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shhhsecretsideblog · 5 months ago

Note

a fic with both partners in labor?

I had a few requests for No.11 off my prompts list so I’ve tried to group these together into one story. Turns out writing mutual preg / birth is exhausting haha. First time answering a request / prompt, this one ended up a lot longer than I’d expected - 4.9k words. Hope you like :)

Girls Night Out

Leaning against the sink Rachel took a long deep breath and swayed her hips side to side to ease the tightening that was banding across her belly. It was the fourth one she’d felt since they arrived at the bar and they’d not even been here that long. Every wave that crested slowly told her what was coming.

The girls had decided to have a final evening out - dinner at a fancy restaurant followed by drinks at their favourite cocktail bar - the whole gang together one more time before the babies arrived. Rachel and her wife Emily were both pregnant and together they were soon to be the parents of two little baby girls. They’d been happily married for five years before they started looking into having children and Rachel and Emily were both keen to experience pregnancy. When they discovered a new fertility option being offered to same-sex couples they jumped at it. Rather than carrying their own genetic embryo, they each had the other’s fertilised egg implanted; Rachel was pregnant with Emily’s egg, and Emily was pregnant with Rachel’s. Not wanting to do things by half, they went through with the IVF at the same time and against all odds both implantations were a success. So here they were, both classed as ‘full term’ having one nostalgic evening out with their friends before their lives would change forever.

Alone in the empty restroom Rachel allowed herself to groan through the latest contraction. She should have realised sooner that she might be in labour, she was a trained midwife after all and should recognise these things. Clearly her ability to self-diagnose was severely lacking. Whilst Rachel wasn’t a practising midwife anymore, having given it up a few years ago, Emily was adamant she wanted Rachel to be the one to deliver her baby. Rachel was honoured to be bringing both their children into the world, as midwife and as birthing mother. She thought she had retained a decent level of midwifery intuition even after quitting the vocation, but “baby brain” had recently started to affect her. She was convinced Emily was having contractions earlier but her wife said she could barely feel them and were just braxton hicks. Rachel wished she could say the same but the contraction kept on squeezing and tightening her rounded stomach pressing everything downward. The baby’s head sitting heavily in her hips made everything feel so damn low.

A sudden wave of nausea washed over her and Rachel bolted into a cubical. Falling to her knees she vomited the meal they’d just spent an extortionate amount of money for. She grasped her hair with one hand and cupped the swell of her stomach with the other as she retched over the porcelain. It wouldn’t be the first time she’d thrown up in these toilets, but previously she’d been extremely drunk, not to mention a lot younger. It was a very different type of night out. When her stomach had emptied she wiped her mouth and blew her nose and was about to blame poor cooking for her sickness when she noticed a wetness dripping down the inside of her thighs. It was promptly followed by another more aggressive contraction.

Yup, this is definitely labour, no denying it now. She thought to herself, riding out the wave kneeling on the bathroom floor. She quickly discovered that contractions were much stronger after your waters break, now understanding exactly what all her previous patients had gone through. Breathing deeply until it passed, Rachel then managed to stand up and return to the sink. Shit, she definitely looked like a woman in labour now. Sweat had started to gather on her forehead and her cheeks were looking flush and rosey. She’d seen these signs plenty of times before but hoped no one else would catch on as quick. They’d have to end the evening early now. She would need to go back out to the bar, find a way to discreetly tell her wife that the baby was coming, so they could make their excuses and head home and on to the birth centre. She splashed cold water on her face, trying to look a bit more composed, when suddenly the toilet door crashed open.

“Oh my god, Rachel!” Her friend Eve spluttered in a frenzied panic. “You have to come quick. Emily’s water has just broken, she’s in labour!”

You’re kidding, Rachel thought.

“What happened?” She asked, immediately worrying about her wife and following Eve out of the toilets.

“I don’t know. One minute we were giggling over old uni stories and the next, splash. I think Steph’s bag took the worst hit.” Eve couldn’t help the smirk that pulled her lips despite the serious situation.

“Is she having contractions?” Rachel asked, cupping her large swell as she waddled as fast as she could to keep up with Eve down the long corridor.

“If she was, she didn’t say until her water broke. She had been shifting and grimacing a bit, but she said it was just the baby kicking.”

Rachel scoffed, realising now that her intuition had been spot on; Emily had been having contractions. But then why didn’t she say anything!? As if in response, Rachel’s own belly started to cramp. Emily was probably hiding it for the same reason Rachel was - not to ruin the evening.

“Oof- hang on a second Eve…” Rachel said breathlessly, stopping in the corridor and placing a hand against the wall to steady herself. “Mmmmhhhh…”

“What are you-” Eve stopped, turning around, seeing Rachel holding her bump and breathing deeply. “Oh no. No way. Rachel please tell me you’re not in labour too!”

“Hooooo- I didn’t exactly plan this- ooooohh…” Rachel said through controlled breaths.

“This is what you get for getting pregnant at the same time! I said you two were mad.”

“Oh Eve… please don’t start…” Rachel whimpered as the contraction peaked.

Immediately feeling guilty Eve quickly ran over to her friend. “I’m sorry.” She said, rubbing a hand up and down Rachel’s back “You know I don’t mean it. You guys are incredible doing this together.”

“Thanks hun…” Rachel huffed, rocking her hips through the worst of the contraction.

“So, what’s the plan? Do we call you an Uber? An ambulance? Oh my god you’re both having your babies!”

“No! Shhhhh. We are not telling Emily I’m in labour.” Rachel urged.

“What? Why?”

“We can’t tell her. She has a birth plan, she’s been stressing over it for months. It’s bad enough she’s gone into labour here, if she finds out I’m in labour too she will freak out. Which won’t be good for her or the baby right now.”

“But what about you and your baby Rach?”

“I’ll be fine. I’m a midwife, I know how childbirth works. I can handle this.” Rachel exhaled a breath and straightened up, the contraction fading back down to just an uncomfortable pressure. “I’m more worried about Em right now.”

“Well…if you’re sure.”

“I am.” Rachel composed herself again, ready to go back out there and support her wife. “How is she doing, how bad are the contractions?”

“I think they’re pretty bad. She can’t even talk through them babes.”

Fuck. That wasn’t a good sign.

~•~•~•~•~

When Rachel and Eve returned to the bar, their friends were still sitting in their booth; Emily in the middle with Steph and Adrienne on either side. At first glance you wouldn’t know anything was wrong, but every couple of seconds people on nearby tables would look over to the group nervously. Emily’s water breaking had clearly attracted a lot of attention.

Emily looked up and saw her wife approaching and the relief in her expression was unmissable. Rachel waddled over to the table but before she arrived she watched the smile disappear from Emily’s lips. Her wife’s face abruptly scrunched up in pain and she grasped her pregnant swell. The music thumped loudly, covering up any sounds she could make, but the force of the contraction was clear by her body language alone.

Steph jumped up when Rachel arrived, allowing Rachel to awkwardly shuffle into the booth next to her wife.

“Hey. It’s okay, I’m here, I'm here. Just breathe Em. Slow, calm breaths. That’s it.” Rachel said, rubbing her upper back supportively.

Emily curled into her wife, as much as their pregnant bellies would allow, and moaned deeply against her neck. “Unhhhhh… Rach.. con-contrac- I- I…”

“Shhh you don’t have to speak. You’re doing great.” Rachel said. “Take it steady, you got this. In and out. We’ll get through this one and then we can talk.”

Rachel put a hand on Emily’s rounded stomach - the entire orb was contracting heavily, it was as solid as a rock. The way Emily moaned and squirmed in her seat, the tension stretching tight across her belly, had Rachel worried. She’d expected Emily to be in early labour, her waters simply breaking early on in the process, but it was quickly looking to be much more advanced than that.

Even with the loud music in the bar, Rachel could feel the deep groaning of her wife’s labour against her chest, the tone becoming low and gravelly. Emily’s thighs were slightly apart on the seat, her contracting belly sitting heavily between them. Another long groan escaped her wife’s lips which ended with an almost grunting sound.

Fuck, she sounds like she’s in transition already. Rachel thought worriedly, holding Emily’s hand and simultaneously rubbing her tight belly.

“Babe, I need to know what’s happening. What do you feel?” Rachel asked hesitantly.

“Mnnnggg- pressure. So much pressure…” Emily whimpered, the contraction beginning to release its grip.

“Okay, it’s gonna be fine. Just breathe, that’s it. Good girl. It’s sounding pretty intense, I think I need to check to see how dilated you are.”

“Oh no… really... Now? Here?” Emily panted.

“Do you think you can move?” Rachel asked.

“Maybe... Not far.”

“I’ll go see if they have a back room or something we can go to.” Adrienne chimed in, before disappearing to speak with the bar staff.

“Oh Rach, this is happening too fast. I don’t want to have my baby here.”

“It’s okay, I’ve got you.” Rachel reassured, kissing her forehead. “We’ll see how far you are and then we can decide what we want to do. If we go to the hospital or back home for our planned home birth.” Despite saying this, Rachel knew her own labour meant the latter wasn’t really an option.

Adrienne returned with news that the bar had a function room that wasn’t being used this evening, and they could use it for a bit of privacy. Rachel heaved her own pregnant body out of the booth and then turned to help Emily to do the same. Unfortunately the minute she stood up Rachel felt the beginning pangs of another contraction approaching.

“Adrienne, can you and Steph help take Emily to the b-back room? I don’t think I can support her my-myself.” Rachel gestured to her low-hanging bump and braced a hand on her twinging lower back.

“Of course.” Adrienne replied, putting an arm around Emily. Steph held Emily’s other arm and the three of them made their way to the function room at the back of the bar.

Rachel held it together for as long as Emily remained in eyesight but the second the girls rounded the corner Rachel spun around gripping the table hard to stop her knees from buckling.

“Ooofff- mnnnnghhh-!” She couldn’t stop the noise escaping her throat.

“Oh Rach,” Eve muttered, coming closer, shielding Rachel and her obvious contraction from the people in the bar. “Are you sure you’re going to be okay?”

“I..I’ll be f-f-fine. Hoooohooo- just a rough- contraction- unghh!” Rachel grunted, ignoring the weight and pressure that was building in her pelvis.

“You sound just as bad as Emily, hun.” Eve warned.

Rachel didn’t need the comparison and glared at her friend.

“I’m just saying! You can’t expect to hide this from her. Even with her own labour going on, she’s going to notice you pushing out your other baby.”

“I know, it’s just… ooohhh- we’re not telling her here, now. I need to find out how far along she is first… hoohoo- she seems pretty far into active labour but I don’t think she knows it. Then we can head to the birth centre and we’ll both check in. Alright?”

“Whatever you want to do, we’ll help you.” Eve replied, the uncertainty clear in her voice.

When the contraction had passed, Eve helped Rachel to the empty function room. Rachel was quick to let go of Eve’s support just before they opened the door making sure not to rouse any suspicion of her own condition.

They found Emily standing in front of a table, hands planted firmly on top, hips aggressively swaying and she was groaning like a cow. Rachel swallowed the anxiety creeping up her throat, all too familiar with this sight. Steph and Adrienne stood awkward and uncomfortable by Emily’s side and immediately vacated the space on the arrival of her wife.

“Hi honey,” Rachel said softly, brushing a fallen lock of hair behind Emily’s ear and rubbing her back. “How are you doing?”

“Oohhhh god- they won’t stop. It… hurts.. the baby feels so low… unghhhh! Rachel help me!” Emily cried out.

“It looks like you're progressing fast. Don’t worry, that’s alright, but I do need to have a look to see how soon our baby is coming.”

Emily nodded, showing her understanding but couldn’t form a reply.

“Are you able to sit on a chair, or are you happy there?” Rachel asked.

“No- unhhh- can’t sit- down…” Emily panted.

“That’s okay, we can do it here. I need you to lean over the table, as far as you can. I’ll lift your dress and remove your undies, okay?”

“That’s- that’s what you said to me- on our first- date.” Emily joked, breathing slightly slower as the contraction ebbed away.

Rachel laughed while Eve rolled her eyes.

Checking someone’s dilation was easy, but getting into a position to do so whilst heavily pregnant was going to be hard. Rachel lifted her wife’s dress so it rested on Emily’s flat back, and then slowly she lowered herself into a squat. A move she very quickly regretted.

The baby in her womb suddenly sank even further towards its exit, the head pressing forcefully and painfully on her rapidly dilating cervix.

“Ooooff- oh god!” Rachel couldn’t stop her reaction to the sudden shift.

“Are you okay?” Steph asked worriedly.

“Nngh! Yes.. I’m f-fine. Just.. got in an uncomfortable position that’s all.” Rachel moved to her knees, playing off her outburst as just regular pregnancy annoyance. Meanwhile Eve raised a singular eyebrow at her, knowing the true reason for her discomfort.

“Ok, let’s see how you’re doing hun.” Rachel said with expert professionalism, ignoring the increased weight that was now forcing apart her hips. Moving the underwear out the way, Rachel quickly checked her wife’s dilation.

“Jesus Christ Em, you’re about eight centimetres dilated!” Rachel exclaimed, removing her hand and heaving herself back to standing. The midwife’s brain immediately whirled into overdrive about the very limited time they had before the baby’s arrival.

“What!?” Emily panted, straightening up and twisting round to see her wife.

“You’ve been in labour all day haven’t you?”

“I… I can’t have… no. They weren’t real contractions.”

“Oh honey, I think they were. I’m so sorry but this baby is coming, and soon.” Rache emphasised, affectionately rubbing the curve of her wife’s pregnant stomach before turning towards their friends. “Someone needs to call an ambulance. We’re not going to make it anywhere before the baby comes.”

“Oh my god.” “Shit.” “Fuck.” came the responses of their best friends.

“No… Rachel, I can’t… I can’t have my baby here.” Emily muttered with a panicked, shaky breath, her eyes widening and welling with tears. “I had a birth plan, we were supposed to be at home. You and me. Not in the b-back of a bar that smells like tequilaaa - oooohhhhh!”

A contraction stole the rest of Emily’s sentence and she braced herself once more against the table. Rachel moved behind her, pressing her expert thumbs deep into the pressure points of Emily’s lower back to help relieve some of her wife’s pain.

“Try and stay calm, Em. I know this isn’t what we planned, but we’ve got this. Babies are born every day and I’ll be right here w-with you… Just breathe through it. In and- ohhhhh- out.” Rachel found her body syncing with her wife’s, plaguing them both with a contraction at the same time. “Will one of you call a damn ambulance.” She gritted to the others, swallowing down the moan in her throat, trying hard to keep her laboured breathing as quiet as possible.

Emily began to tremble, her knees starting to buckle beneath her, her hips bobbing up and down.

“Why d-don’t we get you off y-your feet hun.” Rachel stuttered, trying not to give away her own contraction that was ripping its way through her body. “If you don’t want to sit… mmnnh.. let’s get you on your knees and you can lean against a ch-chair.”

“Nhhh- okay…” Emily whimpered.

Steph pulled over a chair and helped Emily to kneel down and brace against it. With her forearms resting on the seat cushion and her face buried into the crook of her elbow, Emily rocked her hips back and forth, following her body’s instincts to open up for the approaching delivery.

With Emily occupied, Rachel steadied herself by gripping the table in Emily’s vacated space. This contraction was relentless, squeezing and tightening her bump with a worrying amount of force, the pressure of her baby’s head against her cervix forever mounting. Hiding her pained expression, she turned away from the group pressing her face into her shoulder. She couldn’t stop the grunt in her throat as her body worked with the building pressure, bringing the baby lower and lower.

“How are you holding up?” Eve whispered to her.

“Oooooohhh- I think we’re gonna need that ambulance for more than just Emily…” Rachel admitted to her friend while the others were busy looking after her wife.

“Shit… you’re like properly in labour then?”

“Mmh- my waters broke in the toilets… b-before you came to g-get me…”

“Rachel! Why didn’t you say?” Eve scolded in a sharp whisper.

“It’ll be fine. The ambulance will be here before we know it... w-with paramedics and everything they’d need to d-deliver two b-b-babies.”

“OOOHHHHHH RACHEL!” Emily suddenly cried, bringing Eve and Rachel out of their hushed conversation.

Rachel waddled over, her gait widening every minute, towards her kneeling and groaning wife. “Hey darling, you okay? What are you feeling?” She asked, rubbing her back.

“I- I think- oohhhhh fuck… I think I need to push…” Emily mewled, and Rachel’s heart plummeted to her feet.

“Okay… okay… erm… hooo- just hold on a second. I need to check to see if you’re fully-”

“Mnnnnghhhh-pushingggg!” Emily growled, her spine curved as her body pushed whether she wanted to or not.

“Oh my god, what do we do?” Steph asked, crouching next to Emily.

“We’ll err… need towels, oh and a first aid kit.” Rachel instructed, trying to focus on the immediate task at hand and ignoring the near-constant seizing of her own womb.

“I’m on it.” Adrienne disappeared out the room.

“Listen to me Em,” Rachel said softly but firmly, “if your body’s telling you to push, you can push, but only with the contractions. Okay.”

“Rachel, are you seriously going to-” Eve tried to say before Rachel interrupted.

“The ambulance isn’t going to make it, Eve. She’s pushing already. I’m going to have to deliver the baby after all.”

“But you’re-”

“I’ll be fine. Emily needs me right now.” Rachel said with confidence she didn’t have. Please wait a little bit longer, she pleaded to the child in her womb. I know you want to meet your other mum and sister, but just hold on.

Emily grunted and lowed, bearing down hard. Rachel awkwardly got down on her knees behind her labouring wife. Her own belly hung so low on her hips, her baby’s head so deep in her birth canal, that her thighs were forced apart when she sat back on her heels.

“You’re doing brilliant Em, push with the contractions. Are you happy here or did you want to move?”

“Ooffhhhhhhh-want-to-move-hhhfff! Need-to-sit-mnnnghhh-down!”

“That’s fine, we can move you. When this contraction is over, we’ll get you in a different position. Steph, can y-you help h-h-her?”

Rachel subtly circled her hips that were being stretched further and further apart with every passing second. There was so much pressure she could cry. But she had to focus on Emily right now.

Adrienne came back with towels and a small first aid kit from the bar staff, while Steph helped Emily move to sit up on the chair.

“Ohhhhhh I can’t believe I’m having our baby here! Mnnnhhhh” Emily cried, cradling her bump, legs wide apart over the sides of the seat.

“I know honey. It’s not the best location, no, but it’s okay. The ambulance is on its way, and I can deliver our baby just like we p-planned. We can do this. You can do this.” Rachel gave Emily’s leg a light comforting squeeze of encouragement. Kneeling at her wife’s feet, Rachel unwrapped the towel and first aid kit and prepared herself to deliver their baby.

“Hoooo-hoooo… we can do this, we can do this...” Emily repeated, trying to keep herself calm.

“Okay, now on the next con-contraction… ohhhh… on the next contraction I need you to… to…. mmmnnnghhh” Rachel was cut off by a sudden fierce contraction of her own. It was too much; the baby was too low, the pressure too strong - stealing the words from her mouth and distracting her focus. Forced to brace her knees and lift her hips, Rachel emitted a long and deep groan. Her body was crying out for something… she needed to do - something… she needed to… needed to… push. Rachel panted heavily, fighting the urge. This baby had to wait, it just had to. She needed to help Emily deliver, there was no one else that could.

“Rachel!?” Emily cried, “What’s wrong- are you… oh my god are you in labour!!??”

Eve knelt down next to her friend “Breathe Rachel, just breathe through it. That’s it. Are you still okay to do this?”

Rachel couldn’t respond but nodded her head, letting out a long and shaky exhale.

“You can’t be in labour too - who’s going to deliver my baby?” The white’s around Emily’s eyes gave away her sheer panic as she panted heavily and rocked in the chair.

“I- I will…” Rachel breathed, the peak of the contraction finally releasing its hold and with it the pressure eased just enough for her to get a hold of herself. “It’s fine darling. Yes, I am in labour, but… hooooo- the contractions are far enough apart… I c-can still help deliver your baby…”

“Rach!” Eve cautioned, then lowered her tone so only Rachel could hear “Your contractions are no further apart than hers and you know it.”

“We don’t have much of a choice.” Rachel gritted out quietly. “The ambulance isn’t going to make it in time-”

Their conversation was interrupted again by the animalistic sound of Emily pushing. “MNNGGHHH - baby- coming- outttttt-!”

Instinctively Rachel shuffled closer to her wife, widening Emily’s legs further apart and lifting her dress to see her progress.

“That’s it Emily. That was a really good push. Good girl. And again, push.” Rachel encouraged, seeing the sliver of their baby start to appear.

“Can I keep going?” Emily panted, slouched in the chair and gripping her thighs tight.

“If you’ve still got a contraction - yes. Keep going! Push!”

“Push Emily!” Their friends encouraged. “Push! Push!!”

While her wife brought one of their baby girls closer to the world, another contraction struck Rachel like blaze of lightning. Every muscle in her body was squeezing the baby down down down, its head was right there, her body screaming at her to aid its effort in birthing the baby. Hearing the constant yells to ‘push’ from their friends, the grunting sounds of her wife, the visual in front of her of a baby slowly crowning - it all activated a primal instinct that she just couldn’t control. As hard as she tried, Rachel simply couldn’t stop herself from pushing.

Thankfully no one noticed, all the focus was on Emily. No one noticed Rachel’s thighs widening apart, or the subtle lifting of her hips. Whenever her wife pushed, Rachel did too. The couple were perfectly in sync, together bringing their children into the world. Rachel’s mouth was clamped shut with the strain, muffling any involuntary sounds she might have made. Thankfully the music from the bar and Emily’s screaming was loud enough anyway to hide any audible evidence of her own advancing birth.

Her wife pushed again and even more of the head came forward - it was fast approaching a full crown. Despite her own body contracting and pushing, Rachel reacted quickly cupping a hand over the emerging head between Emily’s legs.

“T-t-take it e-easy now Emily- hoooo- pant if you can… breathe the b-baby d-down-nnghhh!” Rachel strained out instructions to her wife, trying not to push while she spoke.

“Hooohooo-hooohooo” Emily panted, tears running down her cheeks with the pain of her stretching.

“Amazing… hoooo…. Oh darling you’re doing b-brilliantly. Her head’s coming… so close…nearly there… Keep p-panting.” Rachel supported the emerging head as it inched further and further; the eyes, the nose, the ears, all slipping into this world and then with a pop the head was fully born into Rachel’s hand.

Emily released a cry of relief.

Then, with the timing of a soap opera, Rachel was wracked with another angry contraction and this one meant business. There was no fighting it, no holding back - her baby wanted to be born. With her hands still supporting Emily’s babe Rachel took a deep breath, her knees widening and hips sinking, and she pushed. Hard.

“…Rach?” Eve’s voice sounded so far away. Rachel was only aware of the baby in her hands and the baby between her legs. Nothing else registered to her.

She could feel herself being stretched, the head slowly peeking out into her underwear. No! You have to wait, she pleaded with her baby but her body had other ideas. Thankfully the contraction soon peaked, the urgency fading, allowing her to think clearly again. But her baby was close, dangerously so.

“Hoooo-ooooh- okay. Well done Emily. You’ve done the w-worst bit.” Rachel's heavy breaths were undeniable, trying to make it through the pain of her baby trying to crown, but she persevered - she needed to help her wife deliver this baby. “Next- step, oooh that’s it, the baby’s turning. Ok, you’re ready to deliver the shoulders now hun. On the next contraction you need to give me a big push… okay?”

Emily was sweating, her makeup smudged and her cheeks flushed. She nodded, took a deep breath and beared down. “MNNNNGGGHHHH!!!!!!”

“Keep going- keep going!” Rachel encouraged.

Emily released the push with a sob. “I can’t… I can’t do it…”

“Yes, you c-can.” Rachel said, gritting her teeth as she felt another contraction rising.

“I can’t…. It hurts… I don’t want to have my baby h-here… I want to be at h-home…”

Rachel’s own contraction was burning through her very soul. Her body was pushing without her active participation, the baby stretching her more and more every passing second. She tried to hold on, not to push, but her hips were starting to tremble and her underwear beginning to bulge. Her baby wanted out, and it wanted out now.

