#defend motherhood

[spiderwarden]

… try not to be offended over a stupid quiz.. try not to be offended over a stupid quiz.. trYING NOT TO BE OFFENDED OVER A STUPID QUIZ.

#[ 🕷️ ] —— out of character #[ a dumb quiz about asking who would be the worst parent of the companions ] #[ and it’s so obvious that they voted minth because they have NO idea how motherhood works or changes the brain ] #[ and no offense *starion but theres a literal vampire on the poll and you’re telling me she’s supposedly worse ] #[ ‘oh but she will intentionally kill them!’ oh plEASE everyone says comments before ]\ #[ ‘oh but drow upraising is terrible!’ and so we assume all drow mothers will be terrible despite the fact Minth argued that #jahe*ira neglected her children by not teaching them how to defend themselves. ] #[ ‘oh but she threatens a child!’ yeah? so? she also approves when you bring her in to take care of her ? what’s your point ] #[ *growls in 30 year old* ] #[ people don’t understand mother nuances and it shows ]

[wonder-worker]

Margaret of Anjou’s visit to Coventry [in 1456], which was part of her dower and that of her son, Edward of Lancaster, was much more elaborate. It essentially reasserted Lancastrian power. The presence of Henry and the infant Edward was recognised in the pageantry. The ceremonial route between the Bablake gate and the commercial centre was short, skirting the area controlled by the cathedral priory, but it made up for its brevity with no fewer than fourteen pageants. Since Coventry had an established cycle of mystery plays, there were presumably enough local resources and experience to mount an impressive display; but one John Wetherby was summoned from Leicester to compose verses and stage the scenes. As at Margaret’s coronation the iconography was elaborate, though it built upon earlier developments.

Starting at Bablake gate, next to the Trinity Guild church of St. Michael, Bablake, the party was welcomed with a Tree of Jesse, set up on the gate itself, with the prophets Isaiah and Jeremiah explaining the symbolism. Outside St. Michael’s church the party was greeted by Edward the Confessor and St. John the Evangelist; and proceeding to Smithford Street, they found on the conduit the four Cardinal Virtues—Righteousness (Justice?), Prudence, Temperance, and Fortitude. In Cross Cheaping wine flowed freely, as in London, and angels stood on the cross, censing Margaret as she passed. Beyond the cross was pitched a series of pageants, each displaying one of the Nine Worthies, who offered to serve Margaret. Finally, the queen was shown a pageant of her patron saint, Margaret, slaying the dragon [which 'turned out to be strictly an intercessor on the queen's behalf', as Helen Maurer points out].

The meanings here are complex and have been variously interpreted. An initial reading of the programme found a message of messianic kingship: the Jesse tree equating royal genealogy with that of Christ had been used at the welcome for Henry VI on his return from Paris in 1432. A more recent, feminist view is that the symbolism is essentially Marian, and to be associated with Margaret both as queen and mother of the heir rather than Henry himself. The theme is shared sovereignty, with Margaret equal to her husband and son. Ideal kingship was symbolised by the presence of Edward the Confessor, but Margaret was the person to whom the speeches were specifically addressed and she, not Henry, was seen as the saviour of the house of Lancaster. This reading tips the balance too far the other way: the tableau of Edward the Confessor and St. John was a direct reference to the legend of the Ring and the Pilgrim, one of Henry III’s favourite stories, which was illustrated in Westminster Abbey, several of his houses, and in manuscript. It symbolised royal largesse, and its message at Coventry would certainly have encompassed the reigning king. Again, the presence of allegorical figures, first used for Henry, seems to acknowledge his presence. Yet, while the message of the Coventry pageants was directed at contemporary events it emphasised Margaret’s motherhood and duties as queen; and it was expressed as a traditional spiritual journey from the Old Testament, via the incarnation represented by the cross, to the final triumph over evil, with the help of the Virgin, allegory, and the Worthies. The only true thematic innovation was the commentary by the prophets.

[...] The messages of the pageants firmly reminded the royal women of their place as mothers and mediators, honoured but subordinate. Yet, if passive, these young women were not without significance. It is clear from the pageantry of 1392 and 1426 in London and 1456 in Coventry that when a crisis needed to be resolved, the queen (or regent’s wife) was accorded extra recognition. Her duty as mediator—or the good aspect of a misdirected man—suddenly became more than a pious wish. At Coventry, Margaret of Anjou was even presented as the rock upon which the monarchy rested. [However,] a crisis had to be sensed in order to provoke such emphasis [...]."

-Nicola Coldstream, "Roles of Women in Late Medieval Civic Pageantry," "Reassessing the Roles of Women as 'Makers' of Medieval Art and Culture"

#historicwomendaily #margaret of anjou #my post #henry vi #yeah I don't necessarily agree with Laynesmith's interpretation (that it was essentially Marian with an emphasis on shared sovereignty) #which she herself says is 'admittedly very speculative' #as this book points out that interpretation tips the balance too far on the other side and has a somewhat selective reading #It's also important to remember that this interpretation was not really reflected across wider Lancastrian propaganda at the time #which isn't really talked about - let alone emphasized - as much by historians but remained focused on the King #For example: look at the pro-Lancastrian poem 'The Ship of State' which hails Henry VI as a 'noble shyp made of good tree' #and emphasizes how he was widely supported and defended by many great Lancastrian lords and the crown prince #but not Margaret who was entirely absent #also look at the book 'Knyghthode and Bataile' (presented to Henry) and Fortescue's various pro-Lancastrian texts in the 1460s #even the recording of that Yorkist trial which was iirc reported in the 1459 attainder #all of these were entirely conventional and highlighted the presence and importance of the King. Margaret was not emphasized. #so either the Lancastrians were impossibly inconsistent about what message they actually wanted to convey about the role of their own queen #or the Coventry pageants were not actually meant to emphasize Margaret in the lieu of Laynesmith's interpretation #and would not have been viewed in such a manner by contemporaries #I think we should also keep in mind that we don't really know what Henry VI's condition was like at the time of MoA's entry to Coventry #we know he had been injured in St. Albans and had only just recovered from his second illness #this is especially important to consider since we know he had also arrived at Coventry before Margaret but much more discreetly #and was not welcomed by any pageants that we know of. This is VERY unusual and can be best explained if we consider the fact that he #may have simply not been in the right state (be it physical or state of mind) for it at the time #in which case the pageants for Margaret should be viewed as more of a improvisation/cover-up/temporary measure to bolster prestige #or Henry may have deliberately taken a more discreet role to emphasize the position of his heir - especially important after the long wait #imo I think Kipling's interpretation (ie: that they addressed Margaret but really referenced the prince & heir) makes a lot more sense: #'Coventry [...] regarded Margaret's entry as a kind of triumph-by-proxy: the Queen entered the city but Coventry received its Prince' #though I think he tends to view Margaret as more of a cipher (and has a very questionable view of Henry VI) which I also don't agree with. #The pageants very much DID focus on and reference her but they most prominently emphasized her 'motherhood and duties as queen' #ie: I think Kipling and Laynesmith tip too far on opposite sides and I think this interpretation takes the most realistic middle ground

[hauntedjohnny]

thinking about nancy/johnny emotional incest....

#sobbing screaming throwing up etc. #johnny being the man of the house in every way #the way nancy talks about the girls/maria just tells me she sees johnny as a husband surrogate #also the way she constantly defends her motherhood

[dewdrop-one]

You know what? I'm actually done with any and all "they did their best" parental narratives. I have been providing door to door social services in my community for a year now and I have WATCHED parents permanently fuck up a small human being. I have watched the light leave the eyes of a fucking three year old over parents who were ""trying their best."" i have seen kids so out of their bodies and dysmorphic/dysphoric they choose to wear a black hoodie with the hood up on a 100 degree day, or its because their dad thought their hair was "too black" and made the kid cut it when he didn't want to.

Moms have tried to tell me they were doing their best while taking breaks in THAT conversation to yell at their 6 year old for being so anxious they shit their pants in class. I've met teenagers who were fun and so sweet who also had no skills to exist outside of their family, so they will either have to be dependent on their toxic family structure their whole lives or have an almost impossibly difficult time breaking away from that.

No more "they did their best" no more "theyre doing their best." No more "but you have to understand, they had a hard childhood" or "they just have a lot of trauma." It is time to start asking how parents can be doing better and holding them accountable in real, tangible ways.

Stop and watch when you see parents yelling at their kids in public or a kid throwing a fit. A white mom walked by me in the store a few weeks back and pulled her kid out of my way so forcefully she hurt the kid and at first I pretended it didn't happen but by the time I got to the end of the aisle I looked back and just watched her until I knew she knew that I had eyes on her. She hurt her kid in front of me, the consequence of HER actions was simply her KNOWING that another adult saw her and disapproved of what she did and I guarantee she handled that kind of situation better in the future just from ONE instance of an adult prioritizing the child's wellbeing above the comfort of the parents (and prioritizing the kid's safety above my own comfort because it was nerve wracking as hell the first time I did it)

We have to ALL look out for the kids in our communities and it is going to make white parents uncomfortable because they're allowed to treat their kids however they want as long as they don't leave too many visible marks. We have to be the eyes of accountability sometimes. the nuclear family system allows so many parents to get away with all kinds or child abuse and kids deserve to know that their are people in THEIR community who think they should be treated better.

#parenting #parents #motherhood #yeah i know some folks have a knee jerk response of defending abusers so this might get to some folks #but fuck it #im done watching children die in front of my eyes #i saw a 4 year old i used to babysit with bags under their eyes today and they hadnt grown since i last saw them a year ago #weve already called the necessary authorities and whatever but thats not gonna mean anything #a 4 year old with dead eyes who was sad and scared and couldnt talk to us #if a kid has dead eyes there is no 'the parents are doing their best' because that kid is actively being abused #no more #no more of it #no more excuses - i will be intently watching ALL parents that i see in public even MILDLY raising their voices from now on #if their children dont get to feel safe with them then THEY dont get to feel safe at the fucking safeway or wherever #and they can fucking call the cops about it - the cops know me as someone who PREVENTED A 12 YEAR OLD FROM BEING SEX AND LABOR TRAFFICKED

[faultsofyouth]

literally who are any of you people to decide that one decision is "the right decision" for every woman. If you go into a discussion assuming that You alone know what is the best path to a happy, healthy life for Everybody in the world then that is hubris. Everybody talks like they are so smart and have all the answers to everything and whenever someone disagrees with you then they are sensitive and antifeminist. At the end of the day yall have nothing of value to say and get your panties in a twist over anyone expressing an opinion that you disagree with and it's so obnoxious

#It's okay I'm just unfollowing people about it tonight #I'm tired of feeling like my dash is a sorority like sometimes people can disagree with you. You don't always need #To assert your opinions as the most logical and the most feminist. In fact insisting that people who disagree are less feminist than you #Is quite unconvincing to everybody who doesn't base their opinions around having a specific identity on the internet #The way I've seen people talk about having children tonight is incredibly ignorant of women's lived experiences #and it removes all complexity of women and motherhood and focuses entirely on a specific type of woman who is married to a man #Like literally it reminds me of the way men talk about female biology as if it exists solely to serve and please men #Like I can name real live women who had babies against the will of the men who gave them sperm #And you're living in another dimension if you think women are rewarded for being single moms. #Women are Never rewarded for taking any action without permission from a man and giving birth is not an exception #But somehow wanting to have a kid in Any context is bad and antifeminist but really what these women are criticizing is heterosexual #Relationships and calling it antinatalism. And then getting mad when we talk about the cons of antinatalism #Even though we said absolutely nothing about heterosexual relationships one way or the other #??? #Like literally I see nobody ever except for homophobes defend het relationships or get mad when people criticize them #But antinatalism is not synonymous with anti piv or anti het partnerships #So its kind of ridiculous to see multiple people make a false comparison between the two concepts in less than an hour

[tojikai]

Sundered 7: TIES

Pairing: Gojo x reader

• Part 1  |  Part 2   | Part 3 | Part 4 | Part 5 | Part 6 | Part 7 | Part 8 | Part 9 …+

Genre: Angst

tags/cw: angst, babydaddy!gojo, babymomma!reader, motherhood, insecurities, arguments, mentions of sexual assault

word count: 6.0k

And he was happy. But never the happiest.

Naomi couldn’t count how many calls she had made but the wetness in her cheeks is proof of how frustrated she already is. “Please, pick up.” She bit the inner side of her cheeks, tapping her feet on the tiled floor. Naomi regrets what she did. She regretted that she still proceeded despite knowing how wrong it was.

She warned herself not to be greedy at the beginning of their relationship. She remembered telling him they’d take it step by step, not rushing anything because they were determined to make it work. Now that she’s thinking about it, maybe he’s only determined because he wanted to forget about you so badly.

“Mom, please. He threw me out.” Naomi spoke on the phone, tapping her feet as she stood in the middle of her room with her things around her. She took all the things necessary and left. Satoru would probably put everything she left in the trash but that’s the least of her concern right now. She lost everything she had with Satoru and it’s all because of her stupidity.

“What did you expect? You sexually assaulted my son and you want me to help you?” The woman hissed at her. Naomi was naive; thinking that she’ll have her back just because she wanted her for Satoru. “If anything I could even get you arrested—” She began but Naomi was quick to defend herself.

“You’re part of this. Didn’t you basically tell me to use a child to keep your son?!” Tears of anger pooled in her eyes as her hands shook in fear, fury, and heartbreak. Naomi remembered when Satoru’s mom would free her schedule so she could spend time with him and Yui. She would suggest activities and let Naomi tag along and that’s how they started to fall for each other.

Or rather, that’s how she started to fall for him while he just wanted an escape.

“But I never told you to do that to my son! Naomi, do you really think someone would side with you on this?” Every corner of Naomi’s room felt like they were closing in on her, ready to squeeze her till she was nothing but dust. Of course, no one would be with her. No matter what Satoru’s mother told her, she still chose to follow it so the blame’s on her.

“For someone who finished school with flying colors, your mind is dull.” She chuckled, letting Naomi hear all she truly is. “You got a pretty face, you know? That’s another reason why you caught Satoru’s eyes easily.” At that point, Naomi didn’t know if it was still a compliment. She’s pretty and kind, and smart and perfect for him, like she said. But why can’t she have all of him?

“But I’m afraid that pretty face would be useless now. If I were you I’d go start over alone somewhere far.” She clicked her tongue, cutting Naomi’s thoughts off every time she tried to voice them out. “Like, imagine graduating only to get jailed over some dumb, desperate shit? Naomi, you screwed up. And that’s why you lost all chances with my son.”

Naomi shook her head, the warmness of her emotions dampened the smooth skin of her face. “No, you made me…” She breathed out, covering her mouth before running her fingers through her hair. “I didn’t want to do that…No.” She bawled and bawled but the line only went more and more silent.

She fucked up and she’s right. The shame and the loss of self-respect are not something she could live through in this city. She must go, she must leave. Like how they always did when she was a kid; fleeing the scene with her embarrassment of a family who can’t live without humiliating them. They have no decent source of living so they gotta strive.

Now, she’s doing all of it again, all while losing all of it. Again.

“Save yourself. I won’t let them know of your plan. After all, you were once of help to my child. I’m truly sorry.” With that, the call ended; with Naomi sitting on the floor as she put a balled hand over her throbbing chest, and the thought of going away to start as someone new settled in the middle of her head. Naomi learned a lot from all the troubles she went through.

This time, she learned that you could have someone's body but their heart could still be somewhere else.

—-------------------------------------------------

“What is it?” Satoru heard through the phone speaker. Taking a deep breath, he shut his eyes, letting relief flood his veins and calm his shaking flesh. “When are you free?” There was a long pause before Satoru’s father replied, “You know I can make time.” Clearing his throat, Satoru massaged his temples, thanking the heavens that his nightmares weren’t real.

“Let’s meet later if that’s alright.” He whispered, scared that his voice would break. Satoru knows that he is the only link between the relationship of his parents. Just like how his older brother would’ve been the connection his father was hoping to keep his first, real love close. Until they got tired of it all; the matters brought by his mother. And him.

Just like how she drained Satoru out. And right now he just wanted to run away from her too.

“Of course, just send me the exact time.” Satoru nodded as if his father could see him, “Are you alright?” He asked after a few seconds as if sensing the trouble from his son’s voice. “Yeah, much better now, at least.” Satoru rubbed his eyes as he shook his head, eyeing the negative results of the vaginal swab test. “Dad, Mom can’t know.”

He’s almost sure that the request would prompt questions from his father, knowing that he’s aware of how close he is to his Mom. But he was surprised when he simply agreed, murmuring an “Okay.” before letting his son end the call. Satoru pictured him on his office chair as he nodded away, brows furrowed with worry like he always is when it comes to family matters.

When Satoru was a child, his nanny would tell him that his father wasn’t always so workaholic when his ex-wife was still there, co-parenting with him. After she ran away and left, his father started to immerse himself in work more. He knows that he tried with his mother since they were already there and married. But it was just never the same.

His father was happy with them. But he could never be the happiest again.

Leaning back on the chair, he put a hand over his eyes and let his frustrations stream down his cheeks. He let out a shaky sigh, grabbing the papers before looking at them in a brighter light. It’s negative. Nothing happened. You woke him up just in time. He tapped on Naomi’s contact, quickly typing his last message before attaching a photo of the results.

‘I’m mailing the rest of your things tomorrow.’ It only took a minute for her to respond with an apology but Satoru doesn’t care anymore to read it. He blocked the number as soon as he made sure that she received and read the message. He doesn’t want to be anywhere near her.

He knows he is wrong for not telling her about his feelings as soon as he can. But that doesn’t equal what she did to him and what she almost got them into. Satoru checked the clock before sending the time to his father, hoping to end all of this mess before the mess ended him.

His mother has been calling him nonstop, and he always had to pretend that he was not home during the previous days. He stayed in watching movies with his little girl, sending you videos and pictures every now and then. He slept in her room during those days, a desperate attempt to calm his brain down. His head hurts from overthinking.

Putting the papers back into the envelope, Satoru took it with him to his room. He made sure to put it in his bedside drawer, just in case some other shit comes up. If this happened before, he’d probably think that Naomi is not that kind of person. But after what she did to him, all of the trust and admiration she has for her went to waste.

Changing into something more comfortable, Satoru tried to take a quick nap. He doesn’t want to look this tired when he meets his father. He’d probably convince him to get a general checkup just to make sure that nothing was wrong. Satoru knows that if it weren’t for him, his father wouldn’t ever put up with his mom. He’d probably spend his whole life searching for his ex-wife.

A few hours of nap felt like nothing because when Satoru woke up, he still felt tired. The only difference is his heartbeat doesn’t sound like it’s trying to come out of his chest anymore unlike when he was waiting for the results. A little progress is still progress; just like how he’s trying to make it all up to you.

If Satoru’s being honest, he’d fall down to his knees and beg you to take him back if you asked him to do it. The only thing stopping him is his brain telling him how happy you are right now and how he wouldn’t want to destroy that. He can’t force himself to stop thinking about you but he can force himself to move on if it’s for you.

Satoru leaned his elbows on the kitchen counter, reading a text from his father saying that he was on his way. Another text was from you; it was a picture of Yui holding up a coloring book and a crayon. He was just with her earlier but he misses her already. He wondered if he could visit when he doesn’t have other things to do even if it’s not his schedule yet.

Sending a response with a small smile on his face, Satoru heard the doorbell ring, signaling his father’s arrival. He peeked through the spaces of his window curtains to ensure that it was him before opening the door. Satoru’s still unsure of what he’ll say but he hopes that his father can give him a better solution.

Satoru thought that if he ever cut ties with his mother, it’d be for you and Yui’s safety. He didn’t think that it’d be for him too. “Dad,” He gave his father a hug as he stepped in, following his son as they walked to his house. “What’s going on?” He asked as soon as Satoru closed the door. They walked to the kitchen, settling on one of the barstools.

“It’s because of mom…” He began, placing a glass pitcher atop the counter.

—---------------------------------------

“Smile~ We’ll send this to Dada.” You cooed, pointing at the camera as you tried to take a picture of your daughter. At first, she didn’t want to do it, wanting nothing but to play with her book and crayons but when she heard that her Dad wanted to know about it, she got real creative with the pose. “You don’t listen to Mama, anymore.” You pouted at her as you hit send.

She scrunched her nose, sticking out her tongue at you before picking on her colors. You still can’t forget how dead Satoru looked when he dropped Yui off. You wondered what he talked about with his mother that caused him to be like that. Even with the soft tone of his voice, you could hear roughness that probably came from the lack of sleep.

If it concerns you, then you definitely have to know. His mother probably said something bad about you, but you doubt that it’s affecting Satoru by how he was talking and looking at you. He just looked so done with all of it, but even so, there was still a tender look in his eyes when they met yours.

