#tw; traumatic birth

[wardenparker]

Hummingbird Has Landed, ch 12

Marcus Pike x female reader Co-written with @absurdthirst

After the debacle of his failed engagement and relocating to Washington to take charge of his task force, newly minted Special Agent Marcus Pike is ready to get back out into the dating pool once more. A slew of bad dates has him feeling a little down, and he takes an old friend up on an invitation to get away and get his head on straight. Imagine his surprise when he finds not only fresh air, but his soulmate as well - hiding in plain sight but in the unlikeliest of places.

Rating: E for Explicit! 18+ Word Count: 12.4k Warnings: *Blanket warnings for this series: occasional mention of American politics, pregnant character, food/alcohol consumption, mentions of clothing/regulated dressing for occasions, mentions of therapy because we believe in self care here, reader is in a previous relationship, love triangle, reader is mentioned as turning 30 during the course of the story, dom/sub dynamics* Pregnancy. labor, childbirth, health emergency, hospital stay, talk of living wills and things going wrong, traumatic birth, mentions of death/possibility of death, reassurance, emotional hurt/comfort. Summary: Months after going public with your relationship with your soulmate, you and Marcus get the phone call you've been waiting for: Sydney has gone into labor! Notes: The migraines and the pain aren't gone but the story continues! This week is a rollercoaster, my darlings. I hope you enjoy 🧡

Ch1 ~ Ch 2 ~ Ch 3 ~ Ch 4 ~ Ch 5 ~ Ch 6 ~ Ch 7 ~ Ch 8 ~ Ch 9 ~ Ch 10 ~ Ch 11

The call came late on a Saturday night during the first full week of September. Busy getting ready to go out for a later-than-usual date, you had jumped straight up in the air when your phone started ringing. The words 'labor' and 'hospital' got you and Marcus moving instantly, and you were off to meet Juan and Sydney at Sibley Memorial Hospital faster than a heartbeat.

“Now, it’s gonna be awhile.” Marcus warns you, even as he speeds towards the hospital. “I might have to come back to get you some clothes.”

"As long as it doesn't take as long as Junie did to be born," you joke, trying to dispel your own tensions even as you fidget in your seat. "Mom was in labor for twenty-six hours. I think Syd will just reach in and pull the baby out before she waits that long."

“She’ll be yelling that she has a dinner menu to put out.” Marcus snorts, understanding how frustrated Juan has been when his wife refused to slow down until the very end.

"If she doesn't have her recipe notebook out within an hour of giving birth, I'll be astonished." She never slows down, your best friend, and you adore her despite it being worrying sometimes. At least you got her to agree to the more-than-generous New Parent Leave package the inn has adopted. They're both technically on your payroll so you know they'll be well taken care of.

“The new sous chef she hired to help the old one step into her shoes has worked out really well so far.” Marcus knows that talking about the inn will help you focus. Keep you from worrying yourself up into a state until you can lay your eyes on Sydney.

"She needed another set of hands anyway." Just because you know what he's doing doesn't mean you're not grateful, and you fidget in your seat before glancing down at your phone for the thousandth time. No new texts. You just have to remind yourself that that is a good thing. "Hopefully this new guy will work out and she'll keep him on long term."

“Yeah, it’s nearly a fully house every night in the restaurant.” Business in the inn might have taken a slight hit from the negative press, but the food was still bringing in the locals.

"Thank god for that." Over the last few months your bookings haven't been too stellar, but you've been making up for it with restaurant patrons and special event bookings. At least you had room enough to accommodate Marcus's parents when they came up in July. "I don't want to think about what would have happened if we'd lost restaurant sales along with bookings."

“I’m just happy that the ‘anonymous sources’ have tapered off lately.” The accusations are still out there but you and Marcus have been laying low for now.

“What I wouldn’t give for two seconds with our sniveling exes.” It’s obvious that it has been Sam and Vanessa feeding things to the gossip columnists, although technically all you have is your say-so. They’re being clever enough to make sure that there is no paper trail and nothing being said that marks them as the obvious source of the negative rumors. “Why do we have to be the better people?” You gripe with a pout. “We could just as easily say made up shit about them. For all we know, they were the ones having an affair and this is a whole situation of they doth protest too much.”

“I don’t think so.” Marcus would love for that to be the case. “That week of the state dinner, he was sick.” He reminds you. “I think Vanessa went over to his house and somehow discovered she’s his soulmate. She told me that she had just found out, not that she just met him.” He theorizes. “And now, they are twisting their own narrative, but I don’t understand why.”