“You have to p-pushh Emily… hoooohooo I-I-I need- y-you to p-p-push…” Rachel’s teeth were grinding, she could barely get the words out.

“I c-can’t.” She sobbed, trembling.

“Emily… please…” Rachel pleaded with a whimper. “You-have-to…p-p-push!!! MNNNGGGHH!” Rachel cried as her body pushed despite herself, her baby reaching a full crown and beyond into her clothing.

Emily watched Rachel grunt and strain on the floor in front of her; she was pushing! And all the while her incredible wife was still carefully holding the head of Emily’s half-born baby in between her thighs. Filled with determination, Emily took a deep breath and pushed with everything that she had.

One shoulder, then then next, and a second later Rachel and Emily’s first born daughter entered the world. Rachel lifted the squalling infant and hastily placed her into Emily’s chest. The next one was coming, and it was coming now!

Rachel got up on her knees and frantically scrambled to pull down her trousers. Their friends looked on, confused and panicked. When her hips were free from the confines of her clothing, Rachel put a trembling hand between her legs and felt the significant dome of her baby’s fully crowned head.

“Oh my god Rachel!” Emily gasped.

The midwife was not capable of speech, instead letting out an urgent primal sound as she immediately birthed the head directly into her hand. With the head delivered, Rachel could breathe again, could think again.

“Hooo-hooo… so…Emily… are you ready to m-meet your other d-daughter?” Rachel breathed, smiling at her wife and newborn daughter, cupping the head of its sibling.

“You are… beyond incredible.” Emily smiled in awe of her beautiful wife. “Yes, let’s complete our family.”

And with that Rachel pushed on the next contraction, catching in her hands their second baby girl. Born 3 minutes after her sister.

#prompts answered #birth fic #birth kink #public birth #clothing birth #inconvenient birth #birth denial #panty birth #birth fiction #birth prompts #mutual birth #mutual preg #my writing

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skyloftian-nutcase · 2 months ago

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Prompt: Either Time and Malon have announced they're having a baby or Malon has just had a baby and they're introducing them to the chain when Time finds some big insecurities from one of his boys he doesn't expect; Wild. Thing is, Time (and to an extent Malon as well) is the only parental figure he knows. Any memories of his parents are long gone along with any record of who they might have been so Time acting in a familial manner means a lot to Wild. But he's worried now that the man is an -actual- father that it means he'll be withdrawing that affection from the chain (himself, really) in favor of focusing on his child. Time goes above and beyond to prove him wrong.

Sky glared grumpily at the postman as he delivered mail to everyone. Legend snickered and elbowed his friend, making the usually cheery knight even more sour.

“Chin up, Sky,” Wild chuckled. “Nobody can outrun that guy from what I can figure. At least that’s what the old man says.”

Time didn’t even flinch at his mention. It wasn’t new - he tended to tune out the younger ones what they got rambunctious. But something about the intensity of which he was looking at his letter from Malon caught Wild’s attention.

“Everything okay?” Twilight asked, also picking up on it.

Time glanced at Twilight, eye fixed on the younger man, then back at the letter. Then he closed both eyes and smiled.

“It’s fine,” he said quietly, folding the letter.

“That looks like more than fine,” Warriors noted, wiggling his eyebrows. “What are you hiding, old man?”

“Is Miss Malon okay?” Wind asked, poking his head over Warriors’ shoulder, having been sitting on the ground behind the captain, who had plopped on a stump.

“She’s fine,” Time replied warmly. Then he sighed a little, gentle cheer dashed by a cool, worried gaze.

“That wasn’t very convincing,” Four whispered to Twilight.

Time glanced around at the group, now that everyone had honed in on him. Then he seemed to come to a decision, huffing a little and saying, “Since none of you seem to know how to mind your business, then I’ll tell you.”

Warriors scoffed, “I’ll have you know I am perfectly capable of minding my own business until gossip is involved.”

Hyrule laughed. “It’s pretty funny listening to people’s drama in town, honestly. But I hope there isn’t drama in your house, old man.”

“There isn’t,” Time assured him. “But there will be someone new living there.”

“Is it that Ingo guy you got mad about?” Sky asked, tilting his head to the side.

Time outright laughed. “No, Sky. No. It’s… Malon’s pregnant.”

The group went silent for a long while before it burst into excited chatter. Warriors was the first to congratulate Time, with Sky coming shortly after, followed by Four and then everyone else in quick succession. Wind excitedly asked about baby names, Sky interrogated him about what course this journey might take now, if they should find a way to return to Lon Lon Ranch—

That was probably the point that Wild felt his stomach twist into knots.

He didn’t quite know what was wrong, at first. He congratulated the old man alongside everyone else. This was a great occasion, after all. But Sky mentioning how maybe Time would want to visit Malon really made Wild realize…

Was he going to leave the group now?

Wild… didn’t want him to leave.

It wasn’t that he was particularly close to Time, more so than the others. Wild was closest to Twilight, after all. But… something about the eldest Link was… comforting. Guiding. Wild couldn’t put words to it, except that… it reminded him of… he didn’t know. He just… he couldn’t remember anything. He didn’t know anything. But the Hero of Time became a staple in his life the last few weeks, a father figure of sorts (and he knew he wasn’t alone in this—the worried disappointment that Wind was trying to hide, the way Legend suddenly became aloof as if already distancing his heart from the matter, the way Sky took four steps away from their leader after running up to him to congratulate him—these were all indications of the same sentiment) when Wild could hardly remember any family at all… and he… was going to lose him too.

He supposed the only true constant in his life was Zelda.

It wasn’t as if he didn’t know this journey would come to an end, but he hadn’t expected their group to lessen during the journey. It had been horrifying when Twilight had almost died - now Time was going to just leave them? Leave him?

Wild found he couldn’t speak after his initial words of cheer for the old man, and he started to slink away into the woods. He wandered aimlessly, shivering a little, feeling far more alone than he had in a while. He tried to cheer himself up with some kind of logical argument—even if he does leave, you still have the others, you have your brothers, you have Twilight—but none of it quite filled the hole that was quickly forming.

At least this time he’d have a chance to say goodbye.

Wild eventually made his way back to the camp just in time - Warriors had been readying to search for him, and he didn’t want to cause such a fuss. He avoided Time for the rest of the night, settling in to take first watch as everyone else went to bed.

He hadn’t expected Time to sit beside him.

“Something’s bothering you,” Time said. It wasn’t a question, but it was held in the air like an invitation.

Wild sighed. “I… wouldn’t worry about it. We’ll find a way to get you home, old man. Wouldn’t want you to miss your actual family.”

There was a period of silence, only interrupted by the crackling of the fire. Wild felt a strange ache in his chest, a longing for someone he could no longer remember. He shriveled into himself a little, shoulders slumping, letting time pass by as he looked into the flames.

“Link… I’m not going home.”

Wild didn’t register the words for a moment, still lost in his own mind and thoughts, before he blinked and glanced over at the older hero. “Wait, what?”

“My place is here,” Time explained quietly, almost what seemed gently. “I would never abandon all of you like that. I love Malon dearly, but she isn’t my only family.”

Wild wasn’t sure what to say to any of this, but the hope in his heart couldn’t be ignored, and he burst out, “You’re not leaving us?”

There was something about Time’s expression that Wild couldn’t quite read. The older hero’s eyebrows seemed to relax from their previously stern position, face softening, eye looking Wild over. “No, young one. I’m not leaving. What we will do, though, is turn back towards the town. I want to write to her. I want all of us to write to her. We’ll have to keep tabs on how she’s doing far more often.”

“Why all of us?” Wild asked.

Time reached forward, messing with the teenager’s hair as he smiled. “If I’ve had to parent all of you, then you’re certainly earning the right and responsibility to ensure your new little sister is alright.”

Wild yelped a little at the gesture before laughing a little, swatting Time away. “Sister, eh? You think it’s a girl?”

“Goddess, I hope so. I have enough boys to take care of.”

Wild’s laugh nearly woke the entire group at that remark. When he’d settled, Time smiled at him, laying a hand on his shoulder. The gesture was reassuring, a physical representation on the promise that Time hadn’t spoken. He didn’t need to. What he’d said was enough.

The ache in Wild’s chest didn’t squeeze quite so hard. But he yearned for the contact, and so he leaned forward a little, just a little, just enough to be perceived without invading the man’s space. Time understood the motion for what it was, and he smiled a little more, pulling Wild into a hug. For the briefest moment the champion felt a little silly or embarrassed at the vulnerability he’d just shown, and then he decided he didn’t care - if he truly viewed Time as a father figure then he should be comfortable showing such insecurity around him. He’d done as much with Twilight.

Twilight. Time’s descendant. Between being viewed as a brother by Twi and a son by Time, Wild actually… he really…

He let out a shuddering breath, and Time’s hand swept up and down his back slowly.

For the first time in as long as he could remember, Wild actually felt like he belonged in a group, in a team, in a family. He could imagine the Champions smiling at him, and the tears finally did fall.

#writing #you ask skye answers #Lovely bumblebeekitten #I know this isn’t really “above and beyond” but I couldn’t figure a way to realistically make that happen #Time’s very understated in general and Wild—despite being dramatic—wouldn’t make that huge of a fuss #But Wild DOES like to cuddle and IS willing to show vulnerability as we saw with him cuddling Wolfie knowing full well that it’s Twi #Time’s probably internally reeling over literally everything but he ain’t gonna say it out loud #At least until he starts getting super overprotective of literally everyone #And freaking out about Malon lol #linkeduniverse #linked universe #lu time #lu wild

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snailmail444 · 3 months ago

Note

Can I get a headcanon of the bachelors and how they'd be sexy with you when you're down? Like, if they're trying to cheer you up and be a little goofy with it but also tryna HIT. THAT. 🤣🤣🤣

Thanks Snail, ILU.

Bachelors Goofing Their way Into Your Pants

18+ 🌱 MDNI 🌱 NSFW (-ish)

This one was a tough ask Libby but I’ll do nothing if not stand and deliver 🫡 Honestly might be my favorite head cannon list for the bachelors I’ve ever done so THANK YOU for this prompt icon. NSFW? -ish under the cut (lewd?? Idk lol)

Harvey-

💚 Perhaps the goofiest about this

💚 He would not try to come onto you when you’re down unless he KNOWS it’s going to pick you up

💚 So once he’s confident let’s start there

💚 It’s a song and dance

💚 Dissappears, and when he’s back he’s got his med kit

💚 He gets out the stethoscope and all. The whole nine yards.

💚 That’s right folks. We’re paging Dr. Love

💚 Will NOT let you stop this routine. Dr. Love WILL be completing the full assessment. Listening to your heart rate, checking your throat and ears, somehow always having to complete a chest exam

💚 (M or F he will be groping your tits for this one)

💚 The diagnosis is in

💚 There’s Only One Cure for What Ails You

💚 You guessed it! You need a little lovin’ (Dr. Love’s catchphrase)

💚 Important note: Dr. Love is not a licensed medical practitioner

💚 This works a little too well perhaps. He’s so confident for no reason at all LMAO

💚 Lowkey want to write a Dr. Love oneshot now because this is really fun and cute

Elliott-

❤️ If you’re feeling down man will preform the absolute worst ad lib poetry

❤️ Silliest lymrics you’ve ever heard

❤️ Dumb dumb dummmmmb

❤️ Very dirty and stupid bad poems about you

❤️ Specifically about his favorite parts of your body

❤️ Or his favorite things you do during sex

❤️ The worse it is, the better as far as he is concerned

❤️ Raunchy dirty filthy

❤️ But like. In the most grade school mother goose style he can manage

❤️ No flowery language here

❤️ Takes off your clothes to expose the parts of you the he’s referring to

❤️ When you do x thing (then tries to make you do x thing)

❤️ Will be proving his point. Period!!!

Alex-

🤎 Physical touch legend

🤎 Wrestles

🤎 Winner gets whatever they want from the loser

🤎 Has a wrestling name and all

🤎 Does the John Cena theme

🤎 His hands end up in all sorts of places that they don’t need to be

🤎 Most wrestlers aren’t grabbing ass 🤨

🤎 Gets you in some really tight, close pins, but somehow you end up winning anyway

🤎 No I didn’t let you win don’t be ridiculous I respect the sport too much to ever—

🤎 He let you win

🤎 You can take your prize now 😌 Whatever you want 😌

🤎 And if his hard on is pressing against you? Well. Maybe he has some ideas about what your prize should be

Shane-

💙 Gets you through the hard stuff first, so once you’re on the mend he’s goofing to the max

💙 KING FLEXER!

💙 Aw babe come on? How can you be so sad when you have these guns to look at?

💙 Runs through a series of absurd poses to show off his muscly farm boy arms

💙 Lays it on really thick about being a stud

💙 “No matter what at the end of the day you have a trophy husband” (even if he’s not married to you. ESPECIALLY if he’s not married to you)

💙 STRIP! TEASE!!

💙 Showing off everything you’re so lucky to have with a big goofy grin on his face

💙 Throwing his clothes across the room and everything

💙 Making the music sounds with his mouth

💙 You HAVE to whistle or hoot at him or clap or something

💙 He demands applause from his audience if he’s not getting some singles at least

Sam-

🩷 Another song and dancer

🩷 This man was born for the stage I fear

🩷 Genuinely and truly putting on a SHOW about it all

🩷 The drama of it. Uh oh, he’s compromised!

🩷 Will end up ‘stuck’ under the couch or table or anywhere else

🩷 Uh oh! I hope nobody takes advantage of me 👀 When I’m so exposed 👀👀 and vulnerable 👀👀👀

🩷 The worst stage acting you’ve ever seen in your life

🩷 Starts stripping in the middle of the living room because he “didn’t see you there!”

🩷 Pretends to be scandalized when you finally succumb to his advances

🩷 What are you doing?! Huh? What do you MEAN I was coming on to you? I always take off all my clothes in the kitchen, that’s ritual

🩷 insists he’s been objectified and taken advantage of

🩷 That kind of turns him on though let’s be so fucking real

Sebastian-

🖤 Okay so we’re going blunt king here

🖤 Two possible options

🖤 Uses it as a way to hard reset the system mid breakdown

🖤 Full crying, upset, whatever, he’s been holding you and trying to calm you down but it’s not working

🖤 “Wanna have sex?”

🖤 DEADPANNNNNN delivery

🖤 It never fails. Tried and true

🖤 Option two?

🖤 This is ONLY if mans is super comfortable in your dynamic

🖤 A classic

🖤 Whips it out

🖤 Thinking about that one tweet of the boyfriend who was in the mood and just put his dick on her shoulder while she was watching tv

🖤 Like that but buried under sixteen levels of irony

🖤 “I know what’ll help” and then he pulls his dick out

🖤 Probably the least likely to actually hit with these methods

🖤 However, he’s maybe the most likely to help improve your mood substantially

🖤 Through sheer presentation if nothing else. Man can deliver, and knows when to hit with the absurd to make it the most impactful

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lowkeyremi · 11 months ago

Note

Um. Hello. I've never done an ask but here I am anyways cuz I got an idea reading the drabble of Katsuki taking care of his gaggle of kids while reader is at the gym.

Katsuki, who no matter how many kids he's had before, always panics when his wife goes into labor. Like, she'll be chill, but he'll be freaking out (mostly internally since he isn't a scaredy cat. Obviously.)

But still, he always is extremely worried and stressed even if everything turns out ok he doesn't leave her side during the whole process because he's worried about his lovely wife and his new kid.

So uh. Enjoy this little midnight idea I got :)

No for real!! He's pacing the room while thinking of every possible outcome, good and bad. He gets so caught up in his thoughts he doesn't even here you calling him.

"-tsuki. Katsuki!" You'd yell and he whips his head around so fast.

"Yeah?" He asks walking over to your bed checking your pillows to make sure they're fluffed just right and making sure you have enough water.

"You're doing it again." He rolls his eyes, and tries to pretend he's got it all under control.

"Doin' what? I ain't afraid of nothin'." The glare you give is enough to make that prideful resolve melt for a second.

"Worrying. Quit it, everything's gonna be fine. You act like you're delivering this baby." The bed isn't the most comfortable but it's alright. You lay back a little bit.

"I might as well be." He jokes to lighten the mood a little.

Lowkey he's by the nurses side and they're like "Sir can you please go sit down and let us do our jobs"

He does, but when he hears the first little cries he's up again a slightly worried look on his face. You don't scream as much as the first baby, but you are gripping the bed railings.

"Is there anything I can do to help??" As if on queue Mitsuki arrives and takes him down to get some stuff from her car.

"Quit worrying that woman Katsuki, this is her fourth brat." He's carrying all the baby stuff his mom bought.

"Oh shut up hag. I'll do what I want."

"You're just like your dad. He hovered over me the whole time, talking me through the pain." Katsuki grimaces at the idea of his mother giving birth.

When he answers his mother with silence is prompts her to continue, "She's stronger than she's given credit for I'll tell you that. Two of your children have a big head just like you. I couldn't bear child birth again after I had to push out a head as big as yours. She's brave." Mitsuki explains as they walk back into the hospital.

"Oi, my head isn't big." He argues.

"You didn't have to give birth to you, you wouldn't know."

The two argue all the way back up to the room.

#ik he's soft on the inside i'm not listening to anyone else #he just wants u to be ok #bnha #mha #katsuki bakugo #bakugo x reader #bakugou x reader #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugou #katsuki bakugo x reader

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taintedtort · 2 years ago

Text

prompt ✧ you don’t say i love you back

characters ✧ xiao, wanderer

warnings ✧ gn!reader, none!

a/n ✧ my app is finally fixed, so here’s this. it’s one of my fav prompts! (might do this again with more characters, i wanted to get a work out cus it’s been a week since i’ve posted)

XIAO

✧ didn’t even notice the first time

"i have to go, i love you."

he mumbled the loving phrase to you before vanishing, not even giving you time to say it back. you shrugged it off and decided to keep your plan going a little bit longer, just to see what his reaction would be if he did catch on.

after he finally arrived back at the inn and entered your room, you greeted him with a smile. it was late so you were already in bed ready to sleep, so he fell onto the bed next to you with a grunt. you’d made it clear to him in the past that you prefer he sleep with you, so he tries is best to at least be in the bed while you fall asleep.

you asked him how his day went and he gave you the same run down he always did. he didn’t let you chat with him for too long though, insisting you go to sleep so your mortal body can get the rest it needs.

after the lights were turned out and you were both under the covers, he muttered the phrase to you once more. you hummed in acknowledgment, a small smirk playing on your lips. you didn’t hear from him after that, so you fell asleep.

when you woke up, he was sitting at the end of the bed, staring off into space. you nudged him with your foot, letting him know you were awake. he turned to look at you with a furrowed brow and a frown on his lips.

"i love you."

he delivered the words accusingly, like he was calling you out on not saying it last night. you knew you’d been caught, but kept your game going anyway. you nodded at his words before stretching your tired limbs out. you saw his face drop further at your lack of response, making you fight the smile that threatened to spread across your own.

he stood up from the bed, causing you to sit up as well. you were nervous that you made him upset, but he circled back around to your side of the bed.

once he reached you, he grabbed your jaw in his hand, making you look up at him. a confused mutter of his name left your lips.

"i love you."

he said it more firmly that time, his eyes boring into yours. butterflies filled your stomach and your lips parted. you mumbled it back that time, not being able to continue your prank.

once he heard the words leave your mouth, he bent down and kissed you. after he pulled away, you giggled at him, explaining it was only a joke and you didn’t think he’d get that worked up about it. your confession made his ears warm as he turned away from you.

"do all mortals act this way or is it just you?"

WANDERER

✧ thought you didn’t hear him

he‘d just gotten back from a long and grueling adventure, completely wiped out. you, of course, were there to help him relax and unwind from his stressful day. so, there he lay, his head in your lap with the rest of his body spread out over the far end of the couch. his eyes were closed, but he wasn’t sleeping yet, just relishing in the feeling of your fingers on his scalp.

you heard him quietly mumble a thank you followed with an even quieter declaration of love. you hummed at him, not responding to his words. you did not expect his eyes to snap open though.

"did you hear me?"

he was staring up at you blankly, no look of hurt or anger on his face. however, when you nodded a frown appeared.

"are you sure? what did i say?"

you must’ve heard him wrong— there’s no way. you always say i love you back. you know how hard it is for him to verbally communicate his feelings, so he knows you must’ve just not heard him.

when you repeated his words back to him, he felt his heart drop a little. so you had heard him. he didn’t want to let you see his insecurities, so he deflected.

"and? say it back."

he saw the ghost of a smile appear on your face at his words and instantly knew everything was fine, you were just being difficult. you seriously scared him!

when you stayed silent, a deeper frown formed on his face and his brows furrowed. he was laying on his back staring up at you, causing his bangs to fall to the side and show his forehead. that, mixed with his expression, was too cute. you couldn’t help but fall into suppressed laughter.

at the sound of your laughing, he sat up off your lap, annoyance radiating off him. a laugh filled gasp of his name left your lips as you grasped onto his shoulder. you apologized through giggles and finally told him you loved him back, then sealed your words with a kiss to his cheek.

he grumbled about how infuriating you are, but settled back into his spot on your lap.

"that was so pointless, just say it back."

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captain-hawks · 1 year ago

Text

BEST FRIENDS & BAD IDEAS

♡ — jean kirstein x f!reader

Big aspirations and even bigger dildos—in which a poorly thought out plan makes it incredibly hard to act like your feelings for Jean Kirstein are platonic. Not when they’re anything but. And especially not when you’re half naked in his lap.

18+ ONLY

wc — 2.7k

prompt — cockwarming, creampie

additional content — NSFW, 18+, best friends to lovers speed run, dildo use, implied masturbation, unprotected p in v, praise kink, jean kirstein’s big dick

╰┈➤ kinktober masterlist

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come,” Jean growls, and his low, rough tone sends you off-kilter, shoving you headfirst over the precarious edge you’ve been foolishly dangling from.

In retrospect, perhaps this wasn’t the best idea.

–

In the long list of questionable decisions you’ve made today, one of the first catalysts guaranteeing inevitable disaster was your lack of foresight to lock your bedroom door before stripping off your shorts and underwear and preparing to lower yourself down onto the ridiculously large dildo that had been delivered in an even more comically large Amazon box this morning.

Your best friend of many years and college roommate, Jean Kirstein, came home just as your makeshift “stand”—you’d hastily attached the suction cup at the base of the dildo to the last clean plate in the cabinet for lack of a better surface—went flying across the rug, ripping the few inches you’d manage to ease down onto right out of your lube-slick channel. You’d hit the floor with a thud, growling in frustration. This, understandably, had the unfortunate effect of attracting the concern of said roommate, who swiftly burst into your room as if you were in the middle of being robbed.

The concern quickly morphed into hysterics as he spotted the giant purple dildo wiggling uselessly a few feet away from where you were lying on your stomach, punching the carpet and yelling at him to get out with as much dignity as you could muster.

“That’s my shirt,” he commented dryly, ignoring your pleas for him to forget everything he had just seen.

“Well it was in my drawer,” you spat back, trying to push the dildo-plate behind you, although the damage was already done.

Jean leaned against the doorframe, folding his arms. “I have so many questions.”

“Our business hours are between 8 and 5, so you’ll have to call back tomorrow. Sorry,” you said with a dismissive wave, subtly kicking the plate and dildo beneath the bed.

The suction cup chose that moment to pop off, and all ten inches came rolling back into view right where a bar of sunlight was stretching across the floor from the window. It would have almost looked artsy.

If it weren’t a fucking dildo.

“I thought you ordered a lamp,” he observed mildly, motioning to the huge cardboard box you’d yet to take out to the recycling bin.

“I’m gonna order you a fleshlight if you don’t shut up,” you grumbled, shoving on a pair of sweatpants.

Jean crinkled his nose, running a hand through his hair. “That thing’s so big, the landlord might start charging us for three tenants if he sees it. Is this a cry for help?”

“I’m trying to prepare myself for seducing Eren at the party Saturday night,” you whisper-yelled, as if anyone else was going to overhear you in your otherwise empty apartment.

