#always seeing marriage/pregnancy announcements

[xwiredearbuds2014x]

Mm thinking

[slttygeto]

HUSBAND SUGURU! + PREGNANCY ˚ʚ♡ɞ˚

tags: fem! reader, husband suguru!, nsfw, suguru is very hesitant about being a dad, but isnt forced into this :), reader is very motherly, dirty talk and talk about getting off the pill and being bred.

word count: 2,1k

Husband Suguru! whom before you even got married, sat you down and mentioned to you how starting a family wasn’t something he was looking forward to. you know of his past, of the trauma he’s been through. he fully expects you to break up with him when he tells you that, knows how much you want to have a baby of your own, but you don’t. instead, you cradle him in your arms and tell him that you love him and appreciate what you have right now, not what you don’t even see in the picture.

Husband Suguru! who swears he hasn’t changed his mind about babies, about starting a family in general even three years into the marriage. but when he sees you with your friend’s baby, the glow on your face, the motherly instinct—how you gently place your hand on the baby’s head, rock her back and forth and coo at her softly while her mother gets her food ready, his heart feels as though it is about to explode.

“There there baby girl,” your voice is barely above a whisper, and when the baby cries, your lip juts out and you pull the infant towards your chest in an attempt at soothing her. your eyes find his where he is sitting on the couch, and the lighthearted chuckle you give him pulls a nervous one out of his body. you are now convinced that your husband would never ever change his mind based on the horror painting his features as he turns to your friend’s husband to strike a conversation. but in reality, the topic of their conversation is all too surprising.

“Has it been difficult? You know, managing a career and taking care of the baby,”

“Oh yeah very,” the other man admits but Suguru doesn’t detect a single hint of regret in his voice. “but yknow, look at that,” he point his glass of water in the direction of his wife and you holding the baby. “seeing my wife with our baby, our creation—seeing her act all motherly like that? Totally worth it.”

Husband Suguru! who starts to consider the idea of getting you pregnant. he hopes for the rational part of his brain to win over, rather than the horny, disgustingly perverted one. but when you walk out of the shower in a crop top, his mind drifts elsewhere—and suddenly, the image of your belly swollen with his kids floods his mind and he has to put a pillow on his crotch to hide the very evident bulge in his pants.

Husband Suguru! who once he calms down and takes care of his raging boner, texts Satoru in a hurry, asking if they could meet up tomorrow morning. your husband tells you of his plans and you hum sleepily, telling him how catching up with his best friend seems like a good idea. Suguru drops the bomb on his best friend the moment they sit down and the ivory haired’s jaw almost meets the floor.

“You mean you wanna be a dad?”

“I’m not…too sure,” Suguru looks conflicted, he is holding his head in his hands. he knows very well that this is a topic that should be discussed with you, since you were the other person of interest in the situation. but he would hate to give you false hope, he’s seen the way your eyes light up at the mention of a baby, at one of your friends or colleagues being pregnant, how there’s a disappointed look on your face that you try so hard to conceal when Suguru gives you a face in response of a pregnancy announcement. but you are so patient, so accepting, you’ve never once forced him into anything. and truth be told, he wanted to see what kind of mother you would be to your baby—and then toddler, and then teenager and adult—you’d have a life together with a new person who would adapt either your personality or his, with a face of the love of his life. your baby could have your eyes and nose, he’s always pointed them out—even before you started dating.

“Dude, do you or do you not want to have a baby?”

“I don’t know man, it’s hard to think of.”

“Because you are thinking too hard about it,” Satoru says nonchalantly and it irks Suguru a little.

“I am not thinking too hard about it—this is a new responsibility, what if I am not fit to be a dad? I could be a failure for all we know—what if I pussy out of it and—“

“I would kill you.” Satoru warns the man and Suguru doesn’t try to hide how he stiffens up. “I am not joking, I would find you and bring you back to her as a sack of bones,”

“I wouldn’t betray her like that…”

“You’re too focused on the aspect of being a bad dad rather than a good one—yknow, you really think that she’d marry someone she doesn’t see fit as the future father of her children?” Satoru has a point. you did mention to him once (when Suguru was nowhere to be seen at a party you all attended) how falling in love with him was the best thing that’s ever happened to you, but the one thing that would top it is if he became a father to your children. Satoru, knowing his best friend’s stance on the topic, reminded you of how terrified the man was of the idea and all you did was give him a reassuring, understanding wave of your hands.

“I know, but I just know he’d love them hard and make them feel as safe as he makes me feel.”

Husband Suguru! who doesn’t really try to bring up the topic of ‘trying for a baby’. he cringes at the thought, feels as though it makes the process less romantic and intimate and more of a robotic task. as he is stripping you of your clothes, he is silent and lets his eyes wander over your figure. you are extremely shy tonight, unable to meet his eyes as his rough, calloused hands brush over the skin of your boobs before bending down to be at eye level with them. he brings the flesh inside his mouth and sucks—and blood rushes down to his groin at the thought of them being filled with milk, heavy and swollen, more sensitive than usual. his teeth graze the skin at an attempt to catch your attention and your thighs squeeze as you meet his eyes.

“Sugu…” your smaller hands rest on his face as he pulls away from your boobs to plant a heated kiss to your lips, effectively pushing you back on the bed. your back gently hits the mattress, and your chest is heaving in anticipation, unsure of what his next move would be.

“Baby,” he finally speaks up, nose brushing against your stomach as he brings his lips to the skin. “how about you drop the pill tomorrow?” he knows how much of a horrible job he is doing at this, but he feels you move, supporting yourself on your elbows.

“w-why would I do that?” your eyebrows are furrowed in confusion, and Suguru wishes to brush his thumb over the tense skin of your forehead.

Suguru is shameless as he kisses further south, planting his kiss above the tuft of your pubic hair before pushing your panties to the side. He parts the lips and gives your clit a kiss before moving to your inner thighs.

“why not? It’s doing horrible things to your body—“ he brushes his nose over your clit as he speaks. “beside, we need you off the pill if we want a baby, don’t you think?” when you don’t react to his words, Suguru looks up only to find you staring down at him with parted lips and eyes glossed over with tears.

“…are you sure?” you ask softly, and your husband swears he could never say no to you if you asked like that all the time.

“very,”

Husband Suguru! who fucks you with a new purpose. each drive of his hips fueling the other to go harder, deeper, to keep pushing his cum inside you and plant his seed deep within. your cunt does a great job at showing Suguru how ecstatic and excited you are with his sudden change of heart. you keep squeezing around him, barely able to keep your sounds in—he fucks you so deeply that the sound of skin to skin is louder than your moans and his groans. when he puts you on all fours, the cum starts to drip out of you but he pushes it back in with two thick fingers, lips pressed to your ass cheek.

“want more?”

“mmm! please,” you whine when he aligns his tips with your folds and fixes your arch with a hand on the small of your back. the gasp that escapes your lips when he fucks into you hard makes Suguru chuckle and he rubs your sides, soothing you.

“no need to beg for it,” he leans down and presses a kiss to your nape. “I’d gladly fill you up.”

Husband Suguru! who stiffens up when you show him the positive pregnancy test. up until this point, he is in control of his emotions—he lets you cry in his arms about how scary all of this was, despite you saying you’ve always wanted a baby. he is supportive, understanding of the heightened emotions that you are experiencing—when he sees your tears turn into happy ones, only half of him is able to relax. clearly, he is nervous but he doesn’t wanna show it. not right now.

The first ultrasound during your pregnancy was nerve racking—your hand squeezed your husband’s as you stared at the screen showing what appeared to be your unborn baby. Very tiny, but still there.

“Okay mom and dad,” the doctor presses the ultrasound transducer a bit lower on your stomach, a small smile on his face. “I got some news for you.”

“Good?” your anxious voice has Suguru rubbing his thumb on the back on your hand.

“It depends, how long have you been trying for this baby?” You couldn’t exactly disclose of your very active sex life, but you do give the doctor hints that it was definitely wanted.

“Well, look over here—“ he points to the screen with his gloved finger, ushering Suguru to come closer. “Look over here dad, what do you see?”

Suguru swallows hard as he stares at the screen in confusion, unsure of what to say. “..a baby?”

“Babies. Congratulations, you’re pregnant with twins.”

Your husband whips his head towards you fast, and you cover your mouth in shock. This wasn’t planned—twins? And for a first time? You didn’t know if the tears streaming down your face were of excitement or fear that maybe you weren’t ready for this.

But Suguru still comforts you, holds you in his arms—tells you that maybe finding out the gender won’t make all of this sound scary anymore. He knew you never really had a preference for gender—you were a natural mom.

However, finding out the gender was an emotional experience for the same man who never thought he would become a father.

Husband Suguru! who tells Satoru to buy the gender reveal cake for you two. he doesn’t want to throw a party, and neither do you. finding out within the privacy of your own home seemed like the best option—you didn’t want to reveal that you were pregnant to any family members—at least not yet.

“Are you ready?” You hold your own glass as you wait for your husband to stand next to you. Your bump wasn’t that evident yet, but signs of pregnancy were starting to show on your body and it brought this warm feeling to Suguru’s body.

“Yeah, hold my hand.” You chuckle slightly at his request but comply either way. Each of you holds their own glass above the cake before looking away as you push it down—you hold your breath, Suguru rests his forehead on your shoulder as he mumbles something about not being able to look at the cake. But you muster up the courage and lift your glass, eyes wide and lips parted in shock.

“Sugu—“ you don’t need to tell him to look, he was already staring at the glass with teary eyes. The pink frosting wasn’t something he was expecting to see—he knew he was going to be happy with either but two little girls? His own baby girls—the thought of being a girl dad brings tears to his eyes and you’re quickly pulling him towards you.

“Oh baby,” you hold back your own tears as you comfort your emotional husband, his arms wrapped around your middle. You hear little sniffles and a hand rubs your back before feeling a pair of lips pressed to your forehead.

“Gonna be the prettiest mom to the prettiest girls. Ever.”   

note: my posts are all self indulgent at this point… enjoy :D

2023: all works belong to @ slttygeto. do not repost my works on any other platofrm.

[sttoru]

‘and if i only could, i’d make a deal with god, and i’d get him to swap our places. .’ — kate bush

 𝝑𝑒 𝐓𝐀𝐆𝐒. gojo satoru x wife!reader. fluff to angst (no comfort). spoilers chapter 261. reader’s pregnant. major character death. mentions of blood, death. nicknames ‘pretty, sweets’. not proofread bcs i couldn't through the tears. i cried nine times writing this so.. good luck! wc: 3.6k

“he’s kicking again,” satoru chuckles excitedly. he’s been clinging onto you ever since you got back from your doctor’s appointment. your baby boy is growing up healthy and there don’t seem to be any complications.

you smile and rest back against the velvety pillows. you’re enjoying the affection you’re receiving, the kisses and nuzzles against your swollen tummy makes every bit of suffering worth it. your husband is going to be an amazing dad, that you can tell.

“hey, little guy—don’t give ya mommy a tough time,” satoru huffs and gently taps the side of your stomach that was last kicked by the unborn baby, “that’s my wife, y’know?” you giggle at the scene in front of you and close your eyes, relaxing your body.

a comfortable silence hangs in the room. satoru’s warm hands cupping and rubbing your round stomach add to the tranquil atmosphere. the weight of your husband’s head presses onto the front of your plump belly—ear pressed against the stretched skin as if expecting to hear your baby boy talk.

after a while, you open your eyes. you hear a sniff and then the usual silence follows. you look down at satoru settled between your legs, hugging your waist and resting his cheek on your tummy. he’s awfully quiet and you’re unable to see his eyes because of his bangs.

“toru, everything okay?” you carefully ask. your voice comforts him for the next couple seconds, before his muscles tense up once more. satoru tries his best to seem unaffected by the many thoughts scurrying through his head.

“mhm,” your husband nods and forces a small smile. though, he can’t keep the facade up any longer. the longer you’re pregnant, the more worried he gets about a certain something; something that’s been bothering him ever since.

it’s the reason why he doubted even having kids in the first place.

“i—well. i don’t know, sweets,” satoru sighs. a deep sigh that shatters the mask he’s had on for so long. his brows furrow and his eyes dart from one place to the other. his fingers stop their movements on your stomach. they curl around the material of your shirt instead; showing a clear sense of vulnerability.

satoru seems. . . afraid, yet also angry. perhaps at himself, perhaps at the world. you don’t utter a single word. if there’s anything you want, it’s for your husband to speak about his inner turmoil freely. you’re the only person who he can have such emotional conversations with—the only person he can be himself with.

the real gojo satoru.

not the strongest.

that’s why you’re not surprised when satoru opens his mouth to confess the inevitable to you. “i’m scared,” his voice cracks. it’s a faint change in tone, but it is noticeable to you. you’ve been his lover for long enough to notice every minuscule thing.

the white-haired man lets out another sigh. you brush his soft bangs out of his eyes and instantly notice the sudden weariness in them. normally, those beautiful blue eyes shine brightly, yet that light has now dimmed.

you pat his head and satoru immediately leans into your touch. you allow him to process his own emotions and words before speaking up.

“scared?” you ask quietly and carefully, giving your husband space to explain.

satoru nods. there are a thousand thoughts running through his mind. all those thoughts he’s tried to suppress since the day you’ve announced your pregnancy. maybe even before that—at the day of your wedding.

he’s sat down with you a few months into the marriage, to have the talk about kids. he seemed to be delighted to have children with you, however there have always been some dark and hidden thoughts lingering in the back of his mind.

the sorcerer has chosen to ignore them for the longest time. he’s been trying to convince himself that he has nothing to worry about. you’re going to be fantastic parents and your children are going to be extremely loved.

the day you surprised him with your pregnancy, was like a dream. satoru cried - which he rarely does - so it was an emotional night for both of you. neither of you could wait to meet your child—happy with whatever gender.

despite all of the optimism and enthusiasm, satoru’s struggles with his inner thoughts have not yet ended. he doesn’t want to bother you with it. you seem so content and he does not want to ruin that at all.

but even the strongest without limits has to reach a breaking point.

“yeah,” satoru speaks up, his voice hoarse. he kisses your belly button, hoping his child doesn’t pick up on his distress somehow. your husband closes his eyes as he places his forehead against your tummy, praying that the heavens above hear his pleas, “i don’t want our kid to inherit my cursed techniques. at all.”

your hand doesn’t stop stroking satoru’s hair. you don’t flinch at his words, nor do you immediately discard his worries. in all honestly, you’ve shared the same feelings before getting pregnant.

you know how satoru’s treated by the jujutsu society. it’s dehumanising how he’s seen as a weapon of some sorts. a weapon that could solve all problems—one that cannot rest until its duty is done.

you despise it. you’ve told satoru about your hatred for the toxic society, even going as far as asking him to move to a different country without telling anyone. you’re sick and tired. you can’t recall the amount of times that you’ve cried alone, in the bathroom, after you’ve seen the state your lover comes back home in.

the white-haired man always seems so tired. his eyes and head hurt because of them overusing his cursed techniques. there are even days where satoru doesn’t put his blindfold or sunglasses off at home.

and when you try to talk to him about it, satoru simply assures you that ‘he’ll be fine’. you believe him in the moment, but you don’t know for how long you’ll be able to keep that trust.

you’re letting him break, slowly yet surely, right in front of you. he’s working himself to his demise. it’s nothing out of the ordinary to not want the same for your child.

though, you’re sure that it’ll be fine even if your baby boy inherits satoru’s techniques. that’s because you two are going to protect him with all you have. no one is going to treat your child like a weapon—not while the both of you are still alive.

“i don’t want our child to take over the burden i carry,” satoru continues. his brows are furrowed and his lips are pressed into a thin line. he’s already thinking about all the possibilities that can follow with the birth of your son.

he can hide his child from the world, but wouldn’t that be too restrictive? he can keep an eye on him every second of the day, but wouldn’t that be overprotective?

you notice satoru’s internal state of panic increasing, so you quickly cup his face. you lean down and press a firm kiss against his lips, to which he instantly responds. his breath hitches and he sits up on the mattress, deepening the kiss as his hands hold you by the back of your head.

he needs this—you—more than anything else in the world. if it wasn’t for you, he’d have lost his sanity long ago.

you pull back after a good minute and pant. you chuckle as you notice the slight pout on satoru’s lips. he never seems satisfied with just one kiss, which is adorable. you coo and pepper his face with small pecks, “aww.”

it’s comforting to the sorcerer. he closes his eyes and his mouth forms a small smile. you’re doing an amazing job at calming him down. satoru’s muscles relax and he finds himself nestled between your legs soon enough.

you realise that he’s still somewhat afraid for the future of his child by the way he’s playing with your shirt. his head lays on your chest and his long fingers trace shapes on your exposed skin.

“i know, honey, i know,” you murmur against the top of his head. you massage satoru’s scalp gently, nearly making him purr because of how incredible that feels. you stare at the ceiling and continue your little talk.

“i’ve thought about all of it too,” your fingers find his undercut, playing with the little hairs. all you can hope for is that your partner stresses less about the outcome of your pregnancy.

if you can do one thing for him, it’d be that. reassuring him that you’ll both do your best for your child will surely put him at ease. your husband has enough to worry about anyway.

you want to share that burden. you don’t want him to carry the world on his shoulders alone—he’s got you for that now.

“but i think that our son will be fine. why? because he’s got you,” you smile and kiss satoru’s forehead. it’s his favorite type of kiss and it works wonders when you comfort him. his ocean eyes regain their sparkle, both because of your unconditional love and trust in his parenting skills, “our boy will grow up fine and protected because he’s got you as his amazing dad, yeah?”

satoru takes some time to let your words sink in. your trust in him is a beautiful thing. of course, he’ll protect his kid no matter what. both you and his kid will be safe for as long as he’s alive. you’re going to be a happy family—one that he’s always dreamed of having.

he isn’t going to raise his child to be the strongest. he isn’t going to raise his child as an heir to the throne. he isn’t going to raise his child as his legacy. he isn’t going to raise his child as a tool.

his son will have a normal childhood and he will guarantee that. satoru will give his kid what he didn’t have as a child himself;

unconditional love and support for whatever his son wishes to become.

satoru raises his head and leans in to kiss you, hugging you to himself. he adores you so much, you’re all he needs to feel like he can do anything and everything all at once.

carrying the world on his shoulders so you can live peacefully in it is all satoru does it for.

“heh, damn right. i’ll be the best husband and dad ever.”

. . .

but in the end, your dreams are just dreams, right?

an escape from reality, that’s all dreams really are. all those times you’ve sat together to pick the furniture you want to place in the nursery, to paint the room a baby blue, to buy clothes and toys, diapers and carriers, to giggle about the places you would love to visit as a family, to think about possible baby names, to joke about whether your son will say ‘dada’ or ‘mama’ first — all of it were naive, hopeful dreams.

perhaps you were too caught up in them to realise that reality will hit when least expected.

satoru and you have lived in your own bubble—your own little fantasy world where tragic fates does not exist. no one in this planet would suffer if life worked that way.

no one on this planet would have to pick up the phone and have their world shatter, their dream bubble pop. to have all hope lost in the span of a second.

grief is a scary thing. it’s devastating and it will consume you whole. you don’t realise that until you experience it firsthand. losing someone close to you will break you in half. it’s a punch to the gut.

especially if it’s your husband. someone you considered your partner—who’s promised you to be together forever. maybe those promises were also a part of your fantasy.

maybe they were also but a beautiful lie.

your footsteps feel heavy. you don’t have any energy left in you. every drop has been drained from you the moment you heard the news over the phone. your eyes and head hurt, both feeling like they’re going to burst. you don’t want to accept any of this.

the faces of the people around you are a blur. they’re all holding their head low, their hands gathered in front of them to show respect. no one speaks—all the room is filled with are your sobs. the loud cries you let out in hopes that they wake you up from this absolute nightmare.

you drag your feet to the examination table in the middle of the room. tears continue to blur your vision, though surely, you can confirm the outline of the body laying underneath the blanket.

how could you not recognise the person you thought you’d spend eternity with?

it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. it’s unfair. . .

“satoru.” your voice is barely audible. your hands are shaking and your face is stained with endless streams of tears. you stand at the side of the table and you instantly curl your fingers around the edge.

seeing that face from up close hits different. usually, it’d have your stomach fill with a feeling of delight, yet now all you feel when looking at it is unimaginable dread.

the blood on the corners of his mouth. the blanket that’s hiding whatever is left of him from below the waist. the dull eyes that once stared at you with hope and love. those dried lips that normally shone with a layer of gloss.

god, it’s awful. you don’t want this to be true. you’re still waiting to be woken up by your husband. so he can hold you close and hug you, whisper sweet nothings and reassure you that he’d never leave you alone in a savage world like this.

your shaky fingers reach out to his right hand. his skin feels cold and his hand doesn’t hold yours back. your breath hitches and you let out a long, devastating cry. it sounds like a scream for help as your body crumbles—falling to your knees whilst you tightly grip your lover’s limp hand.

