#My husband whom have not appeared or barely mentioned

[anikiain]

If Ejojo has a million fans, then I am one of them. If Ejojo has ten fans, then I am one of them. If Ejojo has only one fan then that is me. If Ejojo has no fans, then that means I am no longer on earth. If the world is against Ejojo, then I am against the world.

[anyasathenaeum]

Guide (Inexperienced!Choso x Reader smut)

A/N: This is another thing nobody asked for, but... listen, I have a pantheon of anime husbands and Choso is WAY up there. So yeah, uh, have this inexperienced!Choso x flatmate!reader piece because I love him and my husband deserves nice things and sMASH SMASH SMA- Warnings: MINORS DNI, AFAB!reader, female terms and body parts are used, mentions of penetrative sex, oral (m receiving), unprotected sex (WRAP IT BEFORE YOU TAP IT, FOLKS), rough sex (a bit? not really, maybe if you squint lol), overstimulation, swearing.

Choso couldn't sleep.

3:24am.

The red, glowing numbers on the clock face by his bed seemed to mock him, reminding him of his inability to sleep and drawing his attention to the feelings coursing through his body. The very same feelings he was trying so very hard to ignore.

Choso may have been over 150 years old, and yet, this body, HIS body, was new to him. Its needs, its functions, the feelings it caused, every little detail was new. Despite his 150 years on this earth, he was still new in almost every single way.

Thankfully, you had been there for Choso every step of the way as he learned to understand his body and what it meant to be human. Besides being the person with whom Choso shared his apartment, you were also undoubtedly his best and closest friend, his favourite person outside of his family and the person around whom he always felt at peace and... happy. You were always open and accepting of him and his seemingly endless questions about the feelings and sensations in his body, never brushing him off or making him feel bad about his lack of knowledge or understanding.

But this... this was different.

Choso's brain suddenly seemed to be lacking an off switch, his mind conjuring up all sorts of images that he couldn't understand. Why was he constantly picturing you underneath him, your cheeks beautifully pink, your body bare and your skin pressed against his? Why did Choso want nothing but to rip the clothes straight off of you every time he saw you now? Why did picturing these things make his whole body feel like it was on fire, as if pure lava coursed through his veins? Why did his pants around his crotch suddenly become very, very tight every time those images flashed in his head? Why did it feel like you had become his very center of gravity?

Why? Why? Why?

Choso didn't understand this constant, desperate, aching need inside him. He didn't understand why you triggered that need every time he saw you or caught your scent. And so, despite it being the early hours of the morning, he decided that he would do exactly what he had always done when he didn't understand something about his body - he would ask you.

Slowly, Choso got out of bed and padded down the hallway to your bedroom. He knocked on your door loudly enough for you to wake, and he could hear you shuffling slowly in your room for a few moments before your door opened.

The sight of you before him, all sleepy and cuddly-looking, made Choso's heart squeeze in his chest for some reason. Your expression was scrunched up in confusion as you gazed at the man in front of you, stifling a small yawn before speaking to him, your voice thick with sleep.

"Choso? What's wrong?"

"I'm sorry for waking you, (Y/N). I couldn't sleep. I'm experiencing some new feelings and they don't make sense to me. They're keeping me awake. Could you help me?"

Your eyes widen a bit as you hear his explanation, and the small, warm smile that appears on your face makes Choso want to grab your face and smash his lips against yours while tugging each scrap of clothing blocking him from feeling your warm skin off of you. However, he restrained himself, his hand tightening into a fist as he struggled to keep himself in check as you invited him into your room.

'Why? Why do I wanna do that?' The voice in his head inquired, but Choso simply brushed it off before following you into your bedroom.

The moment he crossed into your room, it was as if a haze came over him. Your scent seemed to envelope him, clinging to his skin as he walked behind you, filling him to the brim with a fire that seemed to burn in his very bones, refusing to be quenched no matter what he did. He watched as you snuggled back into your bed and patted a spot next to you, inviting him to sit with you and explain whatever was bothering him.

Carefully, Choso sat next to you in your bed, his body stiff as he tried to find a comfortable position without making you uncomfortable. However, you never complained when he brushed up against you, instead just snuggling in a bit closer, your warmth radiating against him and warming him in a different way than the fire in his bones did.

"So..." You spoke gently, gazing up at your best friend, "What's troubling you?"

Choso took a deep breath, trying to figure out how to express what he was feeling to you. After a couple moments, he began to speak, his voice low and almost embarrassed as he tried to explain his situation.

"Well... my body seems to feel like it's constantly filled with fire. My brain just seems to race constantly, showing me all sorts of images that make my body feel hot. Once I get hot, I feel this... pressure inside me, almost bordering on pain, sometimes. My pants tend to get tight and I feel some kind of desperate need. I don't know what my body wants, but there's usually a throbbing feeling and hardness between my legs that comes with it. I don't really know how to explain it or how to make it stop. It only seems to happen around you, (Y/N). Am I... sick or something? I don't understand what's happening to me."

When Choso looked at you, he was surprised to see that your eyes were wider than he had ever seen, your expression one of completely shock and surprise, as well as something he didn't quite know how to describe.

As Choso explained this new sensation, you felt your heart beginning to race in your chest and heat rising to your face as you realized exactly what he was talking about, and you pointedly tried to ignore the heat that suddenly throbbed between your thighs. You blinked a couple times as he spoke, trying to figure out if you were truly hearing him right.

What Choso was experiencing was sexual attraction. To you.

"(Y/N)?"

Choso's voice was now worried, and when you looked up at him, you realized he was watching you attentively, concern evident on his face as he no doubt waited for your reply. You quickly cleared your throat and sat up, trying not to let your own emotions stop you from helping Choso understand.

"Sorry! So, uh.... w-well, you're not sick, Choso. What you're feeling, u-um... is pretty common amongst humans."

You found yourself struggling to get the words out, even more heat rushing to your face as you tried to continue your shaky start of an explanation. It didn't help that you had Choso's undivided attention, his eyes trained on you with surprising intensity and interest. You took a deep breath before continuing.

"What you're feeling is sexual attraction. It's basically your body signaling that you're interested in somebody in a sexual sense and that you'd essentially like to... um... mate with them, I guess? That's probably the simplest way to explain it. It's thanks to your instincts, really. Of course, most people just refer to it as being "horny"."

Choso's eyes were wide as you finished talking, and he looked at you curiously for a couple moments before asking bluntly, "So that feeling is my body wanting me to mate with you?"

Your face felt like it was on fire as you tried not to choke on your own spit at his question. After taking a second to recover, you simply shrugged, acting as if this was a totally normal conversation to be having at 3 in the morning with your best friend that you had secretly been pining after for God knows how long.

"I guess so. H-Have you felt that for anybody else?"

"No," Choso replied immediately, studying you carefully as his emotions began to take over his words, "You're the only one who ever makes me feel that way. Being around you makes me want to do things to you, with you. Being around you makes me want to hold you. Kiss you. Rip the clothes off your body because I can't feel your skin when you wear them. And..."

He trailed off, looking down at his hands for a moment before looking back up at you, his pale face now flushed with colour and his voice dangerously low.

"And it's all driving me crazy. You, (Y/N). You're driving me crazy."

Your heart all but cheered in your chest at his admission, and you couldn't help the smile that appeared on your lips as you felt a surge of relief, happiness and desire course through your veins.

"Do you want me to help you with those feelings, Choso?"

In any other circumstances, you wouldn't have been brave enough to be so upfront in your question, but the part of you that had been longing after the dark-haired half-cursed spirit for so long had taken over and thrown caution to the wind. You would be damned if you would let this moment pass you by.

Choso's beautiful honey-coloured eyes widened at your question, nodding his head immediately in reply, "Of course I do. I don't want anybody except you, (Y/N). It's..." His voice faltered, falling to so quiet a whisper that you almost missed it. "It's always been you."

Before you could stop yourself, you shifted forward and gently pressed your lips against his as your heart sang in your chest at his confession. As you kissed him, you were careful not to overwhelm him by kissing him too hard or too passionately right from the start, knowing that this was definitely his first kiss. However, regardless of this being his first kiss, Choso was kissing you back immediately with enough energy and passion that he just about knocked you backwards into your bed.

His taste was addictive, and you found your hands burying themselves into his dark hair as you shifted closer to him, his tongue swiping your bottom lip as though asking for permission to deepen the kiss. You happily allowed it, relishing every second of the kiss with the man you'd been quietly yearning for. You gasped softly as Choso lifted you with ease, as if you weighed nothing at all, and placed you in his lap, never once breaking away from you or stopping your kiss.

Now that he finally understood what he was feeling for you, and to see that you felt the same way about him, Choso felt truly happy. His soul itself was filled with a warmth that he hadn't ever felt before, not even for his brothers. These feelings he had for you were something else entirely, powerful in their own right and a different entity than the love he harboured for his family. Sure, there was the sexual attraction you had described to him, but his feelings for you weren't comprised of just that. This was something more, and while Choso didn't exactly have the words to describe it just yet, in this moment, he didn't care. He had you, and that's all he needed.

You pulled away from Choso suddenly, both of you panting and with swollen lips from the intensity of your kissing. A soft whine escaped him the moment you stopped, an adorable pout appearing almost immediately on his lips as he leaned towards you, clearly wanting nothing more desperately than to continue kissing you.

"No... (Y/N), please don't stop..."

You wanted to coo at how sweet Choso was, and you fought hard to resist the temptation of kissing him once more, instead moving backwards a bit and grinning at him warmly.

"Now, now, patience, Choso. You'll get more kisses, don't worry. I just want to do something else for you first. I'm going to take your pants off. Is that okay?"

Choso pouted a bit at not being able to kiss you more, but gave you a nod in return, the colour in his cheeks darkening. With his consent, you gently brought your hands down to the waistband of his sweatpants, where there was a very obvious tent. Gently, you tugged the sweatpants off of his hips, pulling them down oh-so-slowly as you revealed more and more of Choso's bare skin, his treasure trail, and eventually, his dick finally sprung free. Your eyes widened as you stared at his cock, at its angry red tip, already dribbling precum from its slit and how it seemed to throb gently in time to Choso's heartbeat. While it wasn't super big, it was definitely much thicker than you expected and your pussy positively throbbed at the thought of having his cock deep inside you, stretching you out in a way nothing else ever would.

"I-Is it okay?"

Choso's voice quivered a bit, giving away his nervousness as you continued to stare at his cock with wide eyes. He couldn't help but feel a bit self-conscious at being bare like this before another person for the first time, let alone it being you.

"You're beautiful, Choso."

You response was breathless and sincere, your eyes glimmering as you looked up at him, the warmest smile you could possibly give him on your lips. The small whimper that escaped Choso at your response made your heart flutter, and you could see his cheeks darkening as he looked away, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

"I'm going to touch you now, okay?" You said softly, watching Choso carefully to ensure he was comfortable with you proceeding.

With another small whimper from Choso and a quick nod of his head, you gently reached your hand out and wrapped it around his shaft. The moment your soft, warm hand made contact with the silky skin of his cock, without you so much as moving, Choso suddenly shuddered and let out a loud whine. In the same instant, to your surprise, warm cum suddenly dribbled from his slit and got all over your hand.

"H-Hah... hah, fuck, 'm sorry... 'm so sorry, (Y/N)... i-it just... felt so good... I've never felt anything like that before..."

Choso couldn't meet your eyes as he whimpered out his apology, his cheeks a deep shade of red, embarrassment and a hint of confusion clear in his expression. Your heart lurched in your chest once more at just how sweet he was, and you couldn't help but giggle a little.

"Don't apologize, Choso. You came, that happens when you feel really good. It's normal. Nothing to be embarrassed about. In fact..." You smiled seductively as you looked him in the eyes, feeling more playful than before, "I plan on guiding you through it all and making you cum a few more times before the night's over."

The look on Choso's face was absolutely priceless, his eyes wide in surprise and his the colour in his face somehow darkening even more than before. Wiping your hand with a face cloth, you helped him get more comfortable, letting him rest against your headboard as you wriggled off his sweatpants the rest of the way followed by his shirt, revealing his toned and muscled torso, his defined abs, arms and back.

You could feel your own slick soaking through the pants of your pyjamas just at the sight of Choso naked in your bed, and you struggled to restrain yourself from touching yourself throughout all of this. How badly you wanted to sink your fingers into your weeping pussy, just for some hint of relief. Or better yet, have Choso use his long, thick fingers to make you see stars. But this was about him, now, and ensuring he had a good first sexual experience. So, you kept yourself in check and just focused on him, getting yourself comfortable as you laid between his thighs, once again taking his still-hard cock into your hands. You heard Choso let out a soft hiss and felt his dick throb and twitch in your hands at the contact, making you smile softly - he was so sensitive.

"Ready for the next part?" You teased gently, gazing up at the beautiful man before you.

"Yes, (Y/N)... p-please... more," Choso whined softly, squirming slightly beneath your touch as his cock twitched once more, his desire obvious in his voice and in his eyes.

Without so much as an answer, you leaned down and took the tip of Choso's cock into your mouth, swirling your tongue around the tip slowly. Choso positively mewled at the feeling of your warm mouth around him and the feeling of your tongue teasing his sensitive tip and slit, his orgasm already building once more as you continued.

"(Y/N)... o-oh, fuck... o-oh, yes, please, more! Please!"

Hearing Choso beg you for more made your pussy throb and drove you to take more of him in your mouth, taking his cock as far down your throat as you could as your tongue traced the thick vein on the underside of his shaft. More beautiful sounds came from Choso as you did this: moans of your name, curse words and soft whimpers and whines filled the room, until suddenly-

"'m gonna cum! F-Fuck, (Y/N), 'm gonna cum! (Y/N)!"

You felt a large hand tangle through your hair and push your head down a bit as Choso bucked his hips upward, forcing his cock just a bit deeper and making you gag slightly and your eyes water a bit as copious amounts of cum gushed down your throat. You squeezed your thighs together at the unintentionally rough treatment Choso had just given you, his fingers still tangled in your hair as he pulled you gently off his cock, his eyes filled with worry.

"Are you okay? I'm so sorry, I didn't mean to hurt you or be rough, (Y/N). I'm really, really sorry."

Even in the midst of recovering from his orgasm, Choso was still worried for you, which made your heart flutter and your pussy practically gush. You shook your head, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand before answering.

"It's okay, Choso. Don't worry about it, I'm alright. You didn't hurt me, it was just a little surprising, that's all."

Relief coursed through the man's veins as you confirmed that he hadn't hurt you or gone too far, a shaky breath escaping him as he leaned back against the headboard, still panting softly as he tried to regain his wits after his second orgasm of the night.

As you took in the sight of Choso naked in your bed, sat against your headboard with his arm slung over his eyes, his dark hair loose and his chest rising and falling with each breath, you couldn't help but be completely mesmerized by him. He was truly the most beautiful man you'd ever seen. It also did not escape your attention that somehow, even after two intense orgasms, his cock was still rock hard. Just how much more could he take?

Without much more thought, you found yourself stripping off your pyjamas, leaving you naked at last. You shivered and felt goosebumps erupt as you felt the cool night air brush over your skin, especially the skin that was positively soaked on the inside of and between your thighs.

"Choso," You called softly, wanting the man to look at you, to see you like this.

When Choso lowered his arm from his eyes and caught sight of your naked body before him, his honey-coloured eyes widened and became bigger than you'd ever seen before, his mouth dropping open slightly and his cheeks flushing once again.

You were so beautiful. Choso couldn't have even begun to imagine this kind of beauty, and to see you like this made his heart race frantically in his chest. He took in every detail of your body, his gaze lingering on your breasts for a few moments before continuing down your body. You looked so soft, your skin lit by the soft glow of the moon, and Choso wanted nothing than to touch you, hold you, stroke you, caress you and never let you go. Not even for a second.

Yet, when his gaze got down to your thighs, where he could see the slick coating your skin and the way it glistened, the scent of your arousal just barely teasing him, something inside Choso snapped. Gone were the thoughts of simply holding you or caressing you softly, instead replaced by a burning, all-consuming need. The same fire from before, multiplied a millions times in intensity, coursed through Choso's veins, and all he could do was give in to his instincts as they took over.

"Choso? Are you oka-ah!"

You yelped as Choso practically pounced on you, pressing his lips against your passionately as he flipped you into your bed so you were laying beneath him. You moaned into the kiss as he slipped his tongue into your mouth, kissing you deeper and more hungrily than you'd ever been kissed before.

Following his instincts, Choso rolled his hips, letting his cock drag through the soaked folds of your pussy and against your clit, making you moan out loudly from beneath him. You arched your back to allow him to keep grinding his dick against your cunt and clit, reveling in the feeling of pleasure he was giving you. Pulling away from your kiss, Choso brought his head down so his lips were by your ear so you could hear him panting softly.

"W-Want you," Choso whined, pressing desperate kisses to the side of your face and down your neck, "W-Want you so bad, (Y/N). Wanna... wanna be inside you."

As he whined those last few words, you felt the head of his cock catch on your entrance, making you gasp and jump slightly at the feeling. You could only bring yourself to nod your head, unable to speak as you felt Choso gently nuzzling your cheek with the tip of his nose. Without any other words, you felt him press his hips into yours, driving his cock into you slowly, inch by inch.

The stretch stung, a small hiss escaping you as you felt your pussy adjusting to the size of him. You'd never felt a cock as thick as his, and you let out a low moan at just how full you felt.

You could hear the man whining and whimpering your name over and over as he continued to slowly press himself into you to the hilt, the feeling of your warm, tight, spongy walls clenching around his cock and the way they seemed to pulse driving him dangerously close to cumming already.

"C-Cho... C-Cho..." Your voice wavered slightly as you struggled to form coherent words, "Feels s'good... you're... so big..."

Just feeling him inside you, pressing perfectly against that spongy, gummy spot, made you see stars. It felt as if you were made for each other, with him filling you just right and making you feel things nobody had ever made you feel before. However, before you could open your mouth to guide Choso through the next part, his instincts took over and he pulled out until just the tip was left inside you before thrusting back into you. A cry escaped your lips at the sudden feeling, your back arching in response and pleasure erupting through your veins as Choso observed you, his eyes trained on you carefully despite him panting softly. When he saw how you reacted, he took it as a sign to continue.

Without hesitation, Choso began to thrust into you almost desperately, hitting that perfect spot inside you over and over, his fingers intertwining with yours and holding your hand close as he fucked you into the mattress.

"F-Fuck, (Y/N), you're so tight... pussy's so good... so wet..." Choso whimpered, his movements suddenly stuttering and a low groan escaping him, "(Y/N)... g-gonna cum... gonna-!"

With a final thrust, he slammed himself to the hilt inside you, spilling himself and letting his cum fill you to the brim, coating your walls and pulling a moan of his name from your lips.

"C-Cho... God, th-that felt so good... so-ah!"

You cried out as Choso suddenly continued to thrust into you, slamming his hips against you even faster and harder than before, driving his cock deeper into you.

"'M sorry, (Y/N). 'M sorry, need you. Need more. 'M sorry, need you. S'good, 'm sorry, (Y/N), can't stop," Choso babbled in your ear as he continued to thrust into you, his large hands coming up to grasp your hips with a nearly-bruising grip.

The way Choso angled your hips allowed him to hit even deeper, that perfect spot being massaged continuously by the head of his cock, likely without him even realizing what he was doing to you. All you could do was focus on the feeling of him inside you and just good he made you feel.

Your nails dug into his back as you felt yourself coming close to cumming, your whole body tensing as you practically sobbed out, "'M gonna cum! C-Cho, 'm gonna cum! Cumming!"

Your orgasm hit you like a train, overwhelming you and washing over you in wave after wave. The way your pussy spasmed around Choso's cock made him cum again, yet unlike the first time, he didn't stop his thrusts. Instead, he continued to thrust into you, prolonging your orgasm despite overstimulating himself.

You thought he'd stop once your orgasm subsided, but how wrong you were. Choso kept going, fucking you relentlessly and cumming inside you over and over again, apologizing, whining and moaning your name until he was babbling complete nonsense and tears coursed down his beautiful face from overstimulation. He'd made you cum countless times, and you found your whole body feeling like your bones as disappeared by the time he'd finally pulled out, too tired ad overstimulated to continue.

Neither of you had the energy to get towels to clean yourselves off, but you couldn't care less as Choso collapsed into your bed next to you, his face red and his chest heaving from his exertion. As soon as he laid next to you, you found yourself being pulled into his arms, your face coming to rest against his bare chest as he held you close, your skin pressed against his. Gone was the intense, aroused Choso from earlier, instead replaced by his usual, tender and gentle counterpart. You could feel Choso nuzzling his nose into your hair, inhaling your scent as he held you close, endorphins surely coursing through his veins like crazy at this point.

You sighed as you snuggled in against him, your voice no louder than a whisper, "Jeez, Choso... I don't think you really needed me to guide you."

A low rumble of a chuckle escaped him, and you felt him press a gentle kiss to your temple as he answered softly, "Yes, I did. You helped me learn, (Y/N). Thank you." His expression fell a bit as he continued, "Was it too much, though? I'm really sorry. I just... couldn't stop. Something in me just... wanted to keep going."

"No," You giggled softly, looking up at him with a smile as heat rushed to your face, "It was amazing. I just wasn't expecting you to keep going like that."

Choso shrugged before leaning forward, a lazy grin on his face as he whispered lowly into your ear, "What can I say? You drive me crazy, (Y/N). And now that I know that this feeling is me wanting you, I'll only ever want you more and more than ever before. You're mine (Y/N). And I'll always make sure you remember that."

[soubi122]

Funeral

This is a oneshot that was collecting dust in my drafts and I finally managed to finish it - ft kakucho.

Warnings: Domestic violence, smut, pregnancy, cheating, mentions of death, slight dark content, alcohol, language, slight angst and fluff.

MDNR - MINORS, respectfully, GO AWAY.

You never thought about being this happy at a funeral. Past funerals attended were full of grief and sorrow. The person who left the earth would be someone whom you'd dearly loved or were close with, someone who you felt was taken too soon. But this was different, the funeral taking place today was for none other than your husband. What you thought would be the best thing in your life turned out to be a nightmare. 

At the funeral many people flooded the marble floors, paying their respects to the dearly departed. His large portrait was on a stand surrounded by white and yellow chrysanthemums. The sight of these flowers was too pure for the vile being that was being honored today. Strangers were coming up to you and bowing - giving their condolences for your loss. They placed small envelopes in a box, a red and gold box that you wanted to burn. He deserved none of the generosity offered today. 

The black veil that covered your face felt like a mask, obscuring your features to avoid people gauging your reactions or grief, it also hid the ugly bruises and swollen eyes. For hours you've been sitting in that cushion and in pain. Your ribs were aching, the throbbing in your head wouldn't stop, the taste of metal on your tongue was driving you mad. As the funeral was winding down, the director approached you with a warm smile, years of practice and empathy made this process easy for them. “Mrs. (L/N)? We're at the last 10 minutes - we will begin escorting the guests out.” You nodded and were about to get up and leave but a tall figure approached you. Oh god, please… no more 'sorry for loss', 'your husband was a great man' lines. You think to yourself as you look up and notice the male's features. Raven hair, a scar that ran across the right side of his face to the left eye - despite his threatening appearance, the look in his eyes was sincere. 

Remembering him as a recent acquaintance of your husband, you knew they were coming to ask about his will. Business is business after all, it will keep going even when you are laying on a metal slab or are 6ft underground. “(Y/N), I'm very sorry for your loss.”  His stern but gentle tone caught you off guard. As you were beginning to bow, he spoke again - “We will need to speak regarding your husband's affairs and assets.” Here we go…the ever looming threat of his wealth was barreling towards you already and his ashes have yet to be scattered into the wind. The vultures were ready. “His attorney will be reading the will tomorrow - I'm sure he outlined what is to be done with his assets.” The raven haired man said nothing more and bowed, taking his leave. Finally, this act was over. 

You made your way to the penthouse that you were forced to call home but now that he was gone, you welcomed the emptiness that awaited you. Kicking off your heels, you exhaled a sigh of relief and slid down to the floor - barely noticing the figure that emerged from the dark corner of your kitchen. Only when you heard the sound of a click did you notice the shadow. You began to put your hands up and stare into the dark corner, waiting for the figure to emerge. “Sorry to do this during your time of grief, but this is urgent.” The same scarred man approached you, he had a gun in hand, loaded and pointed in your direction. 

Soon more figures emerged from the dark corners of your home. How the hell did they get past security? A knot began to form in your throat as the man tilted his head, pointing towards the kitchen island and telling you to take a seat without words. You got on your feet and made your way towards the island, silently taking a seat with your hands still up. The final figure that emerged was that of a shorter male with silver hair and eyes that looked like they haven't had a good night's rest in months. The dark circles became even more prominent by the dimmed overhead lights in your kitchen. “You can put your hands down, dollface.” One of the many men spoke, his tone was that of a psychopath - to avoid invoking anyone's wrath, you put your hands down on the counter. “Your husband's assets belong to us - at tomorrow's reading, you will relinquish them without any opposition.” A third voice said and his figure stepped into the dim light. He too had silver hair but his was long and he had eyes like a feral cat. A light chuckle escapes your lips as you reach for your coat pocket. In an instant your head was pinned against the counter, making you grunt and a gun was pressed against the back of your skull. “Don't even try, gorgeous…” Long slender fingers reached for the hand that held the metal object, prying it from your hold. “It's a cigarette box…” You say quietly without moving or resisting. 

With a nod, the shorter man gave permission for them to remove the gun, allowing you to lift your head from the counter. “We will have someone accompany you to tomorrow's reading…as a safety precaution - wouldn't want you to make a break for it.” Your silence spoke volumes to them. “We can also just make you hand everything over without the attorney present.” Another voice said from behind you, his tone was much softer than the one who pinned you down. Just what the hell did your husband get into? How did they know where you lived? The only thing you could do is nod. “Kakucho, you and these three will stay with her until tomorrow's reading. Takeomi and Mochizuki will bring you some spare clothing in the morning.” The man who you assumed was Kakucho nodded. Were they really planning to spend the night here? Or did they have other plans in mind? Did they want to break you more than your husband already did? You looked at the man with the short silver hair, his eyes were empty, bare and cold. Though the veil covered your face and hid your expression, he saw right through it - the submission and fear. “They won't touch you unless you give them a reason to…” His words of reassurance did just the opposite. 

Once the rest of the men left your penthouse, the others that remained began to make themselves at home and turned on the lights. Turning to face them, you noticed that they were all dressed in suits, had wildly colored hair and two of them had neck tattoos. The more ‘normal’ looking one was the raven haired man, with the exception of his facial scar. “So, dollface…you're probably wondering what your dear ol' husband did in order for us to be here…” The male with the psychopathic tone spoke, the two diamond shaped scars on the corners of his mouth curved as he smiled wickedly at you. Never have you seen such beautiful crystal eyes on such a sinister looking man. “You're scaring her Sanzu, she'll be sleeping with an eye open now thanks to you.” The coy and playful tone of the tallest male made you look in his direction. He had clean cut short purple tresses, the neck tattoo robbed your attention from his lavender eyes and handsome smirk. If you were to stand in front of him, you were sure to get top shelf vertigo. “Mikey said not to touch her.” The third male spoke, he had almost a matching hair color to the taller man but in mullet form, he too bore a neck tattoo - wait…that hanafuda design…it can't be! Alarm bells started going off in your head, you've seen the news, heard the rumors and seen first hand at what Bonten is capable of. That life of peace that you thought you were going to have? Well it just went up in smoke. These men were probably going to torture you, rape you or throw you in a brothel to pay off whatever your husband owed them. 

