t anyone inform you disrespecting the princess is cause for death?”

The other guards are clamoring in to make good on his word, hauling the now blanched royalty to meet his deathly fate. And, you use to try and convince him that such consequences are far too extreme, but it’s never been successful. Instead, your personal blackguard has you escorted out before you can lament your dissent.

Muttering under your breath, you don’t bother revolting, allowing two armed wards to bring you back to your suite. Truth be told, you’ve always hated the whole ostentatious party scene, and Duke whatshisface might deserve what your lifetime protector is furied to give him.

When Charles is finished, he promptly locates you. Barging into your suite without knocking as you preen in your vanity mirror, he’s splashed in blood, bow tie loose, jacket off with his white long sleeve rolled to his forearms. The anger emitting from his tightly coiled form is almost suffocating, the majority directed at you, apparent as his icy blues pierce you.

“Cosa ti ho detto, principessa?” The slow drawl of baritone Italian cuts through the air, the switch in language a calm indication of true lividity, deadly as he repeats, “What did I tell you, princess?”

Your teeth gnaw on your bottom lip, dithering between snarking back—because might as well—and accepting your fate. A bead of silence, and he narrows on you in silent demand. “Behave,” you finally say with a mild hissed quality. “You told me, comportarsi.”

“So you did hear me.” With a sardonic smile, a juxtaposition to the fire beneath the storming waters of his eyes, he presses forward, plucking a cloth off your vanity to clean blood from his split knuckles. “A simple fucking order to follow, correct? And yet—”

“It wasn’t my fault!” you suddenly blurt in a belated realization the former of the previous choices is best. “You can’t blame me. He was a dick to me first! Was I not suppose to relatitate?!”

“I don’t want to hear your excuses!” he explodes, slamming his hand on the wooden desk, almost shattering your mirror. “You were suppose to get me so I could handle it. How many times do I have to tell you that?! Princess, you know I don’t like to repeat—”

You stomp your foot like a petulant child despite being a grown woman, insisting your shifty innocence: “All I did was make a joke—”

“If you interrupt me one more time, so help me god—” he snarls with another dangerous step toward you, fists flexing at his sides.

“Or what?” you challenge, an infuriating smirk tilting. You’re the motherfucking princess; your own father doesn’t speak to you like that. “What are you gong to do, Charles? Spank me?”

The mocking prompt strikes him, first nonplussed by your blatant disrespect, processing it with parted lips. It evaporates instantly, a wicked curl of his redden lips, a considering gleam like white tips on waves in his eyes. Your stomach dips with his delighted, determined, “That’s exactly what I’m going to do.”

His hand shoots out to yank you forward, stumbling you into his chest while he buries it in your hair. Ruining the updo, locks falling down your back, strands cupping your cheeks, he forces your gaze on his. “Take your gown off, princess,” he growls, watching defiance flicker in your expression. His grip tightens, a sting to your scalp that has you gasping. “Don’t make me rip it.”

Your hands are trembling underneath the heat rising in your center as you grasp his wrist. “You wouldn’t,” you whimper, but the look in his eyes tells you different. Now, you’re scrambling to peel it off, and he releases you to shakily unlace the tight then flowing fabric. It’s a gorgeous piece done by hand, a blended A-line with thin straps, tied at your waist.

Unknotted, it pools around your feet, leaving you indecent. In nothing but your undergarments, it’s most exposed a man has ever seen you—a fact attributed to him (not that you have a problem with).

Goosebumps arise in the wake of his lascivious orbs, a cold heat invoked solely by his gaze and not the low temperature of your bedroom. Your face flushed, his eyes roam covetously over your skin, pushed up cleavage to the line of your navel, down the tempting V of your thighs.

A soft sound erupts from the base of his throat as he nods to your covered flesh. “What’re you waiting for?” he growls. “Don’t make me repeat myself.”

“You only said the gown,” you simper despite better judgement to simply obey.

Once again, you’ve astounded him and pissed him off all in one go. “You know the things I’m capable of, the things I’ve done, the people I’ve killed, and you still test me?”

You don’t back down, you should, but you don’t. “As if you’d done any of it if weren’t to protect me,” you snark matter of factly.

You’re right, and his eye twitches. “Bend over.”

“Make me.” You fold your arms and turn your back to him.

You can’t help it, truthfully. There’s an addicting rush to provoking a man like him—testing his thin patience because you’re the only who can without having a death wish.

He chuckles, low and humorless, and a shiver slithers down your spine. His hand wraps around your arm tightly, bringing his face beside yours. “You have three seconds to lay across my lap, or, instead of spanking your ass, I’ll shove my cock in it,” he utters calmly in your ear, syllables slow so the commitment to his threat sinks in.

Lightning jolts through your veins; a spike of arousal so powerful, it’s dizzying. Your breathing catches as you twist around to face him. The tension fizzles between you two, the unflinching demeanor, and your desire because of it.

“You can’t - you aren’t allowed—” you mean to speak strongly, but your voice cracks, vaguely a whimper. “You’re not suppose to say things like that to the princess.”