“no, god no, please!” you cover your mouth with your free hand, nearly hyperventilating from pure pain. you feel like your heart is going to give up on you. it’s breaking into a million pieces, as does your future. you can’t live without him—you can't do it.

satoru is the sole reason you’ve held out for so long. you were each other’s support system. you can’t do any of this on your own. you can’t breathe properly—your body doesn’t let you.

not until you feel a hand on your back, rubbing it gently. you can guess that it’s shoko, but you’re too distraught to even pay attention to her. you lift yourself up by holding onto the edge of the table, your legs shaking. you sniffle and sob uncontrollably.

you reach out to touch satoru’s lifeless face, as gentle as you always do. you flinch when you feel just how cold his body is—the usual warmth that would comfort you gone, nowhere to be found. you don’t get a reaction from him when you touch his cheeks.

it only serves to remind you of the tragic events that unveiled. you’re still in denial, but the moment feels real. your brain is slowly yet surely processing the information. though, you don’t want it to. you want to live in a world where you grow old with your husband.

where your child is going to grow up with a father figure at home.

“satoru, come back to me.. to us, please,” you beg and beg, hoping he smiles and sits up, telling you that it’s just one of his silly pranks again. when none of that happens, you feel yourself become more hopeless. you hunch over him and cup his face. the same face that would light up whenever you’d touch it.

you hiccup and wail, unable to breathe. you rub his cheekbones with your thumbs, settling your forehead against his. your tears fall underneath his eyes and slide down his temples, making it seem like he’s crying with you.

you wait for satoru to respond, but he doesn’t. there’s an eerie silence on his part and you’re panicking. you need him to comfort you, but he isn’t there to do that anymore. you’re left alone, all alone.

“i can’t do this without you—we can’t do this without you,” you stammer between sobs. you can’t go through life, knowing satoru isn’t going to be there for you. he isn’t going to come home anymore. he isn’t going to cuddle you to sleep anymore. he isn’t going to experience what it’s like to have a family of his own. he isn't going to be able to hold his child and to play with him.

you blame life for being unfair—always taking away the people who don’t deserve it. satoru hasn’t done anything to deserve this. he just.. existed. his fate of becoming the strongest, decided at his birth, is what has lead to his death.

you continue to sob to yourself. you refuse to acknowledge anything or anyone else in the room. you’re solely focused on your husband. or rather, what’s left of him.

remembering how excited satoru was to spend the rest of his life with you and your future children pains you all the more. he’s been stripped from a normal life. you’ve tried your hardest to give him that said normal life, yet your hopeful dreams have gotten you nowhere.

you wipe your tears away for the first time in a while. your grief is making you delusional—disoriented to the point you try to make yourself feel better. you force a smile and hold tightly onto satoru’s limp hand, trying to speak through your quiet sniffles.

“o-our boy is gonna be born soon,” you chuckle bitterly and place satoru’s hand on your belly. it’s gotten bigger over the months and you’re already eight months along. he was so close to meeting your child—so close. yet his tragic destiny did not allow him to.

you hope he’s been happy with you for as long as he lived. you hope you’ve somewhat relieved him from his misery for as long as he lived. that burden he carried, the world he carried on his shoulders. . . it doesn’t seem to want to detach from him. even after death.

you press a deep kiss against his forehead. satoru’s favorite spot to be kissed at, you remember. you wish he feels it in the afterlife; wherever he may he. as long as he’s in a better place now, one that treats him well. this current world has been too cruel on him. it doesn’t deserve to home someone like your husband.

“i wish you were here to see your son. to see our baby grow up, you'd be so proud, honey,” you kiss satoru’s forehead again. it’s all you can do stop yourself from losing it completely. you know satoru would tell you to be strong, for his sake. for your unborn son.

“i’m going to tell him all about you, ‘kay? i'm going to tell him about how awesome his dad was,” your voice breaks for the nth time. you’re still in the first stage of grief, though you try to seem strong in case satoru is watching from somewhere.

that’s what he did when he was the one going through a tough time. he’d act brave and fine, putting on a mask to make you worry less, telling you all kinds of reassuring words while he was suffering internally.

now it’s your turn to safely send his soul off to the afterlife. to let satoru pass away in peace, with him knowing that you’re going to live on for him and for your child. it’s the least you can do at the moment.

you put on a brave face, staring into his lifeless eyes, smiling through the unbearable pain. you’re sure he’s still listening to you from somewhere. satoru’s always told you that your voice is soothing, so you do your best to calm his soul and reassure him that it’s fine for him to rest.

“i’ll do my best to raise him, yeah? so you.. you just rest.”

rest was a foreign word to the sorcerer. this world didn’t give him an ounce of peace. he’d either be overworked by his family or the jujutsu society, and if it isn’t work, his inherited techniques were slowly killing his brain and body.

you’re praying that satoru has none of that in the afterlife. you’re praying that he can live a normal life, eternally. so that when you join him one day, you both won’t have to suffer nor share the burden. you can live out your dreams without anyone interrupting.

not even fate.

“you deserve to rest. you really do,” you sigh.

soon enough, you feel yourself crumble again. you burst out in tears once you realise that he’s actually never coming back to you in this life. you bury your face in the crook of his neck and sob loudly, not holding back your emotions anymore. you just can’t—you can’t act brave when your second half has been taken away from you so suddenly.

you hope that you succeeded into sending him off without any worries. you can’t help but continue rambling to yourself, “i’m going to miss you s’much. oh, my baby.”

you lift your head back and stare into satoru’s eyes once more. did he think about you when he was on his deathbed? did he see his life flash before his eyes, including his many memories with you? did he see what could have been?

it’s unfair.

you give him one last bright smile and gently close his eyelids for him, hoping his lost soul saw your face before you did so. with one last kiss on his lips, you whisper your final words;

“please wait for me on the other side, my love.”

[navstuffs]

About Tradition and Responsibility

Pairing: Gojo Satoru x WifeF!Reader

Summary: You, a non-Jujutsu sorcerer, married the Gojo Satoru. After having your first child, the higher-ups demand to meet you and your first born son.

Warning tags: protective!Satoru, tiny angst if you squint, non-jujutsu sorcerer reader, no y/n usage

Author's Notes: hiii, i wrote this based on my own post, having one of my favorite tropes (protectiveness)! this might have a second part i haven't wrote yet, we shall see. enjoy your reading!

You keep your head down, trying to focus on the peaceful expression of the baby in your arms, your first newborn son, Kotaro. He is perfect, from his white curls to his tiny toes. You can't help but give him a small smile, your hands gripping his little body, promising silently to always protect him from any harm in the world. You feel so much love for your son that it is difficult to understand anyone who could find his existence wrong due to one ridiculous minuscule detail: when Kotaro opens his eyes, they are your eye color. Not your husband's vivid, ethereal blue eyes. 

Because of that, Kotaro Gojo is considered a waste of time—almost a mistake, but no one would dare say that in front of you or his father.

The door in front of you opens, and an older lady announces that the elders are ready to see you. You get up from the bench, bringing Kotaro closer to your chest. 

It is finally time to face your curses.

-x-

When Gojo Satoru decided to marry a non-jujutsu user, the higher-ups thought it was a joke. A good one especially coming from Gojo, who was known to do anything to piss off the hierarchy of the Jujutsu world, as if Satoru's whole existence wasn't on top of all that, as if any of those ancient and outdated men had anything to complain about the woman he chose as his wife.

However, when Gojo decided to proceed with this marriage, most were still shocked. They never thought Gojo would marry anyone, so soon, interest spiked in the mysterious woman he decided to marry. 

You wish you could tell your first meeting with the strongest sorcerer had been something glorious, but no. It was in your small candy shop, the one passed down to you by your parents from their parents. On a rainy day, that strange tall man with white bandages and white hair entered, sniffing the air like a hound dog. Gojo insisted on buying all the sweets you had on display, and instead of leaving, heard you explain how you made each of them, fascinated. 

After that day, Satoru started appearing daily, buying all the sweets on display by the end of the day. Gojo always mentioned he first fell in love with your cooking, but you didn't know when exactly you fell in love with him. Maybe it was the comfort of having someone understand those sudden chills around your body as if something had been watching you until Satoru entered the shop. He never found that weird at all. 

At first, Gojo kept you away as best as he could. You could sense curses with a chill in your body but couldn't see them (a blessing, for what Gojo described sometimes). And since you met your now-future-husband, as powerful as you could remotely grasp he was, Gojo was also the silliest and most annoying man you ever met. If you got upset with something he did for any reason, he would not leave you alone until you reassured him you weren't mad anymore. On top of that, Satoru was easily manipulated with sweets. Again, a big grown baby.

He never shared the consequences of what it meant to marry him. The letters started coming two months after the marriage, with your name on them, presenting themselves as chairpeople of the Jujutsu Sorcerers, and they were eager to meet you whenever you could. Gojo always told you to ignore those letters, throw them in the trash, and burn them if you wanted. 

Then Kotaro was born. It had been a normal pregnancy, with the usual sickness in the morning and mood swings, but at least your baby was born healthy. You couldn't be happier, and Gojo couldn't be happier. The baby not having the same blue eyes didn't concern your husband, reassuring you that everything was fine.

Until it wasn't: the letter that made you come into this meeting with the elders without your husband's knowledge had a clear underlying threat in those polite words: You were to bring Kotaro for them to look at, or they would be forced to bring you in. Gojo had shielded you from this for far too long.

As soon as you enter the oval room, you notice the covers: you can't see any faces, but you are sure all stares are on you and your baby. Kotaro rubs his face against your chest, and you bring him closer, shielding him from their judgmental glances.

"Come forward." A masculine voice demands.

You walk in the middle of the room and stop. No one speaks.

"You wanted to see me?" You ask, surprised your voice isn't trembling. You wonder if they can hear your heart exploding in your chest. 

"Yes. We never had the chance to meet with the wife of Gojo Satoru; he has kept you hidden for a long time."

"I am sure he had his reasons." 

"Not that it matters who Gojo Satoru decided to marry, but his decisions impact the Jujutsu World, wanting or not." An older voice speaks, clearly angry with your disobedience. 

"And who would stop him from making those decisions?" You question, trying to sound courteous but instead sounding resentful. Satoru has told you about these higher-ups: focused on their old ways, not allowing anything that disturbs their way. Only their way is correct. Tradition. Anything that breaks from the fine formal line should be eliminated. "No one can stop Gojo Satoru from doing what he wants. As his wife, I should be the first one to know."

Silence. You breathe deeply, part of you still fearful of what is about to come. They have yet to speak about Kotaro, so you dread the inevitable moment. Now, something deep inside of you screams you should have told Satoru. What if you walked straight into a trap?

"Your child." A third voice speaks, and the whole atmosphere of the room seems to change when he mentions your son. You grip Kotaro's small body again, ready for what will come. "He does not possess the same eyes as his father, as we can see."

"So? It is not like every single member of the clan was born with six eyes." You ask defiantly.

"Of course not," The man snickers. "But this is Gojo Satoru's son. Haven't you thought about the consequences of having a child with a man like that?"

"Satoru keeps us safe! And if he isn't here, I keep my child safe. Never underestimate the love a mother has for her child."

"There is no doubt in a mother's love for her child. There is also no doubt that some might carry a heavy hatred for Gojo Satoru. If, for some reason, you were caught vulnerable…"

"What? What are you talking about?" Your voice shakes a little, but you keep yourself steady. For Kotaro.

"Many curses and even sorcerers have hidden and disappeared because of Gojo. Many fear him. When your husband was born, he altered the balance of our world. If there is an even remote possibility Gojo can't defend himself or, even worse, if you get pregnant again and this baby comes with six eyes…we can't even imagine how bad it would be the repercussions." The tone of false concern disgusts you. Sensing your uneasiness, Kotaro starts whining, and you start rocking him. 

You are not stupid. Those men didn't care about you or your baby's safety. They wanted six eyes that they could control, nothing else, nothing more. You haven't given any proof that you are worthy of being married to Satoru.

You don't get to answer because the door behind you opens, and all eyes are directed to the man behind you. You don't even have to turn around, your sixth sense telling you: Satoru. And he is pissed. He takes a moment to analyze the room in front of him, seeing you in the middle with your son in his arms, crying. His son crying. Gojo walks in, no blindfold on, without asking for permission (not that anyone was waiting for one), and ignores everyone as he stops right before you.

His blue eyes scan you and Kotaro from the top of your head to the feet, concerned. 

"Are you okay? Is Kotaro okay?" Satoru asks in a gentle tone, ignoring anyone around. You nod, starting to form an apology, but he shakes his head, calming you. "There's nothing to apologize for. You did well. You always do well. Stand beside me, okay?"  

You nod as Satoru forms a shield between you and the higher-ups. Surprisingly, Kotaro has stopped whining, feeling his dad is close by. No one speaks, and everyone seems to be holding down their breaths.

"So," Satoru's tone is calm, "who cares to explain how my wife and son ended up here?"

No answer comes, and you can sense the fear over the room, which differs from your husband's posture. Those who don't know him might believe in Satoru's calm posture, but you and probably the rest of the elders knew this was only a façade. In Satoru's veins, there is only anger. The only reason any of those higher-ups are still alive is because of your and Kotaro's presence. Not because Satoru would hurt you or his son if he had to kill them, but because he didn't want to shock you or accidentally make you fear him. You had never seen him kill before.

You don't know yet what lengths he would go to protect you and his child.

"We were just worried about her well-being, that's all." Some brave higher-up answers and Gojo snickers.

"Oh? More worried than her husband then?"

"You know, we had to meet her eventually. You kept her away from our world, your world, for far too long."

"And she was fine until you brought her into this. My wife and my son are none of your concerns."

"Not if she births a child with six eyes. Then it is our concern." Your body tenses behind Gojo, immediately causing him to react back, his murderous energy filling the room. If you felt it, those elders felt it as well, silencing them.

Kotaro starts crying again, sensing the threatening energy in the room. You had never felt such a destructive sensation coming from your husband before, but you managed to grab Satoru's arm.

"'Toru? Kotaro is scared." And you are scared.

The energy instantly leaves, and Satoru turns around, worried. You tremble with fear, and Kotaro bawls, tears dropping from his eyes. He instantly places his black blindfold on his eyes before taking Kotaro from your arms and gently rocking him. 

"Can we leave, please?" You ask, and Satoru nods, grabbing your hand with his free one. Before turning around to leave, he announces in a frightening tone to the entire room, "If I ever hear any of you trying to make any sort of contact with my wife or son, I won't be so merciful."

With that, Gojo Satoru pulls you away from that horrible place you promised to never see again.

-x-

Satoru dismisses the driver who drove you there. Instead, he takes you to his car, finding Kiyotaka Ijichi with a nervous smile when he sees you. You manage to smile back, and Ijichi seems relieved that you and Kotaro are okay. The ride home is silent, and Satoru never lets go of your hand. Kotaro is in the other one, sleeping safely in his arms. You can't bear to look at your husband, too afraid of what you are about to see: disappointment? Anger? He would be right to feel like that. You endangered not only yourself but Kotaro in this whole situation.

After Ijichi leaves you at home, you gently take a sleepy Kotaro away from your husband's arms. Satoru had this enchantment with your son, making him feel calm and safe. Like mother like son, you guess. You place Kotaro gently on his mat, watching as he gets comfortable. How careless of you to put your son in such a dangerous situation.

"Do you want to talk about this?" Satoru whispers, and you shake your head.

"I am sorry." To Kotaro. To Satoru. To yourself. "I thought I could—"

Satoru slowly closes the proximity between you two. He waits, watching the tears flowing down your eyes, sitting at your side, and when you hide your face on his shoulders, his arms are around you, bringing you to his lap.

"You had no idea."

"I endangered our son! Do you know how serious that is?"

"You would never let them do anything to him."

"How would I even stop them, Satoru?"

"I don't know, but I know you. You would find a way." Satoru simply shrugs, which sounds to him like the most obvious answer, and you don't know if you laugh or cry or his hopes on you. "Which would involve bringing me there."

"Yes, bring my most dangerous weapon: Satoru Gojo." You two chuckle low so you don't wake up Kotaro.

"Nothing will ever happen to you or Kotaro. I won't allow it. Be sure of it."

"They said you have enemies…"

"Who wouldn't dare to lay a finger on one stray of Kotaro's hair. Or yours. Come on, you don't have some faith in me?"

Remembering the amount of energy you felt earlier, you feel a chill pass your body. "I do, 'Toru. I was crazy enough to marry you."

"And would you lose the chance to be the luckiest woman alive?"

"With the most pretentious husband ever." You roll your eyes, feeling happy inside. The earlier one may have scared you. But you know this Satoru, back to his usual pretentious self. 

You get more comfortable in Satoru's lap, your eyes never entirely leaving Kotaro. He looks so peaceful with his eyes closed like that; he is Satoru 100%, except for his eyes. What blame did he have? You vowed to protect and love him as soon as he came out of you, no matter what came after him. And by the looks on Satoru's face, he also does.

Slowly, you can feel your eyes getting heavy as you become more comfortable in Satoru's arms—like a mother, like son. 

"Rest, my love. I will take care of it all. I will never leave you, I promise."

[gloomwitchwrites]

Missed Hints

King Thorin Oakenshield x Female Reader

Content & Warnings (per the warnings MDNI): fluff, light angst, humor, pregnancy, suggestive themes, fade to black, established relationship

Word Count: 1.8k

With the pregnancy confirmed, you decide to drop little hints until Thorin makes the connections.

A/N: for @protosslady

ao3 // taglist // main masterlist

“You’re pregnant, your majesty.”

Those two little words are enough to make time freeze. You are cold, a bit hesitant, and completely unbelieving of what you’re hearing.

“Are you sure?” you ask slowly, needing to know if you’ve heard her correctly.

The midwife, Lena, smiles broadly. “As sure as the sun rises in the morning. I’ve been doing this for close to thirty summers now. Rarely am I ever wrong.”

Lena’s assistant, Petal, matches Lena’s smile with one of her own. It is radiant and sunny, a stark difference from your sudden anxiousness. “This is wonderful news,” she exclaims. “King Thorin will be so pleased.”

“Indeed,” agrees Lena. “And so will the people when it’s formally announced.”

Both women sigh at the same time, but you are not nearly as excited as they are.

You and Thorin did try for a child many times in the beginning of your marriage. It was enthusiastic—and constant—but nothing ever came of it. While it bothered you, Thorin never seemed to care. He told you that all he wanted was you and that anything else was a bonus.

That is still true. Thorin loves you.

But Thorin is being pulled in a different direction. Erebor needs attention, and Thorin throws himself into service attempting to tackle every obstacle and difficulty on his own. Most nights, he comes to bed late—usually when you’re already asleep. When you wake, he is usually gone, off to take care of his abundant duties. They are piling up, becoming a burden. Thorin does too much, and while you admire him for his dedication, you miss him.

To know that you’re pregnant is a surprise. It’s not that you and Thorin haven’t been intimate, it’s just that it hasn’t been nearly as frequent as in the past. While Thorin is gone, you have your own duties and responsibilities. When the two of you do have quiet time together, intimacy is brief but passionate and almost always followed by the two of you falling asleep in each other’s arms.

“How far along?” you ask, trying to place exactly when it might have taken.

When your cycle never came, you didn’t think much of it. That happens sometimes. But then didn’t occur during the next expected timeframe. With its absence came irritability and random bouts of sudden crying you couldn’t explain. Certain foods smelt odd, and while you weren’t emptying the contents of your stomach, constant nausea made it difficult to complete daily tasks. You knew then that something was different. And now the midwife has confirmed it.

But even with an answer, you’re not sure how you feel.

“I’d place you at about ten weeks. Perhaps eleven,” answers Lena with a slight shrug of her shoulders.

“That far?” you squeak, wincing immediately with how upset you sound.

Lena and Petal’s smiles start to diminish. Their enthusiasm melts away, replaced with furrowed brows and soft lines of concern.

“Is everything all right? You look a bit faint?” Lena places her hand on your shoulder.

“Yes,” you reply, though it sounds like you’re gasping for air. “Surprised is all.”

Their smiles return but it’s subdued.

This is supposed to be a happy occasion. A child means an heir, and it also gives the people hope for the future. Much of Erebor is still in pieces from Smaug’s habitation. That doesn’t even begin to include all the damage and death from the battle. Dale, which was once abandoned and forgotten, is starting to see life again as well. The races of Men are returning to it, hoping to rekindle its long-extinguished flame.

A royal child is a symbol of hope. It’s a moment of celebration for everyone.

