#stillborn; trigger warning

[loveletterstothepast]

Grief Recovery For Those With Lifetime Worth of Sorrows.

inspired by a dull book of lost love and unrequited loves.

Love is an endless loop belonging to those who’ve found worth in reaching such goals. Love loses meaning and connection once no longer been given flame. If everything is stripped of imagination then there is nothing left but what is, Who is, and moreover the decisions to fan the flames.

For years worth of written books and life long stories told about love a definite theme has always been “love at first sight.” No one talks about how love actually forms. Where’s it comes from and how it’s learned.

In a childhood home where love is withheld it will cause trauma and an antagonizing amount of struggles into finding what love means to oneself. No one talks about the fear you face of rejection. Denial. Abandonment. It’s all a sheltered idea that affection will fix you. To combat this many people turn to a various multitude of ways to attempt to abandon the engraved fear of loving anything and the exception that it will be taken away. If we gather and array of people and ask what they fear most in loving. It’s that once it’s lost.

Soundly I can say that people will do what they must at the end of the day to protect the little they have and refuse to accept more if the chances of being harmed are greater. One should never fear for what is once lost will always return.

A lifetime of sorrows will change a persons perspective on love and loss. It will damage the mind and soul of someone who lacks motivation to continue forward. With a weak mindset and little to no goals of success.. and and absurd amount of self hatred, people would just rather give up in the face of loss instead of continuing with the glorious life they’ve been left with. This is not to torment those who feel lost in their demise.

A lot of people will grow with the constant thought of “God has failed me” and in truth that is an acceptable approach and I no longer think people should be forced to leave it up to higher spirits. The truth is if you’ve felt denied at every turn then you should construct an idea of how you plan on continuing growth. With some minor suggestions I’ve found that self improvement and talking kindly to yourself is helpful in remedy to the aches of life.

We call out life’s journey a climb of a horrid mountain that throws things at us without ever gracing us with a break and although that may be true in some cases more than other, we must learn to endure the growing pains that have been so violently thrusted our ways. It’s simple to say “let go” but what is letting go to the individual and what is that to the audience. Who to root for if biblically inclined. Who to cheer on. Who to become after trauma. In all honesty the path to healing is difficult and different for every person and sometimes sweeping secrets under the rug is much easier than admitting to the pain. We must submit to that pain and allow ourselves to grieve how we deem fit. But only for a short time. Else it will consume and to continue will be a misfortune unknown to all.

I lost my whole youth into growing up and taking care of others around me. Nurturing has always come easy though I’ll admit my faults in becoming someone’s mother who was not my child. In the dating pool I dated an array of men with mommy issues to attempt to remedy their aches while caring for the parts of me that were lacking in parental guidance. Love was an obstacle course that I was crashing through lover after lover to attempt to find what suited me. None held much worth until I found my opposite in every way. He who was nurtured and loved. He who was showered in the gift of life and because of that I have found myself in a torn spot of the unknown. I didn’t have to fix everything I simply had to exist in it and express my feelings and together we healed the parts of me that were less. Together we grew the parts of him that were more and we found peace in our relationship. The quite and duality of our relationship is a theme of give or take in a happy way.

When we found out we were pregnant happy could not begin to explain what we felt. There was love. So much love that we both knew we had to offer and we both knew that our home would be one away from what my family thrusted into me and one that was just generally happy. We made it to 27 weeks and 2 days before our sweet boy Micha was born still.. Everyday it hurts and everyday we carry it differently. We’ve been lost in our healing and because of our backgrounds we healed differently.

Love was lost and that was that.

Although.. Loving your partner through something traumatic is a choice you realize you have to accommodate for everyday after that loss. You must work on that love until it returns naturally. You never fully stop loving but some points you realize that empathy is lost and you care less about their feelings as you lick your own wounds. Some relationships don’t last during this due to fighting to get back on track since one is always on survival mode and the other is used to mourning at a normal pace. Take a deep breath during this and know that mourning, is for you as well and you deserve to cry with your partner. Not cry against them. Take time to speak beautiful into them and watch them reciprocate that same beauty into you. Loving should never be difficult if your willing to set your weight down and see that it’s not just you. You of course are your own personal healer and you rely on yourself alone, but you do not have to endure this alone. Love is something beautiful and if you can grasp the bits you still have for your partner, you can healthily work on the pain together.

A life time of sorrows strips you of everything normal people find normal and you have a wall built up for yourself. But lay down those burdens. You’re not a child anymore. You can talk about it and make a justifiable decision that YOU need to make. Hold on. It gets better even if you can’t find the light right away. You will.

God does not take away gifts like babies, there was something you needed to learn and although that may not be clear at this moment. You may learn that You have to let go of the life you knew to be the person you one day hope to be. And it’s normal to hate every ounce of everything you’ve endured since then.

You’ll find yourself after walking out of the self sabotage and torment.

You deserved that child and one day, you’ll have another and it will never replace that sweet baby in the beginning but you’ve found out by now, the heart grows. When we’re not looking. Ever so silently. It grows.

[allthingswhumpyandangsty]

WRITING PROMPTS REGARDING ABORTION AND MISCARRIAGE 

trigger warnings for graphic description of the above topics, human trafficking, cannibalism, violence against pregnant women.

everything about this is entirely fictional, meant for writers. since I understand there aren’t many whump blogs that feel comfortable writing prompts about the subject (very understandable), I figured I could offer writers out there some prompts about this, in case they were looking for ideas for their works.

that being said, while the prompts are not real, the subject is very much real and can be triggering, so if it’s not something you’re comfortable with, don’t read below the line.

__________________୨ ୧ __________________

*feel free to change/adjust the pronouns however you want

a pregnant whumpee got kicked in the stomach by whumper, which led to miscarriage.

a pregnant whumpee, who was a housewife, fell down the stairs at her house when her partner was away for work. she didn’t tell her partner about the incident either because she was afraid he was going to get mad at her or because she thought it was fine and didn’t want to worry him. until she suffered severe bleeding that turned the mattress red at night.

whumpee who went through miscarriage kept hallucinating a life where her child was alive and she got to raise them. caretaker tried to help her, and even though her condition only seemed to get worse, they refused to send her to an asylum. 

whumpee who lost her child during childbirth refused to surrender her child’s corpse. It was understandable at first, until the child started to decompose and rot in her arms and she, with a knife in her hand, would attack anyone who tried to take her baby away from her.

whumpee was a sex slave who got pregnant, the thing was that it was a mistake. so in order for her to be able to continue doing ‘her job’, whumper made her undergo unsafe abortion by having a straightened-out wire with sharp edge (from a coat hanger) inserted into her vagina and into her uterus. they got the fetus out, but whumpee later got a nasty infection that resulted in her suffering from hallucinations, and her not being able to stand or stop her pale, naked body from shivering. whether or not she was rescued in time is up to you, the writer. 

whumper is an OB doctor who often lied to the patients that they miscarried their perfectly healthy stillborns and that the babies needed to be surgically removed in order to save the moms’ lives. this made it very easy for the doc to get away with eating fetuses, since the moms would rather not keep the corpses of their stillborns anyway, and police were never involved. (I mean who would question a licensed physician?!)

[morallyinept]

Glorification - A Jack Daniels x Pregnant F!Reader One Shot

Written as part of my B O D I E S Series 🤎

BODIES MASTERLIST

This is the same Husband!Jack and Wife!Reader from my Christmas One Shot Cowboy Christmas. If you haven't read that story yet, you might want to for context, however this story can be read as a stand alone.

Summary: You're overdue and uncomfortable in your pregnancy, and so your husband Jack thinks of a way he can help.

Pairing: Husband Jack Daniels x Pregnant Wife F!Reader (No name or physical description of reader in terms of ethnicity, Reader does have hair. Reader is pregnant and married to Jack.)

Word Count: 9.3k

Scoville Smut Rating:🌶️🌶️🌶️ “You tell me I'm doing well, and then, you try to kill me."

Check out my Scoville Smut Ratings here.

Triggers & warnings: Mentions of a stillborn foal/descriptions of pregnancy and birth - the birth is successful, please do not worry/unprotected PIV (wrap up, folks!)/fingering/jerking off/sex during pregnancy/some very mild lactation/Jack finds you irresistible

NSFW. MINORS DNI! OVER 18’s ONLY. YOU ARE SOLELY RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT YOU READ.☝🏻Don’t come at me; you’ve been plenty warned.

I write for me, and I share with you. If this story isn't to your taste, that's fine. Just slip quietly out the back door. No need to make a fuss. It's just a work of fiction.

Author’s Note: It's important to me that all types of readers are represented in my work, therefore this collection of stories is written for readers with REAL bodies. However, anyone can enjoy them. Whilst this story may not specifically represent your own personal journey, it is my hope that it resonates and offers comfort and enjoyment. Pregnancy is not 'one size fits all' - everyone's journey is personal and unique, and I have undertaken as much research as I can to write accurately and respectfully. 🤎

MAIN MASTERLIST | AGENT WHISKEY MASTERLIST

Enjoy! 🖤

The merging seasons aren't just a backdrop to life on the ranch; they’re a reflection of the cycles of nature, of growth and transformation.

Spring often brings with it a pastel clash of colour, as the barren trees burst forth with delicate blossoms, and the fields erupt in a carpet of wildflowers. The air becomes alive with the hum of bees and the chirping of birds, while newborn foals frolic in the paddocks, their playful antics a joyful addition to the season of renewal.

Dust kicked up by thunderous hooves hangs heavy in the air during the sweltering summer of Rodeo season, mingling with the scent of freshly cut hay and the tang of sweat. Evenings are spent under the stars, gathered around a crackling fire, the sky ablaze with the twinkle of a thousand distant worlds.

And then, as autumn sweeps across the land, the ranch is bathed in the bokeh light of fading days. The trees shed their leaves in a riot of reds and golds, covering the ground in a mosaic of vivid colour. The air is crisp with the promise of frost, and the scent of woodsmoke once again fills the air as preparations are made for the long winter ahead. 

It was back in the depths of winter, when the ranch lay shrouded in a thick blanket of snow, that the news of the baby was met with joy and wonder by the ranch employees at yours and Jack’s announcement. It had felt like the perfect gift for the festive season. 

As you traverse across the ranch now, the scorching heat of summer beats down upon you, the sun's rays relentless in their fierce intensity. You can feel the warmth radiating from the ground, seeping through the soles of your boots, and you wipe a bead of sweat from the back of your neck, longing for the cool relief of shade.

Walking, you’d read, had seemed like a good idea to ease the near constant discomfort you felt now. With each waddly step, your back aches with the weight of your large belly that’s dropped, and a dull throb radiates from almost everywhere.

The rhythmic movement of your walk seems to exacerbate the pelvic pain you’ve been experiencing rather than soothe it - aching twinges shoot through your pelvis with each step. You pause for a moment, placing a hand on your globular stomach and take a deep breath to ease the discomfort.

Despite the fatigue, and the dry heat hanging in the late August air, you press on towards the stables, determined to find distraction in the familiar surroundings of the ranch. 

But as you walk, the swelling in your feet and ankles becomes more pronounced, your boots feeling tight and constricting. You already long to kick them off and let your feet breathe, toes dipped in cool water, but you soldier on, knowing that there are tasks to attend to.

With each step, you feel a sense of breathlessness creeping in, your lungs struggling to expand fully beneath the weight of your swollen uterus. You stop again to catch your breath, leaning against a fence post for support as you wait for the sensation to pass.

Amidst the aches and pains, there’s one sensation that never fails to bring a bit of surprise - the gentle nudges and flutters of your unborn baby. As you walk, you feel the movement in your belly, which soon becomes heavier and makes you wince a little.

Despite Jack’s insistence that you take it easy, you can’t stand being cooped up inside all day. You love the horses, love the rhythm of the ranch, and need to feel useful.

As you fill a bucket with grain, you feel a familiar kick from the baby, as if the little one is agreeing with your decision.

"Hey there, bub," you begin, your voice affectionate yet playful. "Are you practising your boxing moves on my insides?"

The baby responds with another vigorous kick, as if in confirmation, and you chuckle, feeling the impact reverberate through your abdomen.

"Okay, okay," you continue, grinning despite the discomfort, and the constant urge to pee. "I get it, you're eager to make your presence known. Trust me, I can’t wait to get you out, too. But let's go easy on Mama's organs, alright?" You stroke and pat your tum until the movements subside. 

As you enter the stables, you feel a sense of familiarity wash over you - a feeling of connection that seems to transcend the boundaries between human and animal. You approach the nearest horse, a gentle, black mare named Rosie, and reach out to stroke her soft muzzle.

"Hey there, girl," you murmur, your voice gentle and soothing. "How are you today? Missed you."

To your surprise, Rosie nuzzles against your belly, her warm breath tickling your skin. The horse's movements are unusually gentle, as if she senses something different about you.

You can't help but smile at the gesture, a warmth spreading through your heart. 

"Do you know there's a baby in there?" You whisper, your hand resting on your swollen abdomen. "Are you trying to say hello?"

Rosie seems to nod in response, her dark eyes meeting yours with a knowing gaze. It’s as if the horse can sense the new life growing within you, offering a silent but unmistakable gesture of welcome.

With a tender touch, you reach out to stroke Rosie's mane, your heart heavy with the memory of the shared grief. 

As you stand beside Rosie, feeling the gentle nuzzle against your belly, a wave of empathy washes over you as you remember the pain Rosie had endured the previous summer.

It had been a difficult time for everyone on the ranch when Rosie birthed a foal that was stillborn - a heartbreaking loss that had left an ache in your heart. Even Jack had shed a tear, running his calloused hands over his red, misty eyes.

"I remember, Rosie," you murmur softly. "We were all so sad when your little one didn't make it."

Rosie whinnies softly, her eyes reflecting a depth of understanding that seems almost human. As if the horse can feel the bittersweet mix of emotions that you carry within - a longing for the new life growing within you, tempered by the memory of loss.

As you stand together in the quiet of the stables, you feel a sense of connection with Rosie that goes beyond words. You’re both mothers, bonded by the joys and sorrows of life on the ranch. And in that moment of shared understanding, you know that Rosie is more than just a horse - she’s a friend, a confidante, and a kindred spirit.

With a grateful smile, you lean in to butt your forehead against Rosie's, feeling the warmth of her breath mingling with your own.

“Come on, let’s give you a brush down. You’ll like that, huh?”

You open the paddock and step inside reaching for the brush and lead Rosie out. And that’s where Jack finds you shortly afterwards, brushing down the rear of the mare and conversing with her like the old friends you are. 

You look up to see your husband striding towards you.

Jack cuts a striking figure against the backdrop of the ranch, his tall frame and rugged features reminiscent of a classic cowboy from the old Westerns. A Burt Reynolds swagger that only he can pull off.

He often wears a dark black Stetson, its brim shading his deep chocolate eyes from the harsh glare of the sun, adding an air of mystery and intrigue to his swarthy demeanour.

With a crooked smile under a well-groomed and thick, dark moustache, and a twinkle in his eye, Jack is the epitome of the quintessential Kentucky cowboy; handsome, charming and incredibly devout - to you, his wife.

His attire - when not on the Rodeo in those bejewelled, fringed shirts and chaps - typically consists of well-worn plaid shirts. Their earthy tones compliment the rich colours of the landscape and cling to his muscular frame, emphasising the strength and vitality that seems to radiate from every pore.

Paired with sturdy jeans that bear the marks of hard work and countless hours in the saddle, which show off his perfectly pert ass that you can never stop staring at.

You understand that his intentions are pure - he only wants what’s best for you and your unborn baby. But you long for the days when you can simply be together, without the weight of his worry hanging over you like a dark cloud. You're capable, you’re strong and you don't need to be treated like you’re made of porcelain. 

But lately, he’s been the bane of your irritation.

Despite Jack's unwavering love and care, his fussing around with the pregnancy has begun to grate on your nerves. While you appreciate his concern, there are moments when his constant attention feels suffocating, as if he doesn't trust you to take care of yourself.

His attempts to mollycoddle you leave you feeling frustrated and smothered, longing for a sense of independence and autonomy.

“What in tarnation do ya think you’re doin’?” Jack’s voice booms, startling the horses and making you jump.

You turn to face him, your eyes flashing with defiance. “I’m feeding the horses, Jack. What does it look like?”

“It looks like ya puttin’ yourself n’ our baby in danger!” He strides over, his tan cowboy boots thudding heavily on the stable floor. “Ya could’ve been kicked, or trampled!”

“Rosie won’t hurt me, Jack.” You say, patting her behind gently. 

“And if somethin’ happened to spook her, then what?” He braces his hands on his slender hips whilst he frowns at you. 

“Only one who’s spooking anyone here is you. Keep your voice down!” You hiss, setting the brush down with a thud. “I can still do things around here. I’m not just gonna sit inside and wait-”

“That’s exactly what ya need to do!” His voice rises further with frustration. “Doc said to take it easy, n’ you know it.”

You square your shoulders, your chin lifting stubbornly. “I need to feel like I’m part of this ranch, part of our life. Sitting around makes me feel useless, not to mention uncomfortable.”

Jack takes a deep breath, trying to reign in his temper. “It’s not about bein’ useless, sugar. It’s about keepin’ you n’ the baby safe.” 

“Jesus Christ, you’re smothering me, Jack! Wrapping me up in damn cotton ain’t helping things!” You shoot back, your voice wavering with emotion. “I-I need to breathe. I need to be me!”

Jack’s eyes harden. “So, riskin’ your life is how ya wanna be you? What about our baby? What if somethin’ had happened to you out here?”

“Nothing happened, oh my God!” You shout, tears of frustration welling up. “I can’t just sit around waiting for this baby to come. I’m going crazy, Jack!”

You throw him a pained look. “And I don’t think you get that.”

You storm out of the stable, leaving Jack standing there, anger and worry warring within him.

“Sugar!” He calls after you, but you ignore him. He kicks the bucket of feed over, grain going everywhere. “Fuck!” 

He glances at Rosie who seems to eye him back with the same contention.

“Don’t look at me like that. I know, I know…” He says, stepping towards her and patting her affectionately. 

Jack finds you upstairs a little while later, your posture slumped in the chair by the window, and your eyes red from crying after the argument.

He replays the scene in his mind, each moment etched with vivid clarity. The frustration in your eyes, the hurt in your voice - it’s all too real. Jack knows he’s crossed a line, said things he doesn't mean in the heat of the moment.

Taking off his Stetson, guilt weighs heavily on him as he lingers in the doorway, realising he’s upset you more than he ever intended. He seems to be doing that a lot lately.

His fingers pad against the rim of the hat anxiously as he observes you.

But now, in the aftermath, the remorse floods in like a tidal wave.

The impending arrival of the baby fills him with a mixture of excitement and dread, as he grapples with the weight of his responsibilities as a new father. In the months leading up to the birth, Jack had thrown himself into preparation, devouring parenting books and attending antenatal classes with you in town.

He recalls sitting behind you and mimicking the deep, rhythmic breaths together. As you'd exhaled, Jack couldn’t help but blow a raspberry in your ear, trying to lighten the mood, and you'd burst out laughing, earning you a glare from some of the other expectant mothers.

And when he helped you into the squat position, you'd wobbled and tipped back on him, resulting in more infectious giggles spreading between the two of you that you’d almost peed there and then. 

Jack had really embraced the thought of being a dad. He’d meticulously assembled the crib, painted the nursery walls, and stocked up on diapers and baby clothes. He was particularly fond of the little vests and onesies that had cute slogans sewn on like daddy’s lil’ cowpoke.

And that’s when he suddenly went into protective mode at full blown speed. 

He’d even practised changing diapers on a doll, much to your amusement, as the diaper fell off when he held up the doll to show you.

But despite his best efforts to prepare, the reality of impending fatherhood still felt daunting and overwhelming.

Jack's anxieties about becoming a father manifested in his tendency to be overly protective of you and your unborn baby. Every day seemed to bring a new set of worries, and Jack couldn't help but hover around you, constantly checking on your wellbeing and fretting over every tiny, little detail.

From ensuring you were eating the right foods to reminding you to take your prenatal vitamins, he was always there, eager to anticipate your needs before you even voiced them. And at first it was endearing and cute.