It felt like your chest was about to burst, the anxiety was ravaging your nerves and mind. The shortness of breath and trembling started, when the raven haired man noticed, you were on the verge of passing out. He caught you right before the back of your head met the floor. “Hey! What's wrong?” He asked as you began to have a panic attack. A sharp pain in your chest was making it difficult to breathe or even speak. “Get her some water!” He ordered one of the others as he sat across from you on the floor. The others began bickering, yelling at each other over who scared you. There was too much noise. “I'm going to slowly remove your veil, ok? I'm not gonna hurt you.” His hands gently reached out to you and you screwed your eyes shut. Don't look at me, please…! The voice inside your head screamed, your body was too in shock to move away from him. When he removed the veil, they all went silent. “…fuck, we didn't know.” You could hear one of them say. 

All four men flinched for a split second, recalling when they slammed your head against the counter. The purple and faded yellow bruises on your face and busted lip were staring at them dead in the face. The veil wasn't so that people wouldn't see your puffy crying eyes, it was to hide the pain and evidence of domestic violence.

The silence was overwhelming, making you panic even more - your breathing struggled again, snapping them out of their daze. You felt a pair of hands intertwining themselves with yours. Despite being inside, your hands felt like ice - the warmth of his hands made you feel alive. “I need you to try and take a deep breath. Focus on my voice, squeeze my hand if you understand.” Kakucho's soft and honeyed tone traveled through your ear canal and went straight to your chest. There was a soothing bass in his voice that made you follow his directions. 

Slow and steady you began to take deep breaths, one light squeeze signaled your understanding. A second voice was now in your ear, gently he titled your head in his direction. “Slowly open your eyes and focus on me…what color are my eyes?”  When you opened your eyes, you were met with a pair of lavender orbs and a tender gaze. “T-They're…beautiful.”  You managed to stutter out, his eyes matched the taller male - were they siblings? Your comment made him smirk softly, usually when people stare into his eyes they see death. “Rindou, I think she likes you…” The taller male whispered as he noticed the slight blush on your face. Finally, you were beginning to relax and breathe normally. Who would have known that the world's most dangerous men could soothe your soul? “Here, take small sips at a time.” The man with the diamond shaped scars said to you and handed you a small glass of water. Little by little, you were able to think straight without panic or anxiety. “So you can call us by our names and trust us - my name is Ran, this is my brother Rindou.” The tall male said. “The knucklehead you see over there with the pink hair is Sanzu and finally, in front of you, you have Kakucho.” Their introduction was not needed but worthy of making you feel a little at ease. 

Kakucho released your hand and helped you get on your feet. “Please, get some rest - we need to be on time for tomorrow’s reading.” That's right, these men stated that everything your husband owned was theirs. The question slipped your tongue when you opened your mouth, “Will I be set free or sold tomorrow?” Ran stepped closer and cupped your bruised cheek, there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eyes. “That's not for us to decide.” Depending on what Bonten's king says, he will ultimately determine your fate - even after his death, your husband is still finding ways to break you. 

With your head hung low you made your way to your room. “Keep the door open, dollface.” Sanzu said as he sat on the Burrow couches and kicked his feet up on the coffee table. It made your eye twitch, your husband would have made you sit on the floor if that were you. Despite being at home, you had to be perfect, primed and ready for anything. To have such freedom and fearless nature, you envied it. 

It was useless to try and protest keeping the door open. Walking into your bedroom, you began to lay out clean clothing - the day was long, you needed the comfort of warm water to relieve the ache in your ribs, the aches on your legs and arms. Once you had everything ready, you picked up your bathrobe and went to the bathroom - quietly closing the bathroom door. You took a long hard look at yourself in the mirror, analyzing the bruises on your face, the marks across your neck and the redness in your eyes, it was over. Your life was over before it even began. That freedom you were hoping to have was now dependent on someone else. 

After filling the tub you began to slowly shed the clothing that clung to your figure. You had hairline fractures that were making it impossible to stay still during the funeral. The bruises extended down to your hips and thighs. Something no else would see. After showering you settle in the bathtub, gently laid back and stare at the ceiling and wonder if you should even continue to walk this earth…

Several minutes of staring into space, the door to your bathroom opens and in walks Kakucho. His calm demeanor was rather comforting - you were used to seeing your husband walk through that door with a scowl on his face or worse, a liquor bottle in his hands. “I’m not trying to drown myself if that’s what you’re thinking.” You say while slowly sitting up. You were surprised that they gave you this much privacy knowing that you could have called the cops or signal for help. Unfortunately, you didn’t trust the cops. That dearly beloved husband that departed this earth always had his way anytime you or someone else would call the cops. They would ask questions but your husband would pull them to the side and slip a small stack of bills in their pockets to keep them quiet. As soon as they would leave, he’d continue where he’d left off. Days would go by where you couldn’t even walk or let alone stand due to the pain. 

“Please be ready by 8:00 tomorrow, the reading is at 10:00...” He says and hands you a towel. Guessing by how they are looming over you like this, they wanted to make sure you’d be able to attend tomorrow’s reading. He was about to walk away but you pulled his sleeve and stopped him. “I need help.” You spoke meekly and avoided his eyes, as much as you didn't want to ask - you needed his help. “Oh…I won't look.” He said, closing his eyes and turned the other way as he extended his arms for you to reach out and grab. Sucking in a deep breath you braced yourself for the next painful seconds of your life. Kakucho could hear you struggle and grunt as you were struggling to get up. It was exciting to him, but he refused to indulge. With his eyes still closed, he spoke - “Your face isn't the only thing bruised, is it?” Usually they don't pry into other people's affairs but this was different. Gathering information was his specialty, but your docile nature drew him in. 

Kakucho felt compelled to at least leave you with something to take care of yourself with. Despite Bonten's reputation and crude nature there was still some sort of kindness in their subconscious. “My late husband would beat me almost everyday if something wasn't up to his standard.”  You said while wrapping yourself in a bathrobe. Maybe, just maybe they'd have a little mercy on you if you tell them the truth. “Yet he wanted me to conceive a child…and he fucked me nonstop until I couldn't walk… “ Kakucho felt his hand twitch for a second, raising your hand at a woman - it made his blood boil. Even though Bonten was involved with prostitution, their merchandise would still be protected. 

Your mother-in-law's declining health led to her asking you to bear her only son's child. It was a request made out of love. She loved you and adored you like her own daughter, yet she was completely blind to her son's true nature. Manipulative, cunning, aggressive and silver tongued - that's what he was. He tried to knock you up but had no luck. With a visit to the doctor, you'd come to find out about your infertility. This caused a maelstrom of emotions, you were glad yet heartbroken. Cursed to suffer alongside him and unable to conceive. After his mother's death the beatings worsened, the cheating began and so did the drinking.

“Did you miscarry?” Kakucho's question made you chuckle, making him open his eyes to face you. The sight in front of him was that of beauty and horror. The thin bathrobe left little to the imagination, the outline of your perky breasts made him blush. Your figure was gorgeous, your frame was perfect and your eyes almost had an ethereal glow to them. Yet the bruises on your body made him sick. How could someone do that to you? Was your love and devotion not enough for that sadistic son of a bitch? “Apparently I'm hollow…” Your hands caressed your belly as you spoke. Confusion was written all over his face. “I can't have children.” For someone who knows very little about you, he was ready to kill your husband but alas he was already dead. Someone beat him to it. 

There was little to no emotion in your voice. You accepted your infertility and begged to be divorced but he refused to let you go. He refused to see you happy, let alone happy with another man. “I know it doesn't mean much now but I'm very sorry.” Kakucho says and breaks you out of the misery spiral. For the first time in your life since your mother-in-law's death - someone actually said something sincere to you. “Thank you. Who knew strangers could provide such comfort?” You say and head to your bedroom to get dressed. Something about you made him curious. What else were you forced to endure? 

From the doorway you could see the other three males laying on the couches and nodding off to sleep. Looking back at Kakucho, you noticed his eyes never left you. There was warmth building up inside you, but the reality of it all loomed over you like a rain cloud. Yet, the urge to feel that warmth overpowered you. “Mind if I close the door?” There was a tinge of playfulness in your tone. You knew he would keep his eyes on you. He nodded and gently closed the door himself, he didn’t want to catch the attention of the others. 

Shedding the bathrobe and letting it drop to the floor, you kept eye contact with him. You could hear him swallow thickly as his eyes began to wander around your naked figure. Kakucho just about groaned as your body was on full display. The bruises, scars and cuts drew him in like a moth to a flame. He began to walk towards you and closed the distance. Seeing how you could barely lift your arms or bend over, he helped you get dressed. There was tension but as much as he wanted to act on it, he couldn’t. You were too fragile to even touch. 

Finally after helping you to bed, he stepped out of the room and left the door ajar. “I know that look…” The sound of Ran’s voice broke through the silence. Turning around, Kakucho saw that Rindou and Sanzu were asleep on the couch. Ran was sitting by the island and smirking at him. “We might need a little help tomorrow.” Kakucho says and makes a phone call. The remainder of the night was quiet, you slept peacefully for the first time in 3 years. 

*the next morning*

You felt a warm hand on your shoulder, it was gently tugging at you and waking you up. Mumbling, you turned to face Kakucho. He was standing next to your bed. “It’s time.” He says softly. Slowly sitting up you notice he was the only one with you. The others had left already, maybe they were making their way to the lawyers office…wait, what time was it? Grabbing your phone, you see that it’s 8:30 a.m.- you were late. Sensing your panic, Kakucho explained that they let you sleep in as the reading wasn’t until 10:00 a.m. 

During the car ride, you stared out the window and wondered if you would live to see the next sunrise. “Did you tell your boss about that?” You asked him and broke the silence. Apparently there was more than just a simple helping hand last night. You laid your soul bare and told him some additional information that Bonten needed to be aware of. “It’s been taken care of.” He says and keeps his eyes on the road. 

When you arrived, you made your way to the office and upon entering you saw it. Well to be exact, her. Your husband’s mistress and the wicked smirk she had on her face. She was clad in a skin tight black dress that accentuated her bust and belly, a large ‘fur’ coat, stilettos and was wearing bright red lipstick. It was a stark contrast compared to you. You were appropriately dressed like a widow, wearing black dress pants and a black blazer - it was to cover your bruises and also be comfortable during this shitty reading. You had neutral makeup on, just enough to hide the bruises and dark circles. “Well well…you showed up knowing that you ain’t getting shit. How bold of you (Y/N).” The mistress said while eyeing you up and down. Kakucho glared at her, after what you told him last night - he wanted nothing more than to wipe that smirk off her face.

In walked the lawyer about 2 minutes later, he was a very short man with gray hair and thick glasses. He carried a serious look on his face and by the creases in his face, you can tell his scowl was permanent. Clearing his throat, the lawyer sat down and confirmed that the required party was present to begin. Before he could begin with the reading, the mistress interrupted him by saying something that made you ball up your fists. “Sorry, I need to run to the ladies room. Being pregnant and all, you just can’t hold your bladder.” Her faux apologetic tone was a jab at you and your infertility. Of course she knew, your husband made it known to every prostitute he slept with. How she managed to stick him, you weren’t sure but you no longer cared enough to harbor any jealousy towards their affair. The only thing that managed to hurt you or cause you anger was the fact that she always threw your infertility in your face. It was worse when she found out she was pregnant with his child. Constant bullying and teasing by them both ensued. She was currently 4 months pregnant.

When she returned, you kept your eyes focused on the lawyer and asked him to proceed. You couldn’t stand being in the same room as her. “Very well…we are gathered here today to read the final will and testament of (Husband’s Name). ‘To my wife, (Y/N), I leave to you only one thing, my mother’s wedding ring.’ To- ” The lawyer was interrupted by the loud cackle of the other woman, she was laughing and holding her sides. Ugh, you wanted nothing more than to rip her tongue out. Kakucho placed a hand on your shoulder and snapped you out of your thoughts. “I’m sorry, oh that was too funny! Please go on.” She says and wipes tears from her eyes and calms herself.

The lawyer subtly rolls his eyes and proceeds. “As I was saying, ‘To (Mistress’s name), I leave to you all my assets and fortune as you carry our child and my bloodline.’...” Of course she was elated and smiling from ear to ear. Kakucho could see that she was only looking forward to the money and didn’t care that the man in quest had passed away. She was giggling and making a whole scene about how lucky she was and how the god’s blessed her. The lawyer kept reading the will and then the room went silent when the lawyer read the last line of your husband’s will. “In order for (Mistress) to claim any assets and fortunes, a paternity test will be required to prove that the child is the biological child of (husband’s name) no later than 1 month of the child’s birth. In the event that the child is not his, all assets and fortunes will go to his spouse, (Y/N).” As she is a floozy, you knew there was a 3% chance that it wasn’t his child. All eyes turned to look at her and her face was red. She was pissed. “How dare he question his own child?! I will prove it as soon as I am able to get the paternity test!” She yelled and huffed. To be honest, you just wanted to go home, you didn’t care who ended up with anything - Bonten was going to take it anyway.

Just then Kakucho’s cell phone rings, he lightly taps your shoulder and gives you a warm smile before he steps out of the room. The mistress caught it all. Her fires simmered when she noticed the look of what she assumed was worry on your face. “Moving on so soon (Y/N)?” She says and it looked as if she was baring her fangs at you. Maybe she could try and take Kakucho from you too. You ignored her question and asked the lawyer what needed to be done in the meanwhile as the mistress was in her 2nd trimester. He explained that you will manage all assets and issue a monthly allowance until the child is born. 

After 10 minutes, Kakucho walked back into the room and asked you not to contest the will. You figured that Bonten instructed him on how you needed to proceed. They will obtain the assets through the mistress, knowing them - it will be easier than dealing with you. You knew the ins and outs of the legal world so you may be able to contest in some sort of way. It was a little upsetting that you were being tossed aside but at the same time you were grateful that you didn’t have to continue suffering for your husbands fuck ups. 

The lawyer presents you and the mistress a document, it was to confirm that you were present at the hearing and will not contest the will. You read over the information to make sure it was all accurate, once confirmed - you signed it and returned the documents to the lawyer. The mistress was so giddy and had a shit eating smirk on her face that it made the lawyer roll his eyes again. The poor man was not having it. Once everything was signed, his assistant came to collect the documents and was personally dropping off the documents to the courthouse for filing. Everything was to be expedited and they did not want to waste any time. “(Y/N), I guess I will come by before the end of the month and drop off my things. Since I will be moving into the house and all.” She says smugly and leaves the office. You wanted to punch her in the face but had to resist the urge to upset her as she is pregnant. It’s not the baby’s fault that their mother is a fucking bitch.

Standing up, you thanked the lawyer and headed out, leaving Kakucho behind. You were so overwhelmed with emotions that you forgot about him and just wanted to go home to pack up your things. You didn’t want to leave anything personal behind for that woman to enjoy. Once you were out of sight, Kakucho placed a document on the lawyer’s desk. He didn’t say a word and let the lawyer read it to himself first. The lawyer gasped and chuckled. “I expect you will arrange a meeting within the next 2 weeks, yes?” Kakucho said and the lawyer nodded. He exited the office and headed back to headquarters. 

The next few days were a blur, you were trying to figure out what to do with your personal belongings and searching for a new place to live. Even if your husband would have left you the penthouse - you didn’t want it. There were too many bitter memories in this hellhole. Lucky for you that you set aside money for yourself and weren’t fully dependent on your husband, you were able to afford living comfortably by yourself. With some of your injuries healed or at least not as bothersome, you were able to move around a little better. It allowed you to pack and put things in storage. Luckily, Kakucho came by everyday to help you. He was extremely kind and believe it or not a great cook. In the midst of all the chaos in your life, he was slowly becoming your rock. 

There were innocent gestures that made your heart skip a beat. As much as you tried not to get attached to another man, it was hard when the man in question was treating you like an actual human and not a punching bag. 

By the end of week 2, you received a call from your husband’s lawyer - he stated that you and the mistress needed to come back down to his office for a final reading and to confirm that the paperwork was accurately filed. You asked if this was something that could be confirmed over the phone but he said no. “It is in your best interest to attend, you also need to sign an additional statement.” Great… You didn't want to see the mistress and her smug face. It was rather short notice, you had to attend tomorrow evening. Ending the call you prepared to let Kakucho know. Either way Bonten was bound to know about this right? Regardless, it was no longer your concern as the mistress would be taking hold of all your husband’s assets. 

A hard knock on your front door spooked you and you thought it was going to be none other than her as she promised to stop by. Huffing in annoyance you walk over and open the door but were caught off guard by the gentleman that stood in there. “(Y/N).” Kakucho was standing in the doorway and made a chill run down your spine. The timing was too perfect. Were they wire tapping your home? You wouldn’t be surprised. “You’re still packing?” His calm demeanor was rather soothing and welcome. Opening the door wider you let him in. “I have to.” You smile softly. 

He noticed that you were packing other things that were rather questionable and gave you an odd look. You chuckle. Kakucho was taken aback at how sweet your laugh was. He realized how much you changed, it was like night and day. On day one, you were broken and quiet - almost frail and had given up on life. Today, you are warm and vibrant. Was this the same woman? 

Throughout the day you were drinking wine and offered him some, at first he refused as he was technically on the job but you somehow got him to accept. Now you were down to the third wine bottle. Getting to know your executioner was rather endearing. Aside from Bonten being what it is, their members weren’t as bad as they seemed - well for now anyways. With the previous visit leaving a bit of tension behind, the wine was giving you the edge you needed to get closer. Who knows, this might be the last time you could sleep with someone of your choosing. Bonten might end up selling you or leaving you penniless. 

“So, why do you do this?” You ask and lean your head back on the couch. You both were sitting on the floor and leaning back against the couch. There were multiple boxes, papers, momentos and wine bottles scattered about. Kakucho picked up a photo and looked at it, exhaling as he pointed at your husband in the photograph- “To keep people like him in check.” There were various things that came to light after you asked Kakucho to elaborate. Backroom deals, gambling, fraud, prostitution and of course murder - they were all dealt with by Boten. Your husband ended up joining them as a partner after trying to move into their territory. Some things were a little familiar to you but there were other unsavory things that hit you like a truck. It made you sick. Your husband owed them money amongst other things.

All this wealth was obtained by walking on other people’s corpses. Your husband not only destroyed you but he also destroyed others. It was naive of you to think that you were the only one who was taking in his wrath. Sensing your disquiet, Kakucho opted to change the subject. “You will be set free, (Y/N).” He says softly. Turning to look at him, you noticed his eyes were glossed over - oh that innocent look on his face… It made you want to devour him. “You know you shouldn’t promise things like that.” You say coyly. You were just teasing but at the same time you meant what you said.

Taking a chance and letting the liquid courage take over, you leaned over and pressed your forehead against his. The unsteady breathing and sweet scent of alcohol only drew you in. “What are we doing?” He whispers and almost pouts when you bite your lip. “I want you to make me feel like a woman again.” You almost whimper your reply and place your hand on his chest. Oh you just made Bonten’s number 3 head spin. In the blink of an eye, his lips were on yours - hungrily devouring every breath and whimper. For once, you were enjoying getting kissed, you were enjoying the taste of alcohol on someone else’s lips and you were sinking into bliss.

You felt your heart racing, it was racing out of excitement rather than fear. His hands began to travel along your body and touched places that you never thought would make your heart skip a beat. The more heated the kiss got, the more you wanted him to lay you down already - you were desperate. 

Feeling bolder, you moved your hands south and felt the bulge that was throbbing. You breath almost caught in your throat - he felt bigger than anything you’ve ever had before, larger than your now dead husband. Wasting no time, you made haste and unbuckled his belt, you were leading. Throbbing in your hands was Kakucho’s member, oh the gods gifted him with more than just a menacing look. Leaning back away from him you took in the sight in front of you. Heavy panting, chest heaving, glossy eyes and parted lips - he was beyond handsome. You paused a little too long before you were snapped out of your daydream. 

“You’re not gonna leave me like this are you?” He pants and moves your hand in a stroking motion, sending a jolt of electricity down his shaft. Oh how he was making your brain turn into mush. Continuing your motions, you felt your core aching and in desperate need of attention. Running your thumb over his leaking slit, you felt his hips jerk and he let out the sweetest moan. “Kakucho…” You say coyly and put a little more pressure around his length. He moans a response and gazes at you. His mind was also melting and on the verge of turning into mush. “Can I…taste you?” You ask while leaning in and give his tip a kitten lick that makes his eyes roll back. He chuckles and gives you permission to devour him.

Taking him in your mouth, you taste his sweet essence and bob your head slowly up and down. Focusing on his tip, your tongue swirls around the head and he feels his vision getting hazy. He was a lot to take in, with the tip hitting the back of your throat, you had a feeling he was going to tear you apart later. To him it felt like sweet torture, you were giving him affection - something that he hasn’t felt in a long time and yet you were going so slow with your movements that he wanted nothing more than to thrust his hips up to make you gag. Hearing those husky moans and his breath hitch made your folds begin to stick to the fabric of your panties. Pleasing him like this only made butterflies run rampant in your stomach. 

Releasing his member from your mouth, you took a long lick from the base of his cock up to his flushed tip. You continued to take his length further into your mouth but not too deep, you wanted to keep him on edge and make him whine a little longer. Your jaw was getting sore but you wanted to keep going. 

Kakucho placed his hand on the back of your head and pushed you down further. It made you gag a little but you welcomed his actions. They were gentle, unlike your husband - he would force your head down until you couldn’t breathe properly or until you threw up. He would leave your throat and jaw sore for days and wouldn’t care if you could barely eat the next day. Moving your hand to his length, you start to pump his cock while sucking and it sends him into overdrive. “Ngh…(Y/N), wait! Shit, you’re gonna make me cum…” He moans and tries to pull you off but fails. You were determined to swallow his seed. 

The vibrations of your moans travel down his cock and into his core. Kakucho was getting lost in heaven. The very woman who Bonten was going to take everything from was on her knees and pleasing him. Your pace began to quicken as you felt his length twitch and the vein along his shaft pulsed. His coil was so tightly wound that the moment he felt it snap, his eyes rolled back into his skull and that numbing sensation made his toes curl. Hearing him come undone was bliss, to know that you could make a man like him melt and make him whimper - it did wonders to your ego. Your husband would always say that you were good for nothing, that you would never be able to satisfy a man and yet here you are with one of the country’s most dangerous men. You were giving him the blowjob of a lifetime.

Swallowing his thick seed, you made sure to not waste a single drop and continued to suck his sensitive tip even after he emptied himself inside your mouth. “Stop…oh fuck!” Kakucho whines and pulls your hair. Releasing his member with a pop, you smile and slowly stroke him - making his hips twitch and his whimpers louder. Nothing in the world could compare to this feeling. You felt validated and worthy of satisfying another man, you felt like a woman for the first time in years. Your husband only ever made you feel like a toy, almost as if your sole purpose in life was for him to break you. He would treat you less like a woman and even less as a human being. 

Catching his breath, Kakucho remained seated on the floor - dazed and determined on what to do to you. “Get up…” He pants and pulls you up. That tone of voice was quite authoritative. You obey and get on your feet. He takes your hand and leads you to your bedroom. “Strip…” His low tone made a chill run down your spine and you removed your clothing. He too started to remove all his clothing. When he saw that you left your undergarments on, he paused. “Everything, (Y/N).” He demanded and layed down on your bed. Feeling the cool air hit your skin, you shivered and he noticed. “Come here.” He says warmly, he was trying to reassure you. 

Seeing him in all his glory…oh how your cunt clenched instinctively. His defined muscles, the veins on his arms - it made you almost drool. Even the scar on his chest that appeared to be a bullet hole had your slick dripping. Climbing on the bed, you take place next to him and run your hands along his body. The slow and gentle touches made his member twitch. Even in its flaccid state, it still twitched and looked big. He rolled you on top of him and slid his arms underneath your thighs. The confused look on your face made him chuckle. He lifts you by your thighs and slides you up towards his face. The movement was so sudden that it made you squeak in surprise. Looking down at him, his pupils were blown as he had your pretty cunt in his face. 

“Wait…I-ngh!” You moaned out loud as he pushed your hips down and buried his face in your honeypot. He was sucking on your bundle of nerves and wasted no time in making you scream his name. Your hands quickly found solace by holding on to the headboard and your forehead was leaning against the wall. Whoever was lucky enough to be on the other side of that wall could hear you moan like a whore in heat. Kakucho snaked his hand between your thighs and slid two thick digits inside your tight walls. Pumping them in and out while sucking on your clit had your eyes rolling back and your hips grinding into his face. Hearing him slightly struggle underneath you only made your coil tighten. 

Such lewd and wet sounds echoed in the room along with your wanton moans. “Ahn…Ahn…Kakucho! It feels s’good!” You mewl and run your hands along your chest, pinching and teasing your nipples. The electricity coursing through your veins had you in a daze. Not even your husband ever bothered to eat you out before - Kakucho’s gift to you was more than anything your husband could have offered you. He curled his fingers to find your trigger, when he found it your legs were beginning to shake and your hips were stuttering. Your pitch got higher and higher as you neared total bliss. 

That unmistakable tingle that ran down your spine made you throw your head back and total ecstasy as your orgasm was ripped out of you. Kakucho didn’t stop, he kept going - he wasn’t satisfied with just one. “Ngh, s’too much!” You whine and try lifting your hips away from his face. However, the iron grip that he had on your waist made it impossible for you to escape. “Mhn…one more, just one more…” He pants from between your legs. The sound of your sweet voice kept him spellbound. He wanted to keep hearing you cry out for him. 

Your overly sensitive bundle of nerves was throbbing from the continuous stimulation. He moved lower and shoved his tongue inside your tight cavern. Kakucho wanted to taste everything, his warm and wet muscle felt like heaven. With your walls fluttering you thought you were going to lose it again. “Stop! I’m gonna cum! I’m gonna cum!” You whine pathetically, begging him to stop knowing full well that you didn’t want him to. The final push was him tracing circles on your clit with enough pressure to make your vision go white. 

Kakucho made you gush and he took it all. The obscene sounds of him slurping up your honey echoed in the room. Your whole body was shaking from the intense orgasm that you felt almost light headed. Slowly, he slid your body down and made you collapse into his chest. The energy was drained from you, barely being able to move or respond when he asked if you were ok. Only a small hum could be heard from you. Wrapping his arms around you, he placed a kiss on your head and whispered. “We’re not done yet. You wanted to feel like a woman? I’ll keep showing you…” His low tone made you smile softly and bury your face into his chest. 

The rest of the night became a blur. By the time morning came you were left disheveled, sore and satisfied. Kakucho meant what he said. All night he made you moan, scream, cum and cry out in pure bliss. He stuffed you full of his cum to the point where the sheets were beyond saving. His aftercare was even better, got you water and some light snacks for you to nibble on - even medicine for your throat. To think that this was one of the most feared men in all of Japan, last night he was more than that to you. Rolling over, you see Kakucho sleeping next to you. He looked so peaceful and innocent despite the prominent scar on his face. Seeing his chest rise and fall softly, you take a better look at the tattoo on his chest - it looks like all the higher ups have this. You recalled the man with the feline like eyes and the placement of his tattoo on his temple. The two Haitani brothers and their neck tattoos. Also, their leader - the man with the empty eyes and white hair, he had his on the nape. It would be a tattoo that you’d need to familiarize yourself with. 

