#why is it woman to be in fandom. let men do this too

[queers-gambit]

Now and at the Hour of His Death

prompt: any who say, "it's better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all," were never loved by him.

pairing: Osferth x female!pregnant!wife!reader

fandom: The Last Kingdom

word count: 6.1k+

note: fuck you, Netflix.

warnings: you already know - author needs therapy, projects hard, pregnant wife, Lord’s name in vain, Christianity (obviously), and a fuck ton of fucking ANGST because fuck your feelings. hurt NO comfort, drama, oneshot, cursing, canon-typical violence, injury, and blood. character death and spoilers - yeah, i'm giving you THAT scene. requires maturity and caution. good luck.

also please note: NO, i do not age Osferth to be 16 - that's just a reference age for when he eventually runs away from the monastery.

again, you are missing nothing if this upsets or triggers you and you choose to skip. value your wellbeing, my angels. author is not responsible for the media YOU choose consume, but still, as usual, minors MDNI

"You should not be doing this sort of work," Ingrith's voice scolded you, and when you turned, you saw the blonde woman standing with her hip cocked and a stern expression. "It's bad for your health to be in such filth, we've stable boys for this sort of chore."

"I do not mind," you sniffled in the brisk air, shoveling the horse shit of the stable into a muck bucket to be dumped into the fields later. "It keeps me busy," you grunted lightly, sure to bend your knees when lifting the pitchfork, "keeps me humble," you listed, dumping the waste to grin at your friend, "and keeps me young."

"In what way?"

"Reminds me of my childhood," you eased, continuing your work. "I slept in a stable from the ages of 4 to... Oh, shit, I guess I was about 16 before I left The Loft."

"What?" She breathed in confusion. "Never knew that."

"Yeah, yeah, true story," you beamed at her, still shoveling shit. "I slept in the stalls with the horses, sometimes in the grain rooms - basically anywhere I could since my work didn't include official room and board, so, I had to make do with what was available. Then, one day when I was about ten, Old Man Rivers said I could use the hay loft if I cleared it out, fixed the rotten planks. Stayed up there till I was about 16, and after that, I kinda ran away."

"Old Man Rivers?"

You nodded, "My mother lived on his homestead, but she was real sick, you see. So, he kinda took me in without assuming responsibility for me," you cleared your throat, shrugging, "let me stay in his barn if I worked with the horses and livestock for him."

"Why would you want to be reminded of that?"

"Seems simpler when I look back."

Ingrith sighed, "C'mon, put the pitchfork down. Come help me prepare the rabbits. The scouts say the men aren't too far off, they'll want a hot meal."

You chuckled with ease and set your pitchfork aside, giving a hearty pat to one of the horse's necks as you passed by to exit the stable. Ingrith made sure you washed up before you were both mounting rabbits on the rack to start skinning them.

"Could I ask something?" She wondered after a time.

"Anything you'd like."

"Why'd you run away? From Old Man Rivers?"

You laughed, "I was in love."

"Oh, you and Baby Monk go that far back, huh?"

"Try even farther," you teased. "Our mothers were friends, and when I worked in the stable, he was in the monastery, but when he came to me, saying he couldn't do it any longer, I couldn't let him go alone. Life was supposed to offer more than what we were given, so, we set out to find the legendary barbarian, The Dane Slayer," you teased, both giggling, "our Lord, the legendary, Uhtred of Bebbanburg."

"And all this time...?" She smiled, watching you shuck hide like you've done it your whole life. Ingrith inferred you probably did.

"Yeah," you eased, "all this time, he's been by my side. Kept me close, never left me behind. The others weren't too sure about me on account of being a woman, they told us to piss off a few times - but they came around after Osferth refused to send me away."

"He's a good lad, Osferth," she nodded.

"Arguably one of the best ones," you agreed, nudging her arm gently, "but look who I'm telling, right?"

"Oh!" She giggled, swatting at you loosely before going back to your work for a moment. Suddenly, the townspeople of Rumcofa stirred to life, and over the voices, you heard them announcing their Lord's return - which meant all of your men were home. You both grinned and breathlessly left your post, Ingrith pausing a young lad to ask, "How many return to us?"

"Does it matter? Come, c'mon, let us see ourselves!" You all but squealed, overwhelmed with excitment; eager for your own reunion with the man you've loved since you were a young lass.

"Warn the alehouse!" Finan was heard shouting. "Osferth's thirsty!"

"Jesus," you laughed, dodging around the procession of people waiting to greet their warriors on their return home so you could approach the white gelding your husband rode.

His face was absolutely priceless when he caught sight of you. As Osferth eagerly dismounted, your hands smoothed over the small swell of your belly - purposefully wearing a dress that accentuated your ever-changing figure. "Am I dreaming?" He laughed, a stablehand taking hold of his horse so his hands were free to caress your belly. "Oh, my God, I'm not, 's real, oh, God," he beamed, laughing with you. "You're pregnant? Truly? Yes? I-I am not - I am not being deceived?"

"No, my love, I guess our prayers were finally heard."

"OH-HOOOO!" You heard Finan holler as Osferth finally pulled you in for a sweet kiss; both ignoring the Irishman. "Lord! LORD! Uhtred! Hey! Did you hear!? Baby Monk's got some spunk in 'im afta all!"

"Oh, God," you laughed against Osferth's lips, but he was quick to shush you with another breath-stealing kiss.

"A baby Baby Monk! AHA!" Finan was still laughing, your husband's hands caressing both your cheeks when he pulled back just in time for Finan to descend. You grunted lightly when his heavy arms dropped over both yours and Osferth's shoulders, his laugh still booming as he gave a squeeze and cooed, "Oh, congratulations, yah two love birds! Wasn't sure you had it innyah, boy!"

"Don't be so rough with her, Finan, for God's sake," Osferth scolded, nudging his friend to get out from under his arm.

"What?" Finan looked at you gobsmacked. "Sayin' I gotta treat yah different now or somethin'?"

"I didn't say that," you told him prettily with fluttering lashes, fist quickly balling up to jab him in the weak spot of his armor - making him grunt and wheeze. "Aht-aht!" You warned with a pointed finger when he flinched as if to retaliate, "Can't hit a pregnant woman."

"Oh, yeh li'l shite," Finan laughed, Osferth pushing him towards his wife so he could stand in front of you and command all attention.

Osferth took a moment to simply look at you; thumbs gently tracing over your cheeks in sweeping motions, a slow grin breaking across his lips. "This almost doesn't feel real... But how I have to praise God for this blessing. A baby," he breathed.

"A little you and me," you agreed softly. "Sound okay to you?"

"More than okay," he chuckled, pecking your lips, "sounds like a lifetime together."

"Good by me." His nose nuzzled up yours, the sweet moment broken when he sighed sadly; eyes shut and smile dropping. "What is it? What's wrong, love?" You asked, stepping into his embrace so you were nuzzled into his neck and his arms were wrapped around your form in a vice.

"Uhtred means to move us again," he whispered in your ear. "Brida, she... She's got Father Pyrlig, and - "

"What!?" You snapped, rearing back slightly to pin him under your hardened glare. Pregnancy hormones would surely give Osferth whiplash.

"My love, I did not - "

"Brida's got Pyrlig? Fuck are we standin' here for, let's go!" You reached for his hand, ready to march off.

"Uh, no, no, no, no," he pulled you back to him; anchoring his hands on your hips so you could not escape. "You are not going anywhere. Not now - especially now," he glanced at your still-growing bump. "The men will go, you know we will return, but you have this new responsibility, and that's keeping this little one safe. For us," he smiled at you.

You huffed, "I'm not unfit to do what needs done, Osferth."

"I did not say you were unfit, but look at the timing of it," he frowned. "I should've been here when you learned, but I was not, and I am truly so sorry for it. Look, I do not know how long this venture will be, but you know I will return. We've waited for our family for far too long, I will not jeopardize this - so I will return. If you go with us, and something were to happen," he shook his head, "my angel, I would never forgive myself. So I need you to stay here, stay safe, if for nothing else but for me."

"But Pyrlig - "

"Will be saved," he assured.

"And Brida - "

"Will be dealt with," he eased, chuckling lightly. "My angel, you worry too much about everyone and yet never about yourself."

You pouted, "Well, why is it just me meant to stay back? This is your child, too, Osferth, and should have the right to meet them! You can't always control what happens, accidents are real, what if you don't return - "

"Don't think like that - "

"But it's a real threat to us - "

He agreed, "Of course, but - "

"Yeah, I know," you nodded, cutting him off, "we serve Lord Uhtred. This comes first, and I'm not - "

"I've made a vow to him."

"You made one to me, too, you know."

"Angel, please, don't do this. Do not ask me to choose," he begged with a frown, and you caved.

So, with a sigh, you nuzzled into his embrace and relented, "All right, yes, fine, go after Brida and Pyrlig. And when you find them, tell him I am waiting for his safe return, he is dearly missed. Ideally, I'd have him birth our child."

"Of course," he breathed, finding a small reprieve of relief that you did not fight him further about leaving - about choosing which vow to fulfill: the one to his Lord Uhtred or the one to his wife.

Both made to God.

Luckily, Osferth married his best friend and you were never one to pick fights with him. You liked the harmony you had; the peaceful environment you had both cultivated to preserve the trust and love you built through the years. He was genuinely one of a kind; a man who walked many lines between faith, humanity, right, wrong. He was the voice of reason, constantly striving to do better than he did before, learning all he could as if a rag soaking in water. For all he was, Osferth has always been enough for you, and for that reason alone, you never felt the need to argue.

To fight. To voice contempt.

"Question," you perked up, smirking at him as your pregnancy symptoms ran a little wild, "think we've time to, you know, really give our thanks?"

"Angel - "

"What?" You grinned. "You fucked me on the alter all those weeks ago and look - your seed stuck. We might as well go give thanks in the same manner, just to really show God how thankful we are for this blessing he's given us."

"Think the Devil's gotten into you," he laughed.

"Or your child is ruining my hormones," you countered, his lips meeting yours in another passionate display of his excitement.

"C'mon," he whispered, taking your hand, and leading you to the chapel - thinking you were being sneaky, but your matching giggles made Ingrith and Finan beam at each other.

"He does know she can't get more pregnant, right?" Finan teased, flinching when Ingrith smacked his upper arm.

"WHY!?"

"My angel, please - "

"What the fuck is going on, Osferth!?"

"I'm trying to explain - "

"The Queen? The fucking Queen is dead in our village! How can that possibly be explained!?" When Osferth didn't answer, just sat in the wooden chair before the shared hearth of your humble home, you snapped, "Well!?"

"Are you finished? May I speak now?"

With a huff, you nodded and gestured for him to speak; arms crossing around your swollen tits. He explained to you the reason for Haesten's arrival, the wagon his men toted, and why he brought the Queen's dead body to the settlement of Rumcofa. He told you Haesten wanted to keep the peace when King Edward found out, claiming Uhtred's son-in-law, Stiorra's husband, Sigtryggr, had ordered this death - thinking war would surely roll over his lands.

You never knew Haesten to be a generous man, nor much of an honest one, but it seemed the severity of the situation made everyone eerily on-edge. Uhtred dispatched his men; leaving Finan and Osferth in the village with you, developing a plan that would save both Saxon and Danish life. And yet, it was all futile when evil forces worked against good.

You didn't feel safe in Rumcofa anymore, there was a stench in the air; tension that mounted to embrace all residents with discomfort. Something was about to happen, but nobody knew what. You didn't claim or pretend to know what was happening, but Haesten's abrupt appearance spelled danger for everyone involved. So, as a security measure, you kept a long sword buckled around your swelling waist and a dagger strapped under your skirts. With Lord Uhtred gone, there was no invisible fence protecting Rumcofa - leaving it up to you, Osferth, Finan, and Cynleaf to pose as guard.

Yet you'd never be enough.

Like the surf over sand, a group of angered men descended on Rumcofa. "Who's men are yah?" Finan asked, you lingering at Osferth's side to watch the interaction from a short distance.

"We come from the King," a burly Saxon replied, your head cocking in interest - swearing you've seen him before. "Dane murderers are hiding here and you must hand them over."

"You're mistaken, sir," you kindly offered, the man's eyes shifting over you, "because we live in peace. Any murderers have surely moved on from here. We do not host them."

The man growled, "Don't think that's true, love."

Finan held a hand back at you, meeting your eyes and nodding simply. He turned back for the man in fur, diverting, "Of course, my men will attend to it."

Finan turned from the group, his eyes connecting with yours as he passed by. There was urgency, a quickened pace he adopted; having no intention to hand anyone over, wanting to remove these men without bloodshed. However, that was a distant thought because Father Benedict tried to assure the Saxon leader that nobody in Rumcofa would murder Queen Aelflaed.

You wanted to step in when the Saxon evidently didn't know about the Queen's demise - getting in Benedict's face and demanding to see what he spoke of.

"No, no, no," you muttered nervously, "he can't see the body, love, no, no, no, this is bad. Very bad."

"We can't stop Father Benedict without altercation," Osferth whispered back, keeping a tight hold of your hand, just watching the group. "If something happens, you need to get yourself safe."

"How do we truly know they're from Edward? What credentials do they have?" When Osferth shook his head, you worried, "Got a bad feeling 'bout this, angel."

Then the violence began.

The strange men took charge when their leader walked away, starting to physically harass the citizens; making both you and Osferth step in to try and diffuse the tension. You pushed men off unarmed women, got in between them and the children, did what you could without drawing a weapon.

When a man shoved you away from him, Finan wrangled him away, sneering, "Get yer hands off of her!" He kept the violent men at bay for a moment, telling you, "You need to go, darling - "

"Not now, Fin, look around us! We need to contain the situation, you'll need all hands you can get," You snapped, the two of you forced to part way.

Osferth panted nervously and looked left and right, turning to meet the Saxon and demand, "Tell your men to stand down!" But then, his eyes squinted when you joined his side to pull him back a step or two, recognizing him just as you did.

"I don't think they're here for the Queen, love," you heaved for breath in warning, still backing him up. "They've planned this."

"Finan!" Osferth barked, "These men have been here before!"

The Saxon roared over the fray, "Danes of Rumcofa have murdered our Queen!" His men jeered in anger, making Finan brandish both swords and for Osferth to push you back further from the attention. "Do your duty and rid the cockles from the wheat!"

You were left no choice. Osferth and you both armed yourselves, starting to fight off the Saxons as their leader demanded Danes and Christians be separated. You were unable to help, engaged in battle, but Young Uhtred gathered the Danes and begged Father Benedict to declare the church a sanctuary - thinking it would save lives.

It was only leading the Danes to slaughter.

The Saxon, Bresal, punched Father Benedict when he tried to stand in the way; his men holding Young Uhtred in the doorway to let their men enter the church the Danes were gathered in. They forced Young Uhtred to watch the massacre - men, women, and Danish children all slaughtered with no escape. No hope. No answer to a single prayer. Nobody to stop this bloody situation.

You fought on, Osferth, Finan, and Cynleaf doing their best to protect you by keeping you in the middle of their wee group. But you still got plenty of action.

"This is madness!" You cried out, slicing a man's throat open. "We need aid! We need more men!"

"This way!" Finan encouraged, "We must cut a path for Ingrith! Check the docks! Check the docks!"

You and Osferth ran towards the water, Cynleaf not far away. You searched for Ingrith, but you had no time to linger; engaged one-on-one again, forced to protect yourself and unborn baby. Not a minute later, you saw Ingrith on horseback, being stalled by a Saxon and for your husband to rush to her aid. He punched the man away from the horse, you hacking at another enemy, in time to see Osferth engaging with two Saxons - one being the leader, Bresal.

It all happened so fast.

You were already racing towards them when the unexpected. Osferth was battling on two fronts, holding Bresal at bay, fending off the other Saxon, screaming for Ingrith, who only managed a few paces before the Saxon's dogs spooked her horse. The noise was deafening; people screaming, crying, dogs barking, horses whinnying, swords singing as they clashed.

You watched it happen in slow motion.

You sprinted faster than ever before.

"INGRITH!" Osferth bellowed in worry when her horse reared back and dropped her to the dirt. It left an opening for Bresal to stab his dagger into Osferth's lung - freezing time and wrecking your world.

"NO!" You screamed, Bresal smirking at you and yanking his dagger free. Osferth wobbled, eyes wide as he met yours, the Saxon walking away as Osferth dropped to his knees. "No, no, no, no, no, no, no! Oh, God, no, no, you can't take him - not yet! Please, no, no, no, no, no, no, no, no," You repeated, sliding on your knees in the dirt to catch him. "No, no, oh, my God, no, Osferth, no, please! Not now, not now, please, no, God, no! Don't do this! Please, please, please," you rambled, readjusting to better hold him, hearing Cynleaf and Finan yell for Baby Monk, too. You raged at God, "You can't take him yet! You can't have him! He's mine!"

But you heard nothing except your husband's labored breathing.

"An-Angel, angel, my angel," Osferth choked, wheezing and crying as he couldn't hold himself up and completely slumped back into your body. He pawed at your arms in an attempt to get closer.

"No, no, no, you're all right, you're okay, you're okay, my sweet love, you're all right," you insisted, hands stained in his blood as it poured from his wound. You knew it was essential to add pressure to a wound, but also, that this was all futile. Yet you needed to try. "Hey, hey, hey, look at me, just look at me, sweetheart, please, only look at me, nothing else matters," you pleaded with him in a rush, the lads sprinting to where you held your husband to your lap.

Nobody interrupted you.

"Where's the wound?" Osferth sobbed, trembling, blood spurting from his mouth; going paler by the minute. "Angel, please, the wound? Where's the wound?"

"No, no, no, don't worry 'bout that, hey? Don't you worry, you just keep looking at me," you sobbed, holding his neck and cradling him to your swollen belly. "Just at me, my love, okay? Just look at me - don't look anywhere else, okay? Nothing else matters."

"H-How bad? How ba-ba-bad-bad is i-it?"

"You're going to be all right," you lied to Osferth for the first time.

"Oh, my God, oh, my God," Osferth repeated through his tears and fears, "I'm gonna die, I'm gonna die."

He held onto you desperately, sobbing, you slowly rocking. "No, you're all right, Osferth, it's okay, just look at me." You caressed his cheek, smearing blood, but locking eyes. "My love," you whispered, "listen to me - "

"I don't wanna die, please, please, angel, my love, please," he coughed, holding your arm tightly as if it would give him life. "Don't let me die," he wheezed, "don't let me die, my love, please, please. Don't let me die, I don't wanna die. I-I wanna meet our baby, please, I want to meet our baby, I want to be a father. Don't let me die, love, please, I-I wanna be your husband longer - "

"You'll never not be my husband and you'll never not be a father, hear me?" You sniffled, trying to smile at him. "Don't you worry, you're gonna be okay, you're okay, Osferth. You'll always be my husband, nothing will change that - I swear."

Blood pumped with each beat of his frantic heart, making it gush over your fingers. You didn't even feel it.

"Please," he choked, more blood bubbling from his lips, "don't let me die, I don't wanna die. Don't let me die, please, not now, not when our baby isn't here yet, please, I just wanna meet 'em, be a family, I wanna stay with you, don't let me go. Please, don't let me go, I don't want t'go! Don't let me - "

"Shh, it's okay, you're okay. I'm here with you. I'm right here, Osferth, you're not alone, you're never alone. I'm here. I've got you. I'll always have you, I won't ever let you go. Never."

He sobbed harder. "I don't wanna leave you. Please, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna be without you - " But the words choked him, a splatter spraying across your face when he coughed; you didn't even flinch.

"Listen to me," you begged, "I commend you, my dear, sweet husband, to Almighty God, and entrust you to your Creator."

Finan was heard behind you, retching jarring sobs as you read Osferth his death rite prayer. "Don't let me die," Osferth begged still, as if you held that power.

He had always looked at you as if you hung the sun and stars, and now, as if you were his very reason for living. You hated God in that moment for forcing you two through this.

"May you return to Him who formed you from the dust of the earth. May Holy Mary, the angels," now, you choked on your words, emotion clawing your throat, but still continued, "and all the saints come to meet you as you go forth from this life. May Christ who was crucified for you bring you freedom and peace." You sobbed, "May Christ who died for you admit you into His garden of paradise. May Christ, the true Shepherd, acknowledge you as one of His flock. May He forgive all your sins, and set you among those He has chosen. Amen. Please, please, say amen, Osferth, say it, please!"

"A-Amen - Amen!" He coughed, trying to get closer to you, nestling into your warmth as he felt impossibly cold. "Don't leave me, don't leave me, please, please, I don't wanna go, I don't wanna be alone. I can't go without you, please, don't let me go - don't let me die, angel, please, I can't go without you. I-I’ve never been without you my whole life, I don’t wish to start now. I love you. I-I love you, please, don't let me go, I love you. I need you."

"You'll never be without me," you promised, face coated in blood, grime, dirt, and ash; all streaked with your tear tracks. "You will always be my husband, hey? Hear me? You're always gonna be with me, I will never be apart from you. I'll love you forever, Osferth, I won't ever stop." You felt your chest cave in as you sobbed, "Please, don't you leave me - "

But Osferth was wheezing and panting, only staring up at you. "I only need you," he whimpered, "I've only ever needed you, I can't do this without you. Please, I can't - I can't go without you. I don't want to leave you, I can't leave you, please!'

"So don't leave me," you sobbed, him still clawing at you in desperation. "I love you more than life, Osferth, please, don't leave me, okay? Don't go. I love you so much. Being loved by you was my greatest pleasure in this life, I want our child to know your love, too, Osferth, please, don't go."

"I-I wanna meet our baby, I wanna hold 'em, love 'em," he repeated. "Please, this can't be the end, don't let this be the end. W-We have so much more - we were supposed to have eternity together, my love, my angel, please! This isn't the end, I can't - I can't go without you!"

"You're okay," you soothed uselessly, rocking more prominently. "Just stay with me, my love, okay? Stay with me. Don't go. Only look at me, all right? You hear me?" You sniffled, caressing his cheek. "You're the best thing in my life, Osferth, yeah? Understand me? Where you're going, y-you'll be welcomed a hero, with open arms. You'll be my own angel. My real angel. The reason I keep going for our child. An-And you'll stay there just for a little while until I join you, okay? You'll watch over us, me and the baby, right? Our own angel? Hey? 'Cause you'll never be part from us - you'll never be apart from me. You and I are a forever sorta thing, we'll never be apart, we'll always be part of each other no matter what."

Osferth lost his words, eyes widening and pulling you closer.

You just soothed, "I'm here with you, my love. I'm here, I've got you. You're not alone, I'm right here, I have you. I've got you. I love you. I love you so fucking much, Osferth, okay? I love you more than anything, you're my everything. I love you," you sniffled, breaking down in worse sobs, repeating, "I love you, I love you, I love you so much, I'm so sorry, I'm so sorry I wasn't faster, I love you, this shouldn't be happening. I'm so sorry, I should've come faster! I love you, I'm so sorry."

With his last breath, Osferth choked, "L-Love y-y-you."

"I love you," you hushed, bending at the waist to rest your forehead on his, "I love you so much. You're gonna be okay, you're gonna be all right, you'll be safe - where you're going, you'll be safe. I'm so sorry, my love... I'm so sorry."

You felt him go still. You felt the last of his breath exhale, his body deflate. You felt his soul detach from his body.

You froze.

"Oh, my God," you breathed, pulling back to look down at his petrified features. "Oh, my God, no, no, no. God, please, please, give him back," you sobbed, "give him back to me! Do not take him! It's not his time, you selfish cunt! Give him back! It wasn't supposed to end like this! Give him back to me, please! Please! This isn't how this was supposed to happen! We promised eternity together, please! Let us have that! Let us be together, give him back to me! I need him!"

Your shrill hysterics were heard all over Rumcofa.

Finan sobbed into his wife's arms behind you, Cynleaf knelt to slowly extend his hand onto your shoulder. "I'm so sorry," he offered, but you pushed him away harshly; knocking him into the dirt.

"No! I don't want your fucking condolences!" You snapped, holding Osferth tighter, "I want my husband! I want my husband back! Can you give him to me? Can you, Cynleaf? Can you give him back to me!?"

"No - "

"Then you have nothing to offer me! I want nothing else, nothing from you! I only want him!" You looked away from the young lad, finding Osferth's wide open eyes staring up at you. You whimpered, "I only need him, so, please. Please, give him back to me. Please. I need him, I need him, I can't do this without him, please, God, don't do this. You take so many lives, why add him to the mix!? Give him back! C'mon," you begged the cooling body, "c'mon, love, get up. Get up for me, please, just wake up. Come back to me, get up... Get up, Osferth, get up! Please! WAKE UP!"

But Osferth never moved. Never blinked. Never drew breath. And God never answered your pleas. Your dress was saturated in your husband's blood; a pooling puddle seeping into your knees, bodice drenched, his baby moving in your belly. You wailed into the still air, holding your husband tight to your chest; mouth agape to release the terrible screams of anguish, tears never ending, rocking on your knees. You didn't know what to feel... But devastation was prominent.

You wept until your throat went raw, jaw tender from your open mouth. "I'm so sorry!" You repeated, "I should've been quicker! I should've been at your side! You shouldn't have been alone! This is my fault! This is all my fault, I shouldn't have been away from you. I should've been with you, you did not deserve this end. Please! Forgive me, wherever you are, forgive me, I did not intend for this, I shouldn't have left you, I should've been at your side, I'm so sorry. This is all my fault, I'm so sorry."

"No," Ingrith whispered, "no, do not say this is your fault, you did nothing - "

"Exactly!" You snapped at her, eyes ablaze, her husband silent. "I did nothing, I wasn't with him! I wasn't where I was supposed to be! And he was stabbed because of you!"

Finan whispered your name in reprimand.

"No! How many times have you rode a fucking horse, Ingrith!? And now, today, the time it truly matters, you fall; you posed distraction," you sobbed, crumpling in on yourself. "He was distracted by your fall... This shouldn't've happened, this is all wrong!"

The trio just watched you, knowing your emotions were raw and unwavering, that your words did not have meaning because your husband had just died in your arms. Hours passed, you did not move. Hours passed, your husband did not return. Hours passed, and your heart shattered with each passing breath you selfishly drew.

Because living felt selfish now without Osferth.

"Sweet one," Finan whispered, the sun setting, "we should move him. Bring him to the church so Benedict can pray."

Your head shook, "No."

"Darlin', we have to - "

"No," you whimpered, "because if you take him to Benedict, it's real. If we move, he's truly gone... He can't be gone, Finan," you sobbed, meeting your friend's eyes. "If you move him, he's gone, I'm not ready to say goodbye, please. Please, don't take him from me."

"I'm so sorry," he whispered, "but he should be laid to rest."

"Don't take him from me," you begged, a new wave of tears starting. "I just - we were supposed to be a family. We were supposed to have this baby, and now, it's just me? This cannot be, so please, don't take him from me, I only need him back. Give him back to me, Finan, please, I can't be without him."

"I know," he nodded, gently encouraging you into his embrace. It meant you had to let go of Osferth, something you did slowly and gradually, leaning into the Irishman's chest. "All right, I got yah," he whispered, looking to his wife. "C'mon, stand with Ingrith. I'll carry him."

"Be gentle," you sobbed, feeling Ingrith grip your arms to help heave you to your feet; watching Finan scoop Osferth over his shoulder. The change of position made more blood splatter to the dirt, your heart stalling in your chest when you heard the mess.

You felt your soul shriveled and hidden somewhere deep in your chest, following as if in a trance. You watched Finan and Cynleaf slowly lower Osferth to the ground with the other dead Danes, feeling yourself drop to the ground in shock.

Seeing Osferth amongst the dead made it so much more real.

"It's all my fault," you sobbed, Finan moving to your side, "it's all my fault, I got him killed. I should've been quicker. This is my fault, my fault, I did this, 's my fault."

Finan knelt beside you, bringing your foreheads together to hold you tightly and let you sob into his embrace. "You didn't do this," he promised, "you did nothing wrong. You are not at fault. Do not carry this guilt."

You sobbed without reprieve.

Young Uhtred halted Father Benedict from praying over the Danes, telling the older man they had different customs, but looked back at you. He asked your name softly, wondering, "Do you wish for a prayer for... Him?"

Even Young Uhtred couldn't stomach the truth, avoiding using Osferth's name out of sheer disbelief.

"That'd be nice," Finan agreed, turning to sit beside you and hold you under his arm. You leaned into his embrace, head to his shoulder. "She read him his death rites when... It happened."

Young Uhtred nodded, bowing his head, leading, "Our Father, Who art in heaven, Hallowed be Thy Name. Thy Kingdom come, Thy Will be done, On earth as it is in Heaven. Give us this day, our daily bread, And forgive us our trespasses, as we forgive those who trespass against us. And lead us not into temptation, but deliver us from evil."

Then, you joined from under Finan's heavy arm, sobbing through your words, "Hail Mary, Full of Grace, The Lord is with thee. Blessed art thou among women, and blessed is the fruit of thy womb, Jesus. Holy Mary, Mother of God, pray for us sinners, now, and at the hour of our death."

Benedict finished, "Glory Be to the Father, and to the Son, and to the Holy Spirit. As it was in the beginning, is now, and ever shall be, world without end."

Together, you, Ingrith, Young Uhtred, Benedict, Finan, and even Cynleaf ended, "Amen."

Feeling the most level-headed, Ingrith stepped in and directed the men; informing that Young Uhtred should lead the remaining Danes to Daneland, Finan and Cynleaf would meet Uhtred on the road, and she would accompany you to Wessex - where Osferth could be laid to rest at the place of his birth. Then, the people mourned together for their fallen.

Finan disagreed initially, telling his wife you were his responsibility now that Osferth was passed. But there was no way you could continue with the company, not in your pregnant state. Finan didn't like the idea of you being without him, considering you close to a sister; something of a best mate, someone he couldn't turn his back on - no matter the situation. However, he understood the predicament and finally agreed to part ways, but not before he untied Osferth's crucifix and latched it around your neck. At the gates of Rumcofa, before separating, Finan gifted you his rosary; thinking it might bring comfort in his physical absence.

Years from then, you would bring up a single son named Gabriel (a name your husband favored, a name benefitting an Angel) under Lord Uhtred in his birthplace of Bebbanburg. You never remarried. You never even so much as looked after another man with lust. Gabriel would grow into a handsome warrior and a devoted man of God, satisfied on tales about his father; being painted as a man of honor, integrity, and bravery. Osferth, too, was a man of God, a man of the sword, and a man of his word... Until the very end. And when your time came, you were brought back to Wessex to be laid to rest with your husband; your son having a son, naming him Osferth, and knowing, both his parents shined down on him in pride.

It was a comfort for everyone to know, somewhere in the afterlife, in God's warmth, you and Osferth were reunited; looking just as you did the day you parted from one another.

requesting rules and masterlist

#osferth #baby monk #osferth the last kingdom #the last kingdom osferth #osferth x reader #osferth fanfic #osferth x you #osferth x y/n #osferth angst #ewan mitchell characters #the last kingdom #TLK #tlk fandom #tlk #tlk osferth #osferth tlk #tlk fanfic #baby monk osferth #osferth baby monk #ewan mitchell

[veetyuh]

I'm reminded of that "antishipping isn't purity culture because it isn't conservative christianity" post... And I think I've done some unpacking on why it triggers me so much.

I was an intersex child shoved into the role of a female, in a rural & conservative Christian environment. I've had not just purity culture shoved down my throat, but also the shame of not being able to meet the expectations put on women in that environment.

It's not just cover up, slut. That implies I had something to show off, to begin with. And men still want to ogle you and imagine what your body is like beneath that modest dress. So here, literal child. Have this shapewear to make your figure conform to that of a developing middle school female's under your clothes.

It's contradictory that way. You have to try to be unappealing to not 'tempt' men, but you still need to be appealing in the sense of conventional female attractiveness. Moreover, you must not think about men or sex at all. But you cannot be asexual — your parents demand grandchildren.

