#i hope you like it dearest wife

[chronicowboy]

but when i tried to love him i loved at the wrong time

this is a two for one spec inspired by this post and my long lost love trapped dads

any complaints about this fic can and should be directed to @evankinard who bullied me into writing this for her after i ruined her day with a single dm. love you bby <3

Eddie breaks apart a little the moment Buck disappears from view, lets himself feel the wound in his side as an excuse not to feel the big unwieldy thing unfolding in his chest like a colonising panic. He hadn't wanted to leave him, not after half an hour trapped in that smoky room clinging to each other to ground themselves in the reality they were trapped in, but Buck had made several stubborn and convincing arguments about Christopher before announcing he wouldn't move if Eddie didn't. Eddie had tried, had tried to get Buck out first, Buck who had just found happiness with—with Tommy, Buck who has always deserved to live. But Hen and Chim had come in with the clinical wisdom of paramedics and said a rebar through the abdomen was always going to take priority over a fractured leg.

Now, Eddie is rolled out of a collapsing building, leaving behind Buck—a bird with a broken wing, incapable of moving.

God, the noises Buck had made when he'd dragged himself over to Eddie's side. They'll be haunting him for years, for whatever lifetime he has left. Worse somehow than the first time with an entire engine on top of him. Except this time, Eddie couldn't hold his hand. Not now, but not before either because... Because that was someone else's job now. And like a laugh from the universe, Tommy appears just as Eddie reaches down to put the brakes on the gurney before Hen and Chim can get him into the ambulance.

"Kinard?" Bobby greets him with a grim-faced nod. "What are you doing here?"

"Heard you might need an assist from air support." He shrugs, but the breathlessness in the voice and the way his eyes keep jumping around the gathered 118 like he's only counting the one man not there reveals his nonchalance as the act it is. "Thought I'd swing by."

"Isn't that a conflict of interest?" Chimney asks.

"Fine, so I stole a helicopter again. Sue me for wanting to offer a hand." Tommy's face draws as soon as he stops speaking, and he glances back at the building waiting to swallow Eddie's heart whole. "How is he?"

"Holding in there," Eddie answers, voice tight enough to have Tommy really seeing him for the first time. "Think his bad leg is fractured."

"Shit," Tommy hisses, clenching his fists at his side.

"Yeah," Eddie breathes out. "Can't get himself out because of it. I wouldn't have left him, but—"

"He insisted," Tommy says, something entirely too knowing in his voice and his eyes. Eddie swallows thickly.

"And, well..." He gestures weakly to the rebar in his side, Buck's undershirt, now soaked through with Eddie's blood, wrapped around it as a makeshift bandage.

"Shit, Diaz." Tommy grimaces. "Shouldn't you be getting to the hospital?"

"He's refusing care until Buck is out too," Hen deadpans, pressing a new pad of gauze to his wound a little too firmly for it not to be intentional. Eddie just grits his teeth.

"Of course he is," Tommy murmurs. Eddie is too much of a coward to face up to whatever expression is on Tommy's face when he says it, so instead he focuses on the Incident Commander approaching Bobby.

"Site's been deemed too unstable," he announces. "No more personnel are to enter until we've found a way to stabilise it."

"My..." Bobby calms himself when his voice comes out in a growl. "My man is in there."

"And sending another man in there would be a suicide mission." The Incident Commander grimaces apologetically. "Sorry, Captain. That's an order."

Bobby turns his gaze back to the building, something so tightly drawn in him that it makes Eddie hurt all the worse. He knows without a shadow of a doubt what Bobby's thinking. He can't lose another son to a burning building.

And here, maybe this would be where Eddie runs back into the building and drags Buck out all on his own, maybe this would be where he finally gets to repay the favour for the gravel burn on his back, maybe this is where he'd get to redeem himself from the helplessness he'd felt just lowering Buck down to the ground. Except. There's a rebar in his side. Even with the adrenaline, even with the love... Eddie doesn't think he'd make it three steps before falling to his knees—a prayer in and of itself.

Instead, Eddie turns to look at Tommy. Tommy who is already looking at him, something determined and understanding and loving trapped behind the wildness of his eyes. A beat passes between them, silence saying more than they ever could.

"Bring him back to—" Me. But. Not to me.

Because that's not Eddie's place anymore. Eddie doesn't get to ask that of Buck's boyfriend. Eddie doesn't get to ask that at all. He's no longer the person that will be shaking Buck's pain pills into his hand and fetching him a bottle of water. He's no longer the person that will be wrapping Buck's cast in a bin bag for a shower and listening to him lament about the indignity of it. He's no longer the person that will be pulling Buck out of bed on his worst days to remind him that he's real and valued and loved. No, that's not his job anymore. But, fuck, Tommy's the only better man for the job.

"Bring him back to us," Eddie tells him then, and it feels like he's finally let go of the baton in the relay race, sure Tommy's got a hold of it now. And Tommy looks as wrongfooted by this as Eddie feels, but he nods anyway and grabs Eddie's discarded helmet from his lap, strapping it on.

"Kinard, no one goes in," Bobby warns him. "That's an order."

"You're not my captain anymore." Tommy only smiles and shrugs before sprinting towards the doors.

Bobby curses, but there's relief in it. Hen and Chim just watch him go with something hopeful on their faces. And Eddie. Eddie's eyes start to droop.

"Hey, hey, Eddie." Chim snaps his fingers in front of his face, jolting Eddie back into semi-consciousness.

"Eddie, we need to get you to a hospital," Hen says calmly, reaching for the brakes.

"Move me an inch and I rip this rebar out of my side," he says lowly.

"Jesus, anyone ever tell you you're a drama queen?" Chim huffs.

"Yeah." Eddie chokes on his next breath a little. "The man trapped in that building."

A solemn silence settles over them then. They redirect their attention to the doors Tommy had disappeared into, and Hen lays a grounding hand on his shoulder as they wait.

It's not long before Tommy comes stumbling out of the building, looking every bit the action hero Eddie has never gotten to be for Buck what with his soot-stained face and Buck himself slung over his shoulder, splinted leg bouncing against his sternum. Hen and Bobby spring into action immediately, racing to meet them. Chim just unlocks Eddie's gurney and loads him into the ambulance, raising him up just enough to catch a perfect view of Tommy lowering Buck onto his own stretcher with a kiss to his forehead. The ambulance doors close, Chim knocks twice, the sirens begin to whine, and they lurch into motion.

"Did you draw the drama queen straw?" Eddie asks to distract himself from the tenderness of Tommy's kiss.

"Higher ups are a little more serious about conflicts of interest now Buck is officially my brother-in-law," Chim mumbles as he works on getting Eddie's IV in. "But also I'm better acquainted with rebars than Hen, so..."

Eddie huffs a weak laugh as his eyes drift to the ceiling, the clean white of it stinging his eyes.

"Chim?"

"Yeah?"

"Tomorrow isn't promised to anyone, right?" he chokes out. He doesn't take his eyes off the ceiling, but the sudden silence in the ambulance is as deafening as the siren overhead.

"No," Chim says eventually. "No, it's not."

"But what happens if the person you love..." Here, his voice breaks. An almighty crack right through the middle. It sounds like the building behind them just came crumbling down in his throat. "What happens if someone told them first?" He turns to face Chim's wide eyes. "Should you still tell them?"

"I-I don't know..." Chim opens his mouth a few times, a fish out of water, before he makes a decision. He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. "But what I do know is." He clears his throat. "If you let a wound like that fester... It'll kill you, Eddie."

"Yeah." Eddie lets his eyes fall shut.

I can feel it already.

[theinfinitedivides]

Gil Chae: i will become a good wife. please trust me

Mr. General: *does not in fact trust her*

[magistralucis]

@absolut--kurant!

[velvetydream]

꒰ :🥀 [ The radio star lost ] ”♡ᵎ꒱ˀˀ ↷ ⋯

Summary : Your husband was the feared serial criminal in New Orleans, Louisiana, and you where his dearly beloved wife, his right hand. So.. Oh what a despair was awaiting you soon..

Pairing : Human! Alastor x Wife! Reader

Word count : 3549 Words

Genre : Angst, Drama, Romance (a bit)

Warnings ➵ Murder, Swearing, Blood, Death, Guns,

Death penality, Corpses

a/n : Continuation of my Alastor x Wife! Reader > Till death do us part < , seeing as this isn't really a continuation, but rather a prequel, it can be read as a stand-alone, hope ya'll still enjoy it just as much as the first part!♡

Another thing in advance, this is purely fiction and shall not be seen anywhere near reality, I do not condone anything in this and it's pureply based on fiction.

┌───────────────────────── ·  ·  ·  · ♡

1933'

You were like Bonnie and Clyde. A criminal duo, invincible. Or so you thought.

Alastor, your beloved husband. The man you had known for almost two decades, married for almost one decade now. You loved him dearly, even with his little quirks and tendencies. He worked as a well-known and quite popular radio host in New Orleans. Yet he had a tendency for disposing of those he deemed right, you had helped him many times already. Having found out way before you even married him, how he was a murderer, yet you found it enticing, how his mind worked, who he deemed worthy to let go.

"Dear, the meal is almost ready!" You got pulled out of your thoughts by the soft voice of your husband. It was rather unusual for the man to cook in a marriage, but your relationship was far from ordinary, so you enjoyed it. His cooking was far better than yours after all. "I'm coming!" Standing up from the couch, you make your way over to the kitchen, there he was in all his glory. His brown hair was pushed back, glasses sitting on top of his head instead of resting on his nose, and sleeves pushed up to not get them dirty, ironic considering the amount of times he got them bloody. "It smells amazing my beloved! Thank you so much!" A quick peck was pressed to your husband's cheek, as you took a seat at the table, some amazing meal steaming on the table. Alastor puts his apron away, sitting down as he slides his glasses back onto his nose.

Dinner time was always one of your favorites during the day, enjoying a warm meal while talking to your husband about both of your days.

Just after you had finished dinner, your husband took a seat in front of the piano, letting his hands softly glide over the tiles. The instrument echoed with the soft tune he was playing. Walking behind him, you lay your arms around his neck softly, swaying your body a bit to the music he played. Alastor was a talented man with instruments, being able to play a few of them, the piano being one of them. Also quite talented with the violin. "Oh my darling, what a beautiful tune as always~" Humming along now. No one heard the screams coming from the basement. The desperate screams of your next victim.

"When we're talking about music right now my dearest, Mimzy invited us to her performance tomorrow! So how about we postpone our.. plans to the day after tomorrow?" No killing and instead going to Mimzy's show? Oh yes! "Oh, how lovely that sounds! Of course!" Agreeing to his proposal. But for now, you two get ready for bed, lying down in your shared bed.

Another one of your favorite times of the day, getting to lay down with him and finally rest, letting the stress and exhaustion of the day pass. "Did I ever tell you that I love you a lot?" Resting your head on your husband's chest now, who was silently reading a book, closing it now that you were talking to him. "Many times darling and I do love you a lot too~" Alastor knew his way around words for sure, he was such a sweet talker, but that's one of the things you appreciated about him. Raising your head to face him, you take a glance at his lips, before up into his eyes, you knew how he felt about touches he didn't initiate, right now you were only cuddling because he pulled you onto him. Chuckling lowly, he lowers his head down and captures your soft lips with his. Alastor's kisses mostly were soft, like a butterfly resting on your hand or like a spring breeze. Usually, his kisses were planted on your hand or cheek, but from now and then he gave you the satisfaction of a soft kiss on the lips, which always left you giggling like you were right now. Falling asleep in the safe embrace of your husband shortly after.

The next day went by smoothly. Alastor was busy with his work as a radio host, while you took care of the house and did some grocery shopping, meeting up with a few friends of yours over tea. Shortly before you went home for the day, you visited Alastors mothers grave to leave some flowers and clean it, you sadly never met her, but your husband tends to tell you a lot of stories about her. Sitting down by the grave for a minute, you tell her a bit about what Alastor has been doing, how you were loving his cooking and music as always. It was a habit of yours, you hoped she was listening to all the good things you were telling her about him. Taking your things after a while, you bid your goodbye to his mother's grave as you make your way back home. Putting away the groceries before starting to freshen up. Loving to take your time to get ready when you and Alastor decide to go out in the evening.

"Dearest I'm home!" Hearing the lovely voice of your husband calling from the door, answering him now, how you were getting ready. Putting on your favorite dress. It was made out of a beautiful deep red color with black lace all over it, a few gems here and there. Your best jewelry could of course not be missing, most of it you got from Alastor or your own mother. "Darling I'm ready! How far are you?" Exiting the bathroom now, searching for your husband and finding him in the kitchen with a glass of whisky. "Oh my, what do I see here? What a lovely gem you are darling!" Abandoning his glass, Alastor walks over to you, taking your hand as he twirls you around, before kissing the back of your hand. Clad in a black suit, his button-up shirt underneath dark red matching to your dress, while his bowtie was adorned with a red gem, he looked lovely. "My you also look lovely dearest! Definitely going to catch some eyes!" Hooking your arm in his now, you together leave the house and make your way to where Mimzy's show will be held.

Mimzy was a great friend of Alastor, a blonde gorgeous but short lady, who performed like no other. Arriving at the place, you were led to a table for the regulars, as Alastor and you were known by the staff by now. Ordering two drinks, as you await the show. Soon lights go out and Mimzy comes out, her singing and dancing amazing like always.

"Dollface! Pumpkin!" Mimzy's voice was booming as she approached your table, giving both of you an affectionate hug. You ended up talking with her for quite a while, telling her how amazing her performance was and that you were so glad that she invited you two again. Thanking you for your kind words, her attention quickly diverted to Alastor again. It was almost always like this, she said she liked both of you, but you couldn't shake the feeling that she did have a certain distaste for you. But you decided to let it slide like always, as you listened to Alastor tell Mimzy what you two were up to since you've last seen her.

Alastor of course started to notice how you were getting irritated by Mimzy and how she was only focusing on him. "My dear, I think my lovely wife is not feeling so well tonight, perhaps it would be better to take our leave now, still thank you for having us as always. Till the next time." Alastor stood up now as Mimzy stomped off with an annoyed face, extending his hand for you. Smiling at him softly as you take his hand and let him lead you outside. A shiver ran down your spine as your arms got goosebumps, a coat was soon placed over your shoulders, looking over to Alastor who watched you with a soft smile. "Dear, next time you feel uncomfortable please do tell me and we will leave immediately, you know how much I care for your comfort." Thanking him, you take his arm as he leads you through the park to your home, it was a little longer than walking through the streets, but it was calming to walk through nature together.

"Shall we head to bed? It's been a long day and evening." Taking the coat from your shoulders at home, he hangs it on the hanger beside the door. "I love that idea, let me tell you about my day in bed, I visited your mothers grave again." You were already walking to the room as you talked to him, so you weren't able to see his eyes follow you as they softened. It saddened him you never got to meet his mother, she would've loved you dearly, just as he does. Telling him all about what you told her before, how you left flowers and also cleaned her gravestone, as you settled into bed, as he was changing into his sleepwear. Alastor was so thankful for having a caring and lovely wife like you.

The night went by fast, today Alastor would finally have a day off from work, which meant a different kind of work today for both of you!

The steps down to the basement squeaked as Alastor put his weight on them, your heels making clicky noises as you followed him down a stark contrast in sound. And there sat the victim he deemed perfect for his next case. The screams would be recorded for his personal little collection. You were getting everything ready for him, it would be interesting to watch like always. Alastor changed so much when he killed, no shimmer or glimmer in his eyes, not how he looked at you, the soft gaze replaced with a blood thirsty one. Liking it quickly, you were soon getting rid of the victim, this time deciding to bury him in a forest, you opted for the forest a few times already even though it was a bit risky, it was the easiest to get rid of them. At home, Alastor decided to take a bath, as he told you to head to bed already with a kiss on your cheek.

When he joined you in bed, he looked relaxed, cuddling up to you. Murders always ended like this, it somehow made him so calm and affectionate with you. Placing a soft kiss on your neck, as his arms hold your waist. Your hand threaded through his brown soft locks, something you loved to do. For once your beloved husband fell asleep quicker than you, making you be able to watch him sleep, not in a creepy way, but in a loving way. Alastor was often so stressed with work, yes he loved being a radio host, but it sometimes got to him. Rubbing your fingers over his cheek softly, then over the bags under his eyes before pressing a kiss to the crown of his head. Yourself slowly falling into dreamland.

Morning came way too quickly, Alastor was back to work, and while you decided to stay at home and do some housekeeping, a few rooms needed cleaning. A friend of yours stopping by to tell you how a new corpse was apparently discovered by the police, which is connected to the many murder cases lately. Tensing up a little bit when she told you how they discovered it in the forest after one of the farmers nearby saw some shadows in there. It couldn't be the corpse from last night, right? Simply agreeing with her that you would be careful, even telling her how your dear husband would never let something happen to you on his watch, which made her coo at your marriage, if only she knew..

Mid conversation your husband comes home, greeting you with a soft kiss on the cheek before he leaves for the back of your home. Your friend leaves soon after, as you go and search for your beloved. Finding him in his office, gripping the table. You knew what was about to come.

"Dear?" Approaching him, Alastor pushes everything on his table off, papers scattering, a cup breaking as pens roll all over the floor. "They already discovered it.. HOW?! I was careful! Pathetic! How dare they! Are they making fun of me?!" Worried for your husband, yet you stood still, listening to him. "I had to talk about it today! At the broadcast! Act as if I was surprised! Haha! If only they knew! Right doll?!" Turning around, his eyes were darting around the room, before falling onto you, laughing as he took your hand to pull you in. "They really think they can discover us like this! US! They are worthless! Pathetic even! Oh my dear! We truly are the greatest!" He was twirling you around as if dancing now, despite no music playing. Only his mad monologue. You've dealt with this behavior a couple of times already, knowing to just let him act and talk for now as he pleased. "Oh, what a wonderful day my beloved! I will go and make my favorite dish for us now! How beautiful!" Leaving the room now, a skip in his step, as you bend down to clean up the mess your husband caused.

Joining him in the kitchen now, as he was softly humming to the radio as he was cooking his favorite, Jambalaya.

A knocking sounds from your door, looking up, you tell Alastor you are going to get it, and upon opening it you come face to face with a detective and a police officer. "Greetings ma'am, is your husband home?" His voice was deep, you nodded, leaning the door closed as you hurried into the kitchen to get your husband. "Greetings gentleman, how may I help you?" Alastor opened the door composed as ever, drying his hands from washing them with a clean towel, as he gave the men at the door a polite smile. You retreated back to the living room, still listening to their conversation. Asking him about the murder cases, why him? It was probably only because of the radio broadcast, right? Maybe his boss told him to talk about it without the detective's permission. As the door closes and Alastor is back in the kitchen, still calm as always as you join him. "Dear? What did they talk about?" Looking up at him with worry written all over your face, he turns to you. "Don't worry your pretty little head dearest, it was nothing to be mentioned! Smile dear, you know you're never fully dressed without one!" Pushing the corners of your mouth up with his fingers now, making you smile, before shushing you out of the kitchen so he can cook. Not able to help it but worry, were you about to be figured out?

But over the course of the next few days it all calmed down again, no more police officers or detectives visiting you, which finally calmed your mind. Alastor meanwhile had found a new target, telling you about this man he met the other day and what bothered him. It was all back to normal now, which you were glad about. Till this one dreadful day.

Alastor and you made quick work of the man, your husband telling you to stay home this time to clean up and that he would take care of this on his own. You worried again, but he assured you that he would be quick, after cleaning up and getting rid of any evidence, you cleaned yourself and sat down to wait for your beloved. Yet after hours of not coming back, you grew anxious, desperate even to know what took him so long. As a knock echoes through your house, you rush to the door, opening it ready to scold your husband for taking so long, but your breath stops when a detective stands in front of you.. What happened?

He asked to enter your home, sitting you down on the couch as he took a seat opposite of you on the armchair. "Your husband got shot ma'am, he was burying a corpse, we assume him to be the serial killer at fault for so many murders lately. He passed away instantly, I'm sorry for your loss and to bring you this horrific and murderous news." Your ears were ringing. Huh? Shot? Was that man joking with you? Was he someone Alastor paid to prank you? No, he wasn't the type for these kinds of pranks. Tears were streaming down your face, burying it in your hands now, sobs shaking your whole body. If that stupid man just knew, knew how you helped your husband with everything! Stupid! "Ma'am I-" The detective started, when you darted up, grabbing the man by his hair and throwing him out of your house. "Get lost! Never show up again! Leave.. NOW!" Slamming the door shut now, he probably took this as a shock to knowing who your husband really was, but you knew that already for years. Sinking to your knees, your arms hug around you as your head hits the floor, screams and cries of agony echo through the now empty halls. Your husband, the man you loved so much was dead, just like this? What sick nightmare was this? Cries reduced to soft sobs when your throat started to hurt, by now your body was curled up into itself on the floor and like that, you fell asleep.

The next day you awoke to the sunlight, your body sore from crying and sleeping on the floor, looking around for a second, for Alastor before it doomed on you, he was dead. Shot like an animal.

Your mother accompanied you to identify your late husband, you of course clad in all black. His forehead is now adorned with a hole, the detective explaining to you that he was mistaken for a deer. Asking for some privacy from everyone, you were left alone in the room. If it wasn't for that damned hole he looked like he was simply sleeping, peacefully like the night before. Leaning down to press one last kiss to his temple. "I will always love you my dearest, for now and forever, till I join you in death."

Leaving the room, you didn't dare look back, you were going forward from now on, knowing that someday you would meet him again.

Your mother had offered for you to move back in with her, but you told her despite what he did, he was a lovely husband to you and that you weren't able to yet let go, which she understood. Back at your home, you sat down and just stared at the wall. Why did this have to happen? You could be cuddling together right now or enjoying a meal, but that would never be the case ever again. But you told yourself, swore yourself with that last kiss to his temple that you would carry on in his memory. And so you did, three more murders continued after your husband was dead, till you were discovered.

In front of the law, you were sentenced to the death due to having caused three murders yourself and helped with multiple, carried out by your late husband. You accepted it, not that anyone asked, but you would be seeing your husband again, at least you hoped you would. A few days later after the case was closed and you were sentenced, it happened.

