#Can Counselling Save Your Marriage

[poppy-metal]

MARRIAGE COUNSELING W ART PLEASEEEEEEEE GOD THE DEVASTATION THAT TAKES PLACE ON THAT COUCH

i think about it alot. tashi staying with patrick, her injury never happening. your arts college girlfriend and now you're married and it feels fucking stagnant, your relationship. but neither of you wants to give up. neither of you wants to reveal to the other true feelings.

under the cut because this got long and i have a whole au in my hear around this concept

you're only in counseling because of tashi. because shes still in your lives, her and patrick. and she recommended it to art when they were having one of their 'friend' lunches. and now here you are, because of course art took her advice.

he hasn't said anything, though. despite pleading for this. saying he wanted to save your marriage, that he wanted to love you how you should be loved but he didn't know how.

so here you are, on opposite ends of the couch, with the counselor staring at the empty space between you like that in itself is very telling. you suppose it is, in a way. couples who want to stay together should be unified, shouldn't they? you imagine how it would feel, if art had sat next to you. put an arm around you. squeezed you to his side. would you even be able to relax into him? its been so long since you touched eachother that way.

"so im picking up on some distance here," your therapist says. shes a small woman. almost swallowed by her chair. her glasses are perched on her nose as she gazes imperiously at empty space separating you and art. "not just physical either, though thats rather obviously there. but emotional distance. do either of you wanna comment on that?"

you cut a glance at art, expecting him to speak up since this was his idea - well. tashi's. but he just looks down at his lap, quiet. spins his wedding band around his finger.

you feel an anger so intense it pricks your eyes with tears.

"well, i guess you could start with the fact that coming here wasn't even either of our idea. it was his friends."

and now. here art speaks. his head jerks up and she shoots you an annoyed look. "you don't have to say it like that. you always say it like that. her name is tashi and she is my friend. and it was her suggestion, yeah, but it was a good one."

you look at the therapist - janet. raise your eyebrows in arts direction like, get a load of this guy. your legs cross and you start picking at a stray string from the couch.

"first words of the session and its to talk about another woman."

arts inhale is sharp and you can feel his eyes on you but you dont look at him. you can't. you wont. you're right, anyway. he can try to deny it all he wants but you know - you know what you are to him. you know where all your problems stem. you dont need to be here to make any grand discoveries over a fact you've resigned yourself too.

"i see." janet says. "and art having a relationship with this other woman upsets you."

"everything upsets her." art cuts in, sounding tired. his elbow is braced on the arm of the couch and hes chewing on his thumb in one of his nervous gestures. he always did that, as long as you've known him. he was a nail biter, he'd chew his lips raw, he'd nibble on straws, the ends of his pens. he was either lost in thought or agitated. your guess was the latter. "nothing i do makes her happy."

"is this true? are you unhappy with art?"

your skin feels hot. you shift around in your seat. the attention is all on you, and it feels like you've done something wrong, even though you know its literally janets job to ask questions.

"more like i know I'm not what he wants and that makes me...... really fucking sad."

art knees almost knock against yours as he turns his body to face you, giving you his full attention the first time today. you cant meet his eyes still, so you look at the faded spot on his jeans. light blue, like his eyes. you wonder how hes looking at you. cant make yourself look up to see.

"what." he stops. seems to gather some thoughts. tries again, with a steadier tone. "what are you talking about."

you try not to roll your eyes. your arm flings out limply.

"just that this whole thing is a joke, art." and you let out an exasperated laugh, even though nothing is funny. nothing has been funny or light between you two in a long time. "we're only here because the girl you really wanted to marry, told you to get your fucking shit together. you didn't ask us to come here because you wanted to mend something, you're here to please tashi. because if playing a good husband is a role she wants for you - well, you want to play it right, dont you?"

its quiet after that. in the silence you cant help but think about those early days. when you'd been full of love and light and art seemed to be really happy with you. you'd go on dates to the movies, walk through the park together with your hands swinging between you. laugh together and steal kisses whenever you could. you felt high back then.

it didn't even matter that art had a crush on tashi, because hell, you had one too, at the time. but she'd started dating patrick, and they seemed to mesh well together. they were both so intense and passionate. back then, you'd been alot closer to tashi yourself. patrick too. you remember the way she'd rant about how much she fucking hated him, pacing around your room and calling him every name under the sun. and you'd sit there with eager curiosity, and ask her why she didn't end it then. if he makes you so angry, why stay?

and she'd get this faraway look in her eyes. kind of wistful. kind of sad. kind of happy.

"because he makes me feel fucking alive. hes like a - like a drug or something. i cant quit. its addictive, you know?"

that stuck with you. it still sticks with you. you remember being envious of that kind of passion. youe relationship with art had always been so easy. you dont think you'd ever fought by that point. you loved art. you felt safe with art. but were you addicted to him? if you broke up - would you feel withdrawal symptoms?

sometimes you layed awake at night and thought about starting a fight - breaking up for no reason. just to see if he'd fight for you back, if the missing of eachother would be so intense one of you would cave.

but somehow you knew that wouldn't be the case. thats just not how you and art operated. if you got angry, he wouldn't rise to meet you, he'd back down. if you ended things, he wouldn't chase you, he'd let you go.

patrick and tashi were fire and brimstone and you and art was ice and you were....... dirt. solid. walked upon. dependable and not at all exciting.

when art had proposed to you after college graduation it wasn't spur of the moment as it had been with patrick when he'd swept tashi up with a ring and a elopement to vegas. it was talked about and agreed upon and you knew it was coming.

you still said yes.

"you think," and arts voice has a barely concealed tremble to it that makes you look up, finally. you're shocked to see he looks wounded. so many of his expressions you can count on one hand - and this - this wasn't one of them. his eyes are dark, stormy. "you think i dont care about our marriage beyond what someone else has to say about it? you really think that?"

you hate the sliver of guilt you feel, because its not a crazy thing to feel.

"yeah, i really do."

because well, that's the truth of the matter isn't it? you and your husband stare at eachother. and it feels like you're looking at a stranger. not the man who's freckles you used to kiss. who's fears you knew. who's hands you know every callous of, every divot and fingerprint.

"it seems you two have very different views of how the other views this marriage." janet cuts in, sounding curious. she taps her pen against the open notepad on her lap. "art, would you like to chime in on why you wanted to come here? even at the suggestion of someone else?"

art stares at you for a long moment. his face is unreadable to you. his jaw works before his chest expands on an exhale and he looks away.

"i guess i - i just didn't realize how..... stagnant things had gotten until it was pointed out to me. harshly." he winces, and you wonder exactly what tashi had to say to him. you haven't talked to the other woman for some time. contact fizzling out after your marriage to art. he flicks a glance to you, then away again. "im not the best at being aware of shit going on around me." his hand comes up to rub nervously at his neck. "i guess you could say im good at brushing things under the rug. going through the motions. that sort of thing."

janet nods like this makes sense to her. well, great, you think. you know my husband more than i do.

"you're not a fan of confrontation, are you?"

art actually laughs. a genuine one. one that brings a dimple to his cheek and flashes his teeth. you stare at it, like its an exotic animal, and you wont see it again. quickly you catalog the expression in your memory, so you dont forget what he looks like when hes happy.

"yeah, no." he shakes his head. "but I think thats part of the problem. I've obviously let too much shit get put under the rug and now its so full other people are noticing."

you look down at your hands, lips pressed together. your face burns at the knowledge that tashi and by extension - patrick - know your marriage is in shambles. how embarrassing, to be caught lacking in such a momentous way. to come up short and have your husbands friends know about it. you wonder - does he talk about all the ways you make him miserable with them? does patrick shake his head, say, "she's sucking the life out of you, man." does tashi look at him with pity? like hes some poor abused cat that needs to be let in from the rain?

the rain of your marriage.

the rain of you.

you're the storm. you're the problem. you're not enough. art needs fire. you're not even dirt, you're glass. and you can feel yourself breaking.

"that clearly hit a nerve, my dear." janets voice is soft. soothing. she hands you a tissue and you realize you'd begun to cry. "do you want to explain what you're feeling about what art said?"

"i...."

you dab dab dab at your eyes. sniffle. look around the room, trying to collect your thoughts. they feel like flyaway dandelions. you dont know which of them to grasp.

a warm hand settles over yours in your lap and you startle. its arts hand. warm and calloused and tan, covering yours. the gold glint of his wedding ring winks at you, the engraved words etched into them, "my soft epilogue". a shortened version of your favorite qoute i think we deserve a soft epilogue, my love.

at the time, that's what art was to you. your life before him hadn't been easy. being with art had felt like coming home from a long day and falling into a soft bed. it had felt like being able to land after weeks of being made to fly.

you turned your palm up, so he could slide his fingers between yours. he squeezed your hand.

"i think, i. i think i just think - I'm a failure." your bottom lip wobbles. you look at your enterwoven fingers and it makes you so sad that you haven't done the simple gesture of holding your husbands hand in months. "the two most important people in your life are. are so passionate and loud. and i see. i see how happy they make you - and i cant - i cant b-be that for you. we aren't - im not - you dont need me. im not a limb for you how they are. you could extract yourself from me and be. be happier."

your breath shudders out of you.

"you don't need me." you echo.

you wait for him to pull his hand away. this is more than you thought you'd share. some of it you weren't even aware of till the words were spilling from your lips. but they ring true.

without patrick and tashi art would drown. without you..... he'd float just fine.

"and that's important to you." janet says. a statement not a question. "you want to feel needed by art, and you feel as though you aren't. that his needs are met better with his friends than with you."

you nod slowly.

"baby." the word sends a shock through you. not the word itself but how its said. art calls you baby all the time, in a monotonous kind of way. routine. now he says it softly. with feeling. he lets go of your hand in favor of cupping your cheek, still damp with tears, turning your face to his. he looks pained. "of course i need you. i know i haven't been good at showing it. i just - you shut down - after we got married. you've been like a fucking ghost. like you dont want me to touch you. like i could dissappear for all you care and you'd just carry on. i don't know. but i need you, okay? i. need. you."

both hands cup your face, he makes you stare right into him. the conviction in his voice takes your breath away. theres a fire burning there you've thought long put out.

"obviously we have shit to sort out, and we will. but you've got to. you've got to know that. tashi only pushed me to do this because she how - how desperate i was. that's all."

you inhale deeply. exhale. swallow hard. tears cling to your lashes. you reach a hand up to clutch at one of arts wrists. eyes fluttering automatically when you do. you feel grounded again. less like you might float away.

"okay."

"yeah?"

"yeah...." and you smile. it trembles across your lips. but its there. "we'll sort our shit."

art lets out a relieved breath. kisses your forehead, lingering there. the gesture so tender you get emotional again. you want to crawl into his lap, have him wrap you in his arms. you want to feel held by him, like you used to.

"our time is up." janet sets her pen down. smiles. "but i think that was a wonderful first session. i can see the love between you hasn't faded, and that's more i can say for alot of couples who come to see me. keep your chin up."

[just-some-random-blogger]

Safe Keeping | 1

Part 2

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes." I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine husband... a fine father."

Sandor Clegane x Reader | 5k+ | cw: fem!reader, forced marriage, enemies to lovers, slow burn, angst, smut (wedding night, loss of virginity, mild dub con, PIV, biting, praise kink), emotional unavailability, The Hound being abrasive, baby fever, typos, etc.

A/N: what do we say to big scary murderers? all together now: i can fix him. the smut is at the end so just keep scrolling to the bottom if you wanna pass (: originally posted on ao3 but felt like posting it on here

Tagging: @pinksirensong @aralezinspace @sloanexx

A collective gasp resonates in the hall upon the utterance of the proclamation. The blonde boy basks in the reaction. I release a breath, hand on my churning belly, as I stand there in front of the Iron Throne. The agitation that filled me threatened to spill from my lips when I curtsied to the king. But by the gods, I manage to mutter, "you have honored me with such a decision, your grace."

King Joffrey smirks, "yes," he shifts in his seat, "I have." He stands from the throne and raises a beckoning hand, "dog!"

All eyes turn to one corner.

The rustle of fabric and the clink of steel fill the hall. I watch as he walks towards me. I watch the large man, clad in darkness from head to toe, hand on his hilt, face adorned with a large burn, come to my side but pay me no mind. He turns to his king, "your grace."

"My king," queen Cersei mutters to her son, "he is a member of the Kingsguard, he cannot--"

"My word is law, is it not?" the boy says.

His mother looks at him then us, and says no word.

Joffrey grins, "I present your new ward," he raises his arms, "orphaned at war, parents and brothers dead, house left with no heirs. She turned to me for counsel," he points to his chest, "for she would die on her own. And now I give her you," he clasps his hands, "to have and to hold in holy matrimony."

The room is dead silent.

"Consider it a gift for your loyal service," he turns to me, "a rather generous one, given your infliction," he turns back to him.

The man on my side nods once.

"What say you, lady? Don't you think the Hound would make a fine husband? He would protect you, yes, and you would bear him many babes."

I curtsy again but this time, my voice falters when I speak, "I- I think he would," I turn to my left, "Lord Sandor would make a fine father."

A loud and shrill laugh echoes in the chamber, demanding everyone's attention. Joffrey wheezes until he's red and tumbles back into his metal chair. He catches his breath and nods, "he- mmm, he would," he chuckles.

The king settles himself and waves us off, "go forth and make arrangements then, my lady. Your protector awaits."

I flinch at the way the wooden door is opened. Sandor stands before me, in a dress shirt and a scowl, leaning against the opening of his chamber door. I look away and curtsy, "good morrow, Lord Sandor," I steal a quick glance at Lucy by my left, "I've had my handmaiden prepare f-"

"Hound." 

I lift my eyes to his face. The sour expression he held is amplified by the scar on his side. His eyes burn into me. "They call me the Hound," he grunts, "y'know that?"

I clasp my hands in front of me and open my mouth before muttering, "yes. Yes, I do."

"Then save me of this lord business," he straightens up and walks off inside his chambers. I watch him as much as I can from where I stood outside his room. I pipe up when he is no longer in eye's view, "may I come in?"

"Door's open, isn't it?"

I look at Lucy hesitantly, motioning she stay outside. I push the door wider and walk in, seeing Sandor was now getting dressed.

I stare at him for a moment, pressing my hands closer together, "would you like for me to he-"

"I'm not the king who has a bitch for every task."

I clench my jaw at his icy words.

Sandor begins to do his clasps, "why are you here, girl?"

He does not look at me after asking. I purse my lips before replying, "I am heading to the tailor to pick fabrics and-"

"Why isn't the tailor coming here?" he asks, still focused on dressing himself.

Sandor finally turns to me after fixing his top. I look up at him, feeling a dread build in my belly, "I wanted to go outside."

He narrows his eyes and tilts his head. He takes steps closer.

My lips part. I blurt, "the palace is too stuffy."

"Stuffy?" he retorts, "I wonder how large your house is if you find it stuffy here."

I shake my head, "I did not mean it like that."

"Then how did you mean it?" Sandor says, tilting down to look upon me once he is close enough. I am unable to withhold myself from stepping back. I mutter, "there are many... looming presences. It's overwhelming."

"Looming, she says," he grumbles. "Well, little lady, you're going to be shackled to me, and I'm shackled here. You'll have to get used to these looming presences."

I turn away from him and take a breath. Must he speak to me like I'm a child?  "I understand that."

"No, I don't think you do," he says.

I look back at him. His gaze is as hard as ever.

"The moment a thing like you is outside the castle walls, thieves and rapists will fight to getcha," he walks off, "get your footman to escort you right in front of the shop and back."

I furrow my brows as he heads to the door, "wait, what about you?"

He stops right in front of Lucy and turns back, "what about me?"

"I'm going to the tailor to be fitted a dress for our wedding," I explain, "I came here to bring you along with me," I point to the woman at his side, "Lucy has made food for you to-"

"Why would I go with you to a tailor?"

Will he ever let me finish speaking? I hold back my annoyed expression, "you need to be fitted for your wedding at-"

"I'm not your dress up dolly," he grumbles, face pinched in disgust, "I'll be wearing my armor and that's that."

We stare at each other for a moment. I watch as Lucy glares at Sandor from behind. I clench my jaw tightly before curtsying, "as you wish, my lord-"

"Hound," he barks.

I look at him in shock, "you wish me to call you hound?"

He narrows his eyes and scoffs, "it's what I am-- what you're marrying, isn't it?"

I debate his words, unsure if he meant it or if it was a trick, a reason for him to be angry at me, "may I call you by name?"

He feels disdain burn up from his belly to his throat, "what? Too good to admit that-"

"That is not what I said!" I quip hotly.

The hulking man is rendered silent. He did not expect that. Still, he decides not to respond and walks away.

I scoff when he does so.

Lucy makes a face at him before coming up to me, offering a remorseful look, "he's a brute, milady! Rugged and ugly and mean!"

"Lucy," I warn as she takes my arm and escorts me out. She closes the door on our way and makes a face, "he's a thickheaded oaf!" she glares behind her to no one, "he's lucky-- blessed by all gods to be promised to a lady like you, and he treats you as though you were the degene-"

"Lucy!" I quip, yanking her by the arm.

She is finally silenced because of this. We both halt in our spot.

I hiss, "if someone were to hear you, if he were to hear you..." I shake my head, "he is my lord now. He is your lord."

Lucy grumbles.

"If it could be, I would not marry anyone," I tell her under a hushed voice, "but you know that cannot be."

We begin to walk down the hall. I continue, "I had thought I'd end with an old lord, eager to inherit my estate and esteem," I shake my head, "shocking as it was to be thrown like a bone to him..." I look out the open windows, "at least... the Hound... can protect me," I look back to Lucy, "protect us."

Lucy's face falls solemn. We hold each other's gaze for a moment. She then offers, "you're right. Them forest monsters will cower in fear at the mere sight of the 'ound."

We head to the castle gates, "do you think the guards will let us-"

"We'll walk, Lucy," I reply.

"What?! But the Hound said-"

"He expected me to have footmen and you know well that I don't. I do not think it would be appropriate to instruct the servants here to go out of their way for us. Besides, the shop is not far, you know this."

"But, Lady, I- I can drive the carriage again!"

I shake my head, "don't be ridiculous, Lucy. Do you know how silly we'd look galloping in a carriage for just a few streets down the city?"

Lucy is unable to talk me into any of her ideas. We ask the guards let us through the gate then walk to the tailor.

Once there, I am greeted by the tailor and immediately attended to.

Lucy and I go through the fabrics together. I laugh at her sentiment that all the fabrics would look good on me.

"Here," the tailor says, placing a strip of fabric on my shoulder, "I think this would suit you well, lady."

I look at myself in the mirror just as Lucy says, "that's it! That's the one!"

"Lucy," I chuckle, "you've said that about all the fabrics thus far."

"And I meant it every time!" she retorts, "but this one, this one is truly better than all the rest."

I look at myself in the mirror, "this one is actually quite pretty," I agree, "it's a very pale shade of red, but I quite enjoy it."

"It is all the rage with the ladies at court," the tailor says.

I smile, "very well. I should like to have this for my wedding dress."

Lucy squeals and applauds.

"A fine choice, my lady," the tailor nods and finishes measuring me.

The moment Lucy and I exit the tailor shop, we are scared by a loud holler. We turn to our side and see the mighty Hound, leaned against the wall. He straightens up and marches towards me.

"My Lord Sand-"

"What did I tell you about going outside the castle?" he barks, glaring down at me. His nostrils flare. His jaw clenches. My stomach rolls.

I give him a look and push Lucy behind me, "there was no dange-

"That's what you think. But tell me, what do little girls know but to play dress up?"

I whimper when he grabs my arm and drags me like an unruly child all the way back to the palace. I do not try to fight him. I know I will only hurt and tire myself if I do.

"Maybe I should let the peasants have at you," he mutters, side-eyeing me hotly, "teach you a lesson."

"Let her go!" Lucy shrieks.

He threatens to strike her when she tires to pull me away. I shout in protest. Sandor huffs and decides to simply continue dragging me.

The moment we are past the gates, he releases me roughly, making me yelp. Lucy grabs my arm and checks if I am injured.

Sandor eyes every one of the men present, "I'll make a jump rope out of the entrails of whoever fucking lets her out again."

The Hound storms off, leaving me and my handmaiden reeling and everyone else uneasy.

Sandor walks down the halls across the keep. He notices a guard looking down from the window. He wonders if he should push him for no other reason than the fact that he can.

He doesn't. He goes downstairs. He furrows his brows at the sight of men huddled together, looking at something in the gardens. He realizes it's most likely the same thing the man upstairs was looking at.

He walks their way, because he has to anyway, but is, frankly, uninterested in whatever the fuck has these men gawking.

On his way to his insufferable master, he passes Baelish, who is seemingly chipper to see him. The man smiles, "greetings, Hound."

The Hound ignores him.

"Pretty little thing in the garden. A darling flower, ready to be plucked," Baelish smirks as he watches the large man pass, "our king truly blessed you with such a match."

His expression does not change but his ears do ring at that as he walks down the hall.

He wills himself not to think of it, Littlefinger is a leech, but by the end of the day, his words are still ringing in mind. How irritating it was, suddenly, that he did not look at whatever the fuck it was those men were gawking at.

He's fuming at the sight of more men flocked by the garden when he reaches that hall again.

