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heniareth · 2 years

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ZevWarden Week 2022

Day 4: Alternative Universe - A Shootout in Denerim

Words: 3741 | Rating: Teens and up | Zevran x f!Tabris

WARNINGS:

blood and blood loss

injury

gun violence

corpses

child in danger

dead husband (mentioned)

Zevran has been on the run for what feels like ages now, with only his skills, his charm and a gun to keep him alive. His flight has led him to the poorer parts of modern-day Denerim, full of mud, wind, rain and abysmal coffee. He is tired, he can feel it, but he cannot stop. Not now. If he stops, the Crows fill find him. And if the Crows find him, he is a dead man.

A small grocery store, shabby but brightly illuminated, brings him a brief moment of warmth and a pleasant conversation with the overworked cashier. But when he steps outside and finds that his pursuers are closer than he thought they were, this small moment of repreive leads to consequences he could never have prepared for.

Read on AO3 or continue under the cut:

Zevran wasn’t sure what he was doing here, in the more run-down parts of Denerim well after sunset. The wind was blowing sharp and cold, bringing in a never-ending front of rain-swelled clouds from the Amaranthine Ocean. It whistled through his worn-out leather jacket, almost as if making fun of his efforts to stay warm. His boots, serviceable enough for Antiva’s warm rain showers, had long succumbed through the muddy Fereldan ground. Even the asphalt was full of mud here. It seeped through the cobblestones and out of every patch of grass. He had been walking for hours, never stopping for more than ten, fifteen minutes. He had eaten on the go and even sunken so low to as to accept the watered-down, sugar-spiked brew Fereldans had the nerve to call coffee. The chase was wearing him out; he could feel it in his tired legs, his damp mood, and the dryness in his eyes. But he couldn’t stop. If he did, the Crows would catch up. And if that happened, he was dead.

A flash of red and blue on the wet asphalt ripped him out of his train of thoughts, which had been going in circles for the last few hours. Instinctively, he stepped behind a tree, expecting a police car to round the corner. But the lights didn’t move. The coloration was also, now that he had time to study it, not quite like that of a police car. Or an ambulance. After a few moments of consideration, Zevran ventured closer. The lights, as it turned out, belonged to a supermarket. It was one of those shabby 24-hour stores where only the most desperate of souls could be found. Which meant it was just the place for him. It would be warm in there, and relatively dry. It might even contain something useful. Without thinking twice about it, Zevran marched towards the brightly illuminated glass door.

His boots tracked mud all over the floor. The pang of sympathy for the poor soul who would have to do the clean-up was soon forgotten. The store was small, manned by only one person at the register, one sad security camera mounted in front of the door and another at the staff exit. An easy picking. He found gauze, disinfectant, tape and a small umbrella, all of which he freed of their price tags and slipped into the various inner pockets of his jacket. Then he grabbed an energy drink and headed for the register.

The girl standing behind it, who could only be a few years younger than he was, looked like she hadn’t slept in a week and lived off of cup noodles and prayers. Which was a shame, really, because behind the eyebags and the listless movements as she scanned his drink, she had quite the handsome face with its strong features and the lovely hooked nose. Her only short-coming was that she was distinctly Fereldan in her manners, and that she wore an ill-fitting and unflattering uniform. Which was hardly her fault. The uniform however could not hide the fact that she was taller than him, nor that she had broad shoulders and long legs that were simply begging to be shown off. The bright red of her polo even served as a nice contrast to her dark skin, dark curls were gathered up in a ponytail and her dark eyes-

“Anything else?” she asked abruptly, ripping him out of his thoughts.

Zevran floundered for a moment, both from the rough interruption and from hearing her speak in a voice that was deeper than he would have expected.

“No, thank you,” he said, giving her a smile. “Apologies, it has been a long day.”

She turned back to her register and Zevran plunged his hands into his pockets. Where had he left his coins?

“You doing alright?” the girl asked.

Zevran gave her his best surprised look. “Apart from this dreadful weather you have here, you mean?”

“Sure,” the girl said, then gave a pointed look at his boots. “Caught you bad, huh?”

“Ah.” Zevran felt something in his chest twist. “Apologies for tracking mud all over the floor.”

“Don’t worry about it,” she said and shrugged. “I have to clean up either way. Hey, want a doughnut?”

She pulled a crumpled plastic wrapping out from under her desk and held it out to him. The doughnuts inside were a bit squashed and definitely not the real thing. They could very well have been her food for the day. They could also, however, be laced with something.

