#so they focus on blood work and pregnancy tests

[rose24207]

I saw requests and I've read some of your Mafia Lando fics, can you do something where reader and Lando broke up and a few days later reader gets into a accident and the hospital calls him because he's next of kin when they were dating and when he gets there he's freaked and the doctors surprises him by saying the baby's fine.

Bound by blood and fate

Summary: After a devastating breakup, Lando is pulled back into your life when an accident reveals not only your fragile state but also the existence of the baby he never knew you carried, forcing him to confront his love for you and his vow to protect his growing family

Genre: Mafia!Lando, angst, fluff

TW: Mafia, car accident, pregnancy

A/N: thank youuu for the request. I really love all of your ideas! I hope you like it! English is not my first language. I hope you enjoy it though! Requests are open and welcome!

Masterlist

The breakup had been ugly.

Ugly and inevitable, or so it seemed. The constant arguments, Lando’s late nights, the secrets he wouldn’t share—it all built up until the tension became unbearable. When you’d finally walked out of his penthouse a few nights ago, neither of you had looked back.

You told yourself it was for the best. You weren’t meant to live in Lando’s dangerous world.

He had tried to shield you from it, tried to convince you that his darker dealings wouldn’t touch your life. But the cracks in his promises had widened over time, and you couldn’t ignore the risks anymore.

The days since then had passed in a blur of loneliness and regret.

Each moment away from him felt like a weight pressing down on your chest, but you reminded yourself why you’d left.

You couldn’t stay in the shadow of his empire.

You couldn’t live in fear.

But even as you repeated those words to yourself like a mantra, there was something you hadn’t told him. Something that made your stomach churn with every passing hour.

You were pregnant.

You’d found out two days before the breakup. The test had been positive, and your mind had spiraled in every direction—joy, fear, uncertainty. You’d planned to tell him that night, but the fight had derailed everything.

And now? Now it was too late. Lando was gone.

The accident happened on the fourth day after the breakup.

It was raining hard as you drove down the winding roads outside the city. The windshield wipers struggled to keep up, and visibility was poor. You had been heading to your doctor’s appointment, determined to make sense of your next steps alone.

But fate had other plans.

Your car skidded on the slick pavement as you rounded a corner, the tires losing traction. You tried to correct the steering, but it was too late. The vehicle spun out of control, slamming into a guardrail before flipping over and landing in a ditch.

The world went black.

When Lando’s phone rang, he almost didn’t answer it. He had been drowning in his own misery since you’d left, throwing himself into work to avoid thinking about you.

But something about the unknown number on the screen made him pause.

“Hello?” His voice was sharp, impatient.

“Is this Lando Norris?” a calm, clinical voice asked.

“Yes,” he said, his brow furrowing.

“This is St. James Hospital. You’ve been listed as the emergency contact for [Y/N]. She’s been in an accident.”

The blood drained from his face. “What? Is she—” His voice cracked. “Is she okay?”

“She’s stable, but she’s in critical care,” the doctor replied. “We need you to come in as soon as possible.”

He didn’t think twice. Grabbing his keys, he was out the door in minutes, driving faster than he had in his entire life.

Lando burst into the hospital, his heart racing as he approached the front desk.

“[Y/N] [L/N],” he said, barely able to keep his voice steady. “I’m her emergency contact. Where is she?”

The nurse nodded, quickly directing him to the ICU. He didn’t even thank her, his focus solely on reaching you.

When he stepped into the room, the sight of you lying in the hospital bed made his chest tighten painfully.

You looked so small, so fragile, your face pale against the stark white sheets.

A doctor stood at your bedside, checking your vitals. He turned as Lando entered, offering a calm but serious expression.

“You’re Mr. Norris?” the doctor asked.

Lando nodded. “What happened? Is she going to be okay?”

“She suffered a concussion and a few broken ribs, but she’s stable,” the doctor explained. “We’ll need to monitor her closely for the next 24 hours, but she’s a fighter.”

Relief flooded through Lando, but it was short-lived as the doctor continued.

“And the baby is fine as well,” the doctor added.

Lando froze. “The… what?”

The doctor frowned slightly. “You didn’t know? She’s about 10 weeks pregnant. The impact was severe, but there’s no sign of harm to the baby. It’s a miracle, really.”

Lando’s world tilted on its axis. Pregnant? You were pregnant? His heart pounded as he looked at you, the realization sinking in like a punch to the gut.

He sat by your bedside for hours, his hands trembling as he held yours. Memories of your last fight replayed in his mind, and guilt twisted in his chest.

If he had known… If you had told him…

But it didn’t matter now.

All that mattered was that you were okay, that both of you were okay.

When you finally stirred, your eyes fluttering open, his breath hitched. He leaned forward, his face hovering inches from yours.

“Lando?” Your voice was weak, but the surprise in your tone was unmistakable.

“I’m here,” he said softly, his fingers brushing against your cheek. “I’m here, love.”

Tears welled in your eyes as the reality of your situation came rushing back. “The baby—”

“Is fine,” he interrupted, his voice firm but gentle. “You’re both fine. But why didn’t you tell me?”

Fresh tears spilled over as you looked away. “We were already falling apart. I didn’t think it would change anything.”

“Change anything?” Lando’s voice cracked with emotion. “Everything changes, [Y/N]. You and this baby—you’re my everything.”

You turned back to him, searching his eyes for the truth. “But your world, Lando… it’s dangerous. I didn’t want to bring a child into it.”

He swallowed hard, his jaw clenching as he considered your words. “You’re right. My world is dangerous. But I’ll protect you—both of you—with everything I have. I swear it.”

Your lip quivered, but before you could respond, he leaned down, pressing a kiss to your forehead. “I’ve lost too much already. I can’t lose you,” he whispered.

The days that followed were a blur of recovery and quiet conversations. Lando rarely left your side, his protective instincts kicking into overdrive.

He made calls, tightening security around your home and ensuring that anyone who even thought of causing trouble would think twice.

You saw a new side of him—a man willing to go to any lengths for the people he loved. And as much as you���d tried to deny it before, you realized that love had never stopped between the two of you.

It wasn’t going to be easy. There were still battles to fight, both within and outside of Lando’s world.

But as he sat beside you, his hand resting gently on your stomach, you knew one thing for certain:

You weren’t alone anymore.

Thank you for reading!

[kurgy]

This may shock you but morning sickness is actually a key symptom of pregnancy

this may shock you but its medically impossible to be pregnant for 11 years straight

[genderqueerdykes]

im not sorry the truth of the transmasculine experience is ugly. i'm not sorry that we have to frequently discuss sexual and physical violence and abuse. i'm not sorry that we have to discuss violent physical abuse and death. i'm not sorry that we have to discuss homelessness, mental illness, addiction, disabilities, and other challenges in life.

we struggle. we do not instantly gain male privilege the second we come out. even if we pass. when someone knows we're trans we're treated like a woman no matter what. we can sometimes get lucky and pass with strangers but eventually people around us find out because people tell each other without our consent.

we face all kinds of abuse due to the fact that people feel entitlement to our bodies, regardless of what our AGAB is. they feel entitled to our faces, our hair, our entire appearance. they focus on the face that we're ruining something "pretty". they threaten corrective sexual violence to remind us that we're "just women". it happens constantly. this is not an isolated incident and virtually nobody wants people to talk about it when it comes to transmasculine people.

trans men often get injured for one reason or another. usually because someone wants to make them "prove" they're a man, to "toughen them up" or to "prove to them that they're a woman". sometimes this results in sexual assault. other times it results in physical assault. and sometimes people just kill trans men. all because they hate that a "woman" can transition into a man.

it's an ugly part of our reality but it needs to be discussed because otherwise people use the lack of that conversation as ammunition to say transmascs don't struggle.

transmasculine people struggle to stay housed. transmasculine people get kicked out of their living situations very often for many reasons. it's hard for transmascs to get jobs because often times people want either a man or a woman for a specific position and fuss over what they think the transmasc's gender is. misgendering is a huge issue at work. going stealth at work can be painful. being in the closet at work can be painful

transmascs are often disabled and struggle to get care due to people not taking AFAB patients' pain and symptoms seriously. this is a huge issue with any kind of AFAB person or any woman. all woman and AFAB people struggle with having their symptoms taken seriously when seeking serious medical attention to the point of possibly being undiagnosed for life, thus being unable to get on disability. trans women face this just as much as AFAB cis women, it's a huge issue in the medical industry

transmasculine people struggle to say on their hormones (or access them at all). testosterone is a controlled substance in many countries which means that you need a prior authorization to get the medication and need to consistently see a provider to get blood tests and check ups. it can be difficult to do so if you are low income and sometimes certain pharmacists will intentionally find ways to withhold hormones due to their own prejudices

transmasculine people struggle to get pregnancy support and care. it is very difficult for transmasculine people to figure out how to navigate their pregnancy, either due to their HRT provider not knowing much about pregnancy, or having a gynecologist who's not familiar with transmasculine health.

transmascs get denied from spaces made for men constantly. even if they pass, if word gets around that they're trans they can easily be kicked out of a space. transmasculine lesbians are often removed from lesbian, transmasc and/or non binary spaces. transmasc butches are often ostracized from all communities their identities correlate to. trans men and transmasc enbies are seen as a threat to women.

there is ugliness in every pocket of the queer community when it comes to how cisheteronormative society treats us. we all face disgusting treatment that needs to be addressed. it's important to consider how this system affects everyone underneath it. we need to talk about the positive things, it's good to help those are questioning, but we also must discuss what struggles we face in order to humanize ourselves and show that we people, too. none of us have it easy.

[kckt88]

A Heartbeat Between Us.

Summary:

'Pregnant. Gods, how could she let this happen?

The answer flashed before her mind’s eye—an image of a defined chest, his lean yet muscular form, that sharp, sculpted face. The long silver hair that spilled over his shoulders, a single penetrating blue eye that seemed to look right through her.

And then beneath the clothes and boxers that hid the impressive length and girth of his cock. Y.N felt her throat go dry just thinking about it.

Oh-that’s how it happened.'

Drunken sex with your friends brother, was one thing but getting pregnant with his baby, now that was another matter entirely.

Warning(s): Angst, Drama, Swearing, Alcohol Consumption, Infidelity, Kissing, Oral Sex, Unprocted Sex, P in V, Pregnancy.

AEMOND x Y.N

Word Count: 6048.

Disclaimer: I do not own any of the House of The Dragon or Fire & Blood characters nor do I claim to own them. I do not own any of the images used.

Comments, likes, and reblogs are very much appreciated, do not copy/post to other sights without my permission.

Tag List - @jasminecosmic99 @kaelatargaryen @yesterdayfeelings-blog @immyowndefender @0eessirk8 @darylandbethfanforever9 @killua2dot0 @msassenach @xcharlottemikaelsonx @moonnicole

Y.N sat on the cold, tiled floor of her bathroom, staring down at the positive pregnancy test in her trembling hand.

"Shit," she muttered under her breath, as she forced herself to stand up, inhaling sharply.

With a flick of her wrist, she tossed the test into the bin, though it was the fourth one she'd taken.

The missed period and constant morning sickness should have been enough of a clue, but no—she had to pee on a stupid plastic stick to truly accept what was happening.

Pregnant. Gods, how could she let this happen?

The answer flashed before her mind’s eye—an image of a defined chest, his lean yet muscular form, that sharp, sculpted face. The long silver hair that spilled over his shoulders, a single penetrating blue eye that seemed to look right through her.

And then beneath the clothes and boxers that hid the impressive length and girth of his cock. Y.N felt her throat go dry just thinking about it.

Oh- so that’s how it happened.

Neither of them had planned it. Blame the alcohol, the pent up lust, and the heat of the moment.

Still, it had been incredible, regardless of the consequences. A frustrated groan escaped her as she left the bathroom, wandering into her bedroom.

Her gaze fell to the bed, the same bed they’d writhed together on, naked and slick with sweat as he drove her over the edge again and again. She bit her lip as the memory of his hands, his mouth, sent a wave of heat through her.

Shaking her head, Y.N yanked on an oversized cardigan, trying to ignore the way her body reacted to the memory of him.

She needed to focus, to distract herself. Her feet carried her to the kitchen, where a pile of dishes awaited her. But instead of starting to wash them, her eyes landed on a photograph—her and Jacaerys.

Her ex-boyfriend.

She sighed, her chest tightening. They had broken up four months ago, but Jace had called her just two days ago, wanting to work things out.

Y.N's lips pressed together as she picked up the photo, staring at it for a moment before placing it face down on the counter.

Well, that wasn’t going to happen now.

Rubbing her hands over her face, she leaned against the counter. She knew what had to be done—first, she needed to make an appointment with the midwives.

Then, she needed to tell him. The father.

Gods, please don’t let him be an insufferable prick about it.

He had a tendency, didn’t he? Even though he’d changed since their school days, there was still a part of him that could be-difficult.

Her mind then betrayed her again, a flash of him working her body, bringing her to pieces with his tongue.

Y.N whimpered at the memory, her body trembling.

But this wasn’t the time for that.

She grabbed her phone, ignoring the sudden, nagging throb of need that lingered in her belly.

No, this was real now.

She dialled the number for the midwives office, steadying her breath as she booked an appointment for tomorrow.

The rest-well, that would have to come after.

The next day, Y.N sat in the waiting room of her local midwife centre, glancing around at the pastel-coloured walls and floral décor.

Boredom began to seep in as the minutes dragged by. The distant cries of babies echoed through the air, pulling her from her thoughts. She turned her head, catching a glimpse of a mother soothing a newborn, and despite everything, a warm, happy smile spread across her face.

"Y.N?" A stern voice interrupted her daydream.

Snapping to attention, Y.N stood up and followed the sour-looking midwife down a narrow corridor, her footsteps echoing off the linoleum floor. She was directed into a much warmer, cozier room, where the atmosphere softened.

"Good morning," a kindly midwife greeted her, adjusting her glasses as she stood beside a small ultrasound machine.

Y.N took a deep breath and stepped inside, her nerves prickling beneath her skin.

The midwife smiled kindly, beckoning her to sit. "When was your last period?" the woman asked gently, her pen hovering over a clipboard.

Y.N stared down at her hands, fidgeting with her fingers in her lap. "I-I don’t really remember-" she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

The midwife reached out, patting her shoulder reassuringly. "No matter, we’ll get a clearer picture. Let’s take a look, shall we?"

With a nervous nod, Y.N moved to the examination bed, pulling up her shirt and exposing her stomach.

She bit her lip, her anxiety bubbling as the midwife spread warm gel over her abdomen.

The midwife began moving the device across her stomach, her eyes fixed on the monitor. For a few moments, there was silence, the room filled only by the soft hum of the machine. Then suddenly, a faint but strong sound filled the air—a tiny, fluttering heartbeat.

Y.N sat up straighter, her eyes wide as they darted to the screen. There, amidst the blurry black and white image, was her child. Her child.

The sound washed over her, and without warning, tears welled up in her eyes. They slipped down her cheeks before she could stop them, happiness engulfing her in a way she hadn’t expected. It was the most incredible sound, the most undeniable proof that this was real.

"Everything looks good," the midwife said confidently, tapping a few buttons on the machine. "Nice strong heartbeat-I’d say that you’re roughly eight weeks pregnant."

Eight weeks. The child-was definitely his.

She managed a small, trembling smile, still trying to process the flood of emotions swirling inside her.

The midwife froze the image on the screen, printing out a picture and handing Y.N a tissue to wipe the gel from her skin.

Then she scribbled something on a notepad and tore off the page, handing it to her along with the ultrasound photo.

"You’ll need to come in every other month so we can monitor the pregnancy and see how things progress." The midwife smiled kindly again, pushing the paper into Y.N’s trembling hand.

“O-Ok” muttered Y.N

"Take this to the front desk, and they’ll schedule your next appointment."

"Thank you," Y.N mumbled quickly, her voice barely steady as she stood and made her way out of the room.