"OUT OF THE FUCKING WAY!" he growls, thrashing past anyone who was slow and stupid enough not to get out of his path in time.

Sandor's eye twitches as when he sees what the commotion is all about.

"So, the princess said to him, 'away with you. I would rather never feel your kiss than yearn for something I will never feel again.' " I read the last section of the page. I flip to the next part and offer a smile to the children leaned on my lap listening to my story.

"Why would she tell him to go away?" Benji asked me from my right.

Lucy, beside him, chuckles and brushes his hair back,

I offer, "well, the prince had to go away. I suppose the princess just wanted it to be done with."

To my left, Ophelia, the boy's younger sister, pushes the book in my hand down so that she can see the picture. I show it to her just as Benji says, "she should have kissed him."

I chuckle, "well, maybe she will. There are a few more pages le-"

"What the fuck are you doing here?"

I gasp and look up. A protective form of ire burns through me at the sound of Sandor's words. The two siblings in my arm squeal at the sight of him and cower into my breast. I glare at him, "there are children here!"

"I can bloody see that," he looks down with contempt, "what? Are they your bastards?"

Lucy takes hold of the children.

"They are not bastards!" I rebut, "they are my childhood friend, Lady Deena's children, who, mind you, travelled far to King's Landing for our wedding!"

"I don't give a fuck about Lady Deenas or Lady Danas. Couldn't you have read to the rats in your damn chambers, girl?"

I give my handmaiden one look and, immediately, Lucy takes Benji and Ophelia along with their fairytale book. They scurry away to their chambers as the children clamor.

I stand from the stone fence we had been sat on, "we wanted fresh air."

"You wanted attention," the Hound quips.

I am wholly offended by his accusation. Now that I was standing alone in front of him, my confidence from having something to protect dwindles. I don't get to ask from whom he thought I wanted attention because he's soon berating me all over again. He quips, "does it please you to know all the guards in King's Landing want to fuck a baby into you?"

I am appalled by his venom.

He grabs me by the arm and begins hauling me off. A squeak spills from my lips at his brute force. Part of me wishes to fight back this time; I do not want him to humiliate me by dragging me around again. And yet I find myself unable to do anything more than latch my fingers into his iron grip, trying to at least loosen it.

Sandor, of course, does not budge.

"Is it a crime to read to children?!" I whine out in frustration, finding it immensely difficult to keep up to with his wide strides.

He does not make a sound, save the sound of his boots on the stone floors. I pant as we hike up the steps, yet still, I find myself explaining, "I would have done the same to our children!"

I do not see that Sandor reacts to this because I am too busy trying to match his pace.

I thank the gods when he finally releases me. When I catch my breath, I realize I am in front of the door to my chambers.

"Do not stroll around as if you actually live here," Sandor quips, raising a finger at me.

"But I do-"

"Last time I checked, you're not marrying into royalty," he cuts me off.

I watch the large man walk off right after speaking this. I rub my arm as I feel my eyes water. More than his heavy grip, I was once again hurt by his jagged treatment. My voice breaks as I shout out, "wou-ld you at least tell me what exactly I've done to have angered you so?!"

He does not slow, nor does he look over his shoulder when he barks back, "I don't want to see you fucking reading to those children again."

Needless to say, I crumble into a fit of tears the moment I get into my chambers.

When Lucy comes to my side on my bed, he curses the Hound and does her best to console me. She rubs my back as I weep my woes out into my pillow, "oh, Lucy, he doesn't just despise me, he despises children!"

Lucy scoffs, "why am I not surprised."

She regrets saying this when I turn to her with wet cheeks and bloodshot eyes. She gives a guilty expression, "milady, I-"

"That's all I ever wanted," I sniffle, "all I ever dreamed of-" my lips quiver, "being a mother. Having children. You know this."

Lucy bites her lips tightly as I continue to sob. She mutters, "pardon my foolish words, lady."

"Oh, what does it matter-" I rub my philtrum, "you're right. This is not a surprising development."

"You can still get him to give you his babes! Men like making babies, not really taking care of them. And of course, I would never leave your side. I would help you raise your darlings, protect them from him," she speaks sincerely. I knew her words meant to comfort me but in truth, I don't think they do.

It seems she can tell that, which is why she's apologizing all over again.

I shake my head and place my hand on her cheek, "it's alright, Lucy... you needn't worry... it's all... going to be alright.

Sandor and I look starkly contrasting at the altar. He is dark and brooding, clad in hard armor and a perpetual frown. I am bright and jittery, wrapped in pale reds and nervous smiles.

The septon binds our hands together in fabric. We turn to each other as we speak our vows.

My heart races when we are told to kiss. I suck in a breath and get on my tiptoes to reach his lips. I crane my neck up; he makes no effort to lean down in return. Still, our lips meet and in that moment, I am his.

The audience applauds us, the sound of King Joffrey's laugh is apparent even through it. Our wedding was not a grand event; the king wanted it to happen in haste, and I could not afford to make it a grand anyway. There were also not so many people in attendance, and yet it felt like the whole world was watching me in this moment.

The celebration feast that came after was terribly tedious and severely unenjoyable for me, and for Sandor. Everyone else seemed to enjoy the merrymaking though, namely the king, and I suppose that was enough.

I did nothing but smile and thank my guest from my seat next to Sandor. He did not speak to me, let alone anyone who came up to us with congratulations on their lips. All he did was eat. I suppose it could be worse. At least one of us could stomach eating at this moment.

The only life I felt was when I was introduced to a babe of one of the ladies. The sweetling had only seen 4 moons and she was as sweet as can be. She was so precious. I just had to hold her. I was inspired to even stand and frolic a bit with her in my arms.

Her mother and I conversed much about babies and child rearing. My stomach rolled in a mix of excitement, dread, anticipation, and worry all at once, knowing this was to be the next part of my life now.

I enjoyed all the stories she told me. I was flattered when she said I would be a great mother, for her child in my arms did not fuss one bit and she was known to be quite fussy. I giggled at all the wonderful memories she had with her other children who, she said, were even fussier than her daughter. I nodded solemnly at her advice in child birth and breastfeeding, making sure not to let a single word go unheard.

Unbeknownst to anyone, Sandor was watching this all from his spot with the cup of wine before him. He did not avert his eyes once; he watched each and every move.

Well, it was unbeknownst to everyone excluding Lord Baelish, who was rather amused by it all, which was why he decided to act.

"Lady Clegane," Lord Baelish comes up to me and raises a hand, "might you spare me a dance?"

I turn form the babe in my arms to him. I smile a small one, "I'm afraid my darling friend here makes me unwilling to do anything but coddle her."

The child's mother on my left laughs, as does Baelish. He links his hands together, "well, judging from your darling friend's temperament, I'd say you would be a fine mother."

"I agree," the lady says.

I grin from ear to ear, heart soaring at the sentiment, "I would like to be nothing more."

Baelish presses his lips into a smirk, "may the gods bless you with many children then," he raises his hands "and may they all take after your sweetness, grace, and beauty."

The way Baelish speaks those words were intentional, as was everything was with him. The comment leaves an air of tension between us. The man basks in it and decides his work is done here.

"I-It is kind of the king to assign a larger room," I muster up as I walk into my new chambers-- our new chambers.

Sandor follows after me, locking the door behind him. He hums, "I doubt it was the king that thought of it. It was probably the queen."

I stand by the end of the bed. I brush the sheets with my hand. I mutter a correction, "kind of her to think of us."

When I turn, my breath hitches at the sight of Sandor standing right behind me. I suck in a sharp breath as I take in his expression. His face is barely visible in the dark. I can only see as much as the moon allowed. Still, I can tell he is stoic, hard, and predatory. This was it.

My hands tremble. I fiddle with my fingers, "shall I-" I bring my palms to his chest plate, "help you out of your armor?"

Sandor does not respond to me.

"H-husband?"

He takes my hand, taking a shaky breath from my lips along with him. He leads me to his claps and shows me how to undo them before releasing my hand to do it myself. I continue to undo all the claps until his armor is off him. When he is left in his shirt and trousers, he snatches my wrists before I can undress him any further. I freeze in my spot.

My belly churns at his touch. It is reminiscent of the times he has dragged me by the arm, and yet the firm grip is a notch gentler. The way is brows furrow is barely visible because of his burns, but I see it. He leans down and his dark hair spills over his scar, "do you know what's going to happen now, little girl?"

My breath hitches. I take a moment to even my breathing before responding, "yes."

He hums and lifts his nose, "what's going to happen?"

"You're going to fuck me."

Sandor laughs lowly. I am shocked when he swipes his thumb on my lips, "filthy mouth."

I look up at him with wide eyes as his own rake me up and down. I feel incredibly self-conscious under his scrutiny. I want to push him away and hide under the sheets. Yet still, I am rendered frozen in my spot.

"Tell me honest, have you ever done this before?" he speaks rather softly.

I feel my body burn. I shake my head, unable to speak.

Sandor allows me a second. He believes it yet finds it hard to believe. "I would not judge you if you did," he adds.

I shake my head faster.

He draws out a deep breath, "no, of course you haven't--" he grabs my ribs and spins me around. The action makes my heart hammer. He pushes my hair to the side, over my shoulder. I squeak softly when he begins to undo the back of my dress. He completes his thought, "-- you're a good girl."

Though he was loosening my ties, I was finding it harder to breathe. He very soon slips my dress off my shoulders, leaving me in my shift. After doing so, he begins to remove the pins in my hair. It takes a while for him to accomplish it. I count the clinks that come from him dropping the clips onto the floor.

When he is done, he gently combs through my locks and lets my hair run loose. It was then he nudges me, "on the bed. On your back."

I shudder and crawl on the bed. I watch him take his shirt off the moment I lie on my back. I immediately turn away and close my eyes when I notice his bulge. His hands undo the string of his trousers.

I press my thighs together. I feel my heart pound. It pounds intensely between my legs.

"Aren't you curious to see what it looks like?"

I curl my legs up at his words.

I gasp and flinch when he grabs my ankles, my eyes ripping open to see what he was doing. He straightens my legs out and pulls me down; I gasp once more when he does so.

I catch sight of his opened trousers. I see the way the hair on his wide, battle-scarred chest trails down to the thick, dark hair beneath his navel. I see the imprint on his pants clearer. I shut my eyes again.

I hear him pull his trousers down. I feel the bed dip as he crawls over.

My hands dig into the sheets as he knocks my legs apart. I am passive and obedient; I make room for him. I can hear my pulse from my screwed eyes.

Goosebumps form on my skin when Sandor's hot, calloused fingers brush up my thighs. He lightly kneads my flesh. The action almost makes me moan. He stops and pushes my skirt up when he feels something by my hips, "where did you get this?"

I feel him ghost over the deep scar on my left hip. I cover my face in the crook of my elbows, "I was attacked."

He does not respond.

"That was the day my family died."

Sandor feels bad for asking. He feels a bit more when the thought does not prevent his cock from hardening. He adjusts his grip, hiking my shift up higher. His hands claw on my hips but only one remains. His mouth waters.

I gasp and slap my thighs close, or at least try to, when I feel him brush something firm and damp against my pulsing core. He uses the sheer size of him to prevent me from actually pressing my thighs together.

"Shh, shh, shh, shh-" he tuts, "this is for your own good. Believe me."

My toes curl and my hands dig into my pillow as he fondles with me. The sensation makes my body twitch and the wet squelching sound that pierces my ears fill me up with an unnamable sensation. Soon enough though, I feel myself become undeniably aroused.

My hips begin to roll and my back begins to arch.

Sandor grunts and licks his lips, loving every moment of his private show, "good girl."

His words strike up my belly like lightning.

Lewd sounds begin to dribble past my lips. I feel my body begin to tingle. The sopping sounds intensify.

"Feel good?" he asks, "you like it?"

I find no room to deny it. I instantly respond, "yes."

"Good," he trails off.

My grip on the pillows loosen when he begins to slow. I bring my hands to the side when he falls to a stop. Just as I am about to look down to see what was wrong, my heart races all over again when he hooks his fingers behind my knees and nestles between my thighs. He positions against me. I feel him guide his hardened length into my folds.

I let out a loud groan when he slips into my wetness. He grunts and cusses as he sinks down, balls deep. My nails claw at his shoulders. He pushes my knees back to the mattress. Surprisingly, the weight of him is not suffocating, in fact, it was welcomed... it was delicious.

I whine viscerally when he begins to buck his hips slowly.

"Mmm, fuck," he pants, "so fucking tight. So pretty and wet and warm, my sweet virgin."

My jaw drops at his words.

"My sweet lady wife," he growls, "all," he drags out, "mine."

My breath strains and escapes my throat hotly. My sounds match each of his thrusts; they are deep and lewd. Sandor's male ego is through the roof because it if. He slowly picks up the pace.

I am a mess of whines at the feel his manhood stretching and prodding into me. My body shivers every time he collides with the tender spot in me. It feels so good; it's nothing I've felt before.

Sandor grunts and shifts on his knees. He adjusts me beneath him like I weighed nothing, and maybe I didn't to him. I slip out a scream when he batters into me with such delicious force.

"Shhhhh," he hushes shakily, hands forcing my hips down in place so I didn't shoot off as he snapped his hips into me. With every hit of flesh, his stones knocking into me, his wet skin, slapping into my dripping folds, I feel my body burn and tighten more.

"Don't be too loud," he scolds emptily, for in truth, he would love it if he got something even louder. He leans lower, "wouldn't want you to wake all of King's Landing." But please do.

His words momentarily push sense into my mind. It doesn't last. I can barely mask my loud cries and he fucks into me. My nails dig into his scalp. He lets out a sound because of it.

Sandor shifts again. This time, his buries his face next to mine. He presses against me, chest to chest, grabs the bed frame with one hand, my knee with the other, and rams into me so hard, the bed creaks and knocks into the wall.

My eyes roll back and my open mouth latches onto his shoulder. I naturally then sink my teeth in is taut flesh. It does wonders to muffle my sounds but it pulls out some from Sandor.

"Gods, girl. Yeah," he heaves, "sink your," he gives two particularly rough thrusts, "fucking teeth into me."

My breathing grows erratic after this. An intense pressure begins to build in my belly.

"S-Sandor- Sandor-"

He hums and maintains his intense pace, "come girl. Just a bit more. Come around my cock like a good, dirty girl."

His words push me on the edge. I crumble and convulse beneath him exactly like it, a good, dirty girl. My voice is just as shaky as my thighs are. My body bursts into an intense, burning pleasure. 

My body drips in sweat and slick and spit and tears, all purely out of bliss. All the air is pulled out of my lungs as I fall into this feeling.

Sandor curses. His thrusts grow erratic. I would scream if I wasn't so winded and exhausted. He stabs so roughly into me, I flinch because it feels like he's hitting the very depths of my mind. Then, he breaks into a growl and I feel him throb so strongly until his movements come to a halt.

Once he is still, I am obliterated. I cannot move. I can only feel heat and pulsing. I feel terribly sticky and so full. I love every inch of it.

I sigh and lean into him. I can imagine now why many paid for this pleasure, why people had so many children. My fingers scratch into his nape. I rub my face against his cheek; I feel the texture of his burn. Sandor stiffens.

The next moment, he pulls away, and it was then I realized doing that, nuzzling into him, was obviously a mistake. I gasp at the sudden lost of contact, the emptiness. I watch him jump out of the bed, as if I was fire and I had burned him. I press my thighs together and push my skirt down, feeling shame wash over me as I watched him tuck himself into his trousers like he was eager to leave me.

And he looked exactly like he meant to leave me at this moment.

"Where are you going?" I ask him, but my voice is so small and unsure that he doesn't hear it.

He grabs his shirt and puts it on. He heads to the door, unlocks it quickly, and insults me by saying, "good night."

[cmdrfupa]

“Perfect match.” Was all Shoko could say before she introduced you to Kento upon his return to the world of sorcery. It was always no marriage until he retired from his role and Nanami knew he should’ve kept his word. But you were a welcomed change to his always-exhausted mental and a challenge to his monotonous life. He just wishes he could pinpoint where it went wrong.

Hello! Refer here for information about this ongoing series! I appreciate you reading and sharing! I hope you enjoy ✨

REFORM

We're only a train ride away. Love you, and come to us anytime.- Iori

You read the attached card to the cotton percale duvet set Utahime and Shoko got you months ago. They never saw the light of day during your separate room trial. Nanami and you seemed to find yourself in the comfort of each other's arms against your therapist's better judgment every time.

The room echoed as you shuffled around, throwing the rest of your undergarments in your duffel. The new room smell had been gradually overtaken in the past few weeks by the orchid-scented soy wax candle you had treasured in your once-shared bedroom.

"It is important to maintain physical and emotional boundaries while you sort through your emotions."

Your brain was buzzing with your therapist's words as you rechecked the dresser's drawers for good measure. 

You were used to the house being cold, as you and Nanami agreed that anything above 68 degrees was inhumane. But the lack of furniture in the guest bedroom brought it to a bone-chilling cold. 

Air humidifier quietly hummed in the distant corner, the last bag of belongings on your shoulder as you walked down the hall one more time.

"Ken?" The living room showed no signs of him, and his keys were gone.

Was probably for the best he wasn’t there.

You left the note against a short glass on the wet bar in den. “Can’t say he didn’t see it if it’s sitting here.”

No argument. No tempting to keep you home.

You were gone.

  Divorce was going to be your demand until your mother said that was too harsh for a couple who hadn't tried counseling yet. Initially, you and Nanami decided on therapy and a few more date nights.

After the first two sessions, you both promised to make the pertinent changes to save your marriage. You almost had a bit of faith for a while as you made minor adjustments per your therapist's suggestion. But that never occurred from his end. 

You asked for a separation that would become legal once you figured out the following steps: living arrangements or possibly going back to your sorcerer clan and training whoever Gojo sent to you. Your options were not only limited but far more depressing than you realized. That night, Kento watched you move your belongings to the guest bedroom, giving up on making things right far too soon.

Living in the same home but being separated created a surreal and often uncomfortable atmosphere Nanami didn't expect. 

After six years of marriage, a sense of familiarity came with your daily routine—the smell of Chickory coffee brewing promptly at 6:30 as you hummed your gentle tunes, precisely putting on your makeup was his wake-up call. However, the feeling of being disconnected and distant became far more prominent when he reached over, and only a decorative pillow was in your place. Your hums were too far away to enjoy. Another rough morning. He sat on the side of the bed, gruffing as he scooted his feet into the slippers.

The sleep wore off as he walked towards the kitchen, the bright, smelling coffee filling his nostrils with each slothful step. As he hit the threshold, your familiar happy hum hit his ears. With your back to him, you stood there tasting your coffee, your robe hanging off your shoulders, your scarf wrapped to protect your hair loosely held on. "Mm. Just a little more creamer."

"Think of agreeing on scheduled times to use spaces like the kitchen. They can still make enough coffee for both of you if they like, but allow the other person time to make their coffee and leave the kitchen before you go to make yours."

The therapist gave the piss poor idea, and you ran with it. A stranger telling you what needs to be done regarding your marriage. And yet he did it because he wanted to make anything work with you, even if he genuinely thought it was a waste. You knew him; you knew everything about him. You'd known him at his worst and wanted marriage counseling to help pick apart something good from Kento's perspective.

He turned and stood in the hallway, putting himself directly in line with you. His heart ached, wishing he could steal a kiss and wrap himself around you the same way he had for years.

_____________________

The ticking clock filled your den's silence as you and Kento took a break from verbally jousting for the fourth time that week.

He'd come home after not calling you back much earlier in the day. You’d heard about a special grade curse roaming between the school and the local city hall he volunteered to see about. No communication, no sign of remorse.

"We've made strides." Kento slumped back into the chair, watching how your leg shook with each empty moment he created. "I'm home more; only every other Saturday is mandatory now, and we've been going to counseling. Is this not enough for you? Am I the only one expected to change?"

"We've gone to two sessions. Which the first you left early and the second you showed up in the last 15 minutes." Patience had run thin and the grace you were always willing to extend had worn. "You avoid discussing scheduling the next one even when its a good day for you. I have done everything but change my fucking first name for the sake of trying, Kento."

Kento swirled the bourbon absentmindedly. The conversation was going in circles yet again. "I have changed everything you've complained about. I asked what you needed from me as your husband, and you gave me nothing to work with other than you want to know how I'm feeling. Honey. I'm fucking tired is how I’m feeling and this isn’t helping. What's missing?"

You could only muster a laugh to keep the flood of tears from invading. "I feel like I'm forcing you to tell me anything more than half the time, Ken. Like I only get parts of you while everyone else gets all of you. Do I not deserve that? What's changed? What are we doing?"

His rich eyes found yours for a quick moment. "We're doing what you've been begging me to do. We're talking now."

—————————

"Well fuck, you said that? No wonder she's staying with Utahime."

A bitter taste punched the back of Nanami's throat before he looked over in Gojo's direction. 

It had been four months since that night, and he'd made it everyone's problem since. More annoyed than usual at work, Nanami had a quicker temper towards all staff and was facing his hell going back to an empty house night after night.

  "Despite me being the hottest, most desired person you've known since high school-"

"What does that have to do with anything?"

"Let me finish, Nanami." Gojo sipped his piña colada and licked his lips in the most bothersome manner possible. "Despite being gorgeous and desired, I am also very knowledgeable about relationships and everyone else's business."