You sighed while looking at your phone as you waited for a text from Toji. He’s been so busy with work lately, you’re just glad that you already talked about your problems. You had a feeling that it wouldn’t end well had it stayed unsaid for a couple more days. It wasn’t completely back to normal, but at least, you’re both trying to make it better for each other.

“I would try,” He whispered to your ear as he hugged you from behind, “I can’t promise not to think of her–“ You turned around, looking up at him with a solemn look in your eyes, “I’m not asking you to not think of her, that’d be selfish of me.” He nodded, kissing your forehead, “Alright, what I mean is, I won’t make any comparisons.” You hummed.

“I need you to stop worrying about Satoru and I.” You put your head on his chest, “I know it’s easier said than done, but I just want you to know that I am with you.” Your fingers traced figured on his skin, “I’m keeping that in mind.” He placed his cheek on top of your head, sighing deeply as he let go of you.

“I’m taking Megumi to my Mom’s.” He pushed your hair back with his fingers, making your eyes flutter close as you felt his face get closer to yours and his breath ghosting on your lips. “I’ll see you later.” He pecked your lips, “Take care, I love you.” He murmured as he gave you a long kiss, before turning to get their stuff.

One thing that you notice about Toji is that he never waits for you to say anything back. You don’t want to take the words lightly, but that doesn’t mean that you don’t feel the same way as him. You still have a long way to go, and you don’t want to rush anything. When you mention it to him, he just says that he needs you to hear it.

“Mama, look!” Your daughter pulled you out of your head as she showed you a picture of a cat, “Dada buy Yui.” You looked closely at the picture, laughing as you realized that she was talking about the cake that they ate. “Yeah, you're right! That's what Dada bought you!.” You patted her head as she giggled.

“Yui, baby. Did meemaw come to see you?” You held her small hands, trying to keep her attention to you. “No. No meemaw.” She pulled at your hair gently, trying to color it with her crayons. “What about…what about Naomi?” You can’t help but chuckle as she pretended to think, eyes looking up as she pouted her lip.

“No Naomi!” Her answer gave you a bit of an insight. You would assume that maybe she was just busy, but hearing about how Satoru’s mother reduced her workload made you doubt it. Satoru sent you tons of pictures during his time with her but you thought that Naomi just wasn’t in the frame.

If the ‘talk’ between her and Satoru didn’t end well, you could only assume that he already told her about it. He’s probably down because he wouldn’t want to hurt her like that. With all the progress Satoru has made, you doubt that he’d be so happy to have broken a heart. She was still once a friend to him.

A heavy feeling settles in the middle of your chest, like an anchor weighing your heart down, thinking about how his mother would probably find a reason to drag you for it. But if that’s the case, you’re sure that Satoru wouldn’t let harm come to you.

With how gentle Naomi was, you couldn’t think of a worse thing to happen.

——————————————

“What did she do this time?” His father looked away, clicking his tongue. If one would ask Satoru, his parents would’ve probably divorced years ago if it weren’t for him. His father knows how he is with his mother, and the thought of giving him a hard time switching between the two of them pained him.

Satoru wished that he thought about it too before he decided to go and selfishly start over with someone else. Your words the night he confessed to you echoed in his head. He came to a realization that you probably wanted to ask him to come back but held yourself back as he let you know how happy he was with Naomi.

And he was happy. But just like his father, he was never the happiest.

“I don’t really know how to open this up to you…” He bit his lip, “…But I just want this to be over, Dad.” Satoru felt so vulnerable at that moment. The only time he had a talk this serious with his Dad was when he found out about your pregnancy. It was just more of a news, unlike right now, which is a call for help.

“Naomi…Mom and Naomi talked about…” His father’s eyes coaxed him as if sensing his distress. “Naomi tried to…” Shaking his head, Satoru breathed out. “Naomi wanted to conceive. Because our relationship was falling apart.” He can see his Dad’s brows pull together to a scowl, probably getting a hint of what happened.

“She talked to Mom about it and she…” The man sat up straight, bouncing his leg like he already knew what his wife did. “She said Mom brought up the thing about how you and him got together.”It was hard to talk about this to his father, knowing how sensitive it can be for him. “Naomi told me about it. I recorded it, just in case—”

“Satoru, what did your girlfriend do?” Satoru looked down, fingers fidgeting like he was a kid again. “And your mother’s involved? What happened?” Rubbing his face, Satoru threw away all his fears. If he’s not going to fix these problems, then who will? “She got me drunk, and then she tried to sleep with me.” He blinked fast, watching his father’s face.

“I heard her talking to Mom on the phone, and I took it from her. That’s how I found out that she played a part in all of it.” It was hard for him to accept. The person he used to protect, the one he always tried to understand was the same person who betrayed and put him in this position; the position that also made his father the person he is today.

Another long silence surrounded them. His father’s hand was balled into a fist, covering his mouth as he blankly stared at the marble surface. “Where’s Naomi?” His father pulled out his phone, and Satoru could tell just what he was about to do. “I don’t know. I’m sending her things away. I’m cutting her off. I’m filing a protective order against her and mom–“

Satoru didn’t get to finish his sentence before his father spoke again, probably finally taking in the information he just provided him. “I’m divorcing your mother.” His mouth fell half-open. His voice was low, serious, and full of all the grief that he’s been feeling for years ever since he lost his first wife and son. “And I’m sending that woman to jail.” He added, raising a finger.

“There’s…I don’t want that.” He breathed out, earning a questioning look from his dad. “You don’t have to send her to jail. I…I messed up if I just told her that I still have feelings for Y/N, then she wouldn’t have resorted to that. She wouldn’t have talked to Mom and this wouldn’t have happened.” He stood up, leaning on the counter as he squeezed his eyes shut.

Satoru thought about it too when he caught her in the act. But after some reflection, he realized his shortcomings, his mistake of not just telling her about what was really going on. Even though there was no excuse for what she did, Satoru can’t help but feel like he’s the one who caused all of this to happen. And he probably really is; a victim of his foolish choices.

“But other than that, I don’t want Y/N and Yui to be caught up in this. I don’t want to expose them to this kind of problem, they’ve been through so much because of me already. I just want to do better this time.” Thinking about dragging you into another mess made Satoru feel weak. He promised to make it up to you, and he’d do anything to prove that.

His father put his phone down on the table, taking in a deep breath just to calm himself. “But you’re not stopping me from divorcing your mother.” Satoru doesn’t know if it’s right to agree to that. It felt like he was encouraging the separation of his parents; celebrating his mother’s heartbreak.

But his father’s been suffering heartbreak for years. It’s only fair to set him free.

“It’s up to you. I…” Satoru shook his head, sure of the decision he was about to make. “...I don’t think I can just forgive and forget what she did. It’s not something small, and I’m not a kid anymore, Dad.” His eyes itched, ready to let his tears go any minute. “I don’t even know if I still want to be associated with her.” He turned away, sighing as he blinked away his pain.

When he and Naomi went for the examination, he made her spill all the details regarding the said conversation with his mother. It took everything in him not to fly into a rage while breaking down as he heard of it. All this time, his mother saw him as a pawn to keep his father, regardless of whose life she was tearing down; Satoru’s, his father's ex-wife, and his first son.

“I wanted to take you away when you were a kid.” His father admitted, looking ahead as he reminisced of the decisions he made. “I wanted to just take you and raise you with your brother. Of course, with the hopes of getting my ex-wife back.” He leaned back, tapping on the screen of his phone. The bitter tone in his voice can’t be missed.

“That was my plan when I found out about you. But when you were about a year and a half old, she disappeared. All I knew was she was…tired; drained of all the chaos that our son and her were exposed to. What with having to co-parent with me as I was with your mother.” His eyes played the emotions he chose to hide away many years ago.

“I know you know about this. She and I got divorced. I thought it was over for us, I thought I made the right decision to turn away and try another start. And I was dating your mother. Then we had you.” His arms were crossed and Satoru could almost see the similarities between his feelings to how he used to feel about yours and his relationship.

“Then, realization came running for me; haunting me in my sleep. I was ready to get her back again, but it was too late. She was already gone.” Satoru absently poured water for his Dad, listening intently to his story. “So, I felt like the only thing to do was to marry your Mom. I reminded myself that still have you, I can’t just spiral down.” He smiled at Satoru.

“I tried to convince, tried to brainwash myself that it’d be fine. That I could learn to love her and I did. Just not the kind of love that lovers have.” If his mother could hear his Dad right now, she’d get shattered. Satoru doesn’t want to see that, but she would have to. She has to understand that she’s putting this man through.

“I loved her because she loves me; because she cares for you and me.” Leaning over to pick up his glass, he looked his son in the eyes. “But true love is unconditional, Satoru. It should not have a reason.” He took a sip, pursing his lips before continuing. “Reasons might vanish, and when it does, so will the love you feel for that person.”

In the middle of it all, Satoru could only think of you. Why does he love you? When did he realize that he loves you? How did it happen? He doesn’t have an answer for it. He cannot find a reason for it. He doesn’t remember loving you just because you put up with him, he doesn’t remember falling for you just because of the life you created together.

All that he knows is that one day, he woke up and he already knew that he was in love with you. Like he’s been doing it for years; like that’s all he’s ever known.

—-------------------------------------------------

“I’ll keep in contact with you regarding the proceedings.” Satoru’s father spoke on the phone, stepping inside his mansion and smiling at his helpers. He asked Satoru if he wanted to have a word with his mother but the thought of having to look at her after what she tried to make his ex-girlfriend do makes him feel dizzy.

“Honey, you’re home.” The woman tried to welcome him with a kiss and open arms but he quickly turned his head, rejecting her. “Come up to my office, we got something to talk about.” The mask of a loving wife was quickly covered with fear and dread.

“What about in our room? So, you can rest.” She nodded her head once, trying to coax him but he was tired of closing his eyes and numbing his heart from feeling the pain and regret of having to lose the love of his life for the comfort that this woman offered him before. “In my office. It’s not a small matter that I could sleep on.”

Leaving the woman baffled, he made his way upstairs, not waiting for her to walk beside him. There was a deafening silence in the big room, save from the footsteps of her husband and the door of his office slamming with such force that it sent a crack in her heart.

She took a deep breath and ran her palm on top of her dress, thinking of all the reasons she could give him just to prove her innocence. She didn’t want any of that to happen. She didn't think that Naomi could be so dumb as to come up with such a heinous and unpleasant plan.

That wasn’t even what she did to Satoru’s father. It was just working to keep them together. And that’s why Satoru came.

With her found determination, she held her head high. Swallowing the terror rising up her throat as she let her thoughts convince her that she did nothing wrong. She never explicitly told Naomi to do that, she’s the one who schemed that. There’s nothing to be afraid of.

She walked up the stairs, caressing the smooth, cold surface of the handrail. Satoru wouldn't allow anything to happen to her. He’s her boy, her pride and joy. He’s the only ally she had when his father was openly pushing her away.

Satoru wouldn’t just ruin what she and his father had because of baseless information from his sick girlfriend. Entering the office, the man sat on his swivel chair. Forehead pressed to the heel of his hand. “What is it, dear?” She smiled sweetly at her husband, appearing unaware of what he had in mind.

Oh, how she wished she was just unaware of it all. She wished that she didn't know what the problem was. She wished it wasn’t what she thought it was and that she was just overthinking because of how– “I want a divorce.” Those four words halted the spinning of her world.

“What?” She raised her brows, checking if it was just her mind playing tricks on her and making her hallucinate. “I want a divorce. And I want it as soon as possible.” His eyes no longer held any emotions towards her; no sadness, bitterness, fading love. None. Not even pity.

“Listen, honey, I didn’t think that Naomi would do–“ She took quick steps towards him, hoping to get him to listen. “So, you knew about it?” He glared at her, “You knew about it and you didn’t tell me anything?” He shook his head, and she could only open her mouth.

“Doesn’t matter. Satoru told me everything.” He stood up from his seat, towering over her as he stared her down. “It’s nothing like that–“ She breathed out, panicking. “I’m not really interested in what you told Naomi. I’m just thankful that my son’s safe.” He stepped away from her.

“What I want to do right now, is to be free from this.” It’s over for her. All the alibis that she was composing, thinking of for this moment are useless. He doesn’t need an explanation, this was simply the final push that he needed to kick her out of his life. And probably out of Satoru’s too.

“Please, don’t do this. We’re already too old to–“ She tried to grab his hand and he only grabbed it with the other to put it away. “You’re right. We’re too old, our son’s too old for me to still pretend that we want to be in this position.” Shaking her head, she stepped in front of him, blocking his way. “Please, listen. I wouldn’t do something that could harm–“

“I know,” His voice was calm. “Of course, to harm him wasn’t your intention, right?” She nodded eagerly, thinking that he was finally listening to her. “But you wanted to decide for him. You got in between him and Y/N, then pushed this woman on him because you thought you knew best for your son.” Tears fell down her eyes, and she lost all hope.

“Now, look at what you did to him.” He gritted his teeth, stepping forward to get her out of his way. “But this is not just about our son anymore. This is also about me, finally choosing to do what I should’ve done a long time ago.” Opening the door, he spoke to her one last time. “All you have to do is sign. The actions that your son will take is all up to him.”

With that, he left her with all of the nightmares of their past coming back. How he only wanted the best for his sons, how he wanted to take full custody of Satoru, how he wanted to get back together with his ex-wife, and how he only married her because she was gone. She was never the first option. She was never the original pick.

She wasn’t chosen, she just happened to be already there.

—————————————

“Hey,” You heard Satoru speak as Toji opened the door for him, nodding. This was kind of similar to how they first saw each other but you’re just glad that this time, it’s a lot calmer. Megumi ran to his father, peeking up at Satoru as he waved at him.

“Yui, your Dada’s here.” Toji left the door open to let Satoru in. Megumi was holding onto his pants, staring back at Satoru. “Yui Dada,” He picked his toy up, staring at a distance before walking closer to him. “Blue!” You laughed from the kitchen, as you packed some snacks for the little girl.

Today, you’re going to the zoo as Yui requested. The animal drawings from her coloring book got her asking you to call her Dada late at night, just to babble about it. “He’s referring to your eyes,” Toji spoke as he went back to the living room to pick up some of the toys.

“Megumi, it’s not good to point at people, what did I tell you?” He warned the toddler as he went back to your room, eyes meeting yours as you made your way to Yui's room. “Ah, yes. Yui and I have the same eyes.” Satoru smiled at the child.

“Dada!” Yui ran towards him, stomping her shoes extra hard to show him how they light up with dancing colors. “Woah! Did Mama buy you those shoes?” He opened his arms, urging the little girl to run to him and she happily did, giggling as she nodded. “It’s awesome!” You smiled at how he tried to flatter his child, encouraging her to do a little jump.

“Where are we going today?” You asked her in a playful tone as you put the lunch bags on the coffee table in front of them. “Zoo!” You watched a Satoru give her a sincere smile, patting her hair gently while complimenting her little butterfly clips. “I’m sure Megumi’s been to the zoo before.” He poked the little boy's tummy.

“Yeah. Animals. Bears and lions.” He stood behind you, peeking at Satoru as he talked. Megumi isn’t usually shy, but he doesn’t easily warm up to people. “We went there on his second birthday.” You almost jumped at Toji’s voice behind you as he picked up his child. “He’s a smart kid.” Satoru answered with a friendly smile.

“You guys should come. If you want..” It surprised you that he was initiating something like that. Although, you know that Toji wouldn’t be so comfortable with that and would most likely reject the offer, it’s still nice to see that Satoru’s trying to make an effort to get along with him.

“That’d be nice but his grandma's waiting for him,” Toji answered, chuckling awkwardly. “Dada work,” Megumi added, earning a hum from his Dad. Making sure that the bag is packed with everything Yui needs, you zipped it up. “You ready to go now?” You tapped the toddler’s cheek, feeling Satoru’s gaze at you.

“Alright, let’s get going.” Standing up with his daughter in his arms, he took the bag from your hands. He put the toddler down to hug her friend goodbye, before walking hand in hand with her outside. You laughed at how she kept squealing with each step she took, looking up to see her Dad’s reaction.

“You guys have fun, alright? I’ll just lock the doors before we go.” Toji pulled you to him, giving you a kiss. “I’ll be back later.” You put your hand around his neck, standing on your tippy toes before pecking his neck. With that, you walked out the door to join your toddler who was patiently waving at you from her car seat.

“Okay, it’s zoo time!” You wiggled your brows at her as you slammed the door shut, making her giggle. You checked your face in the mirror, trying to ignore Satoru’s soft eyes as he watched you. “How are you?” You tried to start a conversation but it was quickly interrupted as you searched around for your daughter’s binky.

“Maybe we left it inside,” Satoru spoke, opening Yui’s bag to help you find it. “Yui, where did you put it?” Remembering how she placed it on the coffee table as she showed off her outfit to her father, you started to unbuckle your seatbelts but Satoru stopped you. “It’s alright, I’ll get it.” He was already stepping out of the car before you could stop him.

Satoru jogged up your steps, knocking a few times before proceeding to open the door. Toji was just about to open it for him when he entered, “It’s Yui’s pacifier. She left it.” He put on the most polite smile he could muster, wanting nothing but to get rid of the awkwardness between them if they were both going to be in your life.

“Oh, alright. I thought it was someone else.” Toji let out a rather awkward chuckle, not knowing how else to react or what else to say. But just as Satoru uttered ‘thanks’, Toji remembered the thing he’s been thinking of for almost a week now. “Uh, Satoru,” He called, making him pause as he held the door open.

Her brows raised, waiting for him to say something. Toji doesn’t know if you’d be happy about this but it’s better than just letting his feelings, thoughts, and opinions all pile up inside of him. This is for you and Yui. Not just for him.

“I’ve been thinking about our situation with Y/N and… I was wondering if you could set aside a bit of your time for a chat?”

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#angst #gojo angst #gojo satoru #gojo x reader #gojo x you #gojo satoru angst #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x reader #jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen angst #jjk #jjk x reader

[hexxynn]

you're my forever | best friend! anakin x fem!reader

word count : 10.2k

warnings : MDNI 18+, anakin and reader are 18, angst, angst, so much angst, self deprecation, reader has a mom named lucille, insecure! reader, modern!, jock! anakin, swearing, anakin worshiping the ground you walk on, reader is described as having a tummy!, praise, even more praise, anakin talks you through it, arguing, readers parents are divorced, pet names, virgin! reader, oral (f receiving), piv, no condom mentioned (wrap it before you tap it!), creampie, aftercare (i think that's all?)

summary : you develop feelings for your long time best friend, anakin. you fall into a pit of bedrot trying to cope and push him away, only for him to push back. what you didn't know is that he felt the same way.

a/n : my first fic ever pls be kind lol, this is my first time writing smut too, so any tips would be appreciated! im lit new to tumblr so please don't be afraid to request anything. also im literally a slut for angsty sex and praise can you tell? also this isn't proofread soz

You didn't know when your feelings had turned from platonic, to overwhelmingly romantic.

Honestly? It was scary.

You had known Anakin for a while, him being your neighbor for most of your life. That was, until you moved, but only to downsize after your parents split. The quaint neighborhood, the only thing you had ever known, being torn away from you. Luckily— your parents didn't want to move far, so you stayed put in the same town, just in different neighborhoods.

You were two when you guys met, both of your toddler selves adorned with the aroma of innocence and childhood. Your moms had both bonded, over the struggle of motherhood, while you two seemed to find each other in the purity of your early years. He came up to you, with a simple ask to push him on the swing; an offer you couldn't refuse. Retorting with an, "as long as you push me after," which couldn't help but earn an eager grin from Anakin.

As you two pushed each other, giggles and laughs emerging from the silence of the neighborhood, your mothers had noticed the bond and smiled; knowing their friendship, and the one forming by the swing sets, would go on past this little encounter. They exchanged numbers, beams from ear to ear, knowing they found comfort in each other, and a pal for their children.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

As time went along, they set up playdates, leaving you two to watch shows, and do little things only young kids would do, whilst they sat on the back porch of your house with a wine glass in hand. You and Anakin would watch silly things, and you would play with his toy cars; in exchange, he'd play dolls with you (no matter how girly it was, or how frustrated he got in his three year old brain).

The neighborhood gossip would flow from their lips. Inside, the sounds of juvenility and jolly would make themselves present in some of your earliest memories. Your moms has been content with the current exchange. The simple call to come over, no matter whose house, with the almost immediate response from the other, and you and Anakin were dragged into their friendship, building one of your own. It worked out nicely.