“Do you often offer food to random strangers?” Zevran asked with a joking laugh. “Or do I really look so poor?”

“If you don’t want it, just say so,” the girl grumbled and stowed her doughnuts back under her desk. “You just looked like you could use a pick-me-up.”

She seemed genuine. And now he had no doughnut. Caution was well and good, but the sinking feeling in his stomach was far more real. Ah, braska!

“I apologize then,” Zevran said and bowed. “Yet again.”

“You do that a lot,” the girl said. “Here’s your ticket.”

He took it, counted himself lucky that she wasn’t angry, and hurried out of the store. Only when he stepped out into it did he remember how cold and wet the evening was and missed the dingy store.

He had just gotten his wits about him and stopped thinking about the cashier and the doughnuts when he saw them: two figures, hoods drawn, umbrellas opened, hands in their pockets, scanning the area as if they were getting paid for it. And they most likely were, or would be if they found him. Zevran stepped into the shadow of some large garbage cans and stood still. There were more, he was sure of it. There were always more. He could run and risk bumping into another one. He could kill these two, make a mess and confirm his presence in Denerim. Or he could wait until they left. They hadn’t found him yet, and if it came down to a test of patience he would bet on himself any day.

An hour later, the two Crows were still there. From time to time, a third one appeared and reported to them before disappearing around the corner again. Cars and trucks passed by. It had started to rain, a rain so fine it seeped into every crack and hole in his clothes. Zevran was cold, tired and miserable and had gambled away his time imagining increasingly creative ways to murder these two. Not that doing so would do him any good. It was, however, far better than thinking about how his hunters probably had a warm spot to return to once the hunt was over.

How had they found him anyways? Would he have to ditch his clothes and backpack yet again? Just as he was starting to worry they’d managed to get a tracking device inserted into him—which was ridiculous, he knew where every scar of his had come from and nobody needed a tracking device implanted into them to be found—the door to the store opened.

The girl at the register had finished her shift. She was heading directly for the two Crows.

Zevran quietly pulled his gun out of his jacket and hoped he had at least two bullets left. He should have counted them.

“Hey, you!” one of them, a man, shouted.

The girl hastened her step. “Fuck off!”

“Miss!” Now the other Crow, a girl in college age, hurried to catch up with the cashier girl. “Miss, one moment. We’re with the City Guard.”

“Cool,” the girl said, walking on. “I got a little girl to get back to.”

“Just a moment, please. Have you seen this man?”

The Crow brandished what Zevran supposed was a picture of himself. He aimed his gun at the male Crow, careful to stay in the shadows.

The girl had stopped and was looking at the picture.

Zevran had to remind himself to breathe.

“Never seen him.”

Zevran’s breath caught in his throat.

“We have reason to believe he is in the area, and that he is armed and dangerous,” the Crow girl insisted. “He is a prime suspect in several murders. If you’ve seen him, please contact us. For your and your family’s safety.”

Even from his hiding spot, Zevran could see her hesitating. The Crow girl could see it too.

“I haven’t seen him,” the girl insisted.

The Crow tucked the picture back into her pocket. “I see. Thank you for your time and have a safe journey home.”

The girl looked from her to her companion. Then she shrugged and continued walking through the cold Fereldan drizzle.

As soon as she was out of earshot, the male Crow spoke up. “She was lying.”

“She was,” the girl answered. “Aida and Tiago should go after her I think.”

The Crow nodded and pulled a phone out of his pocket. While he was making his call and the girl was staring in the direction in which the girl had vanished, Zevran quietly abandoned his hiding spot. Not a few moments later, four more Crows arrived. Two, Aida and Tiago, presumably, were sent after the girl. Two others were sent to check on the store and the two heads of the group turned to walk the perimeter—starting away from him. This was his chance.

Zevran shoved the gun back into his pocket and suddenly thought of the doughnuts.

Cursing quietly in the privacy of his mind, he set out after Aida and Tiago.

The girl from the store lived in a shack of a house behind a five-storied, government-sponsored apartment complex. The two Crows tailing her stayed in the passageway that ran through the building and offered a good view on the shack. Its wooden walls were a bit bent above its stone foundation, and the whole thing was in desperate need of a new coat of paint. Only one window was illuminated, but while the girl was still looking for her keys, the door opened and a young man appeared in the doorway, carrying a little girl in his arms.

