#And she's over protective of her little nieces and nephews!

[fanfictiongirlie]

Marvel: Unplanned Chapter Six

Parings: Bucky Barnes x Reader (First person written though)

Description:

"It says...it says it's positive doll" His voice matching mine in a quiet shaky whisper.

"Fuck... I'm pregnant?"

"Yeah doll, you're pregnant"

"Fuck" I whisper.

Rating: Explicit

Chapter Warnings: Daddy kink, smut, swearing

Chapter Words: 3,150

(I have the urge for every Marvel fanfic I write to have a seperate timeline where nothing bad happens, and everyone is happy)

A few weeks later Bucky and I sat in the dreaded doctor's office again, my knee was bouncing as we waited to be called in. I had hoped during my adult years I'd get over my fear of doctors, but of course not. 

Once we were finally called in, the doctor; Dr.Addams had me lie down on the table and lift my shirt. I watched the screen as it showed our baby, I felt tears in my eyes as I watched, Bucky's hand held tightly onto mine as he watched the screen, his eyes wide as he watched the screen. 

"Do you wish to know the gender?" Dr.Addams asks. Bucky glances at me, his eyes meeting mine. I nod gently to him. 

"Yeah, we'd love to know" He says to the doctor, his voice filled with anticipation. Our doctor smiles and continues to move the wand over my stomach, searching for the right angle. 

"Alright, I think we're got it, are you ready to find out?" She asks. Bucky and I nod eagerly. I feel my heart pound a little harder, mine and Bucky's hands were sweaty as we held onto one another. 

"You're having a girl" The doctor says excitedly. I squeeze Bucky's hand a little tighter. 

"A girl?" I whisper. 

"Yeah doll, we're having a girl"

Bucky couldn't stop smiling, his eyes fixated on the ultrasound screen. He leans over to me and presses a sweet kiss to my lips. Once we were done in the Doctors, we left and drove straight back to the compound, excited to tell everyone the news. I smiled fondly to myself as I drove us home, the Avengers were excited to have a baby in the building. 

Bucky walked beside me as we entered the Compound, his arm was wrapped around my shoulders, holding me close. I felt as if we both had a glow about us, from the happiness we felt. 

"Should we tell everyone now?" I ask as we walk through the hallway towards the common room. Bucky nodded, his smile not faltering one bit. 

"Yeah, let's tell them. I'm sure they're all dying to know" 

"I bet they're waiting for us" I smirk. 

"Yeah, they probably are" He grins, nodding in agreement. I take his hand in mine and pull him towards the common room, we were right, they were waiting together, huddled in the room, they had clearly been waiting for our arrival. 

"Were you waiting for us?" I ask, I step closer to Nat, her hand moved up to touch my bump, stroking me gently. The group laughed and nodded to my question. 

"Yeah, we've been sitting on the edge of our seats" Clint spoke first. 

"We wanted to know if we were getting a niece or nephew" Nat said fondly. 

I raised my hand holding it over my heart "Oh you guys, you're so cute!"

Everyone grinned, clearly enjoying themselves. I watched as Bucky walked over to Steve, the two of them doing that manly hug they always do. 

"We're having a girl!" I say excitedly. There was a chorus of excitement and cheers from the others, clearly happy and thrilled with the news. Sam lets out a whoop. 

"Wow, a girl? That's amazing" Tony adds. 

"Congratulations, you two" Nat speaks "I'm happy for you" 

I watch as Bucky grins, I walk over to where he sat and got comfortable on his lap, his arms wrapped protectively around me, his face covered in obvious happiness. 

"A girl, eh? That's wonderful news. I have a feeling she'll be as fierce and strong as her mother" Thor says, his voice bellowing throughout the room. I turned to him and smiled sweetly. 

"Thank you Thor" 

"You're welcome, and I'm sure Bucky here will be a great father! He has a good heart and a brave soul!" Thor says, slapping Bucky on the shoulder fondly. I grin and look to Bucky, my heart swelling. His eyes meet mine, a soft tender look travels between us. His hand finds mine and laces our fingers together. I lean down and pressed my lips against his, kissing him more deeply than I originally intended too. 

I moved away and muttered a sorry. 

"No need to apologise doll, I didn't mind that" He answers. 

"Mmm even though I kissed you in front of everyone?" I ask. He chuckles softly, a smirk over his lips as he looks to me. Luckily the Avengers weren't paying attention to us. 

"Yeah doll, I don't mind knowing how much my girl wants me" He murmurs, reaching up to kiss me again. 

・。.・゜✭・.・���・゜・。.

A few weeks later as I entered my 23rd week of pregnancy, I laid on my bed, it was roughly 2am, and I was awake, I groaned loudly my hand holding onto my stomach as the baby kicked me again. 

"Doll, what's wrong?" Bucky asked, his voice deep from sleep, he sat up slightly and looked at me, worry in his eyes. 

"She's fucking kicking" I groan again as the baby gets another kick in. "I just wanna sleep"

Bucky frowns, clearly concerned as he moves closer to me, he reaches up to brush a strand of my hair away from my face. 

"Is there anything I can do to help you feel more comfortable?" He asks. I feel my cheeks flush as I think of something I had read in the baby books. 

"Talk to her?" I ask, the voices feeling silly as I spoke them "The books say it might help"

Bucky's face softens, a small smile tugging at his lips, but I knew he wasn't laughing at me. 

"Yeah I can do that, I can talk to our little girl, try to get her to settle so you can sleep" He scoots closer to me and wiggles down the bed, his hand moved over my stomach, and he speaks again, his voice soft. 

"Hey there, sweetheart...It's your dada speaking, can you be good for mama, and let her sleep?" His voice was soft, and his lips brushed against the skin of my stomach as he spoke "Your kicks are making her uncomfortable" 

My heart swelled at his words, I closed my eyes as he spoke, trying to relax, Bucky's hand rubs my bump gently, continuing to speak in a low, soothing tone. I felt the baby kick again, I groaned. 

"Come on, darlin'. Settle down, your mama needs her rest, I promise you can kick as much as you want when she's had some sleep, okay?" 

"Hey!" I whine "Don't tell her she can kick!"

Bucky grins at me, a mischievous twinkle in his eyes as he chuckles. 

"What? I can't tell our little girl to kick her mama as much as she wants? That's no fun!" 

"You're a dick" I say, groaning as she kicks again. Bucky laughs and presses a kiss to my bump. 

"Hey! Watch the language doll, we don't want our girl's first word to be a curse, do we?" He smirks, I definitely swore too much, and he always commented on it. 

"Oh shut up" I say rolling my eyes "She hasn't even been born yet, she can't hear me swear...can she?" I ask, unsure, could she hear me? Bucky grins and shakes his head, his hand rubbing my bump softly. 

"She can definitely hear you. They say babies can hear voices and noises from the outside word whilst they're in the womb, so watch your mouth" He grins "You don't want our little girl to grow up with a potty mouth, do you?"

"I hate that you read the baby books" I say smirking, joking of course. Bucky laughs and shrugs. 

"I want to be a good father, I figured I ought to do some research and educate myself, don't hate on me for being a responsible daddy" He grins, beaming as he bigs himself up. 

"Mmm I think daddy should come up here and kiss me" I smirk, feeling a little silly, but it felt hot saying it, and by the way Bucky's eyes darkened, I could see he liked it too. 

"Oh yeah? You want daddy to come up there and give you some loving?" 

"Mmm yeah"

Bucky grins, his eyes sparkling with mischief, he slowly crawls up the bed, approaching me. 

"You want lovin' from daddy doll?" He asks again. 

"I do baby" I smirk, loving the game I had started. Bucky grins, his eyes smoldering as he moves closer to me, now hovering over me. 

"You like it when daddy takes charge, don't you? You like it when daddy gives you what you want?" He whispers. 

"Fuck yes, yeah I do" 

Bucky growls low in his throat, his eyes darkening further, he moves closer, pressing his body against mine. 

"You want daddy to give it do you baby?" He asks quietly. Each time he says the word, it sends sparks down to my pussy. I needed him. 

"Daddy" I said, breathing heavy, my eyes now closed "Give it to me" 

Bucky was grinding his hips down onto mine, his hard cock rubbing against my pussy, only his boxers and my pyjama bottoms in between us. 

"Oh I'll give it to you" He whispers, his throat letting out a low, feral growl, he moves forward nuzzling his face into my neck, his lips grazing my skin. "Daddy's gonna give you everything you want, and more, just say the word and it's yours"

"Fuck me please" I whisper as I rub my hips up towards his. I could feel how wet I was, a wet patch obvious were he had been rubbing on my pyjama trousers. Finally Bucky's fingers snake into my trousers, he lets out a low guttural groan as his fingers slide into me with ease. 

"Fuck, you're so wet, so wet for daddy" He groans, his fingers spreading my tight hole. 

"Flip me over and fuck me" I demand softly, his eyes snap to mine, looking at me with such need, I watch as he smirks, he moved his fingers away from my pussy and to my hip, gently he flips my body over, pulling me up on my knees. I rested my arms on the bed, holding myself up. 

I shivered as I felt him line his cock up to my hole, he pushes forward and enters me, his head falls forward and rests in the middle of my shoulders as he pushes completely against my hips. 

Bucky let's out a stifled groan as he enters me completely. He waits a moment, and then slams into me, I moan loudly, my head falling forward to rest on the pillow. 

"Fuck yes daddy" I whine. Bucky lets out another low growl, his grip on my hips tightening as he picks up the pace, his body slamming into mine. 

"Feels good, huh? Feels good having daddy take your tight little hole? You like this, don't you? Fuck, you're so perfect baby, play with yourself for daddy" His words were rushed, and low as his cock stretched me out. I moaned at his words, and did as told I snaked my arm down and played with my clit, rubbing myself harshly, needing to come. It didn't take me long, I felt myself tightening around him, my legs become weaker as I come, his grip on my hips holding me up. 

"Fuck, yes Bucky, you're so fucking good at that" I moan. Bucky groans loudly, his hips moving faster as he releasing into me, coating my inner walls. I clenched his cock as he moved out of me, causing him to groan. 

"Fuck, that was good" I whisper as he flops half on me and half on the bed, careful not to lay on my bump. 

"That was really good doll"

I groan again as the baby kicks my stomach. 

"Ow!"

"She kicking again?" He asks, his hand moving to rub my stomach. 

"Yeah, I might take a bath, maybe it'll calm her down" I say, climbing out of bed. Bucky follows, pushing my gently back on the bed. 

"A bath sounds like a good idea, I'll go run it for you" He grins walking into my bathroom, I waited on the bed, rubbing my stomach absentmindedly. Once the bath was drawn, Bucky came and took my hand in his, pulling me towards the bathroom, I step into the water moaning at the feeling of the warm water on my skin. 

"How's the water doll? Not too hot, right?" He asks sitting on the floor next to the tub. 

"It's lovely" I sigh happily, as I relax into the water. Bucky grins and reaches out to stroke my hair gently. 

"Good, just relax and enjoy, you need if after a long day of carrying our girl around" He whispers. 

"Mmmm you're so nice" I say, sighing happily. "Hey, can I ask you something?"

"Sure doll"

"We've been officially dating for what..3 weeks or so? Why haven't you taken me out on a proper date?" I ask, I turn my head to lean on the tub, my eyes locking with his. Bucky looks at me surprised and a little sheepish, he scratches the back of his head, looking a bit embarrassed. 

"Uhhh...well...I've just been...I've just been focused on taking care of you, you know? With the baby, I figured it was more important to be here for you, make sure you're comfortable and everything. I guess I didn't really think about taking you out on a proper date...I'm sorry" He rambles, I smirk enjoying the flustered Bucky. 

"Lame excuse" I say "I wanna be wined and dined, just without the wined part" I say making a sad face, not being allowed wine at the minute. Bucky chuckles and grins, amused. He reaches and rubs my arm, his touch affectionate. 

"I get it doll, I'll take you on a proper date, I promise, I'll spoil you rotten"

"Sounds perfect" I say, I take another deep breath moving again to get comfortable, the baby stopped kicking thankfully "What shall we name her?"

Bucky thinks for a moment, his eyes look down to my bump and then back to my eyes "Hmm, I don't know...Do you have any names in mind?"

"I'm not sure" I say truthfully. 

Bucky smiles and reaches up gently to caress my cheek. "We have plenty of time to figure it out, we can look through the baby books to get some ideas"

"I like that idea" I say wistfully, the water relaxing my whole body. "She's not kicking anymore...We should pick godparents, I know we won't be officially baptising her, but I'd like to have two people there incase anything happens to us" 

"That's a good idea darling" He agrees, his expression suddenly very serious, he takes my hand in his and squeezes it gently. 

"Who though?" I ask. 

I watch as Bucky thinks for a moment, his hand still holding mine. "Hmm, well I would like Steve to be one of those people, he's reliable, responsible and he'd do anything to protect her"

"Yeah Stevie's an obvious choice" I smile, I knew Bucky would probably have picked Steve, so it only made sense that I chose my best friend.

"I'd like Nat to be a godparent too, she's my best friend, she's do anything for me and for our little girl" I say softly, my eyes drooping slightly, the bath relaxing me. 

"I have another thing to tell you" I say suddenly, I had meant to tell Bucky this earlier today, but I had completely forgotten. Bucky cocked his head, looking at me, waiting for me to speak. 

"Tony has been renovating a new apartment space for us, it'll be bigger with a main bedroom, a nursery and a small living room and connected kitchen, he thought it'd be nice for when the baby was here" I say, nerves kicking up over my body. 

"That makes sense doll, we spend every night together anyway, might as well make it permanent" He grins and moves forward pressing a kiss to my forehead. 

"We can paint her nursery pink" I giggle sleepily. 

Bucky chuckles at my excitement, his eyebrows lifting in amused surprise. "Pink huh? You already have your heart set on pink?"

"Oh definitely, my favourite colour is pink, and I have a feeling she will love it too!" I grin. 

"Oh, you think so huh? You think she'll take after her mama?" 

"I hope so, knowing my luck she'll be a complete mini you" I smirk. Bucky laughs softly, a cocky smirk on his lips. 

"You say that like it's a bad thing" 

"Hmm maybe" I smirk playfully "I can't believe we're having a daughter, like we're having a baby" 

Bucky's smile softens, his expression turning fond as he gazes to my baby bump, as it poked above the water slightly. "Yeah doll, I can't believe it either, it's surreal...In a few months we'll have a little girl, it's kind of crazy to think about"

"We really need to start shopping" I say laughing softly, we hadn't done any shopping yet. "So, we gonna talk about earlier?" I ask, thinking back to the sex, the warmth in my legs growing as I thought about it. I watch as Bucky blushes. 

"I guess we got a little carried away...Didn't we?" He said sheepishly. 

"You seemed to like it...daddy" I smirked. I watched as his blush deepens, his smirk widening into a cocky grin. 