The hand around your arm unfurls, and he perches himself expectantly on the edge of your bed. Remaining aplomb, he merely looks at you, legs spread wide in anticipation of you. “One, two—”

Your body springs into action before your mind thinks to, draping your abdomen across his muscular thighs. There’s an echo of humiliation in baring yourself like this for him, a perverse pleasure in knowing this is a disgraceful act of princess to do—much less with the man who’s grown up alongside you in purpose of your safety. An irony there, too.

You squirm. Not your fault with an uncomfortable sensation itching at your skin in being in a position so foreign, both dynamically and physically.

Half balancing in a plank, your hands are pawing for stability on his thighs, legs shifting between finding footing flat on the ground and straightening. It’s a flail, subconsciously trying to irritate him like he’s done with you.

“Be still,” he orders but it’s just so awk—“That’s it!” he suddenly growls. Then the sharp riiiiiiiiiip of your brasserie fills the air, roughly tearing the elastic down the middle of your back and off your chest. In a similar fashion, he’s grabbing your wrists and lace immobilizes your arms just above your ass.

“C - Charles!” you whine when your vehement wiggling does nothing to budge the knot. It straddles the edge of painful and lax; a slight strain in your shoulders as a reminder it’s there yet blends uniquely with everything else you’re feeling.

“Unless you want me to gag you, I suggest you keep your pretty mouth shut,” he warns, a husky chuckle when you do just that, teeth worrying your bottom lip in replacement. “Don’t think being good now is gonna get you outta this ‘cause it’s been a long time coming, princess.”

His hand caresses your behind lightly, palming each cheek through the thin fabric of your underwear. Little noises catch in your throat, almost gasping beneath his touch, pushing to your toes in an effort to receive more.

“You’ve just got the best ass I’ve ever seen.” There’s a guttural factor to his rough praise, emphasized with his fingers kneading into your skin. “Wearing those tight skirts and dress, you were just begging for me to get my hands on them. The amount of times I had to stop myself from bending you over my knee like this.”

It’s debauched, but you want it—whatever it is. An ache throbs below like never before, and you’re helpless to soothe it, completely dependent upon him, like so many times before.

Your pinned hands clench, and you shake your head. “Charles,” you moan, beginning to wiggle, “you’re not allowed - you’re not suppose to treat the princess like—”

“If you were acting like a princess, I wouldn’t have to instill this lesson into you,” he hisses before wrenching your panties down your thighs, and you don’t get to question lesson because his palm is cracking down.

Calloused flesh on soft rings deafeningly within your bedroom, your loud cry mixed in as burning blossoms through your bottom. The pain drips low between your thighs, a confusing flash of satisfaction before disappearing with the wined back of his arm.

“Oh, God,” you warble, and you’re wriggling again, your head heavy over his thigh. “C - Charles…”

“You can do whatever you want, princess, but make no mistake, when it comes down to it, you will listen to me.” Charles twists your hair around his arm, enforcing an arch in your back to offset the sting in your scalp. It effectively stops any residual writhing, and it allows him to brace your hips firmer under his knee. You know you’re going to get it, so why are flooded in scathing eagernesss?

In a false sense, he’s rubbing over each cheek gently, and you’re squeezing your eyes shut in preparation. “You can do whatever you want, princess, but make no mistake, when it comes down to it, you will listen to me.” His voice washes over you like gravel. “And I’m going to make sure you don’t forget it.”

The wind whistles as he draws back.

“When I say, don’t do something, you don’t fucking do it.” THWACK! “When I say behave, you will behave.” THWACK! “And if you don’t—” THWACK! “You won’t sit right for weeks.”

Each blow is centered between your respective asscheeks, an evenly toned bruise to span across in the morning. Your ass can light a candle with how hot it burns, sizzling with aftershocks as the cold air breezes past your aching flesh.

You jolted with every hit, whimpers escaping, but ultimately withstood the pain. Now, with the release of your hair, you’re panting incessantly, your cheek resting on his lap, lingering tremors down your back. To make matters worse, liquid lust is trickling down your thighs, tickling and uncomfortable.

“Do you understand me, princess?” Charles pauses then, THWACK! But this time, he’s angled lower, a smack on slick flesh. “Dimmi che mi capisci, principessa.”

“I - I understand,” you rasp.

He makes an approving hum. “Good.” His hand returns to you, massaging your stinging bottom, briefly rubbing his thumbs into the tender muscle. Then he moves lower, dipping his fingers over your folds teasingly. “Look what you’ve done,” he murmurs as his fingers move lower, brushing across your dripping folds. “You’re making a mess all over my pants. I have half a mind to make you lick it up.”

“S - sorry,” you immediately moan, careening back in hopes of relieving stimulation.

He chuckles. “S’okay,” he says. “The question is, should I oblige the princess? Already spoiled rotten. Giving in would only make it worse, right?”

As he speaks, you feel his eyes taking you in greedily: how unmistakably you glisten underneath the light, the darkened glow of your abused ass, the shake of your bound wrists. His fingertips are teasing, rough pads tracing your entrance then sinking down to encircle your engorged clit.

“Please, please.” You strain to look back at him, for him to see the sincere need in your eyes. “Charles, please. It hurts,” you whimper, and you aren’t referring to the spanking.