As you grew up, playdates turned into school, and he was your best friend in elementary. Bus stop hand holding was the cause of teases from the boys (not the girls, who thought it was 'cool' you were able to get a kindergarten boyfriend), eliciting a shrug of nonchalance from Anakin. He would defend you, and go back to the swing sets with you, returning back to your place of blossoming friendship. He didn't care much for what the six year olds had to say, knowing you already for over half of his life. The bond your mothers had created was stuck, and would be for a while.

Once you got to middle school, there was a shift, though. He found his guy friends, understanding the game that adolescents liked to play with jokes and gossip. While he still walked you to the bus stop, he didn't see you as much in school. Especially with the deferring interests you two had grown. You had become a bookworm, immersed in studies as soon as you entered the next phase of your life, while he became athletic and would stay after school to play soccer with the other boys in the field behind school. Nevertheless, he'd come home and his mom would tell him they're going to your house. With no protest— he'd go. He would never turn down seeing you. Without prying eyes and weird looks, he could be himself and return to the faithful friend he'd had for so long. The simplicity and routine created never felt off, even as the times changed. He would always run back to you.

Until High School started. Things changed yet again, messing with the routine you two had created. He didn't walk you, or drive you to school, but would bring you food, smile at you in the halls, and nod his head in the structured environment of school. It was more than middle school. You two still saw each other as much as possible, but hangouts got a lot different. He got into football, and the schedule was rigorous. Yet, you'd still go to his games, cheer him on, and wait until he got home to personally congratulate him. He never even let flings, or girlfriends throughout the years, change his behavior towards you. It had never been explicitly romantic, but you two were closer than most. He'd hold your hand to drag you to his room, and vice versa. He'd let you drape his legs across him on the couch, or let him spin you around in a hug after his games.

He saw you more than middle school, his maturity hitting him slightly. He valued you, and you valued him, and that was one of the first things he'd ever known. This platonic relationship he held with you, was one of the things he cherished most. He wouldn't let anything get between you two, no matter what was to come in the future. He'd never let you go.

You on the other hand, immersed in studies and prepping for college, had turned a lot of hangouts into study dates. Which was okay with him, as long as you two got to see each other. He'd lounge in your room while you sat at your desk with a textbook and computer. He'd bring you food when your mom called that dinner was ready, knowing your academics had pulled you away from reality. His nurturing nature stayed the same.

You two had both gotten into different colleges, across the state. He got a football scholarship, and you got an academic scholarship at a prestigious college on the west side. You knew what was to come as the summer after senior year approached.

What you didn't know was to come, was your feelings towards him.

You didn't know when your hand holding started making your tummy flutter, or when his hands tracing patterns on your calves had you feeling flustered. Sure, he changed a lot in High School. He got muscular, grew his hair out, had more charm and appeal. He had girls swooning. But you? You never expected to be one of those girls.

Coming to terms with your feelings was definitely a task.

At first, it was jealousy. Jealousy towards the girls who were able to openly fawn over him, with Anakin relishing in the attention they bestowed on him. He loved living in this spotlight, and the rush he got when girls would whisper and giggle sentiments about him. He adored all of the looks and the eye fucks he would get in the halls. It was an ego boost.

You wished so terribly you could be one of those girls. The ones he'd kiss after his games, the ones who went out with him on Friday nights. You just weren't that girl.

Sophomore year came with heated jealousy, and Junior year came with longing. Senior year, you slowly came to terms with it. It wasn't until after graduation, when you relished in all the attention he would give you on summer days, that you fully realized what you were feeling. You had never had a boyfriend throughout all your years, academics taking priority over any man.

The beginning of summer was torture.

He was mindful of his last couple of months with you, giving you his full, undivided attention.

And you fucking loved it.

At the same time though, you hated it. The torment of the sudden affection you received, along with an endless stream of texts and calls when you two couldn't be together. It made your feelings all the more real, and you couldn't do it any longer.

You were then slowly trying to distance yourself, for your own sanity, to protect your feelings and soften the blow of college. You were frustrated, angry, and hurt all at the same time. It wasn't his fault, but your brain blamed him for all of it. You were starting to resent him, and hole up in your room, only coming out for meals and water. It had been this way for about a week now, in the middle of June, and the contrast from this to the way you were two weeks before was startling. Especially to Anakin.

❥๑━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━๑❥

Your mom, Lucille, was standing on her back porch per usual, pacing around her best friend, also known as Anakin's mom. Though she was across town, it wasn't far. A mere ten minute drive at most.

"I just don't know what's gotten into her, you know? One minute she's going out almost every day with Ani, the next she's- she's- god!"

Lucille was very annoyed, to say the least. The state she had found you in was worrying her, and her financial situation with college didn't assist in her anxiety.

"Did something happen between her and Ani?" Lucille pondered, quirking a brow up inquisitively at her friend, sighing. "Not that I know of. In fact, he's been asking about her," Shmi sighed heavily. "She might just be stressed about university, you know?"

"I know... but she normally comes to me about these things, Shmi! And now she's this void," Lucille sat down, wine sloshing in the glass.

Shmi rubbed her back, smiling softly. "Just be patient, Lucy, maybe try to have a heart to heart with her? Sit down with her," Shmi pondered.

"Yeah... yeah, sure. I'll do that," Lucille returned the soft expression Shmi reflected onto her, letting out a huff. "Can you come by tomorrow morning? I'll keep you updated," she asked, while Shmi rubbed her back.

"Of course. I'll head home, love you," Shmi replied, standing up and walking into the cool air of the house, watching the moonlight cast the house in a low glow. The hardwood floors leading to the front door were bleached from the sun, it's constant rays hitting the floor from the many windows in the home.

"Love you, too," Lucille wrapped her friend in a hug, wishing her off. "What to do," she looked at her feet, shutting and locking the door, heading upstairs to talk to you.

She heard soft music coming from your room, probably from the speaker Anakin had gifted you Junior year. She recognized the soft hum of your voice, and Lucille was then unsure if she wanted to disturb your peace. But, she knew it was for the better.

A soft knock resonated in the empty hallway, and she heard your hums stop, followed by your music. Your footsteps could be heard trekking to the door, that once opened, revealed darkness in your face.

Your bags were heavy, face devoid of any feeling as you tilted your head to the side, "Hey, what's up?" You muttered, avoiding eye contact with your mother.

"Can I come in?" Your mom requested, analyzing every feature you once held. It was sad, depressing, and a mess all in one. You straightened your spine, opening your door wider and flicking on the light. With no words, you sat on your bed, the white comforter all messy and tangled in an array of clothes; unfolded laundry you were too tired to do.

Your mother sat next to you, placing a hand on your back. "Is everything okay?"

"Mhm, why do you ask?" You force a smile, nodding your head. Your appearance spoke much differently though, along with the state of your bedroom. Your hair in a messy updo, and your clothes scattered around the carpet. Spandex and an oversized tee adorned your figure, hiding the body you once loved to dress up with random articles of clothing, a uniqueness reflected in your personality onto your style.

This wasn't you.

"You've been in your room for a few days now, what happened to your summer plans? The job you were looking for?" Lucille removed her hand, placing her cheek in her hand.

You again avoided eye contact, looking to your window. "I'm just tired, Mama," you replied in a hushed tone, chewing on your already scabbed lip.

"I know, hon, I know. But we're all worried. Me, Shmi, Anakin-"

At the mention of his name, you dropped your head again. Deep down, you knew it wasn't fair to anyone. But you couldn't help it. You'd rather put up your walls before letting yourself get hurt with a stupid crush. "It's okay, I promise," you again put up a facade.

"Is it me? Did I do something?" Your mother started to tear up, placing a hand on her chest. The last thing she'd ever want to do is hurt you. She had never seen this from you before, though.

You finally made eye contact, shaking your head rigorously. "No, of course not. I just need to sleep," you scrunched your nose, trying not to let the tears fall yourself.

"Okay... but if you need anything I'm here, alright?" Lucille stood up then, making her way out the door, shutting off the light on her way out.

In the absence of another person, you felt yourself rotting in self deprecation all over again. The mention of Anakin just hurt you all the more. You hated doing this, you really did, but crying for hours on end seemed to help, even in the slightest.

So, you sat back in your mess of sheets and blankets, music starting up again, as you scrolled through photos of you and Anakin over the years. Even looking at photos of him with girlfriends, his smile brighter than ever. Kisses on cheeks, arms around them in photos. A reminder of something you could never be to him. A hole was making its way into your heart, one that only he could fill, and you were devoid of any reciprocation to your feelings.

But, back at the Skywalker's residence, Shmi had come home, setting her keys on the rack, and plopping down on the couch with a soft thud. Even she was confused and frustrated, thinking of you as one of her own.

At the sound of the door opening, and footsteps, Anakin came tumbling down the stairs, excited to see his mom after a long day of work, knowing she went to your house immediately after her shift.

She perked up at the noise, laying back and turning on the TV. "Hello, Ani," she yelled to the hallway, as he came walking towards the living room.

"Hey, Mom! How was your day?" He asked, setting himself next to Shmi, leaning back in the cushions. His hair was damp from a shower, clad in a black tee and plaid pants.

"It was good, stopped by Lucille's after work," she muttered, with him letting out a chuckle in response. "Assumed so, it's around ten— you're normally not out this late unless it's Lucille's," he nodded. "Did you see Y/N?" He then asked, turning his head to face Shmi.

"No... I didn't. Have you heard from her at all?" Shmi frowned, watching him shake his head and loll it back on the couch, a sigh escaping his lips. "No, I haven't. I'm worried, you know? Did I do something?" He asked, looking for some sort of answer. Your absence was sudden, and no matter how many times he'd call or text, you wouldn't respond. Your location stayed the same as well, the icon staying on your house, so he knew you weren't busy. He didn't want to intrude though, and push boundaries, but he truly had no idea what was going on with you. And it hurt him.

"I don't think so, she's avoiding Lucy as well," Shmi looked at her son quickly while she channel surfed, finding something to hopefully fall asleep to on the plush tan cushions.

Anakin sighed, standing up. "Tell Lucille I'll be over tomorrow, okay? I'll see if I can figure it out, might be too personal to tell her mom about," Anakin assured Shmi, standing up to make his way up the stairs.

"Okay," Shmi replied simply, feeling sleep overtake her soon enough.

Anakin, though, made his way up the stairs, racing to his phone. He pulled up your contact again, pressing the call button, and listening to the same ringing tone that he's heard for the past week bounce off of the walls of his room.

He sighed when it hit your voicemail, the sound of your once cheery self beginning to speak. He hadn't heard your voice in so long, it ached and left him confused. "Tomorrow," he told himself.

He'd see you tomorrow, no matter what it took.

Tomorrow didn't come soon enough, though, leaving Anakin tossing and turning in his sleep. He was so, so tired, so worried, and so anxious about what would happen. He had no idea if he had done something wrong, his brain relentlessly bullying him with 'what if's'. He kept waking up in cold sweats, eyebrows furrowed with concern for you. He cherished you like a lifeline, and he felt like he was slipping away as you did from him. When morning came, he had bags under his eyes, and his hair was tousled with the constant running of his hands through his hair throughout the night. He didn't know what if it went wrong today, or if you gave no response and shut yourself off.

He didn't even eat, too sick to his stomach to do so, waving a small, "bye," to his mother before slipping into his car, and Shmi had sent a text to Lucille as he left.

Shmi

He's on the way.

Lucy

Alright, she's awake. Ty for sending him over 😘

Shmi

Anytime. Want to come over while they talk, give them a little space?

Lucy

On my way.

And with that, Lucille had left her own home, knocking on your door and letting you know where she was going. You had hummed in response, getting into the shower, preparing to repeat the cycle of bed-rot you had created in the recent days.

The water soothed you, hot streams battering on your back as you sunk into the tiled floor. The speaker still let out hushed instrumentals and lyrics of your playlist, allowing you to wallow in your feelings. Not even washing your hair, or your body, you simply laid there. Tears were scarce at this point, not able to flow down your cheeks, as you looked at yourself in your naked state.

You doubted Anakin could ever, ever, love something like this in the way you loved him.

It was honestly sickening, in your opinion, how you destroyed yourself over him. Promises to him left unkept, and your friendship flowed down the drain, following the stream of the water. The sad, angry music you hummed along to only allowed for your wallowing to fester into an ugly knot in your stomach.

Some Phoebe Bridgers lyric had you leaning on the wall, closing your eyes. Too many years wasted. Too many tears shed over Anakin.

As the song was reaching its peak, you were oblivious to the sleek, black jeep that pulled into your driveway. Your room perched in the back of the house, anyway, so it was hard to hear over the shower and the music, along with your own humming. You were unaware of the unlocking of your front door, which Anakin had a key to, and the sound of his footsteps bustling up the stairs of your home. Which would have been bad, had it been an intruder, but it was just your good ol' Anakin.

As he made his way up the stairs, he heard the music in the shower, and the sound of your voice, the murmurs of lyrics you sang along to. He also heard the familiar pattering of your bathroom, having also showered here one too many times after games. Your bathroom was attached to your room, and he didn't want to disrupt, so he simply opened your door and sat on your bed.

When he walked in though, he was shocked. Your entire safe space was in disarray, a mirror of your emotions. If there was one thing about you, though, it was that you were a tad bit messy, but never this bad. He frowned at the thought, and decided to lay back on your messy bed, pulling out his phone to check the time. You should be out soon right?

But as fifteen minutes passed, he was getting impatient. He strolled up to your door, knocking softly.

"Mom, I thought you were at Shmi's?" Your voice was raspy, and quieter than normal, a pang resonating in his heart.

"It's me," he softly said, hand on the door.

You were struck with shock, sitting up immediately, feeling guilty and overwhelmed suddenly.

"I'm busy, come back later?" You pleaded, hoping to avoid him. But if anything, Anakin was persistent, and when he says he's doing to do something, he'll do it. Your brain had hoped silently that he'd take it, making his way out, so you wouldn't have to face him.

He shook his head, "No. We need to talk, now. Are you almost done?" he inquired, leaning his side on the door now, dragging his fingertips over the ridges of the wooden door. You didn't respond, and he didn't hear any movement, so he continued to press. "I swear to God, Y/N, I'll come in there if I have to."

Fear struck your veins, and you stayed silent, hoping he'd go away. "We can talk later, I'm busy," you simply replied, shaking your head at his perseverance. You always adored that about him, but now was a bad time for him to do so. Now, you wanted him gone. He was no longer your sanctuary, but a cause of fear and pain to you. Knowing him, though, he wouldn't stop.

And you were right.

You heard the handle jiggle a little bit, before a groan was let out behind the door. "There is no need to lock the door in your own home," he sighed, turning back to your room. A bobby pin should work, right?

"It's to prevent people from coming in, y'know, like you're trying to do," you rolled your eyes and scoffed, borders and walls making their way back up. You heard his footsteps walking away from the door, letting out a breath you didn't know you were holding. One obstacle down, right?

But then, you heard the jiggling of the doorknob again, and the click of the lock, and a sense of alarm surged through your veins. "I'm coming in," he announced sternly, before you heard the creak of your bathroom door opening. He had successfully found your bobby pins littered around your vanity, from various updo's you'd style your hair with during school. For a second, he was glad for the mess, which allowed him to find it so easily.

"I'm naked!" You screeched, though the shower curtain covered anything he could possibly see.

He chuckled, scoffing, "I've seen you before," he sarcastically uttered, hands finding purchase on the counter behind him, facing the curtain. The only barrier between you and him in the current moment.

"Yeah, when we were four, asshole," you shot back defensively, groaning at his antics. You still continued to attempt to avoid him, dragging out your shower for as long as possible.

Anakin grabbed the towel off of the seat, reaching into the curtain to shut the water off. "Get out," he demanded, "or I will personally come in there and wrap you in the towel myself," his aggression didn't go unnoticed, knowing now that something was definitely wrong between you and him.

"Fuck, fine," you sneered, standing up and reaching out for your towel, which he handed to you through the curtain. You stood up, wrapping yourself, and peeking through the curtain. Shit, he still looked as beautiful as ever. Even more than the photos you would look at while letting sobs escape your lips. He wore a white ribbed tank top, paired with gray sweatpants, hung low on his hips. He looked like a mess himself, curly hair frayed at his neck, sticking to the skin from the steam.

He raised a brow, looking away in respect for you. "Go get changed, I'll wait here," he muttered, allowing you to be at least respectable before he confronted you. As a result, you zoomed past him, quickly grabbing a pair of drawstring shorts and a hoodie, knowing you wouldn't have to waste time on a bra if you were in something baggier. After slipping into your clothes in your closet, you opened up the bathroom door again, and he followed you forward to the center of your room.

He eyed you up and down, finally taking in your features and your state. Though your hair was dripping wet, he didn't miss the puffy circles around your eyes and the split lip you often had when you worried about something too much. His face softened, ever so slightly, as you sat on the bed in front of him, while he continued to stand in front of your figure.

He broke the silence as soon as you sat, "Y/N..." Anakin muttered, folding his hands across his chest in front of you. You gulped, picking at the strings hanging loose from your shorts, "what's so important that you had to interrupt my shower for?"

"You act like you were doing something important. You've been ignoring everyone for days now," he began, eyeing you up and down as you fidgeted and avoided his eyes. Those damn eyes.

"I was, I was showering. Hygiene is important, Anakin," you retorted, turning your head to the window on your left.

"You know what I mean," he opened up his stance, running a hand through his hair. You hardly ever called him Anakin anymore, just Ani. The fact that you used his first name sent shivers down his spine.

"What do you mean?" You inquired, acting oblivious, hoping he'd leave and let you go back to your previous state. Though, as mentioned, when Anakin was determined to do something, he'd do it.

He took a step closer to you, peering down, "You've been avoiding me for days now. Everyone, for days now," he pouted slightly. "You promised you'd tell me everything, so what's going on? You know I don't judge," he assured you, getting down to face you, sitting cross legged on the carpet of your room.

"It's nothing, I promise," You said the same thing you've told your mother consistently. "It's nothing," you repeated.

"It's not nothing, if it's got you like this," he tried to smile warmly, show you he was there, to bring comfort, to bring peace to your mind. "Yeah, well, it's not something I'd like to share with you."

Now that stung, a pain radiating in his very bones, your words leaving him stunned momentarily. You shared almost everything with him. Everything that ever stressed you, he'd hug you and distract you until you were a laughing and smiling disaster. You had never been so closed off, so defensive.

Unknowingly, unintentionally, he shot back, "I've given you every piece of me to show you how open I am, and you can't do the same back? What happened to you?"

Venom laced his voice, making you finally face him. It made the blow all the more easier, while it also gave you a heartache you couldn't possibly fathom. "Life happened, Anakin. We're no longer silly teenagers living our lives, we're adults. We're growing apart," you let your arms fall to your sides, helpless to the heat and tension growing between you two.

"We're about to go off to college, and I've been spending every waking moment with you. We didn't just drift, something changed. I'm trying my hardest to be here, you know? Support you, give you a hand, and you won't even open up," he shifted uncomfortably, sensing an argument arising, which has never before occurred between the two of you.

"It's nothing you can help, Anakin. It's out of your control, so leave it be, and get out," you persisted.

"Get out? Get out?" He shot straight up, standing up in front of you, inching closer to your balled up figure facing him. "You don't kick me out of a place that is basically my second home," he raised his voice, causing you to stand up to face him at the same time.

Before you could speak though, he continued his banter, "So you admit something is wrong," he pointed to your chest, jabbing your collarbone while he spoke the words, voice booming out in the silence of your bedroom. Your stance was less defensive now, as he slowly broke down the barrier, and he continued, yet again.

"I told you, it's nothing you can help with," you replied with a hushed, raspy voice, not wanting to bicker.

"Just tell me what it is, then? Is it school? Because while I may not be as smart as you, I have damn well studied for hours on end with you. I have given up movie nights, going out with you, for all of that shit. You're perfectly fine. You're set. You've got a scholarship, and you'll be fine!"

He continued to step closer to you, closing the space ever so slowly, as you shrunk under his words. "If it's your daddy, fine! But I watched the divorce, the split happen. I watched as you were torn between your parents, and held your hand through that!"

"So tell me, Y/N, what is different this time around?"

Your throat was dry, not wanting to respond, everything seeming so stupid now. How were you supposed to admit, right to his face, it was him? Anakin, the one who held you, the one who made you laugh, the one making you cry yourself to sleep.

"Is it boy troubles? Because I haven't seen any man swoop down and carry you in his arms, and I would have heard about it from your mom. You haven't told her shit, either. So it's got to be pressing you, huh? Just let it out!"

He continued his verbal attacks on you, his frustrations from everything being let out on you. You wanted to shrink back, run away, but there was nowhere to go. Your gut was churning, bubbling, as a sob almost escaped your throat. "You wouldn't get it!"