“Jaeger?!” he barked out with a disbelieving laugh.

“Everyone says he’s huge. I don’t want it to be a disaster.”

“He’s not that fucking big!” he exclaimed incredulously.

You pinched the bridge of your nose. “Can you like, go be somewhere tonight? Go get so high with Conny you forget you saw anything? I’m gonna go try in the bathroom instead.”

“You’re kicking me out of my own apartment so you can shove a giant, sparkly purple dildo inside of yourself imagining it’s Jaeger’s dork ass?”

“I love it when you talk dirty to me, Jean.”

He groaned. “The bathroom sounds like an even worse idea. You’ll slip, hit your head on something, blood will go everywhere, and we’ll lose the security deposit.”

“Or my plan will work, I’ll get laid this weekend, and you can stop complaining about how grumpy I’ve been lately,” you reasoned matter-of-factly.

Jean’s hand came to rest on your shoulder as you attempted to push past him to leave the room, aforementioned dildo jiggling menacingly in your hand. “You’re gonna hurt yourself,” he said a little more softly, raising a brow as he cast another look at the offending object.

“I have lube!” you shot back defensively.

Jean glanced up at the ceiling, muttering something about regret under his breath before exhaling, “Let me help you.”

–

In all the years that you’ve known Jean, you’ve done an excellent job at keeping your little crush on him your best kept secret. A secret kept under the most formidable lock and key, buried deep in the depths of your psyche. Tucked away in the very back of a dusty, old cabinet like an expired can of corn.

Objectively, you know Jean’s handsome. You’re well aware.

With his intense, hazel eyes—ones that see everything.

His tall, solid form.

His sinfully curved, pink lips (and his habit of idly sliding his tongue along the bottom one).

His long, dexterous fingers—a dangerous thought.

That fucking mullet he let grow in, which shouldn’t be nearly as sexy as it is when he rolls right out of bed and leaves his room looking like a pillow-rumpled supermodel.

He’s hot, okay?

And sure, you’ve drunkenly kissed at a few parties over the years. Jean’s seen your ass more times than you can count. Definitely your boobs that time he ran into the bathroom to puke while you were showering. Sometimes he has a habit of putting his head on your lap when you’re both on the couch, nudging you till you card your hands through his soft brown hair like a damn dog.

But it’s always been platonic.

Friendly.

Two people who are just very, very comfortable with one another. Comfortable in knowing that neither intends to ruin their stable, solid friendship by carelessly sprinkling feelings into the mix.

Comfortably going so far as to share the sordid details of your sex lives (or lack thereof, lately) while leaning against the kitchen counter eating take out food without batting an eye—though you’d be lying if you said you didn’t try to one up him sometimes when you feel that familiar, unwelcome twinge of jealousy yawning awake inside of you.

But this?

This is asking too much of your restraint to keep your heart walled off and your mouth clamped shut. In your defense, it was already left in pitiful tatters after grinning-and-bearing it throughout the seven-month-long nightmare that was Jean dating fucking Pieck.

—

The next phase of your slew of terrible ideas today began with Jean sitting at the head of your bed, back against the wall, holding the dildo between his legs. Like your own personal fucking dildo holder. Grinning like this wasn’t the single most awkward thing the two of you have ever done (save for the time you both fell asleep with your head in his lap on the couch and woke up to his accidental boner poking you in the ear—neither of you ever mentioned that again).

And it would have been totally fine if it worked out like you imagined in your head the moment he pitched it—you sinking down onto the silicone schlong a few times, stuffing in as much as you could while he held it still. Then letting him carry on with his day while you lay there in bed for a little while with it lodged inside of you, getting yourself used to the stretch. Totally fine.

The reality of the situation was far different, entailing a sticky, slippery mess of lube coating of your hands and a dildo that bent and flopped in every direction as you tried to carefully impale yourself on it while maintaining some sense of dignity.

You had given up fairly quickly, butting your head against Jean’s collarbone and sighing as you asked if he thought Eren would go slow.

He was quiet for a moment.

“…do you trust me?” Jean had asked carefully, like his next suggestion wasn’t going to send you spiraling.

Like “Just sit on my dick, as a friend!” wasn’t the most fucking confusing statement your heart, brain, and vagina had ever heard.

–

Which is how you find yourself in your current predicament, straddling Jean Kirstein’s lap with far more inches of him than you’d realized he’d been keeping tucked away buried to the hilt in the velvety heat between your thighs. Raw, skin-to-fucking-skin, because you’re both in a miserable dry spell with not a single condom to be found between the two of you. And somehow the combination of “known you for half of my life” and “just got tested” and “IUD” sounded better than one of you being tasked with trudging to the pharmacy.

Or, god fucking forbid, going down one floor to ask Conny for one.

Nope.

You have three days to prepare yourself for whatever may come with Eren, so sitting on your best friend’s intimidatingly large dick sans condom the least of your worries. Even if it feels so incredible you’re literally silently choking on the moan threatening to spill past your lips.

Even if you fucking swear you heard his breath hitch when the thick head of his cock began to slip past your entrance, stretching you open wide as he breached your damp channel.

Even if he hardly had to touch himself to get hard for this.

Even if his gaze darkened when you choked out, “Jean, your dick is huge.”

This was a terrible idea.

“If you keep doing that, I’m gonna come.”

“Doing what?!” you ask, exasperated.

He rests his hands on your waist, “Doing this,” and squeezes firmly, “on my dick.”

“This isn’t even sex,” you tell him, ignoring the way the close proximity of his hazel eyes sets a flurry of emotion stuttering in your chest. “It’s like, cockwarming at best. You can’t come from cockwarming if you’re not even turned on.”

Jean raises an eyebrow. “Do you even know how tight you are?”

“That’s obviously why I was worried about Ere—”

“It’s like this,” he cuts you off, wrapping a hand around your throat. It’s a loose hold, only meant to prove a snarky point, but a spark of arousal seeps through your body anyway at the mere suggestion. His eyes widen a fraction at the traitorous way your walls clamp down on him even harder in response. “What, you into being choked?”

“I’m into a lot of things, Jeanie,” you tell him haughtily, trying to ignore the heat blistering beneath your skin.

“Like dumb idiots named Eren Jaeger?” he counters, making to grab for the tongue you’re currently sticking out at him.

If you didn’t know better, you’d almost think Jean sounds like he’s jealous.

Which he definitely isn’t.

But you poke the bear anyway.

“What, are you jealous?”

He shifts slightly, and you bite your lip to stifle the moan as your cunt spasms around the pressure from his cock.

If he notices, he doesn’t mention it. Instead, his brow furrows as the corners of his mouth tilt downward slightly. “I just think you deserve better.”

You tug on his earlobe, letting out a weak laugh in an attempt to dispel the sticky, messy feeling of hope trying desperately to cling to the arousal stirring in your gut. “Says the guy who’s currently fucking me.”

Jean scoffs and deadpans, “I thought this wasn’t sex.”

Who are you kidding? Certainly not the tension coiling ruthlessly in your abdomen.

You move a little, trying and failing to relieve the sensation of hot wax dripping down your spine. Instead, you let out a tiny, strangled noise when your throbbing clit presses down against his pelvis, the resulting flood of pleasure setting every nerve ending in your body on fire.

The way he growls out your name through gritted teeth is a warning, but his low tone only serves to stoke the flames licking their way up between your thighs.

You move again, inhaling sharply through your nose.

“Fuck,” he groans quietly, head hitting the wall behind him with a resounding thud.

You’re not sure if he does it on purpose, but his hands find their way back to your hips, calloused fingertips pressing directly against your skin as he slides them up beneath your shirt. His shirt.

The next time you rock against him, his grip on you tightens. And then, you feel it—he tugs you forward.

You lean further into him, without really meaning to, forehead coming to rest against his. “What are we…”

“Just keep going,” he murmurs.

He shifts again, sinking down lower so his back is pressed against the mattress, and you realize the angle gives you more purchase to grind down against him when he pulls at your waist, thumbs lazily skimming your hip bones.

“Jean…” you whisper, not really sure what else you intend to say.

“I want you to feel good,” he says softly, pushing his hips against you, even though he’s snugly bottomed out.

It feels so fucking good—

—laying atop Jean while he stares back up at you, pupils clearly dilated in arousal—

—watching his eyes fall shut as you run a hand along the stubble on his jaw—

—knowing he’s well aware the slickness between your legs is no longer from the lube, your cunt gushing with arousal at the feeling of being stuffed deep with his thick cock.

So you tell yourself you’ll figure the rest out later when you start to shamelessly grind down against him.

“You don’t have to be quiet for me,” Jean teases when you cough to cover up a gasp.

Your answering moan is nearly a whimper, and Jean’s muscles tense beneath you as he continues to guide your hips. He doesn’t try to pull his cock out from where it’s lodged inside of you, doesn’t start thrusting and fucking up into you. He just lets you chase the clitoral stimulation you so desperately need while you’re cockwarming him, groaning along with you at each needy drag.

“Good girl, that’s it.”

This is far more intimate than you bargained for, the gentle slide of his hands up your back scraping your heart out bit-by-bit.

“Holy shit, you don’t know how close I am to coming right now,” he moans in a gravelly, unsteady tone.

All you can do is whimper his name when the rubber band suddenly snaps in response, your body trembling as a wave of white-hot pleasure crashes over you.

And then Jean’s hands are cupping your face, his lips crashing into yours. He kisses you fiercely as you whine and shudder through your orgasm, moaning into your mouth as you card your fingers through his hair. You can feel his cock throb inside of you, pulsing with need as your tight cunt spasms and contracts, relentlessly squeezing his shaft while you soak him with your release.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck,” he’s groaning, both of you too drunk on pleasure to move when he suddenly climaxes, cock pumping thick, hot ropes of cum deep in your pussy.

Chests heaving, Jean slowly sits up, forehead falling against your shoulder as he wraps his arms around your waist.

After a few minutes of silence, he finally murmurs, “Don’t fuck Jaeger.”

You tilt his head upward, finger resting just below his chin, skimming the stubble that’s there. Too many emotions are swimming in his hazel eyes, more than you can identify—save for one that you recognize with a jolt of clarity. It’s the way you look at him, when he’s not paying attention.

Longing.

Desire.

Soft, gentle, unfiltered affection.

This time, you’re the one to close the distance between your mouths, brushing your lips against his.

“Who?” you ask, smiling into the kiss.

Jean chuckles, the sound like warm honey, and he deepens the kiss, one hand sliding to the back of your head. Though you remain seated on his softening length, cum begins to seep from your slick heat, pooling on his balls and abdomen.

He goes to move, but you don’t budge. “You wanna get cleaned up?”

You shake your head, the corner of your mouth tilting upward with a smirk. “I’m comfortable.”

Jean bites his lower lip, huffing, “My cum’s dripping all over, and I’m two seconds from getting hard again if you keep squeezing down on me like that.”

Feigning a look of innocence, you flex the muscles in your tight, soaked channel one more time for good measure. He chokes, and you grin.

“Good.”

— likes, comments, &/or reblogs are greatly appreciated!

#jean kirstein x reader #jean kirschtein x reader #jean kirstein #jean kirschtein #attack on titan #shingeki no kyojin #snk #aot #aot smut #attack on titan smut #jean kirstein smut #dee writes

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lost-in-fiction-like-ur-mom · 7 months ago

Note

Established wrecker relationship with a newborn and lots of fluff and cuddles.

Bundle of Joy

Wrecker x Reader

Summary- Wrecker is scared he might hurt your newborn baby. You reassure him he won't, and that he is a good father.

A/N- Warning for descriptions of birth! Thank you for requesting! I love this prompt, Wrecker would be so careful with a tiny baby!

Word Count- 1,344

You weren't due for another week, you were supposed to be on Pabu for your delivery. With lots of midwives and doctors who had helped with past births. That just wasn't in the cards for you though.

Tech made an emergency landing on the closest inhabitable planet he could find. There was no time to get to Pabu, and it wasn't safe to jump into hyperspace while in labor.

You screamed loud, gripping the closest thing as tight as you could. Unlucky for Wrecker- it was his hand. You were insanely nervous, nothing was going according to plan. Wrecker was doing little to help, he was freaking out himself.

You took deep breaths the second your contraction was over. Wrecker swept hair out of your face and rubbed your arm, trying his best to keep you calm.

"We have landed." Tech called back, a green hue cast over the ship. Whatever planet you landed on was either abandoned or had a low population.

"I'm scared Wrecker." You breathed in again, "How am I going to have this baby on a shi-" You cut yourself off, screaming in pain as a new contraction hit.

You reached over, hitting Wrecker on the arm. "You are never touching me again, I cannot believe I married you!" You yelled at him. Pain clouded your thoughts.

"I know, I know, I'm sorry!" He worried, also frightened on what would happen. You were on an abandoned planet with no doctor!

Hunter and Omega also sat close by, getting everything you requested. Omega had refreshed a cold rag a dozen times now, and promptly placed Lula by your side.

Tech and Echo talked in the Cock-pit, you didn't know what about. Though it dulled the pain to think on what it was.

"What do you need?" Omega sweetly asks after you stop screaming.

"I need to know the plan." Inhale, exhale, "What's going to happen?"

"I do not know why everyone is freaking out. I am fully equipped to deliver a child." Tech chimes in, that must have been what they were talking about.

His words did bring you comfort, as your original plan involved Tech being there to make sure everything was going by the book.

"Get her on the floor, bring lots of pillows. We need her slightly elevated." Tech took over shortly after he made sure the ship was settled.

Hunter brought Omega outside after you started spewing insults and profanities to Wrecker. You were a completely different person when in pain.

Echo stayed on board to make sure Wrecker didn't do anything stupid, and to help Tech if needed.

About an hour later, screaming, hitting, and pushing- your baby girl was born.

"It's a girl."

You panted heavily, "Give her to me Tech, please." Tech immediately grabbed his knife and cut the front of your shirt open.

"Hey! Wha-" Wrecker was confused, only seeing Tech ripping your top off.

"Wrecker, it's so the baby can feel her skin." Echo informed, holding Wrecker back slightly.

Tech rested the child on your chest, then moved back down to cut the umbilical cord.

You gasped and gently held her to your chest. "Oh thank you Makers, thank you!" You had tears running down your face, slowly caressing your baby's cheek.

"Wrecker, come here. Some see your daughter." You waved him over, all of a sudden regretting your snide comments made earlier.

He joined your side quickly, resting his large palm on the top of your sweaty head. "She's perfect..."

He lowered his head, face only an inch from the baby's. "She looks just like you..."

You sniffled a laugh, "She looks like a potato right now, Wreck."

"No, look. She has your eyes." Just as he said that, she peaked an eye open, looking at her father for the first time.

"Sweet baby." You commented.

"Hey, i'm sorry about what I said earlier. I didn't know what I was saying." You apologized, not wanting Wrecker to think he was purposefully the cause of your pain.

"You did such a good job." He gave a loud chuckle, "I was more scared than you!"

You smiled at him.

"Have Wrecker hold the baby, you have to pass the placenta now." Tech pressed down on your stomach, moving the placenta down.

"Here, Wrecker." You slowly lifted her to him. His face dropped, he was terrified.

"It's okay, she's tiny but strong." You assured him.

"Uh, I don't know..." He breathed heavily.

Your face screwed in pain again, though not near as bad as before.

"Wrecker!"

"Okay, okay." He picked her up, as softly and carefully as a man his size could muster, He was shaking in fear he would hurt her. She was just so small.

Wrecker had a past of knocking over or accident breaking things, he was just so big. He forgot sometimes. He certainly did not forget now. He watched the child like a hawk.

It didn't take long before Tech finished helping you pass the placenta. Immediately after you were able to, Wrecker passed her back into your arms.

After a moment of silence and the four of you admiring the baby, Echo chimed in.

"Tech and I will give you some space." He guided the two of them outside of the ship, with Hunter and Omega.

"Wrecker, it's okay. She's fine." You looked up into the eyes of the man that had made you forever happy.

"What are we going to name her?" He said, effectively changing the conversation.

You huffed, but figured you could talk to him about holding her later. "What about Myla?" You asked.

"Perfect." He said, once again leaning down to get a good look at her. He held his finger out, tickling the baby's foot.

A few minutes later, you sent Wrecker to get everyone. You knew Omega would be beaming to see the baby.

"What is it, what is it! Tech wouldn't tell!" She practically bounced in, but slowed down when she came to your side.

"Meet Myla, your niece."

"She's so beautiful." She said, leaning on her arm while admiring the baby.

Wrecker smiled at the scene.

It had been an uneventful flight home, you were in overprotective mode. Even though you trusted everyone on the ship with your life, you didn't let anyone else hold Myla. She slept the whole way back.

You and Wrecker decided to settle down in your home on Pabu that was pre-prepared for this day. Many of the Pabu citizens already knew of the birth, but gave you your space.

You sat up in your bed, Myla cradled in your arms. She quickly fell asleep after being fed. Wrecker joined you, being overly careful in getting under the sheets.

"Do you want to hold her?" You asked, looking at him sit up next to you.

"Oh uh, I don't want to wake her. Probably best if you just hold her." You sighed at this. Your hormones were still wack, and you teared up at his answer.

"What's wrong, what'd I do?" He softly asked, a hand coming to your arm.

You sniffled, taking a few breathes before speaking "Why won't you hold her?"

"I don't want to hurt Myla." He said, nervous for your response.

You blinked, readjusting Myla in your arms. "Wrecker, I promise you will be okay. She is tough, just like her daddy."

He looked at her, still unsure. "Look, just take her. if anything happens i'm right here."

You raised your arms, handing her over. She 'cooed' but stayed asleep.

"See, she knows you're her dad." You rubbed your face on his arm, wrapping your arms around him. He was tense, caught up in the feeling of holding her.

"Move your arm up a little." You guided him, but it soon felt natural for him.

A deep breath left him lips. He was finally comfortable.

"Not so bad huh?"

With a swallow he answered, "The two most perfect girls in the world."

You nuzzled further into his side, trusting his hold on Myla.

"Thank you for giving me this..."

A/N- Thank you so much for reading!

Tags- (lmk if you want to be tagged as well!) @thethreeeyed-raven @dangraccoon @knight-of-flowerss

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agustdtown1 · 4 months ago

Note

Prompt no. 8 with Taehyung

PAIRING: kim taehyung x fem!reader

WC: 1.3k

WARNINGS: prompt’s in bold, smut 18+, fingering, oral sex (f receiving), light nipple play, dirty talk, a lot of pet names. Not proofread.

A/N: thank you for requesting, i hope you like it! Btw i didn’t know how to end it, so the last part is a bit rushed and messy.

prompt list | event masterlist | general masterlist

“Are you sure? Once we start I might not be able to stop.”

The question would have been sweet, reassuring even, had your boyfriend’s hand not been touching your chest so lustfully, but Taehyung has always had a way of contradicting his words with his actions. It was intended to show his care for you and how concerned he was that you might not feel comfortable with continuing, but the whole meaning changed when his avid fingers descended from your neck to your tits to pull your nipples deliciously, ripping a moan from you.

“That’s not the answer I was looking for, princess.” Taehyung’s amused smile got you whining and squirming. “Come on, tell me. Are you sure you want this?”

It was laughable how you were so eager to answer his question with a firm yes, without second thoughts or hesitation, only to guide one of his hands down your body seconds after, positioning it right above your soaked cunt. It was desperation coursing your veins, and desire clouding your mind; both things turning you into a conglomeration of incoherent sounds and uncoordinated movements.

“I need you, Tae…” a whisper echoing in his ears, luring him into almost sliding his fingers inside your drenched underwear. “Please!”

You have never been one to beg for the things you fervently wanted, but ever since you met the brown-eyed guy, everything you thought you knew about yourself changed. You were no longer ashamed to beg for anything, whether it was his attention, touch or love. It wasn’t strange for you to be open about the things you wanted and how you wanted them anymore, and most importantly, you knew when it was best to put your whole self in the hands of Kim Taehyung, completely trusting him to take care of you.

“You sound so pretty when you beg, love.” His deep voice sent a shiver down your spine. “You want me to touch you here?” Taehyung’s avid fingers were teasing you through your drenched underwear, sliding up and down your folds, smearing your juices all over the soft material of your panties.

You were quick to nod, grinding against Taehyung’s fingers like there was no tomorrow.

“I need to hear you say it, baby. Use your words.” A light smack was delivered to your inner thigh, making you jump in your place.

“Please, touch me here, I need it.” Your hand was still wrapped around his wrist, guiding his movements to ease the burning sensation in between your legs. “Tae…” a whine escaped from your mouth due to how long your boyfriend was taking to please you.

Kim was enjoying your suffering a bit too much. He loved how your body was craving his touch, urgently requiring him to finally give you what you’ve been waiting for.

“That wasn’t so hard to say now, was it?” A deep chuckle echoed through the room, while his fingers moved your panties to the side, inserting one in a swift motion. “There we go, just what you wanted, baby.”

Moans after moans were falling from your lips due to how good Taehyung was making you feel. His lips were quick to make company to his lewd movements in your cunt, having placed his head in between your thighs to have a better look at it.

“Such a pretty pussy.” He placed a soft kiss on your clit, enjoying how your eyes rolled back and your hips thrusted into his face. “All for me. You’re all mine, isn’t that right?”

He wanted to hear you say it; Taehyung thrived on how you openly would say that you were his, that you belonged to him and only him. More than being possessive it was a sort of pride that’d install itself in his chest, knowing that he got such a beautiful and amazing girl like you.

“All yours, just for you.” You answered breathlessly. “Please get closer.”

“Your wish is my command, doll.”

Taehyung didn’t waste another second before taking your panties off to finally attach his lips to your soaking clit. His previously lonely finger was now joined by two more and they were plumping in and out your warm walls, enhancing all the feelings and sensations you were going through. The way his hot tongue was dancing through your folds to gather the majority of your slick, and how his long digits were so close to touching that sweet spot of yours, got you into a babbling and writhing mess.

“So fucking sweet.” Taehyung hummed, licking up and down your folds. His fingers abandoned your entrance, making you complain about the sudden emptiness, however, your cries were quickly answered with his tongue filling you up. “This what you wanted, doll?” His free hand crept up to fondle one of your tits, taking your nipple in between his fingers to play with it.

“Fuck, feels so good.”

Your orgasm was rapidly approaching due to your boyfriend’s ministrations; Taehyung was so wonderfully eating you out, making you almost reach the stars with his avid lips and skillful tongue, not to mention the way he was touching your chest was bringing you near the edge, stealing breathless words from you.

“Keep going like that, don’t stop.” It wasn’t an order but rather a request, since you knew Taehyung wouldn’t be fond of you bossing him around. “I’m getting —fuck, I’m getting close, baby.”

He knew it, your boyfriend knew it so well when you were about to cum. He’s memorized every reaction and movement from your body, the way your thighs would anticipatedly try to wrap themselves around his head, how your back would arch and your fingers would weave through his hair to keep him as close to your cunt as possible. He also knew the face you were making at that right moment, even without looking at you; bottom lip trapped in between your teeth while your eyes were rolled back, completely white.

Looking so pretty.

Taehyung increased the speed of his movements, rapidly fucking you with his tongue, smearing his lips, chin and nose with your juices. He didn’t care that his face would be painted with your essence, it actually was his favorite thing in the world. And so, to show his appreciation and love for you, he finally tipped you over the edge, trying his best to keep you in place while your orgasm conquered your body.

“That’s my girl, make a mess on my face.” Taehyung closed his eyes to enjoy the overwhelming feeling of you cumming on his tongue. It was filthy and dirty to some extent, but he loved to have that sweet taste of you all over his mouth.

“Taehyung.” His name spilled from your lips in a broken moan. Eyes fully shut and mouth slightly open, panting; your body was still recovering from the intense orgasm you just had, while trying to stay in place with your boyfriend’s face still nested in between your legs. “‘S too much, please…” You whined, trying to pull Taehyung away, due to how his lips and tongue were once again on moving you.

Reluctantly, the brown-haired guy broke his grip from you, slowly retrieving to lay down on the mattress, right next to you.

“You okay, baby?” He asked, reaching out to wrap his arm around your waist. “Was I too much?”