"Don't get cheeky doll, talking to daddy like that"

"I'm sorry daddy" I smirk, blowing bath bubbles at him. He laughs, his expression transforming into a look of playfulness. 

"You're not sorry, you're being a brat" He says, his voice low and dark. 

"Okay...so you definitely like the daddy play" I say smirking. 

"Oh yeah doll, I really liked it. Couldn't you tell by my reaction?" He says, his expression slightly mischievous. 

"Think I'm done with the bath" I say, standing up, I watch as Bucky shamelessly lets his gaze wander up and down my naked body, admiring my figure. I grab a towel and dry myself off, Bucky grabs me a new set of pyjamas, helping me get into them, I smiled warmly at him, feeling my heart swell. We climbed back into bed, he follows me, and wraps his arms around me, pulling me close against his body, he nuzzles his face into my neck, his breath tickling my skin. 

"Goodnight Buck" I whisper. I feel as Bucky presses a kiss to my skin "Goodnight doll, sleep well, sweet dreams" He rambles, I wait a little bit, not able to fall asleep just yet, I snuggle closer to him, listening to his breathing, I smiled softly when I heard soft snores next to me. I turn my head slightly to look at him. Bucky was asleep, he looked so peaceful, and perfect. 

"I love you" I whisper, as I close my eyes, resting my forehead against his, ready to sleep. 

(I do not consent my works to be posted anywhere else, by anyone other than myself)

Taglist:

@quinquinquincy @jaybbygrl @wintrsoldrluvr @sebastians-love @learisa @hi172826 @ravennablue @purplecolordeer @a-small-blue-nebula @buckitostan

[half-dead-ham]

GUYS GUYS GUYS

(Tw: talk of sacrifice, death by burning, starvation, and asphyxiation, knives, cults, and skeletons)

Y'know how the Batpham community has made all these great headcanons about the Spirit of Gotham? How she's either this regal heiress from the city's founding or a pretty flapper from the 20's? Well I got some news for you!

Meet Dominique!

I was reading the Batman comics to figure out when Tim came onto the scene (for curiosity) and stumbled onto this dame in issue #454!

Behold, the Spirit of Gotham!

So, for those not interested in reading this lovely little piece, Batman is on the way to stop the Riddler, who has been making Batsy do some weird things for clues; Mouth to mouth on a hanged man, Dancing with a corpse, Dancing in front of a horned goat, to name a few.

And why is he doing this you ask? Why to summon the Demon Barbathos, of course! And the book that good ol' Eddie got has been telling him (yes telling him, the creepy black magic book is telling him that batman is the perfect sacrifice and he's just going with it) that to summon Barbathos he needs a "Human bat", and ofc Bruce fits that pretty damn well.

And then he pulls this out!

He says "the first Bat", as in, someone who has been put through this ritual before. Except, she didn't get to complete the right either (and from what I know about Barbathos, thank the gods for that). Just before the people who were using her to preform the ritual were gonna actually, y'know, they got spooked, sealed the cellar they were doing the ritual in, and moved to Canada.

Leaving her in the cellar to die of either oxygen deprivation or starvation. (There is a panel I the comic for that, but she's nude and I ain't gonna show that here.) And until the Riddler opens that cellar to preform the summoning with Batsy, it was sealed for 200 years (her being in there from 1765, a lot older than that flapper ver of her.)

Now, why do I bring all this up when she's just a memory and a skeleton for the Riddler to base his plans off of? Because she and Bruce talk. And she calls herself the Spirit of Gotham.

She's been trapped in that cellar for 200 years, waiting for Batman to free her from it. And as Riddler sets fore to the warehouse under it she tells him of how she died in there.

Now, all this is really cool in of itself. Batman knows the spirit of Gotham is real, and has talked to her. But the kicker? Bruce feels a kinship with her. When Bruce is seeing these images of her they become real. And the spirit tells batman they are "brother and sister of the bat."

(Also Dominique asks if Bruce's a demon, and I find that just a little funny.)

So they get out with a little help from Alfred, and Bruce is holding Dominique's skeleton. Kinda melancholy way to end. But what does Bruce do to honor this girl and spirit? He puts her next to his parents in their family mausoleum.

And that's pretty sweet, right? Letting her rest with the Wayne's so she could have a proper grave?? But wait, it gets better. Bruce decides to put this on her stone:

AAAAAAHHHHHHHHH Holy flying furballs Batman! You just called Dominique your sister! The spirit of Gotham is Bruce's spiritual sister and its confirmed canon! This has so much fukkin potential and we as a community have been sleeping on it!

Just. Please. I need to see Dominique the spirit of Gotham and spiritual aunt to the Batkids in a fic, please!

Thank you for coming to my 1:30 am ted talk.

[uppastthejelliclemoon]

thinking about human!au demeter who had been under the assumption that macavity was single when they spent the one night together.

how she woke up as he went into the bathroom, and took a peek at his wallet on the side table, and saw the picture of serafina and her kids.

how her heart dropped, and when she met serafina, she saw an exhausted kindred spirit, pregnant with a baby girl who would be the same age as her own daughter. how they clicked, like they were meant to be sisters, but just lost their way for a bit before finding each other.

how she was so ridiculously overjoyed when serafina moved into the neighborhood, being able to watch the budding romance blooming between her new sister and tugger and mistoffelees.

how she got to have another sister, for just a little while, and how serafina loved her and bombalurina like they were her blood, how skimbleshanks and jennyanydots loved serafina like she was their own.

how when she met her nieces and nephew, and saw athena's hair on sekhmet's head, athena's frown on ares' face, and little persephone, barely a few years old, and she realized who their father was, and when she read athena's letter, everything grew cold.

every feeling she had when she saw the picture of serafina and her children in macavity's wallet came back tenfold. the pain, the anger, the guilt, the absolute fury.

and when macavity came walking into the backyard on the day of the memorial, eyes full of self-pity and hands offering gifts, private things that belonged to her sisters that he had no right to hold onto, demeter felt nothing but hatred in her heart.

demeter hadn't known about serafina and athena, or their sweet little babies that she would one day come to love as her own.

but macavity had.

and demeter would never forgive that.

[ewanmitchellcrumbs]

Tear Down My Reason

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x niece!reader Warnings: Canon typical incest, dubious consent with allusions to no consent, smut. Word count: ~4.6k

Summary: When Rhaenyra returns to King's Landing to petition Lucerys's claim to Driftmark, Aemond is eager for revenge for the loss of his eye. However, what he does not anticipate is the object of his ire becoming his niece instead of his nephew.

Author's note: No tag list. Follow @fics-by-ewanmitchellcrumbs and turn on post notifications.

Aemond sits in his chambers, beside the fireplace, one leg crossed over the other. His eyepatch is discarded on the table in front of him, his index finger absentmindedly running the length of the scar that ravages the left side of his face.

It had itched incessantly since he had learned the news that his half sister, Rhaenyra, and her family would be arriving in King’s Landing to defend Lucerys’s claim to Driftmark. His scar always grew irritated at the mention of Luke, a reminder of the boy who had permanently disfigured him and left him without an eye. It was a crime for which Luke had never been reprimanded, and so Aemond had spent almost a decade allowing his anger and resentment to fester, thinking of all of the ways he would seek revenge should he ever see him again. 

He knows exactly when they have arrived the next day as he spars in the training yard with Cole; he spots the two dark haired boys circling, and takes a moment to lean against the table of weapons before him, steeling himself. He imagines grabbing a blade and carving out one of his nephew’s eyes in exchange for his. Luke had taken his left, perhaps he’d take his right, a fair exchange.

Snapped out of his reverie by Cole beckoning him forward, he picks up his blade and advances towards him. He knows that Jace and Luke will be watching, and so he works hard to put on a display that will show he’s no longer the sullen, little boy they used to torment. He is a man grown, a warrior that they should respect and fear. He ducks and weaves against Cole’s morningstar, throwing away his shield as it splinters under impact, until finally he seizes the advantage, the point of his blade directed towards his opponent’s neck. 

“Well met, my prince,” Ser Criston tells him, “you will be winning tourneys in no time.”

“I do not give a shit about tourneys,” he utters, turning to face the two dark haired boys who stare up at him in shock. “Nephews, have you come to train?”

He is unable to stop the malevolent smirk that tugs at his lips, seeing fear in their eyes as they gaze at him. There is revenge enough in knowing that while he has advanced in training with the sword, transformed himself into a foe which any man would find themselves unlucky to cross blades with upon a battlefield, they have remained frightened, sniveling little boys that still cling to their mother’s skirts for protection. It is not enough to satisfy him though. Not yet.

Having bathed and changed, he joins his family in the throne room, as the court gathers to hear the petitions for the succession of Driftmark. He stands tall and proud beside his brother, sister and mother, as his grandsire sits the throne in his father’s stead.

His eye sweeps the hall, seeing Vaemond Velaryon, Rhaenys Targaryen and her granddaughter, Baela, standing to one side. On the other is Rhaenyra, Luke, Jace, Joffrey, his uncle, Daemon, and his daughter, Rhaena. And then he spots her.

Aemond had utterly forgotten of her existence; born a year after Jace, and a year before Luke, his niece. She is as tall as her mother now, and has her father’s hair - her real father’s hair - long, dark curls that, despite being half pinned up, fall almost to her waist. She is soft featured, with Rhaenyra’s striking blue eyes. It baffles him that a Strong bastard could be so pleasing to look upon, and he purses his lips in disgust, forcing himself to look away as he reflects back upon what she had been like as a child.

She never joined in with the relentless teasing that Aegon, Jacaerys and Lucerys had subjected him to. She had spent all of her time with Helaena, from what he can remember, the two of them sat side by side, Helaena holding up insects and describing them to her, as she flicked through the pages of books trying to see if records of them already existed, so that they could learn more about them.

The night that he had lost his eye, she had remained next to his sister, looking on with concern as he had his wound stitched closed. He remembered thinking it odd at the time that she was not with Luke and Jace, but his mind was so addled from the effects of milk of the poppy that nothing is clear, beyond the image of her mother bursting into the hall of Driftmark and tugging her away, back to her own family.

As the petitions are heard, even when his own father arrives unexpectedly, announcing he will sit the throne today, he finds his attention drawn to her, unable to focus on anything else. She appears to be a meek little thing, keeping her eyes downcast, seeming ashamed of her own presence in the room. A trait that all Strong bastards ought to possess, in his opinion. Yet as the moments pass by and she does not look up, he finds himself growing increasingly irritated that she won’t look at him, despite how desperately he wills her to.

“Her children are bastards!” Shouts Vaemond, before turning to Rhaenyra, his voice lowering, “and she is a whore.”

Elation spreads like a warm glow through Aemond’s body, his attention finally pulled away from his niece to look upon the horrified expressions of his nephews and half sister. Serves them right. Finally someone is saying it out loud. 

When he casts his gaze back upon his niece, her eyes are still fixed upon the floor. However, he sees the subtlety with which her bottom lip trembles, the light flush of her cheeks. She is about to cry.

Look at me.

The room falls silent as Daemon’s sword slices through Vaemond’s head, and it is only then that her head snaps up, her eyes tear filled and wide with shock, meeting Aemond’s. He finds himself smirking again, a quiet victory. Not only had the legitimacy of Rhaenyra’s children been brought loudly into question once more, but now he had the attention of his niece. He had forgotten her in the passing of so many years, but now she is within reach again, he will ensure she certainly never forgets him. The next time tears fill her pretty eyes he wants to be the cause of them.

Aemond groans when his mother informs him that the following evening they are to dine as a family, a request from his father to unite them all, having reestablished Luke’s inheritance. He resents the idea of breaking bread with people he does not like, that do not like him, to have to sit at the same table and make pleasantries with the boy who half blinded him.

But she would be there. He wonders where she is now. Her mother had been swift to hurry her from the throne room after the decapitation of Vaemond Velaryon, and he is unsure of which apartments within the Keep she now occupies.

He finds himself stalking the corridors of the usually unoccupied quarters of Maegor’s Holdfast, his eye scanning every closed door, wondering which is the room that she occupies. He pulls to a stop at the top of a staircase as he sees familiar long, dark curls flowing down slender shoulders, disappearing into a doorway before it closes behind her.

Her chambers are unguarded, and before he has a chance to stop himself, his feet carry him down the steps towards them, his knuckles rapping at the wooden door. It’s only when he hears the rustle of movement from the other side that his mind begins to race.

What if she is not alone?

What did he even intend to do if she was unattended?

He briefly considers turning on his heel and leaving, however, no sooner has the thought occurred to him than his niece is opening the door, startling at the sight of him, lips parting in shock. She is even prettier up close, despite her reddened eyes and tear stained cheeks.

“Aemond?”

Despite the confusion that laces her voice, it is soft and dulcet toned. He wants to hear her say his name a hundred times over, for it has never sounded sweeter than coming from her lips.

He inhales deeply through his nose, preparing himself to speak. “You are understandably upset by that business with our uncle and Vaemond. I have come to check on you, to make sure you are alright.”

Her eyebrows raise for a moment, blinking a few times as she regards him carefully. “Oh…that is…kind of you. My mother has said I ought to rest.”

“Perhaps you might welcome some company?” He offers. “It would be unwise for you to be alone after witnessing something so bloody.”

She draws back a little at the suggestion, her mouth opening to speak before closing again, her brow furrowing.

Aemond fights the urge to smile at her hesitation. Reaching forward, he crooks a finger beneath her chin. “Do I frighten you so much you cannot bear to be in the same room as me?”

Gasping, she shakes her head fervently as his hand drops away. “N–no! It is just…it has been such a long time, and the last time I saw you, you…my brother…your eye…”

He cocks his head, pushing down the resentment that bubbles to the surface at the mention of what had happened to him. “But have you not heard? My father is hosting a dinner for us all tomorrow, to unite our families once more. There is no need for you to be so cautious, allow yourself to be reacquainted with your uncle.”

Her gaze lowers for a moment, as she appears to consider his offer. “Yes, I suppose that would be nice,” she finally says, looking back up at him.

She steps to the side, allowing him to enter.

Too easy, he thinks to himself as he steps inside. There would be almost no sport in this if the fight she means to put up is so feeble.

He strides into the room, hands clasped behind his back, noting the lack of personal effects within the space, a reminder that she is a visitor. This is his home, not hers. He has the upper hand.

“Apologies, Uncle,” she utters nervously, shifting from foot to foot as she fidgets restlessly with her fingers. “I had not anticipated your visit, this room is ill equipped for guests. I have no chair to offer you.”

“That is quite alright,” he tells her amicably, forcing a soft smile before sitting upon the edge of the bed. “We are family, are we not? Such formalities are not necessary.”

He pats the space beside him. “Come, join me, we have much to catch up on.”

She hesitates a moment, before sitting next to him. There is something about the feeling of the dip in the mattress beside him, combined with the floral scent of her filling his nostrils that sends the thrill of a shiver through his body, and he turns to look at her, eyeing her much like a cat would a mouse.