From the end of the bar, Kento signaled for another whiskey sour.

"Alright. Tell me what you've perceived, six eyes."

Gojo sat up straight on the bar stool as if he had an audience to entertain. "Your wife often called me when she couldn't contact you. She called me asking if I'd heard from you when you would go on missions alone. I was giving her status updates on you. Why?"

Celebratory sounds filled the bar as the college students slammed another round of shots in the brightly lit booth in the corner. 

The ring on Kentos' finger suddenly felt five sizes too small.

"Utahime, of all people, called me when you weren't answering because she showed up scared shitless." boisterous cheers filled the space as someone named Jai chugged a pint down. 

"Your partner got on a 3 1/2 hour train ride to Kyoto when she didn't hear from you. When were you upset about seeing me at your house after midnight that night? I was there because I happily drove over 6 hours back and forth to get your wife."

"Enough, Gojo," the drinks seemed weaker as he downed this one in a single gulp before getting the barkeep's attention. "Another one, please."

Gojo knew he had a few more buttons to press before he could stop. "The day after her birthday, she called Shoko and started crying. Sobbing, really." slurping the last remnants of his colada, Gojo sighed heavily.

"Gojo." Nanami gripped the glass before him, muttering his name.

"Upset that you found something to nitpick before completely shutting her out. You're a real piece of work, you know."

Gojo had no time to move before Kento grabbed him by the collar.

"If I shove the stem of this glass through your ears, how far do you think it'll go?"

"Someone's touchy, Nami." The bar quieted by a few decibels as nearby patrons watched Nanami hold Gojo by his neck. "Those whiskey sours are starting to get to that blonde head of yours." Gojo's cheeky tone was like that of a toddler who had gotten someone in trouble.

Gojo cheesed as Kento let go of his collar.

Nanami downed the remainder of his drink, and the bartender wasted no time making his next one.

"Wanna talk now instead of making empty threats?" Gojo drank a sip of water before licking the sugary rim of his glass.

"I fucked up, Gojo." He was left with this: a late Saturday evening at a college bar, talking to Satoru about his failing marriage. Patting his breast pocket, Nanami seethed at the words written on the note you left him. "She said she doesn't recognize her Kento. That I'ma ghost of him or whatever."

Part of Gojo hated seeing Nanami sulking this way. Sure, they never saw eye to eye for years, but you were a common factor in their lives.

A positive one. And Nanami knew just as well as Gojo that they were the two men who knew you best.

You were hurting, but so was Nanami. And Gojo knew why.

"Nanami. Talk with your wife."

"We talked every damn day."

"No. You talk to her like she’s some intern you have a grudge against. It would help if you talked with her like a man who's afraid of losing his wife."

"How the fuck do you know so much about this?" Nanami managed to squint, his vision officially tanking as Gojo became a slightly hazy figure of himself.

"Elle magazine talks about shitty husbands pretty frequently. I read it often and can confidently say you aren't alone in the shitty husband community."

Sleep wasn't coming easy for you. You tossed around for 3 hours before getting up to sit out on the balcony, hoping the late-night breezes would calm you. The clouds broke sparingly, allowing the moon to peek through while you watched the stars try to shimmer through the thick blankets.

Four months of staying at Utahime's old home back in Kyoto led you to return to Tokyo because you knew putting off the divorce was doing more harm than good. You weren't running away. You just needed a break from seeing him in every hallway or advisory meeting.

With some help from Gojo, you hired a great lawyer who drew up the divorce papers within 12 hours, giving you a chance to serve them yourself when you stopped thinking about how the opportunity to do it would come up.

Feeling slightly more relaxed, you shuffled back in, locking up until a recognizable tone struck your ears.

"It's your husband. Please open the door," A familiar voice groaned from the other side of the door.

"Please. Gojo told me you were back in town staying with Shoko." His words slurred as he pounded on the door. The neighbors were definitely not pleased to hear a drunken ruckus this late.

"I need to see you. I need you." A thud got you to move swiftly to the door, opening it to find Kento with his forehead against the wall next to it. "Thank fuck." He lifted his head slowly as if it weighed more than the earth.

"What are you doing here? Did you drive?" The warm air of the hallway rushed into the condo as you stood in the doorway.

He was like a lost puppy. Warm eyes low like he couldn't look at you without guilt eating him alive. "No. No no. Gojo got me a cab." You saw blood on his hand as he brought his phone to your face. "Can you tell him I made it safely?"

Gojo got him a cab. Here. You'd be talking to him about this stunt later.

"Ken, you're bleeding."

"It's just a small scratch. It'll be fine."

Come in, and I'll wake Shoko to look at it."

"She already hates me for being a shit husband to you." The gash in his palm wasn't urgent, but the amount of blood on his arms showed it still needed attention. He finally dared to look you in the eyes as he spoke, "I'm fine."

"Can you fucking stop and let me help?" You tried hiding your longing behind your voice's assertion, but that didn't escape him. He couldn't stop trying to push you further away. Distance, at this point, felt like the only solution.

"I'm fine. Stop." The firmness in his voice forced you to take half a step back.

This wasn't a buzz from a few drinks with Shoko after work; this was Kento hammered, which was hard to get to but possible.

This state of drunkenness only happened once, and it was after being released from the hospital post-Shibuya. You watched him drink himself to sleep for months, telling yourself everyone has a vice while trying to have understanding. But it became too much for you and everyone close. Nanami's drinking was getting unmanageable yet again.

You grabbed his uninjured hand and led him into the apartment. Inert moonlight streamed across the room, and the dimly lit recessed lights were your only lighting source. You placed him in front of the kitchen sink, letting the water run over the wound. "Stand here, don't move your hand from under the water, and don't talk."

He watched you march away to rustle through the guest bathroom cabinet before emerging with a first aid kit. Without uttering a word, you stood beside him, watching the pinkish-red water circle down the drain until it cleared.

Gently patting his hand dry with gauze before spraying saline solution around the wound, you broke the silence. "How did you cut your hand."

A deep breath that smelt of pure alcohol filled the gap between you. "Grabbed a broken glass at the bar." hiccuping, Kento pressed up against the counter. "Broke it after some guy said Gojo and I were a cute couple."

Surely, you misheard him. "What? You tried to stab him?"

Kento smirked as he watched your bewildered eyes. "I'm not one for stabbing. You know I'm more of a slashing type of man, baby."

It's like the wires in your mind got sewn together. The tired smile growing on your face soothed that itch Nanami had for weeks. "I suppose."

Nanami scanned your arms and shoulders as you remained in close contact with his left side. He knew your skin was just as soft as it was months ago. Supple and warm when he would run his knuckles across your thighs during his evening unwind. A dull pain from the cold feeling of tweezers in his hand brought him back. "Shit." grunting through the uncomfortable feeling.

Small glass fragments clanged into the dish as you dropped it. "None of the pieces got too deep into the wound."

As you finished cleaning the wound, a few drops of blood surfaced. You quickly grabbed another clean gauze, tenderly covering the wound before applying gentle pressure to Nanami's palm. His fingers instinctively gripped around your hand as if holding on to you would make sure you wouldn't vanish from his side.

The close proximity made your throat dry as you dried the wound again, patting it more than necessary to avoid his knowing gaze. "Almost done." You opened the sterile pad and placed it on his wound, holding it down while you tried unraveling the rolled bandage with the chin and hand combo.

He watched you intently, knowing that all he needed was for you to look at him. He was burning to see a sign that you still hadn't totally given up on him. Kento needed to know he had someone with his best interest at heart, even if he couldn't be vulnerable without being an intoxicated mess.

You carefully tore the bandage and expertly wrapped it around his hand before tying it off. "And there we go." Trying to prolong the cleanup only made the air heavy while Kento watched you closely. For every two steps you took, he took four to stay close to you. "Are you close enough?" the heat from his upper body radiated on your back as you wiped the counter down. "Unfortunately, no. I'd rather be under your skin and inside of you, but I'm trying to work on earning that privilege back." "Kento." "Yes, my love?" Any attempt at a casual facade was gone, unable to shake the emotions that threatened to consume you both. "You can take the guest bedroom, and I'll take the couch. It's too late for you to go anywhere." Kento closed in a few inches. "We could both sleep in the guest bed. Ample space, no?" The low lights in the kitchen cast a warm, intimate glow over the room, and you became keenly aware of the scent of whiskey and his Initio Phsychadelic Love cologne as you moved closer. "Nothing more than sleeping." "Nothing more than sleeping. What else would we do in bed?"

There would always be a chance of falling back into the same routine. Apologies, sex that silenced the blaring alarms in your mind, a week of cohabitating in peace before the cycle of low-effort communication and quiet dinners would resurface. But, you allowed the only intimacy you yearned for the last month.

His arms surround you like a tight-fitting sweater taking you in. His arms were your shelter, and your heartbeat motivated him to live. You'd settled into the queen-sized bed after both successfully fighting off very apparent sexual tension marinating between you both. His lips traveled across your chest. Faint kisses left on every available part of your skin as you combed through his light locks. "I want to go back to therapy. I promise I'll be open and try." The feeling of his stubble-covered chin rested on your sternum. Looking down to meet those glossy brown eyes that showed exhaustion and the early stages of sobering up.

"I want honesty. No half-ass truths while there, Kento." "No half-ass truths from me as long as you are transparent about your thoughts. You can't HR yourself out of sharing your raw thoughts." Sticking your pinky out, you waited for Kento to link his. No hesitation, he locked his pinky around yours.

"We'll make it work. I swear on my life.”

[heavyhitterheaux]

On Bended Knee

First Lady of Private Garden Fic

Synopsis: You and Jack go to a series of therapy sessions to talk about your marriage that you honestly feel in the back of your mind is going to lead to the two of you being separated and Jack is desperately trying for it not to happen

Pairing: Husband!Jack Harlow x Wife!Reader

Please Do Not Repost My Content Anywhere

Mentions of postpartum depression, death, and miscarriage

“So, what is bringing us in today?” Fatima, your therapist asked both you and Jack as the two of you were sitting at opposite ends of the couch in front of her.

Jack glanced over at you and you simply had your head resting on your arm as you looked straight ahead so he figured that he needed to be the one to speak first.

“We are at odds like we've never been before and I don't know what else to do. It seems like I take five steps forward and ten steps back when it comes to her. I love my wife and I can't see myself without her.” He quietly said as Fatima smiled at him and nodded. She then turned to you.

“Y/N? Would you agree with that?”

“To a certain extent, yes. But I reached my breaking point a long time ago.”

Hearing that made Jack’s heart drop.

“Tell me more.”

“The man who claims that he's my husband and sitting across from me is someone that I truly no longer recognize as far as some of his actions go. Because the Jack that I know wouldn't do those things in a million years.”

“Such as?”

“Making me feel that my thoughts and feelings are invalid. We've been together since we were fifteen years old, got married at 19, but something switched in 2022 when his fame went to an entire new level. Our relationship has been tested and I don't know if it's even worth saving at this point.”

Jack turned to look at you in disbelief because he couldn't believe that those words came out your mouth.

“Babe…”

“No. You begged me to come to therapy with you so you need to put your big boy pants on even if it's something that you don't want to hear. Because trying to talk to you at home is obviously not working. You asked for this so don't shy away now.��� You told Jack as you finally looked at him. All he did was play with his wedding ring and nod before turning back to look at Fatima.

You and Jack had barely been speaking to one another and it seemed as if the arguments over little things were getting more and more frequent. You were sitting in the living room since you had just fed the triplets as Jack came and sat next to you.

You glanced over at him, but didn't speak as you turned back around to look at the TV. This was the first time you were able to have peace and quiet all day and the last thing you wanted was to argue with him again. Because at this point, you knew that the two of you were not on the same page.

“Baby?”

“What?” You said and it came out a little harsher than you intended.

“I don't want to keep fighting with you. We're on the same team.”

“Are we? Hadn't noticed since it doesn't seem like it.”

“Y/N, come on. You know we are.” He told you as he attempted to grab your hand. He was surprised when you didn't move away from him.

“Some of your actions state otherwise.”

“I want to fix this and I know you do too. I signed up for marriage counseling and we meet the therapist on Wednesday. I just…. We need to get on the same page if we want this marriage to last.”

You turned to look at him and simply sighed before crossing your arms over your chest.

“And if this doesn't work, then what?”

“Babe, that isn't an option.”

“And you didn't answer my question, Jackman. Tell me what will happen if it doesn't work?”

“I don't have an answer because I don't plan on that happening. We love each other and we’re going to get through this.”

“I'm not sure that I want to go.” You told him being completely honest.

“Can I ask why?”

“If you can't even listen to me when we're at home, what makes you think it'll be any different in therapy?”

“Y/N, you're shaking your head as Jack is talking. What are you thinking?”

“He remembers that a lot differently than I do. I told him not once, but multiple times that she made me uncomfortable, but he steadily ignored me. So much so that he actually asked her to be in his video for First Class.”

“But, you're in it, are you not?”

“Yes, only because I stopped what I was doing when I saw her post a picture of the both of them on Instagram and she was sitting in his lap.  He claimed that she took the pic so fast that he didn't even have time to react. I went to where they were shooting the video and told her to leave and made her delete the picture. Oh, and when I actually did fight her because this had been building up for months with her constantly harassing me, never not once did he ask me if I was okay. Instead he acted mean as hell towards me because the only thing he seemed to be concerned about was our reputation in the public eye and not my actual well-being. We were both at home for a few days after which ended in another argument and him leaving.”

“But you left out the part where you had talked to me the same day that it happened and said absolutely nothing and tried to hide it. I was in a whole different state when I found out and caught a flight to Atlanta to confront you about it because you had stopped answering your phone. There was no need to lie to me about that.”

“Yes there was because I knew you would lose your shit which you did when you came and saw me backstage before my show.”

“Because you could've gotten hurt!”

“Hmm, nice try. I think you meant damage your reputation because those words didn't even come out of your mouth when it happened.”

“Just because I'm mad at you doesn't mean that I want any harm to come to you. You're my wife! Why would I want you to put yourself in a situation which could lead to you getting hurt? That's what I was mad about.”

“Wouldn't have had to be in that situation if you would have established boundaries with her from the beginning. I'm your wife. We share a last name. Not her.”

Therapy had been going steady for the first three weeks and Jack simply didn't know how to feel at this point. He wasn't able to read you as of lately and had it in the back of his mind that a divorce would be coming soon and you would be the one to ask for it. 

And that made him sick to his stomach.

When you were pregnant, it seems like everything was halted and the two of you put your issues to the side. But as soon as they were born and you had healed from it, everything had come back up to the surface. It also didn't help that Jack knew you were also going through postpartum depression.

It was one in the morning and he had gone for a drive after checking on you as well as the triplets and making sure all of you were okay. He didn't have an exact destination in mind, but he simply pulled out his phone and took a deep breath before dialing his mother’s number. He was absolutely desperate at this point.

Maggie picked up on the third ring and he could tell that she was still wide awake by all of the background noise which he assumed was the TV.

“Hey honey, everything okay?”

“No.” 

When Maggie heard how distressed her oldest child sounded she immediately grew concerned.

“What's going on? Are Y/N and the babies okay?”

“They're fine, but umm…” Jack trailed off as he struggled to say his next sentence.

“But what?”

“I honestly think deep down that Y/N is going to divorce me and I… can't live without her. I haven't had to do it in so long that I wouldn't even know where to start. She's the love of my life and the mother of my kids. I can't lose her.”

“What exactly makes you think that she will?”

“We're going to therapy but there's such a huge disconnect that I don't think we'll be able to fix. She didn't have high expectations going into it so…”

“Can I be honest?” Maggie asked and took a deep breath after doing so. However, Jack had a strong feeling that he already knew what she was about to say.

“You saw this coming, didn't you?” Jack asked as he turned onto Bardstown and was casually driving throughout the city.

“Yes from a mile away. I don't know what exactly happened, but 2022 was the start of the rift being made in your relationship with each other. And I've pulled you aside a few times and warned you that how you were acting wasn't a good portrayal of the person I raised you to be or the husband that I know you are towards Y/N. That girl basically worships the ground you walk on and you used to do the same thing. The fame got to you and you were starting to achieve your goals and she was supportive of you. You didn't give her the same support in return and now look where you two are.”

“What do I do to fix this? I need her to forgive me.”

“Then you need to remind her of how much you love and care about her. Because your actions haven't reflected that you do.”

“And what if that doesn't work?”

“Then you'll be signing divorce papers.” 

“Definitely can't forget how he thought I was cheating on him and he actually followed me to see what I was doing.”

“I apologized for that. I was paranoid. I had been gone a lot and missed you.”

“What did Y/N do to make you think that she was cheating?” Fatima asked Jack as he once again started to play with his wedding ring.

“Not spending time with me like she said she would when I finally got back home and she would lie about where she was going so I followed her.”

“And what came of that?”

“She was planning a surprise party for me because First Class had done so well. And she then explained who every single person was that she had met up with. She was just trying to keep it a secret as best as she could. But the day of the party unbeknownst to me of course, I confronted her about it and the look she gave me was utter disbelief and I then knew that I had fucked up. She did show up eventually to the party and then went on her festival run and left that same night.”

“Y/N, is that how you remember it?”

“Yes, I just couldn't fathom that he thought that I would ever want to do something to hurt our marriage. I haven't looked another man's way since we started dating and I still don't. He's everything that I ever wanted and more so what would be the point of that? It just really hurt me. I have this man's name tattooed on my body for everyone to see so why would I do that?”

“I can tell by the way you're talking about it that it still hurts you.”

“It does and the thing is that I am always putting everyone else's needs before my own. I have a big heart and that has always been the case. But I feel that Jack used that to his advantage.”

“How so?”

“If he called and said that he needed me, everything else would be forgotten at that moment. It doesn't matter anymore and we can go back to it once I go and make sure he’s okay. It didn't matter that I was trying to establish a career of my own. If my baby needed me, nothing was going to stop me from getting to him. It didn't matter how big or small the issue was and he knew that.”

“Hmm, Jack, what are your thoughts on that?”

“Now that she said it out loud, I can admit to taking advantage of her as horrible as that sounds. I never want to do that to my wife. I would call her because I know that out of anyone at the end of the day she has my back and my best interest. However, I also should have taken into consideration what she was trying to do for her career at that time because I was the one who pushed her to do it and make a name for herself.” 

“And I still put people's needs before my own. It's something that I have to learn to stop doing. That also takes me back to the whole Anitta thing.”

“What about her?”

“She threatened to release a portion of our sex tape in May and Jack didn't even tell me until December. That's when I called off the wedding, when I found out he lied to me.”

“Jack, why didn't you tell her?”

“I thought I could handle it on my own and simply make it go away. I wanted to shield her from that since a lot had happened between the two of them already. Not the smartest choice since it led to us not doing our big wedding for our five year anniversary.”

“And then I went on tour and found out I was pregnant…. With triplets.”

“And told me in a text message because we really weren't talking during that time.”

Urban glanced at you as you were feeding Autumn and called your name to get your attention. He had come over to check on you because you hadn't been acting like yourself and wanted to see if there was anything that he could do to make it better.

“Lil Bit.”

“Yes?” You answered as you looked up at him.

“Are you and Jack okay?”

“Depends on what your definition of okay is.”

“I… the two of you just seem sad and out of it lately.” Seeing his best friends’ marriage crumble before his eyes was not on this year's bingo card.

“Well we started going to therapy and Jack practically had to beg me to go. I don't know, Urban. I love him and we all know that's true. But the question is if our marriage is worth saving at this point?”

“Only the two of you are going to be able to answer that question at this point. I can't answer that for either of you. But I know that Jack loves you all the same and that he's doing everything he can to show you that he deserves another chance to get this right. He doesn't want to lose you.” Urban told you as you simply nodded and adjusted Autumn in your arms.

“My thing is that it should have never come to this.”

“I agree, but what's done is done and the only thing that the two of you can do is move forward. The triplets deserve to see a happy marriage between their parents and know what real love looks like.”

As soon as those words left Urban's mouth, it got you thinking that maybe he was right. You honestly couldn't see yourself with anyone except him despite all the two of you had gone through that year.

“But so much has happened and I… just don't know anymore.”

“You know that you love him. I know that loving someone isn't the only thing you need in order to make it work but it's a good start.”

“As the two of you sit in front of me, I've heard the good, the bad, and the ugly when it comes to your marriage, but I know one thing for certain. The two of you undeniably love each other despite everything that has happened. Yes, there were hardships and plenty of ups and downs, but Y/N, every time you even talk Jack lights up and looks at you like you hung all the stars in the sky. Usually in this room, it ends up being the complete opposite because by the time that couples get to me they are too far gone.”

She glanced at both of you and it looked as if you wanted to say something.

“Y/N? What's on your mind?”

“Um, I was just thinking that because of everything that happened, I wanted to separate from him for a while.”

Jack didn't dare let you see it, but tears had pricked his eyes.

“But, I have decided not to. If he's doing all of this and trying to put the effort in then I guess I can give him another chance. Because when I had suggested going to therapy and doing things to hopefully help us repair the relationship, he just waved me off. I feel as though this was too little too late but…”

“Y/N, it wasn’t too late because the two of you are sitting in front of me. That goes to show me despite it all, deep down you still had hope for your marriage too.”