You shook your head no, lazily resting your cheek on his warm, bare chest. “I’m all good, just tired.” As if to confirm it, a yawn escaped from your lips, making your eyes flutter shut once again. “I think I’ll take a nap.”

“We need to clean up first, love.” His soothing voice was doing nothing more than luring you into a slumber, but you also knew that he was right. The sticky feeling of your own cum was starting to bother you. “Come on, I’ll start the bath.”

Oh how grateful you were to have a boyfriend like him.

Taglist 🏷️; @aphrwodite @r1r111 @cholychi @artificialsuicid @vsr4197 @fictyaa

#kim taehyung x reader #taehyung x reader #kim taehyung smut #taehyung smut #bts x reader #bts smut #🥢town originals!#🥢.townsmut!#[under the lights —we!]

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abstractnaturaldisaster · 6 months ago

Text

is it over now? (was it over then?)

part seven

part eight: i think about jumping off of very tall somethings

Eddie was fully convinced he had lost whatever remaining dignity he might have had when his friends had found him sunken into his beanbag chair with random detritus strewn around the room. He really thought he could not feel any lower than when Ronnie made it more obvious than necessary that she was picking her way through Eddie's junk to stick a hand into his nest and pull him out by his collar. He thought that was rock bottom, but being early for coffee with Robin and Nancy and having to wait with a cooling americano he spent way too much money on really gave that whole experience a run for its money.

Ronnie had suggested dming Robin and Nancy and testing the waters to see if they would be willing to broker some sort of reunion with Steve. Eddie stared at her like she had suggested he deliver the one ring to mordor alone; however, she obviously had a point since the newly announced couple suggested meeting up.

"Hey! Eddie! Sorry we're late!" Robin caught Eddie's attention as Nancy went to order.

"Oh, uh, no worries," Eddie fumbled, "I'm just happy you're here at all honest."

"I mean, Nance said it's only fair to hear you out but you were fucking brutal to my best friend, dude, so like the window to give you some grace is pretty fucking small," Robin answered.

"No, yeah totally understood. How do you want to do this?" Eddie asked.

"Why don't you just explain what happened from your side of things. From our angle, you look like kind of a douche but also I feel like maybe Steve didn't handle things great either? I dunno. I mean, you made him really happy, if we have a chance to fix that, I think I owe it to Steve, right?" Robin answered.

"Sure, yeah, no that makes sense," Eddie started as Nancy sat down with her and Robin's drinks.

"Keep going, Eddie, this is mostly Robin's thing anyway," Nancy prompted. She did not look quite as open to fixing things as Robin did and Eddie felt a little more nervous after he let himself relax in Robin's easy presence.

"For sure, so like obviously you know all of the like tabloid bullshit about Steve and whatever and like I kind of got it and understood but then without any warning I show up and Steve's like gorgeous and super successful ex was just on his couch and Steve isn't willing to explain? I mean that was pretty fucking hard to swallow," Eddie finished a little less certain of where he stood with Robin as she narrowed her eyes over her tea.

"So instead of trusting Steve and listening to him when he told you how much the tabloids have lied about him throughout his career you let the fact that I was present in his home be enough to trump years of what you all had built?" Nancy questioned. Eddie could see her journalism chops coming out.

"That's fair. I mean, I definitely acted without a lot of thought but like, why wouldn't you have looped me in? Did you guys not trust me?" Eddie asked still trying to figure out why he was left flat footed all those weeks ago.

"I think that might be on me," Robin piped up, "I was pretty nervous about coming out and I think Steve was being super protective and didn't want to ask me to come out to more people than I was wanting to. It's not that he didn't trust you, Eddie, it's that we had some pretty shitty years with different agents trying to push me in different directions and I think he just was sick of feeling like outside forces were making me move quicker than I was ready to. And it's not like you made it easy on him to reach out to you after. How was he supposed to respond when you blocked him on literally every platform?"

"I guess I didn't think he would want to explain or he'd try to like explain everything away even though it had seemed obvious at the time he was cheating on me," Eddie paused when both Robin and Nancy threw death glares across the table, "Jeez, I know now that was stupid but at the time it was the only rational I could see."

"I guess we should stop interrogating you, you do seem pretty serious, otherwise I don't think you would have agreed to meet both of us," Nancy jumped in.

"I really regret cutting him off like I did. I know I got way too in my head about everything immediately and just didn't give it time or let him respond," Eddie tried to sound as apologetic as he felt.

"We believe you, you two are both dinguses," Robin cut in, "more importantly, what are we going to do about that fucking song and how the hell do you propose apologizing for all the shit you stirred?"

"I thought we were done with the interrogation," Eddie held his hands up.

"Only about whether or not you're genuine, you still have to figure out how you are putting my bestie back together," Robin answered.

"So about that. I have a couple ideas. One, I feel like a song got us into this mess and my label wants more music anyways so I am kind of thinking of an apology song. The rest of my band has actually started workshopping some stuff with me to try to put it together as soon as we can. I'm kind of hoping to release it before Steve gets back so we are a bit under the clock," Eddie began, "And second, that's where I was kind of hoping you guys could help. I don't want to like ambush the guy but I also don't know if Steve will be interested in meeting with me or like ready to start dating again. I was kind of hoping I could crash one of your movie nights? Maybe once Steve gets settled a bit more?"

"Steve is not the best with surprises," Robin thought aloud, "but that's not a no, it's a convince me."

"I just figure he'll be in his space and relaxed and he also fully has an out to have you kick me out if he isn't interested. If he is, I was kind of hoping you too would be willing to make yourselves scarce?" Eddie hoped that was enough.

Surprisingly, Nancy was the one to answer.

"I think we have a deal, Munson," Nancy stuck her hand out for Eddie to shake.

Eddie left the cafe feeling more hopeful than he had in some time.

part nine

@lololol-1234 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @zombiethingy @grtwdsmwhr @dreamercec @anne-bennett-cosplayer @strawberryyyenthusiast

@mensch-anthropos-human @kal-ology @ttyrussss @kristmkris @starman-jpg @wonderland-girl143-blog @child-of-cthulhu @legalmenace87 @adealwithher @practicallybegging @lunaraquaenby @stripey82

@lexyvey @goodolefashionedloverboi @mothmamhasyourlocation @mugloversonly @sherrylyn0628 @steddieinthesun @wonderland-girl143-blog @counting-dollars-counting-stars @bookworm0690

(if you wanna be tagged in future parts feel free to comment! happy to add people)

#steve x eddie #eddie munson #steve harrington #steddie fic #steddie #don't worry robin will fix it #angst #angst with a happy ending #rockstar eddie #actor steve #was it over then ficlet

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kenziebluex · 19 days ago

Text

Mind Games

♫ Sickick - Mind Games

Takuma Ino - Kinktober 2024 - Cockring

Story Description: It had been more than 3 months since Reader and Ino began dating, and Ino was everything they had hoped for in a partner. However, there was one concern lingering in the back of their mind regarding their sexual compatibility. Finally, they mustered up the courage to bring it up to Ino, and were relieved when met with a positive solution.

Tags: Introverted Ino, Hand Jobs, Cockring, Overstimulation, Vaginal Sex

Ino was a bit introverted.

You met him at a bar where he worked as a bartender. After a few drinks and a make-out session during his break, you invited him to come home with you. At first, he was hesitant and nervous, but then he happily agreed once he realized you were serious. It became clear that Ino was shy.

However, in bed, he seemed to open up more. He focused on pleasing his partner and you would describe him as a service top. He was very skilled at making you climax multiple times in one night, taking control and talking you through it.

Your hook-ups quickly turned into a regular thing as it served as a great stress reliever for both of you. You enjoyed spending time with Ino and he always made you feel good. So when he asked you to be his girlfriend after a quiet night of watching movies and having dinner at his place, you said yes.

It's been about 3 months since you started dating Ino when you noticed an issue in your sex life. You've only gone all the way with him a few times and it's always been at your initiation. This didn't bother you; what concerned you was that Ino didn't last very long during sex.

His penis was larger than average and you appreciated that he was uncircumcised. Initially, you thought he might just be inexperienced since he didn't have sex often, but as your relationship progressed, you noticed no improvement in his stamina.

You were still satisfied because foreplay always led to multiple orgasms for you, but deep down, you wanted Ino to last longer. You wanted to feel him inside of you for a longer period and experience the lingering effects of his manhood the next day.

But bringing this up to him without hurting his ego or making him feel inadequate was the challenge.

"Ugh," you let out a sigh in frustration. You knew you needed to research possible solutions before talking to him about it. So during the time he was at work, you searched for ways to address your dilemma.

It took you three days before you finally found a solution that seemed promising. You ordered it and hoped it would arrive before Ino got home.

"Baby, I'm home," you heard Ino call from downstairs, making your eyes widen. You thought you had his schedule right and he wasn't supposed to be home until 8pm tonight. You both agreed to spend weekends at his place since he owned a house. He loved waking up next to you and you enjoyed watching him snuggle into you as he slept, so it worked out.

Not wanting to keep him waiting, you quickly made your way down the stairs.

At the door, Ino was holding up a package that you recognized, causing you to consider going back upstairs. It hadn't been marked as delivered yet, but you had been constantly refreshing the post office website for the past few hours just in case.

“I had to sign for this when I came in. Oooh what did you get?” He handed you the package and leaned down to give you a kiss on the lips before moving towards the kitchen counter to put down his things.

You opened your mouth to respond, but no words came out. This prompted him to set down his belongings and come stand next to you.

“You don't have to tell me. Are you okay, baby?” He asked with concern, standing in front of you and lifting your chin up to place gentle kisses on your face. You loved when he showed this kind of affection; he always did when he was worried about something.

“Yes, I'm okay. It's just something I saw online,” you whispered into his arms as he wrapped them around you in a hug. Your head rested against his chest and you were enveloped in his warmth, completely forgetting about the package on the nearby table.

“Okay, just don't want to see my nervous baby,” he said, still holding onto you as you pulled away slightly to stand on your tiptoes and give him a kiss.

“Promise you won't get mad at me?” You asked, looking up at him, taking note of his relaxed expression. His brown hair was slightly messy from not wearing his hat, but his gaze made you feel nervous. Ino was undeniably attractive, and he knew it.

“Now I'm intrigued,” he said with a raised eyebrow, making you giggle.

“It's something I found online...to make you last longer during sex. It's supposed to enhance our experience,” you explained hesitantly, realizing that maybe you were being too forward. “Not that it isn't already great, because it is, but this will keep you...hard longer.” You clarified when you saw his eyebrows furrow slightly.

“So a cock ring?” He asked with a smile, as if he had finally found the right word to describe it.

“How do you even know what that is?” You exclaimed, realizing that maybe you were nervous for no reason.

Ino shrugged and proceeded to explain how he was a healthy young man with access to the internet.

“So when are we trying it out?” He asked excitedly, grabbing the package off the table.

“Now?” You suggested, met with a smirk and his hand in yours as he led you both to the bedroom.

✿✿✿

You and Ino were lying together under the covers on the bed. After showering, you had both climbed into bed and were now cuddled up close. Ino was the first to take action this time. While you were still drying off, he had already taken the cockring out of its packaging and was examining it closely while reading the instructions before you two laid down. Now, the cockring lay forgotten beside you as you shared a passionate kiss.

As the kiss intensified, you opened your mouth to give his tongue more room to explore. You reached down for what you were looking for and when you felt his hard member brush against your hand, excitement coursed through you.

"Oh my god," Ino groaned as your hands wrapped around his throbbing cock and gave it a few tugs. The sound of his pleasure only made you moan in response.

For a moment, you almost forgot about your original plans for the night as you got lost in the sensation of him pleasuring him.

"You put it on," he said, laying back against a pillow to muffle his groans. His chest flushed pink with arousal and embarrassment.

You listened to him and paused your ministrations to pick up the cockring. It was clear and shaped like a ring, just as you had seen in the video tutorial.

Following the instructions carefully, you slipped the ring over the tip of his cock and then slid it down to the base of his shaft. Once it was in position, you checked with Ino before attempting the trickiest part - getting it over his balls to secure it in place.

With gentle stretching and careful maneuvering, you managed to get each of his balls through the hole in the ring. As soon as it was securely in place, you let out a deep exhale of relief. Ino's hands immediately moved down to feel at the new addition.

Before you could fully process what was happening, you were suddenly flipped onto your back causing you to gasp in surprise. Ino was now between your legs, his thighs resting on either side of yours as he opened your legs with his body.

"Let's test it out," he said with a mischievous grin, placing one of your legs over his shoulder. Without warning, he thrust into you quickly after teasing your pussy with a few slaps of his cock. Ino knew how much you loved the pain of being stretched out and he wasted no time in giving it to you.

"Ino- Inooo," you moaned loudly as he started a slow rolling motion, his cock reaching deep inside you before pulling back and repeating the action over and over.

"Fuck," you whined, moving your nails to scratch at his back in pleasure. It had been only a few minutes but Ino was already struggling to hold back from cumming, his sensitive cock constantly brushing against your walls.

"Shit baby," he exclaimed before speeding up his hips. Despite his choppy movements, you couldn't help but moan even louder as he continued to pleasure you. After a few more thrusts, you felt yourself climaxing around him, sending Ino into his own state of pleasure.

"Fuckkk you feel so good baby. Feels like I'm cumming," he groaned into your shoulder as he kept moving inside of you. Your legs found their way over his shoulders as the sensations intensified.

This pattern continued until another intense orgasm swept through you, causing your legs to spasm and shake on Ino's shoulders. The grip of your pussy on him was almost unbearable, but it only added to the pleasure for both of you.

Ino pulled away from you, breathing heavily and struggling to remove the cockring.

"Don't worry, I can get it," you assured him, pushing his hands away and focusing on removing the ring with steady hands.

"I-I..." Ino's words trailed off as the ring finally came off, causing him to climax into your hand. His body shook and convulsed from the intense pleasure. This was the most vulnerable and spent you had ever seen him. He continued to moan until every last drop of cum was released.

Afterwards, Ino curled up next to you and fell asleep, something you always enjoyed.

That was just one of the many reasons why you loved this shy man so much.

taglist: @nousija @kanamethekasugaicrow @akechisleftleg

ugh ino is so hot. hope you enjoyed! -des

#jujutsu kaisen #jujutsu kaisen fic #jjk x reader #jjk #jjk smut #jujutsu kaisen smut #jujustsu kaisen x reader #ino takuma #jjk ino #ino x reader #ino smut #takuma ino x reader #jjk takuma #kinktober 2024

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gosmigenergy · 1 month ago

Text

KINKTOBER 2024 / Day One

HANDJOBS / TEMPERATURE PLAY / BREAST WORSHIP (@absurdthirst)

Starring: Francisco ‘Catfish’ Morales x F!Reader

Summary: When you decide to tag along with Francisco, his idea of a regular fishing trip changes when you take advantage of the quiet surroundings.

Rating: Mature

Warnings: No use of Y/N, drinking/alcohol, swimming in open water, language, alludes to struggling to swim/drowning (reader just panics, it doesn’t occur), handjob.

Word Count: 2.7k

Author’s Notes: Hello, I’m back for another Kinktober! Just to let you know, these may be a little sporadic, I’ve struggled to get into the writing mood this year but I’ll deliver what I can. Also I couldn’t make my mind up on a list so I’ll be flicking between two prompt lists, anyway, enjoy 😘

Frankie always did these trips on his lonesome.

He’d rent a little cabin tucked away in the middle of nowhere, surrounded by vast lakes, and drive miles to get there. It was an escape from the hustle and bustle of trying to get by, allowed him peace of mind from all the shit that was going on and most importantly, it took him away from his vices.

He didn’t mind his own company but when you offered, he couldn’t say no.

“Are you sure? It might get a little boring.”

You saw the tips of his ears turn pink as he nervously played with the peak of his cap.

After everything he’d been through, getting busted, losing his pilot license and that trip with the boys he won’t say anything about, you thought he could use the company. You were sure he was using the term boring to deter you from going.

It was the fourth day and, unbeknown to him, you were indeed getting a little bored.

When you first met Frankie, you though his nickname had come from the fact that, occasionally, he’d look at you with his big brown eyes and his plump lips parted, decorated with patchy whiskers. Part of that was true, it also turns out, the man loves to fish.

He did pretty well on the first couple of days, cooking his catches for breakfast, lunch and dinner but today, he wasn’t having so much luck.

You had taken the trip as an opportunity to switch off as much as you could, the lack of signal in every location a godsend. You hadn’t checked your emails since the moment you got to the cabin, hadn’t looked at the screen to see your notifications and even though you’d taken photographs, you hadn’t posted them online.

When you got ready in the morning, you dressed in the loosest pieces you had, did the shortest skin care routine possible and left with no makeup. You mostly read on the blanket and cushions next to Frankie’s fold away stool, every now and again going for a walk in the wilderness, inhaling the fresh air deeply.

He sighed exasperated and your ears caught the whir of the fishing line.

“Nothing biting?”

He grunted.

Peeking up from the pages of your book, you could see the curls flicking from underneath his battered old cap, his wide shoulders hunched. He looked so broad on that tiny stool he perched on, his legs spread out for him to be comfortable.

You blink as you come back to where you are.

“Why don’t you take a break?”

The stones on the bank crunched under his hiking boots as he stood up, heading to the one cooler to pull out a beer. He instinctively grabs two and joins you on the blanket, pulling the tabs of the can before holding one out to you.

“Thanks,” you say as you push yourself off your front.

Once you sit with your ass firmly to a cushion, you take it from him, your fingers brushing his. You feel the heat come to your cheeks so you turn your head back to the lake as you take a sip.

“What you reading?”

He lifts his chin to your discarded book.

“Just a romance novel.”

His brows furrow, “It’s not one of those smutty ones, is it?”

You were on fire.

“Maybe,” the word squeaks.

“Can’t be better than the real thing though, can it?”

“I dunno,” you look at him as he leans back and admires the view. “Sometimes.”

He chuckles, “You’re sleeping with the wrong people, hermano.”

It was in your best interest to change the subject before you said anything stupid.

You didn’t know whether Frankie felt the same about you as you did him. When you met, you were immediately drawn to his big brown eyes and his laugh could bounce off the walls. His shyness melted away the more he got to know you, he was witty, unreserved. Sure, there were moments where the quietness returned, moments like this but it was comfortable.

“D’you think I could go for a swim?”

He shrugged, “Probably.”

As he drove the truck in, he didn’t see any signs to say you couldn’t, the pair of you hadn’t seen another human being in hours.

Hauling yourself up, you pull the tie of your drawstring trousers, kicking off your shoes.

“You bring a swimsuit?”

“Nope.”

You shrugged off your cardigan and let it fall to a puddle at your feet. Hooking your thumbs under the waistline of your trousers, you shove the fabric past your hips and abandon them with the rest of your clothes.

Frankie couldn’t help sneaking a look.

The knickers you wore were simple but the elastic followed the curve of your ass perfectly, the high cut elevating the length of your legs. He swallowed, cursing himself, he shouldn’t have looked.

You don’t even notice but he repositions himself in case you do.

Keeping on your baby tee, you tread carefully towards the water’s edge.

“It’s gonna be cold,” he calls.

You already gathered that as the chill hit your toes and sent a shiver all the way through your body. Taking a breath, you took another step and then another before you squealed as you went deeper into the water.

He laughed as he does, chest shaking as his smile broadens to show his teeth.

“How is it?”

Once the initial cold had sunk into your skin, it was quite refreshing. The water was crisp and clear, as you waded through the lake floor darkened into a deep turquoise.

“You should join me.”

“No thanks,” he drinks his beer. “Don’t go too far.”

“I won’t.”

You paddled around for a while longer, coming close to the edge before you flip onto your back and float aimlessly.

Frankie kept his eye on you, watched as your body drifted back and forth, the smile constant on his lips. Your book pages danced in front of him as a light breeze whistled over the lake, the leaves on the trees rustling softly.

It called to him.

Picking it up, he looked at the cover first. Pictured was a woman dressed in white with notable pointed ears and a fangs, behind was a wolf against a night sky. The opening line of the blurb suggested a ‘dangerous alliance�� and a ‘new paranormal romance’ and in all honesty, he didn’t expect it from you. He put down his beer, choosing to read the first few lines to see all the fuss was about.

He guessed you were enjoying yourself and you were.

You had started to swim again, having drifted further out than you expected, hoping you could get back to the bank without Frankie realising. He had his head in your book anyway. The water rippled gently as you kept your limbs under the surface, head held high. You continued to ignore the odd tickle, believing you were just going through some weeds. It wasn’t until something definitely brushed your shin and you caught the silhouette as it swam away.

Your scream made him jump.

“You alright?”

He glances over the book, you’re a little far out than he’d like.

“Something touched my leg,” you cry.

You position yourself upright, swirling your arms to keep steady as you breathe, attempting to calm your pounding heart. After a few moments, you carry on swimming however the fear had entered your system.

The instant another unknown thing touch your skin, you panicked.

“Frankie… Frankie, help me!”

“Shit.”

He was up on his feet with the first call of his name, hearing the urgency in your tone. Throwing the book down, he hurries to the bank and scrambles to get his shoes off.

You’re floundering, your mind not processing what it needed to remain afloat. The lake bed was a fraction too deep for you to plant your feet and have your head above the surface and all you could think about was the mysterious creature taking you under like how the sirens did the sailors.

“Querida, kick your feet.”

You whimper as you follow his instruction, his voice alarmingly cool. His hands come to your wrists to stop you from thrashing, the gentle squeeze causing your eyes to open.

“Just breathe, I got you.”

He breathes with you, drawing your frame closer to his. Your hands reach for his shoulders and he allows you to place your palms on his bare skin. He delivers the faintest of nods as he lets go, spreading his arms out so he can keep the both of you floating.

You press your body to his, wrapping your arms around his neck.

When your feet finally find the floor, you still hug yourself to his side and he only lets go of you to grab the blanket. You pick one of the discarded cushions and sit down as he throws it over your shoulders, wandering back to pick up his clothes and boots.

No longer distracted by your impending danger, you realise Frankie had stripped down to his briefs. The sodden fabric clung to every muscle, outlining the curve of his butt cheeks and you couldn’t take your eyes off him, fully aware that he was turning around.

And even he couldn’t hide that cock.

You swallowed thickly as the saliva built in your mouth, your desire present between your legs as he approached you. Shrugging the blanket off your shoulder, you offer him a space next to you, you wouldn’t allow him to freeze on account of your stupidity.

He plucked his cap from the ground before huddling near, your thighs touching only turning you on more.

Neither of you spoke.

The goosebumps arrived all over your skin, your nipples visibly pert under your wet tee and you were trying to decipher whether it was the cold or something else. His arm slips behind your back, a hand coming to your waist as he pulls you close and tightens the blanket around your forms.

He starts to rub his hand up and down to build the warmth between you. Your head drops to his shoulder and you close your eyes, focusing on the smallest details. His callous fingertips as the follow your outline, his heartbeat slowing to it’s normal pace, his breath dancing over your hair.

Then you do something stupider.

Frankie froze when your hand landed softly on his inner thigh.

His breath hitched as you stroked your thumb until his initial surprise faded, he sighed.

You carried on up his leg, your pinkie finger grazing the edge of his brief that clung to his muscle.

Part of him knew he should stop you, that maybe this was just adrenaline coursing through your veins but he’d wanted this for so long. He could never find the to speak his truth, the two of you got on like a house on fire and he was worried that if he admitted it, the walls would come crumbling down.

Instead, he found his free hand enveloping yours.

“Frankie,” you whisper, pausing as you think of your words carefully. “Can I —“

“Please,” he says breathily.

You giggle excitably as you climb over and come to your knees between his legs. Slipping a hand into his briefs, you cup his heavy balls before kneading them gently.

He releases an audible exhale, adjusting the blanket so it came over your shoulders and hid his dignity. His eyes flitted around your surroundings, military instincts scoping out the area because it would be his luck for someone to interrupt this.

The coast is clear and he relaxes, leaning back on his hands.

You roll his balls a few more times before extending your index finger, teasing the base of his cock. It twitched, stiffening further at the pleasure of finally receiving someone else touch. You let go, both hands wrapping around the waist and tug them to unleash his length.