But sometimes, his well-intentioned fussing felt more suffocating than supportive. And he realised he was probably being irritating and irrational, and tried to reign it in, but he couldn’t help it - he’d had a nightmare that'd spooked him.

One night, waking up beside you, drenched in sweat and trying to convince himself it wasn’t real - that he hadn’t lost you during the labour. He never told you, just stroked your hair whilst you were sleeping and tried to calm himself down.

He loves you, more than anything in the world. You’re his rock, his better half - his everything. 

But Jack couldn't shake the nagging fear that something might go wrong. He became overly cautious about you engaging in any activities that he perceived as potentially risky for you or the baby. He insisted that you refrain from lifting heavy objects, climbing ladders, or even bending over too far, fearing the worst.

He found himself keeping a closer eye on your every move, trying to shield you from any potential harm. He’d watch you like a hawk, ready to swoop in at the slightest sign of discomfort or distress.

It was exhausting you both, and it was only inevitable that one of you would eventually snap. 

"Sugar," Jack begins softly, reaching out to gently touch your shoulder. "I'm sorry, darlin’. I’m an insensitive fool. Can ya forgive me? I hate seein’ ya like this.”

“I’m so uncomfortable, Jack. I just want this damn baby out.” You sob in frustration, glancing down at your distended belly, almost as if it’s taunting you.

You’re long overdue, the once-glowing excitement has waned, replaced by a weariness born of anticipation and impatience. Each morning brings with it a renewed hope that today will be the day, only to be met with disappointment as the hours slip away without any indication of impending labour.

You’d tried everything - walking, spicy foods, even old wives' tales passed down through generations - but still, the baby remains stubbornly nestled inside, refusing to budge. The doctors reassured you both that it’s not uncommon for pregnancies to go past their due date, but with each passing day, your anxiety and frustration grows. 

“I can’t take this much longer. I’m hot, I’m swollen… I ache all over-”

He kneels down beside you, squeezing your hand gently inside of his. “Ssh now, you’re alright. It’s alright.”

You sniffle and wipe your eyes free of tears, but they just keep coming. “I’m so tired.” You whine with a choke.  

“I know, darlin’.” Jack thinks for a moment, his mind trying to recall anything he’s read in the books that will help ease your discomfort. “How ‘bout we try to help you relax? Maybe a massage, ease some of that tension, hmm?”

You look at him sceptically. “A massage?”

“Yeah,” he says, his voice filled with earnestness. “Can help with the aches, n’ maybe even encourage the lil’ dill pickle to come on out. Stubborn lil’ thing’s overcookin’ in there.”

He places his palm open on your belly, fingers splayed like a giant starfish. “You’re causing ya Mama all sorts of grief, ain'tcha?” He says directly to your stomach. 

You watch as he lifts up the lapels of your shirt and places a soft kiss on the globe. And you stroke through his soft curls at his nape, unable to be mad at him when you know he just cares and loves you so much.

He looks up at you, smiles crookedly under that damn moustache at you, and you melt. 

“C’mon. Let me do this for ya, sugar.” He sways. 

You hesitate, then nod when those big browns of his hypnotise you. “Okay.”

Jack smiles “Alright. Let’s get ya comfortable now.”

In the quiet of the bedroom, Jack helps you undress, gently pulling off your boots and unbuttoning your shirt with a tenderness that speaks volumes. As he looks at you, his eyes filled with admiration, he can't help but marvel at you, even in the midst of your obvious discomfort.

“Damn, you’re so pretty when you’re mad at me,” Jack smirks with a crooked grin. 

“I don’t feel pretty, I feel like a damn elephant.” You pout. 

“Y'know, the gestation period for an elephant is twenty-two months.”

You frown at him. “Are you calling me an elephant?”

"Well, if you're an elephant, then you're the most beautiful elephant in the whole damn world."

You roll your eyes, but a hint of amusement dances in them. "Flattery will get you nowhere, mister," you retort, though your lips twitch with suppressed laughter.

"Oh, I don't know ‘bout that," Jack replies, his voice low and suggestive. "I seem to recall it workin’ pretty well for me in the past."

You arch an eyebrow, a playful challenge in your expression. "Is that so?"

“Mm-hm.” He grins. 

"Yeah. You’re right. You did this to me.” You remark with a wry smirk and pointing to your belly. 

"We’ve got some nice smelling oils, pregnancy safe... Wanna crack one open n’ see if it helps?”

You nod, too tired to protest. "Let's see what magic potions you've got, cowboy."

As Jack's hands move over your skin, the soothing aroma envelops you, mingling with the natural scent of the sweltering summer afternoon drifting through the open window.

Jack retreats into the bathroom and comes back with a small bottle with a purple label. Natural lavender oil. He helps you sit on the bed and kneels up behind you.

With careful hands, he begins to knead your shoulders, using the oil he’s warmed in them. 

His touch is firm yet gentle, the callouses from years of ranch work adding a unique texture that seems to blend strength and tenderness. The oil, warmed to perfection, glides smoothly, leaving a trail of relaxation in its wake.

Jack’s fingers work their magic, easing the knots and tension that have built up in your muscles over the past months. You feel the stress melting away, replaced by a deep, encompassing calm.

Every stroke of his hands seems to coax a sigh of relief from your lips, the tension in your shoulders and back dissipating like morning mist under the sun.

"You're pretty good at this," you murmur, your eyes closed as you savour the sensation.

“I don’t like to boast, but I’m good with my hands…” Jack remarks, smoothing them down your arms and back up again. 

As he continues, the scent of lavender grows richer, blending with the natural oils of your skin. Jack’s touch moves further south, carefully massaging your lower back.

You feel yourself sinking deeper into the bed, the aches and pains of late pregnancy receding with each gentle press and stroke.

For a while, you’re both silent, lost in the intimacy of the moment. Jack’s hands, roughened but tender in their purpose, bring you a sense of peace you haven’t felt in months.

The oils, combined with his careful ministrations, create a cocoon of serenity around you that you just sink into.

“Jack, your hands feel amazing,” you all but drool. “Oh God, right there!” You groan out when he presses into a deep knot in your lower back.

He smiles as he presses in harder and you groan out again, this time louder. “That got it, huh?” 

“Fuck, yes. Mmm, feels so good.”

“Yeah, ya like that, huh?” You can hear him smirking.

“Don’t stop.” You sigh, turning your head as his lips graze the skin on your neck. He kisses you there softly. “Oh God…”

His hands slide up your back and unclasp your bra. He slips the straps down your arms and you feel warm drops pelt your engorged breasts.

Opening your eyes, you watch as his hands smear the oil into your swollen, heavy mounds and you sink back against his chest. He runs his thumbs and fingers around your nipples, pinching gently and making you hiss. 

“Jack?” You hum, dreamily.

“Yes, darlin’?”

“You said this was an all over body massage, right?” You smirk. 

“Devil woman.” He clucks in your ear.

You can hear him grin and feel the hairs of his moustache tickle you deliciously.

“Ya feelin’ nice n' relaxed?” He purrs in your ear. 

He gropes and squeezes your breasts and your breath catches in your throat as he moves lower, his hands skimming over the swell of your belly with a reverence that borders on worship.

He can feel the gentle flutter of the baby's movements beneath his fingertips, a reminder of the life you’ve created together.

“Yeah…”

“Good,” he says as his hand dips below your stomach and momentarily you feel him rubbing between your legs against your panties. He slips his fingers in the side of them and finds you absolutely soaked. 

“Jesus, darlin’, you’re drippin’.” He groans in awe as his fingers slip inside your drenched folds. 

“Can’t help it, your hands feel really good.” You sigh. 

“Maybe... maybe we could try somethin’ to help get things movin’.”

“Like what?” You murmur. 

“I read that sometimes having sex can help induce the labour. Somethin’ in the semen.” Jack husks.

“Is that so?” You grin. “You really did your research, huh?”

You gasp as he swipes the pads of his fingers over your protruding and throbbing clit. It feels so good as the tingles ramp up into a desperate ache, seemingly drowning out all the others as the heat starts to overtake your body. 

“I just wanna help ya anyway I can, sugar. But only if you're comfortable with it.” 

"I don't know," you hesitate, your voice barely above a whisper, but breaking as he strokes your clit. "I feel so large, so... uncomfortable, and... oh God, Jack…"

The thought of intimacy, of losing yourself in the heat of passion, is undeniably tempting. Your whole body craves it right now.

And yet, the weight of your swollen belly, the physical discomfort that seems to grow with each passing day, fills you with a sense of self-consciousness you can't shake. 

He pulls it all out of you, letting you shudder and moan against him. 

“There ya go,” he soothes as his fingers dip into your hole to gather more of your slick before swirling them around your throbbing clit. 

The urge is too much, you’re clenching around nothing and want desperately for him to fill you. 

“We can try, go slow?” You pant.

“Real nice n' slow.” He murmurs in agreement.

You twist seeking his mouth, and he slips his tongue between your lips as you groan. You feel his fingers on his other hand glide under your chin, tilting you into him as he massages your clit in dizzy circles. 

“You're so fuckin’ beautiful,” Jack says, all warm and moist in your ear. 

And it makes your eyes water because for a while now, you’ve felt anything but.

Your body has changed and it won’t be the same. Spidery stretch marks ripple across your belly and thighs, your nipples feel bigger and longer somehow like they've been stretched. Your body aches so much, your ankles feel like they might snap at any given moment when you stand. And your back? God, your spine really abhors you almost every second of the day.

Pregnancy has been hard to adjust to, the morning sickness wiped you out in the beginning. That nauseating feeling that you thought would never go away still haunts you. Your sense of smell has been altered, and your vagina was doing all sorts of weird things to prepare for the labour the closer you got to the due date.

“Ya glowin’, sugar.” 

And yet through it all there’s been one constant - Jack.

He’s never stopped telling you how beautiful you are throughout the whole transition. Even when he’s been annoying.

“Ya gonna come for me, mama?” He smirks.

“Jack…” You whine as his fingers slip over your clit, and you can feel that delicious pulsing start to tighten again.

He feels you melt into him, your hands fisting around the comforter as you climb that peak. 

“Jack, baby… Oh God! Don’t stop!”

His fingers swirl in your wetness and coat your clit again that’s about to burst. He feels you shake against him and hears you lose your air as you fly. 

His fingers twist around your nipples and you just wish he would bite them - hard.

“So damn pretty,” he husks.

He plants a hot trail of wet kisses across your shoulder before shifting to grasp your breast and tongues the nipple. He sucks it and it makes your cunt ache deliciously for him.

“Jack, suck them,” you whine. “Please.”

He does, teasing his tongue around the swollen areola and then slips your nipple into his mouth. He squeezes between his thumb and finger on the other and milky fluid seeps from it to which he laps up so brazenly. 

“Fuck, darlin’, you taste so good.” He says, running his lips and mouthing over them gently. 

“Harder, Jack.”

He continually strokes over your belly, plants kisses over it and lavishes it with affection. You reach down and slip your hands into his jeans, feeling him out.

You feel him pinch it between his teeth as he sucks and you cry out in relief.

You gasp as his hand slips down your stomach and he runs his oily index finger across your slit. Slides back and forth, up and down over your labia until you’re practically begging for him to fuck you.

But he resists, keeping you on the edge, each nudge of your overstimulated clit sending sparks through your body. 

He assists and unbuckles his belt, popping open the buttons to reveal a dark thicket of hairs, and your hand finds his impressive cock. 

Reaching for the oil, you drizzle a little over it after he shucks his jeans fully off and he grunts, licking into your mouth as you stroke his thick length. 

“Jesus, darlin’,” Jack pants, just watching you work him up and down, twisting your cupped palm around him.

Slathering his rock hard cock in the oil and massaging the girth of him. All shiny under the light and squelchy between your fingers as you tighten your grip around him.

Working the pressure you feel him swell and pulse around your palm as he slips through it with wet ease. It’s wondrous as you look down at it, settling your eyes on that gorgeous, thick shaft inside your hands, making his thighs taut and his abs twitch in response to your slow, massaging strokes.

“You’re spoilin’ me, sugar. This was 'posed to be all ‘bout makin’ you feel relaxed,” he groans. 

“Oh, I’m feeling pretty good,” you smirk. 

He slides his thick fingers inside you, and immediately squeeze around them. 

“Jack, I need you,” you groan desperately.

“Take what ya need, darlin’. I’ll make it all better for ya.”

You straddle him instantly. He holds onto your hips as you steady and wobble and then slide down onto that greased up cock, feeling every inch of him as you take him. The ridge of his head, the puff of his frenum; the thick ropes of his veins… you feel it all.

Moving up and down on him in slow see-saw movements, your pussy seeps all over him, coating him in an oil all of its own. You hear those little moans and whimpers and watch how he bites his lip at that first melding of your pussy around his cock. 

“Jack! Fuck!”

He supports you with his big hands on your butt, lifting you up and down on his cock as you ride. He keeps licking your nipples, sucking them into his mouth as you buck and moan on top of him. 

“That’s it, sugar, let it all out. Oh, your pussy feels so damn good squeezin’ me like that, fuck… yes. So damn tight, how the heck are ya gon’ push our baby outta this, hmm?” 

“Mmm, you feel so big.” You coo.

“Nice n’ big for you, sugar.” You can feel that delicious sensation as you descend down his cock, inch by excruciating inch.

He feels so good inside of you, reaching deeper and making you feel so full. You need to come so badly, you can feel it burning through your body with that deep ache rising in your core. 

Jack sits up, licking up the salty skin between your breasts until he finds your lips. Bucking his hips up into you as you pant. You grasp the back of his neck, sweat laden curls sliding like silk through your fingers at his nape as you ride him to reach your peak.

“Fuck, I love watchin' you take it, darlin’,” Jack pants.

He rests back on his elbows just watching you ride, eyes dark and hooded as you throw your head back and greet your orgasm with an intense pitch of moans.  

His neck cranes and jaw clenches as you shudder around him, eyes rolling back in sweet delusion as you rock on his cock buried deep inside your body.

You place your hands on his chest and feel the throng of his heartbeat pulse under your fingertips. He rubs up and down your arms, slipping across your skin with ease.

“I love the feel of your hands all over me.” You whine.

He smirks as he rubs them all over your greased belly, holding that precious life you’ve both created inside of you, the culmination of your love.

“Do whatever ya can to keep that dick tight inside ya, sugar. That’s it. I can feel your pussy grippin’ onto it. Fuck, that feels so good! Keep that cock inside ya. That’s it, ride it. Ride me!” Jack puffs.

“Jack! Shit! I’m coming!”

“Ride through it, darlin’, fuck!” 

It melts it all away in a burst of twinkles and glitter behind your eyelids. That stubborn ache in your spine seems appeased, if but for a few heady moments. Jack’s kisses and hands swamp you, soothing it all away as you grind and ride him, taking it all. 

“You look so fuckin’ beautiful, sugar. Shit… pussy’s all wet n’ soakin’ all over me.”

He reaches down beneath your swollen belly and finds your engorged clit, which he starts to rub and flick with his thumb. It drives you into a frenzy, keening and moaning as you buck on top of him, gasping for air and shaking uncontrollably.

“Oh fuck, darlin’, feels so fuckin’ good… look at you, carrying my baby like that. Gonna put more inside of you. Give you all my babies.” He grunts.

“Jack!” You can feel yourself fleeting, exhaustion creeping in as you struggle to keep yourself up right. 

“Hold on steady, darlin’,” Jack croons as your hands steady themselves on his chest. “I got you. C'mon now, ya got one more in ya. I know you do. Want some of this hot come I got for you, don’t ya? S’all for you, darlin’.”

As you approach your finish, your strength wanes, giving way to exhaustion so Jack holds your hips in place, holding you down on him and rocking his hips. Crushed together, just rubbing and grinding as his cock furrows deep and your pitches rise.

You can barely take it, but it feels so good too as you both move in tandem around sultry, gasping circles.

“Jack, fuck… too good, I need it, I need it-”

“Show me those pretty eyes, that’s it.”

“That feels so good. Oh my God!” You’re gripping him tightly, he can feel it and those grunts of satisfaction start grazing out of him. “I love feeling every inch of you.”

“I love givin’ you every damn inch of me.”

You can feel stream after stream of him explode deep inside of you. 

You can see him tense, the cords in his neck pulse, the flush in his cheeks rise. And a loud grunt escapes him as he lets go. “Ah, yeah, there you go. That’s it darlin’… all for you.”

“Holy fuck, sugar… you're incredible. Look at you, you’re gonna be a mama.” He says in awe as he strokes over your belly. 

You clasp your hands over his, sweaty and slick with oil. “And you’re gonna be a daddy real soon.”

The night is peaceful and still, the ranch enveloped in a serene silence broken only by the occasional rustle of leaves and the distant call of a night bird.

The soft glow of the moon filters through the bedroom window, casting a gentle light across the room where you and Jack lay sleeping.

But a sudden and unfamiliar sensation jolts you from the depths of sleep. You blink, disoriented, before realising with a startle that your water has broken.

The bed is damp beneath you, and a mix of excitement and nervousness surges through you.

“Jack,” you groan urgently, reaching out to shake his shoulder. “Jack, wake up!”

Your heart pounds in your chest. “My water broke. I think the baby’s coming!”

Jack, a deep sleeper after long days of hard work on the ranch, groans softly and turns over on his back.

“Sugar? What’s wrong?” His voice is thick with sleep, but concern is evident.

Those words snap Jack awake instantly. He sits up, his eyes wide and alert in the moonlight. “What? Now?”

“Yes, now!” You reply, a mixture of anxiety and excitement in your voice. “We need to get to the hospital.”

Jack springs into action, all traces of sleep gone. “Okay, okay. Let’s get ya dressed n’ in the truck.” 

He has you in there double time and soon racing off the ranch towards the highway.

“Now, don't ya worry ‘bout a thing, darlin’. Lil’ dill pickle was just stayin’ in there all nice and cosy like.”

“Guess we woke him up.” You chuckle as Jack winks at you. 

“‘Bout time. Are ya feelin' alright? Any pain yet?” Jack asks, turning the wheel.

His other hand is in yours as you squeeze it. The reality of the moment hits you both like a tidal wave, washing over you with a powerful force.

Months of preparation and anticipation have led to this instant, and now, the time has finally come. Your baby is finally on its way.

“It’s a little uncomfortable, yeah,” you reply, taking deep breaths to keep yourself calm.

“You keep breathin’ like them classes taught ya. In through the nose, nice n’ deep like.” He mimics the breathing exercises himself, inhaling in deeply and puffing out like a locomotive, and you can’t help but smile as his cheeks fill with air. 

As you both drive down the highway, the headlights illuminating the way, Jack feels you squeeze his hand tighter as you gasp. 

“We’re gon' be okay. You’re strong, n' we’re gonna meet our baby soon. Hoo boy!”

The drive feels both endless and fleeting as he speeds through the quiet countryside, the dark landscape passing by in a blur. You focus on your breathing, trying to stay calm as the contractions begin to build.

“Oh shit,” you groan. “Jack!” You clutch your belly as you feel a tightening sensation in your abdomen that ebbs and flows with a sharp rhythm of its own.

You breathe through each wave, your eyes fixed on a point in the distance as you focus on managing the pain.

“We’re almost there,” Jack reassures, his voice steady even as he drives a bit faster than usual.

Finally, the hospital comes into view, and Jack pulls up sloppily to the emergency entrance and jumps out, calling for assistance. Within moments, a nurse appears with a wheelchair, helping you into it as Jack parks the truck.

The hospital room, initially bright and hopeful, grows tense as the birth progresses. Your contractions are intense and close together, but despite your best efforts, something doesn’t feel right.

The hospital staff quickly take over, guiding you to a delivery room as your contractions intensify. As the nurses and doctors prepare for the birth, Jack stays close by, never letting go of your hand.

The room buzzes with a hive of activity, but all you can focus on is the fact that soon, you’ll be holding yours and Jack’s baby in your arms.

The doctor’s calm demeanour begins to slip, her eyes reflecting a growing concern.

“We need you to push harder,” the doctor urges, her voice steady, but urgent. “The baby’s heart rate is dropping. We need to get this little one out now, okay?”

Jack tightens his grip on your hand, his voice trembling with worry. “You can do this, sugar. Just a lil’ more. You’re so close.”