“I have three kids to think about.”

“No, that's not it. Even though they deserve to see what love and happiness looks like, you also deserve the same thing. Jack, how does that make you feel hearing that Y/N wanted to separate from you?”

“It hurts. I've been in love with her since I first laid eyes on her. I know I've messed up and I can understand why she feels that way. I wasn't treating her how she deserved to be treated and it shouldn't have taken me almost losing her to realize that. She died in front of me not once, but twice. But I had already made it up in my mind that if I became a widow, there was no way in hell that I was marrying someone else.”

“And I'm not totally innocent either, but at one point I was damn near walking on eggshells and I shouldn't have to do that in my marriage. And you could have married someone else. I would not want you to be lonely for the rest of your life.”

“No, because I would always compare her to you and when it comes to you, no one comes close.” Jack said as he turned to you and took your hand in his.

“Besides, I was also scared that you were probably going to haunt me if I did.” He told you and a small smile broke out on your face. 

“So with that being said, I have homework for the two of you. If you want to start to repair this marriage and make it work, start dating each other again. It seems like ever since the triplets have been born that the two of you actually haven't spent time with each other with just the two of you. Let me know how this goes and I honestly can't wait to hear about it.”

The night was winding down at the Kentucky State Fair as you and Jack were sharing a funnel cake piled high with powdered sugar and strawberries. The two of you rode so many different things and decided that it was time for food before it was closing time. A few people had asked you and Jack for pictures, but for the most part they were keeping their distance and you almost felt normal. You guess it was the fact that they saw the two of you out and about so often. 

As the two of you were eating, you looked at Jack and giggled, noticing that he had powdered sugar on his nose.

“What? Why are you laughing at me?” He asked as he pinched your cheek.

“You have powdered sugar on your nose.” You told him as you wiped it off and then kissed the tip of it making him smile.

“Did you want anything else before we leave?” He asked and your eyes lit up as you looked towards the pigs that were across from the two of you. Jack followed your gaze and his eyes went wide.

“Baby, NO.”

“But….”

“I meant food wise! We have two pigs already! And the ones over there are huge! They're bigger than me!”

“Exaggerating much? Can't I just look!? Piggy Smalls and Pork Chop need a sibling.”

“They have one in the house already as in the bacon I ate this morning.” Jack replied as he began laughing.

“JACKMAN!”

“You can look from here. Now didn't you say you wanted fried oreos?”

“Yes, but you're forgetting something.”

“What's that babe?” He asked as he fed you the last of the funnel cake and made sure to get all of the powdered sugar off of your face. 

“You haven't won me a stuffed animal yet.”

“Let’s do it then. Which stuffed animal do you want?”

“The pig since you won't let me buy another one.”

“The two of you are smiling, so I take that as a good sign.” Fatima said as she looked at you and Jack and she that the two of you were basically sitting on top of each other and nodded.

“So, the dates went well?”

“Yes, we went bowling, he took me to the state fair, and we went to Vincezo's. We also had a cooking date where we made pasta from scratch. Surprised that Jack lived to tell the tale after that one.”

“HEY! I thought I did pretty good!”

“I mean it did end up being edible so I guess.” You told him as you laughed and he scrunched up his nose.

“We've come a long way. The two of you came to me about six months ago and Y/N was ready to call it quits. And now look at the two of you. Communicating how you should and taking the time out for each other. Just because you have kids doesn't mean you two and your well being gets put on the back burner. As of now, we can continue these sessions if the two of you want, but I truly don't see a need.”

“Oh, there was another thing.” Jack started to say and Fatima looked at him to continue.

“I played her ‘Down on Bended Knee’ because I feel that it summed up the point that we were at in our relationship. I was desperate and willing to do anything for her to forgive me and make her see that she is still the only person that I want to do life with.

“That’s an amazing song choice. I know you were at a loss. Dealing with her dying in front of you, the birth of the triplets and the possibility of losing your only son, the miscarriage, Y/N working her way through postpartum depression and that isn't even all of it. But the two of you pushed through all of it with the undying love that you share between each other and I'm so proud of the both of you.”

“Now, I feel like I can finally get the big wedding that I always wanted.” You said confidently as you twirled your wedding ring around your finger not knowing that Jack had already started planning it in the back of his mind.

Jack noticed how you were looking at him as the two of you were laughing on your first date night in a while since the two of you had been so busy with everything going on around you. The triplets were with Urban and the two of you had finally finished going to marriage counseling, however, Fatima told the two of you to reach out whenever you needed her no matter how big or small. 

The two of you were still seeing your regular therapists and it was helping you communicate better with one another to set up to have a positive household environment for the triplets.

“Why are you looking at me like that baby girl?” Jack asked as he stole a sip of your iced tea and then slid it back across the table.

“Nothing. I’m just really happy.” You said while smiling back at him.

“Why, is it because I rearranged your guts this morning or? I mean I can do it again once we leave here too, it’s not a problem. Just say the word.”

“Jackman! Shut up!” You responded and continued to laugh.

“What? I was just asking.” Jack said as he shrugged.

“You want me to be honest?” You said while starting to play with the fabric at the bottom of your dress.

“Of course I want you to be honest with me. That’s all I ever want.”

“I’m trying to think of the best way to describe it.”

“Take your time, sweetheart. We have all night.”

“Loving you feels lighter.”

“What do you mean?” Jack asked as he was trying to understand what you were saying.

“I just feel that before with all that we were going through, I felt a heaviness I guess I should say. Every day I woke up not knowing if our marriage was going to survive and I hated having that feeling. I wanted for us to be okay again.”

“And now we finally are. And I’m thankful that you gave us another chance.”

“I mean you got me fucked up if you thought you were getting rid of me that easily. Been together since we were fifteen and love like that doesn’t go away overnight.”

“I never want to get rid of you, you know me better than that. If anything, my love for you continues to grow every single day. It doesn’t matter if we have a bad day or not. It’s just knowing that I have you by my side makes it all worth it because I know we’ll do anything for each other and make sure that the other is okay. No matter how big or small the issues might be.”

“Okay that will be the second time you made me cry today.” You said as you could feel the tears in the corners of your eyes.

“Don’t cry, baby! I’m just being honest. I honestly don’t think there’s enough words in any language on earth that can describe how much I love you and care about you."

"Yep, now I'm crying." You said through your tears and Jack immediately grabbed your left hand to kiss the back of it as he played with your wedding ring.

"Putting this ring on your finger was the best thing I've ever done and you have my heart. Always."

[brynn-lear]

Note: these are all yandere characters I had back in 2022. I'm describing them very vaguely. I can't bring myself to spoil even minute details I find intruiging even though it's unlikely I'll make this webtoon-isekai-otome game concept come to life. Shoutout to mochi and harmony. I would've forgotten these men exist if it weren't for them lol

Yan!Butler: People kept mistaking your deceased brother's butler as a nobleman, especially with how you both appear to be best friends rather than master-servant. His butler is one of your greatest allies and critic; not once has he missed his chance to tease you in such “polite” yet convoluted ways. But you at least know his sharp tongue comes from a place of affection, and not from disdain as he would with other nobility. Your older brother took him under the family's care when his small village was brutally extinguished by unknown assailants. That butler thinks all other nobles deserve gruesome ends. There's not a single day where he does not feel paranoid. So when you feel as though the pavement you passed by in your private gardens had splotches of red… you turn a blind eye. You trust your brother and his allies. As long as you ignore that what he does is far beyond ensuring your brother's safety, you can go on sleeping peacefully at night.

Yan!Eccentric Immortal: You honestly thought it was so weird for a wandering pink-haired tourist to wear red shades and a short-sleeved shirt with tons of hibiscus printed on it, but whatever floats his boat. At least, that's what you thought at first before you struck a conversation with him out of pure boredom. No matter how… “modern” he looks, he was dejected enough at the time to confess that he came to see how his hometown looks— only to discover it is practically unrecognizable. He kept pointing to business shops, claiming some used to be parks, a small forest, his favorite bookstore, and a place his old buddy used to have a successful shoe factory on. And then it hit you. This man you're with… is one of your ancestor's mayor turned revolutionary best friend who struck a contract with the devil. There's one small problem... You're involved in said contract.

("Oh, so he's immortal, huh… no wonder he was burying his face in his mushroom hat when we were walking around in the museum. On one hand, impressive that he was the first man ever photographed, but he's also the first photobomber ever. He was just cleaning his shoes and got in the way…")

[More descriptions utc]

Yan!Crown Prince: He is your childhood friend crown prince, who was once a quiet and lonesome kid. You belonged to the very few children who properly befriended him, but in each playtime, he always clung to you tightly. The adult nobles in your life had always made it a point to remind you to be wary of his lineage. “The royal bloodline’s first love is their last— and such obsession reigns supreme.” There is also a legend of how the first king confessed to his tactician after the war. However, he dismembered & hid her limbs when he faced rejection. The royal family has been plagued with unrequited love and unhappy marriages since then, yet you don’t believe him capable of perverse and violent thoughts. He harbors a hopeless puppy-like “one-sided” affection on another childhood friend of yours (THE main female lead) but he takes it “like a champ”, you're sure of it!!! Plus, the prince has grown so mature and independent, always asking for your counsel on politics more than personal affairs. You haven't met a man who enjoyed his duties as much as he does. If anything, he has distanced himself from you… Right?

Yan!Doctor: As a child from a loving noble home, you had remained firm in your stance on committing acts of kindness. When an injured kid your age was starving outside your estate, you did not hesitate to order your brother's butler to fetch food and drinks. Since he was nameless and you weren't one to gloss over a book of baby names— you gave him one that sounds like a dog’s. Years later, you've fallen gravely ill. No physician across the continent could help you despite your philanthropist reputation. But there was one who had done the impossible. The doctor cured you in under a month, and when you tried to cover his services, he said everything was paid with “three glasses of milk and a box of biscuits.” Honestly, you should've remembered who he was sooner, considering how strange his name was. Despite such a grand revelation that he apparently owes you his life, there's unbridled hunger beyond his “kind” eyes. Something lonely and unhinged.

Yan!Ex-Hitman/Politician: There was a boy you've always seen each time you went to church. You see him every week that you both watched each other grow up. Apparently he came from a noble bloodline just like you, but despite being the eldest, his parents greatly favored his younger sibling. Deciding he had no talent to best him, the boy went to the monastery to practice the word of God instead. You always thought he was an ambitious and good-hearted person— especially since it's not exactly common for someone in their late twenties to aspire for the position of prime minister and appear so incredibly wholesome. On your quest to find someone to help you solve the mystery behind your older brother's death— you found out that the kind mint-eyed man who often carved wooden toys and sewed plushies for the orphans was the notorious hitman who killed plenty of corrupt nobles in his prime. Could he be behind your brother's death…?

[neoplatinum]

hold me tight - bts | kim dahyun

summary: maybe cupid could save us

pairing: dahyun x fem!reader

themes: angst, fluff, tension, use of flashbacks in italics, marriage counseling, reader insecurity, past physical violence (against original male character, not any member of twice), implied sex, some of twice!

wc: 7.2k

polished silverware, two table napkins, two sets of forks, and knives. a draped tablecloth, and the long wooden table stretching down the dining room. on two ends are two lost souls, once connected with bountiful joy and prosperity. now sat farther apart than the two ends of a colossal ship. barely stitched together by unspoken words and exhaustion.

"what time?" you dig into your steak, back and forth sliding it down the tender meat.

"2pm tomorrow. should i call your assistant?" dahyun digs at her roasted potatoes, a little sweet, just the way she likes it.

"no need, i'll be there." you counter, stabbing the slice of steak, digging into it. pushing the green peas a bit to the left, and sipping the wine. a delicacy truly.

"good." she says quietly, "pass me the pepper?" you look up, the bottle is in the middle.

the dmz line, you lean foward, grabbing a hold of the glass bottle, placing it into her hand.

"here."

"thank you."

the rest of the dinner is followed by the sounds of silverware, and only silverware.

--

dr. yoo jeongyeon, phd, lcpc

you stare at the plaque, gold serif lettering, bold face on top of a black rectangle, sitting directly in the middle of the edge of her desk. your loafers gently tapping the carpeted floor, in time with each tick of a second.

she looks confident, shoulders back and sinking into her leather chair. glasses perched on her nose, a montblanc in hand. eyes a little empty, but inviting, a little too inviting.

"thank you both for joining us today, first time?" dr. yoo starts, eyes taking a slow drift from dahyun to you.

dahyun's legs are tucked together, low heels and a brown suit. she leans forward at dr. yoo's question. "yes, first time."

a simple nod, and a scribble along her notepad. you tilt your head to the right.

"each session with me runs fifty minutes, no longer. if needed, it can be cut short." she says, placing some files away, shuffling paper away, and fixing her glasses. you both nod at the terms. "lovely, could i have you both introduce yourselves?" she continues, eyes back on you and dahyun.

you stare at dahyun.

"i'm dahyun, 26, a fashion designer and a wine enthusiast, lovely to meet you." dahyun stands up, offering a handshake. dr. yoo smiles lightly and shakes it.

"and you?"

"i'm dahyun's wife, 26, ceo and founder of future consultants llc, and a tennis enthusiast."

dr. yoo's eyes stare at you, but her pens moves quickly along the page.

dahyun stares at you, before looking back at her folded hands.

"thank you both, now could you both explain why you are here?" her eyes come back up, those glasses hanging so low is making you mad.

dahyun coughs into her hand.

"we need help." a little unsure, but a desperate plea. your foot stops tapping on the carpeted floor.

dr. yoo scribbles along a new line.

"and you?" the doctor stares at you. you sit up, fixing the buttons on your blazer.

"we're...not the same as we used to be." you say, pulling one leg over the other. dr. yoo nods at that, another line filled.

"alright, now, let me give you some insight on me. i'm dr. yoo jeongyeon, did my phd in human psychology, masters in counseling and bachelor's in neurology. and i'm a lcpc: licensed clinical professional counselor. you can say i'm a people enthusiast." she smiles lightly, dahyun laughs under her breath.

your foot goes back to tapping.

"let's get into it." she sets down the notepad. "could you tell me how you both met?"

--

"what's the maturity date for a treasury bond?"

"20 - 30 years, you seriously have to try harder, sam." you laugh, taking another sip of your beer. sam just grins and flips over a new flashcard.

"okay smarty pants, what are floating-rate notes?" sam taps the index card on the bar table. eyes a little playful, he always did like making you work for your reward.

"they're-"

"stop it ryan." behind you is the voice of a woman, her back hitting yours, nearly spilling your beer. you turn around, a man towering over her, hand on her wrist and his firm grip, stopping her. no matter how hard she tries to pull.

you signal sam.

"take your hand off her." you press down on his wrist, holding his arm in place. the woman stares at you and sam, bewildered eyes and still pulling against ryan's hold.

"fuck off." he spits in your face.

"yeah? let's see how your face looks after this pretty boy." you slam into his chest, him tumbling backwards, foot hitting the barstool and a loud thud hitting the floor. you spot the submariner on his wrist shining under the bar light, fuck.

sam's at the ready, hand on a switchblade, you signal him back, not him.

the woman gasps, hand immediately shooting her sore wrists, shit it looks bad. ryan's still on the group, and then he shoots up. hands at the ready to land a punch, weak form though. you sidestep him, letting him fall forward.

"daddy can't pay to fix your crooked nose?" you smirk at him, taunting him to do anything. his eyes ablaze as he tries again. what a foolish boy.

you let him try and land a left hook, before you start punching his jaw, one good liver punch and he topples over. damn, your jaw hurts too, men like him throw too much of their power into their punches.

"fuck, sam." you groan to your friend, hand trying to pop your jaw back into place. you do, letting out a low shout, before getting your stuff.

stay too long and then he'll call the cops, the last thing you need is another fine print on your academic file. you stumble forward, feeling blood dripping down the side of your head, cheeky bastard, he had rings on.

you barely manage to push the bar door, string of curses falling out of your lip, the cold air immediately frosting your breath. damn it all, and you left your beer half finished.

"excuse me!" the woman's voice carries from the door, and you can see her, urgently trying to get to you. "thank you so much back there."

she's trying to offer you some napkins from her clutch, all you can do it hope that liver punch suckered him to stay on the ground long enough for you to dissapear.

"you have anyone safe?"

"safe?"

you gesture a bit. "like a friend maybe? did you come alone?"

you lean to the side trying to get a glimpse of pretty boy, but he's no where in sight. a good thing. you can see sam though, shoving bills at the bartender, and grabbing jackets.

"no friends, i came with him." her hand goes back to her bruised wrist, yeah that looks awful. you're very glad you stepped in.

"listen, i need to leave now. i would love to do the whole 'thank you, you're welcome' pleasantries, but I don't know how long he'll stay down before he calls the cops."

you explain, seeing sam opening the bar door, urgent eyes calling for you to disappear into the night.

"could you take me home, i really have no other way to get back." you stare into the bar, oh pretty boy's up, shouting at a bartender. you need to exit NOW.

"okay, let's go. i know you're wearing heels, but keep up." you offer a hand, and disappear into the back alleyway. by the time you just turn around the corner at the end, you can hear the distant voice outside the bar.

you're finally in sam's beater car, an old hand-me-down from his grandma, with the girl from the bar in the backseat.

she keeps watching you from the mirror.

"where do you live?" you pull out of the back lot, she's still soothing her bruised wrist.

"eleanor court, upper east side." damn shit, of course she's rich too, loaded with daddy's money just like that dude you suckered punched. how you always manage being at the hands of rich people, you hope to find out soon, because this sucks.

the drive's pretty silent, sam's got his old 80s mixtapes playing from the car radio. and he's humming along as he taps on his passenger door, you're glad that at least one of you has a car.

"woah..." sam brings you out of your thinking. woah is correct, even sam can see it.

colonial style homes the size of manors down the perfectly paved roads. long outdoor lamp lights lining the street. lush bushes and trees lining the sides of the house. not a single police car in sight, you can even see fountains spouting water from a statue.

what a bunch of crap.

"dude, she's asleep." sam taps your shoulder, you quickly put his car in park. looking at her from the rear view, damn she is asleep, jacket covering her torso but her head leaning against the window.

damn, damn, damn.

one wrong HOA member being curious, and you can easily be thrown in jail for the rest of your life. you open your door, rushing to the backseat. opening the door, and placing your hand against her head to keep her body from falling out of the car.

"miss, we're home." she just curls into your hand. "sam, help me hold her up." he nods, using his bodyweight as a rest for the girl's body. you begin searching through her clutch, hopefully she has an id inside.

"kim dahyun.....501 eleanor court." you shove the id back into her clutch. "sam move." you grab a hold of her body, picking her body up. wrapping the jacket and clutch over top of her.

"stay in the car. i'll bring her in." you began walking down the eerily quiet neighborhood, goodness rich people are so pretentious. you struggle to open the gate. then you hear a low mechanic voice.

"hello, who are you?"

"hi, i'm just here to drop off a kim dahyun. she had an issue with some guy at the bar, and she needed someone to take her home." you speak into it, a clicking noise and then the metal box goes silent.

the large metal gates open, you step in, walking up to the front porch, pillars lining the wide entrance.

goodness, you need to get out of this neighborhood. the large wooden door opens and you see two people, a suited man and a maid. of course.

"miss dahyun?" the maid begans fussing over her, hand on her cheek, "oh my!" a loud gasp at the bruised wrist. you drop her into the leather couch.

"what happened?" the butler asks you, offering a towel at your dried blood.

you try your best to keep yourself from dirtying the house, both of them keep staring at you though.

"uh, some guy at the bar, ryan. he kept bruising her wrist, so i had to step in." you point at your head. the butler nods, and the maid begins inspecting the bruise.

"i told miss dahyun to stop seeing him." the butler explains, placing the jacket to cover her.

you nod, so this wasn't even the first time. the maid returns with soothing cream, applying the ointment over her bruised wrists. you stand idly by the couch, a little confused with what to do here.

you stare at dahyun's face, she's rather pretty is what you land on, before the man's voice brings you out of your focus.

"let me offer you a new shirt." you look down, and it does look like you just got into the ring with rocky, blood-dried splotches all over. the butler disappears before you can even say no.

with a folded new shirt, linen and italian, goodness these people have too much money, you shuffle into a bathroom.

changing into it quickly, eyeing all the towels and expensive soaps on the counter. you fix yourself up and exit, seeing the butler and maid still crowding around the girl.

"i, i really should leave. i'm sorry." the butler and maid are still trying to get you to stay, to offer some reward, but really all you want to do is leave this hellscape. unfamiliar faces, with unfamiliar mannerisms, its all too much.

--

"she saved me from a sleazy guy at a bar." dr. yoo jots it down.

"and you?"

"i, i guess i did?"

"you guess?"

"i, yes, i saved her from the sleazy guy." dr. yoo nods.

the ticking sound comes back clearer in your ear. the repetitive ticking feels like tumbling down a hill, imminent and quick swift death.

"let's move on then, how did you two start dating?"

"dahyun was insistent on paying me back for the bar, kept telling me she needed to." you offer.

dr. yoo nods, another scribble along the notepad. then she pulled the file from her desk, and two separate questionnaires werefilled out.