1935'

"Alastor! Dearest! Charlie told me you wanted to see me?" Entering the radio tower with a bright smile, Alastor turned to you with his signature smile. "My beloved! You look lovely as always! Look at you, aren't you a little gem!" He was walking over to you, his red ears on his head bouncing slightly with each step he took. Closing your eyes now as he told you to do so, a sensation of something cold around your neck running through your body now. "Open up doll!" Opening your eyes and looking down, your eyes tear up. It was a necklace, that looked similar to one he gifted you on the first anniversary of your marriage. "Alastor.." Looking up at him, as a few tears escaped your eyes.

"Now now sweetheart, we don't want you crying hm? Smile dear! You know you're never fully dressed without one!" Giggling a little bit at that quote, he had used it so often when you two were alive. Not being able to help yourself, you throw your arms around his neck and pepper kisses all around his face and lastly a big kiss on his lips, you would be apologizing for suddenly kissing him later, but right now you just needed to kiss him. "I'm glad you love it dearest!" His arms are around your waist now as he laughs at the tickling kisses placed on his face, starting to spin you around as with a snip of his fingers music starts to play.

Charlie and Vaggie watch the soft moment from the door, tears streaming from the blonde's face as her girlfriend pulls her away to give you two some privacy.

[shegetsburned]

❝ the duke’s proposal ❞ w. satoru gojo 𝜗𝜚.

BRIDGERTON AU⌇

• — dearest gentle readers. the time has come for us to place our bets for the upcoming social season! marriage-minded mamas must consider the oldest of the gojo’s family thrilled to conquer hearts with his wits and undeniable charm. having officially announced his wish to find a bride, we certainly hope to see the young rake, on the dance floor, turn the tides and find a wife after much seasons of avoiding his duty. may the best lady win! • — a/n. i know @grumpchua asked for this and i believe it will feed some of y’all, so here’s the food <3

.nsfw.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who you’ve known ever since your debut and has been a inconvenience in your life for quite a while. like a tick biting into your flesh, only bringing trouble and worry for yourself. truth is, the duke loved pestering you about failed courting attempts or clumsy men coming to steal your hand, only to fall with them into a life of misery and depths. you undoubtedly did not attract the smartest and wealthiest of them all and satoru took advantage of this unwanted success.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who’s audacious. far from being a gentleman. the cockiest of all rakes. you did not only despise the man, you thought he was without honour, unromantic and arrogant. lord satoru was, in fact, everything you thought he was, but loved to show you personally every single one of his flaws.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who, despite your best efforts, thought no better but to follow you around at every ball and "unexpectedly" bump into you at the market or when you walked out of the modiste. lord gojo was high in the instep, purposely shoving his strength of character and title in unfortunate suitors’ faces every time they deemed to approach you. needless to say, he took pleasure in crushing your chances of ever securing a proposal.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who has never really shown any interest in you, before. he would rather amuse himself by courting pretty debutantes only to leave them hanging and being chased by the impatient mamas of the ton. that was until his status caught up to him and forced the man to consider a serious marriage proposal. unfortunately for you, an idea blossomed into the young rake’s mind when he realized his need to find a bride was more urgent than he hoped to be.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who, one evening, during a tranquil promenade, abruptly stops and steals you from your mama, offering his hand for you to finish your walk beside him. he obviously had a plan and it involved the lady that despised him the most in this entire ton: you— and who would be better than you to not catch feelings and be able to execute his plan perfectly?

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who proposes an alliance. knowing you only attract the worst suitors possible, he assures you that more eligible men will throw themselves at your feet when they see the famous duke gojo court you. he swears it’ll only be temporary until he can find a suitable bride of his own without hundreds of ladies begging for his attention when you’re wrapped around his arm. you’ll be found desirable and he’ll have the peace he desires. what could possibly go wrong?

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who, for the first days, tries harder than any other years you’ve known him. the first day, your carriage’s waiting downstairs to meet him in the parc. he’s holding your umbrella above your head the whole time and acting like quite the gentleman, for once. he laughs with you, readjusts your hair and takes care of every single one of your needs. this masquerade goes on for two weeks where, each day, he surprises you with gorgeous flowers, kind gestures and words you would’ve never thought to hear. until one night, it’s an invite to his mansion that’s waiting for you, which you accept thinking it’ll just be another public appearance with him by your side. oh, but you couldn’t have been more wrong.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who welcomes you in his home, one gentle hand resting against the back of your corset to escort you to the ballroom where people were gathered and seemed to be enjoying their evening. everything would’ve seemed in order if not for the many men eyeing you from across the room. it seemed odd now, considering you hadn’t had this kind of attention for weeks, but it also seemed like satoru’s plan had worked and you couldn’t be more satisfied.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who listens to you converse with one of the gentlemen who had introduced himself to you. he seemed kind, polite, educated and of high status, which couldn’t have been more perfect if it hadn’t been for the duke terminating the conversation with a harsh remark and by guiding you to the dance floor without even writing his name on the card around your wrist. he had lost his temper in a matter of seconds and you were more than surprised by his lack of manners.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who tries to convince you to play along but you know this is entirely about something else. his grip around your waist and hand has never been so tight. he’s pulling you closer until his breath tickles your face and his words are whispers when he reminds you that your deal isn’t over and you’ll have to wait until you are allowed to let yourself be courted by other men. you try to respond but he spins you around gracefully. his fingers trail your column when he catches you and before you know it, you’re dancing with him and no one else is in the room.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo whose deep gaze startles you. he hasn’t left your eyes and does not plan to until he gets a proper response from you. satoru’s piercing blue eyes linger on your lips with a cocky smirk and you don’t know why your heart is beating so fast. he had never shown this facet of his before and it made your chest flutter. would he have preferred your attention was entirely on him, this evening, and not on the handsome suitor that had caught yours? no. you hated him. he was tricking you to make it seem real.. right?

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo whose tension is enough to fill the room with curious whispers surrounding your odd pair. you two made it seem like you had shared more than simple dinners and promises. in front of everyone, you looked used to being so intimate with satoru, but you were trembling in your shoes when he leaned forward, grazing his lips against your ear to try and make you understand that he wouldn’t allow any suitors to approach you just yet.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who pulls you away from the crowd, stealing you away to his bedchamber in front of indiscreet pairs of eyes. he seems more impatient than ever when his instinct takes over and, god, your innocence has an unexpected hold on him. you question satoru with incomprehension in your eyes until he finally closes the door to answer you.

₊˚ପ⊹ duke!gojo who skillfully shows you everything you’ve been missing and every little sinful activity he’s been partaking in with innocent debutantes such as yourself. only this time, he means it. his hands touch every sensitive spot, his lips cover yours and trail down to your exposed chest. his fingers slipped under your dress, letting him discover your body with your help as you take him in, whining at his insensitive touch.

you’ll never know, that night, if duke satoru gojo meant to lose his mind over you in front of everyone else for his scheme and personal gain or if it had been purely accidental and you had just mesmerized the rake in a matter of weeks to the point where he couldn’t think about anything else but to have you in his bed for the rest of his life.

© shegetsburned 2024 please do not repost/edit/or claim my writing as your own.

[rosyblooom]

I just finished watching Daisy Jones and the Six and I wanted to ask if you could write a Charles SMAU where his wife passes away from illness and leaves a video behind for him to find happiness. They can have a little child together please. Thank you😊❤️

when i die, i want you to live | cl16 smau

PAIRING: charles leclerc x wife!reader SUMMARY: after battling illness, y/n unexpectedly succumbs to it much sooner than expected, leaving behind her husband and their daughter. 8 months later, charles is not coping very well, so your best friend hands him an envelope addressed to him from you. WARNING(S): mentions of death, sad A/N: ooh i love that show!! anyway, this is my first ever request (!!), so hope it's as u imagined 🫶

creds to @classiclitfreak for proofreading!! <3

yourusername posted to her story!

[ caption 1: I sure hope so!😌 ] [ caption 2: my heart is so full🥹💕 ]

charles_leclerc

liked by yourusername, arthur_leclerc, scuderiaferrari and 735,290 others

charles_leclerc Today, 27 years ago, is the very special day that brought me my beautiful wife and best friend. Forever grateful for that. Happiest of birthdays to you, Mon cœur ❤️

view all 3,958 comments

username HAPPY BIRTHDAY Y/N WE LOVE YOU😍

username all time favourite wag ! 🥰

yourusername ❤️❤️

(liked by author)

username ly girl🫶

username oh she won😩

username **they. they're both literally perfect omg username nah u right my bad🫡

scuderiaferrari happy birthday y/n 🥳🥳

username if my man ain't like charles i don't want him

username real

yourusername

liked by charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, yourbestfriend and 263,719 others

yourusername had the loveliest birthday with my dearest people!💕thank you for all the birthday wishes, they've been such a joy! 🥹 here's to another beautiful year, here's to 27🥂

view all 2,483 comments

yourbestfriend ily to the moon and back ❤️❤️

yourusername love u so much🥹

username queen🫶

username 27 and still looks young af iktr! see what happens when u're unproblematic😌

username that's bc 27 IS young lol

charles_leclerc belle👸

yourusername 😘 username you guys are so cute omg username *cries in 29 and single*🤧

username girl drop the link to the dress RIGHT NOW @/yourusername

yourusername it's from my spring collection love! xx username you ate that y/n😌

iamrebeccad you look so pretty 💗

yourusername my girl 🤍

Three weeks later...

tmz_tv

liked by username, username, username and 1,005,862 others

tmz_tv Tragic news emerged in the early hours of this morning as Y/N L/N-Leclerc, a renowned fashion designer and philanthropist, passed away unexpectedly, just three weeks past her twenty-seventh birthday. Her untimely passing has left her family and friends in shock and disbelief.

In a statement released by her family, it was revealed that Y/N had been battling illness for an undisclosed duration. However, medical professionals had initially estimated a longer prognosis, making her sudden passing even more devastating.

During this profoundly sorrowful time, we extend our heartfelt condolences to Y/N's family.

views all 18,045 comments

username wow and to think she was always so smiley even with all this going on behind the scenes

username a literal ray of sunshine🥹

username I can't imagine how charles feels right now omg, please take care charlie🫶

username this doesn't feel real...

username y/n was always working with charities all across the globe, she was an absolute angel. her impact will live on 💛

username is it just me who's thinking about their little girl in all this?? she must be so heartbroken :(

username I think bc she's so young she probably doesn't even understand what's going on😭💔

username y/n, you were a great addition to the paddock, always smiling and just all around lovely to fans. we won't ever forget you!💕

username sending prayers to the family 🙏

scuderiaferrari

liked by username, username, username and 594,752 others

scuderiaferrari Due to personal matters, Charles Leclerc will not be continuing racing for the remainder of the season. Ollie Bearman, our reserve driver, will take his place instead.

This was not an easy decision, and therefore we ask that you handle this news with respect and sensitivity.

Our thoughts and support are with Charles Leclerc and his family during this challenging time. 🙏❤️

comments have been disabled

8 months later...

Charles enters the living room, ensuring the door closes softly behind him to avoid disturbing his little girl. Running his fingers over his beard, he examines the envelope in his hand and sighs. Y/N’s best friend pressed it into his hand at a dinner party the previous evening, insisting he watch it as soon as he finds the time. And here he is now, holding the thin envelope.

If someone had told him when he was younger that he’d get emotional over something as simple as seeing his wife’s handwriting on paper, he would have scoffed in disbelief. Not him, that would have seemed absurd. Yet here he is, feeling a lump form in his throat over mere black ink on paper.

As peculiar as it seems, he brings the envelope to his nose, and memories of Y/N flood his mind. He can almost feel her soothing touch as she works the knots out of his back after a gruelling day of racing. Inhaling, he feels Y/N’s sweet scent—it is as comforting as her smile.

A smile tugs at Charles' lips as he pictures that infectious grin that lit up his wife’s face at the most unexpected moments. It was one of the things he loved most about her—she had a way of bringing brightness to even the darkest of days.

Shaking his head, he snaps out of the trance, shifting deeper into the living room until he sinks into the welcoming embrace of the couch. There, he retrieves the laptop resting on the coffee table, feeling the weight of the moment as he opens the envelope and extracts a flash drive from within. Rolling it between his fingers, he inserts it into the side of his laptop with a determined motion.

Once all is in place, he watches a file labelled “To my dearest Lover, brightest Heart, and deepest Soul” materialise in his list of files. The sight catches him off guard—his throat constricts, making each breath a struggle, and his eyes well up, though he fights against the tears. Not now. He can't afford it. Allowing himself to be consumed by grief would mean losing precious time, time he needs for his daughter waiting in her playroom down the hallway.

He takes a moment to regain composure, squeezing his eyes shut, focusing on the rhythm of his breath until the tension in his chest begins to ease. With a sharp intake of air, he opens his eyes wide and taps the file, revealing a video. Running his teeth over his lower lip, he hovers the pointer over the play button, then taps the mousepad with a steady hand.

The video opens with Y/N seated on the very same pale couch he’s currently occupying. He places both hands onto the soft sofa, yearning for a connection, a way to feel her, even though he knows he can’t—touching the past is impossible.

Y/N walks toward the camera, readjusting it before taking three steps backward and retaking her seat. Inhaling deeply, she hesitates, her mouth opening, then closing again, like a fish out of water.

“Mon cœur,” Charles whispers, moving the laptop onto the coffee table.

“Hmm,” Y/N drops her hands into her lap and smooths down her flowery dress. She stares directly at the camera, tilting her head sideways with a crooked smile. “I don’t know where to start.”

Her eyes widen. “After all this planning, I still don’t know where to begin.” She lets out a few chuckles and then purses her lips. “Well, I suppose greetings are in order?”

Her expression softens as her brows furrow. “Hello, my darling, my world, my everything.”

“Hey,” Charles whispers, his throat tight with emotion, barely allowing sound to escape.

“Although I'm very happy to see you, if you’re watching this, it means you're not living as I want you to,” Y/N's voice trembles, causing her to pause and swallow. “I know it’s hard, baby. I don’t expect this to be easy on you, but I don’t want you to spend the rest of your life looking back at us in sadness, you know?”

Charles leans forward, elbows on his lap, eyes fixed on the screen, his face tinged with a faint shade of red.

“Remember our first date, when we had to cancel our reservations at that restaurant because you felt sick on the way there?” Y/N bursts into laughter but quickly stifles it, her hand covering her mouth.

“No, no,” Charles pleads softly, shaking his head, “please don’t hide your beautiful smile, my love.”

“It’s not like there was anything you could do about being sick, but I remember feeling miffed because I already had a stressful day, so for you to cancel just like that, it irritated me,” she reminisces with a nod. “But you were quite pale, so I wanted to make sure you got home alright. And we walked, barely talked,” she giggles, the joy reaching her eyes, “but then this little kid appeared, his name was…”

“Benny,” they both say simultaneously, a faint smile tugging at one corner of Charles' lips.

"Boy, was he excited to meet you, his idol. It was like seeing a completely different person. You became someone entirely new for this little boy whom you didn’t even know. Nobody forced you to take time out of your day when he came running, his arms wide open," Y/N says, extending her arms along with the words. "You could’ve just walked away. I mean, you had a reason to: you were sick."

Pausing for a moment, Y/N sits up straighter, leaning forward and shaking her head. "But you didn’t. You put on a brave face, and you turned into Benny’s hero and so much more. I think we stood there with his parents for about half an hour, and you didn’t complain once. And that’s when I knew."

Y/N nods, crossing her legs and slinging one hand behind the sofa. "That’s when I knew you could be the man I was going to marry. And turns out you were," she says, smiling sheepishly. "The love you have for people, for our daughter, it’s… it’s so profound, it’s boundless. So don’t limit it. Don’t you dare limit yourself just because I’m not around anymore."

Her expression turns serious as she exhales. “You’re such a bright light. You bring happiness and purity into people’s lives—into my life,” Y/N presses her hand against her chest. “I don’t want you to dim it. I want you to shine for as long as that candle burns. Don’t let it die prematurely because of bad happenings. There’s so much more to love, to live, to enjoy. And while you may not see me at your side anymore, holding onto D/N, I’m right here.”

Charles sniffles, folding his hands over his mouth as he swallows his sobs, while Y/N points to her heart.

“I’m with you forever and always. I’m protecting you and D/N, and I’m watching over you, making sure everything’s alright.” Y/N releases a sigh before chewing at her bottom lip with a wistful smile. “And part of that means making space for more love, for you. You have a big heart, you know? There’s enough room for you to find happiness with someone new. There’s no shame in it, and there’s no guilt in it. It’s what makes being alive such a beautiful thing: your love is yours, and it’s not confined to just one or two people. You can spread it, and still, our love will remain unchanged.”

Tears stream down the sides of Charles' cheeks as he struggles to maintain his composure, his eyes fixated on the screen as if afraid that if he peels his gaze away for one second, his wife will disappear.

Y/N briefly looks off to the side, her attention seemingly caught by something in the room, before snapping her head back to the camera with a bright smile.

“It seems I have to go,” her shoulders sink.

Charles leans forward, the screen mere inches away from his face, as he strokes the outline of Y/N’s face on the screen, whispering desperately, “Please don’t, mon cœur…”

“I love you so, so much. You and D/N are the most precious gifts, the greatest joys I have had the privilege to experience, so please, please,” she claps her hands together, moving them back and forth, “please…when I die, I want you to live.”

Y/N rises from the couch and walks towards the screen, her eyes unwavering for even a moment. “Give my little girl all my love, and kiss and hug her extra tight for as long as you can, for me.”

Offering one final smile, she blows a kiss at the screen. “I love you. Please don’t stop. Don't stop loving and don't stop living.”

The video freezes with Y/N frozen in place, a beautiful smile etched onto her lips, filled with the purest form of love.

Feeling suddenly overwhelmed, Charles collapses, the weight of the world pressing down on him. He drops his face into his hands and releases all of it: sob after sob after sob. There’s something liberating about finally letting go; the burden pours out of him, leaving behind a fragile yet tranquil Charles as he gazes at the still shot of his beloved wife, whom he adores so deeply.

A soft click draws his attention to the door just in time for it to creak open slowly, revealing his little girl standing there, her favourite yellow teddy bear clutched tightly in her arms.

“Papa,” her voice floats like a gentle breeze.

Charles smiles, opening his arms wide as she runs towards him. He's momentarily winded as she reaches him, but he quickly regains his composure and lifts her onto his lap.

“Hello, my love,” he whispers, touching his forehead to hers.

Her tiny hand pats his cheek, her expression filled with concern. “You’re crying?”

Charles shakes his head, trying to reassure her. “Happy tears,” he explains, “look.” He points at the screen, where Y/N's serene face is frozen in time.

“Maman!” D/N exclaims, slipping from his lap and heading towards the screen. Her small hands tap the screen eagerly as she calls out, “Maman! Maman! Maman!”

“Yes,” Charles swallows, ignoring the pang in his chest as he shifts his focus to his little girl. “You want to see Maman, huh?”

He rises from the sofa and lifts D/N into the air, settling her on his hip. “How about we go take a look at the photo albums, okay? There are lots of beautiful pictures of Maman in there, alright?”

“Maman! Maman! Maman!” D/N continues to exclaim, squirming excitedly in his arms as they walk through the door and down the hallway into the living room.

f1gossipofficial

liked by username, username, username and 14,296 others

f1gossipofficial Nine months after the tragic passing of his wife, Y/N, Charles Leclerc has been spotted for the first time on a beach in Spain with their shared daughter.

Witnesses who captured the photographs above mentioned that he appeared to be coping well, and fans respectfully gave them space while appreciating the sight from afar.

We're glad to see Charles out and about again, and we extend our best wishes to him and his family as they continue to navigate these changes.

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username im so glad the fans kept to themselves

username right?? so respectful🫶

username charlie🥹❤️ it's been so long but we'll always be here whenever he's ready

username tbh I was very worried during the radio silence but I think him being out there is a step in the right direction🥲

username still can't believe y/n is no longer here... i miss her sm😭

username omg there's a vid on twitter of them playing ball and u can hear their daughter giggling 💕

username I can't find it could you pls send the link?🙏 username dmed u! username me too pls

username it must be so hard to grief y/n while also trying to be strong for their daughter :( sending him all the strength!!

username 😭😭😭

4:44 ────────────ㅇ 4:44

[nebulaafterdark]

The Iron Throne

Summary: Y/N is afraid that the Iron Throne will spurn her due to her parentage, Aegon disagrees. Aegon Targaryen x Velaryon(Strong)!Reader

18+ ONLY MDNI Targcest, Smut, Oral (F receiveing)

Y/N and Aegon speak freely when they are alone, about the weight of her duties and what he, as her husband, might do to help shoulder them. Lately the topic has been a simpler one, Y/N’s fear of the Iron Throne and how she dreads the day she must eventually sit it.

“What of it frightens you, sweet girl?” Aegon wonders, watching her pace at the foot of their bed.

“That it will spurn me, because I am unworthy.” Y/N admits.

Aegon hums. “You are worthy. Come, I will show you.”

“Now?” Y/N chokes out.

“Yes, my love there is no one there.” Not in the middle of the night.

She hesitates, wringing her hands. “You know what I am.”

“My wife,” Aegon reminds her, “my future Queen.”

Y/N sighs, holding out a hand. Allowing him to lead her down to the empty throne room, demanding the guards provide no one entrance until they are finished.

The throne looms, like a dark omen over the room. Though Aegon does not seem to notice, walking his wife towards it and turning her to face him.

“Gods, you are beautiful.” He remarks, brushing dark hair over her shoulders. “Made to be worshipped, made to be Queen.”

Y/N smiles, pressing a kiss to his lips, “you’re one to talk.”

Aegon rests a hand against the tiny swell of the abdomen. “That’s how we got here a fifth time, hmmm?”

“It’ll be an even six, no doubt.”

“Or seven,” Aegon’s eyes come alight with mischief. “Then of course, it’d have to be eight.”

“Why stop at eight when we could have ten?”

“You’re stalling,” Aegon wags a finger at her. “Sit down for me, nice and slow.”

Y/N stops breathing all together as she takes her place on the throne.

“Good girl,” he coos.

Y/N inhales, sharply.

“Just as I said, nothing has happened.”

“I want to get off now.”

“Not until you’re comfortable.”

“Please, Aegon.” She whines.

“I will never let anything or anyone hurt you,” Aegon leans forward, pressing a kiss to her lips. “I’m going to help you get over your fear of this silly chair.”