Kakucho stirred in his sleep and woke up with you kissing his cheek. “Good morning…” You say softly and ask him if he’s hungry. You both opted to get up and shower…together, it ended up in another round of sex that led to skipping breakfast and diving straight into lunch. Offering him a change of clothes, he accepted - besides, the clothes were brand new and never worn. No need to worry about the mistress recognizing it and accusing you of theft of ‘her things’. 

Arriving at the lawyers office, you see that the mistress was already there. She was smiling smugly from ear to ear. When she noticed you with Kakucho, her smile faded ever so slightly - jealous that he was still with you. “So quick to move on…what a shame (Y/N). Looks like you truly don’t deserve any of (H/N)’s fortune.” You paid her no mind, you just had the best night and morning of your life. “I feel bad for you when you give birth, that baby’s gonna have a big ass head just like the mother and father…you might just tear (M/N). You might never be able to please a man again.” You say without thinking. The sudden fire in you made Kakucho almost burst out laughing. Quite the insult to a pregnant woman, she of course gasped and huffed defending her unborn baby’s head size. The poised woman was gone, you no longer had to keep appearances nor bite your tongue. 

The sound of someone clearing their throat made the room fall silent. He took a seat at this desk and went over the original will one last time before making you and the mistress review the already signed and filed documents. Both parties agreed that everything was in place. The mistress couldn’t help but keep chuckling to herself as she repeated words loud enough for you to hear. “...to my wife, I leave nothing.” It was annoying but you didn’t let her get to you - you wanted to come back home and have dinner with Kakucho. 

“Now that both parties confirmed, please note that there is a new document that was received after the filing that affects this arrangement and cannot be disputed.” He says and narrows his eyes. For a moment you felt your stomach flip - what the hell was he talking about? Did the wench take an early paternity test? It’s not like it mattered, you knew you were going to vacate the home and keep your mother-in-law’s ring. That much was certain. Acknowledging the lawyer's words, you asked him to elaborate and explain what the real reason was for you both to be here. He nodded and began to read out loud the document in his hands:

“From the University of Tokyo Hospital, below is the information requested by (Husband’s full name) on (11 Nov YYYY) and (12 Dec YYYY). The original tests and new tests administered resulted in the following:

Spermatozoa count - below 2 million per mil.

Sperm motility - below 20%

Sperm viscosity - high

Sperm morphology - abnormal

Unfortunately, both labs have confirmed that the patient is infertile. With the severe lack of sperm motility and spermatozoa count - treatment is not possible.”

Everything in the room went dead silent. You felt faint and nauseous, was this actually true? The sudden screech of the mistress startled you and she came charging at the lawyer’s desk to snatch the paper out of his hands. She was beet red and almost foaming at the mouth. Reading the document in hand she crushed the edges that she was holding and her hands were shaking. “This…this can’t be! It has to be fake!” She screams and looks at Kakucho who was biting the inside of his cheek to keep himself from smiling. “You probably faked this document to get in on your whore’s money!” She spits and rips the paper to shreds. The lawyer simply sighs and asks you to sign the document confirming that you were present at this hearing. Apparently your late husband amended his will one month prior to his death. When he received the first results in November he contacted his lawyer to insert a new clause. Originally he wasn’t going to leave you anything, however, due to him sleeping around not getting anyone pregnant - he grew suspicious.

With the mistress screaming like a banshee and almost attacking the lawyer, security was called to have her escorted out. The lawyer was quick to have you and Kakucho sign as a witness to all this. “Ms. (L/N), congratulations - you have all your husband’s assets and fortune. Please rest assured that the mistress will not be able to contest.” He said softly and smiled. His smile was warm, it’s as if he knew this was going to happen. How long was this information in his hands? Wait, is this why Kakucho said for you not to contest the will?

The lawyer excused himself and left the office for you to have a moment to yourself. The room was spinning and thought you were going to die. It wasn’t just the shock from the hospital results but the fact that your husband abused you and beat you non stop for being infertile when in reality he was the one shooting blanks the entire time. You began to laugh to yourself, slowly building up to a cry that made you drop to your knees. It was painful. Recalling all the times he called you hollow or less of a woman when your pregnancy tests would come out negative - it broke your heart. You were both the problem, the blame shouldn’t have been just placed on you. 

“(Y/N), there is something else I need to tell you. We did some digging and whoever was in charge of getting your fertility results a few years back royally fucked up which rendered your tests inconclusive and marked as infertile by mistake. You can have children.” Kakucho says softly and helps you stand back up. A second wave of emotions hit you and panic soon followed. You were fucking him raw yesterday and this morning like a rabbit in heat. “Kakucho…how long have you known for?!” You ask him and shove him. There was a slight pained expression on his face, he should have told you sooner. “That medicine I gave you this morning was a morning after pill. (Y/N), I’m sorry, I let myself get carried away.” At least he was honest. Last night he snuck out of your apartment to purchase the pill and would pass it off as ibuprofen or something since you were saying your throat was sore. Though he wasn’t expecting to sleep with you again in the morning he explained that he would take responsibility if the contraceptive fails. Whatever your decision would be, he will respect it and will do what he can. He made sure to explain this to you and managed to pull you in. Crying in his arms, he embraced you and did his best to calm you down.

“You didn’t sleep with me just for my husband’s assets, did you?” You ask a little broken hearted. The night you spent with him meant more to you than just sex. It was you liberating yourself once and for all from your husband. You didn’t expect to feel something more for Kakucho. Maybe it was the fact that he made you feel validated and praised you like a goddess, but it felt real. “The assets have nothing to do with what we did last night or this morning.” He assured you. 

*4 months later*

You signed off on all documents that allowed you to transfer or ‘donate’ your husband’s assets to Bonten. The head of the organization, Sano Manjiro, handed over a legal sized envelope with your name on it to you. He said nothing and walked away. “W-wait, what is this?” You ask him and he waves you off without responding. Opening the envelope you read over the information and gasp. Though you handed over everything to Bonten, they gave you something in return. Manjiro was kind enough to leave you something that the three of you could enjoy. Kakucho leaned over and placed a peck on your head. “You know, he is kind of excited to be an uncle...” 

END.

TAGS: @anxious-chick

[importantchaosgiver]

The Griffin And The Dragon:

In The Queen's Stride

Summary: What is to become of a Griffin and a Dragon? Well, it appears that was foretold before they even realised...

Warnings: Fluff, mentions of smut, slightly nudity, takes place after 'A Big Day'

Masterlist

******

No One's POV

"Many years ago, back when Concordia was founded and its cities were built, there came a prophecy," (Y/N) began. "Isn't there always?" Viserys chuckled softly, stroking her bare back. She gave him a playful look, sitting up and lighting a few candles. "The prophecy of a queen who birthed kings. For centuries, Concordia has only known queens. Firstborn heirs were daughters. But, it was said the very first Queen of Concordia spoke a prophecy on her deathbed. A queen of her line would birth a son on a stormy night. One such night no one would have ever seen," (Y/N) explained, keep the covers around her naked body.

"A land built on queens? How intriguing," Viserys said, also sitting up, his bare chest visible, but still covered from the waist down. "As is the way of Concordia," she said with a shrug. "But, the prophecy also said the son promised would be born not just to a Queen of Concordia, but to a king whom is from a distant land," (Y/N) added with a playful tone of mystery. Viserys chuckled, wrapping his arms around her, pulling her onto his lap with her giggle. "I always admire the dreams and prophecies of others. And should you give birth to a son, they so be it. However, I think we need to do a bit more to ensure you carry my child," he said, gently kissing her neck. (Y/N) bit her bottom lip, running her other hand through his long silver-blonde hair. "Perhaps," she said, before Viserys pulled her back down to the mattress with a laugh, pulling the covers away from her, wanting to see skin, wanting to see her once again bare before him, whispering and begging for his touch...

******

Birds chirping and the soft, warm rays of the morning sun was what (Y/N) felt first thing in the morning. Well, that and an arm around her waist, her back against the chest of her husband. Gods, even the phrase was so unfamiliar but felt good to say. Viserys was gentle, kind and peaceful. As most would call him in comparison to his younger brother. It was clear that Viserys was awake before her as he softly caressed her stomach, drawing circles and lines. At one point, she was convinced he was writing something in High Valyrian upon her skin.

"Good morning, my dear," Viserys whispered into her ear. She smiled softly, turning to lie on her back and face him. "Indeed it is," she said with a soft chuckle, her voice still tinted with tiredness from having just woken up. "One could get used to seeing this sight every morning," he said, moving his hand up to stroke her shoulder and cheek. Before (Y/N) could answer, there was a knock on the door, making Viserys sigh. And the day begins...

To say her day went interestingly would be the correct thing to say. All she could think was; thank the gods. Because she was educated on her duties, what was expected of her and what to and not to do. And, of course, she had to abide by more Westerosi customs whilst justifying Concordia's customs also. One thing that seemed to be reoccurring was the need for a male heir. That got her befuddled. Viserys already had Rhaenyra. And the young girl was more than capable of handling future responsibilities. Speaking of which, (Y/N) and Rhaenyra were taking a stroll through the gardens to discuss as such. "You will have to forgive my ignorance and any offense I may inflict. But, why is it vital to produce a male child? Your father has stated his desire for you to ascend to the Iron Throne after him," she explained, her hands linked in front of her as they walked. "I believe it is because men are stronger. They are considered the pillars of Westeros. They are what keeps it up," Rhaenyra said. (Y/N) thought back to a conversation her parents had one night when they didn't know she was eavesdropping. She was only 14 at the time.

Maximus and Galene had spoke about how King Jahaerys had chosen Viserys to succeed him instead of Princess Rhaenys (who had a stronger claim as she was the oldest living descendant of Jahaerys). "How incredibly stupid," (Y/N) huffed. That made Rhaenyra snort. "Forgive me. But truly you must see the folly in this. Concordia has thrived with women upon its throne for almost two centuries. Women are every bit as capable as men," she said, giving Rhaenyra a soft smile. "And if any fool were to protest it, they can answer to my griffin," (Y/N) added. Rhaenyra looked at her step-mother, feeling a little emotional at her support and kindness. "And what if you birth a son?" Rhaenyra asked. It was only a matter of time until the queen grew pregnant. "If I birth a son, Concordia will have a king. Fulfilling an age old prophecy of my people. You are the king's first-born, the natural heir. This is the way of Concordia. And my first-born child, be it a boy or a girl, shall succeed me also," she said, putting a hand on Rhaenyra's shoulder. "There is no need for conflict when the answer is clear. Now, why don't you go find Alicent. I am sure you two will find something to do in your spare time," (Y/N) said. Rhaenyra smiled brightly, curtsying and jogging away. She watched with a fond smile, putting a hand to her flat stomach, wondering when she will birth a child. She loved children. And always dreamt of when she would birth her own. Perhaps with her love and kindness, Westeros could become less of a dark place...

******

Okay, I hope this isn't too OOC. But don't worry, because I have a very good idea for when this series ends. I hope you enjoy. Oh, and the next part will skip two years later. See you soon.

[lya-dustin]

Someone will remember us

Chapter 51

Gif: @potpourri-of-ecclecticism

Taglist:@stargaryenx @mercedesdecorazon

Cw:underage drinking, alcoholism, ableism, slutshaming

The tragedy that befell Lucerys Velaryon at Storm’s End was never planned, on this all of our sources agree. The first battles in the Dance of the Dragons were fought with quills and ravens, with threats and promises, decrees and blandishments. The murder of Lord Beesbury at the green council was not yet widely known; most believed his lordship to be languishing in some dungeon. Whilst sundry familiar faces were no longer seen about court, no heads had appeared above the castle gates, and many still hoped that the question of succession might be resolved peaceably.

The Stranger had other plans. For surely it was his dread hand behind the ill chance that brought the two princelings together at Storm’s End, when the dragon Arrax raced before a gathering storm to deliver Lucerys Velaryon to the safety of the castle yard, only to find Aemond Targaryen there before him.

---The Dying of the Dragons: The Blacks and the Greens

----

“Mother wants me to spare your mother.” Aegon sways when he walks, his chronic drunkenness making it impossible for him to walk normally. Hell, he can barely ride a horse and uses a litter to his grandfather’s horror.

Aemma is not allowed to leave the Red Keep unless Aemond is with her and Ser Willis as well. She cannot ride Silver and Silver has to wear chains because they fear her escape.

She can walk the gardens and read in the godswood as long as Ser Willis is there. Aegon brings two Kingsguard as king, a bit too much if you ask her.

“Will you?” she asks and hopes he will agree with Alicent.

“The war won’t end unless she and Daemon are ash, mandianna. Even I know that.” He said as if he was telling himself. “I didn’t want this crown, but now I have it and it will only come off when I die.”

“I will be sure to mention that in my eulogy, your grace.” She said hoping this was the end of it.

He snorts as if nothing had changed, as if she didn’t know he was a fucking depraved shit of a man.

“It should have been you, Aemond always gets what he wants. Gets mother’s love, all the talent, all the brains and not only does he get the biggest dragon, he gets the perfect wife.” He begins to rant and say how he envies his brother and he, the poor and mistreated firstborn didn’t get shit.

Just a crown he doesn’t deserve, a reputation he earned and his mother setting Westeros on fire for his ungrateful and undeserving self.

“Had I been your queen, I would have made myself your widow.” She responds and closed her book. There would be no reading to take her mind off Aemond’s departure this afternoon.

He is to secure Baratheon to Aegon’s side before Lucerys arrives.

Aemma prays to every god in Valyria that Luke doesn’t die.

“If you were anyone else, I would kill you. Remember that the next time you make use of your sharp tongue, Aemee.” He said making the nickname Aemond gave her sound like an insult.

“Don’t call me that, only my husband may call me Aemee.” She dismissed his threat with one of her own.

Aemond is the only man who’s wife is completely off limits to him, he loves his brother and Aemma knows that is the only thing that keeps her from being harassed by him.

“Lucky fucking bastard.”

-----

“Where is my son?” Rhaenyra asked in a panic. She had sent Jacaerys north, Baela would go to Storm’s End while Rhaena took up the title of First Lady in the Queen’s Court.

Lucerys was to go to the Riverlands and win over House Tully with Daemon.

“He said he had to make haste and deliver your grace’s message.” The Dragon Keeper answered assuming that had been the truth.

“To whom, Ser?” Corlys asked when words failed her. Corlys was her Hand, one who knows she is innocent of Laenor’s death and knows the truth about Aemma’s dreams and fits.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck it all.” No, Luke was to go north, not south, over land not water.

Her son could not die.

The queen cannot breathe, to lose Visenya had been punishment enough, she cannot lose the rest of her children.

Not her sweet son who wanted to be a maester and not a knight. Not her boy who’s only crime had been to be born from the wrong man.

“I do not know, but he was gone before the other princes had left.” The dragon keeper answered all the while unaware that death awaited Lucerys in Storm’s End.

“Send for Lord Vaemond, tell him to make haste, it is a matter of urgency.” Never in her life did she expect to trust this man with something so precious.

But he had a daughter of marriageable age, he wanted to make sweet Daella the next Lady Baratheon, and it was the only way to save Luke from dying tonight. That was what Baela’s message was supposed to say, but she had yet to finish writing it.

“He’s left.” she said quickly, trying to formulate a plan and trying to stop the sand from falling.

“If we send a raven we can stall for time until you arrive in Storm’s End, take Daella and have the betrothal made before morning.” The Seasnake ordered his brother who nods and leaves as swiftly as he had come.

“I will not fail you, brother. I will bring Prince Lucerys home safe and sound, your grace, do not worry.” Those were the kindest words she had ever heard Vaemond utter to her.

“Godspeed, Leviathan.”

----

“A son comes before a daughter and yet, no man is as accursed as a kinslayer and to rise against Rhaenyra is to rise against my cousin, Rhaenys and her grandchildren, one you are married to, your highness.”

Borros was blunt, greedy, but blunt.

The Storm Lord lowered his voice to a whisper even if no one was here to eavesdrop on them, “If it had been you who had taken the Conqueror’s Crown, you wouldn’t need to bribe me to your side with your little brother’s hand. House Baratheon does not forget the insult done to Ser Laenor and his lady mother at the Great Council, nor the murder of Ser Laenor at the hands of Daemon Targaryen and the Whore of Dragonstone.”

“You speak treason, Lord Baratheon” Aemon fought the urge to agree. It could happen, Aegon was unpopular with the smallfolk and Uncle Lyonel’s own bannermen, perhaps the city would riot and kill him themselves, or someone will poison his wine to avenge one of the many girls he’s

“So do you, One-Eye.” Borros smirked and emptied his drinking horn in one swallow.

“A betrothal between Daeron and Floris, you remain neutral unless the unfortunate happens.” The One-Eyed Prince throws a good enough bargain. Better keep him out of the game instead on their enemies’ ranks.

Aegon and grandfather will think they have been taken for fools, but they can’t even get the Reach to fall in step despite Lady Tyrell being a Hightower.

“Was it one of your eyes he took, or one of your balls?” Borros asks mocking him. “Poor, poor Princess Aemma, to have a man who doesn’t have all his parts.”

It is because of Vhagar’s roar, that Aemond doesn’t unsheathe his dagger and bury it in Baratheon’s own left eye.

Vhagar had woken with a roar that shook the very foundations of Durran’s Defiance, but both men in the council chamber are unfazed.

“I see you are not the first to visit me this day, perhaps the Princess Rhaenys has come to court me to her side.” The Storm Lord was fickle and greedy and belligerent, but even he knows the wisest course had been sending the Red Queen instead of little Luke Strong.

Aemond prays the Storm Lord is right.

Only it is not Princess Rhaenys the knight at the Round Tower’s gates announced.

“Prince Lucerys Velaryon, son of Princess Rhaenyra.”

So it begins.

[obitohno]

primeval | 01

satoru gojo x reader

synopsis ⤸

you have never believed in fairy-tales. besides, werewolves don’t actually exist… right?

chapters ⤸

៚ contents

next ᝰ

themes ⤸

fem! reader, 18+, dark fic, werewolf! gojo, human! reader, slow burn, soulmates, omegaverse, werewolves, mating bond, smut, masturbation, cunnilingus, blowjobs, anal, breeding, creampies, ruts, heats, action, angst, graphic depictions of violence, mentions of blood

word count ⤸

4.5k (semi-edited, lowercase intended)

a/n ⤸

this fic was originally posted onto my ao3 as a kakashi/sakura story, but it’s been well over a year since i last updated it, so now that i’m back into my writing, i wanted to change it to a reader fic. i’ve spent hours changing the names/pronouns, but i’m v tired, so if i’ve missed any, pls let me know. i used to read n write a lot of werewolf fics back in my wattpad days, so this story always makes me feel nostalgic ♡

reblogs are appreciated ~

one:

it’s the middle of summer and the first scent you inhale upon entering shirakawa is one of freshly cut grass mixed in with the heat in the air. it’s almost stifling in the back of the car, cramped between two large suitcases, despite all four windows being rolled down. up front, your father hums along to a song on the radio, fingers tapping against the steering wheel as he guides the vehicle towards your new home. 

you scowl down at your feet, clad in a pair of weather-appropriate sandals, toenails freshly painted just the night before.

the move—despite you understanding its importance—isn’t at all what you’d expected when your father had sat you down and spilled the news just six months before. you understand that your father’s job is important to him, and being promoted to head surgeon in one of the country’s top hospitals is an achievement that you can definitely appreciate. however, his success means changes. moving six hours away from your childhood hometown is the one that upsets you the most, you think. your friends, family, all left behind. not to mention that you now have to complete your final year of studies in a place that you’ve never even heard of.

but whilst your father is the one whom has remained optimistic throughout your moving journey, despite being shut in a small car for over six hours, your mother seems to share her daughter’s doubts about moving towns. you had listened their arguments during the weeks that followed your father’s promotion, but eventually, his wife had caved and eventually agreed to the move. but that doesn’t mean your mother is as enthusiastic about the move as her husband is, you conclude, glancing up to see her glaring out of the window. 

shirakawa is much smaller than you had expected. surrounded by woods that appear to expand for miles upon miles, the town is enclosed in the middle, almost hidden out of view. if it weren’t for the sat-nav, you are sure that the entrance would’ve been easily missed, the signpost having been barely visible through an overgrown bush. a few people curiously peer at the car as it rattles its way down the street, the rear end strained under the weight of the remainder of the luggage that your father had rammed into the boot earlier that morning. 

it’s a little after three pm when your little family car finally pulls into its new home in an unfamiliar driveway. 

the house itself looks larger than your previous home, you note as you scramble out of the vehicle when your father finally moves the suitcases out of your way. a waft of thick heat smacks you straight in the face and you grimace, stretching your aching legs. even clad in just a pair of denim shorts and a cropped tank top, the warmth clings to your skin in a way that makes you feel sticky and grimy at the same time. a trickle of sweat rolls down the curve of your cheek and you huff, swiping it away with the back of your hand. 

helping your parents lug their belongings into the house is easy enough. most of the furniture had been shipped over just a week ago, already placed into their respective rooms. your bedroom is located at the back of the house, the window facing out towards the large garden. it appears that your new home is situated at the edge of the town—just a small fence separating the garden from the onslaught of forestation that surrounds the building. it’s almost an eery sight, you think as you step out into the garden after hauling your suitcase into your room. 

the trees provide a form of shading as the garden is slightly cooler, much to your relief. leaning against the wall, you close your eyes, basking in the cooler air that shadows provide. you exhale, head tilting at the sound of the back door opening. your father throws a heavy arm over your shoulder, ignoring your soft grunt of surprise. 

‘what do you think?’ 

your eyes peel open to regard the happy grin on his face. the hope is evident in those glistening eyes of his, and you would have to be blind to not see his unconcealed excitement. it crushes all protests that sit on the tip of your tongue, and you swallow, head turning to look out to the bottom of the garden. gaze fixated to a young maple tree, you shrug, arms crossed over your chest. 

‘it’s nice,’ is your honest reply. you are yet to come around to his idea of moving homes, but you can appreciate the scenery. even under the shade of a large berry tree, the sun gleams down upon the garden, and the scent of grass is almost potent in the air. you deem yourself lucky to have missed out on the pollen allergy that seems to run in the family, your father’s head ducking as he suppresses a sneeze into the crook of his elbow. but despite his now reddened nose, his grin widens and you force one of your own. 

he squeezes your shoulder before removing his arm, seemingly suffering due to the heat. it’s late-afternoon, yet the sun is still high up in the sky. both you and your father are bewildered, and he voices his distaste. 

‘your mother and i are going for a walk into town,’ he wipes a trickle of sweat from his brow, ‘we need to get food—and we also need to invest in a couple of electronic fans. you want to come with?’ 

you reluctantly agree. you’re still exhausted from the car journey, and the heat definitely isn’t helping with your mood. however, you know that it’s way too warm to take a nap, and if even if you could, it’s already almost evening. deciding that you’d wait a few more hours to sleep, you think that it’s best to learn the map of the town for yourself, and you explain this to your father, who agrees. 

‘there’s still a couple of months until you start class,’ he reminds you. you hide your scowl, kicking at a raised mound in the mud. ‘but it’s best you learn the neighbourhood in the meantime. maybe you can make some new friends before you start?’ 

‘maybe,’ you repeat, not bothering to voice your doubts. 

‘c’mon, we better make a move if we want to make it back before dark.’ your father straightens, already turning towards the back door. but just as he’s tugging it open, there’s a rustling that comes from the bottom of the garden that freezes you both.

you stare at the trees as if awaiting someone to pop out, heart thumping its way down your eardrums. there’s a sudden gust of wind that spikes through the warm air, blowing your hair back from your face, and you grimaces as it cools the thin sheet of sweat that has collected on the back of your neck. your father chuckles, breaking the silence, ‘it’s probably just an animal. we do live near the woods.’ 

he enters the house, but you remain rooted to your spot by the wall. you can’t put your finger on it, but something tells you that your father is wrong, eyes straining as you peer into the threads of birch trees that spread out far past where you can see. the wind passes and you’re enveloped in silence, dazed as you stare out into the thickened tree-line. the longer that you stand there, the more you feel urged to close the gap between yourself and the fencing, but just as you take a step forward, the spell is broken by the sound of your mother calling your name. 

blinking, you frown down at your feet. sighing, you run a hand through your sweat-stained hair before making your way back inside the house, kicking the door shut behind you and meeting your mother in the kitchen. ‘i’m just going to get changed and then i’ll be ready,’ she tells you. following her up the stairs, you state that you’ll do the same, deciding to shower once you return from the walk. 

you change into a dress this time, your skin immediately thankful for the lighter fabric, less suffocated as you shove your suitcase to the corner of your room. you’ll unpack tomorrow, you promise to yourself. you’re just expelling a spritz of deodorant when something moves in the garden, catching your attention, and you turn, just in time to see a shadow moving through the trees, barely visible among the trees. heart in your throat, you call for your father, who enters the room just as the shadow disappears from view, merging between the birch trees. 

‘what’s wrong?’ he frowns, following your finger as she points. ‘i told you, it’s probably just an animal.’ he ruffles your hair, but you aren’t paying enough attention to scold him for messing your hair. he places a hand on your shoulder, ‘listen. you’re tired, we all are. your mind is probably just playing tricks on you. there’s going to be all sorts of creatures hiding out there. i’ve heard there’s even wolves.’ 

you disagree. whatever that shadow was, you know that it wasn’t just a trick of the eye. something had been stood right there in the garden, just a few yards from your home. but you do doubt that it’s a wolf, something you have no qualms of arguing with your father about. 

‘it could be, you never know,’ he laughs, poking at your ribs before leading the way down the stairs. 

‘it wasn’t a wolf,’ you argue. ‘and if it was, why aren’t you more concerned? they could be dangerous.’

he laughs again, grabbing his keys from the kitchen counter. your mother raises an eyebrow at your bickering but doesn’t join in as she slings her purse over her shoulder, husband and daughter following her out of the house. your father loiters as his wife locks the door, before you begin the walk into town. ‘if there are wolves nearby, they’re probably domesticated to some degree. i doubt they’d do actual harm to people.’ 

you can’t help but gawk at your father, incredulous, ‘they’re wild animals—of course they’d harm people!’ 

his smile is unwavering, ‘i bet you a twenty you see a wolf by the end of the month and it won’t harm you.’ 

at this, your mother slaps his shoulder, ‘don’t say things like that!’ 

