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idkyetxoxo · 11 hours ago

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Six | Enchanted | Aemond Targaryen

Word count - 3795

Warnings - None

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A week had passed since that night in the pool, yet the memory of it clung to me like a half-forgotten dream, teasing the edges of my mind. The gardens were far behind me now, replaced by the lively hum of the common room.

I lay sprawled across Nymor's lap, his fingers absently combing through my hair, while the raucous banter of his friends swirled around us like a familiar, comforting melody.

Their teasing voices were a pleasant distraction from the thoughts that had been haunting me since the pool—thoughts of Aemond and the dangerous pull he seemed to have on me.

The negotiations between my father and Viserys were progressing, each day pulling me closer to the inevitable.

The impending marriage loomed over me like a storm cloud, dark and inescapable.

Everyone around me treated it as a certainty as if it had been written in the stars long before I ever had a say in the matter.

But deep down, a part of me still fought against it, clinging to the hope that there might be some way out, some path that didn't end with me standing beside Aemond Targaryen, bound to him for life.

And yet, even as I yearned to escape, I couldn't fully banish the memory of him.

His sharp gaze, the way his touch had set fire to my skin—it haunted me, even as I tried to shake it off.

There was something about Aemond that intrigued me, something beyond the cold mask of duty and power. I didn't want to admit it, but I couldn't deny the truth any longer—I didn't completely despise him.

If anything, I was captivated by the man beneath the dragon prince facade.

But then there was the other truth—the one that gnawed at me like an open wound. His family had laid waste to my homeland, without a second thought, without remorse.

And that was something I could never forget, no matter how tempting the man himself might be.

"What are you thinking about?" Nymor's voice broke through the fog of my thoughts, his fingers prodding my cheek in an attempt to bring me back to the present.

"My doom," I muttered dramatically, swatting his hand away. His friends erupted into laughter, the sound rich and warm, filling the room like the flickering hearth.

"So awfully cynical, princess. Where is that carefree girl we know and love?" Yoren teased, nudging my legs with a grin, his dark eyes gleaming with amusement.

I sat up, crossing my legs as I sighed. "I don't want to leave Dorne," I admitted, the weight of the words settling heavily on my chest.

Leaving this place—the sun-drenched gardens, the sea breeze that tasted of salt and freedom—felt like losing a part of myself.

"Then don't," Yoren said with a casual shrug, as if it were that simple. His flippancy stung, though I knew he didn't mean it to.

"It's that one-eyed fool, isn't it?" Nymor's voice was tinged with both annoyance and sympathy, his hand resting lightly on my shoulder.

I rolled my eyes, but the mention of Aemond sent a shiver through me, a mixture of frustration and something I didn't want to name.

"Ah, we've heard the whispers of a union in the making," Maric chimed in with mock seriousness, raising his brows in exaggerated intrigue.

"My father insists upon it," I mumbled, leaning forward to grab Yoren's cup. He jerked it out of reach, a mischievous grin spreading across his face.

"Get your own wine, princess," Yoren teased, his eyes dancing with mischief.

"Marry one of us," Maric suggested with a chuckle, though there was a glimmer of something sincere in his eyes. "Stay in Dorne forever. You'd never have to leave."

The idea was as tempting as it was impossible, and I let out a hollow laugh.

"If only it were that easy," I said, but even as the words left my lips, I couldn't help but wonder.

What would my life look like if I stayed? If I let myself forget the weight of duty and allowed myself to indulge in the carefree moments that Dorne offered?

Yoren leaned forward suddenly, his face contorted in an exaggerated pout, making ridiculous kissing noises that sent me into a fit of giggles.

In the midst of his antics, I seized my chance, swiping his cup of wine with a victorious grin.

"Give it back!" he exclaimed, lunging after me, his fingers closing around my wrists as he loomed over me with a mock stern expression.

I stuck my tongue out at him in defiance, holding the cup just out of his reach. "Make me," I teased, the playful challenge lighting a spark in my eyes.

Nymor laughed beside me, shaking his head as he playfully slapped Maric's chest. "Looks like you've met your match, Yoren."

The warmth of their laughter, the teasing banter—it was a world away from the heavy tension that followed me like a shadow.

For a moment, I let myself get lost in it, in the easy companionship of these men who didn't expect anything from me except a shared drink and a laugh.

I flirted with the thought of staying here forever, of letting these light-hearted moments fill the spaces that Aemond's memory couldn't touch.

But no matter how much I tried to distract myself, I couldn't entirely forget him.

The memory of his touch, the intensity of his gaze—it was like a flame that flickered at the edge of my mind, refusing to be extinguished.

Even as Yoren hovered over me, his playful grin inches from mine, I felt the pull of that night in the pool, a lingering thread that tied me to Aemond, whether I wanted it or not.

"Wine," Yoren demanded again, though there was no real force behind his words, just the playful tug-of-war between us.

I grinned up at him, the spark of rebellion still dancing in my eyes. "Come and get it," I challenged, holding the cup just out of reach as he leaned in closer.

"Princess," a voice called from the doorway, and the lively room fell silent as all eyes turned to see the Targaryen siblings standing in the threshold.

The sudden shift in energy was palpable like the air had been sucked out, leaving a charged stillness behind.

"Are we interrupting?" Aegon drawled, his smirk widening as he took in the scene before him.

Yoren, still holding my wrists in a playful grip, dropped them immediately, stepping back with a sheepish smile. The light-heartedness evaporated as if snuffed out, leaving only the prickling tension.

"Yes," Nymor responded dryly, his voice laced with amusement, though I could sense the edge beneath it.

He remained seated, his posture relaxed but his eyes sharp as they flicked between the intruders.

Yoren and Maric's laughter returned, momentarily dispelling the tension like a wave washing over the room, a weak attempt to restore the lightness that had been so abruptly shattered.

"Your father sent us," Helaena added softly, her voice a contrast to her brother's.

She was gentler, always was, and there was something kind in her gaze as it lingered on me, as though she understood more than she let on. But it wasn't me she was looking at with that subtle interest—I noticed her gaze flicker toward Nymor.

Her fascination was evident, and despite the current tension, I couldn't help but wonder how deep her interest ran.

"If you're too busy entertaining others, we can leave," Aemond interjected, his voice sharp, dripping with venom that cut through the air like a blade.

His words were pointed, but his eye, his gaze—it was all on me.

There was no mistaking the jealousy simmering beneath his composed exterior, the barely concealed possessiveness that rippled through his voice.

Nymor stiffened beside me, his usual easy-going demeanour darkening as he rose to his full height.

"Are you insinuating something about my sister?" His voice was low, but it seethed with barely-contained fury, his eyes locked onto Aemond's with a promise of violence.

The room, which had been buzzing with life only moments ago, now felt like a powder keg ready to explode.

Aegon, sensing the rising tension, looked thoroughly amused by it all, his smirk widening as if he was eager to see where this was going.

But before things could escalate further, Helaena tugged him by the arm, pulling him back with a roll of her eyes, her patience clearly worn thin.

"We should go," she said firmly, dragging a protesting Aegon along with her. He looked disappointed as if the potential for a brawl had been the highlight of his day, but he allowed himself to be led out.

Still, his laughter echoed faintly down the corridor as the door swung shut behind them.

Yoren and Maric quickly exchanged glances before quietly standing and shuffling out of the room. They knew better than to stick around for what was coming.

Now it was just the three of us.

Aemond didn't move. His gaze, as cold and unrelenting as the winter winds, remained fixed on Nymor.

"Perhaps I am insinuating something," Aemond said, his tone calm but laced with challenge, his body language as unmoving as stone.

In one swift motion, Nymor stepped forward, his fists clenched at his sides, barely containing the storm of anger that radiated off him.

"You have no right to talk about her," he growled, jabbing a finger hard into Aemond's chest. His voice was low, dangerous—a warning that he was inches away from losing control.

Aemond stood his ground, his expression unreadable, though the glint in his eye gave away his satisfaction at having provoked Nymor.

It was a power play, and Aemond was revelling in it. The room crackled with unspoken tension, each man daring the other to make the next move.

"You think you can speak about my sister like that and get away with it?" Nymor spat, stepping closer until they were nearly nose to nose.

His breath came in shallow, angry bursts, and for a moment, I feared the restraint he had would snap.

Aemond tilted his head slightly, a lazy shrug rolling off his shoulders, his expression barely shifting.

"I speak the truth as I see it," he said coolly. "If you can't handle it, that's your weakness."

Nymor's fist clenched tighter, his knuckles white as his rage spilt over. "The truth?" he repeated, his voice rising with the heat of his anger.

"You don't know the first thing about her." His words dripped with venom, and I could feel the tide of the moment shifting into something dangerous.

Aemond's jaw tightened at that, the mask of indifference slipping for the briefest second. His voice was a quiet, lethal whisper as he leaned in, a dark smirk playing on his lips.

"Careful, Nymor. You're speaking to the rider of the largest dragon in the Seven Kingdoms." His words were soft, but the threat beneath them was unmistakable.

In an instant, Nymor's hand shot out, grabbing Aemond by the collar and yanking him forward so their faces were mere inches apart.

"Say one more word about her," Nymor hissed through clenched teeth, his grip on Aemond's collar unyielding, "and I'll—"

"Enough!" My voice rang out, sharp and commanding, cutting through the tension like a blade.

Both men froze, their eyes snapping toward me as I stepped forward, my expression a mix of frustration and steely authority.

"Nymor, let him go." My words held a weight that neither of them could ignore.

For a moment, Nymor hesitated, his grip still tight on Aemond's collar, his eyes burning with a fury that demanded release. But when he met my gaze, something shifted.

Slowly, reluctantly, he released Aemond, shoving him back with a frustrated grunt.

"You're not helping me by losing control like this," I said, my tone gentler now but still firm. "Leave us. I need to speak to him alone."

Nymor's eyes flicked between me and Aemond, a muscle in his jaw working as though he was about to protest.

"He doesn't deserve your time, let alone your words," he muttered darkly, but after a tense moment, he relented.

His hand twitched at his side as if itching to throw another punch, but he stepped away, turning toward the door with one last icy glare at Aemond.

"But if he says one more thing—" Nymor started, his voice taut with barely contained rage.

"I'll handle it," I cut in, my tone softening just enough to calm him. "You know I can."

Nymor lingered a moment longer, his fists still clenched, before giving a terse nod. He cast one final look at Aemond, filled with simmering fury, before storming out of the room.

The door slammed shut behind him, the sound echoing through the now-silent room.

For a long moment, silence hung between us, thick with unspoken words and unresolved tension.

Aemond's smirk returned, but there was a flicker of uncertainty in his eye as if he was weighing the moment carefully.

"You didn't need to send him away on my account," he said, his voice low and drawling, though the amusement in his tone didn't quite reach his eyes. "I can handle Nymor."

I stepped closer, my face impassive, carefully concealing the turmoil roiling within me. "This isn't about you 'handling' anyone," I said evenly, keeping my voice steady, controlled. "It's about knowing when to stop."

His smirk faltered. "Is that what you think? That I don't know when to stop?"

I met his gaze, holding it with unwavering strength. "You're pushing him because you want a reaction. But we both know this isn't about Nymor."

My voice softened, but there was still a sharp edge beneath the words. "So tell me, Aemond—what is it you really want?"

For the briefest moment, his expression shifted, and I saw the cracks in the carefully constructed façade he always wore.

The arrogance he wore like armour seemed to drain away, leaving something raw and vulnerable in its place. His jaw tightened, but the biting retort I expected never came. I

Instead, he hesitated, searching my face as though the answer might be written there.

"I want you," he finally whispered, his voice strained like the admission had cost him something.

The air between us felt impossibly heavy as the words settled like a stone in my chest. He took a step closer, and I could feel the weight of his confession pressing against my resolve.

I stayed silent, letting the moment stretch, refusing to give him the satisfaction of seeing how his words affected me.

But when his hand lifted to cup my face, his touch was gentle, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down my spine despite my best efforts to remain composed.

"You are unlike anyone I've ever met," he murmured, his voice intense, each word deliberate. "Fierce, determined... utterly captivating."

His gaze held mine, and for the first time, I saw something genuine in his eyes, something that unsettled me more than his usual cold confidence. "I cannot imagine my life with anyone but you. You've become part of me, consumed my thoughts, my every moment."

I swallowed hard, forcing myself to keep breathing, to keep standing. His words were heavy, laden with meaning, with the kind of vulnerability I had never expected from him.

For a moment, I almost faltered—almost let myself believe in the possibility he was offering. But I knew better than to surrender so easily.

Slowly, I reached up, my hand wrapping around his wrist, and I gently pulled his hand away from my face.

"Aemond," I began, my voice steady but tinged with something darker, something deeper. "How am I supposed to forget who you are? How do I ignore the history between our families, the blood that stains your name?"

His eyes widened, clearly taken aback by my words. This was a part of me I had never revealed to him, a truth I had buried deep but could no longer keep hidden.

I had been raised with the stories of what his family had done, the destruction they had brought upon my people, my home.

He stared at me, the shock plain on his face. It was as if he hadn't expected me to hold onto the past, to care about it in the face of his feelings. But how could I not?

"I don't want to conquer anything but your heart," he said softly, stepping closer again, his voice almost pleading now. "I don't care about power or politics when it comes to us. I just want you. That night we spent in the gardens..."

His voice trailed off, the memory lingering between us like a ghost. "It's all I've thought about since. I don't want it to be the last."

I closed my eyes for a moment, trying to steady the storm raging inside me.

