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#Dear white critic
lifeinpoetry · 2 years
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I don’t know if I envy God his existence outside of time, or if he envies my angst inside the body.
— Zeina Hashem Beck, from "Dear white critic," O
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thundergrace · 4 months
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Every time I think I had it bad in the 2000s as a growing sapphic, I recall that they had to deal with shit like this in the 90s
Y'all, what the fuck was this?! Is it as bad as every summary makes it seem?
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There's a word (a couple, actually) for a woman who sleeps with men and women and other genders. It even applies if she finds herself more attracted to women. There's a concept. There's a whole thi-
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So the obstacle in this rom-com for this pairing IS HER BEING A LESBIAN. It's the complication. And guess what that means - it is overcome eventually. That's right. The guy gets the girl. They break up because he finds out he's not the first guy who got with this lesbian. Like how dare. He thought HE was so special that a lesbian chose him to be THEE one and only man for her lol.
It's bierasure at its worst (imo, as someone not bisexual, I could be wrong. The sideplot could've still existed between the friends but the main plot, the romantic sl, seems to rely on her being termed a lesbian or gay) AND a disgusting representation of a lesbian character during a time we were so deeply misunderstood and too many people thought lesbians just hadn't found the "right" man yet.
And listen, I'm not trying to tell anyone who or what they are. If you're indeed a sapphic who identifies as a lesbian who occasionally sleeps with or dates men, whatever, label yourself how you want. I don't get in people's business like that. Do what feels right. But it's rather damaging for this to be a major movie character, especially at this time.
So, please tell me, this hugely popular film doesn't really go like this...
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ethereiling · 2 years
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not to be pretentious but I truly believe that the overwhelming avoidance of media that has any sort of tragedy or troubling content in it is directly connected to people’s difficulty approaching situations real or fictional with any sort of nuance 
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sttoru · 5 months
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‘if there’s anyone in this world who loves being a girl dad the most, it must be your husband — gojo satoru.’
☀︎|tags. girl dad!gojo x female reader. fluff. you’re married. reader gets called ‘mama, sweetheart’. wrote this at work so not beta read. fic one out of two for satoru’s birthday!
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giggles fill the living room — familiar laughter that sounded like your daughters’. a more sultry and manly voice also resonates in the background. one that you could recognise from miles away.
your curiosity leads you to investigate the source of the joyful sounds and soon enough, you find your dear husband and daughters sitting on the couch. though, in a situation you hadn’t quite foreseen.
satoru was talking on the phone about important business whilst your little girls were giving him a rather sparkly makeover. the most heartwarming thing was satoru’s surrender to your daughters’ antics — allowing them to do whatever to his face and hair.
“mhm, yeah..” the white-haired sorcerer hums over the phone, not having the slightest idea about what ijichi was yapping about. probably something that has to do with the recent sighting of a special grade curse in the city.
but, that wasn’t satoru’s priority at the moment at all (even if it should have been). his focus was all on his two daughters that were enjoying their playtime with him.
“papa’s so pretty.” one of them comments with a big smile — a smile satoru wishes to protect until his last moment on earth. her fingers push and pull on a small strand of his hair, trying to tug it into another ponytail.
satoru had already lost count of how many messy and half-done ponytails his snowy hair got divided into. the same goes for the amount of stickers on his face and neck.
the two sisters work together to put another pink and glittery sticker on satoru’s chin — though were no match to their father’s playful attitude. he jerks his head forwards and teasingly nibbles on their tiny hands that came in touch with his face.
this causes almost ear deafening squeals to reverberate through his ears. not that he’s complaining — satoru loves to hear them.
“. . .gojo, are you listening?” ijichi’s shaky voice over the phone interrupts the squeals. satoru doesn’t even try giving a proper response and only mutters a quick ‘yeah’ between snickers. that was enough of a sign for ichiji to understand that he couldn't get through.
everyone knew how much satoru loved his little family. he cherished them and put them above everything, including his work. sometimes it was necessary for you to remind satoru that he's needed outside your home - that he was and will keep being the strongest sorcerer that people depend on.
"wow, you two really made papa super pretty!" satoru coos as his daughters bring him a hand mirror. his phone had already been discarded somewhere on the couch - not even bothering to hang up on ijichi first.
your husband effortlessly picks the children up and cuddles them close to his body, smothering them both in sloppy wet kisses on their cheeks and necks - making them giggle uncontrollably. "y'know, papa will give you both a nice little reward for making me so beautifu—”
a faint cough echoing from the mobile device next to them reminds satoru that he was still on call. he reaches out and grabs his phone, rolling his eyes in a sassy way before clearing his throat;
"i need to attend important business. see ya." the sorcerer declares and hangs up right after. to him, playing around and taking care of his daughters was more than necessary. even in comparison with an actual critical situation: it wasn't like there weren't any other special grade sorcerers that could take on the mission.
the second his phone plops back down on the couch, satoru's hands fly over to tickle his little girls' bellies. they wriggle and squirm around in his lap - squealing for help from their mama.
you had been watching the scene unfold from the doorway and decide to join in on the fun once you hear your daughters’ call. you gasp dramatically before scurrying over to the couch, acting like you were genuinely scolding your husband for his 'torturuos' tickles;
"oh no, my little girls!" you pout, taking in the way your daughters laugh and outstretch their tiny arms towards you, searching for an escape in your arms. you gladly help them away from their dad's grasp, though not without getting a whine out of satoru.
one of your daughters sticks out her tongue at the sulky sorcerer on the couch, the other mimicking her sister's actions. you chuckle and decide to do the same; frowning and sticking your tongue out.
"ack!" satoru clutches his chest, fingers curling around the material of his shirt like he just got shot. he topples over on the couch and acts dead with his eyes half closed, "i can't. . . believe. . . it. my girls hate me. ugh, my heart - can't take it."
you scoff at his exaggerated act. you were used to it after years of dating and marriage, but your daughters seemed to still take the bait. they writhe around in your arms and once you put them down on the floor again, they run back to their 'fallen' dad.
they shake him by his shoulders and harshly pat his cheeks in attempt to bring him back to life. a constant loop of 'papa!'s and 'wake up!'-s echo throughout the house. even some 'we're sworry!'-s thrown in-between.
satoru couldn't take it anymore and his arms move at the speed of light so he could pull both of his daughters in a big hug. he squeezes them a bit too tight to his chest, causing them to shriek and laugh.
"are you not joining us, sweetheart?" satoru asks with a shit-eating grin. it's then that you realise that he was blushing from pure joy — his cheeks rosy. well, you couldn't possibly deny his request when he was this ecstatic.
the high-pitched 'mama too! mama too!' coming from both girls mellowed your heart even more. and thus, you give in.
you happily join the pile - climbing on top of your husband and between your daughters which lay on each of his sides. your head rests on his chest, your eyes closed and your ears filled with laughter.
satoru eventually relaxes, however that genuine smile never leaves his lips. this is where he belongs. with his family - the most important thing of all.
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seattlesellie · 9 months
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e. williams — moonflower.
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pairing: ellie williams x fem!reader
synopsis: it’s ellie’s birthday, and you have three gifts for her. a moonflower bouquet, the latest savage starlight, and a pin from joel. maybe, you even have a fourth one.
warnings: smut (mdni), established relationship, dom!ellie, sub!reader, inexperienced reader, loss of virginity (r!), first time everything, loads of praise, loads of romance, cute little slaps, and as weird as it is to include this in these warnings; mentions of joel and ellie’s complicated relationship.
an: finally finished it. this is very very fluffy, as smutty as it may be. if you love flowers this one’s for you <3 i truly could have made this longer but i was super self conscious so i might post a little blurb instead!! constructive criticism and all comments n discussions are very much appreciated. thank you for being patient and sweet i love u 💗
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enveloped up in a baby blue ribbon, it sits pretty on top of your duvet. the latest edition of “savage starlight” — ellie’s favorite comics series, and a bouquet of flowers. when you picked them out just for her— forehead glistening under the radiant june sun, you noticed a singular flower that set itself apart from the others. blinding white, trumpet shaped— it’s lemon fragrance wafted through the thick air. it's petals were curled up, but you decided to keep it nevertheless. you’ve never seen one quite like it. when you brought it to your house, along with the fresh daisies and the garden roses, you noticed something bizarre, and oh so beautiful.
the odd flower bloomed underneath the moonlight that snuck itself inside the big window of your room. as the white petals unfurled, there you stood— awestruck.
⋆˙⟡♡
you decided to bring it over to louisa, the frail old lady who ran the jackson community garden.
“s’quite beautiful, isn’t it?” you told proudly, taking a whiff of the flowers creamy white petals. louisa ran her fingertips delicately over the flowers green stem, and just like you— louisa was awestruck.
“oh dear, it certainly is. how did you… manage to find it?” louisa probed, and your heart skipped a beat. your relationship with ellie was new, and fresh as a daisy. your face flushed, but you told louisa— your precious confidant, nevertheless. “ellie’s birthday’s coming up soon… so i, was picking up some flowers for her. s’not much, i know… but,” you scratched your arm, feeling extra timid. “i think ellie will like them. i… hope”
louisa smiled soft heartedly, the aged skin around the sides of her eyes folding itself and forming three little lines. somehow, it felt like the old lady knew more about you two than you did. “she’d be a fool not to”, she assured, and pressed tightly on your shoulder.
“i would have asked you if you were in love… but, no need to.”
“how come?”
“it simply shows, pumpkin’”
louisa sighed deeply, and began guiding you towards the humble old basement, where she stored all of her gardening books.
ipomoea alba, the tropical white morning-glory, jimsonweed, or for those of us who are a tad scatterbrained— moonflower. the moonflower, is the most romantic flower of all. it is dreamy, and mysterious, and it yearns for the warm embrace of the sun, but it also requires a cold caress of shade. it slumbers amidst the daylight, closing and hiding its delicate petals up, but during the night— it blooms, and it’s magnificent. as wispy and precious as the moonflower may be, the bloom may also be deadly.
it reminded you of her.
⋆˙⟡♡
ellie and you had numerous conversations about things that were… hypothetical. if you were a planet, which planet would you be?, if you were an animal, which one suits you best, would you say?, make it more specific, even— if you were a bug, what bug would you be? ellie told you were a butterfly, and that she would be a spider.
“don’t… spiders eat butterflies?” you probed, your head resting on top of her shoulder. it was a quiet, chilly night in jackson, and for some reason, being around ellie made you feel scorching. ellie huffed and chuckled, “yeah, think they do”
“well… that sucks” you noted, as a loose strand of ellie’s auburn hair tickled your cheek. ellie thought for a while, and then chuckled again. she did it quite a lot, chuckle to herself without saying a word. “i wouldn’t… eat you though. i’d… build a little web around you. protect you from the other spiders. you could be my personal butterfly… pet, thing”
you hummed, being caged in ellie’s spider web didn’t actually seem all that bad. in fact, it had a certain charm to it. but, wait… “wouldn’t being around me make you hungry?”
ellie’s breath caged in her throat.
it already does.
“guess i’d have to fight against my urges” she rasped, and you nodded.
if you were a butterfly, ellie would be the brave spider who protects you.
if you were a lily; who blooms during the daylight, the resurrection of spring, the goddess oestre, enlightened and wise, ellie was your missing piece. the moon to your sun, and the darkness to your light. the universe thrives because of it’s harmonious balance, and so do you.
⋆˙⟡♡
sugar, flour, cocoa powder, salt, two fresh eggs, a cup of milk, and one cane of sweet vanilla. the chocolate cake was damn near perfect. writing her name on the cake with a thick layer of vanilla icing was extremely precious and necessary to you. woefully, the can was nearing on empty, so— the cake read; “happy birth, el”
you impishly giggled to yourself. sounds like ellie’s going to give birth. with one more dip of your finger inside the rich ganache, you came to a firm and final conclusion— it was heavenly, the perfect balance of sweet and chochlaty bitterness. the secret ingredient that must have made it as amazing as it was, was the espresso powder you traded for a bargain. or maybe, maybe it was love.
“ugh, quit it. cheesy” you silently mumbled to yourself.
⋆˙⟡♡
the weather was hot, and the air felt thick. you always deemed it funny, ellie being a june baby and hating the heat. the town bustled with noise of chatter on a busy monday mornin’, and maria stood with her arms crossed against her chest in the corner. she seemed to be in the midst of scolding a guilty looking tommy, and next to them, were a handful of children giggling in the background.
balancing the chocolate cake, alongside with the gifts sitting inside the brown paper bag (with the pretty blue ribbon you clasped onto it), and the flower bouquet was hard. waddling around the town, on your way to ellie’s house, no wonder you nearly dropped it all on the floor when you bumped into a large man, that hit your front like a stone.
“oh— uh, easy there, kiddo”
you could recognize that rasp and that texas twang everywhere, even when your eyes were squinted, avoiding the rays of the sun.
joel.
you hastily managed to balance it all together again, apologizing profusely to the middle aged man— whomst you almost smashed the entire cake onto. he wore a black button up, it seemed… festive. huh. “headin’ to see ellie, i assume?” joel rasped.
you nodded and smiled politely. you’ve never been completely alone with joel, and most importantly, you’ve never talked to him about ellie. things between them were… complicated. you didn’t know why, and sometimes— you were too afraid to even ask. it all seemed too sensitive. ellie would nearly wince when his name was mentioned, and her eyes would fill with something that seemed like sorrow, or regret, or anger. usually, all of those emotions— all at once.
“that her gift?” he pointed towards the brown paper bag.
“mhm! savage starlight. s’the latest edition… i think”
joel smiled softly, and hummed in response. his eyes too, were filled with something that seemed to hold a droplet of sorrow and regret, but no anger though. different than ellie’s.
“she’s still into it, huh?”
“she’s obsessed” you giggled. truthfully, she had a good reason to be. savage stralight was fucking awesome, you grew to realize. it was even more awesome when she read it to you in the dark, cuddled up in her squeaky bed, holding a flashlight to illuminate the written words. when you dozed off, she’d continue reading out loud, maybe to herself, or maybe for your subconscious to absorb.
“i have… this, thing, uh—“ he shifted awkwardly, and began searching for something in his pockets. joel took it out, and showed it to you while holding it in his palm. the thing he mentioned, was a golden, diamond studded pin of the fallen apollo 1. it was beautiful, highly detailed, it’s unmistakable shine reflecting the rays of the sun.
“found it last week while i was patrollin’”
“it’s… woah” you marveled, running a delicate finger over the polished metal.
“is she… still into the space thing?” the stony man asked with a slightly shaky voice. something in you had to physically fight the urge to pull him into a warm hug.
“yeah… we… well, we went to look at the stars the other day”
joel placed the pin in your hand, and wrapped your fingers around it. “could you give it to her? don’ gotta say it’s from me. tell her you found it”
you nearly choked up.
“joel… you should come with me”
joel sighed, and smiled softly again. joel wasn’t into smiling, but you made ellie smile, and that made joel smile.
“maybe next birthday, kid”
joel, just like louisa, knew ellie loved you before she did. and joel, saw his girl turn from a sulky, sullen teenager, to someone who looked like she had something, someone, to live for.
⋆˙⟡♡
12:00pm, and exactly three knocks on ellie’s wooden door. you’d be lying if you said you weren’t filled with anxiousness. being anxious around ellie wasn’t a strange new feeling. you had butterflies swarming around your belly when she looked at you, had butterflies when she talked to you, especially when she used that one tone, when she got out of the shower with only a small towel wrapped around her glistening body, you had butterflies, or better yet— a painfully lage bee colony growing in your tummy. when she kissed you softly, the bees calmed down and were a little more subtle, you could imagine them having black oogly heart eyes— but when she kissed you roughly, forcefully against the wall (or against the concrete floor that one time), the bees buzzed uncontrollably, and somehow flew down to a lower part of your body. when she grabbed your waist and gave it a squeeze, as she ravished your mouth with her wet tongue, they went even lower and…
well, anyways— ellie made you nervous. handing her her gifts made you nervous and having her first birthday with you made you even more nervous. you were a fuzzy ball of nervousness and anticipation, and now ellie opened the door and you nearly dropped the cake on the ground.
again.
usually, ellie would greet you with a shy “hey”. exactly a week ago, she added a “babe” to it. (the belly bee colony buzzed and they were tremendously loud, you thought ellie could possibly hear them — so you had to hold on to your tummy) today, ellie greeted you with blown out eyes and a gasp. “oh…”
“happy birthday” you mumbled adorably as if it was a hushed little secret, too shy to look her in the eyes. ellie was too shy too, a coy smile painted on her lips, rosy cheeked, with her hands clamped in two fists inside her oversized grey sweater (it’s june, she would not let that hoodie go). her pupils were glued to the “happy birth, el” written in white icing.
when she felt bold enough to look you in the eyes after not speaking (just staring) for one whole minute, as soon as she caught your gaze— your orbs began dancing around everything you saw, purely avoiding her look but with a huge grin plastered on your sweet, overly excited face.
would it be stupid for ellie to tell you that she loved you right now? because it was getting incredibly hard not to.
instead of a (perhaps) misplaced i love you, ellie decided a pure “thank you” would be have to suffice. she held the door for you, and you shyly tiptoed in. when you placed the chocolate cake on top of the oakwood counter along with the paper bag, you felt ellie’s hands shyly creeping up to your waist, pulling you in a tight hug. “you really… really, shouldn’t have” she whispered. her voice was still groggy, lazy, raspy.
it was her morning voice.
funnily enough, this was your first time hearing it. you never stayed over past 2am— the night was dangerous in your eyes. the night meant going to sleep, it meant staying in her bed, and it meant sleeping with her inside of it. the idea of a night with ellie felt as if the bee colony in your stomach was about to erupt and explode and splatter everywhere.
“you know i don’t… celebrate these things” ellie rasped again, breaking you off from your idle thoughts. you placed your hand over hers, and giggled. “s’not a thing, el… it’s your birthday”, ellie hummed in agreement, and you continued. “besides, it’s an—“ she planted a soft, chaste kiss on your neck. it made you shudder and it made your voice break. “an… excuse to eat some cake”
“just cake?”, ellie sighed, her raspy voice tickling your cheek.
“mhm” you nodded, distracted as ever.
“whats in that paper bag then, huh?”
the flower only blooms during the night, and savage starlight was meant to be consumed with the help of a trusty ol’ flashlight, under a thick blanket. the sun was still out, so the moonflower slept. for the comics, you wouldn’t need a flashlight, and that would simply demolish all of the fun.
the sun was still out so unfortunately, ellie will have to sit and patiently wait.
you pull yourself out of her hug, and waltz away slowly. “well… paper bags for later”, you tilt your head, drawing out your words just to tease her and then some. “so, not gonna show you what’s in there”
ellie raises a brow, a slight half smirk creeping up on her face. saying ellie was a patient girl, would be similar to saying a cat doesn't walk on four. technically, it could… be biped, but— well, wouldn’t quite work. so similarly, patient and ellie couldn’t quite work either.
“you gonna say no to me on my birthday?” she jests, pulling her arms and crossing them over her grey hoodie ridden chest.
“oohh…” you nod twice, “so now you do celebrate these things?” you teasingly raise an eyebrow, mirroring her stance. ellie chuckles and it comes out from deep within her throat. she squints her eyes, “you’re such a tease”
she must not know one of the bee’s just stung the insides of your own stomach and dropped dead. or maybe it’s not dead yet, because you can still feel it’s erratic buzzing and the venom makes you feel as if you’re about to pass out.
“mhm… it’s okay, i’ll wait, babe” — there’s that babe again, and the little bee is definitely dead by now.
“can we eat the cake outside? s’nice, warm… we could do a picnic!” you chirp, each and every single one of your words laced with that syrupy sweetness that makes ellie melt.
ellie smiles and feels a little blush creeping up on the apples of her cheeks. “could do… whatever you want, it’s your cake” she states, and you roll your eyes at her sweet humility. “s’not my cake, it’s yours” you mutter serenely as you point towards the vanilla icing. “see? has your name on it and all”
ellie tries plunging a slender finger into the icing, a foolish attempt to taste it, but you slap it away, a faux pout forming on her face.
“can’t taste my own cake?”
“nope. outside” you speak, popping the p’.
“yes ma’am”
⋆˙⟡♡
you take a sip of the freshly squeezed lemonade, a droplet of sour and sweetness flowing down from the corner of your lips. ellie— propped up by her elbow, brings her thumb and wipes it away. “so messy” she jives playfully, putting the pad of her thumb in her mouth and joyfully sucks on it. she’s squinting her eyes, attempting to avoid the rays of the sun, and you giggle impishly. “can i finally taste my cake now?” she drawls.
impatient as ever, ellie doesn’t even bother pulling out the white plastic fork. instead, she shoves her hand into the cake and takes a big bite. her eyes shut as she devours it, humming at the taste. with her mouth full, she utters “happy birth, el, huh?”.
you breathlessly laugh and nudge her arm away so she almost falls on the checkered, red and white picnic blanket. “sounds like… mmh, fuck, this is good”, she licks her finger — “sounds like m’giving birth”
“i didn’t have any more icing left!” you raise your tone brightly. ellie looks you in the eyes and swallows a sly smirk. this time, it’s your turn to wipe some residue off the corner of her lips. you taste it, and god damn was she right— it’s finger lickin’ good.