Such a pretty little thing.

“I am truly sorry, for what Luke did to you,” she begins, “I—”

He waves a hand dismissively, forcing down the anger that threatens to burst forth. “Let us speak no more of it. It is in the past. Tell me, how is life upon Dragonstone treating you?”

She chews her lip, hesitating a moment before she speaks. “Truthfully, it is lonely. I miss King’s Landing. Jace and Luke have one another, and mother is preoccupied with her pregnancy and Joffrey and the babes. Daemon pays me no mind, and while I am grateful for Rhaena’s company, I can tell she misses her sister. I am a poor substitute for Baela.”

He hums with faux concern, allowing a moment of silence to present his next words as thoughtful. “You could never be a poor substitute for anything. And I expect you will soon be away from there anyway. I can imagine you have no end of suitors all vying for your hand.”

The hint of a blush turns her cheeks pink as she casts her gaze downward. “No, not yet. I have overheard Rhaenys talking with my mother. They wish to betroth Baela and Rhaena to Jace and Luke. There are no such plans for me. What about you? Are you to be married?”

“Not yet,” he says softly, meeting her eye as she looks up at him. “I have been waiting for the right woman to capture my interest. Perhaps it is fortuitous that we both find ourselves unattached?”

“What do you mean, uncle?” She asks, her brow furrowing slightly.

“Baela and Jace, Rhaena and Luke,” he shifts his hand across the bed, entwining his fingers with hers. “You and I.”

She gasps softly, though she does not wrench her hand away as he had anticipated. “Is this some sort of trick, Aemond?”

“Not at all,” he reassures her, moving closer. “What better way to unite our family once more?”

“We hardly know each other,” she utters softly.

“And yet you have scarce left my thoughts all these years,” he lies. “Let me kiss you.”

Before she has a chance to respond, he is pressing his lips to hers. She stiffens at first, taken aback by his forwardness, but soon responds, her supple mouth moving against his. He brings his hand up to her cheek, cupping it softly, the skin soft as peach fuzz beneath his calloused fingertips.

She sighs softly as he deepens the gesture, her inexperience showing as her tongue retreats from his as it slips into her mouth. It serves only to stoke the fire that rages within, tightening  his breeches as the sensation of her saliva causes his cock to swell.

Pulling away from her mouth, he moves his hand from her cheek, sinking it into her silky curls, anchoring her in place as he places hot, open mouthed kisses to her jaw and neck, making his way down towards her clavicle, relishing the way her head tips back slightly and her eyes flutter closed.

Tugging down the neckline of her bodice, he fights to suppress a groan of desire at the sight of her bared breasts, the hardened peaks ruddy and inviting. She is putting up so little resistance that it emboldens him to press forward, capturing a rosy bud between his lips and suckling as his tongue flicks against it, causing her to arch and mewl.

A whore, just like her mother, he thinks, shifting his attention to the other and repeating the same motion. His blood feels like liquid fire in his veins as her breaths turn to soft pants. One hand massages the breast that he is currently not latched upon, while the other creeps beneath her skirts.

It is only when his fingertips ghost upon the top of her stocking that she suddenly pulls free of him, eyes wide and breaths ragged as she hurriedly readjusts her dress.

“We should not have…forgive me, I…” she stumbles over her words, flustered and looking on the verge of tears again, before hurrying from the room, leaving Aemond alone on the bed.

He growls in frustration, smacking his hand down upon the edge of the mattress. “Ilibītsos,” he mutters angrily. Little slut.

When he returns to his own chambers, he comes harder than he ever has before, such is the force with which he fists his cock, imagining the entire time that his niece is splayed beneath him, sighing softly with pleasure as she had for him earlier that day.

As his pleasure induced haze wears off, a feeling of shame settles over him. He does not quite understand how his infatuation with her has taken hold so quickly, but now that it is, he is unable to shake it. Worse still, when she ran from her bedchamber, what if she had gone straight to her mother and told her of what he had done to her? It would be a disgrace from which he would never recover if his own mother were to be privy to such information.

He hides himself away the next day, embarrassed to face any of his family for fear they will know of his transgressions, until finally he is summoned to the feast that he has been dreading.

Much to his surprise, the entire day has passed without angry confrontation or a tongue lashing from his mother, and as he enters the dining hall there are no looks of shock or disgust to be met with, simply the shy smile of his niece as she looks up at him from her seat between her two brothers.

She has not told anyone, and she does not appear to regret what had transpired between them.

Aemond settles into his seat at the head of the table with a smug sense of pride. The dinner is a tawdry affair, musicians playing tunes he does not care for are stationed in the corner, while endless trays and bowls of food are brought out to them all. 

He listens to his family toast to each other with a sneer, watching with barely concealed anger as Jace invites Helaena to dance. His only reprieve are the shy glances and smiles that his niece directs his way across the table. Perhaps all is not lost.

It is not until a suckling pig is brought out and settled before him that he is no longer able to contain his temper. Seeing Luke smirk at him, a reminder of the pig he had been taunted with in place of a dragon as a child, is too much. Is it not enough that his nephew has taken his eye, but now he continues to mock him too? He will not stand for such an insult.

Abruptly, he slams his first upon the table, halting the music and chatter within the room, as he rises from his chair, raising his wine cup.

“Final tribute,” he announces, eye scanning the room, careful not to include his niece in his speech, lest he foils the plans he has especially for her. “To the health of my nephews; Jace, Luke, Joffrey. Each of them handsome, wise…strong. Let us drain our cups to these three strong boys.”

The ensuing scuffle passes by in a blur for Aemond, resulting in him pushing Jace to the floor before they are all dismissed to their quarters. He hangs back, out of sight, waiting for Jace and Luke to disappear from sight, before striding after his niece.

She whips around, looking angrily up at him, eyes blazing with fury. “Why would you do that? You’ve ruined everything!”

“Forgive me,” he utters gently, taking her hands in his, “I lost my temper, but you have to know that my anger was never directed at you.”

She sighs, her shoulders sagging. “Jace and Luke’s betrothals were announced tonight. I was hoping we could announce ours too. Now my mother will never agree to it.”

Pride and satisfaction swell within his chest as he gazes down at her. He raises an eyebrow. “You wish to marry me? I had thought you were refusing my proposal, considering how quick you were to flee from me yesterday.”

“It all happened so fast. I have never been touched in that way before, and I allowed it to frighten me, I am sorry for it. But having had time to think on it, I do want to be your wife.”

He smiles down at her, seeing eye shining malevolently. “Then let the news of our betrothal be the balm that soothes all hurts upon the morrow.”

She smiles happily at him. “Then I shall bid you goodnight, Uncle.”

“So soon? I thought perhaps we might pick up where we left off yesterday.”

She flushes a delicate red. “Would it not be better to wait until we are wed?”

“I will not push you further than you wish to go,” he whispers, before kissing her deeply, walking her backwards into her bedchamber.

He is quick to cover her body with his own as she topples back against the softness of the mattress, kissing her fiercely as his hands push her skirts roughly up and over her hips.

“I thought you did not wish to push me?” She whispers breathlessly, pulling back from his lips.

“I shall not, talus,” he reassures her, his fingers absentmindedly stroking her the bare skin of her thighs, “but that does not mean I will not make you beg for it.” Niece.

Kissing her deeply once more, he shifts down her body, dragging her small clothes down and off of her leg in one fluid movement, before spreading the plushness of her thighs, his single eye drinking in the glistening sight of her cunt spread out before him.

He smiles to himself as he drags the tip of his tongue through her folds, hearing the way her breath hitches, his hands forcefully holding her down, keeping her still, as she attempts to buck her hips. He almost groans at the tart taste of her, his mouth quick to envelope her, alternating between sucking messily at her pearl and laving the flat of his tongue against her.

She writhes, pinned to the bed by her pelvis by his forceful grip, wanton sounds of pleasure escaping her as she clutches the bed sheets so tightly her knuckles turn white.

Lapping greedily at her as she falls apart against his tongue, he almost spends in his breeches taking in the sight of her arched back, tousled hair, ruddy cheeks and trembling thighs. But he is not finished yet.

The moment she settles back against the bed, her body spent and pliant, he begins his assault anew, this time crooking two fingers inside of her, rubbing urgently against the rough patch inside of her as his tongue focuses purposefully on her sensitive nub. The desperate sounds she makes are music to his ears. She is impossibly tight, he wonders how he will ever fit inside, but is all the more determined to find out as he sends her hurtling and crying out once more into the throes of another torturous release.

“Stop, stop!” She whines, attempting to back up the bed away from him, as he attempts to settle his face between her thighs a third time. “I cannot take it anymore.”

“If I am inside of you, it will not feel quite so intense,” he whispers, not moving an inch from where he lays between her legs, his chin shiny and sticky with her arousal.

“We are not yet married, Uncle, we should not,” she protests feebly.

“But we will be,” he insists, “so what does it matter? And I am afraid I have not had my fill of you, talus, so we shall have to continue as we are if you do not wish for me to be inside of you.”

“Gods…please…no…anything, just no more of that, it is too much.”

He smirks at her ruined state, bringing himself up towards her face, his voice dark. “Beg me for it.”

“Please, Aemond, please,” she cries, “put it inside, I cannot stand anymore.”

He grins wolfishly, as his fingers move to the lacings of his trousers, untying them and shucking the material past his hips.

Sucking in a steadying breath, he places the swollen head of his cock against the wetness of her opening, his eye flickering to her face for any signs of hesitation. She still looks utterly wrecked, her expression one of hazy bliss, her eyes glassy. Taking this as silent permission, he presses forward, hissing through his teeth at the resistance he is met with.

She whimpers softly, in clear discomfort, as he continues to push inward slowly, looking between her face, her brow furrowed and lips parted, and where their bodies are joining together.

He feels something give way, before he is fully rooted within her.

Her maidenhead.

Aemond fights the prideful grin that wants to spread itself across his face. His nephew had taken his eye, now in turn he had taken his niece’s virtue.

He stills, waiting for her to adjust, before moving slowly, dragging his hips back before pushing softly forward, repeating the motion. He desperately wants to snap his hips against hers, to make her cry out in pain, to disregard her comfort, but he is not a monster, he reasons. Her innocence soaking his length is payment enough.

Remembering how her body had responded so positively to his affections the previous day, he tugs down her plunging neckline with two fingers, freeing the softness of her breasts, leaning down to press gentle kisses against them, before suckling a nipple into his mouth.

She moans quietly, her body loosening up, becoming less tense beneath his, making it feel more pleasurable for him in turn. He means to be gentle with her, he really does, but feeling her grow wetter around him makes it impossible for him not to speed up his thrusts, driving into her faster, harder, causing her to whine and whimper as he trails his mouth across her chest. So lost in the sensation of her, he barely registers her delicate fingers clutching desperately at his hair and shoulders.

He knows he is done for when she squeezes around him, he knows he ought to pull out, to spill himself across the creamy white skin of her lower belly and thighs, but she is so warm, so wet, so tight around him that he cannot bring himself to leave her. He finds himself chasing his own end inside of her, his hips moving of their own accord, until finally, with a blinding white heat that tingles at the very base of his spine, he groans loudly, pulsating and spending inside of her in hot, powerful spurts.

Allowing himself a moment to settle against her, he basks in the warm afterglow of his peak, before pulling slowly out, disentangling his limbs from hers as his breath comes in shallow pants. He kneels up on the bed, pulling his trousers back over himself and fastening them. He allows himself to drink in the sight of her, her dress and hair in utter disarray, the sticky mess between her legs, her kiss swollen lips and faraway stare. Utter perfection.

It is not until he stands from the bed, smoothing over his clothing and hair with his hands that she finally comes back to reality and pulls herself up to rest upon her elbows. “Where are you going?”

“Back to my chambers,” he says coolly, “I have gotten what I wanted.”

“What do you mean?” She asks, worry lacing her tone, her eyebrows knitting together.

“Your bastard brother took my eye. Now I’ve taken the only thing that makes you worth a damn.”

Her voice wobbles, tears rimming her eyes as they widen in realisation, pulling at her dress to cover herself. “You said you would marry me…”

“I lied.”

“Why?! Why me?!”

He shrugs. “You made it easy. You might want to have the maester brew you a tea though, unless the bastard also wants a bastard.”

“I will tell my mother,” she whispers tearfully.

“Go ahead. I will deny it. Who will believe you? If you birth a silver haired babe, there is nothing to suggest that it is not a result of my brother forcing himself upon you, or perhaps our uncle. Your mother was younger than you, I believe, when he first started to show an interest in her. So if I were you, I would have the tea brewed and keep quiet, unless you wish to be branded a whore as well as a bastard.”

“You are a monster!” She spits, shoulders shaking as she sobs.

“Drīves, talus,” he utters, turning to leave her bedchamber. “Ñuha drīva issa.” Justice, niece. I have justice.

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[kisses4reid]

protect | ·˚ ༘ spencer reid ,,

summary - you get badly injured on a case, and the hospital visit ruins your surprise.

genre - fem!bau!reader x spencer, hurt/comfort, little bit of angst and arguing, fluff, happy ending!! reader can bear children (has female anatomy)

warnings - pregnancy, major injuries, mentions of gross hospital things, r uses she/her pronouns, usual criminal minds violences

w/c - 2.2k

a/n - thank u for the request! loved the idea immediately and this is the first time i’m writing abt pregnancy and stuff so pls do not quote me on anything!!! also this writing isn’t my best, sorry abt that. okay bye have fun reading

request - (@ursuu-la) hihihi idk if you're taking requests, but what if u write something where Spencer and a fem reader are dating and she's pregnant, but she's kinda scared(? or nervous to tell Spencer. And maybe she could tell it to one of the girls of the team to find a way of approaching Reid, but then she gets hurt or something happens to her in a case.

“Oh. My. God.”

You turned your attention from the open manila folder to Garcia’s multiple screens, searching each one for something important, “What?”

“Y/n M/n Reid. You’re pregnant?” Garcia spun in her chair with an angry expression while pointing a ringed finger at the main computer screen. It was your medical history - which you allowed her to search so she could experiment with a new hacking technique - but you had forgotten about your recent discovery.

Your hand was clamped over your mouth as you stared in shock and started rambling through your fingers, “Garcia. I swear, nobody knows - I wasn’t keeping this from just you,” you placed your hands on her shoulders when she stood up in disappointment, sending her office chair to collide with the desk, “Spencer doesn’t even know, please Garcia. Don’t tell anyone.”

Your eyes searched hers for a promise or compromise, but instead you got welling tears.

“Garcia?”

“Y/n, your pregnant with a little Reid! This is amazing- How come you haven’t told him? I’ll have a new little nephew or niece! Y/n!” She squealed and took your hands to spin you in a circle in her small office. You immediately felt nauseous and slowed the excited girl, her hair accessories threatening to fall off in her happiness. You held your stomach and whispered,

“No spinning, I’ll throw up.”