"Yeah, I don't fucking get it because you won't tell anyone what's wrong," he immediately responded, again taking another step closer. You swatted the hand that was on your chest away, pushing him back from the close proximity. He stumbled, catching his balance, before turning to the side and letting out a low chuckle. "I see."

He saw the polaroids of you and him, laying on your nightstand, shaking his head, "It's me, huh? What the hell did I do? Just tell me," he almost begged, yelling at the top of his lungs at this point. You glanced back and let tears finally escape your eyes, sniffling from the flow. He noticed, slightly softening, as you began to yell back, finally breaking the dam.

"It is you, idiot! Everything about you. The way you laugh, the way you smile at girls like they're everything to you, bring them home at night to cuddle and hold them. It's the way you style your hair, and the way you saunter with your huge fucking ego!"

Oh, now he was confused. You despised his guts because of the way he was? Always has been?

"And you know- you know, I wish I was one of those girls! But you've never even looked at me that way, Anakin! That's the issue! That you've been so oblivious to the way I've wanted you, turning around and fucking other girls while I wait at home for your text that you're safe! It's all of it, Anakin," you let out a choked sob in the midst of your sentence, looking him directly in the eyes, "You go around and play football and don't even give me a sideways glance in the stands! It's so, so wrong to feel this way about you, someone I'm just supposed to care about. But no, I fucking love you, Anakin, and it hurts, it hurts so much. You sit and flirt with the cheerleaders in the cafeteria, giving them kisses on their temples and wrapping your arm around them, in public! But I will never, ever, be one of those girls to you. I will always be the best friend. I will never get to feel you longing for me, and never get to feel you loving me the same! That's what's wrong!"

You finished, letting out a huff, and realizing what you had done. Anakin stayed silent, processing your words, mouth open in shock. You were so terrified, yet so relieved that you had let everything out all at once. You knew now that you had crossed a line, broken a border down in your relationship with him. It had turned from sweet, innocent bliss, to rage and despair, mixed with love and fury. You knew you could never come back from this, back from the words that flew out of your mouth. You were desperate for him, and you would worship the ground he walked on if it meant you could receive one backwards glance held with the passion he held for the other women. But you knew you'd never get that, and you'd spend all of your life searching for a person to fill the hole he created in your heart, but never quite filling it up fully. It would be like a bandaid, covering it up temporarily, but the wound would still exist. It would still rot underneath your skin.

"You mean it?" Anakin simply said, words quiet, as he took a step towards you again, looking into what felt like your soul.

"Every goddamn word."

As soon as the curse left your lips, he grabbed you so swiftly, so tenderly, colliding his body with yours as his breath fanned across your lips, waiting for you to say no. You froze instinctively, still coming to terms with the fact that his hand was laid on the small of your back, the other placed on the back of your head, inching you closer. Before you knew it, the feeling of his lips encompassed yours, with unspoken feelings reverberating through the action. You immediately kissed back, gripping his shirt with the arms in front of you, pulling him instinctively closer. He pushed your frame impossibly close to his, wrapping his arm tighter around you, clutching onto the hoodie you wore.

His hand had gripped your sopping wet hair, earning a small noise elicited from your mouth into his, leaving his kiss softening in satisfaction. It was filled with need, hunger, and years of built up frustration. He handled you so softly, as if you would break, tears still streaming down your cheeks. A sob wracked your chest again, causing him to pull away.

"How in the world could you think I could never love you?" He questioned, bringing you into a hug. You continued to clutch his chest, squeezing your eyes shut. He gingerly set you down to sit in front of him, while he kneeled between your legs. His hands were placed on your knees, looking up at you, as if you were a goddess bestowed upon him.

"I'm not them. I'm not the cheerleaders, or the dancers, or the athletes you date. Look at me, Ani," you grabbed onto his hands, squeezing. His expression showed guilt, love, and anger. Anger at himself, for ever making you feel like this. For ever making you feel like you were the second option, and that he could never adore you. Because for years, he has.

"Oh, honey, you are so much more than them," he brought a hand up to cup your cheek. "I have loved you for so long, I can't believe you ever felt this way," he mumbled, kissing your knees after he uttered the sentiment. "You are everything to me."

He wiped the tears off of your cheeks with his hand, raising himself on his knees slightly. "I'm so sorry I ever made you feel that way, because you are my first and forever love."

"You mean it?" You mocked him, your normal attitude coming back to life. He grinned like a cheshire cat, watching you beam back in the midst of tears.

"Every goddamn word," he mocked back, grabbing your hands and placing kisses on them, "you could never compare to any other girl. You are worth so much more to me, I promise. You are my sun and my moon, my stars, I revolve around you. I love you, so much," he praised you, placing one of your hands on his cheek.

You began to cry again, tears of happiness this time, knowing it was okay.

"No, no, don't cry baby, please," he kneeled up, know facing you directly. "You're too pretty to cry."

You shook your head in disbelief, looking down at your lap.

He kisses your forehead, softly, bringing you close to him. "I'm so sorry," he profusely apologized. He left kisses down the side of your face, peppering you, before meeting your lips again, where you wrapped your arms around his neck as he hunched over. He never once disconnected your kiss as he hooked his hands under your thighs, pushing you back on the bed and under him. The kiss grew more needy, more desperate, as his hands rubbed your outer thighs, guiding them to wrap around his waist. As you did so, you pulled him down closer to you, your two bodies moving in sync with love, care, and adoration.

You tugged on his hair, making him grunt softly into your mouth, making you giggle slightly. "What was that, hm?" You mumbled into the kiss. You honestly were lost with what you were doing, your first kiss taking place on the playground at recess, and had never gone as far as to continue kissing someone.

"God— you, Y/N," he pulled away, looking at you from above, the locks of hair falling from his head, caressing his jaw. He scanned your face for any hesitance, any doubts, and in finding none, he leaned back down, caressing your arms in the process.

"Wait, Ani," you stopped him before his lips could meet yours, bringing one hand to trace along his jaw. "I've never done anything like this before," you mumbled, partially out of embarrassment and nervousness. He had then begun to pull away fully, out of respect for you, before you trapped his hips in with your calves, pulling him back down.

"We don't have to do anything, I promise, I don't expect anything from you, nothing— I swear," he promised, grinning at you from above. "I want you to feel as comfortable as possible," he told you, realization hitting him that you most likely had never done anything beyond kissing, and he didn't want to pressure you into anything you wouldn't want.

"No, that's not what I mean. Ani, I want to," you told him, the heat growing between your bodies, his sweatpants and your shorts being a soft barrier between what could occur.

"You want to?" He questioned, anticipation almost hurting him in his core. You were willing to give him one of the most treasured, most vulnerable parts of yourself, to him, and he couldn't quite fathom that.

"Yes. Anakin, I've always wanted to do this with you, since I knew I fell in love," you leaned up to kiss his cheek, then you kissed the shell of his ear, whispering, "let me be yours."

With that, he bent down to kiss you again, gentle hands and tender touches. "I'll be careful, and tell me if you want to stop at any point, okay?"

You nodded, bringing him back down to you, yet again, as the kiss grew heated. His tongue swiped along your bottom lip, allowing you to open your mouth, letting his own wrap around yours and explore your mouth. The feeling itself was sensational, and you wished you had confessed sooner. Your hips bucked up to meet his, knowing only clothing separated you two. You reached down to tug on his shirt, enticing him.

He sat up, ripping his shirt off quickly, and you took the time to admire him. While you had seen it many times throughout the years, you couldn't get enough, knowing this was the man who loved you, who adored you, who pledged himself to you. Your hand traced along his abdomen, and up his chest, with slow circles and movements.

He looked down to you and your hoodie for permission, to which you grew embarrassed and shy. He stopped, again, tracing his hand along your hip, "What's wrong?"

"I'm not wearing a bra, Ani," you muttered with embarrassment, and he looked at you inquisitively at the fact. "Honey, do you know—"

You interrupted him, mid laugh, "Yes, I know, I'm just nervous. My body, and uh—"

You were cut off, almost immediately, with a tut from him. "You are the most beautiful person I have ever seen. I promise," he told you, looking at you as if you'd break with a single touch or glance.

You nodded, beginning to lift your shirt up yourself, before he stopped you, kissing you and setting your wrists down. "Let me show you how much I love you," he told you, so sincerely, that you felt your body heat up and tense.

His fingers found the bottom of the garment, beginning to lift it over your head, as you lifted your arms up for him to slip it off of you.

He could have practically cum at the sight.

He was met with your soft skin, only for him to see, and his sweatpants tightened ever so slightly. Your breasts splayed out, tummy revealed, and it was all for him. Would forever only be for Anakin.

He kissed you again as you held him, trailing pecks down your cheek, and to your neck, where he suckled the skin and nibbled. You whimpered quietly, never having even thinking you could let out anything from kisses.

"You're so, so beautiful. Sculpted by the gods themselves, I swear. If I could worship a statue of you at a temple, I could," he whispered into your collarbone, moving his pecks downward. You became inherently flustered at his words, a garbled mess, until his breath was fanning in between your sternum. His palms found your ribs, inching upward to your breasts, thumb teasing over your nipple. The contact jolted you, overly sensitive and becoming needy for him to make love to you.

"So divine, I swear," he spoke over your nipple, before his mouth latched onto it, suckling like it would be the last thing he ever tasted. Yet, at the same time, it was so pure. Merciful whimpers left your garbled throat, hands tugging on the hair at the nape of his neck.

He switched over to the other breast, the other one being caressed with his saliva coating it, hardening at the contact. He let his teeth drag along the peak, almost teasingly, before kissing the bud and moving downwards.

He moved down to your tummy, kissing all over. His tongue licked a stripe from your sternum to your navel, then kissing the skin above your shorts. "No matter how insecure you are, your tummy is perfect," he mumbled into the skin, teeth gently grazing the skin as he sweet talked into your skin, lust filling his eyes as he made eye contact with you from above him.

"Anakin, I need you," you muttered, not able to hold the eye contact as he sat between your legs, where you needed him most. He smirked, nodding as he did so, "I know, baby, just wanna take my sweet time with you," he spoke, so close to your core, where your desire lingered for him. He could practically taste it as well, bending down lower, his teeth biting on the waistband of the fabric, slowly pulling it down. His other hand met the other hip, assisting in his teasingly slow antics. He shimmied the shorts off, looking back to where you laid underneath him. He adored you, to say the least, and the way you're looking at him as him twitching in his pants. Desire and need are painted all over your expression, as he finally looked down to your panties.

He noticed the damp spot on the gray cotton, his mind going crazy. He did this to you. God, he loved it.

He kissed the wet spot, earning a small noise that strangled it's way out your mouth. Those damn noises to him, would be the death of Anakin himself. He then looked up, "Is this okay?" He questioned, wanting to make sure you were alright more than anything.

"Yes, please, Ani," you begged, watching him then tauntingly pull the fabric down your hips. Before looking, he begins to kiss the inside of your thighs, tongue dragging along the plush of the skin. The freckles and moles and scars, everything, he was taking in as he tasted you. It was perfect to him. You are perfect. He wanted to make sure you knew that as well, his attention switching to the other leg, repeating the same tantalizing licks and nips and kisses, sucking gently as he got closer to your center, leaving light hickeys and eliciting noises from you.

He then made eye contact with where you needed him most, a small sigh of his breath leaving a tingling sensation for you. "All of this, for me? You're too good to me," he spoke, before taking his first lick, a stripe from your entrance to your clit, groaning at the taste of you. "Y'taste so heavenly, honey, please," he begged for nothing, knowing he already had you as putty in his hands. You fell limp as he pressed a damp kiss to your clit, using one hand to pull back your folds for him. You were glistening with desire, leaking onto your sheets. He was disappointed he couldn't take the chance to lick it up off of the sheets, your hole twitching and practically clenching at this point.

He began his attacks on you, slow and steady, trying not to overwhelm you. Moans began to fill the room, letting him know he was doing a good job, only using his tongue at this point. "S'good," you spoke out, and he hummed in response, smiling in his head. All he wants is to make you feel good. This is an apology, devotion, and need all in one.

The vibrations sent shivers up your spine, fingers clutching the sheets beside you. His other hand was keeping your legs apart, the incessant twitching making him rut into the end of the bed. This wasn't about him though, this was about you.

His tongue prodded your entrance, scooping up whatever was leaking out, and he swallowed it graciously. "You're doing so well, my love," he praised. You hummed in response, not being able to form coherent words, even though he was the one with his mouth occupied. The hand spreading your folds twisted, allowing for his thumb to start slow, gentle circles around your clit.

"Is this good? Do you feel good, darling?" He asked, looking up to you as you nodded feverishly, in a haze of love and lust all at once. Your brain was clouded with the pleasure of Anakin between your legs, lapping you up like you were his final meal on death row. His thumb circling your nub, and his tongue swirling around your walls, gummy and slick with his saliva and your desire. He loved every second of it, your squirming and your hips rolling on his mouth, suffocating him in the best way possible.

His thumb began to speed up, and your hands found their way to his hair, pulling him closer and gripping on for dear life. And he hasn't even inserted fingers yet.

The heat between your legs grew stronger, as minutes passed of torturous circles and slow licks and prods, before you begged for him more. "Fingers, something, Ani," you managed to make out some words, jello and oozing into his palms and mouth. He chuckled at your eagerness, now using his hand he was using to hold your legs apart to wrap your legs behind his back, heels digging into the muscular blades of his shoulders. A single digit slowly entered you, curling inside, arching your back off of the sheets. His tongue moved up to your clit, suctioning the bud, and gently nibbling as his finger began a new pace. It was steady, almost leisurely, as he inserted a second finger, scissoring at your entrance. You were so, so tight, and it was heavenly to him. "Ani, faster, please," you commanded, and he damn well listened like an obedient dog, picking up the pace and curling inside of you each time, his thick fingers searching for the spot that would make you see stars. One your own fingers could hardly reach.

As he sped up and became more passionate with it, your legs trembled from overwhelming excitement and anticipation. You felt the knot beginning to form, one you had only reached on your own, while always thinking of this. Your moans became more strangled and raspy, his mouth never leaving his assault on your clit, and his fingers squelching from your wetness between your legs. The smell, the taste, everything was undeniably delicious to him. This was his Y/N, the one he pined after for so long, the girl of his dreams.

Your pussy began to ache, an overwhelming sense of your release approaching. With whatever you could make out, you uttered in a strangled mess, "C-cum, Ani, 'M gonna."

He began to get more aggressive with his suckles, and his eyes looked up to your expression as your breasts shook with every breath you took, head lolled back from the craving you had- no, the need you had for him. He felt your walls clench around him as your release was coming, his eyes never leaving you. "Good girl, I wanna see that pretty face look at me while you cum," he quickly reattached his mouth to you, the words themselves making your orgasm hit you like a trainwreck. Your eyes never left his, though they rolled into the back of your head momentarily. He felt the flutter, and the clenching of your legs around his head as you finished, his mouth licking up the last of you as he finally pulled away. "You did so well, baby. We can stop here if you want," he assured you, licking his fingers clean as he leaned up to cup your face and kiss your neck.

"I want to feel you inside of me," your lips were flush and swollen from the kissing and biting you had done, and your checks were splotched with redness as he nodded. "Fuck, you're so perfect," he guaranteed your utmost comfortability and contentment. "If you're sure."

He began to pull down his boxers and sweats in a swift motion with one hand, the other propping him up so he could kiss your cheeks sweetly and with care. "You're doing amazing."

You grinned and kissed him, tasting yourself on his lips eagerly. Sweat beaded your foreheads, but the mess created never stopped either of you from continuing. He kissed your forehead, then both of your cheeks, before dragging his lips down to the corner of your mouth. He pulled away momentarily, hands reaching down to stretch you with his fingers. You glanced down to below his navel, and holy shit, was he big.

"It'll fit?" You questioned, your naïveté getting the best of you in the moment.

He chuckled, grinning and looking down at you waiting for him. He took a mental picture, analyzing every possible detail of your bare skin, and the way you looked right now. He was infatuated with you before, but this sight under him, left precum leaking from his tip. His fantasies could have never compared to this sight of him between your legs. "Yes, it will. It'll hurt at first, okay? And tell me to slow down or stop at any point, promise?"

You nodded your head eagerly, "I promise," so grateful for the way he was praising and taking care of your needs over his.

He kissed you again, dragging his tip along your folds. The red and swollen cock in front of you had you nearly drooling, but you decided to save that for another point in time.

"Are you ready?" He asked tenderly, kissing along your neck, tapping your clit with the head of his cock. "Yes, please," you chanted over and over again, like a prayer on your lips.

He let out a quiet hum, slowly pressing his tip into your folds. It slowly slipped past your entrance, earning a hiss from between your teeth.

"Are you okay?" Anakin immediately asked, though not pulling out, so he could look you in the eye, his gaze wavering slightly.

"Mhm, just hurts," you felt tears prick the corner of your eyes, and Anakin knows you've never been someone with a high pain tolerance. "Shh, it's okay, I've got you," he comforted you, pressing a small kiss to your lips, waiting for you to nod to continue. It didn't matter that even your entrance was gripping him like a fucking vice, he wanted you to feel as safe and pleasured as possible.

You made eye contact with him, nodding slowly, as he pushed in a little more, your hands finding his biceps, caged around your head, nails digging into his skin and leaving welts. It hurts, but you expected it. And there was nobody else in all the universe you would rather give your virginity to, just Anakin himself.

"You're doing such a great job, taking me so well," he smiled, hoping his voice would bring you a sense of oasis in the middle of his cock piercing through your insides. "Think you can take a little more?"

You nodded, as one hand reached down to press on your thigh, as he felt your pussy clench him so tightly, knowing you were his. Made for him. "Relax, it'll help it hurt less baby, I promise," he told you, rubbing sweet circles on your leg.

He felt your body loosen up, and he was able to bottom out into you, and his tip kissed your walls, a whimper of pain and pleasure entering his mouth from the kiss he gave you. "Good girl," he whispered into your mouth, making sure he was to never break eye contact in this moment. It was so pure, so sinful, and such a precious moment. He was lingering inside of you, movements stilled, no matter how badly he wanted to pound into you until you were crying into the sheets. You bucked your hips up, enticing him to move, and he got the memo.

It wasn't full throttled thrusts, but slow and lazy pumps in and out of you, waiting for the pain to subside. He felt so amazing inside of you, with your warmth and wetness connecting you both. The closest he could ever get to you, and he never thought he would be here. He was savoring every clench, every thrust, and every moment like it would be his last. Because it was you, and he loved you so dearly, he wanted this to be perfect for you.

Your back arched, your pussy twitched around him, all the while he was still slowly going in and out. It was celestial, the way you moaned and let out slurred words of his name, eyes half lidded and already looking fucked out, a devious and wanton expression he'd commit to memory. "Ani," you made out, grabbing the hand on your leg and placing it on your core. He understood, starting to rub spirals under the red and swollen hood of your clit, picking up his pace. Then, the pain has completely subsided, turning into seraphic pleasure, his eyebrows creating a wrinkle as they furrowed. His own pants and grunts left his lips, chest heaving from the bliss he was subdued in. He was immersed in you completely, mentally and physically. You looked so angelic, even godly, as your bodies connected in the most unholy way possible.

He had waited too long for this.

Your warm and inviting, virgin pussy, saved all for him. And now you were underneath him, his cock filling every inch of you, and each time he bottomed out his tip would meet your cervix, but not hard enough to hurt you. He treasured you, wanting the moment to last as long as possible.

"Faster, Ani, I'm okay," you rested your hand on his head, pushing his hair out of his eyes, as he tried so hard to contain himself so you could feel loved for every second of it. He got off on you feeling so cherished under him, and you had never felt more adoration than in the present.

He listened though, picking him his pace, hips snapping so scrumptiously against you. You could hardly moan anymore, and you broke the eye contact, head rolling back and hitting your pillows from the amount of satisfaction you gained. He took the opportunity to look down at where your bodies met, watching his length slide in and out of you, coated in the sticky sweetness of your serene need for him. His eyes glanced over your body, watching as your tits bounced with every jolt of his body, and he almost creamed at the very sight. He was going to wait though, until you came, to ever think of cumming.

"S'well, baby, you feel so good wrapped around me. You're so beautiful, God. I could do this for hours," he praised you, feeling your pussy clench around him at the simple, yet overwhelming words. The way the plush of your thighs jiggled with every little movement, and the way your tummy followed with. He was encompassed in serenity for every second of it.

"M'gonna cum," you mustered out, warning him of your second release, building quicker than the prior one. "Go ahead, my love, whenever you feel like it," he said between pants and grunts, thumb still circling around your clit as he felt you get all the more tighter.