His sincerity was undeniable, and I could feel the weight of his words pulling me in, making it harder to keep the distance I so desperately needed.

"Our fathers are already discussing the match," I said quietly, forcing myself to focus on the practicalities, on the things that kept me grounded in reality. "The alliances they hope to build through us—"

"Your father won't force it," Aemond interrupted, his voice urgent. "Not if you don't want it."

His tone softened, and for the first time, there was a vulnerability there, a rawness that caught me off guard. "But say yes. Say you'll choose me."

I turned away, unable to look at him. The weight of what he was asking felt like it might crush me.

"If I say yes, I have to give up everything," I whispered, my voice barely holding steady. "My home, my family, everything I know. I would have to leave my father, my brother, my people... for a life in a city that will never truly be mine."

He exhaled slowly, the realization sinking in. I felt him move closer, his voice dropping to a near whisper. "But you would have me. We could build something—something that's ours."

I turned back to face him, my gaze locking onto his.

"At what cost, Aemond?" My voice was quiet, but the question rang out like a challenge. "Do you really believe love can erase everything that stands between us? Can it undo the scars of history, the blood spilt by your ancestors?"

Aemond's eye searched mine, and for a moment, the world around us seemed to still.

It felt like the weight of every decision we would ever make hung in the balance, suspended in the thick air between us.

"I need time," I finally said, the words escaping before I could stop them. His expression shifted, the hope in his eyes dimming, but he didn't interrupt. "This is too much, Aemond. You may be certain of what you want, but I..."

I trailed off, unable to finish the sentence. I didn't have the luxury of being as sure as he was, and the stakes were far higher for me. "I need time," I repeated, my voice firm but quieter.

The silence that followed was thick, suffocating. Aemond's jaw clenched, his frustration evident, but he didn't push. He just stood there, watching me, waiting for something I wasn't ready to give.

"I can't stay here," I whispered, turning toward the door, feeling the pull of escape.

My heart pounded in my chest, torn between the desire to stay and the need to flee, to buy myself more time.

Aemond took a step forward, his hand reaching out as if to stop me. "You don't have to leave," he said, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "We can figure this out."

I forced a weak smile, meeting his gaze one last time. "I can't. Not right now."

He nodded slowly, the flicker of hope in his eyes dimming to a quiet resignation. "I'll wait," he said, his voice barely above a whisper. "I'll wait as long as it takes."

I hesitated at the door, my hand hovering over the handle.

Part of me wanted to turn back, to offer him something—anything—that might ease the tension between us. But the weight of history, of what he was asking, was too much to bear.

"I'll think about it," I said, my voice steady again. "But I can't make any promises."

With that, I slipped out of the room, closing the door softly behind me. The second I was alone in the hallway, I released a shaky breath, the tension that had been building inside me finally breaking free.

My heart was racing, my thoughts a whirlwind of emotions I couldn't quite untangle.

I walked quickly, the echo of my footsteps the only sound in the silent corridor. The farther I got from Aemond, the more the reality of what had just happened sank in.

He had laid everything bare, but I couldn't forget what stood between us—our families, our histories, the sacrifices I would have to make.

When I reached the courtyard, I stopped, letting the cool night air wash over me, soothing the storm inside. I looked up at the stars, wondering how I had ended up here, torn between what I wanted and what I knew.

Could I really give up everything for him? Could I trust him, trust us, enough to believe that love could conquer the scars of the past? I didn't know.

All I knew was that I needed time. Time to think, to weigh the future that Aemond was offering against the life I had always known.

The air bit at my skin and my thoughts drifted to Alaric. The ease, the simplicity of being with him was tempting—a familiar escape from the whirlwind that Aemond stirred inside me.

With Alaric, everything had always been so... uncomplicated. No deep questions. No heavy expectations.

Just the physical release that dulled the ache, numbed the confusion. I knew if I went to him now, he wouldn't ask why. He wouldn't ask for anything at all.

For a fleeting moment, I considered it. The thought of his hands, the distraction, the way he could make me forget for just a little while.

It would be so easy to lose myself in him again, to drown out the impossible choice looming over me. But then, a sharp pang twisted in my chest, and I stopped in my tracks.

What would that solve? A night of pretending, of running, wouldn't change the fact that my heart was caught somewhere else—caught between the impossible pull of Aemond and the weight of everything I was supposed to be.

Alaric might help me forget for a night, but the reality of my choices would still be waiting for me in the morning.

I sighed the decision settling over me like a heavy cloak. I couldn't hide from this, no matter how much I wanted to.

With one last glance at the stars, I turned away from the direction of Alaric's chambers and instead headed back toward the shadows, alone with my thoughts, and the uncertainty that lingered like a storm on the horizon.

There was no running from this—not anymore.

A/n - Not as slow as I would like but we are nearing the end and I need their relationship to pick up a bit x

Enchanted tag list - @mamawiggers1980 @shilphy87 @esposadomd @targaryendestiel @deepeststarlightmoon

@thebirdandthebee @queen-of-elves @believeinthefireflies95

#house of the dragon #house targaryen #hotd #hotd x reader #house of the dragon x reader #hotd one shot #hotd season 2 #house of the dragon fanfiction #hotd fanfic #team green #aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond targaryen x reader #hotd aemond #aemond one eye #prince aemond #aemond fanfiction #prince aemond targaryen #house of the dragon aemond

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hypernova-writes · 7 hours ago

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Stupid In Love [Sniper x Reader]

Synopsis: Sniper loves you, and is not afraid to show it. He wants to spend the rest of his days with you.

a/n: Song fic one of two that I want to post, The next one is called in the closet~! Can you guess who it is??

Beautiful, beautiful, beautiful There's something about your eyes Tell me these feelings are mutual 'Cause feelings are so hard to fight

Sniper didn’t really consider himself to be a romantic man. He’d been a few relationships, whooed a couple of women before. But none of that compared to how he felt whenever he was with you.

Know it's a little soon, maybe But I'd go anywhere you take me 'Long as you're calling me, baby They can all call us crazy

You were a mercenary just like him. Efficient at what you do. He was always wowed when he saw you on the battlefield in your element. You were like a jack of all trades, ready to hop in and help anyone who really and truly needed it. Whether Medic needed a little support. Scout needed someone to help him flank or Engineer needed someone to watch over his machines. You were always there.

So it shocked him when you ended up confessing your feelings to him. Him of all people. He was pretty sure you’d heard all the things the other mercs said about him. How he was cold, how he was disgusting. But once again. You looked past what they all said and took it upon yourself to get to know him. You didn’t stop until you knew just about everything about him (that he would tell you.).

Now you had him dreaming about being a family man.

He would talk about you on the phone to his parents, who were elated that their son had someone in his love life that he could depend on. And they could tell by the way that their son talked about you on the phone that he was head over heels in love.

The other mercs noticed it too.

Whenever they needed Sniper for something and he was nowhere to be found? They went straight to you.

“Hey Y/n? Have ya seen Snipes? We need him today.” “Oh! Yea i have! I’ll go get him :)”

You’re so sweet that this man could probably get a cavity from how you were. You would come padding up to his camper, knocking that special knock before entering.

“Snipey~ Baby! You’re needed for a mission.” You walk over to him and press your lips against his cheek.

It never failed to make him blush, because if he didn’t react or didn’t say anything, you would just puff out your cheeks and pout before attacking him with more kisses until you kissed his lips.

“..’lright..’lright, I hear ya sheila..”

He then tilts your chin up to place a kiss on your lips, watching as you melted into his touch. It was plenty of exchanges that made the two of you late.

It boosted his moods, he would definitely do better in whatever mission or match whenever you gave him that cute encouragement you’d like to do.

He would watch as you went off to do whatever you had to get done, he would have that giddy love sick look on his face and he knew he was absolutely whipped.

Let's get married in Vegas We don't need a guest list I don't wanna think too much Let's get matching tattoos I don't wanna think it through Baby, I'm so stupid in love

The two of you were sitting on top of his campervan, gazing up at the stars. He looked over at you as you were rambling on about something that he just nodded along to.

‘God..she’s a beaut..”

Book a flight to Paris, only one way What'd you think about sharing our last name?

“Mick. You ever think about marriage?”

That question makes him sit up as he tilts his head, he was attentive then.

“Yea..I guess i do.” “Good..Cause I was thinking of it too. How we would have ours.”

He watches as you grin at him before looking back up to the sky. “I’d like to have it under the stars..cause it reminds me of moments like these with you.

Sniper smiles softly as he pulls you over onto his chest, Kissing your forehead he nuzzles against your face.

“Of course..We’ll do whatever ya want sheila..”

Let's get straight to "I do" I don't wanna think it through Baby, I'm so stupid in love

#tf2 fanfiction #tf2 fandom #tf2 fanfic #tf2 x reader #team fortress 2 #team fortress 2 x reader #tf2 #team fortress 2 imagines #tf2 sniper #tf2 sniper x reader #sniper tf2 #sniper tf2 x reader

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utilitycaster · 1 day ago

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If you're still answering these I don't have any rpg characters to share but I do love veth brenatto. Any spare thoughts about my girl?

Hey! so. technically the deadline was last night, which I'm saying to stave off further ones - thank you, truly, and I will be here in 2026 with the same game for the midterms. But I'll do this one as the last one, because I have been thinking about Veth a lot.

Some of it is something I said for the ask this morning, namely, I love the non-D&D rogueish archetype - Silk in the Belgariad/Mallorean, Vin in Mistborn, the general vibe of the Crows in what I know of Dragon Age (plus Nadia Carcossa, Thedas's most annoying woman and an inspiration, may we all be her except that bit at the end except not the bit at the end where she survives the impossible, we should do that, just don't get tricked by demons) but I think D&D mechanics stifle what I like - independence and ingenuity - in exchange for "well, because you can kill someone so fucking hard, you can only do it under the sort of circumstances one generally encounters in ancient Welsh folklore." Arcane tricksters are a really good way around those dumb mechanics. And through her backstory and relationship with Caleb, her story really coheres - I understand why she is a rogue and why she has the skills she does.

But I think what I like most about Veth, and there really is a lot to love about her, is that, like all the Mighty Nein, her story is about figuring out her place in the world and what she wants - how, when everything seemed lost to her, it forced her out of complacency. Veth is interesting because she's one of the few Nein characters who had actively built something of a life and was conscious of losing it. And I think that's why in some ways she struggles the most to find what her new one is. At times I felt it was a lack of direction, but with some space I really think it's a commentary on how she did have, in some ways, more to lose, and how in its own way her story is no less about grief than Caleb's is. For all Veth jokes about Yeza possibly being dead, and hitting on minotaurs, I do think, because her childhood wasn't exactly pleasant but it wasn't as obviously traumatic as Caleb or Fjord or Yasha's, she wonders what would have happened had this all happened a few years earlier. I don't think she regrets her marriage or her family, but I think she wonders, and that's a story people do not tell much, especially about women from their perspective, and it's a fascinating one. I don't like indecision in characters and Veth is the rare character who makes it compelling, and that is a testament to how good a concept she is.

#answered #godhatescrackers

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dsireland86 · 1 day ago

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Hi am sorry for Bothering you but can you do one of nick Folio and he and yn Has been married for long time and he noticed something off and she wakes up In the middle of the night because of pts dreams of sexual assault and he comfort her

First, you're never a bother for putting a request in, no matter how many times. (don't get me wrong, there are limits and lines not to reach or cross) This is a good one. I had a friend who had to deal with something like this and her boyfriend was her biggest support. As a victim of sexual assault myself, I know what it feels like.

There are warnings with this one, so if anyone still deals with trauma, please don't read.

18+ below the cut

You're Safe Now

Tags: @philomenie @supersquirrel1996 @foliosgirl @angelmarie89 @fadingintothegrey @theanarchymuse95 @thisbicc @lma1986 @dominuslunae @shayzillaaaa @fadingintothegrey @an0mallly @alwaysfightforwhoyouare @mrsnoahsebastian @flowery-mess @iloveyoutodeathbutimdrowning @stardustsirenmelody @romanreigns-supreme @anything-more-than-human @into-the-grey @rumoured-whispers

The dreams were always the same. The results were always the same; sitting straight up in bed, cold sweats, crying, shaking, the whole deal.

She's had them ever since I married her two years ago. The first night it happened, it really rattled me. She wouldn't let me touch her, only huddled up and cried until she fell back asleep. I tucked her in and curled up beside her, watching her eyes flutter beneath her closed eyelids. When morning came, she didn’t remember what happened; at least that’s what she said.

This went on for some time. I never asked questions, I was just there. Eventually, she allowed me to touch her; small circles on her back, caressing the back of her hair, until she would fall over and into my lap and fall back asleep. It was a small step, but a great improvement.

After about a year into our marriage, though, things took a turn. Our sex life started to shift. She was no longer into it, excited about it or needing it like I was. I felt horrible each time I tried to get her in the mood or aroused. She would make excuses or purposely make herself unavailable.

Some nights, it felt forced, but she was never mean about it. She would tell me she was doing it for me and that her disinterest in it didn't mean she didn't love me. I believed her, but it hurt just the same. I tried to be understanding as best as I could, but at the same time, my heart was hurting.

I begged her to open up and talk to me, to let me in and help, but she wouldn't. So, I took a step back with hope that eventually she'd open up to me, but when that moment came, what she confessed was not at all what I was prepared to hear, but it made sense and everything about her, between us, became clearer.

She gasped and sat up in bed, soaked in a cold sweat. At first, she didn't know where she was. Through the dark, she felt around her as if searching for something or someone, sighing when she finally felt it.