‘what? it could—’

‘i don’t want her frolicking with wolves,’ she glares. 

your father rubs at the sore spot on his shoulder, grumbling something about the women in the family being superstitious. your mother argues that being cautious about wild animals isn’t a superstition, and you trail behind your parents, barely listening to their bickering. the conversation continues all the way until you reach the middle of the town. by now, you’ve received a few too many curious glances than you are comfortable with, ensuring that you’re never more than half a step behind your parents as the three of you weave your way down the street. 

it’s when you’re exiting an electronics store, your father insisting on carrying the fans home rather than having them delivered—despite the cashier’s wasted protests—that you inhale the scent of freshly cut grass once more. this time, the scent is much thicker, and you fight back the urge to gag, barely forcing down a sneeze that threatens to escape. frowning, you interrupt your parents’ conversation to ask, ‘do you have any of dad’s anti-histamines?’

fishing into her purse as you walk, your mother’s brows furrow as she presses a tablet, along with a water bottle, into your outstretched hands. ‘you feeling alright?’ even your father is frowning, hoisting the bag up onto his shoulder. 

‘no’ you look at her pointedly, quickly swallowing down the tablet before dropping the water bottle into her purse. you sniff, eyes watering slightly, ‘can’t you smell that?’ 

‘smell what?’ your mother questions, but she’s not really paying attention, already walking into another building—a butcher’s, you notice. nose crinkling, you decide to wait outside, stomach already churning at the sight of the bloodied pig’s carcass hanging up in the front window. your parents enter the small shop, leaving you to lean against the wall as you wait. the urge to sneeze returns, stronger this time, just as the scent suddenly hits you full force. 

this time, you aren’t able to suppress the sneeze that tickles its way out of your nose, only just ducking your head in time to avoid contaminating a passing woman pushing a pram in front of her. sniffing loudly, you swipe the tears free from the corner of your eyes, groaning as your head tilts upwards. pinching the bridge of your nose to halt the threat of another sneeze, your efforts are wasted, and soon, you’re sneezing not once, but three times, one after the other. groaning, you press your thumb against the ache that’s forming between your brows. the heat seems to have increased by a tenfold, but there’s nothing you can do about it, exhaling with relief at the sight of your mother rushing out of the shop, towards you. 

she shouts your name, and you blink through heavily lidded eyes, watching as she scrambles to rip a packet of tissues from her handbag, shoving one under your nose. ‘w-what are you-?’

‘you’re bleeding!’ she frets, leaning closer to assess your nose. ‘what did you do?’

‘i just sneezed,’ you bite out at the accusation, taking over your mother’s ministrations, all but shoving the tissue up your nostrils. ‘i think it’s the temperature,’ your voice sounds nasally, even to your own ears, and you don’t miss the wince that flits across your father’s face as he inspects your face.

‘we should go home,’ he comments, ‘you don’t look so well.’

wiping at your nose, you ask that he checks that your face is now clean of any blood. ‘i feel fine. it’s just the warmth.’ discarding the soiled tissues into a nearby bin, you massage an index finger to your temple, the ache suddenly searing, white hot pain flashing behind your eyelids. looking up, your gaze meets with a pair of light blue eyes that bore right through yours. however, before you can think about how damn pretty they are, the scent of freshly cut grass invades your nostrils once more, so strong that you can’t help but  whimper, sweat gathering upon your brow. the same uneasy feeling that you had felt in the garden has returned and your vision swims. someone calls out your name, but before you can look, your sight is blackened to nothing.

๑

he hadn’t expected a female human to enter his territory. much less two of them. 

the male, he’d been aware of. geto had mentioned something about a transfer at the hospital a few weeks ago, the best shirakawa can get. suguru may have told him about the male’s familial situation, but if gojo is to be completely honest, he hadn’t really been paying attention to the conversation. 

it’s not as if humans don’t already reside in the town—most that live there are descendants of the founding families of shirakawa. and whilst the wilds are allowed to walk the streets as if they were their own, it is the woods where they thrive. for centuries, those whom want to live docile lives such as the humans do, are permitted to do so, in exchange for the protection provided by the wilds who have millenniums of strength built in their very bones. however, it is no secret that majority of the wilds share the opinion that humans are the weaker species, gojo included. because of this, most of their population remain on the pack territory, situated just a mere hundred miles from the townscape. 

not far enough apart, some still argue. 

but for gojo, it is close enough to keep an eye upon on the town’s human leaders; to ensure that there won’t be another revolt. there hasn’t been one since his tenth year on this earth and he’ll be damned if he lives to see another. the relationship between man and the wild is strenuous enough, but as ruler of the forests, gojo has made it no secret that he will not hesitate to eliminate those who dare to disrupt the peace his father fought many years to create. 

and so when word gets out that the human doctor has finally arrived in town, it is gojo’s responsibility to greet him. to his knowledge, the male is fully aware of the wilds that prowl in the darkness—something which gojo is to be glad of because he’s already met his fair share of frightened humans, weak-minded males and females who simply couldn’t imaginesuch a species to exist. he’s had to eradicate a few of them too, for everyone knows that the outside world is better off not knowing of the creatures of the forests. being spared the duty of exposing his species to an outsider is relieving. 

it is indeed a hot day outside, much like both geto and nanami had complained earlier that morning. the heat clings to the skin of his human form in a way that makes his nose crinkle with disgust, upturned as he makes his way through the town. many of the wild greet him with a bow of the head, gojo’s wild basking in the small sign of respect. the humans do not entirely understand the loyalties of the hierarchy in their kingdom, but most are smart enough to veer out of his path as he comes to a halt across the road from shirakawa’s infamous butcher-shop. 

he stands with his hands stuffed into the pockets of his slacks, eyes sweeping across the street for the face he’s memorised from the file that’s now stuffed in the bottom drawer of his desk. his nose shifts through the different odours intermingling through the warm air, searching for one that he doesn’t recognise. for a few moments, he senses nothing. but then it hits him. 

it’s you that he scents first. 

all sweet, like pollen on a fresh spring day, easily standing out amongst the crowd of humans that bustle along the pathway. your  scent clouds him, the heat of the sun suddenly overbearing as he stares across the road. but there’s something wrong, he knows as soon as his heart-rate spikes, pulsing so loudly in his eardrums that he almost doesn’t hear you speak. 

‘can’t you smell that?’ 

his instincts practically purr at the sound of your voice, gently spoken with the tiniest hint of confusion, and gojo has to grip the lamppost beside him to keep himself from shedding his human skin, his jaw clenched so tightly that he wouldn’t be surprised if it snapped. and when he realises that you also sense him, he exhales, breath uncharacteristically uneven as he struggles to rein in the wild that itches to escape. 

he’s no fool. for thousands of years, pups are taught what to expect when one meets the mate that is chosen for them from the day they are born. it’s been engrained into their very history from the first findings of their species. the humans call them soulmates. 

human and wild pairings are not unheard of. but they are rare. gojo cannot even recall the last pairing recorded—long before his time, anyway. and whilst most wilds are taught that humans will have some form of reaction to being mated, their instincts have been bred out of them over thousands of years of evolution. 

you will never feel the bond as he does, or at least, that’s what has been assumed for hundreds of years. 

and when the first drop of blood spills from your pretty little nose, his throat burns as he suppresses the growl that almost escapes from the centre of his chest. his instincts scream at him to cross the road, but gojo likes to think that he has more self control than that, fists clenching so tightly that his knuckles whiten, and his pulse increases in pace when your eyes meet his, wide and glossy. 

but as soon as you are rendered unconscious, all rationality is thrown out of the window as he’s across the street before he can stop himself, moving faster than humans can blink.

the older woman, your mother, he assumes, shrieks with surprise as he catches your limp body before you hit the ground. 

gojo stares down at you, trying his best to ignore the wild that continues to purr in contentedness with your skin pressed flush against his. several people have stopped to watch, most of which are of the wild, much to gojo’s chagrin. this will be the talk of the pack before he even reaches home, he’s sure. but that’s the least of his worries, as the older woman is now frantically attempting to shake you awake. 

gojo’s lips form a snarl before he can stop it, and he blinks, surprised by his own threat. there is a murmuring in the crowd, and he sighs, knowing the action has not gone unnoticed. the human woman stares at him, her surprise morphing into anger. 

‘i will take her,’ she spits, her hand curling around your limp hand. 

the human man calls her name, and when gojo looks up, he immediately recognises his face. 

the doctor. 

and it appears that he knows exactly who gojo is too. sparing him a nod in greeting, along with a smile that resembles more of a grimace, the doctor turns to his wife, ‘she’s in safe hands.’ 

even gojo is taken aback by this. 

your mother looks murderous as her head whips to glare at her husband, ‘we don’t even know—’

‘i own this town,’ gojo speaks for the first time. he winces at the grate in his voice, forcing down the wild that scratches at the surface. despite being unconscious, you stir at the sound of his voice and gojo’s gaze snaps back down towards you, adjusting your prone form in his arms. ‘if you’d allow me,’ he pauses to swallow, tearing his eyes from your face to your mother’s, ‘i’d like to return her to your home. it’s the least i can do.’ 

the human female is evidently confused, protest on the tip her tongue, but all colour in the male’s face drains as the weight of gojo’s words settle. he suddenly hoists his wife to her feet by her arm. ‘we should do as he says. he owns this town.’ 

your mother wrenches her arm from his grasp, not paying attention as gojo shifts his grip before he stands. he easily towers over both of your parents, but to his surprise, this doesn’t intimidate the smaller woman. she stands still, glaring up at him as the male whispers an excuse in her ear—something about not getting him fired before he’s even started his job. but it seems the heat is irritating her just as much as it is him, and so she reluctantly agrees to allow him to carry her daughter home. 

escaping the leering gazes, the walk is filled with a quietly uttered welcoming. gojo tells the male to meet him the following monday morning for a formal meeting before he starts his work. ‘your care is as important to our kind as it is yours,’ he tells him, eyes glancing towards the female who is yet to calm her anger. 

halfway home, you stir in your sleep once more, face pressed to his chest. you’re so much smaller than him, scent enveloping him in a way that he’s sure he’ll never forget. gojo has to bite his bottom lip to muffle the low growl that rumbles its way down his throat, expanding across his chest. the sound, however, soothes you enough to make you still once more and only then does gojo exhales. however, his wild rumbles upon glancing at the expanse of your exposed neck and he breathes heavily through flared nostrils, grunting as he feels the familiar aching of his canines breaking past the barrier of his gums. by the time the party reaches your new home, gojo’s body is trembling, sweat heavily built upon his brow. 

he’s permitted to gently place you on your bed, hesitating just a few seconds too long before he has to swiftly leave the room in order to escape your mother’s overprotective stance. 

by the front door, the male human escorts him out of the house. gojo’s wild immediately expresses its discomfort, itching at the temptation of a bid for freedom. 

‘it’s an honour to finally meet you—’ the man begins to gush, but the sight of gojo advancing upon him forces his mouth shut, eyes wide. 

‘she’s mine.’ 

gojo seethes, wild just inches from the surface of his skin. his stomach churns and it takes all he has to swallow down the bile that threatens to escape the confides of his throat. he towers over your father, who shrinks back, remembering to bow his head and expose his neck. gojo’s wild purrs at the sign of submission. 

he forcibly inhales deeply, eyes closing. when they open, he’s not at all surprised to recognise the terror on the smaller male’s face. ‘i will have her,’ he promises, but he’s not entirely sure if it’s he or his wild who forms the words on the tip of his tongue. ‘i do not need your approval—it means nothing to me,’ he spits, smiling bitterly. ‘you have until monday to tell her of our kind. not a day later.’ the human male has no choice but to agree, frantically nodding, blinking up at him, seemingly disorientated. whether he even recognises the unspoken threat that loiters in the air—thickened by the human male's unconcealed fear—is a matter to be dealt with come monday morning. 

gojo leaves then, coated in a layer of sweat that heats him in such a way that it blows his pupils. the little control he has struggles to remain in place, only just lasting until he breaks into someone’s garden, by jumping the gate, and marching across the recently mown lawn. he barely makes it to the trees before his resolve uncoils, snapping its way down his arching spine as he hunches over, winded. he form morphs, familiar with the sound of breaking bones, the shredding of human skin that gives way to a thick coat of white fur, two legs becoming four, a whip-like tail standing proudly as he prowls deeper into the trees. 

this form is welcomed with a ripple of excitement as he allows the wild to explore, scenting the air. he doesn’t venture far, nose tracking the stench of sweetened pollen, just a few yards from where his clothes are strewn across the floor. his wild shivers, delight thrumming through his veins as his eyes latch onto the bedroom window of which he knows you sleep on the other side of the glass. he inhales your scent through his mouth, tastes it on his tongue, and swallows it down, allowing it to settle into the pit of his stomach.

mine. 

© obitohno. all rights reserved. do not repost my works.

[gossip-girl-of-middleearth]

She’s the Man (Fellowship x Disguised as Boy! Reader)

Requested by anon

Warnings: mentions of domestic/sexual assault, nudity, awkward public bathing. Might trigger a gender identity crisis in some of you folks, but don’t worry, join the club—we’re getting jackets made.

Synopsis: after having run away from your noble family and horrid husband, you cut your hair short and start dressing like a boy, presenting yourself as one throughout all of Middle-earth. This becomes hard, though, as you start travelling with the Fellowship, where they start to suspect something is up with their young “boy” comrade.

Restrictions, restrictions, restrictions—that’s all you’ve ever known. You first noticed the tight chains on your soul when you were five, when your mother forbade you from playing with the local stable-hands.

You next noticed it when you were ten, being forced to wear tight corsets to shape your body before it even began blooming.

The final nail in the coffin, however, was when you turned fifteen, and were married off to a local, and quite old tradesman.

Though he dealt in silken fabrics, he was anything but smooth or soft. The night of your wedding was painful in all regards, for at fifteen you weren’t even sure if you were allowed to remove the tight corset during the act.

Five years more of total misery accompanied you, as you were forced to attend noble banquets and celebrations.

You encountered a wide range of people, from the likes of Denethor and his two sons, to the sickly Rohan King. Of course, they did not encounter you, for you were not allowed to speak unless spoken to, which was rare.

The two sons of Denethor and King Théoden’s own son, Théodred, as well as his two cousins, Eowyn and Eomer, were the only ones to initiate conversation with you.

You quickly realized they were better-spirited than their parents, but didn’t have the chance to explore more. A tight grip on your wrist from your husband silenced you, as he tore you away from the circle of new acquaintances quickly.

That night, life in your guestroom with your husband was a living hell, as he reminded you whom exactly you belonged to.

That was the night you snapped.

Bruised and sore, you wept into your sheets. Your husband had long-gone to drink more wine at the party, leaving his young wife alone in a state of mess.

It was around the third hour of crying that you studied the tapestry on the wall above your bed. With hair wettened by your tears clinging to your puffy cheeks, you ran your reddened eyes along the art.

It depicted a strong soldier atop a horse, riding into battle. A sword was drawn, and his short hair flowing in the wind behind him.

Subconsciously, you reached up to your own hair, long in length—your husband’s desire—and pulled on it.

As mounted in every room, two swords crossed each other over a shield, making a pretty decoration above the mantle.

Looking between the bruises inside your thighs, the tapestry and the sword, your jaw quickly set. Your eyes hardened, as you threw the sheets off your frame and stalked towards the mantle.

Glancing over your shoulder, you ensured no one was entering your room. With an emotional mind made up, you removed both swords from the shield.

Hastily, you used one to bar the door shut, and walked to the centre of the room with the other. With no candlelight around, you knelt on the fur rug under a square beam of moonlight, which poured in through the bedroom windows.

You looked at your reflection in the sword, and studied the state of your misery. Despising your parents, your husband and your life, you quickly put the sword to your hair.

With only a second to build the courage, you sliced all long locks from your head, springing forward a boyish look—instantly freeing yourself from your lifelong chains.

Breathing heavily in shock, you looked at the clump of hair on the floor, and picked it up. One hand ran through your now very short locks, and the other fingered the cut clump.

However, shocked breaths soon turned into joyous laughter, as your chest swelled with pride and your eyes watered.

Standing up swiftly, you ran towards the bathroom and opened the drawers. Finding a pair of scissors, you got to work and began styling your hair further.

Soon, you were left looking like a boy, by Middle-earth’s human standards. Your hair barely scraped the nape of your neck at the back, and in front, you had a fringe swooping to one side.

Grinning brightly, and now on a roll, you ran back to the mantle. Opening your husband’s drawers, you quickly discarded your nightgown and slipped his tunic on.

Shrugging the loose fit over your form, you secured it with a thick brown belt, trousers and used your own boots.

Studying yourself in the mirror, you realized this must be how you would’ve looked if born a boy, and you were surprised within yourself over liking it.

Throwing your clump of cut hair into the fire, you soon began tying sheets together. That night, you escaped down the window and fled the city atop a stolen horse, riding towards your new life.

Five years passed by, and you had been on the run ever since. Life was never easy for you, but at least now you were calling the shots.

You had taken to your new life as a boy, like a duck to water, presenting yourself as the rather quiet and distant “Arlo”.

You kept your head down and worked hard wherever you went, whether as a blacksmith’s apprentice, baker’s boy or stablehand.

Your most favourite part of the road, however, was learning to use a sword. With a book stolen from a library and five years’ worth of nights to practice, you had become quite skilled. The spite drove you forward.

You vowed no one would ever best you in combat again, pushing you harder every day. Your best friend and only companion was your horse, Paxton, and together the two of you explored Middle-earth to its very ends.

Along your travels, you had taken to competing in swordfight competitions, where you earned most of your cash. Swindling them, you presented yourself as a weak and frail boy, but in the end ultimately beat them all.

You gained a reputation quickly, and were slightly infamous for your swordsman skills, despite being so small.

It was this reputation that led you to Elrond’s secret council in Rivendell.

Your eyes had gone wide in alarm upon entering the petal-strewn area—where the council was set to be held—for Boromir, one of Denethor’s sons, was there.

You almost turned and ran, but he caught your eye quickly. You didn’t know whether or not to avoid his gaze, but that would bring about suspicion.

He instead smiled warmly at you, and thought nothing of your appearance. You nodded back tightly, and took your seat far away from him.

You ended up sitting next to an elf, for you knew their gender worked differently from yours. He himself looked a little girlish, so you believed he’d think nothing of your appearance.

He studied you with a side-glance as you sat down, and nodded curtly. You clenched your jaw and nodded back, moving your eyes forwards again.

You discreetly let out a sigh of relief, as you found the coast to be clear. No one figured you to be a girl.

Soon, Elrond joined the council. You felt your breath hitch in your throat, as you realized his puzzled eyes lingered on you a little too long.

Worried he’d rat you out, you looked away. Knitting his brows, Elrond slowly tore his eyes away from you, and began the council.

Long story-short, you had been invited to participate on a dangerous quest, all food and expenses paid for. Unable to pass up such a good opportunity for you and your horse, you reluctantly agreed, offering your sword to the hobbit sworn to carrying Sauron’s ring.

The first few nights you kept to yourself, as an awkward air befell the Fellowship—none really knowing each other nor knowing how to interact.

Very quickly, cliques formed.

The hobbits kept to each other in a pack, Gandalf joining them. Aragorn and Legolas joined forces, and Boromir, Gimli and yourself found ranks in solitude.

However, this was not to last forever.

Boromir had attempted many times to strike up conversation with you, as besides Aragorn, you were the only other “man” there.

You kept it short and courteous, but made it apparent very quickly to everyone there that you were in no position to begin friendships. This was a job to you—nothing more, nothing less.

That still did not stop anyone from trying, though. After Boromir, Gimli was next. The topic of the night around the campfire was “women”, as they all discussed their perfect partner.

The conversation divided the group in half, over those choosing to go more physical in nature a direction, and the other half preferring emotions.

Gimli laughed heartily and elbowed you in the shoulder. “Forget this lot, eh? I bet you and I are exactly alike, laddie! Thick thighs and body hair all over! Am I right?”

Laughing nervously, you rubbed at the back of your neck. “Uh…not really…”

He blinked up at you in surprise for a moment, before shrugging his shoulders and pressing on in the conversation. Legolas studied you from across the fire, and made a mental note of your words.

Later on, when you were all setting up your rugs, Legolas approached you. He crouched down by your side and began helping to unroll your pack.

You recoiled from him slightly, and stared up in alarm. He looked back down at you briefly with a tight-lipped smile, and spoke.

“I agree with you from earlier,” he said. “I believe partnership should be about romance and emotions, not physical acts. How about you, mellon nin? Have a lady waiting back at home for you?”

You sputtered up at the prince, before averting your eyes and rolling your pack out faster. “No, I…uh, that’s not really my area…”

Legolas knitted his brows for a moment in confusion, before his lips parted in sudden understanding.

“Oh. Oh! Well, um…do you have a gentleman waiting back at home for you, then?”

Snapping your eyes up at him once more, you flushed.

“No! No! I, look—I’m really kinda tired.” You made a show of yawning loudly. “And I think I just wanna get some rest. I’ll see you in the morning, though…brother?”

Legolas blinked down at you a few times, before speaking and rising to his legs. “Oh! Uh, sure…that’s no hassle. Rest well…brother?”

“Will do,” you drew out, laying down.

He threw a glance over his shoulder at you, before walking away. He caught Aragorn’s eye as he walked past, with the ranger sat there puffing away on his pipe.

They both tightened their lips, looked away and raised their brows, figuring you were just a moody boy.

The most awkward situation of all, however, came a few weeks later. Having managed to sneak away from the Fellowship, you found a nice river, of which you could bathe in.

Paxton followed suit, keeping your towel wrapped over his saddle. He snorted in worry as you began to undress, revealing your body to the running river.

“It’s fine,” you laughed, girlishly. Your voice had returned to its normal pitch, for the first time in a long time. “Just because I’m pretending to be a boy as I travel with them, doesn’t mean I have to smell like one!”

Paxton snorted, and you knew he was telling you to hurry.

“All right, all right,” you laughed again, stepping into the water. You hugged your chest as you dipped below, submerging yourself fully.

Rising again, you exhaled a sigh of relief, and began washing the grime from your hair and face.

You were only in there for so long, however, for soon boyish laughter came from up the forested incline.

“Out of the way!” Pippin called, stripping off his clothes.

“No! You move!” Merry shouted back, also stripping down.

Behind them both, was the rest of the entire Fellowship, save for Gandalf.

Your eyes grew wide in alarm, as you watched them all meet the river’s bank. They then began undressing—Aragorn, Boromir, Gimli, Legolas and the hobbits included.

Soon, they each all jumped into the water, splashing one another and laughing loudly. You found a large boulder within the river nearby, and swam behind it.

Peeking out from the side, you watched them all swim closer in a group to where you were. They began cleaning themselves, and soon just started to wade around—relishing in the cool feeling.

However, as you tried to swim away discreetly, Legolas’ elven ears caught you. He narrowed his eyes, and began swimming over to your rock.

Knowing you would be caught if you tried to flee, you pressed your back firm against the rock, lapping up against it.

Legolas was now upon you, and looked around the corner to find what was behind it. Once he saw it was only you, he beamed brightly.

Rising up out of the water, he folded his arms over the rock and leaned over, looking down at you.

You tried to not let your eyes drift or slip, as you stared back up at him. However, mistakes were made (but clearly not on his parents’ behalf).

“Hello, Arlo!” he announced merrily. “We didn’t know you were also in here.”

Upon hearing your name, the rest of the Fellowship waved you over, asking you to join them.

You chuckled nervously and began swimming backwards and away, speaking as you did so. “Oh, no…that’s quite all right! I, uh…just remembered I actually have something to do—”

“Oh, no! Don’t be like that!” Boromir chastised. He grabbed your wrist gently and reeled you back in towards him and Legolas.

Your shoulders went rigid, as you nearly brushed up against their bare bodies.

Soon, the hobbits, Gimli and Aragorn swam over to you, and you were more thankful now for the darkness of night than you had ever been.

Though, with one slither of moonlight in the right spot, you’d soon be exposed.

“Please don’t leave on our behalf, Arlo,” Aragorn encouraged, placing a hand on your wet shoulder. “It is good for team morale to bond like this. Besides, we’re all men here.”

“Some more than others!” Gimli announced. You looked up in the direction of his voice, and immediately covered your eyes.  

Gimli was stood with his hands on his hips, proudly naked atop your boulder.

“I am the king of this rock!” he announced. “Any competitors who’d like to have a go at pushing me off?”

“Please,” Legolas rolled his eyes, before he, too, swam over to the boulder and climbed atop it. “This will be the easiest fight of my life.”

Catching more than you wanted to see, you made a squeal of rejection, before forcibly pushing your way through the group and heading towards the bank.

Paxton met you quickly, and you swiftly wrapped the towel over your shoulders like a cloak, as to not make it obvious what you were covering, but doing so nonetheless.

“I’m sorry,” you said to them, “but I truly do have something else to do…literally anything else. I’ll see you all back at camp.”

They watched as you left in a hurry, and shared glances with one another. Thinking nothing of it, besides your usual mood, they shrugged and returned to what they were doing.

This continued on for quite some time, throughout the entire Fellowship journey. Though, you never again attempted to bathe with them all around.

Fortunately, your travels soon took you out of the woods, and into the cities. Many fights had passed your small group, smaller now than before, by.

The most recent of battles saw many great feats—the “Battle of the Pelennor Fields” it was called.

In this battle, you had fought formidably. However, the true victory for women that day went to Eowyn. She had removed her helmet in the middle of the fight, pronounced she was “not a man”, like you had wanted to do so many times, and slayed the Witch-king of Angmar.

You were inspired greatly, but also so furious at yourself. You were also slightly jealous over the attention she got.

“What a brave woman,” Gimli would say.

“I’ve never met a woman so bold,” Merry added on.

“Truly remarkable,” Legolas agreed.

The six of you were sat in a stone courtyard together, camping out in the aftermath of the fight. Your jaw was rigid with fury, as you listened to them praise Eowyn over something you had been doing for the past few months.

Rolling your eyes, and making a show of turning over in your sleeping bag harshly, you quickly gained the Fellowship’s attention.

“Oh, and what is your problem, laddie?” Gimli snarked.

“Upset you were outshined by a girl?” Legolas taunted as well.

“You’re not that misogynistic, are you?” Merry chortled.

Aragorn glanced between your turned back and the laughing boys, before taking his own turn at scolding you.

“Arlo, Eowyn was a great asset today, and we are guests in her company. I will not see you sulking towards her remarkable feats.”

You glared at him over your shoulder, before huffing and returning to sleeping on your side. Your arms were folded over your chest, and your body burning in jealous rage.

“Gosh, what is the matter with you?” Legolas asked next, truly fed up with your attitude. “Why are you always in a bad mood?”

“Wouldn’t have taken you for a misogynist either,” Gimli remarked, smacking his gums as he ate a chicken leg.

You stayed on your side with your back turned to them for a few moments, glaring at the wall. However, the rage in your chest soon gave way to a lump in your throat, as you soon felt your secret burst within you.

“I’m not a misogynist…” you spoke up.

“Poppycock,” Gimli called you out.

Sighing, you sat up and looked at them to your side. “I’m not a misogynist, because…I’m not even a boy.”

Silence echoed around the courtyard, as your travel companions blinked back at you.

“What?” Pippin asked, squinting his eyes. “What do you mean you’re ‘not a boy’?”

Groaning through another sigh, and rolling your head, you pressed on. “I mean I’m NOT a boy! I’m a girl, for Eru’s sake…I’ve just been…presenting myself as one, for…reasons.”

“What reason could you possibly have to lie about something like that?” Legolas asked, not entirely believing you.

Feeling the urge to cry rising within you, you inhaled a deep breath and answered. “Nothing you men would understand.”

“I’m sorry,” Merry laughed, “but I don’t believe you at all. There’s no way you’re a girl.”