“Princesses aren’t suppose to beg,” he mocks. “But I do live to take care of you, so…”

His fingers finish the sentence, honing in on your nub, direct pressure beginning to swirl hot and steady circles.

“O - oh!” you gasp when the furnace in your belly suddenly roars to life.

Your tippy-toe footing fumbles, but he’s anachoring a hand curled around one of your thighs, fixing your stability while he plays.

Wrists tied, bent over his lap, all you can do is take it, moans and mewls, limited squirming. His touch is skilled, tactful compared to your otherwise virgin experience (again, his fault, although without complaints.)

Palming your sex, heel slotted between the heart shape of your ass, his arrowed fingertips are working with an ever increasing pace, sponsored by your excessive wetness.

“Prissy princess, I should’ve known you’d have the cutest little pussy. So soft, and wet for me,” he croons above you, not a slow in his ministrations, the pit in your stomach preparing to combust. “But I think it’d be even prettier after I’ve fucked it all abused.”

Your nails cut crescents into your palms, gasping as the dizzyingly sweet sensations swell. “Charles, oh, God,” you moan, eyes shutting while waves begin to crash.

“Is that what my filthy, little princess wants?” he continues, a ravenous note to the husky question. “Wanna match with this pretty spanked-red ass of yours? Fuck you so you’ll still feel the burn days later?”

“Charles—”

A cocoon of heat engulfs you snugly, blazing as convulsions involuntarily wrack your body, so strong you almost rip your ties off. For over several seconds, the most pleasurable sensation render you wild, only waning with the reluctant end of his caress.

Once he’s sure it’s died down, a few twitches as you go slack, you’re being maneuvered. A careful and gentle shift places you on your bed, laying you out in your belly because your ass still resounds with smarting pain. Your bra-turned-bind is pulled free, your arms instantly going underneath your face despite your wince at the sudden movement.

“I’m going to take care of you,” he says but you already know it. “I’m going to take care of you, princess.”

[masterlist / feedback]

[disasterofastory]

Like a Viking (Ubbe x Reader)

Like a Viking

Ubbe x Reader

Warnings: smut

Summary: Ubbe shows you what it is like to be with a real Viking.

Your marriage with Ubbe started with you frightened. The only thing you knew about Vikings were stories from the priests and villagers. They called them merciless monsters. Some of your friends even believed they were punishments for your sins. You had no idea what you did to earn such a punishment. A Viking as your husband. Your mother almost lost her mind when she heard the news about your arranged marriage. Despite your feelings, you couldn't have a word about your fate. Your father was one of the most trusted men in Alfred's keep, and you were young and obedient. You knew what was right and what you owed your country and God. Nobody asked you for your opinion, anyway.

Ubbe seemed huge when you first saw him. He wore leather pants, and furs enveloped his broad shoulders. His strange hair was tied in a thick braid. The tattoo at the corner of his eyes gave him a feral look, and his blue eyes reached the deepest parts of your soul. The only thing that gave your breath back was his gentle and somewhat cheeky smile when you looked over at him without your noticing.

As the months went by, your nerves calmed down, and you let yourself open up to your husband. He was gentle with you and patient. He made fun of you from time to time because of your unusual habits but never meant to hurt you. And he always laughed at your snarky comments when you were brave enough to say them.

You had to face the fact that Ubbe is a good husband.

Your nights with Ubbe are always slow and gentle. He is patient and attentive with you, watching out for any discomfort you may feel. It helped you a lot for the first few times, and it made you less and less afraid of him and your marriage. But what Bjorn and the woman did at the barn was something else. The woman was bent over, gripping the wall, while Bjorn pounded into her with force. It made your stomach turn with desire, and you felt yourself getting wet the longer you watched them. Bjorn manhandled her with ease, adjusting her on his cock, fondling her breasts, and sucking on the thin skin of her neck. The woman's eyes were hazy, and after a while, the only thing that kept her standing was the Viking's arms and cock deep inside her.

You sit at the table, playing with your food under the dim light of the candles. The meat and wine scent linger in the air and the wood crackles in the fireplace.

"Are you okay?" Ubbe asks, drinking from his cup. "Something bothers you, I see it," he adds before you can argue.

Heat rises to your cheek as you think back to what you saw not far from the market this morning. The woman's moan and Bjorn's grunt still ring in your ears.

"I…" you begin, but the words get stuck in your throat. Licking your lips, you try again. "I saw something today and… and I got insecure about… So I'm not sure…" Your ramble stops when Ubbe cuts in.

"I don't understand you," he says. "What did you see?"

"I saw…" you start again. Your skin burns with embarrassment, and your eyes are glued to your plate, so you don't have to look at Ubbe across the table. "I didn't stalk on them...you know, I just saw them accidentally, it was not my fault…"

"Y/N," he says patiently. A small smile plays on his lips. "What did you see?"

"Your brother with a woman," you confess at the end, and if you would look up from the rough surface of the table, you would see Ubbe's smirk spreading over his face.

"Yeah?" He asks, acting clueless just to see you suffer a little more from embarrassment. "What did they do?"