You push with all your strength, your body exhausted and your mind foggy with pain and fear. You can see the worry etched on Jack’s face and try to draw strength from his presence, but the fear is overwhelming.

"Push!” The doctor urges you, and you strain pushing and grunting as Jack taps your hand with his other, encouraging you. 

“Push, darlin’, that’s it, ya got it! It’s comin’, our baby’s comin’!”

You cry out, screaming as you push. You squeeze Jack’s hand as hard as you can, and he’s steadfast and resilient, locking his fingers tight inside yours.

He’s looking at your face and admiring your strength right now, even if it’s a face that fucking terrifies him to see you in so much pain.

Your heart pounds in your chest, panic rising. “What’s happening? Jack? Why isn’t the baby crying?”

Finally, with one last, desperate push, the baby is born. But instead of the joyful cry you’d hoped for, there’s an eerie silence.

The doctor quickly takes the baby, working with the nurses to stimulate a response.

Jack’s face is pale, his deep nutmeg eyes wide with fear and staring over where they're all huddled.

“Jack, is the baby okay?” You ask, your voice cracking.

Your heart clenches with fear, when he looks back at you with desperate, watery eyes, and in that moment, a painful memory surfaces. You’re transported back to last summer, recalling Rosie’s stillborn foal.

The silence now feels hauntingly similar to the silence then - the same suffocating quiet that had filled the barn when you both realised the foal would never take its first breath.

Tears stream down your face, your body trembles with exhaustion and fear - Jack stays by your side, his own eyes filling with tears as he watches helplessly as the medical team crowd around your baby. 

"No," you whisper, your voice trembling. "Not again. Please, not again...”

Jack grips your hand so tightly that you can no longer feel it. 

"C’mon, lil dill pickle," he murmurs, desperation lacing his words.

In your memory, you’re back in the barn, the scent of hay and earth filling your senses. You can see Rosie, your beloved mare, standing over the stillborn foal. The mare's mournful neigh echoes in the quiet barn, a haunting sound filled with sorrow and loss. 

The memory of Rosie's cries seem to grow louder, more insistent, and suddenly it isn't just a memory - it’s here, now, mixing with the present. The harrowing sound of the horse's cry merging with another sound - a small, tentative shriek that slowly grows stronger.

You blink, the barn dissolving as the delivery room comes back into focus. The baby's cry, now clear and robust, fills the walls.

Jack’s eyes soften, starting in his eyebrows and continue down to his smile as it becomes a beautiful pink arch on his sun-rough features. A diamond in the scuff of his face. He pulls you close and wraps his strong arms around you tightly in relief as you sob against his chest. 

The crying of the baby rattles you both; both your heads turning to see the tiny, bloodied babe that the doctor has pulled out of you. It’s powerful grizzles stunning you both as she plops it on your chest.

“Well, look at that, our lil dill pickle is a fighter, huh? Just like his mama.” Jack coos as he places a kiss on the side of your head. 

Holding your baby close, you whisper a silent thank you to Rosie, feeling the mare's spirit with you, guiding you through this moment.

The cries of your baby boy fills your heart with a joy so profound it’s almost overwhelming.

Your little boy is a mound of shaky flesh with tiny features and puffy slits for eyes as he cries. He’s perfect and pure. The epitome of what life is all about; re-birth, growth.

His nostrils are two, small pin pricks in his face as he settles into gurgles, and you’re more enamoured and fascinated with him than anything you’ve come across in your life so far.

“You did it, sugar.” Jack praises. He places a kiss on the top of your sweaty crown and squeezes your shoulder affectionately. 

“We did it,” you smile up at him. “God, I love you,” you smile through your tears at Jack and stroke the baby’s head.

“I love you too, sugar.” 

A few weeks after the baby's birth, you feel strong enough to venture out to the stable.

You cradle your tiny son in your arms, feeling the warmth of the late afternoon sun on your back. Jack walks beside you, one arm wrapped protectively around your waist, the other holding the stable door open.

"Hey there, Rosie," you say softly, your voice full of affection. "We've got someone special for you to meet."

As you step inside, the familiar scents of hay and horses envelop you. Rosie, standing in her stall, lifts her head and nickers softly at the sight of you.

Rosie immediately moves closer, her large, gentle eyes focused on the baby in your arms. She sniffs curiously, her warm breath brushing against your son’s tiny face.

"Easy, girl," Jack murmurs, patting Rosie's neck.

You carefully lower the baby so Rosie can get a better look. The mare nuzzles the baby gently, her whiskers tickling his cheek and making him gurgle with a sleepy delight.

Tears fill your eyes as you watch the tender interaction, feeling a deep connection between the past and the present.

"It's like she knows," you whisper to Jack, leaning into him for support. 

Jack nods. His love for his horses knows no bounds. Each one is more than just an animal; they’re his partners, his friends, his companions on the rodeo that he trusts with his life each time he slips into the saddle.

Jack has spent years building these relationships, understanding each horse's unique personality and quirks. In return, they give him their loyalty and affection, a silent promise of unwavering companionship. Through it all, their bonds have only grown stronger, a testament to the unbreakable connection between man and horse.

From the spirited stallions with their fiery eyes, to the gentle mares with their nurturing natures, every horse on the ranch holds a special place in his heart.

There's something almost magical about the bond he shares with these magnificent creatures. They trust him implicitly, responding to his gentle touch and soothing commands.

But Rosie is special, unique, and he can't help but marvel at the beauty and strength of the animal before him, and the bond you share with her in particular. 

“Horses always do, darlin’.” Jack confirms, as he strokes down Rosie’s neck with misty eyes of his own. “They know nothin’ but love.” 

The months following the birth had been a whirlwind.

Sleepless nights, endless bottle feedings, and constant diaper changes had consumed your days and nights. Jack’s rodeo schedule only added to the strain, leaving you to navigate the challenges of new motherhood largely on your own. 

You feel the weight of exhaustion settle into your bones as you breastfeed in the chair by the window in the nursery.

As you watch your child’s tiny chest rise and fall, your mind wanders back to the days when life was simpler, when it was just you and Jack, navigating the ranch and your love for each other - the excitement you both felt at starting a family, which has now waned into chronic exhaustion.

Your muscles feel weaker, your back aches from constantly bending over to pick up the baby, and your hips still feel wide and sore from the birth. You notice every change; the extra weight you carry, the way your clothes fit differently, the persistence of the linea nigra, the dark line running down your abdomen.

Your body still feels foreign. You imagined that once the baby was born, you’d start to feel like yourself again, but that hasn’t been the case.

Your stomach, once flat and toned, is now soft and stretched, the skin marked with zig-zagged lines. Your breasts, swollen and sore from breastfeeding, ache constantly. Even simple movements often leave you feeling fatigued.

The fact that you and Jack haven’t managed so much as a night alone together since the birth, and you can't help but to feel a niggling thought itching at the back of your brain about that. 

Each time you look in the mirror, you see a body that has transformed in ways you hadn’t anticipated. You gently touch your belly, feeling the residual softness now it’s flatter, but seems saggier somehow, and remember the kicks and movements of the baby growing inside you.

Despite your love for your son, you struggle with creeping feelings of inadequacy that try to rear their ugly head. The constant fatigue and physical discomfort takes a heavy toll on your emotions. There are times you often feel disconnected, not just from yourself, but sometimes even from the baby.

Your gaze fixates on the pastel patterned wallpaper in the nursery, the delicate flowers blurring into a wash of colour. Your body moves automatically, the rhythm ingrained from countless nights of the same routine now, but your mind floats elsewhere.

Hearing his screeching cries freezes you as you zone out, a sharp, insistent sound that soon ebbs away into white noise. The sound of the baby’s cries become a dull roar in your ears, the pitch and volume blending into a monotonous drone.

You can feel the vibrations of each cry reverberate through your body, but it seems to come from far away. As the cries grow louder, you feel yourself slipping away, your mind retreating to a place where the noise can’t reach you.

You think of the days before the baby, when your life had been filled with the simple, predictable rhythms of the ranch. You remember the freedom of riding Rosie through the open fields, the wind in your hair and the sun on your face. 

Those moments feel like a lifetime ago, almost as if they belong to someone else and you feel wretched for even thinking of some minute speck of freedom.

The weight of your exhaustion presses down on you, your muscles ache from the constant strain of holding and soothing the baby. Your arms feel heavy, your back throbs, and your eyes burn with unshed tears.

The baby’s cries begin to soften, gradually tapering off into hiccuping sobs and you feel yourself being pulled back to the present, your awareness and guilt slowly sharpening.

The world outside the nursery fades away, leaving you in a cocoon of daunting silence. You’re vaguely aware of the baby’s tiny fists waving in the air, succumbing to closing your eyes, letting yourself drift further into the quiet place in your mind.

It’s a moment of surrender, a brief escape from the relentless demands of motherhood. In that stillness, you find a flicker of peace, a small respite from the overwhelming noise and exhaustion.

You look down at your son, whose tear-streaked face is beginning to relax. The sight brings a wave of love and tenderness that cuts through your fatigue. Despite the exhaustion, the worry, and the disconnection, there's a deep, unbreakable bond between you and your child and a love that transcends anything.

You know now what they mean about that motherly protective instinct, you feel it like fire in your blood. 

Shushing the baby in your arms, you catch sight of yourself in the mirror. Prodding thoughts of worry about your relationship with Jack slip through the cracks.

There had been moments, a brief cuddle in bed before he was snoring into your shoulder, a kiss in the shower before the baby cried and you both slipped around each other clumsily to tend to him. 

You wonder if he still finds you attractive, if he notices the changes in your body as much as you do. You fret over the intimate details, like how childbirth has changed you physically.

What if he doesn’t find me attractive anymore?

You wonder if Jack misses you as much as you miss the feel of him against your skin. Miss how his arms cradle you tight, how his lips feel brushing against yours.

Miss how deep his cock feels when he fills you up. 

“What? Where?”

One evening, as the sun dips below the horizon, casting a warm glow over the ranch, Jack approaches you with a twinkle in his dark eyes.

“Come with me, darlin’.” 

He pulls you along with his hands and all the way outside. 

“Jack, we can’t leave the baby-” 

You’re cut off by a figure walking towards the ranch and smiling, and recognizing it as Phyllis, one of the stable hands and a long time friend of you both.

“Dontcha’ worry ‘bout a thing, darlin’. We’ve got the night off.” Jack says, as he winks at Phyllis who heads inside. 

Jack grins. “You’ll see.”

Your eyes widen in surprise, a smile tugging at the corners of your lips as Jack holds the passenger side door open to his truck for you.

“Where are we going, cowboy?”

As you settle down beside him, you look around, taking in the beauty of the spot Jack has chosen. The tranquillity of the moment washes over you, easing some of the tension that has built up over the past few months. 

He drives to a secluded spot on the other side of the ranch across a few acres; a grassy knoll overlooking the rolling hills that’s bathed in the golden light of the setting sun.

Jack spreads out a plaid blanket and unpacks a wicker basket filled with your favourite foods.

You look down at the bottle as he pours out a glass for you, and smile. 

“That isn’t moonshine, is it?”

Jack hands you the glass, his eyes filled with warmth. “Shit, I wish.” 

“Well, ya needed a break. I know I ain’t been around much to help. Season’s winding down now, n' I promise I’ll pick up the slack with daddy duty.” 

Your heart swells with gratitude and love as you take in the moments of peace and relaxation.

“Jack, this is amazing.”

“I’m so lucky to have you.” You smile. You reach forward and run the curls behind his ears through your fingers. 

“Not as lucky as me.” He takes your hand and kisses over the knuckles. “I’ve missed you, sugar.” He says, his voice a low rumble that sends a thrill through your entire being.

“I’ve missed you too, cowboy. You know, you’re staring at me something hot there.” You say as you notice his eyes dark and burning into you. 

Jack chuckles, his eyes twinkling. "Can't blame a man for admirin’ his beautiful wife, can ya?"

You baulk. “You… still think I’m beautiful?”

“Darlin’, I never stopped thinkin’ it. C’mere.”

You feel your heart flutter at his words, a warmth filling you up as he pulls you into his arms. Those deep, soulful browns holding a warmth and intensity in them that makes you feel seen. Jack’s gaze is magnetic, falling into a depth of affection and desire that never fails to send shivers down your spine in a delicious way.

He looks at you as if you’re the most beautiful sight he’s ever seen as his eyes trace your features with a slow, appreciative sweep. You watch as he licks his lip, tongue gliding slowly over the bottom cerise one as he takes you in and it makes you clench. 

Despite the exhaustion and the constant demands of your new life as parents, Jack’s look and the way he's biting his lip right now can still ignite a fire within you.

“So fuckin’ beautiful.” He leans in and kisses your neck. 

"Smooth talker," you tease with a sigh. 

You inhale the scent of him and it makes your mouth water. A blend of earthy, rugged aromas that speak of his days spent working under the open sky. The smell of fresh hay and leather, mingling with the subtle hint of sweat from a day's hard labour.

A trace of the rich, loamy soil from the fields, a woodsy fragrance with notes of cedar and sandalwood, grounding and comforting; a scent that’s distinctly Jack - warm, strong, and reassuring.

Jack grins unabashedly, purring into your ear. "Guilty as charged.” 

The heat of his body against yours is intoxicating, a heady mix of comfort and desire. You feel your own body responding, your breath quickening and your skin tingling with anticipation.

You feel his hands slide down your back and grope your ass tightly, making you gasp and smirk as he presses you into his hardening bulge.

He lays back with you on the blanket pulling you over him.

"How’s my lady doin’?" He asks, his voice slipping over you like smooth caramel. "You feelin' good?"

“Really good,” you whimper as he runs his tongue across your throat, up your jaw and finds your mouth and you’re gone, completely surrendered to him. 

“Good. Now, how ‘bout you gimme some of that sweet, sweet sugar, mama." Jack smirks. 

I really hope you enjoyed reading this story with Jack, and welcome your comments/thoughts. I'd appreciate a re-blog if you liked it so others can find it on their dash to read and enjoy too - thank you very much! 🖤

BODIES MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

AGENT WHISKEY MASTERLIST

[phoward89]

Based on this ask

Obsessed!Coriolanus Snow x Innocent!Reader, Obsessed!Crassus Snow x Innocent!Reader

WARNING ⚠️ Coriolanus Snow is a warning in and of itself. Cussing, obsession, older man/younger woman, father & son both want the same girl, reader is just too sweet for this world and has no idea that the men in the Snow family are toxic...

Masterlist

Part 1:

You've known Coriolanus Snow and his family ever since you were a little girl. When the war started, you were about 5, and Crassus, Coriolanus' father, helped you, your mother, and your brother get smuggled into the Capitol as a favor to your father, a Colonel who served under him in District 12 while he was a General; the Commander.

Sadly your father, Colonel Javanis Halvir, didn't survive the war. Tragically, Coriolanus' mother died during the first bombing strike on Capitol City. She died in the birthing bed, weeks before she was due, because the bombing had triggered off her labor. Coriolanus' little sister died too. Was stillborn.

But since your families knew one another and lived in the same building they huddled together during the war. Your mother wasn't too thrilled about having to receive help from Grandma’am Snow and a seedy neighbor that owned a nightclub, but she dealt with it in order to survive and protect her children: you and your older brother.

General Crassus Snow barely made it out of the war alive. He was nearly killed in the woods outside of 12. But, alas, he survived and returned home to Capitol City, Panem a war hero. He also came back with a heavily lined pocket although District 13 was destroyed and that's where all of his assets, factories, and science labs were located.

Your mother told you and your brother that Crassus was a cold, cunning, calculating man and that she's positive that he somehow brokered a deal to get paid for the loss of his assets.

What nobody knows, except for the higher powers that be of course, is that Crassus still has his factories and labs in District 13. They're nuclear weapons factories and, since 13 went underground as an independent nation via a hush hush backroom midnight deal between the leader of 13 and Panem's President Ravenstill, a deal that went into effect before the Districts surrender and the signing of the Treaty of Treason. Crassus is a black market arms dealer. He sells his nucs to neighboring countries. Countries that include Canada (yes, they never changed their name after the wars and natural disasters that drastically changed the geography of the world) and a small coalition of old world Eastern European countries that survived the rising sea levels that had eradicated some island countries and shoreline countries of old world Europe.

Crassus Snow takes a lot of out of town business trips to broker illegal arms deals between the underground District 13 and the countries that he's constructed alliances with. General Crassus Snow had no loyalties to Panem any more; his only loyalties were to himself and his family. He also had a sliver of a sense of honor when it came to his old comrade’s family and felt the need to watch over your family: the Halvir family.

But after being shot by rebels, left for dead in the woods, and barely being able to survive long enough to trek back to the PK Base D-12’s hospital, General Crassus Snow truly lost faith in the country that he was supposed to serve proudly. But did he ever truly have faith in Panem as a country since he was in the woods, sneaking like a thief in the night, to get to District 13 to check his assets and his alliances there?

Snow lands on top; Crassus was playing both sides of the war to ensure that his family came out winners. And then when his contacts in District 13 told him of the deal between the President and the Commander of 13, well…General Snow's career as an arms dealer was born.

It paid well and kept the Snow family living high off the hog. Crassus also supported your family with his endless money, much to your mother's dismay.

Your mother couldn't stand Crassus, out on a polite face for Grandma'am Snow, felt sorry for Tigris, and cringed with how you and Coriolanus were the best of friends.

And you remained best friends with Coriolanus Snow as the two of you grew up side by side. You always viewed the friendship as platonic, but a teenaged Coriolanus viewed it as more. He developed a crush on you that quickly turned into a dark, possessive obsession.

But Coriolanus was certain that what he felt for you was love.

And when it came to his father, who he was the spitting image of with the same tall, sinewy build, platinum blonde curls, striking icy blue eyes, chiseled jawline, and prominent nose, well…Crassus Snow had an obsession with you as well. But his obsession was rooted in a darker place than his son's.

The esteemed war here General Crassus Snow has a sick obsession with you because you favor your mother. And, well, when Crassus was a young grunt in 12, serving in the Peacekeepers under his father Xanthos who was the Commander of 12 at that time, he fell for your mother, but she didn't reciprocate his feelings. Instead she fell in love with his friend, Javanis Halvir. Thus the reason you and your older brother were born to Colonel Halvir and Mrs. Halvir.

Feeling jilted and betrayed by the object of his affection and obsession not loving him back, Crassus became a cold, cruel, cold, calculating, and cunning man. He put on his charming smile and wooed a young, pretty, naive girl from Capitol City. Demeter: Coriolanus’ mother.

But he never got over your mother, despite her hating him as the years went on. So you looking just like her once you hit your teenage years has Crassus falling down the rabbit hole into dark obsessive head spaces.

So, unknown to you, your platonic relationships with the men in the Snow family are anything, but that in their eyes. And they don't even know that the other has an obsession with you.

You know what they say…like father, like son.

It's mid-May of your senior year at the Academy and you're so ready for the school year to end. You can't wait for graduation and for summer break. You also can't wait for the opportunity to spend your summer break hanging out with your best friend, Coryo.

Coriolanus Snow.

But you call him Coryo. Always have, always will.

But in the meantime you spend your weekends at the Snow penthouse; you also go home with him after school a couple of days during the week- much to your mother's dismay.

And this afternoon’s one of those days where you go home with Coryo after school.

“You're staying for dinner tonight, darling. The cook’s making your absolute favorite and I'd hate for you to miss out on it.” Coryo told you on the elevator ride up to the 12th floor of your Corso building.

The elevator had been broken for a few years, but after General Snow slapped some money at the apartment building association maintenance fixed the elevator and Grandma'am Snow was able to leave the penthouse and go out into the world with the help of a can instead of being kept locked up inside like a recluse.

“I hope you didn't ask the cook to make my favorite meal just to get me to stay for dinner.”

“Of course not. They plan the menu, not me.” Coryo tells you, a lopsided lipped smile on his face.

What neither of you knew was that Coryo's father, Crassus, and told (more so demanded) that the cook make your favorite meal. He knew that you'd be easier to sway to eat dinner with him and his family if the smell of your favorite dish was wafting in the air as you hung out with his son in his room.