“See?” he said to the girl. “Mama’s right there.”

“Hello, lil’ one. Hey, Soris.”

The girl lifted the child into her arms. The little girl let out a few hiccup-y sobs that sounded like the aftermath of a longer cry, and then nestled against her mother’s shoulder.

“Rough day?” the young man said.

“Long day,” the girl from the store sighed. “Got held up by some people pretending to be cops on the way home. Said there was a murderer loose.”

“A what?” the young man yelled, only for the girl to shush him aggressively.

“They showed me a picture and everything,” she said, then broke out into a toothy grin. “Turns out he was my last customer.”

The young man groaned. “Maker’s Breath, cousin, come inside!”

“Most handsome supposed murderer I’ve ever seen,” the girl said, still grinning, but allowed her cousin to usher her inside.

The young man took a suspicious glance around, then firmly shut the door.

Zevran meanwhile was tempted to grin to himself in the darkness. Most handsome murderer. Now if that didn’t stroke his ego! In front of him, Aida and Tiago had started whispering.

“Should we talk to her?” Aida asked.

Tiago shook his head. “They told us to wait for them.”

“We should at least find out where the child sleeps,” Aida insisted.

Hm. That wouldn’t do at all.

Zevran aimed his gun at the back of her head.

He hid the bodies best he could and turned over the gravel they had been standing on to obscure any trace of blood. He would have to get rid of everything later. Preferably somewhere that wasn’t linked to the girl or her family. The nearby river would do nicely, and—ah! There was a shed just around the corner, and in it a wheelbarrow. How very convenient!

Tiago had sent the address to the other Crows via a burner phone that was now in Zevran’s gloved hand. It was truly a brick of a phone. Just how the Crows liked it. Their weapons had been equally familiar and now rested in his pockets. Zevran idly scrolled through the few text messages the phone contained. Tiago wasn’t one to talk much, it seemed. Zevran honored this by not responding to the new message that now appeared on the screen.

“On our way.”

Well. Zevran tucked the phone into a pocket and stood up. Time to look for a spot where to prepare his ambush.

He decided against one of the flats, which would have provided more cover but also left him to deal with its inhabitants. Instead, he took up position on the flat roof, right above the passageway that led to the girl’s house. There was a knee-high wall that surrounded the ledge of the roof, and behind him two broad metal ventilation shafts rose into the night sky. The Crows would have to pass by right below him to get to the girl, he had cover and something at his back. Really, the spot was good.

It had stopped raining. It was only him, the occasional car, and the comparatively small expanse of the nightly Denerim City. The wind had calmed down. Everything seemed to be holding its breath.

The Crows appeared, walking in formation: far enough to one another to give a gunman a challenge, but close enough so that they may come to one another’s aid should need arise. Zevran let them approach until they were crossing a broad, four-laned street. Nothing to hide behind. Nothing to obstruct his vision. Beautiful. He aimed at one and pulled the trigger.

One gunshot muffled by a silencer was enough to sent them running, even before their dead companion had hit the ground. Zevran picked off a second one comfortably enough, but the other two reached cover—bushes, dark round shapes in the night. The street was now empty except for the two unmoving bodies, which received one more bullet each for caution and mercy’s sake. Then Zevran settled down to wait. There was no obscured way backwards. They would split and surround the building, or make a run for it from cover to cover if they were brave. He would of course have to be faster than them and get them while they were out in the open. While he was still considering this, a small round something rolled down the pavement towards him.

Zevran pressed his face into the balustrade and squeezed his eyes shut just in time to avoid the worst of the flash grenade. Steps ran out from below. The Crows were getting away. Through the bright blue and green spots shimmering in his vision, Zevran aimed and shot. The figure, about to reach safety on the other side of the street, fell. Zevran pulled the trigger again but only got a clicking sound in return. Cursing, he pulled out Aida’s gun. His vision slowly cleared. On the street, the Crow he’d just shot turned around and raised his arm. A muffled gunshot rang out. Zevran ducked. The bullet missed his head by far too little, there was a loud bang and a sharp pain in his leg. The bullet had ricocheted off the vents. Zevran rolled to the right, peered over the ledge, aimed and fired. The Crow twitched and dropped his gun. Zevran shot him a second time, then a third. When he was making no efforts to even crawl away, he ripped his stolen supplies out of his jacket and fastened the gauze to his leg with tape. All in all, the bleeding was not bad. Far worse was the surviving Crow, and the fact that Zevran had no idea where they were. Zevran crawled as fast as he could away from the ledge of the roof, then stumbled down the stairs inside the building. Where to now: the street or the shack?