“How?” Y/N wonders.

“By feasting on your pretty cunt as you sit upon it, and each time you take to this throne, you will think of my mouth.”

She catches his face in her hands, “you cannot.”

“I must, my dearest love.” Aegon hushes her, “what kind of husband would I be if I allow you to walk around with such fear?”

Y/N swallows.

“Be good.” He affords her a reassuring smile before kneeling at her feet. Pressing a sweet kiss to the swell of her belly, the child has finally made their presence known. “Lift your hips for me.”

Y/N obeys, allowing him to slide her small clothes down to her ankles.

Her nightgown remains perfectly placed, with Aegon sliding up beneath her skirts. Applying gentle pressure to her knees until they part.

He groans, inhaling the familiar scent of her. “You are heavenly.” His tongue flicks over her cunt in practiced strokes.

His hair is hidden beneath her dress, nothing for her to cling to and the distance between them becomes too much to bear.

“I want your hand,” she chokes out.

“Yes, my Queen.” Aegon purrs, slightly muffled beneath the fabric. He slides one hand away from her trembling thigh to find hers, lacing their fingers together. “I live only to serve you.”

Her free hand curls around the arm rest, of its own volition. Her skin pristine and unscathed by the metal.

By then she’s relaxed enough that Aegon eases her legs farther apart, bending them up and over the arms of the chair. Slipping two fingers into her slick cunt.

“Aegon.”

He hums, in acknowledgement. Sometimes his sweet girl wishes to say his name just because she loves him. Because he’s pleasing her so well.

Lost in her passion, she scarcely notices the way her body is draped over the throne of swords with abandon. She is safe and loved…all she’s ever hoped to be.

Aegon redoubles his efforts, bringing her to peak. Covering his tongue and fingers with her slick, meeting her pearl with little kitten licks, until she squirms. Pushing against his head in protest, with one final kiss to her pulsing cunt, he pulls his mouth away. Curling his fingers against the spongy part of her inner walls as he stands, looming over her.

Her perfect lips agape, dark brows pulled together. “Fuck.”

“If you could see yourself now, my dearest love.” Aegon groans, “the smallfolk would line up at the foot of this throne, by the thousands for a chance to please you.”

“I only want you.”

Aegon’s eyes soften. He’s allowed one man to fuck her, so could hold her face in his hands and watch her features contort without distraction.

She took his cock well, for which Aegon praised her, though she could not find release until Aegon’s own fingers brushed her pearl. The same way he can cum for his ladies, but never as long or hard as he does for her.

Fucking is nice, something to do whilst he’s bored and craving excitement. Love making is more than that, something he only ever had the desire to do with her.

“How do you want me?”

“Inside me,” Y/N pants.

Aegon chuckles, “I meant to ask if you are comfortable? Or shall I bend you over the throne?”

“Over the throne,” she nods. “Or you could sit and I could ride your cock.”

Aegon mulls it over, “as much as I’d love you to sink down on me, I have no fear of this chair. You do, so up you go, turn around for me.” He withdraws his fingers, sucking them clean.

To his surprise she kneels, resting her cheek against the seat of the throne, with her arms folded over her head.

“I thought we might stand, my darling.”

“I cannot stand.” She whimpers, “I need your cock.”

“Needy thing.” Aegon kneels behind her, lifting her skirts once more and freeing himself from his sleep clothes. He slides into her with ease, he was made to be there. Leaning forward to place his arms beneath her, allowing her sweet face to rest against his skin rather than the cool metal swords. “I love you endlessly.”

She nods, “I love you.”

“You are worthy of this throne, you are worthy of the crown, and to rule.” Aegon feels her cunt flutter with the beginnings of her peak. “Y/N Targaryen, first of her name. Queen of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and protector of the realm.”

[kokomyass]

Genshin headcannons ☆ Traveller finding out that you are in a relationship with genshin characters

Genshin x Fem!Reader

Genre: ☁️

Trigger warnings ⚠️: none!!

featuring: Neuvillette, Wriothesley, Alhaitham

synopsis: in which, traveller and paimon find out you are an ✨️ITEM✨️!!!

Notes: you are immortal in Neuvillette's part, you are a bad bitch in Wriothesley's part, you are part of the Academia for Alhaitham's part and hella shy

a/n: it was NOT a narrow win, this one won by far...so I hope you enjoy!!

also I might do a part 2 depending on how many people like it....and if you want any characters added just drop me a message 💜⭐️💜⭐️

Neuvillette

The Traveller and Paimon had decided to make an unexpected visit to the Palais Mermonia to see Neuvillette and Furina since they happened to be in Fontaine.

"Hey Sendene!! We are here to see Neuvillette and Furina!!" Paimon shouted out floating happily.

"Hello Traveller, Paimon. You see Neuvillette is currently away but you can make your way over to his office, he shouldn't mind." the Melusine said happily

"Thanks Sendene! See you!!" The Traveller and Paimon opened the doors to Neuvillette's office only to be met with an unfamiliar face.

You were sat down reading a book, with one leg crossed over the other deep in the book that you don't notice the two individuals walk in the room.

"Ummm...Hello there!! Whoever could you be?" your head shoots up to look at the Traveller and Paimon a look of suprise and happiness on your face at the same time.

"Ah! The infamous Traveller and Paimon!! Neuvi has said so much about you! It's so nice to finally meet you." you shoot up and hold the Traveller's hand, shortly moving to patting Paimon.

"You sure are energetic....but you never answered my question!" Paimon shouted putting her hands on her hips.

"Oh dear...that's my bad hehe...I am Y/N, its lovely to meet you!"

"Nice to meet you too Y/N!! So what are you doing in Neuvillette's office? You must be awfully close to give him that nickname" Paimon asks as the Traveller looks a bit confused as to how you had gotten so close to Neuvillette and how they didn't know who you were.

"Well I am Neuvillette's-" just as you were about to explain your presence, Neuvillette and Furina walked through the office doors making you smile warmly.

"Neuvillette!! Furina!! You run up to them giggling.

Furina walked through first, making her the first victim to your hug.

"Ah! Y/N!! It's nice to see you too" Furina smiled softly as she hugged you back.

"She's close to Furina too?! Just who is she?!!!" Paimon shouted feeling in the dark as the Traveller already had their suspicions...

"Oh how did you not know? She is Neuvillette's..." Just as Furina wanted to reply to Paimon's exclamation you squealing turned all their head in your direction.

"Neuvi~ I missed you..."

"Hello, my dearest. I too missed you an immense amount." Neuvillette said warmly making Paimon and the Traveller shocked at the love in his eyes and Furina unfazed by it.

You went on your tiptoes and wrapped your arms around Neuvillette's neck hugging him before placing a soft kiss on his lips before pulling away and handing him a cake box.

"I took a break from work to bring you a cake but now I'm gonna go...have a nice day at work and I'll see you at home!"

"I cannot wait to see you at home my dear, stay safe."

Neuvillette cups your face and places a kiss on both cheeks as you give him the cake, hug him tightly and pack your things.

"It was lovely to meet you guys!! Maybe we can meet up sometime!! See you Furina!!" you smile and wave to Paimon and The Traveller and Furina as they stare at you dumbfounded as you walk out the doors and Furina smiles and waves back.

"It is good to see you two, how have you been faring?" Neuvillette smiled turning to the Traveller and Paimon.

"UH...ERM....ARE WE GONNA IGNORE THE ELEPHANT IN THE ROOM??!! WHO IS Y/N TO YOU?!" Paimon screamed as Neuvillette held a neutral face.

"Oh Y/N is my wife. I didn't tell you because I didn't want to put her in danger."

"That makes so much sense...its quite cute actually!! I can't believe THE Chief Justice has a wife!! For how long?" Paimon seemed to be extremely amused as the Traveller sighed at how dense Paimon was.

"400 years"

"SAY WHAT??!?!?"

☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•

Wriothesley

"Erm...can you hear that Traveller?" Paimon sounded uneasy as the Traveller gave her a look of uncertainty at whatever was currently going on in the Duke of Meropide's office.

There was currently shouting going on that was so loud that a few people gather around his office to see if they could get anyone the drama. (that the only entertainment they get down there)

"WELL IF YOU DIDN'T PUT MY CAKE IN THE BIN THEN I WOULDN'T BE HERE TO BE HONEST, WRIOTHESLEY!!"

"UGH Y/N I TOLD YOU, I CAN GET YOU A BETTER ONE!! PLUS YOU ARE SO LOUD THAT I BET EVERYONE IS OUTSIDE RIGHT NOW!!"

"OH REALLY MR DUKE?? I LIKE THAT ONE CAUSE YOU MADE IT!"

"Y/N YOU AND I BOTH KNOW IT TASTED LIKE DIRT! AND STOP SHOUTING!!!"

Outside the office people were mumbling different things.

"Damn her sentence is gonna be for life if it wasn't before...."

"She's a soldier...."

Sigewinne showed up next to the Traveller and Paimon with an fed up look on her face.

"They are at it again...." She sighed and placed a hand on her forehead.

"Sigewinne!! Just what is going on in there?" Paimon asked as the Traveller flinched at another shout.

"You better go see for yourself..." Sigewinne pushed the Traveller and Paimon in the office and they climbed up the stairs to see a random woman and Wriothesley stop arguing to look at them.

Your demeanor changed completely as you turn your body to face them fully and smile.

"Oh hello! You must be the Traveller, and her cute little friend Paimon!" you smile softly as Paimon giggles and the Traveller greets you.

"Don't make Paimon blush!! However, the main issue is why you guys are shouting so much!!" Paimon places her hands on her hips like an angry mother.

Just as you started to calm you started getting heated.

"Traveller, I wouldn't usually be so desperate...but I could really use your help..."

"Hush it, Wrio." Paimon and the Traveller look at each other in shock.

Not only were you rude to THE Duke of Meropide but he also listened to you.

"Well, funny you guys asked....my HUSBAND here made me a lovely, beautiful delightful cake...last night which I enjoyed immensely!"

"Y/N-" Just as Wriothesley wanted to start you gave him a glare that shut him up.

"I REALLY enjoyed the cake, but my husband insisted it tasted like ass....so this morning after he had gone to work and I wanted to eat this cake I wake up to see it in the bin. So I am simply asking my husband to explain himself."

You fold your arms directing your attention back to Wriothesley.

"Wait....wait...wait...YOUR HUSBAND????!?!? WRIOTHESLEY THIS IS NEWS TO ME...." Paimon shouted as both the Traveller and Paimon both put their hands on their hips.

Wriothesley sighed and rubbed his hand over his face.

"Guys....this is Y/N my wife of 3 years."

"Not for much longer is you keep this up."

"Y/N!! I'm sorry okay, I will make another one for you tonight." You immediately perked up and smiled warmly as you gave him a tight hug he returned, before you gave him a kiss on the cheek.

"There we go, it wasnt hard was it! Anyway, I gotta go back to work...see you guys around and see you tonight, Wrio." you waved as you walked downstairs and left.

It was silent for a few minutes as the Paimon and the Traveller stared at Wriothesley in disbelief.

"I didn't want to tell you in these circumstances but-" Wriothesley started

"YOU BAKE??!!" The Traveller and Paimon spoke up in sync.

☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•

Alhaitham

It was a lovely day and The traveller and Paimon were walking through Port Ormos, just as a little relaxation walk.

"Hey Traveller, isn't that Alhaitham? Let's go say hi!" The Traveller nods and they both go and say hi to Alhaitham despite him talking to you.

You turn your head and notice the Traveller and Paimon approach your boyfriend so you tapped him while he was talking so he would turn around.

"Ah, Traveller and Paimon. How are you? What brings you here?" Alhaitham turns around as you shyly stand behind him hoping they don't notice you.

"We are great! Just came here for a walk. What about you."

"I am discussing things with my partner...." Alhaitham glanced back to you suggesting you make an appearance as you only cower behind him, gripping his arm tight.

"Uhhh....I'm assuming that's them behind you in the Akademiya uniform." Paimon says crossing her arms and raising an eyebrow in confusion.

Alhaitham nods before turning around and grabbing your shoulders, steering you infront of him. "Introduce yourself Y/N..."

"H-Hi....I am Y/N...." you don't say much before wrapping your arms around Alhaitham tightly and shoving your face in his chest. He wraps his arms around you smiling faintly (not going unnoticed by The Traveller)

"Sorry, she is usually really shy..." Alhaitham deadpanned.

"How on earth can she be your partner?" Paimon asked kind of shocked that he was tolerant enough to work together with you.

"She is actually a very valuable asset. I don't appreciate your language." Alhaitham said it neutrally despite the cold look in his eyes.

Before anyone can say anything tou mumbled out from Alhaitham's chest.

"I wanna go home...." you squeezed him tighter as he did the same.

"Well, we are going home now, she seems a bit overwhelmed so we will catch you another time." Alhaitham says moving away making Paimon and The Traveller feel a bit weirded out at how close they were for partners.

"Hey wait!! I'm sorry I said that....I didn't mean it...are you scared of us?" you looked away from Alhaitham's chest smiling slightly at them but not letting go.

"I'm scared cause you guys are so cool, Alhaitham told me all about you!" you spoke softly before turning away and earning a head pat from Alhaitham.

"Well done for speaking Y/N, dear." Alhaitham said as you looked up at him and placed a kiss on his cheek.

"EWWW! JUST WHAT TYPE OF PARTNERS ARE YOU?!?!" Paimon shouted as you and Alhaitham shared another small kiss before walking away.

"Romantic partners and work partners."

"WHATTTT!!"

☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•~•☆☆•

a/n: I'm probs gonna do a pt. 2 just because j wanna write scara too and wanna make sure I haven't written too much...anyways I hope you enjoyed 💜✨️💜✨️💜

[targaryenimagines]

Twin Flames

Dark!Daenerys Targaryen x Fem!Reader

Word Count: 8,219

Summary: With your due date drawing nearer, you begin to wonder what sort of life you’re going to be bringing into the world; dealing with your constantly fluctuating emotions is easier than facing the thoughts that grace your mind during the midnight hours. You should have known it’d only be a matter of time before your dragon became aware.

Warning(s): G!P Daenerys, grief, self worth issues, allusions to sex, and descriptions of labor/childbirth (non-graphic).

Notes: This shifted around from what I had initially planned, but I can’t say that I’m upset with how it turned out! I hope you all enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it for you all! Thank you to @justyourwritter69 for the wonderful inspiration — it may not be exactly what you had been thinking of, but I hope you like it all the same!

Series Masterlist

Warm palms run up the sides of your heaving body — still coiled tightly from the last shockwaves of ecstasy passing through — pulling you ever closer, even as a light laugh is hidden in the crook of your neck, the large grin stretched across your wife’s lips being more than apparent when she nuzzles the sweaty expanse of skin.

“I have to admit,” Daenerys pants, pressing one last lingering kiss to the underside of your jaw, before pulling back to peer down at you: silvery-gold hair acting as a curtain, cutting off the rest of the world entirely. “You might be starting to wear me out, dearest one.”

You arch a brow, legs opening to allow for Daenerys to comfortably settle once more between them; the heat radiating from her back, when you stroke a gentle finger down the length of her spine, offering a sense of comfort that no quilt ever could. “I wasn’t aware that was a possibility,” you tease, a lightness to your tone that caused Daenerys’ own smile to grow that much more. “In fact, I believe it was you who kept me up all night in Meereen. Because, and I quote, you wanted to watch the sun set and rise while being inside of me.” A huff of laughter falls from your lips. “Where has that woman gone to?”

Violet eyes roll skyward, but the open fondness within her gaze, and the bone-deep adoration etched across her face, never wavers in the slightest. “She’s still here, ñuha perzys. Very much so.” As if to prove her point, Daenerys ruts softly against you; letting you feel the extent of the influence you had upon her body. “But I can’t do all of the things I wish to do to you. Not when you’re carrying such precious cargo.”

A brilliant grin stretches across your face at the reminder — even as one of Daenerys’ palms slides from its place on your hip to the growing swell of your abdomen.

Precious cargo, you muse, taking in the sight of your Khaleesi’s peaceful expression. Your twins.

It had come as quite a shock to you when you discovered that you could potentially be having twins from the Palace Healer; a wave of complex emotions crashing over you as Daenerys had puffed up at the thought. It’s a trait you couldn’t help but admire in your wife. You had only ever seen her truly shaken a few times in your long relationship, even when she was the young would-be conqueror trying to find her way in the world, she rarely ever allowed herself to fall.

So, while you were swept into the tide of varying emotions, Daenerys stood as a sturdy rock beside you, preening with pride and jubilation at the fact that she’d soon have two more children to love, to adore, to protect.

In a manner she wasn’t able to before. A thought that had caused a spike of pain to lance through your heart, squeezing at your lungs to stifle the air that your two children would never be able to breathe again; Viserion and Rhaegal were never far from your mind. The golden gleam of the sun hitting the Narrow Sea reminded you of the warmth within Viserion’s aureate gaze, the pristine white of your wedding dress reminiscent of his beautiful scales. Whereas the changing seasons, from the cold winter months to the tentative grasp of spring, brought with it the memory of Rhaegal’s emerald-hued wings stretched across you in a protective embrace, the rumbling of thunder on the horizon, as a summer storm rolled in, bringing back the resounding echoes of his fiery roar to the forefront of your memory.

You knew, deep within your heart, that as long as their memory lived on within you, within Daenerys, and the people that they had graced with their presence, they’d never be truly gone.

Even though you wanted nothing more than for them to be here: to see three shadows flying over King’s Landing, to hear their roars echo along with Drogon’s, to feel the warmth of their bond within your very soul.

Their absence, as your pregnancy delved into the final months, became more apparent with each passing moment. You wished, more than anything, that you could share the kindling of new life with your darling Prūmia and Bāne; knowing that Drogon, your Mīsio, would find comfort from them as well. Instead, he now carried the burden of being an elder brother completely alone.

What was once three, is now only one…

The dragon is supposed to have three heads, but what do you do when two have been ripped away?

If you couldn’t protect Viserion and Rhaegal, mystical beasts from the oldest tales of Westeros, descendants of the mighty creatures of Old Valyria, then how would you ever be able to do so for your twins?

How could you be a proper mother when you’ve already failed so greatly?

“Where have you gone in that beautiful head of yours?” The gentle question pulls you from your torrential thoughts, unfocused eyes snapping to look into a calming violet gaze. At the sight a small smile quirks Daenerys’ lips, but you can detect the worry glimmering just beneath the surface. “There you are.”

You muster up a small smile, knowing that it was lackluster by the way Daenerys' frown seems to grow. "Here I am," you joke. "I was just lost in my thoughts, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to make you worried."

"I will always worry about you," Daenerys replies. "As long as my enemies walk this world, and something can cause harm to you, then I will continue to be worried. That's what you do for the people you love."

"Really?" Silken skin meets your fingertips as you gently trace a line from high cheekbones, down to a sharp jawline, to full lips, and back again. "I wasn't aware I ranked so highly on your list of priorities, Khaleesi."

Violet eyes narrow at the blatant teasing. "I don't have a list of priorities." You almost laugh at the petulant pout that overtakes your wife's face. "It's true, beloved."

"I don't think that's true, Daenerys." You begin to count on your fingers. "You have the Seven Kingdoms. You have your armies. You have the whole mess with the Stark's. You have--"

Soft lips do a great job at shutting you up, an expert tongue acting in a great supporting role to make you boneless beneath the commanding form of your wife, as nimble fingers curl through the strands of your still sex-mussed hair. "Nothing," she whispers hotly against your mouth, warm breath still mingling with your own. "Will ever be more important than you. The Iron Throne means nothing to me if I don't have you by my side while I rule. My armies mean nothing if I do not have you to defend. This right here?" Daenerys rubs her nose against your own, smoothing a hand down the swell of your belly. "Our family that you've blessed me with, our son that's been ravenously waiting for his little siblings, is all that I could ever want. Nothing will ever be more of a priority to me than my family."

You allow your Khaleesi to hold you close for a moment, at peace within her strong embrace, but soon the need to rile her up once more overtakes you. "All of those things you just mentioned are priorities to you?" Daenerys hums in agreement, having shifted over onto her back to allow you a better position to rest upon her chest, slender fingers now gently carding through your hair to untangle some of the strands. "Wouldn't you call that a list, Khaleesi?"

Daenerys' answering chuckle rumbles through her beneath your ear, her fingers never halting in their soothing motion, as she pulls you impossibly closer to her lithe form. "No, I wouldn't call it a list. A list makes it sound militaristic, cold, unfeeling, and that's the exact opposite of how I feel." She peers down at you through dark lashes, full lips quirked in adoration. "I call it the very reason for my next breath, the reason that my heart will continue beating, and the sole purpose that I'll never lose my fire to continue fighting for a better future."

Silence falls then — both being soothed by the company of the other; you by the steady beat of Dany's heart beneath your ear and Daenerys by the heat of your body curled against her own. You could even feel yourself beginning to fall asleep, something you're hoping will last till morning, before a need fills you once more. This time, instead of being one to tease your dragon, it's one to reaffirm that her adoration, her love, was more than reciprocated.

"You're everything to me, Dany," you sigh, nuzzling into warm skin. "I just want you to know how much you mean to me."

"And you, my dearest flame, are the big house with the red door and the lemon tree." Her arms tighten around you, her last words whispered against the crown of your head as you drift off into sleep. "I'm no longer lost when I look back. You helped me accept my past, embrace my present, and look forward to my future."

It’s only hours later, when your wife is nestled closely to you, a lithe arm wrapped around your abdomen in a protective embrace, that you finally give up on your battle to find sleep. You had hoped, as you had the many nights prior, that Daenerys would tire you out to the point that you could fall into dreamless sleep from sheer exhaustion; something that typically worked.

But no one, not even your dragon, could maintain that level of vigor at night coupled with being Queen of Westeros during the day; although she made a valiant effort, certainly better than anyone else could hope to accomplish.

Refraining from making too much noise, even if it was to just sigh, you slowly edge your way from underneath your dragon's arm — something that's a lot easier in theory, even if you had been doing it more and more recently as sleep continued to elude you — almost panicking when Daenerys tightened her hold, grumbling something against the nape of your neck, before she slackened once more.

Slipping from the bed, after ensuring that Daenerys had truly fallen back asleep, you carefully maneuver around the room, slipping on a discarded tunic that you vaguely recall Daenerys wearing upon entering your shared chambers after dinner — having quickly shed her clothing to take a much-needed bath after the arduous day.