Folio stirred in his sleep, turning over instantly the moment he felt her hand on his back and the soft whispers of his name.

"Nick, wake up, please," she nudged him gently.

"I am, sweetheart, I'm awake," he said sleepily. "What's wrong?"

Folio sat up and turned on the bedside lamp, quickly turning back to his wife, who was sitting with her knees pulled up into her, shivering. He caressed her back gently, just like many times before, feeling utterly exhausted. Folio sighed, pinching the bridge of his nose.

"Nick, we need to talk."

"Okay, sure. What about?"

She turned to him, tears streaming down her face.

"About my past."

Folio sat the cup of tea down carefully on the table in front of her. The steam coming off of it was clearly visible as she thanked him, then wrapped her hands around the hot mug, sighing and closing her eyes in relief from the warmth.

He sat there quietly, watching her intently, wondering what it was about her past that could be so important. She cleared her throat and finally met Nick's gaze, eyes already swelling up with tears.

Her heart was breaking over how badly she'd been treating him, knowing that none of what happened to her years ago was his her husband's fault. And yet, despite how horrible she felt she'd been to him, he stayed by her, supporting and loving her.

"Nick, I'm sorry. I've been so unfair to you the past few months. I've... I've denied you things that, as my husband, are rightfully yours, and you've never once questioned me or pushed me away. Why?"

Folio scratched his nose and rubbed his jaw, trying to find the words that would make sense to her.

"I love you. I made promises to you. Till death do us part, right," he chuckled, smiling lightly at her. "You're my person, babe," he reached over and took her hand, which she gladly gave him.

Taking a deep breath, she relaxed a little, confident that Nick was going to be understanding about what she was about to tell him.

"Talk to me, sweetheart. I'm here. I'm not going anywhere."

"Two years before we met, I had this group of friends; three guys and two girls. It was a summer thing, you know the kind where it’s the last summer of high school together before graduation and you wanted it to be a summer to remember, kind of thing. We hung out every chance we got. Two of them were somewhat couples. They made out, had sex, you know, did all the normal teenage stuff. I wasn't like that, I was too shy and uncomfortable with myself, my body, and so inexperienced that I just kept to myself in those awkward moments."

Glancing at her husband, she gave him a half-hearted smile as he reached over and wiped away the single tear that slid down her cheek.

"My, my look how far you've come, my little mouse," Folio grinned. “Not so inexperienced now, are you?”

His pet name for her lightened her heart to the point that she got up and sat in his lap, wrapping her arms around his neck and kissing him.

"I've missed you."

"I know. I'm sorry. I know you don't understand."

Folio brushed stray hairs out of her face.

"Then help me understand. Keeping going."

"Okay, so one night while our other friends were doing what they were doing, the other guy in our group, the one that I wasn't the most familiar with, began to notice me. He made some passes at me and made me feel at ease. I was so vulnerable and didn't know anything about guys, so when he told me I was pretty, that I had so much to offer guys, I believed him."

She paused, lowering her head. Folio was starting to catch on.

"Did he hurt you?"

"...Yes."

"Fuck," Folio sighed. "For how long?"

"... ... ... the remaining three weeks of summer break."

Folio clenched his jaw, shaking his head.

"Did he rape you?"

"No... at least I don't think so."

Folio took her by the shoulders, staring her hard in the eyes.

"What do you mean you don't think so?"

She shrugged.

"He touched me, made me do things to him, and if I did well, he'd reward me."

Folio ran his hand down his face, trying to reel in his anger.

“What a sick piece of shit. Did he fuck you without your consent?"

She was quiet, unable to look at him now. She was terrified that her husband was angry with her for hiding this, for holding back on telling him.

"One night, we had all been drinking way too much. I remember I was so dizzy that I literally fell into the couch at the place we were hanging out at. All I remember is being picked up and laid back down. I woke up the next morning in just my panties and shirt. "

By now, she was crying. It was one thing to say it to herself, in her mind, but it was another thing to finally confess it all out in the open.

Folio pulled his wife into his chest, holding tightly close. The fact that the whole time they'd been dating and married, she carried this burden around with her, completely and utterly alone. It broke his heart that the girl he was madly in love with had to suffer that way in silence because of fear.

"What triggered all of this; the dreams, the ptsd from all of that mess?"

"I saw him. It was about a month and a half ago. He's married, too, and has two kids. He looked right at me and either didn't recognize me or pretended not to know me. It's like he saw right through me. I can't explain how it made me feel, Nick. It broke me."

More tears fell, and she was trembling, not from the cold, but from the stress of it all. Her crying turned into silent sobs, and her shoulders shook as she bent over in the chair, dropping her head into her hands.

It all made sense to Folio now, piecing together the details, and when she started acting so strange. She'd been triggered by the memories that she'd worked so hard to suppress and forget about through the years since it all happened, and it affected her in ways she never expected. She was a ticking time bomb to a mental breakdown.

Folio dropped to his knees in front of her, placing his hands gently on the sides of her legs. He sat there for a moment, not knowing what to say at first. He just laid his forehead against her knees, listening to her cry out her pain. After a few moments, he looked up after she'd grown quiet.

"Baby, look at me."

She raised her eyes, looking at her husband through blurry eyes. There he was, the only man that mattered, the only man who truly loved her for her, no matter her past.

Folio's eyes darted between his wife's as she stared back at him. The past was the past, yes, but what was the reason why she pushed him away?

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"I don't know. I guess all I wanted to do was forget about it, and I suppose for a long time I did. The past was the past; I couldn't change any of it."

She wiped her eyes, taking a deep breath and exhaling slowly.

"I'm sorry for hurting you, Nick. I'm sorry I pushed you away and made you feel unloved. I never meant to. I was just scared."

Folio's brows creased as he frowned in confusion.

"Scared of what?"

"That you'd be upset with me for keeping something like that from you, or that you wouldn't understand, or that you'd tell me it's what I deserved because of the scenario I put myself in. I was a stupid, naive kid. I didn't know any better."

Folio shook his head, rising up on his knees, taking her face in his hands.

"That's what your dad and brother did to you, isn't it? They didn't really believe you."

She nodded, tearing up again.

Folio's heart sank. He clenched his jaw to suppress his anger.

"Sweetheart, listen to me. What happened to you was not your fault, do you understand me? It wasn't your fault. That piece of shit deserves to burn in fucking hell for what he did to you.

I would never, in a million years, say anything like what your dad and brother said. They were wrong; so wrong. They should have defended you, protected you, and I'm so sorry that they didn't."

Folio choaked up, trying to hold back his tears. He pulled his wife into him, gathering her up in his arms and holding her as close to him as possible. She clung to him, burying her face in the side of his neck, finally feeling secured wrapped up in the arms of the man who promised to love her forever.

"You're safe now, baby; I promise you. No one's gonna ever hurt you like that again."

Pulling away from her, Folio brushed the hair out of her face and kissed her.

"You believe me, right?"

"Yes. I believe you," she nodded, giving him a small smile.

He held her again, and she gratefully allowed him to, both of them finally feeling the peace they'd been craving for.

#nick folio #nick folio fanfiction #bad omen #bad omens cult #bad omens fanfiction

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wonder-worker · 7 months ago

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I've been thinking about the tragedy of Elizabeth Woodville living to see the end of her family name.

I don't mean her family with her husband, which lived on through her daughter and grandson. I mean her own.

Her sisters died, one by one, many of them after 1485. When Elizabeth died, only Katherine was left, and she would die before the turn of the century as well.

All her brothers died, too. Lewis died in childhood. John was executed. Anthony was murdered. Lionel died suddenly in the peak of Richard's reign, unable to see his niece become queen. Edward perished at war. Richard died in grieving peace. For all the violence and judgement the family endured, it was "an accident of biology" that ended their line: none of the brothers left heirs, and the Woodville name was extinguished. We know the family was aware of this. We know they mourned it, too:

“Buy a bell to be a tenor at Grafton to the bells now there, for a remembrance of the last of my blood.”

Elizabeth lived through the deposition and death of her young sons, and lived to see the end of her own family name. It must have been such a haunting loss, on both sides.

#(the quote is by Richard Woodville in his deathbed will; he was the last of the Woodville brothers to die)#elizabeth woodville #woodvilles #my post #to be clear I am not arguing that the death of an English gentry family name is some kind of giant tragedy (it absolutely the fuck is not)#I'm trying to put it into perspective with regards to what Elizabeth may have felt because we know her family DID feel this way #writing this kinda reminded me of how I am just not fond at all about the way Elizabeth's experiences in 1483-85 are written about #and the way lots so many of the unprecedentedly horrifying aspects are overlooked or treated so casually:#the seizure and murder of two MINOR sons and the illegal execution of another;#her sheer vulnerability in every way compared to all her queenly predecessors; how she was harassed by 'dire threats' for months;#how she had 5 very young daughters with her to look after at the time (Bridget and Katherine were literally 3 and 4 years old);#how unprecedented Richard's treatment of her was: EW was the first queen of england to be officially declared an adulteress;#and the first and ONLY queen to be officially accused of witchcraft #(Joan of Navarre was accused of her treason; she was never explicitly accused of witchcraft on an official level like EW was)#the first crowned queen of england to have her marriage annulled; and the first queen to have her children officially bastardized #what former queens endured through rumors* were turned into horrifying realities for her.#(I'm not trying to downplay the nightmare of that but this was fundamentally on a different level altogether)#nor did Elizabeth get a trial or appeal to the church. like I cannot emphasize this enough: this was not normal for queens #and not normal for depositions. ultimately what Richard did *was* unprecedented #and of course let's not forget that Elizabeth had literally just been unexpectedly widowed like 20 days before everything happened #I really don't feel like any of this is emphasized as much as it should be?#apart from the horrifying death of her sons - but most modern books never call it murder they just write that they 'disappeared'#and emphasize that ACTUALLY we don't know what happened to them (this includes Arlene Okerlund)#rather than allowing her to have that grief (at the very least)#more time is spent dealing with accusations that she was a heartless bitch or inconsistent intriguer for making a deal with Richard instead #it also feels like a waste because there's a lot that can be analyzed about queenship and R3's usurpation if this is ever explored properly #anyway - it's kinda sad that even after Henry won and her daughter became queen EW didn't really get a break #her family kept dying one by one and the Woodville name was extinguished. and she lived to see it #it's kinda heartbreaking - it was such a dramatic rise and such a slow haunting fall #makes for a great story tho

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hairtusk · 1 year ago

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impossibly long week ahead of me, but made infinitely easier knowing that i am so deeply beloved by my boyfriend and that we belong entirely to each other :') the light of my life forever and always

#i had a dream last night where we were travelling through the european countryside and decided we were going to elope #so we found an abandoned tiny chapel in the hills and cleaned it out together inside to make it neat and pretty #so that we could get married there secretly #and the dream brought me a lot of peace #because i don't think it was really a dream about marriage but was much more metaphorical #and felt as if we were carving out this little space in the world that was created entirely to house us and our love #which is what it feels like we're doing in the waking world. carving out space in our lives dedicated just to our love #i feel so deeply secure in our love. he truly is the absolute love of my life and i feel so lucky that we found each other #i'll keep him all my life if he'll let me :')#anyway. i can face the week. i can.#we just spent the most beautiful weekend together. i slept so soundly after my last long week #because i sleep so deeply next to him; knowing that i'm safe and loved :')

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lcvenderblues · 2 years ago

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ty for the tag @rebelscoundrel !!! this was fun 🤍

six shows from my 2022:

np tagging: @psithurista @eupheme @ohheyitsokay @princessxkenobi @redahlia-writes

#i went with (mostly) ones other than my main fandoms i got into on here as those were already a given lol #and i turned off rbs just cause tag game chains in my notifs drive me nuts sometimes haha #tag game #andor transcends sw. it's not just a good piece of star wars media it's a brilliant show full stop #i don't know what to say that hasn't already been said but it has most definitely changed my life #i rly wasn't expecting to like rings of power as much as i did lol but there were soo many compelling characters for me #also elendil(f) my beloved...#and i binged midnight mass in a matter of 2 or 3 days and it felt like a liminal space in time... i also cried a lot #scenes from a marriage was all about oscar isaac with glasses greys a beard and cute cardigans <33 #(we won't talk about the heartbreak or anything else)#the good place my beloved... i gave it a rewatch this year and fell in love with eleanor and chidi all over again #and i started casually watching three's company with my mom sometimes lol

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fideidefenswhore · 1 year ago

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hirst telling on himself.

#'i don't know what to say' 'you don't have to say anything'#............great. glad we have that established/sorted #like...sdjfsdjkl??#of all things to carry over from s2 they do that they little mermaided the hell out of her (see: best garfunkel and oates episode)#altho tbh s2 was frustrating in some sense too because all it portrayed was the courtship? not the political aspect #so jane asking mary to be reinstated felt like a bolt from the blue #*political/religious #if they'd actually portrayed more of chapuys' reports not just mined them for shock value...#they would have shown her speaking to henry about his marriage being invalid and making sure other nobles were in her presence #to support what she as claiming #invalid/hated etc #*bolt from the blue in the s2 finale

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usuallydyinginside · 6 months ago

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TLDR: Francesca Bridgerton is Autistic. Fight me.

Okay so I did not go into Season 3 of Bridgerton expecting to have any feelings about Francesca Bridgerton. We have seen her only in glimpses in the show and I have not read the books, so I knew basically nothing about her before binging the first four episodes.

But guys. GUYS. I will die for this autistic queen.