A scream, then muffled protests from a familiar voice answered the question for him.

Zevran limped as fast as he could to the nearest exit. Outside, the Crow girl was waiting for him. She, with her small Antivan frame, was keeping the girl from the store immobilized with one hand and pointing a gun at her head with the other. The girl from the store immediately recognized him; her eyes widened, in horror no doubt. Inside the house, her daughter started to cry.

“Guns down,” the Crows barked. There were leaves and branches tangled in her chin-length hair.

The girl from the store was standing perfectly still. Her eyes didn’t leave him. Over the steady rush of blood in his ears, Zevran could hear her daughter’s wails getting louder.

“I said,” the Crow screamed, jostling the girl, “guns down!”

Zevran wanted to shoot her. But the girl who had offered him a stale doughnut was staring mutely at him with eyes that had seen too many late shifts and too many tears on her daughter’s face. Slowly, Zevran crouched down and laid his gun—the gun he’d taken off Aida’s body—on the ground. Then he pulled out Tiago’s gun. And, finally, his own, empty one. He laid them next to the first and pushed them away from him, out of arm’s reach and towards the Crow.

The Crow exhaled in satisfaction and a bit of tension vanished from her shoulders. The girl from the store balled her fists. The edges of his vision were starting to grow dark. Would you look at that, he was losing more blood than he’d thought.

Zevran allowed himself one more deep breath of cool night air before he stood up.

“I suppose they don’t want me alive, no?” he said, voice wobbly from the sudden wave of dizziness and the tightness in his chest. The latter one was new.

He was scared.

“Unfortunately, no,” the Crow answered.

She pointed her gun at him.

The girl from the store screamed and threw herself to the ground. The Crow went down with her. The shot went loose. Zevran scrambled for the nearest gun as the world seemed to wobble under his feet. Another shot. The girl was on top of the Crow, pinning her down, but not for long. The Crow threw her off balance, rammed her fist into her kidneys, kicked her away from her. Zevran bit his teeth together as a new wave of dizziness threatened to bring him down. Not now. He aimed, just as the Crow was scrambling up. She looked at him, saw his gun. Her eyes widened. He pulled the trigger.

The Crow slumped down onto the pavement.

The world turned around him until he was lying there too.

Pain. In his side, the left.

In his head, throbbing.

In his leg as well. It felt like that time somebody had ripped through his arm with a serrated knife. Painful, that.

It smelled of old blankets and reheated cup noodles. Somewhere, a door shut quietly.

Steps were coming closer.

Zevran bolted upright and would’ve jumped off whichever surface he was lying on if someone hadn’t held him back.

“It’s okay,” they said. “It’s okay, you’re safe. They’re all dead.”

Despite the wave of nausea that rushed over him he could recognize the voice. It was the girl from the shop.

“Caught you bad, huh?” she said quietly. “Those bullets?”

Bullets? As in several? Suddenly the pain in his side made much more sense. Zevran mustered a weak chuckle that quickly deteriorated into a pained groan as the movement pulled on the injury in his side. The girl patted his shoulder sympathetically.

“Good to see you’re alive,” she said. “My dad patched you up best he could, but we should probably get you to a hospital.”

Suddenly, Zevran felt cold all over.

“No hospital,” he gasped. “Please.”

“I thought you wouldn’t like the idea.” The girl sighed and something wooden scraped over the floor. A chair, perhaps? “You can argue with him about that tomorrow. For now, you’re here. Rest up. Want something to drink?”

Zevran nodded. The chair scraped against the floor once more. A moment later, she returned and helped him lift his head to drink as if it was the most natural thing in the world.

“You are good at this,” he croaked rather miserably. So much for his usual charm.

“Ah, well, my dad wanted me to become a nurse like him,” she answered.

Were his ears betraying him or had his frog-like voice coaxed a smile out of her? Why were his eyes still closed?

“So really, you gotta thank him,” she continued.

From what he could make out through the blurriness, she was leaning against the chair and had exchanged her glaring red polo for an oversized t-shirt under an open jacket. Her hair was loose. It looked beautiful.

“But he’ll tell you you don’t have to thank him at all because you saved my life. So… don’t thank me.” Her voice had grown soft. “Thank you.”

Zevran cleared his throat and grimaced. “I brought them here.”