Following your usual route, you find yourself standing on the overhanging balcony that let you see King's Landing in its entirety as well as the harbor twinkling softly in the night. It's on nights like this, when the moon is bright and the stars are twinkling, that you have the most trouble falling asleep. On stormy, or simply overcast, nights you didn't ache deep within your bones, but when the world unveiled itself in its natural state of beauty?

It's like having shards of glass travel down your throat every time you took a breath. Memories of nights underneath a different starry sky, in arid deserts and ancient cities, wherein Viserion and Rhaegal danced across the sky like they were trying to join the very stars themselves — always testing to see who could fly higher.

Looking up now, at the stars shining so brilliantly, you can't help but wonder if they were up there now? If they had finally made it in their pursuit to see who could make it to the top. You wonder if Viserion had saved a special spot for Rhaegal... You wonder if he was currently saving spots for you all...

Tears blur your vision, distorting the sky into a hazy blob of black and silver, and you hope, that wherever they may be now, that they were happy. That they were safe and loved in a way they always deserved to be treated.

Could they see you now?

Could they hear the way your heart cried out for them?

Did they know how much you missed them?

Did they know how much you love them still? How much you will always love them?

Did they know how much darker the world had become since their light was taken away?

"What are you doing out here, ñuha perzys?"

No, your mind cries out. Why tonight, of all nights, did she have to wake up?

"Beloved?"

You hesitated in turning to look at her, knowing that the moment you did you'd be caught, but the longer you waited, the longer you stalled, the more Daenerys would become agitated, her protective instincts flaring into life. There's no way for you to get out of this... Not without the conversation you've been desperately trying to avoid.

So, with a soft sigh, you turn to face the love of your life; being met with the adorably disgruntled form of Daenerys Targaryen: clad in only a rumpled robe that had been thrown across a vanity due to her haste to have you hours before.

"Dany."

Daenerys rarely had to ask you what was plaguing your mind when it became like this — her ability to read you like a book coming in handy — and, for a brief moment, you're glad that you won't have to explain it to her. Explain to her how much of a failure you felt like you were. How your fears of becoming a mother were amplified because you had failed so spectacularly before.

Violet eyes observe you for another moment, darkening with an untold emotion, before something seems to shift inside of her.

"Do you blame me?" The question is uttered softly, on a hesitant breath, that is the complete opposite of your veracious wife. "Do you?"

You shake your head. "Blame you for what, Dany?"

Please don't know, please don't know, please--

"Viserion and Rhaegal."

The mention of their names, coupled with the latent thoughts still swirling within the dark recesses of your mind, causes you to flinch, arms instinctively tightening around yourself in a protective hold. An action that Daenerys must have taken as a positive answer to her question; if the almost injured look that's now openly expressed across her beautiful face is anything to go by.

"We've had this discussion before, Daenerys," you murmur, not wishing to rehash harsh words and reopen still barely healed wounds. "I don't blame you for Viserion. Not anymore."

Daenerys winces at the reminder of what had occurred in Dragonstone all those moons ago. "But you did." It's not a question. There's no need for pleasant lies when in the face of your soulmate. "Who's to say that you don't again? I wouldn't blame you if you did. It was my fault to listen to my advisors instead of my instincts. It was my fault to agree to send Jon Snow beyond the Wall with Jorah. It was my decision to go after them completely alone. It was my own stupidity that led me to turn my back on everything that I learned, everything that I had become in order to get to where I am now." She steps closer to you, unshed tears causing violet eyes to shimmer like untouched amethysts in the argent light of the moon. "It was all because of me that Viserion was struck down in an icy hellscape. Where he was forced to become enslaved to that thing. It was because of me that our son, our youngest child, had his fire drowned by ice."

Your eyes shutter shut at the memories her words invoke. Flashes of icy blue eyes where there should have been gentle gold viciously cycle within your head as you try to forget the brokenly shattered form of your son that you had found after the Battle of Winterfell.

"Not to mention Rhaegal," Daenerys continues, angry spite, all of it directed at herself, hardening her tone. "If I had paid more attention, if I had kept him closer to me, if I had been more cognizant that Euron would have been lurking in the waters below, then he would still be with us. You wouldn't have had to watch as he fell from the sky, you wouldn't have been bathed red by specks of his blood, you wouldn't have had to use milk of the poppy or dreamwine in order to fall asleep because you had such bad nightmares. You wouldn't have suffered if it wasn't for me. Our children would still be alive if it wasn't for me."

Even if some of what she said held merit — others being beliefs you had held onto just to inflict pain onto her; not unlike the pain you had felt when dealing with the unending grief — you refused to let her drown within her pain, refuse to let Daenerys' light get snuffed out. Not when she had been your steady rock for so long, your guiding light to bring you home, the only reason you had been able to pull yourself from the dark abyss their deaths had caused.

"No," you rebuke, tone firm. "I don't blame you, Daenerys. The Night King killed Viserion. The Night King is the reason our beautiful boy was trapped in an unending purgatory instead of the peaceful death he deserved. Rhaegal—" Pausing, lips pressed into a thin line, you take a shuddering breath before pressing on. "We didn't see Euron's fleet either. We were all aware of the potential risks he posed, but none of us took the proper precautions. Rhaegal, what happened to him, and what occurred afterwards, wasn't solely on you, Dany. You were foolish, I won't pretend that you weren't, but you were trying to make too many people happy, trying so hard to be the ruler that they all wanted you to be, instead of being the queen you were always meant to be. You got lost, Dany, and while the price we paid was high, and I don't think the pain will ever fully disappear, I'm just happy you were able to find yourself in some manner in the end." You step closer to your darling dragon, pressing a reverent hand to a flushed cheek. "So, no, Daenerys Stormborn of House Targaryen, I don't blame you for the deaths of our children."

Daenerys simply stares at you for a moment, her gaze almost inscrutable, but you can see the light beginning to return, even as her lips downturn slightly. "Then why do you blame yourself?"

No answer is forthcoming even as a thousand more spring to mind.

How could I not be? I didn't speak up; I saw what was happening and didn't do anything. I wasn't the partner you deserved, Daenerys, not like the one you have been to me and, because of that, because I couldn't find it within myself to just fucking speak up, our sons were killed...

How could I not be responsible when I still remember the sounds of Viserion's distorted roar and Rhaegal's scream of agony?

How could I not be when I'm still haunted by their faces every damn day?

You know that you couldn't say any of those things — Daenerys would probably blow a fuse — but the look within your wife's gaze let you know that she wasn't going to let you off the hook quite yet.

"I don't know," you admit, shoulders slumping as you turn from her inquisitive stare. "I don't know. Are you happy?"

The warm presence of your wife settles before you, standing closer than she had since the entire discussion had begun. "Of course, I'm not happy. You're in pain." Slender fingers gently grasping your face to turn your head to look at her. "It's something I will never enjoy seeing, but I want you understand me when I say this." Daenerys' eyes sharpen, violet pools burning with an inner fire that bespoke of her bloodline. "You need to stop wondering what might have been. It's something I couldn't stop doing, something that I still struggle with on occasion, but it will only make it so that you miss what's happening now. Viserion and Rhaegal are gone, which is something that will never leave us, but to only carry the darkness around with us would be a disservice to the light they had brought into our lives. They're gone, but they'll never be forgotten, because we won't let that happen. So, please, don't blame yourself any longer for something you can't change. Not if you won't let me share that blame alongside you." She steps closer, always drawn like a moth to a flame when you're near. "I promised to protect you from everything when I took you as my wife, to love and hold you through any storm that may come, to weather any battle that'll mean you'll be okay. Even if that means contending with the beasts that lurk within your beautiful mind. I know it's hard, my beloved, but I can't stand not knowing when you're in pain. Not if there's something I can do about. So, please, don't shut me out even if you think you're protecting me by doing so."

You nod, heart twisting at her soulful plea. "I'll try."

Even if you don't know how you'll accomplish it...

"That's all I'll ever ask for."

There's a moment of silence — wherein only the world dares intertwine within the moment you were now sharing with your dragon — before Dany gently smiles at you, love and adoration etching themselves across her face in an open mural of her devotion towards you.

“Come back to bed.” Daenerys reaches out for you, her hands slightly chilled by the night air when your own slots perfectly in place. “You know how I hate the emptiness when you're not there.”

Fighting the urge to smile, you follow your wife back from the balcony into the spacious bedchamber you’ve made into your haven, and you're not surprised in the slightest when Daenerys flops down onto her back, arms wide open in a silent invitation for you to take your rightful place between them.

This time, when you fell into your dragon's embrace, the warmth of your bed surrounding you, though never standing a chance against the heat of your wife, you knew, in that moment, that you'd finally be able to sleep.

Even if it took a while for your mind to finally catch up with what your body needed.

You’re not sure when you had fallen asleep, but suddenly awakening, standing on a sunlit coast that was all too familiar, with the sound of sea birds and crashing waves surrounding you, gave you the impression that you had at some point.

Either that or you were finally going insane.

Turning in place, you take in the sights, the smells, and the sounds of a world that you hadn’t believed you’d ever return to; even if Essos was simply across the Narrow Sea, you don’t think you’d ever be able to see it the same way again. Not after everything that’s happened.

Still, even now, you couldn’t deny that the sight of the Great Pyramid, far off into the distance, didn’t elicit some bone-deep reaction within you. Memories of easier times flickering through your mind — even as the faces of the ones you lost threaten to overwhelm you — allowing for a small smile to stretch across your lips.

A smile that turns into a full blown grin the moment you crane your neck to look at the azure sky and see two familiar shapes circling overhead; Viserion and Rhaegal. Their wings beat rhythmically, creating a soft, soothing sound that echoes across the peaceful landscape as they begin to descend. The sight of them, at the ease in which they danced upon the wind, and around the other, brings a tug of longing to your heart; wishing, more than anything, that this wasn’t a dream. That you’d be able to see it when you awakened.

Landing with a soft thump, a small spray of golden sand showering over your feet, their massive forms tower over you, but you weren’t intimidated for a moment; not when they radiated an aura of warmth and familiarity.

Viserion approaches first, cream colored scales shimmering brilliantly in the sunlight, causing the golden accents to almost appear like flames, and nudges you gently with his snout, a gesture of recognition and affection. Pressing a hand to his cheek, almost crying at the feeling of his sun-soaked pebbled scales, you look into his gleaming golden eyes, a feeling of absolution settling over you as you realize that the icy blue wouldn’t be the last color you witnessed any longer.

Rhaegal, not to be outdone by his younger brother, soon approaches; emerald scales gleam like precious gems as the bronze hues brings with it the thought of your countless hours laying in a field watching him dip and dive in the wind. Tears, that had been gathering from the moment you saw your sons in the air, begin to fall down your cheeks, a sob being stifled in your throat, as you press your hands into both of their cheeks; wanting to be reassured that they were actually there. That they wouldn’t just vanish and leave you bereft once more.

“I miss you both so much,” you whisper, throat still tight from the efforts of keeping your sobs at bay. Their soft croons in response, large heads nuzzling closer to the warmth you provided, nearly being your undoing. “I’m sorry that I failed you. That I wasn’t able to protect you.”

They both let loose short rumbles in response; clearly not agreeing with your evaluation of your past deeds. Rhaegal nudges you with his head, forcing you to take a step back, as he and Viserion seem to have a silent conversation with the other. A sight that brings a small furrow to your brow, but you're not able to say, or do, anything before the world seems to tilt on its axis and everything blurs together. Your stomach lurching at the suddenness of solid ground, and a miasma of colors, as everything seems to settle once more.

Well... almost settled, you think, casting a quick glance to the world around you; noting, with a sinking feeling in your gut, that your sons were nowhere to be found, but that wasn't the only thing that had captured your attention.

Gone were the shrieking of the gulls, the warmth of the sand beneath your feet, the almost sweet scent upon the wind; now you stood at the precipice of a cliff you hadn’t been to since Daenerys had claimed King’s Landing — a place that’d forever haunt you.

Dragonstone…

The air is unusually still, carrying an otherworldly scent of sea salt and dragon fire. The sky above is a swirling canvas of deep purples and oranges, with stars twinkling faintly through the wisps of clouds; an almost dizzying shift from the golden sunlight, crystalline skies, and a warm ocean breeze.

Beneath your feet, waves crash against the rocks with an unparalleled intensity, sending sprays of foam into the air. You didn’t have to look behind you to know that the ancient castle was looming; towers reaching towards the sky as if to grasp what the owners had lost in the years since the dragons vanished.

Twin thumps, and rush of air that ruffles your hair, is all the warning you receive that your sons had arrived.

“Why are we here?”

You didn’t have the heart, or the strength of will, to ask all of the other questions plaguing your mind: Is this my punishment for failing you both? To be forever trapped in the place that I had last seen you? Happy. Whole. Together.

Viserion’s warm head bumps against your side, a small croon bubbling from deep within his throat; it was a sound he always used to make when he wished to go flying, or wanted you to scratch just a bit to the left, or simply because he wished for you attention, for your love.

You laugh wetly, fighting a losing battle in keeping your tears at bay. “I know you dragons are beasts that'll never be fully understood, but I’d like a straight answer at least once.”

None was forthcoming — not from Viserion, whose gentle gaze never wavered from where he had curled his neck around your body, nor from Rhaegal, who had decided to rest on the opposite side, bracketing you within their warmth, keeping you from the cold, harsh wind of the surf — but, in that moment, you realized all you needed to know.

It's a realization that barely registered before Viserion confirms it for you, pressing a warm snout against the clothed area of your abdomen — a place that had once been flat, now round with the promise of new life — and you feel your twins instantly react to his presence. A fact that causes Viserion to snort happily and for Rhaegal to finally raise his head to nuzzle closer; a position that you had been in numerous times before, wedged between your youngest boys while Drogon was off with Daenerys. The bittersweet twang that this moment causes makes you want to never leave, to never get up from the warmth that they had always provided.

Knowing, that when you woke up, you'd be without them once more.

Memories of the last time you had been on this cliff, watching the sun cast a miasma of colors across the Westerosi sky, as Dothraki and Unsullied soldiers worked on the sands far below, assault you in a vicious attack; echoes of Viserion's playful chortling as Rhaegal snarled in response to his brother's continued insistence to steal some of his food. A squabble the two had grown accustomed to having — one you had grown used to overseeing — that never escalated past the first few nips; wherein you'd finally step in and give Viserion the rest of whatever you had on hand.

You remember, with sharp clarity, the way the sun had cast an almost angelic aura within Viserion's kind eyes and the way in which it brought out the darker green hues within Rhaegal's hide.

You remember the serenity you had felt watching Drogon dip and weave across the bay, leaning up against Viserion's warm side with Rhaegal's large head nestled close to your lap.

You remember the sounds of raised voices, that you had previously ignored when they graced your ears through the whistling wind, growing closer; Tyrion's exasperation and Daenerys' calm nonchalance finally keying you into the severity of what was occurring.

You remember your own objections being raised when Daenerys had told you her plan — worry and fear nearly choking you. For her. For your children. For what it could mean for her men if something were to happen. For the future that you weren't ready to live without her in.

You remember the gentle kiss and promise that she had bestowed on you before mounting Drogon: "I will be back soon. You'll be cuddled up with our children and me before you know it."

You remember the warmth of Viserion's cheek as you caressed his pebbled scales, the way your hair blew back when Rhaegal huffed as you leant to kiss his nose, and the amused look within Drogon's crimson gaze when you scratched under his chin.

You remember the heavy feeling in your chest nearly crushing you as you watched all three, along with your Khaleesi, disappear into the horizon.

And, above it all, you remember the look within violet eyes upon Daenerys' return, her pleading words when you looked out into the bay expecting to see three forms but instead saw only two, the distance that had grown between you as you dealt with your grief, the pain that kept you up at night, the regret that hung over you for not speaking up, and that same weight bearing down onto you.

You can't even bear to look out towards the open water now where Rhaegal had fallen, where his emerald scales had been stained forever crimson, and the sounds of his cries still haunted your dreams; your darling boy, your Bāne, always so hotheaded, disappearing beneath frothing water... Simply gone before you could even blink.

Both gone before you could...

The sudden realization of why you're here, why Viserion and Rhaegal were nestled so close to you, finally clicked into place and, with that realization, your tears finally cascaded down your cheeks.

"To say goodbye." You look down into their eyes, one set gold and the other bronze, as tears continue to fall from your own. "That's why I'm here. You're letting me say goodbye."

Twin rumbles meet your declaration, large heads pushing closer as they gently nuzzle your growing stomach. A sight that you would do anything to see in real life — knowing, with everything you had, that they would have made the best big brothers. Smoothing a hand down Rhaegal's jaw, and then shifting to Viserion, you lean closer and allow yourself to be fully wrapped in their embrace.

"I wish that I could go back and hold you both a bit longer. Give you a bit more of the fish I had stolen from the kitchen. Stayed a little bit longer snuggled into your side as I read. I wish that I could get all those little moments back and hold them tightly, so I'd never lose them, never lose you." Rhaegal nudges your shoulder, causing a watery chuckle to escape from your lips. "But, above anything, I wish that I had been able to show you both how much I loved you as fiercely, and as loyally, as you loved me, because I would have died to protect you. I would have gladly sacrificed myself so you both could live."

Shifting back, you look at your darling boys, never letting your hands stray too far from the warmth of their scales. "I want you to know how much I love you, how much I will always love you, and that you'll never be far from my heart. No matter how much time passes, I will never forget either of you. I will never forget the moments we made together and the love you freely gave me. I will never forget what you both have done for me." You lightly place a kiss on both of their snouts. "Goodbye, my darling boys, for the next time I see you, I won't be leaving your sides ever again."

Viserion and Rhaegal press closer, their wings stretching out further to eclipse the very sky above you; casting the diluted light into a fractured array of bronze and gold coloring. The sight bringing you peace as the beginnings of the world starts to blur at the edge of your vision.

And, even as everything fades into grey around you — the twin gazes, one gold and the other bronze, act as a beacon of light to where you were meant to go.

Rain hammers against tall windows, accompanied by the occasional flash of lightning that illuminates the grand tapestries on the walls within the royal bedchamber; the air heavy with the scent of salt and sea, mingling with the sweet incense burned by the attending septas.

You don’t know what had caused you to feel the sudden urge to travel to Dragonstone, remnants of a hazy memory being your only clue; as you rarely left King’s Landing since the news of the impending heirs became public knowledge. Daenerys hadn’t been happy about the potential trip — the way in which she had grit her teeth almost made you believe she was about to spit fire — but something in your eyes must have given her the impression that you weren’t going to back down.

Her acceptance didn’t mean it was an easy trip — with Daenerys’ constant hovering, Drogon snapping at anyone that got too close, and Grey Worm almost stabbing three maids that had suddenly appeared to help you out of the days outfit, being the lightest of the events that had occurred — but the sight of the ancient castle, with its dark spires reaching out to seemingly conquer the sky itself, brought with it a wave of relief that nearly keeled you over; the pressure within your heart clicking into place, making everything right once more.

Everything had gone smoothly for the first five days of your spontaneous vacation, but things had almost imploded when Daenerys had been told, via a raven, her presence was needed in King’s Landing due to a few of the minor noble families stirring up trouble with the visiting dignitaries from Essos. You knew that your wife didn’t wish to leave you, not so late into your pregnancy, nor did your son, but escalating drama within King’s Landing — one Daenerys wanted you far away from — compelled her to shift from doting wife to Queen of the Seven Kingdoms.

She had left the next morning, with a searing kiss pressed to your lips, arms wrapped tight around your form, and a whispered vow seemingly imprinted into your skin: “I will be back within the next two days, I swear it. Even if that means I have to kill every last person that would dare keep me from you.”

Which means it was only right that you’d go into labor on the end of the second day; a raging storm, the likes that hadn’t been seen since your darling wife had been born, crashing over Dragonstone.

“Daenerys still isn’t here?” You gasp, a strangled groan escaping you at the same time. “Shouldn’t she be here by now?”

Grey Worm stands by your side, his sharp features etched with concern. “No, Your Grace, but I know she’ll arrive soon. Even with this weather I’m certain the raven will have reached her by now. For the moment, until Her Majesty can be here, I implore you to focus on yourself.” His rough hand clutch yours, offering what little warmth and reassurance he can. “I’ll be by your side until then.”

The maester, with his wispy beard and trembling hands, no doubt aware of what would happen to him if something were to go wrong, moves between your legs, his voice steady despite the chaos outside. “Push now, gently,” he instructs, his soft tone a sharp contrast to the tempestuous night.

You follow his guidance, clutching at Grey Worm’s proffered hand, summoning every ounce of strength left within your body.

The ancient stones of Dragonstone seem to tremble in response to each clap of thunder, as if the very castle shared in your agony. Yet, amidst the roaring winds and pain — a single strike of clarity, not unlike the lightning streaking through the sky, hits you; a profound sense of determination racing through your haggard form, burrowing deep within your heart, to bring life into this world, despite the raging storm and the absence of your wife.

Gritting your teeth, an agonized cry tears itself from deep within your chest, as you push once more, only faintly hearing the guiding words of the maester.

And, just as another streak of lightning illuminated the sky, Daenerys stormed into the room, her presence commanding and urgent; violet eyes burning with residual fury at being held up, and silvery-gold hair slightly disheveled, betraying the haste in which she had arrived to Dragonstone.

Where she is, Drogon is sure to quickly follow, you think, warmth spreading through you at the sight of your wife and the knowledge your son was home. And, just as the thought crosses your mind, a familiar shadow casts itself over the room, thundering wing-beats being easily discernible from the crackling lightning. No matter how tired he may have been from his long journey, Drogon would stay outside until you brought the twins into this world; a thought that brings a wave of affection for your eldest crashing through you.

“I’m here,” Daenerys announced, voice strained in apology but her relief was palpable as she made her way to your side; taking the spot that Grey Worm had quickly vacated. Pressing a kiss to the hand clasped in hers, Daenerys brushes a sweat-soaked strand of hair from your overheated forehead. “I’m sorry I’m late. I wanted nothing more than to be back by your side the moment I left it.”

You’re only able to offer her a strained smile in response, another wave of pain shooting through you as the maester continues guiding the process along.