The tips of his ear begin to burn and he drops his head to hide his blushing cheeks, his cap covering his face, the Standard Oil logo flashing at you.

You don’t mind, continuing to explore what was in front of you.

You draw a single finger up his shaft, feeling every groove, every vein until you reached the tip. There was already a bead of precum weeping, you scoop it with your thumb and spread the hot liquid over the head.

He juddered.

“Is this ok?”

Your thumb still circles his flushing tip.

“Uh-huh.”

You smile to yourself, hearing the roughness in his tone. Leaning forward, you push a string of spit from your mouth and let it dribble over his cock, a gratifying hum rumbling up from his chest.

Wrapping your hand around his girth, you slowly start to pump your hand.

“Oh, fuck,” he groans.

He meets your eyes as his head comes up for air. After seeing the blown irises, you see his gaze drop from your face to your breasts and though they’re covered, he can see the faintest jiggle as your movements quicken.

Transfixed, he doesn’t see your hand twist, your delicate fingers tightening around him.

The sound he makes is something mixed with laughter and annoyance. He could easily cum in your hand right now yet he’d waited so fucking long, he was going to edge no matter what trick you pulled. Even it that was the fingertips of your free hand tickling at his balls before your palm grabbed him roughly.

You had no idea what he just said as he slurred a profanity in his second language.

He couldn’t stay mad at you, not when you batted your eyelashes and smiled innocently. The contortion on his face loosened yet the knot in his brows remained.

His muscles grew tense as you worked him, his volume only increasing.

Releasing his balls, you placed your hand underneath the other, halting your movements with one firm squeeze. He whined, his hips trying to pry his cock from your hands, he didn’t want this to end but the knot was straining in his stomach.

You gave a few leisurely strokes before pumping him hard.

His chin fell to his chest as he panted, his stomach caving inward before he came with an extended groan. His hot seed spread over your hands as you worked him more and more to gain every drop, droplets spreading into his pubes and across his navel.

He didn’t have the strength to lift his head.

You looked at your hands, the cum coating the skin, your fingers sticking together. Your tongue flicks over your lips as you fail to resist trying a taste. Sticking an entire index finger in your mouth, you roll your tongue and his sharp flavour soaks into your tastebuds.

Eyes are on you.

You meet his bashful expression, blinking at him as you release your finger with a pop.

“You gonna finish that?”

You giggle, “I don’t think I’ll be able to eat it all by myself.”

He gives a hearty laugh before he shows signs of concern.

“We should get you back before you catch a cold.”

“I’ll clean myself up.”

You rise and let the blanket fall onto his lap.

Frankie hated to see his cum get washed away but that called for better, warmer circumstances. He watched as you squatted at the water’s edge and swilled your hands, shivering as you stood back up.

“Come and change your shirt.”

You race over and tuck your frame under the blanket. Bracing yourself, you peel of the damp fabric and toss it to the side. The goosebumps spread over your bare body quickly, your nipples getting harder but he’s already guiding your head into his own t-shirt. He helps you get your arms through the holes before leaning back to admire you.

“It suits you,” he smiles, tucking your hair behind your ear.

“Thanks.”

He lifted his legs and fought to get his briefs off, reaching for his cargo pants. Worming his way into them, he jumped up to button them up, hiding any evidence of what just occurred. He offered a hand to you.

And you knew when you took it, this whole trip was going to get even more interesting.

#kinktober 2024 #kinktober #triple frontier #triple frontier x reader #frankie catfish morales #frankie morales #frankie morales x reader #frankie morales x you #frankie morales x f!reader #fanfic #im gonna post this and log off just like last year

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superprincesspea · 8 months ago

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Courted by the Dragon

Chapter 11 - Remedy

Aemond Targaryen is both the cause and witness to the greatest humiliation of your life. You would rather die than see him again. Yet summer at court and the precipice of civil war have other ideas.

Masterlist

~~~

Aemond’s remedy consisted of every ingredient you could find which made your nose wrinkle, and you were feeling quite pleased with yourself as you softly giggled all the way from the maesters quarters to Helaena’s chambers.

However, when you arrived, you were dismayed to learn that Aemond was no longer there and had returned to his own room.

This left you with two choices. Deliver the remedy as promised or forget about it altogether, hoping for it to never be mentioned again. Yet it would be mentioned again.

Maris would certainly have a number of questions, and when had Aemond ever let anything drop?

Still, his room. It seemed a forbidden and foreboding place, and you bit your lip as you turned towards the staircase which would lead the way.

Though you supposed, if you were to enter any man's chambers in the Red Keep, then Aemond’s was quite possibly the safest.

He’d never done anything more than look when he’d had ample opportunity to do more. So, in a strange way, you could trust him, at least in that regard.

Still, that didn’t mean you actually wanted to enter his room, but you reasoned that all you had to do was give him the remedy then leave.

Remedy then leave. The words cycled through your mind as you climbed the stairs, as though you might forget how to do it and be tempted in by conversation and disagreements.

Your only consolation was that the feast would be starting soon and, you’re already dressed, having borrowed Cassandra’s lavender gown, so everyone is expecting your prompt arrival.

Remedy then leave, you think again. That's all you have to do.

“Lady Baratheon,” the guard says as you approach Aemond’s room, and the use of your name unnerves you.

Aemond's guard, who you’re not sure you’ve even seen before, should not know who you are, but he does, and he opens the door without questioning why you are here.

“I'm bringing his grace a remedy,” you explain anyway, mortified that he might be thinking you're here for something else. Something unmentionable.

But he doesn’t react, and you suppose he's trained not to. Like a fly on the wall, seeing everything and nothing at the same time.

You don’t want to wonder if he opens Aemond’s door to countless other ladies, but you do, just as your heart begins to pound and your forced to take a deep breath before stepping into the room.

It's brighter than you expect, and you’re immediately struck by the heady scent of sandalwood and bergamot which smells both fresh and comforting at the same time.

Aside from that, the room is smaller than Helaena’s but not by much. There’s plenty of bookcases, a giant carved bedframe and an equally giant carved fireplace.

All the carvings are made of dragons, which is to be expected, yet they’re different to the ones in the queen's room. Those were playful, chasing their tails and weaving merrily around the furniture, while Aemond’s dragons are fierce enough to exude power but not enough to be frightening.

In the centre of the room, two plush chaises are arranged around a low table and Aemond is sitting on the one facing the door, so he sees the very moment you enter the room, the book in his hand slamming shut with a satisfying thud.

He's wearing his doublet, but it hangs open as though he was trying to dress for dinner but gave up on the buttons. Beneath that, his white shirt is loose, the strings unravelled enough for you to see the bandages still wrapped around his ribs.

“Here,” you say, quickly sliding the remedy onto the table in front of him. Yet when the time comes for you to turn and leave, he catches your eye, and he will not let it go.

“How should I use it?” he asks, wincing as he leans forward to pick it up.

“Is it to consume or to rub on the-” he clears his throat with a small breathy chuckle, “swollen muscles and lips?”

You give him a sharp look. Laughing at Maris was only amusing when you did it. From Aemond’s lips, the same joke seems cruel instead of funny.

“If you consume it, perhaps you will choke and this conversation will be over,” you say tartly and he laughs harder, tipping some of the remedy into the palm of his hand before sinking it beneath his shirt and presumably the bandages.

“It smells a little... odd ,” he says, and you bite the inside of your cheeks to suppress the full force of your amusement just as the queen walks in.

“Ah, you have company,” she says, moving to stand where she can see you both, “though I did wonder if it would be the other Baratheon girl who would be entertaining you this evening. You asked for her favour, did you not?”

Aemond doesn’t respond, stoic as ever. But you smile politely, “I’m only here to bring a remedy for his grace’s injuries.”

“A remedy? How sweet.” She smiles warmly yet the look is fleeting before her eyes turn shrewd, “will you not stay? Aemond has already decided to forgo this evening's entertainment though I'm sure he will still enjoy some pretty company.”

Your eyes dart back to his, but he offers you no reprieve from the suggestion and, of course not, he’s like a plank of wood whenever his mother enters the conversation.

“If his grace wishes for company then I shall be pleased to fetch my sister, ” you say and you can’t help but notice the look of alarm which flashes across his face.

Perhaps the queen notices it too, because she rejects your suggestion with a shake of her head and a dismissive laugh.

“That is such a long way to be walking back and forth, when you are already here,” she says, gesturing to one of the maids who'd snuck into the room behind her, “bring the chair closer so Lady Baratheon may sit with the prince, and will someone put more logs on the fire and close the windows before they catch their death of cold?”

Neither you nor Aemond say a single thing in protest, while the Queen supervises the burst of activity which grips the room.

The first maid struggling to move a plump chair from beside an end table stacked with books. Another stoking the fire until you can feel the burn nipping at your skin, and a third closing all the shutters to block out the night sky and any chance of a draft.

Then supper is sent down for, a carafe of wine placed on the table next to two cups and the candles are rearranged, some being extinguished altogether.

With the warm glow of the lighting, you’re beginning to feel as though the room is being prepared for your wedding night instead of supper and start to imagine that now would be the time to run away. Yet you’re still standing, hands clutched to your cloak for moral support.

“Lady Baratheon looks quite beautiful tonight, does she not?” Alicent says, as if you weren’t feeling uncomfortable enough, her hand sweeping to stroke across your hair with the sort of familiarity which only belongs between lovers and family, of which she is neither .

Aemond's Adam’s apple bobs deeply, but his face remains cool and unchanged, “she looks as she always looks.”

“And how is that?” Alicent presses, seeming to take great pleasure in trying to get a rise out of him at your expense, but you cannot stand to be toyed with for another second.

So you turn, moving away from her reach and, you're just about to tell her that you have zero interest in Aemond’s opinion, when he clears his throat, interrupting your next words and, perhaps, saving you from yourself.

“I think we can all agree that Lady Baratheon is...” he meets your eye, and his words are tightly spoken, “exceptionally beautiful, no matter what she is wearing.”

Exceptionally beautiful .

Gods , every time you thought you could feel no further embarrassment in the presence of Aemond Targaryen, embarrassment always seemed to arrive, and it always felt worse.

He was the one wearing the stink of the remedy, so why were your cheeks burning?

“Now,” his voice commands between sips of wine, “will there be anything more, before you leave us to suffocate in the stifling heat which you have created?”

“It is a little warm,” Alicent concedes, her eyes shining with satisfaction as she instructs one of the maids to take your cloak, which you give up with great reluctance.

“Will you not sit?” she says quite innocently though you’re no fool to her doe eyed expression. She isn’t asking, she’s telling, and you have no choice but to take your place next to the prince.

Then, looking even more satisfied than before, she indicates for all the maids to follow as she exits the room, the door shutting quietly behind the procession, leaving only the crackle of the fire to fill the void which now occupies the air.

“There is no arguing with my mother,” Aemond’s says after a while, and you head whips around to look at him.

“Well, you certainly didn’t try.”

His eye softens as he offers you the other cup of wine, “perhaps I wanted the honour of your company?”

You scoff, ignoring the outstretched cup as you stand.

“You’re leaving?” he says quickly, his expression suddenly alert.

You ignore him again and move to reopen the shutters, letting some of that cool night air return to the room before you both start to swelter.

Then instead of sitting down, you inch towards his bookcases of which there are four, all lined up in a row against one wall and all bursting with books just as the queens were.

If Aemond wasn’t here, you could enjoy this so much more. Not just the act of rifling through his shelves, but the room itself, which is so orderly yet comfortable, and has so many perches on which to devour the hours upon hours of unread words.

Instead, you look back at him and wonder if he always reads on the chaise. Or if, like you, he enjoys curling up in bed by the light of a solitary candle.

Then, knowing you really shouldn’t look at the bed when you’ve already caught his eye, your attention moves there anyway.

The sheets are pulled tight, the huge swags of heavy curtains tied to the thick posts with tasselled ropes, and a candle does sit by the pillow, worn down to the wick but with a neat row of replacements waiting in the wings.

When you look back at Aemond, he’s relaxed deeper into the chaise, but he’s still watching you with what looks like fascination, as though the door to his room is never opened for other ladies.

Perhaps only his family and his servants ever step inside these walls. Perhaps he even wants you to rifle through his belongings so he can look at them with fresh eyes, but you were only here to give him the remedy then leave. Not delve into the depths of his room with a hundred different questions.

For the art above the fire, for the book he was reading when you arrived, for the small wooden box which sits on the shelf just within your reach, its clasp begging to be flicked open.

Instead, you knit your hands together and say, “you should not toy with my sister if you have no wish to pursue her.”

Aemond frowns, slowly licking his tongue across his lip, the wine swirling in his cup. “What makes you think I have no wish to pursue her?”

His question takes you by surprise, and you suppose you don’t really know what Aemond wants. “ Do you?” you ask.

His instant reaction is a disparaging little snort which is so soft you can barely hear it, but it bothers you just the same.

“I merely asked for the lady's favour, not her hand,” he points out as though his actions were completely innocent.

“I think even his grace must realise the significance of a favour,” you say, knowing fine well that he has your handkerchief tucked neatly away someplace.

“Is that why you gave yours to the Lord of Deepwood Motte ?” His says and you wonder if he intends for the question to sound so accusatory. Or for every syllable of Deepwood Motte to drip with so much distain that you could believe it to be the worst place in the entire kingdom.

“A lady hardly has a choice in the matter of who she gives her favour to, but you chose Maris, and if you did so without any intentions then you’re being terribly unfair.”

He sits up straighter in his seat though you can tell the sudden movement pains him. “Your sisters only intention is for the crown and the glory of the Targaryen name. Is that fair?”

If he wants you to pity his position, you don’t, and your temper bristles, "and why else would she want you? Certainly not for your arrogance or contempt.”

“ My contempt?” he laughs, “I’ve seen no greater contempt than the contempt you have shown for your prince.”

You scoff, “then I fear his grace has only met liars.”

“ That we can agree on,” he says, holding his cup up in cheers but he isn't waiting for you to meet it. He takes a long drink before he continues.

“Who, but the indomitable Lady Baratheon, could ever say what they really think to the Targaryen who rides the biggest dragon in the world? I can count on one hand the amount of people who would dare to tell me ‘no’.”

You frown, a little confused. Most men craved the opposite of ‘no’, wanting submission and complete dominion over everything and everyone. “Is that truly what you want? For people to refuse you?”

Aemond laughs bitterly, “sometimes. Yes .”

That was no problem where you were concerned, so you smile, moving to pick up your cup of wine and raise it in the same way he did, “then I shall promise to always disagree with everything you say.”

“Then our friendship shall remain the same,” he touches his cup to yours and finishes the remainder of the wine.

“We are not friends.”

He sighs, the empty cup resting on his knee as though this was one of the times he did not wish to be refused.

"Play with me,” he says after a while, nodding towards the Cyvasse board by the fire.

You narrow your eyes, “ no .”

Aemond’s head tilts thoughtfully, reconsidering his approach with the hint of mischief, “then don’t play with me… I can think of nothing I would dislike more.”

You try not to smile but you smile anyway, rolling your eyes as you move towards the board.

You choose the seat closest to the warmth since the shutters really do let in the cold, while Aemond picks himself up from the chaise carefully, clenching his hand to his chest as though every movement is a spike of pain.

“That must hurt terribly,” you say, watching as he eases himself into the seat across from you.

“It does,” he concedes, though he’s still trying his best to make it seem like it doesn’t.

“Good. ”

His laugh is breathy, made up of half amusement, half jolt of pain, “careful Lady Baratheon or I’ll start to believe you truly don’t like me very much.”

Your meet his eye, “you’re only starting to believe that now? And I thought his grace was a scholar?”

He restrains another laugh, arranging his own Cyvasse pieces. “So, you think it my fault I found you bathing without a stitch of clothing to cover your modesty?”

You huff, “I think it your fault you looked.”

“I only half looked,” he says, meeting your eye with a devilish smirk and, though you want to laugh, you bite your cheek.

“Well, you should not have looked at all,” you scold when you’ve managed to swallow your amusement, but your tone is far too light to sound truly upset. “And that is not the only reason I find you completely repugnant.”

Aemond leans back in the chair, his pieces all arranged, "surely not completely repugnant?”

“Completely ,” you repeat, setting your last piece into place.

“Then please, do tell me all the reasons, what's one more wound when my lady takes such pleasure in my pain?”

You bite your lip, “I do not take pleasure in it; I merely think you deserve it.”

Aemond leans forward, “is that why I am to spend this entire evening stinking worse than the tail end of the dragon pit?”

The remedy.

You cough to cover your laughter as you pick up the little ivory Light Horse and make the first move. A move, which you were ashamed to admit, you’d already decided upon before you’d even entered the room.

Of course, you’d never say this to Aemond, but you’d thought of your game with him almost every day, playing it over, deciding upon new strategies, wanting to be more unpredictable .

Aemond moves his Spearmen, a move you’d already calculated for, but he hasn’t given up on his suggestion, “if my lady is struggling to think of a single grievance against me, perhaps she will care to offer me a compliment instead?”

You meet his eye, challenge accepted as you move your dragon.

“You ate my cake,” you say, starting off small.

Aemond snorts, pushing his piece to meet with yours, “what cake?”

“The lemon cake in my room, which happened to be my favourite, but you ate the remainder of it without any thought at all. Quite unforgiveable .”

His laughter is soft, his whole body relaxed, “then I apologise for the hurt I have caused.”

You move again, “and you also told everyone that I cannot dance, after , might I add, you said you had no wish to humiliate me.”

Aemond frowns, dismissing your claim as though it is absurd, “that's only humiliation if you care what the idiots at court think.”

“Really ? Then shall I remind his grace that he also told his mother that I cannot dance, or does he regard all the people in the Red Keep as ‘idiots’ whose opinions are far inferior to his own?”

Aemond hesitates, skirting his piece away from yours, “not all and she did not believe it.”

You chase his Trebuchet with your Dragon, “it doesn’t matter what she believed, you still said it and you're only intention was the make me look like a fool, was it not?”

This time, Aemond has no laughter, or easy apology, only the stoic expression he seems to make whenever he’s not entirely sure what to say.

“That was not my intention,” he admits eventually, blocking one prong of your advance with his Rabble while opening a line for you to capture his Catapult.

“Yet you embarrassed me just the same and, even if I didn’t care what people think, my family do, and I do not wish to let them down or cause them any shame.”

Aemond doesn’t say anything, but he looks sufficiently repentant, and you feel no need to press him for an apology.

Instead, you both play several more turns between sips of wine and the game isn’t rushed or aggressive like it was in the garden. He plays slow, giving you ample time to think despite the intensity of his attention which still seems to make your heart quicken.

“You’re letting me win,” you say as you capture another one of his pieces.

“I’m letting you play,” he replies, as though it is something entirely different and perhaps it is. Except Aemond always plays to win. He’d said so himself.

You advance on his King and there is one particular grievance which had been lingering on your tongue in all the silence.

“I know you said something to Tyland Lannister, Ser Harrold and all the others,” you admit, and the air feels denser, the crackle of the fire louder in your ears.

Aemond's ebony dragon hesitates in his hand, “what makes you think that?”

You don’t reply, you wait for him to meet your stare, giving him nothing more than a single look but it's enough for him to know you’re not playing, not with this.

The past few weeks at court had been, at times, miserable, despite how much you tried to pretend otherwise, it was not easy to be an outcast. You certainly enjoyed your own company, but nothing was truly enjoyable when it was forced instead of chosen.

“Were you in love with any of them?” he says, focusing far too much attention on the board when you find you've lost interest in the game altogether.

“That's hardly the point!” you snap, thinking of all the times you’d stood alone while people whispered and wondered.

“Isn’t it?” he meets your eye, and he’s still so calm when you feel as though you might scream, “what should it matter what I said if you did not care for them?”

"It matters to me!” you stand, your chair falling backwards with the burst of movement. “And I should very much like to know what other lies you have said to make everyone hate me.”

Aemond takes a deep breath which blows out through his nose, his fingers drumming thoughtfully against the Cyvasse board, “you’re sure?”

“Yes, I’m sure!” you say, even more annoyed.

“Very well. I didn’t tell them a lie. I said I would cut off their cocks if they ever dared to touch you again.”

Despite your anger, your cheeks still heat, embarrassed by his choice of words and, for a moment, you want to think that he’s joking but you can see that he’s being entirely serious. No trace of a smile, no slither of remorse.

“And since you have no more need of suitors you can hardly hold that against me either,” he adds as though the whole thing was perfectly reasonable.

“No more need of suitors?” you demand, your voice high, incensed, “I am in every need of a suitor. The only duty I have is to marry and to marry well and I cannot marry a man who will not even speak to me.”

“I agree,” he steeples his fingers together. “You should not marry a man who is too afraid to fight for your hand.”

Then he laughs wickedly, and his eye is so dark and dangerous, “if anyone ever dared to make a threat like that against me, I would gut them where they stood.”

“And that, your grace, is just another reason for me to find you completely repugnant!”

Just as you step away from the table, the maid arrives with supper and you welcome the distraction as you hurry towards your cloak, pulling it from the peg and not bothering to even throw it over your shoulders before you leave the room.

If Aemond is attempting to follow, you have no idea. You don’t look back; your mind is spinning.

He barely even knew you when he threatened all those men.

He'd seen you twice. Once at the beach then dancing with Ser Harrold. Only two times and he’d saw fit to threaten their manhood's as though you were... what? In all honesty, you weren’t entirely sure what could ever warrant such a thing.

He was completely insane!

The sad part was, Maris would probably relish in such actions, but you could not.

Nor could you even join your family in the hall since the queen would know you’d abandoned her precious son.

So, as usual, you're alone. Throwing your cloak across the room before slumping into the chair by the fire and kicking off your shoes.

Just as you’re about to do something useful, like get ready for bed, there’s a knock on your door and you hardly dare to answer it.

Surely it can’t be Aemond and, if it is, you don’t want to see him.

But whoever it is, they don’t wait for your response and the door swings open without invitation, a maid emerging with a wooden tray and a nervous smile.

“My Lady,” she mumbles, her voice like the squeak of a baby mouse as she sits the tray on the table next to the window before scurrying away.

With a resigned sigh, you move to inspect its contents, your feet cold on the stone floor.

One large slice of lemon cake. Your favourite. And a scroll sealed with a circle of black wax which is printed with the Targaryen sigil.

You tear it open and unfurl the thick, crisp parchment, moving closer to the light of the fire.

I shall aim to be less repugnant in the

future, but only if my lady promises not

to meet me in the library tomorrow.

~Aemond

~~~

Thank you for reading! :)

#aemond targaryen #aemond x reader #aemond fanfiction #aemond one eye #hotd aemond #hotd fanfic #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #romance #female reader #enemies to lovers #aemond targaryen x oc #prince aemond #slow burn

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radiant-reid · 2 years ago

Text

300

him in cult episodes >>>>

Summary: Reader recalls something Spencer told her months ago when he’s taken hostage by a cult (based on 14x01)

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Fem!Reader (angst/fluff)

Content Warning: mentions of most of spencer’s trauma

Word Count: 3.4k

Masterlist | Navigation

Everything’s a mess.

Y/n’s used to the BAU lifestyle, and today is not the first day a team member has been abducted. It’s not even the first time that it’s been Spencer’s life in danger. Last time it was a three-month-long nightmare that seemed never ending during his time in prison.

It was different now. After what he said, everything between them changed.

She’s not expecting anyone when Spencer slides open the door to the balcony, and she whips her head around to see him.

It’s late in the evening, and she’s escaped the ground floor of Rossi’s mansion, where everyone’s partying, to a quieter balcony upstairs. Cicadas chirp in the spring night air, and there’s a faint beat of the bass of the music from downstairs. Rossi lives far enough outside of DC that the stars are bright, shimmering in the dark sky.

The balcony has a comfortable outdoor couch and armchair, perfect for sitting there and tuning out the world. She needs to do that. Spencer, her fellow BAU team member and friend, has been out of prison for a month, but the stress hasn’t dissipated completely. If she thinks about it hard enough, she’s back sitting at the round table while Penelope reads over an arrest report from Mexico, feeling completely helpless.