Antis do the same with their queer representation. It's the same contradictory expectations... They champion the idea of breaking societal norms through queerness (i.e. the idea of 'queer as in fuck you'), then demand that every nuclear family norm be met. Queer characters must be disruptive without actually disrupting anything. And the contradictions apply to fans, too — you're homophobic if you don't like a canon queer ship, and you're fetishistic if you like queer ships too much. (There are more, but I'd be stuck here forever if I listed them all. 😅)

There's also the obvious — fictional sins being as bad as things done in real life. There's Matthew 5, which includes so many popular verses about thought control that Christians use, and equates bad thought to bad doing.

27 “You have heard that it was said, ‘You shall not commit adultery.’ 28 But I tell you that anyone who looks at a woman lustfully has already committed adultery with her in his heart. 29 If your right eye causes you to stumble, gouge it out and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to be thrown into hell. 30 And if your right hand causes you to stumble, cut it off and throw it away. It is better for you to lose one part of your body than for your whole body to go into hell.

And fuck if antis aren't cutting off their entire goddamn arm and gouging out both eyes.

It's not just purity culture they embody, though — it's the satanic panic, too. Good lord the amount of times my grandma wouldn't let me watch Ghost Hunters because she thought I was welcoming demons into the home, or her concern for me watching horror movies because I'd surely become more violent. It's the same shit, different horse.

On a more light-hearted note, they play the same game that Christian demoninations do, too. I was Baptist, and considered the Methodists okay. But the Catholics? No, keep that shit away from me. Why are you worshipping Mary? That's idolatry! How horrible, to openly spit in God's face. When I read antis' DNI lists rattling off forbidden, unredeemable fandoms, it feels the same way, haha.

But what really seals the deal for me is how they smile in your face and promise they're just looking out for you. Christians do that, too. "We want you to get better. We want to help you. You're on a dark path." While they break your bones to force you into their mold. You may not be hurting anyone on your dark path, but they'll convince you that you ARE. You're hurting yourself "spiritually," you're hurting the community, your family, by being an abomination to God. You're hurting everyone and yourself, you just need us to help you realize it. Antis feel the exact same. I block them pre-emptively because I cannot handle having that shit directed at me again.

Moreover, their insults feel the same. The childish "icky," the ad hominems. It's too reminiscent for me. Of my mom hating my icky facial hair and my classmates making fun of my masc traits when they thought I couldn't hear; you are a gross person!!1! Ew!!!

It's funny that antis are so often anti-kink, considering they're so fucking intent on giving me a golden shower and telling me it's rain. I hope they're careful not to choke on the homophobic, pedophilic pastor cock they're sucking.

#proship #excuse my rambling

[sunfyresrider]

A Helping Hand | Alicent Hightower

Tags: porn with plot, Alicent being a tad creepy, voyeurism, masturbation, cunnilingus, fingering, we all need a friend like her! Word Count: 2364 Author’s Note: My short return to the hotd fandom!! (It’s a scary place.) I noticed I’m vastly better at writing intimate scenes between women than men🤔

One of Alicent’s favorite places to relax and relieve the stresses of the day was at the private sauna within her luxury apartment building. The old cooks that lived near her rarely ever used it, making it a place of solitude. That day was no different; Alicent stripped out of her usual expensive fabrics and put on a silk robe, packing her bag with the essentials and making her way to her place of solace.

As she approached she was pulled from her peaceful thoughts, her ears catching an almost inaudible noise. Someone, more specifically a female, was in the sauna. She pressed her head against the wall, listening intently to the sound. They were none other than muffled sighs of pleasure and quiet whimpers. Whoever it was, they sounded like they were having fun. Alicent peeked around the corner, and just as suspected, the door was cracked, and the light shone through the gap, revealing her friendly neighbor.

You looked nubile and young, the heat of the sauna made your skin shine with sweat and the flush in your cheeks was mesmerizing. Alicent watched your heaving chest with desire, your breasts bouncing freely, only constricted by a pair of bikini bottoms. Your legs were stretched out in front of you, as you rubbed your clit through the thin fabric, your head tilted backwards.

Alicent didn't know why, but she felt like a voyeur. You were too beautiful to ignore, and watching you pleasure yourself, hearing the lewd sounds your pussy made her mouth water. You were having trouble finishing, the thin layer of fabric separating you from your climax only working to frustrate you further. Your moans of pleasure quickly turned into a sigh of annoyance, you began to sit up, preparing to leave and give up on yourself.

She was nothing if not generous and Alicent owed you quite a lot, always offering your help in taking her dog out for walks or babysitting her children. If there was any time to repay your kindness, it was now. Her eyes locked with your wide ones as you looked up in shock, you just got caught!

She stepped out into the open and slowly closed the door behind her. Alicent let you admire her, watching you gulp, your eyes darting from her hardened nipples to the sash keeping her robe closed. “Having trouble?” She asked, slowly making her way to your spot on the bench, careful to stay within your view as she sat next to you.

You didn't know how to respond, all you knew was that this woman was as gorgeous as she was intimidating. And this was one of the most embarrassing moments of your existence. “M-Mrs. Hightower, I- I didn’t-” She cut you off with a smirk, a soft laugh escaping her. Alicent reached behind her and grabbed a bottle of massage oil, slowly pulling it from her bag. “No need to apologize, I’ve seen worse in my years.” She pushed a stray strand of hair behind your ear as she looked at you, her eyes flickering from your face to your chest, back to your eyes. “I can help you, if you want. It's the least I can do for all the work you do for me.” She trailed the tips of her fingers across your jaw as she spoke.

Your mouth felt like sandpaper, the heat of the sauna making your skin flush more than ever. You swallowed thickly as you looked at her, your mind swimming. What was the harm? You always thought Alicent was gorgeous, you only did those tasks to be able to get her attention, but now that she was sitting in front of you, it was difficult to speak. “Y-yes please,” you managed to stutter out.

Alicent flashed you a toothy grin and stood up, her fingers slowly undoing the sash of her robe as she looked down at you. She stepped closer and pressed the fabric against your chest, slowly sliding the robe down off her shoulders, exposing herself to you. Your eyes couldn't help but fall to her breasts, they were so round and full, your eyes never seen such perfection. Whatever issue you had with becoming turned on was washed away.

She leaned forward and pressed a gentle kiss to the top of your head. You let out a quiet gasp as her breasts pressed against your bare skin, she let out a giggle at your reaction. Her hands slipped under the strings, unhooking them as she whispered into your ear, “don’t be shy, it’s just me love.” Alicent continued to press gentle kisses against your cheeks as she slowly pulled the strings apart, exposing your breasts to the steamy room. She sighed in approval at your perfect form, letting her hands wander over your body.

Alicent slowly pressed you down on your back, you gazing up at her in awe. She grabbed the massage oil, dripping the cool liquid across your chest, coating her own hands. “It’s good to take things slow at first,” she spoke as she began massaging the oil into your skin, focusing on your breasts. You whimpered at the sudden contact, it had been so long since someone touched you like this, you couldn't help but melt under her skilled hands

Alicent looked over your body, licking her lips as she saw you respond to her touch. She needed to see you cum, and the only way she was going to do that was to work her way between your legs. Her hands worked unbearably slow as she massaged lower down your body, spreading it across your navel and thighs. She paused for a moment, enjoying the sight of you laying in front of her.

You looked up at her with pleading eyes, she was so close yet so far from where you needed her. Her eyes never left yours as she leaned forward, kissing your neck. Your breathing hitched in your throat as her teeth scraped against your skin. She continued to press open-mouthed kisses, moving from your neck to your breasts, taking your hard nipple into her mouth and suckling on it.

You let out a quiet gasp, your fingers tangling into Alicent's soft hair. Her hands finally slipped under the thin fabric, and you could feel her fingertips brushing your clit as she wettened the area. Purposefully massaging everything besides your sex.

Alicent pulled away from you with a wet pop, a smile spreading across her face as you tried to catch your breath. She gave you another gentle kiss before she sat up, sprawling your legs across her lap as she slowly slipped off your bottoms. Alicent smirked down at your dripping cunt, “such a beautiful pussy.” Her fingers brushed against it, causing you to buck your hips into her hand. She shushed you softly and stroked your cheek with her other hand, reassuring you as she massaged your lips.

“P-please,” you whimpered out, desperate to be touched by her. Alicent let out a quiet laugh. She pressed a finger against your entrance, testing the waters, before slowly pushing into you. She curled her finger, her eyes glazing over as you clenched around her. Alicent slowly pumped her finger into you, waiting for your breathing to slow down, her other hand still holding your cheek. Your eyes were heavy-lidded as she slipped in a second finger, poking at your spongy spot.

You mewled at the stimulation, She leaned forward again, this time her lips wrapping around your nipple, taking it into her mouth. Alicent swirled her tongue around the hardened nub, her hand beginning to move faster, her other hand sliding down your stomach. Her nimble fingers circling your clit, teasing it softly.

You let out a loud moan, your body beginning to tremble, your walls began to tighten around her fingers. Alicent didn't stop, continuing her ministrations, desperate to bring you to your peak. "That's it, youre doing so good for me baby," she cooed to you, her breath hot on your skin. The sauna quickly became filled with lewd noise, her fingers pumping in and out of you. Alicent let out a low growl, "you gonna cum for me?" She asked, her voice deep and sultry.

You looked down at her, your eyes meeting her hungry gaze. She pressed your clit harder, her fingers circling faster as you stared at her. You let out a loud moan, “Y-yes m’gonna cum.” She leaned forward again, capturing your lips in a passionate kiss, your tongues meeting for the first time. You mewled into her mouth, her fingers repeatedly hitting your sweet spot.

Your back arched off the bench as your orgasm washed over you, a loud moan leaving your lips. You came hard against Alicent's fingers, her lips swallowing every sound you made. She continued to rub your clit, helping you ride it out as she helped you through it. "Good girl," she cooed, peppering kisses all over your body as she slowly pulled her fingers from you. She brought her hand to her mouth, sucking your juices from her fingers, humming quietly. She opened her mouth, a loud pop following, pushing her fingers into your mouth.

“You taste so good, baby. I wanna taste more of you," she pureed as she pressed wet kisses onto your ear, “sit on my face, please.” You blinked away your post-orgasm haze, Alicent's words ringing in your head. "O-okay." You stuttered out, lifting yourself off the bench, standing in front of her. You could hear the excitement in her voice as she shuffled backward on the bench, giving you enough room to straddle her head. Face sitting was a first for you and you couldn’t help but be nervous.

You were in a state of limbo, too embarrassed to make the first move, so Alicent did for you. “Trust me love, you won’t crush me.” She wrapped her arms around your thighs, pulling your dripping cunt down to her waiting mouth. You sat your knees on the bench, hovering over her head waiting for what to do next. She looked up at you with a mischievous smile, licking her lips before leaning forward and running her tongue through your folds. She let out a low groan as you came in contact with her lips, your juices coating her tongue.

“O-oh fuck!” You moaned out, placing a hand on the back of her head. The feeling of her tongue against your sensitive clit was more than you could bear. Alicent gripped your hips tighter and sucked at your aching bud, “you have another in there for me? Don’t you?” She asked, a smirk forming on her lips as you whimpered above her, “m’yes, Mrs. Hightower.” She ran her tongue along your folds, swirling around your clit, slowly pushing her tongue into your hole. You clenched around her tongue, the sensation making you quiver.

You couldn't take the teasing, Alicent could feel you begin to tremble, "Please!" You begged. "Use your words, baby." She purred, pressing wet kisses along your thighs. "L-let me cum." You practically moaned out, desperation lacing your voice. Alicent quickly complied, pulling your thighs closer and burying her face into your cunt. She pushed her tongue back into you, your head spinning as you fell forward, grabbing the bench above her head. You let out a loud whimper as she wrapped her lips around your clit, her tongue flicking against it.

You began to grind against her face, coating her in your juices. Alicent’s tongue skillfully moved against you as she sucked, your fingers tangling in her hair. You began to tremble, her nose brushing against your clit with every movement. Her hands slowly crept down her stomach, massaging her own clit. "A-Alicent," you choked out, your grip in her hair tightening.

She pushed you against her, continuing her oral assault as she continued to finger her own sensitive spots, "I know, baby.” She cooed. Alicent let out a whimper of her own as she began to approach her finish, the vibrations of her voice making your eyes roll into the back of your head. Alicent's movements became more erratic, she sucked your clit into her mouth, swirling her tongue around your sensitive bud. You gripped the bench tighter, your walls beginning to tighten as you got closer.

“You gonna come with me, sweetheart?” She asked, her voice muffled. "I-I- yes!" You choked out, your legs beginning to shake, your body starting to feel like jelly. Alicent gave a low hum in approval, you could feel her smirk against you as you began to fall over the edge. Her tongue skillfully worked faster, her own moans of pleasure radiating through you.

You felt her legs tremble, Alicent's eyes screwed shut as she came undone. She let out a loud gasp, her lips connecting with your clit again, continuing to lap at it. Your walls tightened around her tongue, her moans vibrating against you, forcing you to cum. You threw your head back, your mouth falling open in a silent scream as you came, Alicent drinking up all of your ecstasy. She slowed her ministrations, languidly kissing and licking your slit as you came down from your high.

She continued her soft licks until you moved off of her, collapsing on the bench beside her, panting heavily. Alicent quickly recovered, her face plastered in a Cheshire grin as she rolled onto her side to face you. She leaned forward, kissing your forehead, her hand playing with a lock of your hair. "I'm sure you're exhausted, i’ll help you get cleaned up. You can use my jacuzzi if you’d like," she offered, kissing your lips. You couldn't help but melt under her touch, she was so gentle and caring.

“Yes, Mrs. Hightower,” you murmured in reply. She let out a soft laugh at your response, giving you another quick kiss. “No please, call me Ali now.” You couldn't help but grin at her request, nodding your head in reply.

#Alicent hightower #alicent hightower x reader #Alicent hightower x you #alicent hightower fanfic #alicent hightower smut #alicent hightower imagine #hotd fic

[roger-that-cap]

delicate

bradley bradshaw x fem!reader

warnings: cheating (it’s not bradley who does it but it is on the reader), slight emotional cheating, alcohol use, uh that’s it really! unedited as always!

word count: 4.4k

summary: bradley bradshaw has a best friend. he is also in love with his best friend. it’s a shame that everything’s just a little too delicate to mess with.

the way that i’m actively participating in this fandom is literally so funny to me considering i swore off posting my work in any fandom in like 2022 but here we are. my obsession with the white man with the mustache cannot be thwarted by words of the past. or the man with the cute glasses. or the cocky one with the toothpick. but we’ll take it one day at a time

also this is inspired by delicate by taylor swift ofc 🤪 this is for all my lover girls/boys/friends who want hot guys to dream of them. we are cut from the same cloth and we are two sides of the same coins.

Bradley Bradshaw was an outgoing guy. He was the guy that stopped the music just so that he could put on a show of his own. He was the guy that walked in late, expected attention, and got it. He was the guy that took other people out of their shells. He was confident in a way that was endearing. He was steady on his feet and he never faltered.

Until he met you.

The first time he saw you at the Hard Deck, he was intimidated. You were having so much fun on your own with your little group, clearly civilians who ended up in a bar full of sharks in uniform. That first night, all he did was look from afar.

The second time he saw you, your group was a little smaller, but you were still sporting that same smile. He was close enough to hear you turn a few men down over the course of the night, and that was enough to throw him off again. If it was meant to be, he’d see you again, he thought to himself.

And then he saw you again.

It was the night Penny finally put a karaoke machine in the bar. Bradley managed to convince all of the squad to come, simply because he scheduled himself for at least 3 songs. So they all showed up, and just as he was about to start thinking of what his opener was going to be, the bar music stopped and the karaoke machine started playing, accompanied with girly laughter.

There you were. Standing right at the front of the room with sunglasses over your face and a mic to your lips, fighting a smile as you started a one woman rendition of “End Game” by Taylor Swift.

It was clear by the grin on your face that you were doing it purely to make your friends laugh. He watched you in awed silence, dancing all over the small space and laughing when you took a misstep.

“She’s more ballsy than even you, Bradshaw,” Hangman said, nodding up to you dancing. “Or maybe the word is obnoxious.”

“She’s so cute,” Natasha said, laughing. “I love it.”

“Big reputation, BIG reputation,” you were saying into the mic, leaning halfway over.

“I’d have to be so drunk to do that,” Bob muttered to himself, but even he couldn’t deny the guts it took to go up there even as a joke.

The song ended, and you kindly handed the mic to the man standing at the machine, a sheepish look on your face until you were surrounded by your laughing friends.

“You gonna top that, Bradshaw?” Jake asked, and then Bradley looked over at you again, still smiling.

“I’ll let the bar cool down and prepare for me,” Bradley said, still looking over at you. It was then that Jake caught him.

“Why don’t you go talk to her?”

“Huh?”

“You should talk to her,” Jake repeated, and Bradley frowned at him. “She's pretty. Looks nice enough.” There was a pause, and then that ever-mocking smirk that came to haunt everyone’s dreams. It meant Jake was up to something. “Or I will.”

So, he did. He walked up to you, thinking it couldn’t possibly be that bad. The worst thing you could do was say “no”, and he would take that in stride. He never had to before, but he would if it meant he could just talk to you. Just see.

He was walking up to you, coming from behind, and then it was like you knew he was coming, because you whipped right around. And then he caught your eyes and all he could say was, “I love your hair.”

He kicked himself in that moment, but he realized afterwards that was probably what saved him. It was a strange comment, but it was better than a sleazy one. It was probably the only reason you didn’t tell him to leave you alone right away.

“Thanks!” You looked him up and down, but it wasn’t super flirtatious- you were just looking, like you were searching for a genuine compliment to give him. You just looked so sweet. “That mustache and shirt combo is awesome. I wish I could pull off colors like you.”

And that was the story of how you and Bradley became close friends. In the beginning, he told himself that he was okay with being just friends with the pretty middle school teacher. He was totally okay with you having a boyfriend, because he was your friend, and only that. But every time he saw you smile and laugh or how passionate you were while creating your lesson plans, he couldn’t help but know that he was lying to himself.

It didn’t help that your boyfriend was a piece of shit. Originally he wasn’t one outright, it was just the little things. He walked on the wrong side of the sidewalk. Bradley witnessed him make you split the tab at the bar. He had a wandering eye. He touched you only when another man got close, almost like he was guarding a treasure rather than protecting the love of his life. It was all wrong, and it all left a sour taste in Bradley's mouth.

The sour taste only got worse when five months into knowing you, that same good for nothing boyfriend of yours got another girl pregnant.

Bradley could have sworn that he was going to get discharged for beating up an enlisted man the first time he heard the news. You were crying, bawling your eyes out over the phone in the middle of the night, crying so hard you were nearly throwing up. You told him that you were calling him because you had nowhere to go and you had to get out of your house. He didn’t blame you. In fact, he had never driven so fast.

So, you stayed at his house that night. One night turned into three, and then three nights turned into a week, and it snowballed from there. At first, it was easy to hide his feelings. You were sad, and making a move was the last thing on his mind. All he wanted was for you to feel better, and soon you eventually did. But his selfish mind almost wished that you never had, because the second you started smiling again in his house, in such close quarters to each other, he felt his resolve slipping.

He felt the words coming on the tip of his tongue every morning. You left earlier than him to go to your classroom and set up, and you always left coffee out for him. Sometimes you made his eggs if you had enough time. You made dinner more often than not, insisting on doing that if he wasn’t going to charge you for staying with him. And then you would pick the best movies and you liked the ones he picked, too. You sang in the shower and the bathroom you used always had makeup and face wash and a comb in it, but you still kept it neat. The words were close to escaping his mouth, but when he clamped his teeth down and held it in, it made that same sour taste that your boyfriend did.

That very sour taste in his mouth was there at the bar when he realized he was watching you far too often for it to be friendly. The last thing he wanted to do was make it seem like he was trying to make a move on you while you were clearly still trying to get over what your ex had done.

“You’d better get your girl, Bradshaw,” Jake drawled, and Bradley rolled his eyes.

“She’s not my girl and she’s a grown woman, she can do what she wants,” he said tiredly, his voice so monotonous that the words sounded rehearsed. He knew that all his friends knew that they were, and it seemed like everyone but you had caught on to the hopeless romantic act he was hiding.

“Well, she never drinks and she doesn’t look like she’s handling it too well.” And then Bradley’s head whipped to the side, just where he knew you were.

Just as Jake said, you were walking up to the karaoke machine, an equally drunk Natasha by your side as you looked through the selection, no doubt about to pick something obnoxious. You weren’t as alert as you usually were, and it worried him. You hated being out of it, that’s why you never drank. He walked up to you quickly, knowing that if you started a song there was no taking you away until it was over.

“Hey, sweetheart,” Bradley said from behind you, and he saw your shoulders tense. “I think it’s time to wrap it up.”

“Wrap it up?” You slurred, looking up at him with those pretty eyes that always made his heart skip a beat. “Wrap it up?!” Natasha grimaced at you and then at him, already knowing exactly where it was going. “You know who didn’t wrap it up-”

“It’s okay, that’s not what he meant,” Nat rushed out, turning to look at Bradley. Natasha was one of those that could be four times over the legal limit and no one would no. He envied her in that regard. You were clearly the opposite.

“I just wanted to sing a song,” you said, poking Bradley’s firm chest. “You gonna let me sing a song, Rooster?” There was something about the way you said his callsign that had his cheeks going red. You always called him Bradley, except for when you had that one look in your eye, the one that really had him biting his tongue. “You gonna get off that perch and sing with me?”

“I think it’s time to drop you off at your place,” he assured you without even thinking, but he immediately wanted to swallow his own words when Natasha shook her head rapidly.

“I got kicked out,” you hiccuped, giving him a pointed look. “I sleep in your bed, remember?” You had no idea how much he wanted that to be true.

“Not in my bed,” he corrected quickly when Natasha’s brows shot upward. “In my house.”

“Well, you should probably take her home before she starts a song,” Nat whispered. “She was about to pick “Cowboy Casanova”, that was going to be a disaster.”

He chucked a bit as he touched your arm, his heart fluttering as you looked up at him with your pretty, expressive eyes. His laugh died in his throat. “A-are you ready?”

“Do I get a Bronco ride?”

“You sure do,” he said, and then you two were walking out in the night.

It was easy to get you in the car. You were an easy drunk, just loud. He buckled you up easily and shut the door as you started your own rendition of some Taylor Swift song you had probably told him to listen to.

After your song ended, the ride was quiet. He was happy with the quiet. He was happy because that meant he didn’t have to open his mouth to talk, which meant that he could physically roll his lips shut. Closed lips meant that there was no possibility of him saying something and fucking up a good time. But he couldn’t ignore the fact that you were grinning from ear to ear.

“You’re all smiles now,” he couldn’t help but point out, and he saw you turn towards him.

“You make me smile,” you said easily, still drunk, but it made his heart skip regardless.

Once again, the ride was quiet besides the purring of his Bronco and the occasional blinker noise. Even the music was turned down, but your head was bobbing to some imaginary beat. He couldn't help but make himself see this as a nicer moment than it really was, as a sweeter moment. In reality, he was taking you home because you were about to drunkenly sing a Carrie Underwood song that was going to have you feeling humiliated by the morning. In his mind, he was simply taking you home and making sure you got inside safely. In his mind, it was a simple night, free of drama. There was certainly no cheating boyfriend and no tears.

“What do you dream about?”

Your quiet yet certain tone broke the tension in the atmosphere of his Bronco. “What?”

And then you spoke again, somehow sounding completely sober. “What do you dream about, Bradley?”

“Uh,” he said, feeling his cheeks get a little pink. “I guess it depends.”

“Sometimes I can’t help but wonder-” a small burp escaped your lips— definitely drunk—, “do you ever dream of me?”

His heart stopped. He was so glad you were drunk. There was no way you were going to be able to remember the way he uncharacteristically stuttered or didn’t respond for a few seconds. There was no way you’d remember the flush of his cheeks under the bright light.

“W-what?”

You seemed deadly serious. “Do you ever dream of me?”

“I…” almost to his place. Almost to his place. “I think about you a lot,” he settled on saying, his voice much higher than usual.

“Thinking is nice. I can take thinking as the answer. At least thinking is on purpose,” you reasoned with yourself, seemingly to have forgotten he was even there to begin with. “But dreaming is different.”

He was intrigued. His heart was racing, and his hands felt sweaty on the steering wheel. “How so?”

“Dreaming is you being unable to escape a thought,” you said, and he wondered just how you were managing to get your point across so easily while being so smashed. “Dreaming of someone would mean that you think of them even when you’re not thinking. Your subconscious mind lies with them. It’s deeper.”

You were right. He hadn’t thought about it that way, but you were right. There were plenty of things that he swore he was over that he still had nightmares about and every time they happened, he had to face the music.

“I guess what I’m trying to say is that I really hope you think about me enough to see me in your dreams.”

He couldn’t say anything. What was he supposed to say? That he certainly did, and that every free moment his mind had meant that it was a free for all full of you and everything about you? Hell, he had once even thought about what your next classroom theme could be. You were that embedded into his mind.

“Wait, is it cool that I said all that?” You asked, blinking up at him slowly as the car came to a stop in your driveway. “I just get really in my head sometimes, sorry if I ruined tonight,” you said, shaking your head with a huge smile, as if you didn’t just rock his entire world in a ten minute drive. “Okay, goodnight.” And then you were jumping out of the car.

“Woah,” he called, racing around from his side and picking you up off the ground. You were laughing, clearly not aware that you had just fallen all over the cement of his driveway. You held onto his arm as he walked the both of you up to his front door, and you almost tripped on a crack in the cement.

“My keys.” You had them in your hand, and for a second, he just watched you calmly struggle with that stupid little smile on your face, like you had all the time in the world as the key kept missing the hole that it didn’t even belong to. “Maybe it’s the wrong door.”

He couldn’t help but laugh when he took the keys from you, already halfway forgetting your conversation from earlier. He held onto your keys as he unlocked his door with his own. He opened the door easily and let you in, prepared to tell you goodnight and go right to his room and try to forget the other was right on the other side of the wall, like you two had done so many times before.

“Where ya going?” Before he could even answer, you frowned at him. “You’re ditching me?”

He turned back around. “Do you need help?”

“I’m a big girl, I can take my dress off,” you said with a grin. “But I- I don’t know. I don’t wanna be alone yet.”

“Okay,” he breathed out. “Okay, you don’t have to be alone.”

And so you weren’t. He stood at the doorway of his guest bathroom, the one that had the makeup and pink towel and even a pink rug. He had given up the space to you without second thought, and as he watched you dart around in it and start to take your hair down and take your makeup off, he couldn’t help but feel his heart swell. You looked so comfortable in his house. It was all he ever wanted wrapped up in just one moment.

“Do you wanna know what broke me the most?” You asked out of the blue as you started to wipe your lipstick off, eyes connecting with his in the mirror. You took a deep breath to wind up for the next round of words even without his response. He knew that you were going to talk regardless. It was one of the things he loved about you.

“I wasn’t even sad about the fact that he cheated. I was happy.”

He was thrown on his ass again by you. You had a habit of taking his breath away more than once a day, probably once every two hours or so to be exact, but this was different. You were pulling no punches. You were throwing hand grenades in the form of words tonight, and he wasn’t even sure you were aware of it.

“It gave me an excuse to leave him. But then there was three or so moments and I realized the reason I was okay with it was because I was finally free of guilt, because the whole time I was with him- I’m an awful person,” you started sobbing and you let yourself sink to the floor, sitting on the pink rug. His brows lifted to his forehead for a split second before he went right down to the ground with you, and his hand found your skin and your back soothingly.

“You’re not a bad person, not even close.” He shook his head. You were an angel. He was genuinely convinced of that.

“I wanted you the whole time.” you slurred, eyes wide but not as present as he wanted them to be. Not while you said the exact words that he had been harboring since what felt like the beginning of time. “Almost ever since I met you. And I can’t help but feel sick when I think about how what he did is my karma.”

He was in shock. He didn’t know if he was more surprised about the fact that you were being so open about something that he was so hush-hush about, or about the fact that you said you wanted him. You wanted him. This was something out of his wildest dreams- just as you had predicted. And then he crashed back down to reality and realized you were drunk off your ass in a party dress, so fucked up that your legs were going every which way and your lipstick was smeared.

“Nothing happened, you didn’t do anything wrong,” he said quietly, ignoring the fact that his stomach felt like it was doing a Simone Biles level floor routine.

“But I would’ve,” you admitted, “if you had given me the sign.” Your bottom lip wobbled, and then you were full on sobbing. “I’m a disgusting person. Awful. Oh my god,” you whined, hands over your face as you hyperventilate on his wooden floor.

You were fucked up.

You were so gone, there was no denying that. He forced himself to let the words go in one ear and out the other, and when he took a few deep breaths of his own, he realized that you were still crying.

“You’re not a bad person, I promise.” You didn’t say anything, but after a few moments, he was sure you weren’t going to change your mind. “I think you’ll feel better if we cleaned you up.”

Your mascara was running, your lipstick was still smeared, and you kind of looked like a hot mess, but you were still gorgeous to him. You always would be. You didn’t say anything, and he took a makeup wipe from the counter and without a word started to wipe your face.

It was a silent exchange. Probably because the both of you were too scared to say much else. You let him wipe your face off and then he helped you stand. You let him take your heels off for you. He left for a few seconds and came back with some of your clothes, the nice pajamas he knew you liked to sleep in, and then started the shower and left. You were in and out.

When you were all done, he was sitting at the table. It was late, but he was drinking a beer with his back turned to you. He heard you clear your throat, and he had to stop himself from jumping.

“Goodnight,” you said quietly, and when he said it back, he heard you turn around and walk back to the room he had given you, and the door hut.

He wasn’t going to sleep well at all.

§§

It was Sunday morning. The worst morning for this situation to be happening. If it was a weekday, you would’ve already been gone, at least. He would have had the whole day to think about how to go about it. But it was Sunday morning, and neither of you went to church. You were stuck.

He didn’t expect you to be up. He knew that he could probably walk to the kitchen and be in the living room for most of the morning without you coming out. Your hangover had to be awful. So, he padded out of his bedroom, rubbing his face and going straight to the coffee pot.

That already had coffee in it.

“Hi.” His entire posture changed.

How he had entirely missed you sitting at the table, he didn’t know. But there you were, a cup of coffee in your hands and a small smile on your face.

You were beautiful. He didn’t know how you didn’t look like you were hit by a bud considering how messed up you were last night, but how could you ever? You always looked so out together and so cute. Of course you could smile with a hangover.

“Good morning,” he said, his raspy voice coming out surprised. He was looking at you cautiously, not quite sure if you remembered what happened. “How’d you sleep?”

“Like a baby,” you said, now you were grinning. “It was so nice. Peaceful.” He decided that you definitely didn’t remember a thing, and he relaxed.

He ignored the wave of sadness that came with the loss of tension.

“What about you?” You asked, genuinely wondering, and he sighed. “You have any dreams?” He took a look at you from over the coffee mug he was drinking from. “You know I minored in psych, I love dreams.”

“No, no dreams,” he said, trying to shut out that whole conversation from last night. “I just can’t believe you’re waking up so… happy. Everyone but me and Bob was so drunk.”

“I had a rough night? I cried a lot, huh?” You asked, and he almost laughed in wonder. How did you not realize that he was literally in love with you? How could you forget that the words you said last night were probably the most important ones he had ever heard?

“Yeah, but it’s okay. Everyone has a rough night every once in a while. I’m surprised you don’t have a headache or anything.”

“Yeah. It’s probably canceled out because of the lack of stress I feel now,” you said, and he nodded his head when he assumed that you were talking about shedding the skin of the man that was holding you back. “It was real nice to get all that off my chest.”

He froze.

You were just drinking from your mug, making annotations in your book. He was staring at you with wide eyes as he tried to understand what to make of what you just said. “Thanks for taking my makeup off, too. That would have ruined my skin progress.”

Holy shit, you remembered everything. “What?”