Daenerys, easily taking note of your state, turns wild eyes to the gathered servants. “How is she? How far along are we?” The strained quality of her voice, coupled with the vice grip she has upon your hand, gives you an easy understanding of where your wife’s mind had went; to the night of her own birth in this very castle — a night where Daenerys Targaryen was borne but Rhaella Targaryen ceased to exist. “Has there been any issues?”

“No, Your Majesty.” A midwife helpfully supplies, her presence near the bed signifying that you’d hopefully bringing one of your twins into the world soon. “Everything has gone well. Her Majesty has been doing well. There’s no cause for alarm.”

Daenerys, while still stiff, seemed to accept the response, her attention swiftly falling to you solely. “I’m right here, my beloved. I’m not going anywhere.”

Time seems to stretch into an eternity — you’re barely able to discern Daenerys gentle hold, and soothing words, from the maester that was still acting as a guiding light — and the pain is almost stifling until, with one final push, the first of your twins enters the world.

Exhausted, yet elated at the same time, you watch, through bleary eyes, as a midwife quickly takes the babe into her arms to clean, only giving you the barest glimpse of a tiny form before disappearing into the swarm of moving bodies.

But, however much your body may rebel at the thought, the labor wasn’t over yet; another wave of pain crashing over you, ensured that you understood that fact. With every bit of strength you had left in your body, while sweat beaded your brow, and your wife stayed steadily by your side, you give one final push and feel as your second child comes into the world; the same process quickly taking place as the babe was swept away to be seen to.

Twin cries soon fill the chamber in a harmonious display of new life — cutting through the fog that had fallen over your mind — a sound that brings tears to your eyes and a lightness to your chest, as if a weight had suddenly been lifted that you hadn’t even realized was there.

“Boys! You’ve had two beautiful boys, Your Majesty!” A portly midwife bustles towards you, a delicately small form cradled against her clothed chest. “Perfectly healthy.”

Your son is soon placed on your chest, skin to skin, and he’s soon joined by his brother; both babes swaddled but giving you a perfect view to see their beautiful faces. Looking up at your dragon, you can’t help the tears that stream down your face when you notice her own glistening upon porcelain skin.

“Two handsome princes,” you murmur, gently tracing a line down a chubby cheek. “I can’t believe we’re mothers, Dany.” Your eyes meet the violet gaze of your wife, happiness shared between you like the love that has bonded you for years. “After all this time, I can’t believe that I’m actually here.”

“I never wish to be anywhere else,” Daenerys replies, pressing a chaste kiss to your temple, smoothing a hand down your back. “I would do it all over again, go through all the pain and heart ache, if it meant that I could end up right back here with you, with our children.”

Angling your head, you huff out a light chuckle, taking note that Drogon had taken his leave to, no doubt, rest on the cliff side until he was allowed to meet his siblings in person; something you were excited to do, but your new position also allows you to get a better look at your Khaleesi for the first time; your brow furrowing in concern instantly.

“I thought I was supposed to be the only one covered in blood.” You tug at the crimson stained fabric of her ornate tunic. “What happened? Are you okay?”

“I’m more than fine, dearest one,” Daenerys soothes, calmly smoothing a wild strand of hair back behind your ear. “I simply honored the promise I made to you upon my departure.”

Even if that means I have to kill every last person that would dare keep me from you.

Your eyes flutter shut, arms tightening ever-so-slightly around the twins. “Who did you kill, Dany?” Violet eyes, filled with open amusement, are the first thing you see when you collect yourself. “It wasn’t anyone that’d cause a war, is it?”

“As if any of the nobleman would dare test me,” she scoffs, clearly affronted at the mere insinuation. “I made it abundantly clear how foolish it’d be to keep me from arriving back at your side promptly, something that most of those imbeciles seemed to take as a challenge. A feat that became even more imbecilic when I had received the raven stating that you had gone into labor.”

“How many?”

“I don’t see why that would matter—”

“How many, Daenerys?” You interrupt, the sharpness within your gaze causing your wife to halt mid-sentence. “Don’t you dare lie to me either, I’ll find out sooner or later.”

Daenerys huffs. “A little over two dozen, I’d wager.” Her eyes roll skyward, as if she still couldn’t believe the audacity of the people who had stood between her and her family. “However, as I was saying, I don’t see why that would matter. I did tell them to not get in my way, especially since I was already in a horrid mood having to deal with their foolishness to begin with, not to mention leaving your side, I simply ran out of the patience that had already been in short supply.”

“I don’t even wish to imagine what you would have done if you had missed the birth of our sons.”

Your wife tilts her head. “I would have killed them all, of course. Keeping me from you is a sin upon itself, but keeping me away so you go through something like this alone? Wherein anything could have happened to you?” Daenerys shakes her head at the mere notion. “There wouldn’t be any mercy left in my heart; for there can never be any remnants if someone dares affect you due to their actions.”

Despite yourself, and still wanting to know the finer details about who exactly she had killed, and what sort of mess you could expect upon your return to King’s Landing, you couldn’t help the affection that courses through your veins; Daenerys, for everything that she was, and everything she used to be, had always loved you. More than you think you deserve, in all honesty, but the clear dedication she had for you was never more apparent than in this moment.

So, for her, for everything that she has done, and will continue to do, in the name for her love towards you, you decide to drop the conversation for the moment. This wasn’t a time to get into a petty squabble with your wife; not when your sons slumbered peacefully against your chest.

Daenerys, clearly on the same wave of thought, runs a slender finger across the wisps of silvery-gold hair peeking out from underneath the cloth of the twin closest to her. “What shall we call them, ñuha perzys?”

You pause, ruminating over the variety of choices; Old Valyrian was an obvious choice, something strong to showcase the roots that your sons now held to the ancient world, but what names stuck out the most?

Suddenly, as if hit by a bolt of lightning, you realize the only choice of what they could be.

“I have the perfect names in mind, Dany.” Whispers of a phantom dream wisp through your mind, echoing deep within your heart and soul, your smile turning soft as you gently stroke the soft cheeks of your twins. “If you’ll allow me the honor of bestowing them?”

Daenerys’ beautiful smile in return, violet eyes glassy with unshed tears, is all you needed to see to understand that she was more than willing to grant you whatever you wished.

“I think I’ve always known. It’s just something I haven’t been able to see until now.” You lean against your wife, nestled safely underneath her arm, forever seeking the warmth she so effortlessly provided, as you spoke to the room at large: the surrounding midwives, a wizened maester, various servants, and your most loyal guards, all standing at attention. “I’d like you all to meet Prince Rhaegon and Prince Viseryn of House Targaryen.”

And, if you allowed yourself to believe, to listen close enough, through the crashing of the waves and the rage of the wind, as well as the cheering of the people within the room, you could just make out the twin sounds of answering roars from across the Narrow Sea.

[doromoni]

Not Over the Papaya | OP81

⊹ ｡•┈꒰ა ♡ ໒꒱┈• ｡ﾟ

Ships : Oscar Piastri x Popstar! Reader , Ex!Lando Norris x Popstar! Reader

Genre : Fluff Smau

A/N : I’m back!! am i still sick? yeah a lil~ But I can finally look at my phone 🥹. Thank yall for waiting and supporting NOTP series 🧡.

Face claim : Jennie Kim

Warnings : Cursing, Grammatical Errors

Summary : Y/N and Oscar cope with their own breakups by making the Heartbreak Club.

Masterlist | Series Masterlist

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“I have nothing to say to you”

“Ok, then let me do the talking. Y/N I’m really sorry”

“Lando, you apologizing wont make what you did go away! Can’t you just leave me alone??”

“I will, I promise… i just want to end everything correctly… please let me. Y/N please”

“i’m already happy Lando.”

“I know that Y/N and I’m happy for you! I don’t want everything to be awkward with Oscar when we do see each other.”

“For Oscar…”

Y/N. 3m

story replies

oscarpiastri am i crazy or is the coffee we make in your flat better than this??

Y/N. No lie youre so right, this coffee lowkey is not it.

oscarpiastri I thought I was tweakin. Where are you btw?? I left for the bathroom for 3 mins and ur gone??

Y/N. uhh… im looking for popcorn :DD

oscarpiastri How aren’t you getting a stomachache with the things you eat baffles me .

Y/N. Ion know myself dude 🤷🏼‍♀️ I’m amazing like that

oscarpiastri well no need to look, they have it at the plane. I asked John if the plane stocked popcorn and yes they do

Y/N. Really? You’re literally the bestttt 🥺🫶

Y/bf Y/N L/N when I found out that you’ve died from caffein overdose I wont even be surprised 😀

Y/N. I just wont die, simple as that my dearest best friend.

Y/bf just have fun and give em hell 🤭 . Oh! my chocolates dont forget!! Safe travel luv 🫶

Y/N. Oh they wouldn’t know what hit em. I will bring chaos . I wont forget your chocolates y/bf!!. And thank youu

maxverstappen1 Y/NNnnnnnnnnn I’m sorry 😩

Y/N. Sorry? and you are?

maxverstappen1 I changed my password already! Plsss do not be mad >:((

logansargeant Y/N are you going to the raceeeee???!!

Y/N. well yes I am American Boi

logansargeant why am i always the last to know?!!

Y/N. Sorry (Lmao I’m not)

logansargeant Ur so mean to me >:((

oscarpiastri

story replies

Y/N. 🧡🧡🧡

oscarpiastri food was 🔥 music was 🔥 the pretty girl held my hand also 🔥.

Y/N. Is it safe to assume you liked everything then…. 🫣

oscarpiastri YES i did! I’d wife you up if you’d let me.

Y/N. I haven’t met your family yet SIR. 🤨

oscarpiastri That wasn’t a no. If the last song in your album wasnt a proposal…. 🤭

Y/N. OK! you win. Be grateful I love you. Now stop looking at ut phone you need to focus on your debriefing! I could ser John glaring at you rn!!

charles_leclerc is that Y/N’s Unreleased album????!!!

oscarpiastri why yes father, it is 😌.

charles_leclerc and you and Y/N are not letting me listen?? HOW DARE YOU TWO 😭

oscarpiastri Sorryyy . I get first listens ~ you wait for the release of Heartbreak club like the otherss😛

charles_leclerc even Alex is freaking out!!! comeonnn Son. Just 1 song plsss.

oscarpiastri ask Y/N 🙂‍↕️ She’s the genius behind this masterpiece (that i get to listen to whenever i want 😛😛😛)

charles_leclerc I will revoke your adoption! Oscar Jack Piastri-Leclerc.

logansargeant Heartbreak Club??? Isnt that the name of you and Y/N’s club for people who got cheated on

oscarpiastri the very same HAHAHAHAHA

logansargeant so its about Lando cheating???

oscarpiastri Yes and No… and I’m not allowed to elaborate further!

logansargeant Boi without me there wouldnt even be a club with you and Y/N~ mate yall owe me 🥰😀

f1wags

liked by user1 , user2, and others

f1wags Oscar and Y/N are already in Belgium🫶 .

user1 Oop, is Y/N going to attend the race 🫣

user2 Ohhhh I really hope so! Plss plss

user3 I really miss Y/N in the paddock. Miss ma’am pls mark your territory! Ion like that other girl there 🤡 Ur tainting the McLaren brand pls exit the premises.

user2 The height difference is so 🥰🫶🧡

user3 I offer myself as their child or their pet I dont care. Pls just have me

user4 Their future child would be troy bolton i swear. To sing or to do sports 😩

user5 HAHAHAHAHAHHA I could so imagine it.

user6 BET ON IT!

user7 I SAW THEMMM 😭 they were do cute I can’t!! Y/N was so busy yapping and Oscar was just smiling at her and nodding. Boi is just happy to be there, Oscar same.

user8 I still cant believe that Osc knows the tracks inside Y/N’s album

oscarpiastri

liked by Y/N., mclaren, charles_leclerc , carlossainz55, and other

oscarpiastri Touch down and Landed 🛩️ Excited to get behind the wheel!

charles_leclerc what is with you and spa (wdym landed?? you’re literally here since Tuesday??)

alexandrasaintmleux let him have his fun, babe.

Y/N. Yeah! have your own timeline Lechuck

oscarpiastri listen to the ladies, Mate. It’ll do you good.

charles_leclerc I love my life and the people in it 😀

mclaren Locked and Ready 💪 Let’s go for Podium!!

user1 LETS GO OSC!!

user2 continue the podium streak champ!!

user3 Oscar future WDC , i’m calling it

user4 Oscar looks extra pookie todayyy 🥰

user5. Ah Y/N effect 🙂‍↕️~ I see your man girl!

user6 Y/N’s influence on Osc is really showing fr. Ma’am ur doing amazing work!

Series Taglist : @champagneproblems17 @itsjustfranzi @cheriwritesig @forza-charles @awritingtree @sltwins @gr1mes-cc @hwalllllllelujah @btsfluffsworld @tillyt04 @landotd @booksandflowrs @czennieszn @thatsouthernblondewiththeass @tellybearryyyy @wobblymug @alittlechaotics-blog @bingussthirdtoe @mirrorball-6 @demandealalune @heartsforleclerc @yoongi-holland @maneskin-slave @alenix @forensicheart @bloodyymaryyy @stereading @hahahjej @youre-on-your-ownkid : closed

Maintaglist : @myescapefromthislife @peterholland04 @charlottef1 @fangirl125reader @mel164 @gnarlycore @chloelovesln4 @vickykazuya @merchelsea @ln4author @qzmef @nxk1309 @styl1shl1v @lottalove4evelyn @gr3yhues : closed for now

[zaldritzosrose]

Only Ever Yours (Aegon x Wife!Reader)

Summary: Aegon saw marriage as a duty, a weight to bear and nothing more. You were a good wife; he would never fault you that. But he refused to believe he felt nothing more for you. Unfortunately for him, his uncle knew better. Daemon was going to get him to admit it, one way or another.

TW: MINORS DNI, She/Her pronouns, afab reader, mentions of alcohol consumption, oral (f receiving), fingering, Daemon thinking he's helping, flirting, innuendo, profanity.

Words: 4319

Thank you to @legitalicat for betaing this! 💚

Also, there is some vague references to this being within the Dance timeline but nothing concrete so imagine it as you will!

And please thank my dearest Nonnie for the request! Enjoy!

Name days were always a grand affair for the royal family and having Jacaerys turn six and ten – that was the grandest they had hosted in a while. You sat beside your husband, Aegon, between him and his uncle Daemon. Lords and ladies from all over the realm had come to celebrate the young prince’s coming of age and there was nothing short of revelry to be had.

Aegon was preoccupied with his wine, even large events like this where appearances were everything did not stem his dependency on his cups. Though you could not blame him, listening to lord after lord drivel on about something or another would likely drive you down the same path if you had a liking for wine.

What you did wish to do, however, was dance. The minstrels played nothing but upbeat songs to please the celebrated prince and the dance floor was already filling. You turned to Aegon; a hand placed on his arm to get his attention.

“Could we dance, husband?” you asked softly, the slightest sound of hope in your tone.

But what you got was a shake of his head, nothing more.

Aegon had never been unkind to you, but he had always seemed disenchanted with your marriage. Uninterested in anything more than his duty. He kept his eyes trained on his cup before him, not noticing the look of disappointment on your face. The flush of rejection on your cheeks as you turned away from him and picked at the food on your plate.

But Daemon noticed.

He noticed the glisten of tears in your eyes, the slight tremble of your lower lip as you tried to keep yourself calm. And he felt a pang of sympathy. You had been offered as a politically advantageous marriage for Aegon. Binding your house and the Targaryens solely for power. And it seemed his nephew had yet to look past his duty to the woman beneath it.

“My lady?” Daemon touched your arm gently, bringing your attention over to your uncle by marriage now.

“My prince,” you hurried to wipe your eyes, trying your best to hide your emotions.

Daemon only offered you a smile, glancing around you and seeing Aegon glancing over to the pair of you.

“A lady as pretty as you should have no need to cry, nor be left alone with no dance partner,” Daemon said softly, nudging your arm and coaxing a smile to your lips.

“It is alright, my prince, really. I am more than content to…”

Daemon interrupted you with a chuckle and a shake of his head.

“No, my sweet lady, you need to be more than content.” Daemon stood, offering his hand to you with a smirk.

With a final glance to Aegon, who was doing nothing but glaring into the cup before him, you accepted.

“Quite the saviour you are, my prince,” you giggled, as Daemon led you down the steps and to the dance floor below.

The music had turned upbeat, and Daemon was quick to put you both into position. He led you with a smile, putting all his effort to spinning you about the dance floor and bringing smiles and laughter to your lips.

Aegon watched. At first, he told himself he did not care. You wanted to dance, and you were dancing. You were happy and he did not have to involve himself. But when the song ended and Daemon did not let you go, he began to watch more closely.

The next song was slower and when you did not pull away from his uncle, Aegon sat up a little straighter and followed your every move. The closeness between your and Daemon’s bodies, how you blushed a little when Daemon leaned down to whisper something in your ear.

Aegon’s jaw tightened, but he tried to will away the emotions stirring within. Jealousy. You were his wife; you should be at his side. But he knew, deep down, that was not what bothered him. It was the joy on your face. Joy that was not caused by him.

The second song ended, and Daemon leaned down a little, pressing a kiss to your hand.

“Thank you for the dance, my sweet lady,” he smirked, offering you a wink that brought out yet another giggle.

Aegon could not hear what he said, but he could see the smile, the movement of your shoulders that told him you were giggling, the flush on your cheeks from the dance and dare he say…from Daemon. He should not feel jealous, you were his duty, a marriage he had never asked for.

So why did he feel it? Why did his stomach feel twisted and his blood feel like it was boiling in his veins? The scrape of his chair could be heard over the music as Aegon descended the steps and stormed his way through the crowd to you and Daemon.

“Aegon?” you asked, but Aegon’s focus was solely on Daemon.

But his uncle only smiled, inclining his head and retreating into the crowd. His smile never left him, even after his back turned on the young couple.

What neither knew, was Daemon had watched them, since the day they had been betrothed. You had done everything to try and enamour yourself to Aegon, to try and present yourself as a good prospect. But Aegon had simply tolerated your presence. Acted politely from his mother’s instructions, courted you. Took you on walks around the gardens, introduced to his dragon even.

But he never seemed to enjoy it. It was as though marriage was simply a burden. Daemon watched you retreat into yourself, watched you stop vying quite so hard for Aegon’s attentions. He watched as your usual happy demeanour seemed to waver.

It only became more obvious when you were married. The kiss shared between the pair of you in the Sept was tense and since then, nothing had improved.

So, Daemon had took it upon himself to fix it. To see you, someone who had been dragged into this family through no choice of her own, to a husband who did not want her. He knew the one way to make Aegon see, was to force him to admit how he felt for you.

And tonight was only the beginning.

The name day feast gnawed at Aegon’s mind, only a week had passed. Jealousy meant nothing, surely. It could not possibly mean he felt anything deep for you. No, he told himself. It could not possibly be true.

Aegon was sat by the window, having just finished his breakfast when he heard you enter. It was rare for the two of you to spend the mornings together, Aegon preferring lazier mornings whereas you always took breakfast with his mother and sister.

“Good morning, husband,” you said softly, slipping into the seat across from him.

Aegon gave you a tight smile, watching as you poured yourself a cup from the tea from the pot he had yet to touch. He was curious, however, as to why you were here.

“There is a family dinner tonight.” You said gently, sipping from your tea.

Now it made sense, there were few reasons you would willingly seek him out, he knew that without a doubt. Though even thinking that, made Aegon feel a pang of guilt he did not expect.

“And I assume my attendance is expected?”

The look you gave him was enough. He nodded. A family dinner meant all of the family would be in attendance. And he was not prepared to receive a telling off from his mother if he avoided it.

The rest of the morning was spent in silence, until you were called away for a walk with Helaena.

Aegon met you outside your chambers in time to walk to dinner, his face already showing he wished to be anywhere else. You did feel a little bad for him, now he was married most talk seemed to focus on that. Whether it was questions directed at you on your expected motherhood, or at Aegon at the need to ‘perform his duty’. You would sometimes wish you could tell him you would avoid dinner with him.

But you were not even sure he would want to avoid it with you.

He held his arm out to you, barely glancing at you as you took it and began to walk in step with him. It was not until you reached the dining hall that he even spared you a look. The deep green and black of your dress was not what he expected. Aegon sometimes wore Targaryen blacks or Hightower green depending on his mood. To see you wearing both stirred something within him he did not expect.

He led you down the dining table and to your seats, passing Daemon as you went. The smile the elder prince gave you did not go unnoticed.

“My lady, you truly are a sight to behold,” Daemon purred out to you as you passed and Aegon did not miss the faint flush in your cheeks.

“You flatter me, my prince,” you replied, your voice soft and breathy. You did not immediately notice how Aegon tensed at your side.

Aegon hurried you on, his other arm reaching round and letting his hand grip your arm. His jaw was set tight, and his eyes now solely focused on making it down to his seat. He was now practically dragging you along behind him. The moment he sat, he pulled the jug of wine towards him, taking a long drink as you looked at him in confusion.

Daemon however, smirked into his cup. It would not be long before Aegon would have to admit he felt something for you. And dinner tonight was simply another stone on that path.

Dinner passed on with little consequence. Conversation flowed on all sides of the table, and when dessert was served Daemon saw your eyes light up. He was close enough to your seat to lean over to talk.

“Do you have a sweet tooth, my lady?” Daemon asked, that mischievous smile back on his lips.

You laughed a little before answering.

“It is a weakness; I am ashamed to admit. My mother would have the desserts and sweets put on the highest shelves of our kitchens…” you realised you were rambling and stopped.

Daemon realised then that Aegon may never have even asked you about yourself. Was his nephew so apathetic to this marriage that he did not bother to know his own wife?

His thoughts were interrupted by a tray of sweet and honeyed cakes being placed between you. He soon saw your eyes flick down and your tongue dart out ever so slightly in anticipation. You were about to reach out when Daemon lifted a cake and offered it to you.

“A sweet cake, almost as sweet as you, my lady.”

The giggle you let out had Aegon turning his head to look at you. He realised he could not remember one moment he had made you laugh anywhere close to that. And that feeling in the pit of his stomach returned.

A sickening mix of guilt, anger and jealousy.

You had not expected the feast thrown for your own name day to be quite as lavish as Prince Jacaerys, but your mother-in-law Alicent had near demanded you be celebrated the same way the royal children were. You knew there was animosity between the two families, but you had luckily avoided the brunt of it.