“Yeah…” The girl nodded. “I wouldn’t mention that to my dad. Nor the cops.”

Panic shot through Zevran. What was he still doing here?

“My cousins and some friends are currently cleaning the mess outside up,” the girl continued. “From previous experience, I’d say they still have about a quarter of an hour until some kind of authorities show up.”

“Previous experience?” Zevran asked weakly.

“Not important now,” the girl said. “We need an alibi for you.”

She looked down on him as if sizing him up. And Zevran could do nothing but lie on what he now recognized as an old couch which someone had covered with a towel and let her look him up and down.

“I apologize for dragging you into trouble.”

“You really do apologize a lot,” the girl said. “You remind me of my husband.”

Zevran looked around the room, careful not to move his head. “Where is he?”

“Dead,” the girl answered. “How would you feel about impersonating him?”

Zevran gawked up at her. “I- alright?”

“Good. I’m Astala Tabris.” The girl took his hand and shook it. “Welcome to the Tabris- I don’t know your name.”

“Zevran,” he said quickly.

“Zevran,” the girl, Astala, repeated. “Welcome to the Tabris family.”

It’s the fourth day! I can’t believe I’m making it for all of these prompts XD XD XD It’s such a delight to see the things people are making and my only regret right now is not having enough hours in the day to give everything the attention it deserves. But a time will come. Happy 4th day of ZevWarden Week 2022!

#zevwarden week 2022 #zevwarden #fanfic #alternate universes #modern au #modern thedas #zevran x tabris #zevran x f!warden #children #death #blood #gun violence #child in danger #dead husband #blood loss #the antivan crows

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smuthospital · 7 months

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⭐️Yandere Husband x reader⭐️

Premise: Your husband really wants kids, but you're not really all for the idea

Warning: Noncon, breeding, fem reader

Minors DNI

You prepared a cute little basket with bread, some homemade jam and a couple of sandwiches along with a delicious strawberry cake you baked just for today! You look up at the playground from where you're sitting, the breeze feeling just right. It's a beautiful day out. Kids playing, people walking their dogs, couples like yourself picnicking. You and your husband have been together for three years and married one. He's the sweetest man in the world and you couldn't feel luckier to be with him. Your mother introduced him to you. He was her close friend's son. His mother and yours just so happen to go to the same knitting class. Although his mother was of a higher class, your mother and his had a lot in common and hit it off right away. Your mother would have buried you six feet deep if you refused to see him, not that you would've. He's handsome, sweet and has a well-paying job. Of course, that's the side of him that he allows you to see.

He begged his mom to introduce you after he saw you sitting on your porch one day when he was picking his mother up from your house. You waved at him and smiled. His heart was about to pop out of his chest. Your beauty was nothing he'd ever even imagined before. Everything about you is perfect. Everything. He asked his mother about you as soon as he drove off. She was more than happy to tell him. She's quite fond of you and would choose you as a daughter-in-law over anyone else. She couldn't be happier that her beloved first son has shown interest in a jewel like you.

He couldn't help but fall even deeper in love when he got to meet with you. Your voice rings bells in his heart and your eyes speak to his soul. He knew from then on that you were made for each other. He would never admit it, but he's absolutely obsessed with you. He would prefer to say that he's in love with you. Dating was smooth. He quickly proposed as soon as an appropriate amount of time passed. It couldn't come soon enough to him. You're so sweet and understanding. So thoughtful and intelligent. You share interests and when you don't, you make the effort to try. So does he, of course. You're so perfect.

Once married, he was happy to go to work and come back to your loving embrace. He'd rather die than have you support yourself. Anything you want, anything you need is yours. You don't even have to ask, your husband is very observant. You might mention something in passing that he'll overhear. Something small, something you didn't even put a lot of focus into, but he'll remember. He'll remember and he'll get it for you as soon as possible. He'd do anything...and that means anything. If anyone made you cry, he'd comfort you...before beating them unconscious. Getting his hands dirty is a small price to pay for you. But dear god, if anyone dared to lay a finger on you... well...consider them gone. Consider them erased actually. Consider the fact that they won't be bothering anyone ever again. Consider people closely associated with them being severely injured.

He's a ray of sunshine. You love him and he loves you. He loves you very much. You've never had any serious arguments. The two of you got along so well that there weren't any disagreements, but there were, he'd just fold and let it go. The only problem is that now that you're married, he wants kids, but you're not ready. You've never been very good with kids. They make you anxious. The sticky fingers, their delicate little heads, the fact that they could become psychopaths if you don't raise them properly. Not to mention how expensive and time-consuming they are. You spend all that time and energy on them and get almost nothing in return. Don't even get you started on the effects it'll have on your body.