She paused in the hallway, staring down at the ultrasound scan she now held in her hands. There it was—a tiny figure. In black and white, undeniable proof.

She was really pregnant.

Y.N sat on her sofa, the weight of the day pressing down on her as she stared at the ultrasound picture in her hand.

A baby was growing inside her.

Her heart swelled with emotions she hadn't expected, a sudden surge that consumed her entirely.

She had never felt anything like this before—this fierce, protective love. It was as if her entire being had shifted, realigned with this new reality. Every fibre of her body already wanted this child, with a depth and intensity that stunned her.

The father deserved to know, of course. It wasn’t even a question. But as she sat there, staring at the picture, Y.N made a decision.

She wasn’t going to force anything out of him. If he wanted to be involved, then he would have to choose that path himself.

Exhaling, Y.N sank deeper into the sofa, pulling her legs up beneath her as her eyes flitted over to the magazine that lay on her coffee table.

There he was, arm draped around his girlfriend—a dark-haired, older woman dressed in designer finery, the picture of elegance and wealth.

And he—clad in a perfectly tailored suit that moulded itself to his lithe, muscular frame—looked every bit the part of someone whose life was wrapped in perfection.

He was part of the Targaryen dynasty, one of the wealthiest families around. He and his half-sister Rhaenyra had taken over Targaryen Inc. after their father Viserys had passed away and Aegon, his older brother, had refused to step up, content to live off his inheritance.

Y.N’s lips pressed together as she wondered, for what felt like the hundredth time, how he would react to the news. Would he embrace it? Take responsibility? Or would he ignore it, pretend it didn’t exist?

Their lives were already so different, so far apart from where they’d started. Whatever happened, whatever choice he made, there was no denying that their lives were about to spiral into a whirlwind neither of them had expected.

She pulled a blanket around herself, snuggling deeper into its warmth as she closed her eyes, letting herself drift back to the night it all started.

It had started at Helaena’s flat, where Y.N was nervously tugging at the hem of her dress, glancing at herself in the mirror. “Do you think this dress looks okay?” she asked, turning to Helaena, who was adjusting her own makeup at the vanity.

Helaena smiled warmly, “You look beautiful, Y.N. Seriously. You have nothing to worry about.”

Y.N sighed, feeling a knot of anxiety twist in her stomach. “Sorry, I’m just nervous. I haven’t been clubbing since before I was dating Jace, and now that we’re over-” She trailed off, biting her lip. “-I’ve heard he’s seeing someone new. A girl named Sara”

Helaena waved her hand dismissively. “Forget about him. Tonight isn’t about arsehole ex-boyfriends.”

Y.N raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at her lips. “Isn’t he your nephew?”

Helaena smirked back, her eyes twinkling mischievously. “Exactly, which is why I’m perfectly entitled to call him an arsehole. Now come on, let’s go enjoy ourselves.”

Y.N nodded, feeling the tension lift slightly as she followed Helaena out of the flat. They ended up at a club called Dragon’s Den, a pulsing, neon-lit space that buzzed with energy.

After an hour of drinks and dancing, the alcohol had finally started to work its magic. Y.N’s nerves faded away, replaced by a light, heady feeling of freedom.

“Oh, look,” Helaena waved excitedly, “-My brothers have finally arrived-took them long enough"

Y.N turned and her breath caught in her throat.

Lord almighty.

Aegon, the eldest, was grinning widely as he weaved through the crowd, his bubbly and cheerful demeanour making him instantly noticeable. Then there was Daeron, the youngest, with his hypnotic blue eyes and infectious smile, the picture of youthful charm.

But it was the man trailing behind them, cutting through the crowd with a quiet intensity, who made her heart stutter.

Aemond.

His silver hair was tied back, revealing the sharp, angular lines of his face, the eyepatch only adding to his dark allure.

Gods, did he always look that good?

Y.N mentally kicked herself. Damn it, what the hell was wrong with her? Clearly, the alcohol was clouding her senses, making her thoughts wander.

But when they locked eyes over the dancing crowd, and he smirked—that smug, knowing smirk—and something stirred inside her.

She forced herself to smile back half-heartedly and then, defiantly, turned her back on him.

Y.N threw back her drink, requesting another when she felt a gentle tap on her shoulder. Turning around, she was met with Daeron’s beaming face, his gorgeous blue eyes crinkled in the corners.

“Good to see you, Y.N.” He kissed her hand in a playful, old-fashioned gesture.

“Daeron, how have you been?” she asked, though her attention briefly flickered to the man across the floor still watching her intently.

“I’ve been good, thanks for asking,” Daeron replied cheerfully, his fingers still holding hers. “Would you like to dance?”

Y.N glanced at Helaena, who gave her a subtle nod of encouragement. Looking back at Daeron’s hand, she replied politely, “Yes, I’d like to dance.”

Daeron beamed, leading her onto the dance floor. His hand on her waist pulled her close as they swayed to the rhythm of the music, and they fell into easy conversation, his charm and humour quickly making her laugh. For a brief moment, Y.N felt light, carefree.

But then, a voice—low, sultry, and cutting—sliced through the noise.

“Do you mind if I cut in?”

Daeron smirked, stepping back slightly as he glanced at Y.N. “It’s up to her,” he said with a shrug.

Y.N turned, and there he was—Aemond, standing tall, his intense gaze fixed on her. He extended a hand, his interest undeniable.

Without hesitation, Y.N let out a small laugh and took his hand.

“-Arse” she heard Daeron mutter as he moved away from them.

Aemond’s fingers brushed against her skin as he pulled her close, closer than she had been to Daeron. His body was firm against hers, his hand resting possessively at the small of her back.

“Look at you” said Aemond, his voice thick with something more than just amusement.

She looked up at him, refusing to back down. “I saw you looking earlier”

“You were always pretty, but tonight-you’re stunning-”

Y.N laughed softly. “I thought I was annoying and insufferable—or at least, that’s what you used to say to me back in school.”

Aemond’s eye gleamed with amusement. “Clearly, things have changed.”

Tilting her head, Y.N smirked. “How’s your grandma? I mean, Alys?”

Aemond let out a deep laugh, shaking his head. “She's with Larys in America.”

Her eyes traced the lines of his neck, landing on his lips. “So-that explains your attention tonight?”

He let one hand go and tipped her chin up, staring into her flustered face. “I’ve always appreciated a beautiful woman.”

Then, leaning in, his breath hot against her ear, he whispered, “And you are beautiful.”

After two more songs, with Aemond's hand firmly guiding her across the dance floor, Y.N could feel the tension between them growing, the air charged with something far more than just the rhythm of the music.

His touch was deliberate, the way he held her close to his body unmistakable, and her pulse quickened every time he looked down at her, his intense gaze burning into her skin.

As the last song ended, Aemond leaned down, his breath warm against her ear. “Let me buy you a drink,” he offered, his voice smooth and low.

Y.N nodded, trying to keep her composure as they made their way to the bar. The crowd around them seemed to blur, the music fading into the background as she focused on the man standing beside her.

As soon as they reached the bar, he gestured to the bartender and ordered two drinks.

“How are things with you and my nephew?” Aemond asked casually, leaning on the counter as he turned to face her.

Y.N let out a dry laugh, downing her drink in one swift motion, grimacing at the sharp taste of alcohol burning down her throat.

“There is no me and Jace” she said, her voice tinged with bitterness. “Not anymore. He was with some girl from up north called Sara”

Aemond huffed in response, his lips curling into a slight smirk. “His loss,” he said simply, as he downed his whiskey with ease. He ordered another round for the both of them, and Y.N couldn’t help but raise an eyebrow at him.

“Why are you being so nice to me?” she asked, her tone laced with curiosity. “I thought you hated me.”

Aemond scoffed, setting his empty glass down on the bar. “I don’t hate you, Y.N. I never did.”

Y.N blinked in surprise. “Could’ve fooled me,” she muttered. “So why act like you did?”

Aemond’s jaw tightened as he poured the truth out, more candid than she’d ever seen him. “I was a prick,” he admitted, a rare look of vulnerability flashing in his eye. “Too scared to act on how I felt, so I pushed you away. It was easier to be a bastard than to admit I was attracted to you.”

Her eyes widened at his words, genuinely surprised by his honesty. Aemond wasn’t exactly known for wearing his emotions on his sleeve.

“I’m-surprised you’re being this open,” she said, her lips curving into a small smile. “You’re usually all stoic and reserved. Like no one ever really knows what’s going on inside that head of yours.”

He smirked again, the edge of his lips curling into a half smile. “I’ve changed since you last saw me,” he replied, his voice softer than before.

Y.N studied him for a moment, and she had to admit that there was something different about him now.

Something more relaxed, more assured. She couldn’t quite put her finger on it, but it was clear that this wasn’t the same Aemond she’d known back in school.

The same Aemond who teased her, the same Aemond she once had a crush on.

She smiled, downing the rest of her drink as her mind began to feel delightfully fuzzy from the alcohol.

She was vaguely aware of Aemond ordering another drink, but before it arrived, she leaned toward him, her words slurring just slightly. “I’ve got more drinks back at my flat.”

Aemond looked at her for a moment, then grinned, a glint of something dangerous flickering in his eye. “Then let’s go.”

Without hesitation, he took her hand, his fingers warm and firm around hers as he led her away from the bar. They weaved through the crowd, Y.N barely registering the other people around them as she focused on Aemond’s touch, the way his hand didn’t let go, even for a second.

He shouted over to Aegon, something about leaving, but she barely heard it.

The next thing she knew, they were stepping outside into the cool night air, the noise of the club fading into the background as they hailed a taxi.

Y.N’s heart pounded in her chest, and she felt a rush of excitement—something reckless, something wild—course through her veins as they climbed into the back seat together.

The taxi ride was a blur, the tension between them thickening with every passing second. Y.N could feel Aemond’s gaze on her, the heat between them unmistakable. As they pulled up to her flat, she glanced at him, and in that moment, she knew there was no turning back.

Y.N fumbled with her keys, her hands shaking slightly as she finally managed to unlock the door. She pushed it open and turned to Aemond, stepping aside to let him in.

"It's not much, but it's home," she said, her voice a little breathless as she closed the door behind them.

Aemond hummed in response, his eye scanning the flat. He didn’t say much, just let his gaze drift around the room, but Y.N could feel the tension building, thick and heavy between them.

“So-what would you like to drink?” she asked, turning to him with a slight smile, trying to keep things light even though her heart was pounding in her chest.

Aemond’s gaze flicked to hers, his blue eye intense and unwavering. “We both know I didn’t come here for a drink,” he said, his voice low and sultry.

Before she could respond, his hand slid to the back of her head, his fingers tangling in her hair as he pulled her toward him.

His lips crashed against hers, and she let out a soft gasp of surprise before melting into the kiss. It was hungry, desperate—his lips moving over hers like he’d been waiting for this moment far longer than either of them could have admitted.

Y.N’s hands roamed his shoulders, before slipping off his jacket and then tugging at the buttons of his shirt.

Aemond’s hands were equally impatient, slipping round her back and partially unzipping her dress, his fingers grazing against her skin, sending sparks of heat through her body.

Between kisses, his voice was low and gravelly, “Bedroom.”

Y.N pulled back just enough to nod, her breath shaky. “This way,” she whispered, taking his hand and leading him down the short hallway to her room.

The moment they stepped inside, the tension that had been building between them snapped, and Aemond was back on her.

His hands cupped her face, pulling her into another searing kiss, and Y.N moaned into his mouth as she felt his long fingers sliding up the back of her neck and into her hair.

“I-I want to see you” muttered Y.N softly.

Aemond slipped his fingers under the strap of his eyepatch and pulled it from his head.

Y.N stood silent she stared at the scar the bisected his cheek, extending through his eyebrow. The sapphire that he’d placed in the eye socket, glinted in the moonlight.

“You are-so-beautiful” whispered Y.N as she leaned forward and placed a number of kisses along his scarred cheek and over the sapphire.

Aemond closed his eye in delight at the tender gesture, a contented sigh escaping his lips.

“Hmmm” rasped Aemond as he ran his thumb over Y.N’s bottom lip, his eye going wide as she opened her mouth and nipped at his thumb before sucking it into her mouth.

“Please-“ moaned Y.N

Aemond’s gaze locked onto hers, his eye dark with desire. "You have no idea how long I’ve wanted this," he whispered, his voice rough, filled with a mix of longing and restraint.

Y.N’s heart pounded in her chest as she reached for him, pulling him closer. "Then don’t stop," she whispered back, her voice soft but urgent.

Wasting no time, he pulled Y.N to him, his lips once again claiming hers.

He put his arm around her waist and kissed her passionately, deepening the kiss as she moaned into his mouth. His tongue pushing against hers.

Y.N ran her fingers across his lithe body. His muscles rippled under her fingertips.

She finished unbuttoning the white shirt he wore, placing feathery kisses on his sparsely haired chest as the shirt was removed.

Her fingers toying with the silver cross chain he wore.

Groaning against her creamy smooth skin, he kissed her neck, sucking on the delicate flesh as she leaned into him, enjoying his every touch.

Her dress felt heavy on her. She wanted to be rid of it. She wanted to feel his skin on hers. She reluctantly broke free of his embrace and turned her back to him moving her hair out of the way.

His fingers trembled as he grasped the zip to her dress and pulled it the rest of the way down, the sound echoed through the quiet apartment, and he pressed his lips to the back of her neck.

Using his long fingers, he freed her from the confinements of her dress, and it fell to join his shirt on the floor.

She wasn’t wearing a bra, which seemed to excite him.

Goosebumps appeared where his fingers moved over her. Cupping her ample breasts from behind, Aemond pulled Y.N against his chest. Burying himself in the crook of her neck, sucking on the skin whilst his fingers massaged the soft mounds and played with her hardened nipples.

Aemond turned her to face him. Kissing her again, he trailed kisses down her body and took a rosy nipple in his mouth. Sucking on the bud, he bit down lightly, earning a low moan from deep within her.

He continued his actions on the other breast and kissed past her stomach until he knelt before her. Her fingers in his hair tightened as he ran the tips of his fingers from her stomach down to her core.

Slowly he grasped the lace of her knickers and ripped them from her, pressing the ruined material to his nose and inhaling her scent before standing up.

Y.N reached forward to undo the buttons on his trousers, then she directed him backwards towards the bed.

Her fingers stroked his body, not missing an inch of flesh, admiring the way his muscles twitched under her touch.

Biting down on her lip, she knelt between his legs, and pulled his trousers and boxers down his shapely legs and threw them on the floor.

Gods. His cock. It was impressive.

Y.N wanted to put it in her mouth, to taste him, but before she could, Aemond leaned forward and pulled her onto the bed.

He covered her body with his as he sucked and licked at the delicate skin of her neck, leaving red marks in his wake.

Y.N moved her head to the side and moaned loudly as she felt Aemond’s teeth nipping at her skin.

Ooo A-Aemond” exclaimed Y.N as he moved down her body, nibbling her at her skin as he went.

“Such a pretty pussy " breathed Aemond, spitting on her pussy before he ran the flat of his tongue up her soaked slit, from bottom to the top, tasting her.

“Oh, my god” moaned Y.N her eyes rolling into the back of her head.

“That’s it my sweet. Let me hear you”. 

“YES! It feels so good. Don’t stop. Aemond. Please” begged Y.N.

"Delicious" purred Aemond as he began lapping at Y.N, running his tongue along every fold.

"More" panted Y.N. "Please. I need more”.

Aemond inserted two fingers, sliding them in and out of her slick wet folds.

“Oh, fuck" whimpered Y.N; her chest heaving.

 Aemond’s fingers were soaking wet as they continued to pump in and out of her tight heat.

“I can’t wait to get my cock inside you. I don’t want to wait any longer, come for me baby,” moaned Aemond, his face pressed between her shaking thighs.

Y.N arched  her back and screamed as her climax washed over her.

Aemond pumped slowly and lapped at her centre as she squirted all over his face.

“P-Please A-Aemond. Need you” begged Y.N.