Glaring at him, you knew his words to be true. Knowing how to prove you were indeed a girl, you reached into your loose tunic, and began unwrapping the bind around your chest.

Pulling it out, you threw it down in front of the now gaping group. Without a shred of chivalry, still disbelieving you to be a girl at all, they glanced between the fabric and your chest, which indeed proved your gender.

“I don’t believe it…” Pippin whispered, staring with wide eyes.

In fact, they all did. With six pairs of male eyes on your chest, you felt very vulnerable and covered yourself.

This seemed to jolt them back to their senses, as they coughed uncomfortably and looked away.

The only one still looking into your eyes, was Aragorn. “Why did you feel the need to lie, my lady?”

Being called a “lady” for the first time in five years opened up a floodgate of emotions, as you wept into your hand.

“Yep, definitely a girl,” Merry rolled his eyes. A swift punched to his arm from Legolas silenced him.

Now knowing exactly how to deal with you, Aragorn stood up and crouched before you. He placed a tentative hand on your shoulder, and encouraged the other boys to come forwards, until they were sat all around you in a comforting circle.

“What is your real name, young maiden?” Aragorn asked softly.

Still sniffling into your hand, and bearing a downcast head, you spoke up in a barely audible voice.

“Y/n…” you revealed.

“What a beautiful name, Y/n,” he smiled warmly.

Like a turn of the tides, the boys all around took you under their wing, as if you were their own little sister. Everything about you now made sense, and they felt at ease with you instantly.

And, surprisingly, you found the same about them, regarding yourself. You didn’t at all feel threatened by their presence, but instead protected.

“I’m sorry,” you wept, shaking your head. “I had no choice, they made me marry him, and I-I couldn’t stay there, and then I had to make money so I ran with the lie and—”

They shushed your incoherent crying quickly, and rubbed at both your knees, back and shoulders comfortingly.  

They gained more information about your previous life in those few seconds than they had before in the last few months. They didn’t need to know anymore, nor wanted to, from the sounds of it all.

“Please don’t kick me out of the Fellowship…” you sniffled.

“Why would we do that?” Gimli laughed. “We now have TWO remarkable women in our ranks! Eowyn AND Y/n!

“A great win for us, indeed!” Legolas agreed brightly.

A smile broke through your tears, as they shook you softly and commended your swordswoman skills excitedly.

This carried on for a few moments, before you spoke up again, now smiling around at them through almost dried tears.

“So…you don’t mind about me lying? Or being a…woman?”

They shook their heads and returned your smile. “Not at all, lassie.”

Before the conversation could progress, however, Legolas suddenly recalled something.

“WAIT!” he gasped loudly, thinking back to the river. “THAT MEANS YOU SAW ALL OUR—”

“Let’s agree to never speak of it again, okay?”

“Aye, never again…sister.”

[bakuhoes-dumbass]

ABERRATION BOYS BIRTHDAY SPECIAL!

A/N: Hello my nerds, today is my Birthday! So to celebrate my unfortunate birth, I'm doing a special scenario post for my Ab!Boys!

~~

What do the boys from Aberration get you for your birthday?! (GN!Reader!)

These are NOT cannon to the storline.

Warnings: VERY DARK CONTENT. Yandere Headcannons ahead. Mentions of skinning, non-con cum-eating and video recording, stalking, murder, mutilation, manipulation, etc. If you are uncomfortable with these types of things, DO NOT READ. Proceed with caution, as I do not feel bad if you choose to do so while being warned.

MINORS DNI

~~~

Tokoyami

You're seated on the bed, staring at your simple but beautiful ankle bracelet Tokoyami bought for you. Smiling, you fiddle with the gems, entranced by the sparkle that reflects off them.

"Starlight?"

Your head snaps up to see your boyfriend sticking his head through the door way. A love-sick smile grows on your face. "Fumi, you're back!"

He chuckles before slipping through the door way and sits down on the bed, hands behind his back. "Do you remember what today is?" Your face scrunches up in thought before shaking your head. He sighs warmly at the cute look on your face. "Today's your birthday, my starlight. And I got you something."

Tokoyami moves his hands from behing him and your eyes light up upon seeing the book he hands you. "Fumi, thank you! It's beautiful." Your hand traces over the cover, following the lines of the ornate designs. "It looks so familiar..." you mumble.

Tokoyami swallows the lump in his throat. "It's one of a kind, love. Would you like me to read it to you?" He tries to steer the conversation away from your feeling of familiarity, not wantinf you to realize it's one of your old books from before he took you.

You nod excitedly and climb into his lap. His arms circle around you and hold you tight, as his thumb grazes over your anklet, eyes boring into the gems that track your every movement.

Kirishima-

"Happy Birthday to my Pebble~ Happy Birthday to my Pebble~"

You glare at the redhead smiling and dancing in front of you as you tug at your restraints. A low huff leaves your lips. "Can you stop? I don't want you celebrating my birthday."

Kirishima stops dancing and gives you a puppy-dog stare. "But why? It's the day my beautiful wife was born! It should be a day to rejoice!"

"Kirishima, I'm not your wife! I'm nor your girlfriend! I'm not anything to you!" You sit up in the bed you were restrained to, only able to move so far forward. "You drugged me, kidnapped me and are currently holding me against my will."

Kirishima watches with a mixture of sadness and anger at your defiant attitude. He hates it when you struggle. He doesn't understand why you're so reluctant to be here! With him! Your husband! That's when he remembers your gift.

"Oh! This is a perfect time to give you your birthday present!"

He drops to his knees and crawls under the bed. You hear rummeging underneath you and your terror spikes. You knew what he kept under the bed, so this couldn't be good. As he comes back up, he's holding a pair of black leather cuffs.

"Surprise! I got you new cuffs!" He climbes onto the bed and straddles you. "These are so cool because instead of being just normal cuffs, they have these two little metal rivets that will shock you whenever I want!"

Your eyes widen and your mouth opens to scream. Kirishima is quick, however. He grabs your face with his hand, hardening it so your scream is muffled. His face geta closer to yours, that sickening grin never leaving.

"Baby, you don't like it? Do you want something else? Don't worry! I have another gift in mind. How about a fresh, bloodied heart that was ripped out of the chest of that mean boss of yours?"

Hawks

"You see this right here?" Your cowroker holds her hand out, showing you and your fellow employees her brand new diamond ring. "He finally proposed! It was about time. It took him awhile to get an ACTUAL ring worthy of me, though. But it's so expensive and beautiful, EEP!"

Keigo watches as you roll your eyes for the thousandth time. He could tell you were getting annoyed, and I mean, who wouldn't? Your coworker has always been a complete bitch to everyone, a lot directed at you.

"Oof, it just sucks that Y/N can't seem to find someone. That's probably the only way they'll be able to look a little less," she looks you up and down. "Er, homeless."

Keigo watches from his perch as you flip her off snd walk away. His hands clench tightly into fists, desperately wanting to knock a bitch out. That's when it hit him. It was your birthday today! And now he knew just what he wanted to gift you.

~~~

"Bye guys, and thank you!"

You wave to your friends after they drop you off at home. They had taken you out for dinner for your birthday and you bad fun. Definitely something you needed after the crappy morning you had.

As you walk up to your door, you notice a small package waiting for you outside. You smile, wondering of it was your long distance partner sending you a birthday gift. You carefully open the package, but once you see the contents, a scream is ripped out of your throat and you stumble away from the box.

Inside, what a severed finger with an absolutely beautiful diamond ring still on it. You failed to notice a small blood-covered note flitter to the floor.

'Happy Birthday, babybird. I hope you like it.'

Tamaki

Tamaki stares at you from behind a tree. He's been following you for a few hours now, just basking in all your wonderful glory. He stares at you with nothing but pure love and adoration in his eyes, wishing he could actually get up the nerve to speak to you.

Finally you're off of work and headed home. He really hates seeing you talk to all those really pretty people. What if you were to get a partner?! That wasn't him?! He whimpers at the thought, hands clenching and unclenching.

"Y/N!"

The sound of your name snaps him out of his thoughts. He watches as your friend, whom he deemed not-a-threat yet, skip up to you.

"Are you doing anything for your birthday tomorrow?"

Tamaki's face turns pale. Your birthday! How could he forget the most important day of his life?! The day his precious bunny was born. You would be so disappointed in him. He reluctantly scrambles away from his hiding spot and runs home to get your gift.

~~~

"Oh?"

You stand in your doorway, a package sitting on your front steps. You tilt your head in curiosity and pick it up. Opening it up, you find the most adorable stuffed bunny you've ever seen. And a note.

"Y/N, Happy Birthday! I hope you like this bunny, I thought if you when I saw it. Love, your secret admirer."

You squeal slightly and hug the soft fluff, thinking this was from your flirty coworker. You bring it up to your room and sit it on your bed next to your other stuffies.

Tamaki stares at the screen on his phone, his face bright red at the hug you gave the stuffed bunny. It actually felt like you were hugging him! His happiness was through the roof. He knew you would love it!

But his attention now is back on you as he watches you slowly take your clothes off, one by one, to get ready for bed. His tongue practically falls out of his mouth, watching your bare back closely.

One day, he swears he won't have to watch through the camera.

Overhaul

Chronos watches you closely over the top of his book. You glare at him with tears in your eyes while huddled up in the furthest corner of your human sized cage. Hugging your knees tighter to your chest, you turn your gaze away with a sniffle.

"You know the boss wouldn't want you to cry on your birthday."

You roll your eyes and grip you legs tighter. "I doubt someone who keeps a human in a cage really cares about when they want to cry." You sigh. "Besides, he probably doesn't even give a shit if it's my birthday. I don't even give a shit, at this point."

"Of course I care."

The hair on your body stands up on end as the voice of your captor appears. Fear shoots through you upon seeing his masked face. In one hand he has a gift bag, the other stuffed in his pocket.

"Why wouldn't I care about my pet's birthday?"

He squats to unlock the cage and gestures you over with his finger. You swallow the lump in your throat and crawl out to him, knowing the consequences if you don't follow his rules. He sits down in his chair and pats the side of his thigh for you to kneel next to him.

He opens the gift bag and pulls out a dog collar. A part of you wanted to gag at the thought of being collard to this maniac. But another part of you couldn't help but think how absolutely gorgeous and expensive this collar looked.

"Oh, it's beautiful... Master." You wanted to slap yourself for calling him that, but you had no choice. The last thing you want is to be punished.

Kai hums with approval at your words before buckling the collar around your neck. He finsihes it off with a small padlock to the back, so no one can remove it except for him. A gloves finger grazes over your neck in admiration before looking over to Chronos.

"Prep them for a routone cleaning."

The calmed state you were in was once more replaced by terror. "No, please Master! I've been good, I promise! Please dont do this!" You scramble backwards, away from the two masked men. But Kai was quick and hooked his fingers under your collar, dragging yoi back to him.

"You know this is a must, pet. I need to make sure every inch of you is cleansed before I send any more time with you." He taps the side of your collar with his free hand. "And there is no use attempting to run away. This will forever track any movement you make from here on out."

Kai throws your body over to Chronos, who throws your struggling self over his shoulder.

"Oh, and Happy Birthday, my pet."

Shoto

"Darling~"

You stir in your bed, hearing your boyfriend's voice.

"Darling, wake up~"

Eyes open to see a blurry red and white haired man softly smiling down at you. You stretch your body out and yawn with a cute smile.

"Mmmm Sho, good morning~"

Shoto sighs softly, admiring your beautiful features. "Guess what day it is today. It's a very special day."

You tolt your head, trying to remember the exact date but you are the sure. It's been while since time actually mattered.

"It's your birthday, darling! Happy Birthday! I've got something fun planned for you~"

You sit up, your chains rattling against the bed frame. "You do? I'm so excited! What is it?"

Shoto holds up his black card. "We're going shopping. I'll be getting whatever your heart desires."

Your eyes widen. "Wait, does that mean I actually get to go out? Really?!"

Shoto's smile falters before returning to a softened look. Slight guilt flashes in his eyes. "Darling, you know I can't let you go outside. It's not safe. No, we're doing online shopping~" Shoto grabs his phone and crawls behind you, sitting you in his lap. "Here lets look through some sights and get you some cute stuff."

"I want my darling to have everything they want, so they don't want to leave~"

Dabi

"Mouse."

You stay huddled up in the corner of the room, knees to your chest, not even daring to look at him. Dabi frowns at your defiant behavior. He knows he took you without your permission, but that was so long ago. Shouldn't you have been broken in by now?

"Little Mouse."

You continue to rock back and fourth on the floor, chains clanking together. Dabi sighs, annoyance starting to eat at him. He walks over to you and grabs yoi by the throat, lifting you up.

"You are to respond when I'm speaking to you. Understand?" You let out a little squeak and quickly nod your head with widened eyes. He sits you down on the bed and gives you a lazy smile. "That's better. Now, I have something for you."

He opens the closet door to bring out a box. He places it in front of you. "Happy Birthday, my little mouse."

"Oh, yeah. That's today." You mumble quietly. Kmowing Dabi, this gift was going to have some sort of catch but curiosity got the better of you. But curiosity turned into regret immediately as you throw the lid and scream.

Inside the box were a pair of boots. But they weren't jusf any pair of boots, they were handmade. It was human skin staples together, making them look just like Dabi himself.

"What, does my little mouse not like them?" He smirks before climbing on the bed. He grabs your legs and pulls you down towards him with a manic look on his face.

"That's fine. How about I burn my name into you instead?"

Bakugo

"KATSUKI!"

You jolt up in bed, suddenly awakened by a nightmare. Looking next to you, you see your boyfriend's side of the bed empty. A whimper escapes your lips as yoi trt to calm your racing heart.

"Angel?!" The door to the bedroom slams open, Bakugo's quirk popping in his hands and waiting to attack whomever touched his precious angel. He looks around frantically but notices nothing except your heavy breathing and sweat covered body. "Are you alright? What happened?"

You motion towards him with a sniffle and grabby hands. "I had a dream that you locked me back up in the basement again for days, without you." He comes sits next to you on the bed and pushes the hair out of your sweat covered face. "It was dark and silent and terrifying. Please don't do that again! I would miss you! I've been good, I promise!"

Bakugo sighs and pulls you into a hug. "I know, Angel. You've been doing so well, I'm so proud of you." He plants a kiss on your head as you relax into his arms. "I have a surprise for you actually. Stay right here."

You nod your head, watching him leave the room for a moment, your ankle tugging on the chain that attached you to the bed. I mean, it's not like you would get very far. Bakugo comes back in with a plate of cake and a candle.

"Happy Birthday, my beautiful angel."

Your eyes light up as he sets the piece of cake in front of you. You blow out the candle and take a bite, savoring the taste. "Kats, this is so good! The cake is so fluffy and the frosting is creamy and sweet. Thank you!"

Bakugo watches you with a lovesick grin on his face. He goes to adjust the tightness in his pants as he watches you devour his specially made cake without hesitation.

Denki

"Yeah, it's been super weird. I've been finding these little pieces of jewelry on my bed almost every night the past week."

You continue cleaning the counter as you explain to your cowroker the weird things that have been happening to you. She gives you a strange look.

"Are you sure you haven't misplaced your jewelry on your bed and just forgot?"

You turn your head to give her a dumbfounded look. "Uh, yeah. I think I would remember putting jewelry I've nevee seen before on my bed at the same time every night."

"Well, I don't know! It's just so weird. I don't have any other rational explanation." She suddenly gasps. "What if you have a stalker?!"

"Shh, don't say things like that." You hiss at her but a part of you is wondering if that might be true.

After your shift ends, you wave goodbye and begin your journey home. Unbeknownst to you, an energetic blonde watches as you walk home, excited for you to see your final birthday gift.

Once you step through the door of your house, something feels off. Having a weird feeling, you immediately but slowly make your way to your bedroom and turn on the lights. That's when you see a small but long white box placed on your bed, this time with a note. You carefully open the box to reveal a gorgeous necklace with a small black and yellow lightning bolt charm. Swallowing the lump in your throat, you reluctantly open up the note, hoping to finally uncover some answers.

"Happy Birthday, my dear. You can call me Kaminari. And soon, you will be all mine."

Midoriya

*Click*

You turn around upon hearing the closing of a camera shutter but see nothing. Thinking it's all in your head, you shrug and continue to walk to your parents for your birthday dinner.

"Shit, that was too close." Midoriya mumbles under his breath as he hides in a set of bushes just beyond your vision. He scrolls through his camera roll, looking through every single shot to make sure he's got what he needs.

"These aee perfect! Oh they're going to love it!" He checks to make sure you're long gone before he scrambles out of his hiding spot and runs home to make your gift.

~~~

You unlock the door to your house and step inside with a sigh. As much as you love your birthday and seeing your family, sometimes they can be a little much. Now it's time for you to sit back and relax. You change into your pajamas and turn on your comfort movie with a drink in hand, when suddenly your doorbell rings.

"Who the hell is here at 10 at night?"

You carefully peek through the peep hole in your door, not seeing anyone. Slowly, you open the door and look down to see a neatly wrapped gift. You know you probably shouldn't take a strange gift off of your doorstep, but curiosity gets the better of you.

Taking it back to your livingroom, you open it to reveal a scrapbook. Anxiety raises through your body as you open the first page. Eyes widen in horror the further you flip through, non-consentual pictures taken of you and your family litter the pages. Not only are there ones from being out in public, but private, intimate moments that no one should have seen. But the moment you found a lock of your hair glued to one of the pages was the moment you called the police.

Shinso

Shinso squats infront of you as you stare at him with dead eyes.

"Kitten, I have a surprise for you today."

You shake your head, mumbling. "I don't want it."

Shinso caresses your cheek with his hand before giving it a quick slap. You try ti3 jerk your head away but he grips your cheeks, squishing them together. "Stop being a brat, you don't even know what it is yet. Now, stand up."

You don't even get a chance to stand up yourself as Shinso hauls you up by your face. "I'm taking you out for your birthday."

Your eyea widen in fear and you shake your head. "N-No, please. I'd rather stay here. L-Let's do something together here. Please."

Shinso clicks his tongue. "Come now, kitten. I'm letting you go outside. We don't do this very often, it's a special treat. Is it not?"

You shake your head. "Please, no, everytime you take me out you-"

You go silent, mind fogged over and once again, under his control. There are moments when he mind-controls you to where you don't remember anything the morning after and those moments are awful. But when he feels like being extra cruel? He finally takes you outside, taking you out to eat, to see a movie, to go shopping. You're under his control the entire time but you remember everything. You are right there, fully aware of whats happening around you but can't do anything to ask for help, to save yourself. And it's terrifying

A tear rolls down your cheek as you follow him out the front door, his hand in yours. He smirks, knowing you could never leave him.

"Happy Birthday, Kitten."

[magnificent-nerd]

What’s his name, Marvel?

Image description: actor Haaz Sleiman, slated to appear in movie Eternals.

(NB: For the record, any of my criticism on this post is directed to Marvel Studios and Disney, not to the actor Haaz Sleiman (pictured above) nor Eternals co-star Brian Tyree Henry, whom I wish nothing but the best for.)

Now, I have some marketing moans about Eternals from Marvel studios.

It is August, 2021. 

There's been a buzz about the MCU's "first openly gay character" recently (how dare y'all disrespect Gay Joe Russo like that), and that the character, Phastos (played by Brian Tyree Henry), will be shown in the movie to be married to another man (played by Haaz Sleiman).

The MCU's first gay couple, as Marvel studios themselves keep touting.

Anyway, I wondered to myself: what's the husband's name?

So I set to Google.

I Googled the cast list for Eternals, and this a screenshot from today of the lower end of the results:

Image description: Eternals cast list from Google, where actor Haaz Sleiman is listed as “Phastos’ husband”.

Ah, no name. 

The text under the actor's name simply says "Phastos' husband".

Okay, so I went next to IMDB, to search the 'full cast and crew' section, of which there is only 19 listed as of today (and I'd expect that list to grow after the movie releases).

IMDB screenshot:

Image description: IMDB listing for Eternals, actor Haaz Sleiman has no character name listed.

These are the bottom four results on the IMDB listing, and Sleiman's "Husband" doesn't even have the word husband listed.

Below him is a named character, Karun, and two 'uncredited' characters such as 'Girl' and 'Passerby'.

Um... Right.

Now, I'm not trying to be difficult. I just want to know what this guy's name is. I also want to know: why isn't his name listed? Why isn't it easy to find?

I've browsed Google for articles on this nameless husband for the past half an hour, and the only sparse information I can find is seemingly one interview/quote that the actor (Haaz Sleiman) has given, stating that his character and Phastos share an onscreen kiss.

That's great, but what's his name?

I'm getting the impression that Husband (we'll have to just call him that for now) isn't going to have a prominent role in this movie, considering he's nameless and so far down on cast listings.

Just one up from 'uncredited', basically.

News outlets refer to his character as "Phastos' husband" only. Withholding a character's name makes no sense, unless that name/character themselves is a spoiler.

Yet... I'm not really getting that vibe from Husband, I'm getting more of a walk-on role vibe from him/this character. And if that's the case, his name won't be a spoiler, so why isn't is more widely available?

Leaving him nameless while also watching Disney/MCU pat themselves on the back for this gay rep onscreen feels disrespectful to his character.

Is he a well rounded character, or a nameless walk-on with one line?

All we know is from Sleiman's direct quote: "I'm his husband, I'm an architect, we have a child."

That's great, but did Disney give you a name?

Sigh.

I'm really trying to reserve my judgement until the movie is out (we may have to wait until 2022 if it gets delayed), and I'd love to be pleasantly surprised...

But then I remind myself this is DISNEY and Disney's track record with LGBT+ rep has often been hyped up only to fall flat and ring hollow when actually seen onscreen.

See the afore mentioned Gay Joe Russo in Avengers Endgame (2019), and LeFou's "exclusively gay moment" which was more like a vaguely gay nanosecond in Beauty and the Beast (2017). Hardly great rep.

And another barely there moment (two seconds, was it?) in Rise of Skywalker (2019) when two women share a kiss (Commander Larma D'Acy kisses her pilot wife Wrobie Tyce) in celebration at the end.

I rather fear we're going to get another two seconds, blink and you'll miss it, kiss between the two married men in Eternals.

Disney is putting so much emphasis on any visibly gay couple being MARRIED in order to kiss (while Hetero characters kiss and more without being married), attempting to package their gay characters as homely, 'respectable', and more palatable to a Het audience, but if one of these characters doesn't even have a name then how is it any better or more meaningful than the nanosecond that 2017's Beauty and the Beast served up?

How is a character going to matter when he doesn't even have a name? You're trying to tell me he'll be important to the story, to audiences? Doesn't seem like it from here.

Now, I'd love to be pleasantly surprised.

I'd love to see this character in Eternals get a name other than "Phastos' Husband" (I'll be keeping an eye on listings for a name, too.) I'd love to see him have lines, I'd love to see him onscreen generally. 

I want to see him matter.

As always, Disney wants us to 'wait and see', a line they often feed us when it comes to MCU characters.

Disney knows queer fans are here, they prove that enough by leaning into queerbaiting with their marketing (Bucky Barnes, and more recently Loki have suffered from this) but Disney rarely delivers anything satisfactory.

Writer Russell T. Davies, of fan favorite show Torchwood, recently said that Disney's attempts to show Loki as bi were "a feeble gesture". (He's right and he should say it.)

I'm not exactly holding my breath with Disney here, but I'll wait until I see Phastos and Husband for myself before I decide if it's any good or not.

Or if this poor dude ever gets a name.

In the meantime, all I want to see is Disney treating this supposedly ground breaking new character with the same respect as the other cast: list his name.

List his name with the rest of the main cast.

It shouldn't be this difficult to find out a character's name in a major movie, and especially not if the studio is making a big deal about the character being there, giving themselves points for rep.

If that name is out there somewhere (I gave up looking, it shouldn't take longer than thirty minutes to locate a name for God's sake), then it needs to be made more prominent so fans can find it.

Google and IMDB would be ideal places to have the character name listed.

If IMDB can list 'Girl' and 'Passerby' onto the uncredited roles, then we should also have a simple NAME for this Husband so we can start using it.

What's his name, Marvel?

~*~

Do YOU know what Husband's name is? Tell me!

#PhastosHusband

Originally posted on my blog, magnificentlynerdy.blogspot.com

[thatsshowbizbby]

ishq sufiyana

pairing: steve rogers x desi!reader

summary: your weapon of choice is a blade. his is a shield. both were made to clash with one another.

warnings: mention of blood and violence (slight). tension, angsty-ish? the wrath and the dawn, arranged marriage vibes. enemies to lovers-ish.

author's note: this is my first thing lol pls be nice. this isn't a full story but just an idea i had in my head. i believe this is called a headcannon (?) also my second time posting bc tumblr drafts/editing is killing my vibe

you are royalty - raised in a palace made of white marble, and clear, blue waters all around - handcrafted clothing and magnificent jewels at your disposal.

and your beauty. talk of your beauty attracts suitors from the farthest ends of the earth, coming to prove whether that talk is just mere gossip.

it’s not.

but that's not what got steve's attention when he first laid his eyes on you. it was the sword in your hand. a talwar.

your movement mimicked the flow of the water surrounding your palace - a fight style disguised as delicate. but to the trained eye, steve's eyes, it was anything but. it was dangerous. you were dangerous.

and you made sure to let steve know that you were far from a damsel in distress, waiting stupidly for her knight in shining armor.

"i don't know you, nor do i care for you. as far as im concerned, you're just another candidate waiting for my rejection. and trust me, it's coming soon but i'll let you enjoy your time here for a couple more weeks.”

steve scoffs because of course you would have an attitude. you were a spoiled princess. a beautiful, fierce one whom he was beginning to respect, but he would never admit that to you. not anymore. your arrogance trumped your beauty.

"oh sweetheart, what makes you think i want you at all?"

you two continue to bicker and roll your eyes at each other and make snarky remarks when crossing paths inside the palace walls for the remainder of steve’s visit.

“what’s wrong, princess? too scared to go up against me?” he would tease, sitting in on your sparring practices.

“believe me, rogers. you wouldn’t know what to do with yourself if i were up against you.”

so when your father offers your hand to the nuisance a few days prior to his departure, you’re dumbfounded.

“beta, you two will get along. trust me.”

“i will only agree if he can defeat me.” you both knew full well that no one has ever been able to.

with that, you and steve prepare for a fight. you with your sword and dagger. him with his shield. how pathetic.

you got a few good hits in, starting off strong - cutting through his suit, hitting him in the face with the hilt of your sword, blocking his punches - he really only chose a shield? out of the entire palace armory, he chose his stupid, little shield.

but all that inner shit-talk came to a full stop when he disarmed you in one swift motion. your sword was on the floor, as were you, with your hidden dagger pressed against your throat and steve on top of you. how did he find that?

his breath fanned over your face. “always know your enemy, princess.”

___________________________

as you sat in your chambers, heart racing for the wedding tomorrow morning, you looked over your mehndi (henna). it had gotten so dark.