And that was something Crassus was going to be putting a stop to. He can't have you spending so much time alone in Coriolanus' bedroom. What if the two of you start to become curious about- things…

Ugh, Crassus can't imagine you with his son. He thinks Coriolanus is a sassy, whinny, bratty, weakling of an heir. Too bad he couldn't toughen that boy up; too bad he's too much like his mother. Has too much good in him, can be easily pushed and pulled by a pretty face and the promise of love.

Crassus would prefer it if Coriolanus was more like him. More cold, more cunning, more calculated, and didn't wear his feelings on his damn sleeves.

Anyways…

The elevator stops and the doors ding open, revealing the hallway of the 12th floor. A floor that was solely inhabited by the mighty Snow family. They had the upper level penthouse that took the entire floor. It was quite impressive. You love it, but your mother hates it.

And talk about your mother…

“I know you want me to stay for dinner, Coryo, but I really shouldn't. My mother's been getting on me lately about how much time I spend up here with you.” You tell the boy with the light golden curls as the two of you exit the elevator.

“Your mother needs to take a chill pill. You're my girl, darling. It's completely normal to be spending all of your free time up here.” Coryo tells you while leading you over to the front door of his penthouse, palm of his hand resting lazily on the small of your back.

“I know, Coryo, but my mother hates that we're besties and she wants me to meet new people.”

“Meet new people?” Coryo scoffed, brows furrowed in disdain, as he opened the door to his place. “There's nobody new in Capitol City our age to meet, darling. Not unless you go to the mission in the slums by the rail station and start introducing yourself to those District immigrants that conned their way into our grand Capitol.” The cerulean eyes boy told you while ushering you into his penthouse and down the entrance hallway.

Coriolanus was personally offended by your mother. How dare she tell you to meet new people? You belong to him. You're his girl.

HIS GIRL!

HIS!

Coriolanus was good at schooling his features, considering he's been doing it his entire life to keep from letting his father know how bad his harsh and hateful words affected him, so you didn't catch onto how upset he was with your mother. No, you thought he was fine. As cool as a cucumber as he led you past the kitchen, where the cook was starting on dinner, and into the main room of the penthouse to acknowledge Grandma’am, who's always sitting in her favorite chair watching her soaps on CapitolTV during this time of the late afternoon.

“Oh, Coriolanus, you're home and I see you brought Y/N over to visit with you.” Grandma'am Snow, who was dressed to the nines in her jeweled turbin, silk tunic, extravagant jeweled brooch, and long strand of pearls. She was the epitome of Old Guard aristocratic lady of fineries and class.

“Yes, Grandma'am I'm home and my darling’s staying for dinner tonight.” Coriolanus smiles at his grandmother.

Coryo silently nudges you forward to give Grandma'am a hug while greeting her. It's something you've done you years and he doesn't want you to stop doing it either since his Grandma’am adores you.

If only Grandma'am could persuade his father that you're a good match for him. The old lady gets it, why can't his father get it? You and Coriolanus belong together; make quite the pair.

But if the platinum haired boy with a halo of curls on his head only knew that he wasn't the only one obsessed and lusting after you- well…

“Good afternoon, Grandma'am. It's so good to see you.” You smile sweetly, hugging the regal old woman that you've come to love and think of as your own grandmother over the years.

“It's also so good to see you too, my dear.” Grandma'am replies, patting your back as she reciprocates the hug. “Has our Coriolanus asked you to the prom yet?” She inquired, as a way to push you and her grandson together, your hug broke apart.

“Not officially, but we have an understanding that we'll be going together since we go to all of the galas, balls, and dances together.” You tell Grandma’am while returning to Coryo's side.

Coryo’s fiddling with the strap of his satchel, that's currently across his chest, as he awaits Grandma'am’s reply. Or, a lecture aimed at him to properly ask you. A lecture she's been giving him daily since the beginning of the month.

And sure as shit, Coriolanus gets his prom lecture.

Grandma'am looks at her grandson, who's his father's spitting image, and firmly tell him, “Coriolanus, properly ask her. You're a Snow and as a Snow doesn't assume things, but makes them happen.” Cutting her eyes at her only grandchild, she orders in a grandmotherly way, “Now, properly as her as your prom date before somebody else tries to snatch her up from you.”

You felt a bit awkward. Grandma'am’s lecture was something you felt she should've given Coryo in private, not while you're by his side. It wasn't meant for your ears, or at least you don't think it was.

Coriolanus’ lips draw taunt into a tight line as he tells his grandmother, “Yes, Grandma'am.” He half nods at her before turning to you. Giving you a smile that shows too many teeth, like a wolf baring its fangs before its prey, he takes your hands in his and asks, “Y/N, my darling rose, will you do me the honor of going to prom with me?”

It felt more like a marriage proposal than a promposal. Aren't promposals supposed to be fun and exciting with songs, dances, and glittery handmade poster boards? Not so serious. Right?

Right?

You're already going to prom with Coryo, but since you've been out on the spot with a promposal you have to formally accept. All thanks to Grandma'am.

“Of course I'll go to prom with you, Coryo.” You answered your best friend, causing his icy eyes to sparkle with joy.

It all felt so surreal. A bit heavy too. Honestly, it felt like you were agreeing to give your best friend your hand in marriage right in front of his regal grandmother then agreeing to go to prom.

Unknown to you, you accepting Coryo's proposal was, in fact, you agreeing to a future marriage to him in the delusional minds of both Coriolanus and Grandma’am.

Mhm…

You just signed your freedom away by saying yes to prom and you don't even know it, all because you view your relationship as platonic. Too bad the platinum blonde boy with baby blue eyes and his sophisticated grandma view the relationship as something more.

Coryo's father, Crassus, also views your relationship with his son as platonic. But that's for an entirely different reason; one that would make you gasp from shock if you knew.

After making Grandma’am Snow the happiest lady alive in Capitol City by accepting Coryo's proposal, you went to his bedroom to do homework with him. And when your class assignments were done, you two just laid on his bed while listening to music.

It was a new album that Coryo had to get the neighbor, Pluribus Bell, to smuggle to him because Crassus refused to give his son the money for the album. In fact the former General turned Minister of National Security, and black market arms dealer, hates the music you and his son listens to. Crassus is more of a classical music and soft jazz type, so he hates the poetic lyrics and the vibe of the beats of the alternative indie and pop you and Coryo enjoy so much.

The album was on its second playback while you cuddled into Coryo's side. His large, but lanky frame always made you feel so safe. So protected. And, your best friend's lanky, he does have solid muscles under his skin.

Having you tucked into his side while lying on his bed listening to the new album that an artist the both of you loves just dropped is like being in heaven for Coriolanus. Growing up the platinum blonde boy with a head full of soft curls and striking baby blue eyes always had you by his side. You're his one constant. No matter what, you're always there for him.

It's what makes Coryo crave you like Dean Casca Highbottom craves his morphling fix every 15 minutes. You always being there for him, being by his side for better or worse during your childhood friendship, is what caused him to grow obsessively in love with you.

But the problem is, in his delusional mind, Coriolanus thinks that you're in love with him too. All because of how you're always letting him cuddle you, hug you, and touch you. Letting him call you darling while you often call him ‘my Coryo' while talking about him to others also has him thinking that your feelings for him mirrors the ones he has for you.

You and Coryo are talking about small things, silly things really, whenever the bedroom door opens with a loud band followed by the deep bellowing of Crassus Snow. “Why're you two alone in here listening to this trash?”

“She's not a trashy singer, father. She's one of the best.” Coriolanus retorted, causing his imposing and stern father to fill his icy eyes at him. “Y/N and I were doing homework and decided to listen to some music afterwards.” Your best friend added in, to answer his father's stupid question about why you're in his room.

“General Snow, if me being alone in Coryo's room with him gets him in trouble with you then I'm sorry; I'll just go.” You apologized to the Snow patriarch while making to pull away from Coryo and sit up.

But your best friend wouldn't let you leave his side. No. Actually, his hold around you tightened.

And that made Crassus pissed. His sniveling brat of a son didn't deserve you. You deserved a real man to care for you; to guide you on your journey of womanhood.

Crassus felt that he's the Snow for you. The only man that can mold you into the perfect Capitolite lady you're meant to be. And when he successfully gets rid of old President Ravenstill and wins the next presidential election, well, he plans on making you his wife and his First Lady.

Whether you like it or not.

With a devious smirk painting his lips, the middle-aged man with slicked back platinum blonde hair and cold, hard, bitter icy eyes tells you, “Please, call me Crassus. After all, petal, with as much time as you spend here you're practically a part of the family.”

General Snow's remark went right over your head. You just nodded and simply said, “Okay.”

You honestly didn't think anything of it. If General Snow wanted you to call him Crassus because of all the time you spent around his son, Coriolanus, then so be it.

But Coryo knew that his father had just become, as fucked up as it sounds, his romantic rival for you. As soon as he heard him call you petal he knew, oh he just knew, that his father's lusting after you.

Coriolanus is his father's son after all. Despite being told time and time again by Crassus that he's too much like his mother, too soft and eager for affection- for love. But what Crassus didn't grasp was that Coriolanus didn't just have his father's looks, but his dark tendencies for obsession and over ‘loving’ his intended lover.

And the son just knew that his father was head over heels obsessed with you because, in fact, he was too. Coriolanus saw the way his father looked at you, as if you're a piece of meat ready to be carved and served, and it disgusts him. You belong to the younger Snow, not the older one.

Giving Crassus a cutting look with his icy eyes, Coriolanus announced in a smug baritone, “Father, my darling rose is going to prom with me as my date.” And then he twisted the knife in his father's black, soulless heart by adding in the three simple but damning words of, “As my girl.”

Crassus’ face turned to stone. Of course, you'd agree to go to prom with Coriolanus. The former general's seething with jealousy. He wants you, why does his son get to take you to prom? Ugh, why can't you just go to prom with a group of girls? Go stag, like single girls do. But no…

NO!

You just have to go to prom with Coriolanus. And as his girl too!

Crassus' blood is boiling in his veins. Hearing Coriolanus reveal that he’s made you his girl and is taking you to prom makes him want to tear his son apart limb by limb.

Well, he needs to nip that in the bud.

Perhaps he'll talk to his old, estranged friend Dean Casca Highbottom about being a chaperone at the prom. That way he can keep an eye on you, socialize with you, and keep you from spending the night dancing with his son.

Dancing at prom can lead to other things in hotel rooms after prom. Things that Crassus certainly doesn't want you doing with Coriolanus.

Although Crassus is having an internal meltdown, his appearance stays stern and calm. “I'll make sure your mother has enough money to take you dress shopping.” The middle-aged platinum blonde man assured you.

Cocking his head to the side, Crassus flashes you a savvy smile before looking at his son and giving him a look that rivaled that of Medusa herself. “This door stays open while you two are in here. Only one of you can be on the bed and the other must be at the desk.” Crassus instructed in a stern, authoritarian baritone. “And turn off this music. It's giving me a headache.” He adds in an ordering snap before pivoting on his heel and matching off.

Shaking his head, Coriolanus darkly chuckled, “My father's so pathetic. Having a crush on you.”

“He doesn't have a crush on me, Coryo.” You’re quick to tell your beat friend, writing off his remark as you break your contact with him by sitting up. “He's your father and he's old enough to be mine.” You remind Coryo while making to get off the bed.

Coryo stops you by reaching out and wrapping his hand around your arm. “Just stay on the bed with me. Father’ll never know.” He tells you as you look at him, worrying your lip. But after a few moments, you slowly nod your head and take up your spot nestled into his side once again. “And trust me, from the way he was looking at you, my father likes you.”

“I don't think he does, but if you say so…” You sigh, letting your sentence hang in the air.

But Coryo's right, his father does like you. He likes you a little too much. Just like how his son, your best friend, likes you a little too much.

The million dollar ticket is who’ll snag you up and make you theirs? That's a question only the ancient gods of old know and they're not sharing the answer until the time's right. But until then, father and son will be competing for your heart. A heart that you can only give to one Snow.

Tags: @kuroosbby001 @purriteen @poppyflower-22 @meetmeatyourworst @whipwhoops @bxtchopolis @readingthingsonhere @savagenctzen @ryswritingrecord @erikasurfer @tulips2715 @universal-s1ut @thesmutconnoisseur @squidscottjeans @sudek4l @wearemadeofstardust0 @mashiromochi @gracieroxzy @belcalis9503 @shari-berri @aoi-targaryen @whiteoakoak @spear-bearing-bi-witch @gisellesprettylies @loverandqueenofdragons @qoopeeya @mfnqueen1 @permanentlyexhaustedpigeon88 @v-love @swiftieblyth @joyfulyouthlover @harvey-malfoy @chxrrybomb22 @marvel-hiddles-stark @xjinnix @devils-blackrose @zombicupcake3 @jacesvelaryons @tempt-ress

[snowprincesa1]

{A Fool of A Brother (2/2)}

//Grown!Daemon x Grown!F!Arryn!Reader//

Summary: Daemon just cannot bring himself to let you go

[Trigger warnings‼️ contains NSFW and Daemon]

Daemon insisted that your presence was necessary in kingslanding, stating that it would be good for the Queen’s health.

“It would be excellent for her marriage prospects as well” Daemon said to king Viserys in the comfort of his bedchamber where he sculpted listening to his brother trying to convince him to keep you in the red keep them send you back.

“Daemon, Do you like the girl?” He asked aiming straight for the head. Daemon stayed quiet not knowing what to say or admit

“No. She’s far too different from me, we clash at every corner” he sighed. He later said it would be best to keep you by the queen’s side instead of rotting in the Vale with the painfully dry Vale men. Daemon had somehow managed to stall his marriage to Rhea Royce for even longer keeping the ‘bronze bitch’ in the vale single and unwed.

Daemon had grown much more taller whereas you remained the same height, he grew from a lean teenager to a muscled prince, now when Daemon takes you on walks with your hand resting on his arm you swear you feel muscle and it sends a shameful shiver of lust down your spine. Were you so easily swayed by a man who was both lean and had some muscle? You shook away thoughts of him. You remained relatively the same, gaining more of a womanly figure if anything. You still wore a light veil over the back of your hair with a jewelled headband at the front. You grew quite popular amongst the lords and ladies being unwed you had many eyes on you. You spent your days reading, praying, embroidering and talking with the ladies and being in the company of your sister. The red keep felt like home.

You were praying in a Sept finding a minute of peace when you heard familiar foot steps, you didn’t have to look back to tell who it is “Daemon, go away” You said your hands still clasped together as you tried to concentrate on your prayer. “Are you praying again?” He asked, Was it not obvious? You opened your eyes to send him a glare to which he responded with a cheeky smile. Her sat beside you watching you pray “are you done now?” He asked impatiently. You couldn’t pray with daemon breathing down your neck.

“What is it?” You snapped in irritation, Daemon remained unphased. “I have something for you” you groaned in response “If it is a toad again I will kill you”

“Threatening to murder the commander of the city watch and the prince of the seven kingdoms. You could never change” He smirked “You’re like a tree forever stuck in one spot until someone uproots you”

“If i am not mistaken a tree symbolises qualities like wisdom and stability” You retorted

“None of which you have” he quickly added before smiling smugly “turn around for me” He instructed. You hesitantly turned your back to him when you heard the sound of metal and suddenly felt cold steel at the base of your neck. “Valyrian steel” you gasped looking at the necklace “where did you get this—“

“I had it made for you. I cannot bear to see your neck so bare” he sighed dramatically. Oh yes, another aspect of daemon which came unexpectedly was his protectiveness over you. If your wore anything revealing he would keep an eye out for the lords, the guards, everyone! “You are the pervert, Daemon” You would laugh. He would accompany you everywhere if possible much to your annoyance. If you headed out? He would send his finest guard’s or accompany you himself to the seamstress,,, he said it was his duty as he was the one who took you from the sulking weather of the Vale, which you so happened to miss fondly.

You stayed in kingslanding for about six whole years, now a woman of twenty two and you somehow missed the Vale like a child, you missed your half brother Elys and the rest of your friends there. Your sister Aemma was going through hell losing babies over and over and giving birth to stillborns. You begged Viserys to let Aemma be but he said having a male heir is the duty of the king. Rhaenyra was growing up nicely, she being absolutely fond of you. The hand’s daughter Alicent visited the red keep as well, the two girls often following your trail and copying your mannerisms. Especially Alicent, who was also a devout follower of the faith.

Daemon was..Daemon, he carried out his commander duties brutally maiming almost half the city in a span of single night. Of course it was only the ones deserving of punishment who were tortured, Daemon had single-handedly lessened the crimes in Kings landing. He preferred to spend his night sleeping around with whores in the streets of silk. Daemon’s taste was peculiar, before he had met you he always preferred women with silver Valyrian hair. One night he saw a consort who had the same colour of your hair, not quite the same texture but the thought of you as bare as her sent blood rushing to his lower half. He shamelessly ended up fucking the woman from the back imagining your moans and cries instead of hers. He came with your name on his lips. It wasn’t the same, he wanted to know what you felt like, whether you would be a brat or submissive. Mysaria ended up dying her hair the same colour as yours for Daemon but nothing worked she could never get the prince to look away from you.

Daemon tried so hard to seduce you. His failed attempts were pitiful, you were dead set on following the proper traditions that is sharing a bed with a husband. Daemon could not understand how you managed to push him away? When thoughts of you had stayed in his mind throughout all his days and it was driving him mad. For some reason one day he ended up ‘hugging’ you from behind, in all honesty it was a tackle to annoy you. His head buried in your neck as he tried to keep you still and stop you from whatever the hell you were doing. The scent of you was too much for him, too sweet, now he knew what you smelt like upclose and he wanted more. The prince practically rushed out of the room to deal with his growing ‘problem’ that would keep him occupied for the rest of the day. Your relationship with Daemon was weird, you fought like cats and dogs but yet there’s no one else you would rather spend your time with. Hell you even missed him when he went away. Whenever Viserys was mad at Daemon you would put in a word and calm him down, it was very odd how soft you had grown for Daemon. And Aemma and viserys were not blind to it. Daemon would attend dinners you did and sit by your side, ‘accidentally’ grazing your hands reaching for a dish or passing you the wine. It was driving you insane, these little touches his rough hand gently touching yours, you were not blind to how handsome he had grown. The Gods would have to forgive you for lusting over a betrothed man.

The temptation Daemon posed over you, like a hanging fruit in sight but out of reach for you. He was doing it on purpose you knew, you weren’t daft but God did it work. You started growing jealous about the fact that Daemon spent his nights in brothels, complaining about how it wasn’t right and princely but deep down you were just bitter with jealousy.

Daemon always believed that he was immune to jealousy delusional but that was proved wrong for Rhaenyra’s seventh name day. It was decided that a tourney be held for the Realm’s Delight. Rhaenyra was a mischievous one, often teasing her uncle with you regardless of the lords and ladies in her presence and that set off even more rumours about the two of you, but no one dare say anything to you fearing the rage of Daemon and Caraxes.

You knew daemon was to participate for the tourney so you didn’t bother searching for him in the morning. He was undoubtedly practicing and you didn’t want to disturb him. You were to sit next to your sister Aemma but you suddenly saw a familiar face from the Vale, lords of the Vale had come to participate and bet on the winners. You looked at your sister in delight, it was she who planned this for you because she knew how much you had missed the Vale. You took your seat next to a minor Vale lord talking to him and catching up on all that had happened.

Daemon was watching from the stands as the squire put on his night black Targaryen armour. He looked to see you looking so beautiful in a light purple gown, looking so radiant in the sunlight and then he saw the disgusting man next to you and he saw red. Rhaenyra didn’t help either, she was visibly mocking Daemon motioning kissing signs between you and the lord enraging him even more. He knew you were unwed, he hoped you would not fall for some unknown lord of the Vale.

“You should come back to the Vale, you have spent far too much time here in kingslanding” your friend Gerald said

“I suppose that is true..almost seven years” you muttered “but I’ve been happy” you said looking at Daemon who was getting on his horse.

“You are a maiden of twenty two and still unwed, you should start living for yourself instead of just tending to the Royal family, I’m not saying it’s necessary to marry to be happy..but think of the long run” he said, Gerald cared for you and did not wish for you to be a spinster.