You had to be playing with him. There was no other way. You finally shut your book, and then you leaned forward on your hands and looked at him with your eyes, one of his biggest weaknesses. “I meant everything I said, Bradley.”

“You remember?”

“Yeah, I always do,” you said, shrugging your shoulders. “That's why I don’t drink. I do things I normally wouldn’t but I never have the luxury of forgetting, so I always wake up embarrassed.”

Did you realize that you were holding his heart in your hands? “Are you embarrassed now?” Please don’t be embarrassed that you said those things. Please don’t be embarrassed because they’re not true. God, let it all be true.

“Only if you want nothing to do with me,” you said softly, looking at him with such vulnerability that it made his heart skip a beat.

“Are you kidding?” He finally said, and he knew then that you were right about letting the feeling lift off of his chest. “You’re in my dreams almost every night, that’s gotta count for something.”

You made the first move to get to him. He realized then that you were a master at making the first move- he had only done it once (after striking out twice) but you had done it twice in two days. And then you were all in his space, breaching it with a certain confidence that made him weak in the knees. It made him want to hold you and hold onto you.

“Almost?” you asked, and as he looked down at you from so close up, he knew what he had already suspected to be true; he was a goner. “I want every dream.”

“Who would I be to deny you?” And then he made a move of his own, kissing you and effectively tying the score 2-2.

*******

AH

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw fic #top gun maverick #tgm fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley bradshaw fluff #hell yeah mfs #surprised i’m doing all this again especially bc i’m in nursing school so very busy #but here tf i am #my fics #i was not even gonna post this i have a 9 am and it is 12:16 am #please enjoy as best as you can lmao

[whxre-bxby]

Period Oneshots: Quaritch, Mansk, Wainfleet

How I think these 3 (big) men would react to you having your period.

Masterlist

I don’t know whether Na’vi women get their period but since they would probably be mammals, I assume so. Either way, I’m going to write this how I imagine it goes for them. Since this fandom decided that they have mating seasons and heat cycles, the period is a 2-3 day period once their mating season is over. Meaning they get it only once a year ( I wish that was me )

Also, choose whether you are human or Na’vi. Doesn’t matter, both go for this one. 

Also, yes I am on my period while writing this. Credit to @jinx14 for the idea. I apologise for any typos, it's almost 2am :)

Quaritch:

Now Miles is a man who, back when he was human, knew everything he needed to know about the woman’s body. Of course, his memories are still with him now, but his old normal life seems more distant to him now that he is focusing on one mission only. 

Either you are on his squad team and are a part of project Phoenix or you work in the lab as a scientist or doctor/nurse. 

Miles knows you as a colleague and has grown unintentionally closer to you in the last month. He found you interesting and liked that you were helpful with missions, polite and knew your place, and loyal to him. Those aspects were very important to him as a person. 

One day he sees you working on something, whether it be working out or filling out lab reports. He notices you look worn out and agitated, which is unlike your usual upbeat mood. 

He comes over to question you and make sure you’re okay. He won’t mind bringing you something if you need it, as long as you ask politely. Asking polietely is one of the least important things on your list if you are fighting cramps, headaches or other pains. It doesn’t help that you may not have slept well. 

You’re too tired to dance around the subject. You know you look tired as shit and you know he can see that, so you just cut down to the chase. 

“I’m on my period, Miles.” you groan out frustrated, stopping your workout or dropping your pen on your lab report. 

He freezes and shuts up. It doesn’t get him embarrassed or anything like that, the answer just takes him by surprise. He was expecting you to say that someone was getting on your nerves or that you had too much to do. 

He had almost forgotten that that happens to women. Then again, your answer had refreshed a few old memories and he understood what you were going through, from the biological view. He knew how it worked and why it happened and for how long etc. 

He didn’t want to make you feel worse so he silently left the room and returned with a hot drink in his hand for you. He will let it slide once. Then, you will have to ask politely again. 

“Do you want company?” he asks, not wanting to get on your nerves. 

You are unable to answer and you nod your head, groaning again before taking the cup into both hands and just holding it for a while. 

He doesn’t start small talk, you both just sit in peaceful silence. He might scan over a few of your reports without understanding them or might take a look at the equipment you were using to workout. 

Miles enjoys your company just as much as you do. And he was ready to help you if you needed anything. He was also happy to be spending time with you. 

He knew you were quiet when it came to personal things so he felt a sense of pride in his chest when you felt comfortable enough to just tell him what’s going on. 

Mansk: (sorry for the low quality gif)

You would both be outside on a mission. The whole team was out but you were divided into groups to cover more ground. He was focused on his surroundings, eyeing every tree and listening to every noise. 

You were both advancing through the forest pretty quickly and after a while, you started to feel bad. 

Mansk was walking ahead of you when he heard a groan behind him. With quick movements, he swung around and aimed his gun right at you. He relaxed his body and let his ears perk back up when he saw that you were not being attacked. 

“What are you doin’?” he asks, lowering his weapon and slowly walking back to your hunched-over figure. You were leaned against a tree, one hand clutching your stomach and wrapping around your waist tightly. 

Mansk noticed your odd position and started to think about what was happening. He stood next to you, eyes scanning over your body before he looked around again to ensure both of your safety. 

“You good?” he asked, leaning down to try and read my facial expression. 

“Just- give me a moment.” I say, biting my lip. This cramp was almost unbearable and it hit me without a warning. 

He nodded, standing up-right again but in reality, this man had no idea what was going on. His first thoughts were food poisioning or maybe you got sick from the helicopter ride here.

I stood up again, the feeling gone. 

“All good, let’s go.” I say, my normal self back again. Mansk was confused as shit. He stood still, watching you start to walk again. His mind was like a television without signal. After a few moments, you gasped and bent over, clutching your abdomen again. 

While he was still oblivious to your period symptoms, he was more worried and jogged over to you, resting a hand on your back. 

“Do you need-” he started to ask but my moody self interrupted him. 

“Shhhh… I need quiet.” I mumble. He ran out of ideas. He was about to settle on the hypothesis that you had just lost your mind until you mumbled something that made his ears perk up. 

“I’m on my period, it’ll be fine in a sec.” 

Right. Periods. He forgot about those. 

His eyes glanced at your shorts and he was relieved to not see any blood. Mansk had no idea what to do, how to help you or just how to deal with the situation himself. 

“You want water?” he genuinely asked, offering me his bottle. I look up at him, showing clear signs of discomfort and he doubts his question, leaning his ears back. He felt a little stupid for not knowing what to do. Usually in missions, he was the one to have the best ideas on how to do whatever. Now, he felt useless.

“Yes, why not.” I say, grabbing it from him. My answer surprised him. 

“Thank you.” I mumbled, wiping a few drops with the back of my hand from my mouth. He nodded, smiling to himself that he had managed to do something in your favour.

“We can keep going again.” you softly say, straightening your posture and turning around again. 

Mansk isn’t a very talkative person, therefor you both walk in silence most of the way again. But neither of you mind. You are distracted by your discomfort anyway. 

From now on, he will always offer you water.

Water obviously doesn’t help against pain, you were just thirsty from walking, but Mansk doesn’t know that. You weren’t going to tell him either. Looking at him, you saw how he was holding the bottle ready in one hand, so he could give it to you again. It was sweet that he wanted to help, even if he didn’t know how. 

He makes sure to stay close by your side, incase you need to stop again. Mansk is slightly more cautious now because he knows your attention is elsewhere. That is also why he suddenly feels very protective of you. 

When you return to the others he doesn’t spill that you are shedding blood as you speak. If you weren't there and it would be his buddies, he would though. Just to brag about how well he thinks he handled the situation. 

Upon arriving, he pretends as if nothing happened and that it was a normal situation, trying to forget the little panic moment he felt before. 

Mansk also pushes anyone sitting next to you away, so that he can be by your side. 

Lyle Wainfleet: 

You and Lyle work out regularly together. It started off when you would just run into eachother at the gym room. He started conversation with you and it formed a friendship. Now you meet up and both do your workout together. You help spot him while he helps to ensure that you keep a stable form and stuff. 

Anyway, right now you and him are competing against each other, trying to see who can hold a plak the longest. 

You’re going 2 minutes strong and you were ready to hold it longer. Lyle was keeping his posture obtained too. 

Suddenly you started to feel a light pressure in your lower abdomen. Within seconds, it became more intense and then it struck you like an arrow from hell, causing you to fall flat on the ground. Immediately, you turned to your side, scrunching up and hugging your waist as you experienced discomfort. 

Next to you, Lyle cheered. 

“Ha, told you so. You almost had 3 minutes. I can go for another 3, just watch and-” he started bragging until his gaze landed on you all curled up into a ball. 

“Okay, don’t you dare trick me into thinking you’re hurt just so I can’t break my record.” he chuckled, focusing on his plank again. After you hadn’t moved in a few seconds he glanced back at you. 

He was starting to get worried. 

“Y/N quit playin’.” he said but already, you were able to pick up a hint of worry in his voice.

“Y/N.” he repeated, hoping you would turn around smiling. But you stayed still. Something felt off to him so he decided to stop. He got out of his plank position and knelt beside you. Lyle looked down and noticed your facial expression. You were in fact not messing with him. He felt slightly relieved by that but then again worried for you. 

“You okay?” he asks, slightly shaking your arm. You nod but stay in your position. Lyle is confused now. What are you doing?

Did you get a cramp from the workout? Even the word ‘cramp’ didn’t ring a bell in this soldier's head. 

“I think I just got my period.” you whined. You were dreading it but it had to come eventually. 

Lyle’s eyes went wide. “Oh…” he said, almost sounding like it was a whisper. “Right…” 

“Just give me a moment, I’ll be fine in a few…” you mumbled, keeping your eyes squeezed shut. 

“Yeah, sure. Of course. Take as-as long as you need…” he started rambling. “We are in no hurry, just- yeah take your time. You know, relax.” 

“Lyle.” I warn him. 

“Yep, I’ll be quiet. I’ll just sit here and wait with you until you feel better. Which you will, right? Like, this thing won’t-”

“Lyle!” I snap at him. I was short-tempered at the moment and I couldn’t deal with his long string of words. 

He sat in silence, watching me to make sure I wouldn’t pass out or die. While he did still find himself fascinated with how the female body worked, it scared him to a certain extent. If he would see blood on your leggings, he would definitely freak out.

Once the cramp fades away, you sit up, taking a few deep breaths. Lyle continues to watch you patiently and you smile and apologise for snapping. He isn’t upset. Lyle is an overly friendly angel and just wanted you to feel better. If you had asked him to, that man would have sat next to you for a few hours. Even if you fell asleep, he would not leave your side.

Since you were in a vulnerable state, he was happy he was the one looking out for you. And look out for you he will. He will get you absolutely anything and will make sure you are comfortable. If someone would need to talk to you he would handle it, sending them away. If you would get cold, he would cover you in his jacket or hoodie, etc. Wainfleet was just a big friendly giant to those he cared about.

#avatar imagine #avatar movie #avatar #avatar quaritch #avatar mansk #recom mansk #mansk #colonel quaritch #quaritch imagine #miles quaritch imagine #miles quaritch x reader #quaritch x reader #headcanon #imagine #lyle wainfleet #recom quaritch #recom miles quaritch x reader #avatar the way of water #quaritch #recom squad #deja blue #big men #fanfiction #fanfic #i made this #masterlist #na'vi quaritch #way of water #oneshot #female reader

[powerfultenderness]

Death's Angel

Pairing: König (stalker/serial killer)/Fem!Reader

Rated: Explicit. 18+

Summary: "Please just let me go! I promise I won't tell! I have a wife! I have a child!" He's heard all the pleas before, but König is finally struck with the oddest dying wish he's ever heard. "Can you kiss me?"

Word Count: 22,480

Warnings:  Rape/Non-Con: Sexual assault, I do NOT go into detail on that part, but uh, it's there. Dub-Con/Consensual non-consent: (+mentions of rape/cnc porn). CNC as a coping mechanism, which (in this case) is dubious as it is not discussed beforehand. + Blood play, knife play, degradation. (Non-consensual) voyeurism (König is a stalker). Violence (König is a serial killer). Fluff (lol it's actually pretty sweet)

A/N: Based on [an ask] I got a couple of months ago. 4 parts in 1. [Read on AO3] for chapter divisions.

[Multi-fandom Masterlist]

[Death’s Kiss]

He cursed himself for getting distracted. But, as much as the military would like to believe he isn't, he is only human. And a particularly buxom woman overtly flirting with him had drawn his eyes from his target. He rejected the woman's advances (maybe he will find her later, there was nothing quite like fucking after killing), and went about searching for his target. Unfortunately he had to be discreet, he couldn't just push people out of his way, as much as he would love to.

He caught sight of a back exit and followed his instincts, they hardly ever led him astray, and took the chance that his target had left this way. He’d only taken a few steps into the dark alley when he heard sounds of a struggle. ‘What’s this?’ He followed the sound of a frustrated groan quickly followed by a “fuckin’ bitch!” and a woman’s scream cut short. 

König stuck to the shadows, plenty around this late, and slipped his sniper hood on as he rounded a dumpster. There was his target, a man in his thirties, with one hand over a woman’s mouth and the other holding a knife he just shoved into the woman’s stomach. 

Interesting. König couldn’t exactly say what drew him to kill certain targets. He just saw someone and decided. Sometimes he’d do recon, other times, like tonight, he’d just see what the night had in store for him. This was the first time he had come across one of his targets committing well, if the woman’s torn dress and the man’s hand now stuffed under her skirt were anything to go by, sexual assault and likely murder. 

König could understand murder. He might even respect it. But he could not tolerate rape. There were always one or two men in his unit he had to keep an eye on. Who were likely to take advantage of the women of a war torn country. Not only were those the easiest of his victims to cover up, but he had a sneaking suspicion that the higher ups placed them on his team on purpose. Let him deal with the troublemakers before they get out of hand. 

Why he should have contempt for one heinous act over another was also something he didn’t bother to think about. Thus he didn’t bother to think when he pulled his target off of the woman. 

-

Red. He’d forever associate this moment with red. Your eyes, which caught his for a fraction of second as he grabbed the man’s shoulder, were red, either from tears or because the man had hit you, or both. There was a bright red ribbon that matched the color of freshly spilled blood hanging loosely from your hair, spiraling elegantly down your shoulder before getting stuck to your skin with blood. Blood, dark red and spilling freely in some places, already clotting in others, almost looked fake. Too…pretty. Most beguiling of all, were splashes of red across your lovely white dress, from the top, which was now ripped free of your body, to the flared skirt.  

Red had always been his favorite color. 

The man was quick enough on his feet to regain his balance and pull out of König’s grasp, if only for a moment, as he reeled and threw a wild punch at König.

König caught the first easily, smiling under his mask, as the man’s eyes went wide as he realized how much bigger König was. “F-fuck!” 

He tried to yank his fist back, which König let go of as he hooked one boot behind the man’s foot. He chuckled as the man flailed and fell on his ass with an undignified scream. Before the man could get back to his feet and run away, König planted his boot on his chest and leaned down. 

“What should I do with you, hm?” König hummed playfully while leaning down and pressing his weight onto the man’s chest even more. He had been planning on taking the man to a secondary location, an out of the way warehouse at the edge of town, so he could take his time. But even now he was aware of a second set of eyes on him.

“N-nothing! You can have her, let me go!” The man struggled against König’s boot, and struggled to breath as König pressed down again. 

“Her?” He looked over his shoulder at you, hunched against a wall with blood slowly forming a puddle around you. 

You should have been crying for help, or trying to get to your phone that he could see a few feet from you. You should have been trying to save your life. But instead you were watching him. Your eyes were glazed over as your life slowly drained away, but you were watching him. No. You were watching him kill your attacker, waiting to see what happened. And a shiver of excitement ran down his spine. He never had a witness before…

Then he looked down again, “what use is a dead woman?” 

That’s when the man screamed, using what little strength he had to try to punch König’s leg. 

“Ow.” König deadpanned, but removed his foot from the man’s chest anyways. 

He let the man scramble to his feet, but when he turned to run away, König grabbed him by the back of his head, his giant hand making a viscous grip in the man’s hair, and yanked him back. The man screamed, hands flying to the back of his head to try to pry König’s hand off of him. König lifted the man into the air before slamming him face first into the brick wall in front of them.

Not even the muffled and gurgled screams could drown out the sickening crunch of bone. While still holding the man’s face into the brick wall, he turned to look at you, looking for the familiar fear that should be in your eyes. There was none. Again, you weren’t even looking at him, not really. You were looking at the man, weakly struggling against König’s hold. 

Hm. There was no fear in your eyes. But you were alert to…something. Too close to Death, maybe? He wondered what it would take for you to react.

Without even looking back at the man, he pulled his fist back for a moment, the man gasping for air through broken teeth, and slammed him back into the wall. It was at that point that the man went limp in his hand. Your only reaction was to cough, blood spraying from your mouth and down your chin.  

‘Nothing?’

Returning his attention to the man, König pulled the back from the wall again and with his free hand grabbed the side of the man’s face. In one quick motion he pulled and snapped the man’s neck. That earned him…a cough for sure, but, was that a laugh turned to a cough? 

He dropped the man and kicked the body over, making sure that he was really dead, when he noticed you moving out of his peripheral. You had wrapped both hands over the handle of the knife protruding from your stomach.

“You’ll only bleed out faster.” He raised his voice and turned his head enough to look at you again.

You froze and looked up at him as he slowly turned from the man to you. From where he had planted himself, he took  in more of your appearance, of your wounds. Your hands, now resting weakly in your lap, were cut from a blade and scraped up from the brick wall you were pushed into and cement below you, proving that you had at least attempted to fight back before being overpowered. There was a large gash below your neck and over your collarbone that leaked blood onto your nude chest. A shame, a quick thought crossed his mind, that such a pretty pair of tits is going to die.

His eyes followed down the rivulet of blood from your chest to your waist. Oh. Cherries. What he initially mistook as blood splatter all over your pretty white dress was in fact part of the dress itself, a pattern of cute little cherries. What a vision you were, must have looked like a little angel before you met your fate. 

“Hey,” you croaked out in a heavy, wet, sigh. 

Since it seemed to take so much effort to get one word out, he did you the favor of moving closer to you. Once he was near enough to you, his eyes drifted down to the knife. He didn’t kill that man to save you. In fact, it was his intent to let you die. He could finish the job. Do it quickly too, as a mercy. 

“Can you-” You breathed out another heavy sigh, attempting to curb a cough. “-kiss me?”

König’s eyes snapped up to your face, blinking and his head tilting even more as he processed your question. Did he hear you right? “What?” 

“I want,” you paused and licked your lips that were both dry but slick in blood. “My last kiss to be my choice.” 

Ah! He blinked once more as he looked at your pathetically small body and the puddle of blood under you. You knew you were going to die. 

He never had a witness to one of his killings. He also never fulfilled someone’s dying wish. An odd night of firsts. He dropped down to one knee next to you and nodded. “Alright.” What was the harm in it?

With one gloved hand he gently tilted your chin towards him and lifted the bottom of his hood with the other. His eyes slid shut as he softly pressed his lips to yours. He meant for it to be chaste, just a small peck to honor your wish, but the metallic tang of your blood slipped into his mouth, and he liked it. The coppery blood was tinged with a hint of what he could only describe as sweet. He had never tasted blood like that. His own was acrid in comparison. He wanted more. 

He leaned down closer and pressed his lips just a bit harder against yours, agitating the cut on your lip. He swiped his tongue across your bottom lip, gently sucking on the cut in your lip to draw more blood into his mouth and he had to hold back a moan. As tempted as he was to shove his tongue further, a pained whimper from you stopped him. He pulled away, licking his lips as he dropped his hood back in place.

You coughed out a muttered “thank you,” and sighed, like you were ready to accept your death. 

Too bad he hadn’t met you earlier in the night, he thought as he looked at you again. Then, and he’s not sure why he even tried, he pulled a knife from his belt and began to cut away at the top of your dress that was already hanging off of your body. “Remain calm, Engel.” 

Once he had a sufficient amount of fabric he pressed it around the knife wound. “Keep pressure here.” 

Your hands, small and weak, took over and despite the pained cry, you did as he said.

He stood up quickly and picked up your phone, or what he simply assumed was your phone. The screen was cracked but still lit up as he pressed a side button. The emergency number was just one press away from being dialed. 

He hit dial and returned to you, helping you stem the bleeding once more, and held the phone up to your mouth. “Tell them where we are. You might live if they’re fast enough.” 

You coughed out an answer to the operator, barely managing a weak “help” with a street name and the name of the club you stepped out of. 

You were unconscious by the time he saw emergency lights, but at least you were still alive. He remained with you as long as he could, daring even a few seconds too long, and slipped away before police and paramedics found you. And the body of the man who attacked you.

Even as König sat in his truck, forcing himself to relax, he knew it would be better for him if you died. 

He hoped you lived. 

[Death’s Touch] 

A week ago he met a dying angel with sweet and pretty blood. He expected the police to show up within a day or two. Even if he hadn’t shown his face to you, or done something so stupid as to give you a name, how many behemoth men with Austrian accents were there in the city? That simple description of him was the reason why he was careful there were no witnesses to his killings. That simple description was why he had considered letting you die in that alley. 

But the police never showed up. 

König frowned as he fit the last piece of the gun he had been meticulously cleaning in place. Did the police not show up because you…died? He waited too long to help you and now he’d never even get to know your name.

Of course, he didn’t know for sure that you were dead, and that had him anxious. He had to know.

A few days later, and an I.O.U to Hutch, König was able to read the police report from that night. He learned three important things. The first was that you were still alive. The second was that there was no mention of him, or even a rescuer. No description of a large man. No APB out on him. And lastly, he learned your name and address.

You lived in a modest flat, the worst thing about it was its utter lack of security. There wasn’t even a gate. It was too easy to find various watch points that looked into your flat. Or would have. You apparently weren’t in the habit of opening your curtains. Only a good thing, as far as he was concerned, who knows what kind of creeps could be watching?

For a day, he wondered if he had the right flat. He’d been watching all day and didn’t see you once. Just before his patience wore out the next day, however, food was delivered to your flat and he finally caught a glimpse of you again. 

That was it. The confirmation he needed. You were alive and for whatever reason you didn’t tell the police about him. Both good things. 

He could leave. He could forget about you now. 

…

It was two days later when you finally left your flat. Yes, he was still watching your flat, a sense of relief flooding him every time you opened the door for food. 

He followed you until you parked at a clinic. He knew there would be cameras all over the place, so he continued driving and didn’t pull into the same parking lot as you. Instead he drove to the next light, made a u-turn and parked at the drug store across the street. 

An hour and a half later he saw you leave the clinic. You were fast, one might even say you were lightly jogging. As he started his truck to follow you, he realized that you walked at that same speed when you left the flat. 

“Oh, my little angel. Are you frightened?” 

Too scared to leave the safety of your home most days, and barely leaving to see a doctor. Well, he couldn’t blame you.

A part of him was content knowing that he would be able to easily find you now. 

Just his luck, though, his leave was up and he had to ship out to a new base. Hopefully, by time he got back you would still be holed up in your little flat, safely tucked away for him.

-

By the time he was granted leave again, it had been four months since you were attacked. It didn’t take him long to find you again. Of course you were at home, and that morning he followed you to an office, then back home. A routine. Having a solid routine helped with his own anxiety, of course it would ease yours. 

The only thing that did surprise him was that from his old vantage point, and with the help of a scope, he was able to see into your bedroom now. Not a full view, but the curtains were cracked just enough. The weather had been getting better, had you opened your window at one point and weren’t so diligent with the curtains when you closed it? 

Blue light softly illuminated your room as you settled into bed that night. He could sympathize with you. He knew plenty of men who could not sleep without the aid of some kind of white noise. But as he watched you through his scope he realized that the tossing and turning he thought was keeping you awake was more intentional than not. There was no mistaking the way you were rolling your hips.

“Fuck,” he muttered under his breath as he leaned forward in his truck, as if that could somehow get him a better view through your window. 

His dick twitched when you turned to lay flat on your stomach, your hips rocking faster against the pillow (or blanket?) that you had between your legs. He thought about you in that alley, looking all pretty so close to death, “-kiss me?” and tasting so sweet. 

You pushed yourself up onto your elbows, your head hanging down but still turned away from him. Not that he could really make out your figure fully, his mind was filling in what he could not see. One of his hands dropped to his crotch to adjust his pants, but didn’t touch his semi-hard dick. He liked to think he had more self control than that. Until he remembered that little whimper you let when he kissed you too hard and he needed to hear you again.

Before he could stop himself to weigh his decision, he was already out of the truck and halfway across the parking lot. He was called a human battering ram, but that didn’t mean he couldn’t be stealthy, or pick a lock. In fact, he was already trying to think of a way to get you new, better, locks since it was so easy to break into your flat. 

The lights were all off and in dark clothes and his sniper hood, it was easy to blend into the shadows. The place was small, the door opened into an open concept living room to kitchen. He paid no mind to furnishing, focusing instead on the light that emanated from the bedroom. 

As he got closer to the door, left slightly ajar, the sound of heavy breathing got louder. It was a sound that sent an excited thrum through his veins as he leaned against the wall and peeked into the bedroom.

In the time it had taken for him to enter your flat, you had switched positions again. You were sitting up on your knees, back towards him (the door, rather), with a blanket pooled around you and a pillow between your thighs. You weren’t wearing anything provocative, just a large tee shirt from what he could see, but it was bunched up around your hips just reaching your bare thighs. 

He could feel his body getting hotter, his dick getting harder, but he was trained well enough to keep his breathing steady, quiet. Fuck though, what he would give to see you from the front, or below. To have you riding his cock like that, your soft hands planted firmly on his chest as you were now bracing yourself on the bed. 

You let out a gasp, such a sweet sound that went straight to his dick, and arched your back, one hand flying behind you to steady yourself while the other pulled the pillow harder against you. He closed his eyes for a second, savoring your breaths, as he imagined gripping your hip, you’d probably cry out from how rough his hands were, but you’d like it anyway. He imagined watching his cock stretching out your little pussy while his other hand played with your clit.

When he opened his eyes again, he glanced over at the laptop (the source of light that he initially mistook for a television) but it wasn’t angled right for him to see what was on the screen. It was obvious, with the way you kept your eyes on the screen, though. There was no sound that he could hear, so he figured you were wearing earbuds. What kind of porn did his little angel like to watch? Huge cock, perhaps? Did you fantasize about taking a cock as big as his? 

Underneath his hood he had to bite down on his lips to keep from groaning, especially when you started to moan as you started to bounce and grind your pussy harder onto that stupid fucking pillow. He could give you something so much better to rub your pussy on. 

One of your hands snaked under your shirt to play with your tits, your whines getting a little louder and he squeezed his fists hard. If he touched himself now, he wouldn’t stop until he came, and that was a little too risky right now. 

Just as he was about to give in and stuff his hand down his pants, you let out a muffled moan, one hand covering your mouth, even though no one was (supposed) to be around to hear you. Your hips slowed down to gentle rolls as you leaned forward, slowly stretching out and riding out your orgasm. His hips jerked forward, seeking friction against nothing, and his eyes rolled back at your moan. 

Your little whimpers still filling the air only made his cock throb painfully hard in his pants. He remained still, watching as you slowly got up and moved to the other side of the room. Judging by the light suddenly flooding the room for a second only to fade when he heard a door close, he assumed it was the bathroom. He sighed, leaning against the wall, and took a deep breath, hoping to catch your scent. 

He quickly left while you were cleaning up, and took extra care to make sure your door was locked. 

As soon as he made it back to his truck, he tore off his gloves, shucked his pants down just enough to pull his dick out and spit in his hand. He leaned back, eyes closed as he recalled what he had just seen with vivid detail. 

"Mmm, fuck. Engel." He mumbled under his breath as his hand pumped fast strokes up and down his cock. 

He could still see you humping your pillow, still hear the symphony of your moans filling the air. He squeezed harder, rolled his hand over the tip of his cock and spread the ample precum down the shaft. He was so close already. His hips bucked up as he fucked his fist, picturing you bouncing on his cock. He groaned, your name slipping out of his mouth, even though you had yet to formally introduce yourself to him. 

His whole body tensed, his breath coming out in desperate ragged pants, as he stroked himself faster. A litany of curses, in both English and German, filled the cabin as he came. He continued to stroke himself slowly, with a loose grip, as he eased himself down, just as had. He even imagined himself burying his nose in the crook of your neck, or resting his forehead on your shoulder, making you whimper from lazy and sloppy kisses.

He finally opened his eyes, a spark of sadness in his heart as he saw nothing but the roof of his truck instead of the vision that was you. He sighed and reached the hand that wasn't covered in his own cum around the passenger seat to grab a few napkins he'd thrown there earlier. 

Once he cleaned up, as well as he could, he returned home. He just needed a few hours of sleep. He knew your schedule, he'd return later.

-

He arrived back at your flat after you should have left for work. He scanned the car lot to make sure your car was gone (it was) and made sure the coast was clear to break into your flat again (it was). This time he did take a moment to take in the space. Everything was meticulously clean, spotless, not even dust in high up places. He wondered if you were like this before the attack, or if this was a result of self isolation. 

Then he moved over to the bedroom. Just like the living room, everything was nicely in order and the bed was perfectly made. Excited warmth spread through him when he saw two pillows sitting on your bed. He slipped his hood off, hooking it in his waistband, and dropped onto the bed. He took a deep breath and nuzzled his face into one of the pillows. An incredibly intoxicating mix of perfume and detergent and you filled his senses and he hummed in delight. 

One hand reached up and gripped the other pillow, feeling the softness, about to bring it to his chest when he paused. He spotted your laptop on the nightstand and sat up. He picked it up, a tube of cherry chapstick rolling to the other side of the nightstand, and opened it up. He watched the screen as it loaded. 

No password? Well, he supposed that made sense considering you lived alone. 

Now, he tapped away, what had you so worked up last night? 

His eyebrows shot up, eyes a little wide, as he made his way through your browser history. “Oh, Engel.” He felt himself getting excited as saw various types of CNC and rape porn. “You still think about that night.” Honestly, he did too. 

Before he got too turned on, he made sure to clear the history and set the laptop back where he found it. Then he got up and straightened out the bed. 

If that was what you wanted, he would be happy to help fulfill your fantasies.

-

It had been four months since your attack. Everyone around you had been sympathetic at first. It was a bit overwhelming, having people you barely talked to go out of their way to make sure you weren’t feeling unsafe. It only took two months for them to move on. It was a blessing in that you felt like you finally had space to breathe, but now people were unpredictable, unwanted casual touches or getting too close to you, and it had you retreating back to your cubicle every time. 

When you declined invitations to go out, people would joke that you were being boring. Maybe it was time you moved on too?

The next time you were invited out, you agreed, on the condition that you didn’t have to go home to change. 

“Yay! That’s fine! Trust me, it’ll be fun!” Your friend and coworker said as she slapped hand on your shoulder.

You winced and moved out of her touch with the excuse of needing to get back to your desk. The rest of the day was thankfully uneventful and you soon found yourself at a new bar.

Thirty minutes in, once the appetizers were gone and the alcohol flowing freely, your work friends got to be a little much. You didn't want to drink, you were assured that no one would be getting drunk. That was wrong, of course, and you silently wondered if you were invited just to be designated driver and get everyone home safely. You were not going to do that.

It was easy to slip away unnoticed. You just needed some space and so headed towards the back where the bathrooms were. 

For a Friday night it felt oddly empty. Maybe because it was out of the way, maybe because it looked like an employee only area. Whatever the case, you’re thankful for-

You didn’t even have to catch your breath before you were suddenly pushed into a wall, a large hand clasp around your mouth preventing you from screaming. Fear and panic shot through your body as memories of the night you were attacked surfaced, fueling your struggle. Not again, not here, not with so many people around. 