Aemond rose to his knees, his chin shining with her slick, he smirked as he swiped his fingers over his chin and then placed them in his mouth.

Aemond moved up Y.N’s body pausing to grasp hold of her left breast as he ran his tongue over the rosy nipple, his teeth grazing the stiffened peak.

“Oh-yes“ gasped Y.N, as he moved to the other breast and lavished it with the same attention.

Aemond then grabbed her around the waist and manoeuvred her body on top of his.

“I want you to ride me-” exclaimed Aemond as he lined up his cock with her entrance and sheathed himself inside her with one hard thrust.

Y.N moaned as Aemond withdrew and entered into her repeatedly.

Faster and faster. Harder and deeper, his fingers digging into the flesh of her hips.

"Please don't stop," cried out Y.N

"I have no intention of stopping" growled Aemond, his feet planted firmly on the bed to allow him to increase the intensity of his thrusts.

A satisfied smile spread across his face as he quickened and angled his movements, so his cock rubbed on that special place inside her.

Aemond seemed mesmerized by the sight of her breasts bouncing in front of him as he surged forward, his mouth wrapping around one rosy bud.

His teeth and tongue teasing the stiffened peak.

“Gods-yes Aemond” shrieked Y.N as she bounced on his cock, her hands coiled in is long silver hair.

“That’s it baby-take it-take all of me” growled Aemond leaning back as he moved Y.N’s hips in time with his thrusts.

“Oh gods-” wailed Y.N.

“That’s it-FUCK Y.N” groaned Aemond as he took hold of her and quickly manoeuvred her onto her back, his cock never leaving the warm wetness of her as he began to pound into her, the sounds of skin slapping on skin echoing around her bedroom.

“P-Please Aemond. Don’t stop. Don’t stop-“ whimpered Y.N.

“Come for me baby-come for me” growled Aemond as he felt her clenching around him.

“AEMOND” screamed Y.N as she exploded, her nails digging into his back.

Aemond held back for as long as he could, but his release was upon him.

With a final hard thrust, he spilled rope after rope of his seed.

He muffled his groans into her mouth as she hung onto him, kissing him fervently.

She held him close to her body, whispering words of comfort and satisfaction while running her fingers down his back.

Y.N was startled awake by a loud, insistent banging on the door. She groaned, rubbing her eyes, still groggy from falling asleep on the sofa.

Straightening her oversized cardigan, she walked over to the door, her heart skipping a beat as she wondered who could be knocking this late.

When she opened the door, she found Jace standing there, his face a mix of uncertainty and determination. “Can I come in?” he asked, his voice tense but soft.

Y.N hesitated for a moment, her mind racing. The last thing she expected was to see Jace at her doorstep.

But eventually, she pushed the door open wider, allowing him to step inside. He leaned down, pressing a kiss to her forehead—a gesture that made her stomach churn with discomfort—and she shut the door behind him.

Watching him as he walked around her flat, his eyes scanning the room as if searching for answers, she could feel the weight of his presence growing heavier.

He finally settled on the sofa, looking up at her. "What do you want, Jace?" she asked, crossing her arms as she stood a few feet away.

He patted the space next to him, signalling for her to sit. Reluctantly, she did, keeping her distance.

"I've been thinking about what you said before we broke up," he began, his tone measured, "and I realize now that having a solid commitment is a good idea. I wasn’t ready before, but I’ve been thinking—about us, about our future. I want to fix things. Maybe even-get married."

Y.N’s heart clenched, panic flooding her chest. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, "I can't marry you, Jace. I-I'm pregnant."

The words hung in the air, and Jace froze, his expression shifting from surprise to confusion. He blinked a few times before a smile broke through. “That’s-that’s wonderful news,” he said, reaching out to take her hand.

But Y.N quickly pulled her hand back, steeling herself for what came next. “It’s not yours,” she whispered.

Jace's smile evaporated, replaced by pure shock. His eyes widened as the realization hit him. "What? You-cheated on me?"

Y.N bristled at the accusation. “We were broken up, Jace. It wasn’t cheating.”

Jace stood, pacing the small living room, running a hand through his hair as his temper flared. “And you think that makes it okay? After everything—who is it, Y.N? Who’s the father?”

She crossed her arms defensively. “I can’t tell you that. Not yet.”

Jace’s fists clenched. His voice grew louder, his words biting. “I’ll find out. And when I do, I swear I’ll beat the shit out of him.”

Y.N couldn’t help the laugh that escaped her lips, a short, incredulous sound at the absurdity of it.

The thought of Jace going after Aemond, who would undoubtedly destroy him in any confrontation, was almost too much to handle.

“You think this is funny?” he snapped, his face red with anger.

“No, I think you’re being ridiculous,” she shot back. “We were broken up. You don’t get to be mad about this. And let’s not forget, you went off with Sara right after we ended things. So, it’s okay for you to go and stick it in someone else, but I can’t have a one-night stand?”

Jace’s face twisted in frustration, his voice breaking as he snarled, “That was a mistake! I—"

Y.N cut him off. “Well, so was this. But it happened. And now I’m pregnant, and I haven’t even told the father yet. So, I’d appreciate it if you kept this to yourself until I do.”

Jace’s face fell into a mixture of anger and disbelief. “I know him, don’t I?”

Y.N hesitated, then nodded. There was no point in lying.

Jace’s fury bubbled over as he shouted, “How could you do this?!” His voice echoed through the flat, the tension palpable.

Y.N had had enough. Her body tensed as she stood, glaring at him with cold resolve. “Jace. I’m done, I want you to leave”

“Y.N-”

“Please leave,” said Y.N firmly.

Jace’s anger wavered, replaced by a sad, desperate look as he moved towards the door, his hand on the handle.

“Is it really over? Is there no chance for us?”

Y.N’s eyes softened, but she didn’t falter.  “It’s over Jace. It’s for the best.”

Tears welled in his eyes as he nodded, slowly opening the door and stepping out into the hallway. He paused, his back still turned to her, before disappearing into the night without another word.

Y.N shut the door quietly behind him, her heart heavy but certain she had made the right choice.

The next morning, Y.N stood in front of her wardrobe, pulling out outfit after outfit, nerves rattling through her body.

She wasn’t sure why it mattered so much, but every choice felt wrong. After trying on a casual dress, then jeans, and a sweater, she finally settled on a smart skirt and blouse.

She wanted to look put together—not too formal, but not too relaxed either. After all, she was about to deliver life-changing news.

Her fingers trembled as she brushed her hair and applied light makeup, glancing at herself in the mirror.

She couldn’t stop thinking about how Aemond would react. But one thing was certain: no matter his response, this baby was hers. She was determined to protect and love this child with or without him.

Finally, after a last glance at her reflection, she grabbed her handbag and headed out the door. She hailed a taxi and gave the driver the address for Targaryen Inc.

As the car wove through the busy city streets, her heart raced. She rehearsed what she would say, but each scenario in her head ended differently. She sighed, leaning her head against the window.

The towering skyscraper of Targaryen Inc. loomed ahead, sleek and modern with reflective glass panels stretching toward the sky. She paid the driver, stepped out, and took a deep breath before walking into the grand lobby.

The building was immaculate, with marble floors and chic modern décor. It exuded wealth and power—much like the man she was here to see.

"Good morning, how can I help you?" the receptionist asked with a welcoming smile.

“I’m here to see Aemond Targaryen,” Y.N replied, her voice calm though her insides were twisting.

The receptionist gave a polite nod and directed her to take the lift to the 20th floor. "Someone will assist you there," she said, gesturing toward the sleek elevators at the far end of the lobby.

Y.N thanked her and walked toward the lift, her heels clicking softly against the polished floor. Once inside, she pressed the button for the 20th floor and clasped her hands tightly around the buckle of her handbag.

The quiet music in the lift did little to ease her growing anxiety. She glanced at the floor numbers ticking upward, willing her heart to steady. This was it.

When the lift doors slid open, Y.N stepped out into an elegant office floor. The air smelled faintly of expensive cologne, and the space was immaculately designed—sharp, minimalistic, and cold.

A haughty-looking woman with perfect posture greeted her at a sleek desk.

“Can I help you?” the woman asked, her tone professional yet distant.

“I’m here to see Aemond Targaryen,” Y.N said, mustering her confidence, even as her fingers fidgeted nervously with her handbag again.

The woman raised an eyebrow and looked her up and down, clearly assessing her. “Do you have an appointment?” she asked, flipping through the pages of a file on her desk.

Y.N hesitated for a moment before replying, “No, but I’m an old friend. I’m sure Aemond will make time to see me.”

The woman pursed her lips, her fingers pausing over the file. “Let me see if Mr. Targaryen is available.”

She asked for Y.N.’s name, and she told her, watching as the woman nodded and picked up the phone.

Y.N’s stomach twisted as she took a seat in the waiting area, glancing around at the perfectly curated space.

A few tense minutes passed before the woman called out to her.

“Mr. Targaryen will see you now,”

TBC.

[readerforexiao]

𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐀𝐑𝐌𝐒 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐖𝐎 𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐋𝐃𝐒 | 𓂃 ࣪˖ ִֶָ

⌗ Sylus x Fem!Reader | married + parent au, romance, fluff, light angst | tw: pregnancy, childbirth trauma, post partum, first time parents, mental health struggles, insecurites, anxiety, underlined depression, panic attack, reference to trauma and loss, implied violence + death, somewhat lore compliant | wc: 4k

⌗ A/n: this is only the beginning. The groundwork has been laid and now i can focus on the family dynamic </3. To my dearest friend who helped me whenever I got stuck, I'm immensely grateful🌹

⌗ “I would do it all again. Choose the wait of a century��” he said between kisses, each peck a declaration that you understood the meaning behind every tender touch and every whispered promise sealed in the air. “Take my last breath as if it were my greatest honour. Because I am yours. All of me…"

On the day you appeared as real as the nightmares that haunted him, your fingers felt smaller than his and rougher than he remembered. Your gaze had lost its affection and stretched before him like a frayed horizon— becoming an unravelled boundary between the warmth he knew and the unknown beyond.

Where there had been a luminous depth— like the pale glow of moonlight brushing over still midnight waters— lay a turbulent sea withdrawn and untouchable. Even the sense of belonging he felt had slipped away like the last light of dusk fading into the distance.

It shook him from his thoughts and back into a reality he could not escape.

A reunion, he’d called it when the bullet pierced his chest the blood stained his shirt. A test, a reawakening, he led himself to believe when the tendrils of his evol began their slow work of regeneration. Sylus knew desperation had driven him and not mere calculation.

In all selfishness, he wanted to lay his darkness bare before you because he could not stand the idea of your ignorance while he remembered it all, those fractured, empty memories in place of where he once resided.

Sylus was but a child broken by betrayals, a man defined by those scars, and shaped by the ominous hands of fate. His aggression and impatience were the results of more than mere habits; they became ingrained parts of his nature.

Cold and unyielding became of his features; red eyes marked by the devil’s touch, a name both feared and revered. But then you crossed the chasm of his fractured soul, pressing your hands into open wounds and putting your nose where it did not belong with a promise of forever. And he could still hear the manic laughter that echoed at your naivety.

Was it a challenge or a taunt in the way you pushed his buttons? Or had he simply lost his mind, finding himself helplessly drawn under your influence?

It was maddening how in every life you drove him from a man who’d never known love to a fool at your feet. And so, seeing you wander into the N109 zone like a lost kitten searching for its owner, the familiarity broke him.

In a moment of reckless clarity, his heart made the decision that handed you a weapon and certainly his demand was a cruel form of intimacy, it wasn’t the love he wanted to show, but it was the only way he thought would reach across the gulf between you.

The echo of the shot dissolved into silence, and he searched your face, his sanity splintered, the tether fraying and refusing to connect. It hadn’t worked. Of course not. How foolish, how desperately pathetic to hope otherwise.

Yet he tried again… for his heart ached for you. But each time he reached for the past he was met with resistance, caught in a relentless cycle.

He chased the memory of you to his end, time and time again, watching as you flashed those bright eyes at another, laughter and tender touches shared with someone warmer. You were cared for and shown how to live in this life by someone who knew how to protect you beneath the stars. Much like another had monitored your heart and anticipated your needs, just as he had done.

It made his attempts feel insignificant.

But Sylus did not relinquish you even then, nor did he dare to ruin your happiest moments for he knew he would always be yours, and with patience, you would be his.

You saved him, after all.

It was that single resolve to keep wanting you that brought him to this moment, cradling his new-born daughter close to his chest, marvelling at how impossibly light she was in his hands, how easily they could break her.

He couldn’t believe it— after all the mistakes he made and the things he ruined, this was his life now even though he didn’t feel worthy of her existence.

She was a miracle, blessed with eyes parallel to his own, deeply doused in red— a colour he once loathed for its synergy with blood, but here it was soft and untainted in her eyes as they fluttered open and peered up at him.

His feet were spellbound and lodged between the crevices of the earth by her existence, that alone granted him all he thought beyond his reach.

Merely days that she’d been in this world and already had she turned his life upside down.

“Awake already, little one?” He whispered, barely fifteen minutes since she drifted off.

A smile crept onto his face as he fell back into the rhythm of her soothing her fussing. Sylus glanced at the untouched cot in front him, cold and empty, as he held the infant it was intended for. He mused, knowing that it would remain that way for many more nights.

He pivoted on his heels and walked around the room with her. She was entirely dependant on him, he realized, as he adjusted her over his shoulder, being careful with her neck and the amount of movement he made. Though it wasn’t in the way others before her had been; not in the way you were.

As he strolled around the room, his consciousness meandered through the landscape of this existence, a world steeped in complex relationships where dependence often came with strings attached.

He considered the people who worked under him at Onychinus, each cloaked in their own shadows, driven by desperation of sorts.

Most had sold their souls and traded their humanity for survival or power, engaging in incomprehensible acts to prove their worth.

To each their own, their choice to wallow in the filth beneath him. But even as they cowered in fear at his feet, there still lingered a pride and expectation— a desire for something in return.

Their loyalty was a currency exchanged for blood-stained bills and the hollow promise of protection. And even someone as powerful as him needed their willing hands, for he could not accomplish everything by himself.

He recalled a meeting with an operative, a sharp-witted woman who approached him with a proposal, eyes gleaming with ambition. “I need your backing on this, Sylus. In return, I can secure a major supply route,” she had said, her tone confident.

Despite his annoyance, he complied, aware her loyalty hinged on the favours he could grant her, a waltz of give and take that left no room for trust. For now, he needed her; she had yet to prove her worth in his plans.

Then there was Orion, a man large and sturdy in appearance, though his bulging stomach gave him a rounded look. Greedy at heart, he was nonetheless useful for his keen eye for anything of value, which meant Sylus would keep him around until he no longer served that purpose.

Perhaps these relationships weren’t the best examples to use as they only highlighted his dependence on them rather than theirs on him. But that was far from the truth.

He knew these people leached off him; they would be nowhere without his support. They depended on his money, power, and influence. If he chose to assert himself then they would be quickly reminded of who held their leashes.

It was different when it came to you. Your need of him was honest, not just a need for survival or security but something deeper. His presence grounded you and his strength fortified you.

In a time of unrelenting chaos, his support was a solace. It was a reliance that transcended mere necessity; it was built on trust and intimacy, a bond that flourished in the shadows of his empire.

What he gave, he received in kind. The love he showered, returned tenfold.

Still, you were able to stand on your own two feet without him. It wasn’t the same for his daughter who stared up at him seemingly captivated by his presence just as he was by hers.

With her, it was nothing of the kind. There were no ulterior motives, no agendas, no expectations— she just needed him. Not as Sylus, the leader of Onychinus— a cold-blooded monster— or as a sacrifice, but simply as her father. It was a stark contrast to the world outside, a world where trust was a rare commodity and relationships were transactional.

He welcomed the feeling of being needed by someone like her.

“What?” He grinned with a brow raised in playful questioning as he laid her in the center of his bed, watching her tiny form melt into the blankets.