Okay, so starting with first impressions. We know that on her big day, Francesca went out of her way to avoid her nosy, loud family by having a very early, quiet breakfast by herself and then calming down via playing the piano (clearly a special interest of hers).

In her first balls, we see Francesca light up any time she talks about music (clearly her current or forever special interest) but as soon as men try to take it to a flirting place she IMMEDIATELY shuts down. It's clear that even as she states very matter-of-factly that she plans to marry this season, she also is baffled and uncomfortable any time someone tries to actually, ya know, court her.

At one of her first shindigs, she got attention and then went up to her brother and (while making almost no eye contact) told him (rather than asked him) that she needed a sec.

She then sat by herself in the side of the ballroom.

Later on, she left a ball in search of quiet and solitude to fix her sensory overload, so she went outside this time. (A thing that we know from pervious seasons is a HUGE no-no, particularly unchaperoned. But she was very respectfully near the door so maybe that's fine?) The point is that she cares very much about staying respectable so she can get this marriage thing over with and get people to stop perceiving her, yet she risks some scandal by going outside just so she can be somewhere quiet alone.

Enter: this absolute (also autistic) Prince Charming.

He says hello (so she knows he's not like trying to sneak up on her in the dark like a creep) and then just stands there. 10/10, no notes, best way to flirt I have ever seen in my life.

Seriously just look at this. I'm in love. Never before has there been a greater sign of love at first sight than in this "standing politely five feet apart in total silence in the middle of a ball and enjoying each other's company."

I need to go watch these first four episodes about a hundred more times, but I THINK this might be the first sincere smile we see from Francesca??!? I at least got the impression immediately that this is the first time she's felt genuinely comfortable and happy while not entirely alone this season.

Like, these nerds did not even exchange names. They barely exchanged a word. Yet you can see them falling head over heels in love right there in that moment. I don't even LIKE love at first sight tropes and they have my whole heart. They are the only exception.

Then, of course, you have this second absolutely iconic Scene of Silence where the entire Bridgerton family stares in neurotypical confusion a these two amazing weirdos. The way these two do not know each other but they DO know each other. The way they are both so happy and so comfortable but also still playing the whole society game the way they were told they had to?? I just don't have words right now.

LOOK AT HER SMILE, GUYSSSSSSSS.

Look how happy this tiny, silent moment is making her. How she understands immediately what he's doing and is absolutely delighted to participate too even knowing her entire family is hardcore judging them from not that far away.

And then you get this smug little look from him and it's like you can see his autistic ass thinking, "Yes. I calculated correctly. This was the correct romance option. Gold star to me." (Okay, maybe that's just how my brain works but shhhhh)

Which, of course, brings us to this absolutely hilariously awkward ND attempt at flirting. We start off with some fairly normal "whoops, I'm flustered cause you make me nervous" sort of moments, but notice how little eye contact she makes. How she only looks in his eyes very briefly and it seems like she almost has to remind herself to do so when she's doing the "polite" answers (OR later when she's genuinely interested in a topic).

So as soon as Francesca is like "oh shit, I ruined it. I forgot how to neurotypical. It's over" then she loses patience with the practiced social niceties.

I spent like 30 minutes trying to find a GIF and I should already be asleep so I'm not going to go learn how to make one BUT I needed to look up exactly what happens next cause it's basically the most autistic thing I've ever seen.

WHICH IS that in response to the second awkward silence after Francesca shares all of this, John's response is, "That is helpful. If you'll excuse me."

Then dude bro just WALKS AWAY WITHOUT ANOTHER WORD.

Like it would be awkward anyway but now Francesca thinks she misread a social cue so she's feeling sad, and meanwhile this absolute king is over here on a romantic mission no one asked him to do because he is that set on showing her he's listening and cares.

The man shows up at the ball and as soon as he had a paper we were all screaming "he wrote her a song!!!"

Again, notice the eye contact (or lack thereof). I think with period dramas and women, it's easy to just go "oh she's just shy" or "she's just being demure like she's supposed to" but like NO. This girl does not want to meet anyone's eyes.

Until she does. Because in moments where she's talking about music or enjoying quiet, it's worth it to purposefully meet his eyes and see how he's feeling too. To make sure he can see she's happy.

ANYWAY, it was so much better than him writing a song for her.

SO. MUCH. BETTER.

Because he didn't just give her any ol' music. He sought out the music they'd specifically heard in the street, and he took her exact specifications on what was "wrong" with the music, and he FIXED IT. He then put the whole thing on sheet music and handed her a copy with no further explanation than this.

Our autistic lass was so excited she basically sprinted out of that ball so she could find a piano. (Which, the fact that she does this rather than try to stay and flirt/dance with the man who just gave her this incredible gift ALSO says a lot, just saying. Daphne could never.)

So our girl finds a piano and GUYS. LOOK AT HOW HAPPY SHE IS.

I'm pretty sure this woman would accept a proposal right this second. Maybe make one herself. She is so head over heels in love with this man that it's absurd. We have watched her mask in these first four episodes, but the last two where she's interacting with John are the first times she seems genuinely happy and like the real her is shining through.

Like, does she enjoy her family? Sure. But it's obvious (and she even tells us) that she finds them overwhelming and generally to be A Lot. But these scenes? This gesture?

You can just get how seen she feels. How weird and wild and amazing it is to her that this man can see who she actually is and wants to join her there instead of making her play some part of the perfect Bridgerton who likes to be the center of attention.

(And even here - the EYE CONTACT. She glances at people when she's talking to them, but the way she looks at the sheet music is so much more intense and intimate and personal than anytime she's looking at the average person in the show. She still even in places she's most comfortable, such as sitting at the piano, makes very little eye contact and only at very specific moments.)

Anyway I'm going to sleep now but I'm sure I'll add more thoughts as they come to me. Feel free to add your own case for why Francesca is autistic and/or otherwise neurodivergent. I want to hear allllllll the thoughts.

#francesca bridgerton #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #bridgerton spoilers #bridgerton s3 #john stirling #bridgerton netflix #bridgerton season three #Francesca is Autistic #Autism #Autistic

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javierpena-inatacvest · 2 months ago

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Me, You, and Baby, Too

Summary: You and Joel have always wanted kids, but didn't want to rush into having them until you both were ready. After a surprise at his job, Joel realizes there's nothing more he wants to do than put a baby in you as soon as he gets home.

Pairing: Husband!Joel Miller x Wife!Reader (no use of y/n)

Word Count: 4.1K

Warnings: SMUT (18+), unprotected p in v sex (it's baby making time, so hush), oral (f receiving), vaginal fingering, big ole fat and nasty breeding kink (.... don't look at me it's bad), creampie, cum play, talks of starting a family, calling Joel "Daddy" (in the sense you want to have his babies, but also 🤷🏼‍♀️), Sweet soft Joel who loves his wife and would give her the universe if he could, honestly with just the way Joel is talking about makin' babies, I think I'm pregnant

A/N: It's that time of the month where Madeline ovulates and writes feral breeding kink smut!!! 🤪 Okay I am so nervous to post this because I have never written for Joel before and I'm worried it's trash with a capital T, but after re-watching TLOU, I need 2003 Joel Miller carnally, so here we are. This is also inspired by @mrsmando post about 2003 Joel Miller constantly keeping you barefoot and pregnant because it made me unwell, and no lies were told. (thanks for ruining my life mimi) 🤠 ANYWHO I hope you guys like it, and if not, I'll shut up and go back to writing Javi and Frankie and pretend like this didn't happen

There were a lot of stereotypical answers that you expected from your husband when you asked him how his day at work had been:

“Good.”

“Fine.”

“Long.”

“My knees are killin’ me.”

“Tommy did somethin’ fuckin’ stupid again.”

“Better now that I’m home with you.”

So when Joel arrived home today after a new job he had started with Tommy on a bathroom renovation, there were few things that could have prepared you for the response your husband had when you asked him how his day had gone.

“Hey, honey. How was your day today?” You smiled, watching Joel stroll in through your front door, kicking off his work boots at the entryway, beginning to put away his things before strolling into the kitchen to greet you.

“Pretty good." He paused, leaning in for a quick kiss before making his way over to the closet before speaking again. "Saw a real cute baby today.”

You could practically feel your heart skip a beat as you looked up from the vegetables you had been cutting up for dinner, tightening the grip you had around your knife to make sure you didn’t drop it in shock.

Out of all the things for Joel to bring up on the first day at a new job, a cute baby had been at the top of the list.

Not floor plans.

Not timelines for the project.

Not something stupid that Tommy did.

Not even what he had done today on the job.

The top news that Joel Miller had to report back to you about his day was the sighting of a cute baby.

You and Joel had always agreed that you’d wanted kids, and your husband had been not only adamant, but genuinely excited at the prospect of becoming a dad. But only being a little less than a year into your marriage, the two of you had decided you didn’t want to rush into anything, and when the time felt right, you’d both know it.

But one by one, as your friends began to announce their pregnancies, baby showers, and pictures of their adorable newborns, you couldn’t help but deny the baby fever starting to burn hotter and hotter inside you with every passing day.

You’d brought it up in passing a few times with Joel, talking about your friends who had kids, or a cute mom and her children you saw walking around in your neighborhood, and while he had always had a positive response to what you had to say, you just had a feeling that now just wasn’t the time for the two of you yet, and that was okay.

But here you were, standing in your kitchen, jaw practically scraping the ground at the notion that your husband had dropped just about the least subtle hint ever that babies weren’t just at the forefront of your mind- they were on his, too.

“Awh, really?” You asked, shaking your head to snap out of your shocked state, returning back to dice the onion you had been working on before Joel could turn around to see you after finishing hanging up his things in the closet, trying to subtly coax more information out of him.

“Yeah.” He smiled, joining you in the kitchen, wrapping an arm around your waist to pull you closer to his chest for a soft kiss to greet you, “The family we’re startin’ the bathroom reno for just moved in. Had their first baby a few months ago and just hadn’t had time to work on fixin’ things.”

“So they’re already putting the baby to work with you and Tommy?” You teased, raising an eyebrow at Joel playfully, giving him a quick peck back on the lips as he laughed at your sass.

“Cheap labor.” Joel shrugged back, playing into the joke, “Nah, she woke up from her nap while Tommy and I were runnin’ through some measurements so her mom brought her out for the last lil bit we were there. She was damn cute, too. Just smilin’ and laughin’ at everything.”

You were glad Joel’s arm was still wrapped around your hip, because you were convinced if it wasn’t, you were about to melt to the floor into a puddle, watching how soft and sweet Joel was talking about a cute, smiling baby.

“Well a cute baby definitely sounds like a very nice perk of being on the job.” You smirked, trying to play it cool enough to keep your heart from bursting out of your chest.

“Yeah.” Joel replied softly, quietly pausing for a moment, watching the gears turning in his brain, carefully calculating his words before he spoke.

“You okay?” You asked, looking up at Joel, knowing your husband well enough that he had something on his mind he was trying to work up the confidence to spit out.

Joel looked back down at you, big brown eyes locking with yours as his grip around your waist tightened ever so slightly, tongue swiping against his plush bottom lip as he took a long, deep breath in and slow exhale out.

“Honey, what is it?” You asked again, now slightly concerned with how nervous your husband looked in his stoic silence, reaching up to gently wrap your fingers around his arm, thumb stroking his skin.

“I want one.”

You froze, worried that your heart may have actually stopped as you looked at Joel, making sure that you had really just heard what he had said.

“W-what?”

“I want one. A baby. I- I know it’s been a while since we’ve talked about it, but I’ve been thinkin’ about it a lot, and seein’ that baby today, it just- shit, I just couldn’t stop picturin’ what it would be like to have one of our own I guess.”

If you weren’t a puddle before, you sure as fuck were now.

An overwhelming sensation of nerves and excitement began thrumming through your veins, your heart beat pounding in your ears as your face grew warm and a smile started to spread between your cheeks. You were almost certain you had to be dreaming, asking again to make sure that someone needed to come and wake you up and send you back to reality.

“Joel… Really?”

“Yeah, really. Nothin’ I want more. I know I ain’t gonna even be close to the perfect dad, but I know you’ll be sucha good mom, and I’ll be damned if I don’t want some tiny lil versions of us runnin’ around. Couldn’t think of anything that would make me happier than that. Like I said, I know that we ain’t talked about in a while, and if ya aren’t ready yet that’s okay but I-”

Before Joel could even finish the rest of his thought, you were pressing up to plant your lips to his with passionate intensity, hands roaming up his chest before cupping his jaw and the scratchy stubble of his cheeks while your stomach flipped with arousal and want, already feeling a damp patch beginning to pool in the cotton of your underwear.

You pulled away, kisses traveling along his jawline and up his neck until you were nipping at his ear, the hot breath of your words whispering against his skin.

“You wanna make a baby, Joel Miller?”

“Fuck-” Joel groaned, reaching his other arm around you grab at your ass, pulling you in tight enough to feel the bulge beginning to grow under the denim of his worn jeans, pressing against your thigh.

“‘Cause there’s nothing that I want more than to make you a daddy.” You smirked, looking up to watch Joel’s eyes darken with lust, jaw going slack as a low groan rumbled in his chest, his once half hard cock now fully erect and straining against his zipper, trying to keep from giggling watching your husband try to string together any sort of thoughts to speak.

“Jesus fuckin’ Christ-” He moaned, running his hand over his face to try and regain his composure to keep from busting right then and there. “You- fuck, you sure, baby?”

