#curvacious

You wake up sort of suddenly and realize that it’s nowhere near daylight yet. Stupid dream.

Your husband is still fast asleep, his arm draped lazily around you and his hand resting on your back. Completely oblivious.

On any other night, you’d curl up closer to him and run your fingers through a few strands of his dark hair before eventually falling asleep once more in his gentle embrace.

But not tonight. Oh, no.

That dream is still screwing with your brain. You know it was just a dream, but that doesn’t erase the image. The image that makes you want to kick him where you know it would hurt.

So, you lie awake and glare at him until morning. “Look at this pig,” you think. “Making out with that tart, then trying to love all over me like nothing happened. What a manwhore!”

Eventually, day breaks. Loki, who has no idea about your dream, squeezes you into a tight hug and greets you with a kiss. “Good Morning, my darling,” he whispers sweetly.

You want to gag, remembering who else he kissed in that horrible nightmare.

Loki makes breakfast for you, which isn’t terribly unusual in and of itself. You’re just still incredibly pissed off that he would do such a thing in your dream.

As such, you refuse to speak to him.

Loki notices your insistence upon ignoring him and concludes that it must be because of something he’s (actually) done. He decides he has to make amends and “earn” your forgiveness.

So, he concocts multiple shows of affection and romance, each more elaborate than the last. When you still refuse to acknowledge him by noon, he scrambles to come up with something. Anything! It would be helpful if he knew what exactly he did to hurt you this badly, though.

But he refuses to give up. Whatever it takes to save your marriage and get you talking to him again.

Eventually, you break. “How could you, Loki? You said you loved me. I mean, I know she’s pretty and busty, and she ‘does everything,’ but I thought you—“

“Hold on. Stop.” Loki cradles your jaw, coaxing you to look at him. “My love, what are—“

“‘My love.’ Yeah, I bet you thought of me as ‘your love’ when you had that whore (Frenemy)’s tongue in your throat!”

Loki furrows his brows, trying to understand what you’re talking about. He doesn’t even remember meeting anyone with that name.

When he doesn’t respond, you sigh. “Last night, I dreamed that this chick I don’t totally get along with jumped onto your lap at a party and you two started making out and feeling each other up and— WHAT IS SO FUNNY?!?!”

Loki laughs himself stupid before responding. “(Name), my dear. Think about what you just said.”

You give him the stink eye for a minute, the realization not fully sinking in just yet.