“I think a bit of rest for the remainder of the day will do you some good,” says Lena softly. “We will prepare some ointments that you can use to relieve any aches or pains. Bloating is likely, and as the body makes room for the little one, you’ll have some discomfort.” Lena taps her bottom lip and then turns to Petal. “We’ll need to prepare some liquid supplements to take with meals.”

“Of course,” nods Petal. She begins packing up their supplies.

Lena squeezes your shoulder before letting go. “I’ll come check on you in a few days. Bring a few things with me. We’ll talk more then, preferably with the father present.”

“Yes,” you reply, absently rubbing your belly. “That would be best.”

The two women bow and depart quickly, leaving you alone in the royal bedchambers. The room is quiet and your breathing sounds too loud in such a large space. With hands clasped, you twist them over and over again in agitation, needing to move but unsure of how to quell the anxiousness. It’s stubborn like the deep roots of a tree that refuse to give up the dirt.

How are you to tell Thorin? How do you approach this when you rarely see him. It’s just one more thing to burden him with. Perhaps, if you dropped a few hints? Covertly toss the pregnancy in his direction and see if he picks it up?

You know deep in your gut that you shouldn’t worry over this. Thorin will be happy. He will be.

You spend the rest of the day as Lena instructs. Reclining, resting, and reading. Thorin is supposed to return tonight for evening meal. Whenever he promises an early arrival, Thorin means it. Rarely does he make promises he cannot keep.

As dinner is brought in, and the table is set, Thorin walks through the door. There is a bit of soot on his cheek like he’s been in the mines, and his cheeks are slightly flushed. When he notices you, he beams, and there is so much love there that you simply want to melt into a puddle on the floor.

“My love,” he says, moving toward you swiftly. The embrace nearly sweeps you off your feet. He plants a kiss on your forehead and draws back.

“You’re filthy,” you laugh, looking him over. Thorin has been in the mines.

Thorin shrugs sheepishly. “I had to help dig. Structural issues.”

“Wash your hands at least,” you playfully tease.

“Not interested in eating a bit of dirt?” he asks with a laugh.

“Go,” you giggle, pushing away from him.

Thorin disappears and you take a seat at the table. He reappears a few minutes later, face and hands clean. The clothes he wore before are also gone, replaced with simple, fresh attire. He takes a seat next to you, gaze darting over the spread.

“I’m starving,” you begin because it’s true even though you’ve been consistently snacking all day. “It’s like I’m eating for two.”

First hint dropped.

Thorin laughs, and the sound is sweet like honey cake. “I promise, love. You couldn’t eat for me. My appetite is insatiable.” When Thorin says insatiable, he pointedly glances at you with a heated stare.

You perfectly understand his meaning.

You attempt a different angle. “I’ve also been having the oddest cravings,” you say, starting to load your plate.

“What do you mean?” asks Thorin before he pops a chunk of bread into his mouth.

“Different foods. Things I’d never eat together otherwise.” It is common knowledge that pregnant women will often crave highly specific foods and food combinations.

But Thorin doesn’t appear to pick up on the hint. He frowns, then shrugs, continuing to eat without making a comment.

Sighing, you pick up one the freshly made rolls. “I think these buns need a bit more time in the oven.” You stare hard at Thorin, mentally sending message after message. “What do you think?”

Thorin glances up at you then down at his own plate that has five of them. “I think they’re perfect but if you’d like them more done, I’ll let the kitchen know in the morning.”

“Thorin,” you say flatly.

“Yes, my love?” His head slightly tilts, and his gaze becomes pointed. He’s starting to pick up on your agitation. You don’t mean to be cross, but you were hoping that he’d figure it out so you wouldn’t have to tell him outright.

Setting the roll down on your plate, you promptly divert the conversation to a different hint. “We’ve never talked about where we’d put the nursery.”

Thorin’s brow rises toward his hairline. “I didn’t think you wanted to discuss that until we crossed that hurdle?”

Does he hear himself? Does he understand the context of what’s coming out of his mouth?

“You’re right, Thorin. I didn’t want to discuss it until we needed to.” You repeat his words back to him, slightly leaning toward him as you speak to emphasize the point.

Still, it brushes right over his head.

“Some of the advisory council members have brought up financial concerns. Rebuilding Erebor is important but the needs of the people are pressing. Food. Proper housing.” Thorin begins slicing into the chunk of roast on his plate.

Maybe you are going to have to say it outright.

Licking your lips, you ignore Thorin’s change in conversation. “I did receive a few inquiries about baby clothes. Offers to knit a few items,” you shrug.

“That’s kind of them,” says Thorin slowly. “But why—” he pauses, “you’re not—"

Thorin’s features suddenly shift, becoming almost unreadable. His jovial expression is gone, replaced with a stern consideration.

Are you going to have to shout it at the top of your lungs?

Thorin’s lips part. Promptly shuts. Opens again. “Are you…” he begins but does not finish.

You start to nod, urging him on.

Finally, like light igniting in the dark, Thorin’s face transforms into one of shock, then pure joy.

“Truly?”

“Found out just this morning.”

Thorin abruptly stands, pushing himself and his chair away from the table. He is moving toward you, grasping your hands, bringing them to his mouth to kiss your fingers.

“Why not say anything?” he asks.

“I did,” you laugh. “Many times.”

Thorin momentarily frowns before his mouth turns up into a soft smile. “Clever.”

“You’ve been busy and I was unsure of how to tell you.”

Thorin’s thumbs rub little circles over your knuckles. “You can always tell me anything. Whatever is happening. Whatever is on your mind. I wish to hear it.” He kisses the tops of your hands. “Especially something like this.”

“Are you happy?” you ask, voice cracking at the end.

“Happiest I’ve ever been.”

Thorin pulls you up from your chair, his large, muscled arm sliding behind your waist. He drags you to him, his eyelids lowering seductively, all gentleness leaving him to be replaced with desire.

“Are you up for a bit of celebrating?” he asks.

“What kind of celebrating?”

“The kind that landed us here.”

“Thorin,” you gasp, lightly slapping his chest. He snatches your wrist, kisses the pulse point there.

“The food can wait,” and his voice ends on a soft growl.

“Thorin,” you repeat, this time with a rasp to your tone.

He seizes it, draws you even closer. “The food can wait?”

You nod. “It can wait.”

taglist:

@foxxy-126 @glassgulls @km-ffluv @sweetbutpsychobutsweet @singleteapot @glitterypirateduck @tiredmetalenthusiast @protosslady @childofyuggoth @coffeecaketornado @cherryofdeath @mrsdurin @therealbloom @ninman82 @thewulf @ferns-fics @beebeechaos

[myladysapphire]

My Lady Strong (IX)

Aemond had always been protective of his neice, obssessed even, insiting on keeping her sheltered, and purley his, he never let her stray far and following the incident at Driftmark, Aemma was rarley without Aemond as her shadow. How will the kind, sheltered girl fair in the dance of dragons?

word count: 3,564

CW: MDI 18+, pregnancy, (difficult) grapic depictions of child birth, angst, manipulation, toxic relationship, dark/possessive Aemond, co dependency, self harm. not proofread!

Fem!oc x dark!Aemond Targeryen

Masterlist | series masterlist | previous part | next part

(birth seen between dividers by @zaldritzosrose)

authors note: sorry if this seems messy!

Two years had come and gone since the wedding.

Her mother had left, there reunion short lived, and all hope lost as her mother realised how easily she had lost her daughter to the greens.

Woven so far into their net, that it was impossible for her to escape.

Believing so blindly the words of Aemond and Alicent.

Finding no cause or reason to mistrust them, seeing any reason for Aemond to act cruel as her fault.

Aemond had inserted himself so thoroughly into her life now that it was impossible to tell the difference in their lives.

she would follow him around like a lost puppy, and he would tug her alone with him wherever he went.

She was always with him or in her chambers. Never anywhere alone.

And she liked it like that.

For when she was alone the dreams came.

Dreams of blood and dragons.

Dreams that only sought to bring her pain.

She could never stop them. Not truly, nor had she ever told Aemond of them, or of reason for the scratches lacing her body.

He had noticed them, of course he had, with his cock filling her day and night there was no way he hadn’t, and yet he had bit his tongue at the sight of them.

Perhaps because they were in the same place as her scares from the black cells. scares he had long grown used too, especially after he treated them. How he was her only comfort when that incident had happened, the only one she would let touch her.

He loved to remind her of how he was she only one truly they’re for her, both then and now

Married and bound by soul and law. She was his and he was hers, for two years now her life had revolved around him. She found little she for having her own thoughts and opinions, finding most of the time they were too silly or simple to be of any use.

At least that’s what Aemond would say.

But despite that she never felt small, only that he understood her. He knew her limits, her struggles and did not wish for her to suffer.

Though if you asked Aemond, and though he would never admit it, he liked her simple, complacent.

He had not only won her trust through guilt.

Guilt of her brothers’ actions, guilt of craving a bond between the brothers who caused him pain.

He had also won her love.

He remembers the day she had said it, near six moons into their marriage.

“Aemond” she had said, wrapped in his arms after a night of passion, “I…I think that I love you” she said, her voice so soft and worried.

As if despite his professions of love, his actions devotions where all fake, as if a disguise for the Aemond who had called her “my lady strong”, or the Aemond who had teased her and been so effortlessly cruel for years on end.

And though Aemond was cruel, still the man who craved to carve out her brother’s eye, who still bite his tounge every time he saw her, wishing to announce her bastardy to the court.

But he didn’t, the years of being cruel have shown him that being cruel to Aemma was not what he desired, not what she deserved.

She had been his only friend and only love, and though he did not regret the cruelty of him for years towards her, he regretted how rash he had been in it.

The game he had played with her for so long had come to ruin.

The game of making her the eldest pawn for him and the greens.

He loved her, that much was true, you could not argue he didn’t.

He just simply couldn’t show it, not when she reminded him for so long of the pain he had felt as her kid brother struck out his eye.

And know as she said “I love you” wrapped in his arms, her belles swelled with his babe, he knew he had won.

Not only had his plans to isolate her worked. Her family loosing hope with her and making her entirely his.

But now she loved him just as she once did.

He smiled, caressing her hair “I love you” he whispered, possessively.

She smiled, her usual timid smile, she went to say something more, but she bites her tongue, instead throng her head to kiss him softly.

The inner workings of Aemmas thoughts were so tricky to place.

A part of her knew she was being manipulated but she couldn’t understand it or understand why.

She understood the love Aemond felt for her and how the love she felt she had lost with her mother had been replaced with him.

But ever since her mother’s departure something had been nagging on her mind.

Her mother had insisted she had sent letter, and never received hers. It made no sense and yet the look Aemond would send her whenever she sat at his desk, reaching for a pen and paper. the pen hovering but never writing words as she tried and tried to think of what to write.

He sent her a look of worry; she wondered if it was for her or for what her letters might say.

She couldn’t understand the idea that Aemond would have prevented her mother and her reviving letters. It made no sense.

Her mind raced and raced with a million thoughts, and all her mindful return to be the dreams of blood. Blood on her hands, her sheets.

Even know a year after she had confessed her love her mind raced, her thoughts never stopped. She never had a moment of clarity, and she swore she was going mad.

The scratching had started again, and with a husband who never left her side she o idk not hide it.

He looked at her with such worry and concern.

Mother hemming her as he wrapped and bounds her arms, covering her scars and helping the to heal. Leavings off kisses as he went, begging for answers.

“Aemma, my love. What plagues you?” he asked his tone soft and sweet.

He was ever so soft at times, and yet other times he was could be brash and harsh.

“I am scared” she whispered, her head falling into her hands.

“What of?” he asked, no demanded. He had become such a fierce protector; it was after all his excuse for being so distant and cruel all those years.

“The tides, the sister” she spoke quickly, shaking her head, as images of head rolling flashed through her.

Her hand gripped her swollen stomach “my boy” she whispered.

“What do you mean?”

“The tides will come Aemond” she spoke in riddles. Riddles that Heleana knew all too well.

For years it had only been dreams and yet her mind was so full of dreams that sometimes they just spilled out in confusing riddles for others to pick apart.

“Tides?” he tilted his head, “the sea? Ahh the sea snake…he will recover I am sure” Aemond said softly, news had reached them of his injury, of the bids for succession of drift mark.

A part of him wanted to make his own bid, though technically Aemmas bid.

As a second son he would receive nothing, why not join the other second sons and bid for Driftmark also?

The doors to their chambers opened, Dayna, a maid, walking in with their son, a boy fast approaching his first name day, named Aerion.

“My sweet boy” Aemma said standing up with a start. She hated him being away from her, fearing he would be taken at any moment.

“Thank you, Dayna,” she whispered holding an Aerion close to her.

Aemond walked to her once more, smiling sorry as their son giggled in her arms. “you mother will be here soon” he said caressing Aerion’s cheek.

“Do you wish to greet them?” he didn’t wish to go himself, but small choices like these made Aemma feel free and not like the prisoner she truly was.

“i…I do not know” she did know, she wanted to see her mother, she had cried and cried for her, craving to see her and yet she had not once brought herself to write to her, instead she had forced herself to find the comfort of a mother in Alicent, and it was never the same.

He hummed, “I have training” he said, almost as if to grant her permission.

“I shall go then, better to introduce Aerion earlier than not” she said, nervously.

She didn’t know what she would say.

She was a stranger to all now, 2 years and passed since she had seen them, and even then, they were strangers, wishing to reignite a closeness that was long lost. Thanks to the efforts of others.

Dressed in a sea green gown, with Aerion on her hip. She stood in the courtyard awaiting her mother’s arrival. She stood alone, with few courtiers coming to great the heir, and those that had only seemed shocked when her mother stepped out of the carriage.

Sending her mother a nervous simile, Aemma walked down the steps to greet her.

“mother” she said in greeting, her voice the usual shy and timid it had always been, but never with her own mother.

Unlike her wedding, where only her mother, Jace and Luke had attended. This time, all her siblings, even the ones she had never meet and even Daemon had accompanied her.

“Aemma” her mother said breathlessly taking her in, a timid smile graced her lips.

not much more was sent between your or your family as you walked them through the halls of the keep.

Though they were greeted by few friendly faces, many turned their nose up at her mother, favouring greeting Aemma over her.

“Aemma” her mother spoke once more, sitting down in as they finally walked into her mothers’ old rooms. “How have you been?”

Huffing slightly, Aemma replied, “I have been well, muna, I- “she looked down to where Aerion sat on her hip, his curios eyes looking around the room.  “This is Aerion…your grandson” she muttered, coming to brush his hair away from his face.

He was the perfect combination of Aemma and Aemond, with silver hair and purple eyes, the shade being a perfect match of Aemmas. His face bore her nose and his shape.

“Aerion?” Rhaenrya breathed, smiling slightly as he turned to face her at the sound of his name. “I- had heard news…I am sorry that you did not writer to me of the news yourself.”

“I…it was a difficult pregnancy; I was bed bound for most of it…and with how you left things last time I- I wasn’t sure you wanted to hear from me”.

Daemond scoffed, shaking his head as if what Aemma said was a lie.

“of course…dōna riña, I would have come” Rhaenyra said, moving towards Aemma.

“You said you would visit before, and you never did”.

Rhaenrya’s heart broke, she had felt like she had truly lost her daughter. Her sweet girl had been taken from her and she had done nothing to top it, even years after realising all she had done was hide on Dragonstone wallowing in grief at loosing a daughter who still lived.

“I am sorry, tala, truly”.

Aemma softened, always one to easily take an apology and never one to hold a grudge. No matter how badly she wished too.

“Would you like to hold him?”

Her mother smiled, sighing a small sigh of relief before nodding her head and enthusiastically taking her grandson in her arms, “he looks just like you, dōna riña”.

“I think he is the perfect mix of me and Aemond” Rhaenyra flinched at the mention of him. Their conversation forms two hears prior still haunted her.

“Rhaenyra” she heard a voice say, the voice of her half-brother.

“Yes?” She answered, as Aemma was led to a corner with her ladies, trying on her wedding gown.

“Is there something on your mind?” he said teasingly.

She knew he had never liked her, especially after Driftmark. And though she had craved to be neutral with her half siblings the mere fact he had taken away her only daughter from her, made her hate him.

And now that she knew he had stolen her letters, hidden Aemmas own to her. She depside him.

Depside how Aemma trusted him and doubter her.

Rhaenyra scowled “you know exactly what’s on my mind, tell me the truth of it’.

He smirked, “hmmm, I do not know what you mean”.

“Yes, you do” she insisted, “my own daughter thinks I abandoned her, I know those are not her own thoughts”.

‘Oh, please, I only told her what she was already thinking” he smirked.

“That cannot be true” she seethed.

 “you’re not going to fix your relationship by arguing with me now are you?” he smiled, and Aemma called him over, “whether you like it or not she is to be my wife and to my Aemma, I will be here for her, and you…you will be swiftly heading back to Dragonstone, leaving her yet again” he quickly left before she could reply, not that she had much to think on as she knew everything Aemond had said was true.

The words circled her brain day and night. How had she not noticed that her daughter, her sweet loving daughter.

Her favourite child.

Had been so heavily manipulated by the greens, how her sweet girl who had promised to write every week had not sent a single letter.

And how she had let Dameon convince her to stay away. That she was better off with them her.

That she had been lost to them before she had even married Aemond.

“Yes…he is he. And the child in your belly… a boy or a girl do you think?

“I hope for a girl, though I think it to be another boy” Aemma said, smiling as her mother cooed down at Aerion.

“I believe I am to have another girl…your sister”.

“About time” Aemma joked, “I have long asked for a sister”.

“Kessa ñuha dōna riña, emā” Rhaenyra whispered, starting at her daughter as she took her son back into her arms.

yes, my sweet girl, you have.

Daemon coughed once more behind her, seeing Aemma a look she could not place.

“We should go see your grandsire now…perhaps we- I could join you for dinner?”

“I- have to ask Aemond”.

“of course…send me a note dōna riña.”

She nodded, taking her leave.

She didn’t join Aemma for dinner that night, receiving word for a smirking Aemond.

 The next day they had all gathered in the throne room, the court divided.

The blacks on one side, the greens on the other.

And Aemma, still unbeknownst to the guide, wore and emerald green dress, stood beside Aemond. Hand clutching her swollen belly.

Otto stood at the front of the throne room, speaking on behalf of her grandsire. “Though it is the great hope of this court that Lord Corlys Velaryon survive his wounds, we gather here with the grim task of dealing with the succession of Driftmark.” Otto spoke, “As Hand, I speak with the King’s voice on this and all other matters.” He moved his head to face Vaemond “The crown will now hear the petitions. Ser Vaemond of House Velaryon.”

“My Queen, My Lord Hand.” Vaemond started. “The history of our noble houses extends beyond the Seven Kingdoms to the days of Old Valyria. For as long as House Targaryen has ruled the skies, House Velaryon has ruled the seas. When the Doom fell on Valyria, our houses became the last of their kind.  Our forebearers came to this new land, knowing that were they to fail, it would mean the end to their bloodlines and their name. I have spent my entire life on Driftmark defending my brother’s seat. I am Lord Corlys’s closest kin, his own blood. The true, unimpeachable blood of House Velaryon runs through my veins.” He spoke, before being interrupted by her mother, who refused to face him.

“As it does in my sons and daughter, the offspring of Laenor Velaryon. If you cared so much about your house’s blood, Ser Vaemond, you would not be so bold as to supplant its rightful heir…No, you only speak for yourself and for your own ambition” Otto cut her off.

“You will have chance to make your own petition, Princess Rhaenyra. Do Ser Vaemond the courtesy of allowing his to be heard.” Otto said, allowing Vaemond to continue, a smirk on his face.

“What do you know of Velaryon blood, Princess? I could cut my veins and show it to you, and you still wouldn’t recognize it. This is about the future and survival of my house, not yours.”

Aemmas mind began to circle. The sound of blood filling her ears, the slice of a sword yet unsheathed.

Blood dripping.

A dagger slicing.

Whores dancing.

Her mind circled again and again, in a never-ending loop of green and black fading into one and ending only with death.

Her hands were covered in blood, and no matter how hard she spends them on her dress it would not go away, how could it? When the blood had yet to be spilled?

The sound of a dragon’s roar and the crashing of tides.

She screamed, covering her ears. and a head…the head of Vaemond Veleryon came rolling towards her.

Blood spilling over her gown, and more blood lacing her hands.

A sharp pain hit her then.

Her breathing grew heavy. Her hand gripping her stomach, as another sharp pain hit.

Aemond touched her then, bringing her out of her thoughts.

His face and the face of her mother and brothers filled with concern, as pain wracked through her body.

“Aemond” she breathed, her voice scared as pain, a contraction she now realised hit her once more.