“If they’re trying to discredit Mom through me, it’s not working.” Though your business may have taken a hit, your mother’s first term has been fairly impressive so far. She’s getting her legislation moving at a brisk clip and her focus on the economy is already strong. You sigh, though, pushing out the bad thoughts, and squeeze his hand over the gear shift. “They don’t get to ruin our goddaughter’s birth. That’s not in the cards.”

“Nope.” Marcus made sure to pack the gifts for mother and baby in the car while you were rushing around to get dressed. Both of you are excited. “Doesn’t matter, today is about Sydney and the baby.” He chuckles. “And poor Juan too. I know he’s a wreck right now.”

“He’s so excited and so nervous.” The clock on the dashboard reads ten minutes until midnight and you squeeze his hand again to relieve some of your own nerves. It’s not like you’re the one having a baby. There’s no reason to be nervous, but you are. For your best friend and your goddaughter and for Juan who is like a big brother to you.

“Yes he is.” Marcus tosses you a grin. “I know he’s supposed to be handing out cigars, but I managed to get my hands on a box of very nice ones. When the baby is born, I’m going to give them to him. To celebrate the important milestones with.”

“They’re the ones your dad smokes, aren’t they?” Beaming that grin right back at him, the conjured memory of the vanilla and spice scent of Matthew Pike’s favorite cigars is easy to conjure. “He’ll love that.”

“I hope so.” Marcus grins. “I can just imagine how proud he’s going to be. He’s going to be crying as he holds his child for the first time.”

“He’s going to be a leaky faucet by the time we get to the hospital,” you predict with an affection laugh. “They deserve this. They already love that little girl so much and they’re going to be amazing parents.”

“Yes they are.” He can’t help but be a little envious, although it’s not a sharp feeling because he knows it will happen for the two of you soon enough. He will be content with cuddling his new goddaughter.

There’s little traffic at this time of night, and before you know it you and Marcus are parking and heading inside to track down the room number that Juan texted to you. Sydney and Juan’s families will be alerted when the baby is born, but it was their wish to have you and Marcus in hand for the birth. You’ll be right there in the delivery room with Syd and Juan while Marcus keeps the families updated in a group chat. You’re co-captains of Team Moral Support and you’re excited for every second of it.

His hand is on your back as you stop in front of the door. “Are you ready, sweetheart?” He asks with a beaming smile.

“Nervous. Excited. Very ready.” You lean back to steal a kiss, warmed through by the comfort of having him by your side for this enormous step in the lives of your close friends. Your chosen family. “And…I can’t wait until it’s us.”

“Soon enough.” He promises. “Soon enough.” He pushed the door open and knocks with the back of his knuckles. “Knock, knock.”

“Oh thank god!” Comes the response from inside, and you’re laughing at the relief in Sydney’s voice when you and Marcus push inside. “The Godparent Brigade has arrived! Here to pump you up, handle your relatives, and fetch your sushi after the little peanut has arrived on the scene.”

“Get the sushi before anything else.” Sydney demands, rubbing her stomach and nearly salivating at the thought.

"I've already got your order in my phone, and Marcus will jet out to get it. You won't have to wait at all, honey." It doesn't surprise you in the least that Syd is thinking about one of her favorite foods, but you move over to her side in the bed as the two men hug and give your best friend a squeeze on her shoulder. "How are you doing? Do you want me to go strong arm a nurse for some ice chips?"

“Juan already has two cups of them, letting them melt down.” She grins at you and then winces when another contraction hits.

It takes everything you've got not to wince or cringe along with her, knowing that it won't do a single lick of good and won't help her feel any better. "How far apart are they?" You ask instead, rubbing her back in small, soothing circles.

“Twelve minutes, forty-seven seconds.” Juan tells you as he looks down at his watch and then back at his wife. “We are down from fifteen minutes.”

"Getting closer and closer!" Practically squeaking with excitement, you can see the same light in Juan's eyes despite the worry lines in his furrowed brow. He just wants everything to go well, and you can't blame him there.

Sydney huffs out a small laugh, knowing you are doing exactly what she had wanted you to. Cheerlead for her. “Did you happen to bring those hard candies?” She asks, her eyes wide and pleading.

"Yes!" Ready to dig into your purse immediately, you swirl around and grab your bag from where you had dropped it to one side when you came in the room. "I've got sour lemon and orange, and I've got the sweet strawberry ones. What are you feeling at the moment?"

“Sweet.” She practically moans the word and reaches out to you with grabby hands. “Don’t hold out on me now.”

"Here we go, babe." One of the candies is deposited in Syd's outstretched hands and a few more get tucked into the pockets of your cardigan to make sure you have one on hand for her at no more than a moment's notice. "Plenty more where that came from, I promise."

“You are the best.” She moans, popping the candy into her mouth and rolling her eyes in pleasure.