“I know Gerald” you sighed

“You have been waiting for him..but he is betrothed, to another” he said “come back to the Vale perhaps then you could come back to your senses” he said.

“What— prince Daemon? For the last time there is absolutely nothing going on—”

“That I know, and that is the problem. He’s not yours and you’re here all doe eyed waiting for him” you felt all the fire in your soul dampen at his words, the hopes and delusions you had been clinging onto desperately being pulled from beneath you “I did not mean to upset you”

“I’m not upset” you said blinking away tears. Perhaps Gerald was right..you certainly didn’t want him to be. You missed the Vale, a quick trip wouldn’t hurt. It would be rid of Daemon and you can think for yourself and come to your senses just like Gerald said.

“Gerald can I ask you for a favour?” You asked leaning in to tell him something to which he willingly agreed to.

Rhaenyra yelled something in high Valyrian mocking Daemon that made ser Harold have to gently escort her away from the stands. Away from the already fuming prince. What were you saying to that lord? He was upset with the lord and he was upset with you. He decided to get revenge he knew you would expect him to ask you for your favour like he did in the other tourneys but he decided to play with you a little. When riding his horse his lance stopped before you almost as though asking you for your favour, you were about to stand to give him it— when he suddenly tilted the lance towards another woman. The woman blushing gave him her favour willingly. Daemon’s looked at you smirking all the while as he felt as though he had the upper hand. Your face was a mixture of shock and jealousy.

Gerald leaned in “I told you” he said before your face completely fell in sadness. You looked away from daemon. Daemon should have relished seeing you upset like he did at that moment, but instead it tore him up in the inside. It was too late now, he would have to apologise for this he knew. Lord Gerald spent the rest of the tourney cheering you up and you even ended up giving your favour to a lord from the Vale itself, but of course he was upstaged by daemon’s battle skill. Daemon felt like he had lost seeing as to how you ignored him. When the tourney ended Daemon had won. He raised his lance in the air listening to the claps of the audience. He turned to look at you but saw that your seat was empty. You were now sitting back next to your sister telling her something, Aemma looked upset but seemed to agree nonetheless. The feast would be a perfect opportunity to try and make up for what he’d done, perhaps he could kiss your hurt better, he fantasised for himself as the squire took off his armour. How would your lips feel on his?. God forbid he sees you with that lord, he’d probably pull you away there and then and take you somewhere more private where just the two of you could spend time..but then again you’d never allow it. Daemon was surprisingly introverted, only ever trusting a few of his guards and his family and never bothered to converse with anyone else. You on the other hand though reserved, loved making conversation and talking to all the people. He thought more about you, a part of him felt smug over the fact that you were upset that he didn’t ask for your favour. Perhaps instead of apologising…he should tease you. Yes that would be much more preferable.

Daemon arrived late to the banquet, nothing unusual making his way into the hall stealing the attention from Viserys as usual. Rhaenyra was busy eating the lemon cakes, Daemon looked around he didn’t see you— anywhere for that matter? Were you so upset you were crying in your bedchambers? He should go see you and kiss your tears away if you let him of course.

He didn’t want to ask Viserys where you were, as the king already had doubts that he bore affections for you and he wanted to avoid providing his older brother more information on how he feels for you. Daemon slid his way to the dessert section where little Rhaenyra was, Rhaenyra looked up at her uncle with a smirk.

“Where is she?” He asked folding his arms

“With lord Gerar- Gerarld” she completely destroyed his name as she put a spoonful of cake in her mouth. Daemon couldn’t believe what this had come to, getting teased and mocked by his niece. He sends her a glare before taking the plate from little Rhaenyra as his pitiful sort of revenge. “That’s mine!” Rhaenyra yelled as he walked away.

He looked around to see Aemma and Viserys give him a look for taking a plate of cake from their seven year old daughter. She deserved it, he thought. He took a piece of cake eating it as he walked to his brother.

“Where’s the lady Arryn, she’s late” he said “I think you should let me discipline her for her tardiness..it’s unfitting for a lady like her” he said pulling a chair next to the married couple who he third wheeled. The Gods, Viserys and Aemma just wanted him to marry and go away at this point.

“Lady Arryn? I have no idea” Viserys said “and no you will assort no punishment of any sort” he said

Daemon looked to Queen Aemma who averted her gaze somewhere else “you know something regarding this, my queen?” He asked leaning on the table to intimidate her and get a response

“Don’t bother my wife..” Viserys sighed smoothening his scrunched up forehead.

“Does nobody in this fucking hall know where she is?!” He yelled causing the lords and ladies to look at his outburst. “Excuse me brother” he said leaving the banquet hall. He stormed out essentially. He was going to march up in your room but for some reason he had a bad feeling in his gut..why were you late? You were never late? The headache you caused him. He pushed open your bedchamber doors wide.

“You! Where have you been!” He asked “you didn’t congratulate me on my win or tend to me when I fell off my horse” he scolded you “what are you doing?” He asked with wide eyes, bags, packed bags. Your room was being emptied. “What is all this?” A handmaiden entered the room to take another bag wherever.

“I’m leaving Daemon” you said “is it not obvious?”

“No. No I will not allow it”

“I do not need YOUR PERMISSION and it’s already decided”

“What of your sister? What if she becomes with child again? She would need you by her side?”

“Daemon— she has maesters and—”

“What of Rhaenyra? The girl looks up to you! And you are just leaving like that!” Daemon sighed exasperated waking closer to you but still a distance apart

“I’m going to the Vale. I’m going home. You would not understand because you’ve lived here all your life! I miss home. I cannot be here any longer” Lie. You were running away because you could no longer wait around hoping that one day Daemon might cancel his betrothal and somehow marry you instead. Stupid dreams and fantasies.

‘Your home is here with us, with me’ is what Daemon wanted to say “you want to go to the Vale? Let us go on Caraxes!” He yelled

“I don’t want to!”

Daemon’s anger morphed into realisation.

“You don’t want to be around me” he said chuckling why else would you reject his excellent idea, who would give up a ride on a dragon? “Have I bothered you to the point you have to run away from me? When have you been such a craven!”

“Why shouldn’t I go!”

“I just told you the reasons!” Daemon yelled back “your sister! The queen! Your niece! Viserys!” His name being stuck at the back of his throat “maybe even me” he finally choked out as his hand went to reach for the valyrian necklace encircled around your neck. “You cannot even get rid of me entirely, you still wear my necklace like a collar”

“Maybe is not enough for me to stay!”

“Very well then, you want a reason to stay?” He asked now towering over your figure his nose almost touching yours “let me give you one”

He tilted your head upwards giving you a breath stealing kiss, his arms wrapping around your body holding you close to him. You kissed back with all the anger all the love you feel. “I cannot let you leave” he said in between kisses, the two of you barely parting for air. Daemon pushed you towards the bed “you and your stupid morals” he insulted kissing you deeply “you and your stubbornness” he said pressing his face in the crook of your neck. “You never know what’s best for you” his hands grabbing a hold of your thighs slapping the fat of it.

“And what is best for me?” You asked looking at him

“Staying here with me” he said his hand thumb sliding into your mouth your soft lips wrapping around his thick finger “suck” he ordered before switching his thumb for his index and ring finger. His fingers gagged you shutting you up, your mouth drooling from the intrusion. “I suppose a holy maiden such as yourself has never experienced pleasure? Tell me have you ever touched yourself?” You refused to answer the question “I suppose that is a no” Daemon smirked “Do you know what that means?” he asked pushing his hand under your skirts. You shook your head anticipating his next action

“It means that will be the first and last person to touch you here” he said his thumb pressing at your weeping entrance, your cunt clenching around nothing begging for more of his touch. His fingers spread the wetness around teasingly almost entering you making you gasp “Take off your gown for me and make it slow” he ordered taking his hand away from your needy parts. With shaky legs you stood unclasping your light purple gown letting it drop to the floor. Your mind filled with lust, what was one time? One time with the man you loved? Surely the Gods can find it in themselves to forgive you for your wanton nature.

“I said take it all off” he said motioning for you to take off your last small clothes leaving you bare and exposed in your bedchambers. The only thing that rested on your neck was the necklace he gifted you. Daemon rested on the bed with his legs spread his eyes looked at every part of you. Your neck, your chest, your tits, your ass, your legs, your cunny. It send jolts of pleasure down his body his dick hardened and a bulge forming in his breeches “Gevie” he muttered, this was better than what he had imagined. His hand reached out for you pulling you by the hips as he placed kisses on every part of your body in sight. He made sit on the bed, making you spread your legs for him showing him your leaking cunny. Before you knew it his hands were wrapped around your thighs and his head in your centre licking a strike of your entire cunt with his tongue. You tried to push yourself away at the foreign sensation but Daemon wasn’t having it. His hands preventing you from going any further away from him. He sucked on your clit watching you squirm and arch your back “Daemon” you moaned. You were in literal heaven. Why had you denied yourself of such pleasure. Daemon licked, sucked and kissed your cunt making you come twice on his tongue, your legs were shaking around his head as you begged saying you couldn’t any more. Daemon licked up all of your release before he pushed a finger inside your cunny, you gasped at the stretch, seeing you were adjusting to the feeling he added another finger, telling you to relax and enjoy the feel his tongue went back to work licking your poor little overstimulated pearl over and over your hole clenched tightly around his fingers he knew you were going to come again, his movements were fast and hard making you roll your eyes at the back of your head as you came hard all over his fingers. The bed soaked with your juices. Daemon’s face wet, he wore a devilish grin on his face. He climbed onto the bed pulling off his benches to show his recent thick length. Hell would that even fit inside you?

“Lie on your back” He ordered and you followed obediently Daemon hovered over you, you finally got what you wanted the sinful proximity between the two of you. His hands intertwined with yours as he distracted you by kissing your lips passionately. You felt him enter, he was so much bigger and he pushed himself in slowly “breathe, my love” he said before pinching your tits hard causing you to gasp. He slid in fully. You couldn’t keep your eyes open, your arms still being held by daemon who now pinned them over your head. The stretch of his full cock in your walls, breaking your maidenhead he let you experience the burn, the pain, the pleasure all together. Daemon let out a moan as he felt you clench around him tightly. This was what he always dreamt about. What he always wanted. You.

Daemon had been patient enough, his slow and firm thrusts quickening. Every thrust hammering your insides as your tits bounced, Daemon was enchanted. He help your hips tightly pounding into you even reaching further, making your back arch and you begged Daemon to let you touch him. Daemon, Daemon, Daemon. The only thoughts that ran in your head as he kissed you his tongue finding it’s way into your mouth as he pounded into you. He let out little moans as he pressed his forehead against yours. As he made love to you. The moment he saw your jaw go slack, he knew you were close. He kept his rhythm steady feeling your orgasm release all over him and the sheets. He left you whimpering underwing him from the overstimulation “good girl” he said plopping on the bed his cock still erect and heavy “can you ride a dragon?” He said leaning on the headboard. You wanted to please him nodding as you straddled his hips pressing the head of his cock into your entrance as you lowered yourself onto him. The position made your toes curl, the way you sunk onto him and lifted yourself over and over. Daemon couldn’t help but watch how your slick pussy gushed all over his cock. His moans increased as he felt his eyebrows press together, he held your hips tightly thrusting harshly into you, it was too much for Daemon, he could no longer hold back he released his hot seed in the walls of your tight cunny, your cum from your fifth orgasm oozed out. White sticky fluids from your puffy folds. Daemon had seen no better art piece, you would be a muse for any artist.

You lay on top of daemon who stroked the back of your hair “you were perfect. You are perfect.” he smiled his dimples showing. You were breathless, tired, exhausted passing into unconsciousness. Daemon chuckled wrapping his arms around you. You were his. And he was going to go to hell and back if he was denied you.

Daemon had ordered for all your clothes to be moved into his bedchamber, he told lord Gerald that you had no intention to leave kingslanding as you were to marry him. The whispers between the servants reached the ears of Viserys thanks to his hand Otto Hightower.

“WHAT WERE YOU THINKING DAEMON!” He yelled at his younger brother who was making arrangements for you in his room “you have dishonoured her! And you take no effort to even hide the fact!”

“I have every intention to wed her, brother” Daemon said rolling his eyes at the king.

“you are betrothed to ANOTHER” Viserys’ blood boiled. How could he have done such a thing to his own family to you! When he knew damn well he was meant to wed another.

“Another who is not of my choosing!” Daemon said to his brother losing his patience.

“The marriage pact with Rhea was settled years ago! We cannot go against our word” he argued

“You are the king, the blood of the dragon runs in you. You do not need anyone’s permission! Your word is the law, the truth”

“Daemon, I have spent a life time defending you! But your heart is even blacker than I thought”

“Wed her to me..I want to marry Lady Arryn”

“You think I don’t know that, you fool?! But you have wronged lady Rhea! Kept her waiting for years!”

“I have bedded her already brother. It is done. It is decided” Daemon said

Viserys slapped him across the face for his insolent behaviour.

“Tell me brother..” Daemon said holding his cheek pressing on the hurt part of his face. It didn’t hurt at all he just wanted to get some sympathy from Viserys “what of how you wronged y/n” he chuckled “when you passed her over for her younger sister”

“That was different!” He thundered at the accusation thrown by Daemon

“Make it right, wed her to me. I’ll take her as she is and wed her in the tradition of our house. Give me Y/n to take to wife and we will return the house of the dragon to its proper glory” he said almost begging his brother.

It was no secret that Daemon and you had strong chemistry, Viserys and his wife Aemma often joking about making a mistake betrothing Rhea to him instead of you. He supposed he always expected his younger brother to pull this sort of move. And he unfortunately had a very good point, you were passed off for your younger sister which was an insult by itself, being rejected by the king.

“Fine, I will allow this marriage to take place, but just know that it is not for you but instead Lady Arryn” he sighed. “And I don’t want to hear any complaint from now onwards? You will obey my every command henceforth if you are to marry lady Arryn” daemon would definitely do as he pleases, but he nods hugging his brother “you were always weak when it comes to me, brother” he smirked looking at his brother. “Showing empathy is weak now?” Viserys smiled patting Daemon’s shoulders. “Are you sure marriage is what you desire?”

“Marriage matters to me when it is with her..” he smiled “I am serious about her brother.”

“I will talk to the Royce’s and make it up to them somehow” he said “how excited was she when you proposed?”

“Oh I didn’t propose” Viserys wanted to chuck Daemon out of the window. This whole argument when you hadn’t even consented to the marriage “DAEMON!”

“She’s asleep brother. You cannot expect me to disturb her!” Viserys at that moment wanted to put down his crown and run away to Essos. How much more of his brother’s idiocy could he handle? Well anyways he’s your problem now.

Needless to say the marriage took place swiftly thanks to Daemon’s groomzilla tendencies. The man wanted the wedding to be private between only the families. You were more than happy to comply. Daemon and you still didn’t cease your nonsensical arguments, now finding new ways of letting out that anger and love in bed together.

Daemon wasn’t a perfect husband, he was irrational, emotional, pessimistic, but he stayed the loyalest of all the husbands in Westeros stopping all his trips to the streets of silk rather spending them with you, the woman he loved so dearly. With each passing year Daemon grew even more mature with the birth of your first child a baby girl who you both named Baela who inherited that fire and passion of your husband who was also spoiled rotten by him with gifts.

Daemon proved to be the best husband you could have ever asked. You would always remember to tell him that when he took you for rides on his dragon Caraxes and whispered sweet promises to you. You had no doubt about it, marrying him was the best decision he had ever made for you. You knew he would put his life on the line for you or Baela if need be, he was your fiercest protector.

“Did I ever mention I love you?” You asked looking to your husband as you both flew on Caraxes. Daemon knew you often felt like you under appreciated him when you really did love him.

“More times than I can count” he chuckled kissing your cheek

“Perhaps I should stop then, I can’t have you growing indifferent to my love”

“If you do anything of the sort, just know that I cannot promise you that I will not exact revenge” he smiled kissing the top of your head.

“And what revenge would you take against me, your wife?” You asked smiling back

“I will teach Baela cuss words” he said smirking triumphantly.

“DAEMON DON’T YOU DARE!”

[whatsk-poppinhomies]

Pairing : Dad!Seo Changbin x F!Reader TW : heavily triggering content ; reader discretion is advised ; stillborn child ; depression ; anger ; self hatred ; isolation ; it's just really sad and angsty ; Word Count : 2.9k Request : it won the poll! Here he is! A/N : PLEASE READ THE TRIGGER WARNINGS BEFORE YOU READ THIS FIC! I CRIED WHILE WRITING THIS! THIS WAS PROBABLY THE SADDEST ONE I'VE WRITTEN, SADDER THAN FELIXS FIC. I DON'T KNOW IF I SHOULD DO A PART 2 FOR THIS ONE, LET ME KNOW IN THE COMMENTS. AGAIN THOUGH, READ THE TW'S I BEG OF YOU. THIS ONE IS DEVASTATING, AT LEAST FOR ME IT WAS.

“I can’t wait to hold you and hug you and cuddle you! You’re gonna be daddy’s little princess, aren’t you?” Changbin cooed as he pressed his face against your stomach, smiling when he felt the kick against his hand that had been absentmindedly rubbing circles right above where her foot was. “I’m gonna spoil you and give you the whole world, I promise… Well, maybe not the whole world, I don’t think I can do that… But, I’ll give you anything you want. You’re so precious to me already, I can’t wait to meet you…” 

You chuckled lightly, brushing your fingers through his curly locks, shaking your head that rested upon a mound of pillows. “You better keep all those promises, babe. I know she can hear you, and she’s gonna hold you to all of that. And so am I. You get to hold her and hug her and cuddle her the first week I’m out of the hospital. I’m gonna lay in bed and rest after carrying her for 9 months.”

He nodded excitedly up at you before peppering kisses along your belly. “I’ll just quit my job so I can be a super cool stay at home dad and I’ll spend so much time with her. How am I even supposed to go back to work when you and her are gonna be here? I wanna spend every single day with you two.” He pouted and you swiped your finger along his jutted out lip, giving him a soft smile to try to cheer him up. 

“We’ll be here when you get home, and before you go to work. And I’m sure that once she’s old enough, I’ll be able to bring her to the studio to see you and the guys.” He nodded his head along with your words, relaxing once more against your stomach, his buff arms wrapped around it and the silence was soon filled with the lulling sound of him humming to you and your baby girl. 

///

“Sir, we have to take her now…” 

Changbin sat in the chair beside your empty bed, holding his daughter close to his chest as tears poured down his cheeks, his body rocking back and forth. “Just a little bit longer, please…. My wife hasn’t even gotten to see her yet. Y-You can’t take her before my wife gets to hold her… Please…” He sobbed, his head dropping down to look down at the porcelain like face of his baby girl. 

“I’m… I’m sorry… Your wife is in recovery and… She won’t be awake… We can’t just let you keep her. I’m terribly sorry, we have to take her now.” The nurse repeated themselves, walking closer to Changbin. His head shook violently as his sobs became louder, his hold on his daughter tighter than it had been before. 

There was no way to describe the pain, the devastation, the anger that he felt. “I can’t… I…” He couldn’t even finish, not when he felt the stillness of his daughter in his arms, the way her skin was so colorless, she almost looked like a doll. “Just a little… I have to… I have… I… T-To say… I have to say… G-Goodbye… To her…” He stammered the words out through shaky breaths, and the nurse simply nodded, allowing Changbin to have this final moment. 

Trembling fingers gently brushed over the dark hair that covered his daughter's head, her skin felt cold against his finger tips. It was the first and the last time he’d ever get to hold her, that he’d ever get to see her. Life was cruel in its punishments that seemed to be thrown upon those most undeserving of them. What had he done? What had you done to deserve to have your newborn child stolen from you without the opportunity to even cherish her, to love her, to get to know her? 