Her grabbed her to him, picking her body up and running though the halls, calling for the midwives as they reached their chambers.

Her screams filled the halls of the keep.

Cries of pain and fear as the midwives told her to push and push.

Aemond, like the first birth refused to leave her side. Insistent on staying even as her grip threatened to break his hand.

“Aemma” he said in encouragement, “ñuha jorrāelagon, kostā gaomagon bisa... jelevre”.

my love, you can do this...breath.

“I can’t…Aemond please…mazverdagon ziry keligon” she begged.

Make it stop.

Rhaenyra burst in the room, tired of waiting “dōna riña” she sighed, looking over to the midwives in concern as they stood to the side talking with the maester. “I am here, my sweet…I am here”.

The maester approached them, pulling Aemond the side.

Aemma looked to her mother in fear…”no…no”

“Aemma,” Aemond said, moving back to her side “the babe…is breach” he said, and Rhaenyra saw she saw a tear leave her brother’s eye.

“Breach? no…no” she muttered.

An image of a dagger.

Of blood-soaked sheets.

A head of silver hair rolling across the floor.

She moved from her position on her bag, swiping away the hands of Aemond and her mother.

“I must stand” she muttered, holding her back as she moved away from everyone leaning against a chair as she felt the need top push once more.

“Please…tala” her mother begged, walking towards her “they can turn the babe- “

“No…no they are wrong! I can do this! I can do this” she begged to no one but herself.

“Aemma you will only hurt yourself…please” Aemond begged.

“Will you cut me?”

“Never!” he shook his head, “I would never do that, my love. Never!” he insisted as he and a midwife slowly approached her.

“We can turn the babe” the midwife insisted, and before she could utter another word, she was dragged towards the bed, eld down as the maester forced the babe to turn.

She cried out, crying in pain as the few minutes it took felt like hours.

And before she knew it, she was pushing once more and then she heard a cry.

A cry that was not her own, but her babes.

A girl.

She smiled reaching for the babe, before she was taken out of her sight, and Aemma found she was pushing once more.

Another babe.

“Twins!” The maester said in delight, as her second son was placed in her arms.

Aemond laughed in joy, before looking down and seeing the blood dripping from Aemmas thighs.

He felt like crying as he was pushed aside, his babes taken as he watched the maester work.

As he watched Aemmas eyes flutter closed.

“No…no” he muttered, going towards her only for Rhaenrya to grip him.

“don’t” she said, tears filling her own eyes “she will be fine” she said to reassure themselves “she will be fine”.

The night was long and hard, with the birth of twins.

A boy and a girl. Named Aelora and Aelor.

Ot took her three days to recover, her form weak and still as healed.

Her mother had stayed with her, day and night.

And for once in his life, he had felt a closeness with his half-sister.

A mutual understanding.

Though it would all be lost when a family dinner was called a week later.

Authors note: dont ask me why all their names are so similar it was a good idea at the time and i can't think of any other names.

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[thecharacterchronicler]

Please (Part 2) || Ominis Gaunt x Reader || Smut

Outline: After your arranged marriage and wedding night with Ominis, you found yourselves alone in the Gaunt house for a few days.

Word count: 2’840

Warnings: Explicit smut, pregnancy (mentions).

(May contain a few mistakes as English isn’t my first language.)

(( Part 1 - Bloodline )) - (( Part 3 - Heirloom )) - (( Masterlist ))

Ominis’ didn’t have much time after your engagement was announced to come up with a plan but he knew that the most important thing would be to keep you as far away as possible from his family after the wedding. He had thought about asking to settle with you in the Gaunts’ apartment in London or maybe in his family’s cottage by the beach but, as it turned out, it was his family that had decided to take their distances, probably because they wanted to facilitate the procreation of a heir.

His parents had left the manor for London only one day after your wedding, leaving you very little time to take the full measure of the Gaunt’s cruelty and darkness. As for Marvolo, he stayed elusive about where he was going to spend the next few days but what was important was that he was gone, far away from you.

With only you in the manor that he used to dread, Ominis slowly started thinking that it wasn’t so bad after all. The heavy atmosphere that usually weighted on his shoulders seemed a lot lighter now that you were around. Even his perpetual darkness had became somewhat lighter since you had been there with him, filling the house with piano melodies and laughters.

As per usual, he found you in the music room, your fingers practicing a tune that he knew by heart by now. He stood on the threshold for a moment, enjoying the melody and your presence. Even if he couldn’t see, the way the room radiated with warmth and light because you were in it made his heart swell.

For once in his life, Ominis was happy. Truly happy. Because you were there, shining a new light on everything he used to hate. Starting with that piano that his mother always forced him to play until his fingers hurt… Now everything he wanted was to sit next to you and play a duet along with you.

“Oh, I didn’t see you there.” Your voice said, as you stopped playing.

“Don’t mind me, I was just enjoying the music.”

He heard the air that left your lips every time you smiled so he smiled back at you, waiting for you to resume your tune but you didn’t, nervously fidgeting with your music sheet instead.

Ominis felt a pinch in his chest. He felt it a lot lately. It usually happened whenever he wondered if you were happy too. Because he was, and his only wish was that you felt it too. If you weren’t, then it meant you were feeling as trapped in this marriage than what you would have been if Marvolo had been your husband instead. Of course, Ominis would treat you better. He was your friend after all, your best friend. But he still couldn’t help but wonder sometimes who you would have chose to marry if you had had the freedom to decide for yourself. Sebastian ? Garreth ? Amit ? Even if the idea of you with another man made him sick with jealousy, he wouldn’t blame you if that was what you wanted. He sincerely wished you could have avoided a lifetime trapped with a Gaunt, even if it was him.

“I have a present for you.” He said, since you didn’t seem to want to play the piano anymore. He walked in your direction, stopping precisely close to the bench you were sitting on. His hand disappeared in the pocket of his vest, retrieving a small black box from it.

“You shouldn’t have.” You started, but your breath caught in your throat when he opened the box to reveal a beautiful gold ring, with a stone as black as a starless night on it. You traced a finger on the symbols engraved on the gem, feeling a powerful energy buzzing from it.

“It’s a family heirloom.” Ominis explained, as you were about to ask. “With a pretty ancient coat of arms engraved on it. I’ve been told my ancestor got it made for the woman he loved… It always gave me hope that maybe, some Gaunts are capable of love after all.”

“It’s truly beautiful.”

“It’s yours.” He took the ring out of the box, outstretching a hand in your direction. You placed your hand in his and he slowly slided the jewel on your ring finger. It fitted you perfectly, as if it had been made for you.

“I’m honored, thank you.” He heard you stand up from your seat, feeling you suddenly very close to him. Then, your soft lips pressed a kiss on his cheek, sending a wave of adrenaline through his body. “We haven’t really talked since our wedding night… Maybe we should.”

“What would you like to talk about ?”

“Our… marital duties ?” You said, a blush creeping up to your cheeks.

“Ah. That.” Ominis breathed, equally turning crimson.

“Your mother told me that I must birth an heir by the end of the year… But I wanted to know what you want.” You explained, your tone nervous.

“I want this bloodline to die with me.” He said, with no hesitation. Then, he realized that maybe, it wasn’t what you wanted to hear. “I apologize if you were hoping to have children but I do not wish to bring another Gaunt into the world.”

“I understand…” You said, softly, but he could tell something was bothering you. “I suppose I’m better off having no children than being forced by my husband to birth more babies than what my body could endure.”

Ominis took a deep breath. In other circumstances, maybe he would have wanted this. Especially with you. But he swore to himself a long time ago that he would never provide another child for his family to torture until they could turn him or her into a monster like them.

“If you wish to see Sebastian, or another man, I won’t stop you but I need you to be careful to not accidentally get pregnant.” He said it as stoically as he could, wanting to seem impassible so that you wouldn’t know how it consumed him with jealousy to imagine you with someone else. But he would survive it if it might make you happy.

“What ? You think I want to be with Sebastian ?” You asked him, incredulous. “Do you want to be with someone else ?”

“I don’t think so.” He replied. “I don’t really care for such things…”

“Oh. I see.” You said, and maybe he should have been clearer to avoid hearing such disappointment in your tone. He didn’t really care for such things because all he cared about was you. Since 5th year, the only person he ever imagined being intimate with was you. And if he couldn’t have you, then he wouldn’t have anyone else. “I’m sorry if last time was terrible, it was my first time. Maybe with some practice I could get better at it.”

“You… Want to practice ?” He repeated, unsure of what you meant.

“Yes ? Maybe you could tell me exactly what to do to please you.” You suggested, causing very inappropriate ideas to flash in his mind. You couldn’t be serious. “I’m eager to learn if you are willing to teach me.”

In the few days you had spent alone in the manor, after your wedding, you had talked to him as you always did, like a friend. Not once did it sound like you regretted what you had done on your wedding night but you also didn’t seem to plan on doing it again. You were back at being friends and, with his family away from the manor, Ominis had decided to respect this by sleeping in the living room instead of sharing a bed with you.

So hearing that you were, in fact, not opposed to consume your wedding again left him slightly dumbstruck for a moment. Were you doing this because his mother had instructed you to ? Because his parents - or yours - had threatened to hurt you if you didn’t produce an heir quickly ? Or could it be possible that you just wanted him ?

“Please, Ominis.” You begged, quietly. You stepped closer and planted a wet kiss in the crook of his neck, causing him to take a sharp inhale of air.

There you were, asking him again so nicely and politely for something that he was dying to give you. He knew by now that he didn’t have the willpower to ever refuse you anything at all, whatever you wanted, he would give you. No questioning, no hesitation, all you had to do was say please in that agonizingly desirable tone of yours and he would grant you everything you asked for.

His arms closed around your waist, pulling you against him into a feverish kiss. You left out a breath of relief against his lips, making him kiss you even harder in return. For the past few nights, he had laid awake on the couch, thinking about the curves and dips of your body, the way he had traced them and memorized them, forming the most detailed idea of what your body looked like in his mind, after all these years during which he barely dared touch you.

He put so much strength into his kisses that the pressure of his body against yours forced you to take a few steps back. He followed each one, until you could no longer retreat, your back pressed against the imposing piano behind you.

“Sit down.” He instructed you, but he left you no time to do it, lifting you up and sitting you on the keyboard, unpleasant notes played all together resounding in the room under your weight.

He fell to his knees in front of you, his hands reaching to your legs and slowly moving upwards, scrunching up the fabric of your skirt in the process until it was all the way up to your hips. He tugged on your underwear and you moved to help him remove them, once again causing a few notes of music to fill the air between you.

“What should I do ?” You asked him, the uncertainty in your voice making him grin.

“Nothing at all.” He replied, leaning forward to bury his face between your thighs. You gasped as soon as you felt his tongue between your folds, tasting you in a way you didn’t think possible.

“But…” You started, but interrupted yourself to catch your breath, your head swimming from the pleasure his tongue swirling around your sensitive clit provoked inside your body. “I want to learn how to please you.”

“This is pleasing me.” He assured you, because it really did. He had always wondered what you tasted like, and what sounds would come out of your mouth if he licked you down there. He was indulging into one of his wildest fantasies about you and nothing could have pleased him more at that very moment.

“Ominis…” You breathed, wanting to argue but moaning instead. With his hands gripping each of your thighs to ensure they were as far apart as they could be to grant him access and his tongue unrelenting in the way it explored the walls of your pussy, you couldn’t help but give in, closing your eyes and pressing your back against the piano, biting your lip to silence another moan.

When he pushed his tongue passed your entrance, your hand fell by your side, pressing a few keys in the process which made you jump but didn’t seem to phase him the least, maybe because your thighs were muffling every sound in his ears, apart from your delicious cries of pleasure. You put your hand on his head, fingers messing up his neat hairstyle to pull him even closer, wanting him deeper. So much deeper.

“I need you.” You managed to tell him, even though your body was trembling in bliss. “Please.”

He groaned against your folds, eyes closed. He needed you too, his cock was swollen in his pants, wanting nothing more than to be freed and shoved inside you for relief.

Maybe if he was very careful…

His mouth left your core and he wiped his lips with the back of his hand as you kept panting, perched on the piano. He knew it must be a lovely sight to see, you flushed from the pleasure he had given you and your legs spread open for him, your folds coated in his saliva and your own deliciously sweet arousal.

He stood up, opening his pants to free the erection so desperate to be inside you again. He heard how you quietly gasped as he pulled his hard length out, shuddering with excitement. He leaned down to kiss you, wondering if you could taste yourself on his lips and, as you attempted to catch your breath, he flipped you over, bringing your feet back to the ground and your hands slamming the piano keys in a abrupt melody once again.

He had to pull your skirt up to your hips again, exposing your round ass to him. He traced the contour of that part of you he had yet to discover, his fingers digging in the tender flesh a few times as if wanting to take the full measure of what it looked like. And, once his curiosity satisfied and the feeling stored in his memory, he aligned his cock with your entrance and pushed it in, slowly.

He had expected to find a resistance there, as he had last time, but his cock gently slided all the way inside you without you making a single sound of pain or discomfort. He left out a breath, loving how warm and tight you felt around him. He enjoyed it all the more knowing that he was welcome there, your wetness making it easy for him to bury himself inside you all the way until his hips were squeezed against your ass.

You felt incredible.

So good in fact that he struggled to control himself, wanting to thrust in and out of you so hard until he could be satisfied but he was determined to be a gentleman. Instead of the rough shoves he craved, he rocked himself back and forth painfully slowly, earning some lovely sounding moans and whimpers out of you as a reward for behaving.

It felt as if you were getting tighter the more you were crying out in pleasure and he knew he wouldn’t be able to take it much longer. He had came inside you last time, because it was your first time and he wanted to do things the traditional way. He took your virginity which you were willing to give him now that he was your husband. And he gave you his too, even though it felt a lot more insignificant in comparison. He had spilled his release inside you, to mark you as his, to forever be the first one to ever do it. But he wouldn’t do it again, the risk was too great to take.

He had to be cautious.

He pushed himself forward with more strength than what he had meant to use, making the piano sound again under your shifting weight. You bounced back against him, making him hit so deep inside that you loudly moaned, body tensing as violently as your pussy tightened around his cock, momentarily trapping him inside you and violently pulsating all around him, trying to get him to fill you up as he naturally should. And he almost did. It felt so good, way too good to resist…

He managed to pull out just in time for his release to splash out of him, warm drops landing on your ass and thighs. He breathed loudly, cock twitching in his hand as he emptied all of his pant up desire for you that he had fought against in the past few days. The quantity only rivaling the intensity of the pleasure he felt.

He didn’t notice you move, too busy enjoying his climax so he jumped slightly when he felt your lips around the tip of his still hard cock, your tongue licking the pink flesh with delight.

“Wh-What are you doing ?” He asked, breathing ragged. He had to lean forward and rest his hands on the piano to keep his balance, the sensitivity of his cock heightened after the strong orgasm he had.

“I wanted a taste too.” You admitted, licking each side of his shaft with care. He closed his eyes, a groan escaping from his lips as your tongue collected the salty wetness that coated his length.

He cursed and another load of his release filled your mouth, his body trembling and his head swimming in bliss. You sucked every drop out of him and swallowed it all, as he sat down on the piano chair with a dizzy expression on his face, struggling to catch his breath.

You allowed him a few minutes before you rose up from your knees to kiss him, gently pressing your hand against his racing heart. He kissed you back, tenderly, as his fingers caressed yours, contouring the new ring on your finger.

♡ - (( Tip Jar )) - ♡

Previously in this series;

Next in this series;

[yandere-daydreams]

Title: Meat.

Pairing: Yandere!Ayato x Reader (Genshin).

Word count: 4.5k.

TW: Non/Con, Fem!Reader, Branding/Burning, Prolonged Imprisonment, Forced Marriage, Possessive Behavior, Descriptions of Gore, Implied Stalking, Mentions of Pregnancy, and Suicidal Ideation. Dead Dove: Do Not Eat.

You always thought you would wear red on your wedding day.

It was a family tradition – passed down with dutiful care for as long as anyone could imagine. Your grandmother had given her dress to your mother who had gifted it to you, her only child, on your eighteenth birthday, years before you would so much as think about getting something as permanent as marriage. Still, you safeguarded it with a religious devotion, never going more than a week without laying it out to check for signs of moths or mold. When you found yourself on a boat set on a course for Inazuma and could bring nothing but what could fit in the space underneath your bunk, her dress was the only item you truly could not bear to leave behind.

It was one of the few things Ayato let you keep, when he first brought you to his estate. He hadn’t wanted to, but he’d known that you’d throw yourself off the nearest cliff if anything ever happened to that dress. You still would, if he so much as touched it without your permission.

The kimono you were being fitted for now was not red. The fine silk was pure white, the detailed embroidery along the hems and sleeves dark blue and bright, shining gold. The symbol of his archon glowed violet on the swell of the train – meant to appease the other factions of the tri-commission who protested when Ayato announced his intent to not only marry a commoner, but a foreigner. You hated that embellishment most of all, more than the sickly way his colors crawled over your body, more than the irritating smoothness of his favored silks where they hugged against your form and groped at your skin. It marked you as a tool, something to be used to one end or another. It marked you as a sacrifice – and an unwanted one, at that.

“Just as exquisite as I knew you’d be,” Ayato announced, his voice strong and unabashed. You’d begged him not to, but he’d insisted on sitting in on your appointment, making sure you couldn’t correct seamstress or overrule any of the choices he’d made on your behalf. The tailor hummed as she fastened a temporary sash around your midriff, tight enough to press uncomfortably against your ribs. If you needed to cry on your wedding day (which, in all likelihood, you would), it would have to be loosened. “How do you like it?”

You hated it.  You despised it. You wanted to claw it apart with your own pristine nails, separate each thread and seam with your very own teeth. You would’ve set yourself on fire just to see it turned to ash that much sooner.

“It’s perfect.” Your own voice sounded distant, distorted. There was no façade of sincerity. He knew as well as you did that there was nothing he could force onto you that you wouldn’t loathe, and you knew that any word uttered as to your hatred for him outside of the privacy of your shared bedroom would result in a collection of fresh rope burns to decorate your wrists, the better half of a night spent bent over his knee. “So long as it pleases you, my lord.”

You dropped your eyes to the floor, attempting to spare yourself what suffering you could, but your resistance didn’t matter; you could hear the sharpness of his smile, picture the way his head tilted to the side as he basked in his own self-satisfaction as he went on, addressing the tailor. “If there’s a veil, you can get rid of it.”

You didn’t think you would ever get used to the way his voice seemed to grate when he was happy with himself.

 “I think my heart might give out if I’m not able to see my beautiful fiancé’s lovely smile.”

~

After meeting Ayato, you began to dream in red.

It was more of a pink, at first – during the first few weeks of his courtship, when the extent of his intrusive affection was a few dendrobiums left on your doorstep and a lingering glance as the handsome young commissioner passed your stall during his weekly stroll through the city market. For a short while, after his possessive habits began to rear their head and you were able to catch his guards in your peripheral more often than not, your subconscious was tinted a near-violent shade of scarlet, the kind that would leave you drenched in your own sweat and half-suffocated by the time you forced yourself to wake up. Recently, since he announced your engagement, they’d taken on a darker shade; choking velvets and deep crimsons blurring the distorted setting as Ayato’s faceless body moved on top of you, as his mouth unhinged and his lashing tongue dragged you down his waiting throat. On your worst nights, he’d tear you apart with his hands, first, divide you into neat, orderly pieces that he could slip past his lips and savor one at a time, one after another, until there was nothing left of you. He’d always preferred you in your most consumable form.

It was ironic, really, considering just how little red he let seep into your waking life. Maybe you had a deficiency; like a pregnant woman craving fish to make up for a lack of calcium. The closest you got to red from the doorway to his study were a few cherry blossoms fluttering past the window, their color dulled by age and their tree nearly stripped bare by the approaching winter. He looked away from his paperwork as you shrugged past the screen door, his pale eyes lighting up as he saw the tea tray in your hands. It was Thoma’s handiwork, but you doubted Ayato cared. He wanted to see you in the role of a caretaker, playing out the part he wrote for you to the best of your limited acting skills. What happened behind the curtain was none of his concern.

“To what do I owe the honor?” he asked as you set the tray on his desk. “I can’t remember the last time you visited me on your own.”

You flashed him a small smile. “Can’t I dote on my soon-to-be husband freely?”

He visibly straightened at the word ‘husband’, a familiar zeal infecting his expression. There was a quirk to his grin, a light tap to his thigh, and the tea went ignored as you obediently fell into his lap, your legs hanging over the side of his chair as his arms wrapped around your waist and pulled you snug against him. If he was a monster, he’d be one with a thousand hands and a million fingers; he couldn’t seem to go a full minute without clutching at your hips, groping at your chest, burying his face in the crook of your neck with a deep, relieved sigh. “Husband,” he repeated back to you, all spellbound awe and deceiving wonder. “Archons, I can’t wait to be your husband.”