“Mhmmmm. Don’t think I’ve ever been so sure of anything in my whole life. So sure,” you paused, softly pressing your lips to his between words, “that I think we should go make one right now.”

Your adamant confirmation was all it took to set off something almost animalistic in Joel, crashing his lips back into yours in a messy clash of tongues and teeth, gripping his hands under your thighs to hoist you up around his hips and lock your legs behind the small of his back. Without ever letting your mouths part, Joel was already halfway to the bedroom before you had even realized it, playfully giggling at how frantically he was carrying you down the hallway, your bodies bumping against the walls and door frames, too focused on desperate and needy kisses for any sort of spatial awareness.

Finally reaching your bed, Joel carefully laid you down, letting your back fall into the mattress, leaving your lower half to hang off the edge before your husband was on his knees, settling himself between your parted thighs.

You sat up on your elbows, watching as Joel tightened his grip around the meat of your legs, peppering kisses up the inside of each across your soft skin before coming face to face with your core, planting another soft kiss there before letting his fingers ghost over your heat, still covered by your jeans.

He rapidly worked at the button of your pants, shuffling them down off your hips to reveal your underwear, now absolutely soaked with arousal from the prospect alone of Joel knocking you up and carrying his baby.

“Jesus Christ, baby girl, look at ‘cha.” Joel tutted, admiring how the cotton of your underwear clung to the outline of your cunt, sticking to the puffy and swollen lips of your pussy from how wet you were. “Haven’t even touched ya yet. This all for me, darlin’?”

Just as you began to try and answer, Joel took one of his fingers, barely dragging it over the damp fabric before beginning to rub soft circles over your covered clit, eliciting a pathetic whimper from you at the electric sensation.

“F-fuck- It’s all for you, b-baby.” You stammered, moaning even louder as a second finger joined the first, pressing more pressure into you sensitive nub as he nudged each of your legs to drape over his shoulders, his free hand tugging at the waistband of your underwear, making you instinctually lift your hips as he yanked them off your legs to crumple in a messy pile with your pants.

“Prettiest fuckin’ pussy I’ve ever seen.” Joel mewled, running his fingers up and down through the weeping seams of your folds, toying with your entrance while draping his arm across your hips to hold your squirming lower half in place. “Wants me to fuck her full of me and fill her up so bad, huh?”

“P-please, Joel. Want you to fill me up so badly.” You whimpered, staring down at your husband, a devilish grin spread across his face, licking his lips as his eyes darted back and forth between your blissed out face and the glistening mess between your thighs.

“I will sweetheart, promise. Gotta taste you first though, baby. Gotta make sure you’re nice n’ready for me. ‘Cause once we start, I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till I knock you up.”

With that, Joel was diving between your legs, lapping you up in long and firm strokes, pressing against your clit in the way he knew would make you fall apart under his tongue. While he would have loved to have spend hours just like this, making you writhe under his touch, drinking up your arousal like a wandering man parched in the heat of the desert, Joel had one thing on his mind, and one thing only-

To get you pregnant.

Joel began to intensify the pace of his tongue, swirling and sucking around your clit as two of his thick fingers pushed into your heat, sliding in and out of your entrance with ease from how wet and worked up you were. Curling his fingers ever so slightly, you cried out as Joel bumped against your g-spot, pushing against the soft, spongy spot as his tongue worked its magic.

You could feel the arousal shooting through your veins, heat beginning to bloom in your stomach as Joel fucked you with his fingers and mouth, shooting your hand down to grab fistfulls of his thick, brown hair to brace yourself for your impending orgasm.

“J-Joel, oh fuck- Fuck, baby, I’m c-close. Don’t stop, please, don’t stop.” You whined, pussy beginning to flutter around Joel’s fingers, the tightening only egging him on further to get you to cross the finish line.

With just a little more pressure of his tongue, Joel could feel your cunt clamping down around his digits, watching the pleasure shoot through your body as you came, your orgasm crashing through you like a tsunami.

As you reached your high, Joel drank up your arousal, not faltering in his pace, too focused on your pretty cries of his name being chanted like a prayer to do anything but keep going and making you feel good.

Truth be told, Joel had gotten so lost between your thighs, the only thing stopping him was the tensing feeling between his, so pussy drunk and determined to fuck you full of him that he was worried he was about to cum too if he didn’t stop.

Pulling off you, Joel frantically stood up, racing to undo his belt and jeans, yanking them down his legs in tandem with his boxers as his cock slapped against his stomach, precum already pearling from his tip, desperate to be inside of you. His shirt quickly followed his pants, ripping it over his head as his broad body caged yours under him, helping you to scoot back on the bed until your head hit the pillows, trailing kisses up and down your body the whole way.

As Joel kissed and nipped at your skin, you quickly shuffled off your top and bra, leaving you bare beneath him, moaning as his tongue flicked against each of your newly exposed pebbled nipples, grouping your breast and kneading the soft flesh in his palms.

Even though you had just came, you could already feel your cunt starting to clench around nothing, desperate to feel Joel inside of you, to stretch you out with his thick cock and fuck you until you couldn’t think straight. But with the way your chest was heaving and breath shaking from your orgasm, you could barely muster out the words you wanted.

“J-Joel, p-please, baby. P-please.”

You snaked your hand between your bodies to reach for Joel’s cock, wrapping your fingers around his length and swiping your thumb over his leaking tip, a low groan rumbling in his chest as you stroked him, trying to guide him to slide between your legs and ease your ache.

Lowering his hips, you moved your hand and let his replace it, Joel pumping himself a few times before guiding his tip between your folds, collecting your slick to coat his cock, using every last ounce of self-control he had as his eyes locked with yours, wanting to see your face as he pushed inside you.

“Please, what, darlin’?” Joel teased, knowing damn well what you were begging for.

“Need to feel you, Joel. Need you to put a baby in me.” You moaned, reaching up to grab his face, your palm rubbing against his stubble as your fingers tugged on the curls at the nape of his neck.

With one more pump, Joel lined himself up with your entrance, sliding into your heat, the sweet stretch and sting of his length making the breath hitch in the back of your throat, filling you up inch by inch until he bottomed out inside you with his tip just kissing your cervix.

Joel couldn’t help but smirk as he watched your mouth fall open, parted lips letting a soft moan escape while your eyes nearly rolled to the back of your head at the newfound sensation, giving you another moment to adjust before he began to slowly roll his hips, dragging his cock in and out of your core.

“Christ, baby girl, so wet and tight. Like this pussy was made just for me. Made for me to fuck ya full of me until it’s got no choice but to fuckin’ take.” Joel groaned, reaching down to grab your thighs, pinning your knees to your chest, stretching you open to take Joel even deeper, practically feeling him in your stomach with the position he had you in.

“Joel, oh my god- fuck, you feel so good. Fuck, baby. Want you to fill me up so bad.” You whimpered, Joel now beginning to pick up his pace as he thrust in and out of you, continually punching in that perfect spot over and over again, leaving your brain bordering on short circuiting.

Joel’s fingertips dug deeper into the flesh of your thighs, pushing your legs down just far enough to be chest to chest with you, the sweat dampened curls of his forehead brushing against yours as your mouths met in an electric kiss, catching each other’s muffled moans with each snap of Joel’s hips.

“Yeah, sweetheart? Want me to fill you up? Fuck a baby into you? Let everyone see what a pretty momma you are, carryin’ our kid?” Joel grunted, picturing you, months from now, belly round and tits swollen, pregnant with your baby, wondering how many you’d let him give you, because fuck, he’d keep knocking you up until he had nothing left to give.

Each push and pull of your bodies against each other felt more and more electric, an undeniable coil tightening in your stomach with the way Joel was pounding into you and the hairs at the base of his cock were brushing against your clit, already feeling yourself beginning to teeter on the brink of pleasure once again.

“Yes, fuck, fuck- yes, Joel. I wanna have your baby. Want you to knock me up so I can make you a daddy. Please, baby, please.” You were all but sobbing at this point, your fingers digging into the tan and sweat sheened skin of Joel’s broad shoulders, overwhelmed by the lewd combinations of Joel’s heavy pants in your ear and wet squelching of your pussy as his pelvis flushed against yours repeatedly.

Joel could feel you beginning to tighten around him, pussy sucking him in with its warmth and wetness, ready to clamp around his cock and milk him for all he was worth.

“That’s it, darlin’, I know you’re close. Gotta cum for me first though, baby girl. Gotta feel ya soak me before I stuff ya so full of me, I swear t’god, you’ll be drippin’ outta me for days. So fuckin’ full that I’ll get you pregnant right now.” Joel groaned through gritted teeth, leaning back to reach and grab your leg, wrapping it around the small of his back before you lifted your other to join it, locking your ankles to keep him as close to you as possible.

“Joel, oh my god, fuck baby, fuck, I’m gonna- fuckfuckfuck-”

Suddenly, your orgasm was rushing through every inch of you, crying out as the pleasure hit you like a freight train, choking Joel’s cock with your pussy, unable to do anything but relish in the white hot bliss that had you nearly floating out of your own body.

While Joel would have kept fucking you until the sun went down, the truth was he was relieved to feel you cum, spending every second since your agreement in the kitchen trying to keep from finishing until he was balls deep inside you and you were soaking his cock as you reached your high. The realization that now was his chance to make good on his promise, to fill you up and fuck a baby into you, ignited something primal, feral, in him, pounding into you at a punishing pace as he could feel himself teetering on the brink of collapse right with you.

“That’s my girl. That’s it, cum all over my cock, baby. Shit, I’m gonna cum too, fuck- gonna fill this tight lil pussy up so goddamn much, give you a baby, make you a momma, oh fuck!”

With one final stutter of his hips, Joel let out a strangled moan, flushing his hips against yours as he milked himself of every last drop, painting your warm, wet walls with hot ropes of his spend, making sure nothing went to waste.

He couldn’t help but but press even further into you, plugging you with his length and fucking his cum as deep as he could into your cunt to make sure it took, collapsing on top of you with his cock still buried in your heat, letting your chests heave together in sync as you both caught your breath.

Joel was convinced he had never cum so much in his entire life, afraid that if he pulled out, that somehow he’d have more left to give, and sure as fuck wasn’t going to risk letting anything coming out of him end up not inside of you.

Well, not until your muffled grunt rumbled beneath him.

“Joel, baby, I love you but you’re kinda squishing me.” You huffed, giggling to yourself as you watched your husband come-to in real time out of his post-orgasmic state, immediately offering a half muttered apology as he rolled off you, sitting back on his knees to admire the shiny and slick mess between your legs.

“Fuck me…” Joel murmured to himself, eyes wide as he stared at your pussy- wet, puffy and soaking with your arousal, bringing his fingers to your spent hole as he watched a dribble of his cum begin to leak out. Gently scooping it up, he collected everything he could, pressing it back into your cunt before pulling his hand out. Crawling up the bed to lay next to you, Joel wrapped you up in his arms as the little spoon, peppering ticklish kisses over your back and shoulders, making you burst into laughter.

“Joel, stop! That tickles!” You squealed, squirming in his grasp, trying to defend yourself from his unrelenting attack of soft, plush lips and scratchy beard dancing across your skin.

“Don’t laugh so damn hard, or all my hard work’s ‘bout to come out!” Joel teased, giving you a playful nudge, pulling you in even closer.

“Stop making me laugh, then! Plus, I think you came enough to put quadruplets inside of me, so I think we’ll be okay.” You snorted, Joel joining in on the laughter.

“Baby, I don’t think I’ve ever came that hard in my whole goddamn life.” Joel sighed, shrugging as you rolled your head up to look at him and that stupid goofy grin he got whenever he couldn’t contain his excitement about something. “God, I love you.”

“I love you too, Joel.”

The two of you sat in a comfortable silence for a moment, Joel slowly bringing his arm to rest across your stomach, thumb slowly tracing careful circles on your skin.

“You’re gonna make such a good mom. I’m the luckiest man alive that you wanna have a family with me. Still not really sure what I ever did to deserve it.”

“Joel! You’re gonna make me cry! And this is before pregnancy hormones, ya jerk.” You tried to laugh, choking back the tears welling in your eyes.

“Yeah, what a jerk, your husband tellin’ you how much he loves you.” He teased back, planting a long kiss on your temple, before pressing another one to your lips. Another wave of soft silence followed, watching Joel’s face scrunch in a calculated concentration. “How big of a crib you think I gotta make? I don’t know ‘bout a rockin’ chair, but a crib can’t be that hard. I gotta measure the guest room tomorrow.”

“Honey, I don’t even know if I’m pregnant yet, you don’t need to have a crib built tomorrow.” You teased, laughing at Joel, despite the fact his mind was already thinking about a baby room and accessories had you melting.

“Sweetheart, what did I say earlier? I ain’t lettin’ you outta this bed ‘till we know there’s a baby in there.” He smirked, nodding at his hand still splayed across your stomach, “So you better get comfortable, ‘cause if it’s up to me, there ain’t a chance in hell we’re gettin’ anything but a positive pregnancy test at the end of this month, and we'll sure need that crib nine months from now. Never hurts to get a head start."

Tag List: (Sorry if I tagged you and you don't wanna be tagged, just let me know!!)