"and it says here, you both attended the same university." ever since dahyun found out you two attended the same university, she began urging you for dinner.

you tried very hard to say no, but in the quad, down the main academic path. she just kept finding you, like a needle in a haystick, she always managed to pick you out from the hundreds of students.

if she wasn't so nice about it, you might have considered it creepy.

"yes, brown." you nod.

"lovely school, my friend's alma mater." dr. yoo comments and lifts her head once more from the notepad.

"how's your sex life?"

you see dahyun's feet uncross and cross again. while you start tapping your foot again.

"we haven't done it," dahyun begins, "in a long while."

dr. yoo nods, and turns to you. "how does that make you feel?"

"i'm not sure."

dr. yoo nods again, dahyun's feet uncross and cross again. the clock's still ticking on the wall.

you are sure it's non-judgmental, it just makes you aggravated, like you're being lectured on how to love.

dahyun can't remember the last time you two have cherished each other. dinner's filled with delicious food, to cover the absence of enticing conversation.

being married to the point of small talk, has drained you both more than you wanted to admit.

"this is still the first session, so let's start with simple exercises. try and vocalize your appreciation for each other. this can be as simple as: i appreciate you doing the dishes today. remember, speaking the unspoken words can change your relationship for the better." dr. yoo stands up, offering you both a handshake and walking you both out her office.

--

"i have to get back to work." you comment, letting dahyun walk in front of you. she nods at that, you both are busy people, even though it's important to try and fix your breaking relationship, you both have jobs to do.

"i'll see you for dinner?" she says as you open her car door, holding a hand over her head as she sits.

"yes, dinner." she nods at you, wanting you to say more. you want to as well, a little unsure.

"thank you, for being here today." she starts, staring up into you, you smile lightly back at her, dahyun's still got that warm eye smile that makes your heart burst.

"you as well dahyun." you lean your head down a bit, "charlie, get her to her office safely." he nods from the rear view. and with that you close her door. watching the car roll away from the sidewalk.

it's weird to have to see a professional for marriage counseling, but in your heart, you do want to fix things with dahyun.

sweet dahyun who is always so concerned with everyone's wellbeing; often neglecting her own. the rest of the afternoon, you try and focus on work, feeling downright awful about how your relationship has disintegrated.

--

"dahyun? i'm home." you enter the brownstone, a little more excited to be home. she's in the kitchen, an adorable brown bear apron over top.

"hey, i'm making pasta tonight." she's smiling.

"need help?"

"no, i should be good. could you set the table?" you leave the kitchen, entering the wine pantry, grabbing one that you know she loves. as well as two glasses, a gift from her parents.

dahyun's walking out with bowls of pasta, surprised to see the bottle in hand.

you begin pouring them into the two glasses, passing one to her, she thanks you quietly, placing down the bowls, and returning to the kitchen. you follow after her, grabbing knives and forks and napkins.

she's busy with another dish, and you hum to yourself, cleaning the silverware while waiting for her.

"damn it. fuck fuck fuck." dahyun's hand jerks back against the pot, her hand instantly going to hold it. you drop the silverware in the sink, quick strides towards her. she burned herself with the pot.

"dahyun, let me see." there are tears in her eyes, and she's shaking her head, she's always been so dismissive of her own pain. you take her hand gently, looking at it. it's definitely bad, red skin over top, hot to the touch. "let's run it under cold water, okay?"

she nods, even though there's tears in her eyes, and all she wants to do is just shrink into herself.

you run the water cold, feeling for it before letting it run over her burned finger. the tears in her eyes are still there, threatening to spill out.

then dahyun cries out. "i'm so stupid, i can't even cook a simple dinner." her tears are falling, much like the water over the hurt finger. like letting the pain rain out from her heart.

"oh dahyun, no you aren't stupid, you never were." you hug her tightly, letting her head fall to your shoulders, quietly crying against your shirt. she cries even harder at that, an anguish cry out for help,

you feel your own tears spring up. how you hate seeing dahyun cry.

"how is it?" you ask, pulling her away, looking at the finger under the water. it's less red, still there but it looks better.

"hurts." she pouts.

"let me go grab some ointment, stay here okay?" you leave, turning down the hallway to the bathroom, rummaging through the medicine cabinet for ointment cream to sooth the pain.

you return quickly, gently dabbing the cream over her finger with a q-tip. letting out a low hiss, and you apologize quickly, letting her relax a bit before continuing to spread it around.

"okay?" you step back, throwing away the q-tip.

"it's good, thank you." then she slips away to finish dinner. you stand by letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding, with every bit of your heart, you hope that dahyun wants to work this out as much as you do.

--

"hello, come on in." dr. yoo's now a familiar face, always a warm if not stoic face. never showing signs of disinterest or much of an opinion, you begin to wonder what it takes to be a professional therapist.

"thank you." you let dahyun ahead of you, her sitting in the left armchair, while you sit on the right. fixing your blazer as you sit with one leg over the other. eyes watching dr. yoo in anticipation.

"how are you both doing?" she starts, that same montblanc in hand, a new shirt, dark blue and glasses hanging on her nose.

dahyun looks to you.

"we're doing okay." you offer, a little smile on your face.

"and you?" dr. yoo turns her head towards dahyun.

"we're doing better." dahyun fiddles with the band-aid over her finger. your eyes linger on it, a reminder of the small act of affection.

"lovely, last time you both mentioned that sexual intimacy had not happened in some time. has that changed since our last session?"

dahyun coughs into her hand, sinking into her armchair. you look away from her.

"no, it hasn't changed." dahyun speaks softly, like she's confessing a sin. you fold your hands over each other.

dr. yoo nods, another line written.

"how is work-life balance for you two?" dr. yoo stares into you, you sit up again.

"it's fine, the normal 9-6pm work day." dr. yoo jots that down. the clock continues to tick in your ears.

"what about you?" dahyun stares at the floor.

"it's okay, usually after work i'll unwind with some wine or television series." dahyun's always been so absorbed with her dramas, often asking you to join her to watch them. you often decline with the pre-tense of overflowing work from the day.

"ah yes, you mentioned you are a wine enthusiast." dahyun nods, wine has always been something she indulged in, you don't share the same love for the drink. finding it all a bit too much for yourself.

"could you tell me how that started?" your eyes go wide a bit, you never bothered to ask dahyun that, just assuming she's always enjoyed it.

"my late father used to own a winery, when i was able to start drinking he started training me as a sommelier." you knew of mr. kim's obsession with wine.

multiple wine cellars across his basement, walls lined with rows of wooden aisles, each row lined with bottles filling the basement. often times you snuck into the basement with dahyun sharing kisses and giggles away from the prying eyes of her parents.

"sorry to hear that mrs. kim, that's lovely to hear that you still has a passion for wine." dr. yoo continues, letting the words fly across the notepad. you uncross and cross the other leg over.

"and you mentioned you were a tennis enthusiast, how did that start?" dr. yoo's eyes are still on the notepad, pen quickly running across the page. you lean forward a bit.

"my friend sam, used to sneak us into the tennis bubble after work, when all the people left the country club. and we would play for hours." dr. yoo nods, more lines filling across the page.

"you never told me it was because of sam, you said it was just a hobby you had." dahyun comments, eyes on you, a little suprised at the conversation.

"i couldn't afford tennis equipment, too expensive." you explain.

dr. yoo continues to write as you and dahyun talk.

"but all those times you came to the country club, you offered to pay for the tab." dahyun leans into you a bit, you let your eyes wander over the name plaque on dr. yoo's desk.

"had to work overtime to pay it off." dahyun sinks back into her chair.

"and dahyun, you seem suprised, how does this make you feel?"

she looks back at her hands.

"i feel awful, i didn't know it costed that much for you." you return your gaze to her, watching the anguish in her eyes.

you wish you didn't feel ashamed about your financial situation, but every second spent with the kims was another jab at your own social status.

"i'm sorry dahyun, i kept it from you because i didn't want you to treat me differently." you shrink a bit, pulling the blazer a bit tighter. eyes falling to the floor naturally.

"and i'm sorry too, for never noticing." dahyun speaks it softly, you barely register the words.

you just nod, letting her hand hold yours. you can't bring yourself to look at her, too ashamed that you feel like you have to hide yourself from the woman you devoted your life to.

you begin to think about the early days of dating dahyun, days filled with anticipation of seeing her. constantly checking your account for how much you could expend on your paycheck, often stretching it for a simple date.

often on the weekends, the kim's visited the country club, the managers all fussing over them, pampering them with free items, as if the rich needed more free item, it used to make you angry.

but never dahyun, a sweet girl built upon integrity and honesty, always offering to pay. treating you with respect that most members of the country would never do, them often throwing towels or other trash at you to pick up. and with gritted teeth, you always do, remembering you needed this job.

"so you both met often at the country club?" dr. yoo cuts into your thinking, pulling you out of your memories. one's that are filled with happiness and anger, all in the same bunch. anger at the rich, but happiness at seeing that beautiful smile in person.

"yes, i worked there, and dahyun's family were well known members there." you explain, squeezing dahyun's hand in yours.

--

"2 o'clock, the kims." your head snaps up from the tennis magazine you're reading. and there you can see your supervisor and your supervisor's supervisor crowding around the kim's.

especially dahyun's mother, she was always more prone to fawning at the attention that the staff would shower them in.

"stand up!" you read from your supervisor's mouth, then he goes back to smiling fakely at the kim's probably hoping to pick at their pockets later when they're far too tipsy from all the champagne they bathe in.

"one day i'm going to strangle him." you side whisper to sam as you both bow at the family.

"not if i get to him first." sam side whispers back, smiling at the kim's. continue to bow at them as they walk across the lobby to the courts. squeaky new tennis shoes on the marble floor.

"hey! you work here!" that familiar voice., you've been trying to avoid her since she found you in the quads hanging out with sam. insistently trying to get you to let her pay you back for the bar.

"hi miss, glad to see you are doing better." sam walks away, citing a need for a bathroom break, but you know better with the way he playfully walks away.

"you still haven't said yes to letting me pay you back."

"because you don't have to pay me back, i just did a nice deed."

"and you should be rewarded." you just sink back into your stool. letting her lean over the desk. "well as kim dahyun, a prized patron here, i order you to follow me to the courts."

"the courts?"

"yes, i want to play." you stand up, heading into the back to get that signature tennis racket that she loves so much, specific engraving of her name etched on the neck of the racket. "grab another one!" she shouts from the desk. you grab a generic one, one that still costed way more than a month's paycheck. placing both racquets under your arm.

"here's what we're going to do, three games, if i win three, i get to pay you back for the bar, dinner on me.

"miss dahyun, that really isn't neccessary."

"it's my wish, and you can't deny a patron's wish here."

so you get beaten, pretty badly, 0 - 3. with you sweating and falling on your back, breathing heavy as dahyun grins from the other side of the court. letting out a loud laugh.

"dinner on me, i'll drag you there myself if i have to!" dahyun's still bouncing a tennis ball with her racket while you recover your breath, all you can do is lift an arm to give her a thumbs up.

--

"well i am afraid our time is up for today, please schedule a session again soon." dr. yoo offers a light smile, and walks you both out of the door. letting the heavy door close behind you. you look at dahyun, she hasn't looked at you since the confession.

you walk her to her car, "dahyun, i really am sorry for hiding it from you. i just didn't want money to affect us."

she stares at your blazer, it's buttoned, the same button she stitched on a couple weeks ago.

"but it does, doesn't it?"

"money?" you stop to think about it, as much as you tried to let it not be a determining factor in your relationship with dahyun.

it really does bleed into your relationship, leaving you paralyzed with fear that she'll leave you.

when you first met the kim's for an official dinner introduced as dahyun's girlfriend, you spent hours with sam trying to find a decent hand-me-down outfit for the dinner.

they were not impressed to say the very least, you had no proper dinner manners. confused your soup spoon with the dessert spoon. nearly knocking wine onto mr. kim.

"i think it did, for a very long time." you open the door for dahyun, letting her in, hand covering her head as she sits inside. you walk over to the driver's side, sitting inside. "i wanted to prove myself to your family, but mostly to you."

"you didn't need to prove anything to me." she says, hands gently grabbing yours. you feel your heart sink a bit.

"it sucked, seeing all your friends get gifted lavish trips and designer bags, while all i could afford to do was cook you homemade dinners." you explain, thinking back your university days, meeting dahyun's friend.

"but that's what they didn't have." she counters. "all the homemade gifts, it was just gifts with enough value to hold each other over."

you really did try your best, with limited budget and often asking for favors. you did your best to offer the best anniversary, valentine's, and birthday gifts.

all of which were intended to express your love for her, spending hours decorating homemade cakes, learning how to cook dinners for two. renting cars to go on road trip, all of which you happily experienced with dahyun.

"i wanted to be someone you could confidently show off to your friends." you think back to dahyun's birthday parties.

open bars, waiters and a massive table filled with gifts for her. all you could do was stare in wonder at the exuberant gifts, all the while you would shrink into yourself, trying to hide your embarrassment watching her open your gifts.

"do you? did you...resent me for it? having money i mean." dahyun drops the question you've been trying so hard to ignore. it's been plaguing your mind lately, how you think about how hard you tried, giving your all into your work for an ounce of validation from the kim's.

validation that you never seem to get.

"no, never. never you, you were the only person i didn't resent." you smile at her, genuinely, and she smiles back. you're glad you met her, even if the circumstances have made your life complicated.

"for the record, i was always confident in showing you off, because i knew who you were in your heart." you give her hand a squeeze as you drive home.

--

"another hour please, i'll pay triple." you say, staring at dr. yoo.

"i'm sorry mrs. kim, but i have another appointment." she stands up, trying to walk you out of the room, and when the door opens, there stands two woman on the other side.

"sorry for the delay, mrs. and mrs. park."

"no worries, dr. yoo, sana and i don't mind." the two woman nod at you, before sitting in the same chairs that you and dahyun were sitting just seconds ago.

"i'm sorry mrs. kim, but really, we don't have more time today, schedule another appointment soon." and dr. yoo closes her heavy wooden door.

you nod solemnly, "dr. yoo, i'm sorry for my behavior." you explain, a bit embarrassed now.

"no need, i understand. go check up on mrs. kim." she just nods and gives your shoulder a pat, closing the door again.

now you stand in the office lobby, with a crying dahyun in a chair.

you sink to your knees, eyes staring up at her. her hair like curtains to her face, concealing the quiet sniffles and sobs that she's letting out.

"dahyun, darling?"

the tears keep falling, staining her dress pants, you hold her shaky hands. as she speaks to you, holding her breath here and there to control her emotions. "you never told me."

"i know, i didn't want to burden you." rubbing at her hands to sooth the pain in her heart.

"but isn't that what we're here for, to shoulder each other's burdens." she cries louder, a couple in the office look over, but you don't care right now. you brush the tears away.

"we are, i just, i didn't know how to tell you."

"but he, he did all that to you, and you didn't tell me. he's my own father."

"i know, i am sorry."

"let's go home please, i want to talk at home." you nod, letting her walk to the car, following her footsteps closely.

--

dr. yoo welcomes you both into her office, getting familiar with the diptyque roses candle burning lowly on the desk.

"mrs. and mrs. kim, please have a seat." dahyun smiles as she sits down, a new pair of glasses hanging on her nose.

"new glasses?" you ask.

dr. yoo smiles at that, pushing up the glasses. "yes, new! just got them yesterday. you smile, dr. yoo has become a familiar and friendly face with you and dahyun. almost like she's a friend, almost.

"shall we get started?" she looks up at you two, that same notepad in hand and the montblanc.

you both nod in sync.

"so, how have you both been?"

"good." dahyun smiles a bit, letting her arm lay along the armchair, eyes brighter than usual. you smile at that.

"and you?"

"we're doing better, i'm happier." dr. yoo write it along a new line, a light smile on her face.

"that's lovely to hear, could you explain why?" dr. yoo picks her head up, watching you explain how life has been. there's been a shift at home, dahyun and you having more time to go on dates instead of tensed dinners filled with the sounds of silverware.

"we spend more time together, having lunch together, and dinner's have become fun to cook together." dr. yoo nods at that, more words written along the notepad, you share a warm gaze at dahyun. her eyes smiling in that way you love so much.

"i haven't asked this before, but how are the in-laws?"

you immediately frown, thinking about the pretentious man that was dahyun's father. a dicator in the family, ruling with an iron fist and often giving you trouble for growing up "different." as he so nicely put it.

you often remember dinner's with the kims filled with biting your tongue and just letting snide comments go by, even dahyun's mother had no say whenever he made uncomfortable jokes.

"i don't think dahyun's parents liked me much, especially her father." you sit back, continuing your thoughts about the demanding man.

"could you expand on that?"

"i didn't grow up rich, which was the biggest thing he disliked, he didn't think i was a good fit for dahyun." you explain, often remembering the side comments that her father would make when dahyun couldn't hear.

"and did you know about this?" dr. yoo turns to dahyun.

"yes. he was adamant about me breaking up with her but i never did." that you didn't know. you always assumed that it was just sly comments towards you, but never did mr. kim outward display his disdain towards you to dahyun.

you button up your jacket. dr. yoo continues to write across her page, leaving you both to sit and think about dahyun's words.

"understood, do you think dahyun's parents affected your relationship with dahyun?" you think about the question, how loaded it all is, you cannot even begin to explain how suffocating being around him was.

family dinners spent trying to escape into the bathroom so he would stop pestering you about your business ventures, or the capital that you had under your belt. you just shudder whenever it becomes holiday seasons.

fearful of the power that mr. kim had over you, one of his last wishes before he passed away was upending his entire gambling debt onto you.

it had become a hold over you, that he would only support the love that you had for dahyun if you were able to help pay off his debt. it became a huge burden on your shoulders, conjuring up a plan to reach financial freedom and success without hindering dahyun's future.

one that you wanted to support from day one, pushing her towards her goal of becoming a fashion designer, every day you suffered at the hands of her father, letting his debt take over your life, all to prove your devotion to dahyun.

and it hurt, to shoulder this weight alone, you always had shouldered the weight of the world on your shoulders to begin with.

"yes, unfortunately. dahyun's father, he. he told me that by taking on his gambling debt before he died, that he would allow me to marry dahyun." you explain, feeling your shoulders release tension.

dr. yoo continues to write fervently, eyes on the page, but a slight nod here and there. you can feel dahyun's gaze on your face, one in disbelief and utter shock. you turn to look at her, meeting her blank eyes.

more than anything, you beg for dahyun to understand, to really understand where you are coming from. a whole life you lived having to make opportunities for yourself, little to no support from others. fighting tooth and nail just to prove that you are worth it. that you are deserving of success and love.

"were you aware she took on your father's debt?" dr. yoo looks to dahyun, not missing a beat or letting any inflection slip in her tone.

"i wasn't. i wasn't even aware he had debt to begin with. what? sorry. um, what? no sorry, how much?" dahyun turns to you, trying to understand all the information that has just been dumped onto her.

"50 million." you sigh, just thinking about the figures. spending late nights calculating interest, and ways to even pay off the large sum of money.

"50? million?" dahyun stands up suddenly, you stand up too. watching her bewildered eyes scan across the room, trying to control her breathing, watching the clock, watching the blue in the reds in the carpet. holding herself as she walks out of the room.

you stare at the open door, the sight of dahyun turning and sinking into a chair.

dr. yoo stands up.

"mrs. kim, perhaps we should end this session here today. dahyun seems to be shutting down."

--

you and dahyun are standing on both ends of the table, her eyes filled with tears as she glares at you.

"you don't think i recognize money-obsessed? you think i can't recognize my father turning you into him? that's all i can see! our marriage is falling apart and you have become my father and i've become my own mother!"

"dahyun, please, all i wanted was to marry you, he forced his hand, i didn't know what else to do." you can feel yourself shaking a bit, your heart racing as you both stand on opposite ends of the room.

"you should have told me." dahyun arms are crossed as she stares you down.

"i didn't want to tarnish the image of your father. i just wanted to love you, and if that was the final condition to marry you, i would do it.." you throw your arms around, frustrated with all this confrontation.

"his gambling debt costed us years of our marriage, can't you see? all this time you wanted to prove yourself to him, he just used you to fix his own problems." dahyun uncrosses her arms, voice reverberating around the large dining room.

"i thought, i thought it would, make him okay with me." your hands drop to your face as you cry into your hands. dahyun stops and walks over to you, wrapping her arms around you, holding you tightly.

"oh darling, i wish you didn't care so much for him opinion." she softly rubs your hair, rubbing circles into the back of your chest as you cry freely. for the first time in a long time, you feel the exhaustion, sadness, yearning all come crashing through your body.

"i wish i didn't too." through long cries in between you finally vocalize it.

"but you love me? isn't that why you did all this?" she questions, a thought thats been plaguing her mind. do you still love her? do you still have the same passion for her you once declared openly to the world? do you still mean each vow you said to her as your hands held hers?

"i do, more than anything else in the world, i love you. my words can only show so much of it." you lift your head up, wiping her tears as she wipes yours.

a small smile on her lips, it's all so stupid.

"show me." she stops crying for a bit, eyes glimmering with hope. she stares at you, in that way you love so much.

"show you?" you try and stop the tears, getting a clearer view of her face.

"show me how much you love me." she says crashing her lips into yours, pulling you forward, your feet nearly stumbling as you wrap your arms around her waist. "show me."

she whispers against your lips, like a spell, you nod and grab a hold of her, rushing you both into your bedroom. you try and show her, that the passion you have for her has always been there, and always will.