“I’m so… So sorry…” Changbin whimpered, his head shaking as it felt against the back of the chair. His throat was dry and his eyes felt like they were on fire from crying so much. “I would have… I… The world… I would have given you the world if… if you had just… stayed here with us… Me and y-your mommy… We love you… We love you so much… You know that, right? I don’t wanna… L-Let them take you a-away from me… I just… I wanted to h-hold you… And… And hug you… And cuddle you… F-forever… And… I just… I can’t…” His breaths came more rapidly now, more labored as the seconds slowly ticked down the last little bit of time that he’d have with her. “You’ll… You’ll always be… M-My little girl… My princess… I promise… I’ll come see you… O-One day… When daddy and mommy… When we get r-really old… We’ll come s-see you… And I can… I can hold you… And love you… And hug you… And I won’t e-ever let you go… Okay…? I… I love you…” 

The door was slowly opened and the nurse quietly came over to Changbin. This was it. Once she was out of his arms, she’d be gone for good, he’d never be able to see her again, not until his final day came. How was he supposed to stay strong? How was he supposed to go on with his life at any point as if a piece of his heart hadn’t been ripped out of his chest and stolen from him right before his eyes? How was he supposed to live when simply breathing and living felt unfair? 

///

You sat in the wheelchair, Changbin beside you, one hand gripping tightly onto yours and the other holding the multitude of flowers and “Sorry” balloons that he wanted nothing to do with. Sure, people were sorry, they felt bad for what he and you had gone through, but none of them truly understood it, not until they were unfortunate enough to be put in the same situation, and for their sakes, he hoped they never would be. 

“We’ll be home soon, baby.” Changbin whispered to you, although home didn’t seem very welcoming. Not when the room across the hall from his and yours was fully decorated, a beautiful nursery for a beautiful little baby girl that would never be brought through the front door. She would never lay her head in the crib, covered by the quilted blanket that was meant to keep her warm. She would never become attached to one or many of the stuffed animals that were perfectly set up in the corner of the room. She would never be cradled in the rocking chair, rocked back to sleep during the wee hours of the morning. Neither you or Changbin would experience these things, not with the perfect little girl that you both had been waiting for. 

Flashing lights and camera shutters clicking met both you and Changbin right outside the hospital exit as you were wheeled out. You were out of it, zoning into a world, into a reality where maybe your daughter was still with the two of you. Your eyes were glossed over from the tears that you had shed nonstop. These were the images of you that would be plastered all over the internet within the next 12 to 24 hours, and that had Changbin fuming. 

“Back up! Back up!” Changbin shouted, his voice hoarse and his throat dry from having cried so much. How could people be so heartless, so cruel? They didn’t care about what he and you had just gone through. The only thing they cared about was the next story they could come out with that would make headline news. “Please, leave me and my wife alone! Go! Leave!” He continued to shout, standing in front of you as the security team tried to help push through the overwhelming amount of paparazzi. 

“Changbin! How are you feeling right now?” “When do you plan on returning to music?!” “Will your next album have songs that touch base on what you’ve gone through?” The questions were irritating, the complete lack of respect was sickening, but there was one question that had Changbin so infuriated that he couldn’t control himself. “Do you think now that you won’t have a child to worry about, you’ll be able to focus more on your music once again without the child holding you back? Do you think this is a good thing for your career?” 

It was insensitive to say the least, and he didn’t even take a second to question himself as to whether it would be a good idea to react, his fist was flying forward into the face of the man that had so stupidly uttered such a thing in his direction. “Get out of here! Go home! All of you!” He screamed, a fresh wave of tears rippling down his cheeks as he tried to move you faster towards the car. “Respect mine and my wife’s privacy. Please! God, please just leave us alone!” He continued to scream, and it seemed like the way he had responded to the man had quieted the mass amount of people. They weren’t asking any questions, but they were still taking pictures and recording you and him. They wouldn’t stop. It wasn’t their pain to feel, they would just report on it and make a quick buck off of someone else’s suffering. It was nauseating. 

///

“She… She hasn’t let go of her urn since we’ve gotten it. I don’t know what to do… I can’t take it away from her. She didn’t even get the chance to hold her… This is all she’s got… But I’m worried about her…” Changbin whispered to Chan as they sat in the living room. Changbin was a mess, but you were far worse. He had gotten to say goodbye, you didn’t even have the chance to do that much. There was a hole left in your heart that no one would ever be able to fill or even patch up. He felt guilty for being able to have that small amount of time with his daughter, for being able to have that chance that was taken away from you. “She won’t eat… She won’t even leave the bedroom. She just… She keeps crying and… And I don’t know what to do… I feel so helpless.” 

Changbins face fell into his palms, his body shaking as he silently cried into his hands. It felt like that’s all he did anymore. He just cried. There was nowhere that he could go in the house where he wasn’t hit with the stark reminder of what he had lost. “She’s grieving, Bin… Everyone does that in their own way. You both lost your child… Before you even had the chance to even have her truly. I can’t… The pain that you both feel is unimaginable, and… We’re all here for you, for Y/N. But right now, you two need each other more than anything.” Chan explained, and while Changbin nodded his head in understanding, it was easier said than done. 

It was hard to be there for someone emotionally when he himself felt like he was falling apart. “She won’t talk to me… She won’t talk to anyone. I’ve been keeping her family updated, but they’re just as worried as I am. They want her to come home for a bit for a change of scenery… What the hell is that going to do?! And what am I supposed to do if she leaves?! Stay here and… And be by myself with all of this stuff… With all of her stuff?! I can’t even go to the damn bathroom or take a shower without breaking down because the little shampoo bottles are on the tub and the… the little bath seat… and her towels and… God, it’s like… It’s like she’s here but… but I know she’s not…” 

There was no easy way to comfort anyone who went through what both you and Changbin went through, maybe there was no way to comfort the two of you at all, not right now at least. “Maybe… Maybe you and Y/N can go on a trip or something, just to get away from it all. The guys and I, we can start taking down all the stuff for when-” 

“No!” Changbin blurted out, his head shaking fast as he stared at Chan with wide eyes. “You can’t… You can’t take her stuff… That's all we have left. Just… Just give us time… We’re not ready. We lost her… We don’t want to just… get rid of her… We just need time…” 

///

“Baby…” Changbin whispered softly, his fingers brushing through your hair as you laid beside him in bed. Your daughter's urn sat on the nightstand, and while it hurt him to see it there, your reasoning for having it right beside you was too heartbreaking for him to want to move it. “Are you still awake?” He asked, feeling your body shaking ever so slightly. It was clear that you had just finished crying, he just wasn’t sure if you had cried yourself to sleep or if you had just run out of tears. 

You hummed quietly in response, taking a raspy breath before rolling over to face him. It felt like it had been ages since he got to see your face, but the puffiness under your eyes and your chapped lips had his heart breaking into tinier pieces. You looked broken, and he didn’t even know where to begin to try to help put you back together. “I’m… I’m sorry… That I couldn’t… Give you your… Perfect baby… And I’m… I’m sorry that… That the fans are m-mad at you… F-For not making music… And… And I’m sorry… That… That I haven’t been there… For you…” 

The choked out words that left your mouth had Changbin absolutely shocked, confused, and devastated that you felt that way. He didn’t even know that that was the way you were feeling, and if he had known before, he would have done his best to try to push those thoughts out of your head. “Baby, it’s not your fault. None of it is your fault. It’s no one's fault. I don’t want you to blame yourself… You still… You gave me the most beautiful baby girl, the most perfect baby girl in the whole world. God, I wish you could have seen her… I’m so sorry you couldn’t. She was… She was like an angel… She really was. She… She looked like you, I could already see it… She was beautiful, and she was already so loved… She knew you loved her…” 

“Did you tell her…? Did you tell her I love her?” You asked, and Changbin quickly nodded his head, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you against his chest. Your tears soaked through his shirt, but he didn’t care, for his own tears were falling against the top of your head and dampening your hair. It had been so long since he had held you like this, but he knew that right now it’s what you needed most. 

“I did… She knows. I told her you love her, and I love her… We both love her very much… And I’m sure that wherever she is, she can see that…” He murmured. “And I don’t want you to worry about the fans or the music. If they can’t understand, then they weren’t real fans anyway. The music can wait. You are the most important thing in the world to me. I’d give up my whole career just to see you smile again, just to try to make you happy. I’m going to be here for you as long as you need me to be, even if you don’t want me around. I love you… And we’re going to get through this together.” 

He felt your head nod and your arms wrap around him, your fingers gripping onto his shirt to hold him closer to you. “Can… Can she stay in here…? I… I don’t want her to be alone in… in that room… Not yet…” You asked, and Changbin nodded his head before kissing the top of yours and then gently laying you back down against your pillow. 

“She can stay in here with us as long as you want her to. I don’t want her to be alone either…” With his arm tucked underneath the pillow that your head lay upon, he hummed a soft tune to lull you back to sleep. It was the first night that you had gone to sleep without crying, it was the first night that you had talked to him. Now he understood what it meant to be strong, not just physically, but emotionally, for the ones that he loved. He might be breaking into bits on the inside, but he loved you too much to watch you fall apart. 

Carefully, he reached over you with his free hand, grabbing the urn off the nightstand and cradling it against his chest, staring up at the ceiling as silent tears trickled down from the corners of his eyes and across his temple, landing on the pillow underneath his head. “I’m gonna hold you, and I’ll cuddle you… And I’ll hug you… And I’ll love you forever. I can’t wait to see you again… Just wait for mommy and daddy… We’ll be there… And I’ll never let you go… Ever… You’re daddy’s little princess… And you always will be…”

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[lieslab]

Drowning

꘎♡━━━━━♡��� ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎ ꘎♡━━━━━♡꘎

Pairing: Jeongin X fem! reader

Summary: After you suffer a miscarriage, it feels like the entire world is ending and nothing will ever be the same.

Genre: Comfort/hurt with angst

Word Count: 2.8K

Trigger warning: Miscarriage, child loss, depression, mentions of stillborn baby and all the effects that come with life after pregnancy.

A/N: I know I have requests waiting to be written, but this idea keeps buzzing around my head like a fly which leads me to believe that there's someone out there struggling with this. If you need it, I hope this finds you and I'm sorry because this is a different kind of hurt. Requests shall continue after this one, I promise.

_ _ _

People always talk about the pregnancy glow. They talk about the radiant skin and bright eyes. The aura of happiness surrounding the mother and the pep in their step. There’s a joy in bringing a new life into the world, but they don’t talk about what happens when it doesn’t work out. 

Laying on the floor of the nursery, you couldn’t understand why. Why did people get to bring a new life into the world, but not you? Your baby never got to see the way the world looked outside the womb. There were no colors and no sounds. Not the gentleness of a mother’s voice or the warm cradle from the father. 

Miscarriages didn’t happen to everyone, but it happened to you. After excruciating stomach cramps and bleeding, you went to the hospital. The worst part? You already knew. You knew something was wrong, you were just hoping the motherly instincts were wrong. You were hoping it was just your nerves. 

You’d go in and the doctor would see you. You’d be checked on and so would the baby. You’d get to hear the faint walloping of the heartbeat and you’d be relieved of all your worries while soaking it in, but…that didn’t happen. 

You saw it in the nurse’s face when she was pressing the ultrasound wand against your stomach. She excused herself from the room to get the doctor and you just knew. That little soft pitter-patter was gone and so was your everything. 

That glittering glimpse of a future you held onto slipped between your fingers. When the doctor sat on the stool, picked up the wand, and began to slip it across the cool gel on your stomach, the world seemed to stop. Before she spoke, you saw the sadness physically fill her eyes. 

The part where she explained your options became muddled. You couldn’t remember it, but somehow Jeongin showed up and entered the room. His teary eyes went to you and that’s when it finally clicked in your brain. Your baby was gone and they weren’t coming back. 

The messy finger-painted photos, you envisioned decorating your fridge, would never come to fruition. Memories of the baby shower and all the baby stuff you had would never be used. The clothes would remain folded in the small dresser and collect dust. 

That baby book you purchased with Jeongin, it’d never be used. The little hats and the conversations about newborn photos, gone. 

Gone. Gone. Gone. 

Everything was gone. 

The two of you hadn’t settled on a name. You both wanted the gender to be a surprise. Caught up in a mist of sadness, you still didn’t know the gender. The memories were hazy and nothing quite made sense. 

You remember screaming at Jeongin and then screaming at the doctor. Anguish gripped your heart until it burst. When a peach cup got thrown at the doctor’s head, nurses got involved. 

You remembered Jeongin’s teary russet eyes. The hand he kept over his mouth to stifle sobs as you lost it. He hadn’t just lost the baby, he lost you too. You turned into a shell of yourself. 

You stopped speaking and Jeongin had to practically beg you to eat. It was the doctor and Jeongin that decided giving birth vaginally wasn’t the best idea for you. They decided a C-section was a better option, but in your opinion, the best option would have been to let you rot with your baby. 

You were possessed by grief and didn’t know how to separate yourself from it. It wrapped around your wrists and pinned down your ankles. It wrestled in your stomach and tainted your bloodstream. 

It was easily the worst thing that you had ever been through. There was just a moment when you felt peace. When your baby had been slipped into your arms, swaddled in a soft green blanket. 

Tendrils of hair poked out of a hat that a nurse had stuck on their head. The pouted lips were pressed together and their eyes were shut. The color was drained from their face, but at that moment, it didn’t matter. 

The weight of their body in your arms felt normal. Your heart briefly bloomed before it withered again. You remember Jeongin standing somewhere off in the distance. His eyes glanced between the two of you as he held his breath while hoping that you’d be okay. 

A smile broke out on your face as you cooed softly. Your voice remained low because speaking too loud would wake them up. For a brief moment, you forgot that they were gone. You didn’t care about how stiff they were in your arms. How their tiny heart didn’t beat and their chest didn’t rise. 

During that moment, you were a mother. You would do anything to protect the bundle of joy in your arms. You’d give your life for theirs, but they were already gone. You clung to them and refused to let go. Even when Jeongin quietly tried to coax you away from them, you refused. 

He hated it because he knew how much it’d destroy you. The truth was that you had to say good-bye. You couldn’t stay attached to your baby. The skin would disintegrate and smell. It would rot away and your baby would wither in your arms. No matter how much you pleaded, he wouldn’t allow you to go through that. 

When you fell asleep clutching your baby to your chest, he managed to ease them from your grip. He knew how upset you’d be when you woke up, but it was for the best. Grief tends to do funny things to people sometimes. 

After waking up, it didn’t take long for nurses to sedate you. Your stomach was full of stitches, but you didn’t care. You were too pumped full of pain meds to realize the pain. 

It took nearly a week before Jeongin could bring you back home. Your house was haunted when you got there. The baby swing was still in your living room. Baby bottles were clean and neatly stacked in the cupboards. 

You bought new picture frames to add photographs of your baby to the photos around the house. You had plans to put one on the nightstand beside your bed. Unfortunately, there was nothing left. 

You couldn’t sleep on your stomach. You were haunted by your womb. You could feel how empty it was now. No tiny kicks and no punches. When you gently cupped below the stitches, your eyes watered. 

Out of all the people in the world, why did this happen to you? Why weren’t you good enough to make it through the pregnancy? You only had a few months left and that’s what made it really sting. 

You were so close and yet so far. Was it something in your body? Was this some sort of curse? Was it a sign from the universe that you weren’t meant to be a mother? 

Jeongin woke up to soft distant sobs that night. He started to feel his way around the darkened house and he found you laying on the floor of the nursery. You clutched the stuffed bear that the two of you had bought for your child. 

It was going to be their childhood stuffed animal. One that they could grow up with and clutch onto through their worst days. Maybe they’d take it with them everywhere when they were a toddler. Perhaps it’d be invited to tea parties or walk the plank while playing pirates. 

You weeped and clutched it to your chest. In the faint moonlight, the tears were illuminated on your face. In the nursery doorway, his heart shattered. You were a mother going through grief and he didn’t know how to help you. He couldn’t take away this loss, it was too big for him; much too large to physically carry with two hands. He couldn’t wrap it up and toss it in the trash, it was opaque  

You laid on the soft large circular rug that the two of you had claimed was for tummy time when your kid got older. Your arms wrapped around your chest with the stuffed bear. Your knees were tucked up towards your chest. You were exhausted and broken. 

Nobody talked about the weight of the grief from a stillborn birth. They didn’t tell you that you’d still go through lactation. Your breasts would still produce milk and it’d soak your bra. There’d be no tiny mouth to feed. No child to nurse and help grow big and strong. 

They didn’t tell you about the severe stomach cramps that sometimes were as sharp as knives and the ones that were dull and tortuous as your uterus reshaped itself internally. 

They didn’t talk about the hollow feeling inside your body. Knowing that you had attempted to carry your pregnancy to full term and then failed, you felt useless. You felt broken and you were so exhausted. 

If love could have saved them, they would have lived forever. You would have built them into the best person they could have been. You would have cherished every moment and remind yourself that you were a kid once too when the tough moments came, but now they never would. 

You and Jeongin spent hours fixing up the nursery for them. How ironic that you had picked a Peter Pan theme. You knew that your child would grow up one day, but you had been hoping that it wouldn’t have been too fast. How cruel it was to have them ripped away before they could take their first breath. 

You spent hours on that white rug, digging your fingers into the soft fibers, trying to put together disconnected thoughts. Your brain had disconnected from your body. The world was blurry and you weren’t sure how to continue going on. 

Jeongin was worried sick about you. So worried that he had to take off work to keep an eye on you. He was terrified that you’d harm yourself. You laid there on that rug with empty eyes. 

Whether you realized it or not, you kept talking out loud in a quiet voice. You kept discussing motherhood and he was pretty sure you were consoling the baby that didn’t exist anymore. When he first realized it, he had to turn around and leave you alone. Walking into your shared bedroom and shutting the door, he collapsed on the bed defeated and burst into sobs. 

The two of you were polar opposites during the whole scenario. You were orbiting around each other, but never touching. Your doctor told him that you just needed time. 

So he waited and he waited. He supplied you with store-bought peanut butter and jelly sandwiches and juice boxes. It was the only thing he could get you to eat. He came up with any reason he could to walk past the door of the nursery to check on you. 

On and on the days went until one day, you weren’t lying on the floor anymore, you were on the rocking chair. Unsure of what he was seeing, he froze in his spot before he went closer to the door and peeked his head inside. 

“Jeongin?” You croaked as you looked up. 

He paused for a moment before he slowly approached you. “Hi, honey.” 

“I don’t feel good.” 

“Do you want to talk about it?” 

You shook your head. Tears began to fill your eyes again. Despite your body language, you continued. “How do I make it stop hurting?” 

“What?” 

“The ache of losing out on motherhood.” 

He slowly stretched a hand out towards you. Your fingers reached out and grabbed his. He pulled you up and led you towards the rug. Without a word, he got down and plopped down on his side. You followed his lead and curled up on your own side facing him. 

A silence fell between the two of you as you observed each other’s faces. You couldn’t remember the last time you laid next to Jeongin like this. The two of you had been distant for far too long. 

He reached out with a thumb and slowly wiped away your salty tears. You sniffled and kept your eyes on him. The truth was that you really were lost. You felt empty and useless. There was nothing inside of you. You didn’t know when the last time was that you remembered your own beating heart. You weren’t even aware that you were still breathing. 

“You didn’t lose out on anything,” he whispered. “Sometimes things like this happen, but we can always try again.” 

“I don’t think I want to try again.” 

“You don’t have to try again if you don’t want to. The most important thing is helping you feel better. Are you okay?” 

“N-No,” your voice cracked, “I’m hollow. I want to bring them back and I-” You squeezed your eyes shut knowing the floodgates were about to burst. “What did I do to deserve this?” Your voice came out shrill. “What did I do?” 

The knife had been lodged in his chest for weeks, but those words twisted it. He could feel the blood mix with sadness. He hated seeing you so broken. 

“Nothing. You didn’t do anything wrong. Sometimes these things happen unplanned and it’s not your fault. You did your best, remember? Remember how you refused to eat seafood because of the baby? You even gave up coffee because you said caffeine was bad for them.” 

Your eyes reopened. 

“Do you remember how you read children's books every night before bed out loud? You used to sing to them every morning in the shower. I remember that you used to curl your hands around your stomach protectively while cooking.” 

A smile began to form on his face. He could see the gears starting to shift in your head. “And you used to lecture me when I drove a digit higher than the speed limit. You promised you’d never let me live it down if we got in an accident.” 

“And you said we could never be sexually intimate because y-” 

“I was afraid that we’d traumatize the baby.” 