There's just too much that could go wrong and besides, you just font feel like you're mature enough to have a kid of your own when you still feel like one yourself. You're not ready to raise a human being. There's so much you want to do, want to explore and you can't do that with a baby. Your husband on the other hand is great with them. He's the eldest brother of six so he's used to taking care of kids. At birthday parties, you can find him carrying three kids at a time, one over his shoulders and two in his arms, even the older ones, which doesn't surprise you because he's built big and strong. Must've eaten his vegetables when he was a kid, you snicker, inwardly. Your husband pokes you every time he sees a cute video of a baby on his phone like a boy asking his parents for a puppy. "Just watch! Aren't they cute!? (Yyyy/nnnn)!" He sticks his phone in your face and makes you watch a bunch of videos. He has a severe case of baby fever.

You look over at your fiance. He's looking out at the swing set with a dreamy look on his face. A little boy is pushing his younger sister and they look like they're having a blast. You cringe, knowing your husband is gonna bring up the baby talk again when you get home. Just then, you feel a light tug on your dress and look over to see a little girl around the age of 4, wobbling on her feet, looking up at you. You at least try to be good with kids. "Hey, what are you doing?" You laugh nervously. You know you're in for it now. You can feel your husband's intense gaze on the back of your neck.

"...Mama said that if I'm good, I can have cake. I was good today, so can I have some,...please?" You look up to see a woman face palming and yelling at her daughter to come back and stop bothering the nice lady. You smile at her mother, letting her know it's okay. "Well you asked so very nicely, how can I say no?" You cut a small slice and plate it for her. You give her the plate, but she just looks up at you with puppy dog eyes. "I...I always let Mama feed me," she says as fiddles with her fingers nervously. So adorable. You look up at her mother, who seems to be busy dealing with one of her other kids and decide to give her a break. Although this is breaching your comfort zone, you just can't say no to that face.

You pick up a fork and begin feeding her. You just know your fiance has the most love-struck look on his face, if you were looking at him, you'd be able to see big hearts in his eyes. You peek over at him to see just that and roll your eyes. "Mm so yummy! Thank you miss!" She gets on her tippy toes and kisses you on the cheek. You must admit that was adorable, but your opinion remains firm. No kids. No way. You still have plenty more reasons not to have any so cuteness is not enough to sway you. The little girl waddles away back to her mom. You don't want to turn around. You sigh and look at your husband to see he is still swooning.

"Oh my god! That was beautiful. You be such a good mom!" He coos. You groan. "We talked about this so many times, honey. You know how I feel about kids," you pout, folding your arms. You could've sworn you saw his eyebrow twitch like he was upset. "You'd be great, I believe in you. I just know it," he beams. Oh, he's not mad. Must've been your imagination. You roll your eyes. He didn't listen to a word you said though. You love him so much, but he's a brick wall when it comes to things like this. He's been on your ass quite literally about kids ever since you got married. "I need more time," you say, looking away from his pouting face. He was a bit gloomy for the rest of your outing after that. Last night, you misplaced your birth control pack. You were worried about it, but you just brushed it off and decided to take two the next night when you do find them.

Soon, your picnic comes to an end and you head home. He's on you as soon as you shut the door, kissing you passionately. You return the gesture, hugging him close. "Don't take your birth control tonight," he whispers huskily in your ear. You stop and push his chest. He takes a step back and looks down at you, eyebrows furrowed. "We literally just talked about this! Respect that I don't want any dumb kids!" You shout. You expect him to apologize, to get on his knees and beg for forgiveness like he always does when he's in the wrong. Then he'd go and get you flowers, and cook for you, but this time, he looks down at you rage evident in his expression. He looks really pissed. You shrink in your spot. What?

"You're being ridiculous, (y/n)! It's time for you to grow up! You're old enough to be a responsible mother so stop acting like a child. I can support the both of you easily. You don't have to lift a fucking finger, just have my child already. I've been so fucking patient with you. My mother and yours have been asking us where their grandchild is. What the fuck do I tell them? I'm wondering too! I've been waiting for you to change your mind and be reasonable, but you're really getting on my nerves now," he grits his teeth as he finishes his sentence. Each sentence felt like a stab to your heart. He's never said such cruel words to you or even cruel words in general before. Your husband hasn't so much as insulted you. You never could've imagined your husband had this side to him.