You wondered, sometimes, if it was his childhood that made him the way he was. After so many years of loneliness, so many tiny disappointments and frigid betrayals, you could only imagine he’d be eager to grab the first warm body he could and refuse to let you go. But, he let Ayaka come and go as she pleased, and seemed to take a certain delight in sending Thoma off on long-winded, far-flung errands. Whatever cruelty his upbringing had bred, it was clearly reserved for you.

His hand slid underneath the slit of your yukata, his breath turning hot and unpleasant against your collarbone, and you drew back with an airy laugh. “I do have an ulterior motive,” you admitted, hoping his curiosity would offset his insatiability, if only for a few seconds. “It’s about my wedding dress.”

“The breathtaking and priceless dress I’m having made by the nation’s most talented tailors so that all of Inazuma will know that I’m marrying the most beautiful person in Teyvat?” He raised his head, clicking his tongue. “What about it?”

“It’s not that I don’t like it,” you said, because he wouldn’t listen to you if you didn’t and you needed him to listen to you. “It’s just— I’m such a long way from home, and I know my family won’t be able to come, but—” You cut yourself off, swallowing back the bile that threatened to spoil your sweet smile. “I was hoping we’d be able to incorporate my mother’s dress, somehow. If it’s not too late.”

It wasn’t. You’d been tracking the progress of his tailors meticulously, counting down the days until your wedding like a prisoner waiting for their execution date, and if it was one of his whims, another row of bedding added onto the sleeves or a new embroidery pattern worked onto the train, you knew that there’d be all the time in the world to make any adjustments he asked for. Still, his smile wavered, a brief sigh slipping past his lips as he shook his head. “My love,” The petname lulled off of his tongue as if it’d been coated in sugar and syrup and all the worst things you could think of. “That’s quite the risk to take. The poor thing’s so old, it might fall apart as soon as the tailor’s needle touches it.”

He'd been crueler, before – called the dress a rag as he looked at you with disdain-tinted pity, swore that your reliance on the filthy relic must’ve been caused by some inherent failure of your homeland – but your heart still clenched just a little tighter in your chest at his veiled disdain. “I’d like to try, at least.” Your hands curled around his collar, your frown taking on a more pleading note. “Please, my lord?” A pause, a tightened hold. “Please, Ayato?”

It was his given name, loving and tender and so rarely spoken in your voice, that did him in. He relented with an airy groan, letting his head roll forward in faux exasperation. “We’ll see.”

You beamed, but he was too lost in you to notice, already preoccupied with pressing open-mouthed kisses into your shoulders, your neck. The sash of your yukata was drawn loose, your sleeves pulled down to your elbows and your body shifted onto his desk, where he could spread your legs apart and bury his face between them. Your eyes drifted back to the cherry blossoms trickling past the window, but whatever tree they’d been falling from had finally been stripped bare. All you could see was the bright, cloudless sky – blue enough to leave you burnt and begging for a storm.

~

Two springs ago, the Kamisato Estate had been overrun with finches.

It’d been a comedy of errors, in hindsight. Ayaka had taken up a fondness for a new kind of flower – one native to Sumeru, introduced to her by an outlander with golden hair and knowing eyes. Thoma, the miracle worker that he was, quickly found a way to propagate it in the estate’s garden, and within the month, little violet blossoms had consumed all that they could reach despite the best efforts of the gardeners to keep them in-check. It would’ve been a delightful problem to have on its own, but the peak of the infestation happened to align with an annual migration of a type of finch that happened to hold a particular shining for a plant with a similar shape and color and— well, anyone could’ve guessed what happened next.

It was a nightmare for Thoma and the other groundskeepers and, since Ayato was staying in the city on business, paradise for you. You spent your days in the courtyard, showing the servants’ children how to braid crowns out of vines and press flowers between the pages of books stolen from Ayato’s personal library. You and Ayaka fed seeds to the red-crowned invaders and coaxed them close enough to pet and sketch, as little talent as you had for the latter, and she listened as you rambled excitedly about the crane-headed whistles you used to make every summer for a very wealthy ornithologist with very slippery fingers. She was just as lonely as her brother, albeit significantly less deranged, and you – trapped, isolated, desperate you – were the perfect victim for her. The two of you were never quite friends, but you came close that spring.

And then, Ayato returned. The flowers were uprooted, the children sent back to their chores, and the finches driven away with nets and stones and salt. You sobbed for hours the day the final flock left, and by means of consolation, Ayato presented you with a blue-speckled wren in a cage of pure silver, silk flowers bound to the bars with yellow ribbons as a reminder of your lost haven. To this day, you still aren’t sure if he meant it to be as cruel of a gift as it was.

You made it all of two days before risking another month spent shackled to Ayato’s bed and sneaking past the guards posted at the estate’s frontmost gates, the golden cage tucked against your chest. You released it in the woods, somewhere with plenty of tree cover and places to hide while it remembered how to be a wild creature, and watched with a smile as it fluttered past the cage’s door and into the open air, eventually landing on the leaf-littered ground.

It hopped all of three tiny steps before a fox emerged from the underbrush and swallowed it whole.

~

“Are you still with us, love?”

You should’ve gone limp. You should’ve acted as if the pain had gotten to you. You should’ve pretended you were dead to the world and that you couldn’t feel his cock languidly thrusting into you and that you’d gone numb to the searing iron slowly cooling into against the small of your back but, for as resentful as your mind was to him, your body was entirely subservient to Ayato. You tried to respond verbally, and when your voice caught in your throat, you forced yourself to nod, the motion small and shaky. Ayato rewarded you with a breathy chuckle, a fleeting touch to the curve of your spine. A hundred pinpricks of purified agony accompanied his touch.

The silver brand had been commissioned from the finest metal crafters in Inazuma City, made to resemble the warped camellia that was the Kamisato Clan’s crest, and you let out an agonized scream as Ayato drew it back and pressed a calloused thumb into the tender patch of burnt skin. “You always do make such pretty noises for me.” He circled the shape of the white-hot bloom, drawing out another ragged whimper. “It’s a shame I only get to hear them when you misbehave.”

You wanted to apologize, to beg for his forgiveness, but try as you might, you couldn’t seem to remember what you’d done wrong. You hadn’t tried to run away. You hadn’t talked to any of the servants. You hadn’t done anything aside from smile and sit beside him as he spoke with the head of another clan – an older man whose eyes burnt into you for the entirety of their brief conversation. As far as you could tell, he was just a particularly shameless nobleman trying to decipher the curiosity that was the Yashiro Commissioner’s reclusive bride, but Ayato hated letting other men gawk at you at the best of times. Such prolonged exposure would’ve surely brought out the worst of his possessive habits.

You felt something tighten in your chest, catch in your throat, but you only realized you were crying when Ayato’s lips ghosted over your cheek, the gentleness of the gesture quickly replaced with the brutality of his fingers tangled in your hair, your head forced down and into the plush of his bed. You body threatened to collapse, but his free hand fell to your hip, keeping your back arched and your ass raised as he ground lazily into your cunt, in no rush to put you out of your suffering. “I think,” he groaned, lust heavy in his voice. “We’re going to have a big family. Half a dozen kids, at least.”

You beat your fists against the mattress, shaking your head violently, and he twitched inside of you. “They’ll have your eyes,” he went on, a sadistic delight in his voice. “And my swordsmanship, and I’ll love them as much as I love you.” He paused, the head of his cock scraping against something deep and vulnerable inside of you. “Well, almost as much as I love you. As much as I can.”

You tried to struggle, to get away from him, but Ayato held you close, his grip as unrelenting as his slow, aching tempo. With a calculated sort of grace, he leaned towards you, slotting his chest against your back and bringing his mouth to the shell of your ear. “You don’t think it’s too soon to start, do you, darling?”

All you could do was try and fail to scream in response.

~

The first gift Ayato ever gave to you was a necklace the color of freshly split sapphires.

He insisted that you not think of it as a present, that you consider it little more than justified repayment for an item from your stall broken by the clumsy fingers of one of his couriers, but it was a present, it couldn’t be anything else. His courier had paid for the ruined pottery days prior, and yet, he’d sought you out in person to apologize with that sun-bright smile, to let his fingertips brush against yours as he passed you a satin-lined case with a perfect, ocean-blue velvet choker tucked safely inside. It was a beautiful thing, embellished with silver and dripping with transparent crystals, but you’d liked the color most of all. It’d reminded you of Ayato, and there’d been a time when you treasured any excuse to think of him.

You’d worn it the first time you saw each other properly, too. The occasion wasn’t formal enough to warrant something so needlessly extravagant, but you couldn’t seem to stop smiling for the entirety of your brief-meal-turned-seven-hour-conversation, and as your night came to an end, perched on the edge of a cliff underneath the Raiden Shogun’s palace and breathless from laughing, he told you that if you weren’t careful, he might just fall in love with you. You’d told him that, if he waited a few more days, you might fall in love with him, too.

You’d been wearing the same necklace when he broke your heart for the first time. It’d been an overcast day, the sky a clouded blueish grey and the shogun’s fury just barely audible in the far distance. He told you, with that perfect grin and those lonely eyes, that it really was terribly improper for the lover of a commissioner to run some meager stall in a sweat-soaked market, that he owed you better than a cramped room on the outskirts of the city where you had to wade through hours of farmland to reach anything of importance. When you said that you enjoyed your work, that you adored the back-breaking labor of your craft and loved having neighbors who would leave baskets of cabbage and lavender melon on your doorstep in exchange for misshapen cups and off-pattern bowls, he laughed as if you’d said the funniest thing in the world and cupped your face in his hands, pulling you into a kiss deep enough and sweet enough to make you forget whether or not you’d agreed with him.

You were brought to the Kamisato estate less than a full month later and had yet to leave since.

~

The final garment was delivered two weeks before your wedding day. You watched from your pavilion as Ayato met the courier at the estate’s gates, accepting a large package wrapped in scarlet silk and brushing off the guards’ attempts to carry it on his behalf. You were embroidering, that day – a delicate, time-consuming art that Ayato praised in comparison to the messy, unpredictable medium of clay. You loathed the monotony of it, the strictness of the patterns, but it meant Ayato was less likely to break your fingers when he found you scrounging away spare mora in the hopes of some perpetually eventual escape and so, you embroidered.

“My mother’s dress,” you said, as soon as he was close enough to hear you. The wooden hoop was forgotten in your lap as you stared up at him, hope written clearly across your expression. “Do you know what they did with it?”

His grin widened. “Eager, are we?” You nodded frantically, and he added, “If I’d didn’t know better, I’d say you care about a dress more than your own betrothed.”

He settled next to you, the package laid across his thighs. He moved to unwrap it, then pivoted – his attention shifting as his gloved hand took hold of your wrist. He’d been touching you more delicately, lately, something you couldn’t help but link with his long-brewing but only recently materialized desire for children. It was a problem you elected to deal with later on, after the wedding, if only for your own inability to process just how horrific of a problem it was.

(There was a part of you which knew, even before your conscious mind could bear to accept it, that you would never be able to love something he put inside of you. Ayato’s obsession was enduring, able to feed off of nothing and contort reality to suit its needs, but your love had always been a rational thing, bound to end the moment it became inconvenient to house. Your love for your homeland died with your mother. Your love for Ayato died with your abduction. And, whatever love you could’ve had for a child— no, a shackle would die the moment the foul creature was born. You could hold no affection for a child that was made in Ayato’s image, that would be cleaved from your flesh for the sake of his happiness, and if by some miracle you did love the monstrosity, then you could only assume it would be because you’d abandoned all hope for yourself. Both futures seemed equally grim.)

“Ayato,” you simpered, leaning against his side. “Please?”

He rolled his eyes, playing soft as he handed you the oversized package. “It should be wrapped separately. I said I didn’t want to see the finished product until the day-of.”

Your hands shook as you undid the many knots. A smaller bundle sat within, separate from the tumor of ivory fabric you forced yourself not to linger on, and you took it up with a desperate sort of keenness, practically trembling as you tore it open with no regard for the integrity of its packaging. The crimson silk was torn away to reveal—

Blue.

Dark, never-ending blue.

“The color came out so beautifully. I’m glad you protested the way you did – otherwise, I might’ve never known we were missing something on our wedding day.” This time, you didn’t fight as he tore the remains of your mother’s dress out of your hands, holding out a sash the shade of apathetic night. You searched for something familiar, for something you could use to ground yourself, but it was absent of all recognizability, desecrated to the point of being all-but alien to you. “It had to be dyed, of course, but I’ve been told the process only cost it a moment of its integrity. The tailors—”

You blinked, but your vision remained black when you opened your eyes. Your body was lurching forward, and then you were in Ayato’s arms, limp and buzzing. Ayato was laughing, as shocked as you were drained, and you made no effort to pull away from him. “My poor little wife. I know – the anticipation’s almost too much to bear.” He pressed a kiss into your forehead. “Why don’t we spend some time together, like we used to? I think I can push my obligations aside for the day, considering the occasion.”

You didn’t respond, but he gathered into his arms regardless. He had always seemed to prefer you as dead weight.

~

You did end up in red on your wedding day, but you doubted you’d be getting married, anymore.

His own sword slid and out of his back with a wet, gripping noise – only interrupted when the blade slipped in your hands and hit bone rather than viscera. Blood splattered against the white of your kimono with every plunge, staining the susceptible fabric easily and leaving you struggling to keep your feet underneath you as the puddle of scarlet grew deeper, as the screen walls began to drip and your lungs filled with copper and iron. Ayato, the ever-worried lover that he was, had come to check on you before the ceremony, fussing over your blank eyes and the tear-tracks that had ruined your make-up twice, by then. He’d been concerned, but giddy, unable to keep himself away from you despite his many promises of tradition and decor.

He'd made it three, maybe four minutes before beginning to toy with the clasps running down your chest.

You’d taken up the first thing you saw – a hand mirror gilded with shining rose gold – and brought it down on his head.

That, on its own, would’ve left him with a scar and little else, but you’d worked quickly, drawing the sword from its sheath on his belt and bringing it down into anything that seemed vital, anything you could reach, anything that bled calming, soothing red. He stopped moving on the fifth strike, his uncalled upon Vision going dull on the sixth, and on the seventh, you heard someone call for the guards.

You waited until you could hear their footsteps before falling to your knees, bringing the point of your blade to your stomach and clenching your eyes shut, praying to any archon who would listen that you’d hit something they couldn’t be healed, that they’d lend you a more merciful fate than another jail cell, another lifetime of entrapment.  You plunged the blade into your stomach and—

And were met with little more than a cold, blunt sensation and a bottomless pit of despair.

You opened your eyes, your gaze flickering from your ice-coated blade to the doorway of your dressing room, now occupied by Kamisato Ayaka, one hand raised and her Vision pulsing at her side. Guards rushed in on either side of her, grabbing at your shoulders and wrists, but your stare never left Ayaka, her parted lips, her flushed cheeks.

Her bright eyes, just as blue and just as lonely as her brother’s had ever been.

[jessjad]

Rightfully deceived

Chapter 7

Summary: When a marriage promise forces Y/N to step up for her younger sister, she gets something she always wanted. But when the truth comes out, her new husband Dean is not so happy about the mix-up. Will she loose it all? Or will she be surprised in the end?

Pairing: AU!Dean Winchester x Reader

Word Count: 3260

Warnings: I think... we all know what's gonna happen...

A/N: The second to last chapter, guys! All mistakes are mine! Enjoy!

Series Masterlist My Masterlist

Something had changed. Within a few hours, Dean became more distant again. At first Y/N thought it was just because of the letter. They had both lost sight of the fact that they would definitely see Y/N's family again at some point. But when Y/N's shock wore off, she wanted to see if Dean felt the same way. However, he had withdrawn from her again. When she asked if everything was okay, he only answered briefly and then left their bedroom. That had left Y/N with an uneasy feeling.

It was late at night when Dean returned. Without a word, he got into bed with her, but turned his back to her. This brought tears to Y/N’s eyes. They had only just found each other. The affection they had built was still fragile. They were just beginning. Their relationship, if you could call it that, wasn't yet solid. Yes, Y/N loved Dean. But did he now feel the same way? She didn't know.

Still, the next morning came quicker than Y/N had hoped. With each passing hour she became more afraid. What would happen if Dean saw Helena again? Would his feelings for her flare up again? His anger about the wrong wedding too? Would he realize that he was just passing his time with Y/N? Made the best of an unchangeable situation? Would he reject her again?

Y/N stood at the window and looked out at the street. At some point Ellen joined her. The women didn't speak to each other, but Y/N knew that Ellen understood what was going on with her. At some point they heard heavy footsteps coming down the stairs and both turned around. When Dean saw the two women, his pace slowed.

"Can you... see them yet?"

"No. Everything is still quiet." Ellen answered him.

Dean just nodded and then wanted to go outside, but Y/N couldn't just let him go.

"Dean!"

The man stopped, his eyes a little wide, but when he saw Y/N approaching him, his gaze seemed to soften a little. Or Y/N was just imagining it. She stopped a few steps in front of him, unsure if he would even allow physical contact. But since Dean's hand didn't reach out to her, she preferred to play it safe. She smiled timidly at him, but all the words that had been on the tip of her tongue were gone. After a moment, Dean cleared his throat slightly and folded his arms behind him.

"I..." Y/N began, but again she faltered in her words. "You... you came to bed late." That wasn't what she wanted to say.

"Yes, I... Benny needed my help with Rika. She had her foal."

"What? Really?" Now Y/N was really surprised, because this pregnancy had not been an easy one.

"She had a healthy daughter."

Y/N was really happy about that and her face seemed to show it, because Dean was now grinning warmly. And somehow this news managed to make both of them take a step towards each other.

"Why didn't you tell me that when you came up?"

"I didn't want to wake you. You slept so peacefully."

He couldn't see through the darkness that that wasn't true. And yet it touched Y/N's heart and they exchanged an intense look. Then Dean lifted his hand, almost as if he wanted to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear, but he didn't get around to it.

"They're here!" Ellen announced, still standing at the window and letting the ominous news sink in.

Three hours later, Y/N wanted nothing more than to be somewhere else. It was unbelievable how quickly you could slip back into old roles.

As soon as Helena stepped out of the carriage, she attracted everyone's attention. She was friendly to everyone, greeted everyone warmly and her laughter could be heard almost everywhere. She was an apparition, as always. And Y/N disappeared into the background again. As always. She had now forgotten what it was like to be invisible and remembering it again brought back her insecurities and made her afraid to stand by Dean's side.

But even if she had taken her place next to her husband, she was no longer sure whether he would have even noticed. Helena had Dean completely occupied and he seemed to enjoy the attention she was giving him. In the meantime he had shown her his property and finished the tour at the stable. There they stood at the fence and talked. Y/N stood nearby and tried to look over at the two of them inconspicuously.

"So this is your sister Helena." Benny suddenly stood next to her and looked suspiciously at Dean and the blonde woman.

Y/N was slightly startled. "Yes. Yes, she is."

"The woman Dean actually wanted to marry."

"Exactly..."

"How many years younger than you?"

"Four."

"Hmm..."

Silence fell between the two friends as they continued to look at the fence. But Y/N had to avert her gaze at some point. Her uneasy feeling hadn't gone away and it hurt a little to see the two of them together.

"As good a businessman as he is..." Benny said after a few minutes. "...he sometimes has so little idea about women."

"What do you mean?" Y/N asked in surprise.

"She's too obvious." Now Benny also turned away and looked at Y/N. "The exuberant way. That exuberant laugh. And if Dean doesn't pay attention to her for a moment, her mask falls a little. But only until Dean looks at her again."

Now Y/N looked at Benny in surprise and he grinned. "Your sister isn't quite as inconspicuous as she thinks." he winked.

"Benny? I really like you." and suddenly she didn't feel quite so invisible next to her sister.

The blonde man laughed and crossed his arms infront of his chest. "Well, thank you."

"How is the foal doing?" Y/N now wanted to know.

"She's doing really great. We only need a name for her.

"Y/N?" called Millie as she was coming over to her and Benny. "Y/N!"

She looked a little worried as she came to a stop in front of Y/N and Benny. "Your father is looking for you. He wants to talk to you."

She felt uneasy and wanted to look over at Dean, but she didn't. At the moment he only had eyes for Helena again and probably wouldn't even notice what was happening and how Y/N was doing. Of course that didn't make it any better.

So she simply went back into the castle and immediately found her father standing next to the stairs. She wasn't exactly looking forward to a conversation, but she wouldn't be able to change it. As soon as he saw her, he reached out to lightly grab Y/N by the upper arm and pull her closer to him.