"Now how are you doing, Dad?" With Syd moaning over her small treat, you turn your attention to Juan.

“I’m hanging in there, but I think I forgot my bag.” He rolls his eyes and huffs. “Too busy making sure the car seat was secure.”

"Babe, you have a key to their place, right?" If not, you'll pull out your keys and send Marcus back to Alexandria with your spare house key instead. You would go yourself, but you vowed not to leave Sydney's side once you got to the hospital. The kind of vow that is definitely life or death and she will hold you to.

“Juan gave me one.” Marcus nods, and agrees with your silent plan. “I’ll run and get the bag. Pick up some coffee that’s better than the shit they serve here, yeah?”

"I have a feeling we're going to need it." Juan nods and claps Marcus on the shoulder gratefully.

"I'll call you if anything changes," you promise him, turning back to your own soulmate. "You're amazing, sweetheart. Thank you."

“I’ll be back as soon as I can.” He reassures you, leaning in to kiss your lips before hugging Juan and bussing Sydney’s cheek. “Ask for the good drugs, mama.” He teases with a wink, wanting her to laugh.

"You bet your ass!" She groans, wincing more heavily with this contraction than she had with the one before. "Get back here fast, Marcus. Speed. Lots!"

“I’ll use my badge if I get pulled over!” He calls back as he rushes out of the room.

"He'll be back in no time." Realistically you know it will take quite a lot of time, in fact, but your job tonight is not to be realistic. It is to be positive and upbeat. To keep spirits high. "I think Malachi is going to win the betting pool." You grin and stand up by the head of the bed with Sydney, right there to hold her hand if she needs you. "He had Monday – tomorrow, technically – as the day, but I don't think anyone had Sunday."

“Juan…” Sydney smiles. “Take a nap, baby. I know you are exhausted. You were about to go to sleep when my labor started. Birdie is here, so get some sleep.”

He raises an eyebrow, knowing his wife is in pain, but also knowing that a short nap will ensure he is at his best to help her. "We'll take shifts," he compromises, eyeing you just as much as his wife. "So someone is always here holding your hand and timing your contractions. Short naps only. I don't want to miss anything."

“I promise I won’t push her out without you.” She teases, leaning in and pressing her lips to his. “Go, it might be your last nap for the next eighteen years.”

"I love you, Warrior Queen." There are more kisses and more sweet words, and finally Juan crosses the compact hospital room to curl up on the Dad Bench and try to get at least a little bit of sleep before his baby girl enters the world.

“I don’t want to be horrible through this.” She admits quietly. “I’m hoping the labor progresses so I get an epidural quickly.”

"There is not a single person who is going to even blink an eye if you are upset during this labor," you promise her. She pats the side of her bed and you perch on the edge of the mattress, holding her hand all the while. "If you wanted or needed to rage through the whole thing, we would stand by your right to do so. But we'll also stand by your choice to do things any other way. Whatever way is going to be the best possible experience of bringing your first baby into this world."

“Will you do me a favor?” She asks quietly, eyeing Juan as he turns into the couch and gives you his back. He’s already snoring lightly so she’s not worried about him overheating. “If something happens…..” This is the first time that she’s ever said anything out loud and her eyes are anxious. “I’ve signed the paperwork already, but if something happens, I don’t want to stay on machines.” She whispers. “Promise me that you’ll help him let go. And if it’s me or the baby…you know what I want you to choose.”

“Nothing is going to happen.” As firmly and sternly as you can, you squeeze your best friend’s fingers in yours and bite back the instant tears that spring but behind your eyes. The fact that this conversation is even necessary is heartbreaking, but women die in childbirth every single day. Nothing is going to happen. You almost shake with determination but that isn’t what she needs right now. The person who means the most to you in the world besides Marcus is looking you in the face and asking you to be loyal to her. And you will. “I promise.” Two small, devastating words. But if she’s thought this far ahead, she’s also had another thought. “You have a will somewhere?”

“In the safe at home.” She nods, relieved that you are not fighting her and it’s obvious on her face. She had expected an argument, she knows she would have gotten one from Juan, which is why she chose you as her medical POA. “The papers are in an envelope in my bag.” She nods towards the incredibly organized hospital bag.

“Okay.” You nod, still holding her hands tightly. “I love you. I will honor your wishes. Now tell me which onesies you packed to bring her home in so you can get excited again.”

“All of them.” Sydney snorts, only half kidding. “There are twelve that I couldn’t decide between, so I brought them all. Figured we would decide which one looks best when we are holding her.”

“We can absolutely decide later.” She’s already a little sweaty at the top of her forehead from the contractions and you nudge a cup of melted ice chips toward her just to cool her down. “Do you have a top three?”