She glanced to her computer screens and shut them down immediately, sitting back down and taking a deep breath. “This is great! Right? Please tell me this is great, you’re already 6 weeks pregnant.”

You bit your lip and nodded, “I mean, I think it’s great but..” You lost yourself in thought.

Last year when you and Spencer got married, you had talked about starting a family many times. But every time you both agreed to wait a few more years in order to save up more money and maybe move into a bigger apartment or even a house. This was not what you planned.

Spencer liked having a plan, it was one thing you grew to love. He was organised and, due to his amazing memory, remembered everything, especially everything about you. And though you two had grown so close you were basically one person, this was the only time you had no idea how Spencer would react if he found out your secret.

“I don’t know how to tell Spencer.”

Garcia grinned, but it was quickly wiped away when she noticed a certain figure in the doorway. You spun on your heel, heart attacking your ribs. Luckily, it was not your husband, but your boss. He stood sternly and started, “We’ve got a case, wheels up in 30.”

You nodded and turned back to Garcia, all she did was wave and whisper, “I’ll text you.”

In the plane, you sat next to Spencer in the aisle seat, stomach feeling queasy and phone vibrating non-stop in your back pocket. You pinched the bone between your eyebrows and squinted at the case files that Hotch had quickly gone over. Morgan was spilling some theories, Prentiss backing him up, when Spencer lowered his head and whispered in your ear, “Are you okay? You seem tired.”

You put on a small smile and nodded, the fact that Spencer had noticed something wrong meant that the rest of the team would notice soon too. You raised yourself and squeezed Spencer’s hand that had been in your lap. You murmured a small excuse me to Hotch and excused yourself to the plane’s toilet.

Spencer began to get worried for your health. The past week and a half, you’d been eating less and then more, and then you’d say you felt sick, and then you were full of energy. You cancelled plans, you slept more, and you had started avoiding Spencer. You were getting sick, and distant, and he hated how you wouldn’t let him help you whenever he asked. He furrowed his eyebrows and shook his head slightly, attempting to focus on the profile.

Sat on the toilet, ready to double over into the bathroom sink, you pulled out your phone and scrolled through Garcias texts.

What about a baby onesie with Daddy’s favourite child on it?

What about a candle lit dinner?

What about donuts that spell out ‘I’m Pregnant!’

I’ve seen people purposefully burn bread and wait until their husbands understand, maybe that?

Maybe. But right now, that was not what you wanted to think about. On top of the case and the whole pregnancy situation, your symptoms were becoming harder to conceal.

A whole day of analysis, interrogating, leads and dead ends led you to a one story run down house with broken windows and an overgrown yard. You threw the FBI bullet vest over your shoulders as Spencer approached you with a tight smile. His hair was shorter these days, after he finally let you start cutting it, but nothing could change his attractiveness. His cologne wafted into your senses as he went behind you, tightening your vest and patting your back and waist down to make sure you were at optimal safety.

You could almost imagine he knew you were pregnant.

“Remember, if he’s in there, keep your distance. He’s a big guy but silent, and not all there.” He furrowed his eyebrows as he did a last check over of your vest, belt, and the position of your gun. You smiled and nodded,

“I know, Spence. I’ve been here too.”

He sighed and nodded, placing a small kiss on your cheek as a good luck.

You were married, but there was no guarantee you’d both make it out of any case. Every movement could be your last, and every interaction could be your last together.

Morgan slipped through the door after a man picked the front doors lock, Prentiss behind him and you behind her. After you, followed Hotch and Spencer.

“Clear!” Morgan called from the kitchen. You turned right down a hallway, Prentiss disappearing into a small room on the right and yelling,

“Clear!”

You entered the small bedroom, gun high and steps careful. It was an adults bedroom, maybe a teenager. There was posters of horror movies, a thin mattress on the floor and shelves of books and wooden cupboard holding what you believed to be clothes.

“Clea-“

The wind got knocked out of you, your shoulder colliding with the wall to your left and a sharp handle being jabbed into your side, as you plummeted against the floor and hearing a loud thump and shattering glass beside you. Miniscule, rainbow, dots clouded your vision, the adrenaline and the concussion you were sure you had numbing the pain coursing through your veins. You screamed in pain, Hotch entering almost immediately.

You lifted your right arm to point out the window, the glass shattered from where the unsub had escaped.

Spencer entered the room in a rush, eyes running over the fallen cupboard that would've been taller than the both of you, and then your small body in the corner. You held out your arm for him, and he placed his hands under your armpits, jolting back when you screeched in pain. "Y/n, your..." His eyes widened in shock and fear at the sight of your dislocated shoulder. Your right hand clutched to your left side - no doubt trying to comfort a massive bruise or worse.

He gulped, helping you up and throwing your good arm around his shoulders. The sudden movements blanked your vision for a few moments, a small lump forming on the front left side of your temple, and your legs trembled in the sudden need to hold yourself up. "Y/n, we just need to get you to the ambulance, alright?" Spencer told you reassuringly. He didn't know how much you could understand, your eyes were cloudy and your movements spaghetti-like, but he continued to reassure you anyways.

The paramedics set into action as soon as they saw your near limp body strung across Spencer's taller build. You were placed in the ambulance on a bed and before you knew it, there was a heavy clamp on your finger and two paramedics touching you and saying unexplainable things to each other. A short one with a beard came close to your vision, obvious aware it was still slightly blurred, "Agent Y/n. We need to take your shirt off in order to fix your shoulder okay? We need to pop it back in as quick as we can."

All you could do is nod, Spencer making most of the choices for you as your husband - he wouldn't put you through something he knew you would disagree with. They asked him questions, and while the voices came in and out of focus, the adrenaline was wearing off and suddenly your senses heightened. "Is she pregnant?"

The question rolled off the paramedics tongue like a rehearsed poem, and Spencer shook his head like there was no possible way you were. But as you saw needles being prepared, your heart started pounding so fast it got the attention of the professionals. "Y/n, are you still with us?"

To Spencer, you looked like you had just woken up to a bad dream, but there was something deeper - you were not unconcious, if anything you looked alert.

"I'm pregnant." The paramedics glanced at each other and Spencer's eyes widened. The one with the needle placed it down carefully on a table, and before you knew it, you were being pushed through hallways and into a awfully bright room.

You passed out, fear and exaustion catching up to you. But Spencer couldn't sleep. On top of the fact that his wife had just gotten her shoulder dislocated and then fixed, and a slight rib fracture, she was also pregnant.

Spencer doubted for the first half hour of waiting for you to wake up that you actually were. You were saying nonsense, you were injured and the adrenaline... usually causes people to tell the truth. He paced and went over everything that had been happening. The change in your behaviour, the tiredness, the sickness. It was all coming together like a puzzle, and he wondered why he didn't realise sooner.

"Spence?" A small voice called out, and he approached the hospital bed almost immediately.

"Y/n." Spencer smiled in relief, overjoyed that you were alright and breathing. He knew you'd be fine, but anything can be unpredictable. Anyone can be unpredictable. "I'm so glad you're okay."

"What happened?" You tried to sit up but Spencers soft hands encouraged you to stay laying down.

"The unsub pushed a cabinet at you. You collided with the wall and dislocated your shoulder." He explained softly, the doctors told him that the specific pain killers they gave you may cause some loopiness. "Oh." You whispered, eyes searching his face like you had never seen it before, and you smiled. You were here, and he was here, and you needed nothing more. Other than more pain killers.

Spencer bit his lip, and sighed, not sure if it was the right time to bring the blindside up at that moment.

"Y/n, darling, are you... pregnant?"

The small grin wiped off your face and you took some deep breaths, nodding and avoiding his gaze in fear of rejection. Spencer sighed, and pushed his hair away from his face, a smile rising onto his cheeks. Tears welled in his eyes from happiness. "This is great, this is... wow Y/n, I can't believe.." He gulped, "I can't believe you didn't tell me sooner."

Confusing his disbelief for anger, tears started dropping down your cheeks as you sat in silence. Spencer started to worry, "Do you... not want to have a baby with me? Or at all? Do you think I won't be a good father? I know that I've had my problems in the past but I promise I can be a good father-"

"Spencer." You called his name in shock, heart aching over his insecure questions. "I do want a baby, especially one with you. And I don't think you'll be a good father, I know you'll be a great one. I just," you wiped your cheeks and he sat down in a chair beside your bed, taking your hand in his. "I'm scared. I thought that you wouldn't want to have one right now because of our... plan. This is really early and we didn't get to save- and- I thought you'd be mad-" You had started blubbering now, the heart monitor becoming a ticking time bomb for a full on breakdown, before Spencer took your face in his hands and smashed your lips onto his.

He pulled back, smile wide, eyes full of adoration and sorrowfullness.

"Y/n, I don't care about that plan anymore. And I'm not mad." He searched your eyes with his, "I just wished you told me earlier. Maybe you wouldn't have been injured, because god knows I wouldn't have let you go out into the field."

"Spencer, I'm so sorry." You sniffled, placing your other hand on top of his.

"Oh, darling. You don't have to be sorry. I've made my injured and pregnant wife cry, I should be sorry."

You giggled, and leant forward to kiss him on the nose. "So it's really okay?"

"Of course. You just have to heal quickly, and I'll do all the rest."

taglist (open!!) - @jeffswh0re @reap3erslov3 @candyd1es @0108s22m

[inthehouseoffinwe]

I sometimes think about Fingolfin being the sole Uncle looking after all his nephews/niece/kids. Like, there’s 16 children. Before taking the Helcaraxë he no doubt promised Finarfin that he would take care of them. And I feel like once he found out about Fëanor, and especially saw the state of Maedhros, he silently promised his half brother he’d do his best to look after them too. Not that he wasn’t going to anyway.

But the burden that must have been, especially with how volatile and independant all these kids are. Oh they might be grown. But he’ll never see them as such. Even now he remembers Nelyo’s birth and how the baby would toddle after him, crying when it was time to leave. Curvo going through all his mechanical devices, Turukano right behind him as Fingolfin explained where each came from and listened to the children tell him all about the workings. Carnistir carefully running little hands over the embroidery of his cloak, Anairë laughing quietly and explaining the techniques that went into it. Ambarussa and all the chaos they caused, enough so that Fëanor and Nerdanel would dump them at his house for days at a time, usually a couple of brothers tagging along. Tyelko and Irissë wrestling in the mud, neither group of parents knowing what to do when they trudged in, a sticky trail behind them.

Findekáno’s duets with Makalaurë, the little musician quietly asking to play before his uncle and cousin to make sure it was perfect before he showed his father. Finno, Nelyo, and Findarato encouraging him with whoops, Fingolfin and Anairë applauding with wide smiles at the end as he was swarmed by his cousins and brother. The four’s ‘secret’ sleepovers whenever they were in the same place. Aikanaro and Angamaitë raiding his kitchens, Fingolfin joining in with a finger on his lips, helping steal pastries in the middle of the night. Artanis insisting she could join in whatever game his boys were playing, Ireth backing her with a scowl until they were let in. Little Orodreth and his own Arakano, friends since birth. The screams of delight whenever they saw each other.

Despite everything, or maybe because of everything, he doesn’t know. All of them are now his children. He couldn’t stop the Fëanorions from taking the most dangerous lands because he had no argument to give. He can’t stop Turno and Ingo from making hidden kingdoms and taking Ireth and Artaresto with them. He couldn’t save little Arakano. He can’t stop Artanis hiding in Doriath, although he’s grateful at least one of his kids is safe… even if that safety comes with disowning the rest of her family.

He can’t even protect little Tyelpë and Itarillë who never asked for any of this.

So when the Dagor Bragollach comes and he hears Aegnor and Angrod are definitely dead, Curufin, Celegorm, and Celebrimbor might as well be for the trail of bodies leading to Doriath and the mass murder at the Girdle, Maglor’s land has been burned so far beyond recognition, they can’t even *find* bodies, Turgon, Idril, and Aredhel he wouldn’t even know if they were killed, and he hasn’t heard from Finrod in months-

He can’t.

So he makes a last ditch attempt because maybe, just maybe, he can make their battle the slightest bit easier. Give his kids if any of them survive a weakness to exploit. A slight advantage to turn the tables…

A stab to the foot does the trick. Morgoth will be limping on that one for millennia.

He hopes his brothers can forgive him.

[halcyone-of-the-sea]

oml hiiii, i rushed here immediately when i saw your requests are open ive been in love with the idea of maybe ghost having a teenage niece (his older brothers daughter) who he basically raised when he wasn't on duty but like none of the 141 knows about it because he keeps her a secret. He's basically her father at this point cause the rest of the family was murdered when she was only a baby. Anyways, you can do whatever you want with this prompt or not if you don't want to. But like I can totally just imagine Soap just seeing them in a Tescos and absolutely losing his shit when seeing a teenager swinging from his Lieutenants arm.

if you choose not to do this prompt that's completely fine!!! thank you!!!

—Sole Survivor

⇢ ˗ˏˋ 5k Drabble Masterlist ࿐ྂ

╰┈➤ ❝ [Your father died years ago, and so you fall under the stiff, and unyielding, protection of your Uncle Simon. But it's not all bad. He can be funny when he wants to be.] ❞

When you were the only one to live, the sole survivor of that massacre, Simon knew he was in trouble. 

He’d found you under the bed. The blood was still congealing over the wooden floors—whoever put you there, Tommy, his mother, Beth, or even his nephew, was all a mystery that no one would ever know the answer to. Yet, the larger question was how you, a baby, had managed to stay silent through it all. 

Simon had picked you up with panicked breath and tears in his eyes as the sirens of the police had gotten closer, holding you to him as you blinked awake and yawned. The bodies of his family were strewn around the floor, broken and bent; murdered. But you. Little you. 

Alive.

It would be best to leave you to be found by the authorities. To go somewhere far away from him and the future that was now stained into his soul—the pact of revenge and horror that would live through him like a brand. It was the right thing to do; the correct thing.

And then he remembers his mother’s eyes, and he’s already rushing to the back window while cradling your squirming body. The rest, of course, passed as the flow of time always did. 

“I’m thinking we should have steak,” your voice pipes up as Simon grabs a bag of crisps from the shelf. Brown eyes blink down at you, balaclava tight to this face. 

“You have steak money?” You were a teenager now, older and figuring life out one day at a time. He hadn’t told you the whole story, and he won’t until much later, but you know enough to a point that you were comfortable with. 

You know your family loved you. 

“You’re the one with the job,” he huffs at you as you utter under your breath. 

“Exactly,” Simon grunts. “Eatin’ me out of house and home like I never feed you.” 

“I,” you point a finger into the air, “am growing. Soon I’ll be just as tall as you, y’know that? I’ll be towering over everyone and giving them that same dead-eyed look that—” brown orbs level with you, unimpressed. You beam, punching his shoulder. “See! That one!” 