Both of your hands pulled at the hand on your mouth and you finally looked up only to freeze. Even the panic in you seized up, unsure whether or not you were being threatened. Piercing blue eyes stared at you from underneath a black hood. The bleach stained tear streaks are a frightening illusion of humanity that you’re not certain is even there. 

“You!” Well, at least that what you tried to say, his hand still muffled your voice.

This man, the man who saved you that night, held you up against the wall, your toes barely scraping the floor, with one hand covering your mouth. It was almost the exact same position your attacker held you in right before he stabbed you. Part of you wanted to panic still, had your heart racing and breathing quickly. But another part of you was just…confused. He wasn’t doing anything else but holding you. If he had wanted to kill you, among other things, he could have done it back in that alley. Instead he saved you. He killed the man who attacked you. He helped you call an ambulance. He stopped you from bleeding out. You didn’t even say a word about him to the police. So why would he want to hurt you now?

You tried to calm your breathing as you stared up into his eyes. Cold blue locked you into place, but the danger in his eyes wasn't malice. It was something else entirely. 

Finally he lifted his hand from your mouth, you drawing in a gasp of air, and set you fully back on your feet. His free hand remained firmly planted on the wall beside your head, keeping you in place flush between him and the wall. Then he gently traced your bottom lip with his thumb, landing where a now healed cut once split your lip. Your heart raced, heat blooming across your face, as you remembered his kiss. That kind of intensity in a kiss, in any other situation, would have been erotic. Really, you had been on the verge of death and it was still probably the best kiss you'd had in years. 

You whimpered at his touch. He had been so rough even though he thought you were going to die and now the pressure of his thumb on your lip sent an arousing wave of fear through you. 

He leered down at you, eyes starting to dilate, "tell me to stop." 

With your heart hammering in your chest, it took a moment for you to register his words. What? 

You opened your mouth, no words forming, and his thumb slipped past your lips and grazed your teeth. You whined, which only seemed to spur him on, and he pushed against your jaw even more, forcing your mouth wider. “Speak up, Engel.” 

He was so close to you, his knee slid between your legs, rubbing against your core and pushing you higher against the wall again. You let out a shuddering gasp, your hands flying from him in an attempt to stabilize yourself against the wall, but you made no move, made no demand, to stop him. He rocked his knee up, grinding slowly and gently into your pussy, drawing a quiet moan from you. Your pussy clenched when he put pressure on your clit and you bit down on his thumb, hot tongue brushing against the invading digit. 

König grinned, though you could not see it, and chuckled. He leaned even closer to you, hood pooling over your shoulder and growled in your ear. “Fucking slut.” 

This time your gasp was cut short as he slapped a hand across your mouth again. He lifted you with ease, tucked you against his body and dragged you out of the bar through the back door, not one person seeing the quick departure. 

You struggled against him, hands flying to the one over your mouth and you clawed at him, you kicked your feet but he was so big and tall that he easily held you above the ground. He wanted to chuckle. You reminded him of a feral kitten caught by animal control. Just as cute, or cuter, even.

He didn’t drop you until he reached the side of the bar. There was a gate separating the dingy little alley and the parking lot, decorative trees planted near the gate. It was unlocked, he made sure it was before he approached you, but it still would still provide the illusion that you were trapped.  

You grunted when your feet hit the ground, stumbling forward into the brick wall. You tried to duck around the man, but he easily swung you back in front of him, pushing you against the wall, though he cushioned the back of your head with one large hand.

You looked up at him as you drew in panicked, quick breaths. Just like before, he leered down at you as if he was waiting for you to say something. You bit your lip, his eyes flicking down to watch as your teeth worried at your bottom lip. “Wh-what do you want?”

His eyes looked back up and slowly he lifted a knife you hadn't even seen him grab to your throat. You stilled and tipped your head back, attempting to get the blade away from your delicate skin. There was a scar on your neck that you usually kept covered up, but like this, it was exposed to him.

He traced the scar with the tip of his knife, “what do you want, Engel?”

You swallowed thickly, holding as still as possible so he didn't slice through your skin. And you didn't answer him.

He huffed, “do you want me to stop?” The knife dragged down the scar to the collar of your shirt. “That's all you have to say, my dear.”

As much as you tried to control your breathing, your chest was heaving, drawing his eyes down to it for a moment before he looked up again. That hood made it difficult to read him, but his eyes were so expressive. You knew what he wanted. The heat in his eyes matched the nearly overwhelming heat his large body gave off. The same heat you could feel swelling in your body. You swallowed again, your mouth refusing to answer his question.

“No?” The knife slipped underneath your collar and he tugged, slicing through the fabric. 

It was so similar yet different to the sound of fabric being torn apart and ripped off of your body. It was cleaner, sharper and the definite but soft scratch of the tip of the blade on your heated skin sent your pulse wild. He hummed as he cut open your shirt, revealing the plain bra underneath.  

You hadn't even realized just how hard you were breathing, how much your chest heaved with every breath, until his blade bounced on the swell of your breast and he sucked his teeth. “Stay still.” He growled out, eyes flicking up to your eyes and away from your exposed chest.

You bit back a high pitched gasp, holding your breath as he dragged the blade across your chest, until he reached the left bra strap.

You shivered as you heard the soft ping of the knife slicing through the strap. He once again looked up from your chest to your eyes, his own narrowing in disapproval. “Perhaps you want to be hurt, hm?”

You whined and squeezed your eyes shut, attempting to hold your breath again to remain as still as possible. He slowly moved the tip of the knife across your chest again, this time angling it so more of the edge touched your skin. Another ping and you flinched as the other strap of your bra was cut.

He was silent for only a moment, the flat of the blade resting near the middle of your chest, just by your left breast, every beat of your heart making it jump ever so slightly. You could hear his heavy breaths, almost feel them against your face, even through that terrifying hood. For a moment, in that silence, you thought you were safe. That he was done.

Until he quickly shoved his free hand up the back of your shirt and unhooked your bra clasp. You squealed, eyes flying open, and jumped as he ripped what remained of your bra off of you. You only caught a glimpse of his eyes, blown wild with lust, before he spun you around and pushed you face first into the brick wall.

Your hands, which had been covering your chest in an attempt to save your dignity, were now bracing you against the wall so you didn't smash your face into it. You shivered again, remembering how he killed your attacker months ago, by shoving him so hard against a brick wall that he lost consciousness.

The hand holding the knife came to rest to the right side of your face against the wall. The metal gave an unnerving scrape against the brick that caused another shiver to run down your spine. His left hand snaked around to grope your left breast. His large hand, hot and rough, cupped your soft flesh with ease.

“Such pretty tits,” he hummed as he pinched your nipple, drawing another distressed squeak from you as your nipples hardened under his touch.

Your eyes were screwed shut once again and you attempted to wriggle out of his hold. You pressed your body as close to the wall as you could, but that only made him close in on you more, his crotch now firmly resting on your ass. He moved his hand to grope your other breast and bucked his hips forward with a deep grunt, the hard bulge of his cock rubbing against your ass. You bit back a whimper as your pussy clenched around nothing, arousal starting to pool in your panties.

His hand traveled down, grabbing what was left of your shirt and tearing it, leaving it hanging open on your shoulders. Your body welcomed the sudden partial nudity. The air was hot and thick and it felt like a cool relief to be free of even the light cotton. He pressed his hand against your stomach, pulling you against him even more, and for a moment he froze.

All the roughness in his touch disappeared as his fingers gently traced the nasty scar on your stomach. You whined, not from desperate arousal but shame. After what happened to you, you should be trying harder to fight this. You shouldn't want this, no matter how deep down it was, or how hard you tried to deny it. You dropped your head against the wall, resting your forehead against one hand as you waited for him to finish his assault.

König growled at your reaction to the scar on your stomach. You had looked up at him with growing lust, as tentative as that was, when he traced the scar on your neck with his knife. But the scar on your stomach, evidence of how close your brush with death had been, had paralyzed you. You were too quiet for him to enjoy this. He wanted to hear you cry and whimper, wanted to feel you rocking your body against his as you had been only a moment ago. Most of all, he didn't didn't want you to fear him.

He steadied you with his left hand, his hand heavy on your bare shoulder, and used his right to rip the rest of the tattered shirt off of you. You gasped and cried, and not in the way he wanted to hear, as you stood facing the wall with both arms crossed over your chest and your eyes squeezed shut. Then he removed the simple field jacket he was wearing and draped it over your shoulders.

You froze again as you were suddenly enveloped in warmth and spun around to face your savior/attacker. He roughly pulled the jacket closed, deft fingers fastening the button that fell just over your belly button. You were still somewhat exposed to him, but the scar on your stomach was now once again hidden underneath a layer of clothing.

Your mind barely registered the glint of his knife before it was pressed to your neck once more. He dug the point of the blade into the scar, not enough to puncture, but enough to draw your attention back up to his face.

His eyes were narrowed, furrowed brows peeking beneath the crudely cut eye holes of his mask. If you could see the rest of his face, he would probably be scowling at you.

As much as you wanted to grip the jacket closed, you kept your arms stiff at your sides. One wrong move could open up the scar on your neck again. 

He leaned down, his face inching closer to yours, his blade biting just a little bit more. "Say it." His voice is half a whisper, half a frustrated growl. 

Your lips part, tongue darting out to lick them, but you remained quiet, afraid to give him the wrong answer to his riddle. 

He growled again and pushed you harder against the wall. "Say it!" He practically screamed, and his knife finally pierced your skin, drawing just the slightest bit of blood. 

You flinched, as fear and pain laced adrenaline rushed through your veins, to your core, your clit throbbing as the knife stung your skin. Unconsciously, you steadied yourself by bracing your hands on his sturdy chest. His eyes flickered down at the movement, at the way you were clutching to him and squeezing your thighs together and he grinned under his mask. Oh you were scared of him alright, and you wanted it.  “Filthy fucking whore.” 

Your gasp, perhaps a protest of his words, if you even understood them, is strangled as you find yourself facing the wall again, his thick jacket protecting your hands and arms from the rough brick. 

His right hand holds his knife against the left side of your neck, still pressed against the old scar as his left is shoved down your pants. You whine and gasp and squirm as he circles your clit with two fingers. He groans behind you and his hips jerk forward, the motion causing the blade to cut your skin some more, a thin trail of blood starting to stain your skin. 

You cry, biting your lip and dropping your head against the wall, at the mixed sensations, the stinging pain blending with the pure pleasure of his fingers slipping up and down, around, your clit.

He groaned as his fingers slipped further down and spread your slick around your pussy. You squeezed your thighs around his hand and he pants in your ear before shoving a knee between your thighs, preventing you from closing them. 

His knee between your legs pushes you up against the wall and your toes barely find purchase on the ground. “You want this, ja?” He says as he starts to rock your hips against his thigh as his hand continues to play with your pussy. 

His fingers, hot and thick, slip into you as his palm rubs your clit. “Ja.” He grunts as he sinks a second finger into you, slowly pumping them.  His fingers pick up their pace and you moan when he inserts another digit. He curls his fingers just right as he pumps them, drawing out whines that you try to quiet. You hide your face in your hands, finding odd comfort in the warm scent that lingers on his coat, and choke back a moan as your hips are rocked against his thigh faster.

He pulls his fingers out, soaked in your juices, and goes back to focusing on your clit. “Of course you want this,” he half chuckles and half pants as finally removes his hand from your pussy, strings of cum sticking to your exposed skin as he nudges your chin with the knife so your head leans back against his chest. 

He held his hand up, spreading his fingers to show you your own arousal. "You wouldn't be this fucking wet if you didn't want this." 

You tried to turn your head away, so you didn't have to look at those lust clouded eyes in soft darkness, but he tuts and shoves two cum covered fingers into your mouth. He hummed as he watched you gag on his fingers, at least he relented enough that you were no longer deepthroating his fingers. “Wouldn’t be fucking my thigh like a desperate whore if you didn’t want this.” 

You froze, as if just realizing that with one of his hands still holding a knife to your throat and the other stuffing your mouth with his fingers, the eager grinding of your hips on his thigh was entirely you. He laughed and rocked his knee up into your aching pussy, “don’t stop now.”

The drag of his knee puts perfect pressure on your clit and you whine around his fingers as your pussy clenches around nothing. “Keep. Moving.” He growled in your ear as he glides the knife down the old scar down your neck to just above your collarbone, a thin line of blood beading against your skin. It stings and your cries are smothered by his fingers and he rocks his knee up again and you slide against his thigh just right that the pain becomes pleasure. 

He moans with you as you start to grind down in his leg again, back and forth and you even do your best to bounce while your feet barely touch the ground. His hips start to move with you, his hard cock on your ass adding fuel to the fire that burns within you. 

He’s grunting now, everytime you bounce against his dick, and he drops his hand from your mouth and starts to grope your tits again, making your shudder as he squeezes, his grip is bruising but your clit still throbs, your pussy still flutters with every touch of his rough hands.

The knife finally drops from your neck and he holds it against your waist then leans down, the mask he is wearing falling over your shoulder and you feel his breath on your bare skin.

“You belong to me now, Engel.” 

You gasp and shiver as he mumbles darkly into your neck, head lolling back so you can look at him, but all you see is the black of his mask. His grip on you tightens, the handle of the knife pushing into your hip painfully, his hand fondling your breasts roughly, his thigh pushing up against your pussy pleasurably. 

His tongue, hot and big, laps at your shoulder in a smothered kiss before he bites down, his sharp teeth catching the edge of the cut on your neck and that’s enough to push you into orgasm. You pussy wildly, almost painfully, clenching as you cum against his leg. 

He hums, strangely gentle, and slowly rocks you back and forth on his leg, letting your orgasm fade until your wanton moans are no more than the occasional whimper. 

You stumble forward into the wall when he drops his knee. Your clit is still throbbing as you pull the jacket closer to you and hide your face in your hands. You’re mostly just trying to catch your breath and calm down, but somewhere in the back of your mind you still feel shame at the way your cum gushes down your thighs, soaking into your pants. 

You barely register the shuffling behind you until you feel his hands on you again. You flinch, expecting him to be rough, but his touch is gentle as he rubs your arms. “You did good.” He mumbles his compliment into your hair. “Let’s go.” 

You can’t exactly say no to him, as he easily swoops you up off of your feet and carries you through the rickety gate to the bar parking lot. You absently note how easy it was for him to push the gate open, but do not let your thoughts linger on it once he unlocks a truck and sets you down in the passenger seat. 

He’s kind enough to adjust the jacket to cover your chest entirely before he buckles you up. His hips brush against your leg and you break out of the dazed reverie when you feel how hard his cock still is. 

 “Where are you taking me?” 

The man, your…savior (you feel hesitant to label him as your attacker, even after what just happened), slips off the hood before he looks up at you. His hair is disheveled and matted down with sweat and even in the faint street lighting you can see a few scars scattered around his clean shaven face. His eyes, icy cold blue, the only part of him you could see before, shine with something…soft? Unexpected, certainly. 

“Home.” He answers and drops the hood in your lap before shutting the door and walking around to the driver side. 

You hold the mask up in your hands as he starts the engine. The bleached tear stains and empty eye holes stare up at you suggesting danger and pain and death, and safety.

-

When he said home, he apparently meant his home. You felt silly for thinking he knew where you lived. The place he pulls up to is nice. Much nicer than you expected for a man so dangerous, more importantly you supposed, it’s spacious. There was some good distance between his house and the last house you saw and that has your pulse speeding up as he opens the door for you.

He doesn’t even wait for you to move, for you to second guess everything, before unbuckles you and carries you inside. You want to insist that you can walk on your own, but you are sticky with cum and dried blood and honestly, he’s so warm.

When he mumbles something about cleaning up you just nod and let him place you in a shower. You only react when he strips down and steps into the shower with you. 

It could have been a sensual shower, it was certainly big enough and as you catch a glimpse of how big his dick is when it is soft, your clit twitches at the memory of it hard and rutting against your ass. But he is quick to wash himself, and though he spends more time washing your body (or maybe he was just taking his time to feel you up), it couldn’t have been more than fifteen minutes. 

You want to tell him there isn’t really a point in applying that ointment he is gently spreading along the scar on your neck. It’s already healed to an ugly scar.  But he is so gentle as he bandages the fresh cut and rubs you dry with a soft towel as you sit on his very large bed. 

“What’s your name?” 

Would it have been better or worse to ask for his name before he fingered you in some dirty back alley?

“König.” He doesn’t give more than that.

“König.” You repeat and he looks up at you from where he is kneeling on the floor in front of you. “Thank you. For killing that man.” 

He hummed as he continued to pat your thighs dry with the oversized towel that was wrapped around you. “You didn’t tell the police about me.” 

It’s not a question. Somehow he knows that you didn’t tell the police, so you just shrug. “I told them I don’t remember what happened after I got stabbed.” 

His hands stop moving and rest on the outsides of your thighs, playing with the hem of the towel. “But you do remember?” 

You nod. “Everything.” 

There’s a beat of uncomfortable silence between you, his fingers start tapping against your thighs and he shifts his weight. The towel that he has wrapped around his waist threatens to fall loose and he uses the excuse to secure it as an opportunity to break his gaze with you.

“What you said back there, that I belong to you now. What does that mean?” 

This time he meets your eyes, “what it sounds like.” 

“...Does that mean you’ll protect me?” 

He doesn’t hesitate. “Yes.” And he drops a small kiss to your knee, letting his lips linger on your skin.

You reach out and gently cup his cheek to push him away from your legs. “Can you be gentle?” König moves his face just enough to kiss the inside of your wrist. “Yes.” 

Whether he takes your question as a suggestion, or he simply decided that it was time to move onto other activities, he leans down again and places another kiss to your knee, gently spreading your legs and moving his mouth to your inner thigh. As he moves his mouth to splay a kiss on your other thigh, one of his large hands comes up to remove the towel on you body, brushing against your covered breast for just a moment before he tugs on the towel. 

You don’t let the towel drop completely, holding it tight to your chest, and he pauses his sweet kisses.

“Look at me,” he demands, stretching up and leaning against the bed, one knee between yours as he grabs your chin and forces you to look at him. His grip is firm but not painful, not even close to how tightly he had grabbed you earlier in the night. 

Your eyes jump from one scar to another before settling on his steely eyes. “Good. Now,” he leans in closer, lips hovering over yours, “trust me.” 

His kiss starts off gentle before his tongue finds that spot on your bottom lip where it was once split, he nibbles and sighs as if he can still taste the blood that was once there. Your lips part when you feel his teeth and his tongue glides against yours. It’s slow and gentle and has you melting into his touch, dropping the towel that hides your scars from him. He wastes no time in tossing it off the bed, his lips never leaving yours even as he slides his hands over your waist to pull you closer to the edge of the bed.

You let out a little squeak at the sudden movement and he grins as he pulls away from the kiss, breathing against your lips. “Remember. Trust me.” 

You can only nod as he moves his mouth down your neck, placing soft quick kisses over the fresh bandages before he moves to the other side of your neck. His kisses on the juncture of your neck become sloppy, his tongue lapping at your skin like it is covered in something sweet. He bites down hard, teeth sinking into your soft flesh, turning your quiet little pants into a gasping moan. 

“You belong to me now.” He repeats his claim between gentle soothing kisses on the fresh bite mark he just made. 

You nod, accepting your fate, as you grip onto his shoulders. He hums and trails his mouth down your body, gently kissing the bruises that started to bloom on your breasts from how hard he groped you before. Your soft whimper, born of pleasure and pain, makes his cock twitch underneath his towel and he shucks that off too. 

He lays you down on your back and swirls his tongue around a nipple, enjoying the way you arch into his mouth. “Look at me.” He reminds you when he sees that you have closed your eyes.

When you look at him again he grins and playfully bites your nipple, laughing at the little squeak you let out before. Your giggles turn into a soft sigh as he moves to your other breast. His touch has you sinking into a cloud of lust. You want to throw your head back, close your eyes, and surrender to him, but you remember his order and keep your eyes on him.

You go tense when he trails his kisses down to your stomach. His eyes shoot up at you, making sure you are still watching him, as he traces the horrid scar with his lips and tongue. Eventually, with the help of his big warm hands running soothing touches up and down your body, you stop squirming uncomfortably. You’re still squirming, but for entirely different reasons. König notices and with a grin he pushes himself up, pulling you up with him and placing one of your hands on his stomach.

Admittedly, your touch and mind is drawn to the hard muscle, padded with a healthy layer of fat, flexes under your hand. You want to touch the rest of him, explore the rest of him. It is only after a second that you realize what you are touching. A scar. Raised skin in a jagged pattern, like someone attempted to twist the knife that stabbed him. You gently trace the scar as if you are afraid to agitate it. 

He senses your hesitation and laughs as he presses your palm against it even harder. “It doesn’t hurt anymore, Engel.” Then he reaches out to touch the scar on your stomach, smaller and cleaner, but fresher and still tender if pressed too hard. 

You look down at his hand on your scar and yours on his. They’re almost in the same place. He leans forward and presses a small kiss to your lips and rests his forehead against yours. “I should be dead. You should be dead.” This was simply proof that were meant for him, he was certain of that. 

Who needs matching tattoos when you have matching scars?

“König,” you breathe out, though you are not sure what you want to say to him. Instead, when his eyes meet yours, you kiss him. You wrap your arms around his broad shoulders and pull yourself as close to him as possible. 

He moans into the kiss and, tender moment over, pushes you fully against the bed again. He slides down your body again, stopping only momentarily to place a soft kiss on your stomach before he dives between your thighs. 

You don’t even have time to act shy before he’s spreading your legs and swiping his tongue through the folds of your pussy. He’s quick to circle his tongue around your clit, drawing out a soft moan between panting breaths, as your hips move up to meet his mouth. He groans, the subtle vibrations adding extra stimulation, and practically nuzzles your pussy, nose bumping against your clit as he sinks his tongue into your quivering hole. No matter what you do, hands pulling at his hair tightly or thighs clenching around his head, it only earns more moans from him. He laps at your pussy, your juices mixing with his spit and drags his tongue back up to your throbbing clit. 

He locks one hand onto your hip but the other travels up your body to your breasts. True to his word, he is gentle with them this time. No bruising grip sending you teetering on the edge of pleasure and pain. Instead he rolls your nipple, pinching just soft enough that it hardens under his touch. He moves his hand and repeats the action with your other breast, reveling in every little whine and gasp he pulls out of you. All the while he continues to eat your pussy like it’s his last meal.

He has you so needy and aching that it’s euphoric when he slips two fingers into you at once. Your pussy clenches around his fingers, reluctant to let him go but the slide of him pumping into you again makes you gush. One of your hands claws at his hair, gripping his locks to keep you grounded, but the other holds onto his hand that had been playing with your tits. Unable to properly play with your tits now, he laces his fingers with yours, holding your hand as he pulls and orgasm out of you,

Unlike the first time he made you cum, you don’t try to hold back your moans, you don’t hide your face from him, though at some point as he ate you out, you had thrown your head back and closed your eyes from how good it felt. He’d just have to forgive you for that.

König rests his check against one of your thighs as he watches you come down from your orgasm. 

It’s not until he gently squeezes his hand that is still holding yours that you look down at him. Somehow the sight of him between your thighs, face glistening with your cum, makes you blush even harder than you already were. 

“Ready for more, Engel?” 

You blink at him. “More?”

He chuckles and pushes himself up, first dropping a heated kiss onto your lips, his tongue sliding into your mouth and letting you taste yourself. As much as he could spend all night kissing you, right now he had another pressing need to take care of. He sat up on his knees, pushing your thighs further apart to accommodate him, and stroked his painfully hard cock.

Oh!

Your eyes are drawn to him and widen. You knew he was big. You’d seen him soft and felt it against your ass, but seeing it standing at full erection was another thing entirely. It’s easily the biggest cock you’ve ever seen, not even your favorite porn stars can hope to compete. 

You sit up and reach out to touch him, replacing his hand with your own and you swallow thickly. You wrap your fingers around the shaft, your pussy clenching when you see that your fingers don’t even meet. Still, you give gentle strokes, eyes glazing over at how much of his veiny cock you can still see around your fist. He’s already leaking copious amounts of precum, that you collect on your fingers to slick up your next stroke. You lean down and circle your tongue around the head, a shiver running down your spine when he moans wantonly as you wrap your lips around the head. 

You moan as you stretch your mouth around his cock and imagine what it would feel like stretching your pussy out. You let out a little gasp for air when you come back up, going from sucking to licking his cock, just so you can reach the base of it. König moans again and buries a hand in your hair. For a moment you think he’s going to force your mouth onto him again, but instead he pulls you up for another passionate kiss. 

“Another time. I need to fuck you.” He pants against your mouth when he pulls away.

You whimper and nod and throw yourself back onto the pillows, eager to accept the challenge of his massive cock. You drop one hand to your clit, rocking your fingers against the sensitive button. 

König produces a bottle of lube from the nightside and slicks himself up. In the future, he can take the time to make you cum enough times to take his dick naturally. But he is eager to feel you now. Besides, you look just as eager as he feels, as you watch him stroke himself. 

He nudges your hand away from your clit and replaces it with his own, rubbing lube along your pussy and drawing excited pants from you. He dips a finger in you, feeling your pussy clench around his finger and grins. “Engel?” 

You nod, “please, König!”

He slid the head of his cock through your folds, your pussy throbbing as the slick head rubbed against your clit. You whined at not being filled but the way his heavy cock bounced on your clit already had you desperately begging. 

He managed a strained chuckle, holding himself back from immediately fucking you was one of the hardest things he’s ever done, and pushed the tip of his dick against your entrance. He used his right hand to hold your hips, and used his left hand to rub languid circles around your clit. 

You choked back a garbled moan as you felt him begin to stretch you out.  Your chest heaved as you rocked your hips up, encouraging him to keep going. You were whimpering, writhing against the bed grasping at his shoulders as he sunk deeper into you. He was so fucking big and barely got the tip of his dick inside of you before you pussy began to frantically pulsate around him. He groaned and forced himself to stay still, for both of your sakes. You looked up at him, eyes brimming with tears and drool pooling at the corners of your mouth, and he almost lost it. He promised he’d be gentle though, at least this time.

He grabbed the bottle of lube again and squeezed some more out on his dick before thrusting forward again. Your pussy clenched around him, squeezing him desperately, as he slowly filled you. Though the size of his cock stretched you beyond anything you’d ever felt before, though it teetered to just the wrong side of pain, you couldn’t get enough of it. Especially with the way his thumb kept playing with your clit. You cried his name and tried to grind your hips up. 

He slowly dragged his cock out, moaning at the sight of your pussy clinging to him, and started another agonizingly slow push. 

“König,” you started with a breathy whine, “faster. Please.” 

He dropped down to one elbow and nuzzled his nose against the side of your face, missing your lips as he tried to kiss you and simply licking at your jaw. He muttered your name hotly in your ear, your pussy quivering at the sound of his strained voice. 

He snapped his hips forward, burying his cock deep in you and started frantic, rapid, strokes. You cried out, wrapping your arms around his neck and your legs around his hips, he was so big and heavy and hard that your world was reduced to the pleasure he brought with every stroke of his amazing cock. 

He promised to be gentle, he knew he shouldn’t do it, but he couldn’t help but clamp his teeth down on your uninjured shoulder, muffling his own obscene moans as your pussy spasmed around him. His eyes rolled back in his head and his thrust became erratic, chasing an orgasm, as blood filled his mouth. Your blood was still so sweet, divine, enough to send him over the edge. His hips stilled as he cock twitched inside of you, spilling inside of you. 

You moaned, or screamed, when he bit you, leaving a second mark on you, and the string of his bite brought with it white hot pleasure. Hot cum filled you, your pussy convulsing rapidly, milking him and refusing to let go. 

He pulled out with a long groan, the two of you overstimulated and your pussy was still clenching around him, and collapsed to the side of you. He draped an arm around you and held you close to him, muttering something about angels in German that you didn’t have the faculties to translate at that moment. 

He was the first to recover, propping himself up on his elbows and leaning over to lick and kiss the fresh bite mark on your shoulder. “I’m sorry.”

You gave a breathless laugh and lazily pulled his face up to kiss you. “Don’t worry, I liked it.” As if the mind blowing orgasm that followed the bite wasn’t a big enough hint.

“Now, can you let go of me?” 

“No.” 

Your laugh was sharper this time, and it brought a grin to his face. “Let go, I have to pee!” 

He sighed dramatically and grabbed your hand, bringing to his lips to press a gentle kiss on your knuckles. “Come back to me?”

Even as you pulled your hand out of his, you could feel the smile that graced his lips upon hearing you giggle. But at least he finally let you go. 

Your post orgasmic high wore off while you were cleaning up and your mind, having been clouded by lust since he grabbed you at the bar, was able to think straight.

You walked back to the room, feeling shy at your lack of clothing, and saw that he had changed the top blanket on the bed. The other soaked in cum, apparently. 

He looked up and smiled, bright and energetic despite how tired he was. “Engel, you came back!” He joked as he rushed over and pulled you into a hug. 

You kept still, but with his arms wrapped around you, you could do little else. He picked you up, much as he had done back at the bar, and set you down in the bed before he curled up next to you and pulled the covers over both of you.

“König?” 

He hummed as he nuzzled his face in your neck, inhaling your intoxicating combined scents.

“...I never told you my name.” 

[Death’s Promise]

“...I never told you my name.” 

König doesn’t answer you, only tightens his hold around you. It’s only when you try to shift, to put just enough distance between you that you can turn around and face him, that he speaks. His voice deceptively calm, if the way his arms tighten around you again is anything to go by. “I already told you, you belong to me now.”

You frown. That was no answer to how he knew your name. Or, now that you thought about it, how he knew that you didn’t tell the police about him. 

“It. It wasn’t a coincidence that you were at that bar tonight, was it?” You try not to stutter.

He doesn’t answer, instead starts to press his lips into the hickey on your shoulder. A reminder of his claim. 

“How long have you been following me?” 

His lips continue to move from your shoulder to your neck, stopping to nibble at your pulse point. You can feel the grin on his lips when your pulse speeds up.

Whatever he is making you feel, you repeat the question. “How long have you been following me?” 

“Go to sleep, Engel.” 

“At least tell me why.” 

“To make sure no one else touches you.” 

Well, it’s not like you wanted anyone to touch you anyway. And his touch isn’t unpleasant. Quite the opposite, really.

You should stop this. Get away from him. You knew he was dangerous, you saw it first hand, and who knows how long he’d been following you. Maybe since that very night you were attacked.

And yet, “...No one?” “No one.” 

That actually sounded kind of nice…

-

Work sucked. Mostly because of one person and the fact that you felt like you could do nothing about it. All you could do was race out at the end of the day and get home as quickly as possible. 

Home…It took all of a week for König to move you from your flat (he said it wasn’t safe at your old place and you weren’t going to question what he meant by that) into his house. Was it a rushed relationship? Sure. Was it a questionable, leaning towards dangerous, decision on your part? Absolutely. Did you regret it? Not at all. 

You let your frustrations out on a bunch of vegetables, your knife chopping through them and onto the cutting board with increasing force. You didn’t even realize how hard you were chopping until a large hand stopped your own before it hit the board again. You froze, König’s other arm wrapping around your waist as he leaned down to rest his chin on your head. 

“Careful, Engel. You don’t want to hurt yourself.” 

“Oh! König! I didn’t even hear you come in!” You crane your neck back so he could place a soft kiss to your lips. He does so with a pleased hum. 

His face is bare, a sight you quickly came to love. He leaves the simple mask he usually wears hanging in the entranceway. (His sniper hood he only dons when he’s deployed or when he’s “hunting”). 

“How could you with all that noise you were making? What did that poor carrot do to you?” 

You let out a sheepish chuckle, “sorry. Just thinking about work stuff.” 

You picked up one of the carrot rounds and held it up by your shoulder, where he leaned down and nibbled it out of your hand. 

“What about work?” 

You resumed your chopping, much less forceful. “Ugh. Nothing really. Just this guy keeps bothering me.” 

He tensed behind you, his grip on your waist getting tighter, not uncomfortably so, just more protective, as he growled out his question. “Has he touched you?” 