You open and close your mouth a few times, trying to find the words. Ubbe enjoys every second of it.

"They… you know…"

"No, I don't," he answers, acting all serious.

"They… they made love at the barns," you stammer.

The Viking man smiles at the choice of your words. Lovemaking. He never heard it before you, but it always warms his chest when you say it. He is sure it's far from what Bjorn did with the woman, though.

"And?" He asks. "Did he hurt her?"

His question is more serious than before, hoping his brute of a brother didn't do something to frighten you.

"No," you answer. "She really… liked it."

Yeah. She really, really liked what Bjorn did to her.

"And what's the problem with that?"

"Uhmm…"

It seems like you can't find the words since the conversation began.

"It was very different from what we do…" you confess.

"In a bad way?" Ubbe asks lighter now. He can see your fidgetiness on your seat and your labored breathing. He is sure you are already wet and ready for him.

"No," you shake your head. The picture of their wild lovemaking still lingers in front of your eyes.

"It made you wet?" He asks, smirking when your head snaps at his crude word. Your lips are swollen from biting it too hard.

"Ubbe…" you argue weakly, but he doesn't let it go.

"What did you feel when you saw them fuck?" Ubbe taunts you with a smug smirk on his face. You don't know how much of his teasing you can bear. "It's a simple question, Y/N. Answer it. Did it make you wet? Did you imagine us? Me pounding in your sweet pussy like there is no tomorrow?"

Not finding your voice anymore, you nod.

Ubbe stands up from his seat, making his way to you with steady, confident steps. He braces himself against the table on both of your sides. His warm breath fans over your heated skin, sending shivers down your spine.

"You want me to fuck your brains out?" He asks, his lips rubbing against your ear as he talks. His voice is deep, rumbling down on your body. "You want to do what they did, right?"

You nod again, turning your head to look up at him. He smirks at you, his eyes glint with mischief and hunger.

"Stand up then, wife," he orders, grabbing your arm to pull you up. Kicking the chair out of the way, he pushes everything off the table. A gasp bursts through your lips when he places you on the table, pushing your dress up to your thighs so he can stand between them.

Your heart thuds against your ribs, and the blood boils in your veins as you watch him. His closeness fills your senses, making your pussy flutter with want.

Your arms curl around his neck when he leans down to kiss you. It's different than before. He bites your lower lip, licking into your mouth when you squeal from surprise.

"There is something I wanted to do since I first saw that pretty pussy of yours," he hums against your lips, kissing down on your neck and collarbone as far as the dress lets him.

"What?" You ask, already breathless.

He smirks, watching your stunned reaction when he kneels down between your legs, pushing everything away that covers you.

"What are you…?" You gasp out as he grabs your legs, pulling on you until you are at the edge of the table, lying. Your legs hang from his shoulders, his fingers dig into the soft flesh of your thighs. The rumble of his voice makes your pussy clench.

"Look at your pretty pussy," he hums. "Already dripping for me. I want to taste you so bad, Y/N."

And he doesn't wait any longer. He dives into your burning cunt, making you scream from surprise and pleasure. His beard rubs against your sensitive skin, his tongue laps up your slick, grunting.

"Ubbe," you moan his name, gripping the edge of the table. Your legs shake around his head, and your muscles tense when his tongue slips up to your clit. He flicks the hard bud, drawing circles and making you moan with each firm stroke.

Your pleas and screams encourage him to dive into you deeper, eating your pussy like a starving man.

"Oh, oh," you gasp, almost surprised at the feeling when he sucks on your clit, blurring your vision as the orgasm rushes over your body. Your thighs tighten around his head, keeping him close against your pussy as he feasts.

You barely have time to clear your head when he grabs your hips, turning you around and grinding his pants-covered erection against your heat. A dark patch forms on the rough fabric from your wetness.

"You wanted this, didn't you?" He asks. "Wanted me to fuck this pussy like a savage. You wanted to know how it feels like to be pounded by a Viking."

"Yes," you moan. "I want it, Ubbe."

He smirks at your mewling, freeing his cock during your babbling.

"I'll stretch you out on my cock, wife," he promises, smearing his pre-cum over your wet folds. "I will fuck you until you don't remember anything just me in your pussy."

"Yes," you groan, your walls pulsating around nothing with anticipation. "Please, Ubbe."

"Yes," he hisses, lining himself to your entrance, pushing into you. "So. Good."

You lose your breath for long seconds as he fills you up. Your tight hole stretches around his shaft.

"You are so good, my wife," he grunts, moving in and out of you with powerful thrusts. "My wife has such a good pussy. Just for me."

You can no longer form coherent words as he rolls his hips, grinding against your sweet spot.

"Who thought my Christian wife would want to be taken like a savage," he cooes, panting. He grabs your arms to straighten you against his chest. He keeps you close, fondling your breasts. He pulls on your hard nipples, sucking on your neck and murmuring every filthy thing he can think of. With every crude word, your pussy flutters around his cock, making it harder and harder not to cum.

"I will ruin you for every other man," he grunts. "I will fuck your brains out every day until you beg me to stop. I'm going to show this pussy how it feels like to be fucked by a real man."