Her features wrinkled in response to the shift in surroundings and it was a strange sensation to see her there in the middle, occupying the space where he would lay with you entangled.

She drew him in the same way you did. Suddenly, his heart pounded against the confines of its cage, swelling with a mix of pride and protectiveness, but it also raced with an emotion he found hard to perceive.

“You are everything I am not” The words coursed between them in secrecy, barely more than a whisper in a tone absent of the conviction and poise it usually had, softened alone by the rise and fall of her chest.

She was beautiful, held in the arms of a father who loved her.

He let his fingers trace her small hand, so delicate compared to his own scarred knuckles— hands hardened by the demands of survival, by years of a life he hadn’t chosen but had been thrust into, one of cold stares and distant voices, where warmth was something fought for, not given freely.

“But that doesn’t matter, because I will show you a world that won’t bruise you for breathing” he said, bringing his lips upon the dainty swell of her cheeks.

She would know laughter that wasn’t tainted with bitterness and shelter that didn’t feel like a cage. In his arms, she would know what it was like to be wanted, protected, and cherished in a way he had once only dreamed of.

“And you will be loved for simply existing.” He promised, prodding at the balance of existence.

For tonight and forever on, he made that vow to be her protector and her greatest source of strength. A promise made in sincerity on his life; on the heart given to you— the one he would use to love this child.

She would never find herself in the same situation as her mother, clinging to him amid the storm on the eve of a failed battle. Your head buried against his neck, your hands drenched in his blood and hooked onto his shirt, your beautiful face twisted in pain. The red receding from his one remaining eye, taking with it a promise unkept.

No, that was his tragedy, and never will it be hers. He would shield her from it all, lay the world in her hands if she so desired, and tear it apart all the same if it ever dared to harm her.

She stirred at his words as if she was answering him and Sylus didn’t know it was possible to fall in love all over again with someone other than you.

He let his gaze linger on her a moment longer, then looked up toward the door waiting for you to return.

It had taken some convincing, but he’d finally insisted you step out just for a brief reprieve after the whirlwind of the past few days. You agreed but reluctantly so, though he knew you hadn’t wandered far and you most likely were in a hurry to return.

Already, motherhood had taken root within you.

By the time you returned, showered and fed, you found yourself missing your husband and daughter even more.

You crossed the threshold, the soft orange glow of the lamps welcomed you and immediately you found Sylus standing over the bed with his back to you, the baby fussing in his arms.

Your whole world in one scene.

“I can feel your eyes on us, sweetie,” He announced, not even needing to turn around to sense your presence.

You wrapped your arms around his midsection and rested your head against his back, letting the rhythm of his breathing soothe you.

Out of nowhere, a knot tightened in your throat and Sylus as if sensing it, turned to envelop you tighter.

A whiff of black musk breached your nose, his signature scent evoked memories of late nights spent in each other’s company, of whispered confessions and last goodbyes.

Your body did not move in his hold, but your hands gripped his shirt for dear life.

You felt yourself begin to float, the ground beneath your feet dissolving. Then the memories of labour crept in from the edges, stirring the same deep unshakable pain. It clawed its way to the surface, latching onto your mind, the sensations as vivid and overwhelming as if it were happening all over again.

You shuddered at the recollection of your screams when you were urged to push, the buzzing they left behind still droning in your ears.

Beads of sweat formed on your skin and smeared, leaving behind faint marks on Sylus’ chest.

“Look at me,” he urged, guiding you to sit on the bed.

He sank onto his knees. A man who never lowered himself to anyone now knelt before you, his worry palpable in the way his thumb hurried in pursuit of your endless stream of tears.

You were in so much pain he could see it reflected in the quaking of your pupils and the tremor of your fingertips, he was reduced to nothing but an onlooker and his touch hesitant.

“That’s right, keep your eyes on me”

You followed his voice as he counted down your breaths.

“Sylus…” you whispered.

“I’m here,” he kissed your knuckles, the touch of his lips like a hot ember on your skin.

“I hoped that once she was here, everything would… piece together. But it’s not like that at all” You sucked in a breath, “Instead, I feel overwhelmed. Every time I see her little face, I can’t shake the feeling that I’m not enough— that somehow, I’ve already failed, just like I have with everything else”

“I understand, but—”

“Her life depends on me,” you shook your head as you continued, urgency creeping into your tone. “She’s the one person I don’t want to let down”

“You’re not failing her. You’re here, and you’re trying. It’s—”

“It’s hard to see that when I feel like I’m drowning,” you interrupted, your frustration bubbling to the surface. “What if I can’t give her the life she deserves? What if I mess this up? What if my lack of understanding hurts her in the future, and she grows up feeling unloved or unsupported?”

Sylus stopped you, firm yet gentle in his approach. “Why do you punish yourself with such careless thoughts?”

He held your gaze, filled with admiration for your strength— so different from his own, as he often ran and hid from his battles.

“Let me remind you we’ve faced challenges before, you and I alone, long before we found each other, isn’t that right, Sweetie?” You nodded reluctantly, and he went on, “In all you’ve done so far, it hasn’t come naturally; it’s taken your time, blood, sweat, and tears, but didn’t the results yield something good? All things worth doing are hard, and you’ve done something incredible by bringing life into this world. It’s something that inevitably reshapes all you know into something unknown, so isn’t it okay to feel a little overwhelmed? We’re here, we’re present, and we’re willing to learn and that’s what matters most”

His sincerity cut through the rapid thudding in your head, quieting your tears to faint breaths.

There was validation in his words, even though you struggled to pinpoint your emotions or the kind of solace you sought because sometimes words just felt insufficient, especially when you knew they couldn’t bring about instant relief.

But even in the moments where nothing was said, Sylus was there—always there through it all, and perhaps that was why you believed everything he said despite the perturbation prancing inside you.

You inhaled shakily, closing your eyes to find a semblance of calm but the tears kept flowing and Sylus wiped them away each time. His hand came to rest on your stomach, the warmth from his palm seeping into your skin.

“You have me right here” The weight in his voice thicker than you’d ever heard before. A tremor slipped through, like he was holding back a flood with every syllable.

This was Sylus— your Sylus— who never allowed a tear to fall… until now.

A lone tear traced his cheek in defiance, his eyes tinged with red veins surrounding the crimson of his irises, as if daring him to show his vulnerability, and his head fell gently into your lap.

He pressed a kiss to your clothed thigh, lips lingering as if that one touch could steady him

He couldn’t let you see how affected he really was; couldn’t reveal that the weight of worry had been pressing on him just as heavily. For all his certainty, his strength, his fear wasn’t for himself.

"However you need me… because my love for you is all I have left to offer, as a man with nothing else to give" Sylus’s gaze flickered to yours, and you felt his breath catch as your fingers ran over the damp line on his cheek.

He raised himself, his nose brushing against yours as he tilted his head to connect his lips with yours. The subtle flavour of salt mingled on your tongues. Sylus felt an overwhelming sense of gratitude for being alive. After everything that had happened, the stillness around you revealed that all you desired was his closeness more than ever.

Sylus pushed up onto his knees to deepen the kiss, tender and sweet with an undercurrent of urgency in his movement.

“I would do it all again. Choose the wait of a century… ” he said between kisses, each peck a declaration that you understood the meaning behind every tender touch and very whispered promise sealed in the air. “Take my last breath as if it were my greatest honour. Because I am yours. All of me…"

The rush of tears had now passed and you let the cradle song of contentment bathe you. Though fatigue tugged at your bones, hope flickered like a candle in the darkness. Your hearts pulsed in harmony, the burdens of worry lingering in the air, but never alone, he reminded you.

If Sylus was yours to love and hold, then you were his in sickness and in health. You belonged to each other, and if your souls were forever intertwined, then your daughter would be the embodiment of that shared love.

“She will be ours” you said breathlessly against his mouth and Sylus’ eyes, once the vivid red of fresh blood deepened to a dark almost infinite crimson, his eyelids heavy, pupils dilating.

“Ours…” He repeated, tasting the word as though it were new, something he wanted to savour.

He said it again, quieter this time, and the walls he so carefully constructed around himself, crumbled under the pressure of his emotions.

The sentiment set the mood thick, the way the flecks of gold marble enriched the lustreless grey walls; four corners that became the keeper of all your intimacy and your secrets, a witness to every unspoken thought and keen desire.

Now, they would also stand witness to the joy of your child as she grew, recording the moments of wonder, each giggle, every first step, and the murmur of her first words.

It would become her safety, her home, in the arms of those who loved her most.

You and Sylus found yourselves immersed in the soothing of your conscious when the sudden wail broke the tranquillity, causing him to pull back, his eyes wide with surprise.

The unexpected interruption jerked a laugh from your throat and in an instant, Sylus left your side and had the infant in his arms, a grin spread across his face while he ran a hand through his tousled hair.

He grabbed the nursing pillow from the cot on his way to you just as you settled against the pillows and pulled down your shirt to feed her.

“You know, I think she gets her appetite from you.” you giggled when she hungrily latched onto your nipple.

Sylus chuckled, watching his girls. “I’d like to think I’m a bit more civilized about it.”

You gaped at him before punching his leg, which caused a stir from the child who clearly disapproved.

“Sorry, sorry,” you quickly apologized, repositioning her to latch back on.

“A bit demanding too, aren’t you little one” he remarked, poking her cheek.

You glared at him. “You have something to say to me, honey?”

“Put the claws away, kitten. I only meant it as an observation” he said, his voice still low, though there was amusement in his tone.

“Careful, Sylus, or I might just take preference of your daughter over you" You quipped.

He scoffed as he climbed into bed beside you, “That’s a rather cruel thing to say. Shouldn’t you be happy she has one of your... traits?”

“Oh god…” You opened your mouth to retort, words catching on your lips, and whatever you meant to say dissolved in an instant as a thought took hold: what if she did inherit everything from her father and not just his beautiful eyes?

Your expression shifted, giving way to a contemplative silence.

“What is it?” He asked.

“She can have your looks, that’s fine, but as for your personality…”

He looked up from his daughter, breaking away from the sight of their adorably clashing eyes to fix you with an incredulous look. “What’s wrong with my personality?”

Did he really need to ask that?

“You’re difficult..”

Sylus clicked his tongue, “I’d prefer the term ‘tenacious and efficient,”

“Well I’d prefer the term ‘handful’”

“You say that like it’s a bad thing.”

It wasn’t. Not particularly… you think?

With an all-too-familiar quirk of his lips hinting at amusement, you began to feel slightly annoyed— especially when your daughter’s insistent latch brought a sudden twinge of discomfort.

“It’s all fun and games until she turns out exactly like you” you muttered, half-jokingly.

He raised an eyebrow, feigning innocence. “What did you expect, sweetie?”

“Right, because I was fully aware of the implications of breeding with a handful,” you teased.

“You know what I hear? Jealousy” He drawled.

“Jealousy? Really?” You narrowed your eyes.

His grin widened, “If she does turn out to be a little me, I wouldn’t mind adding another to balance things out… maybe one who takes after you.”

“Jeez, Sylus! It’s way too early for that.” You pushed his face away, laughter escaping your lips as your daughter, now full, drifted off with her tiny tongue still out, sleepily suckling at the air.

Both of you awe-struck at the sight before Sylus gathered her up and settled her across his chest while you nestled beside him, resting your head on his shoulder as your hand slipped over his, covering the one he kept protectively on her back.

After a moment, he spoke, “You know, no matter what she inherits from me, I’m grateful it’s you who brought her into this world. You’re the heart of our little family, and no matter what our future holds, I’ll always be here to support you”

By this point you were barely able to keep your eyes open, exhaustion pulling you toward sleep, but you heard him loud and clear.

“I’m lucky to have you,” you whispered back.

The last thing you remembered as Sylus’ kissing your forehead and pulling the blankets up to your chin.

“Sleep well, beloved"

All rights reserved | Copyright @readerforexiao 2024

Do not copy, steal, or repost to any other platform 🥀

[noparadiseinthis]

English is not my first language. Bear with me, Grammarly helps, but it doesn't work miracles

Series: Come away, O human child! Part 3:

Because all living things disappoint us on some level

Spencer Reid/fem!Reader

Series masterlist here

Warnings: explicit domestic violence and abusive relationship. Descriptions of physical violence. Mention of miscarriage (doesn't happen). Marital rape (nothing too explicit, but there are some descriptions of the moment). Reader is married and has a child. Dissociation as a way of coping.

Summary: You reflect on your life choices in recent years while Spencer drops a bomb on you that shatters your illusions of comfort. How good a mother are you being? You scrub the dirt off your body in the shower, but it never comes off.

Your world has stopped several times during your life. The first time Steve shouted at you and showed that he could be aggressive, the first time he did more than shout, but especially when you held that positive pregnancy test in your trembling hands and lost all sight of the horizon.

You were already 8 weeks pregnant, and for the next 7 months, you had to learn to share your body with a little creature that slowly grew on you in every way. You thought you were broken when you didn't feel that mother-child connection, long nights awake wondering what was wrong with you. It was only the first time you felt Will move inside you that you realized how real it was. From then on, that protective instinct began to develop.

What you were ashamed to admit was that you only really loved him when you fell down the stairs and there was so much blood around you and as you lost and regained consciousness, Steve's face wandering above you in an ambulance, all you could think was "if there is a God, don't let anything happen to my baby". When you woke up in the hospital without knowing how much time had passed, you felt an emptiness inside you, and the nurse found you crying copiously, certain that you had suffered a miscarriage. That's when you found out that your baby was a boy, and reading one of your thousands of poetry books for college, you decided what to name him. A college you never finished, by the way.

When they placed him in your arms for the first time, bawling and with tearful little eyes wide open, wishing to go back to the comfort of your womb, where everything was safe, you hugged him tightly against your chest, wishing you could do the same thing while swearing in your thoughts that you would never let him be affected by his father's behavior, and under Steve's delighted gaze at the baby you had made, you almost thought things could be different. When you were discharged from the hospital with a list of foods for iron deficiency, you didn't bother to explain to the doctor that the bruises on your arm weren't due to a lack of iron.

"Hey, can you hear me? I need you to focus on my voice." Spencer said, loud enough to get his attention, but not so loud as to alert William.

He blamed himself for throwing you into this state, immediately recognizing the signs of dissociation. He knew he should have approached the subject with more caution, but for a moment, he felt that any chance he had was slipping through his fingers. How traumatized were you to already be conditioned to disconnect from reality when it knocked on your door?

Gradually, your breathing steadied as you realized where and with whom you were, blinking to stare at the worried face in front of you, the man's frown deepening as he analyzed you carefully. You were immediately mortified, looking away as you swallowed and remembered the original subject of the conversation. Will. You took a deep breath, glancing briefly at your son to regain your strength before turning your attention to Dr. Reid.

"Are you all right?"

You could only nod. "What... What were you talking about?"

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cause that reaction. Is that common?"

You hated the way you felt like a patient in a doctor's office, and you had to suppress the urge to hug yourself for comfort. There was nothing wrong with you. Right?

"Please... Dr. Reid." You added your title as an afterthought, hoping it would do something for his request.

And so, he agreed to ignore one of the many elephants in the room, just as he ignored the nail mark on your arm and your blank stare.

"It was something he told me when I was bringing him here. He told me he ran away because you two were starting..."

"Starting?"

"I hadn't understood either, but then I got here and I knew. He sees you fighting." Could it be called a fight when you never fought back? "He knows what happens at home, maybe not everything, and I hope not, because these things are never good for a child's upbringing, but he can already tell there's something wrong. Children aren't as naive as their parents think, he'll only realize it more as he grows up."

Proudly, you swallowed and straightened your back, hiding the little dried blood on your arm by pressing it against your stomach. "I don't know what you think is going on, Dr. Reid, but there's nothing for him to notice."

Spencer sighed, not understanding exactly where his denial was coming from, considering that he had already seen the violence firsthand. Still, he noticed how your eyes showed anguish and regret for the first time, unconsciously making his profile. You felt you had failed as a mother, and you were ashamed to expose it.