“i think that like, when we have babies, you’d be the one to give birth… not my thing. don’t want some… little intruder in my stomach”
before you have time to answer, ellie bites the insides of her cheeks and feels like slapping herself in the face or burying herself 7 feet in the ground. she’s talking about having babies with you?!
she’d smack herself so hard right now if she could.
for you, however, it’s becoming insufferably hard not to start jumping up and down and ripping your hair off in excitement.
“let me get this straight…” you begin, and ellie’s convinced you’re about to tell her that she’s too much and leave. “an intruder, as you put it, can live inside my belly for nine whole months, but not inside yours?”
ellie has to stop herself from breathing a sigh of relief. “it’ll suit you, is all i’m sayin’”
ellie manages to eat half of the creamy chocolate cake all by herself. she was never one to have a big appetite, did you sneak something inside of the batter, perhaps?
maybe it’s love, ellie wonders. she scolds herself internally, quit being such a sap. it’s definitely the espresso powder her taste buds managed to pick up on.
laying face to face with her eyes closed, you manage to count some of her splattered freckles. one… two… fifteen…, some of them grew darker, tanner. ellie’s chest rises up and down, and you almost think she must have dozed off like a little kid having a post—dessert nap, until;
“hey” she whispers.
“hi” you whisper back.
ellie opens her eyes, a soft, lazy half smile adorning her face. she bites her bottom lip, “can i open my present now?”
impatient.
you shake your head softly. “nuh uh, sun’s still out. sorry, els”
she wants to scoff but she loves it when you call her by that little nickname. “but…” you look down shyly, reaching out for your pocket. “i ran into… joel, on my way here” you speak quietly, afraid of saying the wrong thing. ellie blinks twice, and clears her throat. taking it out of your pocket, you place the little precious pin in between ellie and you. ellie only looks at it, doesn’t touch. you can’t quite describe the expression on her face. surprised? dreadful?… doubtful, maybe, and a tad curious perhaps. “he wanted me to give you this… s’the fallen apollo eleven, i think”
ellie let’s out a quiet chuckle.
“apollo one”
she lifts herself up, taking the pin in her hand. her green eyes begin examining it, brushing her fingers on the golden metal. you sit quietly for a while, allowing ellie to be one with her thoughts. she doesn’t know what to think, what to feel, really. sorrow? regret? tears threaten to fill the brim of her eyes, so with her back to you, she sighs deeply and swallows them up. you bring your hand to lay a small caress on the small of her back, and ellie gazes to the side. she grabs your hand, and plants a small kiss on to your fingers. “ellie…” you silently whisper, and ellie sniffles.
“it’s alright, m’okay” she assures, and lays herself on top of the blanket again. her hand still holds your fingers, and you bring them around her thumb and squeeze. “thank you” she voices. before telling her that you’re not the one she should thank, a small tear flows down her cheek. you’d wipe it away, but ellie grabs your other hand and interlocks her fingers with yours. “sometimes it… fuck—“ she laughs, it occurss to both of you you’ve never quite seen her cry. “it’s okay” you comfort. keep going, you got her. ellie deeply sighs, “feels like i don’t deserve any of this”. the tear is hanging from her chin now, then flows down to her neck. you don’t ask her why, because now is not the time, but you’ll ask her one day. for now, all you do is assure her that she does. and for once in her life, she actually might start to believe it.
⋆˙⟡♡
apparently, chocolate cake, raspberry jam and some bubbly champagne (that you stole borrowed from the tipsy bison) can really get you two going. after hours of aimless giggling, tummies hurting from all of the fine delicacies, it’s time for your favourite past time— ellie and yours hypotheticals corner. naturally, with your head laying on top of her firm chest, you’re the one who starts. “okay, so… plants”, you gush. “mhm, so plants” ellie repeats, her fingers tracing lazy circles on your half covered shoulder. “which plant would i be?”
ellie thinks for a while— you two really take this seriously. she hums before responding, puffing some air from her nose. “chocolate plant, for sure”
interesting. you thought she’d say a certain flower, a delicate one, a soft one, one that blooms in the day. chocolate plant. “intersting… why chocolate? — ellie doesn’t quite know either. perhaps it’s because she loves chocolate and she loves you, and the champagne is making her feel giddy and silly and you’re her little chocolate bean, plant thing.
“cause it’s tasty” she responds, and you almost settle on that except… you seem to have an important anecdote you have a blinding urge to point out.
“well, it makes zero sense. you’ve never even tasted me”
that she hasn’t. yet.
ellie’s breath hitches inside her throat and she nearly chokes on her spit. do you know… what you’re doing? you muttered that sentence so innocently, so absentmindedly, and of course she hasn’t tasted you, but did that thought occur in your mind like it did in hers? you’re still smiling, patiently waiting for her response, and ellie can’t help but feel so… well, she couldn’t quite put her finger on what she was feeling. her cheeks however— light up in a shade of dusty pink.
“imagine if you like, ate me! i’d probably taste so…”
sweet? intoxicating?
“gross!” you exclaim, exaggerating and blowing your eyes out. ellie’s cheeks calm down a little, the pretty pink diminishing slowly. “thank god you’re not a cannibal…”
nah, she thinks she might be something worse.
slowly, ellie pushes her body closer to yours. you feel her faint breaths on the tip of your nose. “tickles…” you murmur, and ellie huffs out and smiles. it’s that smile she gives you before saying something. the way her eyes dart from your lips to your eyes… it makes you feel vulnerable, coy, and it’s as if she’s studying you, taking in your features one by one. perhaps, she loves seeing the way your eyelashes flutter like small butterfly wings when you feel her gaze on you.
“i have tasted you though” she rasps, her voice low and husky. her eyes are focused on your lips now, as hers slightly part, and then close up again. “you have?” you mumble, shy under her gaze. she hums, bringing the pad of her thumb to your lips again and pulling on your bottom one slightly. this time, you don’t have lemonade juice running down your chin. this time— the gesture is truly just for her. those lips… she thinks.
“you taste… good. and sweet, like…”, your lips curl up to a smile. “chocolate?” you complete. ellie hums again, her palm cupping your cheek. you feel warm, how are you always so warm? — even when you’re shivering cold, warmth is all she can feel.
“and vanilla… and coconut” she caresses your cheek with her thumb. you giggle, “you’ve never even had coconut”
“nah, but i can imagine…” — and oh, imagine she can. is this the champagne talking? it must be it, because that fizzling bubbly voice in her head would not let her go. funny, she doesn’t even feel drunk. “you taste sweet too” you state, nearly purring into her hand as she keeps delicately caressing your skin. she chuckles, “no i don’t” — and she’s right. she doesn’t taste sweet, in fact, she tastes minty and earthy and it makes you feel dizzy each time.
slowly, ellie gets her face even closer to yours. she sees your eyes twinkling, and she swears they shine brighter than every star she’s ever seen. back in the old times, nasa would have a field trip exploring your orbs. they might even find new galaxies in there, and ellie wishes she could explore each one. she really should have been an astronaut.
“ellie?” you quietly whisper. ellie nearly gets lost in the way you say her name, but responds to you nevertheless. “yeah babe?”
“can i taste you? to prove how… sweet you are?” — she knows you mean her lips, regardless, that dusty pink turns a deeper shade of crimson. she thinks it’s absolutely adorable, how you still feel the need to ask. however, she forgets that she asks you that question each time as well. can she… kiss you here? right below your ear? that feel good?
she doesn’t respond with words, but with actions. she cups your cheek harder now and with fervour, and she knows she needs to be romantic but she’s famished, so as soon as she feels your lips part— she plunges her tongue deep inside and you surrender to her domination. almost like a waltz, your tongues dance together, swirling around each other and tasting— and she still doesn’t taste all that sweet, but you do, and it makes her brain feel like mush. you whimper into her mouth and it almost sounds like your “els”, and she knows she needs to come out for air soon and break off the kiss but how can she? how can she when you’re so damn sweet?
her hand dips lower, placing itself on your throat, and she gives you that little squeeze (that she realised must have made you feel good, because you always had chills when she did and she could feel them), and this time— you really did whimper out her name. ellie groans, but you abruptly break the kiss, holding on to your stomach. she pants slightly, before releasing your throat from her grasp. “did i do something?“ she asks quietly.
thing is, she truly didn’t. in fact, it was that damn bee colony that did. she must have heard them buzzing and flying into each other and bumping into your stomachs walls and dip even lower and— “can you hear them?” you question— and you’re panicking slightly, she can tell.
“hear who?”, ellie looks around, but nobody’s there. intruders? clickers? you must have drank too much, but you really hadn’t so…
“it’s so fuckin’ stupid…” you whine, lowering your head and hiding your face in the crook of her neck. ellie still thinks you must have heard something for real— and by all means, it is real, just not… like that. “hey” she encourages, placing her hand on the back of your neck. if she dares to even move it to the front of it, you’d panic again and be totally screwed. ellie notices you’re holding on to your lower stomach, “does it hurt?” she questions, worrisome.
“no… no, s’not that…” you voice, an octave higher than a whisper. “just when… when you kiss me? like, when you kiss me like that, you know?”, you hide your face again, and ellie’s worried sick— oh god, you hate it. you hate it when she kisses you.
you take a moment to gather your thoughts, you can explain this.
you breathe deeply, and ellie still holds the back of your head. “you know how people say… that you have… butterflies, when you’re around someone you like?”
“uh huh” ellie sighs. she gets it now. you don’t have those butterflies. you get sick when she kisses you, it makes your stomach hurt and you hate it and hate her and she knew you were too good for her and fuck.
“well, mine feel more like… well, they feel violent. it feels like i’m going to explode. i call them my bees, my bee colony, it’s so fucking stupid and i feel like they’re everywhere—“
oh.
ellie laughs (finally), breathlessly so, and she giggles and squeezes your body closer to hers and you continue to ramble, your voice slightly muffled by the fabric of her hoodie. she’s going to squeeze you so hard you might die, and you start banging your hands on her chest and you’re embarrassed, mortified at your little confession and the bees are so mad! they're calling for a conference call and you nearly explode.
“babe, babe—“ ellie calls out, forcing your head out of her neck and nearly begging you to look at her. you don’t though, you shut your eyes tight as she looks at you and thank god you do because she looks so amused but so enamoured she nearly doesn’t even want you to look.
“you wanna know what i have?” she probes, and you finally open one eye to take a peak. “no!”, and immediately— you shut it again. “i don’t have butterflies either” she calmly states, playfully pressing on your nose so you can huff out and look at her. when you do, you expect to see a smile— but instead, you’re faced with a serious expression, ellies eyebrows furrowing.
“i have wasps”
“wasps?” you doubt her quietly.
“mhm…” her lips part and she licks her bottom one before she speaks. “more like… tigers, or like, lions. way worse than yours. i mean, i’m in terrible condition”— she chuckles, and she just might be.
her words don’t comfort you, in fact, they make you buzz even louder.
doe eyed, you look up at her. “lions?”
“mhm” she nods. lions that might just tear you apart on the grass if you keep on looking at her like that.
this time, when she kisses you again— you don’t hold on to your stomach, you place your hand on hers. as the bees grow even louder, crashing into each other and ruining your slippery insides, you swear you can nearly hear her own lions roar alongside with your buzzing. she grabs your neck and squeezes it again, you nearly shriek, and ellie groans into your mouth and she’s the one to stop, but for an entirely different reason now. “inside?” she murmurs, staring at your glistening, kiss swollen lips and at the drool that runs on one corner. “please…” you whine, and ellie’s eyes nearly roll to the back of her head. please…? she repeats in her mind— and oh fuck.
⋆˙⟡♡
so she takes you inside, your hand in hers.
with the chocolate cake and the bottle of champagne and it’s glasses far forgotten, the sweet raspberry jam slowly melting away, the chocolate cake growing into a chocolate… pudding, the ants are sure to come. how pitiful, that bees will always triumph over them, and the wasps— or the lions, well, they triumph over everything.
what ellie wants to do right now, is take you up to her bedroom and ravish you in all your glory, but you’re no forgetful fool. with everything else washed away, how dare you forget her presents?, her moonflowers?
“ellie!” you exclaim, squeezing on her hand. “it’s nighttime! your birthday presents…” you wiggle out your eyebrows.
shit— she nearly forgot, she’s pretty sure that if someone placed an actual living and breathing dinosaur in her living room she wouldn’t even notice because you keep on rendering her a distracted mess.
besides, its your own fault, because how do you do that? how do you go from driving her crazy and making her want to eat you on the grass, to making her heart flutter and burst inside of her chest the moment after? you’re a magician, a witch, what the fuck are you? not a fairy— that’s for sure, fairies are scary.
“so… you wanna open them up or not?”
she wants to open you up. no, no! bad ellie! that’s definitely the champagne still talking (it’s long gone.)
“fuck yeah”
you grab the paper bags (with the little blue ribbon), and drag her upstairs. you physically drag her, because for some reason, opening her presents is making her incredibly nervous. you expected her to be more eager, to snap the bag out of your hand as soon as you allowed her, but instead— she sits on the bed and just waits. she’s waiting for you to hand them out to her.
the nervousness seems to eat you up as well, tummy aching (still the bees, but also some normal excitement)— and as you hand her the bag, a few questions start to arise.
what if she hates it? what if she hates flowers? what if she’s allergic to the ipomea alba, what if she starts sneezing and coughing and dying?! or what if she already managed to get over savage starlight? (in a matter of two days…) what if the cake sucked and she was lying all along and you’d disappoint her and she dumps you and—
“HOLY FUCKIN’ SHIT!!!!!!!!!” — she yelps, you didn’t even notice she opened the damn bag!
“this is…..” her eyes are bright and she smiles so big it nearly damn hurts the apples of her cheeks. “savage fucking star— fuck! s’the latest fucking one! how did you even manage to, fuck— gotta fuckin’ kiss you right now or i’d die”
ellie practically pounces on you, kissing you all over your face. cheeks— two kisses on each one, your nose, your forehead, your chin, both of your earlobes, “close your eyes, gotta kiss ‘em too”, your jaw, your neck…
“are you into me or something? cause it looks like you’re super into me, giving me this fuckin’ gift… dude. if you have feelings for me…”, she places her pointer and her middle finger on your chin and makes you look up at her. you stifle a giggle, “you gotta just tell me, might be into you too” she pecks your lip slowly and you instantly melt.
“we have to read it today… but only eight pages! gotta save it up”
she nearly buries her entire face in the comic book pages. she sniffs, “shit… even smells new” — a layer of fine dust adorns it, so you know it doesn’t.
“rented it from the library!” you chirp, the concept of libraries being one you merely only read about.
“there’s… something else in there too…” you begin. for some reason, giving her those flowers you picked makes you even more nervous. she curiously looks up at you. “there's more?”
you bend down to grab the paper bag off of the wooden floor. the moonflowers’ petals opened up, and there you were— awestruck again. “you can’t give me more things… it’s too much i don’t…” deserve it? you know she thinks so. regardless, she looks up at you adoringly, as your hand tremors and you lift the flowers out of the brown paper bag. you look at them, trying to decide if maybe you were just being delusional, maybe they’re not nearly as pretty as you thought they were when you came across them for the first time. perhaps they’re…
“woah…” ellie gazes at them, wide eyed. she doesn’t even know the meaning of them but yet she is nothing but mesmerised. “wh… what flower is this?” she asks, running her fingers on their dark green stems. when she reaches their creamy white petals, she moves her fingers even more delicately. caressing it, her knee nudges yours.
“moonflower” you reply silently, watching ellie’s digits adoring the bloom. “it’s… it’s really pretty”
you take a deep breath. “i picked it up cause… it reminds me of you”, you exhale, fiddling with your fingers. when she notices, she puts her hand, the one with the flowers in it— on top of yours. the room is quiet, except for ellie’s shallow breaths.
“it um… well… first of all, it’s beautiful, like you”, you flush, and ellie flushes as well. she swallows deeply, and involuntarily, a small “fuck” escapes from her throat.
“and… they’re not supposed to grow in jackson. it was purely by accident, so they’re special… like you, and uh… well, they only bloom during the night, which is why i waited. they’re strong, and they’re deadly, i mean— the venom is… so don’t… eat it, i guess.” you chuckle, and you barely even notice two fat tears streaming down your cheeks. “they remind me of you because they’re the prettiest flowers ive ever seen, and when i saw them… i was kinda of like… woah, just like what happened when i saw you for the first time, remember?” — ellie sniffles, and ellie’s crying. “so… you’re my moonflower”
ellie doesn’t know what to do. she looks up, covering her face with her hands. she wipes away a stupid tear, and then wipes away your precious one.
one whole minute passes.
“if i ever…” she begins, swallowing hard. “if i ever lose you? i think i might die” — because the moonflower needs sun to live, and you’re her sun, her lifeline.
you take her face in between your shaky palms. ellie’s lips hold a slight tremor, and then she laughs.
“i’m in love with you”
you don’t have to say it back. you really don’t, because again — actions speak louder than words. your soft lips meet her slightly chapped ones, and ellie hums into the kiss. different than the one before, this one is gentle, dim, the lust hasn’t disappeared— it’s still there, but it has something more to it, not diminishing it, just hovering above. could you guess what it is?
“i love y…” you whisper out, attempting to break the kiss, just if you could simply say this one thing, but ellie knows, she knows. she pulls you by the back of your neck more forcefully now, deepening the kiss. because you couldn’t finish your sentence, you pout— but ellie suckles on your bottom lip and wipes your silly pout away. her hand goes lower, from the back of your head to hold on to your waist, and she squeezes the covered flesh. you moan into the kiss, tasting her spit and her tongue, and oh god— the bees. you think you might have just another precious gift for her. one she’s been waiting for, one she’s been fantasising about, one that you’ve been fantasising about. when you moan into the kiss, ellie breaks it. she’s staring you down, panting again. “think i… have… one more gift” you whisper, and ellie— her lips parted, nods once. “one more?” she rasps, squeezing your waist again and pulling you up to straddle her. “mhm”, you hiccup as you feel yourself snugly pressed up against her.
she places one hand on your thigh, simply caressing it back and forth. the more up she goes, the more your breaths become uneven and so do her’s. it’s not entirely an unfamiliar territory— you've been seated on her lap a few times before (seven, but whos counting? she is), but this is… different. “whats your gift, huh?” she teases. you? are you going to be her gift? you always have been…
you whine when she traces small circles with her slender fingers on your clothed inner thighs. you whine and it makes ellie throb— you’ve never quite made that noise before, and she yearns to pull every single noise you could possibly make out of you. a whimper, a moan, god— a scream. she feels like she’s about to explode and christ, you’re still fully clothed.
like a hunter examining it’s prey, ellie moves her face forwards, and then downwards, towards your neck. she places a few chaste kisses, “ah! tickles…” ellie chuckles darkly, yearning to “tickle” you once more. she plants two more delicate, tickling kisses before suckling on the flesh. at first, her tongue meets your skin and she laps up at it. then, her teeth bite into it, and you nearly jump. “sorry… that hurt?” she asks, and really, she’s not sorry at all. “feels…” ellie cuts you off and sucks again. this time, she’s determined to leave a mark. “oh… feels…” you continue, shuddering in her arms like glass. she hasn’t even touched you, not really, and yet everything feels damp. your face, from your tears and from her tears and from spit, to the flesh of your neck that’s being sucked on and played with, down to the small wet patch inside your panties that you’d be mortified if she noticed.
when she finishes the assault on your neck, she moves up to your lips again and grunts when she sees how your lips were already parted, just for her. the kiss is slow, wet, her tongue kitten licking your own. it’s nasty, really, wet smacking and sucking noises filling the air. almost involuntarily, your hips start moving and grinding up against her thigh. ellie moans deeply. “mmph… yeah?” she teases, or at least tries to, because her voice is shaky and turned on to the max. she helps you move slightly, and my god she needs to take your pants off and feel your naked heat against her like this. when she thinks about what it must be like for you— she imagines your fat pussy lips squished up inside your panties, grinding on her thigh and she nearly loses it. she wants to help you grind harder… could she make you cum just from that? cum inside your pants whilst using her thigh? “fuuuck”, ellie groans and lifts her hand up, nearly smacking your ass but it ends up just landing on her own leg.