“Fuckin’ piss off, would you?” Simon grumbles, moving down to the next aisle in his large and darkly-clothed glory. Your laugh trails after him, feet heavy on his heels. “Givin’ me a headache.” 

You both walk around the Tesco, Simon getting strange looks while a beaming teenager walks beside him talking about supper, class, and anything in between. He offered short responses, sometimes sarcastic and sometimes serious—it depended, but the point was that he did answer you, no matter how pointless the conversation. 

“I think I’m going to join a club this year,” you speak as you gaze at the items your Uncle puts in his basket. A gaze side-eyes you slowly. 

“What, then?”

“I don’t know,” you hum, shoulder bumping into his arm and tilting your head. “Were you in any clubs?”

He grunts, shaking his head before a hand descends to your hair, ruffling it as you hiss in annoyance. “Never had time.” Simon hadn’t told you about his father or what he had done, and God help him if he ever uttered a word about it. That wasn’t something that mattered in your story, just his…he’d never place that weight on you willingly.

You frown as your uncle's arm loops your shoulders casually, keeping you to him as other people walk past you. Brown filters over posture and facial expressions—looking for the barest hint of ill-intent. When there’s nothing, and the forms move around you as easily as they had come, Simon’s attention leaves, and he continues on as if nothing had happened. 

“Try Debate.” Your face turns to him, curious. 

“Debate?” His eyes twinkle, and behind his face covering you immediately find the tell-tale twitch of a smirk. 

“Argue so bloody well you could convince a rookie that a P890 can hold 10 rounds.”

You fight the shocked smile that pulls at your lips. “I don’t know if I should be offended or not.” Eyes swirl, and a hand squeezes your arm; jostling you slightly. 

“It’s a compliment.”

“You’ve always been shit at those.” You get a firm glare and a grunt from above.

“Fuckin’ language.” Your lips mock his response, making fun of him before he sends a flick of his thumb and forefinger into your temple.

“Hey!” Simon chuckles lowly, walking closer to the front of the store to get ready to pay as you mutter. “Jerk.”

It was a surprise though, that when you had barreled onto your Uncle’s back for an impromptu piggyback ride as payback—which the man didn’t even flinch at, already used to your antics—that the wide eyes of a man with a mohawk met yours. Your head is atop your Uncles, resting there as the lady at the front gives you strange looks from behind the register as Simon places the items in front of her. 

He was gobsmacked, this stranger with his hair all done up like that, and your eyes blink at the display of tags around his neck that mirror your guardians. Broad, yet not so like Simon, and muscled, also, not as much as Simon. 

“Unc?” You ask, and the man below you hums in question, pulling out notes from his wallet absentmindedly. “Who’s the guy with the mohawk?”

Simon tenses under you, fingers freezing.

“With the what?” It wasn’t really shocking that no one knew about you besides Price—and the only reason he knew was that in the event something happened to him, Simon had made the Captain swear that you would be taken care of. 

Imagine his horror when his brown eyes darted up only to find them meeting the cobalt blues of his Sergeant, the Scot's hand outstretched to a box of pancake mix with a pack of Irn Bru in the other. 

There’s an immediate sinking feeling in Simon’s chest when Johnny awkwardly tips his fingers in a shocked greeting—eyes flashing up to your curious face before he thins his lips and blinks. 

You wave enthusiastically back. 

“Oh, bloody fuckin’ hell.”

[pumpkinfyre]

The Realms Pearl

note: just a ramble on how I think the yandere! hotd cast would be with a darling who is daeron's twin sister ♡

warnings: yandere content, platonic and romantic relationships, darling is religious like her mommy, incest mentioned, aegon and helaena have the hots for their sister, lol, this is based on my oc daenys but is a reader insert for inclusiveness, spoilers for s2

Viserys and Alicent are very similar in the way they treat her. In the books, we know that Viserys was very close with both of his daughters. He was a girl dad! He adores his youngest daughter, and she often reminds him of how Rhaenyra was when she was a child. He spends long hours in (Name)'s company, letting her read to him as he fiddles with his duplicate of Old Valyria. Once he gets much sicker, close to his death, she'll remain by her father's bedside, speaking of old stories.

Alicent, on the other hand, is fiercely protective of her youngest daughter. She adores both Helaena and (Name), so she keeps them both close to her. Daeron is sent away to Oldtown at a very young age, but Alicent chooses to keep her daughter in Kings Landing. Having her sweet girl sent away would destroy Alicent. As the youngest of her children, (Name) is kept safely away and rarely makes public appearances in court. It's her parents' way of making sure that she isn't corrupted by the politics of Kings Landing.

Her two older brothers, Aegon and Aemond, are tasked with keeping an eye on her when Alicent has things to attend to. Aegon is the more fun brother, always helping his little sister to sneak in the kitchens to steal a piece of cake. He's especially funny, never failing to make (Name) laugh. As they all grow older and mature, Aegon becomes very dependent on his sister. His relationship with their mother is strained, and after being married to Helaena, he feels isolated and odd. Aegon turns to his youngest sister for comfort and companionship. His feelings for her perhaps go deeper than a sibling bond, but it never goes farther than that. Aemond is similar, but he's more of a stick-in-the-mud. He's less inclined to give in to games, like his elder brother. He absolutely adores his baby sister, of course, but he focuses more on her protection than her happiness. Once the Dance begins, she's locked in the Keep and not allowed to mount her dragon, Grey Ghost. Aemond takes on the role as her protector, and in doing so, he is less kind.

Helaena is the closest with her sister. Helaena is the second oldest of Alicent’s children, and as such, (Name) often goes to her older sister for advice. Once the twins are born, (Name) spends even more time with Helaena, as she absolutely adores her niece and nephew. Jaehaerys and Jaehaera are always with her if they're not with their mother. Helaena loves her sister. I think her feelings would be similar to those of Daemon and how he felt about Viserys. Helaena sometimes wishes that she were born a man, so their mother would allow she and (Name) to marry each other. Helaena daydreams about living a quiet and peaceful life with (Name), and even after the death of Jaehaerys, she keeps her sister very close, fearing that someone will kill her darling.

(Name)'s twin brother, Daeron, sends her letters from Oldtown on a constant basis. While they were separated when they were very young, she sometimes travels to Oldtown on Grey Ghost to visit her brother and uncle Gwayne. The letters often consist of how Tessarion is growing and how he wishes they could be together. Gwayne tries to convince Alicent to let his niece stay in Oldtown for the benefit of Daeron. Gwayne and Daeron plan to move (Name) to their home once the war is over.

Kings Landing obviously isn't safe!

this is such a ramble, but my mind is reeling from s2

who else is super excited for daeron and tessarion ♡♡♡

masterlist ᡣ𐭩

[lvmoure]

Baby Fever CS55

Pairings: Carlos Sainz x reader

Summary: In which they are both ready to step into the next label.

Warnings: none, pure fluff

You always wanted to be a mother. Sure, that feeling had been quietly humming in the background of your life, an almost imperceptible ache that grew steadily, but with each passing day, it had become stronger. And then came Carlos, so full of life, his laughter, his spirit—it was easy to imagine what a child of his would be like. It was easy to picture a little version of him running around, their laughter echoing like his, their eyes bright and curious, filled with the same intensity. But that conversation hadn’t come up yet, at least not seriously. So when you two were asked to babysit the nieces and nephews for a day, it felt like fate had a way of pushing things along.

The house was a flurry of tiny, rapid footsteps and loud giggles, toys scattered around like the remnants of a colorful hurricane. You and Carlos sat in the living room, surrounded by your nieces and nephews—three kids, all under the age of six, with boundless energy that made your head spin just watching. You’d spent most of the morning playing referee, distributing snacks, and occasionally rescuing someone from a tiny, toddler-sized disaster.

Carlos leaned back on the couch, one arm draped lazily over the cushions, watching you as you coaxed little Ana out of her hiding spot behind the couch with promises of her favorite juice. He shot you that lopsided grin, the one that told you he was just as entertained watching you in action as he was by the kids themselves.

“You’re a natural, you know that?” he murmured, voice low enough that only you could hear over the din of the children. His eyes had softened, a flicker of something warm and tender lingering there as he watched you.

You gave him a little smirk, tilting your head as you shrugged. “I think they’re just easily bribed with juice.”

Carlos chuckled, but his gaze lingered, like he was seeing something deeper. The kids were a whirlwind, tugging at his hands, demanding his attention just as much as yours. Ana climbed into his lap at one point, babbling about a story she half-invented, and he listened with exaggerated nods and expressions that had her giggling and clapping her hands in delight. You watched, heart swelling a bit as he played along, his big hands carefully adjusting her tiny, mismatched socks as she tried to describe an adventure involving a princess and a dragon.

Carlos had always been good with kids. He had a playful, patient streak that you couldn’t help but admire. He could make them laugh with the silliest faces, and he listened to their stories like they were the most important tales he’d ever heard. He was gentle with them in a way that made your heart ache a little bit more, that made you picture what it would be like if he were playing like this with a child that was truly yours.

As the afternoon wore on, it became clear that the kids were getting antsy. When Mateo, your five-year-old nephew, started whining about going to the park, you exchanged a look with Carlos.

“How about it?” Carlos asked, nudging you. “Think you can handle a few hours outdoors?”

You rolled your eyes but grinned, nodding. “Let’s go, little ones. Grab your shoes!”

The sun was warm but gentle as you made your way to the park, your nephew Mateo holding onto your hand, chattering about his bike with a gleam of excitement in his eyes. He was getting better at riding, but he still needed someone nearby, just in case. Carlos was by your side, his arm slung around your shoulders as you walked together, the two of you flanking Mateo like a protective shield.

Once at the park, you helped Mateo onto his little bike, adjusting his helmet and giving him an encouraging smile. “You ready to show us some cool tricks, little man?”

He beamed, a shy little nod as he gripped the handlebars and pedaled with a mix of concentration and excitement. You watched him with a tender expression, your hands hovering near him as he rode in small, careful loops.

Carlos leaned against a tree nearby, arms crossed, watching the two of you with an amused grin. “You’re babying him,” he teased softly, laughter in his voice.

You glanced back at him, giving him a mock glare. “He’s five, Carlos. Someone has to make sure he doesn’t fall on his face.”

He shrugged, but he kept watching, that warm, thoughtful look never leaving his eyes. You couldn’t help yourself; you crouched down, offering Mateo a quick high-five when he completed another successful lap around you. “You’re getting really good at this, you know? Soon, you’ll be riding like a pro.”

Carlos chuckled softly behind you, and you shot him a sidelong glance, hoping maybe he’d pick up on the way you looked at Mateo, the way you held his little hands and clapped for every small victory. But Carlos, ever the racer, seemed more focused on encouraging Mateo’s speed than anything else.

---

The park outing had gone well, and as the sun started to dip, the three of you made your way back. You were a little tired, but a sense of peace had settled over you, a kind of warmth that lingered even after you’d waved goodbye to Mateo and returned him to his parents.

But then Carlos had to go and be his usual self—playfully dense, occasionally oblivious in the most endearing way. Back at the house, he’d start poking fun, saying, “You’re really good at this, you know. Maybe I should be the one that needs babying around here.”

You just rolled your eyes, a little annoyed but amused. “Very funny, Carlos. Maybe I’m just practicing for the real thing, ever thought of that?”

“Oh, you mean more babysitting gigs?” He feigned innocence, that sly grin telling you he knew exactly what you meant. But he’d drawn it out, pretending not to catch your hints. It was almost maddening, the way he could pretend to be oblivious.

At one point, he’d even leaned close, murmuring into your ear, “I think you’d be an amazing mother.”

Your heart had skipped a beat, but he’d just grinned, kissing the top of your head as if he hadn’t just thrown you off balance with those words.

---

The next day, you both found yourselves wandering the mall. It was supposed to be a quick trip for groceries, but as you passed a baby shop—full of tiny clothes, soft blankets, and adorable little shoes—you couldn’t help but stop, your gaze lingering on a display of baby onesies.

Carlos raised an eyebrow, following your line of sight. “Something catch your eye?” he asked, his voice tinged with that playful edge, and you turned to him with a pointed look, letting your gaze drop deliberately to the baby clothes.

“Oh, I don’t know… Just thinking how cute it would be to have a little one of our own wearing something like this.” You said it casually, trying to keep the edge of hopefulness out of your voice.

But Carlos, ever the tease, just shrugged, giving you an exaggerated, thoughtful nod. “Yeah, you’re probably right. Our nieces and nephews would look adorable in that.”

You had to resist the urge to smack his arm, biting back an exasperated laugh as he gave you a wink, thoroughly enjoying his role as the clueless one.

Later that evening, after you’d both finally had enough of dancing around the topic, you found yourselves back at home, sitting together on the couch, a comfortable silence filling the space between you. You took a deep breath, gathering the courage to finally lay it all out, not a hint, not a joke—just honesty.

“Carlos,” you began softly, looking down at your hands, “I… I really do want a child. With you. And I’ve been dropping hints, but I think maybe it’s time I just… say it.”

Carlos looked at you for a long moment, his expression softening, a hint of surprise mixed with something deeper, something you couldn’t quite name. He reached out, taking your hands in his, his fingers warm and steady around yours.

“You should’ve just said so,” he murmured, voice thick with emotion as he gave you a gentle smile. “I want that too. I’ve wanted it for a while. I just wanted to make sure you were ready.”

You felt the tears prick at your eyes, a mix of relief and joy flooding your chest as you squeezed his hands. “I am ready. I’ve been ready for so long.”

Carlos pulled you into his arms, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead, his voice a quiet promise in your ear. “Then let’s make it happen. Our little family.”

[allaboutnayeli]

Jenni hc pt3 please 💗💗

jenni as your wife would be like..

author notes: jenni officially upgraded from your gf to your wife 💗 enjoy it babes!

➜ jenni is a complete mess at the wedding. she couldn't follow the tradition of not seeing the bride before walking down the aisle (her defense was that your wedding wasn't even traditional in the first place since it's gay). she just had to see you, have a moment to yourselves where no one else was around so she could just spill her heart out. she did cry and almost ruined her makeup, but it got fixed right before the actual ceremony.

➜ super handsy at the wedding especially after getting drunk. she's just so happy you're her wife

➜ y'all's honeymoon is in italy for nearly two weeks. jenni tried to research places to go, but was too lazy to so y'all just ventured the city jenni decided to bring you to. learning about really gorgeous sights along the way. she forced you to wear sorta matching outfits the whole time.