@chaotic-iguana @rhoorl @bbiophiliaa @pertinentpostmortem @angelofsmalldeath-codeine

@pedrobaby @fatima-marisa @beboldbebravethings @poodlebae @kittenlittle24

@3sriracha @jungchloee @perennialdoll247 @prettyinpunk85

@partyofone3413 @harriedandharassed @pedrohoe04 @theorganasolo

@endlessthxxghts @beware-my-thorns @missladym1981 @milly-louise

@jay-zzle @the-one-with-the-grey-color @persephone-girl @bitchesuntitled

@pedropascallvr @millennial-teenybopper r @nastiasnow @vee-bees-blog

@hopplessilse @mxtokko @its-nebuleuse @mandoisapunk @msmorningstaarr

@amyispxnk @honeyedmiller @mountainsandmayhem @picketniffler @burningnerdchild

@copperhalfcent @theoraekenslover @bloodyinspirationaldemon @vee-bees-blog

@samgirl4life @pigeonmama @survivingandenduring @itsokbbygrl @javierpena-inatacvestnotifs

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leclerc-hs · 7 months ago

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73 Questions with Mrs. Leclerc - cl16

pairing: husband!charles leclerc x fem!reader summary: in which you do a 73 questions interview with Vogue OR charles can't help but third wheel your interview warnings: none??? just cute fluff basically, NOT PROOFREAD word count: 2.1k author's note: I actually got a request by someone to do this and thought it was such a CUTE idea and concept. I obviously didn't do ALL 73 questions cause that would've taken forever. But thought this was a cute little piece to do. I hope you enjoy and don't forget to let me know what you think don't be shy !! xoxo

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

THE DELICATE FOLDS of the pale pink sundress fluttered like petals in a gentle breeze, framing your figure with a soft, ethereal elegance. As the front door yielded to the push, the fabric danced around your legs, caressing the tender skin of your thighs with a whisper of touch. Your radiant smile illuminated the scene, a beacon of joy amidst the fluttering fabric and nervous flutter of butterflies in your stomach.

“Hey!” The male voice chimed brightly, his tone cheerful as a songbird greeting the dawn, echoing through the air with an infectious energy that mirrored your own bright smile.

“Hey!” You respond with effervescent warmth, your smile stretching across your face like a sunbeam breaking through clouds. With a graceful gesture, you swing the door open wider, revealing the inviting warmth of your home’s foyer. The soft light spills in, casting a golden glow over the polished floors and elegant furnishing. The first thing to notice is the giant painting of a Ferrari Formula One car, hung high above the entry way table.

“Look who we have here! It’s Mrs. Leclerc!” A delicate blush warms your cheeks, a subtle reminder of the tender affection that tingles within you whenever you’re addressed as such. Though you and Charles have been together for many years, your marriage has infused your relationship with a fresh sense of intimacy and closeness. And despite that it’s been almost five years, the title of “wife” feels forever new and unfamiliar.

“On a scale of 1-10, how excited are you about life right now?”

“I would say 8, so I’m super excited!” With a gentle click, you shut the front door behind you, enveloping the foyer in a tranquility as you made your way down the hallway to the kitchen. Along the way, you stooped to pick up a scattering of children’s toys that lay scattered like confetti on the polished wooden floors, offering a quick apology for the perceived “mess.” However, you couldn’t help but inwardly smile at the orchestrated chaos around you. While the house was meticulously maintained by the cleaning company before the video shoot, every detail was carefully curated to strike the perfect balance between lived-in warmth and elegance, ensuring a setting that felt both inviting and authentic to you and the viewers.

“Any reason for that?”

In the heart of the home lies a kitchen adorned with a stunning green cabinet motif. The cabinets, painted in a rich emerald hue, exude an air of sophistication and charm, perfectly complemented by gleaming brass hardware. Sunlight filters through the vast array of windows, casting a warm glow over the polished marble countertops.

“You mean other than the fact that the kids go back to school soon?” You and the interviewer let out a soft laugh as you made your way behind the kitchen island, opening the fridge in a smooth motion to pull out a water bottle. “Want one?”

“No, but thanks though!” His voice is light-hearted.

As the fridge door remains open, a tantalizing glimpse is offered to the audience of its well-stocked interior. A colorful array of fresh produce fills the shelves, showing an abundance of vibrant fruits and crisp vegetables. Among the healthy offerings, assortment of juice boxes catches the eye, adding a playful touch to the wholesome scene.

“That’s a lot of juice boxes you have in there.” He makes a comment, it’s not a question, but you take it as one.

“Two kids and a husband,” You start, your tone light and casual before lowering your voice into a conspiratorial whisper for the camera, “who practically is also a kid, results in a lot of juice boxes.” With a playful wink directed at the lens, you punctuate the statement, adding a touch of humor to the scene. Setting the water bottle down on the expansive kitchen counter, you resume your easy demeanor, effortlessly blending candor and charm for your audience.

“Hey!” Your head shoots over, the camera seamlessly following your gaze to where Charles, your husband,sits on the floor of the living room, two of your kids, aged two and three, beside him with an abundance of toys strewn about. “I heard that!” Charles retorts with mock offense, a playful grin lighting up his face as he joins in the banter.

The living room exudes a chic sophistication with a distinct Formula One flair. Charcoal-gray walls provide a sleek backdrop, accentuating the mounted flat-screen television. A striking statement piece dominates one corner—a display of artwork showcasing all of the racetracks Charles has conquered – infusing the room with a sense of triumph and energy. A plush white sofa, adorned with an array of vibrant red pillows, invites relaxation and style. Across the room, a sizable shelf proudly showcases a collection of racing helmets, some belonging to Charles and others gathered over time, adding a personal touch to the space. Below the television, was a long console table that was adorned in various plants and photos of your family. You couldn’t help but smile as you glanced at them.

With a casual wave of your hand, you dismiss Charles’s playful interruption, maintaining your position at the kitchen island as the camera refocuses on you. The gesture carries an air of affectionate familiarity, a gentle reminder of the dynamic energy that permeates your bustling household.

“If you could do a love scene with anyone, who would it be?”

“Definitely Austin Butler.” You answer almost immediately, no hesitance in your voice.

“Hey!” Charles’s playful yelp echoes through the room once more, accompanied by the joyful laughter of your children. One nestled in his lap, the other engrossed in a picture book, their presence adding warmth and vitality to the room. You share a knowing smile with Charles, the affectionate banter a familiar melody to your family life.

The laughter of the interviewer joins the playful exchange. The camera effortlessly captures the dynamic interaction between all of you with ease.

You roll your eyes playfully, “Restez en dehors de ça.” Stay out of this!

“Arrête de faire semblant de vouloir faire l’amour avec quelqu’un d’autre que moi!” Stop pretending you want to make love with anybody but me!

With a mischievous gleam in your eye, you turn back to the camera, a playful smirk tugging at the corner of your lips. “Can I change my answer?” You inquire, injecting a hint of playful anticipation into your tone.

“Sure,” the interviewer replies.

“You’re supposed to say no,” You quip with a chuckle.

“Oh, um no?”

With a playful pout, you glance over at Charles who is already staring at the interaction. A smile adorned on his face like he is in complete awe of you, regardless of what you are saying. “Sorry honey!” You wave your hand around. “Answers are final!”

Leaving the kitchen behind, you make your way towards the backyard, where the promise of relaxation and leisure awaits. Stepping through the door, you’re greeted by the sight of a large pool shimmering under the sunlight, its crystal-clear waters beckoning for a refreshing dip. Surrounding the pool, lounge chairs are strategically place, some on the pool’s ledge, inciting you to bask in the sun while enjoying the cool water. A wide arrangement of pool floaties from unicorns to racecars litter the pool as well.

It’s a breathtaking sight: a vast expanse of bright blue skies stretching overhead, adorned with barely a wisp of cloud in sight. The warm rays of sun dance upon your skin. With a stylish flourish, you slip on a pair of your favorite Ray-Bans, a subtle nod to your husband’s sunglass collection.

“Vintage or new?”

You ponder for a moment as you stand in the backyard, a breeze blowing your hair behind your shoulders. “Depends, but definitely vintage.”

“Window or aisle seat?”

“Aisle, although Charles likes to take the aisle more.”

“What are three things you can’t live without?”

“Wait, do my children count as two of the three?”

“Up to you.”

“Okay, so my two children. And my lip gloss.” You laugh, pausing for effect. “Kidding! My two kids, and my lip gloss…” You pause, jokingly. “And my husband of course.” The light-hearted remark reflects the joyful chaos of humor and love in your life. “He’s really the sweetest man. I’m so lucky.”

The glass door slides open with a whisper, and into the frame steps Charles, his presence incessant. With a carefree demeanor, he approaches you clad in a pair of baggy jeans and a plain white t-shirt that stretched at the seams from his muscles. He presses soft kisses to your cheeks, the stubble of his own rubbing against your smooth skin, his love evident in each tender kiss.

“Désolé,” Sorry. He apologizes before pecking another kiss to your cheek. “Tellement ambrassable.” Just so kissable. He places one more on your cheek, your face bright red from the camera’s catching all of this.

“Looks like he can’t be far from you for very long.”

Charles looks at the camera, a glint in his eye with a large smile, like he was the happiest man on earth, and nothing could dampen his spirits. Especially with you nearby. “Est-ce que tu la vois?” Do you see her?

The interviewer, unaware of Charles’s words, simply nods in response behind the camera lens, acknowledging the affection in his tone. Later translations will reveal the depth of Charles’s words no doubt. Elle est tellement belle. Bien sûr, je ne peux pas rester loin longtemps.” She’s so beautiful. Of course, I can’t stay far long.

Your face is bright red as Charles remains at your side.

“Where are the kids?”

“Put them down for a nap!” Charles answers, his arm slung over your shoulder as he leans on you comfortably.

As the interviewer continues the questionnaire, Charles can’t resist interjecting with playful remarks and comments on almost every question. His spontaneous interruptions add an element of humor and spontaneity to the video, turning what could have been a standard interview into an entertaining and engaging exchange.

“How do you define beauty?” “My wife.” “Charles, the questions are for me!”

"What do you love most about your body?" "That's an easy one...I think her--" Charles begins, but you swat his chest and cut him off. "I love my arms. Not because they're that nice but they give me the ability to hold my children." Charles clicks his tongue, hating that you even implied something about yourself as 'not that nice'.

"Least favorite color?" "Red." Charles lets out a large gasp with a string of phrases in French, clearly hurt by your response. "It's a joke, mon amour!" "How did you know you were in love?" You look at Charles then, his eyes already on you, a soft smile pulling on both of your lips. "I can't remember a time when I wasn't in love with him. Probably when I realized I would rather be awake in the middle of the night, since he was traveling so much, just to talk to him for even a few minutes, instead of going to sleep." Charles plays with the ends of your hair, twirling the ends around his fingers as he chimes in. "We've known each other for so long. But, when I first met her, it was like meeting someone I've known my entire life. There was no awkward silences between us. We just clicked."

“Diamonds or pearls?” “Pearls.” “Mon chou, don’t lie.” “I’m not!” “The diamond on your finger says otherwise!”

“If you made a documentary, what would it be about?” “Charles’ brain. I seriously question what goes on in there sometimes.” “Hey! It’s only you…” You raise your eyebrows at him, like he’s a liar. “And racing.” “Definitely racing.”

“If you had a tattoo, where would it be?”

Charles smirks deeply, like he knows something the world doesn’t, the interviewer picks up on it. “Wait, you have a tattoo? Can we see it?”

“No! It’s for me only.”

You playfully swat at Charles’ chest, a playful blush coloring your cheeks as you both wander throughout the house, showcasing its beautiful décor. Despite your embarrassment at Charles’ antics, you can’t help but be thankful for him easing your nerves. You weren’t one for the public eye, normally. So, when you agreed to this interview it came out as quite a surprise.

“Okay final question of the day.”

You both stand by the front door, the interviewer on the front step outside of the home.

“Hugs or kisses?”

“Definitely ki—” You don’t get to finish your answer as Charles’ fingers grasp onto your neck, his fingers sprawled along your jawline as well, and tugs your face into his. He shuts the door as soon as his tongue slips into your mouth.

It’s a few seconds before you push him off you. “You’re unbelievable!”

A giant smile spreads across his face as he looks down at you. “Only for you, mon chou!”

#charles leclerc x reader #charles leclerc smut #charles leclerc imagine #charles leclerc #f1 imagines #f1 x reader #charles leclerc angst #charles leclerc fanfic #charles leclerc fic #f1 imagine #charles leclerc fluff #charles leclerc x you #f1 grid x reader #f1 one shot #f1 fanfiction #f1 fanfic #f1 fic

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sweetnans · 2 months ago

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You've been fighting. A lot.

Lately, it's been more bantering and spatting at each other than being the couple you used to be.

It started with Katsuki staying in the agency more. There were multiple attacks from villains, and the paperwork was endless.

Then you decided that it was good for you to pick up more shifts. You started part-time, and now you were picking double shifts that landed on his days off.

Days and weeks passed by where you hadn't seen each other in the frequency you did before.

Till death tear us apart

The inside part of your wedding ring was a constant reminder that death wasn't breaking up your marriage. It was, in fact, the time that wasn't being fair with the two of you.

One night, when you and him magically had the same schedule and reunited at home for dinner, everything blew off.

It started like a subtle conversation. How was your day? Where have you been? Tell me about your week... and then boom. The bomb exploded right under your nose.

You were crying because you missed him, he was angry because he missed you too and he felt like the problem was leaking in between his fingers and he couldn't do anything to stop it.

Everything was a big fat mess.

"I didn't want this for us," you said, grabbing your head with both of your hands. Tears dripping from your face to the mahogany table.

"Me neither!" He was pacing in front of the table from one side to another.

He felt like it was the end of it, and it was the first time in years that he felt scared. He didn't want to lose you ever.