"So? How's it going?" he also asked directly.

"What...what do you mean?"

"Well, with Dean! Are you keeping him happy? You're not embarrassing me, are you?"

Y/N couldn’t answer that straight away. That he even had the nerve to ask that? Had he forgotten that they were all in this situation because of Helena?

"I mean, of course he won't be happy. After all, you're not the woman he actually wanted. But that doesn't mean you have to make things worse."

"I'm sorry, what?" she blurted out.

The door opened and Helena came in. Speaking of the devil. She had a big smile on her face and looked around with her arms outstretched.

"It's really so beautiful here. I never imagined it would be like that."

"It is, isn't it?" Her father chimed in. "Where did you leave Dean?"

"Oh, he's still outside with... with..." Helena thought about it, but quickly gave up. "...with whoever is in charge of the stable. Something with one of the horses."

Benny. She meant Benny. Her sister could be so ignorant sometimes. And then Y/N remembered Benny’s words.

"Helena?" she jumped right in. "Can we talk? Alone?"

Then Helena just nodded and Y/N led her into one of the unused side rooms that were usually only used for celebrations. She closed the door behind her and took a deep breath. Helena seemed to have no idea what was going on or what her sister might want from her.

"What are you doing?" Y/N asked after a couple of seconds.

"What?" Helena looked at her rather confused.

"Well, let me rephrase. Why are you even here?" Y/N asked again, a little more upset.

"What's the point of this question? I'm your sister!"

Helena said it like it was the most logical thing in the world. As if it explains her behavior. But Y/N knew she was trying to distract. However, she wouldn't succeed.

"And where is Peter?" Now Helena's face hardened a little. "Shouldn't you be with him? Or shouldn't he at least be here with you?"

"The thing with Peter and me... didn't work out." Helena answered briefly, but Y/N could see the emotions in her eyes.

"What do you mean, it didn't work out? You ran away! He was obliged to marry you!"

After all, Helena had already been promised. So Peter had to answer for this act. Regardless of whether it was Helena's idea or not. She had been on her way to another man. Not only did her reputation suffer, but also that of her family. Her feelings had determined her fate and now she had to come to terms with them.

"But he couldn't do that because he was already married!" the younger woman blurted out.

This was news that even Y/N hadn't expected. Helena had fallen for a fraud.

"He's been married for almost six years. He also has a child..." Helena looked down and played with her fingers a little nervously. "...But they probably didn't get along anymore. So...he left her. And then he sought refuge with us."

Y/N could still remember that. He had joined the clan four years ago and had arrived desperately asking for work.

"You can't imagine what happened when she suddenly burst through the door into the pastor's house with the little boy on her hand..."

"Helena!" Y/N interrupted her sister a little harshly. "Did you even know him?"

"He really loved me!" she replied just as harshly. "And I loved him too!"

Y/N was at a loss for words. For once she believed her sister. Even if her actions were pretty stupid. The heart was easily deceived, but that didn't make the feelings any less real. Y/N in particular understood this all too well. Still, it wasn't entirely clear to her why Helena was here now.

"Okay, but... at the risk of repeating myself... why are you here now?"

"Father didn't want to leave me alone and thought it would be better if I came here too."

Which in turn meant that he was afraid she would do something stupid or run away again. Y/N could understand that too, but it still didn't explain her behavior.

"I understand that... but it doesn't explain your behavior towards Dean. In case you've forgotten... I'm married to him now."

Now Helena grinned. "Oh, sis. Are you jealous?"

"What? No, I..."

"You don't have to be. He's just... showing me everything here."

Something about the way she said it didn’t sit well with Y/N. "If it's really just that, then why don't you leave his side anymore?"

Helena didn't answer immediately, as if she were struggling with herself. But then she sighed briefly and took a few steps towards Y/N. As if she wanted to tell her a secret.

"You know, I'm really grateful to you for helping me and stepping in for me. You not only helped me, but also our father. But... well... after things with Peter ended so unexpectedly... I've been thinking about a lot of things."

Y/N frowned. A foreboding feeling rose within her and she knew she wouldn't like what came next.

"Maybe I was too blind, too narrow-minded. I never gave Dean a real chance, you know? Because I was always focused on Peter. But now... I just think that maybe it's for the best to take this burden off of your shoulders again."

"What?" Shock spread through the older woman.

"After all, Dean only wanted me from the start. And you said it yourself: YOU are not the right bride! So maybe it would make sense for everything to finally take its right course."

"You... you can't be serious!" Y/N felt a chill run down her spine and fear spread through her.

"Yes, of course! And as you can see, Dean still doesn't mind me either. I think that would be best for all of us."

The next three days passed almost like a blur. Every day was almost the same and Y/N felt with every passing hour that Dean was moving further and further away from her. He hardly looked at her anymore because Helena continued to demand attention from him and didn't seem to want to let up. When they were in the same room or in the shared bedroom in the evening, Dean hardly spoke to her anymore. He rejected every attempt on her part to get closer. He didn't seem to notice that he was hurting her again with his behavior, which reminded her so much of their early days.

So Y/N also withdrew more and more. She tried to avoid her family as much as possible. She couldn't stand her father's lectures or Helena's attempt to win Dean back. Millie had said that she should fight for Dean and she had tried. But Dean had put up the wall between them again and behaved almost as if Y/N didn't exist. At least that's how it seemed to her.

On top of all that, the feeling that she was being followed had become stronger again. She had to suppress the urge to constantly look over her shoulder, even though she always got goosebumps when she was alone somewhere. The climax was not long in coming.

Y/N had watched Dean and Helena disappear on a ride when she had walked a few steps along the castle wall so as not to lose sight of them. A torture that she had consciously inflicted on herself, but she had not been able to help it.

She did not know how long she had watched the two of them, but suddenly she heard Ellen calling her name loudly. She looked over at the older woman, who was gesticulating wildly and running towards her. So Y/N looked up and saw that one of the large stone figures that were attached to the edge of the tower above her had fallen directly on her. Y/N was only just able to jump to the side and remained unharmed.

After that, she couldn't take it anymore. It was just too much. She started to cry and her whole body was shaking. Someone really had it in for her and Dean didn't care. Ellen tried to calm her down, helped Y/N up and took her inside to the kitchen. There she sat the young woman down at the table and filled her a cup of wine.

But Y/N could hardly calm down for a long time. She didn't want to be alone again. Not after Dean had let her get so close to him. And then there was the attempt on her life. All of this couldn't be true.

"Take a sip, Y/N. It calms your nerves." Ellen tried again.

"But I don't want to drink anything," Y/N blurted out. "I want this to all end. I want Dean to finally open his eyes and come back to me."

An understanding look graced Ellen's face and she hugged Y/N lightly. It wasn't easy for her to watch all of this either. And she would have to talk to Sam and Benny as soon as possible if they hadn't heard about the incident already.

"I miss my mum so much," Y/N whispered, but Ellen had understood her. "She would have known exactly what to do now."

And that was true. Y/N hadn't had it easy from the start after Helena was born. She had shed a lot of tears in her whole life and even though her mother had loved them both equally, she had always taken a little more care of Y/N.

"And what would she have done to cheer you up?" Ellen wanted to know.

Y/N laughed quietly. "She would have made me some warm milk and told me that everything would be fine. Before she told me some funny story from her childhood."

"Well, I can also help you with some warm milk." Ellen winked and went over to the stove. "She sounds very nice."

"She was wonderful." Y/N answered and her tears began to dry up. "Everyone liked her."

"May I ask how she died?" Ellen asked carefully as she filled a pot with milk, put it on the stove and lit the fire.

Y/N did not answer immediately. "She was ill. No one could say exactly what was wrong with her, but within a year she lost a lot of weight. She became weaker and weaker until at some point she could no longer even stand up." Sadness overcame her again and she looked down. "The morning she died, the first snow of the year fell..."

So it wasn't long until the anniversary of her mother's death. Ellen didn't know what to say. Silence spread between the two women as they waited for the milk to warm up. After it had reached the right temperature, Ellen added a little cinnamon and handed Y/N a cup, for which she thanked her.

"I know I'm not your mother and I don't want to replace her. But I definitely know one thing." Now Y/N looked at the woman across from her. "You have to talk to Dean. And you can't let him fob you off. Make him listen to you. For both of your sakes."

And Y/N knew that Ellen was right. She had to at least try it again. After all, something had changed between them. He had also felt attracted to her. She was sure of that. So she made her way upstairs shortly afterwards. When Dean came back from riding, he always went to their bedroom first to change. So she would wait for him there and confront him.

But when she got upstairs and walked straight to the door, she saw Alex who had already opened it and was carefully looking inside. That was strange, because he would normally never just open the door like that. Especially not when neither of them was inside.

"Alex?" asked Y/N and saw the young man slightly startled. "What are you doing?"

"Oh! Y/N!" he quickly closed the door again and scratched the back of his head slightly nervously. "I... I'm looking for Dean. But when I knocked, no one answered. So I just wanted to see if he was sleeping. I couldn't find him anywhere."

That made more sense. Especially since they had a situation like that just a few weeks ago. Dean hadn't been very happy about being rudely roused from a nap.

"He's not here. He went horseback riding with Helena."

"Oh. Okay. Then I'll just wait for him outside. Sorry again."

"It's fine, Alex." Y/N assured him and watched the young man go down the stairs.

After he disappeared from Y/N's sight, the young woman took another deep breath. She had a plan and this time Dean wouldn't get away from her so easily.

A/N: Our girl is going to fight for Dean again. Let's just hope he'll realize that it will be his second chance to her heart. 🫣

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[shanastoryteller]

Happy Halloween, Shana! 🎃🌻How about a continuation of Hokage's Daughter OR Ed & Ling Are Betrothed?? Ty ty!!

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10

Kakashi doesn’t know what to make of Naruto.

When Kushina and had first announced her pregnancy, he’d been prepared to be shoehorned into the role of big brother, no matter how unqualified he felt for it. Sensei was the only family he had left, so of course his kids would be family too.

Then he’d been betrothed to her and Kakashi did everything he could to stay as far away from her as possible. Because if he was going to marry her, he sure as shit wasn’t interested in being her big brother. Any marriage between them was going to complicated and awkward and terrible already, there’s no reason to make it worse by adding the complication of a pseudo-sibling relationship.

By the time their engagement had been broken and he’d been replaced by Sasuke, avoiding her had just become a habit. He didn’t know her, really, and it was on purpose. He figured he could get to know her later, when she was older, and they could both pretend it was a relationship they had any choice in.

But now he doesn’t know her at all, except that he knows she’s hiding something – lots of somethings, by the way she’s sneaking around and the people she’s talking to. He wonders if Minato knows about any of it and comes to the conclusion he doesn’t, which seems like it should be impossible, but.

He’s not the only one that’s been avoiding Naruto.

Minato can’t look at her without seeing his failure as a father, husband, even hokage. Kushina fusses over her like a doll on the mantle, always so worried over her heath and her chakra and what the demon is doing to her, but Kakashi wonders if Kushina knows anything more about Naruto than he does.

It’s occurring to him for the first time that in a lot of ways, Naruto grew up lonely.

It’s not what any of them wanted for her.

He drops down next to Tsume, not bothering to try and sneak because it probably wouldn’t work. “Hey.”

She doesn’t look up from her scroll. “Nice stunt you pulled there. I’m surprised Minato hasn’t skinned you alive.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he says. Luckily Minato just thinks he didn’t prevent it from happening, rather than actively setting it up, so he’d gotten out of it with just some bruises. “Do you know what’s going on?”

That gets him her attention. Considering how derisive it is, he sort of wishes he didn’t have it. “You don’t? And you still arranged it?”

“She asked,” he says, wincing beneath the mask when it comes out more defensively than he’d intended. “Last time she asked me for something she’d uncovered an almost coup and found Madara.”

Tsume’s a clan head. She’s one of the few people that know the truth of exactly what happened back then.

“Makes you wonder what could possibly get her this worked up, doesn’t it?” Tsume asks mildly.

His heart sinks. “So you don’t know.”

She shrugs. “Naruto doesn’t tell me things. Sasuke or Itachi might know, but good luck getting any Uchiha to flip on her. You could probably torture something useful out of Sakura.”

“I’m not really at the point of torturing civilian born genin,” he says testily.

Yet, anyhow.

“Guess we’ll just have to trust her,” Tsume says, going back to her scroll.

Great.

[notjustjavierpena]

I have recently watched scenes from a marriage with oscar isaac and my mind which connects everything with hubby javi immediately went to this:

imagine wife’s and javi’s friends are going through a divorce, there’s cheating m, miscommunication etc and just a very hard time.

I feel like Javi and Wife would have a conversation about this due to the proximity of it happening to their friends. One about trust and if they’re happy. It’s not about insecurity or anything just them both communicating effectively and giving the other reassurance that this is not on the cards for them.

I just value their relationship so much.

Reassess

Series Masterpost | Main Masterpost | Support a disabled creator

A/N: Hiya anon! I hope it’s okay that I tweaked your request slightly to fit my version of hubby and wife. Enjoy ❤️ Thanks so much for proofreading, @angelofsmalldeath-codeine !!!

Summary: You and Javier’s friends are going through a divorce, and it suddenly makes you wonder about your own marriage.

Pairing: Javier Peña x f!reader (no y/n)

Tags: +18, talk about divorce, talk about cheating, brief descriptions of piv sex with creampie, hurt/comfort, love!, mention of pregnancy and pregnant reader, cuddling, kisses, Javier is a great husband and you are anxious

Word count: 1.6k

Link to this work on AO3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/54352768

Reassess

Jonathan and Mira are getting a divorce. The news had been announced to you by Javier when he entered the dimly lit living room on a Thursday night, looking paler than a ghost after what you had wrongly assumed to be a same-as-always phone conversation about football, work and going out for a beer in the near future. 

“No!” You had instinctively covered your mouth with your hand to suppress an animated gasp. Apparently, Mira had come clean about seeing another man a few days earlier and it only took shy of two days for their whole marriage to crumble. The thought was and is terrifying. 

It seems to dampen the mood between you and your husband significantly. There are more pregnant silences, longer stares, more hurried kisses, and worried faces in the middle of your daily routines that become opportunities for reflection when doing something mundane as folding laundry. However, the elephant in the room becomes most unbearable when Javier rolls off of you after making love to you a week after the news hit. 

He stares up at the ceiling and pants as he tries coming down from his high, reaching up to run his fingers through his slightly sweaty hair. You shift on your side of the bed to turn your body towards him, and gently lay a hand on his chest, “That was really good.”

“Hm? What?” He replies, “Oh right, yeah.”

“Honey,” you furrow your brow, “I don’t think I particularly like having sex with you if you’re not here with me.” 

“Lo siento (I’m sorry),” his eyes find yours, his voice is genuine, “I can’t stop thinking about Jon and Mira.”

Your eyes soften at that. It is nice to know that he is as shaken by this happening as you are, and in such close proximity to your own marriage too even if it technically has nothing to do with you. It suddenly hits why it has been so hard to start up a conversation about it. 

“Me either,” you sigh and scratch his chest gently with your nails and lay your head on his shoulder. He takes hold of your wrist and rubs the back of your hand with his thumb in soothing circles, “I can’t believe they ended up like that, who would have thought?”

“And Ava?” Javier sounds devastated and turns his head toward yours so he can rest his lips in your hair. 

“She must be so confused,” you mumble back, lost in thought. Ava is Mira and Jonathan’s daughter who sometimes has play dates with Inés, and to think that she has to deal with her parents not being able to work as a couple, especially since Mira apparently had to go sleep with someone else, is a scenario that you find nauseating when your brain automatically starts imagining your own children in the same scenario. You don’t think Lucas would ever forgive you if you caused that much hurt to his father, “I don’t know what Mira was thinking. Ava has to deal with her mom having hurt her dad. Why would she put her through that?”

“Jonathan said she’s in love with this new guy,” Javier argues. 

“I suppose sometimes you just fall in love with someone else,” you say without any emotion in your voice except for maybe a hint of disgust. 

“Are you happy? With me?” The question has been looming over the both of you since the news hit. It was only a matter of time before one of you would start reassessing your own marriage. 

You lift your head up to look Javier straight in the eyes, and even if you knew it was coming, you still feel taken aback by how much it makes your guts turn to even be told to consider it. The answer is so clear, “What? I—“

“That’s not an immediate yes,” he furrows his brow in concern. 

“Don’t be absurd,” you say back, “I love you so much it’s ridiculous.”

“But do you ever worry about us?” He continues. 

“This is the part where you say you love me too,” you joke without much humor in your voice. 

“Are you kidding? I’m nothing without you,” he lifts the hand you still have on his chest to kiss your palm, “Te amo tanto (I love you so much) but I need you to answer the question.”

“I don’t ever worry about us, no,” you answer truthfully and Javier visibly relaxes, “I know you. I trust you. It doesn’t even occur to me that I could have anything different in my life, you know? It feels like I would always have found you somewhere else if not here.”

“Perhaps they looked for something else when things became routine,” he suggests, resting your hand against his cheek.

“It’s never routine for me to tell you I love you,” you tell him with a little smile, “There’s no going back to the way things were before you.” 

“The idea of having anything else but this,” he trails off for a second, weighing his words and reaching out for you with his free hand. He cups the back of your knee to pull your leg over his naked body, “It’s just not in the cards for me. I’ll never love anyone the way that I love you.”

“Is this code for you’re stuck with me?” You crawl closer to kiss him on the mouth and tighten the leg around him, “Hm?”

“Sí (yes), you’re stuck with me, baby,” he says against your lips. 

“Do you promise that?” You whisper after pulling back a little, smiling softly as you look down at his mouth. He initiates another kiss after nodding. 

You kiss for a while without rushing it, deeply until you share each breath in your intense embrace. Despite just having had sex with him fifteen minutes ago, you want him again in a way that has him as hard as when you first got together. He fucks you open slowly with you on your back, makes you come on his cock with an almost pained tone in your whimper. He is everywhere on you, soaking you in love. The way he gasps along with you as he comes inside of you has your heart pounding in your chest. 

“No quiero a nadie más que a ti (I don’t want anyone else other than you),” he says when basking in the afterglow. However, you have already gotten out of bed to get cleaned up in the bathroom. In contrast to your husband, your afterglow is replaced by anxiety that you have just promised isn’t there. 

“I don’t want to end up like that,” you say while peeing with the door open. Javier moves on the bed to be able to look at you. 

“We won’t, te lo prometo (I promise you that),” he is quick to answer. You try to give him a smile but he notices the way you falter, “Anything you want to talk about? Anything on your mind?"

“They used to be so happy,” you sigh deeply and get up after finishing your business. You move to the sink and start washing your hands, your back suddenly towards him, “Makes me wonder if we're strong enough to weather anything.”

You hear the weight of him shift on the mattress and a second later, the soft pads of his feet across the tiled bathroom floor. He is behind you, looking at you in the mirror. You feel grateful for the sincerity in his eyes.

“Baby,” he tuts, wrapping his strong arms around you from behind and resting his chin on your shoulder. One of his hands goes down to lay on your stomach right below your belly button. You have just started to show, and the both of you have already talked about how early it is that your belly has started protruding but none of you have any clue why yet as you haven’t had your first scan. 

Javier kisses your bare shoulder, “This is my life, and I love it, and I would never hurt you… I trust you not to hurt me too.”

You silently turn off the tap to dry your hands but Javier doesn’t let you move. He lifts your chin so he can stare at you in the mirror, “I need you to trust me when I say that ten years with you have only made me want ten, twenty, thirty more. I love you. I choose you every day. Jonathan and Mira didn’t choose each other. We’re not them.”

“I love you too,” you shake your hands dry instead and then turn in your husband’s arms. You hug him close and he walks you out of the bathroom whilst still holding you tightly. 

“Three kids so far,” he reminds you whilst guiding you back to bed, “A decade down the line. We must be doing something right.”

“But what if—“

“You worry too much, mi vida (my life),” he says and smacks your ass as you crawl back into your bed. You glare back at him but he just snickers while crawling in too, “Get comfortable and go to sleep.”

“I don’t know if I can,” you say truthfully.

“Of course, you can,” Javier joins you under the covers. He lays down close to you and without saying a word, reaches out to gently and repeatedly stroke his hand over your hair. The warmth of his palm soothes your worry, each caress easing away the weight in your chest. 

You wonder if Mira left because Jonathan didn’t do this sort of thing anymore. Javier has done it for ten years. This fact makes sleep find you easily.

.

.