"Willy, darling, it's time to go, okay?" You spoke up, drawing your son's attention.

Once again, Spencer felt like he was doing a bad job, his left hand twitching next to his thigh as he thought about how this could be the last time he would see you. And of everything that could happen to you and your son if you never managed to break out of this cycle of abuse.

"Can we go to the park?" The childish, bored voice asked, walking up to you with his phone in his hand.

With a glimpse, Reid realized that it seemed to be some kind of educational game about dinosaurs. A quiz where you had to guess the name of the dinosaur that appeared on the screen.

"Not today, love, you know you shouldn't have run away from me. Maybe tomorrow, if you behave."

"Whatever," William muttered sulkily, kicking up invisible dust. "Bye, Dr. Reid."

"Bye, buddy." Spencer said, his voice much softer as he crouched down and raised his hand for a goodbye high-five, which brought a smile, albeit a small one, to the child's face.

With impressive agility, he stood again, staring at your face for what seemed like long seconds before finally asking. "Am I going to see you again?"

Answering was more painful than you'd like to admit. "I don't think so. Goodbye, Dr. Reid."

Picking up your bag from the table, you turned to leave, holding your son's hand.

"Does he like dinosaurs?" Spencer asked, still unwilling to allow you to leave. Unwilling to admit that he was scared.

You turned around, frowning before nodding, a confused look on your face.

"I saw the game on your cell phone." He admitted, looking a little shy as he did so. "It's just... there's a traveling park. They're going to be in town for one day in three days. Admission costs 10 dollars. You should really consider going... You never know... who you might meet after you've thought it through."

"I don't know if I'll have time for that."

This time, Spencer didn't stop you. You didn't see when he noticed the zipper of your bag open. Dangerous, but convenient. You didn't see when he took a card out of his pocket and threw it in. You only heard when he exclaimed, "Your bag is open!" Because he wasn't a bastard who would let you walk around with more risk of being robbed. He watched you walk away wishing deeply that you'd decided to go to the park after all. He would be there, regardless of any decision.

When he returned to his meeting, Spencer made little eye contact and mumbled some lame excuse about taking questions from a policeman when they mentioned how long it took him. He didn't see how Morgan's gaze remained on him for much longer.

•••

Steve could have been in several moods today and you knew them all. The most likely was aggressive. William would have to go to bed early while you suppressed any moans of pain and any crying so as not to alert your son. He was often the passive-aggressive one, pointing out all your little mistakes without caring if it made you cry. When he fought with you, however, it was very rare that he came home being the loving Steve. You knew what it meant; he wanted to get into your pants, but today, you were too exhausted for that.

Even so, when he played with Will in the living room, when he complimented you on your food when he came up behind you while you washed the dishes and wrapped his hands around your waist while placing kisses on your neck, you pretended that you and your son were loved.

"You look so beautiful today." He whispered against your ear, one of his hands going down to explore the inside of your thigh. "Driving me crazy."

"Steve!" You exclaimed softly. "Will will notice." Will noticed a lot of things, you reminded yourself, and quickly pushed the thought away.

"It's past his bedtime." You didn't even know that Steve knew his son's bedtime. "I'll send the boy to bed and we'll finish this, what do you think?" One of his hands slid to your throat, and your head instinctively went back, resting on your husband's shoulder.

He interpreted her silence as the only answer he needed, whispering in a thick voice, "That's right, kitten," before slapping her ass and leaving to put William to bed. Leaving you there with a lump in your throat as his fingers tightly gripped the last plate you had just washed, and you tried to pull yourself together.

•••

"Damn, you're so pretty," he said, pulling you under him on the bed as he showered your face with kisses and made you tingle. "I'm sorry about today, darling. You know I'm sorry, don't you?" he asked, taking your arm gently and kissing the wounds softly. You just nodded. "This would never have happened if you hadn't been so absent-minded, but still... I feel so bad."

You lost yourself in his almost loving words, his soft kisses, and the tender, careful touch on your skin, the weight of him above you seeming pleasantly welcome after such a long time. You missed it so much... feeling like you were in a normal relationship. Somehow, he always convinced you to let go of any transgression.

It was only when he pressed his erection against your thigh and growled in your ear, "I can't wait to fuck you tonight," that you realized exactly what you were getting into.

"I'm so tired." You murmured against his lips. "Tomorrow, please?"

Suddenly, the grip around your waist was much more oppressive, almost painful, revealing his true intention: to restrain you.

"But you had me so worried today," he said, in that annoying tone as if he were talking to a child, then he cracked a smile that gave you goosebumps, "Aren't you going to make it up to your husband?"

The hand that went to the side of your neck reminded you of how much you disliked what happened when you tried to reject him. Feeling so small, you nodded.

From then on, you hardly noticed the dirty, possessive things he whispered and growled in your ear, his strong grip that would leave bruises all over your body and the brutal way he penetrated you. No, you kept replaying that conversation in your head, wondering if Will could hear them from his room. You remembered that article you read a while back, that listening to parents having sex causes effects similar to sexual abuse in a child. How children who grew up in violent homes were more likely to be violent or suffer abusive relationships. Spencer Reid's voice never left your head, filling you with guilt for all sorts of reasons.

When Steve fell beside you on the bed, pulling out a condom that you had not noticed he had put on - but felt grateful for - you no longer knew who you were. This morning, you were a good mother. Now, not even that. When you got into the shower, Steve didn't even bother to go after you and when you scrubbed your skin until it was red, crying quietly and feeling like the dirtiest person in the world, trying to get any trace of him off your body, he rested with a clear conscience in bed. The weight of what had just happened finally hit you and you suppressed the urge to vomit as you realized that you had been used once again.

As you lay on the bed, you allowed Steve to pull you against him; you allowed him to wrap his arms around your body as if he were some kind of protector, and when he kept whispering things like "You're only mine", you agreed. Because, after all, what else could you do?

Staring at the ceiling, you remembered the first time he pushed you and how he clung to you afterward, begging forgiveness as he cried and said he didn't know how to be different from your own father.

"Hmm... Lovie?" You asked softly, trying hard to stay calm.

"Yes, darling?" he mumbled, being roused from a light nap.

"There's going to be a dinosaur park in town in a few days. Can you... can you give me the money to take Will?"

You finally realized that you didn't want to be like your mother.

Taglist (if you want in or out, just let me know):

@yokaimoon @fanfic-viewer @v1ckycheesue @mynameiskelly @pacmil

[pettyprocrastination]

whoever this beloved anon was I am so touched by your kindness! You definitely didn’t have to do this but I am so happy you enjoy this idea and I will happily expand upon it for you!

this is just a collection of word vomit bullet points for the time being but I will happily answer any and all questions about this pair!!

warnings: violence, angst, child death (Sarah Miller), foul language, the same warnings that apply to tlou, reader is Sarah's mom and described as having similar features to her. 

So the general Idea is that you and Joel are happily married before the outbreak. 

You had been Sarah's mother, his high school sweetheart he got pregnant when neither of you were old enough to have any reaction to the pregnancy test other than a fucking panic attack in one another’s arms. but you made it work 

you both worked but made time for one another and your sweet girl, going to museums every other weekend and joel insisting on swooping you off for a date every now and then 

nothing special. He knows you’re more of a diner gal than anything too fancy that makes you both feel out of place. 

On his birthday in 2003, you had planned to tell him that you were pregnant again. But the memories of your own fears of motherhood from all those years ago begin to swirl through your head again and you get cold feel. deciding to tell him the morning after

it is his birthday afterall, you want to focus on him. 

but when you’re woken up in the middle of the night because tommy needs to get bailed out, Joel kisses you sweetly one last time before promising he’ll be back and you can’t shake the feeling that something bad is happening. 

its you that shakes sarah awake that night. shouting at her to put on her shoes when she’s still rubbing the sleep from her eyes because you’ve been listening to the radio for the past two hours, calling joel again and again and again praying for him to fucking pick up but to no avail. 

Sarah, bless your little girl’s bleeding heart is the one who insists you check on the adler’s against your better suspicions and when you find the eldest looming over her daughter, blood and sinew dripping from her mouth, you grab your daughter hand and burst into a full sprint until something slams into your back and sends you tumbling onto their front lawn

its how joel finds you, struggling to keep the once sweet old woman, whose now nothing more than dead eyes and gnashing teeth straining to snap at your pulse point as you push against her while sarah shrieks before your husband runs forward and cracks her skull with a wrench. 

there’s hardly a moment of pause, just enough for him to pull you up and into his arms before he’s ushering you both into the car with an urgency. 

when the truck crashes, you get separated from them. Perhaps at Tommy’s side when the flames rise and create a wall, separating you from your husband, or maybe pulled into the mob of chaos when trying to escape from those already infected-

all joel knows is that you promise you’ll find him: just get sarah to safety and you’ll meet him at the river

Poor thing is already so frightened, held in her father’s arms with tears streaming down her face insisting they can’t leave you they just can’t but her father kisses her forehead and reassures her its going to be okay 

“we just need to be brave, okay babygirl? Your mama’s real tough, she’s gonna be alright.” 

he isn’t sure if he’s saying it to his daughter or himself. 

but when he comes to the river you aren’t there. Only a soldier who points a gun at the scared little girl in his arms and then he loses everything

its when the light is gone from his daughter’s eyes that he realizes. His voice cracked and raw from sobbing that he looks around to see his brother with drawn in shoulders and tears in his eyes but his wife is nowhere to be found. 

Tommy says you got lost in the chaos. Everything was so loud, so sudden that he turned around and suddenly you weren’t there. 

Joel wants to go back but its Tommy that stops him, that dulls the red in his vision to a sad faded pink because his brother points at the orange horizon not too far from them, so much of the city is already in flames. 

“We’re gonna find her, but not there.” 

So Joel searches. for the first year spent in the world post-outbreak its all he did. 

He became a smuggler because of it. 

Information came at a price and he needed to be able to fucking pay it, whether it be in blood or ration cards. He was willing to do anything to find you or any thin thread that lead your way. 

But it’s Tommy that asks him to give up. Not in those words of course. 

The youngest Miller knows better than to say something so cruel that would make his brother, the only person he has in this world turn on him. 

But his voice is worried when he asks him one night in Boston when he hasn’t even had the chance to wash the blood from his knuckles 

“You think she would have wanted this for you?” 

the fight that followed his words was brutal. Vicious insults and scarred fists slamming against each brother until they're both too tired and bloody to continue. Each leaning against a wall for support and Tommy’s wavering voice breaking the silence. 

“I don’t know where she is, Joel. But I do know you're gonna get yourself killed if you keep lookin’ for her.” 

All he can do is nod. 

It’s a few days later when he meets Tess. Who has heard plenty of stories about the elder miller’s brutality and wants him to put that muscle to good use for some extra profit. 

It begins his new life. One that empty and cold but one he can live. 

Until of course, Ellie comes along. The sweet and incredibly opinionated girl that makes him become something akin to the man he thought died twenty years ago. 

its when he’s traveling with Ellie, that it happens. When a warm familiarity has settled between the two because so much blood and pain has been shared he can’t help but see her as something close, something bright even though all he can force himself to utter in her reference is “cargo” 

when theyre traveling through the woods as Ellie chatters away, probing his memory about a movie that may or may not have existed thirty years ago because her descriptions of the plot are incredibly odd he hears a voice shout for them to stop and finds himself staring at a man- no, a boy- pointing a gun at them. 

Ellie stills, but Joel can see enough to know that from the lanky figure and dimpled face that he’s young. Maybe twenty, twenty-two at the oldest, but his eyes dart from Joel to Ellie with a pinprick of fear that allows Joel the time to charge forward and slam him to the ground before wrestling the gun from his hands. 

He has enough to time to tuck it under the stranger’s chin before he hears the sound of the safety being turned off and finds himself looking up and seeing a gun just inches from his face. 

Joel’s head whips around when Ellie’s voice calls out his name in fear, he turns to see another stranger holding her a gun point, shoulders drawn back and a shadow cast over their face by the had obstructing their identity. 

“You hurt one of mine, I hurt one of yours. That a fair deal?” 

Its takes him a moment to recognize you. It’s been so long since he’s heard your voice, the sweet tease when you would poke at him each time he woke up late despite the fact that you reminded him to set his alarm the night before, the times you’d chide him with a harsh “Joel Miller!” whispered in public anytime he was able to grab you a bit too passionately to be appropriate in public but the laughter in your voice let him know you were never truly mad at him. You didn’t know how to be. 

But that sweetness is buried under a cold rasp that cuts through the air as you point a rifle at the scared little girl in front of you.

“You think I won’t?” You’re older now, skin covered in scars from a life he didn’t know you got the chance to live and your eyes are cold as they regard your husband. “Put the gun down and get the fuck off of him, I won’t repeat myself.” 

Joel mumbles your name in awe. The woman he loved, the woman he mourned the one he fought so hard to find stands before him like some sort of hallucination and suddenly the world feels like its spinning until you bark orders at him again. 

“You’ve got five seconds Joel, make a fucking choice before I make it for you.” 

He looks down and realizes the boy under him, the one with the bleeding nose and snarling face has your eyes and his dimples. 

“One.” 

The one above him has Sarah’s hair. Soft brown curls that shine under the sun. 

“Two”

Wait. No, they both do.

“Three.” 

Twins. Jesus fucking Christ you had twins. 

“Four.” 

Joel holds the rifle up above his head and the one boy standing snatches it from his grasp, tossing it to the ground and kicking it far from his reach. He slowly stands, allowing your son- dear god your son- to scramble to his feet. 

Your voice softens just for a moment. “You okay, Duke?” 

Blood stains the bottom half of his face from where Joel slammed his fist into the boy’s nose just moments before, but he nods nonetheless. 

Now, they both stand on one side of you and he can see the resemblance clear as day the same way he would whenever Sarah was by your side.

When you order him to hand over his bag, he does so without question before telling Ellie to do the same. 

She watches him with wide eyes, her hands still up in the air but gaping at her companion as if he had grown a second head. 

“Joel!” “Just do it, alright?”

He doesn’t miss the way you watch their interaction with narrowed eyes until she tosses her bag to you and you slowly lower your gun. 

“Now, you want to tell me what the fuck you think you’re doin’ at my home?” 

[dronebiscuitbat]

Oil is Thicker Then Blood (Part 95)

The addition of a second, third and forth pod meant that the frame of the escape shuttle was finally beginning to take place, aluminum and titanium wrapped around in a welded cylinder and thrusters mounted at the back to push it out of Copper-9s atmosphere.

It was mounted on steel scaffolding, facing the sky in all it's patchworked glory as worker drones dotted around it welding peices together and double- triple checking that everything was done to the best of their ability.

There could be no test flights or second chances- this had to work first time.

Along with the framework of the shuttle came month 5 of Uzi's pregnancy, along with N's birthday.

Which was today.

N was now officially twenty years old- an adult by everyone's standards and solidly out of the ‘almost adult’ limbo he'd been stuck in a couple years.

N fought vehemently against any sort of party for his big day, preferring that focus remained on the construction effort, he could celebrate when they were in space… safe.

That… may have had something to do with how possessive he'd been over Uzi lately… he couldn't bare to patrol too far from her, his sweeps getting into tighter and tighter circles.

He'd felt territorial around her since… well, since she'd gotten pregnant. But now it felt like all his sensors were dialed up to eleven at all times, alert to every little sound, movement, change in the air.

Like his entire body was in constant anticipation, waiting for… something.

Knowing J was still out there wasn't helping, every nerve in his body alight as he paced on all fours on the roof of the building that inhabited their nest- which they had both been spending much, much more time in since the baby started moving.

He wasn't the only one exhibiting this pacing, expecting behavior either, Uzi was doing much of the same, though slightly differently- in the form of collecting everything even remotely warm and soft and piling it in the nest and then obsessively rearranging the inside over and over again.