“No! Well, not like that…” The shoulder squeezes and lingering pats on the back were unwelcome, but, as your supervisor said, meant nothing more than that the guy was being friendly. “It’s really annoying to have to pick up his slack, especially after all of his little inappropriate comments.” 

König nodded as he listened to your rant, but all he heard was some man had dared to put his hands on you, even if you didn’t think it was sexual, and said something inappropriate to you. “Want me to kill him?” 

“Yes!” You giggle at the joke.

“Ok.” 

You freeze and turn around to face him. “Wait. I’m kidding.”

He smiles and presses a soft kiss to the top of your head. “Ok.” 

“No,” you press your lips in a straight line. “I’m serious. You can’t kill him.” 

The way he tilts his head is far too cute for someone as large as he is casually discussing murder. “Why not?”

It had been a while since he killed anyone. Why shouldn’t he kill someone you hated? Two birds, one stone.

“Because he works with me!”

“Not for long.” 

You laugh and gently push him out of the kitchen and into the living room. Once in the living room, you make him sit down on the couch, having to resort to pulling him down for a kiss to get him to settle. His hands naturally fall to your hips as you straddle him, clutching at the fabric of the simple cotton dress you had changed into after work. 

“Now, you listen to me,” you start with a firm poke to his chest, only to stop when you realize you were still holding the kitchen knife in your hand. Oops. Knowing him, though, he probably liked you threatening him with it. You twisted around in his lap just enough to drop the knife onto the coffee table in front of the couch and return your attention to him. “As much as I want you to kill the bastard, you can’t.” 

He furrows his brows, and is practically pouting as he asks his question again. “Why?”

“Because, everyone knows I have a problem with him.”

“And he still works there?” 

You had to bite back a laugh. He had a point. You were not the first to draw unwanted attention from the guy. Why complaints from more than one woman didn’t lead to any disciplinary action was questionable. Still, you ignore his question and continue.

“When the cops find him dead, or missing, I’ll be a suspect.” 

König chuckles as he moves his hands gently up and down your sides, moving your dress higher up your thighs with each pass of his hands. “You? Little one?” 

This time you do laugh a little. “Let me finish!”

Schooling his face, he nods. “Ok, tell me how you will be suspected of murder.”

“Not me!” You answer with a faux exasperated sigh. “They’ll look at me and realize I have a hard time even hurting a fly. But one look at you,” you start to drag your hands on either of his forearms, fingers dancing along his veiny muscles. “My giant, strong, military trained boyfriend and they’ll get suspicious.”

His smile has dropped, either from your prediction, or the way your hands continue to tantalize him and move up his arms to rest on his shoulders.

“Even if they don’t find proof, they’ll at least surveille you for a bit. Do you really want the police looking into you?” 

For a moment he is quiet, no joking, even his grip on your hips is still. He can’t pretend that what you said is entirely unsound. No matter how careful he was to leave no trace behind, the personal connection to you would always be suspect. 

“So,” you lean in close to him, your lips hovering close to his. “You’re not going to kill him, right?” 

He averts his eyes and doesn’t answer. He doesn’t want to lie to you, and your reason, while sound, isn’t enough to deter him. 

“König,” your voice is stern and you grab his chin and force him to look at you. 

“This man has touched you.” 

You want to roll your eyes. You want to pretend like he’s playfully overreacting. Certainly a couple of lingering pats does not warrant murder, but if there’s anything you’ve learned about König, at least when it comes to you, is that he’s intense. He is one hundred percent planning on killing your coworker just because he touched your shoulder. 

Your hands slide down his shoulders to rest on his chest, just above his heart where you clench at his shirt. “Promise me you won’t kill him.” When he still doesn’t answer you frown and press your forehead onto his. “I need you, König. I need you to stay with me.” Your voice wavers a little as you lock your eyes with his. “I need you to protect me.” 

“Fine, my love.” He finally sighs and captures your lips in a gentle kiss; he can’t stand to see you looking so sad because of something he might do. “I will not kill him.” 

“Good.” You nod and smile at him, and your smile is so brilliant that it is enough to sate his bloodlust. 

You lean forward again to kiss him, with all intentions to pull away and go back to making dinner. But his grip on your hips tightens and he holds you close and deepens the kiss. 

He smiles against your lips as you giggle when he doesn’t let you pull away. 

“I am curious.” You start, voice dropping like it wasn’t just the two of you in the house.

He hums against your lips then starts to drag his kisses down your jaw to your neck, grinning as your next words come out a little breathless. 

“If you were going to kill him, how would you do it?”

He actually stops and looks up at you, wondering if this was some kind of test.

You smile and give him a small peck on the lips. “Just hypothetically speaking, of course.” 

König licks his lips nervously, only relaxing when you take his right hand in both of yours and start to idly play with his fingers. 

“He touched you,” he starts and pauses again. You nod and give a little hum to encourage him to keep going. 

“I’d start with his hands.” 

You shift your eyes up to meet his before looking back down at his hand. You nod and turn his hand over, palm down in one of your hands as your free hand gently traces the veins on his hand. His fingers twitch underneath your touch and you sweetly smile at him, “keep going.” 

“I’d crush one of his hands beneath my boot.” 

You place his hand on the top of your thigh as you nod once again. You let out a quiet excited breath as he squeezes your thigh, his large hands hot against your skin. 

“Just one hand?” You ask coquettishly as you drag his hand down to the inside of your thigh.

He hums again, eyes locked between your thighs, at his hand slipping underneath your skirt. 

“I’d take my time with his other hand.” His knuckles brush your clothed mound, putting the lightest pressure on your clit. “Break his fingers one at a time.” 

You bite your lip and lock your eyes with his as you roll your hips forward, turning his touch on your clit from feather light to firm. 

His eyes darken, blood thrumming with excitement, and he can hardly tell what has him excited more, watching you squirm against his hand or sharing the kind of thoughts he long ago learned to keep to himself. The fact that he was sharing these thoughts with you, feeling your arousal dampen your panties, makes his heart beat wildly. 

He shifts his hand, turning it so that his thumb can start to rub small circles around your clit while his fingers dip into the edge of your panties. The back of his fingers slide against pussy, collecting your slick and dragging it up to your clit. You jolt and let out a small gasp at his touch, grasping at his shoulders to keep you upright so you can keep your eyes on him. 

He continued to tease your pussy, reveling in every little reaction from you, until you were a wet whimpering mess on his lap. “Then I’d smash his face in, for thinking he was worthy of even looking at you,” you moaned as he slipped a finger into you, “of breathing the same air as you.” He slowly started to slide his finger out, a smirk on his face as you rocked your hips forward.

“Maybe knock his teeth out for daring to talk to you.” He slid in a second finger, breathing a little faster as you moaned and fell forward further into him. You kissed him, tongue lapping at his lips before finding his own, as he pumped his fingers faster.

His free hand moved roughly from your hip to your breast, squeezing hard enough to draw desperate whimpers from you. He groaned and shifted to sit more comfortably, mouth dropping from your lips to your jaw, and pulled the top of your dress down. His lips capture your breast, tongue circling around the nipple, while his hand continues to knead and squeeze your other breast.  

Your head falls back and you gasp when he inserts a third finger, using his palm to rub your clit. He takes the opportunity to leave a surprisingly gentle kiss on the edge of the scar that peaks above your neckline. You shiver, despite how hot your body feels, as he pulls you closer to the edge. Your hips rock against his hand, your breath coming out in a combination of desperate pants and whines, every stroke of his fingers winding you up.

“But I will kill him with my hands around his neck, so I can watch him regret ever looking at you, as the life fades from his eyes.” 

Your whole body shakes as you cry out and fall forward, holding onto him with all your strength, as your pussy convulses wildly around his fingers, coating his hand in cum. 

König stilled as he watched you come down from your orgasm, panting and making cute little whimpers as he withdrew his hand. You were...glowing. It could have been the single ray of light coming in from a crack in the curtains illuminating your half naked body. Or the light sheen of sweat coating your skin that he was tempted to lick off you. But, he knew it was something else.

You had just come on his fingers as he described how he wanted to kill someone. You were truly an angel. A fucked up little angel sent to him by the god of death. If the military wasn't going to reward his skills, at least the universe had.

You shivered again and giggled into his shoulder before looking up at him with a smile. You hummed, squeezing your thighs together momentarily before sitting up and fixing your dress. You grabbed the discarded kitchen knife from the coffee table and planted a sweet and chaste kiss on his lips, as if he hadn't just finger fucked you to orgasm. "I need to finish making dinner."

He knew the moment he laid eyes on you, covered in blood and all, that he wanted you. He had no idea that he didn’t just want you, he needed you. 

He needed you. And he was just sitting there with a painfully hard boner while you walked back to the kitchen, legs shaky and making you lean on the walls and counter. He let you have a moment to calm down before bending you over the counter, ripping your soaked panties off of you and wildly fucking you. 

-

Not deployed and not “busy”, König's world revolved around you (and if his last deployment was anything to go by, you were his center regardless). He insisted on driving you to and from work. It was all great until you mentioned you would be working late one night. 

He went stiff and barely managed to get through his question without shaking in anger. “Will Christopher be working late with you?” 

You sighed, already dreading the late night dealing with your annoying coworker. “Yea, he's on my team.” Then you grinned, “maybe he'll see you when you drop me off and think twice before approaching me!”

König chuckled and leaned down to kiss you before slipping his face mask on. Honestly, he hoped that wasn't the case. He wanted an excuse to kill the man. 

That morning, of course, Christopher was late and didn't witness your incredibly large boyfriend help you down from his truck (not that you needed it, but he was ever the gentleman) as he dropped you off. 

You did your best to avoid Chris, but as the night dragged on, he became more persistent. 

“Someone’s a pretty little liar.” 

You sighed. You were already packing up, getting ready to leave, and he had to come and bother you one more time. “What?”

“I talked to Deb, and she said you don’t have a boyfriend.” 

Deb, the office gossip. 

“She doesn’t know everything about me.” 

Your phone buzzed just as you picked it up, a part of you was worried it was your supervisor, but one glance at the screen and you smiled. “And that’s him. He’s here to pick me up.” 

“I was just heading out, I’ll walk with you.” He clapped a hand on your shoulder and squeezed as he smirked at you. 

You stepped out of his hold and hurried to the door, confused when you didn’t see König’s truck waiting out front. Oh no. 

Your phone buzzed again, König telling you that he was in the far parking lot. 

“Well, where is he?” 

“Parked back there.” You gestured with your hand, from that distance even the truck looked small.

“What he can’t come get you? Maybe I should walk with you, talk to the guy.” 

You rolled your eyes and sidestepped his hand again. Whatever happened next was Chris’ own damn fault for being so fucking predictable.

Disabling the security cameras in the parking lot was easy. König sat in his truck, the temporarily distressed engine running idle, knee bouncing and fingers tapping the steering wheel excitedly. 

You hadn’t told him much about this Christopher, but from what you did, it was pretty much a given that he’d follow you through the parking lot. And lo and behold, König saw you and a man walking towards the truck. Every so often you’d take a side step and whenever König saw the man make the same step, closing the distance between the two of you again, his pulse just beat faster. 

Finally when you’re close enough, he jumped out of the truck and rushed to the passenger side. The sight of him even had you tense for a moment. Sure he was big, and the black tee shirt he wore did nothing to hide how muscular he was. But it was the sniper hood covering his face that made you pause. 

“What the fuck?” The man next to you muttered under his breath as you walked up to König.

König was fast to reach out and pull you to his side. 

At least he leans down to let you peck his cheek, though you got his chin instead, as a greeting. 

“Get in the truck. And don’t look.” 

You frown and pinch the edge of his mask. You’d only ever seen him wear it once. “I told you-”

“I know.” 

To Christopher’s credit, he was smart enough to try to get away as quickly and quietly as possible. König wasn’t having it though, and all it took was one giant step from him and he clapped his hand on Chris’ shoulder.

“Not so fast, hm?”

A shiver ran up your spine as you stood next to the truck. That cadence in König’s voice…

Chris tried to wiggle out of König’s hold, but his struggle only made König grip down harder. 

“You touched her-”

“N-no! I didn’t! She lied!” 

König’s eyes narrowed and Chris tried to stutter out another denial but was thrown into the asphalt face first, with a pathetic cry.

As Chris was trying to push himself up, König grabbed him by the back of his shirt and turned him around, pinning him on the ground.

Chris, a man who was in considerably good shape, still thought he had a chance to get away. He struggled, attempting to punch König in the ribs to get him to let go, but König chuckled. He then punched Chris directly in the face, a delightful burst of happy adrenaline running through his veins as he felt and heard the other man’s nose break underneath his hand.

Chris screamed, blood filling his mouth,  and rolled away from König, well, as much as he was allowed to. König stood back up, though remained hovering over Chris, who was doubled over in pain. After a few minutes, in which he shakily turned around and looked up, he managed to gasp out another plea. “Ok! Ok! I’ll leave her alone!”

“Good!” König beamed, his head tilted just slightly as he looked down at the other man. “But that is not enough.”

“W-what!” 

König grabbed a fistful of Chris’ hair and easily hauled him up and dragged him to the front of the still running truck. 

“I promised her no one would ever touch her again. What kind of man would I be if I let you get away with touching her?” Through Chris’ screams, he shoved Chris’ face onto the hood of his truck, the engine still running hot and burning the man’s face. 

As satisfying as it was to watch Chris get his ass handed to him so easily, things had already escalated too far. “König! That’s enough!” You shouted over the engine, over Chris’ fading cries and over König’s jovial laughter.

König froze and looked up at you, standing some feet away from the two men, and let Chris slump to the ground. “I told you to get in the truck.”

You resisted the urge to roll your eyes as you walked over to him, being careful to step around your barely conscious coworker. You looked up at him, his eyes were still wild, and his chest was starting to heave with how excited he’d become. If he had excess energy, you knew just what he could do with it instead.

You slid a hand up his chest to grip his collar, the fabric of his mask pooling around your wrist. He let you pull him down to your level and with your free hand, you lifted the mask just enough to kiss him. 

He moaned into the kiss, turning it heated rather quickly, his big hands on your ass and hoisted you up, your legs wrapping around his waist. 

It was only a pained weak cough from Christopher that stopped you. You pulled away from the kiss, his hood falling back over his face, and grinned at him. 

“I think you should get in the truck now.” You say with a seductive smile and a gleam in your eyes that he couldn’t quite place.

He nodded and instead of setting you on the ground, walked around to the passenger side of the truck, kicking Chris one last time for good measure, before gently setting you inside the truck and rushing over to the other side.

You’re careful not to hit the gear shift when he slides into the driver side and you slide up to him, lifting his mask to the bridge of his nose so you can kiss him again. His hands grab at you, pulling you as close as he could in the cramped space. One of your hands clutches at his shirt, landing on his firm chest and the other rests on his thigh. 

He breaks the kiss just for a moment, his breath starting to come out in a pant, and reaches up to grasp at the edge of his mask, but your hand quickly grabs his wrist and stops him, “leave it on.”

“O-oh?” He stutters as you palm his growing erection through his pants. 

“I like it,” you say as you lean forward and drop a kiss to his shoulder, then another below that, following the hem of the mask until you reach just below his collarbone. Your hand that sits on his chest has moved to his pectoral, where you give his nipple a little pinch, sending a shiver down his spine right to his dick. 

“Hah,” he breathes out half a laugh as you start to unbuckle his belt, “you like it?” 

“Mm-hmm.” Your hand drops from his chest so you can unbutton his pants.

He swallows hard when you take his heavy cock out and with a firm grip you wrap a soft hand around it, as much as you could, anyway. “It’s. It’s supposed to be scary.” 

“Oh, it is.” You look up at him, hand lazily stroking upwards, “that’s what I like about it.” 

He lets out a quiet groan when your thumb swipes across the underside of the head of his fat cock. Whatever other protest about his sniper hood he had is forgotten when you slide down the bench so you can put your mouth on him.  

He’s hard in your hands before you even lean down and his thick veiny cock throbs as you slowly part your lips. His left hand has an intense grip on the door, but his right hand flies into your hair, though he shakes a little as he tries to keep it gentle, so he can have a clear view of you. 

You start with small, feather light, licks to his swollen cockhead, one, two, and he’s already let out a soft whine and starts to nudge his hips forward, his cock following your tongue as it retreats back in your mouth. You smile and hum, giving in and swirling your tongue around the tip before pinching your lips just over the head of his cock, adding light suction as you do so.

“Please,” he whines, fingers starting to tighten around your hair. “Please, don’t tease me.” The way he has slipped back into his native language, his voice pitched higher as he thrusts his hips upwards when you sink your mouth further down his cock, makes your clit twitch and you have to squeeze your thighs together to help alleviate your neediness.

You moan around his cock, tongue continuing to circle the head of his dick, flickering at sensitive spots, as you take him into your mouth as far as you can. You don’t deep throat him, not yet, so your hand makes up for it by adding firm strokes in conjunction with the bob of your mouth. The cabin is filled not only with moans but the sound of wet suction, especially when you pop his cock fully out of your mouth and give greedy sloppy licks down his entire shaft. 

König loses a bit of control and when your mouth envelops him again, sinking down as far as previously, his hand pushes the back of your head down even more. You had been expecting it, the tightness in his thighs, the way he whined even more and babbled incoherently, and even though you braced yourself, you ended up choking and sputtering around his cock. It only adds more spit, more slip to the already sloppy blow job.

You sit up a bit and take a breath, hand still stroking up and down, before you dive back down. This time you look up at him as you sink your mouth on his cock, your eyes locking with his, even with his eyes so dilated they’re so blue in contrast to the black material of his mask that nearly blends into the darkness of the night. His eyes are wide, watering even, and when he sees you look up at him, mouth stretched around his big cock, his own eyes roll back as his hips start to buck harder, faster. He cries out his impending orgasm, first in German though, for your sake, he remembers to repeat it in English as well. 

Not that it matters, you offer him an encouraging, “mm-hmm” around his cock, letting him know that you wanted him to cum in your mouth and it drives him over the edge with a loud obscene moan, shooting rope and rope and rope of cum into your mouth.

You swallow what you can, the rest sliding down the side of your face as you sit up for air. His eyes are still closed as he pants for breath himself. Since he doesn’t seem to be paying any attention, you get a mischievous idea and lean in close to him, and use the edge of his mask to wipe your face clean.

He chuckles but doesn’t stop you, only taking your hand in his when he feels that you are done. 

Most of him is limp against his seat, except for the grip he has on your hand, his knuckles resting on your thigh. 

“Hey,” you reach over and gently tug at his hood, to which he leans down just enough for it to slip off. “You ok?” 

He gives you a lazy grin, face flush and hair starting to mat down. He doesn’t quite answer you though, instead pulls your hand up to his lips and places a gentle kiss across your knuckles.  

You smile and, blushing strongly at the innocent gesture despite the fact that you’d just swallowed a load of his cum, take your hand back so you could buckle up. “Let’s go home.” 

The ride home is somewhat odd. He hasn’t said a word since you had his cock in your mouth and that silence is a little worrying. It’s not until you’re back home that you finally break the silence.

“König? What’s wrong?” You stop him before he can retreat into the bedroom.

“Nothing, Engel.” 

“Then why are you so quiet?”

It’s almost comical to watch a man so big try to shrink away from your gaze. He’s squeezing one fist over and over, trying very hard not to twitch under your gaze.

You gasp, hands flying to cover your mouth, as you put two and two together. “Wait! Did you not like- Did I…Did I give you a bad blow job?”

König’s head snaps up. “What! No!”

“Why didn’t you say anything?!” 

“My love-” “Do you hate all my blow jobs?!”

He shakes his head vehemently and shouts your name, but you still talk over him. 

“Is it because I choke? I can’t help it! Your cock is just so big!” 

“No! My Engel,” he finally stops you with his hands on your shoulders, “I love watching you choke on my cock!”

You take a breath, forcing yourself to calm down and pout up at him. “Then what is it?”

He sighed and rubbed your shoulders for a moment before taking your hands in his. “I was just thinking about the first time we met.”

There had been a look in your eyes that night that he wrote off as you being so close to dying. But he saw it again tonight…

“Oh.” Your pout morphs into something much more stoic. “When that man…” You trail off, you both know what happened that night.

“Yea.” 

“What about it?” 

He glances away from you and chews on his lip before changing the subject. “Tell me, my love. Did you enjoy watching me kill that man?” 

“Yea.” You tilt your head, “why wouldn’t I? He got what he deserved.” 

He nodded. “Did you enjoy watching me almost kill your coworker?” 

This time it’s you that blushes and looks away. “Yea. I. I suppose being annoying doesn’t quite deserve that much violence, but…” what can you say? It was hot watching him so easily break the other man (oh and defending your honor too!). 

“And,” he paused, licking his lips, “did it turn you on?” 

Your face burns even more, “well,” you chuckle sheepishly, “that is why I blew you.” 

He frowned and dropped your hands, though remained somewhat hunched so he could properly look you in the eyes. “I kill people.” 

You squint at him, “yea…?” This wasn’t news to you…Why was he saying this? 

“Not just the man who tried to rape you. Not just in my capacity as a soldier.” 

Maybe you could understand where he was coming from. He never explicitly told you of his activities. You simply knew based on your first meeting and the way he spoke so casually about killing. “...Yea, I know…”

“I need you to know that, Engel.” 

You nod, “ok. Got it.” 

“But I would never hurt you.”

“I know. I trust you.” Which was a peculiar thing to say considering how just very recently you didn’t even know his name. 

Upon hearing your answer, König glanced away from you, face dusted pink and chewing on his lip. He was right. You were an angel made just for him.

You frowned, “what’s wrong?”

He was quick to pounce on you, giant hands on either side of your face and threading into your hair as he pressed his lips against yours in a passionate kiss. He swallowed your surprised little yelp, his tongue sliding against your lower lip and teeth nibbling at a particularly sensitive spot on your lip before slipping into your mouth. 

He pulled you close, one hand solidly wrapped around your waist and the other pressed into your back, as you melted into his embrace. He only let go slightly when he moved his kiss to your jaw, down your neck, nipping at the scar below your neck. 

You sighed, resting your hands on his shoulders as he continued to sink lower, pressing gentle kisses over your clothes and dropped to his knees. 

He finally pressed a lingering kiss to the scar on your stomach, hands on your hips, and looked up at you, your name falling lovingly past his lips.

“You are perfect. Marry me.” 

You really didn’t think he was a marriage kind of man. You assumed that when he told you that you belonged to him, that he would protect you from then on, that it equated to marriage in his mind. But with the way he was looking up at you now, looking both very serious and very vulnerable, to him, this was more than that.

“Oh, König,” you reply softly, your hand drifting from his shoulder to cup his face. He leans into your touch and never breaks eye contact with you.

You bend down and place a soft kiss on his lips. “Yes.” 

He laughs happily when he pulls you into another strong kiss. He’s still laughing when he picks you up and carries you to the bedroom. 

[Death’s Haven]

Your husband was a killer. Not some vigilante with a twisted sense of justice. No, he simply needed to kill. For most of his life, this need was satiated through his career in the military. However, now that he was in the private sector, he had more time between jobs. Which led to the current reason you were home alone late at night.

He'd been between deployments for four months now. Yelling at recruits and paperwork was nearly driving him insane. When he started disappearing at night, when he spent his free time in secret, you knew what he was up to. You didn't ask him about it. You just made sure he had dinner and a clean home to come back to.

You were already asleep in bed when he came home tonight. When you felt him crawl into bed, hands sliding across your waist so he could hold you to his chest. He was very tactile like that, once he had you, he always had to be touching you in some way.

You let out a quiet sigh and shifted to get comfortable, vaguely aware that he was only wearing his boxers.

"I'm sorry, Engel. I did not mean to wake you."

"What time is it?"

"Three."

You grunted. Much too late (or perhaps, too early). Though you supposed coming home at three am was better than him coming home at five only to wake up at six to go to work.

You yawned and shifted, turning around so you could kiss his cheek. "Welcome home." You sighed, eyes already closing again as you cuddled up to him and started to fall back asleep.

König hummed, his hand gently moving up and down your hip, slipping underneath the tee shirt that you stole from him to use as a nightgown.

His soft touch chased away your sleep as his fingers dragged up and down your lower back. You wiggled your hips, attempting to get away from his touch by pressing your body further into him. "That tickles."

"Sorry," he muttered, lips brushing against your temple. "I missed you."

If your eyes weren't closed you'd roll them. Your big, strong, serial killer of a husband was sweet, cute even, acting like you hadn't seen each other for weeks.

But then you felt his hard on pressing against your thigh. Oh. He missed you like that. Yea. That made sense. Even though he slipped in late at night or early in the morning to see you before you left for work, you hadn't had sex since he started his recon a few days ago.

You nuzzle against his chest and smile, "did you?" You slide a hand down his stomach and fiddle with the waistband of his boxers. "I'd never be able to tell." 

He groaned and pushed you onto your back, knocking your legs apart enough for him to settle between. His kiss is rushed, tongue pushing past your lips eagerly, while he starts to grind his hips into yours. You let out an airy gasp when his kisses trail down your jaw to the scar on your neck. A scar you were once ashamed of, once associated with a moment of indignity. König insisted that your scars weren't ugly or shameful, they were proof that instead of taking you for himself, the god of death had given you to him as a gift. 

“What?” You rolled your eyes when he first told you such. “Is he a king and I'm one of his kids he can just give away?” 

He threaded his fingers into your hair and pulled, forcing you to expose your neck to him. “I am your only King. And you are my Angel.” 

Your leg hikes further up his waist, one of his hands splaying across the back of your thigh as he ruts into you again. Your hands tangle in his hair, pulling his face back towards you as you attempt to kiss him again, instead he opens his mouth to mumble words against your lips.

“There was a witness.”

And you froze. The only witness he’s ever left before was you. For a moment you’re worried. Was this another damsel in distress that he saved? Was there another broken girl in his truck right now, waiting patiently to become your sister-wife? 

You push a steady hand against his chest that he ignores and continues to suck hickey onto your neck. “What?” 

He hums against your skin, moving his kiss down, where he nips at one of your breasts through the fabric of your chosen nightgown. He mistakes the concern in your voice as concern for him. He returns to your mouth, an eager heavy kiss pressed to your lips until he pushes his tongue into your mouth that you respond to tentatively. 

“I killed him too.” 

His hips grinding into yours, with his hard cock teasing your pussy through layers of thin fabric, draws out a needy whine from you. "O-oh?"

He grunts, breathing quickening as he starts to push your shirt up. "That's why I'm so late, my love.” He was quite eager, it seemed, as one of his hands slipped underneath your back to lift you so he could quickly pull the shirt completely off of you. “There was a lot of blood.” He finished his explanation (not that you asked for one) as he nuzzled his face between your breasts. 

You wanted to giggle, both because his slight stubble on your bare chest tickled and how silly you felt that he basically just motorboated you, but with the way he was already licking and sucking at your tits, your giggle quickly morphed into a moan. And then you finally registered his words. 

A bloodsoaked König, with his sniper hood hiding his face, looked like a monster straight out of a horror movie. The thought of it turned you on so much. “Yea?” Your arms wound around his neck, pulling him closer to you as you lifted your hips to meet his, pressing against his hard dick. 

He chuckled as he sat up on his knees, still between your thighs, and tugged at your panties. You raise your hips enough for him to pull them down and toss to the side.

He leaned over you once again, propping himself up on his left arm, while his right hand found its way to your thigh again. You sighed as he all but had you pinned between his large frame and the bed. There was something frightening about his size, he was almost too big to be human, and yet he also possessed the uncanny ability to make you feel safe, no matter how vulnerable you were.

His fingers dipped between your thighs, his chuckles fading into a low groan when he finds how aroused you are. “You like that, Engel? Want to see me covered in blood, hm?” 

A gasped, “uh-huh!” is all you can offer when his fingers, coated in your slick, rock against your clit. 

König pulls his hand away all too soon, and the frustrated whine you puff out isn’t missed by him. You almost think he is going to tease you, that he is going to revel in the way you’re so desperate for him already, but there is a vulnerable sincerity in his eyes when you look up at him. 

“...Are you proud of me?”

Your lust is momentarily forgotten as you slide a hand to his face, gently cradling his face. His eyes closed as he leaned into your soft and touch. 

It was one thing to know that you accepted his proclivities, another entirely to know that you loved that part of him.

You gently run your thumb over his cheek bone so he could look at you again. You supposed you hadn't shown much enthusiasm for his activities since he nearly killed your coworker. You pull him down for a gentle kiss, whispering your answer against his lips. "Yes."

You even have a surprise for him, but the kiss that followed was much less delicate and much more needy on his part. It’s like he’s trying to mold himself to you, trying to fuse your soul to his. It’s as if he doesn’t want to let you go. And you give into him, forgetting about the little gift. You don’t want him to let go either. 

You’re so pliable under his touch, the way you so easily give your body over to him reminds him of the first night he met you. When you were too weak to stop him from ripping the shreds of your dress off of your body, too weak to stop him from moving your hands to stem the bleeding of a knife wound that should have killed you. The memory of your body, pinned underneath him now, covered in the sweetest blood has him biting down on your shoulder roughly. You gasp and whimper underneath him, only squirming not to get away from him, but to get closer to him. 

He drags his mouth down your body, trailing searing kisses along your skin. As always he pays special attention to the scar that dips below your collarbone, tracing the contours with his tongue as if he hasn't already committed every inch of it to memory. As always as well, he takes his time with your breasts, switching between rough nips into your flesh and gentle swirls of his tongue around the nipple. Every little hitch in your breath, every whine that pushes past your lips, alights his blood on fire.

His hips buck forward, seeking relief in the friction of his hard cock against the soft warm plush of your thighs. You whine, one hand resting on his shoulder and one tangled in his hair, as you feel the hot velvety skin of his cock rubbing the insides of your legs, pre cum smearing on your skin and you're not sure whether to pull him back up so he can stuff your pussy with that massive cock of his, or to push him down so he can lavish his attention elsewhere on your body.

König makes the decision for you as he continues to kiss and nip and lick his way down your body. He attempts to repeat the loving kiss with the scar on your stomach, attempts to trace it with his lips, but you become impatient and push his head, making him chuckle into your skin, which in turn has you also giggling.

He presses a lingering kiss to your pubic bone with a grin plastered on his lips, "so eager for me."

You huff, and make sure to exaggerate the little pout you throw at him. "Don't tease. It's been too long."

This draws another chuckle from him, though he spreads your thighs further apart so he can comfortably fit between them. "Less than a week, my angel."

You prop yourself up on one elbow and reach for his face, forcing him to look at you as you hit him with a trembling lip and the saddest eyes you could muster in the moment. "You promised to take care of me, König."

He stills at your words, muscles tense and eyes so wide that even in the dim light you could see the whites of his eyes. You were right, of course. How could he deny his sweet angel what you desperately wanted, needed? Especially when it was him that you needed. He gently places a hand over yours, never breaking eye contact with you, as he pulls your hand from his face and gently kisses the inside of your wrist, taking your little teasing to heart. “I will.” 

That is all the warning you get before he is diving between your thighs. His breath is hot on your skin as he kisses and licks his way towards your pussy. He doesn't ignore any part of you, his left hand both massaging your inner thigh, kneading at the sensitive flesh and keeping your legs parted wide enough for him.

By the time he draws his tongue through your folds, you're already a quivering mess. His long, deliberate, slow licks have you moaning and gripping his hair. His right arm anchors your hips to the bed, keeping you in place as his tongue circles your clit. You try to muffle the obscene moans that fall from your lips, but König knows you, knows what you like, and drags his tongue down your slit, curls his tongue inside of you to lap at you juices. His own moans fill the air with yours, the subtle vibrations only driving you crazier.

His name is a chant on your lips, your hands gripping his hair even more as you try to fuck his face. He groans and releases the iron grip he has on your hips, right hand snaking up to your chest where he roughly gropes at your tits.