There was a sense of déjà vu as you sat at the top table, Aegon at your right as you looked down to the crowd of nobles, including your family, that had come to celebrate you. The only group you waited on now was Daemon, Rhaenyra and the Princes. And when the doors opened to reveal them, Aegon could not stop the swell of anger inside him as your face lit up to the sight of Daemon.

Had he been so neglectful of you that the attention his uncle gave you was that important? Or worse, did you feel something for Daemon?

Aegon school his face to a cool look of indifference as each of them approached and gave their good wishes. Daemon, however, beckoned you down to him with a grin.

“I know you said you wished for nothing when Rhaenyra asked, but you deserve to be well treated,” he whispered, pulling a small velvet covered box from behind his back.

Your eyes went wide at the sight, even wider when it was opened. An intricate necklace, weaving your house sigil with that of House Targaryen, and little green gemstones for House Hightower. The three Houses you now belonged to.

“It is beautiful,” you sighed, tracing your fingers over the designs of the necklace.

Daemon gestured for you to turn, and you even moved your hair so he could place the necklace around your throat. The metal was cool against your already flushed skin. If you had looked up, you would have seen Aegon’s reddened cheeks and tight smile as he glared down at the both of you. Though you would not have understood his anger in its entirety. Why he found the way Daemon’s hands brushed at your neck as he clasped the necklace around. Why he found the gift itself an insult.

It was not known to many, but before their family drifted apart, Aegon and Daemon would frequent the same brothels. There was a chance they had even fucked the same whores. But there was one difference. Aegon would pay those he fucked in gold, Daemon however, would pay them a different way. He would bring presents for those he favoured, trinkets essentially. Not that he thought Daemon believed you a whore, but the implication and memory made him sick.

He could have move past it, ignored the twisted feeling in his gut. But when you raced back to him, a wide smile on your face and your hands still clutching the necklace, Aegon was ready to snap.

“Husband! Your uncle Daemon is so generous, is he not?” You almost squealed in excitement.

You were at his side, giving him no choice but to see the jewels that now hung around your neck. And he did not even both to force a smile to his lips.

“Oh yes, he is quite generous.” Aegon snapped back at you, no longer hiding his disdain.

Your eyes narrowed, you had seen Aegon upset before, but never like this.

“Is there a problem, husband?” You asked, your eyes stinging with tears of anger now.

But Aegon said nothing, gripping your arm and dragging you away from your own name day feast. He wove you through the crowds, ignoring the questions from his family as you passed them.

“What are you doing! Let go!” you tried to tug your arm from his grasp, but he ignored you.

Aegon was silent as he dragged you back to his chambers, Slamming the door behind him and rounding on you. But you spoke first.

“Aegon, what is wrong with you?” you were close to shouting, Aegon realised he had never heard you raise your voice.

“Wrong! What is wrong?” Aegon slammed his hand to the small table beside him, the wine cups and jug shaking with the impact.

“Daemon is what is wrong! Do you think I enjoy watching him fawn over you and…and watch you enjoy it!?”

So that was what it was all about. Aegon refused to show you care and attention as his wife, but gods forbid someone else dared to?

“Are you serious, Aegon? This is all because you are jealous?”

You did not know when you had closed the distance between the two of you, or when your hand had slapped against his chest. But the warmth of Aegon’s hand around your wrist brought you back to reality.

“Are you jealous?” your voice had gone softer, changing your tack to see if you could get through to him.

Aegon shoved you back, not looking as you stumbled a little over the hem of your gown. You could see the heave of his shoulders as he tried to calm himself. He did not know if he wanted to cry or scream. He hated how he felt. He hated being married, he hated…just all of it.

“Jealous? I would have to love you to feel jealous, would I not?” The words left him before he could control them.

Any anger you felt almost dissipated. You had never pretended to think your husband loved you, political marriages rarely went that way. But to hear it come directly from him?

It broke your heart.

“You are a cruel man, husband…”

Aegon could hear the pain in your voice, the heartbreak. And the wave of guilt that washed over him made him want to reach out, apologise. But he was sure you would reject him.

“Do you think I enjoy Daemon’s attentions because I desire him, is that it?”

He could feel you behind him, the soft scent of your perfume wafting towards him as you moved. Your hands on his back making him want to pull away. Aegon could not bring himself to answer with words, his breath leaving him in frustrated huffs.

“Because you are wrong.”

Aegon could feel his frustration simmering. His mind spinning as he tried to understand what he felt. Hearing you say you held no desire for Daemon should not make his lips almost curl to a smile. He felt…relieved to hear you say it. But when he did not speak, you continued.

“Do you wish for the truth, husband?”

Your hands shoved at his back, trying in vain to get him to look at you. Your frustration, desperation and pain fighting inside you. But he still refused to speak.

“The truth is the attention I want is yours.”

It was all you wanted. To have your husband look at you with even a sliver of affection. For there to be more in his eyes than contempt or boredom whenever you spent time with him. For him to want you as you wanted him.

Daemon’s attentions had only reminded you of how you should feel. Of how being wanted felt. How your heart should beat a little faster in their presence, how your stomach should flutter and your cheeks flush when they showed you any attention.

Everything you wanted from Aegon but had yet to receive.

But Aegon was barely listening. His own mind reeled, processing everything he felt towards you. Jealousy meant he cared, and the thought felt foreign in his mind. Because if he cared, if seeing another pay you any mind bothered him as much as it was, then he must feel something for you.

And to hear you say you wanted his attention; it sent a surge of something he did not expect. Love? Desire? Either way, it was new.

“Will you not even look at me now?” you asked, your hands still on his back, gentle as if taming a wild animal.

Aegon turned slowly, his eyes downcast. He took a few calming breaths before looking up at you. His eyes falling to the necklace. And you did not miss how his jaw clenched at the sight of it.

“Do you really like it that much?” he asked quietly, his finger reaching out to trace the silver chain.

He tried to ignore how your breath hitched a little when his fingers touch your skin instead of the necklace. He tried to ignore how soft your skin felt beneath his hand.

“Tis a gift, it would be rude to not wear it,” you said, watching how his eyes followed his finger as it traced higher, reaching the curve of your neck.

“Maybe…my husband could replace it with something of his own choosing?”

Aegon concentrated on the feel of you. How his heart raced a little as he felt your own pulse beneath his hand. His hand continued up, curling around the back of your neck and letting his thumb circle of your skin.

He had never been this close to you without the intent of performing his marital duties. Aegon had never willingly pursued any kind of physical intimacy with you outside of that. But he could not ignore how it made him feel.

“Would you like that, wife?” Aegon whispered, feeling the soft hairs at the nape of your neck.

You nodded, Aegon’s proximity was a lot to process. The slight roughness of his palm, the heat of his breath as he spoke, the smell of the wine on him. It was almost too much for you to handle.

Aegon could feel the flush of heat in your skin. The quickening of your pulse. His mind clouded now with the smell of your perfume and the softness of your skin. He could feel the desire trickling down his spine, through his veins and into his thickening length. He barely remembered if he had ever felt such need from simply touching you.

Your own hands tightened in the fabric of his tunic, instinctually pulling him closer. The tension between the two of you was thick.

There was barely an inch between you now. Aegon’s hand gripped the back of your neck, his nose brushing yours.

“Kiss me, Aegon…please…”

He did not hesitate, finally giving into the feelings he had tried to ignore. His kiss bruising and desperate, his free hand wrapping around your waist and crushing you to his chest. You were just as filled with need as he was, your own hands gripping the fabric of his tunic tight while trying to push the fabric from his body.

Aegon walked you back to the bed, only stopping when your knees hit the footboard. You fell back with a soft bounce, leaning up on your elbows to watch your husband with lust clouded eyes. You could see the movement of his throat as he swallowed thick, your gaze travelling down to where he unbuttoned his tunic and the now prominent arousal sitting heavy in his breeches.

“I have been a fool, wife…a fool to think I felt nothing for you.” Aegon grunted out the words, his eyes trailing over your body as he spoke.

His skin felt hot, whatever blood was in his veins had run down and now pulsed through his cock. Only now did he really look at you. See you for just how beautiful you were.

The words Daemon had spoken way back at dinner rung in his head. But he realised just now how true they were.

“You truly are a sight to behold,”

He could see the flush reach your skin, your chest heaving now at his words. Aegon tugged his tunic from his body, pulling his undershirt over his head with little ceremony. Your own hands unlaced your gown, sighing out as the corset lessened its strain on your body. Your hands were soon replaced by Aegon’s, standing you up and making quick work of the rest of your gown. His hands more gentle than they had ever been, with only the thin silk of your shift between him and your bare form.

With a soft touch, he had you back on the bed. Surprising you as he knelt between your thighs. He had never, in all the time you had been married to him, pleasured you in such a way. His focus had always solely been on duty and nothing more.

But the hunger that darkened his eyes had your heart racing and your core pulsing. His hands gripped your thighs, pushing your shift higher until your cunt was bared to him. Aegon felt his mouth water, the realisation that his own stupidity had denied you both such pleasures momentarily passing through him.

“Please, husband…” You pleaded, your hips lifting slightly in a desperate need to feel his touch.

And he wasted no more time. He could deal with his deeper feelings after, right now he wished only to hear you moan for him. His lips planted heated kisses to your inner thighs, trailing a path up one side and down to the other. But never quite where you wanted him.

“Aegon…!”

You could feel his smirk as your frustrated sigh turned to a breathy moan. His hands tightening around your thighs as he buried his face as far as he could get. His tongue tasting every inch of you and groaning at the flavour that coated it.

His eyes flickered up to watch you, your skin hot and flushed. Your hips grinding down onto his face as your moans reached a fever pitch. Aegon wanted nothing more than to commit those sounds to memory. To never forget just how sweet you tasted. You had never felt a pleasure like it, had never felt your husband lust for you as desperately as he did now.

“Mhmm,” your eyes rolled as you felt his groan reverberate through you.

“Almost as sweet as a honey cake, my love…” Aegon whispered into you, adding a single finger along with his tongue.

He could feel your peak approaching, your moans higher and higher in pitch. His own grunts of pleasure vibrating your body as the tight band within finally snapped. Aegon refused to stop as your slick coated his lips and chin, pushing you almost to the brink of overstimulation.

But he had one more thing he needed to ask you. He needed to know you felt as he did. That you felt the same emotions he had forced himself to bury for so long.

“Are you mine? Please…let me hear you say it…”

Your hands tightened in his silver waves as you rolled your hips against him, his tongue lapping lazily now at your cunt. Your heart and body filled with a heady mix of love and desire. The same emotions you now saw in your husband’s eyes.

“Only ever yours…”

Aegon/HOTD Taglist:

@blissfulphilospher @elaratyrell @khaleesihel @legitalicat

@thenameswinter99 @anjelicawrites @sihtricsafin @arcielee

@sylasthegrim @aemondsbabe @itbmojojoejo @multyfangirl

@kaelatargaryen

If I have missed anyone, please let me know. If you wanted to be added to Aegon specific or general HOTD, also let me know!

[weediewrites]

New Orleans Beignets

HUMAN ALASTOR X FEM WIFE!READER (She/Her pronouns)

Summary: Y/N is one of the leading bakery owners in the entirety of New Orleans! People travel minutes, hours to try the sweet treats that reside within her bakery. But there's one special radio host who's obsessed with none other than her famous New Orleans Beignets.

E/N: This is based off of Princess Tiana's Beignets. It was too perfect not to make into an Alastor story so why not + she's one of my favourite princesses.

This story isn't proofread so it's not perfect. Also I haven't written for a while so I might be a little rusty, but I hope you all enjoy it anyways! x

No trigger warnings besides some light kisses! (Lmk if I forgot any.)

Rainy afternoons were never the brightest time for those in New Orleans.

The freezing cold, the shivering of finger tips, the multiple layers worn in hopes of being able to keep at least a little bit warm. It was always certainly a surprise when people realized that instead of the usual sunlight and humidity, it was going to rain.

So, what do those in New Orleans do during these miserable days? Well there's one of two things. Stay inside, bored half to death, or go find a nice place to have a cozy meal and settle down for the day. And what better place to go rather than Y/N's bakery?

That's the thought that Alastor thought of every day when these storms swept through New Orleans (and every usual day too.)

No rain, hail, nor shine could prevent him from leaving the studio on his lunch break to go check on his dearest wife who was slaving away in her bakery, and in the process of greeting her, he could never resist stealing one of her heavenly Beignets.

"Hello, anyone home?" Alastor spoke loudly, his radio voice on show as he entered the door. He watched as Y/N perked up from behind the counter after hearing the short chime of the door opening. "Hello, stranger." She laughed softly, standing up straight to brush off her dusty apron. It was adorned with pastry batter and powdered sugar from all the sweets made throughout the day, if anything it was just a sign of how hard she worked.

"Yes, I did prepare your Beignets darling." She admitted without a question needed, walking over to her husband to pass over a small brown paper bag, inside two hot Beignets showered perfectly with powdered sugar. They smelled divine, it was like heaven itself had been baked into two small pastries.

"Just how you like it." She nodded slightly, moving forward to kiss her husband's cheek nonchalantly.

"Thank you my dear, without you I fear I would starve!" Alastor laughed, looking at his wife with such a thankful and loving look plastered across his face. "You truly are such a darling when it comes to spoiling me."

"Only for New Orleans finest radio host." She said proudly, crossing her arms over her chest.

Alastor leaned forward, kissing her forehead softly for a moment before pulling away, smiling down at his gorgeous girl. "And only for New Orleans finest Beignet maker."

E/N: I'm tweaking I hate this. Am I still going to post it? Yes.

PLEASE don't be hesitant to send me some Alastor ideas or head cannons you'd like me to write. I really don't enjoy writing without a plot like this story, you can see the laziness within my work.

All dandy though, have a wonderful evening everyone!

- Weedie 🥀

[lurochar]

Human Alastor x ex wife reader

Where Alastor gets divorced after the reader finds out about his murders, but still can't stop coming back to him

I Still Love You

I hope you're a little satisfied with this, Anon I find it hard to write endings that aren't soft

18+ MDNI

-----------------------------------------

“I missed you.”

You stare down at the messy sheets beneath you with glazed eyes, having heard what Alastor had murmured into your ear.

You don't know what to say back (you do, you're just scared to say it out loud), but Alastor doesn't give you any more time to think about what to do next.

“H-hah! Please!”

You don't know what you're pleading for when Alastor handles you until you are on your back and he throws your legs over his broad shoulders and you can feel the burn in your muscles from the sudden stretch.

“Tell me, Darling,” Alastor strokes your cheek and you feel your eyes tear for two different reasons. He rubs his cock through your soaked folds, bumping your clit with every upward motion and you let out a mewl before you could help it, “are you happy now? Have you moved on from me?”

Why are you here?

Why did you come back?

It’s a very good question and any sane person would be asking you that if they knew the horrors that had, and likely still are, taking place in this very house and on the surrounding property.

Alastor didn’t seem to mind. In fact, he seemed satisfied and pleased that you are back in the house you very recently used to call home (and still very much should, in his opinion) and he did not bother to conceal it.

“Happy?” You let the tears fall, from a complex blend of pleasure, heartache, longing, and love. “I was happy with you–!?”

Alastor thrusts his cock in smoothly, sighing in content at how warm you feel around him. He missed this, missed the feel of you and your body pressed against his, missed your adorable words of love, missed every little bit of this.

He had never intended for you to find out.

“H-happy with you.” You dug your nails into Alastor’s back, intending on finishing what you were saying. You threw your head back and your toes curled when Alastor slid his arm down to rub tight little circles on your clit. “B-but I… I was scared! I couldn't… liVE in a house w-where people– people were murDERED!”

You just wanted to sink into the bed and under the covers with how pitchy and breathy your tone was. Clearly, you shouldn't attempt full sentences when on the verge of an orgasm.

Alastor places his forehead against yours so you have nowhere else to look but his face. “I would never harm you, dearest. I would never hurt you.” His thrusts quicken as he searches for that spot that drives you wild. “I even granted you that… divorce.” He spat the word out like poison. “I hoped that once your head cooled, that perhaps…”

You whimpered when he flicked your clit, leaning down to nibble at your throat. “I…” You tangled your hand through Alastor’s hair, tugging lightly at the strands and causing the man to groan. “I still do…” Your voice was hoarse and your eyes rolled back when Alastor found your sweet spot and repeatedly slammed into it without mercy.

“Fuck.” Alastor could feel you fluttering around his cock and felt a bolt of heat rush through him at the sight of your debauched expression. “You still what, Darling? Tell me.”

You cried out when Alastor lifted you up by the nape of your neck, cutting off the wail of your orgasm as he frantically pressed his lips against yours, groaning at the tight clenching of your slick cunt around his cock.

“A-ah.” You let out a noise when you felt a rush of warmth and Alastor hit his own end as he let out a sigh. You swallow anxiously, but know you won't have the nerves to do this again. “I still love you, Alastor.”

Alastor’s expression softened, though he let out a chuckle. “I hoped that this was about when you showed up here. I don't believe you had any housing or money issues.”

You stared at him, suddenly feeling a little suspicious. “What do you know?”

Alastor simply raised a brow in response. “Do you believe Mimzy let you room with her out of the goodness of her heart? I know she was giving you time to ‘heal’ before putting you to work in her speakeasy, but I did slip her a few bills weekly so she wouldn't change her mind.”

You gaped at Alastor, feeling a bit stupid this went right under your nose without you noticing. Then again, entire murders had been happening and you had no idea.

“Why did you let me go?” You asked, looking away. “I knew. I knew about it. I could have gone to the police at any time and told them about you.”

Alastor looked almost thoughtful. “Did you do as I asked that night before you ran? Try to find past news articles about the ‘victims’ of the so-called Bayou Butcher?” He then shook his head. “I would never harm you.” He then repeated. “Mimzy would have informed me if you were going to the police. I would have disappeared before they could do anything.”

You nodded slowly after a moment. “They… they were all awful men. Abusers, rapists, even a few murderers.” You stared at Alastor. “Are you… specifically targeting these men?”

“Yes. You may not like to hear this, but I enjoy it. I enjoy inflicting the fear on them they have inflicted on the women in their lives. It is who I am. I love you, Darling, but this part of me will not change.”

You pick at the blanket beneath you. “And you're… certain these men are doing these awful things?”

Alastor looks at you with a cautious hope. “Yes. I make quite sure of it.” He tilts his head. “Are you…?”

“Thinking about giving us a second chance if you will have me?” You attempt to bury your face in your hands, but Alastor gently grabs your wrists before you can. You flush when he kisses each wrist and at his proceeding smile.

“It’s what I was waiting for, Darling."

[queers-gambit]

And Let Me Love You Anyway [ part two of two ]

part one: Tell Me Every Terrible Thing

prompt: you embark on a secret but passionate affair with the Rogue Prince, and when his wife, Rhea Royce, passes away, he chooses you to wed next - a decision that angers his niece and changes history.

pairing: Daemon Targaryen x female!reader -> hair color specified reader

fandom masterlist: House of the Dragon

word count: 6.3k+

note: what the fuck is this, Cherry? also two parts 'cause author gets carried away!

warnings: show spoilers, cursing, author has small bouts of feministic ideas, author also really likes the "little birds" storyline (let her live!), wonky brain is wonky, i think hurt and comfort, angst, very mild NSFW (female receiving oral), technically alternative timeline 'cause this goofy-ass author has an overactive imagination, #icanmakehimworse, another reader insert (this warning is for the fucking losers in my inbox).

"Alicent, we're late," you sighed with a frown, wiping your sweaty palms nervously as your necklace was latched in place and perfume spritzed on your pulse points. YES - that included your ankles.

"That's the point, sister, we're supposed to be late. It sends a message."

Your eyes rolled, snipping, "The King will not be pleased. I am not his wife, he can get angry at me, you know!"

"He'll manage," she snapped, glancing at Talya. She continued, "He dismissed Father for telling him a truth he would rather ignore. So much so, after years of service, he'd - "

"Yes, yes, the King removed Father as Hand, sent him back home," you nodded with understanding. "But we both know how he feels about his daughter, The Princess! The rumors circulating would cost him his life in the end, we are lucky he was only sent home!"

"Rumors! Rumors, sister, truly!? Tell me, do you think Father lied?"

"I know he didn't."

"Exactly why we're late to tonight's affair," she huffed, fixing her hair in the mirror again. "It's a statement, it's deliberate. We will stand out, prove we are not happy with the turn of events. Why offer Rhaenyra blind respect when she continues to do as she pleases - regardless of consequences."

You paused, sensing her anger brewing and trying to distract, "You know, Ser Lyonel Strong is not a bad replacement for Father."

"This is not about Ser Strong."

"Isn't it? Father's served long and faithfully, but perhaps it is time for a new guidance. Lyonel Strong is a smart man - qualified, even!"

"Yes," she agreed, turning to face you in a shimmering emerald gown. "But this is still an injustice to our family that I fear I cannot overlook any longer. It's been weeks..."

"Yes," you allotted, nodding with a sigh. "All right, yes, you are right, sweet sister. This is all just - it's a lot to take in, to try and digest. And we talk of playing a game with the Throne - I do not think we've the strength to endure alone."

"This is not about Lyonel Strong, sister! It's about Father and the disrespect the Crown continues to offer. Remember that," she advised softly.

You nodded, "I know, sister."

She frowned, "And remember... They aren't our kin. Despite previous displays of kindness, the Targaryens have made it clear that we are not family to them. They are not blood to us, sister; they will protect their own, not us. If we wish to survive, we will need to ally ourselves."

"I understand," you told your younger sister. "I am not arguing, I know what our reality is now - I merely implore to explore the routes that won't label us as traitors."

"I know, we have much to discuss going forward. But none of that for now," she took a long breath, smiling as she looked you up and down, complimenting, "you look stunning. Truly, you might outshine the bride tonight."

"Let's hope it doesn't come down to that, and that The Princess has a mature bone in her body - though I do not hold out hope." You smiled at her, "But enough about me, you look - you look like a Queen, sister-dearest. Gods, you're gorgeous, you look just like Mummy." The two of you shared an emotional, watery smile; embracing tightly as reality settled in your guts: it was you two Hightower Ladies against the whole of the Targaryen clan. "Come," you decided, taking a deep breath, "are we ready to go? Any later and I fear we might not get any cake."