“The ones in the right hand pocket.” She takes the cup and starts to gulp down the cool water.

In the right hand pocket of Sydney’s neatly packed hospital bag, three folded baby onesies await their new owner: one from her mother in law covered in little surfboards and ocean waves and sunglasses to represent how much Juan had loved surfing when he was out in California. One from Syd’s sister AnnaLeigh with Once Upon a Time…a Heroine was Born written out like the beginning of an illuminated fairytale, and one from you and Marcus emblazoned with the logo of Syd’s favourite hockey team to get her baby girl started out right. “They’re fantastic choices,” you hum, looking at the clothes with misty eyes.

“You see why I couldn’t choose?” She laughs, shaking her head and setting down the rest of the ice chips to melt. Seriously not understanding why they just wouldn’t give her water. Labor is fucking thirsty work.

“I think I like AnnaLeigh’s,” you admit, before tucking them back into the bag as carefully as they had been before. “But we’ll see how she feels about them when she’s here. Who knows? She might come out the chillest baby in the world and then we now she matches Juanito’s surfer phase.”

“Juan actually likes that one too.” She admits with a grin. “He’s so fucking excited for this baby to come. He swears if he could carry her for me, he would.”

“He totally would have if he could.” The grin on your face breaks wider, and you sit back on the edge of Syd’s bed with her. “So would Marcus. In a heartbeat.”

“How did we get so fucking lucky?” Her eyes mist up, overwhelmed with the beautiful thought of both of you so happy and cared for with your soulmates.

“I truly have no idea.” The mist in her eyes halts for just a moment as another contraction hits, but it doesn’t fade. It doesn’t dim. Syd’s happiness is true, and you’re so grateful to see it. “Thank god they get along though. We’d be screwed if our soulmates weren’t friends.”

Panting, she leans back and rubs her belly. “We would make them be friends.” She jokes. “The most awkward small talk over beers until they find a common interest.”

“Lucky for us?” You sit forward and help her readjust her pillows from where they had fallen out of place. “They’re basically as inseparable as we are again.”

"Lucky for us." She agrees, leaning back with a sigh and smiling at you. "Thanks. You know what I need before I do sometimes."

“For most of the time we’ve known each other, I’ve been shocked that we aren’t soulmates.” At some point in your teenage years you had discussed it, but your appendicitis scar already existed and she has never born that. “I gotta be honest, I used to be bummed that we’re not. But when you met Juan, I understood why.”

She kisses the air in your direction. "Because you had Marcus waiting on you, too." She reminds you. "We are better than soulmates. We are sisters by choice."

“I would have waited forever for him.” She gets the same air kiss from you, and you descend into giggles together. “We really are lucky.”

The giggles are interrupted by another contraction, making Sydney hiss and squeeze her eyes shut as she tries to breathe through it. Coming out as more of a whine until the pain passes again. "They- They are getting closer." She huffs when she can talk again.

“We’re down to eight minutes and sixteen seconds apart,” you tell her, checking your watch. “You’re doing awesome, Syd.”

“I can’t believe it.” She grunts when she gets a foot in her rib. “I don’t know whether to be impressed that it’s going so fast, or cry because I’m not further along.”

"You're allowed to be both, you know." Frankly, you're both. She is progressing quickly but you know she would rather have just arrived fully dilated and ready to go. "Just remember. At least she's not dragging her heels like Junie did."

“I don’t know how your mom did it.” She huffs, thinking about your mother and how excited you had been for a younger sister. “She was still working while in labor.”

"My mother is some kind of weird combination of feral cryptid being and absolute machine," you chuckle, shaking your head. "If I'm trying to do bookings and make staff schedules during labor, please slap me."

Huffing out a laugh, she grunts and rubs her belly again on the side. “Done.” She pants. “But get me my notebook.” She points to her bag. “I just thought about a salted Carmel mocha crème brûlée.”

“I am only agreeing to this because it will take your mind off the pain.” Still, you dig into the pocket opposite the onesies she has earmarked as favorites and come out with her battered and beaten recipe notebook. “It sounds like it will be nice to send to your sous chef.”

“It sounds like something I want to eat right now.” She groans, flipping open the tatty cover and laying it on her baby bump to quickly write down her idea.

“You’re going to be a little distracted and busy for a while,” you remind her. Still you can’t help but grin at her tongue poking out from between her teeth as she scribbles.

“Doesn’t mean I’m not hungry.” She moans pitifully after finishing the notes. “I was in the middle of getting a snack.” The pout that pushes her lips out would be comical under different circumstances but she’s horribly disappointed to have not gotten to eat before being bustled into the car by her frazzled husband.