He sped up his pace, shifting his body to the right, the angle directly hitting that spongey spot inside of you that had you seeing stars. Your hands began to dig into his shoulders, the knot tightening. He could tell, watching as your thighs clenched and you let out the most wanton cry of his name, cumming around his cock.

The feeling and satisfaction of you finishing left him close to his own release, pulling your head down to look at him. "'S it okay if- fuck- I cum?"

"Cum in me, Ani, fill me up," you assured him, still whimpering from overstimulation and groaning at the feeling of him fucking your cum back into you.

His breaths were shakier, turning into soft whimpers and groans as you felt his thrusts grow messy, and soon still, feeling a gush of warmth inside of you, filling you to the brim. He stayed there for a moment, sighing as his cock softened, not wanting to pull out and disconnect from you in the most intimate way possible. He knew he had to though, as he pulled out slowly, leaving you feeling empty and lost.

You let out a breath of air, leaning up to kiss him. He happily obliged, rubbing sweet patterns along your hips, tracing the dips and curves with his index finger, soothing you after your release.

He leaned up quickly, making you feel cold, empty, and lost. Was he already leaving?

But no, he came back with a warm washcloth, leaning between your legs again. He came face to face with your cum and his load leaking out of you, beginning to drag wet and sloppy kisses on your knees as he ever so gently wiped up what was leaking out of you, and the mess and sweat off of your thighs. The residue piled along the fabric, which he then wiped his soft cock with, running back to your bathroom to throw it in the hamper. He crawled back into bed with you as you turned over on your side, the room smelling of sex and love.

"I'm so proud of you, you did so well," he told you, wrapping an arm around you and bringing you close to him, so you could lay your head on his chest. His palm rubbed along the small of your back, tracing up your spine.

"Thank you, I don't think I could have asked for someone better to do it with," you smiled, an after sex glow making you all the more beautiful to him.

"Does this mean you're my boyfriend now?" You asked, and a dumbfounded expression was plastered on Anakin's face, causing you to worry momentarily.

"I would assume so, but only if you'll have me," he spoke into your hair, bare and naked bodies intertwined under the cold sheets. "Of course I'll have you," you comforted him, hands tracing the curve of his biceps. "You're my forever, Anakin."

"Promise?"

"I promise."

#anakin skywalker x reader #hayden christensen x reader #modern!anakin #anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker x female reader #best friend!anakin skywalker #anakin skywalker smut #anakin skywalker angst #star wars #hayden christensen smut

[totaly-obsessed]

Rory

Leah Williamson x reader

-> A teenage squabble over a plant turns into a heartwarming symbol of family as two best friends prepare to embark on the journey of motherhood together.

-> Happy (a little late) Birthday @alotofpockets!

➳ Masterlist

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

“What the fuck is that?”

“Leah Williamson, Language! Or I will call Amanda!” Your mum’s voice was shrill as she scolded a thirteen-year-old Leah for her cursing. Leah just had a smug smirk on her face, she got her potty mouth from her mum, who always acted outraged when her eldest swore in front of other people.

“That is my favorite plant, Lee! My sister gave it to me.”

Your best friend didn’t even have the audacity to look guilty or lie. “Well that’s fucking hideous thing, I’ll tell you that.”

“Leah!” Oh shit. She just got first-named.

“W- Well you can’t tell me that’s a pretty plant! What is it even called? Tree Tumbo?

Now that she saw the tears brimming your eyes she knew she had fucked up. Her hand that had flown, trying to defend herself slowly sank.

“No, it’s called Dracaena. But I named it Rory, short for Aurora.”

Just last week Leah and you had talked about names for future children, or rather your future children. The blonde was already sure that she liked girls, so kids were out of sight for now. Aurora was a name that stuck with her though, and you had promised to name your first kid Aurora if your husband would agree.

“Oh… Darling, I’m so so-”

“I think you should go home now.” Your teary eyes nearly killed the teen, but with one last kiss on your forehead, she left the room, saying goodbye to your very confused mother.

—

“No way.”

“Yes, Leah! I am not leaving her behind!”

The blonde defender tried to barricade the door and deny you access, but with just a gentle nudge she moved, even picking up the heavy plant for you.

“I can’t believe you’re taking that fucking thing with you.”

After that eventful first day of having Rory, Leah had properly apologized with chocolate, flowers, and a hand-knitted little sweater for a plant pot. She obviously didn't make it herself. God, that would have been a disaster. Her Granny, Berny, had made it for her.

“Well she’s my daughter and as long as I am alive I will take her with me. Either deal with it or go.”

Leah was stunned standing in the hallways “OH! You wouldn’t dare, darling! What would you do without me? Who carries the grocery bags for you?”

“You haven’t carried anything yet!”

The two of you had just signed your first senior contract with Arsenal for a year - and to live closer to the facilities you were moving into a house with Emma Mitchell and Emma Byrne. Both of them were experienced players and filled with excitement they had agreed to take two young talents in.

But seeing you call a plant your daughter, and Leah hating it with such passion surely was a sight to see and just a teaser for the coming year.

—

“You can’t be serious?”

Leah had been busy over the day, doing media stuff. So with having the new house all to yourself, you brought Rory back in, much to your girlfriend's demise.

She had just re-signed her arsenal contract for the foreseeable future while you had signed with the London City Lionesses last year, working part-time as a librarian at your closest school - a dream of yours.

After multiple failed relationships with men, you had come to the realization that the real thing was right in front of you, in the form of your best friend.

Now you had moved out of the old, small apartment into your very own first home, and Leah apparently liked to ignore the time plans you had made. So now you stood there, Rory still in your hands as your girlfriend got out of the car.

“I thought we talked about this Darling!”

Quickly she had walked over, taking the now huge plant out of your hands, and carried it into the house.

“Where do you want it then?”

She already knew that you couldn’t leave Rory behind, you had looked so sad when you promised her not to take the Dracaena with you.

“Next to the couch please!”

“Of course darling…”

—

The nerves picked at you as you made a little sign with ‘big sister’ on it. It shouldn’t be that much of a surprise to Leah that you are pregnant, the road here was long after all. But you would never know.

Rory would officially be a big sister in the making, in just a few more months, and then a little baby would share the place with your loved plant.

After leaning the sign next to the ultrasound and the pregnancy test you sat back down at the dining table, now you just needed to wait until your wife was home.

It was as if you were in a trance, looking at your book but not actually taking anything in from it when the blonde entered your home.

“I’m home darling!” Her first act of service once entering was greeting you with a kiss - but she was a little taken aback by your nervous expression. You had been home the entire day, what could have happened?

“I’m gonna shower, my love. I’ll leave the door open for ya!”

Hastily you stood up, pulling Leah back by her arm, ignoring the cocky smirk on her beautiful face. “Can you water Rory please?”

Her nose scrunched up in confusion. You, letting her near your beloved plant? unheard of, but she’d take it any day if it would make you happy.

“Yeah! Sure!"

Your wife nearly skipped through the living room, a half-full watering can in one hand, a müsli riegel in the other. 

“How much does she need?”

No answer.

“Darling, What’s up? You’ve been we- Oh.”

She saw it.

the watering can and food forgotten she picked up the hints you had positioned, looking at the positive test and the picture.

“It worked! We’re gonna be mothers!”

#woso #woso x reader #woso imagine #woso imagines #arsenal wfc x reader #engwnt x reader #lionesses x reader #leah williamson x reader #leah williamson imagine #leah williamson

[chocolatepot]

Hi! Can you elaborate on "Fuck GRRM's committment to 'historical realism' without knowing anything about medieval social history"? I would love to know about what GRRM gets wrong about medieval gender roles, specifically.

So Cersei learns at an early age that she has no agency, her only value is producing heirs and is barred from traditional routes of power so she has to use underhanded methods such as influencing men with sex or using underhanded magical means. I would love an explanation on why this doesn't reflect medieval queen consorts and noble women irl.

Sure! The basic summary is: GRRM "knows" the things that everyone "knows" about the middle ages, which are broad stereotypes often reflective of a) primary sources that deserve a critical reading rather than being taken at face value and b) the judgements of later periods making themselves look better at the medieval period's expense.

As Shiloh Carroll argues, building on the work of Helen Young, “readers are caught in a ‘feedback loop’ in which Martin’s work helps to create a neomedieval idea of the Middle Ages, which then becomes their idea of what the Middle Ages ‘really’ looked like, which is then used to defend Martin’s work as ‘realistic’ because it matches their idea of the real Middle Ages.”

Since you're mainly interested in Cersei here, I'd strongly recommend a book: Queenship and the Women of Westeros: Female Agency and Advice in Game of Thrones and A Song of Ice and Fire, edited by Zita Eva Rohr and Lisa Benz. It's an excellent read and speaks to exactly what you're asking about. The tone of the book is very positive and non-judgemental when it comes to GRRM and his depictions of women on the whole, but I think some of this is rhetorical positioning to not seem like "mean angry academics jumping on fiction for not being accurate," as the actual content turns the reader to thinking about how much agency and power medieval queens had in different European societies and how little of that worked its way into GRRM's worldbuilding.

It's true that women typically didn't inherit titles and thrones in their own right, and that they were usually given in marriage for political/dynastic reasons. However, they weren't seen as brood mares whose only duty was to pop out sons: both queens and noblewomen had roles to play as household managers, counselors, and lieutenants, actively participating in the ruling of their domains and in local and international diplomacy (women in political alliances were not just pawns sent to a powerful man's bed, but were to act as ambassadors for their families and to pass information back and forth), and they had to be raised with an understanding of this so that they could learn to do it. Motherhood was very important, don't get me wrong, but it's a mistake to assume as pop culture does that a wife's foremost duty being to provide heirs for her family meant that she was ONLY seen as a mother/potential mother.

Catelyn is a great example of what was expected of women in these positions. But in the books, Catelyn is basically the only woman who inhabits this role, and the impression given is that she's exceptional, that she's just in charge of the household because she's so great at it that Ned allows her to be his partner, and that he listens to her advice because she happens to be a wise person in his orbit - and also that Ned is exceptional for giving so much power to a woman, because in the world of ASOIAF, it takes an especially good man to do this. In GRRM's view of the medieval world, realpolitik and the accumulation of power are the most important things, so men in Westeros are extremely unlikely to give up any authority to their wives, even though this is historically inaccurate.

Cersei, on the other hand, is supposed to be a more realistic depiction of what would happen to an ambitious medieval woman. There's a chapter titled "Queen of Sad Mischance: Medievalism, “Realism,” and the Case of Cersei Lannister" in the book I've rec'd, and it deals with why this is problematic extremely well. (This is the source of the quote at the top of this post.) In it, Kavita Mudan Finn argues that Cersei embodies pretty much every medieval trope for the illegitimate wielding of power by a woman. She underhandedly gets people killed for opposing her, she seduces men into doing her bidding, she advances her family's interests and her own at the expense of the realm. She's made sympathetic through fannish interpretation and Lena Headey's performance, but in the text she's an evil woman doing evil things. Even when she gets to be regent for her son - a completely legitimate historical position that allowed women to handle the levers of power almost exactly like a king - she continues to do shitty things and not be taken seriously because she's just not good at ruling.

But even before then, from a medieval perspective she had access to completely legitimate power that she didn't use: she'd have had estates giving her a large personal income, religious establishments to patronize (giving her a good reputation as a pious woman and people she'd put in high positions being personally loyal to her), artists and writers to patronize as well, power over her household, men around her listening to her counsel. That she doesn't have that is a reflection of GRRM either deciding these things don't really exist in Westeros in order to make it a worse world than medieval Europe and justify Cersei feeling she had to use underhanded means of power, or not knowing that they were ordinary and unexceptional because he has a good working knowledge of the politics of the Wars of the Roses but little to no knowledge of social history beyond pop culture osmosis, and, imo, little to no interest in actual power dynamics.

There are a lot of books I'd recommend on this subject. There's a series from Palgrave Macmillan called "Queenship and Power" and nearly all the books in it are THE BEST. Theresa Earenfight's Queenship in Medieval Europe is a very readable introduction to the situations of queens in European societies across the continent. She also has a book, Women and Wealth in Late Medieval Europe, that also addresses non-royal women's power. I'm also a huge fan of English Aristocratic Women, 1450-1550: Marriage and Family, Property and Careers, by Barbara Harris, which really emphasizes the "career" aspect of women's lives as administrators and diplomats.

#medieval #asoiaf #queens #queenship #history #middle ages

[magics-neptunes-things]

Motherhood (2)

Hi guys!

Another one with Alexia, but it's Alexia so I hope nobody would mind! This come from this request and I made it to be a second part of Motherhood.

I hope you will like it :)

TW : None, pur fluff

______________________________________________________________

Santana being now four years old, she understand well Alexia's job as a footballer. She's a dynamic, playful, smiling and curious little girl who needs to let her energy go out of her. Needless to say, she was registered with FC Barcelona even before her birth. Despite Alexia’s passion, you made her swear not to push Santana in the same path as her if it didn't please your daughter. It's clear that this is not the case and that Santana is the first to complain when she cannot attend Alexia's game. Seeing her running in the bleachers with the jersey and the number of your wife has always been one of your weak points. Not to mention that it increases even more the resemblance between the two.

However, you are now five and a half months pregnant and it's with barely masked relief that you see Mapi join you in the bleachers. She's slightly injured, nothing serious but she cannot play today. However, this doesn't prevent her from heckle with Santana between the seats, causing the girl to laugh out loud.

"Careful Mapi, continue and you will end up with one like this sooner that you think" you tease the blonde seeing Ingrid's tender look far away on the field.

Mapi looks away from Santana for a few moments, time to follow your eyes and smile gently before shrugging her shoulders. Your daughter doesn’t give her time to be thoughtful any longer, quickly demanding the attention of her godmother.

At the end of the game, Santana hurries to climb the barrier to sit on the edge, waiting for Alexia to pick her up to play on the field. You hold her by her t-shirt so that she doesn’t tumble a floor lower, Alexia finishing signing some jerseys and taking some pictures. It's finally Ona who arrives at your height first, talking to Santana with a big smile.

"You want to go down, Nena?"

Santana hurries to answer yes frantically, until the defender gently slides her to the ground. Santana doesn't lose a single second to rush into Alexia’s legs and hug them, taking Alexia by surprise. And this makes you smile tenderly.

"Thank you Ona" you say to the brunette, who answers you with a wink and a smile before returning to her signing session.

At first you were a little afraid to let Santana play on the pitch in this way, but you quickly realized that every single one of the players on the team was there to make sure nothing would happen to your little princess. Also, you allow yourself to observe the scene from afar, your arm leaning on the barrier and your face in your palm with a big smile displayed on the face.

"You’re drooling" Mapi gives you a little elbow push.

"Who can blame me? I have the two most beautiful women in the world at home."

"Mh. I prefer brunettes. Come on."

Mapi’s mocking smile makes you laugh and you follow her when she takes the stairs to join the players on the field. You can see Santana leaving Alexia to play with Mateo, Irene’s son, whom you greet with a wave of hand. Interrupted in your quest to join Alexia by Lucy, you find yourself caught in a conversation for a few minutes when you feel two hands resting on your hips.

"Here you are, Señora Putellas" Alexia whispers, putting her chin on your shoulder.

You smile softly and turn your head to put a kiss on her cheek, taking advantage of the position to let you go against her. Without really participating in the conversation, Alexia stays with you in this position for a few more minutes. Until she caught Cata putting her gloves on Santana’s hands.

"Catalina Coll you have two seconds to take off this gloves from my daughter!"

You laugh softly when you see the scene, Cata defending herself by explaining that it was Santana who asked her. Ingrid arrives at your side at this moment and you greet her too with a little hug.

"You look good" smiled the Norwegian woman affectionately.

"Thank you. I must admit that this pregnancy is going better than the first one, I didn't vomit once. If my belly didn’t grow, I’d really wonder if I was pregnant"

"Maybe because it’s a boy?" Lucy said thoughtfully

You can’t hold the big smile coming on your face. You learned the sex of the baby at the baby shower you organized last week. For Santana, you managed to keep the surprise until the end, but not this time. Curiosity eventually prevailed. You would obviously have been delighted to welcome a new girl, but Santana asking you before you were even pregnant to have a little brother, it was almost a relief.

"Maybe" you just answer with your smile.

In the distance, you can see that Santana was placed in front of the goal alongside Cata while Alexia and Ona take turns shooting the ball in her direction. Finally, the fact that Santana wanted to test the goalie spot didn't bother Alexia for a very long time. You cannot resist the temptation to immortalize this moment with photos and videos, eager to keep a memory of this moment.

As always, it was necessary to talk with Santana to agree to leave the field, negotiating a second story before sleeping tonight. Except that apparently she won’t need it since she seems to be dead asleep in her car seat in the back seat. You’d be surprised if she woke up when you pulled her out.

Alexia insisting on driving despite her game and training, you find yourself watching the landscape while singing the music on the radio.

"Can I ask you something?" Alexia gently does after a few minutes.

"Anything you want" you answer without hesitation, turning to look at her.

"Be careful, these types of answers can be dangerous"

You bow a brow amused by hearing her playing tone. Seeing her so relaxed and spontaneous with you causes you palpitations every time, despite the time that has already passed well since you met. You don’t need to add anything, a little laugh escapes from Alexia’s lips that you would kiss right now if you weren’t afraid to cause an accident.

"No, it’s pretty serious actually" adds your blonde, tickling your curiosity.

"Okay?"

"I was wondering" begins Alexia, swinging nervously in her seat "if you would agree to give my father’s name to the baby? Maybe not for his usual name but at least for his middle name?"

"Of course Ale"

You don’t have to hesitate for a second. You know perfectly well how difficult it is for Alexia not to have her father at her side every day. If you can honour him that way, why not? Plus, the smile on Alexia’s face is worth it. She’s bending over you this time, taking advantage of a red light to kiss you.

"I love you so much" she whispers against your lips.

"Not as much as I love you"

"Oh yes."

You smile again and steal her a kiss back before letting her back up, the light having gone green for a few seconds already. Fortunately, in your residential area, there are not many people on the road at this time. Alexia restarts the car and turns in your street, putting the car in your underground parking lot.

You let Alexia take Santana out of her car seat to go to bed, taking care of storing your wife’s bag and throwing a dirty laundry machine. Then, you are surprised in full snack in the kitchen by Alexia who returns to you.

"I thought we said no Nutella at home" Alexia whines as she looks at the sandwich you just made with envy.

"Sorry mi Amor. I don’t know how it ended up in my bag"

"Yeah, of course" laughs Alexia and you hurry to make amends by laying lot of kisses on her cheek.

After a few, Alexia turns her head in your direction to put a kiss on your lips.

"You taste like Nutella" she smiles softly. "Did you have a good night?"

"Yes and I think Santana too. Ready to see her become the greatest goalkeeper of all time?"

You tease Alexia who rolls her eyes without being able to hide her smile. There is a child goal in your backyard, but Alexia’s obvious goal was for Santana to want to shoot in it, not try to stop the balls that want to get in.

"Don’t pout, you can always make our son a great midfielder. Unless he wants to play basketball."

Alexia looks at you while squinting a few seconds while you keep your big smile, proud of your little joke. Until your wife grabs your sandwich and decides to run away into the living room, a devil little laugh escaping from her lips.

"Ale!"

#woso x reader #woso imagine #alexia putellas imagine #alexia putellas x reader #alexia putellas

[toms-cherry-trees]

Not Worthy Of You || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: An unexpected visitor at night brings some clarity to the last months

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: Mention of B&C and Storm's End. No beta reading

Author's note: This was supposed to be short. This was supposed to be 1k words. But I got carried away. Enjoy!

The candles had long died out, and only dying embers remained in the smouldering fireplace, too feeble to give the room any light. Piercing darkness entered through the gaps in the drapes, the moonless night shrouding the Red Keep in a thick, ponderous veil of black. Not a sound disturbed the quietness of the Holdfast, nor the peace of those sleeping in it.

You stirred in the bed, the sheets rustling and a pleasant tingle spreading through your body as you stretched your limbs lazily. You felt well rested, perhaps for the first time in many moons. It had been a long time since you last woke up naturally, instead of being forcefully taken from your slumber by aches, cramps, and most recently, little cries throughout the night. At that thought your eyebrows furrowed, and still partially asleep you rolled over in the bed, your hand searching in the darkness for the little wooden cradle by your side.

Your fingers only found emptiness, the abandoned blankets still holding your newborn’s warmth.

Whatever drowsiness lingered in your mind soon dissipated as worry crept upon you, settling like a heavy weight atop your chest. You sat upright with such haste you felt faint, having to hold onto your head until the bright lights vanished from your  vision. Fright quickly overcame your senses. You double checked the crib, pulling blankets out and looking under your bed, as if somehow the babe, barely a fortnight old, could have climbed out and hidden somewhere without you noticing. 