One of his hands moves down, cupping your cunt, slipping his middle finger in your folds, moving up to your clit.

Your whole body shakes and jerks as your vision darkens. The tight, hot feeling in your lower stomach becomes too much to bear as he pounds into you without pause. The edge of the table digs into your flesh, but you don't feel the pain. Your senses are filled with Ubbe and the approaching orgasm.

"Cum for me, Y/N," he commands. "Show me how much you want my cock."

He fucks you through your orgasm until he can't keep it up anymore. He cums in you, flooding you with his seed until it seeps out on your thighs.

"Did you want something like this?" He pants, still inside you, keeping you close against his chest.

The only thing you can do is a hum in answer, feeling your eyelids close shut as you lean on him.

"Don't be like that, wife," he smirks. "I'm not done with you yet."

[angelasscribbles]

Forbidden Passion Chapter 11: Repair

Series:  Forbidden Passion

Fandom: The Royal Romance

Pairings: Liam x Riley, Drake x Riley

Rating: MA

Warning: This fic portrays infidelity 

Word count: 1,688

Everything else: Master List.

The next week passed in a blur for Riley. Liam didn’t come back to their room; he didn’t answer her calls or texts. He completely ghosted her. Not that she blamed him.

She stayed away from Drake too. It just felt wrong to go to him for comfort for this. She stayed in her room, claiming she had the flu. That would explain her absence from court functions as well as the reason Liam was sleeping elsewhere.

Then suddenly there he was. In their sitting room, looking as dashing as ever and her heart constricted tightly in her chest. She wanted to run into his arms, but she was afraid to. She knew she didn’t deserve his forgiveness, but she wanted it, God, she wanted it!

What managed to come out of her mouth was, “Liam. You’re here.”

“I’m here.” He agreed, “And I have something for you.” He dropped a sheaf of papers into her hands.

She glanced down at them then back up at him, “This isn’t what I want Liam!”

“Really? Because your actions say otherwise.”

She dropped the papers then fell to the floor next to them, tears streaming down her face, “I don’t want a divorce! I love you! I swear I do! It was a mistake, I’m sorry!”

Liam turned back toward her in astonishment, “Divorce? You think I want to divorce you?”

She lifted her head in confusion, “Don’t you?”

“No.” He said with an incredulous laugh.

“But the papers-“

He knelt next to her, “Pick them up, love, look at them.”

She did, sniffling and wiping at her eyes as she did so, “I don’t understand….what is this?”

“This is an amendment to our marriage contract. It’s called a Cordonian Arrangement. You’re not familiar with it?”

She shook her head, “No. What is it?”

“It basically opens our marriage, officially.”

She shook her head in confusion, “Opens our….what do you mean, Liam?”

He sighed, rubbing his temples, “It means that I’m agreeing, officially and in writing, that you can continue to sleep with Drake, or whoever the hell else you want to.”

“Whoever else…no, there’s no one-

“No one except Drake, you mean? And please stop lying to me.” He stood and walked away from her.

“Why would you do this?” She asked in shock.

He spun on her with pain and longing etched on every feature, “Because I love you! I want you to be happy and you’re not. As much as it pains me to admit it, Drake makes you happy in ways that I don’t.”

“That’s not true-“

“Isn’t it?”

“I…”

Liam poured himself a drink and stood for moment staring down into it before telling her, “I know that Drake wouldn’t betray me casually or lightly. There’s no way this was just about sex for him. Once I calmed down, I went back and talked to him again. Without the punching this time.”

“And?”

“And I was right.” He threw the drink back in one swallow.

“About?”

“He’s in love with you, and he’s been torturing himself about it for months. And I have to believe you’re in love with him too.” He turned back to face her, his glass clattering to the bedside table,  “Because I can’t believe…I don’t believe you would betray me casually or lightly either. Am I right? Do you love him?”

She dipped her head as the tears started sliding down her cheeks again, “Yes, but I still love you-“

“I know.” He sounded sad but not angry anymore. “I realized something.”

“What?” She asked, looking up at him for her spot on the floor.

“I know that you and Drake got close during the engagement tour. I just hadn’t realized how close.” He held his hand up, “That wasn’t a criticism. The thing I realized was that the two of you were in love with each other by the time I proposed, yet you said yes. You agreed to marry me. Clearly you had a choice…and you chose me. I choose to believe that means something. I choose to believe that whatever is between you and Drake, what’s between you and I was stronger. And it’s worth saving.”

Her heart grabbed hold of what he was saying, “It is! It’s worth saving! I love you, Liam, I do! You have no idea how much!”

“You know, I always believed I’d have to marry for duty, that I would sacrifice my own happiness for Cordonia’s wellbeing. Then you came along and changed all that. I love you, and I believe you love me and I’m not giving that up. Not if there’s any chance we can fix this.”

She was afraid to hope, afraid to ask the next question, but she had to, it was the only way forward, “Can we? Even if I’m in love with both of you?”

He smiled sadly into his glass then he looked at her and asked, “Did you love both of your parents?”

Her brows knitted together, “Of course!”

“When we have children, will you love them all?” He reached over and sat his empty glass on an end table.