➜ gets ten times clinger. she just wants to always be around you and can't deal with being away from you for more than a month before she starts getting all sad. texts you everyday y'all are apart and you have to facetime her every night or you just don't love her

➜ you're banned from calling her jenni now. it's either baby or babe or my love or anything but her name. she thinks you're mad at her everytime jenni even leaves your mouth

➜ brags about you all the time to anyone who will listen and is high-key cocky about it. she thinks you're such a catch. always saying things like "my wife got this new dress, she looks so gorgeous in it, want to see?" or "she's so perfect, no?" while holding up a photo of you on her phone

➜ jenni becomes even more protective. even media training won't stop her from defending you if someone gets out of line online or even in person

➜ gets baby fever nearly right away after the wedding. if you have little siblings or nieces/nephews, it makes it even worse. she always hinting at the fact she wants a lil mix of her & you running around

➜ still annoying as hell and quite childish. actually it got worse. makes inappropriate jokes at the worse moments, pushing you for no reason, holding things up out of your reach if you're shorter than her, and way more. jenni may be 33 but she's a big baby around you

➜ buys matching gold bracelets for the both of you. one that has her initials in it and the other has your initials in it. she never takes this bracelet off once she gets it, taping it up during games.

➜ all of her celebrations are you-centered. even when it doesn't seem like it. jenni could be just throwing up a simple heart, but just know it's 100% for you

➜ becomes so determined to be your mother's favorite daughter-in-law. she needs that sweet motherly validation.

➜ those jealousy issues of hers get worse. you know the tiktok audio that's like "yeah she's great and all, but how long is she going to be talking to my wife?" yeah that's jenni. she just can't help herself, she wants you to herself

➜ jenni tells you all the time how she's so in love with you and how perfect you are and that she can't live without you which is true. jenni is head over heels for you

© THINKINGABOUTJAEDYN

[flowerandblood]

The Fall from the Heavens (20)

[ canon • Aemond x Strong • niece female ]

[ warnings: angst, violence, swearing, remorse ]

[ description: A cool distance turns into friendship and more when two children see that they can find refuge and understanding in each other. However, naïve dreams collide with the reality in which every event has consequences and what once could have been love becomes a dark, newly painful obsession. Angst, sexual tension, obsession, violence, madness, very dark Aemond. ]

The story in this series is an alternate reality from the oneshot Stay and love, leave and die, in which Aemond reads the letters his niece has sent to him over the years. They are the same characters and it shows what would have happened between them − I have changed the background story from their childhood slightly for the sake of the plot.

Characters & Series Moodboard Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Moodboard Aemond & Lady Strong Childhood

* English is not my first language. Please, do not repost. Enjoy! *

Next chapters: Masterlist

_____

He had no idea how this insolent whore had come up with this insane plan, what had come into her empty little head to accuse him of taking her maidenhood in front of everyone. Her words spoken with such certainty and coolness shocked him, his mouth gaped wide in disbelief, for a moment his body froze.

What?

"Lie." He growled angrily, unable to get anything else out, outraged and infuriated by the loud chatter of the entire court around him.

If she really thought she'd succeeded, that he'd take her as his wife just because she'd come up with such a filthy lie, she was sorely mistaken.

Even if it had happened, even if he had been forced to take a second wife, he would have strangled her with his own hands during their wedding night without considering what would happen afterwards.

It seemed that he had perfectly guessed her awful character at their first meeting and had indeed chosen the most unpleasant of sisters, for at his words her lips curved in a grimace full of mockery. The King asked her a question, from which she pressed her lips into a thin line.

"I ran after the Prince once he wanted to leave. He took me in one of the corridors of our fortress against my will."

Fucking whore.

I'll kill her, he thought.

I'll approach her and strangle her with my own hands.

"Disgusting lies. I followed my nephew out the stronghold and returned to the Red Keep to fulfil my duty to my father that same night. It was not your maidenhood I took then, shameless woman." He sneered with mockery in his voice, from which Lord Baratheon's daughter's face curved in disbelief and humiliation.

He thought with satisfaction that she was now surely imagining how he had taken the woman who stood by his side just after he had promised her he would marry her.

He swallowed loudly, thinking with a hard pounding heart that his wife didn't believe this absurdity, didn't doubt for a moment that what this wicked woman was saying was a lie.

He looked at her out of the corner of his eye, horrified, and noticed that she was pale, her chin lifted proudly, her gaze fixed on Maris.

He shuddered as his brother's voice snapped him out of his reverie.

"As I see it, opinions are divided on what happened. Lord Baratheon is a party. Is there anyone else who could confirm your version of events, my Lady?" He asked lightly, as if the whole situation amused him, Maris pressed her lips together, lowering her gaze.

Her whole family knew that what she was saying was a great, disgusting lie.

His brother turned to him after a moment.

"And you, brother, can anyone confirm your words?"

He swallowed hard, furious that he had to remind himself of the person he despised so much, however, he had no other choice if he wanted to protect his and his wife's honour.

"My nephew."

Fortunately, his would-be wife quickly realised her mistake made in an act of desperation to drag him down with her and gave in, eventually signing the terms of the agreement between their family and the crown together with her father.

He wanted to demand that, in front of everyone gathered, she retract her lies and clear his good name, but hesitated when he noticed out of the corner of his eye that his wife had simply left.

She didn't believe him, he thought with disbelief and pain.

She didn't believe him, even though he had always been faithful to her.

He swallowed loudly, wanting to follow her, but stopped in his half-step noticing something glistening on the stone floor in the colour of scarlet.

Blood.

He cursed quietly under his breath, wiping the mark off with his boot, looking around, wanting to make sure the guards hadn't spotted it.

The last thing they needed now was rumours that she wasn't carrying his heir.

He moved behind her with a squeeze in his throat, seeing that she had left red droplets behind her, which disappeared, however, upon his steps towards her chamber. He stepped inside unannounced and she shuddered, looking at him apprehensively, apparently trying to untie her gown herself, wrestling with her sleeves.

"I wish to be alone." She muttered in a trembling voice, her cheeks red from the tears that had surely been running down her face just a moment ago, but which she was now holding back with the remnants of her strong will.

He answered her only when the door closed behind him with the quiet clatter of old wood.

"I have wiped the traces you left behind. No one but me knows."

He saw something akin to pain and despair flash across her face, her eyebrows arched in grief, her eyes glazed over again from tears, her swollen, lower lip trembling, her mouth tightened into a thin line. She finally clamped her eyelids shut and wept quietly, bending her head, her hands clenched on her lower abdomen.

He approached her, grabbing her hair with a soft gesture and snuggled her face into his chest – she burst out into a loud sob as his arms closed her in a tight embrace, as his nose sank into the top of her head, inhaling her addictive scent.

Vanilla.

"I knew it was going to happen. I could feel it in my bones, but I still had hope." She mumbled in a breaking, trembling voice, from which he felt a sting in his heart. He sighed quietly, brushing her hair with the slow, tender strokes of his hand as if she were a small child.

"I know."

They were both sad and disappointed, however he knew he shouldn't burden her with these thoughts when she felt so guilty herself.

He blinked, snapped out of his reverie, looking down at her when he heard her hiss and flinch, her hand tightening on her womb again, her eyelids clenched as if trying to wait out what she was feeling.

"Are you in pain?" He asked, taking the unruly curls of her hair from her face – she was only able to nod, swallowing hard.

"The first day is the greatest suffering."

As a man, he had never delved into motherhood or what was involved in female fertility, knowing the basics of course; he was aware of what he had to do for a woman to carry his heir and that if she bled, it was necessary to try again.

He knew his mother and sister went through the first days of this unpleasant process in their chambers, not attending supper at the time.

He thought then that this was due to the fact that it was an embarrassing matter for them and they preferred to remain in peace and solitude at the time, something he had always regarded with respect.

However, now that he was a husband and had watched his wife's suffering after he had helped her change into a new, clean nightgown, he involuntarily wanted to better understand what she was going through.

To know how he should behave and what she needed.

He watched without a word as she tucked the linen cloth under her buttocks and between her thighs, which she then covered with the material of her white chemise, evidently wanting it to absorb the blood that flowed from her and not stain the bedding.

He also noticed that she still held her hand pressed to her womb, her eyelids clenched in discomfort, a murmur of displeasure leaving her lips once in a while. He sat down beside her on the bed, watching her closely, resting his hand on hers in a place that was clearly causing her discomfort.

"Tell your husband what is causing your suffering." He hummed softly, stroking the soft skin of her palm with his thumb. He heard her sigh quietly, looking up at him finally, apparently wondering how she should explain this to a man.

"I feel a painful stinging in my lower abdomen. Imagine someone gently jabbing a needle or the tip of a dagger into your stomach and not pulling it out. That's what I feel." She mumbled at last, and he furrowed his brow as he looked at her lower abdomen, imagining how unpleasant it must have felt.

"Is it like this every time?"

"Yes. Although sometimes it's a bit worse or a bit better. This time it's unbearable." She muttered, looking away, staring at the canopy over her bed. He hummed at her words, unconsoled by her undeserved suffering.

"Would anything bring you relief?" He asked at last, hearing her let the air out of her lungs.

"The Maester in Dragonstone always brought me a leather sack filled with hot water. He would put a cloth on my lower abdomen so that I wouldn't get burned, put a knotted pouch over it and put it on my womb, covering me with furs afterwards. Then for some reason I always felt relieved and the pain became bearable." She said finally; he got up and walked to the door, opening it wide, ordering their servants to do exactly as she said.

Following his command, one of the servants finally stepped into her chamber with a sack filled with hot water, asking if his lady-wife had fainted and needed anything.

He took the pouch from her and dismissed her, then approached her, sitting down beside her on the bed and, in accordance with her words, after placing the cloth on her womb, he placed the sack on top of it, covering it with furs, a loud sigh of relief escaping her lips. She closed her eyes and grabbed his hand, squeezing it.

"− good gods − thank you −" She mumbled.

"− doesn't that burn you? −" He asked uncertainly, but she just shook her head.

"− no − no, that's how it should be −"

Silence fell between them, and he watched her face as she lay with her eyes closed, clearly trying to relax.

"− what she said − it was a lie, wasn't it? −" She asked quietly, and he sighed heavily, leaning down, burying his face in his hand, tired and discouraged.

So she had doubts about his faithfulness after all.

"− obviously − I chose her because she seemed to me the most unpleasant and repulsive of them all − I didn't want to waste the life of any decent woman knowing what would await her −" He replied finally, hearing his niece twist next to him in her place.

"− and what would await her? −" She asked uncertainly; he let the air quietly out of his lungs, massaging his temple.

"− I don't know what you would call living in the shadow of another woman −" He replied after a moment's thought, hearing his wife swallow hard.

"− for your marriage to be valid, you would have to lie in bed with her −" She muttered quietly in a trembling voice. He felt a squeeze in his throat at her words, at the idea of what it would have to look like, what he would have to do.

How dirty he would feel afterwards.

"− yes −"

He heard her draw in a loud breath – clearly the mere image of him in another woman's arms caused her pain, and while her jealousy brought him some kind of satisfaction, it was also the cause of the discomfort that filled his lower abdomen.

The thought that he might derive pleasure from it, desire another woman while she awaited him in another chamber.

"− would you do it? − would you take her? −" She mumbled, he heard her voice break in fear of his response.

"− and you? − would you lie with your cousin if your mother told you to? − surely she would have led to these nuptials if you had returned to Dragonstone with her then, would she not? −" He growled, frustrated that she was asking him such questions, not knowing what answer she wanted to hear.

He saw a single, solitary tear run down the side of her face onto the pillow beneath her head; he sighed heavily seeing this, wiping the moisture from her skin with the top of his hand.

"− there, there − enough of these tears − didn't my words give you satisfaction? − my public expression that I married you out of lust? −" He asked calmly, not wanting to add either her or himself to their suffering and sorrow. He hummed as her face lit up with a light, warm smile.

"− it was not your maidenhood I took then, shameless woman −" She repeated his words with amusement, trying to mimic his deep, low tone of voice. He snorted, shaking his head, involuntarily grinning with mockery at the mere memory.

"− gods, it was pure madness −"

Although he usually spent this part of the day training, during which he mistreated and lashed out at Criston, he decided to spend the afternoon with her, knowing that she needed him. He lay beside her as she finally fell asleep, looking at her face wondering what the future held for them.

What would happen if her mother did not agree to their terms.

He knew someone would die then, that no matter how much he loved her, he would not agree to Jace being heir to the throne.

He feared that she would hate him again.

This time forever.

He shuddered when a guard walked into their chamber – he wanted to express his displeasure that he had allowed himself to enter without permission, but the man spoke up before him.

"Word has arrived from Dragonstone, Your Grace."

He looked at her peaceful, sleeping face and swallowed hard, standing up quietly and nodding to the man, wanting him to lead him to the King.

When he was led into the chamber of the Small Council his brother sat at the head of the table with a rolled up parchment in his hand, looking at him with raised eyebrows, to his left and right sat their mother and their grandfather.

"What is their answer?" He asked in a low, deep voice feeling his voice quiver involuntarily in terror.

Aegon sighed quietly.

"Rheanyra will not make any decision until she speaks with her daughter. She demands that they meet in the Eyrie, on more neutral ground, with or without our presence. Daemon will accompany her."

He swallowed hard and let the air out of his lungs, feeling both tense and relieved, knowing that nothing was won or lost at the same time.

"What do you command, My King?" He asked finally, his brother hummed under his breath.

"I am no fool and I will not allow you to spend the night under the roof of a family that can cut your throat in your sleep. No, when all shall be confirmed, you will fly together to Harrenhal, where you will be hosted by Lord Strong. From there you will travel on my behalf to negotiate with my sister. I will not leave King's Landing knowing that they may take advantage of this and conquer the Red Keep in my absence."

"Aegon, it's a trap. The Eyrie is her mother's ancestral stronghold, her allies. They will make them their prisoners by force. After what happened today in the throne room, Lord Baratheon will gladly support her. You have weakened us." Their mother protested, clenching her hands into fists, looking at her son-king with pleading eyes. Aegon sighed heavily at her words, spreading himself comfortably in his chair.

"This is my final decision. Convince your wife to soften her mother. Daemon will pull for the war, but it is not his opinion that matters. She may already be carrying your heir in her womb, order the maesters to examine her." He said encouragingly, and his lips tightened at his words.

"No. That will not be necessary."

An uncomfortable silence fell between them, caused by the tone of his voice and the impassive expression on his face.

His mother hid her face in her hands, shaking her head, knowing what his words meant, his older brother closed his eyes and swallowed loudly, looking at him again after a moment.

"Good gods, lie to them. Say that she is expecting your child. That the gods support our cause. After all, women do miscarry, don't they, mother?" He asked her lightly. The Queen looked at him in pain and disbelief, lowering her gaze in grief and shame, surely seeing the face of her childhood friend in her mind.

"You are leading us to our ruin out of sheer malice and stupidity." Hummed their grandfather in a hoarse voice, looking at the gold coin he was playing with between his fingers. "You will repeat my words one day."