"Oh, you and cake," she smirked, looking you over in a matching emerald, lighter-weight gown that had layers of thin fabrics clinging and dripping from your form. Golden jewelry was clasped around both your necks, wrists, tight around your fingers, and plugged into your ear piercings.

The Queen took your arm and left the dressing chambers you took refuge in, coming to a gasping halt when you were greeted by a well-groomed man in green velvet. "Father," Alicent exclaimed in shock.

"My daughters," he smiled, offering both arms, "I do believe we are now fashionably late. Hmm?"

"Exactly as we intended," you mused, taking his arm. "How is this possible? How are you here?"

"I was invited, if you believe that," Otto answered, the three of you walking slowly. "Though, I suspect your sister had something to do with that?"

"I only told Viserys I'd be deeply offended if you were ignored for this event," Alicent quipped.

"None the less, I am happy to escort my daughters to such a historic event," he spoke diplomatically, aware of the guards and servants milling around. Otto lead the way to the Throne Room - where you could hear King Viserys' echoing speech from the foyer.

None of you spoke, approaching the open doors and pausing to let everyone see the united Hightowers. Alicent wore her dark auburn locks pulled back from her face to cascade in thick ringlets down her back, your own Hightower-red hair left down around your face with the longer locks pinned off your neck. The entire room - the entire court - all wedding attendees and royal procession stared at you three in shock for entering during the King's speech. Your statement was clearly made.

Even from this distance, you could see how startled Rhaenyra was by your arrival, needing to fight off a smirk of amusement in order to keep your neutral façade.

You and Alicent walked arm-in-arm with your father, the once-Hand, down the stairs and up the aisle of banquet tables full of people, staring forward and giving no emotion away. The people buzzed in quiet gossip. The attending Hightowers of Oldtown, sitting closest to the royal banquet table because of their relation to the current Queen, stood first; everyone else following in a show of respect.

You and Alicent paused to let Otto sit with his relatives at the lower banquet table before joining arm-and-arm together. Over the muttering of the entire room, you whispered almost mutely, "Be kind, remain composed, we'll kill 'em with kindness."

Alicent gave a subtle flex to give indication she understood.

When you looked up at the table you approached under the King's heavy glare, you noticed there was an empty chair between Ser Strong and... Prince Daemon? Was that really him? When did he get here? Why was he back? It's only been a few weeks!

Your shock did not slow you, and as you approached the table reserved for the Royal Family, you saw Daemon smirking at your theatrics. Alicent did not let you part from her side as she greeted Princess Rhaenyra with a sickly-sweet voice, "Congratulations, stepdaughter. What a blessing this is for you."

She ignored any other reaction to let go of your arm, kiss her husband's cheek in greeting, stand beside him, in front of her chair, and stare forward with zero other emotion.

"Congratulations, Princess," you whispered, bowing your head. "Your Grace," you acknowledged, doing the same and taking the empty chair between Lord Hand and Rogue Prince only to stoically stare forward in silence. You did as Alicent did, not looking at any other, and just waiting for a pregnant moment that seemingly never ended.

"Please be seated," Viserys finally permitted, everyone sitting at his behest. He cleared his throat, whispering to Lyonel Strong, "Where was I?"

"The joining of the two Houses, Your Grace."

You swallowed when a warm hand laid on your right thigh, Viserys continuing his speech. You glanced at Daemon, seeing his smirk, and instead of throwing his hand off you, you laid your own over his to give a long squeeze. You had wrestled with the idea of his favorite whore, Mysaria, and the idea of whatever he did with Princess Rhaenyra for weeks. Then when you heard word that his wife, Lady Rhea Royce, had met her untimely end, you knew he was involved, yet said nothing. You could only think deeply about what it all meant - and how you fit into the equation that was Prince Daemon Targaryen.

Tell me every terrible thing you ever did...

All you could understand was the overwhelming affection you held for him. His shocked-wide-eyes found yours for a long moment, seeming communicating telepathically - you telling him you wanted him. His hand tightened to keep hold of yours, hidden from the public for the time being.

And let me love you anyway...

You tuned back into the King's speech in time to clap with the others, showing your support of the union you technically helped influence between Targaryen and Velaryon.

However, you caught the way Alicent glared at Rhaenyra, sighing to yourself; having heard through long private dinners what Alicent came to know and why this upset her so much. How strange to learn Ser Criston Cole admitted to Ali that he was coerced into soiling the Princess' purity - not her Uncle Daemon, like rumored. Yet none the less, the girl had sworn on her beloved, dearly departed mother to Alicent that she was still a maiden... A huge, glaring lie - that both you and Ali took personally.

You found all of this terribly interesting, yet did not let the distain show so boldly. After Daemon came to you in confession, you had yet to speak a word outside of public politeness to the Princess; feeling betrayed by what your lover had told you. He had been right: you were Rhaenyra's friend, she wasn't yours. So, you demoted yourself to create distance.

When the drums rumbled and the Princess took to the dance floor with her intended, you spared Daemon a look and muttered, "You do not have to look so annoyed."

"I'm not, sweet one."

"Nor so amused," you tacked on.

Daemon smirked at you, leaning in and pondering, "I am only wondering if you would care for a dance later, my Lady?"

You lied, speaking in a teasing tone, "I'm not one for dancing, my Prince."

"A single dance with me, then. Just one, pretty lady."

"You're pushy," you whispered, nudging him to keep quiet; but the grin on your lips assured him you were completely enraptured by his antics.

He sat back with a smirk, watching his niece and her fiancé dance. The entire courtroom clapped at the end, others flooding to the spaces around them. You glanced over as your sister stood from her seat, meeting your eyes and offering only a soft smile before descending from the table to approach your aunt and uncle from Oldtown - standing with your father on the side of the room. You sighed under your breath, your lover tightening his grip on your thigh.

Daemon made for a great distraction. "Did you hear the news?" He asked softly, reaching for his goblet of wine with his free hand.

"Which news would that be, my Prince?" You asked casually, pretending your heart wasn't hammering in your chest.

"Of my dear wife's passing."

"I did, actually," you fought off your smirk. "I am truly sorry to hear of it, I understand Lady Rhea was truly one of a kind. You shouldn't speak ill of the dead, love," you reminded in a whisper.

"Hmm. Don't be sorry, I'm not," he eased.

"You're not? Your wife died, Daemon..."

"I know," he met your gaze, "I'm not sorry because now it gives me vocation to follow my own desires."

You smirked, "Which desire will you follow first?"

His hand tightened to a bruising grip. He was not able to answer yet because your gaze was caught by movement, Rhea Royce's cousin approaching slowly, evidently a cup or two deep in the wine; making you remove Daemon's hand so you both could sit casually - without touching.

The man gruffly leered at Daemon, "In the Vale, men are made to answer for their crimes." Your lover spared you an exasperated look as he tacked on, "Even Targaryens."

"Who are you?" Daemon asked dully.

"This is Ser Gerold Royce, my Prince," you told him softly, "of Runestone."

Daemon perked his brow, asking sarcastically, "An excellent show of your knowledge, my sweet lady, but what does that matter to me?"

You didn't answer, Ser Lyoel Strong (who was listening in) didn't answer, because Ser Gerold was approaching the table by climbing the stairs. He growled at Daemon, "I am cousin to your late Lady wife."

"Ah, yes... Terrible thing," Daemon offered. "I'm positively bereft. Such a tragic accident."

"You know better than anyone, it was no accident."

Through a smirk, Daemon quipped, "Are you confessing some guilt, Ger Gerold?"

"I am making an accusation."

You shared a look with Lyonel to your left, catching sight of the King's turned head - showing he was listening, too. Daemon easily deflected, "Here, in King's Landing, men are made to answer for their slanders. Even old bronze cunts like you." This angered Ser Gerold visibly, the man stepping closer, but obviously restrained himself. Your lover continued, "The truth is I'm glad you've come. I wish to speak to you about my inheritance."

"What inheritance?" Ser Gerold demanded.

"Lady Rhea and I had no heirs. As her husband, whatever she was due now passes to me. She stood to inherit all of Runestone. Did she not?" Daemon had Ser Gerold pinned by legality, the man looking disturbed by his own realization. So, naturally, Daemon taunted, "After my niece's wedding, I plan to fly to the Eyrie and petition Lady Jeyne myself. Perhaps I'll see you there, Ser Gerold."

The man sheepishly walked away, his inebriated mind whirling with possibilities. You glared, pinching Daemon's arm so you could scold him when he turned to face you, "That wasn't very kind."

"And?"

"You don't truly care for Runestone," you snapped. "Now that man will fear for his home, fret over the laws, and that's not very nice."

He sighed, "What would you have me do, sweet one?"

"Leave House Royce to grieve and rearrange their succession without your pettiness."

Daemon smirked, "Whatever my Lady wants."

"You're dreadfully annoying tonight, do you know that?" You whined. "I'm going for a dance, and no, this is not an invitation to follow," you warned him - albeit playfully - before standing to excuse yourself.

"Sister," Alicent paused you before you could pass her by. "Are you well?"

"Yes, yes, just felt like dancing, too much energy to just sit. Come join - "

"No, no, I should sit. Eat," she smiled. "Perhaps tonight will be when you meet your match and we can plan another wedding."

"Perhaps," you mused, squeezing her hand. "You all right? What did Father and Uncle say?"

"Later," she whispered. "Go on, go."

You joined the stream of people dancing, instantly grinning when you were welcomed joyfully by different suitors. The band played a lively beat, the crowd cheering in rhythm; you being twirled around men and women with matching grins.

You heard your name being cheered through a small giggle.

"Hi, Princess," you greeted Rhaenyra as you both marched along to the beat. You reminded yourself this was all a game and if you wanted to survive, you'd have to play your part strategically. So, you quipped as you danced with Ser Arryn Blackwell, "Nice party you've got, huh?"

"Oh, you know how we Targaryens do," she teased. "Where've you been lately? I feel as if I've hardly seen you."

"Just busy with chores since Father was replaced as Hand," you answered, spinning under someone's arm.

Nyra didn't comment on that, instead, waiting a few moments before complimenting, "That's a beautiful dress, really goes with your hair!"

"That's what I hoped for," you gasped girlishly, deciding to play nice when she reached for your hands. You felt weak for a moment, but the truth was, you missed your friend... So, you might've giggled a bit when you joined hands, dancing together instead of with anyone else. With kindness, you offered, "You look gorgeous, as well, Princess, I love this dress - "

"Yes, yes, we all look fantastic," Daemon interrupted abruptly, crowding over you, asking quickly, "can I speak to you a moment, my Lady? The Princess won't mind, right, Rhaenyra?"

"Uh, no, I guess..." She eyed the two of you with suspicion as she stayed in-beat with the music.

"Daemon, not now - "

"We need to talk," he pulled you from where you danced, glancing back at the head banquet table as he took your hand, and lead you deeper into the crowd. He turned you to face him, pacing a small circle around you, demanding, "Do you still want to marry me?"

"What? Why are you asking now?"

"Because I just asked your father for permission," he seethed, pausing in front of you, "and he outright refused, saying he's negotiating with the fucking Lannisters. I need to know what you want."

"I was not aware what I wanted mattered to you, the man who views marriage as a political arrangement," you eyed him with a curled lip of annoyance.

"What arrangement could I want? Your sister is Queen, my family is bound to the Hightowers already. My political marriage is recently dissolved, I am free to do as I please, regardless of what others want or say - "

"Then tell me what you want. Tell me plainly what you want from me, Daemon, no more pretty words and veiled truths. Be plain."

"You said I had a year, and look - it's been weeks. Weeks, my love, how much more plain can I be? I'm here, now, free to marry, and I need to know if you still want to marry me. I'll marry you tomorrow - "

"Oh, please! Would you steal me away?" You mocked with a chuckle. "Take me to Dragonstone? Make me your little wife that you'll come to resent, too? Just as you did Rhea?"

He reached out to aggressively hold your cheek and jaw. "I had no choice in my first marriage, I could never come to resent you - you're all I've ever wanted. I'd do anything for you," Daemon snarled over your lips, "including risking your father's wrath. I'd do anything to make sure we end up together, you are my heart - do not forget that."

"Then pull out your sword, cut them all down," you purred, feeling his hand tighten, "and claim me as your own - do not let anyone stop us."

His lips hovered over yours, breathing the same air, and before he could respond or kiss you, a woman screamed shrilly from behind you. Daemon instantly latched onto your body as a crowd formed to your left and right, and when you both looked, you were shocked to see the commotion happening at your feet.

"Love - "

"Daemon," you paused him, shocked as Ser Criston Cole was engaged in a fist fight with some Velaryon knight before Ser Laenor Velaryon, the groom, was tackling him to the side. What an interesting display of protectiveness from Ser Laenor over his knight.

Daemon rushed in your ear, "Do not look - come away with me."

"Wait," you held his hands to your waist, letting him crowd into your back as Cole had punched Laenor to the side and straddled the blonde on the floor once more.

He landed one blow before the knight was brandishing a dagger; but the White Cloak caught his arm and easily snapped it broken, startling the crowd. Beyond your ring of spectators, other men were trading blows and engaged in their own fights; total chaos taking over the whole of the Throne Room. You flinched back into Daemon's embrace when Cole screamed like a wild man in the mountains, repeatedly pounding his fist into the knight's face; literally caving it in, creating a human minced meat pie.

Someone better contact Mrs. Lovett!

"No more," Daemon decided, Cole rearing himself back as Daemon stooped to heave you over his shoulder. He was able to find safe (enough) passage through the people, approaching the royal banquet table. "Hey, hey," he whispered, setting you down and taking your face in his hands, the wailing of Laenor Velaryon seeing his murdered knight echoing in the Throne Room. "You all right? You hurt? Look at me, love, are you hurt?"

"No, no, I'm okay," you whispered, swallowing unsurely; reaching up to hold his wrists. "I'm okay."

"Sure? You shouldn't have seen that - "

"It's all right," you assured, stroking his wrists. "I'm okay, Daemon, truly. Just... A little startled, maybe?"

"What's this then?" Harwin Strong smirked, panting lightly from his rescue mission as the Princess was attending her father, the King. "You two hit it off then, yeah? Is it me or are sparks flying?"

"Something like that," you whispered, trying to regulate your breathing after the adrenaline-inducing scrimmage.

"Easy does it, love," Daemon whispered, keeping you close as you didn't let go of his hands; wanting to stay connected. He told Harwin, giving a half-shrug, "They aren't sparks. She's everything to me."

"Perhaps your second wedding will go better than this one," Harwin sighed, hands on his hips.

"In some cultures, deaths at a wedding are considered good luck," you muttered, Daemon snorting lightly in amusement before running his thumbs over your cheekbones in soothing gestures.

"Didn't your wife just pass, Prince Daemon?" Your father demanded publicly with a heavy glare. "You'd offer insult to her memory by remarrying so quickly?"

"I've grieved Lady Rhea plenty, Ser Hightower, it's time to look to the future," Daemon declared, eyes daring your father to challenge him. "The Lady Hightower and I will wed. The sooner, the better, in truth."

And history would never be the same.

"What?" Rhaenyra demanded, whirling around at the news, making all others pause in confusion. "What did you say?"

"That I intend to marry the Lady Hightower."

"Her? Her? Fucking her - who is more prude than woman?!"

Well, that was mildly offensive...

"Rhaenyra - "

"What makes you think you're worthy?" She demanded of you, turning from her father to stalk across the platform. "Worthy of a man like Daemon, of a husband like Daemon? You've done nothing to - to deserve such a title! The title of Princess, of wife!"

You were honestly confused to your core.

"I deserve a man like he - not someone like you!" She continued, shocking the group as the Kingsguard cleared the Room of any lingering stragglers to keep this as private as possible. "You think I didn't see you on my tour? You were fawned over, all wanted to talk with you, but were forced to line up for me! You rejected them all on your own, and now I see why! You wanted to wait until the Lady Rhea passed, which makes me wonder - what part did you play in that?"

"Rhaenyra!" You gasped.

"What? Honestly, it would make sense - the day Daemon's banished, you weren't seen! I wouldn't be shocked if you were seen somewhere lurking in the Vale! You cannot have it all - you've always wanted my life, and now look! You have to have what I have, and now you've taken a liking to my uncle after our scandal! What? He wasn't interesting before? You heard rumors about us and decided you wanted him for yourself? Just because he was mine first? You just want to be me, you always have - you've always reeked of jealousy! This is all you wanted, to steal my family, and - "

"That's enough," Daemon tried. "You are out of turn here, Rhaenyra, do not make this worse."

"Why? Because little Lady Hightower's façade of being a respectable, pure woman is now tarnished?"

"We share one dance, albeit intimate, sit next to each other at a single dinner, shared some conversation, and you now think it's appropriate to call my virtue into question? What of your own, Princess? You just admitted to scandal with Daemon - but I wonder why the service of Moon Tea if your virtue was unimpeachable?" You demanded, feeling defensive on a new level. Even Alicent straightened up at your words.

However, Daemon rushed to add, "With all due respect, Princess, I don't want you, and you can't claim me as your own when you never had me. You might be angry, but it is no use to take it out on my intended, she is of rare stock and breed - she will not be questioned. Nor will my intentions with her."

Rhaenyra snarled, "Yeah? You don't want me? Well, you wanted me enough to try and fuck me at that whorehouse!"

There were gasps and murmurs all around, but Rhaenyra was glaring at you and Daemon, still standing together. His arms actually dropped to hold your waist, keeping you close as he snarled at his niece, "But I didn't. If memory serves right, I walked away!"

"You wanted me!" Rhaenyra raged. "You always were and always will be mine - regardless of the whores you bed in the meantime! And I want you, I am not yet married - "

"Yet I will not be who marries you, I am betrothed to another," Daemon reminded with a venomous tone. "There's nothing you offer that I want, Rhaenyra."

"I am not some inexperienced little girl anymore, I'm a woman grown, and I could do more for you than she ever could!"

"Rhaenyra!" Viserys roared.

Everyone knew she had gone too far and there was no coming back from any this. After a beat, Alicent stepped in as if questioning for the first time, "And yet, sister, you said the Princess was served Moon Tea? If Prince Daemon did not touch the Princess, does this mean she still," she scoffed as if the idea were absurd, "sullied her maidenhood? Before marriage?"

It should be noted that Ser Criston Cole was already gone from the hall at this time. In fact, he lingered just outside a side door, listening, in case his name came up. When Alicent spoke, he straightened up and started the slow trek to the Godswood.

"Ser Lyonel? Do I misunderstand?" Alicent pulled the Hand into the fray.

"Well, that's what that would sound like, Your Grace," he agreed begrudgingly. "Moon Tea is beneficial to prevent unwanted consequences outside of marriage."

"From what I understand, she was served by Grand Maester Mellos himself," you told Ali, minds strung together by a common thread. "The castle likes to gossip, you can learn a lot if you just listen."

"This is..." Viserys seethed, "Unacceptable."

"I'm sorry, Your Grace," you instantly apologized.

"No, no," he deflected, hand held up, "you have a duty to the Realm to flesh out any deception. And this," he directed his glare at his daughter, "is a grand deception that cannot be undone, unknown, covered-up, anymore, Rhaenyra!"

There was a meltdown. Everyone began yelling.

Viserys was enraged. Rhaenyra was desperately trying to plead with her father. Lord Corlys was demanding to know what the hell was about to happen with the impending marriage to "the future Queen". Ser Strong was trying to keep the people from each other's throats.

His sons stood to the side and just let them all fight.

Daemon kept you out of the line of fire, away from the action; sighing as you deflated into his chest. Over it all, Viserys' voice was angriest, and you heard, "You are no daughter of mine! The position you have put me in tonight - I cannot undo this, Rhaenyra! I should have never disinherited Daemon for you, breaking centuries of tradition because I wanted to see your mother in you! You have spat in my face around every bend, but this? This is unforgivable, we will not recover from this and I will no longer endure your insolence!"

"Father, please, let me - "

"No," he snarled, "I have had it with your disresepct the past several years, this is beyond any scale." You blinked up at Daemon, his lips curving down as his hands tightened around your form. And then, Viserys said the words, "I made a mistake naming you my heir. You may marry Ser Laenor, if you so choose to, but after that, you will reside on Driftmark with your husband - you will no longer inherit the Iron Throne after me."

"Father!"

"No," he snapped, "you've exhausted my patience, Rhaenyra!" Viserys roared. "And while Daemon might be unpredictable, the woman he wants to marry is not - and from where I am standing, she will make a far better Queen than you!"

It was quiet as everyone forgot their own selfish woes as father disinherited daughter.

"Your Grace," your father tried to step in, "with respect, why not place your son, Aegon, in line after you?"

"Oh, for the love of the Gods, Otto," Rhaenyra raged, rounding on your father, "give up this campaign, you get all you want and more! Your daughter is Queen now and your other daughter will be Queen after that, aren't you listening? Your grandchildren will still inherit the Throne!"

"That's it," Viserys breathed, needing to hold onto the banquet table for balance as all eyes turned to him again. "It's time to do what I should've done all along. Rhaenyra," he shook his head, "I can no longer have you as my heir, this type of behavior cannot stand. I will give you permission to marry Ser Laenor, and if he chooses not to, I will allow you to reside on Dragonstone until a match is made. Until then," his eyes shifted to where you and Daemon stood, "I name my brother, Prince Daemon Targaryen, as my Heir to the Iron Throne."

"You would not name your son?" Alicent asked in mild disbelief.

"No," Viserys told her, "no, I would see my brother as my heir. Should Aegon prove to live up to his namesake, we can talk about succession again, but I know my brother is capable... And though he might be overly wanting, he will learn patience, because I know the love of a good woman can change a man for the better."

You smiled, feeling emotional for a moment, but Daemon asked for you both, "Brother, do you mean to give your blessing?"

"Of course," he nodded once, "why waste a good wedding tourney? We shall announce on the morrow our new intentions - to crown Daemon as heir and marry him to the Lady Hightower. This matter," he panted, glaring at everyone, "is resolved, I will not hear more. Make the preparations!"

It happened in slow motion. Rhaenyra's rage flared to a temperamental height previously unknown; lunging to seize her father's Valyrian Steel, prophesy-engraved dagger, turn, and charge straight for you as the remaining audience shouted in panic. You felt Daemon try to push you behind him, but instead, your own temper flared and you stepped up to meet Rhaenyra; catching both her arms to hold her at bay.