He gripped your arm and began dragging you upstairs. "Hey! S-Stop! Stop it!" You cry, holding onto the stair rail. He looks back at you. That was the last fucking straw. You hear a loud clap and your head turned. Huh? Your cheek stings? Tears begin to well in your eyes as you hold your reddening cheek. He takes the time to pull you the rest of the way up and into the bedroom. He sets you on the bed and locks the door, taking his clothes off right there, his well-built figure casting a shadow over you. You begin sobbing in your place on the bed, covering your face with your hands. He walks over and gently hugs you, rubbing your back. You push at him, but he keeps you still pressed to his body. "Stop that," he whispers in your ear. His voice is commanding yet gentle, but you ignore him and continue fighting his hold. "That's it. I'm so tired of you acting like this. It's time you give me what I deserve, a family." He grips your dress and violently rips it off you, leaving you in your bra and panties. You've had sex before, but never like this. This is the first time your eyes held fear while looking at your husband.

He shoves you back onto the bed, climbing over you and trapping you beneath him, smiling. He traces a finger from your collar to the center of your bra, where it stills before ripping it off you. You know better than to scream so you whimper as he throws it to the side. He places a hand over your breast, squeezing it painfully. You grab his wrist, trying to pry it off. "You are gonna be a great mommy. Can't wait to watch these fill up with milk." His face takes on that dreamy look again. "Seeing you today in the park confirmed it. You're more than ready." You feel his cock rubbing your thigh. He yanks your panties down your legs, tossing them into the forgotten corner with his clothes and yours. With his other hand and rubs your pussy. You whine and struggle under him, but you know you're no match for him. He spreads your thighs open and lodges himself between them, his cock rubbing up and down your fold, taunting you. "I love you...so much," he says before slowly entering you. You are NOT having a fucking baby. You'll take your birth control and that'll be that. He smiles down at you, knowing what you're thinking and bucks his hips. He laughs like he knows something you don't, but the idea is completely lost on you.

He bottoms out, moaning as he does. He rubs the bulge in your stomach lovingly. "I want a big family, honey. Make me a daddy. Let me breed you," he says, rutting into you. Even though he's being so rough, it feels so damn good. He picks up your thighs and pressed them down beside your head, squishing your cervix with his cock. Your tongue rolls out your mouth as your eyes roll into the back of your skull. He kisses your neck and cheeks, giving you soft praise. "I knew you'd be good for me. Such a good little wife and soon to be mommy. You're gonna look so cute stuffed with our baby. God, I fucking love you," he chants as he rams into you again and again, your brain is far too clouded by the feeling of him spearing your guts to understand him.

You dig your nails into his back as continues bruising your poor cervix. You let out a choked whine. "It's ok, honey, you can cum. I'll allow it." As if on command, you do. He kisses your lips passionately, quickening his pace. Moans leave your mouth each time he pounds into you, the air and sound being forced from your lungs each time on impact.

His fists curled in the sheets, his eyes clenching. He slams his hips to yours, your body being forced farther before he grabs your hips and forces you back. He grunts as he cums deep inside you, your stomach filling to the brim with his seed. He sighs and kisses your cheek. You breathe heavily, waiting for him to get off, but he doesn't. He just starts going again like he didn't just fill your guts up.

"W-Whah?" You whine. "I need to make sure my seed takes, darling. We'll be doing this until I say we're done so don't complain now." You can tell by his tone that he's daring you to try something. You just clench your eyes and keep taking him. You're so bloated with cum. He's never been like this before, always stopping when you wanted to and treating you like porcelain. Now he's grabbing you and fucking into you like he's been holding back for years, which you now think he has. Your eyelids begin drooping after the sixth time he forced you to cum. You can't keep them open and he notices. "It's ok, take a nap. Warning, I'm not stopping. I guess I tired you out," he laughs.