[randomdragonfires]

If The Sun Ever Rises | Chapter 2

Chapter 2 | Make Me Feel Alive

SUMMARY | After narrowly escaping the Battle Above God’s Eye, Prince Aemond is now a hidden fugitive within the very kingdom he once ruled. Driven by vengeance, he plans to usurp Aegon III and avenge his family. His rage-blinded path to the throne begins with getting rid of Cregan Stark and the men who support his nephew’s rule. Having nothing to lose, he recklessly kidnaps the Northerner’s betrothed - his own niece - hoping to lure him and his men out to fight.

Soon, Aemond finds that memories of a first love are strong, and that he cannot steel his heart against the woman he has loved all his life.

WARNINGS | 18+; Smut; Canon Divergence - Aemond lives (but barely); Violence; Stockholm Syndrome; Mental and Physical Trauma; Angst; Canon Incest; Manipulation; No Happy Endings In This House YAY; Slow burn, I think.

WORD COUNT | 3k

Text Divider by @saradika

As she gradually stirred from unconsciousness, each blink felt like a laborious effort, coaxing her weary mind back to reality. The darkness of the cave enveloped her like a thick cloak, its cool embrace seeping into her bones as she gradually became aware of her surroundings.

With a soft groan, she shifted her weight, the coarse texture of the cave floor biting into her skin. Every movement sent tendrils of discomfort coursing through her body, a reminder of what she’d done. The scent of damp earth and ancient stone hung heavy in the air, mingling with the faint echo of her own ragged, tired breaths.

Summoning her strength, she pushed herself upright, muscles protesting against the effort. A shiver raced down her spine as she wrapped her arms around herself, seeking solace in her sadness.

Her gaze swept across the dimly lit cavern, taking in every possible indicator of human habitation. A tattered sheet lay crumpled at her feet - it had been wrapped around her, she’d felt it. She put it back around her, the threadbare fabric offering little protection against the chill that permeated the air. Her torn shift didn’t help as she closed her eyes, shielding herself against the small sliver of sunlight that let itself inside. The soft murmur of the nearby river provided a constant backdrop, its soothing rhythm echoing through the cavernous space.

Memories come back to her in spades, moments suspended in time. Every instance she can bring herself to remember is painted in hues of sapphire blue.

Aemond. 

She’d thought him dead in war, but he was alive. And despite her valiant effort, so was she. 

She dragged herself out of the cave, each step a battle against exhaustion. The sunlight outside was blinding at first, but she welcomed its warmth after the cold darkness of the cave. Stepping outside, she found herself engulfed by the dense foliage of the jungle. Towering trees loomed overhead, their branches reaching out like fingers towards the sky. The earthy scent of damp soil mingled with the sweet fragrance of wildflowers, creating a heady aroma that enveloped her senses. As her weary eyes caught sight of the river's glimmering surface through the dense forest, a surge of relief washed over her. 

Reaching the river, she slumped down at the bank, letting her legs dangle into the chilly water. It felt refreshing against her skin, washing away the grime and sweat of her ordeal. Looking into the river, she saw her reflection staring back at her, her lip swollen and bleeding, dried blood streaking her forehead and cheek. With a grimace, she dipped her hands into the water, using it to clean the cuts and bruises on her face. It stung, but she gritted her teeth and soldiered through it, determined to rid herself of any signs of weakness. 

When she finished, she allowed herself to drink, pause and simply exist in the comfort of nature’s embrace. The sounds of the forest surrounded her in all its quiet glory. As she sat there, trying to gather her thoughts, she couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. The hairs on the back of her neck stood on end, and she scanned the surroundings, searching for any sign of danger. But all she could hear was the gentle rustle of the wind through the trees and the soft babbling of the river. Despite her unease, she forced herself to relax, leaning back against the bank and closing her eyes.

When she opened them back, she looked into the water once more. Only this time, hers was not the only face she saw. 

Despite her tiredness, she could not help the rise he evokes in her, right from the pits of her heart. His arrogant smirk was a clear image in the water, and she ran a hand through the river - fingers meeting the reflection of his eye, ripples breaking the watery portrait of him.

His voice was calm yet menacing; predatory yet productive. His face was as unreadable as stone, and she gulped. He had always been hard for her to decipher, but she remembered a time when he’d let her see, let her in.

“You’re awake, mandianna.”

Her future home was too cold for her liking.

She stood clueless and yearning for answers in the quiet of the Godswood, where the ancient Heart Tree stood tall and watchful. The cold of the North gnawed at her bones, a constant reminder of the distance between the warmth of her homeland and the icy lands of Winterfell she now found herself in. But amidst her unease, there was a curiosity that drew her to the sacred tree, its red leaves whispering mystic secrets that she was intrigued by.

As she sat beneath its branches, she couldn't help but feel a pang of longing for the familiarity of her family and the comfort of her own chambers. She felt like an outsider, here in the Godswood where a Lady of Winterfell would be expected to feel at home. 

She wondered if this will ever feel like home. Given the war being waged, she wondered if she’ll even make it that far. 

Luke did not. Sweet, mischievous Luke had died, and she has only now managed to learn to  hold her tears.

Aemond loves her. She refused to believe that he’d do such a thing.

But he did. He did, he did, he did. And Luke…

If she closed her eyes, she could imagine his playful smirk. He’d taunt her into being a little less than perfect and join in the fun that the boys would get into. It would make her so happy…

Why did he do it?

Her Gods gave her no answer, only leaving her with tears, a heavy heart and the foreign comfort of the Heart Tree. She hoped the Old Gods may provide her answers. Lost in her thoughts, she was startled by the sound of footsteps approaching. Looking up, she saw Cregan Stark, her betrothed, standing before her. His presence was unexpected, and she felt a surge of nervousness at the thought of speaking with him - she’d never spoken to him alone after Jace left her here.

"I can leave if you wish." Cregan offered, his tone gentle yet tinged with a hint of sadness. "No, please… Stay," she replied, her voice soft but determined. Despite her reservations, she couldn't bring herself to chase him away. He was the Lord of this land, and soon to be her husband. It wouldn't do to alienate him, it was highly improper.

It was also improper to imagine a man with spun-silver hair and a sapphire eye when he killed her brother…

Cregan settled himself on a nearby stone bench, his gaze fixed on her with a mixture of curiosity and concern. "You seem troubled, Princess," he observed, his words carrying a weight, a certain authority that she couldn't ignore. His eyes held the weight of the world - unlike Aemond’s, whose functional eye held an arrogance that he alone knew how to wear well.

“There’s only so long you can go without being worried and helpless while members of your family die in war, my lord.” His voice gentle yet firm, Cregan said, "Aye, war brings uncertainties and fears we'd rather not confront. That much is true."

She looked up at him, grateful for his understanding, a sense of familiarity growing over her. "But it's not just the war," she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper. "I’m… so far away from everything I've ever known. My family, my home... it’s distant. Foreign.” She wrapped her arms tighter around herself. “Cold."

When she looked, it was obvious to her what was different about Cregan and him. His eyes were unabashedly kind, calm and true whereas Aemond’s gaze lit a fire in her heart that fazed her to no end. "You're anything but helpless, Princess," he said firmly. "Our match will bring strength and stability to both our houses, and it will bear fruit to bolster the success of your mother, the rightful queen.”

She sighs, his words doing enough to quell her for the time being. “I’m sorry, my lord-”

“No need to apologize." he said gently. "Your burdens are heavy, and it's only natural to get lost in them from time to time."

She felt a warmth tingling in her chest at his words followed by guilt gnawing at her bones. Wasn't she betraying Aemond by finding solace in another's presence? But then, her thoughts turned to her brother, Luke, and the pain of his loss washed over her anew. 

Aemond had killed him, torn him away from her and her family. How could she explain her possibly misguided loyalty to a man who had brought her such pain? She would not wait for a man who was out for her mother's blood, her brother's blood - and in consequence, her own.

Cregan Stark gave her the most sincere smile she’d seen in a long time.

She smiled back. It was easy and simple, nothing like he ever was. All that she needed in a time like this.

Yes, she could love him.

“You’re awake, mandianna.”

She wanted to get up and run. She wanted to make him pay for bringing her this far. She wanted to do much and more, but she couldn’t even bring herself to lift a finger - the fall and the subsequent recovery had taken her for all that she was.

He doesn’t move an inch, staying unforgiving as his eye bore into her own in her watery reflection. He’s not wearing the black leather jerkin she’d seen him wearing when he’d brought her here - right now, he was in a tattered white shirt and the same trousers from before. She noticed the leathers hanging off a branch nearby, presumably left to air out.

Far from being the royal prince he used to be, but some habits never changed.

The right course of action would be to try to escape again, but she knew how fruitless it would be to do so. She was unarmed, tired and hurt. Even at full strength, she would be no match for the dangers that he, or the forest held. She needed rest to try; she needed to recuperate.

But how long can she afford to stay? She didn’t know what his plan was, and she most certainly didn’t want to put a foot wrong. If Aemond had managed to stay alive and plan this far, it was not without support - she wasn’t foolish enough to believe that he was doing any of this on his own.

But who? Who would support him in a time after war when her brother comfortably sat the throne? When the Warden of the North had been steadfastly dedicated to ensuring his safety? 

Before she could think any further, her head started to spin and she let it fall into her hands as she waited for the pain to subside. He finally moved from where he stood, sat beside her and opened his hand to reveal bits of what looked like wood.

“Willow bark, for the pain. It helps.”

She looked at it with all the doubt she could muster up in her weak state, but remembered her lessons well enough. Maesters often encouraged chewing willow bark for pain relief - this much she knew.

She took a piece and popped it into her mouth, the feeling of it being rather unpleasant, tough and gritty to bite. It was too strong for her, and she wished that she could have it in a tea instead - but her head cleared quickly and she forgot the bitter taste.

With both their feet in the water, she let herself calm down as she plotted her next steps. “How long?”

“Four days.” That explained why she felt too tired. Prolonged days-long rest always had a knack of making people want more, especially in the case of injuries. 

She kept chewing the bark, some of it getting stuck in her teeth. The uncomfortableness of it made her wince, and she looked up at the hill behind them - the very one that she chose to fall off of. With a damning sense of defeat, she realized that the fall couldn’t have been too steep - given how deep the waters of the river were, it was very likely that she never threw herself in deep enough to cause any damage apart from unconsciousness.

How stupid had she been in her bid to escape him? How little had she considered?

“It was brave of you to try, niece. Didn’t think you were bold enough to die for a cause, no matter how unfruitful your attempt was.” Arrogance, something else that hadn’t ever changed.

"Bravery, or perhaps foolishness," she murmured, the bitterness of defeat and willowbark still lingering in her voice and breath. "Either way, it seems I am destined to linger in this world a while longer."

Aemond regarded her with a mixture of scrutiny and something else that she couldn't quite decipher. "Destiny has a peculiar way of dictating our paths, doesn't it? The fires…" he stopped himself before he could say more, his tone tinged with a hint of resignation as he diverted from the subject. "Yet here we are, both still clinging to life despite a war and your best efforts to the contrary."

She had nothing to say to him and his tired words, where he gave her everything yet nothing at the same time. He sensed her worn out silence too, eventually standing up and giving her his hand. She looked up at him, his expressions held black and giving her absolutely nothing to think about. She was afraid, but somehow, she knew that if he wanted to hurt her, it wouldn’t be anytime soon. It would give her enough time to keep trying, no matter how many times it took.

“Come.”

She took his hand and walked along with as much strength as she could, slow steps that he was only happy to let her take. When her hold became weak, he took to holding her wrist tight as he guided them. She closed her eyes for just a moment, remembering against her will how he used to lead her through passageways in the Red Keep, spending many a night with her that she would never forget.

The smell of food cooking filled her nostrils as she kept walking forward, and her hurt, recovering body called for it like nothing else. She opened her eyes and quickly clocked that they had come behind the cave that she’d slept in, the riverbank faintly visible from where she stood. 

Aemond turned around, letting go of her grasp as he held her by the jaw, lifting her head up to meet his eye. He looked at her properly, almost as though he wanted to memorize every inch of her before he let her go. He put the back of her hand gently onto her forehead, checking for a fever.

What does he want from her? If he wanted to kill Cregan and Aegon by drawing them out, what would he do to her?

“You need to eat.” 

A wooden ladle sat in a pot of boiling soup, made to hang over a bunch of wooden logs. He poured some into leaves that were fashioned into makeshift bowls, some of the soup dripping from the holes in the cups. She drank, and almost immediately, the warmth of the soup made her skin tingle from how good it made her feel to eat again. The soup was watery and bland, but she found no reason to complain.

The jungle air hung heavy with humidity, the distant calls of unseen creatures echoing through the dense foliage. As she sat on a fallen log beside the makeshift fire, the flickering flames cast dancing shadows across the rugged terrain. The river nearby murmured softly, a soothing backdrop to the otherwise tense atmosphere.

Aemond busied himself with sharpening his shortsword, the rhythmic scraping of the whetstone against the blade filling the air. His movements were precise, methodical, a stark contrast to the chaos that seemed to surround them. She watched him in silence, her thoughts drifting to a time long past, when their lives were simpler, before the weight of duty and destiny had pulled them apart.

The aroma of the soup still lingered, comforting and familiar. She glanced down at the empty leaf bowl in her hands, a small pang of gratitude stirring within her. Despite the circumstances that had brought them here, Aemond had provided her with sustenance, a gesture that spoke volumes amidst the uncertainty of their situation.

"Thank you," she murmured softly, breaking the silence that had settled between them. Her words hung in the air for a moment before dissipating into the night.

Aemond nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes never leaving the blade in his hands. There was a weariness in his expression, a heaviness that mirrored her own. They were both soldiers in a war they had not chosen, bound by duty and obligation to forces beyond their control - and the effect will forever linger.

“He’ll come for me, kēpus. Cregan will come.”

“When he comes, mandianna, I’ll be ready.”

There are many questions she wants to ask him, so many things that she wishes to speak about - but she is too tired and she does not have the strength to fight him, not tonight. 

As darkness began to descend upon the jungle, she rose from her perch beside the fire, the weariness of the day and the sting of her injuries weighing heavily upon her. With a final glance at Aemond, she made her way back to the cave, the cool darkness enveloping her like a familiar cloak.

As she settled into her makeshift bed, exhaustion pulling at her limbs, she closed her eyes and allowed herself to drift into sleep. In her dreams, she saw visions of snow-capped mountains and towering stone walls, a distant memory of Winterfell, her home during the war - where she’d spend the rest of her days if he ever managed to find her.

And so she slept, the whetstone's scraping sounds against the shortsword echoing through the forest. In her sleep-addled state, the last thing she sees is him looking at her as stone meets steel. A small voice whispered in the recesses of her mind, reminding her that escape was not yet out of reach.

NO TAG LIST. Follow @randomdragonfics and turn on post notifs for fic updates!

Next Chapter

A/N: This was a bit of a slow, storybuilding chapter. Point is to establish that she's alive lmao. A lot will be happening soon, so yeah! Apologies for the slow filler chapter, and thanks for reading!