“What kind of question is that? Of course I will! I-“ The question confused her, but hope surged through her. He was talking about having children as if that were a foregone conclusion, as if he still saw a future for them.

He folded his hands in his lap and regarded her, “Max and Hana, your two best friends, you love them both?”

“You know I do!”

“So, you understand that you can love more than one person at a time?”

“I…” She nodded slowly, “Of course I do.” Because she was, in fact, in love with two men at the same time.

He moved to her side and dropped to the floor next to her, “Riley, as much as it hurt me, I understand why it happened. What you did wrong was hiding it, lying to me. You should have come to me immediately when I got home, told me about it, so we could have found a way through it together! Or don’t you want that anymore?”

“Of course, I want that!” She wanted to touch him, but she was afraid to. She still couldn’t believe he wasn’t leaving her, she was afraid if she reached out for him, the spell would break and he’d change his mind.

“Remember when I wasn’t honest with you? When I made decisions about our lives without consulting you?” He put an arm around her and pulled her closer.

She leaned her head onto his shoulder, “You mean what happened at the coronation ball…”

“And after. Yes.”

“Of course, I remember that. It was the worst thing that ever happened.”

“Right. And I made it all worse by keeping things from you.”

“Yes.”

“This is the same! What you did, sleeping with Drake, it hurts, but…. Lying about it, keeping secrets from me, that hurts worse! You should have come to me after and just told me.”

“I didn’t want to hurt you…”

“But you did hurt me! It was going to hurt me whenever I found out. Trust me, this way was worse. I would have rather known, rather have heard it from you.” He sighed as he leaned his head against hers.

“I’m sorry, Liam, I’m so fucking sorry!” She twisted her body, so she was more in front of rather than beside him. Her hands slid up him to rest against his chest as she squeezed her eyes shut.

His finger titled her chin up, “What made you feel like you couldn’t come to me with this?”

“I was afraid that if you knew, I’d lose you!” She blinked back the tears that threatened to spill again.

“So, you let your fear control you? What did you tell me when you finally forgave me after the coronation fiasco?”

She sniffed, “Not to let fear control you.”

He nodded and dropped his finger away from her face, “I can deal with Drake being in your life, but what I can’t deal with is the dishonesty, the lies, the deception. I have to know I can trust you to tell me the truth, even if it hurts, especially when it hurts! Can you do that?”

She nodded, fresh tears running down her face.

“Riley, this hurts, but I love you and I’m willing to work through this, if you are.” He placed his hands over hers.

She nodded again as she wiped away her tears, “I’ll do whatever it takes.”

Liam drew in a deep breath and nodded, “Good. Because Drake has offered to leave the country, at least for a while, and I think he should.”

“But, I thought you said-“

“I know what I said, and I know what I offered. This isn’t permanent, but we need a little time and space to heal, to make things right. That’s my one condition and, all things considered, I don’t think it’s too much to ask.”

“Can I see him first? Tell him goodbye?”

Liam shook his head, “No, I don’t think that’s a good idea. I understand that first night was a mistake, an impulsive act propelled by circumstance, but every night after that was a choice. You’ve been choosing him for weeks. I need you to choose me right now. If we’re going to get through this, I have to know that you’re as committed to repairing our relationship as I am. Starting right now.”

Riley looked at him with wide eyes in silence and his heart dropped. Maybe he’d been wrong. He had hoped she’d meant it when she said she loved him and wanted to work things out, but if she couldn’t give him this one thing then he wasn’t sure about any of it.

Just as he was about to give up hope, she nodded slowly and whispered, “Ok.”

“Ok?” Relief surged through him.

She nodded again, more vigorously, “Yes, ok. Let’s fix this!”

He pulled her into his arms and kissed the top of her head. The vise around his heart loosened for the first time in a week.

[songmingisthighs]

[4.11] mafia!wooyoung × reader

⇀ you thought he didn't care, he was sure he doesn't, he had said it so himself to you. that was, until he almost lost the chance of being able to care for you.

⇁ tw : running away, mafia life (criminal/illegal acts)

⇁ part 1 / 2 / 3

⇁ disclaimer : the author does not support any and all criminal/illegal acts. the narrative written in this story is purely fiction out of the author's imagination. the things written here does not portray real mafia life nor is the author aware of how the mafia life is like. the author is a hermit loser.

At first, Wooyoung thought you had really ran away from him. After the fight you had the previous night, how could he not ?

"All I ask is a little bit of attention! I know you could spare some for me," you exclaimed, following after Wooyoung into the home office in his mansion. Yes, his, he never once said it was yours too so you treat it as such.

Wooyoung rolled his eyes at you, "and I ask you shut that big trap you called your mouth before I shut it for you, but we can't all get what we wanted now, can we ?" He spat.

You're used to his aggressive words, it used to hurt but now the pain just comes and goes. But you're at your wit's end, he was distant when you both were first forced into engagement but he was still polite so you thought that was just the shock, but now that you're married, things got worse.