“What was snack time tonight?” It is absolutely always the way to distract her when she’s feeling bad, and tonight is All Sydney All the Time, so you’re focused in one her.

She groans and whimpers slightly at the food she had to leave on the counter. “Cottage cheese with fresh peach compote and balsamic glaze.” She pouts even more. “It was going to be amazing. But I had to tell Juan that I was cramping.”

“I’ll make sure there’s plenty in your fridge waiting for you when you get home.” You can promise her that, along with their fridge and freezer being fully stocked with ready-made meals and easy to use ingredients that should last more than two weeks. Between you and Marcus and Malachi and her staff, you’ve all been secretly helping prep for baby’s arrival for a week already. Even Agent Bailey made a contribution to the frozen meals and added some veggies from her garden.

“Thank you.” She smiles you softly. “I can’t believe that when I leave, I’m going to be holding her.” She admits with a grin.

“She’s almost here.” As if to affirm it, another swift kick to Sydney’s abdomen is brutally obvious, and you grin. “And she’s excited about it.”

The two of you settle into a comfortable silence. Broken by contractions and the quickening of their pace. Sydney trying to be quiet as she pants through them to let Juan sleep.

Checking your watch again and finding nearly two hours have gone by, you tilt your head at your best friend and hand her another strawberry candy. "Marcus should be back soon, and your contractions are barely more than five minutes apart now. I think it's time to wake Dad up and call for the nurse."

Marcus has Juan’s bag in the backseat and he had cancelled the reservations he had made for tonight. They aren’t going to be used, and he had apologized profusely. Still, he stops at the inn to run up to the small gun safe, using the biometric lock to open it and reveal a small ring box. He had been planning to propose tonight, and he still can, it will just look different now.

"It's happening, isn't it?" On his one night shift per week, Malachi had seen you and Marcus hustle out the backdoor of the inn with bags in hand and seen not long after when Marcus reappeared in a hurry. Now he is waiting at the back door once again, but this time to snag Marcus before he can disappear in to the night.

“It is.” Marcus nods with a huge grin spreading across his face. “Juan forgot his bag. I’ll text you when she’s born.” All the staff are invested so he will be sure to let them know. “You’ve got the inn?” He checks, although he knows what the other man will say.

"That baby is your godchild." Malachi smiles surprisingly softly. "This inn is mine."

“I know.” He reaches out and squeezes Malachi’s arm. “Birdie trusts you with her most important treasure.” He praises.

"Not quite." He winks at the other man, considering him a friend now after many months of back and forth, and grins. "She'd never leave me alone with you."

Marcus snorts, well aware of the man’s proclivity to flirt. He matches that grin. “That’s because she knows how persuasive you are.” He jokes, winking at him playfully. “Besides. You are still yearning for your soulmate and will only be happy when he breezes into your life like he’s always been there.”

"Check all those doctors for my ankle tat, handsome." Malachi teases, shooing Marcus toward the door. "A man in scrubs is better than a man in uniform."

“I will.” He gives Malachi a salute and hustles out of the door to speed back to the hospital as quickly as he can.

It's on the heels of a nurse when Marcus comes back into the room, with Juan standing at Syd's side holding tight to your hand while you have been banished to the corner of the room so the nurse can do her work. "It's almost time!" You tell him excitedly, wrapping your arms around him the second he makes his way over to her.

“Holy shit, I made it just in time then.” He can’t believe how fast it’s gone, he had expects at least half a day or more of labor.

"Apparently Constance does not want to wait." The shine of tears in your eyes isn't going anywhere now that you're about to head to the delivery room with Sydney and Juan, but you hug Marcus fiercely. "And I can't wait to meet her. I'm so glad you made it in time."

“Me too.” Marcus presses his lips to yours, letting you cling to him for a second before you pull back. “Does she want me there for Juan or should I stay here?”

"Stay here and hold down the fort for us? She's going to be exhausted when it's all over but she's nervous about everything being okay in the room while we're gone." Wishing so dearly that this was your night only makes you smile because you know that it's only a matter of time.

“Absolutely.” Marcus nods and looks over at Juan and Sydney. “I’ve got everything here. You go meet your daughter.”

"We'll be back soon." Juan is beaming, practically hopping around, and looks like he might jump out of his own skin if given the chance. "She's almost here!"

Marcus laughs at the bubbly excitement, watching as the nurses wheel her bed out, with you and Juan right on their heels as she’s transferred over to the delivery room. “And now…” Marcus pulls out the ring box and flicks it open to look down at the gorgeous ring. “We wait.”

It's over an hour before anyone comes back into the room, and when it happens it's just you alone with a look of exhausted panic on your face. "Everyone's okay." The first words out of your mouth, but you murmur them while shaking slightly and bolting into his arms, so it isn't terribly reassuring.