“s’not fair… what you’re doing…” she murmurs in your ear, “what did… what did i do?” you respond back, your voice high and needy. ellie doesn’t even know what she meant to say. all she knows is that it’s not fair. it’s not fair how you make her react and feel like this, the way your eyes glisten isn’t fair, the way you grind up on her thigh and make those sounds isn’t fair, the way you make her feel sticky and mushy and wet — without even taking your clothes off, isn’t fair.
still moving with fervour on top of her legs, her hand is dangerously close to where you need her the most. she nearly cups it, flips you over and ravishes you whole, but she stops herself. “can i please… take your fuckin’…” she rasps, running her short fingernails on your sides. she’s not scratching, but it’s not an entirely gentle movement either. she doesn’t know where to start, should she ask you to take your top off? your pants? — maybe she should just ask you to go completely naked. she settles on the little top, however.
you lift the fabric up slowly, but you do it out of nerves. as much as ellie wants it off, she lets you take it slow. you peel it off, exposing your skin inch by inch— do you even know how bad you’re teasing her right now? “ah, fuck” ellie groans out. when the shirt meets the top of your head, it gets stuck there for a second. you giggle nervously, your lacey bra on full display, and ellie considers just leaving you there to struggle by yourself. if your eyes are covered by the material, maybe you won’t notice how hard she’s staring. “need some help there, babe?” she teases as she leans back on her elbows. your laugh is muffled, and ellie chuckles. how are you so goddamn sexy and adorable at the same time? after ten whole seconds of struggling, ellie lifts it up for you. “there, good girl… wasn’t that hard, right? just needed my help?” she teases, and god is she mean— that little twinkle in her now much darker green eyes making you feel like your ears are about to melt off.
swiftly, ellie begins planting soft kisses all over your collarbones. her hand isn’t touching your breasts quite yet, but it’s hovering on top of them, and then you realize— she’s waiting for your approval, for your yes. you put your hands around her neck and push her forward, which makes her hands land on top of your breasts. ellie moans as soon as she feels them, and even though they’re covered by fabric — the lace is thin and she can feel your hardening nipples. she runs her thumb over the swollen buds and you shiver. “knew you’d be sensitive…” she murmurs to herself against your skin. “what did… uh, what did you say?”, you stutter, and then she looks up at you. “said…” she flicks it and you buck your hips. “fuck… knew you’d be sensitive”
she knew… you’d be? “you’ve, uh… thought about this before?” — and ellie chuckles, fully laughs nearly. if you only knew how many times she’s thought about this you’d probably crumble like a danish biscuit. “too many times” ellie confesses, and she almost gets too embarrassed to admit, but she swears she can feel a little wet patch on her jeans so she knows you must have thought about this as well, perhaps more than she has — but not likely. “i have too” you murmur shyly, and there it is.
“oh, really?” she asks, kissing right in between of your tits and making you jolt. if her lips feel this good on your chest… your eyes roll back to the top of your head. “so you’re just as filthy, huh?”, her right hand lands on your ass with the smallest smack, she knows she could make it hurt if she wanted to (and she does), but not yet. you jump and squeal, and in a random burst of confidence — “m’filthier…” you whisper.
with that, ellie grunts and takes your tits in her palms, she kneads the swollen flesh, pushing both of your breasts together and kisses right between the formed cleavage. “bet you’re filthier…” she whispers, opens her mouth so her tongue can stick out and lick between your cleavage line. when she does so, she brings her hand to your back and unclasps your bra with just her two fingers. she lets it cascade down, and she notices how shy you get, trying to bring your hands to cover yourself up. ellie is faster than you, and grabs both of your wrists so you can’t. you’re fully exposed, and ellie’s all pants and heavy breaths. when you try to wiggle yourself out of her grip, your tits move and bounce in the slightest, and ellie’s in trance. “you’re so… fuckin’ pretty” she takes your hard nipple in her mouth and you wince as soon as you feel her pink muscles wetness. “that feel good huh?” she takes your other breast in her hand and toys with it, palms it and making it shake.
with hungry kisses, she lays you down on her bed. you buck your hips forward, and ellie parts your legs with her own. she runs her hands all over your body, and before kissing you again, she stops. “els?” you ask, but ellie ignores you. ellie takes her top off, and fuck you’re nearly drooling. she wasn’t even wearing a bra, and her pretty pink nipples are just as hard as yours. you’re staring, and it’s ellie’s turn to go shy. “you like… ‘em?” she giggles, “shit, nevermind”
you don’t expect it, but ellie grabs the brown paper bag and pulls the moonflower bouquet out of it. “wh… what are you doing?”
“don’t worry about it” — she places the flowers on your chest. for some reason, your ears start to burn. “hold ‘em like that for me?” she asks, and you do. with ellie straddling you, it almost looks like she’s about to pull out a camera and take a picture. “perfect…” she murmurs, “feels like i marked you. s’over for you, you’re mine, y’know that?”
you think you’ve always known. “yours” you whisper coyly, giving her that toothy grin that makes her melt into a puddle. she leans forward, kissing the tip of your nose. “yours who?” she kisses your cheek, and then below it, and then on your jaw. “yours… ellie” — and she must be smiling, because you can feel her lips curl up on your skin.
she kisses you everywhere, on every scar, every blemish, sometimes she bites, but then soothes it with her tongue. you’re growing impatient, the pressure down your panties becoming insufferable. before she unbuttons your pants, she unbuttons her’s. she pulls them down, to sit right below her boxers covered ass. she comes up again, kissing on your tummy, and then — she puts her ear to it. “m’hearing them…” she murmurs. “they're… talking to me, the bees are begging me to fuc—“
“ellie!” you call out, embarrassed. you try and muffle your giggles with your hand but it’s all for nothing, because when she pulls your pants down you gasp. she takes a moment to stare, she could just stare at you forever, she thinks. ellie toys with the waistband of your panties, running her pointer finger on the line. she’s breathing heavy, and you’re nearly wheezing. she bends down to kiss your sopping covered cunt, “oh fu— wait!” you call out.
“i’m… i feel, i’m too shy i can’t…”, ellie smiles and kisses it again. she knows you are. “feels like i might—“ you cry out, feels like you might what?
“explode!”
“you might… but i got you, yeah?” ellie coos, and this time, she doesn’t kiss it, she runs her tongue along the wet patch. she wiggles it from side to side and fuck, she can taste you already and she thinks she might be addicted. your thighs tense and they involuntarily wrap around ellie’s head. she chuckles, and parts them apart. to soothe you, she runs her fingers on your inner thighs and caresses you gently. she kisses your clothed clit and she swears she just felt it pump. “awh… yeah?” she coos again, and it feel like she’s talking to your pussy and not to you. you whimper and drop your head back, and she sucks on it. she’s making the fabric grow nearly sheer with her tongue, and when she sees the outline of your pussy lips she moans deeply. “so wet…” she murmurs to herself, “this all for me, huh? did i do something?” she looks up at you, and your eyes are tightly shut, not even in a place where you feel like you can talk.
you’re fuzzy everywhere.
“can you answer me?” she warns, but chuckles when she sees your back arching as soon as she pulls your soaking wet panties to the side. you hum, “all f— for you”, but ellie doesn’t even hear it, because she’s faced with the most beautiful thing she’s ever seen.
your glistening folds, the tiny swollen button on top, and your hole practically clenching in and out over nothing and she thinks she might just die. she spits on it with a small “ptu”, watches as her warm saliva cascades down from your clit to your inviting hole. when you clench, your hole absorbs some of her spit and she groans deeply. “fuck that’s cute”
you’re panting, a sweet harmony of “please, ellie!” escaping your lips, and when you accidentally muttered a pathetic, squeaky “puhleaseee!” ellie scratched the idea of slowly, butterfly kissing your cunt till you’re begging and began placing an open mouthed kiss on it.
as her tongue meets your clit for the first time, you clutch your thighs around her head. it happens twice before she forces them open, “quit that, gotta see you” — she warns, and you listen because you just do. “look at me” she instructs, her voice muffled by your sweet pussy in her mouth. her tongue laps up the wetness from your hole, brings it to the top of your clit and sucks. ellie hums, she was right — you really are fuckin’ sweet. “so good…” she murmurs, “doin’ such a good job”, truly, you aren’t even doing anything, just squirming and whimpering under her touch. she moves her tongue around and you swear you just felt her spell something with it, “ellie!” you cry, and ellie’s breath hitches down her throat so she comes out for air and spits on your cunt again. she rubs the wetness with her fingers, then separates your pussy lips with her thumbs so she can see all of you.
you’re just like a flower, she thinks. slowly, she places her tongue on your clit again, but with her fingers on it still, she begins toying with your tight hole. she merely teases it, probing your entrance with her ring finger. “gonna put it inside, that okay?” she asks, but you’re unresponsive, a blabbering mess who doesn’t even remember her own name. ellie chuckles, she could probably do anything she wanted. she slips it inside, feeling your gummy walls squeezing her in, and she moans right when you do. “oh… gosh, ellie!”
“so fuckin’ tight” she whispers, returning her mouth on your clit and suckles deeply. she adds a second finger and now you’re gone, fully consumed by this filthy, pleasure filled monster. “i think m’gonna!” you cry and ellie whimpers out, nearly going cross eyed when she notices you’re toying with your nipples just like she did. “explode?” she breathlessly says. “c… cum!”
“good fuckin’…” she wants to complete that sentence, but instead her tongue dips lower and her hands push your thighs so your knees are pushed up against your chest. it goes even lower, licking your tightest entrance, the one that’s never been explored, not even by your own hands, and when she flicks her tongue upon it and then immediately goes back to your swollen clit you’re—
“cum’… m’cumming! m’cumming!” and yeah you are, ellie thinks, and slaps one of your thighs. you're jolting when you do, her name leaving your mouth like a prayer, and pray as much as you want but heaven will not be the one that accepts you, perhaps it’ll be purgatory, but with her in it it’s more than perfect. “uh huh… cum for me”
when you do, you see stars, and ellie sees moonflowers.
she laps up your saccharine juices, sucking them off her fingers one by one. you’re feeling faint, buzzing everywhere, from the tips of your toes to the top of your head. ellie looks up at you, eyelids half shut. when you see the index finger that was deep inside of you just a moment ago, go inside her mouth, her pouty pink lips around them and she’s lapping it up and she’s greedy— you cringe a little. she’s tasting and tasting and humming, “told you… you’re sweet”
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letters-to-lgbt-kids · 2 months
Text
My dear lgbt+ kids,
Can you have a healthy relationship with a narcissist?
Well, if you trust many social media posts, then the answer would be a resounding "No". Narcissistic is - apparently - a synonym for abusive, and of course you can't have a healthy relationship with an abusive partner!
But, well, social media is not always right. A lot of topics get oversimplified, terms get misused and black-or-white thinking is rampant - and "narcissistic means abusive" falls into all three of those pits.
Let's look at it a bit closer: "Abusive" describes a set of behaviors - while narcissistic personality disorder (NPD) describes, well, a personality disorder. It's a mental health condition.
I am not a trained mental health professional, so I'll use a medical source here. According to mayoclinic.org (link to article), symptoms and their intensity may vary from one affected person to the next (just like the exact symptoms and severity of depression or anxiety may vary!). A person with NPD may
have an unreasonably high sense of their own importance
have an excessive need for attention and admiration
have low/no empathy (struggle to understand or care about the feelings of others)
have low self-worth
be easily upset by criticism
struggle with social interactions
have difficulty managing their emotions
experience major problems dealing with stress 
And, again just like with other mental health conditions, NPD can negatively affect the person in a lot of areas of life. For example, struggling to manage their emotions and stress levels may make it hard for them to hold down a job and cause financial worries, or they may avoid participating in social events, which may lead to them becoming isolated and depressed etc. And yes, of course some symptoms may also lead to problems in romantic relationships.
Therapy for NPD usually centers around talk therapy, with the goal of helping the person to better understand and manage their emotions, to learn how to cope with self-worth issues, and to create/maintain healthy fulfilling relationships and communication with the people around them.
Now, you can look at all this and go "See? The social media posts are right! They are self-centered, have no empathy and are easily upset! That's abusive!" - but that'd be jumping to conclusions. None of those things are behaviors.
An autistic person may also easily get upset and they may also feel low empathy. So could a person with major depression. Yet, we do not treat "autistic" or "depressed" as a synonym for abusive. We do not assume that their symptoms will definitely lead to abusive behavior. So, why would that be different for people with NPD?
Am I saying no person with NPD has ever been abusive? Of course not. That'd be black-or-white thinking, too. What I am saying is: People with NPD are people. And people can show abusive behavior or they can not.
If someone who easily feels upset hits you, that's abuse... but hitting would be abuse, even if they didn't feel easily upset. A partner with or without NPD shouldn't be hitting you. If someone with no empathy degrades and insults you, that's abusive... but that would be abuse regardless of their ability to feel empathy. A partner with or without NPD shouldn't be degrading and insulting you.
A person could have NPD and behave abusive - but "some people are X and Y, so all people who are X must be Y" is a flawed logic.
So, let's circle back to the beginning: can you have a healthy relationship with a narcissist? Yeah. It will be a relationship with someone who has a mental health condition and that's something to be aware of because mental health conditions do affect everyday life (duh?).
You should set boundaries and take warning signs of abuse seriously - like you should do when you date anyone, regardless of health status.
With all my love,
Your Tumblr Dad
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norrizzandpia · 6 months
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Lacy (LN4)
Summary: To the song “Lacy” by Olivia Rodrigo, that should explain it I feel like
Warnings: language, angst, sad sad sad
Note: I think this wasn’t the best I could do so if y’all want a part 2 let me know bc i feel like i could redeem myself
Lacy, oh, lacy, skin like puff pastry. Aren’t you the sweetest thing on this side of hell? Dear angel lacy, eyes white as daisies, did I ever tell you that I’m not doing well?
Luisinha’s eyes twinkled as they stared up at Lando, Y/n huddled in the corner as she analyzed the girl. Lists upon lists of things she had that Y/n didn’t plagued her mind, tormenting every thought and destroying the little bit of self confidence Y/n had left. It was cruel, how sweet and perfect Luisinha was. There was no reason to hate her or criticize her, pick her apart until Y/n felt better about herself. That was the worst part, the thing that hurt the most. It wasn’t the fact that Luisinha possessed the one thing Y/n had yearned for for years before or the fact that Luisinha was loved by everyone. No, it was the fact that, when Y/n lay awake at night, she couldn’t blame anyone else for her mistake other than herself. It was gutting and tiring, but the knowledge that Luisinha was completely innocent, ironically, made Y/n hate her more.
Somebody’s arm brushing up against hers pulled her out of her deep thoughts, her head turning around to see who had taken up the space. When her eyes met that of Lando’s Australian teammate, she smiled.
“They’re cute, yeah?” Oscar chuckled, mistaking her staring for adoration rather than what it truly was; jealousy.
Nodding, Y/n tilted her head as if she really cared about the conversation, “Yeah, for sure. Never seen Lando happier.”
The words were bitter, admitting outwardly that she had never, and probably would never, be the reason for that specific smile on his face.
Oscar took a sip of his water as he looked on at the couple, “Don’t even know how she fell in love with him.”
The world went quiet for a moment as Y/n’s eyes frantically turned to sear into the side of Oscar’s face, “What?”
Her tone made his eyebrows furrow in confusion and the look on her face had him shaking his head, “Did Lando not tell you? They said ‘I love you’ like a week ago?”
Her body went numb, the information hitting her so hard it felt like the air had been taken from her lungs. As if things couldn’t get harder, Lando’s arm wrapped tightly around his girlfriend as he kissed her, very clearly lovesick. She felt stupid. Partially stupid for allowing the deepest part of her to think they would have a chance to be even remotely close to what he had with Luisinha, and the other part being stupid for not seeing how gone he was for her.
It was right in front of her, that part was chilling, but the other part that had her heart sinking was the fact that Lando had forgotten to tell her such big news.
Another thing added to the list of things Y/n didn’t have that Luisinha did; Y/n was forgettable, Luisinha wasn’t.
Oh, I care, I care, I care. Like perfume that you wear, I linger all the time. Watching, hidden in plain sight. And, oh, I try, I try, I try, but it takes over my life, I see you everywhere. The sweetest torture one could bear.
Y/n was shivering, the coat she wore not enough to keep her warm in the cold Monaco weather. She checked her phone once more, trying to spot any message from Lando saying he would be there soon, but she came up empty every time.
The hostess, with a look of pity, eyed her from inside the restaurant, the table for two under the name of “Y/n” for the reservation taunting her as she realized what she was witnessing. However, the hostess thought it was Y/n’s boyfriend standing her up, not her best friend who had most likely forgotten about the dinner because he was with his girlfriend.
It took Y/n the next few minutes to pull herself together, coming to terms with the fact that he wasn’t going to answer his phone after the countless messages she had sent him asking when he was going to show up to the dinner they had planned weeks ago.
With her head hung low, she went back into the establishment, muttering words to the woman at the front about canceling her reservations and apologizing for the inconvenience. Before Y/n could turn around and sulk home, however, the hostess reached out and grabbed Y/n’s hand gently. With a small smile, she whispered, “I’m sure there’s a good reason as to why he didn’t show, don’t lose hope just yet. I’m sure he loves you very much. You’re a very beautiful girl, anyone would be lucky to have you.”
Nodding, Y/n didn’t look up from her feet as she thanked the woman and left. The reassurance the woman had intended to be comforting destroyed her just a bit more, resulting in controlled tears falling from her face as she rounded corners and crossed streets.
Whilst waiting for the crosswalk to turn green, Y/n pulled out her phone. Instagram was the first app she clicked, proving to be a wrong decision when she saw Lando had posted on his story. Painfully, it was a picture of him and Luisinha at his house with dinner on their laps. Ashamed of how hurt she was, she tried to convince herself that being mad at him was unnecessary. Her feelings were a product of her longing, something he couldn’t be blamed for. Nevertheless, she couldn’t help, but feel abandoned. Years of friendship down the drain as he got distracted with someone else, someone who gave him more than she could. Luisinha granted him connections to parts of the entertainment industry that could help to grow his companies, gain access to new opportunities.
She tried to convince herself she was happy for him, but that secured feeling never truly came even after she got home.
Looking at her phone once more with no response from Lando, she went to bed.
Or, at least, laid in bed. Previously mentioned nights of staying up to blame herself returning.
Smart, sexy Lacy. I’m losing it lately. I feel your compliments like bullets on skin. Dazzling starlet, Bardot reincarnate. Well, aren’t you the greatest thing to ever exist. Oh, I care, I care, I care. Like ribbons in your hair, my stomach’s all in knots. You got the one thing that I want. Oh, I try, I try, I try, try to rationalize people are people, but it’s like you’re made of angel dust.
Nights like these were supposed to be fun. Max, Y/n, and Lando all staying out into the late hours of the nights, drinking and dancing in random clubs around the city. However, this time it proved to be bittersweet as Lando informed the group Luisinha planned to tag along.
Y/n’s smile was fake, of course, but she was prepared to plaster it on for the rest of the night if it meant Lando’s good mood was preserved. Of course, Luisinha had shown up in a designer dress that hugged her body in all the right ways. Her smile was showstopping as she hugged Y/n, whispering to her about how gorgeous she looked.
“Thank you. That’s very sweet. You look very pretty as well.” Y/n got out painfully, wanting nothing to do with the woman in front of her.
“Doesn’t she?” Lando butt in as if he was trying to drive the knife deeper in Y/n’s heart. Safe to say, he was successful.
She chuckled dryly when he started waving his arms animatedly around, shouting, “Gorgeous! Impeccable! Breathtaking!”
It was a wonder Y/n didn’t break down right then. Shades of betrayal dousing out the fire in her eyes, the life in her body, as her mind forced her to take a look back on all the times she had thought Lando loved her as much as she did him. The time when he drove to her house in the middle of the night because she got a stomach bug and was throwing up; the time when he pretended to be her boyfriend so a random man at a bar would stop making her feel uncomfortable; the time when he had opened up to her about his mental health struggles, finishing it off with telling her how much he loved her and appreciated her. That moment, out of all of them, was the worst to relive because it was in the way he said her name, the way his fingers had gripped her hand, as he told her how much he adored her whole being. His tone had made it sound as if a real love declaration was the cusp of his lips, although those specific words never came. Instead, it was a quiet silence as he waited for her to respond and she waited for him to tell her everything she had ever wanted to hear. Y/n had locked that memory away in her mind, it being too crushing to bounce around in her mind like the others did. So, when it came up as he yelled around in front of her about how beautiful his girlfriend was, she was pushed over the edge.
Suddenly, her dress felt too tight and she became too aware of the tips of her fingers touching the tops of her thighs. She no longer wanted to go out and hang out with people whom she wanted to forget about. But, the cruelty of the world seemed to be targeting her as an opportunity to bail on their plans never came, and she was forced to listen to Luisinha’s giggling after Lando whispered something in her ear.
No amount of alcohol could cure the putrid taste of unrequited love, she knew that, but that didn’t stop her from trying. Shots on shots of vodka riddled the booth they had reserved in the back of the club. She didn’t want to dance, didn’t want to talk, she just wanted to sulk in her thoughts and allow herself to wallow in self pity.