Desperation clouded your thoughts, your heartbeat quickening and your breath coming in shallow pants. You scrambled from bed, barely having half a mind to grab a robe; the parky night air covered your skin in gooseflesh. You headed for the door, the call for help ready to sprout from your lips, when the smallest, softest of coos drew your attention to the opposite side of the chamber. 

Now that your eyes had adjusted a bit, you could vaguely make out the shape of a person sitting in front of the large windows in a sturdy rocking chair your family had gifted you when they received the news of your impending motherhood. Slightly hunched forward, gently swaying back and forth, the rockers barely made noise against the thick carpet they laid upon. At first you believed it to be the wetnurse, who usually sat there to feed the baby, but you had specifically requested to have no servants in your chambers at night, wishing to carry the bulk of the childcare yourself. Hoping that that way you would feel more connected to your child, instead of staring at it like a foreign being that had been dropped on your lap by the Mother. Lovely, yes, and so dearly loved, but foreign nonetheless. 

Soon it became obvious, however, that it was not the wetnurse, nor a maid, the one who sat in the chair. The dark figure sat tall, shoulders muscular and long legs stretched out, rocking the chair with a lazy sway of heavy boots. Oppressive panic stole the breath from your lungs at the vision of the unknown man, his arms positioned in a way that could only mean he currently held the infant in his embrace. The memory of what had recently happened to Helaena and her sweet child remained fresh in your mind. 

You considered screaming for help, but not even a choked cry managed to come forth. Or maybe it did, and you just couldn’t hear it above the frantic hammering of your heart, rumbling in your ears like menacing war drums. Blindly you sought a weapon, any means of protection you could grasp to defend yourself and your child. Your trembling fingers gripped tightly the handle of an ornate letter opener you so happened to have left in the nightstand. You tried to swallow, but found your mouth to be as dry as the Dornish deserts. 

Your feet barely made a sound in the flagstone as you carefully approached the intruder. Your mind overflowed with horrifying images of what had occurred to sweet Helaena. Even though you had not been witness to the act, the whispers reached you nonetheless, despite the Dowager Queen having carefully instructed the servants to not mention the crime near you, for fear of upsetting your mood and spoiling your health, right in the middle of your seventh moon of pregnancy. Despite the efforts, the nightmares lasted for weeks, fuelled by the clamour of your good sister’s wails as she escaped her chambers at night and wandered the halls calling for her lost son.

Slowly, as if wading through mud, you approached the chair. But it seemed the distance lengthened with each step, or perhaps your imagination had fooled you and you remained rooted in the spot. Your brain overflowed with horrific scenarios, a million outcomes to the situation, and the hopeless need to cry out, even if your mouth refused to open. As your eyes finally adjusted to the pitch darkness, however, you noticed silvery white tresses covering the person’s shoulders, and a thin dark strap wound around the head. The arm carrying the weapon lowered slowly, and the letter opener slid from your sweaty grasp onto the floor. Although weightless, in the silence of the night, the little piece of metal resonated like thunder.

The man didn’t flinch nor move to seek the source of such scandal; his smooth voice echoed in the chamber, a careful murmur to be heard without waking the baby. 

“Abrazȳrys” 

The familiar term of endearment should have calmed your nerves, but the word spoken so abruptly made you jump in your spot, hand coming to your bosom as your heart raced, as if ready to escape from the confines of your chest and make a run to safety. 

“Seven hells, husband. You scared me half to death” You protested, pressing your cool palms against your heated cheeks and taking slow breaths. An immense wave of relief washed over you, mixed with an overpowering sense of weakness; all your energy had been consumed in the eternal moments you thought yourself and your child in danger, and now it took all you had not to collapse on your knees.

“My sincerest apologies, wife” He replied with a tone of propriety so usual in him, as if he merely apologised for bumping on you in the hallway, instead of scaring the living daylights out of you. His violet eye met yours as you moved within line of vision, taking seat in a low cushioned bench against the wall.

The bundle of blankets wrapping their firstborn appeared small and radiant against the dark planes of Aemond’s chest; the child tightly tucked in shades of green and trimmings of gold, chubby cheek snuggled against the warmth of her father’s body as she slept soundly. It amused you how easily the girl cozied up to Aemond, considering that, as far as you knew, they had not met before.

Fifteen nights and fourteen days had passed since their daughter Daenys came into their arms, letting her powerful cries be heard throughout the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast as the hour of the bat reached its peak of darkness. The child stunned those who helped bring her forth into the world, having been born with her eyes open, the right one violet like a Targaryen, and the left one with her mother’s colouring. A full head of silvery hair mixed with stray wisps of darker hues, giving her a colour no one could quite describe. 

The day of her birth, her father shone in his absence. He evaded the Holdfast as if it were a cursed place. First he escaped towards the sparring yard, demanding to be taught the usage of a bastard sword, and turning a deaf ear to Cole’s comments that he should be with his wife. When the pestering became unbearable he tried to see his sister instead, but his wife’s screams echoed through every hall, making it impossible to ignore. Defeated and overwhelmed, he turned towards his dragon, far away from everyone. The smallfolk saw the massive shadow of a winged beast soar the skies, framed by the last rays of the setting sun as if engulfed in a fireball. Sight of him was lost with nightfall, but the dragon’s cries could still be heard, hidden behind clouds. 

Aemond would have remained airborne until sunrise, had not young Daeron been sent out to pursue him and inform him that his wife had brought forth a most precious healthy girl. But not even such joyous news managed to lure the Prince back to the Red Keep. He flew again, towards unknown destination, not to be seen until the following day, well after the sun had begun its journey across the sky. Yet instead of rushing towards his family, he locked himself in the library, buried between books and scrolls until past dinner.

His attitude puzzled many around the court. Even if he perhaps found disappointment in the gender of his firstborn, his commitment to avoid his wife and child surpassed all levels of understanding; whispers began to spread of all sorts, most showing support to the beloved lady than to him. Some even said it was for the best; who would want a kinslayer to come near a newborn anyway?

No one could come even close to understand the why of his actions..

He had not been the same since Storm’s End. After his return, while his brother rejoiced and his elders frowned in worry, Aemond found himself numb, cold even, as if the icy winds and gelid rain that accompanied his flight that night had seeped into his bones. He only recalled broken fragments of what had occurred after he flew in pursuit of his nephew; the rattling of the saddle chains against the wind, Valyrian words shouted into the storm he did not remember pronouncing; a feeble, pathetic little fireball blown into Vhagar’s eyes, not doing more harm than a pebble would against the mountain. The horrific crunch of Arrax’s bones under ferocious jaws, as whatever remained of him and his rider floated down towards the restless sea.

The horrifying knowledge that his actions had caused the death of not one, but two boys.

After that, he shut himself more, if possible. He refused to see anyone, spending days and nights alone in his chambers, permitting only the presence of a servant to bring him his meals and news from the outside, isolated like a common prisoner. He abandoned his marital chamber, moving instead to the ones once meant for his wife; connected by a door he kept permanently locked and blocked. 

His mother attempted to coax him out with gentle words and his grandsire with stern reproaches. You knocked on his door at nights, softly whispering his name, almost like a plea. He saw your shadow under the door, pacing or sitting on the floor against it, waiting for something to happen, to at least receive a word of acknowledgement; but night after night your hopes crumbled into dust, and soon you gave up. There’s no helping someone who doesn’t want to be helped

Yet a flicker remained, that the ice would melt with the fire of newborn life. That the cries of their so awaited child would break the trance Aemond had submerged into and return him to his senses.

He opened his door that day, yes, but only with the intention to flee. 

And now, without warning or explanation, he showed up in the dead of the night, hidden by darkness like a lowly criminal, pushed by some unknown force to finally hold the being that had changed his status from man to father. 

You sat with your hands on your lap, patiently awaiting for an explanation. Yet Aemond didn’t move, nor spared you a second glance; his whole focus on Daenys. His eye fixed on her soft features, arms protectively around her, holding her with dexterity you did not yet possess, but he had acquired with his little brother and his niece and nephews. One arm around the body, the other under, lithe finger cradling her head and gently caressing the silvery hair. Even in the dark, you could see the enthrallment in his gaze. The fearsome warrior Prince, wrapped around Daenys’ minuscule finger

“Husband?” You called out softly, trying to attract his attention

“I heard her cry” He replied, his thumb brushing across Daenys’ cheek “Whenever she cries I hear her from my chamber. You always tend to her so quickly, almost as if you awake before she makes a sound” You blinked fast, perplexed. You never imagined he could hear from his chambers, but again, Daenys had a pair of lungs that could be heard from across the city if you wanted to. 

“But she cried and cried tonight, and nothing happened. I thought you could not settle her, but I didn’t hear your voice like when you speak or sing to her. So I came” 

You wanted to be embarrassed that he had heard that too, but instead focused more on the fact that if Aemond knew all of that, he lingered at the door whenever their daughter cried, wishing to know what was happening with her. For a moment you imagined him with his ear pressed to the wood, holding in his breath to not miss a sound.

“She kicks a lot when she cries” He commented “I thought she wanted to be fed, or was cold. But you were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you, and I-” He swallowed before continuing, His index traced the baby’s features, from the roundness of the cheeks to the sharpness of the nose, a perfect match of his own.  

“I took her in my arms and she settled. I suppose she didn’t want to be alone” 

His voice held amusement. As if he could not believe his daughter, his own blood, could find comfort in his embrace. He had expected her to kick and scream and alert the world that a monster had come for her. But she didn’t. She just snuggled close to him and drifted off to sleep, lulled by the safety of her dad’s arms.

You felt your heart ache for him, as you finally began to comprehend some things. The why of Aemond’s distance. He had killed a boy. His bastard nephew, and the object of his ire, but a boy nonetheless. Because of that, Jaehaerys had been lost. And now he feared something similar would find his girl, for it seemed that a path of tragedy and blood followed his every step and dragged those close to him into the same fate.

You stood, not without difficulty, and moved to stand behind him, one hand on his shoulder. He shifted position, holding Daenys on one arm and holding your hand with the other, thumb caressing your knuckles. They remained in silence, both staring at the fruit of their love with adoration only a first time parent can conjure.

“She’s beautiful” He whispered “Gevie hae se hūra”

You only understood ‘gevie’, and that sufficed to make you smile. You leaned down until your chin rested atop Aemond’s shoulder, cheeks pressed against each other “She’s perfect. And she looks so much like you” 

“Only the good parts” He replied, almost a bit harshly, the mere notion of his daughter resembling him setting him off. But soon he relaxed as Daenys stirred, mouth open in a quiet yawn which left her tongue trapped between her lips. 

“She will be the best of us” You commented, your arms coming under his own to hold her. To hold them both; Aemond needed your support as much as the babe did. Right there, maybe even more. 

“I will hurt her” He whispered, barely audible, his grip on Daenys tightening as he leaned down, his forehead against hers as he closed his eye. “If something bad happens to her, it will be on me”

“You would never” You rushed to reply, a coil tightening in your throat. How could Aemond think such a thing? He could never. You knew it. You knew it from the moment you saw him with the child in his arms, that he would burn down the entire country to safekeep that little girl

“Directly or indirectly, but I am dangerous for her. I’m not worthy of her” Sorrow laced his words, a sentiment foreign to your husband, who always held his emotions carefully and kept them well hidden under a mask of serene indifference. Seeing his vulnerabilities surface felt wrong, as if you had witnessed something private, a crack in the surface of an indomitable mountain. But he had no privacies with you; you were his wife, and you were meant to know him whole.

You moved to crouch before him, hands cradling his face and forcing him to meet your firm gaze “You are her father. The Gods blessed us with this gift because they deemed us worthy of her. And I know you won’t let anyone touch a single hair in her head, because they will be ash and dust before they can even get close” This time, you flattened your forehead against his, never letting go of him “You are worthy of this. Of her. You are worthy of good things” 

His eye closed and he leaned into you, your bodies together shielding Daenys, keeping her warm. You two remained there for who knows how long, in silence, holding each other again after so long apart. It was him who broke the spell, his hand coming to circle your waist

“Let’s put her to sleep” He replied in a soft whisper “And then I’d like to sleep in your bed, if my lady wife will have me tonight”

You smiled without meaning to, feeling his warmth spread over you

“Tonight and every night. All the nights you want”

#aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x you #aemond targaryen fanfic #aemond targaryen one shot #aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x wife #aemond one eye #aemond kinslayer #house of the dragon #aemond stannies #marsie writes

[marymary-diva17]

Your all my babies my babies

Jake x Tsu’tey x reader x neytiri + sully kids

Since the birth of your son everything has changed for you, now you had someone who depended on you for love and care. Motherhood had become amazing and wonderful for you, as you had been spending time to bond with your son and from a relationship with him. You had thought you will never experience motherhood but it seems like it was wrong, and you are experiencing it as navi which was still a whole new world for you.

Y/n " ummm .....lo'ak" you had soon had been woken up to lo'ak crying you went to attend to him, before he woke up his siblings and your mates.

y/n " it okay I'm here mama her now what the matter my son" lo'ak was still crying but when you held him close to your chest he soon stopped crying.

y/n " did someone have a nightmare" it seems like that was true was lo'ak seem to be calming down, as you held him and rock him.

y/n " do not worry my baby boy mama will always be here for you" soon enough you had heard someone else starting to cry, you soon looked and it was kiri.

y/n " aww baby girl I'm here as well" you soon went to get kiri as you were now holding her in your arms with lo'ak. You had can by their facial expressions they were not having a goodnight.

y/n " now who else will be joining us tonight" well it seems like you question was answered by the cries of neteyam, you soon went to get him.

y/n " hush my little ones everything will be fine nothing will harm you, now come on lets go lay somewhere and get some sleep" you had placed the kids on mat land near them. You soon place a blanket over them and they all seem to be at peace.

y/n " now see there was noting to worry about as I'm here along with your dads and mom" The children seem to have all there attention on you as you were looking at them, and speaking with them in soft tone.

y/n " aww you are my babies" you had laid there as the children soon slowly start going back at bed, you look at them with a smile on your face. once they are asleep you soon had fallen back asleep as well, happy to know your children are safe and well.

The next morning

y/n " ummm" you soon felt the sunlight hitting your face, and when you reach our for the children you felt a empty space. You soon jolted up from the mat and opened your eyes, to see the children were gone.

y/n " ......" you soon heard baby babbling coming from the common area of the home, you soon sighed with relief as you went into the common area.

Jake " good morning beautiful"

y/n " hello I had a scare there I thought something happened the children"

Jake " no we saw you and them laying together asleep it seems, like the kids were awaking up and we didn't want to wake you"

tsu'tey " you were there for the kids last night and we wish to return a favor"

neytiri " all of you seem very peaceful laying together"

y/n " thank you my loves and for your Information I didn't wish to awake you last night, as you three had been working hard yesterday and seem to be in need of rest"

tsu'tey " that nice of you yawne but you have to remember, we are mated couple we most work together when it comes to taking care of these children of ours" neteyam was in tsutey arms as the man was handing him small pieces of fruit. While Jake was holding kiri and lo'ak in his lap.

Jake " yes we can help you out during the night" soon lo'ak started reaching out toward you making you smile at him.

Jake " it seems like someone wants his mama" Jake soon handed your over lo'ak and you had taken him, now placing lo'ak in your lap looking down at him.

y/n " hey how you been behaving my baby boy or have you been causing trouble"

tsu'tey " he being like his dad"

Jake " hey let's not start the morning on bullying me" the couple laughs as they look at Jake, who was looking defended already. Soon everything had changed when kiri started reaching out to him.

y/n " it seems like you have someone who your biggest fan"

Jake " thank you baby girl for being on my side" Jake had helped up kiri making the girl laugh loudly, getting smiles from the whole family. You soon looked at your kids as they are all having a good time bring small children, and enjoy the finest this in life and laughing at things at everyone understood or only they understood. They are all your babies and will still be your babies no matter how old they get, they will forever be your babies.

#avatar 2 #atwow #avatar #avatar x y/n #avatar x reader #sully family x reader #avatar the way of water #neytiri x reader #jake x reader #tsu'tey x y/n #tsu'tey x reader #jake sully x reader #jake sully x y/n #jake sully x you #neytiri x y/n #neytiri x you

[dwellordream]

"she's patriarchy-pilled" and why it doesn't apply to fictious pseudo-medieval women

a pretty common meta commentary leveled at certain female characters in ASOIAF is that you can divide the women of the setting into two groups.

the first group is full of strong feminist women who resist the patriarchy in all corners, and who refuse to submit to victimhood. the second group is full of placid, smug sheep, who enjoy being weak and condescended to by men.

reasons why this is bullshit:

comparisons between modern day 'trad wives' or 'red pilled women' who advocate for rejecting feminism and returning to lives of happy homemaking and female submission and fictional characters living in a pseudo medieval world just... don't work well.

Westeros has never had a feminist movement. there is no sense of 'getting back to tradition' because they are still living in a feudal patriarchy. while internalized misogyny can still be displayed in the books, and women certainly judge other women, these characters aren't actually 'rejecting their own freedom', because they quite literally have no choice in the matter.

for example, while a woman in 21st century America might willingly quit her job or drop out of school for a relationship with a man, a female character like Catelyn or Alicent or Cersei... isn't actually sacrificing hopes of a career or an education. they are being shunted down a path with little to no alternatives.

sometimes fans go "well, they could have run away! they could have joined the Faith?" how? with what money and resources? who is going to protect them on the road? how are they going to subvert the will of their fathers/brothers/etc?

don't get me wrong. there are absolutely unironic examples of internalized misogyny in ASOIAF. Cersei, for example, spends much of her time sneering at and degrading other women for being victims or weak-willed. HOWEVER, what many fans don't seem to grasp, is that being sexist towards other women doesn't magically make Cersei 'win' at the patriarchy. she herself is still abused, demeaned, and used as a political pawn, well into her tenure as Queen Regent.

in the endless battle of Sansa versus Arya stans, for example, Sansa stans will often claim that Arya is 'not a victim' and 'deserves less sympathy than Sansa', because Arya for a time is treated as a young boy and has training with a sword. yet this ignores the fact that Arya is still constantly threatened with or exposed to sexual violence, even while masquerading as a boy, and while she can defend herself in some instances, is far from this super-powered action chick on a 'fun road trip in the Riverlands'.

conversely, Arya stans will insinuate that Sansa 'deserves less sympathy than Arya' because 'being at court is what she always wanted' and 'the patriarchy favors her due to her self-serving, submissive ways'. yet this ignores the fact that while Sansa has more material privileges than Arya, being afforded regular meals, a soft place to sleep, and the veneer of civility, she is still regularly viciously abused by Joffrey and his Kingsguard, and ostracized and isolated from the rest of the court. Sansa's not winning any competition here.

to move on to Catelyn, many of Catelyn's proud 'antis' will claim that Catelyn is a woman who willingly and knowingly profits off the patriarchy while condemning women who do not fit that mold. yet while Catelyn and Arya's relationship is complex, we also see Catelyn treat Brienne and the Mormont women, all female warriors, with warmth and kindness, and there is an underlying current of resentment and anger in her chapters towards the men in her life, even though she is in many ways the 'ideal Westeros wife'.

finally, to dabble briefly in HOTD, Rhaenyra and Alicent's different reactions to the prospect of marriage and motherhood are often compared to triumph Rhaenyra's strong will and sense of rebellion. while Rhaenyra's determination to choose her own spouse and her disregard for the ridiculous notion of 'virginity' should be admired, she is also actively groomed by her uncle, a man thrice her age, and she ultimately does agree to an arranged marriage with Laenor.

meanwhile, Alicent is often derided by fans for 'allowing herself to be used as a pawn', yet this ignores the fact that Alicent is a 14/15 year old girl with no incomes or property of her own, who does not even have the threat of a dragon to demand respect. what was Alicent meant to do? kick and scream as she was dragged down the aisle? defy her father and the King, and be, best case scenario, permanently ostracized from court and her family for it? this sort of blatant victim-blaming dominates in the tumblr HOTD fandom.

in conclusion: to claim that women play no role in promulgating patriarchal and misogynistic views is silly.

women do play an active role in shaming and abusing other women, and this is often handed down from mothers to daughters. it allows patriarchs the veneer of genteel nature, in that the 'dirty work' of berating young girls for not conforming is passed off on mothers, sisters, and aunts.

however, in fandom discussions, the the woobification of male characters is so strong that we spend most of our time blaming women alone for patriarchal restrictions and values, as if it were something girls developed in their free time, purely for their own amusement.

to imply that a character in a fictional feudal patriarchy has the same range of choices and autonomy as modern day women do is absurd. the trad-wife movement is defined by its knowing, pseudo-intellectual rejection of second and third wave feminism. the entire point is to turn away from abortion, from birth control, from reproductive and LGBT rights, to leave behind women's suffrage, sex positivity, and criticism of gender roles.

but what do Westerosi women have to 'reject', exactly? they're not playing with the same full deck.