"Then what do we do?" You whispered. Your throat clogged because of the pain. You loved the man in front of you, every piece of him.

"Fix this fucking thing I guess" he shrugged finally stopping his feet. He was hurt for seeing you there broken because of him.

"You don't have to say it like that," you muttered, lowering your head, busy staring at the stains of your tears in the wood.

The whispers, the cracking in your voice, your face stained with tears. No, he wouldn't be that kind of man. That type of husband.

He promised the day he decided to be yours forever, long before you sealed your relationship at the altar, that he would do everything to make you entirely happy.

Do you need more time? Fine, he would reduce his hours at the agency. Do you need him to be more romantic? You got it, he would buy you flowers and chocolates. God, he would do anything for you. You just have to name it.

You were worth fighting for.

He stomped quickly to your side, lowering his body and kneeling by your side. He grabbed your hand in between his hands, and with careful caresses, he made your eyes meet with his.

"Shit, sweatheart, you know who I am, and I know you know that I've never felt something like this for anyone. It's just you and me in our world, " he pronounced, no mumbling or half grunts. He was actually speaking at you with his entire heart. "I'm yours completely, and I would do anything for deserving being by your side. I know I have to change some things and I'll do it because I want you and only you"

The only sound that came out of your mouth were hiccups. You were a sobing mess. You needed to change things too, but looking at Katsuki so eager and willing to make your relationship and marriage work gave you the enough courage to actually make a change and to never forget what you have in front of you, an amazing man with a heart of gold.

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chuluoyi · 11 months ago

Text

MARRIED ON PURPOSE

- gojo satoru x reader

"for one, i can show you incredible things!" jujutsu, madness, heaven, sin. the strongest sorcerer is sure to show you all of that during the whole duration of your six-month marriage contract.

genre/warnings: marriage of convenience, enemies to lovers, crack, fluff, slight satosugu angst/comfort, kamo!reader, very suggestive. gojo clan is portrayed as very traditional, meanwhile kamo clan is rather unpleasant here

note: the unholy amount of times i've edited this story *sigh* but okay i must drop it here or else i'm going to keep editing it and losing my mind. despite my misgivings and all, i really had fun writing this and i hope you enjoy it! wc. 5k !

a part of 1K MILESTONE EVENT

general masterlist

Some would say... marrying Gojo Satoru would be living the dream.

“Don't look that sour now, wife.”

“…sigh.”

A playful nudge at your side, a lighthearted voice— “You're going to make them question our veeery happy marriage, you know… We don't want that now, do we?”

But to you, it was more like nightmare dressed in a daydream.

It was peak comedy because why would you put marrying Gojo Satoru in your life plans? He was incorrigible, a child trapped in a man's body, and there was also the very fact that you hate him. His only redeeming trait was being born in the esteemed Gojo clan, and now held the title of the strongest.

You know you must have accumulated karma, but out of everything else, why must you end up in this predicament?

Hailing from the great clans of jujutsu society, both of you know well that marriage is the essence to make the clan greater. And when it involves the big three clans, its importance amplifies even further.

It was just that you two were too rebellious to follow it through, for one reason or another. Everyone knows Gojo Satoru was faithless to any woman, and you were not exactly thrilled with the idea of marriage as a whole.

He was the one who came to you, proposing this insane idea of a temporary marriage.

"Look at it this way," Satoru said with a wry grin, contrasting your puzzled frown on that fateful afternoon. "It's either me or Zen'in Naoya for you, isn't it? It's so clear which is the better man."

That was what grated you the most. You would be damned if you married the misogynist.

"What do you get from this arrangement, really?" you questioned begrudgingly.

His name would give you security, stop the harassment from your clan, and maybe even a better life, but you didn't quite get what he'd get from the offer he willingly extended to you.

Satoru flippantly shrugged. "Nah, you are not exactly my type, but you're still far better than the boring puppet my family have considered to be my wife."

"Who?"

"Don't remember her name. All she goes on about is that she'll be the good wife and mother of my child. Ew."

Seven hells. You scowled. Gojo Satoru and his penchant for chasing the thrill. Boring women would kill him before an actual curse would.

"And hey, for one," he shot you a smirk, visibly smug. "I can show you incredible things!"

"That's not the point! Gojo, do you even realize—" your voice rose, pulsating with righteous fury, "—how serious all of this is? My life, your life! We're going to be stuck—together!"

"Six months," he blurted, tilting his head slightly. His sunglasses slipped down just enough for you to catch a glimpse of his sparkling eyes. "It's enough time to work through our shits, and by then if you have enough, we're through."

At that time, it seemed feasible. Both of you tolerating each other to avoid a much worse match.

. . .

BACK TO PRESENT—barely a week ever since you were paraded around as his wife, now you and Satoru were stiffly poised in the studio in your formal garbs, capturing your official wedding photos.

At that time, it seemed feasible, but now, it felt like a chore, as you realized that conversing with him either spiked your blood pressure so much that you wouldn't even be surprised if you ended up with hypertension or completely sapped your energy that you were left exhausted.

"Come on, show a smiiile," Satoru said in a sing-song voice, gesturing toward the camera as it flashed for the pictures. You were beyond appalled, shooting a glare in his direction.

"I am smiling, Gojo."

"Liar. You're pouting, wifey~"

Sigh… this really is going to be one hella of a ride, huh?

MONTH ONE, and you found out that Gojo Satoru is apparently as mad as people made him out to be.

"You've got to be kidding me!" you fumed, right after he hauled you into one of the rooms in his grand, traditional estate. Your glare pierced through him, a blood vessel ready to burst. "We never agreed on ‘consummating’ the marriage!"

You wrote him a goddamn contract. And the three conditions of this chaotic marriage are: one, it would only last six months; two, no personal feelings involved; and three, nothing borderline disturbing.

And this, you concluded, was the height of what could be called as disturbing.

"We will not," Satoru replied with a hint of disdain, grimacing, as if the notion didn't sit well with him either. The audacity! "We're just going to make it as if we are—"

"And why?! Why should I do that?!"

"Why else? Because my old fart believes that we indeed haven't done so."

"Then it's your fault? For failing to convince him? Why turn it into my problem!"

"Because, dear wife," he drawled, his tone taunting on the final note. "Now we're on the same page, in case you have forgotten."

Great clans and their hollow expectations spare no one, not even Gojo Satoru. They place importance in the most banal things, such as the continuity of sacred bloodlines and such.

The only alternative wasn't appealing either. Should you be found out that you married only to divorce... sigh, you didn't even want to know how big of a scandal it would be. One thing was certain: your clan would chop you to shreds.

You really had no choice, huh?

"Five minutes," you warned, glaring at him. "Make it loud. Make it so that no one wouldn't question this anymore."

Oh and sure he would. As Satoru pulled that shit-eating grin, you were in for another ride. You waited out until several maids were nearby, left the wooden door ajar, and began the show—

His hands wrapped around your waist—the feeling was peculiar, but you ignored it—and you let him pull you near that open door. He snuggled his face on your neck—his hair tickling you in the process, but you ignored that peculiarity again—as he started making suggestive noises. "Mm, you're so pretty, darling."

You could hear those maids gasp in surprise. And to add the flavor, you faked a moan.

This is... kinda fun? A twisted part of you suddenly found satisfaction in fooling the maids. A smile tugged at your lips as you shoved him away, and Satoru eyed you in surprise and irritation.

"Husband, you're... insatiable," you worded languidly, and he immediately caught on your act, grinning. "Anyone can walk by, you know."

"Oh? But that's the point." Satoru's bright blue eyes twinkled with utter mischief, and even you couldn't deny the exhilarating rush. "I want them to know."

And suddenly you got this very brilliant idea. You swiftly moved past him and sent the books and trinkets on his desk flying to the floor, causing questionable noises.

"Oh my!" a girlish voice exclaimed.

"The master! And the lady!"

Satoru shook his head, thoroughly entertained. And you rolled your eyes. Those nosy maids would finally have enough now, and this charade would end—

"What's happening here?"

The old fart. Both you and Satoru grunted in unison. You really thought you would leave it up to the maids to spread the word, but then you were taken by surprise when he wrapped his hands around you and flung the door open, slamming you against it—and damn it hurt!—offering everyone a front-row seat to your charade.

The maids squealed. His grandfather raised a righteous, demanding eyebrow. You wanted to scream.

"Hey, gramps," he greeted jovially, breathless, his grip on you tightening and you felt heat radiating from his palm. "Ah, sorry, opened it by accident—the wife here is feisty, you see."

Your veins felt ready to burst. Was this a part of his plan all along? How would you show your face before your grandfather-in-law now that he had seen this... atrocity?!

"So, yeah, we'll resume our business!" Satoru, the idiot, said it as if it was the most normal thing in the world. "See ya!"

With that the door slammed shut, but oh no, it was not the end.

"Mmmph!?" you protested, unintentionally loud and eyes widening in alarm when Satoru muffled your mouth with his hand.

The rotten bastard! You found it nearly impossible to breathe, shooting daggers at him. "Mmmrgh! Mmmrrgh!"

"Oh... so that boy really does it huh," you heard the elder mutter in thoughtful manner from outside—and you were in disbelief at how trusting he was—before rounding the stunned maids and barked, "What are all you doing here? Go!"

You nearly sagged with relief when Satoru loosened his grip slightly, allowing you to breathe, as his meddlesome grandpa finally stalked away. Done. This horrible act was over! But wait, why did he still had his hand on your mouth?

"That went splendidly!" he snickered, appearing rather pleased with what had unfolded. "Now, if only we work together like this more often—"

This is… my life now, you lamented the reality. The feeling of his calloused hand on you made you feel things, honestly speaking, but another emotion—and impulse—currently overpowered that.

Seething with resentment, you fiercely chomped down on his hand hard, causing him to swear and pull his hand out of you.

"You—you devil! You bit me!"

"Serves you right!"

Okay, he was bad. He was insufferable. But to be frank, sometimes it wasn't all chaos.

And what's more, by MONTH TWO, you realized that being married to Gojo Satoru also comes with several perks.

"Miss, please, you're trespassing—"

You looked at the police with the haughtiest look you could muster, unamused. "Don't you know who I am?"

"No, but it shouldn't—"

"I'm that man's wife," you declared regally, motioning towards a certain tall shuttlecock a few meters away. "Is that not clear enough for you?"

For one, no one can look down on you anymore, because should they try, you have the power to raise your chin high and declare yourself as the wife of the infamous sorcerer. The very moment you did, that nosy police stopped yapping, and let you through.

The cursed boy, Yuta and his classmate had just been trapped inside a barrier a curse user pulled down, and you were assigned to look into this case by the headquarters. As much as it boggled you—because certainly, the strongest sorcerer was enough to investigate this—you still had to do your job.

“What is this?” you asked Satoru, who was observing something far beyond what your measly ordinary eyes could see. “What happened here?”

He turned to you, all with bandaged eyes. “Hmm? Oh, you’re here too?”

“Don't act surprised. Answer my question, Gojo.”

"You’re too uptight, wifey," Satoru's lips curved upwards playfully. He had taken to addressing you with pet names as of late, if anything, only to get a rise out of you. "Isn't it the time for you to start calling me by my given name?"

You let out a weary exhale, exasperated. "I'm serious, did you find anything? Who is behind this?"

"Nah, nothing for you to worry about," Satoru waved his hand dismissively, grinning. "More importantly! Let's head back and have dinner! My treat!"

You weren't that oblivious. You noticed things too.

"What do you want tonight? Sukiyaki? Sushi?" he hummed nonchalantly. "Or shabu-shabu?"

You gave him the stink eye. "Is that all you think about? Food?"

"As a responsible husband, it's my duty to feed my wife, no?"

"News flash: temporary wife."

"But still my wife, regardless. I overheard you earlier. Being Mrs. Gojo is convenient, yeah?"

You ignored how a part of your jolted at the emphasis he placed on that word, grunting. "Nah, it's meh."

Call it a feeling or hypothesis. It was similar to how he treated his students. He always said the dumbest things, but it actually served to make them feel at ease.

Then it occurred to you, could this be actually his attempt to change the subject?

"You can't cheat your way out of this." You shot him a pointed look. "You know something. Tell me."

"Hmmm? And what would I get in return?"

"Don't make this difficult. I'm on this assignment too!"

"Nah, if you call me by my name, I might consider it."

Hah. You should really read a parenting book one of these days. Taking on your husband was more or less the same as facing a kid.

"Satoru," you tested, the name rolling out of your lips far easier than you thought. Somehow, using his given name felt like some sort of a leap of faith.

He stopped right in his tracks, turning to you. His glossy lips quirked into a meaningful smile, and you felt funny.

"Wasn't that difficult, was it?" he winked, and you covered the strange heat creeping onto your face by rolling your eyes and huffed.

Needless to say, he still didn't tell you even a clue. You finally gave up, thinking that if he insisted on not disclosing it, then so be it. You trusted him on this, even as he turned your help away, and you hated admitting it, because, well…

You’d trust him with your life. He knows how to handle this better than anyone.

Being a a woman in Kamo clan is, in fact, not any better than in Zen'in—you're regarded more as a commodity than a human being.

"When will you bear the child of the bearer of Six Eyes?" in your father's eyes, you were but a tool to tie the Gojo at his hip, and your worth probably wasn't even twice of Noritoshi's. You had known he would ask this when he summoned you to Kamo ancestral home, and you weren't that naive—you had asked Satoru to join you too. But your father had insisted him to stay at the foyer, while he dragged you into his chamber.