Y/n was a fun drunk, but, that night, she was messy and sloppy, the complete opposite of what she knew Lando wanted. Luisinha had gotten tipsy; Luisinha had twirled around on the dance floor gracefully as if she couldn’t mess a single thing up; Luisinha had done everything right while Y/n tormented herself for being nothing like that. She couldn’t get out of her own head, clearly being too far gone alcohol-wise to think straight.
“Maybe you should slow down?” Max tried, coaxing the glass out of her hand when she had accidentally sloshed the liquid onto his lap.
Groaning and rolling her eyes, Y/n grabbed her bag, “You’re no fun. I’m going to find someone else.”
Max shook his head, reaching out to grab her wrist, knowing Lando would kill him if he left Y/n alone like this, but she was too quick for him, disappearing into the crowd in a millisecond.
He shouted for her, eyes scanning the herd of people, before going to check outside, but he continuously came up empty. The situation became even worse when Lando came back to their table, Luisinha in tow, with furrowed eyebrows.
“Where’s Y/n?” He quizzed, his gaze falling on a frantic Max.
“She left.” He said as his eyes failed to meet Lando’s.
There was a silence before Lando tried again, “I’m sorry, what?”
Max scoffed, “Lando, she left. I don’t know where she went and, no matter how hard I try, I can’t find her anywhere.”
Luisinha, being the angel she was, began looking around the club as if she could find Y/n in the spots Max had already looked.
“Did you call her?” Lando asked, pulling out his phone and clicking her contact.
It rang, continued to ring, until it clicked and he was met with an eerie quiet.
“Y/n? Where are you?” He asked softly.
Rustling and heels clacking was all he heard before her slurred words were saying, “I’m walking home.”
He shook his head immediately, grabbing his keys and nodding to Luisinha and Max, telling them he was going to go pick her up.
“No way, Y/n. Your house is so far from here on foot. Let me come get you and I can drive you home, how about that?”
She didn’t have much of a choice considering he was already outside of the club and unlocking his car, but that didn’t get through to her, “No, Lando. I don’t want to see anyone right now, especially you.”
His foot stepped on the gas, driving toward her house and hoping to find her on his way there, “What’s that supposed to mean?”
He knew never to reason with a drunk, but she had been so distant lately, he couldn’t help it. He wanted to know what had happened to his best friend and the relationship they once shared.
Y/n huffed, “I don’t want to talk about it.”
Continuing down the road he was on, he saw, in the distance, a black, shimmering dress, similar to the one he knew Y/n had worn that night. Sure enough, as he got closer, he saw her braced against a light post as she tried to take off her heels. Her hair was messy, eyes stained black with her smeared mascara, and, if Lando had to guess, she had been crying.
When he pulled up next to her, she scoffed loudly, “God, you can’t just leave me alone, huh? I said I didn’t want to see you, Lando. Leave me the fuck alone.”
He was visibly taken aback by her hostile nature, but, nevertheless, tried to get her in the car.
“Get in the car, Y/n. You shouldn’t be out here alone when you’re this drunk.” He unlocked the doors and got out of the car, walking towards her only for her to take a step back.
“I don’t want to get in the car with you. Go back to Luisinha.” She was practically spitting her words, aggression dripping off every syllable.
Lando groaned, reaching out for her once more, but just missing her, “Stop being stubborn, Y/n. Get in the car and I’ll drive you home.”
Finally, her fuse having run out, she shouted, “NO.”
Lando’s arms flew out beside him, “Ok, why?!”
She threw her shoe at his legs and, if they hadn’t been so disappointed in the way their partnership had turned out, they would’ve laughed.
“Why’d you never tell me you and her said ‘I love you’?” She stopped, putting her hands on her hips as her anger took a new look, quiet and controlled.
He blinked at her, “Who told you that?”
“It doesn’t matter, Lando. Why?” She shrugged, staring blankly at him.
He looked away from her, hesitant to answer with the truth. His change in attitude allowed Y/n to continue, “What about last week when you didn’t show up for dinner?”
He shook his head, “What dinner?”
Her jaw dropped and she began laughing, “You still don’t remember? Did you look at any of my texts? Never wondered why I called you so many times last Friday night?”
He thought back, remembering he had spent that night with Luisinha, nothing about Y/n blowing up his phone. To check, he pulled the device out, looking through his messages and seeing, lost in all the other people trying to get ahold of him, was her asking where he was.
He breathed out deeply, “Shit, Y/n, I’m so sorry. I completely forgot.”
“Yeah, I’m not surprised. It’s been happening a lot lately.”
“No, don’t do that. It hasn’t.” He tried to convince her, but she seemed unimpressed.
“Alright, so then why did you forget to tell me such a pivotal moment in your relationship?” She tried again.
His head fell into his hands, shaking it side to side, before mumbling, “Because I didn’t want you to get hurt.”
“How would I get hurt?” She said it as if he was stupid and being overly cautious for no reason. The fact that she was actually hurt by it, she wouldn’t tell him.
His eyes flew up to meet hers and in a small moment of confidence, Lando stated, “Because you love me.”
The four words hung in the air, painful and so incredibly true. She tried to come up with a deflection or some sort of counterargument, but, by the way he looked at her, she knew it was no use.
Sighing, “How long have you known?”
His hand grabbed ahold of her arm, her body finally not creating more distance, “That doesn’t matter. Y/n, this doesn’t change how I see you. In fact, knowing it’s true is good because…” He trailed off, their eyes lingering on each other as they both braced themselves for what was about to be said. Y/n let out a small smile for once that night and let herself get lost in the idea of what he was about to reveal, “I lo-”
Whatever he was about to say was completely interrupted when a car pulled up next to them, the window from the backseat being rolled down and Luisinha’s face popping out.
“Good, you found her! Let’s go home. Max and I are so tired.” She gave a tight-lipped smile, unknowingly having stopped a moment that would’ve ended her relationship. Her eyes seemed to follow their movements closely as if she was suspicious of the moment she had caught them in.
Lando looked back to Y/n, an apology swimming in his eyes, but she disregarded it. Muttering incoherent words, she yanked her arm from his hold and got in his car.
Defeated, once more, by the girl she wanted to be.
Lacy, oh, lacy. It’s like you’re out to get me. You poison every little thing that I do. Lacy, oh, lacy. I just loathe you lately and I despise my jealous eyes, and how hard they fell for you.
Days after that night, Luisinha’s entire demeanor toward Y/n shifted. She became more antagonistic. Long gone were the sweet comments about Y/n’s appearance, in place were backhanded compliments that had more than a few people raising their eyebrows.
Everything Y/n did was scrutinized and corrected by her, making it seem as though Y/n was incompetent. Subtly mean, Y/n found her reason to hate Luisinha. It was bittersweet, truthfully. Something Y/n had wanted to feel for so long; pure annoyance at the other girl in Lando’s life, but, it also caused a rift between her and him.
Lando and Y/n, the supposed iconic duo, stopped talking. Disappearing from her so rapidly were the nights when they would go out to get food only to gossip the whole time; disappearing were the times when he would invite her out with him and Max. Suddenly, she was seeing Luisinha laughing along with Max as they sat in the same booth she had just a few weeks before on different fan accounts. Luisinha, the better version of her, had become her immediate replacement and it killed her soul. A family she once admired had been stolen from her at the hands of someone she still loved and the other a woman whom, no matter how harsh she was, Y/n would always idolize and yearn to be.
Confusing, nevertheless. Questions now kept her awake at night instead of the usual self-torment.
Wasn’t Lando about to tell her he loved her on that cold, quiet street?
If so, why would he have ousted her so easily?
Why had she given her all to someone who, seemingly, didn’t care?
But, the one thing that never left her alone, the question that agonized her the most was the one there could never be a satisfactory answer to.
Why couldn’t she be Luisinha?
Yeah, I despise my rotten mind and how much it worships you.
A/N: LMK KNOW YOUR THOUGHTS BOTH GOOD AND BAD IDK HOW TO FEEL ABT THIS ONE I HOPE YOU LIKED IT
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You know what, I appreciate the Queen making it to 70 years of rule. A nice round number, none of this 69 or 71 stuff. Very tidy. I’m sure future history students will appreciate it too.
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doctorbeth · 6 months
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Rabbit -- one of your cherished stuffed companions
Rabbit belongs to one of you dear people, and she gave me permission to share his story with you.:-) He was in the hospital about a year ago.
She initially wrote:
I live in South Florida and I am a big fan of your hospital! I have a stuffed rabbit plush animal, I believe he may have once been a Bugs Bunny plush, but to me he has always been "Rabbit" and I cannot find any leads online as to his "origins". Rabbit has been with me since I was 6 months old-- he's almost 24 years old! He's been my constant companion, and I still sleep with him and love him to this day. As you might imagine, this has led to many surgeries... 
Lately, Rabbit has had very thin fabric fur, and you can see through to the stuffing (mostly on his tummy). He's also in need of some new stuffing, as his current has gotten pretty clumpy over the years. My mom and I have talked about possibly giving him a  complete fur transplant on his tummy as we have applied patches before, but we aren't experts and don't want to cause him harm! He gets holes in his fabric very easily as he has become very delicate from love over the years... We are almost afraid to touch him with anything other than a hug! 
Now there were many photos attached to this note, and just fyi, for diagnosis the more photos the better, but you all don't need quite so many close ups... here are three critical photos from his diagnosis:
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You can really see in the last two photos how thin his fabric was getting.... but he has such a cute face, and it's mostly embroidered, and I thought they may want to keep that, so.... there were many (actually 7!) options for his care. Keep in mind, he's over 2 feet long, too. Here were the treatment options (a spa could be added to any):
1) Given his style of fabric, and his artistic belly patches, and the fact that he has embroidered facial features, we could line his body with new fabric.  This reinforces his body and limbs while keeping his current appearance.  He would get all new body stuffing as part of this treatment, as the stuffing would need to come out for lining and it can't go back in.  But, a small amount of original stuffing would be preserved in a heart in his chest.  With this treatment, he could still wear, but you would see lining before stuffing.  Also, for future repairs, the lining could take the pressure of stitches away from his skin.  I would also minimize the older scarring on his side. 
2) I can do everything in option 1, plus line his head. 
3) I can do everything in option 1, plus line his head and ears. 
4) Instead of lining, we could recover just his belly and lower sides of limbs. His original skin (and old patches) would remain underneath, reinforcing the new fabric.  I would get as close as possible to his current fabric color and texture.  Perfect fabric matches are rarely possible, but if that is the case, I will send photos of him with transplant options so you can choose what you like best. I would also minimize his scars. 
5) I can recover his entire torso and limbs (leaving his head and ears as is). I would also minimize his scars.
6) I can recover his belly and lower side of limbs around his patches (keeping his artistic appearance). I would also minimize his scars.
7) I can recover his belly around his patches and recover the rest of his body and limbs. I would also minimize his scars.
His person thought about it, discussed it with her family, and ultimately decided on option 5: recover his entire torso and limbs but leave his head and ears as is. They also added a spa for Rabbit, which would treat the lumpiness of his stuffing as well as clean him.
So Rabbit flew to the hospital and began treatment with his bubble bath:
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He got restuffed before recovering, so here is his heart being made and installed with a bit of his original stuffing:
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I started by recovering his gray areas, leaving the white of his pawpads and tail original. At this point, I sent chubbiness approval photos and let his person decide whether she still wanted to recover the white (which was in better shape than the gray):
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His person wrote: "Wow, he looks amazing!! His chubbiness looks perfect, I can't wait to hold him! I would like to recover his white patches of fur"
So Rabbit got closed up, and the white got recovered, and then he was ready to fly home!
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Approved, Rabbit flew home to Florida. When he arrived back cross country, his person wrote:
Rabbit is home!! Thank you so, so much!! He looks amazing, he's soooo soft and cuddly, I can't wait to spend many many more years with my darling angel rabbit! I cannot thank you enough Doctor, you're truly an angel!! I'm so blessed to have found you and your lovely hospital!! My mom and I can't stop gushing over how soft and cuddly Rabbit is, he's like brand new! I'll continue to treasure him for the rest of my life with your help!
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lainsshop · 3 months
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Dates With Him ౨ৎ
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Pairing: Alastor x Reader
Tags: fluff, established relationship n probably more..
A/N: Another long work of mine, hope you like it cause.. I don’t know. If you have more date ideas please tell me and I’ll make sure to put them here!
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Oh, God, you probably already know what type of dates this man will suggest..
Well, of course, it’s gonna be classy, fancy and jazzy! This man only knows the classic type of dates, the “proper” way of taking your partner to dates, according to him that is.
Lots of dancing! It could be anywhere! He doesn’t care if people are watching you, he could just break their limbs if the people around y’all criticize you guys, especially if they judge you.
Even if you suck at dancing he will teach you! Don’t worries, what type of partner will he be if he didn’t. But if you do know how to dance then that’s even better! You two are stealing the dance floor in seconds, I promise you.
Fancy restaurants. Not the white fancy or the bright fancy ones, oh, nuh uh.. I’m talking about the ones with warm dim lights, brown; pearl white; gold n red color palate, good scented candles, soft jazz playing in the background or maybe a live group/solo playing, the finest servings, etc etc..
Yea, those type of restaurants that need a reservation and have a big ass price but don’t worry, Alastor will pay for everything even if you insist on paying too he would just-
“Nonsense, my dear! What kind of gentleman will I be if I let you pay?” You were gonna insist again but you knew he would still pay for it at the end so you gave up.
You just feel kinda guilty cause he pays for almost always pays for everything when you two go out to eat and even on things you want, he likes to spoil you..? You could say that but I don’t really know.
Jazz clubs! Oh, you two will always and when I say always I mean alwaysssss go to jazz clubs! Even before you became official, you two will always go to a jazz venue at least once a month. It became a tradition between you two at this point.
If you haven’t listen to jazz before, oh, you’re on a ride, this man will talk about it and probably even more genres of his era. He would recommend you one artist and then two and like ten and- you get the deal.
Book reading. Now there’s time where Alastor or you.. or both of you like to just stay indoors so sometimes you guys just stay at the hotels library and read. Just enjoying your guys presence, the fire crackling and the soft music in the background.
And when you get tired, he would absolutely read to you while you put your head on his shoulder. (He’s voice is so &;&:&: like it could put me to sleep, okay?😭)
Cooking or Baking. Well, I don’t know if Alastor knows how to bake but I will assume he does. He loves to cook or bake with you! It’s probably his top 3 favorite dates to do with you like.. you literally can do it at any hour, in the mornings, evenings, nights and even midnights like wow there.
If you don’t know how to bake or cook, oh, he would absolutely love to teach you. If it comes out wrong, he would def laugh a bit.. but don’t worries, it’s your first time after all, right? It takes times to learn something new!
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© LAINSSHOP 2024
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peavhyshy · 2 months
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𝗛𝗢𝗡𝗘𝗬𝗠𝗢𝗢𝗡. (oneshot)
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Pairing: Prince!Rafe Cameron x Princess!Reader
Summary: Royal/Arranged Marriage AU - in which you find yourself thrust into an arranged marriage with a handsome yet unpredictable prince.
Warnings: mild language, explicit language, period typical language, dubious consent, smut, angst, fluff, suggestive/sexual language, power dynamics/manipulation, classism, misogynistic behavior, possessive behavior, traditional gender roles/expectations around marriage, character development, rough sex, oral sex, fingering, dominance and submission, hair-pulling, marking/biting, and unprotected vaginal sex
Words: 10,863
a/n: this has been in the works for a while, it's kind of long but I hope you enjoy and I also want to make blurbs for this on the side because I didn't want to make this into a series with parts because that too much work and I'm lazy.
Outer Banks Masterlist | Main Masterlist | Honeymoon (song it's based off by lana del rey)
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The sunlight filtered through the windows of the lavish bridal room, its gauzy white curtains blowing softly in the afternoon sea breeze. You stood before the three-way mirror, your dress and hair only half done as your friends flitted around you, pinning and primping. Your eyes looked anxious despite your gentle smile. 
"I don't know if I can do this, girls," You fretted, brow furrowed. "Rafe seems so...intense. And our families barely know each other! What if he doesn't like me?" 
From behind you, Sarah chuckled as she twisted your long curls into an elegant updo. "Trust me, my brother likes what he sees well enough. He may be a cocky jerk sometimes but he could do way worse." 
Kiara added dryly from the window seat, "Yeah, like get stuck with somebody boring instead of a kind heart like you. Try to relax. Just be your sweet self and I'm sure you'll win him over."
You sighed. "I'll try. It's just all so much pressure, you know? An entire life and future riding on a few short hours." You turned to peer at your reflection, barely recognizing the woman in the gown. "Do you think I look okay? Not too plain?"
Your friends assured you with smiles. It was almost time. For better or worse, Rafe Cameron would soon be your destiny. You steeled your nerves and prayed this royal match may prove to be no prison, but a partnership made in heaven.
You held your breath as your mother swept into the room, eyes scanning your gowned figure in the mirror with a practiced critical eye. 
"Hmm. The dress is adequate I suppose, even if a touch too modest," Lady Smith observed. Her gaze shifted to your face, tightening slightly. "And do try to look a bit happier, darling. A man does not want a sullen bride, no matter her dowry. Remember - you are representing our entire family today. Do strive to be pleasant."
You swallowed back a sigh. "Yes, Mother. I will do my best to charm Prince Rafe and make us all proud."
Your friends' faces radiated empathy. Even they knew how rigorous Lady Smith's standards could be. But then the older woman surprised you all with the barest hint of a smile. 
"Have faith, my dear. A marriage is what you and your husband choose to make of it. Now, come - it is nearly time. Chin up and smile as if you've won the lottery. Which, in a way, you have."  
With that, she whisked from the room, leaving you to draw a steadying breath. Your friends gave encouraging smiles and squeezed your hands. This was it - for better or worse, your future began now.
The ceremonial hall was awash with sparkling lights and fragrant flowers as dusk fell. Rafe stood tall by the altar, tugging irritably at his stiff collar. His gaze roamed restlessly over the assembled guests while Rose droned on beside him about proper etiquette. 
"And remember to look her in the eyes when you say your vows," Rose nattered. "The audience will be hanging on your every word."
Rafe scoffed under his breath. As if he gave a damn about any of these stuffy traditions. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Ward approaching, lips pursed in that familiar disapproving frown. 
"Try to pay attention, son," Ward rumbled, handing him a small scroll. "These are the terms your betrothed's father expects you to agree to. Mind you, hold up your end of the bargain." 
Rafe scanned the endless stipulations with a curl of his lip. As if he was some prize mare to be sold to the highest bidder. But he knew better than to argue. 
"Yeah, yeah," he muttered, tucking away the scroll. His gaze fell on Wheezie's small form near the front, watching him with wide eyes. At least one Cameron was on his side, the innocent little dove that she was. 
The trumpets sounded then, signaling the bride's arrival. Showtime. Straightening his uniform jacket, Rafe pasted on his most rakish grin and steeled himself to meet his political match. 
His gaze drifted to the double doors at the end of the hall, anticipation and annoyance battling within him. No doubt some meek little flower they'd chosen to shackle him to for the sake of power and status. Still, a small part of him was curious to lay eyes on this Y/N Smith his advisors claimed would make such a perfect royal match.
When the doors swept open, Rafe straightened and schooled his features into a haughty mask of indifference. But the sight that met his gaze gave him pause. There, being escorted down the aisle on your father's arm, was a vision in ivory silk and lace. His brows lifted in surprise at the beauty gliding toward him with eyes demurely downcast. This was his intended bride?
The closer you came, the faster Rafe's pulse raced. Your cheeks were flushed, lips painted pink. Your curls spilled over your shoulders, begging to be toyed with. His gaze roamed lower, taking in the enticing curves and dips of your figure through your gown. A slow smirk spread over his face. Perhaps this evening would prove more enjoyable than anticipated. By the time you lifted your gaze to meet his at the altar, Rafe's ice blue eyes gleamed with heat and the thrill of the hunt. No meek flower here - only a rare, exotic bloom ready to be plucked. And if your quick intake of breath was any indication, the feeling just might be mutual. Excellent. 
Rafe's smirk widened at your reaction, noting the pretty blush that rose to your cheeks. His gaze swept over you appreciatively as you took your place beside him, leaning close to murmur in a low, husky tone for your ears alone. "Well now, aren't you a tempting morsel? I do believe I'll enjoy unwrapping my gift later this evening, Mrs. Cameron." His eyes flashed suggestively at the way your breath caught, enjoying how flustered you seemed by his proximity and blunt words. Perhaps the little dove wasn't quite so meek after all. All the better.
Rafe barely paid attention as the pompous old minister droned on, too focused on watching emotions flit across your expressive features. Annoyance, uncertainty, even a spark of temper in those fathomless eyes. His new bride was no giggling debutante, that much was clear. When the time came to recite your vows, his were short and to the point. But the words he chose made your gaze snap to his in surprise.