She was still working on the ship, sure. Her blueprints were the ones being used for it's construction, she was in the workshop every single day to either plan the next expedition for another pod, or to work on welding the frame together herself. But the second the work was done it's like they were both taken over by the urge to just… pace.

V was also struggling to contain her baser instincts, though in a different way- she was bringing food up into the nest, most of the time a scavenged limb or head (that did always end up eaten or drunk in it's entirety after everyone else was asleep) and fighting back the desire to pull Uzi into a session of grooming and preening that they would both find embarrassing.

Thad and Lizzy were less affected- Though both took up the habit of escorting Uzi everywhere she went like a pair of especially loyal gaurd dogs. Though now they were sleeping in the nest less and less, N was starting to urge them to sleep at home instead, keeping the nest occupied by three the majority of the time.

Which, finally, brought us to this very moment- V out on patrol/hunting for spare parts while Uzi took a break from adjusting every aspect of the nest to try and get her kit to play.

The incident at the playdate had Tera quiet, silently playing with her bat plushie, only chirping softly every so often instead of the rapid fire happy trilling Uzi was used to.

Considering it had been over a week since- Uzi was starting to get worried.

So she picked Tera up by the scruff of her onesie with her teeth and sat her in her lap, where the toddler just continued quietly playing, head angled to where her mother couldn't see her face.

“Tera.” Uzi called softly, and the solver kitten stopped, shoulders scrunched and bat held close to her chest as she still refused to look directly at her.

Uzi sighed.

“It was an accident baby bat, Daddy and I know you didn't mean to.” at this, Tera finally looked up, wriggling to get into her mother's arm.

“Sad.” Tera mumbled adding distressed warbles along with it, eyeslights knitted in an expression of contemplation that a toddler of her age simply shouldn't be capable of.

“He wa’scared-” She kept going, working the more complex words out of her mouth tentatively, struggling, but not as much as before. “-Of me.”

Uzi felt her core squeeze uncomfortably, threatening to unleash misdirected anger on a toddler she'd only met once.

“Why?” Tera asked, making Uzi blink, for starters, Tera was less then a year old and already asking introspective questions- something that she absolutely should not have the processing power for yet. But;

She really didn't like the direction the conversations was going.

“Oh… Jellybean.” Uzi lent down to hug her daughter, squeezing her tight before pulling away and putting a hand on the toddlers tiny head.

“We're… different from the other workers. We all are, Mommy, Daddy, Auntie V. We have different needs, and sometimes-” She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “-sometimes people won't understand that.”

Tera took a moment to think about it, a loading circle appearing on her visor before she looked back up.

“That's mean.” She said, a very familiar glare written all over her face.

“Yeah. Some people will be, that's how people are. But there will be ones who will put in the effort to understand you. If you let them.” Uzi smiled reassuringly, her tail coming free to rest beside Tera as extra comfort.

Tera's attention went over to it, the tail cocking it's head as Tera cocked her own, she put both hands on it, thinking hard.

She nodded slowly. “Otay.”

“You wanna play with my tail…?” Uzi asked gently, snapping her tail playfully at her daughter; making her squeal in delight.

“Yah!”

Uzi grinned as her kit seemed to slowly regain her usual energy, biting and nipping and pouncing on the semi-indepentant head of her tail, trilling happily; her core whirred in delight.

Thump.

And here came the birthday boy.

N pulled back the sheet covering the entrance and crawled inside, stretching like a cat before flopping near Uzi lazily, grumbling.

“Find anything?” She asked, reaching down to tangle her fingers in his tousled hair, his tail wagged happily and his core began to rumble with the sounds of his contentment.

“No. Just more flesh.” He mumbled, lifting his head up slightly.

“How close?”

He paused for a moment.

“Too close, it's uh- it's moving faster then we predicted. I think the more there is, the faster it spreads.”

Uzi sighed.

“We have less time then we thought then… we still need a couple more thrusters, fuel… we're not even close to done.”

“I know.” N replied.

A tense silence filled the nest.

“I'll tell dad tomorrow… the sun's almost up.”

“What's the plan then…?” N almost smiled, admiring the way she did always seem to have a plan.

“We're just going to have to work on crunch time. I'll start working on the guts of the ship this week, we still need a way to recharge while in space.”

“We also need a place to go…we can't just wander aimlessly.”

“I know. I've been looking at old files from the bunker, there's an old satellite hub that might give us a idea of where to go.”

The air got more tense, heavy as lead and just as toxic for their health.

“Let's… try not to think about it.” Uzi said after a moment of feeling the dread creep up her back.

“I think that's what we're all doing…” N replied softly, tail hanging low.

“Happy Birthday.” Uzi near whispered, placing a kiss in his head that made his tail wiggle all over the place.

“Mm. Kinda not the best time to celebrate huh?” He admits, sitting up curl into her shoulder.

“Well…”

“We could always celebrate privately.” N's visor flushed, his tail kinked up straight before coming to curl around his mate, a playful chuckle leaving his mouth.

“Oh?” He hummed. Watching his kit wear herself out playing with Uzi's tail.

“Once she gets tired we can…” She whispered something in his audial that made him blush harder, but then he laughed before whispering something else into hers, which made her blush a shade of impressive violet, in response, he nibbled up her neck and a giggle bubbled out of her throat.

When he pulled back, they nuzzled each other's faces, sparks fluttering between them as he whispered the the words “I love you.”

“I love you too.” She replied, connecting them in a slow, passionate kiss that N ended up sighing into, stress evaporating off him like it was never there.

Next ->

[heepthecheep]

There is so much medical misinformation on Tumblr that people take at face value and it's kind of fascinating but also really fucking bad

Off the top of my head?

- drugs; prescription, OTC or recreational can absolutely have an effect on your health. Dosages aren't suggestions and neither is stuff like "don't take with alcohol" or "don't operate heavy machinery"

-in addition to the last point, addiction is real and not something made up by your parents to keep you from doing weed in highschool. It can take different forms

- don't take other people's prescriptions. Again, with the dosage thing, expiration dates, and especially not antibiotics

-speaking of which, antibiotic resistant infections (ie. MRSA, ERSA) are caused by not finishing your prescription of antibiotics or taking antibiotics inappropriately (ie. When you have a viral infection) (and there are other issues too but these are probably the main ones that are most relevant to a layman) and are not caused by "antivaxxers" (seriously, I've seen this argument applied to the covid vaccine. A vaccine for a virus that no doctor would treat with antibiotics- not the mention that MRSA is literally referring to Staph Aureus)

-just because a disease is uncommon or "extinct" in your part of the world doesn't actually mean it is. Pathogens have animal and environmental reservoirs. Similarly, diseases that have been eradicated in your well developed and wealthy part of the world still kill people in places that aren't as wealthy and/or developed. The only diseases that are actually extinct are Smallpox and Rinderpest- and no, the parents who think vaccines cause autism aren't going to cause them to come back

-your weight, diet and lifestyle ABSOLUTELY affect your health.

-people on Tumblr seem to have some weird vendetta against doctors ordering blood work, but it's an absolutely valid and important screening and/or diagnostic test, and is helpful in monitoring many conditions

-Puberty, pregnancy and aging are natural processes that are not inherently harmful. Furthermore, people on Tumblr act as if pregnancy is the most dangerous thing in the world...while blaming the process itself and not the shitty, abusive and corrupt obstetrics community (or they point to history (and focus entirely on Europe) and act like issue is the process and not the ignorance towards germ theory, lack of or misunderstanding of hygiene, not understanding how women work, etc)

-hormones control a lot in your body and aren't just your sex hormones. They exist before you're even born and continue to exist after puberty ends.

[muldermuse]

please can we see more of jealous gator and maybe a pregnancy scare in two sinners?

i fuckin love these crazy kids

jealous gator is coming!!! i promise!!

pregnancy scare drabble below the cut

warnings: mentions of morning sickness, pregnancy terminations, slut shaming etc

part of the two sinners works

You’d been ill all week, unable to keep any food down and feeling a level of exhaustion that had settled deep in your bones. Gator had text to ask to meet up nearly every day but you honestly couldn’t think of anything worse than having a man near you right now. You’d called in sick and spent the week feeling very sorry for yourself whilst lying on the couch watching whatever trash was on the TV. Whenever you glanced in the mirror; you were taken aback by how awful you looked. Your eyes were dull with dark bags underneath and your skin was pale. Your stomach rumbled but the thought of food made you retch. A pang of raw pain struck your stomach and your nausea doubled as you thought, when was the last time you had a period?

Was it this month?

The month before?

The past few weeks had been a lot, your job becoming overwhelming and life had begun taking steady, yet hard, digs at you. First, you got a flat tyre, then you dropped your phone and smashed your screen. Later the same week, your favourite jeans ripped at the thigh seam and to top it all off, this new guy you’d been speaking to had got back with an ex. 

So yeah, it was fair to say that your focus had not been on your menstrual cycle.

Without getting changed or bothering to make yourself look more presentable, you grab your keys and head to your local store to buy a test.

***

Gator was bored. This was the kind of day shift where usually he’d drop by your place and grip his hands into the fact of your ass as you rode him. He’d been desperate to see you all week but you’d been too ill. The thought of your body and the things you could do to make him feel good plagued his mind. He’d spent every night this week fisting his cock in the shower to thoughts of you whilst Glenda was crocheting in the next room. A trill ring snaps him out of his thoughts and he groans before answering- it’s Glenda.

“Hi hon, everythin’ okay?” he sounds exasperated but he knows that Glenda won’t pick up on that. Sometimes, he thinks that Glenda calls him just to hear her own voice.

“Yeah yeah, all good hon. Hey, guess who I saw buying a pregnancy test at the store?”

He knows that it’s you before she even says your name.

He feels the blood drain from his face and Glenda’s voice fades into static in the background.

This cannot be fucking happening. 

When was the last time you had slept together? Would you keep it? Is he going to be a dad? He thinks that you’d be a great mom but before that thought can even embed itself further in his brain; he pushes it away.

He tunes back into Glenda’s voice as she continues to talk to herself, “well y’know hon it’s like I said, with that many guy friends she has- somethin’ like this was bound to happen, dontcha think?”.

“Yeah hon, listen I gotta go alright? I’ll uh- I’ll see you at home” She tells him that she loves him before he hangs but he doesn’t say it back.

He puts the sirens on the car as he races to your home. The thoughts in his head are spinning that quickly that he’s beginning to feel numb, becoming too overwhelmed to focus on anything but driving. He dumps his car on your front lawn and tries hard not to run into your home. He tries to take deep calming breaths with each step, he thinks of his father and how Roy would kill him if he ever found out. The door is unlocked so he lets himself inside.

***

The test is face down on your bathroom counter and so is your phone screen. The package promised instant results in ‘just three minutes’ and you’d set a timer on your phone. You know Gator’s footsteps, they’re always urgent and stomping on your stairs. His face is white as he walks through your bathroom door and makes eye contact with you.

You're sat on the rim of your bath, “Glenda?” you ask as he nods; his eyes wide in panic. You huff, “I fuckin’ knew I saw her at the store”.

He’s silent as he sits next to you, anxiety radiating off his body and his breath quick. Neither of you look at each other until the alarm rings out, you stop it with one tap and take a deep breath as you hold the test in your hand. It’s still turned face down so you don’t know the answer yet. 

Your voice is shaky and you can feel tears threatening to pour down your face, “I don’t wanna look”.

Gator’s warm hand settles on your knee, his thumb rubbing in a  calming motion; you don’t know if he’s doing this for you or for himself. “We don’t have to look yet”.

You’re both in limbo; unsure how much time has passed. It could be five minutes or it could be an hour. The sun is still high in the clear sky and shining through the small window in your bathroom. It’s becoming stiflingly hot but you feel paralysed with fear. You’ll have to research clinics where you can have a termination, are you going to have to travel out of state? You and Gator could never be a family but, maybe you could keep the child a secret. Maybe you could move out of state together and raise your baby together. Maybe, in another town, you could both start afresh. You could be young lovebirds who are looking forward to starting a family together. No one would have to know what you’d both run from. The baby would never have to know about their psychotic grandfather. You have options and you feel a wave of calm wash over you. 

Before you can overthink it; you turn the test in your hands.

Negative.

Not pregnant.

Thank.

Fuck.

You both let out a shaky breath of relief.

“I’ve uh- I bought a few more, just in case it’s like a false negative or whatever. I’ll probably do two more now and then do one tomorrow maybe” you can feel the confidence returning to your voice. 

“Yeah, of course, I’ll go sit downstairs just y’know- do what you gotta do” you both exchange a quick smile before Gator heads downstairs. 

His heart is still pounding as he sits down on your couch, he isn’t sure if he’s relieved or upset. What the fuck is he thinking? Of course, he’s relieved. The two of you having a baby is completely out of the question. Maybe this scare should make him more concerned about sleeping with you and he considers that it could be time to stop this. His daddy is starting to pressure him more about proposing to Glenda and she’s dropping hints about marriage basically every day at this point. All these thoughts evaporate when you walk into the room holding three negative pregnancy tests. You straddle him and his hands grab your hips. You both spend the rest of the afternoon making out and trying to push the fear of the past few hours to the back of your mind. 

He can’t stop this.

He can’t let go of you.

[randomfoggytiger]

If Mulder and Doggett Were Partnered in Season 8

@thursdayinspace, I got swept up in your alternate Season 8 idea. So, I sat down and wrote it up.

I'm operating under the assumption that Scully is pregnant; but if she weren't, Mulder and Doggett would still form a friendship along the same lines, albeit without a shared sense of loss between them. Deadalive would then focus on Scully's struggle to reintegrate after Kersh refuses to reassign her to the files, and Essence-Existence would follow other mytharc beats without a baby involved.

Lastly: Mulder would have to find out about her pregnancy in order for the level of emotional turmoil to remain equal.

THE PLAY-BY-PLAY PLOT

Scully is pregnant, and abducted.

Within. Doggett insinuates Mulder knows more about Scully's disappearance than he lets on. Skinner intercepts a punch from Mulder (having hovered nearby, knowing he'd act out in some way) and separates the two before Kersh becomes involved.

Doggett traces Scully's last movements to Mulder's apartment, where he clearly states his motives and intentions. Mulder notes but doesn't soften to Doggett's straight-forward sincerity, deciding to work around and largely ignore the other agent... until Doggett shocks Mulder with the results of Scully's blood work (a test she'd done before flying back to Oregon.) Shattered and desperate, he charges out to the UFO landing with Skinner after a call from TLG.

The flashes we get to Scully on the ship are in the same vein as Ascension, i.e. Mulder imagining worst-case scenarios.

The rest of Without unfolds; but it does open up a great opportunity for Mulder to lose it if he has to shoot Scully's clone (instead of Skinner's) to save Gibson. That, and the unprocessed grief from losing his pregnant partner-- again-- might cause him to collapse and (silently) weep. This humanizes him to Doggett (who lost a child, too); and the latter takes the x-files assignment with a little less resignation, seeing it as a way to redeem his own past mistakes.

Patience. Manbat. Doggett squares off with the sheriff at the house, cop style, rankling Mulder. Mulder later ditches Doggett for the cemetery and witnesses the sheriff's murder. The local police don't believe him, thinking his theories have wasted precious time; but Doggett ends up making a connection with past news reports (without believing fully them, of course.) The rest of the plot happens, yadda yadda.

Roadrunner. Events fall out the same, except Doggett has to walk Mulder out of town. Mulder won't apologize but does take what Doggett says on the chin, acknowledging his points silently.

Invocation. Not only does the boy's case tear at Doggett's wounds, but Mulder's as well: because of Scully and the baby, sure, but also because of Samantha and starlight. (That would have been a better episode overall, I think. Imagine if it were at the tail end of Season 8 after Mulder's return, squeezed between Alone and Essence. Alas.)

Redrum's the same.

Via Negativa is where it could get interesting. I have two theories: 1. Mulder ditches Doggett to chase a UFO sighting (and Skinner covers up for him); or 2. Mulder starts developing symptoms he's afraid might be linked to CSM's deterioration after the Amor Fati surgery, causing him to be down and out for the rest of the episode. The symptoms either stick long enough to be cured in The Gift or melt away, a nothing burger (like the canonical brain disease plotline.)