He holds you down for your sake, so he can lick and suck and nip without losing his place between your legs. But as you near your edge, he lets go because there's nothing he loves more than when you shove your pussy into his face. His mouth parted, tongue dragging over every inch of you and pushing into your pussy. His nose bumps and rubs against your clit as he enthusiastically moves his head, his stubble scratching pleasantly against the inside of your thighs.

He could, and probably should, stretch you out a little with his fingers, prepare you for the girth that is his cock, but he’s selfish and wants you to come on his tongue. He switches his pace, frenzied flicks of his tongue on your clit, followed by long firm strokes through your folds until he pushes his tongue into your pussy. He moans again, savoring the ambrosia that he pulls from you with every swipe of his tongue. 

It’s when he starts to rock his hips into the bed, seeking to relieve his aching cock, that it feels like a final wave pushing you to your orgasm. Your thighs squeeze around his head as you pussy clenches wildly around his tongue, aching to be filled and stretched out even more. He continues to slurp at your pussy, his tongue covered in your cum as he gently offers small and gentle licks to your clit, following the movement of your hips without holding you down. 

König is liable to spend too much time between your legs. Liable to ease you down from your orgasm only to pull another one from you. And you’re liable to forget that you were supposed to give him his gift before fucking.

“S-stop! I! I!” You cry and whine and try to push his face away from your oversensitive clit. 

With a grunt, he finally relents and drops a few soft kisses to your thigh before propping himself up on his elbows and running the back of his arm across his face. “What is it, Engel?” 

After a moment to catch your breath, you finally look at him and smile softly at the way he's looking up at you so adoringly. "I have something for you."

A grin breaks out across his face as he kisses your thigh and moves as if he's about to start eating you out again.

"Not that!" You laugh and lightly push his face away from your still sensitive pussy. "Come here," you pat the bed next to you, inviting him to sit down for a moment.

"I got you something," you say as you give him a quick peck to the lips when he sits down beside you.

His hand slides to your waist and you know he's about to pull you on top of him, but you pull away quick enough to turn to the nightstand and flip on the lamp.

There’s some shuffling beside you as you open the drawer. The first thing your hand catches is a bottle of lube, that’s not what you were looking for, but you set it on the table anyways.

One of his hands lands on your thigh and squeezes as he leans with you, his mouth dropping small kisses to your shoulder. “Do we have to do this now?”

“Oh, I guess not.” You say as you put a rectangular box on top of the side table and turn to face him again.

He’s shucked his boxers off, instead of shoving his dick through the opening in front, and has his left hand holding the heft of his hard cock. Your eyes drop down to the wide pink mushroom head and immediately forget that you had been trying to gift him something. 

His right arm wraps around your waist as you kiss him and he pulls you atop one of his thighs. You whimper into his mouth as you grind down on his thigh, your already slick pussy making the glide easier and the friction electrifying. Even as you rock your hips back and forth, one of your hands wraps around his cock, next to his own hand. You both groan at the contact, Him at the way you swipe your thumb over the tip of his cock, collecting pre cum and spreading it over down as you give him sensual little pumps. You groan as you and your pussy clenches achingly at the reminder of how big his cock is, the way there’s enough length for the both of you to stroke down, and the way your fingers don’t even meet around his girthy width. 

As you rest your forehead against his, lip tucked between your teeth as you continue to ride him, you notice his eyes flicker to the side table for just a second.

“You want to see it?” You ask with a breathless laugh, still chasing the pleasure grinding down on his thigh offers. 

He grabs the hand you have wrapped around his cock and makes you squeeze him harder, speaking with a groan as he thrusts his hips up. “Just tell me what it is.” 

“And ruin the surprise?” 

He grunts and grabs your hips, halting your gyrating, while simultaneously smashing his mouth against yours. The kiss is rough, aggressive even, as his tongue tangled with yours, preventing you from further teasing him. Still you moan and giggle into the kiss and blindly reach behind you until you find the box.

“Just open it real quick.” 

He sighed and reluctantly let go of your hips as he took the box from you. “What is the occasion?” 

The real reason? You wanted him to remember you. You were afraid you were nothing but a novelty to him. He wanted you for now, but soon he’d get bored of you and send you away. If you were lucky, he’d kill you, but you were never that lucky in life. He’d provide a safe home for you, make you feel safe standing next to him at the grocery store, or as he picked you up from work. Then he’d leave you, leave you fearing every shadow and bump in the night. To live in the hell that was his absence. 

“A hunting knife?” He unsheathed it, admiring the sheen and sharpness of the hooked blade.

It was deadly sharp, meant for skinning game. It wasn’t anything fancy. Perfectly utilitarian. 

You hummed and stretched out again, this time to grab the bottle of lube you set aside earlier. “You’re the one that asked me if I am proud of you.” You pour some lube into one of your hands, “I was thinking about what you do, and thought you might like this.” You wrap your hand around his cock, spreading the lube along his thick shaft, “at the very least it can make a cute paperweight for your desk.” 

König groans and shuts his eyes, leaning forward to rest his head against your shoulder, as you pump his now very slick cock. His hot breath fans over your skin as he mutters your name and nips at your shoulder. But he pauses when you lean to the side and expose the top of your scar to his mouth.

Suddenly he pulls away from you and looks back at the gifted blade. “You wanted to see me covered in blood, Engel.” 

It’s not a question, though you give him a quiet little “mm-hm" before you’re sitting stock still with a blade pressed against your throat. His cock throbs in your hands as your eyes flick up to meet his. His eyes, blown wide with lust, flicker between your own gaze and the knife he holds to your throat. 

“I have never seen blood as beautiful as yours.” 

Your heart thumps in your chest, and pussy, at his words. Did he think of your blood often? Did he still think of that night? 

You squeeze your hand, giving a tantalizing grip to his cock, and tilt your head to the side, whispering a loving taunt. “It belongs to you.” 

You see droplets of blood splatter across his face before you feel the sting of your flesh sliced open. You gasp, eyes squeezing shut, as pain catches up to you. There’s a clatter of the knife being tossed onto the nightstand before you feel his large hands digging into your hips and moving you so that you are fully straddling him. 

The head of his cock slides through your folds before nudging your clit and sends a wave of pleasure through you that distracts from the pain. You whimper and shudder when you open your eyes to see the look on his face. You imagine that this is what he looked like the night he saved you, but now you see him unmasked, see how the sight of you bleeding before him is nearly driving him insane. 

König moaned when he felt the first drop of blood hit his face, his cock jumping out of your hand and pulsing wildly. Your pained little gasp that followed did not assuage his desire, if anything it fueled it even more. He quickly discarded the knife and pulled you over him, his lubed up cock running along your slick pussy drawing moans out from both of you. 

He looked up at you, lost in bliss as you rocked your hips into him, rubbing your clit onto his cock, and snaked a hand into your hair to pull you down. He breathed in the air around you, filled with the scent of your combined arousal and sweat and, as he pushed his face into your skin, the light coppery scent of your blood. 

You whined again when he disturbed the cut on your neck, the fresh wound following the exact path of the previous one, only to cry out when he drug his tongue through the blood. 

“You have the sweetest blood, my angel.” 

And with a quick, rough, grip to the back of your head, he pulled you into a searing kiss. His tongue immediately found yours as if he was intent to share the taste of you, of your blood and cum. 

His face is smeared in blood when you pull away from his hungry kiss and look at him again. You rest your forehead against his and pant for breath, eyes locking with his as he lifts your lips and properly lines his cock up. 

You whimper when you feel the head of his cock start to spread you, but even his lust filled haze he’s aware enough of himself to go slowly, letting you sink down onto his girthy length at your own pace. 

“König,” you cry when you take him fully, your entire body hot and desperate to be close to him. 

You wrap your arms around his shoulders, his face tucked into your neck as you start to move your hips up, sliding back down with a moan as he fills you. 

He’s not quiet when your pussy squeezes and pulses around his cock, it feels too good to hold in the moan that rips out of his throat when you start to bounce on his cock. Slick. Your blood and sweat against his skin, your wet pussy around his cock, it’s all heavenly slick and he wants more. He groans and roughly guides your hips down to meet his own thrusts. You cling to him and moan as he easily lifts you only to slam you back down.

“My angel,” he growls hotly into your ear, his eyes rolling back when your pussy flutters tightly around his cock. 

He’s quick to shift positions, cradling the back of your head as he throws you onto your back. You only get to mourn the loss of his cock inside you for a moment before he is throwing one of your legs over his shoulder and bullying his cock back into your pussy.

The new angle allows him impossibly deeper, your moans are so loud you’re nearly screaming at this point. He moans loudly along with you when he glances down between your bodies and sees as he feels how your pussy clings to his cock, doing its best to not let go of him every time he pulls out. 

Your pussy aches and gapes when he pulls all the way out, slipping and accidentally brushing the head of his cock over your clit. You cry out, from the sensation of his slicked cockhead on your clit and for him, even this second without him filling you up is too long without him. You hook the leg he doesn’t have over his shoulder over his waist as he thrusts his cock back into you. It feels like he hits every nerve in your pussy, his pelvis grinding against yours and rubbing your clit and you can’t even say his name as your entire body begins to shake. 

Your orgasm is overwhelming, you claw and grab at König, yet at the same time the consistent grinding of his pelvis on your clit and his huge cock pistoning in and out of you has part of you wanting to push him away. He doesn’t let you, instead he continues to fuck you through your orgasm, chasing his own release. 

König’s head drops to your shoulder, chin hitting the cut on your neck, and groans loudly as you come on his cock, your pussy clenching around him dizzyingly tight. He growls and groans when you begin to struggle against him, sending him over his own edge. He breathlessly stills as his cock throbs, filling you with his cum as your pussy continues to clench around his cock. 

Eventually his hips slow down to a slow, sensual, grind, meeting your hips in the lazy aftermath. He drops your leg from his shoulder and braces himself on his forearms while he continues to nuzzle his face into your neck, sloppy open mouth kisses licking up blood and sweat.

“König,” you sigh and nudge him. He may be holding most of his weight off of you, but he’s still crushing you into the mattress and at this point it’s so hot that it’s starting to become difficult to breathe.

He grunts, his cock giving a final pulse as he pulls out, and rolls to the side. His hand lands heavily on your thigh, “give me a moment, Engel, and I will clean you up.” 

You whine at the sudden empty feeling and, with considerable effort, turn on your side and cuddle up to him, moving his arm around you. He embraces you, eyes closed as he basks in his post orgasmic bliss. 

“You look like a vampire.” You say with a light chuckle and brush a thumb across his chin.

He grins and opens one eye to look at you, “if I could live off of your blood, Engel, I would.” 

Your laugh is cut short with a grimace as you feel his cum leak out of your pussy. “Ok, I need to get up.” 

He sits up with you and pulls you into his lap before standing. “Let me.”

“You don’t always need to carry me to the bathroom!” 

“Can you walk?” 

Actually, probably not. 

König leaves the shower first, letting you relax under the hot water a little longer while he changes the sheets on the bed. There was too much cum, sweat and blood to ignore for the night. 

He’s waiting patiently for you when you finally get out of the shower. He’s thoughtful enough to lay one of his shirts out on the clean sheets for you to wear when he’s finished bandaging you up. 

“It’s not even that bad,” you say as you let him apply an ointment and a gauze bandage on the cut that’s barely bleeding anymore. 

He doesn’t really respond, just grunts and makes sure to secure the bandage properly before he turns around to set everything down on the nightstand. 

“Ah! König!” You gasp and slap a hand over your mouth when you see long scratch marks on his back, small beads of blood surfacing on his skin.

“What!” He turns quickly, eyes wide, afraid that he hurt you.

“I’m so sorry!” You squeak out behind your hand.

“What?” 

You hang your head and hide your face in your hands. “Your back is bleeding!”

“What?” He cranes his neck to look at his own back. 

“How embarrassing,” you mumble to yourself as you take the towel that’s wrapped around you and dab the bit of blood off of him.

His chuckles turn into a laugh, a full loud sound deep from his belly, as you fuss over him. He barely lets you touch his back before he is reaching behind him and pulling you onto his lap.

He stops your protests with a kiss, a smile still pulling at his lips even as he runs his tongue over your lips. “I cut you with a hunting knife, Engel, and you’re worried about little scratches?”  

“Fine,” you hum and pull away from him enough to slip on the tee shirt he laid out for you. “But if it scars, it’ll be the least cool story you’ve got.”

He turns off the lamp as you climb under the blankets. “I disagree. It’ll be my favorite. Next time, I will make you scratch my back even more.” 

König grinned at your little laugh as you settled into his embrace for the night. No, you didn’t hurt him and no he didn’t mind a tiny bit of blood spilled. He’d drown in your blood if he could, how could he not offer you the same? 

#König x reader #könig x fem reader #serial killer au #stalker au #this is about serial killer könig. NOT könig being a serial killer #dangerous serial killer is soft only for you

[estelofrivendell]

If you’re still taking prompts/requests, would you consider writing something with Aragorn and a fem reader where they are trying for a baby and then pregnant (with maybe some breeding kink)?

I feel like Aragorn has waited so long to be able to start a family and have children, and he’s eager to do so with his partner. But he’s also conscious of the fact it is his duty to provide an heir for the kingdom of Gondor and ensure the continuation of his line. And I feel as though he and his partner would acknowledge both of these reasons.

I can imagine the courtiers and servants in Minas Tirith being surprised by how attentive and hands on Aragorn is with his partners pregnancy. The King of Gondor rescheduling meetings to attend medical check ups! Using his knowledge and healing skills to help with morning sickness or other discomforts. Being present in the birthing room and helping during delivery instead of waiting somewhere for news of the baby’s arrival.

Thank you for keeping this fandom alive! ❤️

Aragorn x Female Reader

A/N: Gotta tell you, anon, breeding kink is not my thing. Yet I can kind of see Aragorn having one. This is really a cute request however and I can see him do everything you stated, he would not let his wife alone and in pain :)

WARNINGS: Pregnancy, mentions of childbirth and death, breeding kink and smutty themes.

It is a king’s duty to produce heirs and raise them to be the most honorable of men. Issues of the king are supposed to be proud, courageous and valiant leaders just like their forefathers, keep their country and their people safe to ensure lasting power.

So what does a king and his queen that seem to struggle with making a child say about them? Three years after taking you as his wife there is no heir, at this rate they would be happy to have a daughter if not a son. Everyone in the king’s vicinity started to worry; had Aragorn doomed himself and Gondor by marrying a barren woman?

He will gently shut down any negative remarks anyone in his circle makes and he felt sorry for the immense pressure you were currently under and the anguish you were feeling, but he had to admit that he too wanted to start a family as soon as possible. He was certain about two things in his life: become king and having you as the mother of his children.

Perhaps this desperation was why he was starting to feel rather animalistic behind closed doors that it disturbed him. Each time he came inside you, releasing his seed, he can only imagine you with a swollen belly, carrying his child, and the thought of that aroused him more than he would like to admit. He started to fantasise about taking you roughly when you are far along.

Eventually, both your wishes came true. After experiencing morning sickness and missed periods, a healer informed you you were pregnant. The council was so delighted with the news that they held a celebration for it. He would inform you of his newfound urges and felt relieved when you told him you did not see anything wrong with it. You were willing to indulge in his fantasies as he is for your own and if anything became extreme for either of you then it all comes to an end instantly.

Aragorn proved to be a devoted and loving husband (not that you weren’t already aware of that) by accompanying you at every check up the healer scheduled. The healer accepted his presence since he is essentially a healer as well. The return of the king healed the Rohirrim in the Houses of Healing, calling them back to life and away from the Black Breath, and nobody was going to forget that anytime soon. The most unexpected of all was the king staying by his queen’s side during childbirth, his hand in pain from your deathly grip. Kings and lords were often absent whenever their wives were giving birth and he did not want to be an example of that.

Minas Tirith had many open secrets but the king’s love for his wife and newborn son was no secret at all. Even the common folk heard about how present he was in his family’s life. He grew up never really knowing his own father and his mother lived in despair for the rest of her life, grieving his loss.

He did not want you and your son to go through the same thing and he will make sure of it.

#lotr imagine #lord of the rings imagine #aragorn x reader #aragorn imagine #lemon #not really lol but i added that for filtering purposes

[thebibutterflyao3]

Marauders Fandom

We need to talk about Lily Evans.

The amount of misogyny directed at this character is truly mind-boggling and I think many of you are completely unaware you’re doing it. There are so many rich, in-depth characterizations of the male characters in the Marauders era because we accept that they are deeply flawed people. It’s because of these flaws that we identify with them, adore them, and can relate to them. These four idiots experience damaging trauma, homophobia, discrimination, and countless character building experiences that allow them to capture your imagination. Through fanfiction, we inflict numerous situations and create relationships that challenge logic, reality, and canon. It makes them powerful figures in our minds!

Now, let’s talk about the female Marauders era characters. Dorcas and Marlene are lesbians. Marlene is a Sirius-variant. Dorcas and Mary are Black. Lily is perfect in every way. Mary is stylish and popular. This is more or less the level of depth given to these characters in nearly every fic I’ve read that includes them. What a disgusting disservice to women.

Female characters can be written with just as many flaws, experience the same challenges, and deserve the opportunity to grow into the powerful figures they could be. The one that I feel is shafted the most often is Lily mother-fucking Evans. The witch who was at the top of her class, compared in canon to Hermione as a perfectionist and know-it-all muggle-born, who grew up with Petunia as an older sister, and Severus Snape as a best friend. You’re going to look me in the eyeballs and tell me this woman wasn’t complicated? She wasn’t flawed, traumatized, and intense? We’ve taken the rich characterization potential this character offered and given it to Regulus Black. The correlations that can be made between Regulus and Lily are wild, yet anyone who writes her as anything but sunshine and rainbows is accused of villainizing her.

News flash: Your misogyny is showing. Why do you expect Lily to be perfect? Because society expects women to be perfect. Why are male characters allowed to be flawed assholes? Because society allows and accepts men as flawed assholes, encourages it even.

I find it endlessly fascinating that I can write Regulus as a snarky, intense, anxious, and a complete prick with nothing but full support from the fandom because he’s “traumatized.” If I write Lily the same way? I’m “villainizing” her or you “hate her” for thinking she knows better than everyone else. Stop treating women like dolls. We are powerful individuals with the potential to brighten or destroy your whole fucking world. Don’t make the same mistake the patriarchy has and dismiss, undermine, and overlook women.

I know Lily Jane Evans (yes, I gave her a middle name because she fucking deserves one). I wrote a 430k+ deep dive into her childhood and upbringing, as well as all 7 years at Hogwarts. I explored her friendship with Snape, her family, and her relationship with James. I’ve done my research and I built her character from the ground up. Lily Evans is an anxious, intense, introvert who made Hogwarts her home and rose to the rank of Head Girl before she left. Sound like Percy Weasley to anyone? She’s certainly a compassionate, loving, and generous person too, but let her have flaws! Let her be annoying, feel inadequate, and fuck things up! Let her live!

If you want more fanfiction focused on female characters, stop pretending they are perfect. No one wants to write about perfect people. No one wants to read about them either. Let women be flawed assholes too. We can do both. We’re flexible like that.

#welcome to my ted talk #the marauders #lily evens #lily evans supremacy #marauders era #jily #harry potter #jegulus #starchaser #wolfstar #dorlene #marylily

[girltigerclaw]

breaking into ur house rn

top ten characters and bottom ten. reasons are optional

I just finished this chart thing i think i actually stole from your blog a few months ago <3 Slightly edited to my own prefs.

If anyone wants the template check the reblogs, and feel free to add you own. I'd love to see. I'm just rambling under here:

Leafpool: She is more special and sacred than the virgin mary. She has everything. Daughter of the first protagonist, ex boyfriend for me to hate, TONS of wlw situationships<3, a lifetime of tragedy, and some of the most gorgeous canon art to exist.

Crookedstar: Crookedstar is a trans woman to me. Her life is genuinely just so tragic and fucked, I love it. The erins asked: “How much truama, death and misfortune can you fit into a single cat?” and then they wrote Crookedstar’s promise.

Tawnypelt: GIRLS WHO HATE THEIR FATHERS. The erins dont love her like I do.

Tallstar: I love old men… I fucking love seeing older characters and how much they’ve changed from their younger selves. Tallstar is considered one of, if not the most peaceful leader in the clans. But also when he was like 19 he went on a quest to fucking murder a guy :3

Cloudstar: I rlly do not care abt anyone in Skyclan(I like Leafstar but she's not a fav yknow?) Cloudstar... he was based as fuck. Why did Starclan get away with this shit for real??

Scourge: It’s fucking Scourge. He’s awesome

Briarlight: I’m disabled and I love her. She has such a consistent fun, sweet personality and she makes me happy!!<3

RavenBarley: It deserves all the attention and hype it gets. Though I wish mlm ships didn’t overshadow wlw ones in this fandom, RavenBarley is genuinely well written and makes me very emotional even if the publisher didnt allow it to be explicitly canon.

CrookedBlue: TRANS WOMEN CROOKEDSTAR YURI. Two leaders having a forbidden relationship and kits is way more interesting than Oakheart. The angst of Crooked and Blue sitting next to eachother every gathering while the entire forest has their eyes on them. Don’t look for too long, don’t let the mourning slip into your voice. You have to pretend your lover is a stranger. You… have become strangers. You can never be together again. You're enemies now. This is what we wanted, isn’t it? …We’ll never be happy again.

Mothwing: Her novella delving into her relationship with Hawkfrost was so good and heartbreaking.

Heathertail: Daughter of leader, sister of a major villian, and former love interest of a protagonist! Why did she fall off the second po3 ended. She’s shown to be very compassionate and willing to put her own feelings aside for the sake of others. Would’ve honestly prefered her as a mate to Lionblaze or get a pov herself over the nothing we got.

Blackstar: *Murders an elderly woman trying to stop me from kidnapping children. Supports a dictator openly abusing/neglecting children and the elderly. Murders a man for refusing to kill mixed raced children- then tells said man’s sister that she will never be safe.* Man…. i sure do feel bad for abusing and killing all of those people…. Good thing I will face no consequences and proceed to be made leader, where I will have even more power over the wellbeing of others.

I hate. This guy.

The New Prophecy: A classic. My first series was actually tnp! i feel more attached to first arc cats tho, if you couldn't already tell by my list lmao

Johanna Map- Best Tawnypelt content out there

BlueQuince: My personal handcrafted, homemade Yuri. Bluefur feels terrible about Tiny going missing and promises Quince she’ll help her find him. They never did, but they had a very… fleeting but intimate relationship. Quince is grieving and Bluefur feels so overwhelmed by the duties in her clan. They’ve always thought of eachother since but never met again.

Tigerclaw: My name sake<3 The angst of his earlier life is so, so facinating to me. Starclan being straight fucked up and decided killing him is their only option? He was a kid and they saw him as a lost cause from the start. They never tried any other methods, never tried to steer him in the right direction or… even just take it into their own hands and kill him themself, which they have SHOWN they’re capable of.

They watched all the the horrific crimes he commited, entirely aware they were going to happen. Thats. Fucking. Horrifying. Starclan is scary as shit… and his death? FANTASTIC. I only wish he’d gotten lives from cats he killed so that him coming back to life to suffer over and over was an actual curse from Starclan and not blessings. They knew how he would die and they gave him the lives to torture him for his sins…

Flywhisker: Adhd girlies. Painfully relate to that feeling of the constant scolding for never being “good enough” because I prefer to do things a certain way or struggle to focus. So, SO happy for her when she left the clans! You don’t have to prove yourself to anyone! Hope she’s happy and warm indoors with her brother💕

(P.S. I was very suprised to find she actually had an official art piece!)

Bluestar: Get behind me women with mental disorders. I will defend you. Beautifully complex and tragic character, my favorite written in the series. Literally can't think of a single other female character in handled as seriously and with the complexity of Bluestar. (Although her super edition was a bit of an L with how others treated her, it ultimately makes her breakdown even more painful.)

Exile from Shaodwclan: Nightstar my beloved! He's such a great guy. The rightful leader of Shadowclan, always and forever.

Ravenpaw's Farewell: HE DIED IN BARLEY'S ARMS, TELLING HIM HE WILL FIND HIM, NO MATTER WHERE HE IS. FUCK.

Crookedstar art: So beautiful. I genuinely think she's one of the prettiest cats in the series. This along with her official art by Wayne Mcloughlin.

Leopardstar: As a kid I hated her and loved Blackfoot, now I hate Blackfoot and love her. #feminism. But seriously I think she has way more going for her than he ever has. Her father is a medicine cat who hates violence, the DRASTIC change in Riverclan's view of outsiders upon Crookedstar's death and her leadership. Her already having a position of power before proving she's unworthy of it. (Unlike Blackstar who gets rewarded for his racism and violence by being made leader afterwards) and the fact she has to interact with her victims on a daily basis after what she did.

The writings attempts to redeem her are really lame and dismissive of the actually damage she did, but at the very least they TRIED to do something else with her. Personally, I would have loved to see her assassinated by Mistyfoot. Just like her mother Bluestar was almost killed all those moons ago by Tigerclaw... The parallels of violence for power and violence for peace. A victim repeating the actions of the very man who killed her brother to put an end to what he started in Riverclan.... A shadow in Riverclan, if you will. (<-Pretending erin hunter has hired me to rewrite their series)

Windclan: Tunneling as a concept and inviting outsiders into their clan so friendly and casual makes the clan seems so much more diverse than the others. It always stuck out to me!

Andddd there are my current warrior cat options as of 2023! If someone actually read this whole ramble ily<3

#THANKS FOR THE ASK. sorry i wrote you a novel❤ #I already wanted an excuse to just throw all my favs and thoughts into one place so i used ur ask as that lol #asks #mypost

[queers-gambit]

Bearer of Bad News

[ series masterlist ]

prompt: devastating news reaches your ears from an unlikely messenger.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!wife!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 7.2k+

warnings: spoilers, cursing, OC Aemond, author has a thing for pet names and making hardened men simps for their ladies. not really edited, angst, ambiguous ending because why not. ❗️major season one, episode ten spoilers

"Aemond, please listen to reason, and do not go," you begged your husband as you followed him around your room; hand to your freely-swelling belly firm as if to keep the small babe in place. "Please - I wish I could explain it but I fear for this message you are to carry."

"Hey, hey," Aemond paused in his venture to ready himself for his envoy trip to the Storm Lands; turning to take your hands in his. "Is that what this is about, my sweet? You know you are the love and light of my life," he smirked broadly as if to tease you, "and no Baratheon whore is going to change that. Hmm?"

"Do not remind me of your brother's vile proposal," you sneered, rolling your eyes away from his piercing gaze. "It was disrespectful, at best!"

He chuckled a bit, tugging you in so he could hold your waist. "Come now, my sweet wife. It is just a marriage pact for an alliance. What're the odds I will actually have to marry the broad? Hey?"

"You are not free to marry," you snapped.

"I am honored for the privilege to uphold our ancestral customs. More than one wife is a Targaryen tradition, my pet."

"Aemond."

He smirked deeper, "They are but silly words, my love. Who ever Lord Borros offers will not share my bed, nor affection, but only my name."

"Our name," you reminded, "for I am still your wife. I am carrying your Targaryen child, and you will show me respect."

"Of course, darlin'," he relented with a nod. "I meant no offense."

"And she would share our home, too, is it?"

He shrugged, "Perhaps Aegon will take interest in her."

"Oh, that's cruel."

"I do not know how to satisfy you, my love. Help me out here."

"Go back and refuse your brother because you are married to me, and that is enough!"

"They are just words," he sighed, leaning his forehead to yours as his hand cradled your cheek to keep you close. "Ease yourself, my love, please. 'S not good for the babe."

You huffed lightly, "Does not mean you should carry his message to Lord Borros. Please, Aemond, it storms there all the time and that can be dangerous, do not go. Just - do not leave me alone."

"I will only be gone a single day, my love," he promised with patience, leaning in to press his lips to yours. Long gone was his teasing smirk, seeing and feeling your genuine worry for his wellbeing and deciding it was better to comfort your pregnancy-brain.

Helaena had warned Aemond that once with child, the mind kinda slips, but it is not to be held against the woman for it is just a symptom of creating life in their belly.

"Then will you do me a favor?"

"Hmm?"

"Take Kasta, please."

"Oh, my sweet girl," he chuckled now. "I cannot take your dragon, she is yours, and she still grows. She is not suited for this trip, okay? Worry not, Vhagar will protect and serve me well."

You sighed sadly, "Well, when you've an answer for everything, 'tis a bit hard to be upset."

"You're just worried," he sighed, nodding in understanding. "Hear me, please, my sweet wife. There is nought a thing for you to worry over, there is nothing of concern."

"Well, what if my mother sends an envoy?"

"What if she does?"

"What will you do?"

"Out of respect only for you, I will not engage," he smirked, placating you. "I am eager to return, we might continue to celebrate our child."

"That sounds so strange, my love," you pouted lightly, making him crack a brief smile. "How am I to ensure you are safe? What if I went with you on Kasta?"

"Not a chance in all Seven Hells," he laughed, pecking your forehead twice. "Oh, I love you dearly, my pet, but I am not letting you fly into Storms End - even with a loyal beast like Kasta."

You huffed lightly, "Then take me yourself on Vhagar."

"You are the Princess," he shook his head with a whisper, "and my beloved wife - I will not risk you in any capacity."

"Fine!" You rolled your eyes, pecking his lips before finally pulling back to drop onto the bed - rubbing your swelling belly. "But what if you just didn't go? Hmm? You know?"

"No, pet. Not possible," he answered smoothly, as if he anticipated your words while continuing to ready himself. "What if you were in the Dragon Pit when I returned? So that you might see, as the first, that I am safe and well?"

You thought about it as Aemond pulled leather garb onto his body, smirking at you as he went. "Maybe..."

"Would you like to do my hair, my Princess?" He offered, holding a brush out for you. You snatched it up and grinned to yourself, easing him into a chair before starting on his locks. "Just keep it away from my face, pet. Got a long fly."

"I know how you like it," you smirked, leaning in to kiss his cheek and jaw. "Sit still please." He titled his head back to peck your lips, then settled to allow you to work.

Yet as he did, a hand was never far from you; pinching your hip or lingering near your elbow as you worked. He'd never admit it, but the Prince adore physical touch and often like to express himself through it; relying on most nonverbal communication. When you had his hair secured, you then fixed his eye patch on properly and sighed deeply to yourself, making your husband softly wonder, "What's on your mind, pretty girl?"

"I'll just miss you, I guess," you shrugged. "You truly must go?"

Helaena had also warned Aemond that pregnancy-brain can make some women clingy - though she did not experience it herself.

Prince Aemond sighed as he stood from his chair to hover over you - the damn bean stalk of a man - and held your waist tightly. "I will meet you in the Pit after," he promised. "Be there at sundown, yes?"

"Of course, my Prince," you promised in a whisper, ensuring the words were meant only for him. Trying to prove your love, you told him in High Valyrian, "I will wait for you forever, if I must. But do not make me."

He chuckled, "Oi, hey, watch it, my pretty wife. You know I can hardly resist when you get to talkin' in tongues."

You grinned against his lips, letting him pressing one, two, three more kisses in parting. "Be careful," you whispered, "and please come back to me."

"I will always do what I can to ensure that, sweet wife," he answered just as quietly, nodding sadly. "I must go..."

You sniffled, "All right. Go on, 's all right, love. Be careful in the Storm Lands, it's not named lightly."

Taking one last look at you, Aemond sighed and squeezed your hand, leaving you with his words, "Be in the Pit later."

You nodded, watching him stride towards the door, but something lurched in your stomach. "A-Aemond?" You call, jogging slightly after him. As if anticipating your movements, he turned swiftly and caught you in a tight embrace; letting his hand lock around the back of your neck to keep you steady as his nose pressed into the crook of your neck, inhaling deeply to commit your scent to memory.

He sighed, petting over your hair for a moment as you both savored the feeling of one another. When ready, you pulled back with tears shining in your eyes - but willed them not to fall. You knew it was silly to worry over him for a matter such as this, but you felt sickened by his departure, and prayed for his safety.