#valyrianscrolls #hotd #gender

[ystrike1]

Sute Akuyaku Reijou wa Kaibutsu ni Otogibanashi wo Kataru - By Ede Akizawa (9/10)

A good king and a bad king can be the same man. It all depends on which side you take. Are you with him, or are you against him? Will you entertain him, or will you dare to defy him? What is the right answer? Be careful. The wrong one comes at a cost.

Sylph is the villainess. That's what Kanna says. In reality she is a quiet ducal daughter, who is not allowed to indulge in the few hobbies she enjoys. Kanna took advantage of her immense loneliness. Deep down Lady Sylph isn't very ladylike despite her noble roots. Her deepest desire is to be a civil servant who works in a library. She sneaks into one, under a fake name. Just to enjoy stories. Unrealistic fables. Young ladies are supposed to be concerned with power, motherhood and their husband. Sylph is meant for the prince too, so her immature desire to read fairytales makes her....imperfect.

Kanna shared fairy tales with Sylph. Classics she had never read before. Kanna became her best and only friend. The only person that would have fun with her. Everyone else expected her to act as the perfect Ducal daughter. With Kanna she was allowed to enjoy fantasy. Fable, and stories of love and revenge.

Kanna, the daughter of a Baron, spreads lies to ruin Sylph. Sylph was perfect on the outside, but she has always been quiet. She has no real friends. Even her fiance always seemed to know they were not a love match. Sylph was being suffocated by the princess position. By her loveless and political life. Kanna uses this. A rumor spreads. Sylph is lacking off. She is ignoring her duties and bullying other ladies. Sylph cannot defend herself, because she has been sneaking out to read at the library. Way too long. Way too often. Under a different name. Kanna encouraged her to do it. To play fantasy games with her. Kanna used her naive desires against her. Witnesses agree with Kanna. Sylph dissappears for long periods, which is highly inappropriate for a princess. Kanna's wild abuse story explains the disappearances. Kanna kept appearing wounded when Sylph disappeared. What a monster. A demon that hurts others as soon as eyes are off her...

The Prince was, of course, cheating on her already. Kanna's story worked with what the heir of the kingdom wanted. Kanna was the opposite of Sylph. A bubbly, cute girl full of compliments. She was popular too, and Sylph was too cold. No one stood up for Sylph, but Kanna had a hundred friends to stand up for her side of the story.

The royal family throws Sylph into a cursed area, where a monster roams according to legend.

Sylph writes a note, in case she passes out, begging someone merciful to unlock her cage and take her with them. Anywhere.

Anywhere but "home"

She tells the monster, King Faber the 28th, her wish. He is technically not human. He's technically the monster, but he lets his captives live if they entertain him. He knows Sylph isn't lying. Her deepest wish is to be a librarian, which is so trite that it's cute. She doesn't just want to live, like all the rest.

She wants the impossible dream, that she has cried for since she was a girl.

Faber is kind to her. Sylph shares stories with him. He likes to see her happy. He visits her daily for a month. She gets a title. She is The Kings Favorite. He gives her a dreamy life. She becomes a librarian with his blessing, and he visits each and every day. He behaves like a man in love, but Sylph is no longer naive. King Faber is extremely powerful. He is no puppet king or weak prince.

Her life is in his hands.

Strange whispers come into King Faber's isolated nation. They are loud. He, and the citizens, cannot ignore the blaze of lies. Sylph's country is claiming she has been kidnapped. Suddenly, they want her back. Why? Who? The Prince left her side long ago and Sylph had little to no relationship with her parents.

Why would they want her, when they have Princess Kanna now? Only a few months have gone by.

Sylph panics, and she does a terrible thing. She uses her status as The King's Favorite to stay in his nation. She wants to be a librarian, not the daughter of a Duke.

She will have her freedom.

Even if that means letting Faber execute people she used to know.

She knows what she is doing. She knows the kings favor is fleeting. If she makes the wrong choice he could turn on her. Her only choice is honesty. Faber is like that. He can feel lies. Cowardice. Fear. She has to kinda...be villainous to survive by his side.

Faber interrogates everyone who turned against Sylph. He kills all of them, except Kanna. Kanna has lost it all. After she took the princess seat the royal family quickly realized how useless she was. When Faber arrives she is already shut away in the dungeon. He kills everyone else for their stupidity. Their weakness. The Prince claims Kanna cursed him, and he finally noticed there was nothing special about her after her Story ended. Right after the Happy Ending her magic wore off, but Faber doesn't listen. The Prince is stupid and boring. So is the King. He makes them hold severed heads. He dumps blood on the royals. They beg him. They blame Kanna, but they die anyway.

Sylph does not kill Kanna. Killing Kanna will not entertain the king. Faber is angry because Kanna dared to discredit his Favorite. Sylph must now concoct a fitting fairytale punishment for the true villain. By the way she doesn't actually care about Kanna. She just wants to move onto her free live. What Faber is doing is cruel...to Sylph. He doesn't want her to move on yet. He did her a huge favor. He used his power to get rid of her problems, and now she must drag out the pain. The suffering, until Faber believes she has achieved true vengeance.

Sylph decides to punish Kanna with entertainment. She must make up a story every day for an entire year, in a dirty cell. If even one isn't entertaining Faber will end her life.

It's cruel.

All Sylph wants is life as a librarian, but she had to use the great strength of the monster King to get it.

Now she has to pay for his favor.

His love comes with a price.

He behaves like a classic fairytale monster, and those ancient tales are never happy.

#Sute Akuyaku Reijou wa Kaibutsu ni Otogibanashi wo Kataru #yandere #male yandere #yandere male #yandere boy #recommendations #recs #rec #recommended

[abibliophobiaa]

a blurb of elena seeing eddie on stage for the first time, she’s got her big ear defenders on and is bouncing away 🥺

a blurb from the ‘daylight’ universe.

a/n: before elena was born, eddie dreamed of this day. now it’s here.

dad!eddie munson x mom!reader.

——

You hadn’t really known what to expect. Nothing exactly prepared one for the life as a wife to a rockstar. Especially when still adjusting to your new title as a wife, while also balancing new motherhood.

Still, it shocked you to see all the security at the door. The men in uniforms looking garbed and ready to defend their clients if need be; a thought that should bring you comfort, but when their narrowed gazes settle on you, have your heart hammering away.

“I’m with Munson,” you tell them, bouncing Elena up higher on your hip. “I’m Eddie Munson’s wife.”

He barked out a gruff laugh. “You know how many women say that at these shows?”

The burly, bald-headed man glanced down at his clipboard, while a more…gentler looking man, aged and weathered by years, nodded his head to your daughter. “She’s a cute kid. How old?”

“Almost six months,” you told him, grinning sheepishly as her head thumped against your shoulder.

“And already at her first concert,” the man said, waving to your daughter who only babbled in reply.

“It’s in her blood.” She’d danced away inside any time you’d played music for her while pregnant, and loved the sound of her father’s voice — singing and not.

“Dad being who he is, I guess it’s expected.” The bald-headed man had spoken then, dark eyes sliding over your form as he handed you a lanyard that you draped around your neck. “Apologies, Mrs. Munson. Enjoy your evening.”

You were lead to the green room next, finding yourself greeted by all the guys and Jeff’s wife. The guys took turns fawning over the baby, making faces at her so she’d laugh, taking her off your hands. And then, just like the night you’d first met, Eddie’s dark stare caught and held yours.

Something hot flickered in your belly, Jeff’s wife’s voice a low murmur in your ear, “Go, you two have a few minutes. We’ve got the baby.”

Eddie grinned wolfishly, gripping your hand and tugging you away from the room and into an empty storage closet further down the hall. A dim bulb flickered up above, illuminating the whiteness of Eddie’s teeth as they glinted with his growing smile, his hands warm as they circled your hips and drew you in close.

“Hi, Mrs. Munson.” He’d been saying it every day since you’d made it so. Wanting to relish in the newness of your titles — of what you meant to one another. It had been a whirlwind, and still was now with him beginning the next legs of Corroded Coffin’s tour. “You’re late.”

“Someone at the door thought I was a groupie,” you huffed, breaking off into a sigh as those hands slid lower, gliding over your backside to pull you flush against his hips. “Is that a microphone in your pocket, or are you excited to see me?”

A barked laugh greeted your ears, lips pressing to the curve of your neck, teasing along delicate flesh. You shivered bodily against him, clutching at his biceps, “I told him I was your wife. Apparently you have a lot of those.”

“Only the one,” he whispered, voice a little hoarse as he dropped down to his knees and fisted your skirt. “And I love her so damn much.”

“You’re the one about to perform,” you gasped, feeling his lips at the juncture of your thighs. “You should be saving you energy.”

“Baby…” His fingers at your center, sliding in to the knuckle, choking off your air supply. “I’m giving a private performance right now.”

——

The crowd was electric, feeding off of the energy of the guys on stage. They’d finished up their set, Elena awake for all of it, cradled on your hip with an oversized pair of headphones to muffle the sound on her curly head of hair. Bleary eyes watched her father all night, absorbed as he commanded the attention of everyone around her.

He’d commanded your attention, too. Eyes trailing your husband’s form as he did the thing he was most passionate about. Those hands, those same hands that had lovingly touched you before the show, the ones that trailed your spine as you fell asleep at night, that held your baby girl strummed away like his instrument was an extension of him own self. Hands that created music that told stories, that spoke to hardship and experience, to love and anger.

And the crowd reveled in it. Soaked it up as the guys poured out their hearts and left them on the stage. Incredible — they were incredible.

“Thank you, New York!” Eddie cheered, breaking into the screaming of the crowd. “It’s been too fuckin’ long.”

Cheers of agreement greeted your ears. “Glad you liked the new stuff. Can I show you something else we cooked up while away for a bit?” The crowd roared, and Jeff’s wife stirred beside you as Eddie’s gaze swiveled to where you stood side stage. “Couldn’t have done any of it without my beautiful wife. And the newest member of the Corroded Coffin family.”

A second spotlight slid across the stage, honing in on you and your daughter. Cried ‘awwws’ greeted your ears as you waved a hand in embarrassment, Eddie rushing over to grab Elena and bounce her up onto his hip. You couldn’t even be mad that a woman screamed she loved him from within the sea of bodies, because you understood whole heartedly.

“Goodnight, New York!” Eddie shouted, lifting Elena’s hand and waving to his fans before rushing over to capture your lips in a heated kiss.

“You broke thousands of hearts tonight, Munson,” you teased, reaching up to slide your hand against his sweaty chest, feeling the rapid thump of his heart against your fingertips as the crowd surged just feet away, clapping as the rest of the guys rushed off the stage for the night.

“Only two that matter are right here,” he promised, drawing you close for a hug, your free hand coming up to rest against Elena’s back. “This is all I could have ever dreamed of. You, her, this.”

“Not a dream anymore,” you said, tipping your head up to look into his dark eyes, “this is real. This is us.”

Forever.

——

#lunaloveseddie #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #dad!eddie munson x mom!reader #eddie munson blurbs #Eddie munson fan fiction

[patheticdarling]

Decisions

Part II of Traitors

  Summary: Princess Y/N Velaryon & her grandmother, Princess Rhaenys Targaryen have now successfully fled the capital and have just landed on Dragonstone to warn her mother, Queen Rhaenyra, of the inevitable war to come. Princess Y/N is faced with the toughest of decisions. 

  Warnings: ANGST/switched povs (aemond’s + reader’s)/cussing/crying/swords/pregnancy/mentions of miscarriage/childbirth/talks of war/burning bodies/ALL RIGHTS TO HBO…possible part 3 👀

  Word Count: 5770

*NOT MY GIF*

*Y/N’S POV*

   The two of you had made it to Dragonstone safely and quickly. Luckily, the Greens were too busy readying everything for Aegon’s coronation that they hadn’t been prepared for a stunt like the one you and your grandmother pulled. You should’ve been happy as you dismounted Seasmoke, your feet landing on the soft sands of Dragonstone’s beaches. 

  “Are you alright?” your grandmother asked, rushing to check you over. 

  You pulled your hands from hers, “I’m fine.” A lie. You both knew it. You had just abandoned the love of your life and it wasn’t even your choice.

  She pushed your hair behind your ear, “I’m so sorry, sweet girl. If it could be another way-”

  “But it cannot,” you cut her off, “Let us go. I’m already dreading telling my mother the news.”

  Your grandmother sighed, “Which do you think will upset her more? That her father’s dead or that her stepmother and siblings have betrayed her and usurped her throne?”

  “Gods be good,” you muttered as the two of you began your climb up the long steps of Dragonstone. Your swollen feet would’ve given out had it not been for your grandmother lending you an arm. 

  It had been a while since you’d been to Dragonstone, your mother had taken all of you there to live shortly after Joffrey was born. You had returned to King’s Landing for your wedding when both you and Aemond came of age then you didn’t see your mother until just recently when she came to defend Luke’s right to Driftmark and simultaneously announced your two eldest brothers’ engagement to your younger cousins, Baela and Rhaena. It almost seemed foreign to you even if you had spent most of your early childhood here. 

  “Princess Y/N, Princess Rhaenys,” Ser Lorent greeted you, “We weren’t expecting you. And on dragon back no less.”

  “We need an audience with Princess Rhaenyra and Prince Daemon immediately. It is a matter of extreme urgency,” your grandmother explained. 

  He gave a curt nod, “Follow me.” He led the two of you through the gates as you waddled and held close to your grandmother. He stopped before a set of doors, “One moment.”

  Ser Lorent slipped into the room. You waited for a few moments before he returned, “They’ll see you now.” 

  You followed him once more into the Great Hall of Dragonstone, “The Princess Y/N Velaryon and the Princess Rhaenys Targaryen.”

  “Y/N,” your mother beamed at you. You practically ran into her arms. You laughed as your swollen bellies collided a bit, “You’re glowing. Motherhood becomes you.”

  “You as well, Mother,” you smiled back before letting out a soft sigh.

  “Princess Rhaenys,” she greeted your grandmother, “Might we hope for news of Lord Corlys’ recovery?”

  “Viserys is dead,” she replied rather bluntly. 

  “Grandmother,” you snapped at her slightly. 

   Your mother’s welcoming grin had fallen as Daemon’s head whipped around, “I grieve this loss with you, Rhaenyra. My cousin, your father, possessed a kind heart,” your grandmother walked closer, “There is more,” your mother’s hand tightened around yours as tears built in not just her eyes but yours as well, “Aegon has been crowned as his successor.”

  A soft wince left your mother as she dropped your hand to cradle her stomach slightly, “They crowned him?” her eyes nearly vacant as the tears slid down her cheeks. 

  “How did Viserys die?” Daemon asked as he leaned himself and Dark Sister against the Painted Table. 

  “I could not say,” Rhaenys sighed.

  Your mother’s voice quivered, “How long ago?”

  “A day past, perhaps two,” your grandmother answered, “Y/N and I were made prisoners in our quarters while the Queen made her preparations.” 

  “Viserys has been slain,” Daemon asserted. 

  “Alicent demanded you both declare for Aegon,” she looked between you and your grandmother. 

  “She did,” your mother’s brow raised at your grandmother’s answer. 

  “We refused her,” you cut in.

  “And yet you are alive,” Daemon had a teary glare set on the two of you. 

  “The High Septon crowned Aegon in the Dragonpit,” Rhaenys explained. 

   “We witnessed it ourselves just before we fled on Meleys and Seasmoke,” you continued.

  “They crowned him before the masses,” your mother’s voice filled with agony as her hand clutched the end of the table. 

  “So that the masses would see him as their rightful king,” you clarified.

  Daemon’s voice full of anger, “That whore of a Queen murdered my brother and stole his throne. And you both could have burned them all for it.”

  “A war is like to be fought over this treachery, to be sure,” Daemon nodded slightly with a grunt, “But that war is not mine to begin. Nor is it Y/N’s. I only rushed this warning to you out of loyalty to my husband and to my house.”

  “The Greens are coming for you, Mother,” you added, “And for my brothers and for me and my baby.”

  “You should leave Dragonstone at once,” Rhaenys turned to leave.

  Tears fell from her eyes before a sharp gasp left her mouth, one of her hands clutching her belly and the other on the table for support. All of you turning to her, concerned. 

  “Mother?” you put your hand to her back as she keeled over, “What is it?”

  She quickly folded up the ends of her dress, sticking her hand up the ruffles. A soft gasp left your mouth at the sight of her bloodied fingers, “The babe is coming.” 

  “Maester!” you cried out, “Get the Maester! Now!” The guards in the hall rushed out, Daemon and you moved to support your mother. The Maester met you outside of her chambers. 

  “We’ve got her,” he reassured you. 

  “Mother, are you sure-”

  “Get out!” she practically shrieked. You and Daemon were quick to listen and scurried off. 

  “Where are my brothers?” you asked him, practically running to keep up with him as he stormed through the halls. 

  “Your grandmother has already gone to fetch them from the beach,” Daemon’s voice curt. 

  “Daemon,” you stopped him, “There was nothing we could have done.”

  “Don’t,” he cut you off, “Rhaenys, I understand. She’s never been the biggest adversary to your mother or to me. But you? They stole your mother’s birthright and you just let them-”

  “I did not! I was made a prisoner. The Queen only kept me alive so she could use me as a political bargaining tool to get my mother to bend the knee! And yet I refused her even when she assured me that no harm would come to any of you if I bowed to Aegon.”

  Daemon scoffed, “The One-Eyed Prince must really have you wrapped around his finger.”

  “I beg your pardon?” you hissed, “Do not speak of my husband in-”

  “Your husband is a traitor. And do you know what happens to traitors, Princess?” your jaw clenched at his words, “They die. Screaming.” 

  “My husband had no choice, just as I did,” you spat.

  Daemon scoffed, bordering on a chuckle, “You just keep telling yourself that.”

*AEMOND’S POV*

  “Aemond, please, stop pacing,” Alicent groaned, “Drink some water and-”

  “Water?” Aemond scoffed, “Will water bring my pregnant wife back to me, Mother? Will water ever convince her to forgive me? Or me to forgive her? Tell me, Mother. Will it?”

  Alicent sighed, “I only meant that you need to ease your mind, darling. Your grandfather has already gone to give Rhaenyra the terms of surrender. No harm will come to any of them, especially not to Y/N.” 

  “You don’t know that,” he shook his head, “She is going to be surrounded by people who only thirst for the throne, no matter the cost. It was my job to keep her safe and now I cannot even do that. My child will be fatherless and-”

  “Your child will not be fatherless because they will have a father,” the Queen Mother cut in as she took her son’s hands in her own, “You will be there to father your child, Aemond. Rhaenyra will agree to Aegon’s terms because it is the best thing for the Realm and all will be as it was.” 

  Aemond’s hands fell from his mother’s, “It will never be as it was. My wife and child are lost.”

  “That’s not true, Aemond,” Alicent sniffled.

  “It is, Mother. I will have to learn to accept it. Live with it. I have duties to this family and I cannot allow my judgment to be clouded.”

  The Queen Mother was taken aback by her younger son’s words. She had never seen Aemond happier than when he was with Y/N and she nearly wept tears of joy at his excitement to become a father. But that light in his eyes was dwindling and it broke her heart to know that she was partly to blame. 

  She cleared her throat, quickly wiping the tears from her eyes, “We need to send terms to the larger houses first. Stark, Tully, Baratheon. Lord Borros Baratheon seems an ideal man to-”

  “I will fly to Storm’s End myself,” Aemond cut in, “Lord Borros has four unmarried daughters. We could promise Daeron to at least one of them.”

  Alicent nodded in agreement, “Yes, we could. But Aemond, I only want you to go if you feel-”

  “I leave on the morrow,” he answered quickly before leaving his mother’s chambers. 

  The One-Eyed Prince had chosen to stuff his feelings away, not only from others like his mother, but from himself as well. Aemond had forced himself to face the belief that he would never see his wife again, would never kiss her or hug her. And that his child would never meet him and he’d never get to hold them or watch them grow. His entire heart was gone.

*Y/N’S POV*

  The wind carried off the dark smoke of the funeral pyre. You wept softly with your brothers as the flames cradled your late baby sister, who your mother had lovingly named Visenya, after Aegon the Conqueror’s fierce sister-wife. 

  “This was not supposed to happen,” you sniffled.