Surekill, Salvage, Badlaa, who cares.

The Gift. Again, two theories: 1. Doggett stumbles onto shady things Mulder did off-the-grid during the Via Negativa episode-- really, really questionable moral decisions-- to get answers. Skinner advises him to let it go, for everyone's sake. 2. Mulder disappears again and Doggett traces him to the magic man's house where he just misses Mulder being cured of brain disease (because Mulder took miracle man up on the offer, needing to be alive to find Scully.) He finds Mulder unconscious and the other man weakened by the procedure; and intercepts the local police's attempts to capture and rug sweep. He's killed, then healed. When both men recover, Mulder shares his own experience with near death (obliquely, as is Mulder's way.) The episode continues, the end.

Medusa is the first episode where they're both a team. Doggett stays up top while Mulder explores the tunnels.

Per Manum. Mulder becomes too emotionally involved, tying his IVF journey with Scully to the case. Skinner calls him out, saying he's "saving" the Haskell woman as a proxy because his own pregnant partner is missing. Mulder does not take the victim to a military base; but his truck is intercepted, he's knocked unconscious, and the woman is taken (by Doggett's pretend friend Rohrer), regardless. Doggett relays what everyone believes, but says he understands what Mulder's going through.

This Is Not Happening. The only changes would be that Monica Reyes starkly reminds Mulder of Melissa Scully, and that he yells for Jeremiah Smith to come out while cradling Scully's "dead" body.

Again, we hit a crossroads: does Jeremiah Smith heal Scully?

If he does, then Deadalive focuses on Scully's struggles working back from her abduction and "replacement" on the files (she'd likely flunk all the tests for field work because of her vivid memories and trauma, to begin with), not to mention her pregnancy.

If he doesn't, then This Is Not Happening-Deadalive Mulder will have to put on extended "medical" leave following Scully's burial. Kersh seeks dismissal but is held at bay by the optics of the situation. Skinner digs up Scully and bears the brunt of Mulder's anger when the latter isn't immediately told. Krycek doesn't make a deal with Skinner (both know there would be no gain unless Mulder's in that hospital bed) and yanks Scully off life support. One of two things happen: 1. the episode unfolds as usual or 2. Mulder chases him down and they have a conversation at gunpoint, with Krycek claiming his actions saved Scully's life, then threatening to exposure for Mulder's actions in Via Negativa if he's not let go. Somehow, Krycek gets away (likely because Mulder pauses long enough for Doggett to catch up and reason with him, revealing he'd learned the sordid details during The Gift.)

Three Words through Alone. Lots of trauma for Scully and Mulder, I'm sure.

THE FINALE

Essence and Existence.

The Supersoldiers can stay because they will give Mulder and Scully renewed purpose for Season 9. However, they are not indestructible, and are few in number (with only a few being able to turn because of Jeremiah Smith's healing efforts.) If they've infested government, then only a few key positions.

Option One

Essence: The plot unfolds like normal until Krycek drops in and saves Mulder and Scully from Billy Miles. He warns them about an alien elimination program to clean up loose ends (not because of some Messiah baby) and offers them a place to hide out. Mulder and Scully escape with Krycek's coordinates while Skinner and Doggett destroy Billy in the garbage truck.

Existence: After they leave, Knowle Rohrer contacts Doggett and warns him Krycek recently switched sides and is leading Mulder and Scully into a trap. (If Mulder has dipped into darkness during Via Negativa, all the more motive for his enemies to want him permanently out of the way.) Skinner and Doggett track and confront Krycek for information; and in the scuffle Skinner kills him to save Doggett's. They triangulate coordinates with TLG; and, realizing the location is in Mexico, call in Monica for help. Meanwhile, Mulder and Scully deduce they're being followed. Here's where the episode can get its Chris Carter drama: the two switch course without the viewers knowing, and Scully's labor and delivery happen (safely) concurrent to Skinner, Doggett, Reyes, and the Supersoldiers running into each other at the original location and fighting it out. The Supersoldier group isn't large enough to beat back the ambush, and retreat, setting up a problem Mulder, Scully, and the gang will have to deal with next season. Everyone gets home happily, the end.

Option Two

Essence is the same, but Existence takes a turn. Rohrer contacts Doggett to let him know the Supersoldiers aren't a danger to Scully or the baby. Their mission is to take back alien tech from the remaining Syndicate's grasp, which is against Krycek's group's interests. Krycek sent Mulder and Scully to a fringe Syndicate conclave, where Scully and the baby will be detained and tested in the hopes that their DNA will somehow unlock the elusive Colonization cure. (If Mulder did shenanigans during Via Negativa, all the more reason to eradicate him from the game.) Doggett and Skinner track Krycek, Skinner kills Krycek, they triangulate coordinates with TLG, call in Reyes, and head out.

Mulder and Scully either veer off-course last minute, wary, or follow-through on the plan and reach the compound.

If both agents reach the compound, they either 1. evade capture long enough for the Supersoldiers (who'd used them to find Krycek's group) to surprise everyone and burn the place down or 2. are captured but escape during the ensuing chaos. Mulder and Scully and the Supersoldiers go their separate ways, knowing their paths will cross again. William is likely born off-screen, the end.

CONCLUSION

And there we go!

Don't know what this accomplishes, but it was fun.

[ignoremeimnothere]

6 Months

I'd just like to preface this SHIT Drabble by saying I'm literally writing in in work so that it doesn't leave my brain. Inspired by my managers friend who literally found out they're 6 months pregnant last week under the same circumstances, praying for you girl. Like all traumatising experiences I like to thing of Pedro handling me in the situation, this one probably made a lot more sense in my head. Let's hope I come back to the to improve it or progress it.

'You’re 6 months pregnant”

You laughed confused, maintaining eye contact with the doctor. 

‘No I’m not’

The room immediately became thick with awkwardness. 

‘The tes-’

‘Is wrong. I’ve got the implant. No bump. No symptoms’

You listed off all the reasons you couldn’t be pregnant. It was only by chance you had required a trip to the doctors. A holiday was booked with your closest friends for next month. You had only come in to get some anti-anxiety medication for the flight you were so scared of, a blood test was routine before you could get it. 

Your doctor’s eyes squinted slightly, trying to figure out how to handle the conversation. You held their gaze refusing to look at anything else, especially Pedro who was beside you completely silent. 

‘The results are yours. We can run another one if you would like but you are 6 months pregnant. 6 and a half to be more precise’ 

Your eyebrows furrowed, the doctor started a spiel you couldn’t quite focus on. They provide you with a few pregnancy tests to use in the bathroom. You leave to do them alone, you haven’t looked at Pedro since the doctor dropped the bombshell that was obviously- 

‘Positive’ Both tests displayed strong second lines as you felt the blood drain from your head. 

~

Pedro shut your car door as he makes his way to the other side. You haven’t said a word since returning from the bathroom tests in hand. He gets into the driver's side but can’t bring himself to turn on the engine just yet. Your head is completely blank, normally you would spiral but the shock has prolonged that still. 

‘Are you ok’ 

You can barely shake your head, you finally look at him. ‘Are you?’ 

Deafening silence fills the car. You’ve no idea how much time has passed before Pedro eventually begins the drive home. You’re completely spaced out until you approach your street. 

‘I don’t want to go home’

‘Ok baby, where do you want to go’ 

Pedro reduces his speed dramatically giving you time to think. 

‘I think I need to be alone’ You blurt out. 

‘Ok’ Pedro maintains his calm demeanour, attempting to regulate the panic he watched creep into your eyes.

‘Is that ok’ A lump appears in your throat. 

‘Can you be alone in the house?’

 He proposes a safe compromise but you shake your head, your breath catching in your throat. 

‘In the car’ Another suggestion.

You shake your head unbuckling your seatbelt before Pedro has reached your home. He calls your name, a gentle warning to not do anything dangerous. 

‘I think I just…. I need to….’ You struggle to figure out what you need to do. 

‘Breathe with me’ Pedro parked the car and unbuckled himself, twisted towards you he grabs your hands, pecking them before meeting your eye. 

‘It’s ok’ He begins. ‘You can be alone but I need you safe, do you want me to take you somewhere?’ You shake your head. ‘Ok baby but I don’t think now would be the best time for you to drive a car, do you want me to leave?’ You shake your head again.

‘I’ll take a walk?’ You suggest, it was a cloudy day making it quite quiet.

‘Ok Cariño, do you have your phone on you?’

You nod, checking your pocket. He kisses you on the cheek, unsatisfied he gently grabs your face planting a lingering kiss on your lips. You rest your forehead on his having a silent conversation. You would clear your head, come back and have the conversation. For now you needed to take in everything. You swallowed your guilt for needing to be alone, wishing that you could instead process this beside Pedro. You leave before you suffocate on the silent questions lingering in the car and make your way down the street wondering how the hell your life had changed so much within the space of an hour.

[kamilah-is-queen]

Sub Kamilah pt. III

Pairing: Kamilah Sayeed x MC (Amy Parker)

Warning: Angst, a little gore, a little fluff

Tags: @ta-sayeed, @kamilahtopme, @nydeiri, @rhonda-sayeed, @helpconfusedpersonhere, @millasayeed, @vonda-be-real, @livvynka, @queenkamilah, @leenasayeed, @skylarkxxyy, @choicesgrp, @ilove-kamilah-sayeed, @justavampirefan, @iamsimpforpoppy, @friendlybuddy

Kamilah doesn’t remember much of what happened after that moment. The pulsing sound of Amy’s blood rushing through her veins was the only thing Kamilah could focus on.

The older woman traced her slender finger down Amy’s neck, following the path of her jugular vein. Kamilah’s eyes were a burning crimson color, deeper than any eyes Amy had ever seen.

‘K-Kamilah?’ Amy was visibly breathless, getting increasingly concerned as Kamilah seemed to lose all control of herself. Kamilah’s grip tightened too hard on Amy’s hip, prompting the younger vampire to yelp and pull away.

But Kamilah wouldn’t let her.

Kamilah snarled like an animal, baring her fangs as she sunk her nails deep into Amy’s flesh as Amy cried, desperately trying to tug herself away.

‘Stop MOVING!’ Kamilah’s voice was deep, far too deep for her normal self. Her chest was heaving as she snaked her way closer to Amy’s neck.

Amy panicked, but quietly laid still, not wanting to anger her anymore. She whimpered as she felt Kamilah’s fangs roughly pierce the skin, literally sucking the life out of her.

‘Kamilah… I’m… I’m so dizzy…’ it didn’t take long for Amy to lose consciousness at how fast Kamilah was drinking her blood. She felt everything went numb as her eyes closed, as she succumbed to the darkness.

Kamilah only stopped when there was no more blood left. She pulled back with a soft moan, panting hard as she licked her lips clean.

‘God Amy, you’re so delicious.’

No response…

Kamilah didn’t think to close Amy’s wound, not that it mattered since there was no blood left. Kamilah left rough kisses fall down Amy’s body once more, stopping suddenly when she felt Amy’s cold hands.

‘Amy?’

Her eyes lightened in color, slowly shifting back to their original brown as she tried listening for Amy’s heartbeat.

Nothing.

‘Oh-Oh my god. Amy!’

Tears welled in Kamilah’s eyes as she realized what she had done, frantically cutting her own wrist and letting the blood pour into Amy’s mouth.

She had no choice but to turn Amy. If Amy was gone forever, Kamilah would-

No. This had to work. Kamilah had to turn Amy.

Weeks later….

Amy had successfully turned, somewhat adapting to her new life as a young vampire. Yet, she was distant with Kamilah. Mostly because she was frightened that Kamilah would lose control again, but partly because she was dissapointed in her wife.

Amy figured morning sickness and a deafening headache was part of the transition from mortal to vampire, but was very much proven wrong when her pregnancy test showed positive results.

She gasped, her hand covering her mouth as she shook silently. Was a child something she ever wanted? What was it like? Was it something Kamilah even wanted, as it was hers too?

She sobbed silently, unsure of whether to feel excited or depressed. She didn’t know if she should tell Kamilah. Could she even trust her anymore? What if she flipped again?

Sure, Kamilah had tried to patch things up between them, but a sorry doesn’t mean much when you killed somebody.

However, Kamilah stayed patient, determined that she would regain Amy’s trust once more.

Kamilah settled on the sofa beside Amy, clearing her throat awkwardly as she nestled into the covers that Amy wore.

The young vampire moved a little further away, clutching the blankets so tightly that her knuckles turned white.

Kamilah noticed, her eyebrows raising in concern. ‘Amy? Are you alright?’

She wanted so desperately to hold Amy, to comfort her the way she was used to, but she didn’t want to overstep the boundaries either. So she sat there, cautiously raising her hand to Amy’s head.

Good, no fever.

‘I’m fine.’ Amy relished in her touch, but just as quickly pulled away as memories of that night flooded back to her.

She could feel the need to vomit again, the burning sensation rising along her chest and throat as she scrambled to her feet, barely making it to the bathroom before she puked.

Kamilah ran after her, gently holding Amy’s hair in a ponytail away from her face as she did her best to comfort the woman.

‘It’s alright Amy, you’re alright. Let it out.’ Her voice was soft, equally as soft as the gentle pats she gave on Amy’s back.

Soon after, Kamilah had Amy lying in bed, sipping a tall glass of water as she recovered from the incident earlier.

‘I don’t need your help Kamilah, I’m fine.’

‘Amy, please.’ Kamilah’s eyes pleaded with hers, longing in her eyes as she tried her best to stay calm. ‘I love you, I care about you, I worry about you. Please don’t push me away.’

The last words came out as a broken whisper, Kamilah fighting the tears that started to well in her eyes.

‘That’s why you killed me, huh?’

‘That was a mistake. I lost control, and it won’t happen again.’ This time her voice was firm, adamant that Amy wouldn’t win this argument again.

‘Your mistake was giving me a child.’

Amy’s hand flew over her mouth, her eyes widening as Kamilah’s did too.

‘Amy, you’re… pregnant?’

Kamilah couldn’t fight back the grin that rose on her lips, which suddenly faded as Amy bowed her head silently.

‘Do you not want a child, Amy?’ Kamilah wearily sat on the edge of the bed, clearing her throat softly.

‘Kamilah I’ve always wanted a family with you.’ Amy’s eyes spilled tears down her cheeks, sobbing uncontrollably as she tried to go on ‘but, but what if you lose control again? What if you hurt our child, as well as me?’

Kamilah fell to her knees at Amy’s side, tears streaming down her own cheeks as she gently grasped and kissed Amy’s hands.

‘Oh my love… I will never, ever let it happen again. You have my word.’

Amy opened her mouth to speak, but let Kamilah continue.

‘I don’t expect you to trust me fully now, but I’ll do everything to prove to you, that you can trust me. That I won’t ever put you in harm’s way again.’

Amy sobbed even harder and threw her arms around Kamilah, squeezing as tight as she could. Kamilah’s own arms wrapped around the girl, holding her protectively as her tears fell on Amy’s head.

‘I’ve got you, my precious. I’ve got you.’ Amy nestled her head in Amy’s neck, softly smelling in her scent as she calmed.

She felt at home, at ease, at peace.

This was where she belonged, in Kamilah’s arms, where she knew deep down she was safe and loved.

She knew Kamilah would protect her and their family, and so Amy thought that children wasn’t such a bad idea after all.

[queen-esther]

I still hate how irresponsible some people in online pro-life fertility/pregnancy spaces are about giving others advice. Like, I’ve seen women on here say things like, “If you have a miscarriage, then you need to get every piece of testing from doctors you can find, because a miscarriage means there’s something wrong with your body!”

I feel like pro-lifers focus so much on miscarriage being a tragedy (which it is!) that we don’t want to acknowledge that, in the vast majority of cases, a miscarriage is just your body’s way of ending a pregnancy that was never viable in the first place.