“deeper the color becomes, deeper the love. and your groom’s love for you must be competing with the darkest parts of the ocean,” one of your ladies said to you.

yeah right.

you pull yourself out of your thoughts and make your way to the room of your unenthusiastic betrothed. you’re careful to not be seen by any palace guards or maids. visiting your soon-to-be-husband in the middle of the night? the rumors would spread like wildfire.

you knock on the door and hear a “come in.”

steve turns around in nothing but a pair of sleepwear bottoms. oh boy. at this point, you’ve become extremely aware of your own appearance. long brown hair flowing freely, a smaller nath (nose ring) than your usual daytime wear, an almost sheer nightgown, and small shawl that barely covered your upper body. steve’s breath hitches in his throat from across the room.

you look at the cuts and bruises healing from your spar a few days ago. but the satisfaction of those memories, of the times you got him, were interrupted by the sight of a much darker bruise running along his broad shoulder. then you see his face. more bruises. more cuts. and bowl of water and rag in his hand.

“what happened?” you rush over, concern overcoming you.

“nothing, nothing. don’t worry about it,” he tries to brush off, but you’re not having it. you grab his chin and direct his face towards your own to get a good look. busted lip, busted jaw, swollen cheek. full lips. chiseled face. gorgeous blue ey- snap out of it.

“well if you’re going to look like this for tomorrow morning, i’d like to know what the hell happened.”

“there was a boy running from a couple of bandits in the market. i saw and helped him. the bandits didn’t like that,” he laughs, “it was ten against one.”

“and you got out with only a few scratches here and there? you’d think the damage would be worse,” you say, trying to hide your respect and admiration.

“yeah, you’d think.” there were those eyes again, this time burning into your own.

you take the rag from his hand. “sit,” gesturing to the embroidered armchair.

you soak the piece of cloth in the bowl of water, wring it out, and begin to clean the wounds on his face. he winces when you get to his jaw.

“sorry.”

trying to get a better angle, you step in between his open legs and take a seat on his thigh. gently holding his face, so gentle he could barely feel it, you wipe away the dried blood.

steve’s eyes rake over your face. the talk was not mere gossip. beautiful.

he was so immersed in his thoughts of you that he did not notice you were done. but still sitting on his lap. his face in your hands. it was your turn to stare intently at him.

your noses almost touching, as you instinctively run your hand through his hair. he sighs in content and relaxes into your touch. you feel your heart skip a bit at the response.

“try not to take another beating while you’re here, rogers. or better yet, why don’t you learn a few tricks? your swordsmanship could be better” you joke, as you get up and walk away.

but he grabs your hand, getting up from the armchair, and slightly pulls you towards him.

“i recall winning every fight i’ve been in. or did you already forget how we got here in the first place?” his eyes held a playful look, as if letting you know that he was not challenging you this time. he was merely….joking, alongside with you.

a smile tugs at your lips as you pull your hand away. “yes, well you still need to work on your swordsmanship.”

“only if you’ll teach me, princess.”

[i-like-writing-stuff]

four months [five hargreeves x reader]

a/n: okayy so i feel like i should mention that in my defense- it’s the first imagine i write in months so im really sorry if it sucks! i barely got my account back after so long, but  i just knew i had to post at least sumthen amirite??

summary: five finally decides it’s time to bring the crew back together in order to avoid the 1963 apocalypse, but the others feel like before that, you two need a moment to yourselves.

part 2

“I’m here, Klaus!” You yelled, bursting through the main doors of what used to be a store, “What’s- what was so important?”

“Of course you’d be drunk.” An all too familiar voice said, trying to sound disappointed as a hint of amusement was hidden behind his bored tone.

You couldn’t believe your eyes when they fell on the boy before you, watching as he made his way down the big stairs towards you, as his siblings smirked down from behind the railing at the two of you. 

It had been four months since you’ve seen Five Hargreeves. 

Four months since he decided to try to time travel again and try to get you and his siblings out of 2019 before the huge chunk of the moon could wipe out all of you and the chances of saving the world would have definitely been lost. 

You were not one of the Hargreeves siblings, nor you had any special powers. You just happened to be a very unlucky, fifty year old agent of the Comission who was assigned to join Five on his JFK task. Before you knew it, you were sucked into the portal he created, breaking the contract at once without even trying to fix the situation- not that you could complain much, you and Five may have had your differences, but if there was one thing the two of you agreed on, it definitely was that neither of you wanted the world to end in 2019, in spite of the Comission’s heavy attempts at keeping that on track.

Unfortunately, when Five tried to go back in time to his family, he miscalculated an equation, ending up in his thirteen year old body, you as well- since you were with him the entire time.

One thing led to another, and the Hargreeves siblings were reunited with their long-lost brother and acquainted with his riddled partner, but nonetheless tried to help you two in stopping the end of the world.

“You’re alive.” You breathed out, a frown on your face, as you slowly stepped towards the boy, trying to make sense of what was going on, even in your tipsy state.

After being transported back in time, you found yourself all alone in a dark alley in Texas, Dallas, in August, 1963. You stumbled into a nearby hair salon, trying to find a newspaper, a phone, anything that could help you track down your friends with whom you grew close with in such a short period of time. However, you could not believe your luck when Allison walked from the back once she recognized your voice. 

She welcomed you into her new life with open arms, telling her new husband that you were her adoptive little sister. Raymond did not hesitate to make you feel at home, immediately accepting you as his “little sister-in-law”.

“Klaus and Allison did say you are not in the best shape.” Five’s mouth slowly curled into a soft smile, as his hands were rested in his pockets nonchalantly, waiting to see what would be your next move.

It was true- you were not. You had begun your day with a big glass of wine alongside Allison and Klaus, who seemed to be as moody as you when it came to their love lives. 

As much as you hated to admit it, during the small time you’ve spent in 2019 with Five, trying to stop the world from ending, you caught feelings for him. Feelings which you had never thought you’d be able to feel at your age- even if your appearance said otherwise. 

“Shut up.” You said, waving your hands in front of your face, “Just... shut up...”

Before Five could argue any further with you, you fought back the tears of joy forming into your eyes, feeling your legs move on their own towards the boy, as you jumped into his arms for the tightest, most loving hug you could give. Happy that you could not see his face, Five tried to fight back the grin on his lips, nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck- he loved how even in your teen bodies he was still taller than you. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck, trying your best not to cry on his shoulder, as he took in a deep breath, with his arms around your waist. He was never one keen on physical affection, but after all that had happened, this was just what he needed. A long, loving hug from the girl he had fallen in love with.

“I’m starting to think he missed Y/N more than he missed us.” Klaus told his siblings, resting his chin on his hand, as Ben couldn’t help but nod in agreement;

“At least they’re sweet.”

“I’m honestly not that surprised.” Allison shrugged, taking a sip out of her flask.

“What is Y/N drunk for if she’s not gonna tell him how in love she is?” Diego frowned, already tired of the way you and his brother spent the past two weeks hiding your feelings.

“Wait... they’re not a couple?” Vanya wondered confused, since her amnesia was still pestering her.

“We were just as surprised.” Luther sighed, recalling the first time you and Five had popped into the backyard- you started bickering like an old married couple over whose fault was it.

Unable to hear the conversation between the siblings upstairs, you and Five carried on your long hug for another couple of seconds, before you pulled away, feeling bold due to all the alcohol coursing through your veins- even if you looked thirteen, you’ve had your plenty encounters with the magical substance.

“I know I am a bit drunk, but honestly- Klaus and Allison left me alone with a huge bottle of wine all by myself.” You confessed, resting your arms on Five’s shoulders, “Point is- I’m really happy you’re fine.”

“Kinda feels like you wanna say more than that.” Five couldn’t help but smirk, feeling in your tone how much you were trying to hold back.

Deep down you wanted to tell him how much you missed him, how much you wished he was there with you these past months, how many times you went to sleep with him in your mind, or how many times you woke up and he was the first thought to pop in. You wanted to tell him all the stuff that made you fall in love with him, and even all the stuff that irritated you about him. You wanted to tell him so many things, but... you didn’t. 

You knew that was not the time for love. You could only hope to get out of this second apocalypse alive. And maybe then... maybe then you could tell him how much he meant to you.

“I am not that drunk, Mister Hargreeves.” You lied with a smile, bopping his nose.

Yeah, definitely after the apocalypse.

[manndo]

not today, but someday [oberyn martell x reader]

gif credit

pairing[s]: oberyn martell x female!reader

warning[s]: 18+ due to heavily implied sexual content (no actually smut), sexual references/situations, mentions of breeding (in reference to conceiving a child), swearing; talks of pregnancy & the inability to conceive; fluff; angst; oberyn being oberyn (is that a warning??); no mention of ellaria; possible inaccuracies about got (see notes)

word count: 5.4k (ummmm, whoops?)

prompt[s]: none.

summary: all you had ever wanted was a little one, a child to call your own. and yet, months later, you were still without child. still barren, and your dream of becoming a mother seemed to be slipping away. 

author’s notes: okay, so, let me start off saying this -- oberyn martell has taken over my life and i have spent much time yearning over him. and, in doing so, i got this idea one day because, as we know, oberyn had eight daughters. so, i thought, what if he had a s/o who could not seem to conceive? hence, this fic. but, i have never watched an episode of got in my life. i have seen his scenes (besides, you know, that scene because in my head, oberyn is alive and well and having all the berries and orgies he wants & i just can’t handle that much violence) and i have read some articles about the show, seen the gifs/posts on tumblr, and talked to people who have watched it in the past eight+ years. but that the extent of my knowledge of got. so, i apologize in advance for any inaccuracies that this fic holds. and i hope that my characterization of oberyn is good. also, no ellaria -- i just did not feel like she fit in this in anyway possible, and i did not want to force her into the story, so to speak. well, i think that is it! so, on with the show! all mistakes are my own. comments/reblogs/likes are much appreciated. thank you! ❤️

“I am sorry, m’lady.”

You did not know what else you were expecting. You knew, deep down, that nothing had changed. You did not need the maester to tell you that you were still without child — you knew. But, Oberyn had instead you call up on them, and you were too tired to argue. You also hoped you were wrong, and Gods did you want to be wrong. But, you were not.

You plastered on a polite smile for the maester. “It’s quite alright,” you said, your voice tight as you forced your emotions down. You weren’t going to shed any tears in front of the maester; you would never give anyone the satisfaction of seeing you cry, save for your husband. You nodded your head toward the door. “That’ll be all. Good day.” The maester bowed lowly before turning on their heel and exiting, the large wooden door shutting with a resounding, empty thud. 

The sound echoed in your head and heart; it seeped into your veins, and began to settle in your bones. The sound felt like a finality of sorts. An ending before anything could even begin.

A short, broken sob escaped your lips, and you quickly slapped your hand over your mouth to stop the sound from breaking free. However, it did not matter — the dam had broken, the heartache released. Another sob escaped, muffled by your palm as you squeezed your eyes closed, and laid down on your bed. Your body curling into itself as tears easily flowed down your cheeks, staining them. You felt as if your body was turning on you, tearing you apart at the seams as you shook violently with your cries.

For eight months now, the two of you had been actively trying for a babe, an heir for Oberyn. Not that he himself required an heir — he had eight beautiful daughters, his Sand Snakes, whom he loved dearly no matter their status. But, when the two of you had been wed over a year ago, there had been an unspoken expectation placed upon you both. Oberyn paid no mind, and told you to do the same, but that was easier said than done.

You had always wanted to be a mother, wanting to have babe upon babe running around, mucking up your home and tugging at your skirts. To watch them grow and prosper, becoming handsome young lads and beautiful young ladies, all whom would be intelligent and strong, but caring and kind. To have your legacy, no matter how small or large it would be, live on thorough them. Perhaps there was a small sense of duty, as a woman, that made you yearn to have children. But, you knew that was not the whole picture. Children were beautiful, wonderful, and loving. They were gifts, and you want to have those gifts, to cherish and love them till you were dead and buried. You wanted it, with all your heart, and yet, it seemed like fate was delivering you a cruel hand.

There had been, one fleeting moment in the very beginning of your wedded bliss, where you were positively sure you were with child. You had been so sure, so eager to see the maester; however, you had quickly been proven wrong by your own body betraying you. You’d spent the day in your chambers, unwilling to leave for any reason. Oberyn had found you curled deep in your silken sheets that evening, and try as he might with his quiet, reassuring words, he was unable to pull you from your depressive state. So, he had held you — silently, but tightly, pressing soft kisses across your shoulders, your neck, your jaw. He let his fingertips brush against your skin, tracing nonsensical patterns across your hips, your stomach, your chest, anywhere he could reach. His touches were light, and his movements were sluggish. He comforted you silently, the best way he knew how, and you allowed him to do so. It hadn’t eased the pain completely, but it had been enough.

But, slowly, the days had turned to weeks, and the weeks turned into months, and nothing changed. It did not matter that the two of you had stopped bringing others into your bed to focus solely on each other, for Oberyn to focus solely on you. Nor, did it matter how many times he filled you with his seed, or how willing and open you were to taking what he offered. It did not matter day, afternoon, or night. Nothing mattered. Because here you were, still without child. Barren.

You weren’t sure how much time had passed as the tears flowed and the sobs continued to wrack your body as you laid curled in your marriage bed. Your hand maiden had knocked on the door at one point, but you had been quick to dismiss her before she could enter and find you in your current state. She had not come back and you were grateful. 

But then, finally, everything came to a standstill; the tears you had been crying seemed to dry up, and your body had stopped trembling. You took a deep, shuddering breath and unfurled yourself, allowing your limbs to stretch out across the sheets. The tears were still clinging to the corners of your eyes, but most of them had already dried and stained your cheeks and neck. You pushed yourself to sit on the side of your bed, and roughly wiped away at your face, brushing away the outward sings of your heartache. You silently wished you could easily wipe away the heartache in your chest, too. The one that had buried itself so deeply in there. 

You hadn’t even noticed the door to your chambers opening, didn’t even hear a voice calling out to you. It was only when the door shut — that hollow, empty thud — that you were brought back, your head whipping toward the sound. “Oberyn,” you said, your voice soft, a breathless whisper. He wasn’t supposed to be here; from what you recalled, he was supposed to be kept busy with mundane princely duties (his words, not yours). You weren’t supposed to see him till this evening — and from the way the sun was peeking through the curtains, it could only be mid afternoon — which would have given you plenty of time to steel yourself. To gather yourself together, lock your heartache and pain away before delivering the news. To pretend that it didn’t cut into your soul, didn’t rip you apart from the inside out. “What are you—”

“I had a free moment,” he said, making his way toward you, his golden robes flowing effortless around him. There was a smile playing at his lips, which told you that he actually did not have a moment — he made a moment to come and see you. 

You felt the heartache clawing at your throat, fighting to be released.

Quickly, you pushed yourself to stand, and turned away from him in a futile attempt to hide your face. He would come closer; he would see your pain, your sorrow. Because, though you had wiped away the tears and the stains they had left behind on your cheeks, your eyes were still red and puffy. The pain and heartache still lingering behind your eyes.

God, you had hoped to have more time, more time before you had to tell him. Before you had to watch the sadness and disappointment appear, filling his rich, beautiful brown eyes. You wanted more time. 

A pragmatic pause. “Love,” he said, his voice sounding strained, painful. Your actions had spoken louder than words, it seemed.

You could feel a fresh set of tears springing to your eyes, your hand grasping at the dress clinging loosely to your side. You fisted the fabric tightly and closed your eyes, willing yours tears to stay put, to not fall. You heard Oberyn call out for you again, this time your birth name falling from his lips just before you felt him come closer. He hadn’t touched you, not yet, but you could feel his presence only mere inches behind you. 

“Love,” Oberyn whispered once more, this time as you felt his hand wrap gently around the fist at your side, the other coming to wrap around your waist. “I am—”

“Don’t,” you breathed out, the word sounding more like a broken sob than anything coherent. You broke away from Oberyn, and thankfully, he let you go. “I cannot bare another I am sorry, especially from you, husband,” you said, your voice harsher than you had intended, angrier. Not at him, no, you could never be angry with Oberyn. No, you were angry at yourself. This was your fault; you were defective, broken, unable to provide him and yourself with the one thing you had so desperately wished for. “I have heard enough apologies to last me a lifetime.”

You felt his fingertips brush gently against your arm, the lightest of touches, barely there. A soft gesture to tell you he was there, and that he would not leave. You took a shaky breath, and loosened the grip on the fabric in your hand, letting the dress fall back against you. “There is no rush, my love,” he said, his voice soft and tentative, as if he knew he was treading rough water. And, he was.

A choked chuckle escaped your lips, and you turned to face your husband. “For you, perhaps,” you said, letting your eyes take in his appearance. He looked as handsome as ever, but he was growing older, as was the consequences of living. Over time, more grey had appeared in his hair and his beard, and a few more lines and wrinkles adorned his regal face. Even his stomach had gone a little soft (not enough for anyone besides you to notice). But, he was still the man you had met many moons ago. Still the Red Viper. Sill the man could make any woman or man fall to their knees and beg for his cock. “You, my stallion, can breed until you’re dead. The same cannot be said for myself.”

“I do not think I would call myself a stallion, my dove. Not anymore.”

You snorted, and turned away from him, letting your eyes look down at your marriage bed. You ran a hand across the silk sheets. “With the way we’ve been fucking these past few months, I’d disagree.”

You heard an amused chuckle escape his lips. “I may be able to still mount you like a stallion, but perhaps, I can no longer bred you like one.”

You looked over your shoulder at Oberyn, and raised your eyebrow. “Don’t tell me the father of eight daughters doubts his ability to breed?”

His shoulders gave a small shrug before he reached out to you, wrapping his callused hand around your wrist. Oberyn brushed the rough pad of his thumb over your pulse point. “I am not in my prime anymore, my dove. Perhaps, the fault does not lie on you.”

You looked away from him and back toward your marriage bed. You felt him take a step closer before you felt the press of his lips against your shoulder in the briefest of kisses. The hand holding your wrist slide down, his fingers intertwining with yours. “You’re taking pity on me, husband,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

“I would never,” he said, his warm breath ghosting over your skin. He pressed another kiss to your shoulder before his chin came to rest there, his beard tickling your skin ever so slightly. “I am merely stating a possibility,” he mumbled, the hand holding yours moving, arm shifting to wrap around your waist, hands still tangled with one another. “A truth, perhaps.”

You scoffed. “You cannot be serious, my prince.”

Oberyn hummed, and placed a soft kiss on your neck. “I am,” he mumbled into your skin. “I could deny reality, if I wished, but denying the inevitable does not change the outcome.”

“So,” you swallowed and looked down at your tangled hands that were resting on your stomach. You took a deep breath. “You do not think of me as a failure?”

Before you could blink, Oberyn had spun you around to face him. His rich, dark eyes were narrowed, but there was no anger behind his eyes. “You are not a failure, my love,” he said, his voice filled conviction. He reached out, cupping your cheek gently, his thumb wiping away a tear you hadn’t realized had fallen. “Please, do not think of yourself as one.”

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “There are not many things women are afforded in this life, Oberyn. Many of us are not giving the promise of kingdoms, riches or lands when we are but babes,” you stated, your voice hard, irritation lacing your words. “But this, the gift to bare children, we are born with that. That is ours,” you said, your voice softening as your throat tightened and tears welled at the corner of your eyes. You closed your eyes, and feel another swipe of his callused thumb across your cheek. “I know I am worth more than my anatomy. I know that my anatomy does not define me. That this, this failure,” you said, your voice catching in your throat, “this inability to conceive, does not define me.” You swallowed, and opened your eyes, looking into Oberyn’s deep, chocolate orbs. “I know these things, Oberyn. I know them. But, it cuts me deeply, so deeply that I feel as if I am bleeding out with no way to close the wound.”

“My dove,” he said softly, his other hand coming to rest on your other cheek. He held your face gently between his hands, his features soften, and you could see a pain in his decadent eyes. A pain that was reflected in your own. “Your pain is my pain, know that. And know, there is nothing I would not give up in this world in order to give you the gift of a child,” he said, and you could tell that he meant what he said. He wanted this as much as you did, you both wished for this, silently prayed for this. And yet, barren. 

You watched as he removed one of his hands from your cheek, sliding it down your neck, shoulder, down the middle of your chest, between your breasts and coming to rest on your stomach. Oberyn looked down at his hand, as did you, and spread his fingers across your stomach. “What I wouldn’t give to see you swell with our babe,” he said, and if you listened close enough, you could hear the slight hitch in his breath. You placed your hand over his on your stomach, fingers resting between his. “To see them suckle at your breast, to tug at your skirts, to wreak havoc in the halls.” He gazed back to you, and you felt a lump forming in your throat, a fresh set of tears prickling at the back of your eyes. “The sound of their cries and laughter filling the rooms. To see them as they grow and blossom.” He paused, and you could see he was choosing his words carefully. You felt a knot grow in your stomach. “But, I am starting to think—”

“Please, Oberyn,” you interrupted, your voice cracking as you closed your eyes, your fingers tightening their grip on his. “Do not say—”

“We need to take a step back, my love.”

Your eyes snapped opened. That was not exactly what you expected. You had expected him to say that you two should give up, forget the notion of ever having your own babe. Perhaps, he would even suggest an orphan child; you were not opposed to the idea, you loved children and would gladly be a mother to a child in need of one. But, you were not ready to give up the idea of having your own yet. 

“A step back?” you asked, your eyes filled with confusion as you released your grasp on his hand. You were not entirely sure where your husband was going with this statement. You could not imagine that he was implying to stop fucking. Though Oberyn had aged, he still enjoyed the pleasures of sex (as did you) and the idea that he would give that up? Preposterous. “Are you suggesting we stop fucking, dear husband?”

Oberyn looked aghast at your suggestion, and it made the corner of your mouth tick up. “What a ridiculous notion, dear wife,” he said, mimicking your words back to you, his voice sounding almost betrayed that you would think such a thing. Even suggest such a thing. “Besides,” he started, voice dropping an octave in tone and pitch as he moved both hands, the one on your stomach and the one on your cheek, to come and rest on your hips once more. Oberyn’s callused fingers dipped into your hipbone and held tightly, almost too tightly. It barely phased you. “The idea that I could keep my hands, mouth and cock to myself around you is absurd,” he muttered, a wicked grin spread across his face, his dark eyes flashing with lust. It lasted only a moment before the smirk fell, and a serious look appeared upon his face. “However, if you wish to cease—”

You shook your head. “No, no,” you muttered. “I could not do that to you.”

“My love—”

“I’ve already asked too much of you by ceasing our activities with others.”

“Which,” he started softly, “I had no issue forgoing for you, my dove.” He paused and removed on have from your hip. He placed a finger under your chin and pushed up, lifting your head to make sure that your eyes caught his rich, dark orbs. “You have my body, my heart, and my soul. I love you. Whatever you need, I will comply.”

Your heart swelled in your chest. Oberyn partook in every pleasure imaginable, had never denied himself and tried almost every sexual act under the sun. And yet, here he was, willing to forgo sex for you. You knew he loved you, but this? This proved how far he would go for you, the lengths he would go to make sure you were well, that you were content. Whatever you needed, it seemed, he would gladly give it to you. 

“No, Oberyn,” you started and he opened his mouth once more, but you stopped him as you placed a hand on his cheek. “I am — I have no problem continuing our sexual activities.”  

You watched as Oberyn studied you, his dark eyes scanning your face for any sign that you might be hiding the truth from him. After a moment, he seemed content with what he found. He nodded and removed his finger from your chin. “Then, that is settled. But, I think, my dove we may have put too much pressure on ourselves,” he murmured, turning his head into your palm, and pressing a soft kiss to the center of it. “Not that our lovemaking is not pleasurable, it most certainly is, always,” Oberyn said, turning his gaze back to you, slipping on another mischievous smirk his let his free hand come to rest just below your breast. “But, perhaps, we’ve forgotten what it is like to be us,” he said, leaning down to press a soft kiss to your neck as you let your hand fall from his cheek and back to your side. “Without pressures.” Another kiss, lips moving down. “Without worries.” And, another, lower. “Only us.” His final kiss landed on your shoulder. “Return to an earlier time, when we had first laid eyes upon each other. Do you remember those days, my love?”

You nodded. You remembered those days vividly; the hours spent walking through the water gardens, talking about everything and nothing. The nights spent together, tangled in each other, exploring each other with hands, lips and teeth. Back then, all you had wanted to do was learn about the man you shared your bed — and soon, your life — with, and he had wanted the same. Oberyn still attended to his duties, as required, but every moment when he was not busy, he was with you and you were with him. 

Then, when you had married, more of your time had become consumed with your own requirements and duties as well as his own. Much of your time together was spent was in the evenings, in your bed in hopes of conceiving a child. 

“Perhaps, my love,” Oberyn started again, “we need to allow ourselves to enjoy each others company, get lost in each other.” A brief pause. “In and out of our bed.” You caught Oberyn’s dark orbs, and him yours. The hand on your ribs was removed, and placed instead upon your cheek. You leaned into his touch. “What do you say, my dove? We do not forgo our dream of one day having a babe of our own. We just,” he paused, for a moment, a thoughtful look in his eye, “allow ourselves not to be pressured or burdened by the notion? Return to simpler times, so to speak?” 

You let your husband’s suggestion mull in your head for a moment. Perhaps, he was right; perhaps the two of you had been too focused on conceiving a child that you had, unintentionally, made sex a burden. Oberyn was not wrong; your times with him were always pleasurable and the two of you never fucked if either of you was in no mood to engage in sex. But when you did, perhaps, the burden was there, always lingering in the back of your mind. That the burden had become an unknown weight upon you, upon Oberyn. It would be nice to silence that burden for a while. 

“My love?”

You blinked and focused your gaze back on Oberyn. His deep brown eyes were studying you, patiently waiting for your response. You smiled softly at him. “You are right, my prince,” you agreed, and you watched as a triumphant look filled his eyes, the corner of his lip ticking up. You narrowed your gaze slightly. “Watch that ego of yours, husband.” Oberyn chuckled lowly and moved to grasp your hips. He pulled you tight against him, a wicked smile on his face.

“Or what, dove? Hm?”

“Or,” you started, lifting arms and wrapping the loosing around his neck and shoulders, “it will get you killed one day.”

Oberyn raised an eyebrow. “Will it now? By whom?”

You held your chin up. “Me.” Oberyn laughed, the sound filling your shared chambers, and now it was your turn to raise an eyebrow. “You doubt me, my prince?”

“I do not doubt, your strength, my love,” he said through the laughter, which slowly began to die down as the milliseconds passed. “Or your cunning wit. However, I do know that you love me too much to even harm a hair on my head.” He paused and titled his head. “Well, unless in the throes of passion, of course,” he added, another mischievous grin pulling at his lips. “Then well?” He shrugged nonchalantly. “It cannot be helped.”

You rolled your eyes in annoyance, but you knew the smile pulling at your lips betrayed you. “Whatever you say, my prince,” you muttered.

Oberyn hummed thoughtfully. You had thought to say something else, but before you could even open your mouth to speak, Oberyn’s lips were on yours, his tongue licking at the seam of your lips, seeking entrance. And, you willing granted him entry. His tongue slid harshly against yours, warm, wet and unyielding. A small moan escaped your lips as your arms tightened around his neck, fingers tangling into the curls at the nap of his neck. You used your hold to pull yourself even closer to him, pressing your chest against his as you slipped your thigh between his legs, pressing it against his swelling cock. A low growl escaped his throat, one that was eagerly swallowed by your lips as his grip on your hips tightened.

There was a loud knock at your chamber door.