"Wooyoung," you called, leaning both of your hands on his desk aa he sit on his office chair, "it's been 8 months since we got married," he glared at you when you said that, so you sighed and change your choice of words, "since we were force into marriage... But I've been trying so hard to make this less of a chore for both of us, I don't know what else I could do! You're not even bothering to hide the fact that you hate my guts to your very core even though it wasn't my fault that we got into this! Heck, you don't even bother to acknowledge that I exist!"

Wooyoung slammed his hands down on the table, standing face to face with you, "that's right," he chuckled darkly, "I don't even bother, you know why? Because you're nothing in my life, I never ask for you, I never wanted you, you're still here because your dad's business fell through with my dad and he used you as mean of escaping because that's all you are, princess," he leaned closer to your face and spoke through gritted teeth, "a worthless burden that people toss around,"

It would've been a lie if you said that his words doesn't affect you whatsoever. Because it does.

Maybe deep down that was one of your biggest fear and having someone confirmed that made you feel sick to your stomach. You recoiled from the table, as if having been struck across your face.

Though Wooyoung had a satisfied smirk on his face, "you should know I've been planning your assasination ever since you said 'I do', I would've made it look like an accident so that my dad wouldn't be up in my ass talking about losing his insurance of control over your dad, maybe I should move the schedule up so I can get rid of you quicker,"

You stared at him for a while, not knowing that he actually hated you that much. All this time you thought it was just petty reluctance of being tied to you, but this just brought things to a whole new level.

"No..." you choked out, trying to hold back tears, "I'll take care of it myself," and with that, you ran out of his office to pack all your belongings with tears streaming down your face.

And that was the last time Wooyoung had seen you. He had heard from one of his butlers that he had seen you running around the house retrieving your things where it supposedly was earlier, you looked frantic and you hadn't even taken a second to take a break.

"And did she got out of the house today?" Wooyoung asked from his position on the couch, loosening all of the buttons on his shirt. "No, master, not that any of us know of," said butler then leaned close to Wooyoung's ears, "the cctv has been cut off, her bodyguards are dismissed, no one has tended to her nor got close to her, and I personally see to it that all windows and doors are unlocked just as you had requested,"

Wooyoung couldn't believe that he's probably a free man now, that YOU had left him so that he wouldn't be in hot water with his father.

With a glass of whiskey in his hand, he decided to look around to see whether or not you had really left while telling his maid to prepare dinner for him.

True to what he expected, he made two laps around the mansion but not once did he find you. Not even in his office with a divorce paper, as dramatic as it sound.

He finally step into his shared bedroom with you to make his final confirmation.

At first he knocked on the door, not really knowing why he did that, but when no sound came from the room he simply opened the door and walked in. He hadn't returned the night before, spending half of his night in his home office before going out with San to a bar, not realizing that it was his guilt that drove him out to drink his memory away.

Looking around the room, he couldn't really tell whether or not you had ran away. The room looked like it had been slept in the night before, he could see the spot where you laid in comparison to his side that's perfectly neat.

When he stepped into the walk-in closet, he was quite surprised at the sheer contrast to the bedroom. Your clothes thrown haphazardly, it seems like you were urgently looking for things to pack, and the more he analyze the items on the floor, the more he realized that you hadn't taken anything that was bought with his money.

But that wasn't the thing that got his attention.

It was your wedding dress that had been taken out of its garment bag, across from it, an empty bottle of wine and a box of tissues with crumpled tissues surrounding it. It looked straight out of a movie.

He walked closer to the dress and trailed a hand down it.

He remembered seeing you wear it on your wedding day. He remembered being too pissed at his father to be able to fully appreciate how ethereal you looked. He remembered how when you looked at him, he could see the redness in your eyes, indicating that you had been crying.

But over all, he remembered how his heart skipped a beat when he saw you walking closer to him. Of course, he would never admit it outwardly.

His train of thought was broken when his butler knocked on his bedroom door, "master, dinner is served," he said.

Wooyoung cleared his throat and straighten out his posture, "yes, of course, I'll be there soon," he called out.

As the footsteps of his butler fade, he carefully zip your wedding dress back into its garment bag, making sure that the dress is stored perfectly.

After that, he went to the dining room to have his dinner.

Usually, you'd be seated in your seat, across from him at the other end of the table that seats 10 people. He'd have to admit that it feels weird not seeing you smile at him after a long day of working, but he forced himself to believe that it was a good kind of weird.

Strangely, as he eat his food he felt that it doesn't match his palate, that something feels off. So he called for his head butler and asked him about it.

"Did we change cooks? Why does today's dinner taste so bland?"

His butler seemed hesitant to answer him, looking at the head maid for a bit. The middle-aged woman stepped forward from her spot, bowing slightly to avoid Wooyoung's eyes, "we did not have any change in staffs, sir, it's just that the mistress used to prepare all of your meals and considering... the circumstances, she had not prepared anything for you," she said, not even bothering to hide her bitterness that he had drove you away.

Considerably, he was shocked that you had never brought the fact up to him. But as usual, he masked his true feelings and just nod at her, continuing with his meal even though he can't seem to enjoy it.

The shock didn't stop there, though.

Over the course of the first 5 days of you leaving him, he began noticing the things that indicate your presence in his house. Or used to indicate your presence.