That doesn’t sound reassuring, coupled with the desperate way you cling to him. Marcus folds you into his embrace tightly.

“She was breech…” Sniffling through the explanation and clinging to him even harder is about the best you can do right now. “And they couldn’t get her to turn. Then—then they did an ultrasound and figured out that—” The shudder that runs through you is all-encompassing. “She had her umbilical cord around her neck. So they had to do an emergency c-section.” The shaky breath you exhale as you lean back is enough to make him quake right along with you, but he holds you steady. “And then the placenta ruptured after they brought the baby out and—and Syd just kept bleeding—”

“Oh shit.” Marcus whispers in horror, his heart plummeting to his feet and he swallows harshly. “But they are both okay?” He had heard you say they were, but he needs the confirmation.

“They’re both okay.” You can barely manage to nod, tears spilling over for yet another time. “They took Constance to the NICU and Juan is with Syd in recovery until they okay her to come back here.”

“Thank God.” Marcus breathes out softly. “Hopefully Syd is asleep? I know she would be frantic if Constance isn’t with her after that.”

“Awake, but exhausted.” You’re still gripping his leather jacket, refusing to let go. It had been warding off the chill in the air conditioned room but now it’s your life line. “They let her hold the baby for a few minutes before they whisked her off to the NICU.”

“How is she?” Marcus asks quietly, worrying about the baby. “Could we sit with her in the NICU?”

“The doctor said not to worry.” Though you sniffle again, clearly very concerned. “That she’s seen babies in far worse condition come through it totally fine. But they wanted her in a place where they can help immediately if they need to.” Two tears leak from your eyes but you brush them away with the back of your wrist and try to breathe. “They’ll come down and tell us in a little while if she can come be with Sydney or if we’ll be allowed to visit the NICU. For now we just gotta—we gotta stay put. That’s why Juan wanted me to come tell you.”

“Then that is what we will do.” Marcus promises, rubbing your back gently. “I’ll wait to pick up her sushi, hmm?” He wants you to decide that is the best option because he’s not leaving you right now. Not for anything in the world. He’s already reached out to his team to let them know he’s out of pocket for right now.

“Until after she gets some sleep.” You nod against his chest and wrap your arms around his waist for a sturdy anchor. “This is…not a celebrating time. The only thing worth celebrating is the fact that they’re okay.”

The ring he had planned to give you tonight burns a hole in his pocket, but he hums in agreement, pressing his lips to your head. “I completely agree.” He murmurs softly. “We will just make sure that they are in perfect health.”

“I love you so much.” The sheer relief of having him in your arms now after nearly losing your best friend — both of them meaning more to you than life itself — is unspeakable. “And I’m so glad you’re here.”

“I’m not going anywhere.” He promises. “I think I’m going to text the group that mom and baby are resting comfortably and we will make the announcement later?” He asks. “I don’t want people to bug Juan or worry.”

“I think that’s probably a good idea.” The last that the baby arrival group chat had heard, Syd was being wheeled to the delivery room. They deserved an update.

“Why don’t you go into the bathroom and wash your face, sweetheart?” Marcus urges. “Change into your comfy clothes and I’ll send out a text.”

“I’m too anxious to sleep, but I’ll wash up and change.” It seems like it will make you feel less frazzled, and therefore more on your game to help your friends. “But if you need to lie down, you should. I’ll wake you up when the nurse comes in with news.”

“I won’t sleep.” Marcus is too focused on you, too in tune with your nervousness to ever nap. Not right now.

“Then change with me and settle in,” you suggest instead, knowing that if your positions were switched you would feel the same. “It might be a long night.”

Marcus nods. “I can do that.” He promises, rubbing your shoulders and moving towards the bags. “If you want to take a quick shower, no one would blame you.”

“I think I’ll save that trick for refreshing myself in a few hours from now.” Predicting that you’ll need it, you kiss him now and slip off to the adjacent bathroom with your overnight bag to change.

Marcus pulls out his phone and calls down to the florist department that is on the ground floor of the hospital, wanting Sydney to come back to a lovely bouquet.

Wash your face. Change your clothes. Try not to break out crying again that you almost had to put that conversation with Syd a few hours ago into action. By the time you come out of the bathroom in Marcus’s old FBI Academy sweatshirt and a pair of yoga pants, your shoulders are drooping and your feet are dragging but at least you’ve stopped crying.

“Oh sweetheart.” While you had washed your face, Marcus had changed out in the room. “Come lay down with me on the sofa/bench thing.” He urges, reaching for you again.