--

"mrs and mrs. kim!" dr. yoo invites you in, a warm light shining into the room. you both get seated, while dahyun lets go of your hand.

"i know last time, we had a bit of an outburst, how has that been?" dr. yoo stares at you both, notepad in hand.

"we resolved it." dahyun says confidently.

"resolved it?" she stares at dahyun. dahyun just nods.

"and you? what do you think?"

"we resolved it." you nod back, smiling at dahyun.

"alright, that's lovely to hear. so to follow up, how is sexual intimacy going?" dr. yoo notes the light blush on your faces, unwilling to look at her or even each other.

"it's, it's um, it's good." dahyun starts and coughs a bit, shuffling her feet.

"and you?"

"it's good. very good." you reply, and dahyun slaps your arm, trying to get you to shut up. "oh i see." dr. yoo writes along a new line of her notepad. eyes reviewing her notes so far, comparing previous sessions with this one.

"is there more we should discuss?" dr. yoo comments, eyes lifting off the page again, a light smile upon her face.

"no, i don't think so." dahyun nods at your words, you smile at her. and she shares that same eye smile that you love so much right back.

"right then, well, these sessions are on a as-needed basis. so let me say this in the nicest way possible. i hope we never have to meet in this room again. although my door is always open." dr. yoo gives you both a wink as she ushers you both outside. you wrap your arm around dahyun's shoulder, a little smile on your face.

you hold onto dahyun just a little tighter.

--

a/n: genuinely had so much trouble with this fic, but it has come to fruition so i'm happy regardless! had to do research on marriage counseling and i hope it is obvious but this is fictional and i am not a licensed therapist so there will be inaccuracies. also shoutout to @cry4mina who listened to me word vomit my troubles with this fic <3 please listen to the song as well as look up the meaning of the song!! stay safe and stay healthy everyone!!

[hannibals-favourite-meal]

Replacement Therapy

Yandere!Hannibal Lecter x plus size reader

In a desperate attempt to save your marriage, you begin to attend counseling with the famed Doctor Lecter but soon enough, things begin to take a turn. Based on prompt by @queenstarlight2

Warnings: mention of cheating, VERY INAPPROPRIATE RELATIONSHIP, reader has defined married name (let me know if you recognise it), reader is ever so slightly naive and easy to manipulate, insecurity (not explicitly mentioned what they are), murder, blood, little bit of humping and making out, implied smut, nudity

WC: 2.6k

A/N: I'm so sorry if I didn't do this prompt justice!!

Minors DNI

It was embarrassing, truly. Your husband said it was a disgrace too. But here you were, attending marriage counseling alone. There was no one else in the luxurious waiting room and you were grateful for that small reprieve, you don’t think you could have handled any more humiliation today.

Doctor Hannibal Lecter came highly regarded as the best (and most expensive) therapist in the state. So, foolishly, you had signed yourself and your husband of three years up for a session to see if you could fix your marriage. After all, it had been your fault that he cheated on you with his secretary, you were the one that selfishly denied him.

“Mrs Hansen?” You looked up to see a very well dressed older man standing in the doorway. His yellow eyes were fixated on you like a predator watching their prey but it didn’t scare you. You nodded and he shifted so his lean body was side on, gesturing for you to enter his office. Gathering up your coat and purse, you walked in.

The office was really quite lovely, walls covered in books, beautiful leather chairs and an ornate desk made you feel as if you had stepped into someone’s home rather than a psychiatrist’s practice. “Can I take your coat Mrs Hansen?” Dr Lecter stepped closer, offering his large hand to you.

“Um yes, thank you.” Your hands brushed as you gave him the expensive coat Lloyd bought for you. He smiled kindly at you before he turned his back so he could hang the garment up on the rack next to his own. You noted his suit, it was similar to the suits associates of your husband’s wore: expensive, exclusive.

“Take a seat and we can begin.” The smooth leather squeaked against the bare skin of your legs as you sat, the sound filling the otherwise silent office. Your heart dropped to your stomach and you quickly tugged down the hem of your dress over the expanse of your plump thighs. 

The doctor soon found his own seat opposite you. He unbuttoned his suit jacket as he did, taking on a relaxed air, as if he were about to watch television or read a book. It put you immediately at ease. “So tell me, why do you believe you are in need of counseling?” His voice was smooth and rich like an aged whiskey. 

“Well, recently, my husband and I have been going through a rough patch and I thought-“ You started, nervously playing with the gaudy wedding ring on your finger when Doctor Lecter stopped you.

“I asked why you needed counseling, not your husband. I do not doubt that he is in need of it but I make it a habit not to diagnose in absentia. So Mrs Hansen, I ask again; why do you need help?” The silence was deafening as his words sunk in. When was the last time someone offered to help? You were lost in your own mind, the questions consuming you.

But the doctor was patient, simply letting you experience your thoughts without any interruption. Too lost in your spiraling mind, you didn’t see how his eyes trailed down the length of your plump body, taking in each and every detail like you were some rare and beautiful creature. “I-I don’t know Doctor Lecter. I feel like I can’t be fixed but maybe my marriage can.”

“And why is it so important that you fix the marriage that is obviously making you unhappy?” Your head shot up with such a force your neck clicked.

“I’m not unhappy, I love my husband.” He tsked and leaned back in his seat, crossing one long leg over the other.

“Now now Mrs Hansen, I don’t tolerate liars in this office. I respect you enough to tell you to tell the truth and I expect the same respect from you.” You felt like a scolded child under the scrutinizing gaze of a parent. 

You didn’t realise you were crying until the tears fell onto your folded hands, rolling down onto your dress. “I love my husband.” You emphasised half-heartedly. Your voice thickened as more tears welled up, making your vision swim.

“And I do not doubt that my dear. But those we love can make us unhappy. And it is in your best interest to recognise that.” A box of tissues appeared before you, you took the whole thing. “How about we start at what makes you happy, do you have any hobbies?”

——————

Your sessions with Doctor Lecter, Hannibal as he insisted you call him, were the highlight of your week. Everything was getting better! Lloyd had even stopped pestering you about it, just sending you out the door with his black card to pay for it.

Hannibal had been wonderful, he helped you rediscover old passions and find new ones to keep your mind occupied during the day since Lloyd insisted you become a housewife after you were married. You felt lighter and truly happier. 

But the only downside to this whole thing was your unfortunate crush on the older man. Who could blame you? He was sauve and sophisticated but not condescending. He was kind but not a roll over. He was handsome but not unobtainable. He knew your soul better than Lloyd, he always seemed to know what you needed, whether it be a shoulder to cry on or someone to laugh with you. He recommended wines and getaways, museums and art galleries, he had even picked out a new perfume for you that had made your husband go absolutely feral for you.

A part of you wished you had met the doctor before Lloyd. You often wondered what your life would have been like if he was the one that swept you off your feet first. 

“How have you been this week? Have you been journalling like I asked you to?” You nodded, a large smile on your face. You pulled the beautiful leather-bound journal from your bag and handed it over to the good doctor without hesitation.

“Yep! Just like you told me to! One entry in the morning as soon as I get up and one at night right before I go to bed.” Hannibal winked at you from over his glasses.

“Very good girl." He purred before opening the book and beginning to read. It had been a strange request, to write down all your thoughts and actions through the day, including, well more like emphasising anything sexual that happened, especially if you pleasured yourself. But you trusted Hannibal and knew that he would do whatever was best for you.

“I see you and Mr Hansen had intercourse this week.” Your breath caught in your throat at his tone and the sudden frown marring his perfect face. Shamefully, you looked down at your lap.

“Yes we did.”

“But you write that you didn’t enjoy it. Can you tell me why?” Because I was thinking about you the whole time and what you would feel like inside of me instead of him. But you couldn’t say that to your therapist.

So you just shrugged. “I guess I wasn’t in the mood.” But like all lies you told him, Hannibal saw right through it, although, this time, he didn’t make any comment.

“I hope you were able to take care of yourself after then, I would hate to think that he left you feeling vulnerable and unsafe.” You most certainly had. A quick trip to the bathroom after he fell asleep with your waterproof vibrator and a tub full of hot soapy water and fixed the ache between your thighs. Especially when you called out Hannibal’s name when you climaxed.

“I took a hot bath and drank a glass of that red wine you recommended last week.” He nodded approvingly, the smile returning to his lips as he placed the book on the side table next to him. His legs spread slightly and you could not help but sneak a quick glance at the sizeable bulge hidden by his navy pinstripe pants.

Your eyes snapped back up to his own as he began to speak again. “Now this is a strange question but I find it useful to ask my patients this sometimes. How many times do you think you have had sex with your husband?” 

“What?” You breathed, legitimately shocked by the question. How could he even ask that? But like he could read your mind, Hannibal explained himself.

“I only ask because to a woman such as yourself who values intimacy and physical connection, sex is a very important and healthy part of a relationship. Knowing how often you and Mr Hansen engaged in such acts, and by focusing on how often it used to occur versus now can give me a better idea as to the state of your marriage.” 

Sceptically, you withdrew slightly, thinking about the many times you had been intimate with Lloyd. It hurt to reminisce on the times before your marriage when he was your whole world and you were his. When did it change? Or was it ever like that? “We dated for three months before we got married. We used to have sex at least twice a day. And then on the honeymoon it was pretty much a 12 hour affair every day. But about a month after we got back, the sex stopped. Since then it’s maybe been 10 or 20 times.” Hannibal slumped forward, his scruffy chin coming to rest on his intertwined fingers as he did the math in his head. 

“It isn’t unusual for couples to stop being intimate but it is certainly questionable for the sex to stop so quickly after it frequently occurred. Is there any reason you believe this has happened?” And like you couldn’t stop it, you started spilling your deepest and darkest secrets to him, just like all the times before.

——————

Fridays were reserved for Hannibal, you made that very clear to your life partner and apparently, he had taken full advantage of that. You stared at his computer in complete disbelief. There were thousands of messages from hundreds of women, each detailing the dirty and almost borderline illegal acts he committed with them.

You hadn’t meant to snoop, only wanting to find your mother’s pie recipe to give to Hannibal for today’s session but the logs were right there! Like he wanted you to find them. In a haze, you printed out as many of the chats as you could and stuffed them into your purse.

“Hmm.” Hannibal hummed as he looked over the various sheets of paper. His face remained neutral but inside he was seething. You had already confided in him about your husband's past ‘indiscretions’ and your insecurity about pleasing him sexually. “I won’t ask you how you feel about these chats because that would be unhelpful so instead I’m going to ask about what you wish to do about it.”

You had his undivided attention, his amber eyes locked on you as he awaited your decision. “I want to leave him.” Hannibal’s shoulders dropped almost imperceptibly. “B-but I can’t afford the divorce. All of our money is his.” 

Slipping from his seat, he knelt before you as if in worship. Your legs squeezed together, both to sate your arousal from his close proximity and to prevent him catching sight of your soaked panties. “You needn’t worry my flower, I have more than enough money to buy your freedom.” 

“I can’t let you do that Hannibal. You’ve done so much for me already and I’ll forever be grateful but this is something I need to do on my own.” His eyes grew softer, filled with swirling emotion. Palms skated up your leg, cupping the side of your knee in a grip far too tight to be friendly.

The doctor was close enough now you could study the details of his face far more than you ever could before.  Your gaze followed the lines of his wrinkles, going from the crows feet by his eyes to the smile lines on his cheeks. Then to his lips. “I would do anything for you, my flower, you never have to ask.” Slowly, his hands moved higher and his lean body closer. His broad shoulders forced your legs apart so he could rest between them. “If I cannot give you financial support, let me offer you my home, at least until you are on your own two feet.”

You could not speak, too lost in the idea of surging forward and finally kissing him. “Ok.” You murmured, conceding to his wishes. 

“Wonderful. Then how about we wrap up this session early so we can get you home and fed.” You whined low in your throat as he slipped away but thankfully, he didn’t hear you. He helped you to your feet and then turned to fetch your coats

“Whatever you want, Doctor.” You said jokingly. He laughed but you missed the truly wicked grin spreading over his face. Oh yes, whatever he wants indeed.

——————

You were truly beautiful when you slept. It was like all of your worries and stresses washed away, leaving you almost fae-like in appearance. Hannibal had lost count of the amount of times he had snuck into your home to catch a glimpse of your resting form. He had drawn you each time, and each time, he took something of yours. A lock of your hair, a piece of jewelry, even several panties from your hamper., things you wouldn’t really notice if they went missing.

But now, you were here, in his home and in his bed. You were his.

He had hoped that you would have come to your senses months ago and realised that he would be a better lover than this worm of a man could ever be. But it seems that you needed a bit more of a push to fall into his arms. 

The messages had been easy to fake. He knew you wanted a hero to come and save you from your husband, the chats had been the perfect excuse to come to him. 

You shifted in your sleep and the dark sheets pooled around your wide hips, exposing the way his own shirt stretched across your large body. He could even see how your nipples pebbled in the chilly air of the room. “Absolutely divine.” He could not help himself.

As quietly as he could, Hannibal slipped into the bed beside you, not caring that he was staining the bedding with the still wet blood that covered his naked skin. Your legs fell open easily, allowing him to crawl up your body, taking his rightful place above you.

Red began to seep through your white shirt, blooming like a flower. “My beautiful, perfect flower.” He nosed along your pulse point, inhaling your alluring scent like he needed it to live. You were so soft and warm, he had no doubt you would be absolutely delectable but he was far far too selfish to let you go.

His hips nudged into your own, unable to keep himself from seeking out the warmth of your core. “H-Hannibal?” Your eyes were barely open but they were dark with lust, almost as if you had been expecting him like this.

“I am sorry to have woken you my flower but you were far too alluring for me to just walk away.” He returned to your neck, now licking at your slightly salty skin. 

“Oh fuck.” You moaned, your hips canting upwards, bumping into his cock. You wrapped your arms around his muscular back, encouraging him to continue his ministrations. “Is this a dream?”

Hannibal planted his forearm by your head so he could guide your shapely leg over his waist. “If it is, I hope we never wake because I have lots I must do with you.” Your fingers tangled in his silvery hair, overcome with electricity in your veins.

“You have slept with your idiotic husband almost 400 times and I must scrub away his touch from your heavenly body.” 

“Should we get started then?” You asked coyly and Hannibal couldn’t help but oblige you.

Prompt: Imagine yandere Hannibal asking how often you and your husband have had sex during a therapy session, saying it might be making you unhappy. When the reason he asked was that he wanted to know how many times he was going to have to fuck you to make you forget about your husband

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[dreamyvill]

On purpose -2

Roman reigns x oc

Lauren is handling her ex-boyfriend from colleges divorce, he and Lori embark on a journey that proves how things happen for reasons. Either hers or his will it work out this time.

Her thoughts are slanted and this is somewhat proofread.

Previous part

This was my last case as a divorce settlement lawyer before I returned to being a prosecuting attorney. When I first went to law school it was to be a criminal attorney but when I graduated I was desperate to get out of debt and get a job so I settled into a smaller firm that paid well and was able to pay off my debt a few years ago but over time every last case became my last until the next one came along. I meant it this time Joe Is my last case and hopefully it's open and shut.

Making my way into the next conference and meeting I had with Joe walking down the long white minimalist halfway, with bright white lighting and pieces of furniture here and there and a mixture between abstract and a kind of Picasso. Opening the big gray painted white oak door laying eyes on the tall, brown eyes that I hadn’t seen in damn near twenty years, his hair was wrapped in a military style bun with his salt and pepper beard and he smelt more than heavenly when he reached in for a hug before we broke apart. I watched him drink in my grown woman's body. I hadn’t always had the curvy of curves but after college my grown woman body really settled in and I was more than in love with myself.

“Hello Joe, can you give me a bit of background or insight into your marriage over the last few years?” I said sitting down getting right into it sitting himself across from me and the polished oak table that matched the door. Looking back and forth between Joe and my pen and notepad as I waited for him to answer the question.

“Hi Lori, I'm doing great thank you for asking, haven't seen you in a while but that's okay.” he said sarcastically, having a conversation with himself using a bland tone before seeing my face and sitting up clearing his throat. “It was amazing the last few years but i've been working a lot between the traveling and long distance she couldn’t handle it and wanted to divorce about three years ago but I wanted to save us and suggested counseling and that i'd cut back on working and for about seven or so months it worked and everything was blissful but then I got an amazing storyline and it projected my career up and i started making more money but then i was way for way longer and we barely got to see each other and a few months ago she served me and said it was over and she didn’t want to try again.” he listed I wouldn’t dare and say I knew him because he’d changed so much since since id last seen him but i could see sadness in his eyes when he listed off the last few years with his wife Juile.

“Okay so what do you do for work?” I asked, jotting everything he’d just told me.

“I'm a wrestler, including endorsements of at least five million more if I book a lot.” he told me

“Okay and your wife wasn’t able to travel with you?” I asked him looking up.

“No, she gets sick in a car long distance and she works as a trauma surgeon so it’s hard for her to take time.” he explained watching me write it down, before asking my next question i made sure to make direct eye contact with him. “Did you at one point or another cheat on your wife with anyone whether that be emotionally or physically? I need you to be very honest with me.” I asked, waiting for something to change to tell if he was lying. At this point Joe had spoken with firmness in his tone and kept his answers short but detailed.

“No, because i was working so much i was too tired for sex at the end of most days.” he said staying firm with his tone and maintaining eye contact not seeming nervous at all.

“Okay and I don’t expect you to know this but did she at some point cheat on you in any way?” I asked keeping the same vibe, not one of tension but honest and open.

“No, she didn’t” continuing to answer firmly.

“Okay, and during the counsouling what was the conversation like?” i said counting to ask my normal oeping questions.

“Same things i just said working long and late and she felt like we weren’t married anymore and she felt neglected.” he reiterated

“And finally do you have any children?” I asked him

“Five, two set of twins four and six and a older daughter who just made fifteen.” he said making my eyes slightly bulge out of their sockets.

Damn

Hearing his deep chest laugh

“Sorry its just damn anyhow is there anything else i should know?” I asked him.

“No” he quickly gave

“Okay we’ll be intouch and figure out numbers and settlement later it seems like you both are ready to move on, this should be finialized by nexty month.” I said walking him out the door wanting to get the day over with.

Finally getting home just after ten o’clock I was beyond worn out and itching for a bubble bath, unlocking my front door hearing the automated voice announcing my arrival, my mother was standing in my kitchen over the stove.

“Momma, whatcha doing here?” I asked her sitting my briefcase down and stepping out of my heels my height dropping as I took them off one by one. Standing over with her hands in her hips looking at me some kind of way.

“Is that how you speak to someone let alone your momma?” She said with her ‘fix yourself tone’.

“Where Joe?” She asked looking behind where I was sitting and into the walk way.

“At home probably” I said standing and looking through the pot seeing chicken that hasn’t been fried yet as well as red beans with sausage and rice on the stove.

“I told you mama we’re not just going to fall out of the sky into a relationship, I’m just his divorce attorney.” I told her leaving the kitchen to go into my room and take my bath for bed.

Turning the faucet on and filling the tub floor with bubble solution slipping out of my clothes and into the water feeling the water warm and the bubble form on and around my wet body. Taking in a deep breath peacefully before my momma busted into the bathroom.

“Momma!” I said frantically gathering the bubbles to cover me before she smacked her teeth at me and with a wave of her hand said.

“Girl I’ve seen every crevice of your body you ain’t special.” She said sending a small ping to my heart but nonetheless shaking it off.

“That doesn’t matter, momma I’m grown you can’t do that.” I pouted at her. “God why does she always make me feel like a child”

“You worried about the wrong things you need to worry about how you gonna get Joe back, he’s doing more than well for himself with his play fighting.” She pointed

“What happened to this all being immature and besides that was a long time ago.” I said sinking I to the bath wanting her and this conversation to stop.

“Girl money is forever don’t be dumb now I’m going to finish the food and be on my way since you wanna act like you don’t care about nobody.” She said with an attitude walking off. Which made me sigh and just lay there and enjoy the warmth.

Getting out of the tub sometime later I dried my body off and did my nightly routine, slipping into a big tee-shirt before dipping into the kitchen for some food seeing a plate made and everything else cleaned up. Eating my food I thought about yet another guilting conversation with my momma.

I didn’t understand why she flipped from mommy dearest to getting like that. Finishing up and putting away my dish I slipped into bed and allowed sleep to take me.