He never knew that you were the one who always put flowers around the mansion. He noticed this when he passed by a vase of wilting aconite. It almost broke him when he see the maids cleared all flowers, leaving an empty vase that he now associate with your absence.

He never knew that you kept tabs on food he likes and dislikes. After 3 days, he gave up on eating the food his cook made for him, firing the poor man on the spot and resorting to take outs.

He never knew that you were the one who personally arrange his wardrobe. Usually, every morning he'd find his favorite shirts or favorite sets of clothes on the front, ready for him to pick out and wear. Now that you're not here, he had to spend extra time deciding what to wear.

And lastly, he was surprised at the fact that you had never made it to your hometown.

"What do you mean she's not with her parents?" He growled at his henchmen, making them visibly scared. "W-we tried looking for her, even asking around, but no one had seen her," he explained.

All Wooyoung wanted was to hear about how you're happier without him, how you've settled back to your life without him, how he'd be assured with the fact that you leaving him was the best thing that could ever happen to you two.

Feeling that he owed this for the sake of his own closure, he ordered everyone under him to find out your whereabouts.

The desperation suffocated him, he hated the feeling.

So he ran out of his office to his garden, going to the furthest side where it is practically abandoned so that he'd be all alone to calm his mind.

What he hadn't expect to see though, was several pieces of clothes on the ground. At first he just thought that the laundry might have flown away due to the wind, but when he inspected them closer, he recognized them as yours.

"Why would these be here?" He muttered to himself as he began picking up the scattered pieces of clothes one by one. When he picked up the last piece, he noticed your suitcase by the corner of the tall wall that surround his house for protection.

The sight that made his stomach drop was a rather huge hole that could fit a person.

Wooyoung's brain put 2 and 2 together and the only reasonable conclusion made him feel like blowing up.

You had been kidnapped.

[atinywhore]

prompts masterlist

hey loves here are some prompts because I literally have not been able to use my single brain cell to come up with anymore oneshots! Please feel free to ask and request some from me :)

please see my rules for requests before you get to requesting :)))

I am a full time college student and I Las have a job but I will get your requests out as soon as I can :) thank you loves <3

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AUs:

amnesia (a)

apocalypse (b)

arranged marriage (c)

assassin (d)

bakery (e)

blind date (f)

bodyguard (g)

business (h)

cambion (i)

cafe/coffee shop (j)

college (k)

criminal (l)

dancer (m)

dark fantasy (n)

delivery (o)

detective (p)

ella enchanted (q)

fairy tale (r)

fake relationship (s)

flower shop (t)

harem/ reverse harem (u)

highschool (v)

historical (w)

hitman (x)

holiday (y)

hospital (z)

hooker (1)

idol/ model (2)

imprinting (3)

magic (4)

nephilim (5)

pirate (6)

prison (7)

reincarnation (8)

reverse (9)

road trip (10)

romeo and juliet (11)

roomate (12)

royalty (13)

serial killer (14)

single parent (15)

soulmate (16)

space (17)

spy (18)

street racing (19)

sugar daddy (20)

time traveler (21)

treasure hunter (22)

urban fantasy (23)

vampire/werewolf (24)

wonderland (25)

Prompts:

"What? does that feel good?" (100)

"You're safe now, don't worry." (101)

"Do you want to sit on my lap until I'm finished?" (102)

"I'm never leaving you. You won't ever have to suffer by yourself every again." (103)

"It's never too early babe." (104)

"I can't take the loneliness anymore." (105)

"You had your chance, but you wasted it." (106)

"Do I look like I moved on?" (107)

"But you promised.." (108)

"You said you'd always be there for me." (109)

"Did it ever occur to you that all you're doing is hurting me?" (110)

"I think I might be falling in love with you.." (111)

"Please.. talk to me." (112)

"I know we don't know each other very well, but I can't seem to get you out of my mind." (113)

"She's not yours." (114)

"You think this will make me stay?" (115)

"All he did was use you. Why can't you see that?" (116)

"There is no us, there never was." (117)

"Don't you dare walk out on me." (118)

"Are you wearing my shirt?" (119)

"Bite me" (120)

"You broke me." (121)

"Where the hell have you been? (122)

"Isn't the thrill of getting caught half of the fun?" (123)

"Can I have my reward for being good now?" (124)

"Ass or tits, your choice" (125)

"Show me how you play with yourself" (126)

"Just you wait til we are in private." (127)

"The things I'm going to do to you baby" (128)

"You're gonna regret that (enter pet name)" (129)

"What were you dreaming about baby?" (130)

"I want to see that pretty mouth of yours wrapped around my dick." (131)

"Like what you see?" (132)

"Try to stay quiet baby girl, okay?" (133)

"We don't want to get caught do we?" (134)

"Beg for it slut" (135)

"Open." (136)

"Mine." (137)

"You better behave or else." (138)

"Tell me how bad you want it" (139)

"I need you now" (140)

"Did I stutter?" (141)

"Everyone keeps warning me against you." (142)

"You make even one sound and I stop" (143)

"God, you are so fucking gorgeous." (144)

"It's been you. It's always been you.." (145)