“There she is.” He greets her with a kind smile.

His smiling is something she seriously missed when he was away. “Hey.” She replies.

He holds out her jacket that she’d left downstairs, helping put it on her shoulders. “I thought you might be cold up here.” He explains the thoughtful gesture. “Am I interrupting?”

“No, not at all.” She shakes her head, nodding to the armchair she’s not occupying. “Sit, please.”

He accepts her offer eagerly. Then he follows her eyes out over Rossi’s perfectly maintained yard to the sky. “Wow.” He comments.

She hums at his tone. “I know.” She agrees. “Has everyone else gone home?”

Spencer shakes his head. “No, but they’re onto karaoke.” He informs her, laughing before his following statement. “Very alarming sounds.”

She chuckles slightly. He wouldn’t believe it, but he’s funny. She appreciates their time together more now, having gone without it for three long months.

“They’re missing out on your singing.” She jokes, smirking at him.

It’s mostly in reference to karaoke at The Benjamin all those years ago, where they sang all night long. It seems like a long time ago, and so much has changed, but despite what he’s been through, Spencer’s glow never diminished. He’s still the guy who somehow knew how to deliver a baby when he needed to.

“They don’t need to hear that.” He assures her, chuckling. “Again.”

“I thought it was great.” She admits or teases: she’s not sure which. “A highlight was Bohemian Rapsody.”

He cringes, shaking his head at the foggy memory. “I was hoping by then you’d had enough to drink.”

“Oh, I had.” She assures him, earning a confused look from the genius before she reminds him of something he had happily forgotten. “Hotch videoed that whole night.”

Spencer does something he rarely does then, sharing the feelings in his big brain. “I miss him.”

Y/n does too. She’d never missed someone more than she missed Hotch when Spencer was in prison, knowing that his skills as a prosecutor would have been insanely helpful.

“Me too. I’m happy he’s spending time with Jack, though.” She reminds them why it had been his time to go. “The kid deserves it.”

Spencer agrees, but he doesn’t feel the need to say anything, so they sit there in silence. It’s the most peace he’s felt in a long time.

“Y/n?” He asks, briefly getting her attention when she turns to look at him.

“Mm?” She replies, prompting him to continue.

It’s now or never. He draws in a deep breath, preparing for what he needs to say. There’s been so much weight on his shoulders for the last month, and this confession will lift some of it off. One thing he’s learned since prison is that he needs to say what he feels before it’s too late.

“I think I’m in love with you.” He admits, voice wavering slightly. “I think I was always meant to be in love with you.

There’s a beat of silence. And then another. One more.

She’s taking the information in at a slow processing speed, and the words don’t reach her mouth.

He takes it as his answer. He didn’t tell her expecting anything, like her to love him back, just to feel lighter, which works. “I just- I need you to know that.”

She should kiss him. It’s the right thing to do. Not right as in socially acceptable, but right for herself. In her heart, she’s meant to be with him and now is the perfect opportunity. A literal confession spoken to her. There’s no room to worry about him not returning her feelings and their friendship souring. He’s in love with her, and she can’t reply.

More silence, and he decides that it’s getting awkward. He spirals about making her uncomfortable, so he stands up, walking back to the door. “Good night, Y/n.”

She wills her legs to work, to run after him and catch him on the stairs, eagerly jump into his arms and kiss him like she’s wanted to do since she met him in front of Rossi’s expensive artwork.

She doesn’t.

It’s what she’s thinking about on the jet. Maybe it’s selfish when everyone else goes over where the cult could have taken him, but she’s replaying that evening. How his hand felt when he grazed her bare shoulder, the sound of his shoes as he shuffled away, and how sweet the air tasted that night compared to the bitter resentment she tasted after she didn’t follow him.

“He told you the truth, huh?” JJ asks, sliding into the seat across from her before she even notices someone’s focus on her.

“You know?” Y/n asks in reply, slightly shocked. Sure, they’re best friends, but she didn’t expect Spencer to be spilling his romantic feelings about a colleague to JJ.

“I’m surprised you didn’t know for so long.” She remarks, met with a confused look from her friend. In her mind, Y/n had assumed Spencer had been in love with her for a few months, maximum. “He’s been in love with you for years.”

Her heart sinks in her chest. Is it wrong for her to feel warm? Knowing Spencer’s out there alone- hurt, from what Penelope said- it seems inappropriate. “He has?” She repeats.

“Since he met you.” She answers before amending her speech. “Maybe a week or two after.”

So about as long as she had loved him. And she might never get to tell him.

She can’t help but think about how she might stand over his casket and cry next week, wishing she had told him that night, back when everything was perfect.

JJ sees the panic, how her face goes pale, and she reaches out to touch her friend’s arm. “He’ll be okay.” She promises. She has to have that faith, too, if she’s going to be able to function.

Y/n nods, willing herself to keep it together. “I know. Let’s get him back.”

She must have spent most of the flight before JJ came to sit with her in shock because soon the plane’s landing, and they’re in SUVs driving to the cult’s compound.

Her heart races in her chest, pulse thumping once they arrive, and Emily initiates the infiltration plan. They’ve got to be quick and quiet, knowing the cult will claim Spencer as their 300th victim without being talked down. To them, his being there is a decade in the making. It’s spiritual, and there’s no way they’ll let him go.

He’s completely tied up onto a structure, standing upright, when she gets a peek at him, his hands strapped by his side, legs tied, and a band wrapped around his head to keep his head in place. It’s very sacrificial with The Messiah and Agent Meadows standing around him.

He’s bruising, too, red marks around his face that will develop into a deep purple. She can’t see into his mind, but she wonders if he’s formulating an escape plan because he looks like he’s accepted it, conceded defeat, and come to terms with dying. Even from far away, his eyes are watery and his breathing steady, like he’s finally admitted to himself that they’re not coming to save him.

It’s easily the most terrifying expression she’s seen on anyone’s face. It’s bone-chilling.

They move in quickly, knowing he has seconds, not minutes. Y/n dashes to Spencer with JJ, the cult members around her getting shot or arrested being blocked out of her mind.

His face softens when he sees her, fingers flexing as she and JJ untie his restraints. When his hands are free, he falls forward onto her, clutching her tightly, one arm over her shoulder, one under.

It’s the tightest she’s ever been hugged, his grip making her feel like she’s his lifeline and he’s coming back to life. He pants out a breath like he hasn’t breathed since he was tied up. His hands spread out on her back, he buries his chin in her neck, and they rock side to side.

“Y/n.” Spencer whispers, closing his eyes and focusing on holding her. “You came.”

“Of course.” She replies. “Always. You good?”

“Can I have another minute?” He asks, practically begs. Even if she’s not his, he needs to hold her for a bit longer before he can’t ever again.

She squeezes him tighter, assuring him it’s okay. “Always.” She repeats.

It feels like it’s just the two of them, despite the chaos behind her. She takes in his cologne and how right it feels to be comforting him. Her feelings for him are much more straightforward in her head than they were that night at Rossi’s.

His breathing calms down, so it’s not erratic hyperventilating, and he loosens his grip around her, more than ready to get out of there now that he feels alive and whole again.

She loses him after that, keeping some distance while he hugs everyone else and thanks them in true Spencer fashion. There isn’t an opportunity to talk to him when they’re on the jet home since Emily is. She just sits and watches him, reminding herself that he’s okay.

She can’t stop thinking about his expression from the cult compound when she saw him, how unafraid he looked despite knowing he was about to get sacrificed. Maybe he knew they were there, like something deep inside him told him he’d be okay, but he looked prepared to die.

There are more hugs when they get back to Quantico, Penelope practically unwilling to let him go or out of her sight. The case has to end, and exhaustion falls over them when the adrenaline wears off, despite a new day dawning.

That night, she runs after him like she should have done at Rossi’s, barely making it to the elevator before the doors shut.

He looks surprised to see her. “I thought you went home.” He says.

She couldn’t. She’s not sure she’ll be able to leave him in the BAU ever again. “I didn’t.” She reports then immediately feeling like an idiot because that much was obvious.

“Why?” He asks caringly.

“You were still here.” She admits honestly, looking up at his gentle brown eyes. They’re always more golden in the morning.

“I just had to do a psychological counseling thing.” He explains.

Her eyebrows furrow, confused about why someone would make him do that only hours after he was saved. “This soon?”

He nods. “Damaged goods.” He says, like it’s his label. And he fully believes it.

“You’re not.” She firmly tells him, mostly angry the FBI would subject him to something invasive so early.

“Y/n.” He says in a tone that sounds like he’s begging her not to sympathize with him falsely.

Y/n shakes her head, eyeing him with fiery irises as she dares him to continue speaking negatively of himself. “You saved yourself, Spencer.” She informs him sincerely. “Are you hungry?” She asks.

The change of topic disorients him, but it seems a better conversation than arguing over how much of a mess he is. “Starving.” He answers. He didn’t have much time to think about it, with being abducted by a cult, but he hadn’t eaten since lunch yesterday, if you can call a packet of chips lunch.

“Do you want to get breakfast?” She offers before quickly retracting any implications her suggestion could have. “Unless you just need some time alone or don’t want to hang out with him. I won’t be offended.” She wants to tell him, needs to confess what she should have before, but he’s in such an emotional state that she would hate to take advantage of that.

She couldn’t get further from the truth. Spending time with her, specifically, has always made things easier. “I’d really like that.” He admits, sending her a soft smile.

They barely speak on the drive into DC. There’s a lot of tension in the air, words left unspoken, but Spencer needs time to look at her. He’s at a point where he knows nothing will happen between them, but there’s still a life he imagines when he needs a quick spike of dopamine. She, and an imagined future between them, is his drug of choice now.

He orders pancakes, copying her, rather than getting his usual meal of eggs, bacon, and toast. He ditches coffee in favor of juice, knowing he’s going home to sleep after breakfast when the rest of the adrenaline wears off.

No deep conversation gets brought up at breakfast, either. Instead, there’s laughter, and every time she looks up at him, Spencer smiles.

He’s used to going home alone after any trauma in his life. Even after prison and Mr. Scratch, he returned to an empty apartment. After he was abducted by Tobias Hankel, when he got out of the hospital after getting poisoned by anthrax, and even after he got shot in the neck in Texas after Alex dropped him at home, he was by himself.

It’s better with someone else -he decides while they’re sitting there- because he can not think about it in favor of thinking about her.

He eats like he’s been without food for a week, even getting a refill of juice, although everything he’s been through would make anyone hungry.

And he pays, despite her telling him she would, so she drives him home through the traffic-less streets, thanks to everyone being at work.

He hesitates before he gets out of the car once they arrive at his apartment. “Do you want to come up?”

She accepts, following him up the stairs. It’s a good time to do it, now that they’re alone and in private.

His apartment is lighter than when she saw it when she went with Penelope once to water his plants while he was in prison. It’s neater with the curtains open, and he might have added even more books to the impressive collection she previously noticed.

Unsure of how long she’s staying, Y/n takes off her shoes on instinct. Spencer’s not sure why he invited her up other than wanting to spend more time with her, so he’s not sure what to do now that she’s there.

She speaks before he can offer her water. “Were you scared?” She asks before realizing the insensitivity of her question. She doesn’t want to sound like a shitty Bureau psychologist, just his friend, haunted by a snapshot in her mind of his expression. “I just mean... we were, and Penelope was when she came. JJ was because you’re her best friend. You weren’t even shaking. Sorry I didn’t-”

Spencer cuts her off before she can spiral. “I wasn’t. Not when Penelope was safe.”

“Why not?” She asks. It makes sense, his wanting to protect Penelope, but she can’t understand why he wasn’t scared when he was moments away from death. She’s thought about it enough without coming up with an answer for it to be necessary to ask.

“Because, Y/n, what I told you that night at Rossi’s.” Her breathing hitches at the mention of the best, or maybe one of the worst, nights of her life. “If that’s the last proper, non-case-related discussion we have, I’m okay with that. I couldn’t die without you knowing I love you.”

She shakes her head, eyes tearing up at the confirmation of his acceptance of dying. “There’s more for you than that.” She says, hoping he knows it.

He does.

He’s got three perfect godsons, he’d love to go back to Paris, he’s always wanted a family, a wife and a big house, there are still books he hasn’t read, there are still sequels being written, there are classes yet to teach and profilers yet to train, there are chess games to win and to lose, and old friends left to see.

They both know his life isn’t close to be finished.

“You knowing is what mattered.” He repeats. “Right from when I realized I wasn’t going to get out by myself, I knew it would be okay since you knew.”

“It wouldn’t be okay!” She says a little too loudly, close to crying. “You can’t be okay with that.”

There’s more in her head, and he’s reluctant to push her to find out, but he does. “Why?”

She sighs, feeling small standing there in front of him. “Because if you died, I couldn’t have told you I love you.” She reveals one of her deepest fears that she hadn’t realized until recently.

“Oh,” Spencer says, jaw going slack. He’s rarely speechless. “Recently or...” It’s the only thing he can think to do: establish a timeline.

“For a long time.” She admits. “I just- I froze that night. I couldn’t say it, but I felt it.”

He senses the apology that’s about to spill and shakes his head. “It’s okay.” He believes it when he says it and walks closer to hold her hands in front of her. She’s surprised by the contact, but it’s nice, even if his hands are slightly cold.

For a moment, they just stand there, and she admires his gorgeous cheekbones and those honey-colored eyes that make her weak when he looks at her so intensely.

He doesn’t rush his next move. Slowly, he drops her hands and cups her cheeks, smiling softly. Then he leans forward, giving her what she’s been waiting for for a long time. His lips are soft on hers like he’s testing the waters, giving her a chance to pull away before pouring passion into it. She matches his pressure while basking in the glow of kissing Spencer Reid. Spencer Reid, who loves her.

They share a matching fond look when they pull back.

Then he’s laughing, and it’s the cutest thing in the world, along with being confusing. The slight, amused frown on her face causes him to explain. “You love me, and I love you.” He says like he can’t believe it. “Wow.”

She knows that reaction from when she had it at Rossi’s, and he looks adorable experiencing it, grinning so hard his face might split. For a long time, he’s wanted to be loved by someone romantically, and now he is. After everything he’s been through, Spencer thought it wouldn’t happen, and for the first time in his life, he’s glad to be wrong.

“What are you doing today?” He asks when he’s collected himself.

“Well, I was going to go home and sleep.” She answers, wondering what he’s going to suggest they do while knowing she could be persuaded into almost anything by him.

“Sleep here.” He says quickly. “Not like that.” A blush fills his cheeks. “If you want. Then we could go to dinner, lunch, a movie theatre, or the park, wherever you want.”

She’s nodding before he finishes. He could ask her out on a date to watch paint drying in his spare bedroom, and she would eagerly accept. “Yes.”

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queers-gambit · 2 years ago

Text

When Pride Married Prejudice

[ part two ]

[ series masterlist ]

prompt: in the beginning, your mother delivers disturbing news, but perhaps, not all is as it seems.

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!reader

fandom: House of the Dragon

word count: 9.7k+

warnings: spoilers, cursing, small angst, 150% filler, small background, author breaks the fourth wall once but go with it - i promise it works. author is also given free rein of her imagination and this came out...hmm... ❗️major season one, episode seven spoilers

"What?" You asked with a beg over the sounds of the crashing waves on the cliffside your mother, Princess Rhaenyra, had lead you out to stand on. She had just delivered devastating news with a sympathetic gaze, making you beg her again, "Say it's not true, Mother, please, no, no. Th-This isn't... Mum, how could this happen?"

"I am truly sorry, my sweet girl," Rhaenyra sighed, nodding at you as her hands caressed both your cheeks to sweep stray tears as they fell. Her forehead met yours, making her whisper, "But while I could not stop the entire proposal, I was able to bargain for leeway."

"What does that mean?" You pulled back to look into her lavender eyes. They were full of sadness and regret.

"You will remain at Dragonstone with your family, so I might continue to teach you - and so you do not have to interrupt your other studies. But..." She sighed deeply, blinking a few times to clear her thoughts.

"But?"

"They want you married before you turn ten-and-eight."

"No," you blanched, shaking your head in refusal to free yourself of her comforting hold, "they cannot make me marry him. Mother, please, do not let this happen."

"I could only barter for us a few years yet, my love."

"This is the payment they demand?"

"Better this, my sweet dove, then that of blinding your brother," she countered with a frown. "The Queen was unwilling to barter at first, but the King thought it a rightful proposal."

"And who, might I ask, offered my hand to Aemond Targaryen for payment over a childish squabble - that, yes, did maim the boy, but that's not... It's not like... Oh, Gods, yes, okay, when I say it out loud, I suppose I can understand the reasoning. Then why does this still feel so wrong, Mother?"

She frowned and reached for you, pulling you in closer to hold. You clung to her in fright, allowing yourself a moment of rare vulnerability as you stood alone; the only sounds around you, that, of the temperamental sea. She spoke softly in your ear, "I am truly so very sorry, my sweet girl. I am." Her hand pet the back of your head, but her grip remained strong. "But there is honor in fulfilling one's duty. I wanted very different things for you, but fate is funny at times."

You tightened your hold on her. "Tell me the truth, Mother, what's happened?"

She sighed and laid a long, solemn kiss to the top of your head. "You are of an age now that you will understand." She gave a soft pinch to your chin, "And have always been much too mature for your age."

You chuckled softly, "I often think there's much you don't know about me. I am not the perfect child you've tried to mold me into."

"Oh, I know everything, my girl," she grinned, making you feel heated from embarrassment. "You were truly restless as a child, it was hard to keep you within the castle walls. But might I tell you a secret?"

"Of course."

"Ser Harwin was always looking after you," she chuckled. "He would take extra shifts in the night to patrol the city just to ensure you were safe. But what he reported back always made my heart swell with genuine pride."

"Might I tell you a secret?" She nodded and let one hand hold your upper arm and the other to caress an unruly strand of hair back behind your ear. "I always wondered if one day, you would name me your heir... So, when I could not sleep, I liked to linger around the city. I liked knowing the people, thinking, if I were to ever govern them, I'd better know them best."

"See?" She nodded. "Always far too mature for your age. Yet the matter of succession with us has differed..." You braced yourself. "You are my eldest child, and my only girl," she spoke fondly. "And when my Father named me his heir, going against decades of tradition, I always promised myself that I would not do the same to my daughter unless I had no choice. I would never make her endure what I was forced to. Yet, you were still young when Jace was born, and your Father and I had a conversation. Should the matter come up publicly, you were always to be heir to Dragonstone, and that was the end of the matter. When Luke was born... Things shifted again, but only just. You were still my heir to our home, but now, Jace is to be my heir after I take the Throne, and then Luke is to succeed his father's birthright to Driftmark."

"And now? With Joffrey?"

"Much will be discussed later," she promised. "But I have declared to the King that you are to inherit our home on Dragonstone, and there is no change in that. He approved, but..."

"But what?"

"He also approved of your hand being offered," she swallowed thickly.

"You would tell me in truth what has happened?" You nodded, holding onto her waist to keep yourselves anchored. She nodded, sighing deeply before starting her tale.

And yet, Dear Reader, to fully understand, we need to go back.

Your hand was held tightly in your father's ever since he received news of his beloved sister, Laena Velaryon, passing away due to complications from childbirth. In an effort to avoid being sliced open and bleeding out to death, Laena had risen from her bloody birthing bed, and hobbled outside to beg her dragon, Vhagar, to let her meet her end through dragon fire.

Neither your Mother, nor Father, the Lord Laenor, knew you had snuck into the study and read the scroll sent to them by your Great Uncle Daemon - who gave an honest recount of events.

Now, he and his two twin daughters, your cousins, Rhaena and Baela, were flying from across the Narrow Sea to lay the charred bones of Laena to rest on her ancestral home. And because Laena was a Velaryon before she took the name Targaryen, she was to be launched into the sea by means of an intricately carved coffin.

She'd rest with other Velaryon's at the bottom of the raging waters.

Laenor stood stoically as his Uncle Vaemond spoke in High Valyrian, proceeding over the funeral service as your entire family - both Velaryon and Targaryen - had gathered to pay their respects. Laena's coffin, which was carved to encapsulate her ethereal beauty, was set to a launching-cliff, and ropes were thread around to push and plunge her into the crashing waves beneath.

However, as Vaemond spoke clearly above them all, he was offering dirty, hardened looks to your Mother as she held your younger brothers around the shoulders. For a moment, you thought it looked as if they were shielding their mother, and you, who had inherited the Velaryon-Targaryen trademark features, stood between them and your father; creating a visual divide, unknowingly.

But you didn't think that way.

Your only concern right now was being there for your sweet, honorable Father, as he grieved silently with tears sliding down his cheeks. His hand was tight, and you knew he drew strength from your presence.

Daemon stood across the way, somewhat beside Vaemond, and could observe those around him as he stood with his hands crossed in front of him. Vaemond's words were veiled with threat, head turning to stare directly at your mother, "Salt courses through Velaryon blood. Ours runs thick. Ours runs true." King Viserys even recognized the tone; sparing a look to his daughter, who pulled her sons closer. "And ours must never run thin."

And then, oddly, Daemon started to chuckle.

Oh, one could chalk it up to hysteria of a grieving husband, but you knew better. You were a sponge in the courts and listened to everything said; forming your own opinions and often needing to sort through what you'd heard to form something of a mixed-truth.

You knew of the rumors surrounding your Great Uncle and his niece, your Mother, Rhaenyra... And this moment, where he literally giggled to himself, was in an effort to get the attention off of your Mother - and shift those beady eyes who offered her judgement onto himself.

You knew half-truths, mostly content to observe and just listen. It served you well enough - now, a perfect moment to see through Daemon's hysteria. He was offered nothing but silent, dirty glares - most of which came from your grandparents, the Lord Corlys Velaryon and Princess Rhaenys Targaryen; who stood, comforting Daemon's children while still grieving their own lost daughter.

Two young girls who had lost their mother and were watching her about to be laid to rest... And their Father laughs?

While Velaryon blood ran thick with salt, Targaryen blood was hot with fire - and the devastating need to protect one another. In those moments, Daemon felt the burning, pressing need to protect Rhaenyra over comforting his own daughters - something you'd come to grow used to.

The ropes were tightened, and your Father's arm wrapped around your shoulders to pull you in for a hug; something you returned with tight arms. He needed you, and you were there for him.

Salt was thrown over the coffin as it was edged over the cliff and Vaemond gave the final words of service. Just before Laena was plunged over the edge, he spoke, "From the sea we came. To the sea, we shall return."

The day had passed sluggishly and after a meal, you found yourself still with your father - but watching him sadly wade in the waters lapping at the rocky shoreline of the island. Dragons flew above you all, and once or twice, you saw your great emerald beast circling the island; playfully soaring around other (smaller) dragons.

"Daddy?" You called from the shoreline, feeling your nerves spike the longer you stood there. The sun was moving into position to sink and knew the hours grew later. "Daddy? Maybe we should go in now? 'S getting a bit cold - the waters are freezing! Daddy! Come in, please!"

He did not respond, he just stood there; waist-deep in the tide with you watching on the shoreline. Your fingers twisted together in nervousness, feet shifting in the weighty sand.

"Father! Please, come inside with me?" You tried again, but to no avail. He had waded out there after the funeral's dinner, and while everyone gathered on the stone courtyard for drinks and mingling, your father had fancied a walk. For an hour now, he's been standing in the water.

Your head looked up towards where you knew the courtyard was, and caught sight of your grandsire glaring down at your father. He frowned when he caught your eye, then nodded, waving for you to come up. You nodded in return, looking to your father once more.

"Daddy, I have to go in, it's getting late," you tried. "I do not wish to leave you, come with me, please."

"Go on, my sweet darling," Laenor finally croaked - but did not turn.

You sighed with defeat and turned for the archway, hustling up the stone stairs, and just as you reached the top, Ser Qarl was rushing towards you. "Princess," he muttered with a nod, making you smile.

"He will not come in, even for me," you spoke softly, "good luck. Might have to force him out."

"Of course, thank you, Princess," He nodded and darted past you, letting you enter the courtyard finally. There were respectful nods from those who attended the funeral; most offering words of condolences before you caught the eye of the King.