Daemon was at your flank if you needed him, otherwise, he kept the Kingsguard away from you two - knowing this needed to happen now. Or else something worse would happen later...

"For fuck's sake, Princess! What is this? Jealousy? Huh?" You asked through your tears, struggling to hold your old friend's weight away from you. "What is this jealousy, Nyrie, hmm?"

"Don't call me that," she grit. You just sighed, pushing her back a little but not enough to overpower her; the girl's anger making her stronger than you would've previously guessed. "You've gone too far," she seethed through tears.

“I? What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the Kingdom, the family, the law. While you flout all to do as you please! Where is duty? Where is sacrifice? It’s trampled under your pretty foot again!"

"You think you finally get my life, huh?" She snarled. "You won't ever be accepted - not as Queen - not as part of this family! You've wanted this all along! Haven't you!?" She struggled against you, hands sweating. "You've always wanted my life, that's why you stuck around! Your mother died - so you tried to take a place in my family, make them yours - and now, look! You're nearly there! Pouncing on my uncle the moment he's widowed!" She snarled, bearing her teeth.

“Exhausting, wasn’t it? Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness. But now they see you as you are, Nyrie," you whispered with a broad smirk.

"You aren't fit to play this part! To have my life! You'll never be accepted as their Princess!"

"I wager I'll do a better job than you ever could," you hissed. "There's not much to live up to, you don't leave a lot of room to fill."

She screamed when Ser Harwin's arms seized around her waist, but the momentum of him pulling her back and Rhaenyra's thrashing cause the Valyrian Steel dagger to slice your forearm. You yelped and reared back amongst the startled gasps and panicked murmurs from the crowd, Daemon catching you. The dagger clattered to the floor as Harwin backed up several paces to keep the belligerent girl at bay. You whimpered quietly at the sting, a pool of blood forming to the side you held your arm at.

"Fuck's sake," Daemon growled, "lemme see, lemme see, my love, c'mere," he winced, looking around before using his own belt to yank free and tourniquet around your lower elbow. "You're bleeding a good bit," he whispered, "you'll need stitches, sweet one."

You pouted at him, wincing again in pain when he tightened the belt.

Around you, the Kingsguard was ordered to escort Rhaenyra to her chambers, and the moment she was marched out of sight, Daemon was warning his brother that she knew about her secret passage door and parts of the tunnels.

Go stand watch," a personal guard was ordered by the King. "Someone go - go find Ser Cole - I want him posted in the Princess' passage, he's trusted to us."

Alicent slunk off to do exactly that, and she'd tell you later that Cole was found only moments from taking his own life. He was overjoyed to hear the King had requested him personally to stand guard for such a sensitive situation.

In the meantime, Lord Corlys Velaryon and his wife, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen, thought it best their son not marry Rhaenyra; now that she had been disowned, she was less appealing. Viserys was free to offer her again later if Laenor was not married in that time and if she showed true change, but after tonight, nobody thought that possible.

Daemon tried helping your wound, your father approaching as he laid a clean cloth over the cut. Your lover tisked, "It's deeper than I thought. We should get this looked at."

"A moment," Otto prevented.

"If it would please you, this is not an injury I'd like to wait to attend to," Daemon sighed, nodding at your bloodied forearm that he held.

"I only meant to say, you have my blessing to marry, my Prince," Otto nodded at him. "Seeing the kindness you show my daughter, I feel... Content knowing she will be loved and cared for."

"Thank you," Daemon nodded.

"Yes, thank you, Father, but we really must be going, this doesn't feel very nice," you rushed to explain, watching him nod and eye your injury with worry.

"This way," He even instructed, a few handmaids rushing forward to help herd you away.

"Doing all right, love?" Daemon muttered as you walked.

"Bit shocked," you admitted.

"I'd say," he mused.

"It burns," you pouted at him.

"We'll get everything tended to, you'll feel better soon," he soothed.

You peaked up at his worried brow, pouted lips, darting eyes; whispering, "You're heir, again, Daemon."

"So it would seem," he deadpanned. "Can we not talk about it now?" He requested quietly, "I only wish to see to this wound of yours."

You nodded, and once in Mellos' chamber, you were left alone with your father - since Daemon was not yet your husband. Otto was silent as your forearm was stitched carefully; the bleeding staunched, herbs stuffed in the wound to prevent pain and promote healing. As you let Mellos wrap you in gauze, you glanced at your father.

"So... Your blessing, is it?"

"He's different with you already," he nodded stiffly. "And after his nieces' display tonight, I can think of no better future Queen."

"I do not wish to talk about future station, Father, but instead, that... That Daemon makes me happy and I am relieved you have given us your blessing. It would've felt very wrong to marry without my father in attendance."

Otto wasn't affectionate in the least bit, but he showed his love by doing his best to understand situations before passing judgement. It created a sense of trust and security between father and daughter. So, he asked earnestly, "And you will overlook what he did with Princess Rhaenyra?"

"He told me of it all the morning after it happened, I've had time to think, and I've had time away from him. I know what I want, Father, and while Viserys has changed history - again - tonight by naming Daemon heir, I know he is the man I want for the rest of my life."

"I see," he nodded. "Then... By all means, I will see this union happen."

"Thank you," you whispered, the Maester tying the gauze. "Thank you, Grand Maester," you spoke calmly.

"Of course, uh, um, Princess."

"I don't think I'll get used to hearing that," you whined, standing off his table. "Will you talk to Daemon for me, Father? I think you need to clear the air... I will not say the King will instill you as Hand again, but if I am to marry the Prince, I will need there to be peace between our families."

He nodded, opening the door for you, "It will be arranged, my daughter..."

As Otto took his leave, Daemon, pacing the hall, approached you. He took hold of your waist, asking, "Are you all right?" You let him hold your injured wrist in a soft grip, viewing the wrappings.

"Yes, Your Grace," you teased, watching his pale face flush.

"Don't start with that."

"Mellos just called me Princess."

"You are," he grinned. "And we will be married in less than a week's time."

"I can hardly wait," you whispered, letting his lips find yours in a searing show of rare public affection.

requesting rules and masterlist

HOTD masterlist

[ponderingmoonlight]

Gojo going berserk after his wife got injured

Pairing: husband!Gojo x reader

Word Count: 1,5k

Warnings: slight injury, language, Gojo being really mad lol

Notes: My dearest @hitori979, this one is dedicated to you! Thank you from the bottom of my heart for supporting me since day 0, always liking and commenting my brainrot. I hope you enjoy this fanfic as a little thank you from me 🤍 How other JJK men react when (y/n) gets hurt here Choso with injured (y/n) who has blood phobia here

„Do you really have to go, babe?“, Satoru’s oh so sweet voice mumbles against your neck.

You know exactly what he’s up to. Satoru always acts this way when you’re about to leave for a mission. How much he hates to see you walk through the door. While he’s fully aware of the fact that you’re a damn strong jujutsu sorcerer, he just dislikes the thought of you getting injured on some stupid mission. If he had it his way, you would stay at home, maybe teach here and there at Jujutsu High, but that’s it.

You are way too precious to risk your life on a mission.

“You know I have to. This is my job, remember? And I have to let you go every day, knowing that you’re not even paying attention. May I remind you that I haven’t been injured for over a year?”, you softly reply.

“That’s not true, I am paying attention!”

You raise your eyebrow demandingly by the way he ignored your last question.

“At least sometimes…Come on babe, this is not fair! Just because you haven’t been injured for some time doesn’t mean you won’t get injured today! Also, I wanted to spend the day with you!”, he complains, arms wrapped around your frame so tightly that it’s getting hard to breathe.

“You always want to spend the day with me. As much as I’d love to stay here, I have to go. Megumi will assist me.”

“I should assist you…”, he mumbles.

“They wouldn’t even send me, then”, you chuckle.

“Promise that you’ll text me, I already threatened Megumi to take care of you.”

“I will, darling. Now let me go or I’ll be late.”

With one last grumble and kiss, he finally lets go of you while you smile to yourself. God, how much you adore your husband. Even though it can be quite challenging from time to time, you admire the way he cares about you.

“I love you”, you shout before you close the door behind you.

“Love you too!”

-later-

“Don’t worry, one or two hours and we’ll be done with this”, you reassure Megumi who stands beside you.

“This doesn’t look good”, he comments.

Unfortunately, he’s right. You don’t know why there are so many curses around, but an uneasy feeling spreads in your guts. This isn’t the right place for a grade 2 sorcerer, let alone a first class student. Well, maybe even you…

“Try to stay behind me. This will get ugly”, you instruct Megumi when another wave of curses appears.

“Gojo-sensei will kill me if you get injured because of me.”

You wink at him while as you unsheathe your sword.

“Who said I will?”

Without wasting another precious minute you sprint forwards, eyes darting around the area. There are so many, way too fucking many, curses around here. This isn’t normal, something is very wrong here. But you don’t have time to think about it any further – Megumi’s and your life depend on your abilities.

You fight off more than 40 curses with ease, slashing your sword over and over. Fuck, this has no end. As soon as you exorcise one curse, two more appear on your sides and try to attack you. With every passing minute it becomes clearer and clearer to you that you won’t be able to complete this mission unscathed with Megumi alone.

“Here are many curses around, I can’t explain why though. It wouldn’t hurt to send some help”, you instruct into your headphone, fully aware of the fact that your husband is able to hear your decent cry for help as well and might freak out.

Where do all of these curses come from? This is a public place, it shouldn’t be possible for them to develop here this well. Expect this aren’t traditional curses…

“I won’t lie to you: Something’s off here. I’m not entirely sure if these are normal curses. Just stand your ground, I already informed the higher ups about this”, you inform Megumi with firm voice, fighting off a curse just before it is able to scratch your face open.

They come from all directions, almost absorbing you. Desperately you fight back with all your abilities, holding onto your sword so tight that your knuckles stand out white. You have to get through all of these curses, you have to find out why they’re here and why on earth so numerous.

But you can’t. Your thoughts wander to Satoru and his words this morning. He’ll definitely go insane when he hears about this. And for a moment, a wave of relief washes over you by that thought. Because this means he’ll come here and end this madness without Megumi getting hurt.

Megumi.

You almost miss the way a curse lunges from behind towards him while he’s busy fighting off three other ones at the same time. Instinctively you sprint forwards as fast as your feet carry you, breath going sharp and fast. No way in hell this thing will hurt Megumi. Not when you’re in charge.

“Bend over!”, you scream on top of your lungs, blade already on its way to cut through that curse.

But just before you hit it, its claws find their way into your face, scratching your forehead slightly before it falls to the ground lifelessly.

You hiss, a stinging pain crawling up your skin. But when you gently scan the spot with your fingertips, only a minor stain of blood shows itself. You let out your breath, relief flooding your body. This is nothing serious, nothing to worry about.

But before you sprint back in action, a reflex holds you back.

“Don’t move an inch, Megumi”, you warn the boy next to you.

In the split of a second, a wave of hollow purple rushes past your orbs, killing every curse on its way. You let out the breath you didn’t know you were holding, heartbeat picking up in an instant. It’s him. It has to be him.

“(y/n)!”, he cries out, large frame suddenly by your side.

“What is this?”, he hisses.

Frantically, his eyes scan your forehead, widen in blank horror.

“Oh, this? Just a minor wound, nothing to worry ab-“

“Nothing to worry about!? You promised to be careful, you promised not to get hurt!”, he literally scolds you while his fingertips inspect your wound.

“Stop that”, you warn him, slapping his hand away.

“I did the best I could but they were just too many. And there are always more to come, look.”

Not even a minute later, dozens of new curses begin to flood the streets.

“We need to get back to work!”

“No”, he interrupts you roughly.

“Not you, you’ll stay here.”

You can’t believe your ears, mouth too stunned to speak for a second. He can’t be serious, right? This is your mission. You won’t give up because a small wound on your forehead that isn’t even bleeding severely.

“This is my mission, Satoru. I will help you exorcising these curses”, you state in all seriousness.

“Oh yeah? Watch me, then.”

You aren’t able to react any further. With breathtaking speed, Satoru lunges from curse to curse, ripping their heads off in the most violent way you have ever seen while all you can do is stare at him in disbelief. Of course you always knew that your husband is not to be trifled with when it comes to his precious wife, but you’ve never thought that his concern would reach as far as him going berserk because of you.

Because of a minor laceration on your forehead.

It doesn’t even take him 30 seconds to kill all the curses entirely, leaving you completely speechless and a little dizzy. When he walks towards you, a maniac smile is plastered on his blood-covered face.

“No one is hurting my wife and gets away with it. Especially not some random curse”, he announces under his breath, gaze still stone cold.

“How are you feeling, love? Is your head doing okay? Did you get injured somewhere else?”

As soon as his eyes meet yours, they are filled with nothing but concern and love, making your heart skip a beat.

“N-No…I’m fine…”, you stutter while getting lost in his bright blue orbs all over again.

His hands roam around your body gently, gaze scanning every inch of you with that worried expression plastered on his face. Moments like these show you with all urgency how much you really mean to your husband.

“I will kill every single curse walking on this earth to save you, (y/n)”, he speaks out with low voice, lips hungrily brushing over yours so strongly expressed that you feel like fainting.

“I’m sorry you were worried”, you mumble against his mouth.

“You’ll never get hurt by a curse again. I’ll make sure of that.”

[yourmomsawh0r3]

expecting

pairing: benedict bridgerton x f! wife reader

The soft morning light filtered through the heavy curtains, casting a warm glow across the grand bedchamber. Y/N stirred beneath the covers, her mind slowly rousing from the depths of sleep. She stretched her hand to the other side of the bed, expecting to find the familiar warmth of her husband, but instead, her fingers brushed against cold, empty sheets. Benedict had already risen, most likely absorbed in his work within the confines of his study.

She lingered in bed, her thoughts muddled by the lingering remnants of slumber, until a sharp pang of anxiety tightened in her chest. For several days now, a persistent worry had taken root within her, growing with each passing hour. She hesitated before throwing back the covers, her heart heavy with apprehension. Y/N’s gaze fell upon the bed linens, scrutinizing them with bated breath.

The sheets were immaculate, untouched by the crimson hue she had half-expected, half-dreaded to see. Her heart sank, frustration welling within her as she realized the implications. Another morning, another check, and still no sign of her monthly course. The absence of blood was both a blessing and a curse, for she knew what it likely meant.

They were still newlyweds, just months into their marriage, and while they had spoken of starting a family, Y/N had envisioned more time to enjoy their youthful union before the responsibilities of parenthood descended upon them. The thought of carrying Benedict’s child filled her with equal parts joy and trepidation. Was it too soon? Would he be ready for such a change, for the duties and demands that would come with fatherhood?

She rose from the bed, her movements languid as she wrapped her robe around herself. The silk fabric felt cool against her skin, a stark contrast to the warmth she yearned to feel. Y/N padded down the long hallway, her feet silent on the plush carpet as she made her way to Benedict’s study. She could hear the familiar sound of his pencil scratching against parchment, the melody of his creative process.

She paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of her husband. Benedict was bent over his work, his brow furrowed in concentration as he sketched, utterly absorbed in his task. Despite the seriousness of his expression, there was an undeniable gentleness about him that made her heart swell with love.

For a moment, Y/N considered turning away, letting him remain in his world of art and imagination, but she knew she couldn’t delay the conversation any longer. The uncertainty gnawed at her, and she needed to confide in him, to share her fears and hopes.

“Benedict,” she called softly, her voice barely above a whisper.

He looked up immediately, his features softening the moment his eyes met hers. A warm smile spread across his face, and he set his pencil aside, rising from his chair to greet her.

“Good morrow, my love,” he said, his voice filled with affection as he crossed the room to her. “I did not intend to wake you so early.”

“You did not wake me,” Y/N replied, attempting a smile as she stepped closer to him. “I simply found myself alone in our bed and wondered where you might be.”

Benedict wrapped his arms around her waist, pulling her into his embrace. He pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, his lips lingering against her skin. “My mind was alight with ideas,” he explained, his tone light and teasing. “I had to capture them before they faded away like the morning mist.”

Y/N rested her head against his chest, her ear pressed to his heart. The steady rhythm soothed her, but the anxiety in her own chest remained. She knew she couldn’t keep her secret any longer. “Benedict, I must speak with you about something of great importance.”

He pulled back slightly, concern flickering in his blue eyes. “What is it, dearest? You seem troubled.”

Y/N took a deep breath, her hands gripping the lapels of his dressing gown as she gathered the courage to speak. “I have missed my monthly course,” she confessed, her voice trembling. “It has been late for several days now, and I believe I may be with child.”

The words hung in the air, a delicate truth that had the power to alter their lives forever. Y/N braced herself for Benedict’s reaction, her heart pounding in her chest. She feared he might be taken aback, that the prospect of fatherhood might overwhelm him, especially so soon after their marriage.

But to her surprise, Benedict’s expression changed not to one of shock or apprehension, but to one of pure, unadulterated joy. His eyes widened, and a broad smile broke across his face as he processed her words.

“You think…?” he stammered, his voice laced with wonder. “You believe you carry our child?”

Y/N nodded, tears welling in her eyes as she watched the happiness unfold across his face. “I did not know how to tell you… I feared it might be too soon, that you would be unprepared…”

Benedict’s hands cupped her face, his touch tender as he gazed down at her with all the love in his heart. “Too soon?” he echoed, his voice filled with emotion. “My love, there could be no greater news in the world. You have just given me the most precious gift I could ever receive.”

Before she could respond, Benedict swept her up into his arms, spinning her around in a joyful circle. Y/N’s laughter mingled with his, the sound of their happiness filling the room. When he finally set her down, he held her close, his forehead resting against hers as he whispered, “We are to be parents, Y/N. I can scarcely believe it.”

Y/N’s tears spilled over, but they were tears of relief, of joy, of overwhelming love. She pulled him into a deep kiss, pouring all of her emotions into the tender embrace. When they finally parted, she looked up at him, her heart full to bursting. “I love you, Benedict,” she whispered. “And I am so grateful that we will embark on this journey together.”

Benedict’s arms tightened around her, his voice a soft murmur in her ear. “I love you more than words can express. You will be the most wonderful mother, and I will strive every day to be the father our child deserves.”

As they stood there in the warmth of the study, wrapped in each other’s embrace, Y/N knew that whatever fears she had harbored had been unfounded. Benedict’s love for her was unwavering.

A few weeks had passed since Y/N had first shared the news with Benedict, and their excitement had only grown with each day. Though they had reveled in the secret together, they both knew it was time to share the joy with their families. The Bridgerton clan was nothing if not close-knit, and such news was sure to be met with elation.

The day was sunny, with a pleasant breeze that made the leaves rustle in the grand trees lining the estate. The entire Bridgerton family was gathered in the drawing room of Aubrey Hall, the laughter and chatter filling the air as the siblings exchanged stories and playful jests. It was a rare occasion when they were all together, and Benedict couldn’t help but feel a rush of warmth as he looked around the room.

Y/N sat beside him, her hand resting in his, their fingers intertwined. She was calm on the surface, but he could sense the slight tremor in her hand, the only sign of her nerves. He gave her a reassuring squeeze, meeting her eyes with a smile that spoke of all the love and support he had for her.

Finally, when there was a lull in the conversation, Benedict cleared his throat, drawing the attention of the room. “If I may have your attention, everyone,” he began, his voice carrying a note of seriousness that was unusual in their light-hearted gatherings.

The room quieted, all eyes turning to Benedict and Y/N. There was a mixture of curiosity and concern in their expressions, each sibling wondering what news might be so important.

“We have something we would like to share with you all,” Benedict continued, his voice steady but filled with emotion. He glanced at Y/N, his gaze filled with encouragement. She nodded, and together, they turned back to the family.

“We are with child,” Y/N announced, her voice soft but clear.

For a moment, there was silence as the words sank in. Then, as if on cue, the room erupted in a chorus of exclamations, cheers, and laughter. Daphne, ever the nurturing one, was the first to rush forward, her face alight with joy as she embraced Y/N.

“Oh, Y/N! That is the most wonderful news!” Daphne exclaimed, her voice filled with genuine happiness. “You are going to make such a wonderful mother.”

The rest of the siblings quickly followed suit, surrounding the couple with congratulations and hugs. Even Anthony, who often took on the role of the stern eldest brother, couldn’t hide the smile that spread across his face.

“Well done, brother,” he said, clapping Benedict on the shoulder. “You’ve managed to outdo yourself this time.”

“Thank you, Anthony,” Benedict replied with a grin, knowing that beneath his brother’s teasing exterior, there was deep affection.

Violet, their mother, had tears in her eyes as she enveloped Y/N in a warm embrace. “My dear, I am so happy for you both,” she whispered, her voice thick with emotion. “You are bringing such joy to this family.”

Y/N felt overwhelmed by the outpouring of love and support. She had known that the Bridgertons would be thrilled, but the reality of it was even more touching than she had imagined. Benedict stood beside her, his arm around her waist, his pride and happiness evident in every gesture.

The rest of the day was filled with celebration. The family insisted on toasting the couple’s happiness, and there was much talk of the future, of names and nurseries, of the roles each sibling would play in the life of the new addition. Colin, ever the joker, made a grand show of predicting whether it would be a boy or a girl, while Eloise teased that she would teach the child all the ways of mischief.

As the evening drew to a close and the family began to disperse, Benedict and Y/N found themselves alone in the garden, the quiet night a stark contrast to the lively atmosphere of earlier. The stars were beginning to twinkle in the sky, and the soft rustle of the leaves provided a gentle melody to their solitude.

Benedict turned to Y/N, his expression tender as he took her hands in his. “Are you pleased, my love?” he asked, his voice low and intimate.

“More than I could ever put into words,” she replied, her heart full to bursting with the love she felt for him and for the family they were building together.

He smiled, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear before leaning down to press a gentle kiss to her lips. “We are going to be wonderful parents, Y/N,” he murmured against her skin. “And our child will be surrounded by so much love. I cannot wait to begin this new chapter with you.”

Y/N’s eyes filled with tears, not of sadness but of overwhelming joy. She wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him close as she whispered, “Nor can I, Benedict. Nor can I.”

And so, beneath the canopy of stars, they stood together, holding each other close as they looked forward to the future, their hearts filled with the promise of the life they would share a life of love, of family, and of unbreakable bonds.