If you would like to follow my writing then go follow @notjustjavierpena-fics and turn on notifications 💖❤️

[rafedarling]

𝐩𝐨𝐝𝐜𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐜𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐫𝐨𝐧

pairing: actor!rafe cameron x actress!reader

summary: after a few months of marriage, actors rafe and you decide to give your fans an intimate glimpse into your lives through a podcast. during the episode, you both share details about your relationship, clear up rumors, and reflect on how their lives have changed since getting married. as you and rafe casually chat about your future, subtle hints about starting a family emerge, creating anticipation about an exciting new chapter in your lives. your love, chemistry, and heartfelt moments shine through, making their bond unmistakable.

warning(s): english is not my native language. fluff, sweet moments, hints of pregnancy(?), intimate and emotional conversation.

au: like, reblog, comment and feedback are much appreciated. taglist | tagging: @rubixgsworld @rafeyslamb @bisexualcvnt @tracymbcm @maybankslover @stuffyownswrld @mileyraes @enjoymyloves @akobx @noobmazter69 @xoxohoneymoongirl @wearemadeofstardust0 @saviorcomplexrry @littlelamy

The camera’s red recording light blinked on, signaling the start of something you and Rafe had talked about for weeks. It was your first podcast together—an idea that had sprung up during a quiet evening at home, when both of you had been reflecting on how much your fans adored seeing you two together off-screen. You were both actors, co-stars in several hit films, but it was your real-life relationship that captivated audiences the most. Everyone wanted to know what married life was like for two of Hollywood’s biggest stars.

“Alright, we’re live,” Rafe said, his voice warm and easy as he leaned back in his chair, one arm resting behind you. He always had this effortless charm, and being in front of the camera—whether for work or something personal like this—seemed second nature to him.

You smiled at the camera, tucking a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “Hey, guys! Welcome to the first episode of In the Limelight with me and my amazing husband, Rafe.” You threw him a playful look, and he grinned in return.

“Yep, we’re finally doing this,” Rafe added, his tone light and casual. “We’ve been talking about starting this podcast for a while now, and after a few months of marriage—and a ton of fan questions—we thought, why not let you all in on what’s really going on with us?”

You both exchanged a glance, silently acknowledging the curiosity that had been swirling around your relationship since the moment your engagement was announced, followed by your wedding and now, of course, the inevitable rumors that always followed celebrity couples.

“So,” you began, pulling out your phone where you had saved some of the fan-submitted questions. “Let’s jump right in. First question is a classic: ‘How’s married life treating you two?’”

Rafe chuckled, reaching over to take your hand. “I’ll take this one,” he said, squeezing your fingers gently. “Honestly? It’s been amazing. I mean, I know everyone says the first year is the hardest, but for us, it’s been pretty smooth. I think it helps that we were friends for so long before we got married.”

You nodded, agreeing wholeheartedly. “Yeah, I think the fact that we already knew each other so well made the transition easier. We already knew what it was like to work together, to spend crazy hours on set, and to deal with the ups and downs of Hollywood life. But marriage… it’s brought a whole new level of closeness.”

Rafe smiled at you, that sweet, loving look that always made your heart skip a beat. “It’s the little things, you know?” he continued, his voice softening. “Like coming home after a long day of filming and just… being together. We don’t need to do anything fancy. It’s those quiet moments—cooking dinner, binge-watching movies on the couch—that make everything feel right.”

You laughed softly, resting your head on his shoulder for a moment. “Yeah, we’ve definitely embraced the whole ‘stay-at-home’ vibe. It’s funny because people probably think our lives are all red carpets and glamorous events, but the reality is… we love just being home.”

Rafe kissed the top of your head, his arm wrapping around you a bit tighter. “Exactly. It’s about finding peace in the chaos.”

You looked back at the camera, your smile widening. “So, to answer that question—married life has been pretty perfect so far.”

Rafe leaned in toward the mic, lowering his voice as if sharing a secret with the audience. “Well, except for the fact that Y/N snores.”

Your eyes widened in playful shock as you turned to him, smacking his arm lightly. “I do not snore!”

He laughed, raising his hands in defense. “Okay, maybe not ‘snore,’ but you definitely make these cute little noises when you sleep.”

“Nice save,” you teased, rolling your eyes at him. But there was no denying the warmth that filled you when Rafe brought up these intimate, everyday moments. It reminded you of how special your bond truly was.

The questions kept coming in, most of them light and fun. You and Rafe shared stories about working on set together, how you navigated hectic filming schedules, and how you always made time for each other no matter how busy life got.

But then came the question that made both of you pause, even though you’d expected it.

“Alright, here’s one we’ve seen floating around a lot lately,” you said, glancing at Rafe before reading it aloud. “‘There’s been a lot of talk on social media lately about Y/N being pregnant. Can you guys confirm or deny?’”

Rafe let out a small chuckle, running a hand through his hair. “Ah, the baby question. We knew it was coming.”

You smiled softly, feeling the weight of the question settle between you. It wasn’t a complete surprise—rumors had been swirling for weeks now, especially after a few public appearances where you’d been wearing looser outfits. It seemed like everyone was waiting for the announcement, but you and Rafe hadn’t decided if you were ready to share that part of your lives just yet.

“For now,” you began, choosing your words carefully, “we’re just enjoying being married and taking things one step at a time. But…”

Rafe interjected, his voice gentle but firm. “But, yeah, we’ve definitely talked about the future. And when the time is right, we’ll be more than ready for that next chapter.”

You turned to him, catching the way his eyes softened when he talked about the future. It wasn’t the first time you’d had this conversation—late-night talks in bed, lying side by side, imagining what it would be like to have a family. It was something you both wanted deeply, and while you weren’t officially sharing any news, you both knew it was only a matter of time before that dream became a reality.

The fans were sharp—they’d probably pick up on the subtle hints you were dropping. And honestly, you were okay with that. There was a certain excitement in knowing that your fans were part of this journey with you, even if they didn’t know all the details yet.

Rafe glanced at you, his thumb gently brushing over your knuckles. “We’ve got some pretty big plans for the future,” he said, his voice taking on that playful, teasing tone again. “But we’ll let you guys know when the time comes.”

You laughed softly, leaning against his shoulder with a smile, savoring the moment. The warmth between you two was palpable, even through the screen, and you knew that your fans would feel it, too.

“Yeah,” you added, “we’ll keep you guys posted. But for now, we’re just really happy with where we are.”

Rafe’s hand never left yours, and the way he looked at you, with so much love and tenderness, made your heart flutter. There was no rush—you both knew that when the time was right, everything would fall into place. For now, though, the peace and joy of simply being together were enough.

“And,” Rafe chimed in, a mischievous glint in his eye, “in the meantime, we’ve got plenty of other exciting things going on to keep us busy.”

You gave him a playful nudge. “Oh, you mean like actually doing the dishes? Because that would be pretty exciting.”

Rafe laughed, shaking his head. “Okay, fine, I’ll step up my dishwashing game. But I was talking more about the new projects we’re working on.”

You nodded, turning back to the camera. “Right! So, we do have some big news on the professional front. Rafe just signed on to do this incredible action film, and I’m working on a drama that’s been in the works for a while now.”

Rafe leaned in, clearly proud. “Yeah, Y/N’s got a lead role in a movie that’s going to blow people away. Trust me, I’ve read the script—it’s phenomenal. I’m already jealous of her co-star.”

You laughed at his fake pout, knowing exactly what he meant. “It’s just work, babe,” you teased, raising an eyebrow.

“I know, I know,” he said, his voice softening. “But it’s hard not to be a little protective, you know? I’m lucky enough to have you as my wife, so I can’t help it.”

Your heart swelled at his words, and you couldn’t resist leaning over to kiss his cheek. “You’re the sweetest. But I promise, no one compares to you.”

He smiled, that signature Rafe grin that made your knees weak even after all this time. “I’m holding you to that.”

As the conversation flowed, you both eased into talking about your careers and the delicate balance of being in the same industry while maintaining a strong, healthy relationship.

“Honestly,” Rafe said, his voice thoughtful, “the biggest challenge has been time. We’re both so busy, and sometimes it’s hard to line up our schedules. But we’ve learned to prioritize our time together. Like, when we’re both home, it’s our time. No work, no distractions—just us.”

You nodded in agreement. “Yeah, that’s been the key. It’s easy to get caught up in the whirlwind of our careers, but at the end of the day, we’re each other’s biggest supporters. We make it work because we want to.”

Rafe’s hand slid from yours to rest on your knee, a gesture that felt grounding, reassuring. “And we’ve also learned how to compromise. Sometimes that means I’m on set a little longer, and other times, she’s off filming for weeks at a time. But we always find a way to make it work.”

You smiled, thinking about how true that was. There were days when the distance felt hard—especially during long shoots in different countries—but no matter where you were, you always found time to talk, to check in, and to remind each other of what really mattered.

“That’s another question we got a lot,” you said, glancing at your phone. “How do we handle being apart for so long during filming?”

Rafe leaned forward, his eyes serious but soft. “It’s not easy, but it helps that we trust each other completely. I know that no matter where she is or what she’s doing, we’re solid. And we make the most of the time we do have together.”

“Exactly,” you added. “We also try to visit each other on set whenever possible. Even if it’s just for a weekend, those little moments make a huge difference.”

Rafe’s expression turned playful again. “And FaceTime helps. A lot.”

You laughed, nodding in agreement. “Definitely. Technology is a lifesaver.”

The two of you continued to chat about the nuances of your life together—how you balanced fame with privacy, how you navigated the ups and downs of being in the public eye, and how, at the end of the day, your relationship was built on love, trust, and a shared sense of humor.

“So,” Rafe said, glancing at the clock on the wall, “before we wrap up, we have time for one more question.”

You scanned through the remaining questions, your eyes landing on one that made your heart skip a beat. You could feel the weight of it as you read aloud, “‘What’s next for the Camerons? Any big plans for the future?’”

There was a beat of silence between you, a kind of unspoken understanding that hung in the air. You knew what the fans were really asking. They wanted to know about the next chapter in your lives—the one that, while not confirmed, was slowly taking shape in your hearts and minds.

Rafe looked at you, his gaze soft and filled with something deeper, something that made you feel completely seen. He cleared his throat, his hand still resting on your knee. “Well… without giving too much away… we’ve definitely been thinking about the future. And we’re really excited about what’s coming next.”

You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you as you nodded. “Yeah, we have some big things planned. But we’re taking our time and making sure that when the moment’s right, we’re ready.”

Rafe’s eyes flickered with a knowing look, one that only you could interpret. “Let’s just say… the next chapter might be a little more family-oriented.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, and you couldn’t help but smile wider. The hints were subtle, but you knew your fans would pick up on them. And maybe that was okay. You and Rafe were on the verge of something new, something exciting. And while you weren’t ready to make any big announcements just yet, the thought of it—of starting a family together—was something that filled you both with a sense of joy and anticipation.

As the podcast came to a close, you both thanked your fans for tuning in and promised there would be more episodes to come. Rafe leaned over to turn off the camera, and when the red light finally dimmed, he looked at you with that same loving expression he always had.

“You ready for that next chapter?” he asked, his voice soft, but full of warmth.

You smiled, leaning into him, feeling completely at peace. “With you? Always.”

Rafe kissed your forehead, his arms wrapping around you as you sat there in the quiet of your home studio. The future was bright, and whatever came next, you knew you’d face it together—hand in hand, just like always.

[flwernyrvie]

𝗛𝗲𝗮𝗱𝗰𝗮𝗻𝗼𝗻𝘀 𝗳𝗼𝗿 𝗯𝗿𝗼𝘁𝗵𝗲𝗿!𝗝𝗮𝗰𝗮𝗲𝗿𝘆𝘀 𝗩𝗲𝗹𝗮𝗿𝘆𝗼𝗻

ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ!: smut, mentions of pregnancy, possessive!Jacaerys, incest, Reader has long silver hair but dark brown eyes, a year younger than Jace, reader likes snakes, both characters are 18+!!

Pairings: Jacaerys Velaryon x sister!reader, mentions of betrothal to Daeron.

Author’s note!: This is also my first time writting here but I am currently writing on wattpad, its a Benjicot Blackwood x Velaryon!reader so check it out (@flwernyrvie).

Younger Jace!

Is definitely protective of you seeing how you’re the only daughter and only sister of theirs.

Would listen to you talk about your dreams and explanation of snakes and why they are so wonderful.

You two (including Luke) would always ride your dragons together.

Definitely would shield you away from the rumors about your parentage like how he do the same to Luke and Joffrey.

Would read to you about your favorite stories every night.

Spoils you in anyway he can. Like get you snakes from kingswood, or get your favorite flowers from the garden, etc.

Older Jace!

WOULD absolutely not let any men go near you, except of it’s luke or any of your brothers.

If someone did try and talk to you, he would pull you away from them making a excuse then would probably scold you for talking to another man and after the lectures he gave you, he would not leave your side.

He’ll probably glare at any men that would try to have an conversation with you and would tell them to fuck off in a nice way, (like the way he silenced Aegon in s1 ep 8?)

Of course Rhaenyra wouldn’t be too fond of knowing your brother is not letting you talk to other people and only to him and your siblings and would be rude to others when trying to have a nice conversation with you.

Of course this limitation of having the freedom to talk to people would affect you for finding a future husband but Jace doesn’t care about that because if your mother didn’t find any men to betrothed you to she’ll have to go to the obvious one, which is him.

Until your Grandsire announcement that you are to wed his youngest son, Daeron.

This made Jace angry that, that night after your grandsire made that announcement he marched his way to your chambers and fucked the living shit out of you. While whispering filthy things in your ear.

“How dare he betrothed you to him?” “Does he not know you belong to me?” “I’ll make him know.. we’ll make him know won’t we? Dōna mandia.” “Fuck we better stay quiet Issa jorrāelagon..” “You’ll give me my heirs, won’t you? Issa dōna mandia.” “Daeron will never make you feel this way, only I can.”

He didn’t stopped until the sun came up making sure his strong seed was planted on your womb, creating a life.

Jacaerys didn’t want to do that of course but he was desperate, desperate to have you, desperate to spend his entire life with you, desperate to have you be his wife and be your husband, desperate to make you happy knowing damn well their uncle cannot make you happy as he can.

One moons after that fateful night, your mother noticed how you’ve yet not bleed and is showing the signs of pregnancy. She brushed this off knowing you wouldn’t do such a thing but after another month went by she called you into your chambers to confront you.

You confessed and told your mother everything and Rhaenyra was not happy.

First of all, Jacaerys ruined you and he impregnated you nonetheless, second you are already betrothed to Daeron and was expected to marry him next year.

Daemon however found this amusing and even laughed at his step-sons boldness. He requested that you and Jacaerys should be married or else whispers might happen if not.

So that’s what happened, in less than a month you and Jace are married. You two of course had a secret wedding but when your grandsire found out Rhaenyra married you to Jacaerys he got mad but he cannot undo it now as you both already consummated the marriage.

Jacaerys however was more than happy at this. He gets to have you and you get to have him, a happy ending for all.

Seven moons later, you gave birth to your son Laenor. Two moons early to everyone’s shock.

[bejeweledblondie]

König Headcannons

A/N: just like Ghost’s headcannon’s I’m taking inspiration from my experiences living on a military base

Warnings: NSFW

König x F! Reader

• König initially first met you while you were volunteering with the United Nations & Doctors Without Borders

• you were administering vaccines to children in the Middle East, & providing medical services to the underprivileged communities

• he was awe of your empathy & kindness towards these children, you treated them like they were your own & took your job super seriously

• KorTac was providing security for the community from potential terrorist attacks, as taking any western countries citizen for ransom seemed enticing

• After a surprise attack on the camp that was set up, he immediately brought you to safety & held you as you sobbed into chest out of fear for your life & all those innocent civilians that caught in the gunfire

• “shhh, schatz it’ll be okay” he whispered to you

• he finally asked you out after months of waiting for the right time

• you were giving him his flu shot when he asked you out

• your first date was in his off post apartment, he had cooked you homemade Austrian food

• his cooking is divine, he always chef’s it up in the kitchen

• you guys moved in only a few months into dating (which seems early but in the military world you’re slacking)

• he proposed with his Oma’s ring

• he also asked your parents over FaceTime for your hand in marriage, they were reluctant but he was very persuasive

• you’d probably wind up working at the hospital on post, & the soldiers that come in 100% know you’ll take care of them

• during Christmas leave both of your families meet in Vienna for Christmas time, I mean cmon Vienna is gorgeous at Christmas

• you two announce your pregnancy at Christmas dinner

• his Oma jumped up & ran over to hug you

• this man’s genes are freakin strong

• you definitely get pregnant with twins

• König is deployed when you find out & you tell him over FaceTime

• he cried pure tears of joy & his whole team celebrated

• due to the fact he’s like a giant he produces large babies

• you’d have to get a c-section for the birth because of it, & König makes it in the last second.

• he still had his hood on & was in his tactical gear scaring the entire nursing staff

• imagine their surprise when he just asks where his wife is

• you have a girl & a boy

• they’d definitely be named after his grandparents

• he sings lullaby’s in Austrian to them to introduce them to his home country’s culture

• he hates leaving for deployments now that they’re born & he definitely became more ruthless on the battlefield due to it

• he 100% would bring the babies to work whenever it was a mandatory fun day or a super relaxed day at work

• these hardened military men would be all over your babies & arguing as to who gets to hold them next

• they’re very well protected & König made sure of that

• he’s a family man at heart & he will do anything to protect them

✨NSFW ✨

• you weren’t very experienced when you met König & when you first saw his cock you were in absolute disbelief a man could be that hung

• you let your intrusive thoughts win & asked if he’d fit inside of you

•it took a lot of foreplay for him to fully fit snug in you

• he definitely would say the most absolutely filthy things in Austrian to you even if you understood them or not

• massive size & breeding kink

• he just loves how small your hands are compared to his cock you need both of them to jerk him off

• when he found out you were pregnant he was elated that his efforts worked out

• loved to see your body change & baby bump grow

• also loved how horny you were as a pregnancy symptom ( it killed him that you’d have to deal with that alone while he was deployed)

• like most military men he too has a collection of your nudes & plenty of videos of him fucking you

• he loves your hips & how wide they are to him it digs deep into the primal instinct of carrying his babies

• König is just as stealthy in bed as he is in on the battlefield

[bloogers-boogers]

This is apart from the comic but it's based on the whole force marriage concept but I can't take it off my head

Adam: "no fucking way! Are you fucking kidding me right now!??? *GROWL*"

To this, the doctor who announced Adam's pregnancy flee away to save his own ass.

Lucifer: *chuckles nervously* ...what? *gasp lightly in astonishment to himself*

Lucifer: "holy fuck."

Lucifer: "how the hell—!? How is that even possible!? *looks up in judgemental disbelief*"

Lucifer: "IT WAS JUST ONE TIME! DAD!"

Adam: "you can't always blame your dad for everything!"

Lucifer: "of course I can! This doesn't happen naturally you know!"

Adam: "I never asked for this! This wasn't part of the deal!"

Lucifer: "me neither!"

Adam: "I can't believe I'm carrying your spawn!"

Lucifer: *smiles nervously* it's not that bad..! Haha.. let's look at the bright side of this! *he knocks gently two times on Adam's stomach*

Lucifer: "knock knock, get it? Cause —! *he wrinkles his brows together with a even wider awkward smile seeing Adam glare even further down at him* cause.. I knocked you up.. hehe.."

Adam: *demonic powers coming out* LUCIFER!!

Lucifer: *putts immediately his hands up in surrender*

Adam: *tries to calm himself down but cracks his neck threatening while glaring at Lucifer, his voice distorted* and tell me. What IS the good side to this, Samael?

Lucifer: "oof.. using my real name on dis? Low blow but that's fine.. HA...ha..*whispers in a grumble*"

Lucifer: "ergh.. *thinks really hard of any goods but struggled very hard to find any* ... I.. can have a second chance on proving myself a better father..?

Adam: "THAT 'S BENEFICIAL FOR YOU!!!" *growls even louder before launching at Lucifer*

Lucifer: *dodges quickly before running away from a clearly furious Adam* WAIT! ADAM! I can't do shit to you knowing you're carrying! This is not fair!

Adam: "fuck you with your fairness!"

Adam: "this is hell, REMEMBER?" *smiles crooked as he said the same exact words Lucifer had firstly told him when he had just fallen* "Nothing. Is. Fair."

Lucifer: "AAAAAAAAAAAA *literally screaming and crying as he kept running around trying to dodge Adam's attacks*

[gingiesworld]

Meet Me In The Meadow

Pairings : Wanda Maximoff x GN! Reader/Wanda Maximoff x Steve Rogers

Warnings: Infidelity. Smut. Amab! Reader. No happy ending.