It was a miracle that you started to laugh. The tears were still streaming down your face, but you were laughing. The sound was a melody to his ears. His grin stretched wider and his dimples showed. 

“What about that time you spilled food down the front of your shirt and some got on your stomach? You apologized to the baby for getting them messy.” 

“I guess I did, huh?” 

“So please don’t think you weren’t a good mother. You did what you could for them even if they didn’t make it out of the womb. They still heard your voice.” 

“And your singing,” you added. 

“We would have been the best parents in the world. Remember when I finger painted a smiley face on your stomach when you were sleeping? I took photos and you woke up whining and upset and you claimed I had painted on the baby.” 

“Because you did!” 

“I didn’t! It was your stomach!” 

“The baby was in there!” 

“And your skin protected them!” 

The two of you bickered back and forth until you burst into a fit of shared giggles. You shifted and moved closer to Jeongin’s warmth. Your head tucked into his shoulder. You let out a soft sigh and he wrapped an arm around your back. 

“Thank you,” you mumbled. 

“You know I love you, right?” 

“I love you too.” 

The two of you laid on the floor curled into each other appreciating the warmth. It was nice to be connected to your lover again. You spent so long away, you forgot about how much he felt like home. As the two of you continued laying there, your stomach suddenly growled. 

“Uh…honey?” 

“I hate to break this up, but can we go get Subway? I really want a sub. Maybe turkey or ham or oh! I know, maybe I’ll just get both.” You quickly sat up and got to your feet. 

Behind you, Jeongin watched you in amazement. He was happy that you were starting to act a bit more like your old self. It wasn’t going to last forever and you’d still struggle sometimes, so would he. 

However, with each other, there was a high chance that you could help each other through it. Through thick and thin, sickness and in health, until death did you part. 

After all, that’s what the matching wedding rings on your fingers meant. 

| ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ | ♡.﹀﹀﹀﹀.♡ |

Masterlist

Requests, taglist, and inbox rules

[stylesispunk]

The great war | part I |

"And maybe it was egos swinging, maybe it was her, flashes of the battle come back to me in a blur"

part 2, part 3 part 4, part 5 | masterlist

series summary: After things fell apart it seemed that Joel and you were falling into pieces.

pairing: joel miller x fem!reader

word count: 1.2k

warning: angst, established relationship (complicated though) hints to cheating, age gap (Reader is in her late 20s, Joel is in his late 40s), mentions of stillborn baby, please don't read if you feel it triggers.

A/n: English is not my first language and it has been YEARS since I last wrote something that wasn't academic or formal for my job, so please forgive any mistake. (I´m posting it before I regret it and I delete it)

Three weeks had passed since that night and currently, things weren't fine. 

It seemed that you had barely seen Joel these days, other than sleeping next to each other. 

You watched Joel from your seat on the front porch of your house.  You were enveloped by the bracing air that gently kissed your cheeks. The surroundings were adorned with a soft layer of snow, lending an ethereal scene. The same scene you were witnessing in front of you. You watched with intrigue as he and her interacted nearby. Their voices carried through the coldness, their laughter creating a soft warmth in the chilly air. 

You felt betrayed. 

He didn't spend time with you. What is more, he'd spent every day since that day with Lucy. And you knew, in the bottom of your heart that she felt like a wave of fresh air for Joel. She was kind, brave, strong, and a beautiful woman. She reminded him of you, but happier. A happy soul, free from the trauma you had been through. It seemed like he enjoyed the days with her. He seemed happier.

And you didn't.

A pang of jealousy bubbled inside you

He was laughing with another woman.

He was finding comfort in another person.

He was laughing.

and you were grieving.

"You two ever going to speak again?" Ellie spoke gently, taking a seat next to her on the bench. 

"Drop it, Ellie. I can't handle this right now" Your voice, hoarse

"I'm sorry, but I can't just ignore how much you're hurting. You need to talk about it." 

You inhale and sigh before speaking again " I don't know how, Ellie. Every time I look at him, I'm reminded of that night."

"I can't imagine how difficult this is for you. But you can't blame him entirely."

As Ellie's words settled in, you felt a mix of emotions swirling within you. The pain from that night still lingered, leaving you vulnerable and guarded. It was difficult for you to see beyond that hurt. 

"It's not just that. I feel so isolated. Look at him, he seems pretty happy with Lucy", you admitted, rubbing your face in frustration. 

Ellie reached out your hand to hold it and give some kind of comfort

" It's okay to feel lost and confused right now. Emotions are complicated, especially after what happened" she spoke softly.

Your tears were already streaming down your cheeks.

"It hurts so much, Ellie. I can't see a way to move past this." 

Ellie couldn't take it anymore and wrapped her arms around you

"I know it's hard, but you're stronger than you realize. You're ready, talk to him" 

Sniffling, you said "I don't even know where to start" You finally took a deep breath. "But it's worth a try. I don't want to lose him either."

Ellie smiled, wiping your tears. "You won't lose me, never, nor him. We're a family"

You sat there in silence for a moment, a sense of comfort settling between the both of you.

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

You sat silently as the weight of your heartache and your worst nightmares consumed you. Ellie had fallen asleep, leaving you with the perfect opportunity to speak to Joel, who had just returned home.

He seemed surprised when he saw you standing there in your living room. You had been avoiding him for the last three weeks. 

You approached him carefully.

"I can make dinner," You piped up, trying to mask your deep emotions with a hopeful smile. "And maybe we could finally talk" your voice, unsure. 

but surprisingly, Joel's response was cold and defensive "Now you wanna talk? I already ate with Lucy and the guys."

Rhia's heart sank at the mention of Lucy, the woman who had seemingly captured Joel's attention. 

She couldn't bear it anymore, so she voiced her feelings "I'm glad you're having fun with her."

Joel chuckled, but Rhia saw through the facade. "You're being unfair, you know," he retorted.

The tension in the air was palpable, and Rhia's emotions overflowed. 

"Rhia". He began "You're hurting, and I understand, but..."

She interrupted with a low voice "Understand? It wasn't you who had to-" Rhia couldn't hold

"I lost a child before, Rhia", Joel admitted solemnly. "And you're not the only one who lost her. She was my child too." 

Rhia couldn't hold the pain anymore. She couldn't bear the weight of her grief. "It was me who birthed a baby who did not survive. It was me the one who killed her own baby! I- I'm broke. I can't sleep. And all you do is spend time with Lucy as if it's your way of coping."

"I'm not spending all the time with her " Joel's face hardened. "But we both know, at least she-"

"At least she what?" Rhia pushed.

"She is not weak" Joel stated firmly.

Rhia chuckled bitterly, her pain transforming into resentment. She felt betrayed.

"Do you like her?" feeling she was finally losing the man in front of her. 

Joel's silence confirmed her worst fears, and even if it wasn't true, he couldn't control her voice anymore, and her voice trembled "You like her. Go to her. Sleep with her, and have a baby with her. Maybe she can keep that baby alive." The last hurt her more. 

Joel's response was bitter and venomous, leaving Rhia feeling sick. "Maybe I will" he spat, taking steps towards her "Maybe I will sleep with her". 

Tears streamed down your cheeks as your heart broke all over again within those weeks and before you could even say something, Ellie came running down the stairs.

"Take that back, you asshole!" Ellie pointed at Joel, her voice filled with anger and defiance.

Rhia tried to handle the situation, urging Ellie to go back to her room, but the young girl wouldn't budge. Her heart ached for the woman who was the closest thing she had as a mother. 

Tears streamed down your cheeks. Her heart ached. 

"Ellie, go to your room," You whispered, pleading with her.

"Rhia..." Ellie pleaded, concerned. 

"It's okay. I will handle this," Your voice barely audible, the last bit of strength. 

Ellie reluctantly agreed and walked back upstairs, not before sending daggers to Joel.

"Rhia, promise me you won't leave."

"I promise" Your voice 

Left alone again with Joel, Rhia felt her heart breaking as he took a few steps toward her. She couldn't bear to be near him anymore.

"Stop. Please." Rhia's voice was filled with heartbreak.

Joel whispered her name, trying to reach out to her, but Rhia yanked her arm away, unable to be physically touched by him. 

"No. Fuck you. You can't take that back" she declared; her voice determined.

She knew what she had to do now. "This is over. I'm done with you," she said, defeated. 

Joel stood there, speechless. 

Rhia turned away from him, walking upstairs. She made up her mind.

She was leaving him in the morning, even if it meant breaking her promise to Ellie.

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

Joel arrived home early in the morning. A bouquet of flowers in his hands, an attempt to mend the hurt he caused the previous night. He knew the hurtful words he had said had caused permanent pain in her heart, but he was determined to go to war for you. He just loved you that much. 

But as he stepped inside, he stopped abruptly when he saw Ellie sitting there, tears streaming down her cheeks, holding a piece of paper in her hands.

His heart pounded in his chest. 

The sight of Ellie

The sight of you last night.

He felt like his heart might stop forever when Ellie looked at him in the eyes, motionless. 

"She left, you asshole."

---------

A/N: I don't feel satisfied by this, I did it just for fun, but if you read it, thank you so much 🥺 feel free to comment or send me questions if you have any, kisses for you 🥺❤️

[meadow-hearthfire]

Cliva Angst Idea

TRIGGER WARNING: MENTION OF STILLBIRTH

What if Viva and Clay had been trying for a baby for years, but every egg they had turned out to be stillborn?

What if Viva cannot bring herself to leave Hole N' Fun, even after learning the trolls have made peace with the bergens, because she wants to stay near where her babies are buried?

Despite all the heartbreak, Viva and Clay don't drift apart, and Viva still hasn't given up hope that she and Clay will get to have a baby.

[witchthewriter]

𝐓𝐲𝐚𝐧𝐧𝐚 𝐨𝐟 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐓𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫 𝟹𝑟𝑑 𝑜𝑓 𝑀𝑎𝑒𝑔𝑜𝑟'𝑠 𝑤𝑖𝑣𝑒𝑠

INTJ

Slytherin (the most Slytherin Slytherin to ever exist)

Chaotic Evil

Scorpio Sun, Scorpio Moon, Capricorn Rising

Trigger Warning: mentions of torture, death, death of babies and miscarriages.

Tyanna was the daughter of a magister of Pentos. She began as a tavern dancer and rose to become a courtesan, although some claimed she was also a poisoner and a sorceress.

When Prince Maegor Targaryen returned from his exile to claim the Iron Throne, the Faith Militant was in near full control. They challenged his rule with a trial of seven, in which Maegor won but was left grievously wounded.

Maegor's second wife, Alys Harroway, returned twenty-eight days later. In her company was Tyanna, rumoured to be both Maegor's and Alys' paramour. After meeting Tyanna, Visenya gave her full care of Maegor; which troubled his supporters.

Awakening from his coma, Maegor burned the Warrior's Sons at the Sept of Remembrance atop the Hill of Rhaenys and waged war on the Faith Militant.

It was after his victory at the Great Fork of the Blackwater that Maegor returned to King's Landing and announced his intention to take Tyanna as wife. When Grand Maester Myros objected, claiming that the only true wife of Maegor's was Ceryse Hightower, Maegor killed him.

Maegor married Tyanna atop the Hill of Rhaenys, and it is said that Alys joined them on their first night of marriage.

Tyanna was mistress of whisperers on her husband's small council and was titled, 'The King's Raven.' It was said that discussing secrets in the Red Keep was foolish, as even rats and other creatures were her spies.

In 44 AC, two years after Maegor returned from exile, Dowager Queen Visenya died. In the confusion after her death, Aenys I's widow, Queen Alyssa Velaryon, fled from Dragonstone with her children and the Targaryen sword, Dark Sister.

Alyssa and Aenys's second son, Prince Viserys had been under Maegor's thumb at the Red Keep. He served as his squire, however, he was punished for his family's escape. Tyanna questioned him. For nine days straight. He died on the last day and his body was left in the town's square.

That same year, Queen Alys gave birth but it was "to a monstrosity." Queen Tyanna convinced Maegor that it was because Alys had been having secret affairs. Maegor did not believe it and called Tyanna a barren, jealous witch.

So, Tyanna gave Maegor a list of twenty men she claimed slept with Alys. This led to the extinction of House Harroway, as well as the torture and execution of dozens of alleged lovers. Tyanna tortured Alys herself. It went on for nearly a fortnight until the queen died.

Tyanna could not give Maegor an heir.

So the King wed three 'Black Brides'; Elinor Costayne, Jeyne Westerling and his niece, Rhaena, three years later.

Tyanna had to force Rhaena to be obedient by threatening her daughters, Aerea and Rhaella. Some stories claim that Tyanna gave Jeyne a fertility potion the night of the wedding but the new bride tossed it into Tyanna's face.

A year later, Queen Jeyne birthed a stillborn 'monstrosity,' and rumours spread that Maegor was cursed.

In his anger, Maegor bid two of his Kingsguard; Ser Owen Bush and Ser Maladon Moore, to bring Tyanna to the dungeons. As the torturers prepared their tools, she confessed.

Tyanna had been responsible for both Alys and Jeyne's 'abominations', claiming she had poisoned the babies in their mother's wombs. She then promised that the same fate would befall the pregnant Elinor.

Tyanna was killed by Maegor himself. He cut out her heart with Blackfure and threw it to his dogs. Two moons later, Elinor did in fact birth a stillborn 'monstrosity.'

That same year, Maegor died on the Iron Throne. His headsman, gaolers and confessors were all condemned by King Jaehaerys I Targaryen for having aided Tyanna in the death of his elder brother, Prince Viserys.

According to some rumours, Tyanna was not loved by her mother-in-law, Queen Visenya Targaryen, or by anyone else for that matter. She is remembered as a black-hearted woman who was hated and feared.

[dedicatednotobsessed]

Bound in Fire and Blood [Aemond Targaryen x Reader]

Previous chapter || Series masterlist || Other HOTD stories

Summary: You are the younger twin sister of Aemond Targaryen and the second youngest child to King Viserys and Queen Alicent. Growing up you were extremely close to your twin brother, practically inseparable and as you continued to grow, you realized your feelings for him were more than just a sibling love….

TRIGGER WARNING: This is a story of incest (obviously, it’s Game of Thrones). It contains strong depictions of sexual content and blood. Please read at your own risk.

Warnings in this chapter: Has mentions of prolonged alcohol abuse and a stillborn child. Also contains mentions of suicide by poison.

Chapter Thirteen: First of her Name

Gif doesn’t belong to me 💚

You had named your son Vanar before you had to prepare him for his burial, his body burning from Revnass’ flames. Every time you looked at your daughter, whom you’ve named Vhaenys, you could not help but feel the guilt boiling within your stomach. Part of you believed the death of your son was because of the crime you committed against the gods. Possibly if Vanar was Aegon’s son, he would have most likely lived.

You stood on the balcony of your personal chambers, Vhaenys sleeping soundly inside. You looked down at your cup of wine with furrowed brows before downing the nearly full goblet. Along with the loss of your son, you have taken up an unhealthy obsession of drinking. You were hoping the wine was to take the pain you felt away.

You turned towards the room when you drank the rest of your wine, furrowing your brows once you heard the door open. No one has particularly disturbed you as of late apart from Eleanah and the wet nurses to take care of the babe.

“Now you decide to come visit your grieving wife?”

“Eleanah was concerned about your drinking,” Aegon said softly looking down at the pot of wine that was nearly empty.

“And so you came on Eleanah’s accord instead of your own?” You scoffed, emptying the pot into your cup, looking up at your husband. “You are the last one to discuss another’s drinking habits.”

Aegon looked over you, a frown on his lips as he watched down the cup easily. He took a deep breath and turned away. “I just wanted to check on you, Y/N.”

“Can you not tell?” You laughed a bit. “I am quite all right.”

“No, you are not,” Aegon said with narrowed eyes.

“How would you know?” You snapped. “Ever since our children were born, you have been in Fleabottom with whichever whore will fuck you.” Your words were a bit slurred as you walked closer to your husband. “That night our son passed, you went straight to your whores. You do not understand what I am going through.”

Aegon frowned, shaking his head. “You do not know how I feel,” He stated, keeping a distance from you. “I had to hear that our son did not survive through the door because you would not let me in the room!” He rose his voice a bit causing Vhaenys to whimper. “I have tried time and time again since the birth of our children to be with you, yet all you want to do is push me away. You are either in here alone or you are with Aemond.”

You stared at him, furrowing your brows. “You act as though you care but I know you do not,” You whispered.

“What?” Aegon asked, feeling the tears pricking his eyes. “I do care. I have always cared about you, Y/N, ever since we were children.”

You shook your head a bit. “I bet that you would have rather let Vhaenys die so you could have an heir,” You said bluntly.

Aegon’s violet eyes turned dark as he suddenly grabbed you by the chin. “Shut your fucking mouth,” He spat with narrowed eyes.

Your gaze stayed on his as Vhaenys’ loud cries rang out through the chambers. You pulled away from your husband and walked over, looking down at your daughter. She was but a moon old and it still hurt to even look at her.

You could not understand what the pain was from whether it was from losing your son or if you were truly being punished for your adultery. You have never expressed your fears to Aegon, afraid he would catch on and in fact know that you had gone behind his back and married your lover in the eyes of the Targaryen gods.

You felt the tears well your eyes as you stared at Vhaenys, the babe calming under a High Valyrian lullaby. You slowly laid her down in her cradle, wiping at your eyes. Shortly after the birth of your children you often thought how easy it would be to end your life to be with your son. You had dreamed of taking the poison known as sweetsleep; to close your eyes and never wake again. You knew though your daughter still needed you, for now at least.

Aegon watched you carefully, his bottom lip quivering when you turned to him. “Do you care about me?” He asked suddenly.

You furrowed your brows, your face being red from all the alcohol you have consumed. “What, Aegon? Are you mad?”

“Maybe I am,” He said as a few tears fell from eyes. “I have always been second to Aemond. You have never once chosen me.” Aegon looked down while laughing a bit. “You do not know how I feel, Y/N, and you never will.”

You frowned a bit as you watched your husband storm out after a moment and let out a sigh. You knew he was correct, not understanding being someone’s second choice. Although Aegon often slept with whores or took the maidenhood of handmaidens, he always tried to choose you first. You never returned what love he had for you though, always running to your second husband for company.

“Vhaenys is quite a strong name,” Viserys said with a small chuckle, smiling down at the babe in your arms. As your father’s condition worsened, you had visited him more and more in his chambers.

You sat across from your father, lightly patting your daughter on the back. You smiled softly while nodding. “Yes, after Vhagar,” You said quietly.

“Ah, yes.” Viserys coughed while he laughed. “I assume Aegon is not fond of the name?”

“He had no other choice.”

“Where is Aegon anyway?”

You sighed softly. “I assume in the street of silk where he has been spending most of his time as of late.”

Viserys sighed softly while nodding. “The maester has informed me you have requested sweetsleep,” He said softly after a moment.

You furrowed your brows a bit, your eyes staying on your daughter as you stroked her cheek lightly, the plump girl just staring up at you with big widened eyes. “I have requested it, yet he did not want to give it to me,” You admitted closing your eyes with a sigh.

“It is because he noticed how unhinged you have become since the birth.”

You felt the tears form your eyes at your father’s words, yet you knew it was true. “I have not been getting well enough sleep and I only wanted to take it to calm myself.”

You opened your eyes when your father took your right hand, feeling the tear roll down your cheek. Sleepsweet did help one to sleep unless one were to take three doses.

“I understand, sweet one, what pain you are in,” Your father said quietly. “And if you ever want to talk, you can always come to me.”

You smiled lightly and nodded when he squeezed your hand gently. Often when you were a child, you and Helaena would come to see your father and sit on his bed for hours. Whether the three of you were talking, or listening to tales; you had a bond with your father that you did not share with your mother. Your mother was always the one to watch over you, yet it was not the same when you were with your father.

“Thank you father,” You said softly and slowly stood up, helping him. You led him to the bed and carefully leaned down after he laid down kissing the top of his head. “I love you, father,” You said with a soft smile on your lips.

“I love you too, my sweet one.”

❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈ ❈

You let out a soft sigh, laying your daughter down after you had bid Helaena goodnight. You lightly placed your hand on the cradle, looking over at the silver colored egg that was by her head. It was from Revnass’ clutch, her first one.