"No matter what is to come, know that I love you deeply," he swore quietly, petting over your chin with his calloused fingertips; foreheads resting together to keep proximity. "'S all right, it'll be all right, sweetheart."

"Just come home, and I will wish for little else."

He smirked some, "Pregnancy has made you soft, my wife. 'Tis a good look on you."

"Is it?"

"I adore it," he promised with a chuckle. "Now, kiss me, my pretty girl, and I will return by nightfall."

Surging onto your toes, your arms rose to let you hold onto your husbands neck; his lips finding yours in a passionate, frenzied dance. Just before the kiss grew sloppy, Aemond pressed his lips in meaningful, hardened affection - something you physically felt.

He had to pull back or else risk being tempted into staying; petting the side of your face before turning swiftly and slipping out the door. You heard his footsteps retreat down the hall and slowly claimed a seat on your shared bed - that had only just cooled from your warm bodies finding solace and peace in the sheets from the night.

You kept yourself busy for the whole day, trying not to wonder over Aemond's adventures. You took time to sit with Helaena for a bit, visiting with the twins; answering any of the girl's questions about your pregnancy. "You've grown," she cocked her head softly, eyes set on your belly.

"Oh," you smiled a bit, nodding to the newly-crowned Queen, "yes, it seems the babe grew overnight, and only after I could tell the news."

"He's listening," Helaena nodded. "Like he knows."

You chuckled a bit, laying an affectionate hand to your belly to rub slightly. "Yes, I imagine so, sometimes. Though, between you and me," you lowered your tone to lean in, telling her, "I wager it's a girl."

"Really?" Your sister-by-law asked with intrigue. "How special!"

You hummed and nodded, going back to mindless embroidery as the twins played on the floor near your feet. As usual, the Queen stitched a new bug, but you weren't sure of your design because you continued to fall distracted, leaving your pallet a mess of tangled colorful thread. You tried to play it off, but for the rest of the day, you worried for your husband.

Whether pacing the gardens or pacing your bedchambers, you could not remain still as both your back and stomach knotted themself in stress. You could barely be spoken to the whole day, and come the evening meal, your step-mother, the Queen Regent, Alicent Hightower, was reaching for your hand. "Are you alright, dearest girl? You've barely touched your meal this evening."

You nodded stiffly, "Of course I'm alright."

She sighed knowingly, "I did not like it, either, you should know."

"What might that be, Your Grace?"

"Well, for one, Aegon sending Aemond away to parlay with the Baratheons, and offering his hand to any of his daughters."

You sighed, obediently replying, "The King can do as he pleases."

She sighed, muttering, "Not always. I told him he had no right in offering his brother's hand, but he would not hear me. What of Aemond's reaction?"

"To the Prince, Your Grace, they are but pitiful words that he does not mean," you answered, pushing a bit of stewed vegetables around your plate. "To me? They are unjustly cruel and wittingly disrespectful."

She nodded in agreement, "Worry not, dear girl, I will speak to Aegon, and we will design a new strategy for loyalty."

You half-smiled, glancing across the table to the 'King'. You knew your mother was the rightful heir but considering your position amongst the Greens, you wanted to tread as neutrally as possible. Tearing your eyes away from the boy-playing-King, you tried to focus on your meal but how could you when the sun was set in place to sink?

After asking for leave once stomaching three bites of your meal, that Alicent permitted with a soft kiss to your cheek, you stood from the table, gave a short curtsy to the King, nodding to the Queen, and turned on your heel to escape the dining quarters. When alone in your chambers, you were swift to swing a hooded cloak onto your shoulders; hiding your trademark silver locks, and slipping out of the secret passage your room hosted.

Early one night in your marriage, Aemond had shown you - and together, you were pretty sure you had only found half of the Red Keep's secret passages. Yet this was all you needed, jogging through the stronghold to pass onto the darkening street, and head for the Dragon Pit.

Upon arriving, your hair was the only confirmation guards needed to let you pass, and when you got there, Aemond had yet to arrive. With worry, you paced by your dragon's keep and Kasta watched you with curiosity burning in her eyes. She huffed a few times, making you pause to nuzzle her snout - but she grew larger by the day, and it was harder to offer her affectionate cuddles.

She wasn't the size of Vhagar, but something akin to Meleys, or the Red Queen, that had last been seen when smashing the Dragon Pit to shit during Aegon's coronation. The only reason you were bitter about it all was because, for one, you did not think of it, and two, Princess Rhaenys did not take out Alicent and the Greens when she had the chance. You worried not for yourself, for fire cannot kill a dragon, but when the Princess only turned the Red Queen away and soared out of the closing-Pit, you couldn't help but feel mildly disappointed.

Kasta heard it before you did, but a moment after the large, emerald green dragon picked her head up in alarm, you heard the echoing roar of Vhagar returning. Kasta cocked her head and snorted as she stood to her feet, taking only three steps so she stood completely over you protectively.

"It's Vhagar and Aemond, my love," you spoke softly in your Mother's Tongue. "Not to worry."

But the dragon did not back down, and in fact, let steam billow out of her nostrils. Being one of the larger beasts, your dragon was housed with Vhagar and Meleys, but after the Red Queen's departure, Kasta was left alone today... Making you wonder why she was overly protective in that moment.

You tried to chalk it up to you being pregnant and like Aemond, Kasta only wanted to keep you close to ensure your safety. But when your knees buckled some under the tremor of Vhagar's landing, you wondered if you were imagining things, or if the dragon's movements felt much... Shakier.

Kasta growled when you tried to move and with a squeak, you were wrapped in her heaving paw, being drug back under her stoic form. "Kasta!" You reprimanded sharply. "He's my husband, there is no - " But you gasped when Vhagar gave a mighty roar from within the Pit - sand and dirt trembling from the cracked walls from sheer vibration. Kasta raised her head when you took a step back to feel her breast at your head.

When the thundering steps of Vhagar was heard, your dragon bared her teeth in threat - and you suddenly worried for your position. It was obvious tension ran high and if your other-wise very sweet and docile dragon was riled up, you worried she could smell something alarming on Vhagar. But she kept her paw close to you in a cradle, as if to keep you at bay and under her protection.

"Aemond?" You called when you heard someone grunt and pant from down the way; the echo of the Pit proving useful in this moment.

"Love? That you?"

You tried to step out, but Kasta growled and slammed her arm in front of you to prevent your departure. "Oh, Kasta! Not now!"

But you only earned a threatening growl in return.

"What's happening?" Aemond's voice called, his body appearing at the mouth of your dragon's alcove - taking a step back when her large, emerald head whipped around to glower at him. "Is something wrong?" He asked you, cautious of the dragon growling at him. "The baby?"

"Baby's fine, but I was hoping you could tell me what was wrong," you sighed, stroking over your dragon's hide of her inner arm. "Kasta went on the defense the moment she heard Vhagar. Why would that be, husband?"

But you didn't expect Aemond to stiffen, lifting his gaze up and away from you.

"Aemond?" You wondered gently, trying to steer his attention towards you from behind your dragon's arm. "My love, are you all right? What's happened?" The term of endearment from your desperate lips made your husband flinch, turning away from you in full, and making you snap, "Aemond Targaryen, you tell me what's happened - now!"

Kasta gave a guttural growl when your temper spiked. It made your long, silver haired husband pause. When he turned to look at you again, you could see the few tears falling down his cheeks and knew it was not beads of water dripping from his still-sopping hair. Your dragon stepped out when you did, keeping her body between you both and Vhagar - something you noticed acutely.

"Did something happen with Vhagar, my love? Are you injured?" You asked as you finally approached him, but Aemond uncharacteristically flinched away from your hands as you tried to reach for him. "What's this? What's happened? Are you hurt?"

"I..." He took a breath, tears brimming in his violet eye to fall helplessly down his pale, sunken cheek. "I did not mean for it to happen, love..."

"Okay," you nodded patiently. "So, there was an accident?"

"In a way," he relented, breathing out tautly before leaning to a wall and sliding down it - the look of despair and dejection etched on his face. You slowly approached him. "When I tell you what has happened, I will lose you, too. You will leave, and I will be unable to stop you - but you've got to know how bloody sorry I am."

"Aemond," you sighed. "You're starting to frighten me, my love. What's happened? Please tell me, are you hurt?"

"I'm not hurt... But you said so long as I returned here, to you, you could not ask for anything else, right?" He asked breathlessly, watching you nod as you slowly lowered yourself beside him; facing him so you could watch his face. "Does that still stand... If I've made a terrible mistake that will effect you, too?"

You sighed, "All right. Hey," you nodded, reaching for his trembling, freezing cold hand, "you can do a lot in this lifetime, Aemond Targaryen, but very little will shake the foundation of love that we have. What has happened that's so bad, hmm?"

He whispered, "Might've... Potentially started the war..."

You sighed sadly, sat in the sand, "Oh, Aemond... C'mon, love, you were just to carry a message to Lord Baratheon."

"I know."

"So, how is it you potentially started the war? Hmm?" You shuffled closer to him, trying not to let your heart shrivel from the way he visibly recoiled. "The hell's going on? This isn't like you - we're a team, Aemond. Why're you shutting me out? See - this is in part why I wanted to go, then you'd have no need to explain anything."

He nodded mutely, taking a staggering breath in that worried you more. Aemond didn't often show regret, but here, before you now, it was obvious the young Prince was drowning in it.

"Aemond, please, you're worrying me, my love," you whispered, trying to warm his hands in yours. But still, he could not meet your eyes, and his hands were deadly limp.

"I don't know where to start," his voice crackled into a whisper.

"From the beginning, please," you nodded, readjusting slightly to better look at him. "Sweetheart, just take your time, but please, do not shut me out. I cannot help you if I do not know what plagues you."

In a broken whisper, he admitted, "Once I tell you, you won't think to call me sweetheart - or sweet anything, again. Gods," he breathed, chuckled without humor, "I did not think I would miss something so much but the idea of never hearing you call me a pet name again sends my stomach to my feet."

"My Lord husband is a sweet man," you slowly reached for his face, caressing his jaw so he looked at you, "though perhaps only I get the pleasure of bearing witness to it," you whispered in return, letting your thumb caress his skin. "I will be the judge of what name befits him, for I am the one calling him. But I will need to know what startles him so. I will need to know so I can try to help him through his grief."

He blinked a few times, but your image became blurred as emotion coated his throat, "Please, just... Do not leave me after you know."

Though Aemond might not have felt true, gut-wrenching guilt over what had become of the young Prince Luke, he feared telling you, and feared what would happen once you knew. He knew that he could not, nor would he want to, stop you from fleeing the capital. And after today, the least he could do is assist smuggling you out. The very idea made his stomach clench; where he once planned a future with you and your child, now, his mind flashed with the idea of helping you get back to your mother.

Speaking of, he was jarred into reality by your voice asking, "Did you kill my mother?"

"No," he spoke swiftly.

"Then there is little to worry over," you sighed. "Less you killed my little brothers, then, that is... Different...?" You trailed off when his head hit the wall behind him, restraining the emotion from his face as he kept his head tilted to the side in an effort to avoid you. "Aemond? Hey, look at me, please... Please, Aemond, did something happen? Has something happened to my brothers?"

His hands trembled in yours, his throat croaking, "Yes."

You had to pause, trying to keep a level head. "All right, well, is that the accident you speak of?"

"It is..."

"This is... The accident you caused that's potentially started the war?"

"I'm so sorry," he whispered.

"Answer me, Aemond, please. Is this the accident you speak of that has caused the start of the war? Speak plainly."

Your husband paused to swallow thickly, finally admitting, "Yes. I-It is, my love."

You let out a staggering breath that refused to ease itself. You felt panic overwhelming your chest as worst case scenarios played themselves out in your mind, vaguely feeling Aemond reaching for you as panic took over. His words were muffled seemingly beneath water, leaving you staggering for rational thought and breath. Yet none would come to you - could come to you. Your husband had managed control of your weeping form, turning to switch places; leaving you pressed to the wall as he tried to coach you through your interrupted-breathing.

When the initial shock wore off, your hands were gripping his biceps tightly, demanding, "What happened? What did you do? Please, please, Aemond, you're the - you're the only one. The only one who knows the truth. Please, tell me in full, and tell me in truth - what happened to my brothers?"

He nodded, whispering, "It's not going to be easy to hear, my love."

"I need to," you argued, tugging the sleeve of his squeaky-wet leather jerkin. "Tell me, please, I deserve to know. W-What has become of my baby brothers, Aemond? Please tell me! I have a right!"

He nodded, eye tinged red from emotion, admitting, "I arrived in Storms End before your mother's envoy. I brought the King's words but then came reports of another dragon heading in our direction... So, we waited," he swallowed thickly.

"Who was it? Who did my mother send?"

He sighed, "Luke."

"Gods," you whispered, nodding as you sniffled. "So, Luke arrives, and what?"

"I let my anger get the best of me, pet..."

= Storms End // hours prior =

"Where's the bloody Maester!?" Lord Borros demanded, glaring to his court as a man bowed and rushed away to retrieve the one man who could read Rhaenyra's letter.

Aemond did not lift his murderous gaze from Prince Luke's form, making the 14-year-old boy wrap his fist around the hilt of his sword. The Maester jogged into the courtroom, and yet, the Prince did not lift his violet eye from the boy; standing curiously beside a woman with dark hair - assuring the Prince this was one of Borros Baratheon's daughters. Luke found this curious, knowing Aemond was married to his white-haired sister... So, why was he found in low conversation with the pretty Lady Baratheon?

The Maester read the Black Queen Rhaenyra's words, glancing at Luke, before bending at the waist to mutter to Lord Borros the letter's contents. When the words registered, the Baratheon Lord was snarling, "'Remind' me of my father's oath." Thunder rumbled around them. "King Aegon at least came with an offer: my swords and banners for a marriage pact." He looked pointedly to Aemond and his daughter, making Prince Luke's jaw clench. The Lord leaned forward on his 'throne', snarling, "If I do as your mother bids..." His head turned to regard the remaining three daughters left lined up, "Which one of my daughters will you wed... Boy?"

"My Lord... I am not free to marry. I am already betrothed, and by all accounts, Prince Aemond is married to my sister, the Princess Y/N Velaryon."

"She's a Targaryen Princess now, boy, and you should know," Aemond smirked from across the hall, "that taking more than one wife is an honored familial custom."

Borros continued before any more retaliation could be spat, noting to Luke, "So, you come with empty hands. Go home, pup. And tell your Mother that the Lord of Storm's End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes."

Aemond found the response rather poised, decently poetic.

Luke decided to take the diplomatic route and respond, "I shall take your answer to the Queen, my Lord."

Aemond smirked at the response, watching the kid turn to depart the Storm's End hall - but could not resist the confrontation, and called, "Wait..." And when Luke turned, Aemond continued, "My Lord Strong." He watched for a baited reaction, and when Luke turned with anger marring his young features, stalking forward again, Aemond could not hold his tongue any longer. "Did you really think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brother's throne at no cost?"

The boy steeled his feet, understanding that he was being baited now. "I will not fight you. I came as a messenger, not a warrior."

"A fight would be little challenge," Aemond taunted. "No," he decided, lips quirked in a smirk. Then, he reached to palm his eye patch off, revealing the gleaming sapphire he used as replacement, "I want you to put out your eye." He paused a moment to stare at the boy, who looked startled from the reveal, then continuing, "As payment for mine." When Luke appeared purely startled, Aemond finished, "One will serve."

He pulled his dagger from his belt and tossed it towards the Prince; letting it clatter to the stone floor in an ominous echo.

"I would not blind you, the only curtesy I would extend on behalf of my sweet wife," Aemond spoke levelly, a clap of thunder punctuating his words. The look of fear over Luke's face was enough to make his blood sing, but still, it wasn't all he wanted, so, he told the boy after tisking his tongue, "Plan to make a gift of it to my mother."

You fucking Mama's boy, Luke raged in his head.

"No," he decided to speak instead, his voice firm in refusal despite the want to crack from pressure.

Aemond spoke over the rumblings of the storm that raged outside, "Then you are craven as well as a traitor."

"Not here!" Lord Borros demanded, seeing the challenge brew to a knew height - and fearing for the rumors surrounding the One Eyed Prince. He knew the other rumors surrounding the loss of his eye, but while many circulated, each had to do with the Princess Rhaenyra's two dark-haired sons.

The tension was nearly tangible.

Something in Aemond snapped, crackled, and popped out of his heart - sending him surging forward as he cried, "Give me your eye, or I will take it, bastard!"

He stooped expertly to snatch up his dagger, standing tall as Luke armed himself with his sword, and the Lord of Storms End rose from his chair, shouting, "Not in my hall!" Only then did Aemond come to a halt, giving Luke a real up-close look at the damage he inflicted as a small child, in defense of his brother and cousins. "The boy came as an envoy!" Borros reminded them all. "I'll not have blood shed beneath my roof. Take Prince Lucerys back to his dragon." Thunder clapped, lightning flashed. "Now."

When the four knights who escorted him into the hall moved into action, Luke sheathed his sword, offered his uncle one last stale look, and departed the hall - with another glance over his shoulder as he went. Aemond let his lips pull into a smirk, and his fingers deftly flipped his branded dagger back into its sheath at his hip.

= present // the Dragon Pit =

"All right," you sighed, sitting with Aemond beside you, hip on hip, thigh against thigh, and his arm laid over the seam of your legs and let both of yours hold his. "So, you lost your temper and threatened the boy. Hardly material that would start battles."

"I didn't get to the worst part..."

You sighed, "Does it explain the dragon's odd behavior?"

"I think," he whispered, pressing his lips over your forehead. "I don't think I can tell you more."

"You're going to have to," you sighed. "Though, by the pain it causes you, Gods, do I wish anyone else could explain it. But you know what really happened, my love. I need the truth of the matter."

"You'll get it," he promised, "I just need a moment... Where you don't hate me in full."

"Aemond," you tisked in worry. "Please stop making that assumption. I need the truth, I need the details - you're owed fair judgement. And now, unless Vhagar decides to start talking, only you can tell me. Borros won't, and I imagine the dragons are involved - or Kasta would not be so defensive."

He nodded mutely, leaning in to inhale the top of your head. "I'm truly sorry... Let me start there. A-And it wasn't my intention to hurt anyone, I only wanted t-to frighten the boy. I could not have my revenge for myself, but I wasn't satisfied in it all."

"Might I say something?"

He nodded, glancing at you once before fearing for the intensity behind your eyes. "Your eye, or lack thereof, has never once taken away from you. I know the ridicule you endured, my love, and I am truly sorry for it, and while I cannot undo years of torment and trauma, please understand that I do not find you lacking. I love you, Aemond, with or without your eye."

He sighed and let his hand drift to pull your knees in; letting you lean into his lap in an effort to be closer. "I know neither of us wanted to marry the other initially, but Gods, have I been grateful for it - for you. I need you to know that I do love you, and I am so fucking sorry."

You sighed. "All right, you're sorry, we love each other, we're on the same page. Only... You seem to know what happened, and I cannot help you yet. But for whatever it's worth, while I wish you hadn't, I understand your want for revenge. I am sorry for what my brothers did, and the price you paid."

He sighed against your forehead, "I am sorry for what I did today."

"Let me pass judgement, my love."

With a heavy sigh, Aemond delivered the final, devastating blow. "It was storming profusely - wind, rain, and thunder. The whole lot, making it terrible to see in... Luke had escaped on Arrax but he was tense, flying sporadically, and I know this because Vhagar and I pursued them. I only meant to scare him and give chase, and he was smart enough to dive for the canyons. Vhagar is too big to follow, so, we lost him for a time..."

= Storm Lands // hours prior =

Vhagar stretched her wings to their full span as she and her master flew over the canyon; both searching for the boy riding the terribly small (by comparison), paler dragon. Over the howling winds, sideways rain, and clapping thunder, Aemond called in High Valyrian, "You owe a debt! Boy!"

But there was no visibility, and soon, the thick storm clouds swallowed them whole. Aemond still looked from side to side, and perhaps, his dragon had understood his words; because in the next few moments, everything went perfectly wrong. Having used the clouds and raging storm to their advantage, Arrax and Luke had technically been in the clear, but the smaller dragon rebelled first.

Over the winds, Aemond heard Luke shouting in High Valyrian, "No, Arrax!" The next second, a blast of fire shot out from the pale dragon and seared into the neck, jaw, and face of the much larger dragon of war. The challenge was set, and Aemond heard his nephew as they flew away, "No, Arrax! Obey me!"

But Vhagar had accepted the challenge, and there was no controlling the wild beasts. Aemond felt the shift as his dragon roared with her temper flaring, understanding she meant to pursue, and begged her, "NO! No, no, no, no!" The ancient dragon turned, roaring with challenge. "NO, Vhagar! No! Serve me, Vhagar! No!"

The largest dragon known to the Targaryen world then dove off at a sharp angle, ignoring all commands her rider gave; leaving him struggling and dangling from his saddle as the storm swallowed them. In return, Arrax flew upwards with Luke; breaking through the dark clouds to reach the air above the storm, and for a brief moment, found the beauty in the bright sun above the clouds.

He looked around with heaving breath, praying to the Seven that they had evaded and gotten away from Vhagar - just seconds before the legendary beast was breaking out from the storm clouds to cut at another angle. When she did, she was in line with Arrax, and just as the young Prince Luke gave a shriek of fright, the pursing dragon had opened her jaws and swiftly chomped over the entire body of Arrax.

"VHAGAR!" Aemond's voice cracked with pure panic, feeling powerless on his dragon-mount. "No! No!" He muttered between clenched teeth when the truth of reality settled over him. Vhagar gave another bellow into the air, rightening her wings, and letting Aemond glance over her shoulder to spy the last bloody bits of Arrax' wings and tail-tip falling to the ground below.

As his head turned forward, Aemond's eye began to blink rapidly to restrain his immediate panic - fearing for the repercussions of his dragon, and how his loss of control was sure to be his fault.

= present // the Dragon Pit =

Your lungs protested for air as your heart felt like it was snapping in two, body numb as you could not believe the words that reached your ears. You had doubled over to cry into your pulled-in knees, sobbing helplessly as you rocked slightly to try and keep blood pumping. Your mind refused to accept your baby brother was dead and gone, but your mind screamed that your husband had killed him.

Yet you couldn't feel yourself anymore.

All you could understand was pain. Suffocating confusion.

And then, outrage set in.

"Why?" You demanded through your tears. "Why? Why would you fucking do this, Aemond? Oh, my God - what were you thinking!?"

"I do not know," he mourned quietly. "I am so sorry."

"He was a child," you wept, shaking there after when realization sunk in. "O-Oh, my God, I-I'm pregnant - t-the-they will - they will seek revenge through o-our children. Aemond, for all the Gods, wh-what have you done? What has Vhagar done?"

"The worst we can imagine," he admitted, tears streaming down his cheek. "I cannot express my guilt, my wife."

"For what?" You couldn't help but snap. "Because you fear for the rift it will put between us, or because you are truly sorry for the loss of your own nephew?"

Aemond nodded, whispering, "What if it is both?"

You whined and dropped your head back to your knees and arms. Kasta was heard growling when your sobs reached her, but she did not dare move from between you and Vhagar. It was like she could smell Luke's blood on Vhagar's lips and teeth, and she wanted to protect you from the discovery.

But you had begged Aemond to tell you the truth. You wanted to know... He warned you of the pain, and you still pushed.

And now you were left with the knowledge that your husband's dragon had eaten your baby brother. Luke: sweet, sweet Luke who could do no real harm - barring his adrenaline rush years ago when he used his brother's dagger to slash Aemond's eye out.

Barring that, and he was the sweetest boy who could do no harm!

You were confused and mortified, outraged, sad, overwhelmed, but so fucking regretful. Regret for not being there for him longer, and then guilt for leaving your little brothers. Never had you wanted the burden your mother bore, and luckily, after your marriage to Aemond, she focused 100% of her energy into grooming Jace as her heir.

And Luke was to be heir of Driftmark, the next (legitimate) Lord of the Tides! He was to learn to command a ship and once the Sea Snake was able, he'd learn the ways of the seas from the very best. He was a child who had his whole life ahead of him, leaving behind an older sister, unborn niece-or-nephew, young fiancé, older brother... Loving mother, devoted step-father.

All of whom would be devastated by this news.

How cruel this world was, and how cruel the Gods could be.

"Please," Aemond begged softly.

"What am I to do, Aemond?" You demanded, staring back at him with a range of emotion playing across your face. "My baby brother, Aemond, what am I to do?"

He shook his head, offering, "If you wish to leave, I will not stop you. I understand how this must make you feel and I would help you and Kasta get out best I can - "

"Aemond?" You snapped. "Am I to understand that you are to be away with me?"

He shook his head slightly, "Why would you stay?"

You scoffed, "Does my loyalty to you mean nothing? Why do you think I did not join Princess Rhaenys when she escaped? And stood on that fucking platform beside you, while they crowned your traitorous brother? Do you think so little of me?"

"But this is different," he argued, ignoring your insult.

"It is! It's much different! And I am devastated, heartbroken, and I would think my husband would want to support me - "

"Do you even want me, anymore?" He asked, brows crinkled as he wore desperation well.

"I am bound to you for life, I took vows... Whether I like it or not, my place has been, and is now, at your side. Your brother would sooner see me dead if I were to flee now - "

"I would never let him hurt you," Aemond insisted, letting his hand hold your cheek securely. "Should you wish to return to your mother's side, I understand, and at the least, I can make sure you get out of the city."

You let your lips roll between your teeth to bite for a moment, then spoke softly as you reached up to hold his wrist, "I am unsure what to feel or do. In a perfect world, what would you see us do now?"

"I never would've taken Vhagar out after Luke," he spoke, "so that we never would have to be here."

"Well, we cannot change the fact that your dragon disobeyed you, right?" He nodded stiffly. "You did not have control, did you?"

"I swear to all the Gods - Old and New - that I did not have control and that I tried to stop her best I could. Both Arrax and Vhagar broke free of our control, did their own bidding. Arrax only wanted to protect his master, and so did Vhagar after the fire..."

"So," you sniffled, eyes red and puffy to slowly pull his hand down to hold in his lap, "we can place no real blame on you... Save for your foolish and fucking childish pursuit that started all of it," you sighed, leaning back into the wall and closing your eyes. "Your dragon ate my brother, Aemond."

"I know..."

"She... Ate him," you repeated, knowing the words stung but for a moment, you wanted him to hurt as you did. "There is no body for us to burn! Nothing for us to mourn!"

"I know," he whispered again, leaning back to the wall beside you.

"What am I to do?" You begged, tears falling helplessly. "If I leave you now or ever, I will be a traitor to you and your family, but if I weren't to return to my mother's side, I would be branded a traitor to her and her allies. Please, Aemond. I don't know what to do."

He sighed, sniffling, "I do not know... But should you choose to stay, I promise not to abandon you. I wouldn't ever leave your side, I would be the husband who deserves a wife like you. It would be my duty to make sure your life is easier as you bring life into this world."

You nodded as you wrapped an arm around your swelling belly, "I'd really like for our kid to know their father."

Aemond sighed, pausing for a moment before admitting, "I'd like our child to know our love - not the deception my mother and brother show their spouses."

You nodded, leaning into his shoulder, "I'd like that, too."

"I need to ask the impossible of you, my love," he whispered into the top of your head. "And know that I am sorry for the pain it will cause."

You sighed in defeat and snipped, "Just ask it."

"Would you... Would you please stay?"

The silence almost echoed around you both; his question hanging in the air only to be punctuated by a warning growl from Kasta, watching a shifting Vhagar move for her alcove with the intention of rest. Your eyes flashed in the bright torchlight, and Aemond watched as tears filled them to slide silently down your cheeks. Then he turned his head, and caught sight of a splatter of blood on his dragon's lips, chin, and chest. The silence prolonged around her thundering steps.

[ series masterlist ]

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond hotd #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd x reader #hotd imagine

[catrasredemption]

Listen I know there's already a lot of analyses on why Catra hate is biased but I just realized there's an absolutely perfect example of this, right down to the tries to kill the protag but the fandom ships it detail.

Goro Fucking Akechi.

And before I start - please know that I hold no actual ill-will toward this sociopathic murderer. And if you've never played Persona 5, no, I am NOT exaggerating. But we'll get into that.

Akechi is set up pretty early on to be a foil to the game's protagonist, Joker. And the uh... gay undertones are NOT subtle.

They never actually become A Thing in game, but it's a VERY popular ship in the fandom. Now what crimes did this little uWu commit?

Literal Murder. Not like, his actions lead to the death of someone, but he actually pointed a gun and pulled the trigger

His actions do also lead to the death of more people by causing a crash in the Tokyo subway system

Attempted murder against Joker - you know, the guy everyone ships him with

Impersonating a genius teenage boy detective (no that's not quite on the level of murder but it's a crime to me and an insult against Naoto from Persona 4)

Now, don't get me wrong, his backstory is pretty messed up. His birth father, a man named Shido, knocked up his mother, who worked in the Red Light District, and eventually killed herself, leaving Akechi an orphan to be passed around by relatives who didn't really care about him.

Akechi took two things from his upbringing - one, he had to be perfect in order to be acceptable to people. Two, a burning hatred of his birth father and a desire to see him suffer.

He eventually ends up working with his father, Shido, who's manipulating the masses using the Metaverse (don't worry if you don't know what that is, it's complicated) to make everyone love him. Akechi works with him while secretly building up his own plan on the side - to disgrace Shido when he's elected and then kill him.

All the while he's also working with Joker and the rest of the main cast and trying to manipulate them (they do manage to see through him, but that's another thing).

Again, I love Akechi. I do. I think he's a wonderfully complicated character and a little trash boy who just needs love. But he did so many bad things. And he did a lot of them solely to get revenge against Shido, and toward the end out of resentment/envy of Joker. And in the very, very end he makes the right choice and sacrifices himself to save Joker.

Now let's go over Catra's life real quick:

Raised in a horrible environment, often neglected, knew she wasn't wanted or really loved

Stepped into a villain role where she did terrible things, some of which led to the death of another person (Angella)

Fought against Adora

Ultimately sacrificed herself to save Adora

Went on to help save the world

It's almost uncanny how Akechi's story lines up with Catra's. And while I'm sure Akechi has haters, the people who love him and still ship him with Joker are far, far louder. And I get that! I too wish Akechi could have had a happy ending, but I don't think it was ever really in the cards for him. But he's a guy, so he's a little uWu.

Catra, meanwhile, is an angry woman and gets none of the leeway that angry men usually get (see also: Zuko). Even sacrificing herself to save Adora couldn't earn her any redemption in some people's eyes.

And I don't like comparing characters, especially ones from different franchises, don't get me wrong. But it's interesting to me how often men are forgiven for far worse crimes than women in media, and Akechi is a grade-A example of doing the absolutely worst things he could while still being loved by the fandom.

#She Ra #SPOP #Catra #Sam Metas

[beanghostprincess]

What are you most controversial/unpopular OP opinions??? Sorry if it was answered before

You want me to get canceled so bad-- If I speak-- But idk, I guess I'll say the controversial opinions I can say publicly without a bunch of people coming at me!

Zo$an is a bit... Overrated? And by overrated I mean extremely/annoyingly overrated. I like the ship and its canon dynamic but I think at least 80% of the fandom portrays them in a very mischaracterized way. Not to say that... The ship is literally everywhere and the shippers always look for every little thing to prove they're canon, even if the "proof" has literally nothing to do with them. It's not that I don't enjoy the ship (although I must admit I prefer other dynamics a lot more) I just can't stand shippers that go to extremes. It's funny because I think Zo$an's dynamic is way more interesting and romantic in canon than it will ever be in the fandom. It's a bit sad, ngl. I liked them a lot at first but it got so tiring and now I am pretty exhausted from seeing it everywhere. The people force it to be more than it is when the canon is already pretty fucking great.

Adding to the Zo$san thing. I think that relationship would only work if Luffy is there somehow but it wouldn't last a day without him in the relationship. Unless there's like, a ton of character development most of these people don't make them go through.