Word Count: 4.6k

Taglist : @natashamaximoff-69 @canvascoloredin @wizardofstories @louxbloom @wandanats-goodgirl @the-ox-fan20 @ladyqueenxoxo @aemilia19 @wandaromamoff69 @mfd-101 @dorabledewdroop @marvelogic @belatrixdragon

18+ MINORS DNI

Wanda Maximoff, the only living daughter of Oleg and Iryna Maximoff, well respected entrepreneurs in Westview. However, they needed a means to stabilize their business, so they decided to marry off their 18 year old daughter to the son of Mr James Rogers, Steve. She was to move into the Rogers' estate at the announcement of the engagement. Of course, Steve was immediately taken by her beauty, Wanda remained unhappy with the situation. Soon, transforming into the role of the housewife, making sure that meals were prepared and ready on time for the men returning from a hard day at the office. She had still yet to meet her now husband's sibling.

"Y/N will be home soon." Mrs Rogers beamed as she prepared the house, making sure their room was clean and dust free upon awaiting their arrival.

"Y/N?" Wanda questioned.

"They are my mother's pride and joy." Steve scoffed as he cleaned his hunting rifle, Wanda suddenly became uneasy with his posture. "I followed father into the business while they followed our grandfather, mother's father into the confederate."

"So they are a soldier?" Wanda questioned as Steve grunted a yes. "That's amazing isn't it?"

"No!" He yelled as he looked up at her, disgust on her face. "They only did that to appease their mother's family and her roots. Their actions were completely selfish."

Wanda just nodded and left it at that, opting to help her mother in law with the household chores. What had made Steve more angry was to not be able to father a child. The couple's failed attempts at fertility played a role in his daily disappointments. Leading him to visit the local doctor, afraid of the outcome. He was told that he was either infertile or his wife was barren. Of course a woman's inability to reproduce was always frowned upon, but the inability for a man, a well respected man to reproduce was downright an embarrassment to the family name.

"When do you think we will be graced with small feet running around here?" Mrs Rogers asked as Wanda helped knead the dough.

"I don't know." Wanda sighed, although she was afraid of the inevitable, she was also relieved of the lack of pregnancy.

"Well, keep trying dear." She smiled. "It isn't likely that Y/N will pass down the gene to any children as they are in battle most of the time." Wanda only nodded as she put the dough in the oven to bake as she cleaned up her workspace before working on the stew, using the last of the game meat as Steve and Mr Rogers were going on a hunting trip.

As the hours passed, a sound of a carriage being pulled by horses filled the house. Mrs Rogers was excited to see her child after so many months apart.

"My darling child." She beamed as she practically ran down the stairs, cupping their face as she wore a smile on her face. "I missed you." They kissed her forehead before pulling her in for a hug.

"I got your letters." They informed her. "The news of home kept me from going insane." Their eyes moved to the brunette stood beside her husband. "You must be Wanda." They held their hand out for her to shake, which she did.

"Hello." She spoke shyly as they gave her a tender smile.

"I hope my brother treats you well." They spoke endearingly, earning a scoff from the man in question.

"My marriage does not regard you." He snarled before he disappeared inside as Y/N received a quick hug from their father. He cupped their face to get a better look at them.

"That is a new one." He gestured to the 2 inch long scar on their cheek.

"Another one to my collection." They spoke with pride as Mr Rogers patted their cheek, a proud smile on his face before he retreated inside. "I must bathe before we sit for dinner, mother." Y/N spoke up as she glanced at Wanda.

"Wanda will fill the tub dear." Wanda nodded and retreated to the bathroom, heating up water on the fire before filling the metal tub.

"Thank you." Y/N smiled as they entered the room. Wanda nodded shyly as she finished filling the tub.

"You're welcome." She whispered as she retrieved the fresh towels from the shelf and placed them on the stool. "Do you need my help to wash your back?" She asked as they smiled at her.

"You don't have to." They told her, grabbing the bar of soap and washing their arms. "I understand how being here must be uncomfortable, especially with being forced to marry someone whom you have no real feelings for."

"What makes you think I don't have feelings for Steve?" Wanda asked them as she tilted her head.

"I know very well that it was an arrangement between our fathers." They spoke with certainty as Wanda moved to sit on the stool. "I know they both prefer to put their business first, children second. That is why I joined the Confederacy."

"So you didn't want anything to do with the family business." Wanda noted as Y/N nodded.

"I hated the idea of my life being set out for me, so as soon as I turned 18, I signed my name." They told her. "I was sent on my first battle around the time of the engagement." They leaned forward slightly, giving Wanda a shy smile. "May I have your help?"

"Of course." Wanda never hesitated to help them, washing their back tenderly, taking in the scars that litter their body. "So you and I are the same age?" She questioned as they nodded.

"I am also surprised that you and my brother haven't birthed any children." They pointed out. "It usually occurs within the first year of marriage."

"Well, we aren't for a lack of trying." Wanda stated. "I guess that it is just not meant to be."

"I don't think that is the case." Y/N pointed out. "I think one of you may be unable to inherit an heir."

"You speak like you know." She chuckled as she massaged their shoulders subconsciously.

"I have been around many medical professionals and even some of the men I have come to call my family have had similar troubles." They told her.

"If I'm barren then." She whispered as her hands stopped moving, but remained on their shoulders. "I can't be shunned." She had tears in her eyes.

"You won't be." They told her, rising to their feet and stepping out of the now cold bath. "I'm sure it may happen soon." They turned to her as they picked up the towel from her lap. "Just relax. Maybe take a small getaway with Steve."

"I can't." She whispered as she looked up into their tender gaze. "I just." With that, she left the room as Y/N watched the door close, wondering if they may have overstepped.

The passing days, Wanda had avoided Y/N, although she would steal glances as they helped their mother around the house, doing the manly chores that both Steve and Mr Rogers would neglect. As Wanda was out feeding the chickens, Y/N had approached with the tools, heading over to fix the chicken coop.

"May I apologise Wanda." They spoke tenderly as they stood beside her.

"You haven't anything to apologise for." She told them as she looked up into their eyes. "I just had a lot to think about."

"Well, I still apologise." They spoke sincerely before moving to repair the coop.

"Why doesn't your father or Steve do any of the repairs around here?" Wanda questioned as she followed them.

"I guess having their business in town running smoothly is more important than a stable home." They informed her as they started to remove the old rotted planks of wood. "But, grandfather taught me all I know how to maintain a home." Wanda remained by their side and helped them as they spoke. "He was a respectable man. More respectable than father, although father is indeed a hypocrite."

"Why is that?" She questioned as they hammered the new plank on the coop.

"My mother's family was a military family. My Grandfather had no real business talents, so marrying my mother had no real benefits to the business." They told her. "My father fell in love with my mother, he went against everything his father taught him and married her."

"But he decided to change that with Steve." Wanda spoke bitterly.

"Exactly." Y/N nodded. "Steve was in love with the Carter girl. Margaret I think her name was."

"I think he still might be." Wanda admitted. "Neither of us have spoken those three words to each other." She admitted sadly. "That's because neither of us feel that way. I don't love your brother, I don't love this life." Y/N was quick to wipe away her tears, caressing her cheek softly as they looked into her eyes.

"Isn't there a way for you to escape this life?" They whispered as Wanda shook her head.

"Only death." She whispered as she sighed, relishing in the warm touch of their hands. "But I don't want to die."

"You won't die." They told her firmly. "Come to me, whenever you feel like you need someone to talk to. I will be here for you Wanda. Anyway, you need me."

That was the moment Wanda thought more about her feelings, how she never felt any true emotion for Steve, how she hated her life and it was only really her mother in law and now Y/N who made her feel at home.

"We have a party, a business party and I need you and Wanda to accompany your mother and I." Mr Rogers informed Steve as they sat in the drawing room while having a nightcap.

"Of course father." Steve smiled as he sipped on his whiskey, the two talking about the party that was coming up. "Is Y/N invited?" He questioned as his father shook his head no.

"They never wanted anything to do with the business." He spoke hastily. "They wanted to follow your mother's father into the confederacy. A disappointment to the family name really." Wanda's heart broke at hearing those words. Y/N was the kindest soul she had ever met, considering the horrors they have experienced on the battlefield.

The evening of the party arrived, Wanda walked down the stairs from her shared quarters with her husband. He just hummed before heading out to the awaiting carriage, sighing in disappointment until her eyes met Y/N's tender gaze.

"You look stunning Wanda." They told her softly, a blush soon coated her cheeks as her stomach filled with dancing butterflies.

"Thank you." She whispered before she headed out to the carriage. Joining her husband and his parents in the carriage. She could sense a bitter atmosphere between Mr and Mrs Rogers, especially as Mr Rogers and Steve spoke enthusiastically about the guests of tonight's party.

"Your parents will be joining us in tonight's festivities." Mr Rogers informed her, she only smiled with a nod of acknowledgement before she looked outside of the window, watching as the new brick buildings lined up on the road.

"I miss them." She whispered as the carriage came to a halt.

"Maybe we can invite them over when we have some news." Steve suggested as Wanda just nodded her head, an unsure smile gracing her lips as she took Steve's hand as she stepped out of the carriage, looking up at the building she has only been a handful of times, the first was upon meeting her husband.

She followed her husband and his parents inside, seeing as the party was already in full swing. Many men and women enjoyed the spread that was placed on the tables with fine wine and whiskey.

"Wanda darling." Wanda heard her mother's voice before she turned around to face her. Her arms opened as she welcomed her daughter into a loving embrace.

"I've missed you mama." Wanda whispered as Iryna cupped her daughter's cheeks.

"I've missed you too dear." Iryna told her honestly, placing a tender kiss to her forehead before she greeted her son in law and his parents. "Don't they have a second child?" Iryna asked as she remained beside her daughter.

"They do." Wanda confirmed. "But they are different mama, they are kind, caring and selfless. The complete opposite to Mr Rogers and Steve."

"How are things going with him?" She asked in a hushed tone, ushering Wanda out onto the empty porch.

"Fine." She answered curtly. "We don't click mama."

"I know dear." Iryna gave her an apologetic look. "If it were up to me, I would have had you marry the person who you loved wholeheartedly, and not this arrangement your father had wanted."

The party went on with Wanda remaining near her mother as Steve remained with Mr Rogers, talking with investors and business partners, while Y/N remained home alone, taking the opportunity to fix the barn in the moonlight.

They had always enjoyed the simplicity of the little things. The crickets singing into the quiet night. The moon and stars illuminating the horizon in a soft and gentle light. The silence though seemed almost deafening. Their ears soon picked up the sound of the carriage pulling in, the neighing of the horses and the sound of hooves filled the silent air.

"Y/N is in the barn." Mrs Rogers observed as she heard the sound of the hammer. "Wanda dear, may you go and check on them?"

"She doesn't need to, mother." Steve tried as she just gave him a stern glare.

"I don't care for your evening trists, Steve. I want to know if my child is ok." She told him firmly. "You can help me with warming the house." He looked to his father who only remained silent. Mr Rogers knew better than to go against his wife, so Steve was left alone. Of course Wanda had to fight the smile growing as she felt such relief. She was the first out of the carriage, heading straight to the barn as Steve watched her.

"I don't like their relationship father." He stated with anger in his tone.

"It is nothing son. She is your wife and she will give birth to your children." Mr Rogers assured him.

"I don't think so, father." Steve spoke sadly. "We have tried, every night we have tried and nothing. Maybe one of us is unable to bear a child."

"Well, you know what the outcome of that is, my son." He told him firmly. "You need to father a child, preferably with your wife or you will be shunned from society." Steve just nodded before helping his mother light the fires, a warm amber soon lit up the rooms as he continued his mother's request.

"Y/N, your mother asked me to check on you." Wanda spoke as she spotted Y/N up on a ladder.

"Wanda!" They smiled as they sooned climbed down. "It seems I may have gotten carried away with the time."

"That's quite alright." She smiled at them, her eyes soon catching their sweaty form. "Your mother was just concerned."

"How was the party?" They asked her as she sighed.

"It was ok." She told them. "It was nice seeing my family again but being called Steve Rogers' little wife is just."

"Not what you want." They observed as the two sat on a hay bail.

"No." She whispered. "I always dreamed I would find my better half one day, fall in love and start a family." Y/N listened as she spoke, never daring to interrupt her spoken thoughts. "What about you?" She asked them as they gazed into her eyes, love and adoration was all she saw.

"I'm afraid that my happiness and future is short lived." They told her honestly. "I have fallen for someone."

"Who?" She asked them.

"It doesn't matter anyway." They told her. "She is married."

"She must be amazing." Wanda spoke as Y/N nodded.

"You are." They whispered, eyes widening as Wanda's cheeks coated red. "I'm sorry. That was out of line." Wanda watched as they stood up, soon following them and turning them to face her.

"Kiss me." She whispered as she cupped their cheek, Y/N searched for any signs of doubt but found none, leaning in and lips meeting in a tender kiss. Wanda sighed as the feeling, her entire being electrified at this simple act. As the kiss deepened, their hearts beat together in unison. That was the moment Wanda realised what it felt like to be in love. To truly be in love but unable to be with that person.

Since that first kiss, the two would have stolen moments together, she had also opted to help Y/N with repairs around the estate as Steve and Mr Rogers were in the village, tending to work and important meetings.

"I am just heading out into town." Mrs Rogers informed the two of them.

"Ok mother, be safe." Y/N spoke with a smile before kissing her head. "I am going to show Wanda more of the land, where Steve and I used to roam."

"Ok dear." She smiled between the two before bidding a final farewell. Once the two were alone, Wanda was quick to kiss them passionately, her arms around their neck as their tongues danced together.

"We need to be more careful." Y/N told her, their tender eyes meeting hers.

"I want you Y/N." She whispered as they soon led her outside. Walking along the dirt road until they came up on the meadow surrounding a lake.

"But you are married to my brother." They whispered as Wanda pulled them towards her. "And I hate that he has you first."

"You have my heart." Wanda confessed as she pulled away from them, her hands started to remove her dress as they watched her movements. "Since our first kiss, Steve and I haven't been intimate, because I don't want him."

"But this is forbidden." They whispered as they watched the fabric fall away from her, her milky skin glowing beautifully in the sunlight. "And I." They stepped closer as she removed her undergarments, standing before them, completely nude. "You're taking my breath away."

"Make love to me." She whispered. "Here, in the wildflowers." They never spoke another word, fulfilling her request by kissing her hard, their hands gripping her ass as she moaned at their hardened member. Soon helping them remove their own clothes, the two soon lay down in the wildflowers.

"You are absolutely breathtaking." They whispered as they hovered above her, taking in her natural beauty as their hand softly grazed her skin, goosebumps rising at the touch. Wanda caressed their face before they leaned down and captured her lips once more, a kiss so tender and passionate, their feelings were being poured into each movement. Each touch ignited something within, even as they reached between her thighs, causing a gasp to leave her lips at the sensations.

Y/N's fingers thrust deep inside her as she held onto their shoulders, keeping their body close and touching hers.

Once she had come, she was quick to kiss them sloppily, their hips pressed together as they kissed. The friction between the two, sweat building up as they thrust their hardened member deep inside, their head in the crook of her neck as they continued their movements. Her legs wrapped around them as her hands scratched down their back, soon feeling them cum within her aching core as she soon followed. Once they had both calmed down, Y/N brushed her hair from her face, taking in her flushed state.

"That was how it was always supposed to be." She whispered as they nodded.

"An act so intimate should only feel as amazing as the first time with someone you love deeply." They spoke as she smiled, whimpering once they pulled out. "We should clean up." They whispered as she nodded, watching as they grabbed their clothes, helping Wanda into hers before getting dressed themselves. That was the start of their intimate moments, finding themselves alone as much as they could, to relish in sins of the flesh.

"Run away with me." They whispered as they lay naked in the meadow, Wanda's head on their chest as their fingers danced over her skin.

"What?" She questioned.

"Let's run away together." They told her. "You and I, get away from this place, away from Steve."

"We can't do that." She scrambled to her feet. "I am married to your brother!"

"We are in love, Wanda." They told her confidently, watching as she put her own clothes on. "You don't love Steve."

"He is my husband. Your brother." She told them firmly.

"I know but." They tried as she shook her head no.

"We can't." She whispered as tears fell down her cheeks, her lips pursed to hold in the sobs that were begging to escape. "We can't." With that she walked away, heading back towards the Rogers estate, back to her husband.

As the days past, Y/N tried to have even a small conversation with Wanda, but she always left the room. So they decided to write a note for her, leaving it in her favorite book on her bedside before they packed enough clothes for the two of them.

But what they never expected was Steve to find the note, searching for his own poetry book, he came across the note.

Meet me in the meadow my love. Tonight at sundown, we can be free. And wild like the wildflowers.

I love you with all of my heart and soul Wanda.

Y/N Rogers.

Anger coursing through his veins as he reread the note, over and over again. It wasn't that he was upset by the possible infidelity, although it answered many questions. He felt more betrayed, especially by someone who he used to hold so dear growing up.

"Mother is requesting us for dinner." Wanda informed him as he looked up at her, glaring at the woman he called his wife. "What is that?" He never spoke a word but pushed it into her chest before walking away, grabbing his hunting rifle from beside the door before leaving the house.

Y/N sat in the grass as they looked over the lake, a smile on their face as they felt the evening air surrounding them and filling their lungs.

"I can't believe you." Steve uttered as he stood behind them. "You and my wife!"

"I can explain." They scrambled to their feet, hands in the air as the rifle was aimed at their chest. "I love her." They spoke sincerely. "I can't apologise for it nor can I change it."

"She's mine!" He yelled as he looked at them, tears stinging his eyes as he took a deep breath. "We were so close. What happened to us." He whispered as Y/N shook their head, unsure of how to answer. "We used to play here when we were little. Swim in the lake. We were best friends. It was you and me!"

"Steve." Y/N tried as they stepped closer. "You and I grew up, went our separate ways. You hated me before you found the note about Wanda and I." Steve shook his head as Y/N spoke. "We are two different people, we have both joined different paths. You followed father into his business. The family business which I am not a part of because I chose to go down a different path. That's what happened to you and I, we just aren't those same careless children anymore."

"I loved you." Steve snarled. "I was so fucking proud to call you my sibling, but this." He shook his head as Wanda raced against time to get to the meadow. "I fucking hate you. I have never hated anyone as much as I do you."

"I know." They nodded with a sad smile. "And I know you want to kill me, otherwise you would have just punched me and been done with this."

"I do." He admitted. "I want to kill you. Kill her too, but I can't kill her, especially since she is carrying your child."

"What?" Y/N whispered as he nodded with tears streaming down his face.

"Yes, it seems that I am the infertile one out of the two of us. I am the reason we weren't getting pregnant." He told them. "And I figured that out because we haven't been intimate in months. She keeps giving me excuses and now I know why."

"I." Y/N tried as they started to realise the effects of the whole situation. "You never loved her." They pointed out which just made Steve angrier.

"I don't care! She was my wife!! Mine!! And you betrayed me!!! Your own brother!!!" He yelled as Wanda soon caught sight of the two of them, trying to run faster as she noticed the rifle in Steve's hand. Before she even got close, she heard the gunshot, soon watching as Y/N fell to the ground, clutching their chest.

"NO!!!" She yelled as Steve turned around, reloading the rifle before aiming it at himself.

"I'm sorry Wanda." He whispered as he pulled the trigger, laying lifeless just inches away from a dying Y/N.

"My love." Wanda got onto her knees, trying to help them stop the bleeding. "Please stay with me."

"Meet me in the meadow." They whispered as she nodded, tears streaming down her face.

"I'll meet you in the meadow, at sundown." She whispered as they smiled up at her.

"Please look after our child." They croaked as they started to choke on their own blood. "Please make sure they live the life we wanted for them, a life of their own choosing."

"I will." She nodded as Y/N smiled up at her.

"I love you." They whispered as she kissed their lips one last time.

"I love you more." She sobbed as they took their last breath.

"No." She heard Mr and Mrs Rogers from behind her. Mr Rogers instantly went to his son as Mrs Rogers gripped Y/N's shirt, crying for her children.

As the family mourned, Wanda moved back home to be with her mother. Although everything seemed bleak, she had her baby to think of, her's and Y/N's child. She was free to raise it as the two had intended, letting them choose their own destiny, find the love that Wanda found in Y/N freely.

She would visit the meadow frequently, speaking with Y/N as she felt at peace within the wildflowers. Always telling their child stories of the fleeting moments she shared with Y/N.

"Goodnight mama." Their child spoke as she tucked them in, placing a gentle kiss upon their forehead.

"Goodnight sweetheart." She whispered as she closed the door. Everyday their child grew, every day she saw Y/N more and more with their child. From their caring eyes to their mischievous smile.

Heading straight to the porch, looking up at the starry night sky, her thoughts filled with the thoughts of the love she shared with Y/N. Although it was brief, it was unbreakable, flowing through the wildflowers freely.