You took a deep breath walking over to the fresh pot of wine after a moment. You had asked for one more although Eleanah was concerned that it was your fourth full one for the day.

“Come,” You called quietly hearing the knock, assuming it was Aegon coming to bid you goodnight. You glanced up with furrowed brows at the sight of Aemond. Since the birth, you had not seen much of him, believing he was partially to blame for the death of Vanar.

“You did not come to my chambers,” Aemond spoke up softly, clasping his hands in front of him.

You sighed, a bit annoyed as you took a sip of your wine. “And what of it?”

He looked over you with a concerned look. You had never given much of a snapping attitude towards him, although Aemond has rubbed off on you over the years. Your mother often commented on how you used to be a sweet girl and she believed Aemond to have corrupted you. You knew though if your mother were to truly want to get you away from your twin, she wouldn’t have married you off to Aegon.

“You have not been to my chambers in a moon’s time since the birth….”

“You can always find your company in a whore, my dear brother,” You spat with a small laugh, downing the cup. “But you have always preferred mine it seemed,” You added with a frown, staring down into your empty cup, little droplets of wine sitting at the bottom.

Aemond sighed softly as he stepped closer, frowning when you stepped back a bit. “Y/N….”

“Because of you I have lost my son!” You suddenly shouted, the tears already slipping down your cheeks. “Because of you the gods have punished me!”

“You have had enough….” Aemond tried to reach the cup but you pulled back with a fire in your violet eyes, something that had surprised your twin. He had never seen your eyes turn so dark.

“It is your fault that Aegon does not have an heir, Aemond,” You growled out.

“Vanar would not have been Aegon’s heir to begin with. The same goes for Vhaenys never being his daughter,” He stated, his voice deathly calm.

You clenched your jaw and threw the goblet at him suddenly, the cup hitting his chest. “You cursed me!” You choked back a sob, the tears pouring now. “You cursed me,” You whimpered out.

“Then why did you seek me out?” Aemond asked suddenly, walking close to you with his eye narrowed. “Why did you marry me?” He grabbed onto your arm and pulled you close.

“Because I love you!” You cried, staring into his eye. “Yet, my love for you came with a curse.” You yanked your arm away, sniffling as you turned your back towards your second husband. You stared down at your daughter, frowning.

“I want you out,” You whispered after a moment, crossing your arms. “We need to keep our distance from each other,” You said softly, your heart breaking at those words.

Aemond looked over you, frowning. He could feel the emotions seeping through yet he did not say anything as he turned and left. He glanced to Eleanah who had the chambers door a crack as she waited to enter before he sighed and turned down the hall, his face turning red as he held back his tears.

{tagged readers: ✨ @mrsdaemontargaryen ✨|| @50svibes || @alexandra-001 || @ateliefloresdaprimavera || @bellameshipper || @billihill || @bregarc || @bubblebuttwade || @chiyausu || @chosogb || @clairacassidy || @claudie-080102 || @daddysfavoritesexkitten || @darylandbethfanforever9 || @derzauberermitlilabademantel || @eddies-bat-tattoos || @hansensunshine || @hhjhbhh || @highexpectationsgurl || @kaitieskidmore1 || @ladybug0095 || @lady-stark-winter-rose || @l1-l4 || @mendes-bae || @mirandastuckinthe80s || @m00n5t0n3 || @multitargaryen || @muthafuckingstargirl || @neenieweenie || @princessmiaelicia || @riddlewithanxiety || @sakuramadae || @thegirlwithoutaname87 || @watermel0nsugarhigh || @whenmypartysover || @xcharlottemikaelsonx || @yckaar || @zgzgzh }

[hekates-corner]

Apothecary Diaries | WN Translation | Arc 9 - Chapter 10

Hi, however you came across this: Welcome!

For a number of reasons I ended up here - I relay all that happens in the chapters, playing wine-aunt, as I translate to the best of my abilities.

So, be warned, all the spoilers are down below.

New here? Feel free to check out the Masterlist!

Enjoy!

Warning: I said in the masterlist that I'd give triggers if there were any - the following chapter contains brief mention of everything mentioned before in canon & worse, while at other times you can guess more bad things that happened.

As far as I could gather, this chapter is told entirely by Nenshin, there's not even any interruptions to the madness & honestly, I'm not sure it had to be that loaded with triggers.

Triggers mentioned flat out: stillborn baby, murder, starving, a dead child, animal abuse, eradication of a tribe, selling of that tribe's children into slavery, abducting the women for marriage. cann-balism, which happened & was intended to happen again. extortion, human trafficking. people accidentally setting themselves on fire, everything being eaten by bugs + the feeling of being swallowed by a giant bug. killing of religious figures.

Triggers more than heavily implied: the abducted, forcibly married women "got pregnant", if you get my hint.

None of this is gone into much detail, it's more of rapid fire mention of all of that, for the entire chapter.

This is also not my usual "I give you the tea" post, it's pretty much a 1:1 of the actual WN chapter.

For those that maybe don't feel comfortable reading this chapter, I will try & put a brief summary, if the plot is needed, in whatever chapter it's needed in.

Chapter 10 | Nenshin's folktale

50 years ago there were more than twice as many nomadic people as there are now.

I’m also one of them, and I was born into a tribe that was more of a militant group. It may sound good to call them militants/armed warriors, but at worst they were bandits. They would usually keep livestock - but if they wanted a bride, they'd often just abduct women from other tribes or settled villages. On the other hand, they also had side jobs such as extortion or human trafficking.

Hey, don't glare at me. I think/know it was bad. At the time, I had no doubts, I thought that's what life was supposed to be like.

Well, let's continue this story.

I was still a young teenager, but my archery skills were bought by the chief. He(?) even participated in the robberies. It was worse to be beaten - that was the arrogance of the side that was always winning.

That arrogance was widespread throughout the tribe.

One day the chief's son spoke up. “I want a girl from the wind-reading tribe.”

The tribe of wind readers, you know. They were like priests who were in charge of the rituals of the entire grasslands, so to speak. They kept birds and moved around the grassland reading the wind. Many of them were intelligent enough to guess the weather exactly for the entire year.

There was a silent understanding/agreement even among the nomadic people, who had many wild animals: Do not mess with the wind tribe.

Our tribe broke that.

We attacked the wind-readers tribe, in order for the chief’s son to marry the next head of the wind-reading family. They were in the middle of a ritual, so they had no weapons such as bows or arrows. What did they have? Oddly/funnily enough all they needed for their ritual was a tame bird and a hoe.

The women followed/led the birds, the men dug up the soil.

You probably don’t know what that means. But that’s called a ritual. “He(?) looks like a farmer/peasant”, the chief’s son said. “Kill him/take him out”, he said.

I tightened my bow. The arrow flew with a bang, drawing an arc, then it hit the head of the chief of the wind-reader tribe.

That was the start of the war.

It didn't take any skill to kill these guys who didn't have any kind of weapons and were just digging up the ground. It was like chasing an injured deer.

After everything was over, I realized that the looting at that time was the worst thing I had ever done in my life.

He(Nengen’s chief?) had no hesitation in killing those who were respected as priests. In fact, it was worse than what he’d usually do. I guess it was the fear of having killed a priest. Maybe he thought that if he left the priest alive, he would tell God about it.

All grown men were killed. Only the young women were left behind. The kids were sold as slaves and the birds they kept became our dinner.

It’s a disgusting story. But that’s what I did. There was even a kind of elation.

That’s why I didn’t realize it at the time.

One dull bird was pecking at the ground during the looting. I didn’t care and gave it a kick. Later I found out that it was eating the seeds of disaster.

Since, our tribe has done whatever they wanted, more than ever before. The chief’s son abducted the wind-reading tribesman’s daughter, and the daughter conceived a child. It came around the time the daughter became/was pregnant with her second child.

A black shadow filled the plains. At first I thought it was an out-of-season rain cloud, because the black color looked like it had been painted over with charcoal.

My ears were ringing. The livestock astir. The children huddled close together in fear, the women embracing them.

The man, who said he was going to take a look, returned a short time later with his horse, looking lifeless. His clothes, skin and hair in tatters. The horse was agitated, it took a while for it to calm down. The man had marks, like something had bitten him, and I asked what had attacked him.

You guys look like you already know what’s coming. But please, let me talk. The people in the village don’t believe this story at all.

I didn’t even need to ask the scout.

It quickly caught up to our camp.

Insects. An uncountable number of insects. Locusts.

The loud sound of wings and the harsh sound of chewing. It attacks the tent.

The sheep that were grazing were startled and scattered - and the dogs could do nothing but howl, like they’d lost a fight, with their tails tucked between their legs.

The men brandished their swords erratically. You can’t even knock them down like this. But the biggest mistake was waving the torches around. The flying locusts that were set alight would jump/land on the men, causing even more disaster.

I didn’t understand why, so all I could do was crush the locusts on the ground. Each one is about two inches(5cm) long, but at the time we were being eaten by the belly of one giant bug/locust.

The women and children were hidden inside the tent, but more and more came through the cracks. The kids screamed from inside the tent. Their mothers can’t even calm them down and start screaming. They began cursing the men who couldn’t protect their families from flying locusts. The women, who had been kidnapped and forced into marriage, were so desperate that they revealed their true feelings.

The locusts weren’t satisfied with just grass, so they devoured all our food.

Wheat, beans, some vegetables, even the dried meat was chewed on. The tent had holes in various places and after the insects left, the bodies of exhausted, screaming people and countless locusts were left behind.

Everything was eaten up. Livestock fled.

They managed to catch a horse to head to the village to get some food. Since we’re bandits, they chose someone with an unscathed face. They chose—

As soon as I got close, I was shot with an arrow. I never thought someone would shoot me without them even checking who it was. My friend, who was late to escape, was left behind. I could do nothing but show my back to him as he reached out his hand and hung onto it.

When I looked back, the villagers had recovered their companions and the horses they were riding/When I looked back later I saw that the villagers had recovered the horses their friends and associates were riding.

If you think about it you’ll understand. Our tribe wasn’t the only one starving after being attacked by locusts.

I prayed that the friend I had abandoned would at least die without suffering. I thought it was inappropriate for us, who killed the priest’s tribe, to pray.

With nothing to eat, we killed the few remaining cattle. There were times when I would add grass to the soup and get an upset stomach. The hungry children ate the fallen locusts, but one of them died. Either the locusts were poisonous or they ate the legs without shredding them. They were undernourished and very emaciated. If there’s not enough food, the weaker individuals die first.

Moreover, it was natural for pregnant women, who needed more nutrition than anyone, to become weak.

On her body, only her belly is swollen. Although she was in the position of being the next chief’s wife, she was unable to eat properly after that tragedy. The first child clinging to her, sucking his thumb to disguise his hunger.

It was obvious that the baby was stillborn.

The chief’s son was disappointed in his second child. To add insult to injury, his wife was dying after giving birth.

“You guys interfered with the ritual. There are no more people holding the wind-reading ritual. The people of the grassland will continue to be threatened by insects for eternity.”

For several years, the people of her tribe were brutally murdered and kidnapped. Those were words that she had been holding in for a long time. The woman laughed loudly and died, holding her dead baby and the emaciated child in her arms.

As the woman said, it turned out that the cause of this disaster was our tribe’s punishment for disrupting the ritual.

Our tribe was hunted down as a common enemy of the grasslands.

I can only say that it was our own fault. Still, we were determined to live.

We ate grass, ate insects, sometimes we killed or were killed and running away.

A starving man ate the flesh of his dead companions. Not content with just that, he tried to kill even the living. My left eye is (gone) because the guy who tried to eat me shot an arrow into it. I pulled out an arrow on the spot and fired back at him.

I ran away because I didn’t want to eat or be eaten. As I ran, I found nothing and was starving and dry. The smell of barley porridge led me into the city.

The porridge that was prepared by the lord’s blessings, and was so salty that you could mistake it for cattle feed, was delicious.

I was a dirty mess, covered in tears and snot, and was immediately arrested by the guards. Apparently someone in town knew of me being a robber. I had no intention of resisting or anything, and even thought it would be better if I could just eat in prison. All I was looking forward to was seeing how many meals I could eat before I was hanged.

But they never put a rope around my neck.

What I got instead, was the amputation of the finger that draws the bow. And then I became a serf. I still think it was a rather lenient punishment, considering what I’d done.

Even the feudal lord knew about the wind-reading tribe’s ritual. The reason why they were able to eat while continuing to hold meaningless rituals was because the lord protected them. The ritual, which was thought to be meaningless, turned out to have meaning.

Hm, what do I mean by lord? You know, the now defunct dog clan. This was a time before upstarts like Gyokuen emerged.

The dog clan knew about the ritual of the wind-reading tribe. So they decided to have serfs take the place of the wind-reading tribe by placing them in different parts of the country.

Unfortunately, all I can do is till the soil. It seems that even the dog clan wasn’t sure if they could control the birds. All they had were chicken. (idk why but this paragraph is just a mess to translate)

You’re right. I’m being kept alive just to hold rituals. A sacrifice called a serf/I’m a sacrifice in the name of serfdom.

This is the village that these sacrifices created. The mausoleum next to the house is to worship/enshrine the wind-reading people we killed. So I paid the price for killing the priests, for calling in the disaster, with my small life. No matter how you look at it, for those around me it probably isn’t worth it/From the perspective of those around me, I don’t think it’s worth it.

Well, that was until 17 years ago.

With the dog clan gone, the serfs disappeared as they pleased. Some of these idiots have returned to the thievery family business. Because they’re used to being vandals. Hmm, it looks like you’ve run into bandits.

Eh, why did I stay?

Well, I don’t want to be eaten by locusts again.

Never again……..

Well, the old story goes like this/Well, so much for the long old story.

Do you have any questions?

| Notes & Chapter 11

I feel like this chapter took the part of my soul that at long last restored after reading the faces scenes in TGCF by MXTX and lit it up xD

Jokes aside, this was a pretty tiring chapter to translate. There are no comments or reactions from the other characters at all, the only 3(?) lines said by anyone other than Nenshin were that of the chief's son and his forced wife.

That said, I think I got most of the past and present tense right, the they vs I should be fine too - it's a bit tough with just one character doing all the talking though.

This is a strange, heavy chapter for sure. I hope you enjoyed either way. Stay safe!

[moviehealthcommunity]

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga (2024)

This is a Movie Health Community evaluation. It is intended to inform people of potential health hazards in movies and does not reflect the quality of the film itself. The information presented here has not been reviewed by any medical professionals.

Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga has a few quick flashes of bright images while the main character is sleeping in two separate scenes. There are a few close-ups of rapid gunfire and bright muzzle flashes. Early in the film, there is a time lapse shot with rapid changes between day and night that may create a strobe effect. In the opening WB production company logo, the lighting on the logo flickers off and on rapidly for the first second or two of the film.

This film features multiple high-speed road chase scenes, and multiple scenes depicting peril at extreme heights. The camera shakes mildly in one scene.

Flashing Lights: 6/10. Motion Sickness: 3/10.

TRIGGER WARNING: This film shows several graphic open wounds throughout the film. In one very short but disturbing scene, there are maggots swarming these wounds. In the opening sequence, there is an extremely high-pitched whistle used. A childbirth scene ends with a stillbirth, and the stillborn baby is shown on-screen. One character has a convulsive seizure seconds after suffering a traumatic brain injury. Multiple characters end their own lives in a "blaze of glory."

Video ID: Admin Brandon's review and evaluation of Furiosa: A Mad Max Saga

[olivescales3]

Happy WBW! 💚 In honor of Aro Week: how does your world view anti-amanormative ideas or practices? In other words, how does the world at large view people or ideas that don't prioritize romance or romantic relationships?

Thank you mutual for the ask!

I've always wanted to write about how my characters see relationships.

Chima animals are... you know, animals! They see the world in a totally different way than us, and each tribe has its own unique manner of understanding what's around them, as they're each different species.

In a nutshell, Chima animals do not have romantic relationships. The concept of romance and sex is absolutely alien for them, since they're not human (nor dolphin....).

However, romance being inexistent in Chima does not mean that the animals there don't have relationships. There are those who have a mate, those who don't, and those who simply wish to not have one (non-partnering). You can find both homosexual and heterosexual couples in Chima— the former started to become more common since the tribes don't have to worry much about underpopulation.

How do these couples express affection? Simple, just like how they do in real life. Depending on the species, they will cuddle, groom, play, etc.

The closest thing to "romantic attraction" is when an animal analyzes their possible partner in a mating ritual. Words such as "handsome" are meant to describe an animal's good genes.

Well, kind of. I somewhat lied. 'Romantic relationships' can exist in Chima, but it's totally different from ours— rare cases of two different species mingling can happen.

This part can be triggering to some, so it'll be placed under the cut. Also, be warned, and always keep in mind that the characters are literally animals, and are not meant to represent humans by/as themselves. Each different tribe is its own species of animal— interpreting them as different human ethnicities is extremely offensive, since it's an interpretation that aligns with pseudoscientific racism.

No one knows the reason of these incidents, but it's known that those of two species who mingle can and will cause harm to themselves and those around them, especially if they're closely related enough to form an offspring, since the birth of a hybrid might put the mother in danger of dying during birth. If it doesn't come out of the female as a stillborn, its body won't function properly— hybrids are a guaranteed case of bringing a suffering animal to life. Reegull, a hybrid between an eagle and a raven, was born without a functioning wing.

[olderthannetfic]

There was actually a sweep of fic deletions that bugged the hell out of me recently, for the HotD Daemyra fandom. Spoilers -- Daemon chokes Rhaenyra, his wife (and niece) in the final episode. The context is clearly one of rage and grief over their stillborn baby, his late brother, and the fact said brother (her father) didn't trust him; in other words, it shouldn't be viewed in the context of their marriage so much as the broader, main dramatic context. Anyways, Twitter basically exploded and several prominent, so-called dark!fic authors - who loved the ship when it was just mildly dubious, kinky incest, mind you - declared Daemyra persona-non-grata, raged about how disrespectful and triggering it was, deleted their fics and jumped ship to... HALADRIEL, of all things. I just found it to be an outstanding, and hilarious, display of hypocrisy (and I won't lie, I'm a little irked so many fics are now gone). Worth noting, too, that aside from a few reactionary Redditors and even fewer critics, most of the general audience either understood the context right away or regarded it as an OOC moment and moved on. You'd think avid consumers of a crapsack world like that in ASOIAF would consider the 'Author Chose Not To Use Archive Warning' unspoken.

--

[xnosoloweduetx]

Ultimate Decades: 1300-1305

Been very religiously playing the Ultimate Decades challenge over the past like week. Started in the year 1300 and I’m chugging along. It’s been a different way for me to play and it’s been a blast so far! Lots of heartbreak though, lots of heartbreak.

A recap of my first 5 years of the challenge are below the cut if anyone wants to read about the chaos. ⚠TRIGGER WARNING: FOR MENTIONS OF DEATH (INCLUDING KIDS)⚠

1300: Genevieve Fletcher dies of Hypothermia (Gen 0 Sim) / Cicily Fletcher & John Mannering get married (Gen 1 heir & spouse)

1301: Mirabel Fletcher & Arne Payne get married (Gen 1 side household) / Arthur & Winifred Mannering were born (Cicily & John’s kids) / Cicily Mannering dies during childbirth / John Mannering gets remarried to Petra Gregory

1302: Leif & Godwin Payne were born (Mirabel & Arne’s kids) / Mirabel Payne dies during childbirth / Arne gets remarried to Mary Ellsworth / Alaric & Amelia Mannering were born (John & Petra’s kids) / Amelia was born stillborn

1303: Arthur Mannering dies from malnourishment / Winifred Mannering ages up to a toddler / Leif Payne ages up to a toddler / Godwin Payne dies from malnourishment

1304: Alaric Mannering dies from malnourishment / John Mannering dies form dysentery / Dorothy Mannering was born (John & Petra’s kid)

1305: Annora Payne was born (Arne & Mary’s kid) / Arne ages up to a young adult (died but his wife’s plead to Grim worked) / Petra Mannering ages up to a young adult / 1 hen & 1 rooster on the farm dies from old age

So much death already and I haven’t even made it to the Great Famine yet 😭