Author's note (feel free to skip): I initially wrote this fic at the end of high school and through college. This is a revision/rewrite! Among other things, I've removed the gratuitous Japanese and some superfluous scenes (particularly in the first third). There will also be extra scenes that I either had ideas for when I first wrote the fic or that I came up with to convey the same feelings as some of the deleted ones. There will also hopefully be fewer redundant-feeling scenes as a result.

I'm still following my internal ruleset for writing this fic: no less than 150 words, no more than 1000 per chapter.

A heads up: there is mention of sex, non-explicit and tame as it is. The bulk of this fic deals with pregnancy and there is some description of childbirth, though I don't believe there is anything particularly disturbing; if there is, I will put a warning before the chapter. I also try to keep this fic relatively on the lighter end, since I like leaving darker things in subtext and implication. Also! If a specific flower is mentioned, that's intentional. I encourage you to look into it.

And lastly-at the beginning of the fic, Hinata is turning 18 in a few months and Itachi has just turned 23. Why the timing isn't on an age 20 for one of them is mostly b/c I wanted to stay close to shippuden age without being More Problematique (there is in-universe justification, however). The only major station of canon I use is Tsunade as Hokage, as I think it would end up happening anyway.

I'm hoping to update 1-2x a week depending on my backlog

Thank you for reading, and enjoy!


Day 1

"We don't have to do this right now," Itachi whispered.

Hinata glanced down, between them, and back up. Her feet were cold. There was a missed hair pin poking at the skin behind her ear. The room was frigid, bedsheets even moreso. What a thing to latch on to.

"I...I...I think they'll know." She squeaked it out. "S - somehow."

Itachi swept a gaze down her body. They were both naked. Their wedding clothes were neatly folded on a nearby bench. Itachi was awkwardly balanced on his hands and knees over her. He was studiously avoiding eye contact.

"Maybe," he allowed.

He was quiet for a bit. Without Sharingan activated, he seemed much less intimidating. There was a soft glint to the brown-black of his irises. He was lean-muscled, stronger than he looked. He's out of his element, Hinata thought. But so was she, in maxed out air conditioning, in August. This would not be a dreamy springtime affair with gauzy curtains.

His lips parted in hesitation before he spoke again. "Would...genjutsu make this easier?"

"N...No! What?" she shrieked, jumping. She gripped the sheet. "Why?!"

"Sorry." A sort-of-flush began high on his cheeks, but his expression was stony. "Forget it."

"Um...m-maybe...just...we could…" She glanced down and squeaked again. ""

(Itachi was not unused to deciphering stop-start squeaks, although Sasuke's language of awkwardness was more of a grumble these days.)

"If you're sure," he said.

His expression was the same, but the flush was a pink line across the middle of his face now. He made a 'hmm' sound, the one for considering an idea. Then, without warning, he hoisted up her legs.


Itachi froze.

They looked at each other for a few seconds.

"Ah," he said. He dropped whatever his idea was with her legs. "I heard it was easier."

The silence thereafter was such that the air conditioning's low buzzing was the only sound.

Hinata attempted to suggest something along the lines of foreplay, but it came out as a series of ums and wes. Itachi's response was a single swallow, a gulp, visible and loud. He nodded as if he understood her intent.

"I...see," he said. It exited his lips as little more than air.

It wasn't precisely the mechanical action of it that cut her. While she shut her eyes as Itachi lowered himself to her, summoning a yellow-gold-blue picture in his place, Itachi's lack of being … him was not something she could truly be rid of. His hands were cold, breath soft. He touched her as little as possible. Of course, she was doing the same. There was nothing to enjoy about the archaism of consummation. The exact term, there, in the contract, alongside the word heir.

She did not open her eyes until long after Itachi's weight dented the mattress beside her.