"To have and to hold, for better and worse, as long as we both shall live. I vow to worship you with my body, protect you with my sword, and share with you all the spoils of my conquests. You are mine, now and always." His thumb brushed your wrist in a possessive caress as he slid the ring onto your finger. "With this ring, I pledge to you my heart, and swear you shall never want for passion."
Rafe couldn't resist adding in a husky undertone as the minister pronounced them man and wife, "Pucker up, princess. Time for the fun part." His arm slid around your waist and he dipped you dramatically, sealing your vows with a searing kiss as your audience erupted into raucous cheers.
Your eyes went wide as Rafe's arm wrapped around your waist, and before you could protest his lips descended onto yours in a scorching kiss. Your first instinct was to squirm away, unused to such public displays of affection - but his strong arms held you in place, and after a moment you found yourself melting into the kiss. By the time Rafe lifted his head, Your cheeks were flaming and you were breathless.
Rafe's smug chuckle brought you back to yourself. "Cat got your tongue, wife?" He teased, eyes gleaming. You huffed, straightened and attempted to smooth your disheveled hair and gown.
"Must you always be so…so…" You struggled for the right word, and Rafe quirked a brow.
"Charming? Irresistible? I can't help my natural talents, love."
You rolled your eyes. "I was going to say incorrigible."
Rafe laughed, the sound rich and warm. "Ah, there's that spark I've been waiting to see. Don't worry, I'll have you swooning in my arms soon enough."
"You're certainly confident in yourself, aren't you?" You remarked dryly. Rafe's grin only widened.
"With good reason. But come now wife, no need to be shy." He leaned close, breath fanning your ear. "The bedding ceremony awaits us, unless you'd care to give our guests a show right here?"
You gasped, shoving at his chest though your heart raced at his words. "You're despicable!"
Rafe caught your hand, bringing it to his lips. "All part of my charm, princess. Now, shall we?" He offered his arm, eyes dancing with mirth at your discomfort.
You huffed, pulling your hand away. "Must you be so arrogant and crass? There are proper ways to speak to a lady, as I'm sure you know."
Rafe's grin only widened at your annoyance. "Proper is boring. I prefer to speak my mind, and right now it's full of how ravishing you look in that gown. Can you blame a man for being eager to peel it off?"
Your cheeks flamed at his bold words. "You forget yourself, Your Highness. We've only just met."
Rafe leaned close, breath hot on your ear. "We're man and wife now, pet. No need to stand in the ceremony." His gaze swept over your figure appreciatively. "I always get what I want, and right now that's you in my bed. But we'll take things slow…at first."
You bristled at his arrogance, grasping for a retort, but found yourself speechless. Your heart raced with a mix of irritation, anticipation and uncertainty. You knew your duty here today, had steeled yourself for a political match and indifferent spouse. But Rafe Cameron seemed determined to sweep you off your feet, whether you willed it or not.
Rafe chuckled at your loss for words, offering his arm. "Come, the revelry awaits us. And after…" His eyes gleamed suggestively, "The real fun begins."
You swallowed hard, slipping your arm through his. Your mother was right, this marriage was what you chose to make of it. But something told you life with this wickedly charming scoundrel of a prince would be anything but boring. For better or worse, your destiny was sealed - and as Rafe led you into the cheering crowd, you couldn't deny a thrill of excitement amid your doubts. Your story was only just beginning.
Rafe guided you into the lavish ballroom, nodding at the trumpeters to announce your arrival. As the first strains of a lively waltz filled the air, he turned to you with a roguish grin and swept you into his arms.
"Time for our first dance as husband and wife, princess. Try not to swoon, I know I'm irresistible." Rafe's eyes gleamed with mirth at your huff of annoyance, though you had little choice but to follow as he led you in the steps of the dance. His hand rested scandalously low on your back, holding you close as you spun and dipped across the floor.
By the time the music ended, You was flushed and breathless in his arms. Rafe smirked, enjoying your flustered state, but before he could tease you further a throat cleared behind them.
"If you don't mind, I'll take over from here."
They turned to find your father, Lord Smith, eyeing Rafe sternly. Rafe gave a curt nod, handing you off to the grim-faced man.
"Of course, father-in-law. I was merely warming her up for you." Rafe's sly undertone earned him a reproachful glare from you before you allowed your father to lead you in the next dance.
Rafe stood back, crossing his arms over his chest, when Rose appeared at his side. "Must you provoke her so? She is your wife now, try to be kind."
Rafe scoffed. "She knows my nature well enough. Life would be dreadfully boring without challenges." His gaze drifted back to you, a smile tugging at his lips when you dared a glance in his direction. Rose sighed, patting his arm.
"Be gentle to her.” Rafe's gaze landed on Ward approaching, lips pursed in disapproval as usual. Before his father could lecture him, Rafe turned to your mother with an exaggerated bow.
"Lady Smith, your daughter is a vision. I trust she'll make a fine princess." His charming smile didn't reach his eyes.
Lady Smith's gaze was coolly assessing. "Indeed. Do try to behave yourself, Your Highness. My girl is gentle bred and undeserving of your…roguish tendencies."
Rafe's smile turned wolfish. "Not to worry, I'll be on my best behavior. In public, at least." His suggestive undertone made Lady Smith's eyes narrow.
"Mother, must you provoke him so?" You sighed as you rejoined them. Your gaze shifted between Rafe and your mother anxiously.
Rafe chuckled, sliding an arm around your waist. "No need to fret, princess. I was merely exchanging pleasantries with your charming mother."
Ward's voice rumbled behind Rafe. "If you're quite finished, the receiving line awaits you both."
Rafe suppressed an eye roll, turning to greet his younger sisters. Sarah's gaze was assessing, while little Wheezie beamed up at the newlyweds.
"You look so pretty, Y/N!" Wheezie gushed. "I hope you'll still come visit me, now that you're a princess."
You smiled, bending to embrace the girl. "Of course, whenever I can. And you must come see me too."
Rafe watched the exchange with a mix of fondness and annoyance. His littlest sister had always been too softhearted. But seeing your sweet nature with Wheezie gave him hope this match may not prove entirely intolerable.
Ward cleared his throat, Rafe bristled at his father's impatience, but couldn't fault Wheezie's enthusiasm. His littlest sister had always been too softhearted for her own good. Still, seeing your sweet smile as you embraced Wheezie gave Rafe a flicker of hope this match may not prove entirely intolerable. If you could win over even his most skeptical family members, you just might stand a chance.
Rafe turned to his father with a mocking bow. "As you wish, Your Majesty. Mustn't keep the adoring masses waiting." His sarcastic tone earned an eye roll from Sarah, ever the voice of reason. Rose simply sighed, patting Rafe's arm as he passed.
"Behave," she murmured. Rafe just chuckled, offering his arm to you.
"Shall we, wife? Our public awaits." You glanced between your families anxiously before accepting his arm. Rafe patted your hand, pitching his voice low. "No need to fret, pet. I don't bite…hard." His roguish wink brought a blush to your cheeks.
As you made your way to the receiving line, Rafe found his gaze drawn again and again to your expressive features. Your reactions were simply too amusing. While your guests and courtiers showered you with congratulations and well wishes, he watched emotions flit across your face - uncertainty, annoyance, even curiosity. His new bride was an open book, though your courteous smiles revealed none of the thoughts behind your fathomless eyes. Rafe was determined to unlock all your mysteries, one by tantalizing one.
Rafe allowed you to guide him to your seats at the head table, though his gaze strayed often to his friends at a nearby table. Topper and Kelce were regaling each other with tales of previous sailing adventures, no doubt in anticipation of the race Rafe had every intention of winning. His competitive nature chafed at being stuck here making polite conversation when he could be out on the open water.
You seemed to sense his restlessness, offering a gentle smile as you tucked a napkin into Wheezie's lap. "There now, all tidy. I do hope you'll save room for dessert, little dove."
Wheezie beamed up at you, her new sister-in-law. "I will! Cook always makes the best cakes. Are you excited for your wedding trip?"
Your smile turned rueful. "I suppose so. Traveling somewhere new is always an adventure." your gaze flitted uncertainly to Rafe.
Rafe snorted. "Adventure is what I live for, pet." His gaze swept over you boldly. "Though I daresay our wedding night will prove enough of an adventure."
Your cheeks flamed at his innuendo, gaze darting to Sarah in appeal. Sarah rolled her eyes at her brother's antics. "Honestly Rafe, must you be so crude?"
Rafe just chuckled, leaning back in his seat as servants began delivering the lavish courses of their meal. His attention drifted often to his friends, ignoring the disapproving glares of their parents discussing terms of the marriage arrangement. There will be time enough for politics and responsibility tomorrow. Tonight was meant for revelry and chasing whatever pleasures caught his fancy. And at the moment, his new bride was proving an intriguing diversion.
His gaze slid back to you, watching as you laughed with Sarah and Wheezie. Rafe picked at the lavish dishes set before him, paying little mind to the chatter around him. His gaze kept straying to you, noting how animated you seemed speaking with Sarah and Wheezie. At least his sisters appeared taken with his new bride, if the way they hung on your every word and laughed at your silliest comments were any indication. Their obvious delight gave Rafe hope this match may prove more tolerable than anticipated.
Still, his restless nature chafed at the forced pleasantries and pomp of this grand occasion. He longed to be out sailing with his crew, chasing the thrill of adventure on the open sea. As if sensing his wayward thoughts, Kelce leaned around Topper with a sly grin.
"When's the race, man? This fancy shindig is dreadfully dull."
Rafe smirked. "Patience, Kelce. We set sail at first light, and not a moment sooner. Wouldn't do to abandon my own wedding feast, as tempting as it may be."
Topper chuckled. "Think of the gossip that would stir. The new princess, jilted on her wedding night by a scoundrel of a husband!"
Rafe snorted. "As if I'd miss unwrapping that particular gift." His gaze slid suggestively over your figure, lingering on the curve of your neck and the stray curls that had escaped your elegant updo. Anticipation thrummed in his veins at the thought of finally claiming his passionate new bride.
Kelce followed Rafe's gaze with a grin. "Can't say I blame you, mate. Seems you've landed quite the prize, for a political match."
Rafe's smile turned wolfish. "Aye, and she'll make a fine figurehead aboard my ship."
Topper laughed and Rafe's attention kept straying to you, watching as you chatted and laughed with his sisters. Your sweet smile and gentle manner seemed to put even the most hesitant guests at ease. Though he'd never admit it aloud, Rafe found himself grudgingly impressed by your poise and social graces. You were clearly in your element, greeting courtiers and chatting with servants alike as if you hadn't a care in the world.
A nudge at his elbow drew Rafe's gaze to Kelce, who had abandoned all pretense of propriety and was lounging in his seat with a goblet of wine in hand. "So when's the real party start, eh mate?" Kelce grinned with a suggestive waggle of his brows. "Looks like you landed a lively one. Bet she's a wildcat behind closed doors."
Rafe snorted, taking a swig of his own wine. "Wouldn't you like to know. A gentleman doesn't kiss and tell."
"Since when are you a gentleman?" Topper scoffed from Kelce's other side. Rafe shot him an obscene gesture, earning chuckles from his uncouth friends.
"Perhaps we'll have to arrange a private showing for you two scoundrels. I'm sure my bride would be delighted to entertain." Rafe's sarcastic remark was rewarded by Kelce's bark of laughter.
"Now that's an offer I might take you up on!" Kelce's eyes gleamed with mischief as they drifted to you. Rafe's gaze narrowed, a spark of annoyance flaring to life.
"In your dreams, mate. This one's all mine." Rafe's arm shot out to grasp Kelce's shoulder in a bruising grip, smile turning dangerous.
'So, Rafe what's your plans with my lovely Y/N?'' Your father asks.
Rafe's gaze snapped to Lord Smith, who was eyeing him expectantly across the table. He suppressed a scowl at the interruption, forcing his grip on Kelce's shoulder to relax as he leaned back in his seat.
"I plan to show the princess the time of her life, of course," Rafe replied with a roguish smirk. "Starting with a grand tour of my kingdom. She shall want for nothing as my wife."
Lord Smith's eyes narrowed slightly. "See that she doesn't. My daughter is gentle bred, and I'll not have her spirit broken by some scoundrel of a husband."
Rafe bristled at the insult but kept his tone light. "Not to worry, father-in-law. Your daughter is in capable hands." His gaze slid suggestively to you, watching in amusement as you seemed to sense the scrutiny and glanced between them uncertainty.
Lord Smith snorted. "Capable of chasing anything in skirts, so I hear. I warn you now, if any harm comes to my daughter through your…philandering ways…"
"You have my word as a gentleman," Rafe cut in through gritted teeth. "Y/N shall remain untouched by scandal. My duty is to her and her alone now."
Lord Smith seemed unconvinced, but gave a curt nod. "See that you remember that. She is still young, and deserves a chance at happiness." His stern gaze swept over Rafe in assessment. "Do not make me regret this match."
Rafe shrugged off the threat, patience already wearing thin. "If there's nothing else, I believe I shall steal my bride away for a dance." He stood abruptly, pushing back from the table to stride around its length and offered you his arm with an exaggerated bow.
"May I have this dance, princess?'' *Rafe turned back to Lord Smith with a mocking bow and dangerous smile. “Not to worry, father-in-law. I always take excellent care of my possessions.” His suggestive undertone brought a scowl to the older man’s face.
Before Lord Smith could retort, Rafe grasped your hand and tugged you from your seat. “Come, wife. I’ve been patient long enough.”
You glanced uncertainly between Rafe and your father. “But, the toasts…”
“Can wait.” Rafe’s grip on your wrist tightened, brooking no argument. Your gaze narrowed at his peremptory tone but you allowed him to lead you onto the dance floor.
Rafe smirked at your obvious annoyance, spinning you into a lively waltz. “You’ll have to get used to obeying my commands, pet. I’m not a man who takes no for an answer.”
You huffed, attempting to pull away, but Rafe’s arm around your waist held you in place. “Unhand me, you arrogant beast!”
Rafe chuckled at your fruitless struggles, leaning close to purr in your ear. “Now is that any way to speak to your husband, wife?” His breath fanned hot on your neck, and Rafe felt a thrill of satisfaction when your breath caught. “Best get used to my beastly ways, pet. The night is young, and I’ve only just begun to claim what’s mine…”
You gasped at his audacious words, cheeks flaming. “You forget yourself, Prince Rafe!” Your protests only made Rafe’s wicked grin widen.
“Not at all, princess.” His eyes gleamed with heat and the thrill of the chase. “I know exactly who I am, and what I want.”
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As the final courses of the lavish meal were cleared away, Rafe turned to you with a roguish grin. "Well wife, time for your tour of our kingdom. I have a surprise for you." He signaled to a nearby servant, who approached with a bow. "Take the princess for a turn about the grounds and gardens. Show her all our kingdom has to offer."
The servant nodded. "As you wish, Your Highness." His gaze slid to you with a familiar smile. "Your Highness."
Your eyes went wide with recognition. "JJ? Is that really you?" You grasped the servant's hands eagerly. "Oh, it's wonderful to see you! I had no idea you were working here."
Rafe lifted a brow, not having anticipated this happy reunion. Evidently his bride and this JJ Maybank were already acquainted. "You two know each other?"
You smiled. "We grew up together, before JJ's family moved into the city." Your gaze shifted between Rafe and the servant anxiously. "I do hope it's alright for us to catch up…"
Rafe waved a hand dismissively. "By all means. You're free to go where you like, I have other matters to attend to at the moment." His gaze slid pointedly to where Kelce and Topper were already deep in their cups, toasting loudly to his good fortune. You followed his gaze, cheeks coloring slightly.
"Thank you, husband." Your courtesy seemed strained. Rafe simply inclined his head.
"Enjoy your stroll, princess. I'll come find you later this evening, there are more…private celebrations in store." His suggestive tone brought a blush to your cheeks as he strode off to join his friends.
As JJ led you through elaborate gardens and courtyards, your anxiousness gave way to delight. "Oh, it's so lovely here! All these flowers, and fountains…I can see why you enjoy working in the palace gardens."
JJ smiled, patting your hand. "Aye, it's peaceful work. I'm glad to see a friendly face, even under these circumstances." His gaze turned sympathetic. "How are you faring, Y/N? I was worried when I heard of this arrangement."
You sighed. "As well as can be expected, I suppose. Prince Rafe is…not at all what I imagined." your brows furrowed, uncertain how much you dared confide in your old friend.
JJ snorted. "No doubt. He’s got a reputation for being wild. But don't you worry, I'll keep an eye out and make sure he treats you well."
You smiled at his protectiveness. "Thank you, JJ, but I'm capable of handling my own husband. It may take some getting used to, but this match could secure a bright future for my family. I have to at least give it a chance." your gaze drifted back toward the distant palace, where even now Rafe was likely carousing with his friends.
JJ followed your gaze, brows pinching with concern. "Just…promise me you'll be careful. There’s a dangerous streak in him. I don't want to see you get hurt."
"I appreciate your concern." You squeezed his arm. "But Rafe is my husband now, for better or worse. I have to make my own judgments, and hope this marriage becomes more than just political."
JJ sighed, realizing your mind was made up. "You always did see the good in people.”
You nodded and bid JJ farewell with a wave and a promise to visit him again soon in the gardens. As you made your way back toward the palace, a young maidservant approached and curtsied.
"Begging your pardon, Your Highness, but it's time to prepare you for the evening. If you'll follow me, please."
You nodded, allowing the girl to lead you to an elaborate set of chambers. Your eyes went wide taking in the lavish space, draped in silks and velvets of deep red and gold. At the center was an enormous canopied bed, and adjoining the main room were a dressing chamber and bathing room aglow with the light of a crackling fire.
The maidservant curtsied again. "The prince bid me draw you a bath and help you...prepare for the evening, Your Highness. Please, disrobe and I'll assist you."
You blinked at the girl, cheeks heating at the implication. You were no stranger to the wedding night obligations awaiting you, but to have it stated so boldly...
With shaking fingers you began removing the heavy layers of your wedding gown, aided by two more maidservants who appeared. In a matter of minutes you stood in just your thin shift, anxiously clutching the fabric as the servants poured steaming water into an ornate tub and added fragrant oils.
The lead maid turned to you with a gentle smile. "The water is ready, Your Highness. Do not be afraid, we are here to help you bathe and make yourself presentable for the prince's pleasure."
"You look beautiful, my lady," one maid assured her. "The prince will be most pleased."
You swallowed hard, allowing the servants to help you step out of your shift and sink into the hot, scented water. As they began bathing your hair and softly chattering about how beautiful you looked, how pleased the prince would be, your anxiety gave way to anticipation.
"There now, you look exquisite." The head maid gave an approving nod.
Your apprehension slowly melted into calm as the maidservants gently bathed your hair and skin. The warm, floral-scented water soothed your nerves, as did their soft reassurances. When they finished, you stepped from the ornate tub and allowed them to pat you dry with soft towels.
Smiling encouragingly, the maids led you into the adjoining dressing chamber. Lacy smallclothes and a gossamer nightdress were laid out atop the silken sheets. With deft fingers, the maids slid the delicate garments over your frame, then bid you to sit before the vanity while they brushed out your damp curls.
"Just a touch of color for your lips and cheeks, my lady," the head maid murmured, dabbing rouge onto your mouth. "There now, perfect. The prince will be beside himself when he sees how lovely you look."
You studied your reflection, almost unrecognizing yourself. But the muted excitement in your eyes was unmistakable. However brash he was, Rafe's obvious desire flattered your feminine pride. And despite your differences, you had to admit a spark of anticipation for what was to come.
With a last few primping touches, the maids curtsied and took their leave. Alone now, you sat perched on the edge of the bed to wait. Your heart pounded and you twisted the wedding rings on your finger. Whatever happened tonight, your life would be forever changed.
As Rafe strode into the lavish chambers prepared for your wedding night, his gaze immediately found You perched on the edge of the massive bed. The sight of you in the sheer nightdress, hair spilling over your shoulders, sent a bolt of desire through him. His hungry gaze roamed over you, taking in the rapid rise and fall of your chest, your knuckled grip on the bed sheets. Smirking, he shrugged out of his formal jacket and began stalking toward you.
"Well now, what a tempting little morsel we have here," he purred, bracing his hands on either side of you and caging you in. "You look good enough to devour, princess."
He noted how your breath caught as he traced a finger along your collarbone. "What's the matter, love?" Rafe chuckled darkly at your wide-eyed look. "Not to worry, I'll have you singing for me soon enough…"
With that promise, his mouth descended on yours in a ruthless kiss. His large hands grasped your waist, pulling you firmly against him. Breaking the kiss, he murmured hotly in your ear, "I've been waiting all night for this. To finally make you mine…"
Rafe's hands slid slowly up your sides, his gaze never leaving your wide eyes. With a sinful smirk he inched the nightdress higher, exposing more of your thighs. The tips of his calloused fingers grazed your  bare hip, relishing how you shuddered at the intimate caress.