One Piece Film Z is my worst enemy. It's such a boring movie. The only good thing is the soundtrack and maybe the suits but God watching that was torture.

Boa hate is uhhhh weird. I mean, I get why the joke about her being in love with Luffy might be annoying, but I think most of you need to learn to understand that Oda's sense of humor is sometimes a bit too exaggerated (and not funny) and it has basically nothing to do with the actual canon dynamics between characters. Boa likes Luffy because he's one of the first men who has ever treated her right, so of course she confuses that feeling with love. And of course, yeah, it isn't canon. Whatever. Just read between the lines, maybe? And also, stop using words like "pedo" to describe her because using that term so lightly about 1) a fictional character and 2) somebody who's clearly not a pedo is fucked up. Lmao. Do you even know what that word means???

Once again complaining about Pudding hate and saying that it's stupid. I won't overanalyze because I always do it with her, but the only reason people hate her is for misogynistic reasons and because they're babying Sanji. Evil male characters are okay and hot and very traumatized but the second it's a woman she's the most evilest person ever! Because God forbid they make mistakes! Suddenly their character development isn't valid because they hurt their babygirl!

Now that we're talking about my dearest Pudding. Not tagging anybody of course, but I saw this post with so many interactions of people agreeing about Sanji considering violence as a sign of love which??? Doesn't make sense at all?? OP said it was because he couldn't tell the difference between love/abuse because of his family, but that's just... Not accurate. That could only happen if they had manipulated him into thinking abuse is a type of love, but he had healthy love growing up. Even when he was with the Vinsmokes (Sora and Reiju, I love you). And yet OP said Sanji considered Pudding's behavior flirting (wrong) and that's why he let her attack him (nope) and that it was proof of Zo$an. And okay, it's not a hugely popular theory, but a lot of people agreed with it and it bothered me a lot because it's both out of character and also using Pudding (complex female character) once again to try and prove the canon of a ship (that doesn't have anything to do with WCI either???). It just bothers me. People can perceive the story however they want but... Y'know.

OPLA isn't that good. Or good at all? I only like it because I like the cast and it's funny seeing my blorbos irl. But the script is simple and dull and just stupid most of the time. The characters are either simplified, mischaracterized, or forgotten. And tbh most of the shots are very awful and could be a lot better. The directing is also nonexistent. It's 6/10 and 3 of those points are because both the Zolu and the cast.

Apparently this is a very common theory about Nami's origins, but, uh, I don't think we need to know? What else do you need to know about her? People say she's a lost princess or something like that as if we didn't have a lost princess already (Sanji ily). Repeating the same plot would be boring and underwhelming, but also? It'd be extremely useless for the plot and it'd go against everything about Nami's story and the way Luffy reacts to it.

Luffy isn't canon aroace. In fact, the reasoning people use for him being "coded" is the same Oda uses for Zoro too and Zoro is almost never portrayed as the "idiot who doesn't know what sex is" the way Luffy often is. If you're calling Luffy canon aroace for what Oda said about him being focused on adventures, the same goes for Zoro being focused on his dream. They could be coded arospec but there's nothing confirmed and the constant discourse about it is stupid. Attacking others because of their ships just because you don't agree with them and saying it's wrong using our identity to do it is very fucked up. Especially since most of the time people complaining aren't even aroace. The only reason people do it (attacking others saying they can't ship Luffy and that it's "weird" and "wrong") is that they infantilize Luffy/Don't want him getting in between their ships (<- aroace person writing this) (also, it's very ableist since people agree on Luffy also being neurodivergent coded and treating him like a kid bc of that but this isn't about that now).

Somehow this is very common. Some fucking how. I can't believe I have to say this. I'm tired of people blaming Usopp for what happened in Water 7. Or in general hating Usopp. Actually, he's one of the best-written characters in the whole show and he's so underappreciated it's so frustrating.

Sanji's perv jokes are annoying af and we all know that, but people who hate the character and consider him a red flag for that are missing the point completely. The point being "Oda exaggerates jokes to an annoying extent and most of the time they don't even reflect the character". I understand they can make you uncomfortable (same here tbh) but reducing Sanji to only those jokes is a waste of his character. You need to take jokes less seriously.

If I see one of these "red flag OP boys" TikToks adding Law/Ace/Zoro/Sanji next to fucking Doffy I will riot. Also, stop adding Crocodile there. He's a mafioso, there's NO way he won't be a sweetheart to his lover.

Baron Omatsuri's artstyle and animation is amazing and it fits the plot and aesthetic of the movie perfectly and people saying it's ugly will forever bother me.

"Usopp is suddenly hot after timeskip!" He has always been hot what the fuck are you talking about.

People reduce Nami to her "mean"/"sarcastic" personality a lot when she's quite literally one of the most kind-hearted characters of all. That being said, morally speaking she's probably one of the worst. I could explain how that works but I don't want to do it now, the point is-- Let the girl be sweet instead of making her mean all the time. And also, let her be mean and selfish without making it her entire personality. There's something called "balance".

Film Red was kind of bad. Like, the songs are amazing (thanks, Ado) but the ending is awful and the plot is very meh. I'm only here for Uta and Shanks but the rest of the characters are just useless. I do appreciate Sanji's hair in the movie, though.

#i am aware that most of these aren't that unpopular and i think i've just been on tiktok too much #some of my opinions should stay hidden from the world i don't want to make people angry lmao #anyway here it is hope you like my hot takes hidden in between mild takes #one piece

[plutodetective]

I have to work today, but there’s a lot I want to say about Jonathan and gender, and I won’t have the time to organize it in a proper essay, so here are some points:

1) Of fucking course men can have characteristics usually attributed to women and still be men. I’m working on a series of sci-fi adaptations of fairy tales, and in my Sleeping Beauty the protagonist is a (cisgender) boy, precisely because I want boys to see they can be vulnerable and need rescue too. And I completely understand if someone prefers to see Jonathan as a cis man because it’s so rare to see men in this role, surviving abuse, when it does happen in real life. I start my Gothic Heroine Support Group fic with Belle making precisely this point. Men can be prey, women can be predators. She knows this because that’s what happened to the original Beast, and kudos to Gabrielle Suzanne de Villeneuve, the author of the original Beauty and the Beast, for making this point centuries ago.

2) That being said, Jonathan seems to identify with women on a deeper level than being on a role in which women usually are. For me, what cements the headcanon is when he chooses the women’s quarters to sleep in, seeming to long for “a gentle life”, even if it involved sadly waiting for the menfolk to return from war. He seems to identify with the female identity, not only the female role. That’s only my personal interpretation, I fully acknowledge that. But seeing as it’s one that a lot of trans people in the fandom seem to share and, more importantly, to identify with, it’s one that is more than valid: it brings people joy. I’m cis. I’m also bisexual, and I know the joy of seeing myself in a character through subtext, and also how frustrating it is when people say it’s not true because it’s not 100% explicit in the text. If trans people are telling me they identify with Jonathan, I believe them and I take that as there being reasons I acknowledge I cannot fully understand why Jonathan is potentially a trans woman.

3) I assume everyone here has heard of Joseph Campbell’s The Hero’s Journey. But it’s less likely that everyone has heard of Gail Carriger’s The Heroine’s Journey. I fully recommend this book to everyone. But the point she makes is that whether someone is a “hero” or a “heroine” according to hers and Campbell’s analysis doesn’t depend on their gender. Women can follow Campbell’s Hero Journey, and men can follow Carriger’s Heroine Journey. And non-binary people can follow either. The names come from the gender of the characters who originated the archetypes, with Campbell’s being classic Greek heroes, and Carriger’s being ancient world goddesses. With that in mind, although no one has written a “Gothic Heroine’s Journey”, Jonathan Harker is a gothic heroine, regardless of whether you see him as cis man or trans woman, because he follows that story type step by step.

4) Does anyone here know of a transgender gothic heroine (in the gender neutral sense explained above)? Because I don’t. If anyone does, seriously, please point me their way, I’d love to increase my gothic knowledge. But it’s a type of representation I’ve never seen. As a member of a lot of minorities, I feel very happy whenever I see any of them represented in ways I’ve never seen before, and I can only imagine it’s the same for trans people. So what’s the harm in letting Jonathan be that? Seriously. All that is missing so far from Jonathan being a fully classical gothic heroine is him going around the castle in a flowing white dress. If I ever get to adapt my written version of modern day!Dracula, I’ll absolutely put Natália (my version of Jonathan) in a white nightgown, just to give a transgender actor the chance to play out this scene that I’ve seen so many cis women do over the years. Again, I understand if someone takes empowerment from Jonathan as a cis man surviving abuse, and I’d never want to take that away from them. Jonathan being a cis man is an absolutely valid reading too. But I think trans women deserve empowerment too, deserve to see a trans woman playing out a story so many of their cis counterparts have always had. The book is in public domain. We can each adapt them the way we choose. Cis man Jonathan and trans fem Jo, Natália, or whatever name you prefer for her, can coexist and be important to the groups of people each of them are important to. 

#dracula spoilers #dracula #jonathan harker #dracula daily #re: dracula

[sassydefendorflower]

For some time now I've harbored the suspicion that Ao3 and fandom in general is pretty anti-abortion. Not in a conscious, malicious way - hell no. I think it is an unconscious thing, something that sneaks into a lot of fiction in a way that isn't actively harmful, but has an accumulative effect.

And i get it.

Fanfic and fandom are escapism. They are there to present happy stories and happy endings, big What-ifs and endless coffee-shop AUs. It is easy to imagine these worlds as perfect enough that no one needs to have an abortion because only people who want children only ever get pregnant.

And on an individual level that is absolutely fine. Nobody has to deal with topics that make them personally uncomfortable, or deal with delicate discussions such as this in their free time entertainment. It's just...

A world without abortion isn't a happy one for everyone. Partially because it is a human right that is being threatened all over the world by conservative governments who want to take away the bodily autonomy to have one. And since such is the state of the world, there should be a room in fiction to explore the implications of this. The horror of some government having this kind of control over your body, but also the fantasy of a support system that is there for you should the need for an abortion arise.

Why am I typing all this? Because I just got a lot of hate on one of my fics dealing with abortion. And I think it is a symptom of a larger problem.

[ID: screenshot of an anon Ao3 comment saying: "Why do you worthless,brainless feminists try to tarnish this perfect stor y with your feminist baby murder propoganda? Why do you try to project your brainwashed,indoctrinated whore behaviour on characters as great as Edward and Winry? An abortion is NOT your decision. It is NOT your body and no amount of feminist screaming will change that. It is the fathers child too and your opinion is irrelevant. Abortion is murder, that's a fact. And no, I'm not religious. This entire story and your propoganda is utter TRASH. Rejected."]

[ID: another screenshot, also from anon: "NOT her body,NOT her choice. Different human being altogether. Keep wishing. Men will fully stop this practice of infanticide." Posted: 2023-06-18 05:09:47 UTC]

[ID: a third anon message that reads: Anonymous responded: "NOT her body,NOT her choice. That's a different, innocent human being altogether. And Ed is a strong,free man with a working brain. He's not your idea of "supportive husband" (aka spineless beta) who will support infanticide. This is not Edward and mlst definitely not Winry. She knows the value of life and exactly how hollow abortion arguments are. It is NOT a womans choice ever. NOBODY gets to decide to murder an innocent baby." Posted: 2023-06-18 05:08:24 UTC]

The fact that you should never send someone these kind of messages non-withstanding, this showcases a lack of respect and understanding that is simply baffling. There is so much hate in these comments. So much ire at women and people capable of having children in these words... it's frightening.

And I don't want to lock these stories behind moderated comments and limited access, because let me tell you something... these stories are for the people who need them most, the people who need positive and loving stories about making a hard choice and sticking with it. And often these people will only tell me about their own journey, their own struggle while on Anon themselves. And looking at the kind of response I've garnered... for a good reason.

Because it still isn't safe to openly talk about abortion.

Apparently not even on a website like ao3, which is generally assumed to be pretty liberal considering the general nature of online fandom.

Abortion is still seen as a taboo topic - in fiction and in real life. And this fear of openly discussing abortion makes people who visibly do vulnerable for attack. Be it authors like me who want to explore the bodily autonomy inherit in a fight for abortion, or the women and people who've had an abortion and are still frightened to talk about it.

If writing fiction dealing with abortion has taught me anything--- it's that people need and WANT these stories. Because no one else is writing them, but I really think some of us should.

The perfect world in which no one needs an abortion is useless, if people in the real world get hate mail for contemplating having one.

The next time your character has an unwanted pregnancy or is already surrounded by six kids or is very focused on wanting success and a career... think about why abortion isn't an option in your story.

Is it because it wouldn't make sense in your perfect fantasy? Is it because actually wanting kids is very inherent to this character? Or is it because deep down some part of you still thinks that having an abortion is some sort of sin?

It's no moral judgement I am making here - but you can only deal with an unconscious bias by examining it.

#fanfic #writing #abortion #ao3 #anon hate #discourse #fma #pro-choice #TERFs Fuck Off #fiction vs reality

[piglet26]

Reylo. Sorry, but it's not abusive

Star Wars is not selling abusive relationships to young girls nor conditioning them into aspiring to them. Reylo is not propaganda from disgruntled single middle aged woman. It wasn't promoting abusive relationships when Luke still found love for his father despite Darth Vader cutting off his hand. Luke fans, young and old, were not attacked as being dumb or needy for liking Luke or how he viewed his father. It damn sure wasn't considered abusive when Anakin choked Padme and she still held hope for him in her heart. Or, that Obi-Wan still held a love for Anakin despite everything Darth Vader had done. Then there was Reylo.

Being a Reylo is not something I feel I need to defend. Let me love what I love in peace. That's what I believe. I did not actually see any of the sequel trilogy until after it was concluded. I was not on any fandoms during the rollout and marketing for the films. Thank God. However, I have gathered enough to understand it was horrible how Reylos were being regarded. It was beyond patronizing. I'm not new to fandom, hell I've been on soap opera fandoms for quite some time and believe me that's a savage space, but wow.

I want to clarify some of the feedback against Reylo and reaffirm why it's such a compelling pairing. Further more, I regard it as an compelling attribute to the Star Wars universe that only added to the franchise.

Now I've seen the domination of woman twisted up and called romance (see Twilight and 50 Shades of Gray), but I don't think people understand WHY those relationship were as such. Rey, on her own, is one of the strongest and most badass female leads to ever appear on the big screen. Despite people thinking she doesn't have a personality she is a resourceful, tough, innocent, loyal, hopeful and strong. She has agency unlike Bella Swan. She is not sexualized by Kylo Ren unlike the 50 shades girl. Her gender is neither a hindrance nor an advantage. She has the agency to save herself, but she is also saved.

Which is really one of the main issues. There is the patronization of Rey as a character, the people who like her and the people who like the pairing. While those 50 shades of gray books didn't buy themselves rather than listening to why Reylos liked the pairing they were told why they did and then dismissed. Or, there's the men that wanted Rey to be with Finn because Finn was the "nice guy" who they identified with.

Rey doesn't need a love interest - not all heroines need love interests, but why does it imply she's weak if she does have a love interest? Heroes infamously have a female counterpart which helps make them viable. It doesn't make them any less interesting as an individual.

Kylo Ren and Rey are NOT a couple but instead representatives of opposing sides in a war. This is the most important part. From the get-go they have an intense dynamic. Both have had visions and dreams of the other and they recognize something in one another. Kylo Ren did kidnap Rey, however, if you consider fighting your enemies “abusive” or interrogating war prisoners as “domestic violence”.............well, that is odd.

As quotes about them

What if your soulmate in the Force was your enemy? Circumstance, pits them against each other, but the Force bonds them together. They understand each other almost from a point of view of fate. And yet, fate has made them enemies.

While Kylo Ren is fascinated by In the moments of the interrogation, gender and sexuality have nothing to do with Kylo’s actions. J.J. made the conscious choice to show us the same scene twice (Kylo Ren interrogating his enemies) so the audience can spot the differences between the two. Sorry J.J, you trusted people too much.

We're able to see very clear aggression and abuse come from Kylo Ren for Poe. He has zero interest in him personally. He needs information and he will get it. The force and his ability to read someone's mind is a tool within his disposal. Now why isn't Poe's interrogation considered sexual assault?

"You know I can take anything I want" HE CAN READ HER MIND! He's not talking about raping her for God's Sake! He asked her to freely provide information and she didn't want to. However, he has a tool to use against a girl adding his enemies - a tool he'll use if she doesn't want to snitch. She knows this he already read her mind - so why not give the information freely?!

Rey also invaded his mind, so did she mind-rape him too?

The line that fans almost never seem to talk about in The Force Awakens is when Kylo says to Rey “Don’t be afraid, I feel it too.” What did he feel? The best I'm able to understand is what they felt was their force dyad igniting or fulfilling.

Ren becomes personally invested in Rey. Not with her cause, or her affiliation with the Resistance, but with her and what he wants from her.

“Kylo chased Finn and Rey outside Starkiller Base to fight them! He threw Rey against a tree!” Well she was going to shoot him..... I would've thrown her against a tree to save myself. His issue in that moment was Finn. Finn was the "traitor" in questioned and his unfinished business. They fought, but really it was a dueling exercise. Kylo Ren wanted to test her skills and her powers. If he wanted her dead there was a convenient edge to push her over, hell he offered to teach her. Rey was the one to go ape and almost kill him.

Again, I'm not implying that they aren't messy - they are. For literary nerds this is why they are a compelling heroine/villain. Ultimately one will greatly affect the other. The tension in between them is why it's great.

Ben Solo, least we forget, is himself an abuse victim. This is canon. While Kylo Ren has learned abusive techniques, they are at war. Applying abusive characteristics to a fictional character in a war setting without any attempt to incorporate the story is bizarre. Why was he able for the first time to stand against his abuser? Rey. He couldn't stand up for himself but he stood up for her. Ultimately, Kylo Ren wanted to 'break the wheel" that's what he claimed. If he was honest, he'd admit he had no clue of how to do that.

Most abusers are charming and irresistible when you first meet them. Ben has NEVER dishonest with Rey about who he is. Rey is very aware of the horrible side of him and even refers to him as a monster. He affirms her accusation that he is a monster.

During their force bonds because of the nature of the bond Rey is in a position to hear him out and try to understand how he became the monster he is today. When she learns that he didn't become this on his own, that Luke, his parents and Snoke contributed to his downfall she had hope in him. It's also important to make the distinctions that when she has a vision of him, it's as Ben. It's like a bipolar personality. When Kylo Ren goes all Darcy marriage proposal - she reject him. She rightfully spurned him when he resorted to cruelty to sway her to his side. Rey turned down Kylo as long as he was the ’bad guy’, and only kissed him as Ben ’the good guy’.

“He only wants to use her for her power.” Oversimplification that Rey is actually guilty of. Kylo Ren is lonely and within Rey he finds not only an equal but the most intense emotional connection he's ever had. The most intense connection she's ever had. Let's not forget they are probably both virgins. Then they are in each other's head. That's intense. When Kylo makes his plea to Rey it's out of not only loneliness but truly wanting her for her.

Also, Kylo doesn’t say he wants them to rule together as “master and apprentice”. He wants Rey to be his empress, his queen which is what Rey means. He’s literally proposing by offering her the entire galaxy. Ultimately Reylos see them as two equally powerful archenemies dedicating themselves to defeating the other but also find themselves strangely drawn to each other in ways they might not want to admit. Then two soul mates on the other side of a conflict.

This is built on the idea that hate itself is a sort of twisted form of love. It is, or, rather hatred is born from things like fear, pain, betrayal and love. Their connection is complicated. One minutes they last out at one another and the next they lean into each other. People can regard this as toxic. Others, like myself, regard this as the gray side of love. Reylo represent the yin yang of the force. The light and the dark craving each other and finding themselves frustrated.

Notice how many hero/villains find themselves telling others that only they are allowed to kill/harm their nemesis, in a subconscious effort to protect their nemesis from others. And they may also get strangely jealous when their nemesis fights other people.

Other people give this argument because they believe the popularity of antiheroes in media is a sign of society’s moral decay. The First Order for all we know is not a fascist society. We have no idea the ideology of the First Order. We know their clothing was inspired by the Nazis.

Red String of Fate: the two connected by the red thread are destined lovers, regardless of place, time, or circumstances. This magical cord may stretch or tangle, but never break

Kylo Ren and Rey BOTH want to be together, believe in the other, but are held back by their individual idea of what means. How is that abusive?! Maybe it's back to thinking little girls won't be able to understand the complexity of Reylo. Huh, well little boys can understand the complexity of Batman and Joker. If little boys are smart enough to realize the difference between fiction and reality and are able to watch a love/hate relationship between a good guy and a bad guy, I’m pretty sure the girls can handle it too. Rey has hope and belief that Kylo Ren can be good, she won't stay by his side while he's doing bad.

What is Reylo? In a way. Iconic

#reylo #star wars #rey star wars #ben solo #rey skywalker #kylo x rey #finnrey #kylo ren #ben solo deserved better #ben solo x rey #rey palpatine #rey #reylo au #star wars fanart #disney star wars

[sailormoonandme]

Long Rant Incoming!

I am honestly just exhausted with how the Sailor Moon fandom so often bashes the original anime, in particular when they do so by presuming bigotry of any kind on the part of the staff members.

Sure, show me a quote or an interview where they definitively say something and I will listen with an open mind. 

But why does this fandom presume that, for example, AnimeRei’s interest in men was obviously changed from the MangaRei’s more negative attitude because of sexism?

Or that Usagi being naked in the last episode whilst Mamoru was in his Endymion armour was again rooted in sexism?

Or that old favourite that has now become oh so trendy again thanks to Cosmos, that the Starlights were physically male in the anime (as opposed to simply dressing as men and pretending to be men) because the anime staff were being homophobic. More specifically, that this change was implemented so that the UsagixSeiya relationship was ‘less gay’.

Let’s talk a bit about that shall we?

So....

The original 1992 Sailor Moon anime had two men explicitly in a relationship in season 1, Kunzite and Zoisite.

It had two women explicitly in a relationship in season 3, Haruka and Michiru.

It had a character in season 4 who, to my understanding (please correct me on this as I am not overly knowledgeable on the subject), was trans, Fisheye.

When you go beyond the explicit into merely very obvious subtext, Sailor Moon’s track record for LGBT representation gets even larger. The pair of female animators in episode 21. Fiore and Mamoru’s relationship in the R movie. The fashion designer and his assistant in episode 140. Sailor Lead Crow and Aluminium Siren’s relationship.

Not to mention the UsaRei ship:

Or the MakAmi ship:

It’d be weird for a show with this kind of track record (that was indeed a trailblazer in the context of the time) to suddenly got cold feet over another female-female relationship.

Now there are two counter arguments to this:

a) Most of the above doesn’t apply specifically to Sailor Moon herself, the UsaRei ship being subtextual for this very reason. In other words ‘its okay for side characters’

b) Sailor Stars was under new management. It is entirely possible said new management had very different attitudes towards female-female relationships

Let’s tackle a) first. 

It’s okay to portray side characters in same sex relationships

First of all, Usagi was attracted to Haruka in episode 92. Even after she discovered Haruka was (in her eyes at least) a cis woman she still regarded her as attractive and desirable, usually blushing whenever Haruka flirted with her and being all too happy to dance with Haruka in episode 108. 

Isn’t it a little weird to argue it would be bad for Usagi to be dating another woman when there wasn’t a world of difference between how Seiya in the manga and Haruka in the anime were framed and presented to the audience. 

The main difference was that in the manga Seiya was explicitly pretending to be male and therefore would not have corrected anyone’s presumptions that she was a man, which is exactly what Haruka did at the end of episode 92 when Usagi and Minako discover Haruka is not a cis boy. 

Whilst we might argue that the character of MangaSeiya would have presented herself differently had she not needed to disguise herself, from a narrative POV if the anime had stuck with Seiya being biologically female she would have had to maintain that disguise for the overwhelming majority of episodes anyway. In other words, she would have been presenting herself as a cis male the entire time outside of Sailor Senshi fights. 

Second of all, the anime was still explicitly shipping Usagi and Seiya even after the big reveal in episode 188 where the Senshi and Starlights discover one another’s identities. In fact, episode 189 has Minako explicitly state that the Starlights are in fact girls:

Now, whilst Minako regards this as a dealbreaker for her own romantic affections for the Three Lights, Usagi is still obviously conflicted about her feelings for Seiya. This culminates in episode 194′s famous “Am I not enough?” scene and their conversation in episode 195 where Usagi lets Seiya down backstage and he kisses her goodbye on her cheek.

Before episode 194 the show was going hard on this ‘star-crossed lovers’ imagery and ideas, with the Starlights and Outer Senshi trying to pull the pair apar. Seiya even communicated to Usagi at night whilst she is in her bedroom , which imo is deliberately evoking Romeo and Juliet. Moreover, the animation frankly framing the pair in a romantic light, with plenty of blushes and soft lighting liberally appearing all over the place. 

Sure, on screen you have a biological woman and biological man. But the show has explicitly stated that that Seiya is not a man, or at least from Usagi’s POV that isn’t the case. 

Now one could argue that this is nevertheless reductive. After all, you still have a female role assigned and a male role assigned in the relationship. But again...how different is this really from Haruka and Michiru who are present and as explicitly romantic as ever in Sailor Stars?

In terms of ‘presenting’ as male or female Haruka and Seiya are in the same boat 99% of the time (the 1% is for episodes involving bathing outfits or other forms of partial nudity). Most of the time Haruka visually presents as (for its day) typically masculine until she assumes her Senshi form where she presents as more typically (again, for its day) female. The only difference between the two characters is that the viewer intellectually knows that Seiya has a penis that becomes a vagina whereas Haruka always has a vagina. But since in both cases we never see those particular pieces of anatomy it is a moot point.

So the argument that ‘on screen’ Usagi is not being shipped with a woman is irrelevant. To all practical purposes, from a purely visual POV she might as well have been shipped with someone just like Haruka. It didn’t make it ‘more acceptable’ at all. In particular when you consider the show heavily implies that Seiya’s male body was nothing more than a guise assumed on Earth for the sake of their mission. So, had anyone been extrapolating forwards Usagi and Seiya potentially forming a long term relationship, Usagi would have been in a relationship with someone who was biologically female anyway. 

Third of all, the ‘side character’ argument falls apart when you consider HOW popular Uranus and Neptune were. In Animage’s 1995 poll episode 110 "Death of Uranus and Neptune!? Talismans Appear" was voted the most popular episode. A major reason why SuperS was so unpopular was because the Outer’s were absent, which is why the very first episode of Sailor Stars practically revolves around them. Hell, exempting Usagi, of all the Solar System Sailor Senshi, Uranus and Neptune are the last ones standing, dying in the third to last episode of the entire show. 

This isn’t even mentioning HOW prominent they were in season 3. Like, sure, they weren’t the MAIN characters, but until Hotaru shows up, they were by far and away the most important characters in the show just behind Usagi. Sailor Moon S as a whole is ostensibly one great big ideological debate between Usagi’s idealistic philosophy and Haruka and Michiru’s more hardline realistic philosophy. 

To codify them as ‘side characters’ in the context of season 3 is akin to describing Mamoru or Chibi-Usa as side characters in the manga. That is to say, the difference between them and Usagi is a matter of mere degrees. Are we in all seriousness arguing that those degrees make the difference between how okay it is to present characters as part of female-female relationships? That’s rather ridiculous isn’t it?

Let’s move on to point b).

The new management didn’t like same-sex relationships 

Yes. It is entirely possible that the new management had very different attitudes towards female-female relationships than the people in charge of the prior four seasons of the show. Thus the representation present in the prior four seasons doesn’t excuse season 5 of being homophobic in its decision to make the Starlights biologically male.

You know what else is entirely possible? That there were any number of other reasons for that decision apart from homophobia.

Again, I’m willing to listen with an open mind to anyone that has a statement or an interview or something like that from production staff members that might support the above interpretation. But in over ten years of being a Sailor Moon fan I have yet to see anything that implies this rather damning motivation on the part of the production staff. At which point why is anyone at all just presuming the worst faith interpretation?

Here are some good faith interpretations for why the Starlights were biologically male:

- Making them biologically male could raise a bit of intrigue on the part of the viewers. Even if they figured magic was the reason how they could change from male to female, they’d still be enticed to watch to see the process in action. Which would be even more intriguing compared to four seasons of transformation sequences where girls simply put on new Senshi outfits.

- Making them male made it easier for writers to generate the show’s all important filler episodes and opened up more storytelling opportunities. 

If the Starlights are biologically female it would mean either scrapping episodes or scenes where the Starlights are involved in partial nudity. Case in point, episode 178 where Luna is revealed to have taken a bath with Yaten, episode 183 where the gang vacation at a lake and are in their bathing suits, episode 184 where the gang see Seiya getting out of the shower, or even episode 176 where the Starlights are in dance outfits which naturally are tight fitting and therefore do not leave much to the imagination. 

Perhaps these instances could have still happened with the Starlights as biological females, but it would have been trickier and required a lot more strategic thinking on the part of the overworked writers who were on a deadline. Making them male frankly just made their lives easier

- The anime staff might have simply believed that the idea of three women disguising themselves as men and maintaining such a secret amidst becoming super star idols, attending high school, etc was simply unconvincing, too big of a suspension of disbelief.

- Making them biologically male might have been a ‘creative flex’. What do I mean by this? Simply put it is not at all uncommon for people adapting a piece of media to throw something in of their own invention. 

This might happen out of boredom on the part of the people adapting the source material (it can potentially be dull merely replicating something) or it could occur due to ego (see the majority of modern MCU films and TV shows that change no end of things from the comic books). 

Ego, unfortunately is all too common amongst creative people, especially those who have made it professionally into the entertainment industry. There is a desire by many to put their stamp on a work, even if it is not a work of their own creation per se. 

This may well be the root of several other changes between the manga and the anime too, regardless of whether those changes have anything to do with gender, sexuality, female representation of other such issues. 

- Making them biologically males who transform into biological females, in the eyes of the production staff, might have been more avant garde and progressive towards the LGBT community as it rendered the characters as arguably trans or gender fluid characters. 

- And finally...it may well have just been a mistake. The manga and anime were produced simultaneously but also at very different paces, the manga releasing monthly vs the anime’s weekly schedule. 

Between Takeuchi’s busy production schedule, not to mention however else she was involved in the (by then massive) Sailor Moon brand, it is entirely possible that she either hadn’t decided upon, or simply miscommunicated her ideas for the Starlights, thus resulting in the anime staff misunderstanding her intentions or extrapolating them to be biological men in their civilian forms. 

Indeed, Takeuchi herself misunderstood the Starlights in the anime as she apparently missed the dialogue that implied they were biological females who used magic to become biological males for their mission on Earth. She instead got upset that they were men who were Sailor Senshi.

Now, I came up with the above off the top of my head and don’t have any hard evidence in support of any of it. Which means they all carry  just as much weight as the ‘obviously it was bigotry’ interpretation.

And, once again, I have to bring up the fact that Sailor Stars features Uranus and Neptune in a relationship and arguably even ramps up their flirtations compared to season 3. So, kinda weird that they’d include one female-female relationship in season 5 but would be apprehensive over another one. 

In conclusion

Can we as a fandom please just fucking STOP automatically presuming the worst of the original anime and its production staff?

Seriously, its really, really, really, really WEIRD!

More than weird though, it is simply unfair.

It is unjust. 

It is hateful, even.

Which is particularly ironic since this is a franchise literally built around a character who stands for...well...you know...

#Sailor Moon #Sailor Stars #seiya kou #kou seiya #sailor star fighter #sailor starfighter #Sailor Star-Fighter #SeiUsa #usagi tsukino #tsukino usagi #naoko takeuchi #sailor starlights #HARUKA TENOH #TENOH HARUKA #Sailor Uranus #sailor neptune #Michiru Kaioh #Harumichi #kaioh michiru