Approaching the two men, you bowed with respect and laid a hand to your Uncle Daemon's arm. "I mean no intrusion, Your Grace, my Prince," you nodded to them both, "and apologize for the interruption I pose, I only mean to extend my condolences to you, Uncle. How sorry I am for your Lady wife, and for this loss you feel."

He nodded, letting his free hand pat over your own. "Thank you, my gentle niece."

"My Prince," you nodded, "Your Grace."

As you took your leave, you heard Viserys offering Daemon to return to King's Landing - to court, or other. You did not hear the rest, finding your mother in the crowd and making a beeline for her through a slew of distant family and members of court offering their words of sorrow.

"Sweet girl," she sighed when she embraced you. "Are you all right? Where is your Father?"

"I could not get him to come in with me," you admitted with shame. "He prefers to stand in the waters, I think it makes him feel close to Laena... Like they're both together again, if only in the tide."

She sighed, petting over your head, "You shoulder too much of your Father's grief, my sweet girl."

"It is never more than I can handle, Mother," you assured. "My skin has grown thick and there is little else to be whispered that can faze me now. My Father needs me, and I am happy to fulfill that duty."

Truth was, once upon a time when you lived in King's Landing, your older cousin, Aegon, started to publicly tease you for being a "Daddy's Girl," and let that come churn-up negative connotations. Rumors grew and festered because of your complexion, where your skin was shades lighter than Laenor's and had bright white hair - while your brothers were pasty-skinned with dark hair.

Aegon liked to tease you for your close relationship and others joined in, thinking it got under your skin. Thinking it was something to laugh about when your Father started to train you beyond what others thought "acceptable". He was your biggest supporter, and helped you push yourself to new limits with horse riding, sword fighting, archery, even just a bit of spear throwing. Laenor and Coryls even once took you on an adventure at sea, where you learned the 'ropes' of sailing and how to fish "properly". You never let the snide comments and vile words taint your view of your "Daddy" because you knew the truth.

Plus, you could just say to Aegon, "You wouldn't know a Father's love even if it slapped you in the face." That shut him up every time.

Rhaenyra smiled at you and gently caressed your cheek, but movement behind your shoulder caught her attention. When you turned to stand at her side with her arm around your waist, you noticed your Uncle Daemon surging past everyone - but stopped when Otto Hightower, Hand of the King, who had a public distaste for the Rogue Prince, stopped him to mutter something. You imagine it was condolences, but you were too far to hear it.

When Daemon managed some comment and then escaped down stone stairs, you mother looked around cautiously. "Mother," you warned through the corner of your mouth. "I would not, now is not the time."

"Hush now, my girl, come with me," she sighed, taking your hand, and leading you towards your brothers. When you reached them, she stooped to speak to them, "Your sister is in charge, do as she says, but I want you all to go to bed."

"But, Mother - "

She cut Jace off, "Go to bed."

With a meaningful look to you, you understood and gave her a reassuring nod with a squeeze to her hand; often thinking your minds were connected by some string - making nonverbal communication essential between you. You often found that was what you searched for in a person, first. How their body spoke, despite the words their mouths form.

"Come on, let's say goodnight," you coaxed your brothers, turning to your grandmother and cousins first. You knelt before them, offering, "My sweet cousins, I cannot say how sorry I truly am for this loss. But should you need it, I am here for whatever you need."

"Thank you, cousin," Rhaena whispered, leaning forward to hug you.

"I'm only a few doors down," you whispered, pressing a kiss to her forehead. You bid Baela a goodnight as well, letting your brothers step up as you helped your grandmother to her feet. She smiled at you and pet over a lock of hair. "We're going to bed, Grandmother, I will see you in the morning, yes?"

She nodded, sparing a glance to the kids before taking you a few steps from them. She sighed, "How's Laenor?"

You frowned, "He would not come in from the sea, Grandmother. Not even for me..."

"He always had a soft spot for you," she sighed, "surely, if you can't get him in, he'll have to be moved."

You nodded, "I did try."

"You did incredible," she praised, taking both cheeks in hand. "I have heard nothing but songs of how you have been the support your father needs. Thank you for being there."

"It is the least I can do after all he's done for me," you whispered. "I only wish I could take his pain. It is a weight that I fear he is buckling under slowly."

Rhaenys sighed and nodded. "I fear for it, too, my sweet. All right, well," she sighed and leaned in to kiss your forehead. "You get some sleep, some well-deserved rest. You've had a day."

"We all have," you whispered, taking her hands in yours, "and Grandmother? I-I want to tell you that I am sorry for you loss. No parent should ever have to bury their child."

She sighed and nodded, squeezing your hands. "You have always been the sweetest girl - and I am so proud to be your Grandmother. I love you, thank you for your words."

Your eyes shut and let her lean in to kiss your forehead. "I love you, too," you promised, smiling at her when your eyes opened to her softened gaze. "Goodnight."

"Goodnight," she nodded, letting go of you so you could take your little brothers under your arms.

"Grandfather," you spoke to Corlys as you approached. "I hate to interrupt, but we are off to bed and wish to say goodnight."

He gave you all a smile and gentle hugs, speaking softly, "Goodnight, my dears. I'll see you in the morning." Finding no other family members that you cared enough to speak to, you lead your brothers into the Driftmark castle.

You nodded to those you passed, easily navigating the boys to their rooms and did not leave until they were changed and in bed properly.

"Sister?" Luke whimpered.

"Yes, my sweet?" You paused to turn back to him, single candle in your hand and one on his bedside table.

"I-Is Ser Harwin truly gone?"

You sighed, pausing to sit on his bed and pet some hair off his forehead. "I'm afraid so, sweet boy. But Mother speaks true, the Strongs are not our kin and we are needed here. But that does not mean you cannot mourn him, Luke. He was a gallant knight and truly felt part of our family - though he was not our blood."

He nodded, "Could we say prayers for him?"

"Of course," you agreed. "I'll say one for him tonight, too, all right?"

"Thank you," he whispered, letting you lean in to peck his forehead.

"I love you," you promised, letting a finger push the button of his nose.

"I love you, too," he nodded, snuggling into the blankets. "Good night."

"Good night, sweet boy," You whispered, blowing out his bedside candle and parting ways with your own single candle in a holder. You shut their door and moved for your own room, but just before you could prepare yourself for bed, you heard a strangled roar from your opened windows.

It could've been any dragon, but something felt familiar about this sound.

Something felt wrong and you were quick to change into a pair of trousers, a tunic, and boots; rushing off from your room with the intention of checking on your dear, sweet Kasta. She wasn't by any means the largest around but she showed no sign to stop growing - making her rival a few older dragons already. You worried she was being challenged, and easily snuck from the castle walls.

However, you gasped when you rounded a cliffside and almost ran straight into someone.

"You!"

"Aemond! Gods!" You hissed, glancing around and pushing him towards a small alcove of the cliffs in case of any patrolling guards. "What're you doing out at this hour? You should be in bed!"

"What're you doing out? You should be in bed, too," He retorted quickly.

You narrowed your eyes, "I have reason - "

"Maybe I do, too."

You hummed, eyeing him a moment. "What if we agreed to go about our business - never seeing each other, hey?"

He considered it before nodding. "Deal. I didn't see you, you didn't see me."

"Exactly," you chuckled to your 'uncle', though you were 18 months older than him. It was strange, indeed. "Whatever you're doing, just be careful, Aemond."

He nodded, "Yeah. You, too, Y/N."

You both snuck away in opposite directions - where you made for the mouth of the Dragon Pit, and Aemond, in the direction of open sand dunes. You were curious and considered following him, but you were distracted by wanting to check on Kasta more.

After sneaking beneath the Pit, you could not locate your great beast and didn't know if you felt relief or not. So, you spent the better part of an hour searching for the emerald green beast, sighing with relief when she was located at last. Only after you had to scale a fucking cliff, but she was worth it.

"Kasta," you panted in High Valyrian upon approach, the lazy dragon lifting her head from the sandy nest she'd made. "What're you doing, my girl? Hey?" You chuckled lightly, hearing her whine lowly. You sat at her head, giving it a loving stroke. "It is warm in there?" She lipped at your hands, making you wonder, "You okay? I heard something and worried it was you - that you might've been in trouble?"

She growled lightly, lifting her head in interest when the distinct beating of wings was heard - along with a voice shouting in exhilaration. You lifted your head to spy Vhagar circling the island, curiosity peaking; but also assuring you that it was not your dragon that you heard before.

"I thought Vhagar had no rider?" You questioned Kasta, but the dragon lifted her head to stare into your eyes - giving a knowing look. "I see," you whispered.

There was a shuddering quake to the ground, and you knew somewhere nearby, a dragon landed. When your own dragon gave a soft snarl, you felt something on the back of your neck stand on end. She left her head fall back down as you stood.

Unknown to you, your siblings and cousins had searched for you in your rooms before deciding to confront Vhagar's newest rider by themselves. Yet, unknown to them, you were expertly scaling down the cliffside to rush for the Dragon Pit.

Yet, you were still too late.

Aemond had Luke by the throat - all the kids bloodied and bruised to some capacity - and with a large, jagged rock in a raised hand above his head, Aemond was threatening, "You will die screaming in flames just as your father did! Bastards!"

"Aemond! NO!" You raged, rushing to the scene out of pure panic from seeing your younger siblings, cousins, and uncle all bearing marks of a fight.

"My father's still alive!" Luke struggled in Aemond's grip, sobbing.

"So, he doesn't know, does he, Lord Strong?" Aemond snipped at Jace with a sneer, and to your shock, Jace then brandished a dagger.

"NO!" You finally made it to them; first yanking the two girls further back for safety, but it left time for your brothers to attack. "JACE!" You screamed with Baela, trying to keep them back as the boys were so intertwined in a fight, you could not intercede them. And with a dagger in play, you did not risk being an accidental casualty.

Aemond had thrown back Luke and wacked Jace in the head with the rock - knocking both to the floor in whimpering pain.

"All right, that's enough, hey, hey, no more - no fucking more," you stepped in, hands held in peace. "No, you've all made your points - Aemond, please," you begged when your uncle rose the rock above his hand again, smirking in taunt, with the intention of bashing Jace's head in. "Aemond - think for a moment, do not do this," you tried to reach for him, but it was too late. Jace threw a handful of sand to Aemond's face, blinding him a moment, and leaving time for Luke to pick up the forgotten dagger. "NO, LUKE, DON'T!"

But it was far too late.

Luke swung his brother's dagger upward and sliced through Aemond's face - both boys screaming. One in exhilaration and the other in unfiltered pain.

"NO!" You screamed again, reaching Luke first and making him drop the dagger by wrangling his wrist in your hand; your adrenaline pumping so harshly that you didn't realize when the blade sliced through the skin of your palm. You turned quickly, only vaguely hearing the Knight's Guards arriving. "Aemond, Aemond," you begged, taking hold of the moaning and groaning Prince. "Oh, let me see, let me see, c'mon, lad, 's all right, let me have a look," you hushed, huddling over him for privacy and coaxing his hand away. "Gods be good," you hissed, snapping his hand back in place and using your own to add pressure. Both of your hands bloodied within seconds. "Hold pressure, hold the pressure," you told him softly, looking up to see the White Cloaks. "L-Lord Commander, the Prince Aemond needs a Maester at once."

"Let me see," he knelt.

"No, no, it needs pressure for the bleeding," you told him, keeping firm hold on your distant uncle. "Come, help me get him to his feet."

"What happened?" He demanded, doing as you bid.

"I do not know, I arrived too late," You covered, helping Aemond but turning to walk at his back to keep hold over his hand, over the sliced eye he was basically holding in socket.

It was pure chaos from then on, and once you were all gathered in the throne room, the Maester took over.

"Y/N!? Aemond!? Oh, my Gods! What has happened!?" Alicent demanded as she rushed into the room; Viserys limping with his cane in hand not far behind her.

"In a moment, Your Grace," you pleaded, the boy sitting with your hands still holding in injury.

"I need to see the wound, Princess," the Maester frowned.

"All right," you agreed with him, and then looked to your uncle. "Easy, easy, easy, it's gonna gush a little," you whispered, your bloodied hand peeling Aemond's with your own to give sight to the full injury.

You could've thrown up from the sight, but only stepped away as more members of court arrived on scene and the Maester was swooping in.

Turning to Alicent, you explained, "In truth, Your Grace, I do not know much - other than the boy has been maimed. I read it's important to hold pressure to injury before a professional can take over, so, I only helped the Prince do that," you showed your bloodied hands.

"Dear girl," Viserys took your one hand, "you're bleeding on your own, I can see the cut."

"Oh, i-it's just a small cut, Your Grace," you nodded swiftly.

"How did you come by it?" Viserys demanded. His voice then lowered as he bowed his head to tell you privately, "You alone have always told your Grandfather the truth, do not let that change now."

You gulped but held your head up to tell him quietly, his withered hand still holding your wrist, "When I disarmed Lucerys, Your Grace."

"Why were you not in bed?" Alicent asked.

"In truth, I heard a dragon roar, and it sounded so familiar, I worried it was my dragon, Kasta. She's larger than some and still grows, I worried she was being challenged and then feared she was hurt. I was only out of bed, Your Grace, to check on Kasta, I swear it."

Viserys' eyes flashed to gaze heatedly over the others gathered from after the fight - but otherwise, just sighed. He nodded at you, "You're not at fault for worrying. Go on. Clean your hands, dear girl, let someone bind them."

"Thank you, Your Grace," you whispered, nodding with a small smile, "Grandfather."

He smiled briefly in return and patted your shoulder as you turned with dismissal, a handmaiden stepping up to help you wash your hands of blood in a basin and then examine the 'wound'. "It is shallow, Princess," she informed with a nod of her head. "It will heal, but I will bind it to help protect it. Perhaps avoid a sword in this time."

You smiled mutely and nodded, letting her work as the room was stewing in anger and tension as more and more members of the court showed up.

You waited patiently for your mother, letting your anxiety fester to new heights as you began to understand, as the eldest present to the scuffle, you'd be expected to recount events. But you didn't know all of the situation, only what the children had tried to tell you in a jumbled rush on your way there. But they didn't get far as the guards couldn't stand their squabbling, telling them to silence themselves until the King asked for explanation.

As the Maester worked, Viserys was demanding answers of the Lord Commander Westerling, and his Guards; who were not watching the Princes, and therefore, assumed fault for letting everything get to this point. By extension, as second in command with the Queen's Guard, Ser Criston Cole stood under interrogation, as well.

And the King was beyond angry; making you gently flinch when his voice turned hateful towards his guards.

Your hands were wrapped, and you moved along the edge of the crowd to then take a seat on the stone stairs that lead to the throne room to take a moment and think about what you witnessed. You needed time to absorb it all, to just think; to digest.

From beside the light of the hearth, Alicent, watching the Maester work on stitching Aemond's wound closed, asked, "It will heal, will it not, Maester?"

He paused a moment, the room turning towards the Maester and Prince for the answer; and your head lifted to listen. Your brothers stood beside one another without any cleaning to their wounds - simply because they were still on trial for this entire ordeal.

The Maester answered, "The flesh will heal, I'd wager because the Princess Y/N acted quickly to hold pressure." Eyes turned to you as you felt tears of embarrassment and anxiety fill your eyes, bowing your head to avoid their gazes. "But the eye is lost, Your Grace."

Both of Aemond's parents looked genuinely distraught as you finally stood to near your brothers; taking each of them under your arms. They noted the bandages on your hand, but did not get to comment as the Queen was rounding on her eldest son, Aegon, to demand, "Where were you?"

"Me?" Aegon asked, gasping when his mother's hand clapped against his cheek to whip his head to the side. "Ow!" He yelped, "What was that for?"

"That was nothing compared to the abuse your brother suffered while you were drowning in your cups, you fool!" Alicent hissed, teeth bared; her anger tangible.

The doors above you clanged open, and Corlys charged through them, demanding, "What is the meaning of this!?"

"Baela? Rhaena!" Rhaenys gasped, following her husband down the stairs. "What happened? What happened?" She asked, taking the girls instantly into her arms.

Corlys looked around with a fierce gaze, standing before you lot as you tightened your hold on the boys. Not a moment later, your mother was finally opening the doors - looking spooked by the news she received. "Jace?" She looked around - and when she located you three, she was shouting, "Luke!"

You stepped back to let your mother kneel before the boys; and felt a hand smooth around your shoulders. Looking up, Corlys brought you into his side for a tight hug. Your bandaged hand laid on his stomach, making him take it up and examine it with a tight jaw.

"Show me, show me," your mother rushed to your little brother, pulling Luke's hands from his face and revealing his own injury. "Who did this?"

"They attacked me!" Aemond shouted from his seat.

"He attacked Baela!" Jace shouted back.

"He broke Luke's nose!" Baela shouted, and then, the over-lapping voices were too great and many to make out. Yet, bits and parts met your ears as Uncle Daemon arrived on scene, and chose to lean on the door with crossed arms instead of rush for his injured daughters. You did not speak, Corlys and you stood silently and listened.

"He stole my mother's dragon!"

"Enough," Viserys demanded, but the children still shrilly argued.

"He was going to kill Jace!"

"I didn't do anything!"

"Enough!" Viserys tried again.

"It should be my son telling the tale!" Alicent joined the efforts.

"He called us - "

But Viserys roared over everyone, cutting Jace off, "SILENCE!"

The room echoed with the aftermath of ringing voices; everyone shying into themselves, and making your father's father tighten his hold around your shoulders. Behind you, your brother whispered to your mother, "He called us bastards."

Rhaenyra stood in thought and kept the bloody boys behind her, sharing a small look with you as her eyes skated over your bandage. But nothing could be said as her hands came to wring together as Viserys called, "Aemond..." His cane struck the stone with each step he took, "I will have the truth of what happened... Now."

"What else is there to hear?" Alicent interjected. "Your son has been maimed. Her son is responsible."

"It was a regrettable accident," Rhaenyra swiftly defended - but even she sounded shaken.

"Accident," Alicent repeated, Corlys pulling you back a step to let your mother be seen. "The Prince Lucerys brought a blade to an ambush. He meant to kill my son."

You wanted to correct her that it was Jace's dagger and Luke only picked it up when her son meant to bash in Jace's head - but now wasn't the time, because your mother was snarling in defense, "It was my sons who were attacked and forced to defend themselves." You nodded in agreement, and Viserys saw the motion. "Vile insults were levied against them."

"What insults?" Viserys questioned.

It was silent before Rhaenyra responded, "The legitimacy of my sons' birth was put loudly to question."

"What?" The King asked.

"He called us bastards," Jace spoke up, making the room go still. This was the confrontation everyone was waiting on...

"Y/N?" Viserys asked, making you tense up.

"What?" Rhaenyra turned to you. "You were involved?"

"I only arrived at the end," you shook your head. "I do not know what was said or done in full," you begged to the King to understand through your words, and it seemed, your other Grandfather did by how he shifted slightly in front of you. "Though, yes, the word 'bastard' was hurled as insult, Your Grace..."

"My sons are in line to inherit the Iron Throne, Your Grace," your mother swept back in, making you shudder a breath. "This is the highest of treasons..." Her words settled over everyone. "Prince Aemond must be sharply questioned so we might learn where he heard such slanders."

Aemond had turned in his seat to glare at your mother, his older sister; making the King look down at him. But it was the Queen who asked the Princess, "Over an insult? My son has lost an eye - possibly his life, should your daughter not of been there!"

Viserys looked again to Aemond, asking, "You tell me, boy. Where did you hear this lie?"

"The insult was training yard bluster," Alicent tried to save. "The lot of boys. It was nothing."

"Aemond..." Viserys prodded. "I asked you a question."

To save her son from answering, Alicent asked, "Where is Ser Laenor, I wonder? The boys' father? Perhaps he might have something to say in the matter."

"Yes. Where is Ser Laenor?" Viserys agreed, eyes looking to your mother.

"I do not know, Your Grace. I... Could not find sleep. I had gone out to walk," You mother answered.

"Entertaining his younger squires, I would venture," the Queen snipped, making some in the court smirk and snicker as the insult registered.

"I beg your pardon, Your Grace," you pushed away from Corlys to face Alicent and the King, but your gaze was set on the redheaded woman, "because I understand you are distraught from your son's injury, but do not mistake that for giving you leave to openly insult my father, or add fuel to such allegations. This is not the training yard, Your Grace, leaving no room for bluster. Mind your manners."

"Come here, girl, and hush yourself," Corlys sighed, pulling you back to his side. He sighed as Viserys chose to ignore your comment, which made the Queen stiffen her spine and avoid your heated gaze.

"Aemond... Look at me," Viserys directed to his son, making the One-Eyed Prince meet his father's angered, hardened eyes. "Your King demands an answer. Who spoke these lies to you?"

You didn't see the Prince's eyes cut over to his mother, but saw the King straighten his spine to look at his wife - and knew.

It was as if a collective breath was held as the King was then told by his son, "It was Aegon."

"Me?" Aegon repeated quietly, looking truly shell-shocked to be thrown into the mix. You sighed gently.

The King now turned his sights on his eldest son, growling, "And you, boy?" He stalked up to the taller kid. "Where did you hear such calumnies?" But when his son did not answer, nor meet his gaze, the King shouted, "Aegon! Tell me the truth of it!"

With a tremble to his tone, Aegon spoke, "We know, Father." He met his father's gaze, "Everyone knows... Just look at them," his lip curled, "and then look at her. She is true-born, that cannot be disputed."

Your chin lifted as your glare turned deadly, daring anyone to say more as the King was silently surveying the room. But he chose not to pursue this further, and snapped, "This interminable infighting must cease!" His cane punctuated his words. "All of you! We are family!" He only glanced at Aemond, perhaps finding the injury too gnarly to look at longer; turning his gaze to the room again. "Now make your apologies and show good will to one another. Your father, your grandsire, your King demands it!"

But nobody spoke as the King's words did not feel truly fair. Perhaps, the others were going to wait for him to leave to 'handle' this situation, but before he could, Alicent was speaking, "That is insufficient." The King turned to hear her words. "Aemond has been damaged, permanently, my King. 'Good will' cannot make him whole."

"I know, Alicent, but I cannot restore his eye."

"No, because it's been taken!" Alicent refused her husband's words.

"What would you have me do?" Viserys growled.

"There is a debt to be paid," she decided, and the room went still. "I shall have one of her son's eyes in return."

Heads turned to look at your mother and brothers, and you broke away to then stand at your mother's side and kept Lucerys behind you. The crowd muttered with discomfort as the King approached the Queen, "My dear wife..."

"He is your son, Viserys," She begged through her tears. "Your blood."

"Do not," Viserys warned, "allow your temper to guide your judgement."

That was supposed to be that, but chaos still rained. She spoke defiantly, "If the King will not seek justice, the Queen will. Ser Criston... Bring me the eye of Lucerys Velaryon."

"Mother!" Luke gasped, and she kept him back and between you.

"Alicent," Viserys tried.

"He can choose which eye to keep, a privilege he did not grant my son," Alicent sneered.

"You will do not such thing," Rhaenyra defended and your hands tightened on your brother.

"Stay your hand," Viserys demanded.

"No, you are sworn to me!" Alicent refused with a shout, making it known she was desperate for action. And eyes turned for Cole, knowing he was nothing better than her leashed dog.

"As your Protector, my Queen," Cole refused - a smart decision.

"Alicent, this matter... Is finished," The King leered fiercely. "Do you understand?" It was quiet as the woman did not respond, everyone watching as Viserys turned from the room; but paused to address, "And let it be known: anyone whose tongue dares to question the birth of Princess Rhaenyra's sons," he then directed at Alicent, sneering, "should have it removed."

"Thank you, Father," Your mother spoke softly from her place, something making the hair on your neck stand on end. You did not turn as your mother did, lowering herself to speak to her sons - you watched the Queen.

And thankfully, you did.

You watched her stride for Viserys and yank a dagger from his belt and turn. "Mother!" You gasped, stepping in front of her protectively as the Queen charged.

"Alicent!" Viserys screamed.

"Stay with the King!" Westerling demanded of Cole as he followed Alicent. "HOLD YOUR APPROACH!"