When I discovered my baby had passed away at the 8-week ultrasound, my brain jumped to all sorts of conclusions about how my fertility was out of whack, how maybe getting COVID a few months before screwed up my reproductive system, how I probably had some rare blood-clotting disorder that totally caused the miscarriage to happen. It took many months and a lot of research to recognize that, in the case of a missed miscarriage like mine, usually the most valid answer is simply that the baby wasn’t viable and stopped growing. It had nothing to do with my body not working right or my egg quality being bad, and learning that up to 30% of pregnancies end in miscarriage (up to 70% of conceptions could potentially even end in loss if you account for early chemical pregnancies) made me realize that this can happen to even the healthiest of women. Sometimes you just release one bad egg out of several good ones, or your husband releases one bad sperm out of several good ones, or they just don’t mix right during conception, or your uterus needs to do a “test run” with a weak embryo to prepare for a healthy pregnancy in the future. It happens.

I do think affordable testing on the baby after first and second miscarriages should be more commonplace, even if only to give the mother some peace of mind about what happened and why it happened or, as a pure precaution, catch rare but potential issues early on before recurrent pregnancy loss occurs. But telling women who’ve had a miscarriage that we need to panic and immediately Assume The Worst about our bodies is just…not helpful, and more often than not, it’s unfounded, too. The vast majority of women who have a miscarriage statistically go on to experience healthy pregnancies. Miscarriages are sad, but they happen all the time! They’re an unfortunate and natural part of reproduction! Pregnancy loss is rough enough on a woman without some clueless people on the Internet screaming at her that this happened because her body failed and will have trouble carrying a healthy pregnancy to term in the future.

[heroloverangel]

Double the Fun

Fatgum is best dad don’t @ me.

Being pregnant sucks, you’ve come to realize. You’re only eight weeks along and already you’re ready for this to be over. You’re constantly nauseous. Your clothes are uncomfortably tight around your middle. You’re sore and tender in so many places you can’t imagine how you’ll survive nine whole months of this.

You wanted this, you remind yourself as Taishiro helps you get comfortable in the exam room. There’s nothing in the world you wanted more than to start a family with him a few months ago, and he’d been so happy he’d cried when that pregnancy test came back positive. Now you’re waiting to get your first ultrasound and seriously wondering if you should have just gotten a puppy instead.

“Toyomitsu,” the doctor is annoyingly cheerful when he greets you and begins checking your blood pressure. “How have things been going lately?”

“Uggggghhhhhhh,” you whine dramatically, flopping back against the padded headrest.

Fatgum takes over for you. “It’s been awful, doc. She’s eating like she’s tryin’ to dethrone me in a contest but just throws it all up later. Is that normal?”

“Increased appetite and frequent nausea are to be expected, it’s nothing to be concerned about.”

“Okay but it’s feeling a little excessive now,” you argue. “And I’ve gained ten pounds already, isn’t that kind of a lot?” You watch the older man scratch out a few notes on your file, nodding slowly.

“I have some ideas, but I’d like to get a look at the ultrasound first if you don’t mind.”

You’re a little comforted that he doesn’t look worried, and you’ve been eagerly anticipating this visit for weeks. “Yeah, that’s fine.” A few minutes later there’s a cold gel slathered all over your middle and the magic wand running along your stomach. “You’ll tell us if you see anything weird, right?” The doctor nods and taps a few buttons. Beside you, you hear Taishiro’s breathing stop as the image comes into view and you get your first look at your child. There’s not much to see yet, at this point it’s more of a vague blob than anything actually human-shaped, but that’s not the point. “Oh my god,” you say quietly. Suddenly all the discomfort you’ve been feeling vanishes as you stare at the screen. “Tai, look. That’s our baby.”

“Hey kiddo, you’re doing a great job in there,” he gushes, your hand wrapped snugly in his giant fingers.

“Everything looks perfectly fine,” the doctor assures you. “Now if you’d like to see something interesting…” he shifts the wand slightly and you notice something else in your belly. “It looks like my suspicions were correct.”

“What is that?” You squint and lean forward as best you can, trying to get a better idea of what you’re working with. “Is that bad?”

The older man laughs. “Far from it. That’s a roommate.”

“A…roommate?” You’re confused for a moment, but Taishiro puts the pieces together immediately.

“Cupcake, that’s another baby! We’re having twins!”

Your eyes go wide and you stare from your husband to the doctor in surprise. “Twins? Really?”

He smiles. “Yes, that would explain the increased side effects you’ve been feeling. More babies mean more work for your body, unfortunately.”

You watch them wordlessly, your eyes darting between one little blob to the other as your doctor drones about something you can’t waste any attention on. Fatgum’s hand stays firmly around yours, equally focused on his children on the screen. “I can’t believe it, sugar. We’re getting two for the price of one.”

You nod distractedly, too overwhelmed with the surprise to consider anything else. “And they’re both okay in there? I’m doing this right?”

“Yes, they’re both looking perfectly healthy. We always recommend more appointments when there’s multiple births involved, but there’s no reason to assume you’ll have anything but a standard, uncomplicated pregnancy.” It’s hard to tear your attention away from your babies, but you force yourself to focus. “Make sure you’re eating a healthy diet with plenty of fruits and vegetables, and don’t overdue it on physical activity.”

Thirty minutes later, you’re fully dressed and checked out with the receptionist, your next visit scheduled and a new library of information to read. Your husband’s been stuck to your side the entire time, practically radiating with excitement. “Twins, honeybun. It’s gonna be amazing.”

“I know, right?” You sound breathless, you’re still too awestruck to calm down. You wrap your arms as best you can around your mountain of a husband and find yourself lifted off the ground as he returns your hug. In this position, it’s obvious when your stomach rumbles and both of you laugh. “Are you thinking what I’m thinking?”

He grins, eyes crinkling with happiness. “Takoyaki it is.”

[sparrow-mask22]

The Umbrella Academy Story of The Mothers (5/8) umbrella edition: Efa

TW: childbirth, brief Delores slander, implied mental health issues, mentions of blood

October 1, 1989. Dublin, Ireland. 38 seconds before noon.

Efa Cloherty was a 27 year old woman who had been living in Dublin for as long as she could remember. She was standing in the crowd, watching the clock tower of O'Connell Street Methodist Church strike the hour of noon. As the bells chimed, she felt a sense of both relief and dread wash over her. It was the day she had been dreading for months, but also the day she knew would change her life forever.

Efa worked as a butcher at the Bijou Deli in Temple Bar, a job she had held for the past five years. She was known for her skill with a knife and her unflinching demeanor when it came to the daily slaughtering of livestock. As she made her way to the back of the shop, she couldn't help but feel a sense of dread creeping up on her. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly why; it was just one of those days when everything felt a bit off.

"Hey Efa," called her coworker, Gerry, as she sharpened her knives. "You alright, girl? You look a bit off."

Efa paused, wiping her brow. "I'm fine, Gerry," she lied. "Just a bit tired, is all."

She knew that Gerry could see right through her, but he simply nodded and walked away. He'd known Efa long enough to know that sometimes she just needed a little time to herself. As the morning went on, she tried to focus on her work, but her mind kept wandering back to the reason why today felt so different.

Delores, the owner of the Bijou Deli, glanced at Efa as she went about her tasks. She'd noticed the young woman's distraction, but decided not to say anything. Delores knew Efa well enough to understand that sometimes she just needed time to sort things out in her own head. The deli was bustling with customers, the familiar smell of cured meats and coffee filling the air. The morning rush was almost over, and Efa was eager to clock out and put an end to this day.

(Hahaha Efa your boss has the same name as your son's sex doll. That's funny!)

"So your dad has been after you to bring some of the sausages over to the family farm, huh?" asked Gerry, trying to make conversation as they worked together. Efa nodded absently, still lost in her thoughts. "Well, you know where they live. If he asks for them, you can just tell him you forgot or something."

Efa smiled weakly. "Thanks, Gerry. I appreciate it." She didn't want to lie to her coworker, but she didn't want to tell him the truth either. She didn't know how he'd react. Delores, watching them from the other side of the counter, wondered if there was something more going on than Efa was letting on. She decided to give her a break and offered to close the shop early for her.

But then twelve pm came and went, and Efa’s knees began buckling. She felt a sharp pain in her lower abdomen, and she freaked out. She had completely forgotten about her baby. How could this be possible? She took a pregnancy test that very morning and it was negative. She had just assumed she was imagining things, or that the stress of her job was getting to her. But here she was, in the middle of her work, starting to give birth.

"Efa! Efa, are you alright?" Delores called out, rushing over to her. "You're white as a ghost!" She quickly assessed the situation and realized what was happening. "We need to get you to the hospital right now!"

Gerry and two other employees, Aisling and Cillian, immediately assessed the scene. "We don’t have time for an ambulance," Aisling said decisively. "This baby is coming here and now." She quickly moved to clear a space behind the counter, pushing aside displays of bread and cheese. "Gerry, help me move this," she ordered, gesturing to a large wheeled tray of cold cuts. "Cillian, get some towels from the back and boiling water from the kitchen."

As the three employees worked together to create a makeshift birthing area, Efa began to pant heavily. Delores knelt beside her, holding her hand and murmuring encouragement. "You're doing great, sweetie. Just focus on your breathing." She glanced over at Aisling, who was already setting up a makeshift birthing pool using a large plastic tub and a clean apron. "Aisling, any idea how much time we have?"

Aisling shook her head, her brow furrowed in concentration. "Not really. It's hard to say. This is our first time doing this. But you're doing great, Efa. Just breathe deep and let nature take its course." She glanced over at Delores, who was supporting Efa, her face etched with worry. "Delores, could you hand me that packet of sterile gloves from the back?"

Gerry and Cillian moved the last of the towels and boiling water to the makeshift birthing area, and then stepped back to give Aisling room to work. Aisling placed the towels on the floor, creating a soft, warm surface for Efa to lie on. She carefully spread out the sterile gloves, making sure they were easily accessible.

"Okay, Efa," Aisling said gently. "I'm going to check how far along you are. Just relax and let me know if it hurts." She placed her hands on Efa's abdomen, feeling for the baby's head. After a moment, she looked up at Delores. "The head's already out," she announced. "Just a few more pushes and you should be able to deliver the rest of the baby."

Delores nodded, her eyes filled with tears. "You're doing amazing, Efa. You're so strong." She held Efa's hand tightly, willing her friend to find the strength within herself. "And Aisling, you're amazing too. You're really making this happen."

Efa let out a sharp cry as another contraction gripped her. She closed her eyes and gritted her teeth, focusing on the sensations in her body. "I-I can't...," she stammered, her voice barely audible. "It hurts..."

Aisling placed a reassuring hand on Efa's shoulder. "You're doing great, sweetie. Just a few more pushes and we'll have the baby here. Cillian, do you think you could help hold Efa up a bit? It might make it easier for her." Cillian nodded and moved behind Efa, wrapping his arms around her waist, supporting her as she continued to push.

Delores's eyes were fixed on the baby's head, which was now emerging from Efa's body. She could see the baby's tiny hands, covered in a sheen of vernix caseosa, and a thick mass of black hair. As the baby continued to push through the birth canal, Aisling gently guided the head, helping it make its way out.

Finally, with one last mighty push, Efa delivered her baby boy. He let out a healthy wail as he emerged, his tiny body covered in a layer of blood and amniotic fluid. Aisling quickly cleaned the baby off, revealing a handsome child with a mop of black hair. "Oh, he's perfect!" Delores exclaimed, tears welling up in her eyes. "Just look at that beautiful head of hair."

As the baby continued to cry, Cillian carefully placed him on Efa's chest. Efa looked down at her newborn son, tears streaming down her face. "He's perfect," she whispered. "Thank you, Delores. Thank you all." She pulled the blanket up around them, cradling her baby close.

Aisling smiled, her heart swelling with pride. "Well, we did it," she said, her voice cracking with emotion. "We all did it together. And we'll be here to help you take care of him, Efa. You're going to be the best mom ever." Gerry nodded in agreement, wiping a tear from his eye. "Indeed you will," he said, his voice thick with emotion. "And we're so grateful to Delores for being here with you. You've been such a tremendous help."

Delores smiled at Efa, her eyes shining with tears. "It's been my pleasure. I wouldn't have wanted to miss this for the world. He's such a beautiful baby." As they all admired the newborn, an old man quietly entered the room. He was dressed in a rumpled suit and carried a worn leather briefcase. His face was lined with age and wisdom, and there was a twinkle in his eye as he surveyed the scene before him.

"Sir, we are closed now," Delores said, noticing the old man as he entered the room. The man, Reginald, didn’t bat an eye at Delores's statement. He slowly made his way over to Efa and Cillian, studying the new family with a curious gaze. "This child is one of the most beautiful creatures I've ever seen," he said, his voice cracking with emotion. "I think I'd like to give him a home."

Efa was baffled by the old man's sudden appearance, but she couldn't deny the sincerity in his voice. "I... I don't know what to say," she stammered. "The baby's not even a day old yet, and we haven't even had a chance to figure out what we want to name him."

Reginald smiled gently, his eyes twinkling with wisdom. "Ah, names can be given. But to find someone who is willing to give a child a loving home, that is truly a gift. You have done well by this child, Efa. You've given him life, and now you're giving him the chance to grow up in a family that loves him."

Delores and Gerry exchanged surprised glances, but they didn't interrupt. This was a moment between Reginald and Efa, and they wanted the young mother to have the chance to speak her mind. Efa looked at the old man, her heart swelling with gratitude. "Thank you," she managed to say. "It means so much to us that you would even consider taking him. We've been through so much, and it's been hard, but we knew we could give him a good life."

Reginald nodded, his gaze never leaving Efa's face. "I understand that, my dear. And I believe you when you say that you can give him a good life. But I need you to understand something as well." He paused, taking a deep breath before continuing. "If you ever try to find him, to track him down and bring him back into your life... well, let's just say that it wouldn't end well for you." His voice was calm, almost soothing, but there was an unmistakable threat underlying his words.

Efa's heart skipped a beat, and she felt a chill run down her spine. She glanced at Delores and Gerry, who were both looking at Reginald with wide eyes, clearly surprised by his words. But before she could say anything, Reginald reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, worn leather book. He opened it to reveal a series of intricate symbols etched into its pages. "This is a ward," he explained, his voice solemn. "It will protect him from harm, and it will make sure that he can never be found. It is my gift to you, Efa, along with this child."

He held the baby out to her, his wrinkled hand steady and gentle. Efa hesitantly reached out and took the child, cradling him in her arms. Tears streamed down her face as she looked into the old man's eyes. "I... I don't understand," she managed to say. "Why would you do this?"

Reginald smiled, his weathered face creasing into a thousand lines. "Because, my dear," he said, his voice quiet but firm, "your son is not meant for this world. He is meant for something more. And I, Reginald, am meant to protect him. I have seen things, experienced things that you could not even begin to fathom. I know the darkness that lurks in the hearts of men. I know the terrors that stalk the night. And I know that your son must be kept safe from them, at all costs."

He paused, letting his words sink in. Efa felt as if she were being pulled into a world she had never known existed, a world where darkness and danger lurked just beyond the veil of everyday life. "You must trust me, Efa," Reginald continued. "You must believe that I am doing what is best for your child. For all our sakes."

Although reluctant at first, Efa felt a surge of relief wash over her as she realized that Reginald truly intended to keep her son safe. She looked at the old man, his ancient, weathered face creased with lines of wisdom and determination, and she knew that she could trust him. Delores and Gerry, who had been watching the exchange in silence, exchanged glances once more, this time filled with a mixture of hope and uncertainty.

As Reginald took his leave, promising to return in a few days to check on them all, Efa couldn't help but feel a strange sense of loss. A part of her was torn away from her son, but she also knew that this was for the best. She clutched the worn leather book that contained the ward protecting her child, feeling its power emanating from within her grasp. She would never again see her son's face or hold him in her arms, but she took solace in knowing that he was safe, and that he was loved