Oberyn barely pulled away, mumbling, “ignore it,” against your lips before sliding his lips against yours again. And, you had planned to, already lost in the taste of him. However, the moment his tongue had slipped back in to your moth, there was another knock. This time, much louder.

“M’lord?” It was one of the man servants. “Are you in there?”

Oberyn groaned and pulled his lips away from yours reluctantly. “Yes,” he responded, his voice stern, but somewhat out of breath. You smiled. “But.” One of his hands travelled from you hip, up to your side, coming to rest on your breast. He kneaded the flesh, and you let out a soft mewl, heading falling back, eyes closing. “I am very, very busy. So, if you’ll ex—”

“Your presence is requested, m’lord.”

Oberyn rolled his eyes. “By whom?” he asked, but he did not bother to move toward the door to let the servant in, only lowered his head to your neck. He gave the skin at the base of your neck a quick, hard nip. You let out a small yelp of surprise mixed with pleasure as you tugged on Oberyn’s dark locks once more.

You were sure the man servant now knew exactly why Oberyn was busy — or, more accurately, whom he was busy with.

“Your brother, m’lord,” he answered, his voice tight and proper.

Oberyn growled against your skin in irritation before he nipped the skin again, this time worrying the skin for a brief moment. “Oberyn,” you whined, the sound a little louder than a whisper. Another nip in the same area. You were sure you’d have a bruise within the hour. You straightened your neck and opened your eyes. “Oberyn,” you said again, trying to quell the ever growing arousal pooling between your legs. However, his name sounded too breathless and needy on your lips. You glanced down at him the best you could, and saw his dark orbs shining with lust. Oberyn gave a sly smirk.

“M’lord?”

You knew he didn’t want to go, that he would rather lose himself in your body and pleasure. However, you knew that if he did not go now, it would only mean more time away from each other later.

“M’lord? He wishes to speak with you as soon as possible. If you could please open this door, and—”

“Go,” you whispered, ignoring the man servant’s plea, scratching at the back of Oberyn’s neck and giving him a soft smile. “The sooner you meet with him, the sooner you are back in our bed.”

Oberyn raised his head, his eyes watching you closely. The hand resting on your breast slide up and over your shoulder. His callused fingers began to play with the strap on your gown. “And you will be waiting for me?”

“Of course,” you answered, leaning forward to press a soft kiss to his lips. “Unless, you’d like to visit the brothel tonight?” Oberyn raised an eyebrow. “It’s been a while, my prince, and that is my fault. I know I asked you, and you willingly followed my request. But, I do not wish to hold you back anymore. If you would like to share a bed again, I am more than willing to share tonight.”

Oberyn leaned forward, capturing your lips in a searing kiss, but before it could go farther, he was pulling away. He grinned down at you. “Perhaps another night, my dove. Tonight, I plan to keep you.” The hand on your hip slide off and over, his hand cupping your clothed and aching center. A small whimper escaped your lips, and Oberyn’s own lips twisted into a wicked smile. “And, this pretty cunt all to myself tonight.” He leaned forward, his lips hovering near your ear. His warm breath ghosted over the shell, making you shiver. “Make you come undone upon my tongue for hours,” he whispered, the word sending a fresh flood of arousal between your legs.

“Oberyn—” your voice sounded choked, hoarse, needy.

“Before I finally sink into that tight little cunt.” He pulled your earlobe between his teeth, and worried the skin. You groaned, eyes falling closed as you grasped at his upper arm for support. His teeth released your lobe. “And fuck you until the sun rises.”

You bite down on your lip to stifle the moan that threatened to escape your throat. Oberyn pulled back, hand sliding from your aching center to your hip, and looked at you, that wicked grin still pulling at his lips. “Perhaps—”

“M’lord?” The man servant sounded terse, clearly annoyed that he was still standing outside the door. You glanced at Oberyn to see him roll his eyes, irritation clearly written on his face. “I am sorry, but, I believe—”

“Tell him I will be there in a moment,” Oberyn all but growled through the door at the man servant. You gently swatted at his chest, and gave him a look that silently told him to be nice. Oberyn sighed. “If you would be so kind,” he added, his voice much less demanding as he glanced over his shoulder toward the door.

“Um, I would,” the man started, “but he — he requested that I personally accompany you, Prince Oberyn.”

Oberyn rolled his eyes once more. “Of course he did,” he muttered.

You bite your lip once more, this time trying to stifle a giggle that threatened to erupt. However, it escaped — a meager sound, but a giggle nonetheless. “He knows you all too well, my prince.”

“That he does,” he muttered, and let out another heavy sigh before turning his head and attention back on you. “You’ll be fine, my dove?”

And, you knew what he was asking. He was not just asking if you would be fine while he was away, or if you would be fine for the rest of the day. No, he was asking that and more, much more. Oberyn was asking if you’d be fine from here on out with what you two had agreed upon. Would you really and truly be fine with forgoing your want for a babe? Forgoing the need you had created to conceive a child for the foreseeable future. Were you, for now, fine with only having him in your life? No children, only him, only your prince. Only your husband. Only Oberyn. 

You smiled sweetly, and reached out, placing a hand upon his cheek. “Yes, my love. As long as you promise to stay by my side until one of us takes our dying breath.”

Oberyn smiled, his dark orbs shining brightly with love and adoration for you. He reached out and covered your hand on his cheek with his, squeezing your fingers gently. “Promise.”

You nodded. “Now,” you started, letting your hand slide from his cheek, his fingers still grasping at yours, “go on. Before your brother comes and hunts you down himself.”

Oberyn scoffed, and looked toward the door. “That’ll be the day,” he muttered, and you chuckled softly, shaking your head.

“Go,” you said, voice a little stern as you gently pushed at his shoulder in an attempt to move him toward the door.

Oberyn laughed softly and untangled his fingers from yours. “Fine, my dove, I am going,” he muttered, leaning down to press a soft, quick kiss to your lips. “I will see you in a few hours.” Oberyn took a step back from you, his eyes never leaving yours. He grinned and took another step back. “Make sure you’re ready for me.”

You smirked. “Do not worry about me, my prince. I will be,” you said and he grinned, all teeth and wicked before turning on his heel, and leaving your shared chambers.

The door shut behind him with a resounding thud, but this time, it did not cause you heartache. There was no finality or dread that sank into your bones. It was just the sound of a door opening and closing, as they always do.

Perhaps, you had closed the door on your dreams of having little ones. But, it wasn’t locked; you could open that door once more, when the time was right. Or, perhaps, you’d find another door, another way. However, right now, you would enjoy the idea of a closed door.

taglist (for pedro characters):

@over300books​

[thebadboyfanclub]

Protect The Queen Pt.1 (Geralt x Reader)

This is just becoming addictive at this point, I love writing about this cause there are so many different scenarios and possibilities you could write about. Also there might be a part two for this so please let me know if you would be interested in it. Enjoy!

She looked at herself in the mirror once more, it was almost time for her to take her future in her own hands, to rise to the occasion and take back her life. Her gaze fell to the ring she was wearing, it was passed on to her when she married the king of Orkney, she barely had taken a step into womanhood at the time her parents announced her marriage to her, such a shame that she spend such youthful years in a castle with a man that didn't even think about her, it was pure and also embarrassing for (y/n) to look back at her naive and selfless younger self.

“Oh, you are awake”

“I was waiting for you my dear”

She answered to her husband, her voice dripping honey for the first time in years. Their marriage was far from happy, (Y/n) had thought since she was to become his wife he would treat her with kindness, unfortunately that was not the case, he saw her just as a vessel for his children, when that seemed to not happen he fell to the arms of concubines and commoners, making her become this cold, distant wife he deserved. Sometimes she would wonder if maybe she had given him the heir he craved that maybe his behavior would change, that however was crushed by gratefulness she felt for her womb for not bring a child in this loveless household. She would have never forgiven herself if she raised a child that did not see their parents share at least one hug.

“What’s the cause of you lingering in our room (y/n)?”

“To celebrate, here my king”

She offered him the glass of wine she was holding on her left hand, it was filled with his favorite wine. Her husband took it and gave her a puzzled look, whenever he would sleep in the same room with her- which wasn’t often- he would find her asleep.

“What are we celebrating?”

“My birthday dear”

He was left confused at her smile and statement. It couldn’t be, they held a public celebration for her birthday every year, it was protocol for the queen to allow the public in the castle for her special day. The clink of the glasses echoed around the room, she brought the glass to her lips and took a light sip

“Come on dear, drink up. You were never one to shy away from a glass of wine”

She pushed the glass from the bottom up to his lips. He did not understand the cause of all this, yet whatever the case was she was right, the moment he tasted the delicious wine he took three gulps and the glass went from full to half empty.

“Excellent, I’m glad you enjoyed the wine my king, careful,.. the choking will probably start any minute now”

-

“My queen, we have been waiting for you to... rise for so long”

“Perfection takes time”

She answered to her most trusted confident,her coronation was something that would remain in history for centuries, she was adored by the public so when she inherited the crown after her last husband, everyone knew they were in safe hands. That does not mean the rumors did not arise to the situation, the late king was a healthy young man, it was very suspicious how he fell to darkness overnight.

She meant what she told him when she mentioned her birthday, that day she shed away her foolish acts and was reborn, a woman that stood strong in the field of womanhood, ready to take what’s hers whether people liked it or not.

She looked around the room, seeing her people enjoy their night and drink to her name felt so natural to her, she was meant to lead. 

“Excuse me just for a moment, I want to get closer to my people”

“As you wish my queen”

As she started going around at a slow pace she did her best to observe her people, they seemed to enjoy themselves, they acted like the king never existed, like the soil on top of him had been thrown decades ago, she smiled at herself while thinking that she acted in a way her people wanted, pleasing them and herself with just a few drops of that special liquid.

It was then that she noticed the back of a tall man, his long white hair and his armor stood out from the others, she also took note that he was accompanied by a much smaller and probably younger man that was holding a lute. It couldn’t be? The infamous white wolf and his barb at her coronation? 

“What are we doing here Jaskier?”

“Celebrating the queen officially getting the crown after her husbands oh so sudden death”

Jaskier was fascinated by her history, a princess known for her noble nature and beauty, he reminisced of the song he had heard about her, she was the master of horses, the late king had met her when she rode the most stubborn and difficult horse in the royal stable, married to the king at her prime and failing at giving him an heir.

He was surprised she got to kill him first before the late king did, not only that but she is now the one sitting on the thrown after the kings death under some suspicious circumstances.

“sudden death? hmm, I believe the king found out  that his destiny was a woman in a harsh way”

“Every mans destiny is a woman.... Witcher”

As he heard the voice from behind him he turned around to see to whom it belonged to. Jaskier’s mouth formed a big “O” when he was met with the queen, Geralt figured out who she was by the crown sitting on her head. The first thing she noticed was his yellow eyes, she found them so captivating, unique, she had never seen a witcher from up close, it was also just her luck that brought her the most handsome one. 

Geralt didn’t know what to say, he was at her celebration, talking badly about the queen herself, he knew the consequences he just didn’t know if the queen would choose torture or immediate death as the penalty

“Queen (y/n), my apologies, Geralt has had a bit too much to drink, please spare him”

Jaskier might be a bit overly giddy at the wrong time, however that did not mean that what Geralt ha implied could make the queen want his head right then and there. As Jaskier bowed at her, she only let a small smile appear on her lips, softening her features towards the men that both looked distressed, she had to admire that she felt a bit of pride of making the witcher eat his words, judging by his reputation that did not happen every day.

“It’s alright, I know what the people are saying about me, it’s understandable”

“Understandable? Shouldn’t the queen rush to protect her reputation?”

“That’s what kings do when they feel their ego getting bruised, look around you Geralt, what do you see? The same people that have spread those accusations are dancing and yelling “long live the queen”, if anything my new found reputation is more promising”

Geralt was immediately interested, it wasn’t often that a queen would be alright with rumors and of such kind being passed around, as well as taking it as an advantage and being pleased about it. 

“Elaborate please”

“The kings of other towns will hear those rumors, now who would dare come and threaten the woman that killed her own husband for power? Only a mad man would risk coming to my home”

She was smart, cunning. Geralt had met people of royalty and understood exactly what she meant when she talked about fragile egos. On the contrary, she stood tall and proud, took advantage of the people that gave her a new source of power without them even knowing it. The essence of her as a human being could only be described as being royal, a woman of luxury that men would probably kill for just a glimpse of her naked skin

It only made him question the late king, how could he have wronged such a woman? was maybe her standards that were two high? or was it an act of revenge? Geralt felt the need to puff out his chest as an act of bravery, she was a quite tall woman and if you match that with the way she carried herself, it was a death mix, the late king was already one of the victims of it

“You mean that you are going to become other kings destiny?”

“I don’t believe in destiny, what destiny is varies depending on the people you ask, for my parents my destiny was to become an obedient queen and give birth to the heir, a child that shared the same blood with my late husband”

She said mildly disgusted, as a widower she would probably have to grieve, linger in her room and cry behind close doors at the loss of her love. It seems like nobody even noticed how she did none of that, like it was normal for her to through a celebration a few weeks after his death in her name, not only that but the people seemed to love it. Geralt gave her a smirk at her smart and a bit intriguing answer.

“Then what do you think is your destiny”

“To be in charge of my and my peoples future, destiny and fate are nothing in front of the power of a woman”

The way she talked about destiny showed how she truly embodied confidence and stability, she feared nothing, not even her future self, she only relied on her power. As she talked to him he couldn’t help but let his eyes look mostly towards her lips, her painted lips that moved in such hypnotic way, he felt compelled by her.

Jaskier just stood there watching the two people talk like they are long lost friends. The queen so many people felt uneasy just by her presence was now having a casual conversation with the witcher. Geralt was slowly but surely gaining respect for her, she was a woman of power, a woman that used her brain and situations to her advantages and held herself accountable for her future, she was a true queen.

Geralt smiled at her genuinely, he had met her late husband in the past, he recalled him being stubborn and stuck up, raising his nose at others that he thought were less than him. If he was alive there was no way he would find him walking around commoners

“hmmm, Well queen (y/n), I am sure your people will be safe with you leading this land”

“I hope that in the future I can count on you for aid”

“About what?”

“Danger of course”

She took one step closer to him, still keeping eye contact with Geralt. As he took in a deep breath he could smell the scent of lavender off of her, her hair shined underneath the light of the flames and her eyes glistered with confidence and pride, she was the definition of strength, just her look brought Geralt into defense mode, waiting for her words and thinking how should he respond correctly to her before she even opened her mouth. 

The skill of demanding attention and respect so silently was one that the very few of people that did had it were considered blessed, even though he was aware of that skill, still he had yet to meet one... until he met her.

“Loneliness can be an awfully dangerous thing”

She whispered just loud enough for only him to hear, as the other villagers laughed and sang around them, not even noticing that their queen was standing a few inches away from them, as well as being promiscuous to a witcher.

“I would be honored to protect the queen”

“I’m glad you feel that way, I’m sure you could be a great ally for me, geralt of rivia”

-

PART 2 

[morganaspendragonss]

request for you -> no. 65 💗💜💙

holly's august extravaganza day 20: can't smile without you

thank you! this is a follow-up to my previous fic a hole where your memory goes

65) “I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can barely fucking breathe because they’re gone and it’s my fault. And god knows what they’re doing to them right now and I’m just sitting here doing nothing!” (from this list)

ao3 | 1.6k | angst with a happy ending, supportive firefam, kidnapping, mentioned amputation

before.

Carlos would be lying to himself if the possibility hadn’t occurred to him before. He has always worried for TK’s safety, and the knowledge that a serial killer is on the loose in Austin has sent that worry skyrocketing. Especially because he’s the lead detective on the case; he’s spent hours poring over horrific crime scenes, examining all the facts until they’re burned into his brain.

Admittedly, the killers seem to be mostly indiscriminate in who they take, meaning the chances of it being TK are slim.

But there’s still a chance.

Carlos doesn’t like the thought of TK going out alone anymore, but he tries to push down his protective instincts to normal levels, for TK’s sake. TK thinks he’s being ridiculous—but then, TK only knows what the news has said about the case. Carlos has refused to talk about it at home, mostly because he’s not supposed to, but also because he doesn’t want to scare his husband.

He won’t admit it, but Carlos is scared enough for the both of them.

But as the case wears on and no new leads appear, things change. The fear… It doesn’t get lesser, or disappear, but it becomes something he’s used to; something, really, he’s been used to ever since they first began dating all those years ago. And the thing about being a detective—the person who investigates and solves the crimes—is that it’s easy to believe that these are things that happen to other people.

Carlos knows he’s not invincible. But there’s something about his job that has him marking out his home as a safe bubble, where the horrors he sees on the daily can’t enter.

Later, when he thinks back on it all, he won’t remember the moment he let himself get so lax. What he will remember, all too clearly, is the moment he lost everything.

“Babe, I’m going out!” TK shouts, his voice reaching Carlos where he’s washing up in the kitchen. “I’ll be back soon; don’t wait up.”

Carlos smiles, but doesn’t turn around, knowing TK will probably be halfway out the door by now anyway. “Have a good run,” he says instead. Seconds later, he hears the door shut and lock, and he carries on with his night. His shift had been long, so he goes to bed pretty quickly, certain in the knowledge that, when he wakes up, TK will be by his side again, as always.

He wakes up at two am to a cold bed, and Carlos’s world crumbles.

during.

Seventy-three days after TK’s disappearance, Carlos is sitting in the firehouse kitchen, nursing a cup of coffee and wondering what, exactly, he’s doing here. He should be at work, going over the case, doing everything he can to find TK; not here, the one place he hasn’t set foot in since that awful day.

“Carlos,” Paul said, surprise colouring his voice. He narrowed his eyes, clearly noting the grief hanging heavy around Carlos, and a brief fear flickered across his expression. “Is everything okay?”

Carlos swallowed, unable to meet Paul’s eyes. “I, uh. Is Owen around?”

“Yeah, he’s in his office. You can head on up if you want.”

He nodded and took a step forward, before being suddenly hit by a realisation. “Actually, Paul?” he asked. “Could you gather everyone? You all deserve to hear this from me, but I don’t think I have the strength to say it twice.”

Paul’s eyes widened, the fear returning in full force. Carlos knew he must have joined the dots by now—TK not showing up for work, Carlos appearing, looking, probably, wrecked… There was only one conclusion to be drawn.

Even so, Carlos didn’t think any of them would have imagined something this bad, and the looks on their faces when they found out broke him all over again.

He sighs and stares down into his coffee, swirling the cooling dregs around the mug. He doesn’t want to be here; even now, seventy-three days afterwards, part of him still thinks he’s going to look up and see him walking around the corner. The feeling is even worse at home, but Carlos only really goes there to sleep and, occasionally, eat. TK’s nightstand is still occupied by the book he was reading, his shoes lie abandoned by the front door, his shampoo going untouched next to Carlos’s own.

The memories there threaten to suffocate him, so he chooses to let them gather dust.

The firehouse is quiet, and there’s an itch in Carlos’s bones telling him to get up and get going. He grits his teeth and tries to force himself to stay put, for his friends’ sake if nothing else, but it’s an impossible task, and he ends up shoving himself out of the chair. For once, no-one is around to spot him, so he turns, fully intent on sneaking out, when his eyes catch on the 126’s memorial wall.

It’s the same as it has been for years, Tim’s photo right alongside those of the old 126. A thought enters Carlos’s mind, unbidden, and it sticks in his head, keeping his gaze locked on the wall.

How long until TK ends up there too?

Carlos’s breath trembles, his hands bunching into fists at his side. The rest of the firehouse fades into background noise until all Carlos can see is the wall of photos and the memory of TK’s voice on the night he left.

Judd appears from seemingly nowhere, Carlos jumping when his hands land on his shoulders. “Sit.”

“No,” Carlos protests, shoving at Judd. “No, let me go.”

But Judd just folds his arms and refuses to budge, looking down at Carlos with a mixture of sympathy and determination in his eyes. “Look, Carlos, I have no idea what you’re going through,” he says, “but you’re running yourself into the ground and you’re going to burn out. TK—”

“Don’t.” Carlos grits his teeth, glaring at Judd. “Don’t say it. You all—You all keep saying the same shit, but I’m pretty sure the only thing TK wants right now is to be away from wherever they’re keeping him. And it’s my job to do that for him! Judd, it is literally my job to find these people and I just keep failing and I should be out there; I should be looking for him, so just—just let me go!”

“Carlos, you need to calm down.”

“Calm down?” There’s a sob building in Carlos’s chest, the ever-present ache growing until it eclipses anything else he has inside him. “I can’t calm down, and you know what else? I can’t eat, I can’t sleep, I can barely fucking breathe because he’s gone and it’s my fault. And god knows what they’re doing to him right now and I’m just sitting here doing nothing! I’m sitting here, drinking coffee, when he’s—he’s—”

The words stick in his throat and Carlos gives in to the tears, letting the emotion overwhelm him. His legs give out and he slumps back down in the chair by the kitchen island, saved from sliding to the floor by Judd, who cradles Carlos’s head against his chest. Judd’s uniform is probably getting soaked, but he makes no complaint, simply holding Carlos as he cries.

“I know,” he shushes, rubbing a large hand in circles on Carlos’s back. “I know.”

He doesn’t, but Carlos takes solace in it anyway.

after.

Carlos chews on his lip, anxiously watching as TK is settled in his wheelchair. It’s been a month since TK came home from the hospital, and the first time he’s going out without Carlos.

“Ready, Strand?” Judd asks. TK nods, and time feels like it slows down as Judd grips onto the chair’s handles, muscles tensing to push.

“Wait!” He seizes a blanket from the couch—TK’s favourite—and rushes over, kneeling down in front of his husband. “You’ll get cold.”

It’s true; after all the weight he lost, TK feels the cold so much more these days. He knows that TK, and probably some of the crew, thinks he’s being over-protective, but Carlos is terrified of him getting sick. Of losing him, for good this time. So he tucks the blanket around TK’s leg, the other one’s absence still glaring after all this time, giving more attention to the task than it warrants.

He’s stopped by a hand slipping into his, and he looks up to meet TK’s eyes, brilliant green shining with understanding.

“Carlos,” he murmurs, squeezing his hand gently. “It’s okay. Y—You don’t—have to—w—w—” TK frowns, his face scrunching up in frustration as his tongue refuses to cooperate, and Carlos reaches out to caress his face.

“I know,” he says softly. “I’ll see you later, okay? Love you.”

Every instinct Carlos possesses protests as he watches TK disappear out the door once more, and he takes an involuntary step forward. But Paul and Grace, both of whom insisted on keeping him company, place a hand on each of his shoulders, gently but firmly guiding him towards the couch.

“I—I don’t…”

“He’ll be fine, Carlos,” Grace says, sitting next to him. “Let us take care of you, now.”

Paul walks over with a bowl of something steaming, practically forcing it into his hands. “I’m gonna tell you right now, I’ll be real offended if you don’t eat that, Reyes. I didn’t spend hours slaving over it for you to turn your nose up because you got used to all that gourmet shit they serve in the hospital.”

Carlos laughs weakly, taking the proffered fork. Between the hospital and TK’s strict diet while he gets used to food again, he hasn’t had a proper meal in a while; he didn’t think he had the appetite for one, but the spicy aroma wafting from the bowl sets his stomach growling.

They eat, and they talk, and it seems like normality might be in reach once more.

An hour later, TK comes home.

And Carlos finally starts to feel safe again.

[your-eternal-muse]

Sight For Sore Eyes

Heather Series Part 9

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 9

BONUS: Readers Card Confession BONUS: Spencer’s Take Series Playlist

Summery: Reader bares witness to the final moment of Spencer and Heather’s relationship, and when comforting Spencer, something unexpected happens.

Words: 2k

Warnings: Swearing, Mentions of Cheating, angry Spencer

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Female!Reader (It’s happening fuckers.)