-

[realmsdelite]

UNDER THE CUT ARE ROLEPLAY PROMPTS TAKEN FROM GRRM’S FIRE AND BLOOD — FOCUSING COMPLETELY ON THE DANCE ERA. change pronouns as desired / preferred. altered slightly to fit dialogue format. part two.

tws: misogyny, violence, swearing

" the tedium of rule is left largely to the king's small counsel, and his hand. "

" the sheep are prettier then their women. "

" he has no living son, _ is the rightful heir. "

" nor did he have much of a taste for the joust, hunt, or swordplay. "

" his daughter was his life's great joy, he'd often said. but a brother was a brother. "

" in the absence of a trueborn son the king's brother would come before the king's daughter. "

" if the precedent set by the great council is to be followed, a male claimant must prevail over the female. "

" i wager he'd finally had a surfeit of his ambition. "

" _ is not the strongest willed of kings, it must be said. "

" he does as they bid more often then not. "

" no amount of argument shall sway me from my course. "

" there could be no possible objection to his choice of bride. "

" her ladyship shows far more interest in flying then boys. "

" it was not rebellion the prince has in mind, he sees another path to power. "

" of themselves, the isles are of little worth. "

" he's doubtless pleased to be rid of him. "

" it is an endless round of feasts, balls, and tourneys. mummers and singers heralding the birth of each new princeling. "

"she has proven to be as fertile as she is pretty. "

" _ protects the princess from her enemies, but who protects the princess from _ ? "

" though the queen has given the king not one, but two male heirs, he has done nothing to change the order of succession. it is not an issue he cares to revisit. "

" he loves both his wife and daughter, and hates conflict and contention. "

" so long as he lives, rules, and keeps the balance, the feasts and tourneys shall continue as before, and peace will prevail. though what of after the king passes ? "

" some have observed the dragons of one party snapping and spitting flames at the dragons of the other whenever they chance to pass near each other. "

" in the tourney itself, i had much the better of it. “

“you unhorsed all of the other champions.”

" as to what happened after, we must look toward our more dubious chroniclers. "

" you were cheering the loudest. "

" though he treats me with all the courtesy due to my station, there is no warmth between us. "

" neither age nor exile has changed his nature. "

" you are the fairest maid in all of the realm. "

" the whole tale has come out, and no small part thanks to him. "

" who else would take her now ? "

" he should be put to death immediately as a traitor. "

" your grace, you must not. there is no man as accursed as the kinslayer. "

" all the more reason to bind them together in marriage. "

" the boy is _ 's own blood. she wants him on the throne. "

" great lords and dashing knights flutter around you like moths to a flame, vying for your favor. "

" did he pay court to you ? "

" what of it? i do not like the taste of fish but when it is served i eat it. "

" you are being an ungrateful daughter. "

" it is a strong match. it was of great concern to us to choose the right one for you, and it is done. "

" what of your own succession ? you need heirs, with a suitable match."

"what a king has done, a king can undo. you will wed as i command, or i shall make your brother my heir in place of you. "

" i am the blood of the dragon. and meant for more then to live out my life as the wife of a common sellsword. "

" if you could set aside your vows, why should marriage vows mean anymore to you ? "

" i saved my maidenhead for you. take it now, as proof of my love. "

" perhaps when he learns i am not chaste, he will refuse me. "

" a joyous celebration has become the occasion of grief, and recrimination. "

" the coolness between the king's wife and the king's daughter is plain for all to see. even envoys have made note. "

" we all must find our own solace, whereever we will. with whomever. "

" the king hopes to prevent any enmity between the two boys by raising them as milk brothers. "

" there has come a tragic mishap, of the sort that shapes the destiny of kingdoms. "

" ' to put my wife to rest', he'd said. though more likely it was to lay claims to her lands, castles and incomes."

" his presence here, is unwelcome. and will be, should he attempt to return. "

" you should not fly any longer. not until the babe is born. "

" i have heard it said that more then just your husband, was at your side at your birthing bed. "

" do keep trying, soon or late you may get one who looks like you. "

" he is a father now, he will have changed. "

" he is as big and red faced, and healthy as his brothers had been. "

" features that some at court have called ' common.' "

" he sat the babe upon his knee, and was heard to say, ' one day this will be your seat, lad. ' " / " one day this will be your seat, lad. "

" the sins of the father are oft visited upon the sons, wise men have said. and so it is for the sins of the mothers as well. "

" i would ask your blessing, your grace. and your permission, for a betrothal of marriage. "

" this enforced closeness has only served to feed their mutual mislike, rather then bind them together. "

" many and more will have reason to wail, and grieve, and rend their garments. "

" some claimed a ship was waiting for him offshore. he was never seen again. "

" there was no shred of proof, then or now. "

" the cruelty of children is known to all. "

" you stay away from her!"

" even at ten, he has never lacked for boldness."

" call it boldness, call it madness, call it fortune or the will of the gods or the caprice of dragons - for who can know the mind of such a beast ? "

" to so name them is tantamount to saying they are bastards, with no right of succession, and that i myself am guilty of high treason. "

" should anyone, man, woman or child - noble, or common, or royal, refer to them as such again, their tongues shall be pulled out with hot pinchers. "

" your false smiles and empty words deceived no one, save for the king. "

" these vile rumors and base calumnies must end. she will return to court with me, you will confine yourself to your seat. "

" he shall serve in his stead as your shield. "

" these rulings have seemed to please no one. "

[erraticprocrastinator]

Part 1 of "English Is Hard", the series where I talk about all the annoying details that can make writing a living Hell

'Anymore' vs 'Any more'

Yes, there's a difference. Yes, I used them incorrectly for several years before I knew there was a difference.

'Any more' refers to quantity, an amount of something. If your character does not want another bowl of pudding because they're full, they might say "no, I don't want any more, I'm stuffed."

'Anymore' refers to time, and can be broken down to mean 'any longer' or 'no longer'. If your character has gone off pudding after eating it every day for six years, they might say "no thanks, I don't like pudding anymore."

Tips for remembering which to use:

'More' means (paraphrasing) 'a greater or additional amount', so 'any more' means 'any greater or additional amount'. Therefore, if the context of your sentence involves an amount, anything that's quantifiable, you're looking for the separated version.

'Anymore' almost always refers to the end of a period of time (the period in which a person liked pudding, the duration of a friendship etc.) so if the context involves something ending, this is the one you're after.

I've included a couple of examples of examining the context to provide further clarification!

"I don't think Derek and I can be together anymore"

The narrator and Derek have been in a relationship, the duration of which is a period of time, meaning that 'anymore' is correct.

"I don't think the business is going to survive any more bad reviews."

'Bad reviews' can be counted, they are quantifiable. Therefore, you use 'any more'.

"Gerald says he doesn't want to go to any more counseling sessions. He doesn't want to try anymore!"

Once again, counseling sessions are something that can be counted, they are quantifiable. Gerald has previously wanted to try to save his marriage, but that time has come to an end, and he has given up. I wanted to include an example that uses both instances because it used to trip me up so badly!

[mcntsee]

— ★ works in progress!

↳ these are not in any specific order!

— KAZ BREKKER

— my wife

↳ (Kaz Brekker x reader)

Summary: This marriage was not an act of love, just pure convenience. Kaz thirsting for revenge, and her itching for a way out.

Snippet: Perhaps, in this alternate life, they might have fallen in love. In that scenario, Kaz speculated he would have invested genuine effort into getting to know her. Truly know her. And just maybe, their wedding would have been a celebration of love, not a calculated ruse.

— crimson smoke - 3.1K words

↳ (Kaz Brekker x sister! reader)

Summary: Stealing the Neshyenyer

Snippet: Her eyes widened in fear as she tried to step away from him. Her father's grip was relentless. She managed to break free but found herself unable to step back further. She whispered, "Da..."

— routine

↳ (Kaz Brekker x reader)

Snippet: But maybe routine was meant to be broken every now and then.

Still, he waited and waited, but she never came.

— what’s your name?

↳ (Kaz Brekker x civilian! reader)

Snippet: Initially, a person’s name holds little to no significance to us. However, as we build a relationship with them and feelings arise, their name acquires a new meaning. Someone's name signifies the feelings it evokes in you.

— breaking my heart

↳ (from jesper’s pov + slight platonic!crows)

Summary: Jesper’s heart breaks at the sight of Kaz Brekker, his boss and the coldest person in Katterdam, on his knees.

Snippet: His breath caught in his throat as he watched Kaz’s usually steady form falter. He watched as his knees gave way, and sank to the ground, pressing his forehead against the cold earth.

— the problem

↳ (Kaz Brekker x reader)

Snippet: “I fell in love with you.”

“Say it again.”

— my angel

↳ (Kaz Brekker x reader)

Summary: Epilogue for Fires of passion, ashes of hate from Kaz’s point of view. (Can also be read as a standalone or first part to my devil)

Snippet: She remained the sole divine thing he believed in— the one enduring belief he still clung to.

— my devil

↳ (Kaz Brekker x reader)

Summary: Epilogue for Fires of passion, ashes of hate from reader’s point of view. (Can also be read as a standalone or second part to my angel)

Snippet: He was the forbidden fruit she couldn’t resist—the captivating rebel who stole and kept her heart.

— my dearly detested

↳ (Kaz Brekker x reader)

Summary: Enemies to lovers

Snippet: "I've known you for a while now, Rietveld. Although my family wasn't much into Lij festivities, I remember you and Jordie being part of it, just like me."

— old friend (request by: lottle-is-little)

↳ (Kaz Brekker x civilian! reader)

Request: I was wondering if you could write Kaz x reader (female) where the girl is from Lij and was best friends with Kaz (like Alina and Mal) and Kaz finds photos of them and Jordie together before they moved to Ketterdam (she stayed behind when they went and lost contact) and he misses her a bunch and him and the Crows go to Lij and meet her and super fluffy and happy

— the waves (request by: @lottle-is-little)

↳ (Kaz Brekker x grisha! reader)

Request: Reader is a part of the Counsel of Tides and Kaz doesn't know and something happens where the Counsel threatens the city because of something that happened and the reader comes back to the Slat exhausted from using their power too much at once and passes out and Kaz takes care of them.

— stalker (request by: @tayrae515)

↳ (Kaz Brekker x reader)

Request: Reader having a stalker. Maybe it starts out as creepy notes the reader hides but ends up with the stalker approaching her (kidnapping or not.) and Kaz saving the reader by dealing with the stalker. Maybe it even ends with Kaz's attempt at admitting he cares about the reader.

— my head, my heart (request by: @nicole198205)

↳ (Kaz Brekker x reader)

Request: kaz brekker x reader where the reader has been struggling with like migraines or something and attempting to hide it from kaz but he eventually finds out?

— pull me closer (anon request)

↳ (Kaz Brekker x reader)

Request: maybe they are sleeping together for the first time, but not in a sexual way. like, they are cuddling for the first time after working on his touch aversion for so long?

— stay with me (anon request)

↳ (Kaz Brekker x reader)

Request: reader is from The Menagerie, and Kaz is paying her in debts, as well as Inej's, and she's one of the crows, she's in love with Kaz, he's in love with her, but the something happens and she's afraid that Tante is gonna take her back to The Menagerie, and she decides to run away but then Kaz says the famous "Stay. Stay in Ketterdam. Stay with me." to her.

— my demons, your fears (anon request)

↳ (Kaz Brekker x grisha! reader)

Request: kaz brekker x reader oneshot where they grew up together as neighbors but then the reader's parents died and Kaz'a family took her in and she went with him the Jordie to Ketterdam and was with Kaz helped Kaz swim out of the Reaper's Barge because she's a tidemaker. Anyway, her and Kaz used to be together but they broke up and then the reader had a nightmare about Jordie and woke up screaming and crying and Kaz comforted her and brought her to his bed to sleep for the night and in the morning she was confused why he helped her and they get back together or something, you can choose the ending.

— those eyes (request by: @yhaywhwvsh)

↳ (Kaz Brekker x reader + slight platonic! crows)

Request: Reader finishes what she wanted to do in Ketterdam (her goal) and she only stayed because of Kaz, but after that argument "You would be nothing without me, Brekker", "I saved you. Don't forget that." she leaves. She comes back to Ketterdam after the Ice court heist and all that shit and the new Crows met her?

— don’t panic, love (anon request)

↳ (Kaz Brekker x gn! reader)

Request: i was wondering if you could do a fic where Kaz or Freddy can tell the reader(gn if that's okay) is going to have a panic attack before they knew due to Kaz/Freddy seeing the signs and provides the reader with comfort and helps them calm down

— THE CROWS

— long live (anon request)

↳ (slight Kaz Brekker x reader + platonic! crows)

Request: six of crows x reader (platonic)/slight Kaz x reader based on the song "Long Live" by Taylor Swift?

— you shot me! (anon request)

↳ (platonic! crows x reader)

Request: 31. "You shot me!" "Oh, don't pretend to be surprised. It's unbecoming." So maybe some sort of just heist gone wrong but with comedic elements. Of course someone got shot but its funny right

— FREDDY CARTER

— I’ll take care of you (anon request)

↳ (freddy carter x reader)

Request: fluffy one shot of Freddy Carter taking care of the reader when she’s sick, Thank you so much ILYSM!!!

— SIMON "GHOST" RILEY

— the aftermath (trojan horse pt.2)

↳ (ghost x reader + platonic TF141)

Summary: Zero is dealing with the aftermath of their London mission. Luckily she has Simon by her side. And of course, the rest of her team.

Snippet: He grappled with disbelief. A lifetime of enduring pushbacks, hits, and abuse had etched a belief of being unlovable. Yet, here she was, loving him effortlessly, as if it were as natural as breathing.”

— ALASTOR

— bygone (series!)

↳ (human! alastor x fem! reader)

Summary: it’s fascinating how different people can be in hell from how they were back when they were alive, which is exactly why charlie decided to visit the hotel guests in their heydays.

— angelic prey (anon request)

↳ (alastor x angel! reader)

Request: We can have a yandere Alastor with an angel reader... After Charlie went to heaven, the angel reader was moved by his proposal to save the demons... So to help Charlie the reader went to the hazbin hotel... What no one counted on is that Alastor fell in love with the angel reader... Now what would happen?

— CRIMINAL MINDS

— come back to me (anon request)

↳ (spencer x reader)

Request: spencer reid x reader (preferably non bau reader) where reader goes missing and they are gone so long that they are presumed dead. And they are never found (at least not found alive)???

[torchwood-99]

Denethor and Theoden as Fathers: A Comparison

(In which the rulers of Gondor and Rohan both play favourites.)

Denethor and Theoden are often held against each other as foils. Foils as kings, foils as warriors, foils as fathers.

Usually, these comparisons work out in Theoden's favour. Particularly in that in terms of fatherhood. After all, Denethor is harsh and pitiless to his son, whereas Theoden is affable and affectionate to his children. At a glance, there's no question of who loves his children better.

Indeed, Denethor openly declares his preference for Boromir over Faramir, tells him that between the two he would have chosen Boromir to live.

“Do you wish then," said Faramir,"that our places had been exchanged?” “Yes, I wish that indeed," said Denethor. "For Boromir was loyal to me and no wizard’s pupil. He would have remembered his father’s need, and would not have squandered what fortune gave. He would have brought me a mighty gift.” For a moment Faramir’s restraint gave way. “I would ask you, my father, to remember why it was that I, not he, was in Ithilien. On one occasion at least, your counsel has prevailed, not long ago. It was the lord of the City that gave the errand to him.”

Denethor's preference for Boromir seems to hinge mostly on his belief that Boromir would have served him and brought him the Ring, allowing them to defeat the enemy and save their lands. He is a father speaking to a son, but his love for his children revolves largely around the services they can provide to him as a servant to a Steward. After all, Denethor has had the survival of Gondor on his shoulder for years, and is sacrificing everything he has, including his sanity, to fight it. He has become Steward before all else, including a father. Being a Steward is all he is. Fighting the enemy is all he is. So when his son disobeys him as a soldier, as a Steward he loves him less.

This is painful and devastating for Faramir, who loves his father and longs for his father's love in return. And Denethor is teaching Faramir the same toxic mindset, that all his value hinges on this one thing, and that to be a failure of a soldier (disobedient) is to be a failure as a son and as a person.

But Faramir has fight enough to call Denethor out, to question his judgement, to defend himself. To essentially enter into open conflict with him.

The conflict between Denethor and Faramir, the failures of Denethor as a father, his preference for Boromir, the flaws in their relationship, are on open display, and there for all to see.

The flaws in Eowyn and Theoden's relationship, Theoden's failings as a father to Eowyn, Theoden's preference for Eomer, Theoden's reduction of Eowyn's worth to the services she provides, go unremarked and are barely commented on.

Like Denethor and Faramir, Theoden obviously has a child he holds in higher esteem than Eowyn. After Theoden awakens, he notes the importance of Eomer's contribution to the war, declares he cannot be spared, and respects that he would not wish to be left behind. Before he fell into dotage, he gave Eomer the charge of an Eored and made him a Marshall, showing respect and trust in him as a warrior and a Rider of Rohan.

Eowyn, although skilled in arms and as eager as Eomer to fight to defend her people, and to earn renown for herself, gets allotted the role of dry nurse and housekeeper against her will. A role that holds little chance for renown or honour, in comparison to Eomer's.

On awakening, Theoden shows no gratitude for the sacrifices she made during his illness. He does not show any response to the information that his trusted councillor harassed her and stalked her and would have forced her into marriage (and the marriage bed) if he could. He did not give Eowyn an opportunity a chance to testify against Grima when deciding his judgement.

(Instead he offers Grima forgiveness and a chance to repent. He offers Grima the choice to ride with him into battle; as a test of character true, but notably a choice Eowyn was denied despite years of loyal service. Grima is given more agency by Theoden than Eowyn is.)

On awakening, Theoden sends Eowyn away at Gandalf's request, but has Eomer brought back to him. Eomer is included in the following council and discussions about Grima's fate and their country's next moves. We only see Eowyn again when it's time for her to wait on Theoden at his table.

Eomer is brought into the room to have his voice heard. Eowyn is sent away now Theoden needs no nursing. Eomer is permitted to dine with him. Eowyn is permitted to serve.

The moment I keep coming back to, the moment that really casts a pall over Theoden and Eowyn's entire dynamic, is of course when Theoden asks for someone to rule in his place, after declaring that should Eomer fall, the people are to choose a new king.

It is this moment that really makes it evident just how much Theoden respects Eowyn, and colours the rest of their interactions.

Theoden is told by Hama (probably speaking as the people's voice) that it's in the House of Eorl they trust, and here Theoden makes it clear what a non-entity Eowyn is to him.

Eomer is the last of his house. Eowyn has served him all this time, has tended to his needs at great cost to herself, but Eomer and Eomer alone is the heir, Eomer and Eomer alone should have his right to choose to right out respected, Eomer and Eomer alone is of Theoden's house.

Even when he does grant the people's wish to have Eowyn rule, the fact he concedes to this request without consulting Eowyn, denying her a choice he granted every other man who refused to offer to stay back, shows that he has no regard for Eowyn's desires and Eowyn's autonomy.

After this interaction, any moments when Theoden does show Eowyn affection seem trivial.

He calls her daughter instead of sister-daughter (but only after he calls Eomer son, because Eomer must come first.) He notices that she seems unhappy at the same time Merry, a complete stranger, also notices that she has obviously been weeping.He does allow Eowyn to sit with him, instead of waiting on him. But at the same meal, he makes Merry the same offer as well, after knowing Merry a matter of days. Eowyn waited on Theoden for years before she had a chance to sit at his table. Merry five minutes.

This also makes the claim that Eowyn serving Theoden at his table was an equal or higher honour than sitting with him instead, as Eomer is allowed to do. For if that was so, Merry was slighted for being asked to sit down, or at least the nobility of that offer with which the narrative presents this moment is undermined. If Theoden asking Merry to sit was a compliment, then Eowyn being ordered to stand was a slight.

Waiting on the king was undoubtedly an honour, as any proximity to a king was, but the manner in which Theoden invited Merry to sit and dine with him, as an equal, obviously shows it as a greater one, and an honour that was denied Eowyn for years, and granted to her only at the same times as previously unknown hobbit.

These are the crumbs thrown to Eowyn. The right to serve, to right to take on the tasks no one else wants. A passing moment of concern when even a complete stranger cannot miss she is in despair. A farewell on his deathbed, and a declaration that she was "dearer than daughter" to him, which never translated to anything of substance in life.

This is the sum of Theoden's great love for Eowyn.

Compare to the trust and honour Theoden holds Eomer in once he has recovered from Saruman and Wormtongue's influence, compare to the fact that Theoden never hesitates to name Eomer heir and member of their house, compare the authority granted to Eomer as a Marshall, and Eowyn's own lot is clearly lacking.

Such a stark difference in treatment suggests as large a gap in Theoden's regard for Eomer and Eowyn as Denethor's regard for Boromir and Faramir. But whereas Denethor's failures as a father and his preference for Boromir is acknowledged by all, Theoden is held as a loving and admirable father to Eowyn.

This is because Eowyn is a woman, in a society where women are held to be inferior. She is an inferior being, therefore the love she receives is of an inferior kind.

There is no comparison between Theoden's affection for Eowyn and his affection for Eomer, because they're not even in the same category.

Theoden loves Eomer as a son and he loves Eowyn as a daughter. Daughters aren't so valued, so respected, so important as a son, and therefore there's no expectation that Eowyn should receive equal consideration as Eomer. She's a woman. She doesn't deserve it.

Whereas Boromir; as the eldest son, might be entitled to some rights over Faramir, the gulf in status between older son and second son isn't nearly so wide. There's no societal expectation that Denethor hold Faramir in significantly lower esteem that Boromir. As a son, as a Captain, Faramir is entitled to a certain level of affection and respect from his father, and when Denethor fails to deliver, that is notable.

At the same time, Faramir, a nobleman, a captain, may be obliged to owe Denethor his obedience, and while he is for the most part dutiful (if not disobedient when it's necessary), he has status enough, a voice enough, to disagree with Denethor. To openly defy him and question his judgement. Yet while his rights as a man give him some right to do so, the expectation of loyalty from father to son also makes this worth noting on.