You wake up to him hugging your back, spooning you. You look at your alarm clock. It's been hours and judging from the still-wet cum all over your thighs, he only stopped recently. You slowly and very carefully slip out of his hold and off the bed. You feel a soreness like never before in your stomach and almost fall to the floor. Oh god, your uterus. More cum slips out of you as you walk to your vanity. You open a couple of drawers where you think your birth control might be, but it's not there. Where could it be if not in your vanity!? You look around frantically, but you still can't find them! You begin looking everywhere. You check the bathroom cupboard, opening it slowly so it doesn't creak and wake up your crazy husband. It's not in there! You look down to see the crumpled package in the trash. You pick it up to see it empty. Every single slot, even the pink period pills. You begin tearing up as you see there are tiny white specs by the sink. No! He washed them away! How could he!? You clutch the sink as you stare at the empty package. You feel a presence creep up behind you. You look up in the mirror to see your husband right behind you, looking down at you with disdain.

"I knew you were going to take them after I told you not to so I got rid of them last night." He planned this!? "Let's go back to bed...Common," he says tiredly and grabs your arm, forcing you back into bed with him, your back to his chest. You feel his cock harden and you try to inch away, but he grabs your hips and rubs his cock up and down your folds before jamming it inside you until he bottoms out. You whimper with your hands over your mouth, knowing that if you annoyed him while he was tired, you'd get in real trouble. He lazily humps into you, rubbing your bulging tummy from behind you, his lips kissing your head. You pass out later from exhaustion.

You wake up to find him not in bed. You take the chance to get up and throw on a sweatshirt and sweats. You grab your wallet and sprint out of the room and down the stairs, ignoring the painful limp he gave you and the soreness in your poor tummy. Your wrist is caught mid-air..." Where the fuck do you think you're going, honey?" He asks, his sweet smile contrasting the bone-crushing grip he has your wrist in.

"O-Oh! Um...we...need-" He cuts you off in the middle of your lie, yanking your wrist and forcing you closer to him. "You were going to go kill our baby." You've never seen such darkness in his eyes. "Well, you can't. I won't allow it. The doors have new locks just for you, love. You're not going anywhere." He smiles down at you, that same handsome face you love, but now come to fear. You gulp as he leads you into the kitchen where he prepared a beautiful breakfast.

You soon accept what's to happen. Your husband is a loved man. Loved by all. His family, your family, his job, the community, everyone. Your husband is often described as charismatic, funny, helpful and friendly. If you told anyone of them what he's done to you, they'd call you a liar without hesitation or even better, take his side, agreeing that it's time you give him a child because it's your duty as his wife to do at least that for him. Be a little grateful for all he does. Providing for you and taking care of you. You'd rather keep your mouth shut. Nothing good can come of telling anyone. It only took a few days of brutal fucking till you woke up early in the morning feeling nauseous and ran to the bathroom, him hot on your tail, ready to hold your hair back as you emptied your stomach into the toilet. You sob as you hug your knees on the bathroom floor. He got on the floor with you, wiping your tears with his thumbs and holding your face. He smiles wide and hugs you tightly. "Yes! (Y/n)! I'm so proud of you! We're having a baby! I love you!"

Yandere husband with pregnant reader head cannons:

- You're allowed out of the house after a while of proving your obedience! Hooray! With the exception that he has to be there, of course. A man flirted with you a bit while you were shopping and your husband was within earshot. You still cringe when you remember the sound the man's nose made as your husband punched him. It took three security guards to get him off the guy.

- Your husband makes you eat so much! "Sit down and finish your food. You're eating for two, remember!? Or did you forget?"

- Paints the baby's room with non-toxic paint and will not let you help or hold anything. "No, it's too dangerous, (Y/n). Sit back down, I've got this, ok?"

- Spares no expense for you and the baby. Buys everything people recommend to him

- Watches youtube videos for things he needs to watch out for during your pregnancy

- Does pregnancy stretches with you and won't take no for an answer. "It's good for you and the baby so get to it! I'll do them with you so we look silly together!" You both still have a fun time.

- You once dropped a book on the floor and your husband burst through the wall to get to you, leaving a cartoon cutout of himself and all. "WHATHAPPENDAREYOUOK!?" He shouted all in one breath. You assured him that you were just fine and that you'd only dropped a book, but he still cradled you in his arms crying.

- Cooks all your meals and cuddles you every single night.

- You being pregnant does not mean he stops fucking you, no. He's just a lot more gentle with you.

- Has everything about your pregnancy and birth planned to the exact detail, even when you'll have the next one.

- He rubs his face against your tummy and kisses it, singing to the baby.

- Do you need to get up? "Here, take my arm...actually...I'll hold you!"

- He picks up the phone on the first ring...and you better too or he's racing home.

#non con #lemon #yandere #x reader #yandere x reader #yandere husband #dead dove do not eat

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