[gulnarsultan]

May I request for yan House of the dragon platonic like everyone is platonic yandere for reader? And basically, the reader is Rhaenyras little sister, who was born when Aemma died. Rhaenyra hates readers because she thinks reader killed her mother. So, while Rhaenyra isn't there, Alicent is and comforts/mothers reader. The reader is close to all her siblings ( minus Rhaenyra) and her niece and nephew. Timeskip to the night in Driftmark,. The reader walks in and sees Aemond and asks what happens, somewhere along everyone fighting Rhaenyra snarkily says "don't think I didn't notice you ran to their defense" and reader snaps back and is like "when have you done anything kind to me? Why should I stand by you when your cruel to me" Alicent smirks as Rhaenyra realizes how much of a bad sister she was. The reader ends the big argument by saying "while my nephews do deserve some punishment, taking their eyes is far too extreme" and after, while reader was in their room, Rhaenyra came in a begged for forgiveness

Hello.  Everyone is a platonic yandere for the Princess.  Did I understand the question correctly?  I hope you liked it.

   The birth of Queen Aemma begins and her first Princess is born. There is no problem at the moment.  However, Baelon's birth causes the death of Queen Aemma.  Prince Baelon dies a few hours later.  Rhaenyra blames her father Viserys and her younger siblings for her mother's death.  Rhaenyra never approaches or cares for her sister.  King Viserys is very angry with Rhaenyra for her behavior.  King Viserys spends most of his free time with his newborn daughter.  He tries to be the best father he can for the little princess.  Alicent takes the little princess under her wing.  Because she knows what it's like to be without a mother.  Moreover, Hand of the King Otto and the Velaryons are determined to play a role in the Princess's upbringing.  They will do anything to make sure the princess has a good life.  Over the years, the Princess turns into a very beautiful and intelligent young lady.  The Princess becomes a good big sister to all the children Alicent and Viserys have.  The princess is devastated by the loss of Laena.  She is in grief with the Velaryons.  When the princess arrives in the throne room, she is shocked to see her brother Aemond's face.  She immediately hugs her brother and tries to comfort him.  Rhaenyra's impudent behavior angers the Princess.  The anger of the Princess, who did not even raise her voice until this age, surprises everyone.

   "Sufficient."

   Everyone was quiet and attention was focused on the Princess.

   "What could be more normal than to be with them? Why should I be with you and your children? You have treated me like an enemy until this age. I will be with my family who love and protect me. You cannot be a family by blood. I hate and detest you. You are not worthy to be a princess. You are the disgrace of our house."

��  Rhaenyra was shocked by the words she heard.  Her sister, whom she had been an enemy to for years, had put her in her place.  The princess turned to face her father.

   "How can you remain silent while Aemond's questioning is demanded? Do not try to do such a wrong, Father. I want justice for Aemond right now. Lucerys will be swept away. Or he will be stripped of all his privileges and titles. And he will never appear in court again."

   King Viserys could see the fire in his daughter's eyes.  The princess finally stood up after so many years of silence.  King Viserys had chosen the second option.  Everyone but Rhaenyra supports the Princess' decision.  The princess turns to Aemond with a triumphant smile.

   "Justice has been served, brother, don't worry. No one can harm our family anymore."

   Alicent tearfully hugs the Princess.  Aemond admires his older sister, who literally fights for her like a dragon.  Perhaps the innocent admiration in little Aemond's heart will turn into a dark obsession in the future.

[can-i-get-a-yippee]

Maddie giving birth and all of her closest people being there to support her postpartum ,,, Jee running up to random nurses and doctors proclaiming that she is a big sister now and Buck swinging her up to a hold and just smiling and saying “yes you are”,,,,Buck getting to meet his little niece/nephew and getting to hold them in the hospital,,, Hen getting to pull Chimney into a hug bc he won’t stop crying bc he can’t believe how much he loves his little family,,, Karen getting pulled into the hug too bc dammit, Chimney’s emotional and if his arms were big enough everyone would be getting this hug,,, Eddie coming up behind Buck and telling Maddie the kid is beautiful and he still can’t believe his only baby is a teenager before doing a little finger wave at the baby and smiling when Buck readjusts the hold when the baby gurgles,,,, Bobby taking the baby from Buck, much to Buck’s complaint but everyone says he’s been hogging the baby, and smiling down at the little baby as Athena rubs his back soothingly, it’s always a little bittersweet to remember the first time he held his kids but it’s mostly sweet now— yeah mostly sweet,,,, Mara and Denny and Chris all visiting and getting their turn to hold their baby cousin, Jee standing beside them confidently reaffirming that the baby is HER sibling, and Chimney anxiously wavering over each one bc despite everything, he’s still an overly anxious and protective parent, and Maddie just rolls her eyes and tells him it’s okay,, and they sit back and watch the family they have made together smile and laugh over their new baby in the hospital room,,

[theamberfist]

Cursed-Cat and Mouse | Uncle Alastor & Cursed Cat Alastor HC's

Familial! Alastor is Reader's Uncle

Description: A strange cat pops up at the hotel one day and begins terrorizing everyone; especially a certain mouse

(Notes: CW Alastor, death, violence) (gender neutral reader) (Reader is Alastor's niece/nephew/whatever term you prefer) (Reader is blind) (Reader is a mouse sinner)

Words: 979

❀ These headcannons are related to One Blind Mouse, a little oneshot I wrote! A friend of mine said 'if you're going to have a mouse reader you need to involve Cursed Cat Alastor' so here were are! ❀

♡ Considering Alastor literally had a niece/nephew/etc who was a mouse, no one expected him to get a pet cat

♡ And to be honest, neither did he

♡ No one knows how or why the cat showed up, it just appeared one day and they couldn't get rid of it so it lives at the hotel now

♡ Everyone calls it 'cursed cat Alastor' because it apparently looks just like your uncle but he refuses to admit the truth of that name so he just calls it a vermin

♡ When the cat first showed up, you were terrified

♡ You thought your uncle Al had finally gotten tired of carrying you around in his pocket and had decided to do away with you when you heard the meow of a cat in the lobby

♡ So when the cat stopped and noticed you there was a good five seconds where you both just froze; you out of fear and it out of who-knows-what-emotion 

♡ Then you took off running and, naturally, it chased you

♡ You probably ran all through the hotel (luckily you knew the place well enough not to bump into anything), shouting for your uncle, before he finally appeared and was surprised to see the little creature had no cornered you 

♡ He thought it was a prank on your part at first. Even in life, you'd always loved to pull tricks like this. But when he noticed the cat literally salivating over you he finally reached down and grabbed it by the scruff of its neck; letting out a hum of curiosity

♡ You climbed up Alastor's suit to take your place safely in his pocket as he debated what to do with it and that was when everyone else came into the room, witnessing the scene

♡ Angel thought it was hilarious, Husk was as unamused as ever, Sir Pentious teared up at its cuteness, Nifty was distracted by some nearby bugs, and Charlie was so excited by the little creature that Vaggie had to hold her back from running over and grabbing it

♡ Charlie, loving the fact that the cat looked exactly like Alastor, insisted they keep it, to your dismay

♡ She listened to your concerns though and promised she wouldn't let it hurt you and that they'd train the cat

♡ She even got a little collar with a bell for the thing so you could more easily hear it when it was coming

♡ For the first week, you lived in absolute fear

♡ You refused to leave Alastor's pocket for anything except the few times he actually slept at night when you would bury yourself in his hair for protection

♡ For some reason, he and the cat really hated each other. Whenever he came near it, the thing would his and bat at him, earning an angry smile from him in response

♡ He tried to kill it several times through mysterious circumstances but to no avail. Somehow, the cat would evade his traps every single time; as if it simply couldn't be killed

♡ Finally, there was a day where you simply couldn't be in Alastor's pocket and he had to leave you behind at the hotel

♡ You were both devastated and terrified as your uncle left but Sir Pentious promised you he'd have the egg boys protect you until he came back

♡ They did a good job for about ten minutes but then they got distracted and suddenly you were left alone with the cat in the same room as you

♡ You froze as you heard it come over to you, fully expecting to be eaten right there and then. But to your surprise, it started purring and nuzzling against your tiny body. You reached up to pet its ears and then suddenly it didn't seem so scary anymore

♡ Imagine Alastor's surprise when he returned to the hotel later that day to find you curled up on the couch with the cat; fast asleep as you lay against its side. It was wide awake, though, with its eyes looking in opposite directions and everything

♡ After that Alastor almost wished the cat would have attacked you instead

♡ He could not get you away from the thing; no one could. It became like your little bodyguard; always around you as it protected you from any impending danger

♡ Charlie thought it was sweet but your uncle Al did not appreciate having his role as your protector be called into question like that

♡ You rode the cat around like it were a horse, you slept on its warm and soft belly, you let it lead you around like some kind of service animal, you took care of it and made sure its fur was always pristine despite it being the most cursed being the hotel had ever seen (in Alastor's opinion)

♡ He would never admit to being jealous of a literal cat but he was jealous of a literal cat; especially because it resembled him so much

♡ But since you loved the cat so much he had to put up with it

♡ The only time Alastor approved of your little bodyguard was when Lucifer visited the hotel

♡ Before, Lucifer would make a big show out of offering to become your uncle too, which Charlie was always happy about since she wanted a cousin. The king of hell liked you as much as everyone else at the hotel, and he especially liked making your uncle jealous the way he'd once done with Charlie

♡ But now that the cat was around it wouldn't even let Lucifer near you

♡ As much as the thing hated Alastor, it seemed to hate Lucifer even more so gone were the days where he could swoop in and offer to be your new uncle or put you on his hat and fly around like before

♡ Alastor supposed the cat was good for something, after all 

[billskeis]

heyyy how are youu? can you do 2009tom x reader fluff,where tom meets reader’s family for the first time,he meets her niece and nephew,also her brother and etc🥹

ᡣ𐭩 tom meeting your family

“come on tomm, it’s really cold..!” you exclaim to your boyfriend as your shivering in your spot at the front door of your parent’s house.

“wait babe i gotta grab the cake i bought,”

he slammed his car door to reveal a somewhat fancy paper bag that presumably carried the cake he was talking about.

“you bought cake? you’re so cute, they’ll definitely love you with or without it though,”

“i know—i just—first impressions y’know?”

you kiss him on the cheek to watch his face turn a rosy palette, knocking on the front door the both of you await for someone to let you in sooner than later.

as the door swung open, you were immediately met with your loving mom.

“hey baby—mwah—” as she kisses you on the cheek, “this must be tom! hello hii welcome to the fam it’s so nice to finally meet you!”

“it’s great to finally meet you too..”

“call me mom!”

“o-okay..! i bought a cake, i hope it you’ll like it,”

“oh how kind of you sweetie, i’ll take that from you! come in come in you guys must be so cold,”

the two of you enter the house you once remembered to love so dearly before you moved out with tom. looking in his direction, you can see him smile ear to ear as his cheeks tint a nice pink.

he’s shy, and nervous, but secretly so happy over the fact that your mom already loves him.

as the two of you converse, you find that tom get’s along with everyone. he met your dad, loves him. your brother and tom both play the guitar, tom offering to even give one of his own to him to which your brother jumps in joy.

aunts and uncles and grandparents treat him as their own, pinching at his cheeks, spoon-feeding him, giving him immense amount of compliments, hugging him as if he were their own blood and the overall coddling of your 20 year old boyfriend.

however, it seems as though one particular individual isn’t so fond of him.

“who the heck is this!? and what’re you doing with y/n??” it appears to be a small boy, probably around the age six or seven, gap toothed and seems to be in a sour mood at the appearance of your boyfriend.

“sammy, this is tom! my boyfriend!”

his face contorts in disapproval, tom pouting to retaliate your nephew’s foul mood.

“no—i don’t like him..”

“hey! you don’t get to talk to my boyfriend like that..”

“tch, whatever.”

you click your tongue and decide to just go prepare and grab plates of food for tomorrow and yourself to eat.

you had to leave before you actually strangled the kid.

“i’ll be back baby i’m just gonna go grab us something to eat ‘kay?” tom nods as you kiss his cheek to leave him in the room with sam.

silence. absolute silence, as they both stood there staring at each other.

“do you love her?” sammy asks.

“i do love her.”

“what do you love about her?”

“everything. she’s my whole world to me, i was hoping to get along with her family, she says it means a lot to her that we do,”

sam twiddles his thumbs within his hands, had he made y/n upset? was he being immature?

one cannot help but feel protective over the aunty that cared for her since he was born.

“you like—really really—love her??”

“really really, sam,”

“ew don’t say my name, but i guess.. i guess i can get to know you,”

“yeah?”

“yeah.”

“but if you ever break y/n’s heart.. i’ll come for you,”

“alright big man, whatever you say,”

tom holds out a fist, sammy hesitates to reciprocate the gesture, with a big cheeky smile, the little boy punches tom’s arm and runs off to god knows where.

“ow..”

as tom rubs his arm to relieve himself of the pain, standing alone, he feels a tug on the jeans he calls pants, way too baggy for him to even touch his legs, but enough that he felt the sensation of pulling at the bottom of them.

he looks down, he spots a little girl, seemingly younger than sammy. in pink frills and two low pigtails, she looks up at tom with beady eyes.

“well hello there child,”

she doesn’t respond. not yet verbal enough to actually make out the words she would’ve wanted to say to him, if there were any at all.

letting go of the pant leg, she makes grabbing motions at tom. to his surprise, it seems as though stranger danger isn’t really a concept to her as it is for sammy.

picking her up in his arm, he carries your niece holding him up to his chest as she sit on his forearm comfortably.

he jumps her up and down in his arms to see her smile, also smiling on his own.

“why aren’t you cute??”

he coos, holding out a finger in front of her, for her to wrap the totality of her hand around his index finger.

tom could feel his heart melt at the sight of how adorable she was.

coming back, you hold two plates in both hands to witness the site of your boyfriend getting along with your niece.

“aren’t you two the sweetest?? seems like you’ve meet lily!”

“she’s so.. cute!”

the little girl cannot help but shy away, hiding her face in tom’s neck.

it doesn’t explicitly show, but it seems as though your niece has taken a very big liking to tom, she definitely thinks hes the cutest boy she’s ever seen.

“hey! don’t go stealing tom from me now, that’s my boyfriend,” you rush to put the plates full of food on the table to tickle at your niece.

she giggles and jolts in tom’s grasp as he attempts to securely hold onto her, lily wrapping her small arms around his neck.

you sulk and cross your arms, she won the battle, but you also cannot help but gawk at the sight of seeing tom hold your niece so lovingly.

“she stole my boyfriend from me,” you scowl as you playfully hit tom’s arm.

chuckling, tom cannot hide the wide grin plastered on to his face, smiling ever so brightly.

“jealous?”

“…yes”

“awww don’t be like that, you’ll have enough of me later,”

your mouth agape as he smirks at you, clearly intending something behind that, you feel anxious, but impatient.

you need to give him a child.