“The Dad Bench.” Curling up into his side immediately, you lay your head on his shoulder and breathe out another sigh. “After you left, she made me promise to make the decision if something went wrong,” you tell him quietly. “Juan would never be able to…and she knew…that if she made me promise. I’d do what she wanted.”

He had been stroking your arm, fingers freezing as he absorbs the implication of that statement. “I’m glad it didn’t come to that.” He closes his eyes and sends up a prayer of thanks and continued good health to whomever might hear him. He doesn’t wish that on anyone, least of all his soulmate and one of his best friends.

"It almost did." Tears come again, fresh and few, but they are definitely there. "The only other time I've heard Juan pray in Spanish was when his mother had a heart attack a few years ago."

“I would be praying in every fucking language I could if it were you.” Marcus whispers. “To every God ever imagined.”

"Everyone is okay." Having to remind yourself of it fairly often seems...fairly reasonable, all things considered. You had stood at your best friend's side and looked her and her soulmate in the eyes as the doctors worked to control her bleeding. As she lay on a table with the distinct reality that those would be the last moments of her life.

But no. Everyone is okay. And soon they'll send her downstairs so she can rest comfortably, and they'll bring little Constance to her to have joyous moments with her family instead of fearful ones.

“Everyone is okay.” He echoes softly. “But…I asked the nurse for a rollaway bed for you.” The nurse had slipped into the room to check on you while you had been in the bathroom, before he had changed. You had just walked into the other room and closed the door, in fact. He had thought it would be best to prepare for you to not leave this room anytime soon.

"Did she say anything else?" No news is good news most of the time when you're in a hospital, but if Marcus got to speak to a nurse you want to know everything.

“She said that momma and baby should be in here by the time visitor hours start.” He couldn’t get a timeframe beyond that, but he took what he could get.

"That's..." Turning your wrist to check your face, the dial reads just after four in the morning. "That's about four hours. And I know Juan won't be down without them. So...I guess we should settle in?"

“Of course.” He doesn’t move, just continuing to hold you. Feeling you relax against him slowly.

"I guess...rain check on date night sex?" You huff weakly, trying for a joke. By this time of night on a date night you would normally be fast asleep – and very naked – in each other's arms.

“A rain check with you is better than any legal tender.” He jokes back, smiling softly even though he had hoped it would be engaged sex.

"What a night." The longer that you sit with him, the calmer you get. It's such an enormous thing for you, to have someone to anchor you as well as he does, and you sigh again as you deflate just a little more into his side.

“Not exactly how I imagined the night going.” Marcus admits with a small sigh. He’s not unhappy, he just wishes the birth hadn’t been so traumatic for everyone.

"Tell me what we were going to do tonight." Thinking about absolutely anything else seems like a very good idea right now, and while you know it was already late when you were leaving the apartment, you also know that Marcus had made plans for tonight.

“I had booked us a late table at Kingbird.” He tells you, smiling at the fact that Sydney had pulled the strings to get the reservation. “It was supposed to be the last table of the night.”

"The restaurant at the Watergate?" Your eyebrows raise when you look up at him and you're practically pouting. "I've been dying to try that place."

“I know.” He had asked and there was a list of places, but he had chosen that one to immortalize as special for the two of you. “And booked us a room at the hotel.”

"Shit." The pout on your lips deepens when you realize how much work Marcus had put into the night, only for it to be interrupted. "I'm so sorry, love. We'll have to reschedule everything. It sounds like it would have been beautiful."

“This is more important.” Marcus insists. “Don’t apologize. This is where I want to be, with you.”

"I don't think I could make it through tonight without you." It would be too much to handle on your own. With such deep emotions entangled in every second of the night, without your anchor you might have just flown apart. "I don't like the idea of doing anything without you anymore."

“You would have, sweetheart.” Marcus knows that, you are so damn strong. So much stronger than you ever believe about yourself. “I know you would have, but you don’t have to.” He stresses. “I’ll be here for you. Support you, comfort you. Celebrate your success and mourn your losses with you. I’m right here.”

"There are no losses to mourn tonight." And you'll be thanking every deity out there for any part they may have had in it. And also making sure that you note down the name of Sydney's doctor for your own pregnancies, because that woman worked quickly and thoroughly and without hesitation to make sure that both mother and baby made it through a birth that would have killed them both in decades past.

“We celebrate life.” He agrees softly. “And love. That little girl is loved so much already.”

"She's beautiful." And of course, there's a sniffle again. At least this one is happy and relieved. "Syd's big eyes and Juan's dark hair."

“Juan is going to be miserable when she gets older.” He laughs quietly. “She’s going to be gorgeous.”

"If she's anything like her mom, she'll have her head too far in the clouds to notice any of the boys or girls chasing her," you laugh along with him, remembering Sydney in high school. "Syd never had any clue how sought after she was."