Eowyn and Theoden never enter into open conflict with each other. They never acknowledge any discord between the two, they say all the right platitudes, but Theoden's love for Eowyn is not equal to his love for Eomer, no more than Denethor's is for Faramir and Boromir, and Eowyn suffers in her position under her uncle's rule as much as Faramir does his father's.

Denethor and Faramir's conflict is personal. It is active, aggressive, it is in defiance of expected father & son dynamics. It is unique to them. It cannot be ignored.

Theoden's lack of regard for Eowyn isn't personal. It isn't born out of any specific trait of Eowyn's, except that she is a woman. It is passive, benign, and in accordance to the general acceptance of woman's inferiority. Theoden's treatment of Eowyn is the status quo, it is coded into the values of their society. It's ignored all too easily.

Women are less. Eowyn is a woman. Eowyn is less. No need for hurt feelings, Eowyn just doesn't matter as much, because women don't matter as much. Eowyn doesn't get the opportunities Eomer did, because women don't get the opportunities men do. Eowyn's autonomy isn't respected by Theoden, because women aren't autonomous beings.

Their dynamic is to in accordance with the general expectations of their society, and so it's barely worth commenting on. A father values and respects his son more than his daughter, and the sky is blue and the sun is yellow.

While Eowyn never enters into open disagreement with Theoden, as Faramir does with Denethor, she does eventually disobey him. After years of frustration and bitterness, after years of following the rules and doing as she is ordered in defiance of her own ambitions, Eowyn finally disobeys.

Theoden never finds out. He dies not knowing Eowyn's body lay just a little way away from him. To his understanding, Eowyn is, and always was, his dutiful sister-daughter who followed instructions, waited on him without complaint, came when he called her, left when he sent her, and never troubled him with having a will of her own.

And as Theoden's view on Eowyn hinged on this conception of her, so did his love. The daughter he loved was the silent, obedient nurse and housekeeper.

Denethor knew full well that Faramir often disagreed with him. That Faramir possessed traits and ideals he didn't care for. Theoden never saw Eowyn. Denethor saw Faramir in the harshest light, but he saw him.

In the end, Faramir's fall destroys Denethor. For all the conflict between them, for all their mutual frustrations with each other, for all that Faramir disobeyed him on a serious matter, for all that Faramir was "disloyal" when Boromir would have been "loyal", Denethor did love his son. Even his attempt to burn Faramir along with him was; in his despairing state, an act of love. The act of love of a man gone beyond reason or hope. He wanted them to go together, he wanted them to die before the enemies got them. Faramir called out his father's name and Denethor wanted to go to him.

"Denethor started as one waking from a trance, and the flame died in his eyes, and he wept; and he said: 'Do not take my son from me! He calls for me.'"

Denethor's love for Faramir endured disagreements and conflict and outright disobedience. It endured after Denethor abandoned his duty, and sanity abandoned him. His last act was of love. Destructive, toxic, hopeless love. But love nonetheless.

Theoden dies before he ever finds out Eowyn disobeyed him. He dies before he ever discovers that Eowyn had hopes and wishes beyond acting as his nurse and housekeeper. He dies before he ever had to confront Eowyn's anger and resentment towards him and his house. He dies before knowing Eowyn as anything other than the biddable, dutiful daughter who silently waited on him for so many years.

Theoden died having never known Eowyn at all.

We will never know if Theoden's love; such as it was, would have endured finding out that Eowyn had forsaken his orders. We will never know if Theoden's love for Eowyn would have survived arguments and conflicts and disobedience. We will never know if Theoden would ever have managed to come to truly love Eowyn, instead of the mask she wore for his convenience.

Denethor and Faramir's relationship was harsh, often cruel, in want of kindness and affection, but there was an honesty there at least which suggests that what love they did have, had something of substance about it.

Theoden and Eowyn's relationship was gentle and affable, but it was based on a false image of who Eowyn was, was silently ruled by an uncontested belief in women's inferiority, and was untested by the conflict that would have stemmed from Eowyn showing Theoden her true thoughts and feelings.

Without that test, without that proof, there runs the risk that Theoden's love for Eowyn might have easy and pleasant, but ultimately hollow, whereas Denethor's love for Faramir was difficult and harsh, harmful and pitiless, destructive and eventually murderous, but it was real.

[codenamesazanka]

Since it's obvious that deku is going to save shigaraki and it's very unlikely that Shigaraki's going to die: what are your hopes for the ending? the main theories I have seen are imprisoned (which? Doesn't seem that likely) or being adopted by all might and becoming a pro hero (which seems more likely? But I'd rather have the hero system not survive the manga)

Well, that's sort of two separate things: my hopes for the ending vs what will probably happen. 

What I hope for is Shigaraki and the League pulling a karma houdini and running off into the sunset, never to get caught or serve time or pay for their crimes. That’s not to say they don't change - they stop being Villains out to destroy society, they're genuinely remorseful for the damage they've done, they make it up with self-assigned community service (vigilantism) for the rest of their lives. They run an orphanage that takes in the abandoned, the abused, the abnormal, and raise hundreds of children to be healthy, happy adults. Something like that. 

I hope for this, because the series has not convinced me that much of anything has changed or will change so that what the League went through won't happen again, that the various failures of Hero Society will be corrected, that Heroes are doing anything substantial to prevent new Villains. A few Heroes here and there have finally approached a Villain and acknowledged that they're human and they have been wronged in some way - but they have not addressed at all the root causes. 

The manga seems to believe that if only these Villains had been lucky enough to meet the one person who could've convinced them to endure the abuses, to not lash out, things would've been fine. If only Enji had gone to meet Touya and apologize - never mind the Hero ranking system that contributed to Enji’s toxic mindset, or the existence of the Himura clan who enabled a quirk marriage because they hated heteromorphs so much they would rather inbreed. If only Toga had met Ochako when she was younger - then she could've braved through quirk counseling and her parents emotionally abusing her. If only heteromorphs could've focused on good memories and be shining model minorities instead of being resentful - that’ll get those bigots who commit hate crimes against children to feel ashamed!

At the rate this is going, Deku vs Shigaraki will probably be something like this: If only there was a Deku-like person who was on the streets that day that Tenko was walking - then Tenko wouldn't have become justifiably resentful of the hundreds of other people who did ignore an injured five-year-old. If only he had a Deku-like friend who had magically appeared in the yard that night - then Tenko could've swallowed down his tears and smiled away the pain of his father’s abuse and family’s neglect.

If only a Deku-like Hero could’ve saved Tenko instead of All For One, then everything would’ve turned out okay - because it was AFO who entirely manufactured and introduced to Tenko the foreign, dangerous element of anger. It’s not as if being an orphan with a scary face (Jin), being known as the kid who killed his family/associated with having done something bad despite it being an accident (Gentle), having a strong quirk that people might fear (Toga), the possibility of being placed again in an dysfunctional/abusive home (Touya), the possibility of experiencing bullying because of all these things that make him stick out (Spinner, La Brava), and just having a lifelong tendency to empathize with and gravitate towards outcasts might just give him reasons to get frustrated and lash out at injustice still, even after his trauma was properly handled.

(Perhaps it’ll turn out that AFO gave Tenko the Decay quirk. How evil! We can thus blame everything on AFO and not have to examine the fact that, hey, regardless of how the quirk manifested, it exists and will affect the user’s life largely due to public perceptions of them and their quirk and whether they manage to behave in a way acceptable and in line with how people think someone with such a quirk should behave.) 

It's true that sometimes, all it takes is the influence of one person, of a single act of kindness to change things. A single Hero to reach out and save someone in need. But is that not already the status quo in the story? We've got hundreds of Heroes patrolling the streets, ready to save someone; hundreds more students about to join them. We got one super-superman who spent 40 years pushing himself to his limits trying to be everywhere. All these individuals, all these acts of rescues, and still people had fallen through the cracks - which was also where the kindness stops.

What the story suggests is that Heroes should also reach through the cracks and help the fallen. That's a good start! Know what would be better? Fixing the cracks. Especially when those cracks aren't things Heroes can actually do anything about because it’s domestic violence behind closed doors, it’s gradual dehumanization through public and cultural institutions, it’s bigots beating children with shovels using no quirks and the excuse of generations-long communal superstition, it’s a system officially labeling people as Villain/Enemy like they're cartoony evil comic book antagonists to defeat instead of real people. 

You might say, it’s obvious those things will be fixed! After the war. It’ll be dealt with! By a single panel in the epilogue. Yeah, fair enough. That’s also just bad writing. The conflict should be resolved within the story, the promise of change should be seen, not just vaguely told to us. I can't trust it. 

What the League went through - discrimination, abuse, quirk counseling, marginalization, lack of social support, etc. - was injustice. If the new system that arises after this war - the one that will be led by Deku and his generation - does nothing or barely anything about these things, I cannot trust that the League going into this new system will be given true justice that take into account the crimes committed by them, but also the crimes committed by the people around them towards them and the failures created by the very structure of society. 

I’m being very hard on the Heroes, I know, I’m expecting a lot out of them beyond just ‘saving hearts’. But canonically, Heroes are government-funded civil servants, and the Hero System is an important branch of the governance of this society. The responsibility - to all people - is theirs. If they cannot do this, then Heroes as they are should not exist; something different has to be implemented. 

Shigaraki started this war against the world because it rejected him and his friends, it denied them a future where they could flourish as themselves. If the world changes, then he has a place to be. If the world does not change, then having him take a place in it is just forcing him to conform and keep enduring the same old injustices. 

(But with a Hero friend this time. 🙂 Who shows him how cool Heroes are and teaches him to support the system again. 🙂 Who’s No. 1 in the rankings because competition and popularity has been kept… but it’s gentler or something now. 🙂 And who visits him in Tartarus 2.0, which is largely the same, complete with guns pointed at Shigaraki, just in case he ever uses his quirk because with that power he’s still too dangerous to take chances... but which is no longer staffed by wardens who call their charges ‘beasts in human skin’. 🙂) 

The current trajectory of the story does not inspire me that things will change much. Kids wanna graduate from UA - so we gotta keep those Hero Schools! Business class students are filming everything for post-war propaganda! Gotta show how amazing and necessary Heroes are and continue their celebrity status! Wasn’t All Might so cool when he got into a mecha suit to beat up AFO and the whole world prayed for him? Gotta cement Heroism and belief in their righteousness into the collective consciousness and the dreams of humanity!

So I really want Shigaraki and the League to get to just run off and sentence themselves to what they think is appropriate penance. And if that’s sipping piña coladas on a beach somewhere, that’s what it is.

I apologize if I sounded harsh, anon! It’s not directed at you. My rant is just some of my frustrations with how the story has been progressing, and how either of those theories you’ve seen - imprisonment (likely in Tartarus 2.0) or being assimilated into the (same flawed) system - are lacking, in my opinion. My hopes for the ending are neither of those.

But my hopes are different from what I think is likely to happen. I actually think the opposite of what you think, anon: Imprisonment is more likely. I cannot see people in-universe and out (readers) accepting Shigaraki Tomura being adopted by All Might and becoming a Pro-Hero - it feels unrealistic for the civilian masses of a world that’s canonically wary of Shouto for being related to Dabi, a system that blames Aoyama for being a scared kid and request him to take responsibility for the cowardice of his parents, a moral lesson that says how heteromorphs react to brutal discrimination determines whether they should be listened to or not (and whether their children will be reasonably targeted in revenge); and too at odds with the sensibilities of most readers who are generally much less sympathetic towards the Villains than you and I am (and probably do want to keep the flashy Hero System. But make it ‘nicer’). 

I’ve been browsing through Japanese message boards and the general theories I’ve seen actually include the possibility of death for Shigaraki - but it’ll be suicide, as penance for his crimes; or some convenient manner of dying that won’t dirty up Deku’s hands. Deku can offer him salvation for his heart and soul, but cannot forgive him and let him go unpunished. Shigaraki committed too much damage, too big a crime, and is too dangerous a person to be left alive. If he does survive, he should be imprisoned in Tartarus 2.0 for the rest of his life, and he can correctly show his remorse and rehabilitation by obediently following that sentence.

For a story that wants Shigaraki to be saved, to befriend Deku, to lose his anger and resentment and find hope in the future enough to assimilate back into a continuing Hero Society, I think the logical end result would be Shigaraki serving life sentence in Tartarus 2.0. maybe getting parole for good behavior when he’s 50 and not as sprightly enough to be as deadly a threat. 

Mostly, though, I try not to predict the ending, beyond a small vague hope of Ultimate Karma Houdini I keep at the very back of my mind. Save myself from any disappointment! I remain in the present and accept chapters as they come.

[gallifreyinstituteforlearning]

Thank you for the helpful lesson in flirting with a Gallifreyan but .. uhm .. how do THEY flirt back? How to I know the "Time Lord next T.A.R.D.I.S." is interested in me? Thank you in advance!

How do Gallifreyans flirt?

Every Gallifreyan is different of course, but many Gallifreyans are a little emotionally suppressed regarding matters of the hearts, and their approach to letting you know they like the cut of your jib can be more subtle, or just completely over the top.

🌌 Trying to be Impressive

Every Gallifreyan has a unique way of drawing attention, but it often involves grand gestures like taking you somewhere truly breathtaking on the outer edges of the Universe where no human has ever been. On the more extreme side, some might orchestrate a perilous situation just to save your life as way of getting your attention (no names mentioned).

🤔 Seeking Your Opinion and Counsel

Gallifreyans are renowned for their intellect, often viewing other life forms' opinions with curiosity rather than genuine interest. If a Gallifreyan actively seeks your advice, considers your viewpoints, or involves you in decisions, it's a sign of respect and shows they value your mind as much as your presence.

🛡️ Having a Protective Factor

A Gallifreyan's interest might manifest in an unexpected concern for your entire life, in order for them to orchestrate seemingly coincidental interventions to ensure your safety or happiness. For example, you remember that lovely man who picked you up and got your mum when you fell off your bike when you were eight? Yeah, probably them.

💭 Making Psychic Gestures

In Gallifreyan culture, telepathy adds a personal layer to communication. Subtle psychic connections, such as a comforting presence in your mind or shared visions, could be gestures of affection. It's a sign they're opening up to you on a level that transcends words.

🚀 Giving You a TARDIS Tour

The relationship between a Time Lord and their TARDIS is personal and inviting you inside for a tour is like taking you home to meet their mother. Also, if a TARDIS takes a liking to you, it's a good sign, as they can be quite selective about who they open up to.

Related:

How does marriage and dating work on Gallifrey?: The cultural norms of Gallifreyan relationships.

How should you court a Gallifreyan?: Advice on dating a Gallifreyan.

How should you court a member of Faction Paradox/a Celesti?: Advice on dating someone from Faction Paradox/a Celesti.

Factoid: What gift would suit my Gallifreyan and their biology?

Hope that helped! 😃

More content ... →📫Got a question? | 📚Complete list of Q+A and factoids →😆Jokes |🩻Biology |🗨️Language |🕰️Throwbacks |🤓Facts →🫀Gallifreyan Anatomy and Physiology Guide (pending) →⚕️Gallifreyan Emergency Medicine Guides →📝Source list (WIP) →📜Masterpost If you're finding your happy place in this part of the internet, feel free to buy a coffee to help keep our exhausted human conscious. She works full-time in medicine and is so very tired 😴

[thebirdscomeback]

okay, I think it's time to crack open my copy of MAAN and start doing some feminist analysis!

I want to think about how Claudio's accusations demonstrate a deep-rooted misogyny that goes further than slut-shaming (although that in itself is of course horrible) and is based off of pervasive ideas of gender, sexuality and heteronormativity. Ideas so pervasive in fact, that they transcend contextual and historical boundaries and we are left in 2014 with the same misogynistic expectations of women we were dealing with in 1599.

I’ll start with gendered expectations of sex, as inspired by @cardboardsean's awesome post on the topic. If we accept that Hero and Claudio aren’t having sex (which is explicit in the text) then Claudio’s anger takes on a layer of self-righteousness, of ‘deserving’ the sex he’s not getting, from a girl who should, on account of dating him, inherently want sex with him. Taking the idea that Hero’s virginity is something she ‘owns’ and can be ‘lost’ or ‘given’, heterosexual relationship dynamics assert that there is a correct person to whom to hand it over. And while of course cheating would be hurtful either way and in any context, the specifically gendered language and implications of Claudio’s accusation filled with metaphors of spoiled fruit in MAAN and promises in NMTD introduce virginity as a reason why Hero’s supposed transgression is particularly egregious.

Something I noticed more acutely watching this time around in real time is how little we see of Hero and Claudio after they get together. After the makeup tutorial, we hardly see them together as a couple and it seemed odd at first, making the audience feel less connected when we see them fall apart. On closer consideration though, it feels like an accurate representation of the path of their relationship and what is important to Claudio especially. For him, his struggle is getting the girl, and once he ‘has’ her, the hard part is over. Heteronormative ideas of relationships and marriage, where the man has to put in the work of courting and the woman has to put in the work of being the wife leave no expectation for the man to be a husband in any material sense. His job doesn’t require any upkeep of the relationship and this seems to be the figuration Claudio is acting under as well. He doesn’t talk to Hero about their sex life, or his concerns about her cheating; in fact, given his readiness to believe anything of her, it would seem he hardly talks to her about anything at all. It comes back to the discussions a few of the characters have around Pedro’s party. Most of them understand that Hero cannot be ‘had’ as if she’s property, but Claudio never quite seems to get the message. He brings up Hero and Pedro again at Hero’s party; he knows he was wrong but can’t let go of the idea that she was close to being ‘taken’ by another man (again, back to virginity). From Claudio’s perspective, it feels like he believes he won her before Pedro could. And well, if a girl is your property, you can treat her however you like, right?  

Along with her virginity, Hero’s attractiveness is used as another means to prove her guiltiness; a classic means of judging a woman’s morality. Play!Claudio uses it directly as a way to prove just how awful Hero really is, “If half thy outward graces had been placed about thy thoughts and counsels of thy heart!”. Appearance has long been used as a judge for women’s moral character, although there can be no winning (Heflick et al. 2011) (so glad to be paying so much money for university so i can reference my nmtd posts, it's all worth it!). While ‘ugliness’ has been used as a measure for a lack of morality, Hero’s beauty comes to demonstrate just how duplicitous she really is - she's a bitch and looks good while doing it! NMTD uses Hero’s sweet sixteenth as a way of really emphasizing this comparison of beauty and morality; she’s wearing the dress she’s been saving for a special occasion; she’s made herself look particularly pretty and girlish, highlighting a gendered innocence which will make Claudio’s accusation hit all the harder. Her baby blue dress stands in for marital (virginal) white, a teenage version of a bride who is judged primarily on her innocence, beauty and morality in the eyes of her husband.

Within this concept of gendered morality sits the idea that women are inherently sinful, yet something to attempt to keep pure at all costs. The (almost painful) heteronormativity of Hero and Claudio’s relationship comes up here again and Hero’s hyper-femininity, not only in looks but in manner is weaponised against her to demonstrate the extent of her moral failing. She performs her role of girl within perfect expectations – passive, mild and modest – which is used to dichotomise her ‘true’ nature. She appears chaste but in reality she is “more intemperate in your blood than Venus or those pampered animals that rage in savage sensuality”, as play!Claudio tells her. Here, Claudio invokes the highest form of female sexual energy, Venus, to assert the absolute inherence of woman’s untampered sin; not human but animal. And of course, Hero’s niceness means she has to be hiding something – if girls are being too nice they’ve got to secretly be a bitch, “you put on this fake little face. but underneath it, you're just a fucking slut”. Niceness, in a girl, then becomes both expected (god forbid she actually is a bitch) and untrustworthy. The immorality must be hiding somewhere, ready to show itself. And this passivity ties itself back to sex. If a girl is passive then she must be receiving sex from whoever wants it from her, and Robbie represents the perfect stand-in. He has all the normative masculinity Claudio doesn’t – confidence, bravado and sex drive. If Hero is the ‘perfect’ image of female passivity, then Robbie is the ‘ideal’ male figure to use that passivity. And again, Hero is Venus, she must be having sex with someone.

[thedoover-if]

What are the new career paths we can choose from? And did MC lose their memories or was it just a really bad concussion?

for all the jobs youll have to work your way up so theyll all start at the bottom cause this is a sudden change. not sure if ive mentioned this but the town is a pretty close-knit community so a lot of it works on a 'friend of a friend' level

one of your friends owns a bakery so youll be able to hit them up and ask if you could start aiding in the kitchen, getting out deliveries or something haha and theyll be happy to have you (its a family run business and youve been friends for very long so theyll pretty much jump at the chance!!!)

you can start volunteering in the town library and then slowly progress onto actually working and being paid (dont worry youve got savings to slowly chip away at whilst you work for free LOL)

if your MC has always been health conscious and into sports you can become a personal trainer and if not you can still become one haha especially after the accident, i think itll be interesting to just want to work in a place where you can work on yourself and help others through a healthy habit (marriage counselling was great too, but its not a very active career so yeah you might want a 180 change)

-edit (i forgot to answer the last question LOL)

they didnt lose their memories per se some things might just be a little hazy but itll pass in a few days!!