Just because you had seen it coming didn’t mean you liked it. "Is that all? Do you really make me come here just to ask me that?"

And what came next was like a crack of thunder.

"How insolent!"

You shuddered, hating how his voice still had control over you. You wanted to stay deviant, but you couldn't keep yourself from shaking. You thought you would have to endure this shit just like you did before, until—

"Now, now... That's my wife you're talking to. I'd watch your words, if I were you."

You had never whipped your head so fast.

There stood Gojo Satoru, your husband, in all his glory. He was smiling but it was clear that he was displeased, evident from his cutting remark, and most notably, how he had unveiled his striking cerulean eyes for all to see. Truth to be told, you didn't expect him to barge in here at all.

"Gojo-sama," your father bowed his head, displaying utter respect towards him, contrasting the blatant disrespect he showed towards you just now. Satoru paid him no heed, as took big strides towards you and seized your arm, prompting you to rise to your feet.

"What is this? Why are you yelling at her?" His voice lacked its usual hint of amusement or teasing, sending a chill down your spine.

"Gojo-sama, I apologize for my tone towards my daughter earlier. I was just trying to educate—"

“My wife. She is my wife now, and it would do you better to remember that,” Satoru asserted firmly, putting emphasis in the way he addressed you, his gaze hardening. "She is an adult. There's nothing left for you to educate her." Pausing, he added, "And the way I saw it, you were just unnecessarily rude."

"Gojo-sama, there were just certain things in our clan that—"

"Please, don't call on us again," Satoru interjected decisively with a light yet firm voice. You could swear your heart was somersaulting at the sight of him staring down your natural enemy. "I'm sure you're aware, but your daughter bears my name now, and she will get the respect she is due. I will have a word with anyone who fails to treat her accordingly."

Somehow or another, Satoru whisked you away from that hellhole, your hand tightly clasped in his. Your relieved sigh didn't go unnoticed by him, as he looked back to you.

"Have you gone soft?" he teased, eyeing you with a playful snort. "Did you forget who your husband is? You've got nothing to fear. Not even him."

"Thank you," you murmured. Your heart was still pounding and your mind blanked, rendering you unable to engage in your usual banters.

His clear blue eyes widened a touch, blinking at your display of vulnerability, Then, he wore the most innocent expression, even sporting a silly smirk—the hardness from earlier gone. "I was really cool, huh? Totally made you swoon I bet."

And in MONTH THREE, you realized, as he laced his fingers with yours, as his laughter filled the air, as calmness swelled on your chest, and as you loudly snorted at his remark, that—

You felt warm, so warm, in fact, and maybe—

"Pfft, you wish."

—maybe... being with him isn't so bad after all.

MONTH FOUR, and you finally found out that it was Geto Suguru.

Everyone knew that your husband and the criminal used to be the best of friends. You saw them during your high school days, and heck, you used to think that Geto was the better man.

You could only imagine what he must feel.

. . .

When he got back to your shared house after the whole ordeal—after he ended his best friend with his own hands, Satoru honestly didn't expect that you would be waiting for him.

"You okay?" you asked him, brows furrowed in concern. It was probably one of the very few times you had displayed emotions other than contempt towards him.

It felt strange because he was used to your jabs, and he was not sure what sort of expression he should pull now, because truthfully, now he felt empty. Blank. All he comprehended was that he had killed Suguru, that he was gone, and that was something he must do.

It would be just like any other day if hadn't just committed a murder. On someone he held dear.

"Of course, who do you think I am?" Satoru swiftly replied, sounding smug—or at least tried to. "I'm the strongest. I’m unscat—"

"No, not that." You frowned, meeting his gaze squarely. "After everything."

Satoru struggled to choose how he should react, partly because most of his energy had gone after walking Yuta back and reassuring him earlier, and by default, the two of you should be hellbent on hating each other and wishing for this contract to end soon.

"Aww, are you worried about me?" he quipped with a touch of sarcasm just because he had to, to show you that it wasn't enough to ruffle him.

Because he is still the strongest, even when alone. Especially when he is alone.

You let out a sigh, looking away. "Can't I?"

"Whoa, that's sweet of—"

"Don't fool yourself," you stated in straight-laced manner, meeting his gaze with a composed expression. "You're not okay. You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did."

You might be Gojo Satoru, but no one will be after doing what you just did.

Despite himself, his smile fell, and his chest burns. What is this? Were you sympathizing with him?

Does that mean that you don't see him as the entity... that was the strongest?

Before now, Satoru remembered you as the most uncooperative Kyoto girl he had ever met. Your first meeting in high school sealed your fate as the two of you could hardly get along. You didn't mince words, you didn't take shit from anyone else—heck, sometimes when he thought of you, what came up to mind was an impenetrable diamond.

Which was why he chose you. You were someone he could trust. You were pretty in the eyes and certainly wouldn't bore him either. His reasons were purely based on logic. And after four months with you, Satoru came to a conclusion that you indeed fulfilled all his expectations, if not more.

And he felt comfortable, or dare he say, secure even. He felt like he had gained a friend, who could see past his bravado and wouldn't judge him for it.

"You're..." you sighed, casting a sympathetic glance at him, your forehead slightly creased. At that moment, Satoru couldn't help but think you were incredibly endearing, fretting over him. "...an idiot."

"Heh." I really am, aren't I?

"I never knew him well..." you chose your words carefully, hesitant. "Did you try to convince him, before this?"

He barked a bitter laugh. "I did, we even made a scene in front of freaking KFC," he remarked with a scoff. "He didn't listen to me, until the very end."

You wanted to tell him “You have done everything you could” but the words faltered on your tongue. You couldn't bring yourself to say it when you saw the faint quiver of his lips, the slump of his shoulders—the very sight of a boy grieving the loss of his friend.

Your heart pricked too, somehow, seeing that expression on him. And you once again realized that your silly, exalted husband was just as human as anyone else who made him think he wasn’t.

"And you know what he said in the end?" Satoru's tone was flippant, as if asking the most normal thing around, but carried a trace of grief, evident in the slight drop in his tone if you squinted. "He said he didn't regret it, not even a bit."

"I'm sorry," was all you could manage.

Satoru's smile was lopsided. Now that he had finally accepted it, something inside him finally bleeds, and it freaking hurts. The pain gripped his chest like a swirling inferno.

But then, you boldly clasped his hand in yours, gently tracing soothing circles on its back.

"What?" he peered at you, feeling a ghost of a smile forming.

"Consider this emotional support."

And he chuckled softly. Despite the lingering ache, despite the gloom he was sure he would carry for the rest of his life, he felt the pain was more bearable with you by his side, somewhat.

How?

You blamed it on the alcohol, because it was MONTH FIVE and you were kissing Gojo Satoru, daringly.

"We shouldn't be doing this," you rasped between kisses, breathless, as your own sinful hands plucked the buttons off his shirt. The intoxication might have played a part, but the intense heat coursing through you made it hard to think straight.

Satoru crashed his lips against yours again, consumed by blind lust. "Yeah, we shouldn't," he replied in a rush. His breath was hot as he trailed his lips down your jaw and neck next, savoring the softness of your skin.

You two had attended a banquet for the elite, and you were unbelievably beautiful. Standing by his side as his wife, you drew admiring glances, with everyone marveling at what a remarkable couple you made. The Gojo heir who was born with the legendary Limitless and the Kamo heiress, as lovely as her clan's name was powerful.

His deft hands roamed the curves of your body, exploring every inch of you. The warmth of his hands tickled something inside you as you closed your eyes to sink into this very moment. Next you knew, his bare body was against yours and you were stripped out of your evening dress.

Lust flickered in his honored eyes, as he took in the sight of you in your undergarments.

"You're really pretty, you know," he whispered. The intensity with which his eyes scanned your form made you nearly squirm. "Shame we don't always get along."

"You're one to talk," you retorted, a hint of exasperation in your tone, as you willed all other thoughts away. Thoughts like what comes after this. Thoughts like—

Is it heaven or sin, if you feel both at once?

His thumb tenderly caressed your plush lips, a hint of a smirk on his beautiful face.

He has long been thinking about your body. He was but a man, after all. He just didn't expect that you wanted this too.

There was always this tension, only this time, neither of you could hold it back anymore. Perhaps it was impulse—hell, most certainly it is, but there was another thing, something more that even Gojo Satoru still didn't dare to say out loud.

"Eager, are we?" he taunted when you leaned in, yearning for the touch of his lips on yours again.

You huffed. “Shut up and kiss me.”

A rush of heat flooded your cheeks at the slip of those words. You were about to rectify it, taken aback by your own boldness, but then he drew you close, silencing any further protest with a gentle hush—

"Too late, sweetheart," his husky voice entered your ears, lips curling into the most wicked smile, and you were in a trance. And Satoru was once again convinced, that choosing you as his wife was the rightest thing there was.

If the two of you went with this, then there would be consequences. Things would become more complicated, harder to sort out.

But, he decided, as he captured your lips in another heated kiss, everything else can wait.

MONTH SIX, and you were dreading the day of your divorce.

You brought this upon yourself. Whenever you reminisced about that night, you wanted to smack yourself in the face and bang your head against the nearest wall.

This marriage has a time limit. And you were doing it out of convenience in the first place.

You weren't supposed to… goddammit—fall in love with him.

But what's done is done, there is no going back in time. Awkward exchanges and lingering stares had been gnawing at your insides these days, and you were sure Satoru too must have noticed them too. You two used to be more relaxed with each other, and he'd even flirt with you, but weeks ever since that night of drunken passion, you almost reverted back to your high school personas—ignoring each other.

This was tough. You didn't like this. And more than that, you were faced with a more pressuring matter...

Gojo Satoru, with everything he possessed, could have had any woman he wanted. This arrangement with you was temporary in the first place, soon he would forget you and flit to the next woman.

The thought made your heart ache, because you had involuntarily gave your heart away to him. Siiigh… What a predicament you put yourself into, huh?

With just a month left together, maybe you should just make the best of it.

. . .

If you thought that things were any better with Satoru, then you were sorely wrong because he too, was debating with himself often nowadays.

Days spent with you were fun and fulfilling. You irked expression somehow had made its mark in his heart. You were pretty, fit to be by his side publicly and preferably, behind the closed doors. With you, he didn't feel the need to carry this facade of being strong—he could be a clown tripping over his own trap and you would amuse him with your deadpan expression.

And ever since that night, he was constantly reminded by how soft your skin was against his. It almost drove him crazy now that he was deprived of it.

How was it the last month already? He wasn't ready to let you go yet.

When he got back home later after his class ended and found you in the dinner table setting the food, all he could muster was, "Hey. Haven't eaten?"

You whirled around to face him in surprise. "Oh... you're back. Just about to. Want to join me?"

Of course he would. And yet as the two of you sat down, it was so painfully awkward Satoru felt like he was dying inside.

Why couldn't he pull off a smart line or two? Where did his suaveness go? He was smoother than this, surely, with his colorful history. One night of passion was supposed to enhance the relationship, not to derail it. What happened to you both?

The salt was near his side when you reached to grab it and bumped into his hand. "Uh-oh."

Turning towards you, he found your spooked expression and your adorable eyes widening in surprise. "S-sorry..."

It was just freaking salt! Salt! Why on earth were you apologizing?!

Enough, he thought. This utter madness of being jumpy with each other. He'd start from his side.

Does he want you to keep being his wife even after all this ends? Yes.

Why? All reasons already listed above.

Does this mean he likes you? Apparently and supposedly, yes. Because if it isn't then he doesn't know what this funny feeling driving him mad is.

With that sorted out, then he only had one more thing to confirm. He put down his spoon and crossed his arms together. "Tell me the truth. Do you like living with me?"

His question obviously took you by surprise. "Huh? What brought this on?"

"Just give me an answer."

"You're so pushy," you grumbled, lips pursed, and he felt like you were finally back to your usual dynamics somewhat. Good.

"Sooo, the verdict? Do you enjoy being with me or not?"

Because to him, it was a resounding yes and more.

Ignoring the warmth that surged to your cheeks, you rolled your eyes. "Surprisingly, not bad, yeah," you admitted, mustering the courage to meet his gaze. "You're annoying, an idiot, a bit crazy—"

"Hey!"

"—but eventually you're still... manageable," you added, feeling your face truly start to sizzle. But covered it up by looking down and playing with your fingers as you still had more to go on. "What I want to say is... I'm glad that I agreed to this—with you—because I can’t imagine it with anyone else."

An unfamiliar tingling emotion rushed to his chest as his face too started to heat up, letting your words sink in. Is he blushing? Oh God. He sure is. And so did he feel hella giddy.

Then it’s sealed.

Suddenly he procured a piece of paper from his work uniform and showed it to you. You first saw his lazily scrawled signature before it dawned on you.

The contract. You almost forgot that you made him sign that looming piece of paper. You were almost dismayed, thinking that he would end this right then and there, but then—

“Well, then… I suppose we no longer need this.”

Riiip~

Your eyes nearly popped out of their sockets when Gojo Satoru tore out your contract right in front of your face, the most brilliant of his devilish grin adorned his handsome face, as he took off his blindfold to see you far clearly than ever. Heavens, you are cute, he thought.

“Soooo~ seems like you’re stuck with me from now on!”

You gaped, awestruck at the blatant meaning of it all, feeling how your heartbeat started to pick up the pace, when he pulled the rag out of your feet once more by tilting his head to the side, looking at you with a winning smile.

“Let’s start over! What did they say again? Ah, yeah. Here’s to the first day of our lives!”

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