"So soft…Have you any idea how long I've waited to get my hands on this sweet body?" Rafe's husky voice dripped with lust. 
With tantalizing slowness, he urged you back onto the plush mattress. The silk sheets enveloped your  bare skin as Rafe's solid frame covered yours. His mouth found the frantic pulse at your throat, nipping and sucking a mark into the tender flesh. 
Rafe's strong hands glided up to cup your breasts through the thin nightdress, thumbs teasing your nipples into stiff peaks. The sensation tore a gasp from your lips, only encouraging him further. Grinning wolfishly, Rafe ground his pelvis down, letting you feel the rigid length of his cock straining against his trousers.
"Feel what you do to me, sweetheart…You're mine now, to take whenever and however I please." His hungry gaze devoured you, eyes burning with lust and primal need. "Say it," he demanded. "Tell me you're mine…" 
A shudder tore through your frame at the feel of Rafe's hardness grinding against your thigh. Your wide eyes flickered between desire and apprehension as his hands slid higher, rucking up the diaphanous nightdress to bare more of your skin.
"So perfect…and all mine," Rafe rasped, ducking his head to capture one nipple between his teeth. You gasped at the exquisite sting, every nerve in your body hyper aware of his Rough palms gliding over your skin. As his mouth blazed a trail of open-mouthed kisses down your quivering stomach, your nails bit into his shoulders.
"Rafe, I—" Your breathy protest was cut off with a squeak as his fingers hooked into your lacy smallclothes, tearing them off in one smooth motion.
"Shh…just feel, princess." Rafe's smirk was pure sin, eyes blazing cobalt as he nudged your thighs apart. The first stroke of his tongue against your pussy tore a strangled cry from your lips. Without mercy, be he devoured you, growling his satisfaction as your hips rocked unbidden against the delicious onslaught.
"Let me hear how much you want this." Rafe's rasping words vibrated against your aching core. Your head thrashed wildly on the pillows, coherent thought lost in a haze of overwhelming sensation. Soon you were re keening and trembling on the brink, utterly at his mercy.
The look of utter surrender in your eyes stoked the fire in Rafe's blood. His tongue lashed your stiff clit as you trembled, thighs clenching around his shoulders. So close now, teetering on the edge.
Rafe slid two thick fingers into your slick folds, curling them just right to hit that sweet spot. You wailed, arching violently as your orgasm crashed over you. Rafe groaned as your pussy walls clenched and spasmed around his pumping fingers, milking them greedily.
Grinning wolfishly, Rafe rose up over you. His heated gaze raked over your flushed, perspiring body as you came down from the high of ecstasy. "That's just a preview, darling," he rasped, fingers swiftly unlacing his trousers to free his straining cock. "Now for the main event…"
With a groan, Rafe buried himself balls-deep in one swift stroke. So tight, so wet and hot for him. He gave you no time to adjust, setting a brutal pace right from the start. Your legs locked around his pistoning hips instinctively. Your broken cries sent a vicious thrill through him.
Rafe fisted his hand in your damp curls, yanking to expose the delicate curve of your throat. His teeth sank into the tender flesh, marking what was his. "Tell me you belong to me now. Say it."
When you only whimpered and clawed at his sweat-slick back, Rafe snarled. His arms caged you in, hips snapping harder. "Say it!"
You yelp and wince when he pulls your hair whimpering and burying your face in the crook of his neck still shaking from the force and intensity of your soft lips part to whimper out.
"I’m yours, only yours Rafe…" just barely above a whisper
Your hands grip his shoulders for support, your body limps under his as you pant  softly raising your hips to meet his powerful thrusts.
Rafe gentled his hold in your hair, fingers massaging your scalp in reward. You were learning. His other hand slid under your hips, angling them up to take him deeper on each brutal thrust. Your breathy pants and cries were music to his ears.
"That's it, good girl," he panted gruffly. Your compliance pleased him, stroked his dominance. He could feel your body gradually yielding, soft thighs parting wider, hands clutching him instead of pushing away. Rafe kept a relentless pace, pounding into your  tight pussy as the headboard slammed against the stone wall. His mouth found yours, swallowing your whimpers in a ravaging kiss. 
When he finally spilled with a shout, Rafe made certain to grind against your aching clit, determined to drag you over the peak with him. As you shattered again with a broken wail, he groaned his satisfaction. Your mingled release soaked the sheets beneath you. Rafe remained buried inside your trembling body, chest heaving  he stared down at you with possessive intensity burning in his  eyes.
"You're mine forever now, Never forget who owns you…"
Your head falls back breathing raggedly, wincing at the burning pain between your thighs. Your body feels used and exhausted. You blink slowly staring up at him with glazed eyes. You knew that your life would never be the same. That this man..this husband of yours would use your body as he pleased from now on. That intense stare of possession makes you shy away, turning your head and closing your eyes.
He grinned wolfishly as you shyly turned your face away, unable to meet his intense gaze a moment longer. Rafe didn't mind; your demure submission pleased him, as did the colorful marks and love bites his rough passion had left on your throat and breasts. His little wife was well and truly his now. Rafe gentled his hold, fingers almost tender as they brushed the damp curls back from your temple. He pressed a chaste kiss there before murmuring gruffly, "Sleep now, You've earned your rest tonight."
He grinned against your heated skin as you gave a whimper of relief. Gathering you close against his chest, Rafe settled you amidst the rumpled sheets. One leg draped possessively over yours, holding you pinned beneath him as his hand splayed wide over your belly. You were caught, well and truly.
As your breaths evened out in exhausted slumber, Rafe nuzzled into your tousled hair with a satisfied noise.
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Early morning sunlight filtered into the lavishly appointed bedchamber, sitting up, you drew the silk bedding around your bare form as you gazed around the empty room. Aside from yourself, there was no evidence Prince Rafe had even been there save the lingering ache between your thighs. You couldn't deny a pang of disappointment he hadn't lingered to greet you this morning. Then again, perhaps it was for the best; after last night you felt uncertain how to act around your new husband.
With a sigh, you rose and donned a silk robe left draped across a nearby chaise. You made your way to the window overlooking the palace grounds, hoping the fresh sea air might clear your mind. Your thoughts drifted back to the prior evening. This marriage would require much patience and understanding on both your parts.You  nurtured a glimmer of hope. With time and care, perhaps you and Rafe could build something beautiful.
After taking a moment to appreciate the ocean view, you turned and began getting ready for the day ahead. You dressed yourself in a pale blue gown left for you, simple yet elegant. After tidying your hair you ventured out into the opulent hallway in search of familiar faces.
It wasn't long before you happened upon Sarah, Wheezie, and Kiara chatting together in one of the palace's lush sitting rooms. You hesitated in the doorway, suddenly feeling shy. But Wheezie looked up and broke into a delighted smile.
"Y/N! You're finally awake, come join us!" The young girl bounded over to catch your hands, leading you inside. Sarah and Kiara both greeted you warmly as you settled onto a sofa beside them.
"We were hoping you'd surface today," Sarah said with a knowing smile. "After the…activities of last night."
You felt your cheeks heat at the implication and Kiara swatted Sarah's arm. "Oh leave her be, I'm sure she doesn't want to dwell on all that." Kiara's kind eyes settled on you. "How are you feeling today?"
You offered a shy smile. "Still a bit overwhelmed, I suppose. This is all so new." your gaze drifted around the elegant room and you exhaled. "I don't think it's fully sunk in yet that I live here now."
Wheezie took your hand, giving it an excited squeeze. "Isn't the palace marvelous? I can give you a full tour later if you'd like."
You laughed softly at the girl's enthusiasm. "I would enjoy that very much, thank you Wheezie." you felt yourself relaxing, warmth swelling in your chest to be surrounded by supportive faces both old and new. Whatever uncertainties awaited in this unfamiliar life, at least you needn't face them alone.
You smile and say "So..um..did you three hear much noise last night?" you asked embarrassed.
Wheezie tilts her head confused but Kiara and Sarah exchange a look, Kiara says "These walls are quite thick don't worry" she reassures.
Sarah smirks and says "I'm sure my dear brother was a perfect gentleman" sarcasm in her voice,
You felt your cheeks flush hotly at Sarah's teasing remark. You cleared your throat, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear self-consciously.
"Well…I mean, of course everything was proper," You stammered, avoiding direct eye contact. In truth, Rafe had been anything but a gentleman once you were alone together. The memories made you shift in your seat.
Kiara shot Sarah a scolding look before turning a sympathetic gaze on you. "I'm sure your first night together was an adjustment. But you know you can talk to us about anything, right? We're here for you."
You nodded, giving your hand a supportive squeeze. "Don't let my scoundrel brother intimidate you. He may act the rogue, but you have a strength in you as well. I saw it at your wedding." Sarah's eyes were earnest. "You're family now. We'll help you figure each other out."
You nodded, offering a small but grateful smile. Perhaps in time you would feel comfortable opening up about the complicated feelings Rafe stirred in you, the exhilaration and uncertainty. But for now, his vulnerabilities were yours to guard.
Wheezie, bless her smiled brightly. "I'm so happy you're my new sister! We're going to have such fun together."
You laughed softly, warmth swelling in your chest. With Sarah and Kiara's wisdom and Wheezie's sweet spirit, you knew you could face this daunting new future. You were no longer alone.
Just then, the head housemaid approaches the women, curtsying politely. "Pardon me, Your Highnesses, but His Majesty King Ward has requested Princess Lila's presence for a private brunch on the veranda. Shall I inform the kitchens to begin preparations?"
You blink in surprise but nod to the maid. "Yes, please let the king know I would be honored to join him." You turn back to the other ladies after the maid departs. "Well, it seems my father-in-law wishes to speak with me alone. I suppose I should change into something more proper." You stand a bit nervously. This would be your first real interaction with the imposing monarch.
"Father can seem intimidating but he appreciates sincerity. And don't let him bully you into anything you're uncomfortable with."
You bid farewell to your friends and made your way back to the bedchambers to ready yourself for the impending brunch with King Ward. Your stomach fluttered anxiously as you  mulled over what he could want to discuss in private.
After freshening up, you carefully selected an elegant mint green day dress with billowing elbow-length sleeves from the wardrobe. You style your hair in a simple yet tidy braided updo and affix a minimal amount of jewelry - a delicate silver pendant necklace and teardrop pearl earrings. A hint of rose gloss on your lips completed the refined look.
Smoothing the skirts of your dress, You exhaled a steadying breath as you regarded your reflection. You hoped your attire properly conveyed the right mix of grace and poise while still retaining your own simple style. As you made your way through the opulent halls towards the veranda, you tried to quell the butterflies in your stomach. You had no reason to be so nervous; after all, you would one day be queen beside Rafe. Proving yourself an able partner who could hold your own was crucial.
Upon arriving at the sunny veranda, you were greeted by the sight of King Ward already seated at a table lavishly arrayed with brunch fare. At your approach, he stood and offered a formal bow.
"Princess Y/N, thank you for accepting my invitation. Please, sit."
You dipped into a curtsy before taking the seat opposite Ward. you met his gaze evenly, resolving to show no weakness. This may be just a brunch, but you sensed the king was assessing your mettle. You would rise to the challenge.
"The honor is mine, Your Majesty. To what do I owe the pleasure of this private audience?" Your tone was polite yet confident. The gleam in Ward's eye told you this was exactly his intent - to take your measure beyond the pomp and flair of the wedding. You straightened your spine, ready to prove your worth.
Ward looks at you curiously before taking a sip of his tea "I wished to speak with you privately, away from the commotion of the palace to get to know my new daughter in law better. This marriage was quick and sudden, but binding our families will be good for the kingdom." He explains.
"Now.." he folds his hands on the table and looks at you intently "Tell me about yourself Y/N, what are your interests?" He asks kindly, wanting to understand your personality and character better.
You relaxed slightly at Ward's polite small talk, offering a gracious smile as you prepared your tea. "Of course, Your Majesty. I appreciate you taking the time to get to know me better outside of all the wedding bustle."
You take a thoughtful sip of your tea before continuing. "Well, I've always enjoyed reading and learning whenever I can. Our library at home was my favorite place to spend long afternoons." A wistful look crosses your face at the memories.
"I also love music - singing, playing the harpsichord. Art and photography are passions of mine as well. Capturing a moment of beauty to appreciate again and again." Your eyes brighten describing your hobbies.
"But I also recognize the importance of being an active participant in the community. I assisted our local orphanage regularly and enjoyed volunteering at functions." You meet Ward's gaze. "I believe those in positions of privilege have an obligation to use their place to aid others. I hope to continue that here."
You pause, glancing at Ward hesitantly. "I know I have much to learn when it comes to politics and courtly matters. But I'm eager to play my role serving the people, and to support Rafe's reign as a strong partner."
You fold your hands in your lap. "I may seem simple on the surface, but I have layers yet to be uncovered. Given time, I know I could thrive here as a princess." You kept your chin lifted, showing sincerity and determination in the face of Ward's intense scrutiny.
Ward considers your words carefully, looking thoughtful as he sips his tea. Finally he sets down his cup and leans back in his seat, steepling his fingers.
"A commendable answer. You show wisdom beyond your years, Y/N, as well as a refreshing earnestness." One corner of his mouth quirks upward. "Far better than the vapid socialites I feared Rafe might foist upon us."
You had to suppress a smile at Ward's dry humor. The king regards you keenly.
"My son has always followed his passions, often recklessly. He will need a partner of substance who can balance his…impulsiveness, and check his wilder whims. From our limited interactions, I believe you may have the mettle needed to temper his nature, in time."
He tilts his head, eyes assessing. "The question is, do you have the will? Rafe can be stubborn, even cruel when provoked. This role will require patience and resilience.
You meet Ward's gaze levelly. "I understand the challenges, Your Majesty. But I intend to face them. Rafe may be impulsive, but he needs compassion to steady him, not control." You keep your voice firm but respectful. "I believe we can forge something stronger together."
Ward stares at you pensively before cracking the barest smile. "Well said. Perhaps you are the making of each other." He lifts his teacup in salute. "I look forward to seeing what unfolds between you two. The road will not be smooth, but you strike me as a girl who finishes what she starts."
You dip your head graciously at the veiled praise, hope blooming in your chest. If you can earn even this guarded man's approval, perhaps you truly have a chance to thrive in this strange new home.
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After the brunch you go for a walk around the palace grounds, you hum softly looking at all the flowers. You find a bench under a willow tree near the royal cemetery. Sitting down you close your eyes enjoying the warm breeze. After a little while you hear leaves crunching behind you and turn to see Rafe approaching. His hair is windswept, eyes tired, and his shirt is half unbuttoned. He looks stressed about something. Noticing you sitting there he stops and sighs running a hand through his messy hair. "oh..hey.." he greets plainly, unsure what to say.
You look up in surprise as Rafe approaches, taking in his disheveled appearance and the tension in his frame. You offer a tentative smile. "Hello. Enjoying the gardens as well?"
Rafe drags a hand through his already tousled hair, gaze darting away almost guiltily. "Yeah…I just needed some air. Place was feeling a bit stifling."
You nod in understanding, gesturing to the empty space on the bench. After a pause, Rafe settles beside you, though his posture remains rigid. Silence stretches between them, the atmosphere oddly awkward after the passion you had shared.
Wanting to break the tension, You glance sidelong at Rafe. "I had an interesting brunch with your father this morning. He…seems satisfied with me as your choice of wife." You keep your tone light, hoping Rafe will open up about what's troubling him.
He snorts softly. "Of course he scrutinized you. The great King Ward misses nothing." There's an edge of bitterness to his words. Rafe's shoulders slump slightly as he gazes out at the sun-dappled lawn, tension leaking from his frame.
"I know you two barely know each other. This whole situation is less than ideal." He rakes another hand through his hair, messing the dirty blonde strands. When he looks back at you, his eyes are troubled. "I just hope…well, that you can find some happiness here. Despite my family's meddling."
Your expression softens the sincerity in his words. Gently, you rest your hand atop his where it rests on his knee. "This may have begun unusually, but the future remains unwritten. We have a say in what happens now."
Rafe's eyes widen slightly at your touch, but he doesn't pull away. Tentatively he turns his palm up to lace your fingers, the gesture intimate.
Your heart flutters hopefully. Perhaps your new husband isn't as aloof as he pretends. You sit in more comfortable silence for a moment, hands entwined, gazing out at the peaceful view.
Finally Rafe clears his throat gruffly. "We should head back soon. But…thank you, for understanding." He squeezes your hand gently before releasing it and standing. The air between you feels lighter somehow as you head back to the palace together.
You nod and stand up, smoothing out your dress. You smile softly up at him "Of course..I know this is all still new." As you walk you tentatively slip your hand in his, giving it a little squeeze.
When you reach the palace doors Rafe pulls his hand away abruptly, his face becoming cold and distant again. "I have business to attend to..I will see you later at dinner." He mutters before walking off not waiting for a response.
You watch him hurry off confused and a little hurt by his sudden aloofness again after the tender moment you just shared. Biting your lip anxiously you head inside to find Kiara and Sarah, hoping they can provide some insight on Rafe’s mercurial moods.
Making your way through the lavish corridors, you eventually locate Sarah and Kiara chatting in one of the palace sitting rooms. They both greet you cheerfully, but their smiles fade at your obvious distress.
"What's wrong? You look upset about something," Kiara asks in concern, guiding you to sit beside her on an embroidered settee.
You smooth your skirt, unsure how much to confide about your mercurial new spouse. "I'm just…having some difficulty figuring Rafe out. One moment he seems open and tender, the next he's cool and distant."
Sarah nods knowingly. "Yes, my dear brother has always been moody. Passionate one instant, petulant the next." She pats your hand. "Try not to take it personally. Rafe has trouble reconciling his heart and his duties."
"He's under immense pressure as future king," Kiara adds sympathetically. "It likely makes him feel vulnerable, so he compensates by being remote."
You consider this, comforted by your friends' wisdom. Perhaps Rafe's moodiness stemmed from feeling inadequate, not indifference toward you.
Sarah smiles encouragement. "Keep being patient and meeting him where he's at, Y/N. In time, he'll realize you're a safe place to share his burdens."
Kiara agrees. "Just show compassion and understanding. Your open heart is your greatest gift."
You smile, buoyed by their sisterly advice. If Rafe is skittish of closeness, you would have to coax him out gently, not take his distance personally. Your future depended on bridging this chasm, no matter how long it took.
You smile gratefully "You both give such wise counsel, I don't know what I'd do without you." you say sincerely.
Sarah waves a hand "Oh please, what are friends for? Besides putting conceited brothers in their place that is." She jokes, making you laugh.
"Would you both accompany me to dinner tonight? Having you close by keeps me calm when I have to interact with Rafe and his family. It's all still so intimidating." you admit.
Kiara loops your arms together. "Of course! We'll be right by your side the whole night." She reassures you.
Sarah nods in agreement. "Rafe may be stubborn but he'll come around. In the meantime, we'll make sure you feel welcome here."
Your eyes mist over with gratitude at their unconditional support. With such true friends at your side, you feel able to endure Rafe's unpredictability and find your place in this unfamiliar world.
You spend the afternoon with Sarah and Kiara, their lighthearted company bolstering your spirits after your confusing encounter with Rafe. By the time evening falls and you make your way to the grand dining hall, You feel much more centered and calm with your two dear friends accompanying you.
As you enter the spacious hall, You instinctively seek out Rafe's tall form. Your husband stands stiffly beside King Ward near the head of the table, face an impassive mask. But you notice faint circles under his eyes, hinting at his inner turmoil.
Sarah gives your arm a subtle, reassuring squeeze as you take your seats. Kiara offers an encouraging smile from your other side. Bolstered by their quiet support, You straighten your spine and meet Rafe's shuttered gaze evenly when it drifts your way. You will not cower from his moods.
Dinner passes uneventfully, full of empty courtly pleasantries you have little patience for. Throughout the meal, you make subtle attempts to catch Rafe's eye, hoping to convey mute understanding across the table. But he remains withdrawn, jaw tense as he interacts minimally with the guests.
Your heart sinks at his continued distance, but you refuse to let it show. When the meal concludes, you excuse yourself politely before exiting the hall, chin held high. Your friends move to follow, but you still them with a slight shake of your head.
"Stay, enjoy the festivities. I just need some time alone to clear my head." At their understanding nods, You gather your skirts and make your way out into the moonlit gardens.
The fresh night air soothes you as you find that stone bench under a willow tree again. You tilt your face up to the stars, seeking guidance. Patience and empathy were your only weapons against Rafe's barricades. You could not force him to meet you halfway. Sighing softly, You close your eyes and make a silent wish upon the moon. Bring down your walls, my guarded prince. Let me inside.