"My girl!" Rhaenyra pushed you out of the way in time to step forward and take hold of either of Alicent's wrists. It was chaos as they engaged; everyone trying to space out and move from the way as the King's Guards were tangled amongst each other.

Luke screamed shrilly in fear as your mother took on Alicent. You wanted to turn for the boys and huddle them close, but Corlys was back at your side, and together, you both stood as pillars in front of them while Princess and Queen struggled against one another.

"Stay your hand, Cole!" Westerling demanded of the disobedient knight; making Daemon push off his post to intercept the man.

"You've gone too far!" Your mother struggled with Alicent.

"I?" The Queen repeated breathlessly. "What have I done but what was expected of me? Forever upholding the kingdom, the family, the law! While you flout all to do as you please!"

"Alicent! Let her go!" Viserys demanded.

"Mother!" You worried, wondering if you should step in. Would you be reprimanded for cutting down the Queen? You eyed the sword at your Grandsire's hip - leaving it open for you to take.

Yet, you dare not.

"Where is duty? Where is sacrifice?" Alicent spoke tearfully still. "It's trampled under your pretty foot, again!"

"Release the blade, Alicent!" Otto, the Queen's father, called from the end of the hall.

"And now you take my son's eye," she told your mother, "and to even that, you feel entitled."

"Exhausting, wasn't it?" Your mother countered. "Hiding beneath the cloak of your own righteousness." She whispered, "But now they see you as you are."

Alicent shouted in anger; the women pushing away from each other and blade sliced through flesh. Corlys and you both caught your mother when she was flung back, but the sounds of trickling blood pattering onto the floor drew your attention.

"Mum," you worried when her wrist was sliced open to let blood drip freely down her hand, through her fingers; pooling to the stone floor beneath you. "Gods," you whispered, looking up in shock, muttering for those who did not see, "you cut her."

"Darling," your mother hushed, but you were grabbing at her wrist to try to hold pressure - like you were trained to do.

It was silent besides that as everyone waited for the next move to be made. Nobody did until Prince Aemond stepped into the circle; earning the attention of those lingering.

"Do not mourn me, Mother," the Prince spoke softly, looking at Alicent. "It was a fair exchange. I may have lost an eye... But I gained a dragon."

Vhagar had a new rider.

"This proceeding is at an end," Viserys decided, giving everyone a stern look. Cole wrangled free and Daemon stalked forward to crowd you closer to your mother; Luke coming up to hold your waist as you were holding the wound as tight as possible.

Aemond moved to hug his mother in comfort, something you were doing in your own way. Jace took the rear, and stood with Daemon and Corlys, giving Alicent a first look at the family that would bring ruin to her own. But your mother, too, got a good look at the family who would bring your own doom.

"Could we please see to this?" You asked, nodding at the blood that seeped, again, from between your fingers.

"Yes," Rhaenyra agreed. "Perhaps in our rooms."

"Let's go," you pleaded, offering the Hightower Queen one more glare before turning with your mother to keep the pressure on her wound.

"I sought an audience early this morning," your mother explained softly, "before the King and Queen were to depart for King's Landing. And I know it is feeling unfair, my girl, and I do not want to see you go, but the tension can not fester beyond this. Vengeance is a powerful weapon, and I would not see my family harmed for something as petty as this. My hope is that with Viserys around, they will warm up to you, and you will be safe."

"So, after you sent Jace, Luke, and I away this morning, you and Father discussed, what? Selling me off?"

"I know it hurts," she relented, but you sighed.

"No, no, I am only being jealous."

"Of what, sweet girl?"

"Perhaps of not having a cock of my own, so that I might have some say in these matters. Or maybe I am merely jealous of the idea of leaving you while the boys stay. Yet, at least, I will have some time with you yet before I am to marry - not many Ladies can say they have that luxury."

She took a sobering breath, "I knew you'd understand. But for all it can be worth, I am sorry."

You nodded, sighing, "For our family's honor, and for Luke's full vision, I will marry Prince Aemond when the time comes..."

"My girl," she breathed with relief, bringing you in for a bone-crushing hug. After a moment, she pulled back to sniffle; and just over your heads, three of the royal dragons took flight - with Vhagar swooping low to the waters before following the King's ship.

You both paused to stare after them.

"Do you trust them, Mother?"

Rhaenyra sighed, "I trust my father, but the Hightower claws are dug deep." You both breathed for a moment. "You will be a single spot of Targaryen Black in a sea of Hightower Green, my love. Our House words must not be forgotten..."

Your chin lifted, knowing in heart, you would always be a Targaryen Dragon more than a Velaryon Sea Horse - telling her gently, "Fire and Blood..."

"When the time comes," Rhaenyra sighed, "I can only pray I leave you with dragon scales instead of skin - so that their green flames do not burn you, my sweet girl."

You smirked gently at her, "Mother, fire - whether Green or not, cannot kill a dragon. Though I know I've salt in my veins, too, it is the blood of Old Valyria, and fire will be my ally."

Rhaenyra sighed and turned to pull you in closer with a kiss to your head. "I know it is sudden news, but we still have years with each other. Much will change, but I will never leave you feeling unprepared." Movement, again, caught her eye over your shoulder; making her sniffle and sober up. "Go on, go now. Find your brothers for me, please."

You agreed, and after a kiss to her cheek, left her be; passing your silent Great Uncle Daemon along the way with only a head nod of acknowledgement.

Time on Dragonstone was never the same. Days after laying your Aunt Laena to rest, you lost your own father, Lord Laenor, to a petty quarrel he had with his lover, Qarl. The lad was never found, apparently somewhere lost to the Stepstones, but the anger never dissipated. Your mother had welcomed the Knight into the family, and he turned blade on your father?

In Laenor's father's hall?

The devastating blow was hardest on you, who could not grieve far enough. You internalized a lot of it, but your brother's tried to help you shoulder it all - yet this was a path you walked alone. Seemingly only days after that, on your ancestral home, your mother then married her Uncle Daemon, and your cousins Baela and Rhaena were now your step-sisters.

They lived with you all on Dragonstone and your mother took your education very seriously. Professors came into port to be guests of the castle, dedicating hours upon hours a day to tutor you in a broad arrangement of subjects.

History, philosophy, reading, philanthropy, writing, specialized tutors to broaden your Valyrian, a whole class on just diction - forcing you to learn new words; first-aid training, and even drawing.

Your step-father also took up your training after your beloved father had passed. Daemon recommended you work your anger and grief out through the training yard, and you took that advice to heart. He posed as a challenger in damn-near everything, and by the Gods, you tried not to feel competitive, but it sharpened your wit and instincts. Daemon knew what he was doing, and yet, never showed an ounce of 'loving warmth', only stoic respect.

Your mother taught you what she could about being both Lady and wife - taking meals privately with you to go into more expressive details. Questions you had, she answered; and as you grew older, you wondered deeper - and she often answered with red, flushed cheeks. Yet your mother kept her promise and would not let you go off to King's Landing unprepared.

You read books. Wrote letters, kept journals. Learned from experience, learned from reading; did what you could to understand as much as possible, never quenching your thirst for knowledge.

Perhaps, subconsciously, you wondered if this would create more distance between now and your marriage - but your 18th nameday was creeping up, and you were out of options.

Three months before, your summons arrived.

Your mother tried to deliver the news softly, but tears broke her waterline; and you understood that she meant to say goodbye. Apparently, by Queen Alicent's hand-written letter, you were to marry the Prince before the week's end, and it was already midweek.

Aemond did not wish for a big wedding, but your family insisted on something. Viserys had called upon the royal dressers, and all festivities would be covered. All you had to do was show up, and yet, it felt like that was the hardest chore. Your mother had sniffled as she pet your hair off your shoulders, nodding, "It's time, my girl."

Daemon opted not to attend the wedding and after a bit of persuasion, your mother and brothers decided to stay on Dragonstone with him. You were to travel alone because you were to hit the ground running, and you were beyond nervous.

Your mother helped pack your things - sending servants and maids away to let you two have moments of privacy. She gave you last second advice, promising that when you need it, she was always there for you. Dragonstone wasn't far by dragonback and there were always ravens to send - but she warned you about the Hightowers more than likely intercepting letters.

She advised you to write in code.

Promised she loved you.

Swore to you that marriage wasn't always all so bad; and before you knew it, you were standing with Kasta's packed saddle - facing your family for the final time.

"Well," you breathed, nodding at them all, "I wish to say that I will miss you all, and thank you for the incredible years."

"Good luck, sister," Jace nodded.

The night before, the boys had snuck into your room for the last time and let you hold them; tears of sadness weeping into their dark brown locks. You smiled at him, "Thank you, brother. I will send a raven when I am settled, and... Well, you know."

"When you're married," Luke teased, giggling lightly.

"Hush," you mother chided gently, but smiled at the boy, glancing at you. "Go hug your sister goodbye, love."

Luke frowned deeply and rushed for your waist - though, no longer being a small child, he was still a young lad; and you could wrap your arms around him tightly. You kissed the top of his head and sighed, "I'll miss you with my heart, Luke. I promise to write you, you can practice writing me back if you want."

"But, sister," he worried, pulling back only so to hush, "what if the nightmares come back?"

You smiled at him, "I left you a present on your bed. I hope that helps you through the nights. Let it be a comfort." It was a red and black stuffed dragon toy, something you prayed would comfort him in your absence.

He nodded, tears falling down his cheeks. "Do not go," he begged gently, holding your skirts.

"I'd stay if I could, but this is for the best," you assured, never having the heart to tell him that your marriage arrangement was made some years ago, and now, as you were a woman, it was time to 'pay up' to save him from being blinded. He didn't need to know the truth.

Jace pulled Luke back but instantly stepped up in his place, instead. He sighed into your neck; much taller than the last time you remembered, and letting yourself loose a few tears. "Do not let them change you, sister. Please, be safe," Jace rushed in your ear, tightening his hug.

"I will," you cried, giving him a squeeze. "Be there for Mother... She'll need you now."

"I won't disappoint you," he promised, pulling away.

"Be good," you chuckled at him, patting his shoulder as he moved back. Baela and Rhaena stepped up to hug you goodbye, having grown fond of their older 'sister' during the time you had together. You kissed their foreheads, bid them well, and again, promised you were only a raven away.

Daemon was next, and he did offer a hug (shockingly). You squeezed into his embrace, and when you pulled back, he wished, "Good luck in the city, niece. Remember the leech will feed, even when fat. My brother's blinded by..." He sighed. "Nevermind. It's not your responsibility. Just do not let him forget his family loves him."

"I'll be sure to be there for him, Uncle."

He nodded, "Then - good luck. Marriage is mostly political, so, play your part with caution in mind."

"Your advice has always been appreciated," you nodded. "And thank you - for all the lessons you gave these past years."

"What a student I had," he smirked, giving you a final nod as you moved on to your mother.

She took a long, shuddering breath. "You'll write, won't you?" Her hands reached, as they always did, to pet over the silver locks that spilled down your shoulders.

"Of course," you promised softly. "You will not be rid of me so easily."

"I should hope not," she chuckled, but held her tears at bay.

"Say it now, Mum, and I will stay," you promised in a whisper. "You need me, and I will stay - "

"No," she sighed, moving to hold your cheeks. "You are no longer responsible for me. I would not let you go if I thought it was feeding you to the wolves... Though I wish for you to stay, there is a duty to be performed, my sweet girl."

You nodded, letting a few tears fall down your cheeks. "I'll just miss you terribly. Who will I go to for advice?"

"You'll understand who to trust, but keep in mind that you might write in a journal. Let it act as if it's me, and write, my girl. Hide it away, burn it even, but do not let yourself feel so isolated."

"A Black Dragon in an Emerald Mine," you snickered softly, making her grin. "I will not disappoint you, Mother."

"You never do," she promised. "Be careful, and do not trust anyone. You're in the snake's garden now, and their bite is fierce."

You nodded, hands over hers to hold your cheeks. "I wish you'd be there."

"I do, too," she promised. "But you are my strongest girl, you will endure this with grace."

You nodded, leaning in to hug her one last time. She sniffled into your neck, but after a moment, you had to giggle, "Mum, you've got to let me go. Mumma, c'mon, now."

She groaned and released you, "All right, fine. Go on. I love you - so much. Do not forget that."

You climbed onto Kasta's mighty back; needing something of a rope ladder to get on her properly. With another wave, your family called their love and luck; hearing Kasta roar in departure before surging forward, spreading her wings, and then leaping off the cliffside. You held on tightly as she cut through the air, your family all watching as Kasta roared once more but otherwise, did not turn back.

You cried during the whole flight; truly afraid of what you were to encounter when you landed. Alicent and the Hightowers knew of your arrival, and you wondered why she insisted on such a swift wedding.

Last you knew, your fiancé had both concurred the largest dragon in the world but also lost his left eye.

Perhaps there was a rush so you could not back out. But you had honor, and if your hand in marriage is what it took to heal the rift between your families, to soothe the wound Lucerys inflicted, then so be it. There was honor in completing one's duty.

You prayed, through tears, it was enough.

[ part two ]

[ series masterlist ]

#aemond targaryen #prince aemond #aemond the kinslayer #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen x fem!reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond hotd #house of the dragon #hotd #hotd imagine #hotd x reader

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euphoniumpets · 1 year ago

Text

BEATING HEART (1/?)

Pairing: Gally x reader

Based off: the first scenes of the maze runner)

Prompt series: ''Wanna hear your beating heart tonight, before the bleeding sun comes alive, I want to make the best of what is left, hold tight, and hear my beating heart one last time.''

Warnings: ptsd, night terrors (comes later in the series), blood and gore.

A/N: for all the gally or will poulter fans out here, i deliver <3 this is based off the first scenes of the movie before we get into when thomas arrive.

You felt like you were drowning before you jolted awake.

You choke on the liquid in your mouth before bracing yourself as you blink rapidly. You feel that you couldn't breathe and everything is just a blur. All you know is that you're scared; terrified even before you tries to get a sense of your surroundings.

You notice that you're moving and are inside of a strange box. You frown and tries to think of something; something more of how you got here or your name but nothing pops up. Everything is blank and you try to remember but nothing.

A loud whirring sound appear and you winced in alarm in fear. You tried to calm yourself down before you noticed that other things are with you. You hear a squeling noise but you are too distracted by the box you are and the fear only appears again.

Then the elevator stopped; making you trip and lose your balance before letting out a curse. You let yourself brace for whatever is coming but nothing happens for a while.

It is just silent before the door upside of the box opens making you wince in surprise at the bright sunlight direct to your eyes. You raise your hands to cover as you hear multiplie voices mimx into another.

''You've got to be kidding me,''

You lowered your hand as you squint your eyes and you saw figures appear. When you do, your terror intensifies because you realize that there isn't a single girl between them. It was boys that you didn't recognize

Then, another voice appears. ''It's a...''

''A girl?''

''They sent us a girl up here?'' A stern voice appeared, making you snap your terrified eyes towards the boy in front of you. Two boys that stand near the front, a blond headed boy and another one who has the same hair but is only much taller and bigger too. By the sight of it, you felt discomfort by his stern eyes but something about him was familiar.

''Gally, calm down,'' the blond boy next to him replied as they jumped down in front of you. The box shakes slightly as you let out a whimper in fear before taking a step back inside.

''Hey,'' The tall boy calls out with a soft voice but sound more confused than anything. ''Hey, it's-''

''Don't touch me,'' You shrieked, slapped his hand away. He pulls away back in response, lips parting in surprise.

The tall boy in front of you hardens his expression. ''Listen, I'm trying-''

''Stay back,'' You warned him. ''Fine, if you wanna stay here, fine by me,'' The tall boy snarled before climbing up. The blond boy was still there in front of you, having no choice to leave you down there.

It was better to stay down there in the box than going up with boys who you don't recognize.

A week has passed and you were still in the box.

All alone and was still terrified to even go out. However, it was one person you might have warmed up to was Chuck. Chuck knew you since it was all the boys who talked about these days and his curiosity ran through his mind when he got signed up to bring some food to you.

It took some time for you to adjust or even trust him and later on, Newt came every once in a while to check up on you.

''Hey, she-bean,'' A familiar voice erupted from above, making you look up and saw Newt. ''Got you some food,'' Newt spoke. He looked down and saw you sitting in a corner with your legs up as you wrapped your arms around them for comfort.

''Listen, I know that you are scared right now but all we want to do is help you,'' Newt replied, hoping for an answer from you but all he got was silence.

Letting out a sigh, Newt walked away, yet leaving you all alone.

Two weeks has passed by and you were still in the box, refusing to go outside. Alby and the others began to worry, wondering if you were gonna stay inside forever. The box hasn't gone down ever since you decided to stay in there and they got concerned.

It was nighttime and the gladers was preparing to go to sleep before it was Gally's turn to check on the she-bean before he went to bed.

Alby had designed almost everybody in the glade to check on the she-bean every once in a while to see if that you were still alive. ''Hey, She-bean, got you some food,'' Gally spoke as he had the torch in his other left hand.

He saw you look up and stared at him. ''But you have to get up from the box,'' He responded. He waited a minute to have an response and was about to turn away before he heard your voice.

''I thought you wanted me to stay in here,'' By his surprise, he turned around slowly and met your eyes. ''Didn't meant it, literally,'' Gally responded.

He didn't know why but he felt a familiar feeling when he talked to you. As if that the two of you have met before you were put in the glade. ''Listen, I know that we're not on the right terms, but everybody in here is worried,'' Gally spoke.

''Including me,'' Gally said. ''Then why am I here?'' You questioned.

''It's complicated,'' Gally responded as he heard you scoff. ''But I can tell you everything if you come outside,'' Pausing, he lifted the doors and reached out his hand. You stared and debating if you could trust him and you couldn't explain the feeling but it felt oddly natural when you grabbed his hand.

''Now, do you know your name?'' Gally asked.

''Y/N,'' You told him.

''Well, Y/N, welcome to the glade,''

A YEAR LATER

You're younger, younger than you've been or that you remember being. The memory or the dream you are having it is almost blurry that you can't grasp. There' here but aren't and you can only see some blurry faces that your mind doesn't recognise.

Your head turns and you see a woman with kind eyes looking down at you. ''Hold your brother hand tightly,'' You hear her speak and you turn around and see a young boy next to you grab your hand tightly.

You don't know what's going on and there's people around you as you and your brother tries to walk through the crowd with the woman in front of you as he held your hand. Then, you're pulled to a stop and you see your mother crouching before you as she began to start crying.

''What's happening, mommy?'' Your younger self ask.

''This is goodbye,'' You heard her ask before you felt her stroke your cheek and then look at your brother.

''Take care of your sister,'' And before you know it, your eyes snapped out of the dream. Panic flooded through your body and the first thing you notice is how quiet it is. All you could hear was your breathing and how hard your heart was pounding.

You tried to take a deep breath before you looked around and noticed that you were in the homestead in your hammock.

They're just dreams, you keep telling yourself.

After calming down, it was then you noticed that you were alone.

Cursing to yourself, you push yourself out of the makeshift bed before searching for the others. You know it's still early already, given that the sunrise hasn't completly risen yet, so you make your way over to the kitchen where you know that the rest of the Gladers will be eating breakfast.

The moment you are in the kitchen, you spot Newt in the far corner and you quickly make your way over before sending Fry a smile and taking the plate he had prepared.

You accept it before taking a seat in front of Newt. ''Good morning, Y/N,'' Newt greeted before taking another bite from his food and didn't look up. ''Tell me why again Clint didn't wake me up today?'' You asked before placing your plate down at the table.

''Said that you needed another day's rest,'' Newt responded. ''That's a load of shuck,''

''Who does that shank think he is? Telling me when or when I can't-''

''Actually, he's right,'' Newt cuts you off and looked up from his plate.

''Gally saw you tossing and turning all night, Y/N, and after what happened-'' Newt trailed off, shaking his head before grabbing back his fork. ''Anyway, doesn't matter, Clint told me that you can step in later for the day,'' Newt informed.

You huffed and decided not to debate against Newt's words before taking the seat in front of him. Breakfast passed quickly, and you walked over to the Medhut where you saw Clint and Jeff taking care some of the slicers.

''Seriously, guys?'' You spoke, crossing your arms as you sent a smile to Ken while Jeff wrapped the bandage around his arm before sending him off back to work. ''Sorry, Y/N, but it was Gally's orders,'' Clint replied with a shrug.

''Since when do we listen to Gally?'' You huffed before you walked over to Clint and helped him to sort out the medical suppliers. ''Since when you're his girlfriend,'' Jeff remarked, earning a slap on the arm from Clint.

''Dude!''

''What? It's true, Gally's over heels for her, even surprised when he would only listen to her sometimes,'' Jeff replied with an offended expression.

''Alright, he's not my boyfriend and besides, Gally? We're just friends,'' You shrugged it off.

''Whatever you say,'' Jeff replied as you saw the smirk forming on his face. You shook your head with a smile before going back to work.

Gally walked inside of the Medhut at some point, to see if you were okay after last night. Clint and Jeff had already gone off somewhere, leaving the two of you alone. ''Hey,'' Gally spoke as you turned around and saw him. ''Hey,'' You greeted him with a smile.

''Heard from Newt today that you were going back to work,'' Gally spoke and looked at you. ''Yeah, after you told him that I needed another day's rest,'' You replied and looked at him with a raised eyebrow.

''Wanna tell me about that?'' Gally sighed. ''Listen, after everything that happened last time-''

''Nothing is going to happen, when am I gonna have you guys to trust me again?'' You begged him. ''Listen, I'm not going to be a runner, not now or ever again, I promised you that,'' You replied. Gally was about to say something before a familiar ringing echoed.

Your eyes widened as you and Gally met each other's eyes before walking outside towards the familiar sound.

A new Greenie had arrived as you found yourself with others. You sometimes would wonder if this one would be a girl, though, you doubted it.

The box had arrived and there was a moment of silence, just distant murmures and then the box slides open. As you'd expected, it was another boy. He held his hand above his eyes, blocking from the sunlight and as usual, the boy looked terrified.

You could hear some of the Gladers around you laughing at the poor boy and you couldn't help but roll your eyes. You didn't know what was so funny since they've been through the same and you remembered that they hadn't laughed at you like that from the first time you got sent up.

Two boys stepped forward, grabbing the wired gate and pulled it open as the others stepped back to help out. As per usual, Gally stepped forward, jumping down until he was in the box with the newbie, who had pushed himself as far away from Gally only stepped toward him.

''Day one, Greenie, rise and shine,'' You winced as he pulled the boy up with some help from the others. You sighed and shook your head with disppointment as the boy laid on the middle of the crowd. ''Kid looks like a slopper to me,''

''I could use some help in the kitchen,'' Frypan spoke and grinned down at the newbie. You rolled your eyes for a moment as you met his eyes for a moment. His gaze paused on you and you sure it was because you were the only girl between the sixty of boys. But then, his gaze flooded with panic and for a moment, you remembered your dream.

The Greenie stood up abruptly, shoving his hand through the crowd and yourself before he began to run. ''Hey, we got a runner!'' You heard Zart speak with sarcasm but you couldn't help but agree.

''Yeah, look at him go!''

The Greenie began to trip, flipping over himself as he face-planted into the grass. You winced at the sudden action while everybody laughed. You let out a small smile and shook your head.

''Woah!''

''Watch it there, Greenie!'' Whoops echoed but suddenly died down when the Greenie realized his surroundings. The terror that had enver left his face increased as he slowly pushed himself to his feet.

You looked at the Gladers, waiting for someone to do something. Help him, or maybe throw him in the slammer since you knew that all of you had been through the same. Just been as scared as he was right now. You shook your head with disappointment at the boys before taking a step forward before Gally stepped to block you.

''I know, in the slammer, just me a second,'' You told him. Gally looked at you, debating for a moment he stepped aside. You approached him, trying to send a comforting smile.

''Welcome to the Glade, I'm Y/N,''

please comment and reblog of what you think of this chapter! tag list are open if you guys wanna have updates!

#gally x reader #the maze runner x reader #the maze runner #tmr gally #tmr gally x reader #the maze runner thomas imagine #will poulter #will poulter x reader

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