  Your twin brother, Jacaerys sighed, “No, it wasn’t. First, they killed Grandsire and now our sister. The Greens will pay for this.” 

  “Jace,” Luke whispered, “Not here. Not now.” 

  The attention was drawn away from the funeral pyre as a member of Viserys’ former Kingsguard approached your mother. He removed his helm, revealing Ser Erryk, your saviour back in King’s Landing. You turned to your grandmother who already held a small smirk on her face. 

  Ser Erryk removed your grandsire’s crown from his bag and knelt before your mother, “I swear to ward the Queen with all my strength and give my blood for hers,” he began to recite the Kingsguard vows as Daemon took the crown from him, “I shall take no wife, hold no lands, father no children. I shall guard her secrets, obey her commands, ride at her side, and defend her name and honour,” Ser Erryk finished. 

  Daemon approached your mother before gently placing the crown onto her head and falling onto his knee, “My Queen.” 

  The rest of you followed suit, slowly bending the knee to your new Queen. You held Joffrey’s hand as you guided him down with you and your older brothers. Everyone was then instructed to gather in the Great Hall to await the arrival of your mother. You elected to walk alongside your brothers and cousins. 

  “She was born to wear that crown,” you spoke proudly.

  Luke smiled slightly, “Grandsire would have been proud.”

  “Not if what the Greens claim is true,” Jace scoffed, “He would have rather seen Aegon bearing it apparently.”

  “Jace,” you snapped at him, “Our mother is the rightful Queen. No one here thinks otherwise. The Greens will be dealt with when the time comes.” 

  “And what of your husband, Y/N?” Rhaena had cut in.

  You had not thought about Aemond after the events with your mother, “I am not sure, Rhaena. What happens to him will not be up to me but to our Queen.”

  “And what if she wants them all dead?” Baela asked, “That seems to be the customary punishment with traitors. Aemond is a traitor, is he not?”

  You swallowed hard as you fidgeted with your wedding ring, “I know you’d all prefer it that way,” you sniffled, wiping your eyes, “Aemond, good and dead. Vhagar free for Rhaena to claim, as it should have been, right?” They all stood silent, “I know you all hate him and I know you all have good reason to. But he is still my husband. The father of my child. And the man that I love. So, my apologies if talk about murdering him does not bring me as much joy as it does to you.”

  “Y/N, that is not-”

  “It’s alright, Luke,” you cut him off, “I do not wish to discuss it further. It is time for us to hear from our Queen.” 

  You turned, walking ahead of them towards the Great Hall. The rest of the lords and ladies congregated around the Painted Table as it lit up in all its glory. Rhaena had become your mother’s designated cupbearer and waited near the top of the table, Baela joining your grandmother’s side while you and your brothers walked to the far end of the table. 

  Your mother, accompanied by some of her Queensguard entered the room as Daemon moved to introduce her, “Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” All of us bowed to her, “Your Grace.” 

  Rhaena approached her, “Wine, my Queen.”

  Your mother kindly took the goblet, “Thank you, Rhaena. Come,” she nodded for both your cousins to join at the table. There was a slight awkwardness that filled the air as you all stood around. Your mother looked uncomfortable, “What is our standing?” she asked. 

  “We have thirty knights, a hundred crossbowmen, and three hundred men at arms,” Daemon answered, “Dragonstone is relatively easy to defend, but as an instrument of conquest, our army leaves a lot to be desired. We have sent word to my loyal men in the City Watch. I’ll have some support there, but I cannot speak to the numbers.”

  “We already have declarations from Celtigar and Staunton, Massey, Darklyn, Bar Emmon,” the Maester explained as Jace placed the pieces onto the table. 

  “My lady mother was an Arryn,” your mother pointed to the Eyrie on the table, “The Vale will not turn cloak against their own kin.”

  “Riverrun was always a close friend to your father, Your Grace,” the Maester noted, “With Prince Daemon’s acquiescence, I’ve already sent ravens to Lord Grover.”

  “Lord Grover is fickle and easily swayed,” your mother huffed, “He will need to be convinced of the strength of our position and that we will support him should it come to war.”

  “I’m going to treat with him myself,” Daemon answered. 

  “What of Storm’s End and Winterfell?” Lord Steffon Darklyn asked. 

  “There has never lived a Stark who forgot an oath. And with House Stark, the North will follow,” Lord Bartimos Celtigar answered him. 

  “Lord Borros Baratheon will need to be reminded of his father’s promises,” your mother declared before turning to your grandmother, “What news from Driftmark?”

  “Lord Corlys sails for Dragonstone,” Rhaenys answered.

  “To declare for his Queen,” Daemon interrupted. 

  “The Velaryon fleet is in my husband’s yoke. He decides where they sail,” she rebutted.

  “We shall pray for both you and your husband’s support,” your mother stepped in, “Just as we prayed nightly for the Sea Snake’s return to good health. There’s no port on the Narrow Sea that would dare to make an enemy of the Velaryon fleet,” she turned back to the table, “And our enemies?”

  “We have no friends among the Lannisters,” Daemon explained, “Tyland has served the Hand too long to turn against him. And Otto Hightower needs the Lannister fleet.” 

  “Without the Lannisters we are not like to find any allies west of the Golden Tooth,” your mother concluded. 

  “No,” Daemon was quick to disagree, “The Riverlands are essential, Your Grace.” 

  “Pray forgive my bluntness, Your Grace, but talk of men is moot,” one of the lords spoke up, “Your cause owns a power that has not been seen in this world since the days of Old Valyria. Dragons.”

  Your mother was a bit stunned at first, “The Greens have dragons as well.” 

  “They have three adults, by my count,” Daemon was again one of the first to speak up, “We have Syrax, Caraxes, and Meleys,” your grandmother scoffed under her breath at the mention of her dragon, “Your sons have Vermax, Arrax, and Tyraxes. Your daughter has Seasmoke. Baela has Moondancer.”

  “Daemon, none of our dragons have been to war,” your mother argued.

  “There are also unclaimed dragons,” Daemon ignored her as he continued, “Vermithor and Silverwing dwell on the Dragonmont, still riderless. Then there are the three wild dragons, all of whom nest here.”

  “And who is to ride them?” your mother asked. Oddly one of her messengers rushed up the stairs, Ser Erryk going to meet him.

  “Dragonstone has thirteen to their four. I also have a score of eggs incubating in the Dragonmont,” Daemon continued, “Now, we need a place to gather, a toehold large enough to house a sizable host,” he placed a piece down, “Here, at Harrenhal. We cut off the west, surround King’s Landing with the dragons. And we could have every Green head mounted on spikes before the fucking moon turns.”

  Your mother’s jaw tensed at Daemon’s attitude before Ser Erryk interrupted, “Your Grace, a ship has been sighted offshore: a lone galleon, flying a banner of a three-headed green dragon.”

  Daemon was quick to move, “Alert the watchtowers. Sight the skies,” he snatched Dark Sister from the table. The guards, your mother, and Daemon went to go meet with whomever washed up onshore. You knew Aemond had not accompanied them, he would’ve rode in proudly on Vhagar. 

  You were sitting in your chambers, reading an Old Valyrian story and humming softly to your bump, “Ahem,” you looked up to see Jace and Luke standing in the doorway, “May we come in?”

  You nodded, “Yes,” placing down your book and standing from your seat, “What is it?”

  “We just wanted to apologize for earlier,” Luke answered, “We should not-”

  “Not we,” Jace stopped him, “Me. I know what you did couldn’t have been easy, Sister. And I apologize for my lack of empathy. I should have been more understanding of your situation.”

  You sighed, “It’s alright. I know your past with Aemond is not a pleasant one,” Luke shifted uncomfortably, “But it is the past. We have grown. We’re not the same people, we’re not children anymore. And whatever is about to happen to all of us is larger than some childhood quarrel. I just want you to both understand that.”

  “We do,” Luke nodded, “I’ve wanted nothing more than to put all that ugliness on Driftmark behind me. I’ll never forgive myself for what I did and I know Aemond won’t either. But, that does not mean we should dwell on it. He is my brother-by-law and the father of my future niece or nephew.”

  “You’re a good man, Luke,” you smiled at him, reaching over and giving his hand a squeeze. 

  “Man?” Jace chuckled, “He’s still a boy.” You both rolled your eyes at his lame teasing, “But, he is right. We care about you and the baby far more than some fight from years ago.” 

  You reached over and gave his hand a squeeze as well, “Thank you, brothers. This talk meant a lot to me.”

  “You’re our sister, Y/N. We love you,” Luke smiled softly. 

  “I love you both,” you hugged them, “I just wonder what the next step is.”

  “As do we,” Jace agreed, “The Greens are wise enough to know that they are outnumbered when it comes to dragons. Ships are another thing. Without Grandsire’s fleet, we’re left to whatever men we have on land.” 

  “Grandsire is a loyal man. House Velaryon is not fickle,” you explained.

  There was word that your mother and Daemon had returned from their meeting with the Greens. Otto Hightower, himself, had presented Aegon’s terms of surrender to your mother. All the lords who backed your mother continued to argue back and forth on what should be done next, Daemon and your mother especially bumping heads on the matter. Your paternal Grandsire, Lord Corlys, had finally landed on Dragonstone but he was still weak and needed his rest. You opted to walk the halls of the castle in an attempt to ease your own worries. 

  “Y/N,” you turned to see your mother walking towards you. 

  “Mother,” you greeted as she joined your side, “How are you? Is Daemon-”

  “Fine,” you could always tell when she lied but you decided not to push the matter further, “And Princess Rhaenys is with Lord Corlys as we speak,” she stopped the both of you, taking your hands, “How’re you, my sweet girl? I feel that with everything that has been happening, I have neglected to check in on you and your condition.” 

  You caressed your belly, “I’m alright. Just a lot on my mind, I suppose.” 

  “That is understandable. You have been through quite a lot in the past few days. But,” she moved to pull something from her pocket, “Perhaps this will help put your mind at ease.” she extended a letter to you, the Targaryen wax seal still unbroken around it, “Otto Hightower brought it with him. He told me that it was for you, from Prince Aemond.” 

  Your breath caught in your throat, “Aemond?” you practically choked out as you stared at the letter in her hands, “Did he say anything else? What it might be about or-”

  She shook her head, “Only that it be delivered to you directly and urgently.”

  You fidgeted with your wedding ring, wondering whether or not you should take it, “I..” you could barely find your words. 

  “Y/N,” she took the ringed hand you had been fidgeting with, “Take it.”

  “But, what if he wants me to come back? Or worse, what if he never wants to see me again? I-I wouldn’t know what-”

  “You won’t know what to do until you read the letter,” she cut you off, “So,” she placed it into your hands, “Go to your chambers. Read it. Then decide.”

  You nodded, “Yes, Moth- sorry. Yes, Your Grace.” 

  She caressed your cheek, “I am still your mother. Doesn’t matter if I wear a crown or not,” she kissed your head, “Now go.”

  You let out a deep breath before heading towards your chambers. Shutting the door behind you as you finally broke the wax seal and unrolled the parchment. Immediately recognizing the neat cursive that he had always worked so hard to perfect because “how will I ever be taken seriously if I write like a seven-year-old?”

My Dearest, Y/N,

I know you little thought to hear from me. I little thought to even be writing this letter in the first place. However, I knew I needed to because there is so much I need to say. 

I miss you, my wife. My true family. And I know you could probably never bring yourself to forgive me and I cannot say I blame you. I know my decision broke your heart just as yours did mine. I should not have made you choose. And I know we are both in an impossible situation. But I believe I may have found a solution to these problems. 

Tonight, at the hour of the wolf. Meet me on the far side of Dragonstone, away from the guards and the castle. Come alone and tell no one. 

All My Love, 

Your Husband, Aemond

  You continued to re-read it as hundreds of questions flooded your mind. What did he mean by solution? What if this was some sort of trap set by the Greens? What if this wasn’t from Aemond at all? And none of them could be answered if you didn’t listen to the instructions. 

  Even if you told your typically understanding family, war was afoot. Even if your mother trusted it, Daemon would never. He’d go to meet Aemond himself, Dark Sister in hand. Telling anyone was not an option. Once again, you had no choice. 

  The darkest time of night came faster than you would have hoped for. You paced your chambers for quite a while, spinning your betrothal ring over and over as you did. You nearly jumped whenever you heard guards or servants pass by your door. And before you could think twice, you had thrown on your cloak and boots before walking out of your chambers. 

  You tried to conceal your face with your hood as you hurried through the empty halls of Dragonstone. The sound of your heels against the cobblestone echoed throughout them. You continued a quick pace, well as quick as you could go at nearly eight months pregnant. 

  “Y/N?” a voice called from behind you.

  You turned to see your mother, “Mother,” you gave her a nod, “Good evening.”

  She raised a brow at you, “Where are you off to? It is quite late.”

  You stuttered a bit before finding your words, “I was just going on a walk. It has been quite hard to find sleep in these last few months of pregnancy.” 

  She smiled softly, “It was the same for me when I was pregnant with you and Jace. I suppose it must be first-time mother worries and such. Would you like me to ring for a servant? Perhaps they could give you something to help you sleep.” 

  You shook your head at her offer, “It’s alright. I’ve found that evening air has been the best remedy thus far.” 

  “Alright,” she nodded, “Be careful. Be sure to find sleep at some point. There is another small council meeting tomorrow and your attendance is needed.”

  “Your Grace,” you smirked as you curtsied. 

  “Good night, sweet girl,” she smiled before turning to her own chambers. You waved her goodbye before continuing on your mission. You had elected not to take Seasmoke, worrying that you might wake someone. The air was crisp and cool as you trekked to the other end of the island. When you had finally made it to your meeting place, the breeze from the ocean was salty as it hit your face and tousled your hair, your fingers twirling your ring round and round.

  “You never could break that nervous habit,” his familiar tone practically rang in your ear. 

  You whipped around to face him, “I-I was not sure what to expect. Part of me believed this to be some sort of trap. I’d be a fool not to be nervous.”

  He let out a low chuckle as he finally stepped into the moonlight, “You know me well, my love. But I assure you, I am not here to trick you.” Aemond stalked closer to you, one of his hands slowly taking yours while the other rested on the curve of your bump. 

  “Then why are you here, Aemond? Surely, it is not to back my mother’s claim or convince me of your brother’s.”

  “I am to take a new wife.” At first, his words seemed to be in some foreign language. That was the only possible explanation your mind could muster before they finally sank in.

  “W-What?” your voice shook, a combination of anger and sadness. You tore away from his touch. 

  “My brother’s council speaks of annulling our marriage and betrothing me to one of Lord Borros Baratheon’s daughters, so that we may ensure the loyalty of Storm’s End. I am to fly there on the morrow to present the terms to Lord Borros in person.”

 The tears welled in your eyes, “And you are telling me this, why?” You did not give him the time to answer, “Did you truly need to hurt me even more? Why not just drive a blade through my heart and be done with it, Aemond? I would rather be dead than live just to see you be given to someone else!” you sobbed, “I-”

  Your voice faded off as a sharp pain hit your abdomen. A tightening cramp-like feeling making you gasp and nearly keel over. 

  “Y/N? What is it?”

  “The babe...” you grunted between words, trying to catch your breath, “The babe is coming. Now!” 

  Aemond did not hesitate to scoop you into his arms, the pain of your contractions distracting you from just how fast he was running. 

  “Stop there!” Ser Erryk tried to step in front of Aemond. 

  “Princess Y/N is in labour,” he huffed, “You must let me pass.”

  “Prince Aemond, you helped in the usurping of the throne. I cannot allow you-”

  “Seven Hells, just let him in! We can deal with all this political horse shit afterward!” you cried. 

  Ser Erryk seemed taken aback, “Y-Yes, Princess.” The guards finally stepped aside as Aemond carried you through the halls, finally arriving at your bedchamber.

  “Get the midwives and the Maester now!” he barked his instructions at one of your handmaidens. 

  “AHHHH!” your screams practically shook the walls of the castle. Nearly all of the staff questioned Aemond’s surprising presence in the room but were too focused on your labours to pay attention for long. 

  “Y/N?!” your mother’s voice trembled with worry as she entered your room. 

  “Mother,” you called out for her, shakily raising one of your hands to her. 

  “I’m here, sweet girl,” she quickly took your hand, sitting at your side, “I’m right here.” She had been too consumed with you to even note Aemond’s presence on the other side of the bed, “What in Seven Hells is he doing here? Guards!” 

  “No!” you stopped her, “I-I want him here. He...Seven Hells...He needs to be here. Please, M-Mother.”

  She nodded hesitantly as she stroked back your hair, “Alright, Y/N.” 

  “Push, Princess,” one of the midwives encouraged, “Push!”

  “AAAGHHHH! FUCK! AHHHHH!” you screamed, pushing with all your might. 

  Hours and hours seemed to pass and still, your baby was not here. Sweat dripped from your skin as you tiredly clung to Aemond and your mother. 

  “I-I can’t,” you whimpered, “I’m...exhausted.” 

  “The child is close, Princess,” the Maester reassured you, “Just a few more-”

  “I cannot!” you exclaimed, panting as your head lolled over to Aemond, “I’m sorry.”

  He shook his head fervently, “You have nothing to be sorry for.”

  “But I do, A-Aemond. I could not be the wife you needed. I can’t even birth our child. I-It’s no wonder you will be taking a new bride.” 

  “You are doing what?” your mother glared at him, “Do you truly think you could just make a fool of my daughter? Of your child? Of our family? I could have your head-”

  “Your Grace,” he stopped her, “I have no intention of annulling my marriage to your daughter or make a fool of anyone of you especially not Y/N or my child.”

  “B-But you told me that...”

  “I told you that my brother’s council desires this. I do not desire being married to anyone but you, my love.” he corrected, “Iksā ñuhon hae iksan aōhon.” You are mine as I am yours. 

  Aemond pressed his forehead to your damp one, “Avy jorrāelan.” I love you.

  “Avy jorrāelan,” I love you. “Now, push. Our child is nearly with us.” 

  You nodded as you took in a deep breath before resuming your labours. Your nails dug into both your mother and Aemond as you pushed. A sudden relief overcame you as the soft cries of your newborn filled the air. 

  “A girl,” one of the midwives announced, “As healthy as can be. Praise the Mother!”

  Smiles filled the room as they handed the infant to you, “Y-You’re so beautiful,” you cried. But before you could truly enjoy the moment, there was some sort of pressure from between your legs. You assumed it was the afterbirth as you pushed again. 

  “There is another babe,” the Maester frantically answered as he resumed his work. 

  “Another b- AHHHHH!” a final scream before those soft whimpers filled the room once again.

  “This one’s a boy, Princess,” the midwife smiled, “Just as healthy.”

  They handed Aemond the squalling baby boy, “Seven Hells.” 

  Your mother kissed your forehead, “Well done, sweet girl. They’re beautiful.” 

  You sighed contently, “Mother, I have something to ask you.”

  “Anything,” she smiled. 

  “I think I want to name her Visenya.” 

  Tears fell from her eyes, “It is wonderful. Just wonderful,” she sniffled, “And for the boy?” 

  “Viserys,” you answered, “After Grandsire.”

  “My dearest girl,” she sniffled, wiping her tears as she stood from the bed. 

  “What do you think?” Aemond had hardly pulled his gaze from your children.

  He let out a content sigh, “They are more beautiful than I could have ever imagined. Absolutely perfect.” 

  And that’s what that entire moment should have been. Absolutely perfect.

  Your mother had rejoined your side, Daemon accompanying her this time, “I’m sorry but I must insist that Prince Aemond is removed from these chambers and brought to the cells to await proper questioning.”

  “Mother, please,” you begged as the midwife took your son from Aemond while Daemon went to seize him, “Daemon, no!”

  “I warned you, Y/N,” Daemon spoke, “This is how it has to be.”

  “No, it is not,” Aemond finally cut in.

  “You betrayed your Queen,” Daemon scoffed, “You committed treason. And now you must pay-”

  Aemond fell to one knee, pulling his sword and raising it towards your mother, “I pledge my sword and my allegiance to Queen Rhaenyra Targaryen, First of Her Name, Queen of the Andals, and the Rhoynar, and the First Men. Lady of the Seven Kingdoms and Protector of the Realm.” He stood again, sheathing his sword, “I love your daughter, Your Grace. And if bending the knee is all it takes to prove my loyalty to her, then I will do it. And whatever else I must to ensure that I never risk losing her again.” 

  You bit back tears as you rocked your children. All eyes fell to your mother for the final decision, “Very well. Prince Aemond Targaryen, you are hereby the sworn protector of Princess Y/N Velaryon as well as her children Princess Visenya Targaryen and Prince Viserys Targaryen, and any future heirs she may bear. By order of your Queen.” 

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