A/N: I don’t really have anything to say, except go nuts. I almost screamed writing this.

~~~~~

Eavesdropping isn't really my thing.

I find it impersonal, and kind of bitchy.

I mean, you're basically listening on someone else's conversation, snooping on drama that doesn't concern you.

Only, this kind of does concern me.

Since, you know, if it weren't for me, Spencer and Heather wouldn't be huddled in a conference room, arguing about their impending divorce 

I should feel worse about it than I do.

But I don't.

Spencer is broken.

She ruined him.

And trust me, I know because I'm the one who he's been coming to.

The whole thing sort of forced us back together, but if I'm being honest, I didn't really fight it. Like, at all.

Again I should feel bad, about how selfish it is to take pride in the fact that a man who's going through a divorce finds solace in my arms.

But you know what?

I really don't give a shit anymore.

I've spent the past almost three years doing everything to appear nice and selfless and it led me down a road that almost killed me.

So fuck it.

I exposed her cheating ass, punched her in her stupid face, fell asleep with her husband while laying on my couch and now I'm listening in as he serves her the divorce papers.

I'm not even trying to be subtle about it, and the team isn't being subtle about finding my snooping funny.

JJ passed and asked for an update, Derek just chuckled, and ruffled my hair, Hotch closed his blinds so he can have plausible deniability and the rest of them just smile as they watch.

I do have a back up plan though, just in case.

I hold a file in my hand that I can open and pretend to be reading as I walk in to get Spencer's opinion. Or something.

Right now though, I'm leaning against the door frame, listening and watching through the sliver of a crack that the door is open from when Heather closed it.

Heather sits with her back towards me, her hands folded in her lap, the papers and a pen sitting on the table in front of her, while Spencer stands, stoned face in front of her, his arms crossed over his chest.

"Sign the papers, Heather."

I can hear her sniffle, and she shakes her head. "No. I love you, we can make this work."

“'We’ aren't doing anything. 'We' are getting a divorce because 'you' cheated on 'me' for almost our entire marriage. Sign the papers."

He was assertive, the pain and anger evident in his voice as he points to the packet on the table.

I'm not gonna lie, it's kinda hot.

"It's only been six months. What do you want me to do? It was a mistake, a stupid mistake." She's actively crying now, and she stands, making her way over to him, wrapping her hands around one of his biceps.

He stares down at her.

"I love you, Spence."

Hey bitch, that's my nickname for him, get your own. Wait no, I take that back. You can just fuck right off, how's that?

One of her hands comes up to cup his cheek, and anger boils in my stomach.

He uncrosses his arms, and brings a hand up to cover hers, and I hold my breath.

He wraps his fingers around her wrist, pulling it from his face while he pulls her hand from his bicep with his other hand.

He holds both of her wrists in his hands, pushing her away from him.

"That's not love."

Haha. Bitch.

"And it wasn't a mistake. You kept going back to him. Over and over again, instead of dealing with your problems and talking to me. Now," he turns her, and pushes her towards the table. The way she falls forward, stumbling into it makes it look like he shoved her harder than he did.

"Sign the fucking papers."

She grabs the pen, crocodile tears streaming down her face. 

Her look goes from pleading, to furious in a second.

"You're gonna run back to her, aren't you?" She scoffs, straightening up. "How do I know you didn't cheat on me first?"

He leans in close to her, brushing hair behind her ear.

I almost fall into the room, leaning in so close to make sure I can hear what he says, my heart pounding.

"What or who I do, is no longer any of your business. Now I'm not going to ask again. Sign the papers, or I will gladly get my lawyer and make your life a living hell."

She's no longer crying, but the annoyance is radiating off of her.

She's pissed.

She huffs, leaning forward, and signs her name. She flips through, repeating the action until she's done.

She tosses the pen onto the table. 

"You're gonna regret this. I'm the best thing that's ever happened to you."

He actually laughs, and I want to applaud him.

"Yeah, sure you are. I want your stuff out by this weekend."

She grabs her purse off the table, walking towards the door at a quick pace.

Shit shit shit shit shit shit.

I barely have time to open my file and take a few steps back to make it seem like I was walking up before she's opening the door, almost running into me in the process.

Her eyes meet mine, and I can't help the smirk spread across my face.

She glares, her hand coming up to her still bandaged nose, before shoving past me.

I watch her walk to the end of the hall before turning back to the room, where Spencer now stands with his hands in his packets.

I hold up the file, ready to start my spiel, but he starts talking before I can get the chance.

“I could see you.”

My mouth falls open and he smiles.

How the fuck…

“I could also smell your perfume.” He looks down at the papers, starting to flip through them to double check that she signed everything.

He could smell my perfume?

I walk into the room, closing the door fully behind me.

Wouldn’t want anyone to listen in now would we?

“How do you know it’s mine?” I place the file on the table, as he closes the packet.

He looks up at me, and my knees turn to jello.

“Because I smell it on your skin every time we hug.”

Butterflies erupt in my stomach, but he keeps talking.

“Smells like home to me.” He runs a hand through his hair, shifting from one foot to the next, now looking down at the table instead of me. “You’re home to me.”

You’re killing me, smalls.

I walk over to where he’s standing, and open my arms. 

I watch as his shoulders deflate as he sighs, walking forward and wrapping his arms around my waist. 

My arms slink around his neck, and I now understand how he can smell it. His nose is pressed to the crook of my neck, right where I put it in the morning.

“You’re my home too.” I whisper, turning my head, and inhaling the scent of his hair. It’s such a uniquely Spencer scent. I wish I could bottle it, make a candle out of it so that I can smell him whenever I want.

We break after a few minutes, and I trail my hands down his arm.

He entangles his fingers of one hand into my own.

“You okay?”

He sighs, looking down at our hands as he plays with my fingers. “I will be.”

He sits on the edge of the table, and I follow suit, being sure not to break the link our hands have created.

“If I hadn’t seen you, if you hadn’t been there watching, I’m afraid of what I might have done.” He swallows, and his eyes won’t meet my own. “It scared me.”

He finally looks up, and a small fire is lit behind those hazel eyes of his. 

“It scared me, because for a moment, I wanted to hurt her. She has made me so, angry, she’s made me feel so fucking stupid and all I wanted to do was make her feel that too.”

I fully grab his hand, the absence of his ring pressing against my palm.

“I know that feeling. But, as much as you wanted to, I don’t think you would have. You’ve got too much of a good conscience to do something like that.”

I feel him squeeze my hand. 

“However, I am more than willing, so you tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it.”

That got him to laugh, and he shakes his head at me. He becomes quiet quicker than I’d like. 

“You have too much faith in me.”

“Hey,” I reach up and grab his chin with my free hand, forcing him to look at me. “I have the perfect amount of faith in you, Dr. Spencer Reid. You’re a good man, no, a great man, through and through. I guarantee you that you are the best thing that has ever or will ever happen to her. If she doesn’t realize that, well, that’s her loss. Not yours.”

I swipe some hair out of his face, and his eyes bore down into mine. 

Something about the look on his face makes my heart start to race. 

It resembles what I assumed I looked like that day in the restaurant, only he also looks like he’s about to cry.

My face scrunches in confusion. “Are you okay, Spence?”

“God, I love you.”

His hands are on either side of my face and his lips are on mine.

His lips are on mine. 

He’s kissing me.

Spencer Reid, the man whom I have been in love with for the past ten fucking years is kissing me.

Kiss him back, you dumb bitch!

My hands immediately go to his chest, bunching the fabric of his shirt in my fists, pulling him as close as possible to me.

I have dreamt about this moment.

Since the day I met him, I have dreamt about what kissing him would feel like. 

And now that it’s here, I can safely say, that my dreams don’t compare to the real thing.

His lips are soft and they lead in such a way that doesn’t make it feel like he’s doing all the work. 

It’s the perfect amount of push, the perfect amount of pull.

Kissing him is perfect.

But then he breaks it, as if remembering where he was, and the moments that had led up to it. 

He looks utterly terrified, like he just ruined the one thing he had left.

We're both breathless for a moment, and then he speaks.

“I’m sorry.”

Before I can react, he picks up the packet of paper and all but runs out of the door. 

I come to my senses quick enough to go after him, following him out into the bullpen. 

“Spencer!” I stop, out of breath, and confused as hell.

He exits through the glass doors, his hands grabbing fistfuls of his hair.

“Hey hey hey, what’s going on? Did something happen?” JJ walks up, eyes looking at the space that Spencer had occupied before turning to look at me. “Seriously, you look like you’re about to cry. What happened?”

My fingers float over my lips, still warm from the energy of the kiss. 

“He kissed me.” It’s barely above a whisper, like if I say it louder than that, it’ll cease to exist.

“He did? Why did he run then?”

“I don’t know.” 

The kiss isn’t what's confusing me at the moment though, oh no. 

What’s making it hard to breath right, let alone think, was the statement he whispered right before he kissed me.

A statement I never even thought I would hear him say.

God, I love you.

I must be hearing things. That can’t be what he said. He told me himself, that night on the balcony, he doesn’t love me.

No.

I may not have a memory like his, but I could never forget something like that.

He loves me. 

He loves me.

Spencer Reid loves me.

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[perfectpaperbluebirds]

Better Now

A Bla/ck Tap/es podcast sickfic.

I have so many wonderful prompts in my inbox but the only thing I  wanted to write was this wildly self-indulgent and overly long fic that's jam-packed with all my favorite tropes. I blame @matilda3948 for her recent amazing Dr. Strand sickfics for inspiration and @sanquintina for getting me into the podcast in the first place

This is technically Bl/ack Ta/pes fanfic, but you don't need to know anything about the series other than Dr. Strand is a persnickety, serious, stoic, skeptic with a very deep voice and troubled past. 

Set after the end of the series as it stands currently and written in 1st person from the perspective of Strand's unnamed female partner. Could be Alex if you want, could be someone else with whom Strand finally found happiness and contentment. I kept that part generic on purpose.

Richard Strand is many things, but clumsy isn't one of them. So naturally I had to go investigate when early one morning I was startled by the sound of a tea mug shattering on the floor followed by a hastily bitten-off swear word.

In the kitchen I found my husband, the world renowned Dr. Strand, kneeling on the floor mopping up spilled tea. He glanced up with a sniffle as he heard me approach.

"Had it too close to the edge. At least it missed my pants. I think I got all the ceramic bits, but be careful."

His voice was even deeper than usual, low and gravelly from the cold he'd been developing over the past few days. That, paired with his heavy, reddened eyes and generally haggard appearance, gave me concern.

"You look like you hardly slept. How are you feeling?"

"I tossed and turned a bit last night. Couldn't get comfortable."

"Couldn't breathe I think would be more accurate. You were snoring and breathing through your mouth all night."

He sat back on his heels and frowned. "Sorry if I kept you up."

"You don't have to apologize. I'm just worried about you," I added as he winced when he stood, massaging the space between his eyebrows.

He shot me another irritated glance. "I'm fine. I just have a bit of a cold." I couldn't help but notice the weary slump of his shoulders, however. Even his suit looked less crisp than usual. 

I summoned all my wifely tact and tried to make my voice persuasive: "Maybe you should stay home. You don't look like you'll be much use to anyone today."

He made an annoyed sound. "That's very unnecessary. I'm not staying home for a cold."

I looked pointedly out the window where a chilly November rain was pouring down steadily. "You really want to go out into that when you have a perfectly valid excuse not to?"

He too glanced out the window. After a moment he shook his head and cleared his throat, meeting my eyes again. "I'll be fine. It's just a little rain."

He headed toward the door, massaging his forehead once more.

"Don't you want your tea?"

"Oh, right." He whirled around quickly, grabbed the thermos, and headed toward the door again with a wet sniffle. I could only roll my eyes and sigh as the door closed behind him.

Most workdays I left after him and returned before him, and this Thursday was no exception. The rain was still pouring down when I arrived home from work that evening. I decided dinner was going to be vegetable stew and biscuits, not only for his cold, but also because I wanted some rainy November comfort food. Everything was nearly ready when I heard him coming up the steps. He opened the door, bringing with him a chilly gust, and I turned to greet him, but instead my mouth dropped open a bit at the sight of him. 

His hair and clothes were completely soaked with rain, to the point of dripping puddles onto the floor as I watched, and he was visibly shivering, something I'd never seen him do before. Inexplicably, he was also shaking the loose drops off of his soaked umbrella, his expression drawn and miserable. I was noticing how diminished he seemed when suddenly his breath hitched violently:

"HehZIHH'shiew! HrrUUHHZchoo! HehhGIHH'nkkchoo!"

I rushed to his side, relieving him of his umbrella and briefcase and pulling his sodden coat off of him as he slumped down onto the nearby stool. Beneath the coat, his suit was nearly just as wet and cold.

"Oh, Richard, bless you! You're soaked to the skin. Ugh, and your hands are freezing. How did you manage to get so drenched?"

"A w-woman and her ch-children were w-waiting for the b-bus without c-coats. I held my umbrella f-for them until it c-came," he said, his teeth chattering and his lips blue with cold. 

I toweled off his hair and clothes as best as I could before helping him undress. Any other day he would have brushed me off, saying he was perfectly capable of doing that himself. The fact that he allowed me to assist him spoke volumes to how poorly he felt. 

I was behind him, trying to peel off his sodden linen shirt when he lurched forward for another volley of sneezes:

"HrrUUSCHH! HnnxXT! HHGGTchh!"

"Bless you again, poor love. You've made your cold worse going out in this," I gently chastised.

"I'm f-fine," he sniffled, still barely able to speak around his shivering. Yet he leaned back against me wearily as I removed his undershirt and replaced it with a blanket, and I thought I heard the softest hint of a groan.

I used my fingers to comb his disheveled hair, but frowned when I felt his forehead. "You're running a fever. You weren't feverish this morning."

He merely shrugged, wordlessly asking me to continue massaging his scalp, which I did. Slowly his shivers subsided, but he was clearly exhausted, and sniffled wetly every few moments. 

"You look like you could use a hot drink and a warm bed," I said eventually.

"I'd start with a hot shower," came the mumbled reply.

"Hmm… what about a hot bath? I was thinking of taking one myself tonight, and I'm willing to share. No reason to waste the hot water. Dinner will keep for a bit longer."

He turned slightly, giving me a curious look. It wasn't that we had never bathed together before, but it was usually under very different circumstances. However, I happened to know my husband craved physical touch when he wasn't feeling well, though he would never ask for it. I was simply making life easier on both of us by preemptively offering it. 

"I suppose that might be nice," he finally said. "But I'm very tired…."

I kissed his cheek. "No strings attached. Bath only. Then dinner and sleep. No funny business, I promise."

He relaxed slightly. "That's fine then."

"Good. Let me go run the water." I kissed his hair once more, then headed to the bathroom. He joined me there with a cup of tea after a few minutes. While the oversized tub finished filling, he leaned in the doorway, rubbing the back of his neck and looking distant and hazy, not to mention sick.

I shimmied off my clothes and slid into the water, gesturing for him to join me. He sluggishly obeyed, hampered in finishing his own undressing by his dripping nose. He set his mug of tea and a handkerchief on the little table beside the tub, then slid into the water in front of me.

His sigh of ecstasy as the hot water surrounded him was exactly what I hoped to hear, and he leaned back against me readily with a satisfied groan.

"Better?" I murmured in his ear.

"Much," came the rumbling reply, followed of course by a sniffle. 

I pressed my lips into his hair again and again. He hardly moved as the heat soaked into him. I let my nails trail all over his skin and gave him a gentle massage, trying to help him relax, a feat he was rarely able to accomplish on his own

"Would you like me to wash your hair?" I murmured after a while.

He gave the barest nod in reply. Wordlessly I did just that, something else he would never consider allowing in any other circumstance.

I kept the soap far from his face, but the fragrance still had its way with him. I had nearly all the suds rinsed out when he suddenly jerked forward and leaned over the edge of the tub.

GihhIIISSHH'UH! Hhigg'CHUH! HihYEHSH'ooo!" He directed the spray as far away from me as he could, grabbing for the handkerchief to catch as much of the mess as possible. He mopped his face with a growl as he slid back into the water, but the spell was broken. He fidgeted against me, sniffling in irritation again and again as I finished rinsing his hair. 

I suppressed a disappointed sigh. "You might feel better if you went and laid down now that you're warmed up. Get yourself a bowl of soup while I finish up here."

He grunted his assent, lifting himself out of the water and quickly toweling off as he began to shiver again right away. He donned his robe, took his tea, and went to get his supper.

The evening came to a quick close after that. Richard ate a small portion of soup, drank two mugs of tea, and refused any medication, but did little else. He wouldn't be described as loquacious on his best day, but he spoke even less than usual. The only noise he made was the occasional soft cough or explosive trio of sneezes and his perpetual sniffles as he attempted his usual evening reading. His eyes never lost their weary, hazy look though, and he was constantly shaking his head or wiping a knuckle under his nose, so I wondered how much he was actually absorbing.

When I suggested we go to bed, he didn't argue though, which was very unlike him. He fell into bed wearily, and it seemed he was asleep even before his head hit the pillow. I silently wished to myself as I drifted to sleep that he would either be recovered in the morning, or else have the sense to stay home if he was worse.

~~~~~~~~~~

Richard's alarm went off at the usual hour the next morning, and he shut it off right away. Normally he was out of bed in moments, but today he lingered, pulling the blankets closer around himself with a little groan.

I rolled over and tried to go back to sleep, but he continued to shift restlessly. After a moment, I heard him take a wheezy inhale and then break into a coughing fit, wet and hoarse. I turned to look at him again. He was on his back now, with an arm flung over his eyes.

"Aww, love," I murmured. "You ok?"

"I'm not feeling quite like myself," came the mumbled reply.

I reached out to stroke his cheek, letting my hand rest on his neck where I could feel his hugely swollen lymph nodes. He was well and truly sick now, and he needed to stay home from work. However, I couldn't be the one to suggest that, or else he would turn me down immediately and insist he was fine, as he had the day before. It needed to be his idea. I went with a different approach.

I nestled close to his side, kissing his shoulder softly. I could tell he was still feverish even through his clothes. "Busy day today?" I murmured.

He grunted wearily. I couldn't tell if it was affirmative or negative.

"I packed a big bowl of soup for your lunch. I hope it's enough to keep you full through the whole day. And don't forget, I'll meet you at your coworker's reception tonight. Was there anything I needed to bring to that?"

He slowly uncovered his face. "I was… actually considering staying home from work. It shouldn't be busy today, I can afford to miss. And… I'm really not feeling well at all. I'll make our excuses to John about his reception. 

I did a silent victory dance in my head. "Oh, are you sure? I thought you had some important meetings."

"Nothing that can't be rescheduled." He cracked a red eye open, glancing at me suspiciously. "Why? Do you want me to go in?"

I shrugged nonchalantly, kissing him again. "I want you to do what you think is best. If you're not feeling well, you ought to stay home so you don't risk getting other people sick though."

"I suppose." He coughed hoarsely again, rubbing his chest with a grimace. "Yes, I'll stay home today. Let me call Carol and John."

He slowly stood and made his unsteady way to his phone, sniffling and coughing the whole way. The two phone conversations were very brief, for he hardly had to try to make a case for his illness, congested and hoarse as he clearly was. After he finished the calls, he shuffled back to bed immediately, heaping the blankets back over himself with a shuddering cough. I rubbed his back as he got settled.

"Can I get you anything, hon? Water, medicine?"

He shook his head. "Going to try to sleep this off," he mumbled, sleep already (or still?) heavy in his voice.

I knew medicine would almost certainly help his endeavors at sleeping. At minimum it would improve the quality of his sleep. However, I also knew he was stubborn about such things, so I didn't press the issue yet. "Alright." I kissed his hot cheek gently. "Then I'll leave you be for now. Let me know if you need anything. Sleep well."

I made the bed around him, straightening my side and tucking him in, then quietly left. The sound of his deep snores followed me out. So much for me sleeping in today.

He emerged again later that morning. I didn't notice him at first when he did, though. I had my headphones in and was dancing around while dusting. Turning around, I almost bumped into him, scaring us both. I yanked my headphones off right away, taking in his disheveled, sickly, blanket-wrapped appearance.

"You're awake! I'm sorry, I didn't hear you come out."

"Clearly," he rasped with the tiniest ghost of a smile. "You stayed home too?"

"It's my normal Friday off."

"Right, right," he sniffled. He then shuffled to the couch, collapsing onto it with a yawn. I went to sit beside him, unable to keep the concern from my face. I felt his forehead again, noting how he wearily leaned into the touch. I was forced to jump back though as he erupted into a volley of thick, chesty coughs. 

I sighed, surveying him with worry. "You're running quite the fever, love. And the cold has obviously settled into your chest now too."

He nodded limply with another sniffle.

"I'm not taking no for an answer this time, I'm giving you medicine and you're going to take it."

He managed to fix me with a condescending look. "Medication for a cold is essentially pointless. It just treats the symptoms."

"You think making yourself more comfortable is pointless?"

He opened his mouth to answer, or so I thought, but instead he lurched forward into a trio of wet, spraying sneezes:

"Heh'YEISSHH'oo! YEEIISH'uuh! Gih'HIH-shoo! --ugh…" The forceful snapping motion of his head when he sneezed looked incredibly painful, so much so that he pressed the heels of his hands to his forehead with a groan in the aftermath.

"Bless you, hon!" I waited a beat as he composed himself. "So… what was it again you were saying about the futility of treating the symptoms?" I asked, admittedly snidely.

He only grunted softly. I couldn't keep the smug look from my face when he met my eyes once more. However, seeing how thoroughly miserable he was reawakened my sympathy immediately. I reached out to caress his hair and cheek yet again.

"How about I make you some tea, yeah? And maybe a bowl of soup?"

"Please," he mumbled.

"Coming right up."

Another round of his thick, exhausting coughs followed me into the kitchen, and I couldn't help but wince in sympathy, even though he couldn't see me.

In a matter of minutes I had his meal ready. When I brought it back out to him, I placed the soup on the table and dropped a handful of pills and a capful of medication beside the bowl with a meaningful look. His only reply was a small frown. I resumed my seat beside him and was about to hand him the steaming mug when an idea occurred to me.

"Is your throat hurting badly?"

He nodded heavily with a little scowl, as if he hated being reminded of it.

"Here, this may help a bit." I raised the mug to the level of his neck, pressing it against his visibly enlarged lymph node.

His eyes widened and he half-jumped back from the initial sensation. 

"Trust me for a sec," I said gently, placing it against the swelling once more.

He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth, but allowed it. After a moment though he visibly loosened. Making a sound between a whimper and a groan, he leaned harder against the heat. 

"Better?"

"Mhmmmm," he sighed.

After another moment I switched to the other side of his neck and repeated the process. He angled himself here and there to get the most heat coverage over the tender areas. Finally I slid the mug into his hands, kissing his forehead.

"Thank you," he breathed. "That was… relieving."

"You're very welcome. Now, can I do anything else for you at the moment?" 

"I'm fine. You don't need to fuss."

"I may not have to, but I want to, first because you're my husband and second because I know you're not 'fine.' But if you're going to insist you are, I'm going to go fold some laundry. Holler if you need anything. Or cough loudly if that's easier."

That earned me a Dr. Strand signature, the 'amused huff.' "I will. Thank you again."

"No thanks necessary." He received another kiss to the temple before I stood and headed to the laundry room with a last pointed look at the medicine. It occurred to me as I walked away that I was likely giving him an overabundance of kisses considering how contagious he clearly was, but he was just so darn pitiful.

Twenty minutes later, I returned to check on him, bringing a glass of water as well. The tea mug and soup bowl sat empty on the coffee table, surrounded by a few scattered tissues. The medicine was untouched. The doctor was huddled to one side of the couch with another tissue held loosely in his hand and one pajama-clad leg tucked under him, staring listlessly at the wall. However, at the sound of my footsteps he stirred with a sickly sniffle, scrubbing a hand over his face wearily. I smiled in greeting, and though he didn't return the smile, he did brighten a bit upon seeing me.

"What were you contemplating so deeply just now? You looked very lost in thought," I asked, handing him the water, then tidying up his little mess on the coffee table, leaving the pills.

He huffed a humorless laugh, looking self-conscious as he fiddled with the glass. "I was actually imagining how extensive the trial and error process must have been to determine how best to brew tea versus brewing coffee versus, for example, brewing beer. Roasting the ingredients versus drying versus fresh versus ground and boiling versus steeping versus fermenting. The amount of time that must have been necessary to perfect something so simple is rather astounding," he rasped, with many sniffles and throat-clearings thrown in.

I raised an eyebrow at him curiously. Aimless ramblings about random topics were not the norm for my painfully disciplined husband. "It is astounding I guess. I'd never thought about that before. Anyway, how are you feeling after eating?" 

"I'm fine," he said, finally setting down the untouched water, though the nasty cough that immediately followed his statement contradicted him.

This time I audibly sighed. "You do realize that you saying you're fine all the time is very counterproductive to helping me assess your needs? You don't have to be fine, love."

He gave me an odd look. "Conceptually, I know that. But you have to remember, for a long time I *did* have to be 'fine.' I didn't have the option to be otherwise. You, all of this… still feels like a new development or a dream at times. Old habits die hard, I suppose."

I sat on the arm of the couch beside him. He wordlessly leaned in toward me so I could lightly run my fingernails over his scalp. He softly groaned in pleasure.

"I'm not going to waste my breath telling you that I'm not going anywhere and I'm here for you, because you already know that. So I suppose I'll just have to keep showing you." 

I went to press a kiss to his head, but I caught a glimpse of his face and changed my mind when I saw he was about to sneeze.

"Gihh'chuuh! Hehh'choof! Ghnxt'choo!"

The sneezes were brisk and wet and left him breathless. He blew his nose with a wince before he spoke. "Sorry, could you repeat that? I missed most of it," he said, sounding stuffy and a little peeved.

I chuckled and complied, going for the kiss this time. He had no reply, but instead leaned against me wearily as I massaged his neck, yawning deeply. 

"You should rest again, love. Take a nap if you can. It's either that or watch TV, which you'll never do. I'm not sure you should attempt much else."

He wrinkled his nose. "I hate being so unproductive. I don't want to sleep the day away."

"Sleeping when you're sick isn't being unproductive, it's being wise."

"HehhGIH'choo! HEHHH-choo! Hihhh'YESSHH'uuhh!"

I was quite sure he didn't hear most of my statement, since he sneezed right in the middle of it. With a pitiful sound he tended to his nose yet again as I blessed him earnestly. Eventually his watery, heavy lidded eyes met mine. I couldn't help but notice yet again how flushed and disheveled he was and how utterly pathetic he looked, quite the opposite of his usual cool, collected self. 

"Guh. Sorry. What was that?" he asked with a pathetic sniffle, sounding very annoyed now.

"Aww, your nose. You really are sick, huh? Poor guy," I said, continuing to stroke his hair. 

He looked slightly offended. "You were having doubts about that?" 

I rolled my eyes good-naturedly. "It's just something you say, dear. 

"I'm aware of the colloquialism," he grumped. "But I find it a very odd one. And it's never been directed at me before."

"There's a first time for everything, then."

I was rubbing his back now. He yawned again, grimacing after, I assumed due to the sore throat. I also noticed he was starting to shiver.

"Ok, now seriously, tell me what I need to do to convince you to nap."

"I'm not sure," he said with a chesty cough, nestling deeper into the couch.

"Hmm. I accept that challenge." 

"And what challenge is that?"

"You won't tell me what I can do to help you, and perhaps you don't even know yourself, so I have to figure that out for both of us."

"I don't think there's anything I need though."

"You need to sleep."

He rolled his eyes with an annoyed huff, but I could tell he knew I was right.

I stood and went to put some smooth jazz on the record player in the room. Sitting down again, this time on the couch on the other side of him, I gestured to my lap.

"Come lie down."

"Wait-- lie down… right there?"

"Correct."

"Why?"

"Because you love hair scratches and neck rubs, so I'm making it easier to give them to you. Also you're apparently freezing and need to share some body heat."

He frowned, suppressing his shivers as best he could. Still, I knew he wouldn't be able to resist for long, tired and miserable as he was. Sure enough, after a moment he slowly levered himself down with a resigned sigh. 

I quickly threw a blanket over him, and then began the hair scratches. He made a tiny, appreciative sound. 

"Better?"

"Mm," he grunted.

"Good. But you're sweating, love," I murmured.

"I'm not sure how since I'm freezing," he mumbled with a cough.

"Your fever is higher. I can feel it just by touching you."

He groaned, snuggling deeper against me.

I massaged his neck for a while longer, trying to ease the tension from his muscles. He continued to be restless though, and apparently unable to regulate his body temperature. One moment he would be shaking with chills pulling the blanket closer, and then the next kicking it away from his legs with a moan of discomfort. 

The final straw for me was when he was overcome with yet another hacking coughing fit, curling in on himself miserably, trying to muffle it into his arm, the other hand clutching his chest.

Before he settled again, I leaned forward to grab the untouched pile of medication and glass of water from the coffee table. When he was again lying against me, I wordlessly held it out to him. He of course made a sound of irritation.

"Why are you being so stubborn? You need to sleep, and you can't sleep in the state you're in, at least not well. This will help your headache, fever, sore throat, everything so you can rest. I can tell you're exhausted."

After a final moment of consideration, he held out a reluctant hand. I handed him the items and he swallowed them without comment.

Neither of us spoke again for a long time, and didn't move from our places. I soothingly stroked his hair or rubbed his back, putting myself in a trance almost as much as him. 

I could see the medication talking effect. His restlessness slowly eased along with his coughing. It seemed I could even feel his body temperature decreasing.

"Hnnkkt'CHUH! Hehgg'CHUHH! EHHG'choo!"

Just as I thought he was asleep, his body twitched with a trio of sneezes, the quality of which could only be described as lazy--slow, thick, and dulled. They hardly seemed to stir him from his stupor.

"Bless you. Are you ok?"

" 'm fine," he croaked tiredly. We were both quiet for a while, then he spoke up again. "You know, one of the reasons I keep saying I'm fine is because I can't begin to describe what an improvement it is to be with you while being sick compared to being sick in bed alone. The difference is as drastic as night and day--better doesn't begin to describe it. Asking for anything more than what I already have just by your being here feels selfish."

Richard would never express such sentiments under normal circumstances, and hearing it said so plainly overwhelmed me with emotion. Yet I knew he wouldn't want me to reply in kind. He would prefer to state his piece and let it be. And indeed, I saw his eyes drooping heavier by the second, so I kept my thoughts to myself for now, but leaned over to plant a series of kisses all over his hot face. 

He hardly moved and didn't respond even when I finally stopped, but I couldn't help but notice the tiny smile playing around his lips as he drifted off to sleep.