As you sit peacefully under the stars, you gradually become aware of footsteps approaching on the garden path. You open your eyes to see Rafe striding towards you, still dressed in his formal dinner attire. He looks surprised to see you there.
"Oh..I didn't realize you'd be out here," he remarks, seeming conflicted about whether to stay or turn back. After a brief hesitation, he moves to sit beside you on the bench, staring straight ahead into the darkness.
"I suppose I don't blame you for wanting to escape that dreadful affair either," he mutters, mouth twisting wryly. "The noble court can be rather insufferable."
You study  his tense profile curiously. There is obviously something he wants to express, but is struggling to find the words for. You decide to take a gentle approach.
"The night sky is quite beautiful here. I enjoy having this serene place to collect my thoughts when things feel…overwhelming." You keep your tone soft, hoping he might open up.
Rafe's jaw works, eyes fixed ahead. Several moments of tense silence pass before he speaks again, voice low. "I… apologize for my poor company today. You deserve better from your husband." He finally meets your gaze, remorse flickering in his eyes.
Your expression softens. Gently, you reach over to cover his hand with yours in a gesture of understanding. "I know this transition has been challenging for us both. But we will figure it out, together."
Rafe's eyes widen slightly at your easy forgiveness. After a beat, he turns his palm over to tentatively lace your fingers. You feel your heart lift as Rafe opens up, however hesitantly. You give his hand a gentle, encouraging squeeze, hoping he will continue.
After another strained silence, Rafe drags his free hand through his hair, leaving it endearingly mussed. "I just…I want to be the man they need me to be. My father, the kingdom." He lifts his eyes to the moon.
You feel your heart swell as Rafe opens up, the ice in his gaze melting to reveal vulnerability beneath. You give his hand another encouraging squeeze.
"It's alright, you don't have to be perfect. Just be yourself." Rafe sighs, rubbing the back of his neck. 
"I wish it were that simple. But certain things are expected of me, duties I can't shirk." His shoulders slump under the invisible weight.
You nod in understanding. "I know. But you don't have to carry it all alone. I'm here now, to listen and support you. We're partners in this." You trail your thumb over his knuckles, hoping he understands you won't abandon him to his burdens.
Rafe turns to look at you fully, eyes searching yours. He seems startled to find only sincerity and care reflected back at him. "You deserve a medal for putting up with me," he says wryly, but gratitude shines through the humor.
You just smile. "I don't need medals, just your word you won't shut me out again."
Rafe considers your request, then nods solemnly. "You have it. Thank you for…being you." He gives your hand a gentle, meaningful squeeze.
You share a tender smile under the moonlight, the air between you lighter somehow. There is hope for you yet if you continue reaching out in understanding. You know the road won't be easy, but you're willing to walk it with this complicated man who is now your partner. With patience and care, your arranged union could blossom into something real. For now, this moment of connection beneath the stars feels like a promising start.
You smile softly and say "Of course, that's what partners are for. Now…" You stand up smoothing your dress. "Why don't we go for a walk? The gardens are beautiful at night." You suggest wanting to spend more relaxing quality time with him.
Rafe runs a hand through his hair and smiles a little. "I'd like that." He agrees and stands up, offering his arm to you politely.
You loop your arm through his and you begin walking at a leisurely pace admiring the flowers and fountains illuminated by moonlight.
For a time you simply walk in comfortable silence, appreciating the nocturnal blooms and gently babbling fountains surrounding them. You breathe deeply, filling your lungs with the sweet floral scents on the night breeze. After being cooped up in the palace much of the day, it feels freeing to be outside enjoying nature's beauty.
You sneak a glance at Rafe and find the tension gone from his features, replaced by a look of contentment. His eyes seem brighter beneath the stars, and the hints of a smile play at his lips. Seeing him relaxed and unguarded makes your heart flutter with hope.
Eventually Rafe's voice breaks the silence. "Thank you for this. I can't remember the last time I just…existed, without pressures and duties weighing me down."
You smile. "Of course. We all need room to breathe." Timidly you reach over to give his hand a gentle squeeze. Rafe glances down in surprise but doesn't pull away.
The moment feels suspended in time, just the two of you and the hushed music of the garden. You wished you could stay here forever, away from the complications of family and royalty. But for now, this stolen moment of tranquility together feels like a step toward healing.
Keeping your hand covering his, you scoot a little closer, your sides now pressed together.You rest your head on his shoulder tentatively.
"Can we just stay out here a little longer? I don't want this moment to end.." You whisper not wanting the peaceful feeling to disappear once you have to go back inside.
Rafe looks down at you surprised by the contact but doesn't move away. The scent of your floral perfume surrounds him, making his heart skip. No one has shown him such tenderness before. Slowly he rests his head against yours.
"Just a little longer.." He agrees quietly, closing his eyes. For now all the stresses and responsibilities melt away as you sit together under the stars. He wishes he could freeze this feeling and live in it forever.
Rafe's thumb strokes over your knuckles, touch feather-light. The caress sends a thrill through you even as it soothes. You angle yourself closer, memorizing his warmth, his scent, the rhythm of his breathing. This gentle side of him feels like a gift, one you will safeguard.
The hour grows late, the moon sinking low. Reluctantly you lift your head, meeting Rafe's drowsy gaze. "We should head back," you murmur. He nods, reluctance shadowing his eyes. But the new bond between you remains as you slowly rise and retrace your steps out of the garden. Whatever comes next, you will face it together.
As you reluctantly make your way back inside the silent palace hand in hand. Pausing outside your bed chamber door you turn to him. "Thank you for tonight..I haven't felt this content in a long time." You admit with a soft smile.
Rafe rubs the back of his neck "Yeah..me too.." Glancing around awkwardly to make sure no one is around he takes both your hands in his. "Y/N I…I know this whole situation is less than ideal..but I'm grateful to have you as my wife. You've shown me more care and patience than anyone." He says sincerely, gazing into your eyes. "I'll try to be the man you deserve from now on.." He promises softly.
You blink back tears, deeply moved. "All I want is for you to be yourself. The rest we'll figure out together." You offer a tremulous smile.
Rafe searches your face before nodding slowly. Still clasping one of your hands, he reaches up to tenderly tuck a loose curl behind your ear. The affectionate gesture makes your breath hitch.
"Together," Rafe repeats. He starts to lean in, then hesitates. Your eyes flutter closed in tacit permission. A moment later, the barest brush of his lips grazes your cheek in a feather-light kiss.
As Rafe pulls back, your eyes open to find him watching you, desire and uncertainty mingling in his gaze. You give his hand one more squeeze in reassurance before slipping inside your room.
Alone in the darkness, You press a hand to your tingling cheek. Tonight was a turning point for you guys, you feel it. With open hearts, this arranged union just might transform into a true marriage.
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lifeinpoetry · 2 years
Text
I’m tired of knocking on the doors of empires.
— Zeina Hashem Beck, from "Dear white critic," O
158 notes · View notes
tarjapearce · 8 months
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Mi Dulce Cereza (Pt.5)
Ranchero! Miguel O'Hara x F!reader
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WARNINGS: pure fluff undercut.
Summary: Miguel shows you another part of your future world together.
Inspo by @choppednerdtriumph ❤️❤️
Intro:
Minutes kept ticking, and the road just stretched more and more before you. For how long had he been driving? Maybe two hours, you weren't sure. All you cared was that you were free.
Free of the leash your parents had conditioned you, free of the deceiving and pretense games, free of your mom, free to make your own desicions. Free.
The initial smile on Miguel’s face had disappeared after an hour of driving, he took a detour to the next town. Trees and dry land were the only scenarios that you had seen so far, then another one joined.
If your town was small, this was even smaller. A few states here and there, some dinners around, a little drugstore, gas station and of course a couple of hotels and a white, one floor building; the words 'Canew Valley Courthouse' engraved in the banner. Miguel parked before it, and then rushed to open your door.
"C'mon."
He kissed it and helped you out from the car, a red Ford F-150 that needed another layer of sanding and painting. He guided you into the building, hand in hand.
"Excuse me, ma'am?" He tipped his hat at the lady as he greeted with a polite smile.
"May I help you, sir?"
"Yes. Are the magistrates still on duty?"
"Of course, you'd have to wait a couple of minutes if your intention is to be wed. They are officiating one in this moment."
"It's fine. Thank you very much, dear." You smiled and followed Miguel. You both sat outside the main office. He sighed deeply and looked at you.
"Cerecita?"
"Yes, Miguel?"
"You scared?"
"A bit, yeah." Nodding, you rested your head on his bicep. Toned but the perfect pillow for you.
"But it's fine. To feel afraid, I mean. We're eloping" a chuckled escaped your lips.
"I know you probably pictured a big wedding with a shit ton of people. You will have it. Promise, just -"
"Miguel."
You sat properly and cupped his cheek
"Darling, you don't have to worry about that. They'd probably just assist to see what they could criticize and they'd be probably people that I wouldn't even know. By this time I'm pretty sure the news are spreading through town."  Your hand entwined with his
"This is the realest thing I can have of getting married."
"It will be better, I promise"
"It's alright. As long as you don't get the cold feet?"
His head shook with a loving smile.
"Jamás." (Never)
You understood better than you actually talked spanish. If it wasn't for your mother raising you mostly in english, you would've be able to comunicate with him perfectly.
After a good half hour, the door was open and another young couple left the main office, their laughs and giggles made your stomach bubble. Golden band around each finger and a paper folder in a hand. You both were instructed to enter and give your respective ID documents and your witness.
"Witness?"
"Yeah, you need at least two of them to get married." The judge had explained to you.
"Anyone?" Miguel asked
"Sure."
You couldn't help but feel your cheeks getting warmer as he asked the front desk lady and another assistant to act like your witnesses. Then you filled in the paperwork.
Do you take this woman as your lawful wife?
"I do" His eyes gazed lovingly at you as his hand held you with utmost care.
Do you take this man as your lawful husband?
"I do" You smiled, he beamed.
Mrs. O'Hara. You were now a married woman. A legally married woman.
The judge gave you the certificate and as soon as you both left the office, he swooped you off your feet and kissed you deeply as you giggled.
"Mrs. O'Hara." He'd squeeze you after thanking the front desk lady.
"Yes, Mr. O'Hara?"
"You're mine now. Mi esposa." (My wife)
"All yours."
"Are you feeling good?"
"A bit nervous, and hungry."
"Let's get you some food."
-----
He spoiled you with a little feast at the local dinner, Good old brunch, a tall glass of orange juice and of course a bit of cherry pie. He stared as you ate with contempt. As sun was hiding behind purple and peach skies, you were back on the road again before getting you some suplies like tissues and a little travel pillow for your neck.
The destination seemed another hour to go. If it wasn't for him stopping at every 30 minute mark for you to puke on the road, you'd have surely arrived alot earlier. You were deep asleep when the car stopped.
"Cerecita" Miguel stirred you gently, you curled into his touch, "Mi amor, wake up"
"Hm?"
"We're here."
The truck lighted up to reveal a creaky and rusted yet still sturdy pair of metal doors, that opened after he honked the truck a couple of times. Pebbled road crunched underneath the truck's tires as he drove further into the property. You barely could see past the dense foliage and some construction supplies perched up in different spaces.
You removed the collar pillow with a yawn and tucked the blanket around you. Air quality was pure, a stark contrast from your old home. The air felt stuffy, heavy and sometimes even dusty. But here, in Miguel's property, it was different. Air was pure, with  distinctive tints of pinewood and fruity trees, along some earthy undertones.
Your nausea had stopped. Your eyes wandered at the place, a white two story colonial styled home. Rounded archs as collumns, of course more construction supplies laying in a corner, a hammoc in the left, only the lower floor was lit up. An elder woman, probably in her early fifties, chubby, energetic, with a sharp look, dressed in a long skirt and cotton shirt, a loose braided bun adorned her round yet gentle face came into view.
Her eyes lit up with a motherly kind of joy upon watching him approach the entrance. Her colorful poncho draped around her chest.
"Mijo!" Miguel squeezed her in a tight hug, then gave her a loving smooch on her weathered cheeks.
"¡Por Dios, por fín regresas!" (My goodness you've finally returned!)
There was a warm feeling spreading through your chest as you watched their interaction.
"I know, I know. Took longer than I should've. But...-"
"Ay si si, luego me explicas. Where is she?" (Yeah, yeah, tell me about it later)
You stepped into view and she smacked his chest.
"Ah canijo, no que no te gustaban las citadinas?" (You Imp, though you'd said you didn't like city girls.)
Miguel chuckled and helped you closer to her.
"Cerecita, mi amor, she's Victoria Huerta. My mom."
"Uy, mi amor. Hear yourself"
"Ya pues!" (Enough)
Victoria giggled and patted his shoulder, then cupped your cheeks and smiled at you as Miguel crossed his arms.
"Si es que está chulísima!" (She's so gorgeous!)
Your smile stretched nervously at her words.
"He's always had a thing for girls with Ya know" Her hands mimicking curves and you giggled. Your name rolled of your tongue
"Nice to meet you, Victoria"
"My pleasure to meet the woman that finally tamed this cabrón." She gave a gentle pull at Miguel's ears, "At your service, querida. How far are you?"
You blinked and stared at Miguel, which smile widened at the warm welcome Victoria gave you.
"U-uh, I'm seven weeks"
"Brough this man and his brother to the world. Can't believe I'm gonna bring yours now. I've got you, cariño"
"Thank you, Mrs. Huerta"
"Don't be so polite Mija, call me Vicky. Are you hungry?"
"Not really-"
"None of that. I'll get you some hot cocoa. Probably puked in the way here didn't you?"
You nodded with a bashful smile
"You need something to sit your stomach. I'll go prepare it, I'll tell the boys to help you out with the lugage."
"Thank you, Vicky"
She had left and Miguel cradled you in his arms.
"She's so loving."
"Nosy and annoying too" He chuckled fondly, "Raised me when things got difficult. I owe her so much." His hands took yours as he lead you inside.
The lower floor seemed done, new tiles that extended in colorful yet intricate patterns, unlike your once plain white titled floors. The doors shone in fresh lacquer, the livingroom had a furniture set and a large tv in the middle, at this point the construction materials seemed a staple.
You sat on the couch and Miguel followed, two young men greeted him and he gave them instructions to get your lugage to the main bedroom.
-----
Clock ticked 10 pm, and you yawned. At this time you'd be tucked in your large bed, duvet draped over your body, not worrying about a thing.
It wasn't that different from what you were experiencing, You wondered about your parents, what they'd be doing, what would they be saying. Nothing good probably. None of that mattered when you had changed into one of his shirts since you couldn't remember the suitcase you had stored your pajamas in.
He slipped into bed next to you. Hands immediately hoarding you in his arms. The cup of hot cocoa Vicky prepared you made wonders in your stomach, her stories about Miguel being a serious yet goofy kid had only helped to soothe your tense nerves.
"Hey"
You smiled and kissed him
"Hey."
"Feeling good?" He nuzzled your neck
"Better with you here."
"Still scared?"
"No. Just thinking"
"About me, I hope"
You chuckled and ran a hand through his  hair
"Always. Yeah."
"Good. That's good."
He put a hand on your lower belly and rested his head on your chest. Heart giving steady and deep beats.
"Promise It'll look better."
"Hm?"
"The place. I know it's not like what you're used to-"
"Miguel."
His hands tensed on your hip.
"Look at me, Miguel"
His eyes gazed yours, soft hands reached for his stubbly cheeks.
"It's perfect. It's yours."
"Ours" He corrected and your head gave a gentle shake.
"It's yours. You've earned it on your own. I can't just... barge in and take credit for something I haven't helped in."
"Its ours." He insisted and you squeezed him.
"Te prometo que... te haré feliz." (I promise you that I'll make you happy)
"What makes you think I'm not?"
Warm eyes stared at him, conveying something only he knew. Love and understanding.
"You're such a wonderful man, I've got you for myself entirely, None is gonna bother us for loving eachother. None will talk ill about our child."
His face frowned a little, ruining his lovesick expression.
"None will ever make you feel like you're less, cause, you're everything I could ask for."
His heart leaped and he squeezed you, earning him a squeal.
"I was supposed to say that."
He kissed your forehead and cradled you closer, relishing your heat and warmth.
"Too bad."
"Still, I wanna give you everything."
"I just want you." You mumbled sleepily.
"Wait..."
"Hm?"
His body separated from yours to search something in his drawer. You sat down on the bed with a lazy smile.
"What is it?"
"Give me your hand. Forgot something important"
Your hand stretched towards him and he placed a ring on your finger.
"Perfect fit." He smiled and your eyes went wide.
"Thought I had forgotten about it?"
"I wasn't thinking in the rings if I'm honest"
You picked the other one from his palm and slid it through his finger
"There."
His hand brought yours and nodded, looking at both rings in each finger.
"Me gusta. Me gusta cómo se ven" (I like it. I like how they look.)
"I love your hands" He cupped your face with them and you kissed his palm.
"I love you. Whole."
Your heart swelled in contempt.
"I love you too."
----
You woke up alone, with another colorful duvet ontop on you. Morning sickness seemed to take a break from tormenting you, and allowed you to rest properly for once. The cold metallic band around your finger made your lips curve. The pillow smelled like him, your hands pulled it closer to sink your face in it.
A little of fabric softener mixed with his natural musk. It was nerve soothing, lulling you back to sleep.
The door was knocked around 11, Vicky's voice called in before entering.
"Mija? You ok?"
You stirred awake in the bed and smiled at her.
"Sorry, I overslept"
"Nada de eso. You're pregnant. It's good. Seems you needed it." (None of that.)
"I wanted to make some breakfast for Miguel, but I was so tired"
"He's working on the barn."
You rolled your eyes at the piece of info.
"The day that man isn't working in the farm or stables I'll know something is wrong."
"He told me about your family"
"Ah... them. Yeah."
"Sorry to be nosy or seeming so. He just tells me everything."
"He told me about you too."
"Good things I hope"
Her lips turned into a smirk, you just followed.
"C'mon. I'll make you something to eat. Then I can show you around."
"Thank you, Vicky"
-----
The Brunch was delicious, full and of course it had stopped briefly your nauseas. With Victoria's knowledge in babies, she was feeding you things that would do little to upset your stomach.
Once you were fed and ready, Victoria took you to the barns, to see Miguel.
The property seemed to be under massive renovations, since the barn still needed the roof and the doors were missing. Miguel was installing one of the doors when you arrived.
"Morning" Your voice stopped his doings,  he embraced you with care.
"Buenos días, Cerecita. Slept well?"
Nodding you kissed him and Vicky just patted his lower back.
"I'm showing her around."
"Good."
"See you later then"
He just kissed you and went back to work. Vicky walked alongside with you. She took you to another part of the estate. Pebbles extended in every path you walked, crunching under your shoes.
"I apologize for the mess, the workforce is in vacations and will return within two weeks."
"It's fine. Really. He also apologized for it. There is no need. These places take their time."
"When he first told me that he would work for someone else, it got me concerned. He isn't one for... y'know such things. His temper is short"
"It's odd to hear that when he has been nothing but loving and sweet with me"
"That's cause he loves you and you're his wife, Mija."
You giggled.
"When he first came to my parent's estate, he was quiet, always hardworking even tamed a horse my dad was about to sacrifice."
"Agustín?"
You nodded and sighed.
"I told my dad that I would return for the horses later, but that can wait."
"Do you think it's a good idea to go back?"
"I know it's risky, but can't leave the horses in there, knowing something could happen to them."
"Sounds difficult"
"Yeah. If not? Then, I'll come up with something."
Victoria took you through the places. The barn was smaller, but it was the most complete area so far, then, she took you to a parcel, ready to be used for growing things. Victoria had explained that Miguel initially was going to use it for an extension of the stables, but quickly changed his mind when you had told him that you'd love to have your own orchard.
"So this is for you. Not ready yet, but it's yours." Vicky held you by your shoulders with a kind smile on her face.
"I could work in this in the mean time."
"He'd probably say no and want you to. rest, but its good to keep yourself active, makes the birth a bit less painful"
"Say no more then."
Vicky and you spent a good time chatting as you visited the places. To your surprise, there were a few fruit trees. Apples, oranges, mango, lemon and guava trees. A couple of bushes of wild roses here and there, and some other wild flowers. Land was fertile enough for life to be sustainable enough
Miguel owed a little cattle. A couple of cows, goats and sheep, two young horses, Lalo and Lyla. A coup of chickens and a bull named Tito who was in charge of work the land.
It was small, but it was his. And they all seemed healthy. His heart was put in it and it showed. All those six months he spent working at your parent's state had granted him enough money to start renovating his own place. A gift from his late father.
It would take time, but certainly the place had potential.
Vicky had explained that once the upper floor was done, You'd move upstairs.
You helped her with lunch. It made sense for her to be the only one helping out with the domestic things so far, but that didn't stop her for doing other things. She was a farm woman at heart as well.
"You think he learned all that with the horses by himself? No, no. Yo le enseñé. Miguel le tenía pánico a los caballos." (I taught him, he was terrified of the horses)
You laughed and plated he food.
"And look at him now, a horse whisperer"
You snorted as Miguel and the helpers rounded up.
"Food's done." You gave big portions to each, as they all sat on the same table as you were. Your mother surely would have a heart attack if you ever got to mingle with the servants. But sitting together, like a big family made you feel homey. Welcomed even.
"I'll start working on the orchard tomorrow." You announced while taking a sip of your lemonade.
"You need to rest up. Leave that to me"
"No, I wanna help."
"Cerecita..."
"You said it was our home. So, I will help too."
"Es igualita a ti de terca." (She's just as stubborn as you are.)
The workers gave respectful but silent laughs. Paco and Joseph were their names.
"Besides, Vicky said that it's good to keep oneself active during pregnancy. So, yeah. I'll fill it up with many things."
He took your hand and kissed it with a little smile.
"As you wish, mi amor."
----
The evening came and Miguel took a bath, then joined in your shared room. You were folding and organizing your working clothes in a little space left in the closet. The fancy and pompous sort of things remained in the bigger luggage bags.
"I was thinking"
"In me, I hope" He chuckled as you used his words.
"Always, yeah" He plopped on the bed and watched you.
"Maybe we can have our wedding once the estate is finished."
"Oh?" You sat on the bed and laid your head on his lap. Larger hands immediately going through your hair with soft caresses.
"I mean, we're already married."
"I know, but want it to make it right. I wanna see you in a white dress, all beautiful."
"Can I see you in a Charro outfit?" Your giggles only echoed a bit louder as he placed a hand on your tummy, rubbing in circles.
"You'll have me in a Charro outfit."
"Will have to make a custom dress though, the belly will be big enough by then. Or who knows, the baby might be born by then."
"You want a boy or a girl?"
"I don't know really. It doesn't matter. I'll love my child the same. You?"
"A girl"
"How would you name her?"
"Gabriela."
"That's a cute name, yeah. And if it's a boy?"
"Miguel Jr."
You giggled and pulled him down for a kiss.
"Joking. I don't know. Haven't thought about it if it's a boy."
"What if they're twins?"
"Double prize? I mean, that wouldn't stop me from trying in giving you a third one"
"Miguel!"
He cradled you in his arms and his his face in your neck. A place that seemed to bring him comfort. Your hands caressed his hair, soothing and gentle as you straddled him. There was no words that needed to be said at the moment, so you just sat there, basking in each other's company and loving embrace, until Vicky called you both for supper. Once, twice and the third time she knocked on your door.
"Ya sé que más embarazada no la puedes dejar, pero déjala que coma siquiera, Miguel!" (I know you can't get her any more pregnant, but at least let her eat!)
Vicky's words only made your cheeks burn and Miguel grumble.
"Ya vamos!" (Coming!)
"My god."
"Better get used to that"
He kissed your forehead and soon both joined Victoria and the helpers. Life was just starting to take shape for you, and of course, you couldn't be more grateful and happy.
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oleander-nin · 5 months
Text
The Coldest Heart(Yandere Future Rise Donatello x Reader)
A/N, not important: Any criticism is welcome, constructive or not. This is supposed to be a gender neutral reader, so if I screwed up somewhere, please tell me.
-Ollie
CW: Apocalypse, kidnapping, freezing, dark themes, yandere themes.
Words: 1291
Summary: Donnie cuts off the heat
Winters were always frigid in the apocalypse, the broken terrain and weather making the places that have never seen a snowflake now completely frozen over. The “snow” that covered the barren wasteland outside the base’s doors was a poisonous brown, bubbling when it touched the ground instead of sticking. It may be frozen, but it was nothing like the fluffy white snow you held dear in your memories. You shiver under the blankets you were given, your body curled up in a weak attempt to preserve the heat trapped under the blankets with you. You were exhausted, sleep pulling at your eyes and trying to coax you under, but the cold biting at your fingers and toes was unrelenting. Your ears and nose burned, keeping you alert as you try to keep out the frigid air. The small amount of heat Donnie allowed in his lab was gone, the furnace broken and vents turned off. Cold had seeped into every crack and was now trying its best to choke you out as well.
You turn your head towards Donnie as he types onto a monitor projected by his ninpo, sticking your face into the bitter cold. His outfit amazed you, the mutant only being dressed in a thin sweater made to stretch over his battle shell and sweats that were a size too small. You look at him in envy, not understanding how he could withstand the freezing temperature in the thin clothing he had. Donnie turns his head at the feeling of your boring gaze, his eyes meeting yours and his tridactyl hands leaving his keyboard which causes it to falter, then disappear. For the first time in the months since he had stuck you in his lab in claims of protecting you, you don’t break your gaze. Whether it was from exhaustion or the cold, you no longer cared about such a simple thing as keeping your eyes off the man you hated most. If he was truly upset with your staring, he could come and close your eyes himself.
“You’re shivering.” Donnie muses, his voice teasing and airy as if the frostbite creeping over your nose was a mere tasteless joke. You scowl, burying yourself back into the plethora of blankets that covered the cot Donnie had you share with him. You hear him chuckle at your childish display, driving in the belittled feeling he had sunk into your heart.
“Fix the heat then.” You grumble at your captor, not caring for niceties. You can hear his chair shift and you look back at him through a crack in the blankets, seeing his eyes averted downwards as he chews on his cheek. His knuckles are now digging into his teeth, his eyes looking everywhere but you as he seems to be debating himself over something. His shoulders are more hunched, like he was a little kid who got caught stealing cookies late at night.
“You know I can’t.” Donnie says, like he was trying to be firm but his voice falters. He still refuses to meet your eyes, only staring at the floor as he chews on his knuckles. Your eyes narrow, your knees pulled closer to your chest as another cold burst breaks through the blanket barrier.
“You’ve already fixed it.” You accuse, the chattering of your teeth breaking up the sentence and making it sound more pathetic than you hoped. Donnie finally pulls his fist away from his mouth as he stares back at you, crossing his arms and protesting with a loud, “indignant scoff.” If you could feel your feet, you would run over there and strangle him.
“If you’re cold,” Donnie starts, his voice tight as he dodges your accusation to try and quell your thoughts, but ends up confirming it instead. “You can grab a blanket and come sit with me. I’ll keep you warm.”
You sneer, diving back under the blanket den you had created around yourself. Even if you wanted to cuddle up to the person who was holding you hostage in the name of ‘safety’, you couldn’t. Your feet were so frozen you couldn’t feel them more than a dull pain, and your fingers couldn’t close around the thin material of the blankets anymore. Silence stretches through the lab, and you’re sure Donnie had given up and turned back around.
A quick padding of socked feet breaks the silence and two arms wrap around your covered self, lifting you from the cot and into Donnie’s arms. He mumbles a swift apology as you flail and curse, quickly moving back to his chair and depositing you in his lap. He shifts the blankets around, helping you pop your head out so you could see. Donnie cups your cheek with one hand, the other still firm around your lower back so you couldn’t squirm away from him and escape. The feeling of his hand on your face is one you always hated, but the burning head of his warmth makes you hiss in pain rather than disgust. He was an oven, his hand slowly heating your cheeks and bringing color back to your face. You melt into him after a minute, nearly crying when his warm hand leaves your cheek to cup your ears.
“You are cold.” He mutters, mostly to himself. He continues to try and warm you himself for a small while, attempting to bring your body temperature up from the dangerous levels it had fallen to. He eventually signs and gives up, summoning a projected screen with numerous switches and buttons. He clicks a few things before closing the screen and pulling you closer, easing open the blankets you clung to so he could pull your whole body against him and try to warm you up.
You hear the vents above slowly whirr to life, the room slowly being filled with a strong heat that makes your head spin. You blink at Donnie, your limbs unstiffening as you try not to cry.
“You fixed it…” You mumble, letting your head hit the dull point of his plastron. Donnie nods, rubbing your back beneath the blankets. Anger pools in your chest for only a moment, the relief of the heat taking over and the exhaustion pushing through once more.
“I fixed it within minutes of its breaking. I wasn’t going to let the base freeze.” Donnie pulls you closer, kissing your temple with a smug smile. “You, however, weren’t letting me touch you, so I turned off the heat to try and convince you to let me touch you more, but that seems to have backfired.”
You scowl, hitting his shoulder with your forehead. You wanted to scream, to bite him, to do anything to make him suffer like he had you for the past few days, but you don’t. You were terrified he would turn the heat back off. His lab was obviously able to be isolated from the other parts of the base, which horrified you. For all you knew, he could leave and seal the doors before shutting the oxygen off for a couple minutes, just to let you suffer.
Donnie continues to rub your back, his quiet humming not showing any bit of remorse for the torment he had put you through. He seemed happy with the outcome, and you figured he was. Here you were in his arms, just as he wanted. Maybe once you could feel your fingers again, you’d try and fight him, but for now, you had given up. The heat was too much of a reward for you to risk losing it now. Even Donnie’s arms were a price you were willing to pay to not freeze. His plan had worked, and now nothing would stop him from doing it again.
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strawberri-yan · 10 months
Text
TW: kidnapping, Jing Yuan babies and degrades reader, also the usual yandere stuff
Some background: Jing Yuan and reader had a fiery rivalry when they were young which morphs into a strong friendship as they grew older. But then reader decides to betray the Loufu and take part as a Stellaron Hunter. 
 You and the other Stellaron hunters were tasked on a mission to find a potential Stellaron. Things were going smoothly until all of you were ambushed by the Cloud knights. Overwhelmed and nearly beaten, the hunters make their escape. 
But you were a liability after sustaining a critical injury from knights. Kafka and the others had no choice but to abandon you. Biting your lip, you can do nothing but shout curses and profanities as your team leaves you in the middle of Cloudford. ‘Nothing personal,’ Kafka simply told you in that mocking, teasing tone of hers. Soonly after, you had been surrounded by the army of Clouds knights as they all aim their weapons at you. “My, my, now what do we have here?” A smooth, deep voice drawls out from not too far. The men part way for the white hair general as he saunters towards your pathetic form, arms crossed from behind as he sends you a knowing look. It sickened you. 
"You... I should have known you'd be lurking around here somewhere, Jing Yuan," You growled. "And as for the others, they've already made their escape,"
Jing Yuan chuckles at your words. "Is that so?Oh well, doesn’t matter. We'll find them eventually. But for now, I'm more interested in what you're doing here. Especially joining forces with the Stellaron hunters? My, how you've fallen far."
Gritting your teeth, you glared at the man. "Someone like you wouldn't understand!" you shouted. “And why are you so pleased to see me like this? Enjoying seeing me suffer?"
"Oh (Y/N), my naïve, reckless little songbird," Jing Yuan tsks, his voice dripping with condescension. "You were so easily deceived. There was never a Stellaron. It was all a ploy to draw you out, to lure you back home and into my welcoming embrace." He extends his arms wide, exaggerating his point. If you didnt know any better, he had seemed like a wicked villain from a novel. 
You's eyes widen with a mixture of shock and anger, your battered body stiffens. "You... orchestrated all of this? … did all of this just to bring me back?" You asked, your voice barely above a whisper.
Jing Yuan's smug expression doesn't waver as he steps closer to you, his hand gently caressing your bruised cheek. "Yes. I've missed you so much. I couldn't bear the thought of being separated from you for so long. Especially with those slimey, conniving   hunters. "
Your eyes blow widely at the madman in front of you,  you try to pull away from his touch, but the Cloud knight general holds you firmly in place. "I won't go back with you," you snapped defiantly. "You will not strip me of my autonomy! I am a Stellaron hunter and nothing will change that. "
Jing Yuan's expression turns dark, and he tightens his grip on your cheek. "How foolish to think you have a choice in this matter, my dear. You belong to me. You always have and you always will."
You glare back at Jing Yuan. "You’re wrong! I will never go back to the life I had with you! I decide on what I do with this life!"
Jing Yuan's lips twist into a cruel smile. "We'll see about that," he says, his tone menacing. "I have ways of making you see things my way."
Immediately, you break free from his hold and summon your weapon before lunging at Jing Yuan. The older man merely smirks as he simply dodges your attacks with ease, not really seeing you as threat as he didn’t even bother taking out his own weapon. If anything, he was toying with you.
"Is this the best you can do?" Jing Yuan taunts, dodging yet another attack. "I expected more from you."
You growled, as you swing your weapon with all your might, but Jing Yuan once again dodges gracefully.
"You're still no match for me, old friend~" Jing Yuan taunts, truly getting under your skin. "You're out of practice, weak, and foolish for thinking you could challenge me."
Your's eyes blinded with fury as you charge at him once again, determined to prove him wrong. "I remember when we used to train together, you were so much better than this. What happened to you?"
A surge of humiliation bubbles within you, especially seeing how he was able to overpower you so easily. "You think you're so much better than me, I'll show you what I'm really capable of!"
"I'd like to see you try," he chuckles, still circling around you. "But I have a feeling you'll just end up embarrassing yourself even more." But before you could even retort, Jing Yuan knocks you out by striking the back of your neck. He carries your limp body as your weapon uselessly clutters to the floor. He takes this moment to admire your gentle features as you remain unconscious in his arms. He had always found you to be vibrant and beautiful, he especially liked to see you frustrated and angry as he had found it cute.
With his soldiers escorting him to his personal Starskiff, he lays you down comfortably on the seat cushions while sitting down beside you, gazing intently.
"I've missed you, baobei," Jing Yuan whispers softly. "You're still as stubborn as ever, but that's what I love about you. You may have lost your way, but I'm here to guide you back home."
Gently, he brushes some of your hair away from your forehead and leans in, pressing his lips against in a gentle kiss.
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tangibletechnomancy · 4 months
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The (Personal) Is (Political)
~7 hours, Dall-E 3 via Bing Image Creator, generated under the Code of Ethics of Are We Art Yet?
Or, Dear Microsoft and OpenAI: Your Filters Can't Stop Me From Saying Things: An interactive exercise in why all art is political and game of Spot The Symbols
A rare piece I consider Fully Finished simply as a jpeg, though I may do something physical with it regardless. "Director commentary" below, but I strongly encourage you to go over this and analyze it yourself before clicking through, then see how much your reading aligns with my intent.
Elements I told the model to add and a brief (...or at least inexhaustive) overview of why:
Anime style and character figures - Frequently associated with commercial "low" art and consumer culture, in East Asia and the English-speaking world alike, albeit in different ways - justly or otherwise. There is frequently an element of racism to the denigration of anime styles in the west; nearly any American artist who has taken formal illustration classes can tell you a story of being told that anime style will only hinder them, that no one will hire them if they see anime, or even being graded more harshly and scrutinized for potential anime-esque elements if they like anime or imply that they may like anime - including just by being Asian and young. On the other hand, it is true that there is a commercial strategy of "slap an anime girl on it and it will sell". The passion fans feel for these characters is genuine - and it is very, very exploitable. In fact, this commercialization puts anime styles in particular in a very contentious position when it comes to AI discussions!
Dark-skinned boy with platinum and pink [and blue] hair - Racism and colorism! They're a thing, no matter how much the worst people in the world want you to think they're long over and "critical race theory" is the work of evil anti-American terrorists! I chose his appearance because I knew that unless I was incredibly lucky, I would have to fight with this model for multiple hours to get satisfactory results on this point in particular - and indeed I did. It was an interesting experience - what didn't surprise me was how much work it took me to get a skin color darker than medium-dark tan; what did surprise me was that the hair color was very difficult to get right. In anime art, for dark skin to be matched with light hair and eyes is common enough to be...pretty problematic. Bing Image Creator/Dall-E, on the other hand, swings completely in the opposite direction and struggles with the concept of giving dark-skinned characters any hair color OTHER than black, demanding pretty specific phrasing to get it right even 70% of the time. (I might cynically call this yet another illustration against the pervasive copy-paste myth...) There is also much to say about the hair texture and facial features - while I was pleased to see that more results than I expected gave me textured hair and/or box braids without me asking for it, those were still very much in the minority, and I never saw any deviation from the typical anime facial structures meant to illustrate Asian and white characters. Not even once!
Pink and blue color palette - Our subject is transgender. Bias self-check time: did you make that association as quickly as you would with a light-skinned character, or even Sylveon?
Long hair, cute clothes, lots of accessories - Styling while transmasc is a damned-if-you-do, damned-if-you-don't situation, doubly so if you're not white. In many locations, the medical establishment and mainstream attitude demands total conformity to the dominant culture's standard conventional masculinity, or else "revoking your man card" isn't just a joke meant to uphold the idea that men are "better" than women, but a very real threat. In many queer communities, especially online, transmascs are expected to always be cute femboys who love pink (while transfems are frequently degraded and seen as threats for being butch), and being Just Some Guy is viewed as inherently a sign of assimilationism at best and abusiveness at worst. It is an eternal tug-of-war where "cuteness" and ornamentation are both demanded and banned at the same time. Black and brown people are often hypermasculinized and denied the opportunity to even be "cute" in the first place, regardless of gender. Long hair and how gender is read into it is extremely culture-dependent; no matter what it means to you, if anything, the dominant culture wherever you are will read it as it likes.
Trophies and medals - For one, the trans sports Disk Horse has set feminism back by nearly 50 years; I'm barely a Real History-Remembering Adult and yet I clearly remember a time when the feminist claim about gender in sports was predominantly "hey, it's pretty fucked up that sports are segregated by sex rather than weight class or similar measures, especially when women's sports are usually paid much less and given weirdly oversexualized uniforms," but then a few loud living embodiments of turds in the punch bowl realized that might mean treating trans people fairly and now it's super common for self-proclaimed feminists - mostly white ones - to claim that the strongest woman will still never measure up to the weakest man and this is totally a feminist statement because they totally want to PROTECT women (with invasive medical screenings on girls as young as 12 to prove they're Really Women if they perform too well, of course). For two, Black and brown people are stereotyped as being innately more sporty, physically strong, and, again, Masculine(TM) than others, which frequently intersects with item 1...and if you think it only affects trans women, I am sorry my friend but it is so much worse and more extensive than you think.
Hearts - They mean many things. Love. Happiness. Cuteness. Social media engagement?
TikTok - A platform widely known and hated around these parts for its arcane and deeply regressive algorithm; I felt it deserved to be name/layout/logodropped for reasons that, if they're not clear already, should become so in the final paragraph.
Computers, cameras and cell phones - My initial specification was that one of the phones should be on Instagram and another on TikTok, which the model instead chose to interpret as putting a TikTok sticker on the laptop, but sure, okay. They're ubiquitous in the modern day, for better and for worse. For all the debate over whether phones and social media are Good For Us or Bad For Us, the fact of the matter is, they seem to be a net positive-to-neutral, whose impacts depend on the person - but they do still have major drawbacks. The internet is a platform for conspiracy theories and pseudoscience and dangerous hoaxes to spread farther than ever before. Social media culture leaves many people feeling like we're always being watched and every waking moment of our lives must be Perfect - and in some senses, we are always being watched these days. Digital privacy is eroding by the day, already being used to enforce all the most unjust laws on the books, which leads to-
Pigs - I wrote the prompt with the intention that it would just be a sticker on the laptop, but instead it chose to put them everywhere, and given that I wanted to make a somewhat stealthy statement about surveillance, especially of the marginalized...thanks for that, Dall-E! ;)
Alligators - A counter to the pigs; a short-lived antifascist symbol after...this.
Details I did not intend but love anyway:
The blue in the hair - I only prompted for platinum and pink in the hair, but the overall color palette description "bled" over here anyway, completing the trans flag, making it even more blatant, and thus even more effective as a bias self-check.
The Macbook - I only specified a laptop. Hilariously ironic, to me, that a service provided through Bing interpreted "laptop" as "Macbook" nearly every time. In my recent history, 22 out of 24 attempts show, specifically, a Macbook. Microsoft v. OpenAI divorce arc when? ;) But also, let us not forget Apple's role in the ever-worsening sanitization of the internet. A Macbook with a TikTok sticker (or, well, a Tiikok sticker - recognizable enough) - I can think of little more emblematic of one of the main things I was complaining about, and it was a happy accident. Or perhaps an unhappy one, considering what it may imply about Apple's grip on culture and communications.
Which brings me to my process:
Generated over ~7 hours with Dall-E 3 through Bing Image Creator - The most powerful free tool out there for txt2img these days, as well as a nightmare of filters and what may be the most disgustingly, cloyingly impersonal toxic positivity I've ever witnessed from a tool. It wants to be Art(TM), yet it wants to ban Politics(TM); two things which are very much incompatible - and so, I wanted to make A Controversial Statement using only the most unflaggable, innocuous elements imaginable, no matter how long it took.
All art is political. All life is political. All our "defaults" are cultural, and therefore political. Anything whatsoever can be a symbol.
If you want all art to be a substance-free "look at the pretty picture :)" - it doesn't matter how much you filter, buddy, you've got a big storm coming.
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