“She was waiting for Juan.” It’s a bit of a romantic stretch, but it could also be the truth. “Plus she was too in love with crème brûlée. No mere man could compare.”

"She was dreaming about a caramel mocha one while you were gone." The maddening fear is starting to subside, finally, and you sink ever more deeply against Marcus on the bench. "I swear I'll make them for her every day for the rest of her life after what happened tonight."

“See?” He smirks to himself. “She loves them and I’ll help you. I can take the next week off, help with the inn and let you focus on Sydney and co?”

"You don't have to do that." It's a lot to ask of him, and you know that even though he has plenty of vacation time, you were planning on taking a trip down to Texas to spend New Years with his parents. "It's a deeply appreciated gesture, though."

“I don’t mind.” He protests, although he had been certain you would not let him do that for you. “I hope you know that.”

"I know, my love." In his lap, your fingers find his and tangle your hands together. "Why don't we wait on that decision until we see how Sydney and the baby are doing? I don't want you to take extra days out when I know you had been wanting to do other things with them in the next few months."

“Alright.” He will do what you want, let you lead this but he won’t let you exhaust yourself trying to carry everything. “Hopefully they will deliver the flowers I ordered before Syd comes back into the room.”

“You ordered flowers?” Sometimes you really feel like the things he does are magic, from small to large the gestures of love and support are always so deep that it seems impossible for him to not be the Superman of emotional support. “Honey, you’re—you’re too good. Too all of us.”

Marcus snorts. “My mother insisted we order flowers from her and dad, before this all went sideways.” He adds. Wanting you to know the context. “But Sydney just went through a traumatic childbirth. Flowers are the least I could do in order to make her feel loved and special.” He had ordered the flowers his mother wanted and then ordered other arrangements, including a welcome bouquet for Constance herself.

“Everyone is okay.” More reassuring this time, the words still come out in a hush and your eyes drop from Marcus’s for a moment before fluttering back up. “Thank you for being you,” you murmur after a moment. Marcus is that supportive and bolstering friend and family member. This is just who he is. And you’re so entirely grateful to have him here with you, especially right now.

“I don’t know if I would thank me for that.” Marcus teases, leaning in and kissing your forehead again. “But you can always count on me, hummingbird.”

“I know I can. And I’m thankful for that.” More than you could ever say. More than any words you have.

“Close your eyes.” He orders softly. He knows you are exhausted and emotionally spent. You need the rest so you can care for Sydney, Juan and the baby when they are back in this room.

“I can’t guarantee I’ll sleep.” Though you’ll try, knowing that the nurse doesn’t expect Sydney or the baby to be able to come down for at least a few hours.

“I know. Just closing them will be good.” He murmurs softly, still rubbing your back when you shift to lay across him. “You’ve been crying.”

“You would have been proud of me,” you murmur, settling against him one more time and shutting your eyes. “I kept it together until after everything happened.” It was shock, probably, but you still managed it. “Therapy is going to be a doozy this week.”

“Yes it will.” He won’t deny that or try to minimize your feelings. “You don’t need to skip it.”

“I’m absolutely not going to skip it.” Not this week, of all weeks. Not at all. The heaviness of the night is tugging at you, not for sleep but for rest, and for the first time you think you actually might be able to calm down fully as long as you can stay in Marcus’s arms.

Humming in approval, he doesn’t speak, letting the silence draw between you and waiting for your breathing to start slowing down.

The nap lasts about two hours. Two hours held tight in Marcus’s arms on that padded bench, and when you shift against him the small sound of noncommittal discomfort and surprise is enough to tell you that he fell asleep too. Good, you think, rubbing the sleep from your eyes. Everyone deserves a reset tonight. Even little Constance.

Marcus wakes quietly, as soon as you move, and he slowly remembers that he’s not in your bed. Both of you are at the hospital. He hums and sighs softly, knowing it hadn’t been a long nap, but it will do wonders for the coming hours.

"Hey handsome." The room is quiet and so are you, sitting up to stretch beside him and bring your limbs back to life.

“How did you sleep?” Marcus asks softly, watching you through heavy eyes.

“Better than I thought I would,” you admit, though you have a feeling that’s only because you didn’t sleep deeply enough for nightmares to set in. “You?”

“Pretty good nap.” He yawns. “Although I know I’m going to have to get coffee for all of us.”

Checking your watch, you stretch again and knock against his side with a lopsided grin. “The cafeteria should be open soon. I have a map of the hospital in my bag so you won’t get lost.”

“Just for that, I’ll bring you two coffees.” He groans, standing up and stretching out. “I should get dressed.”

“I’m sure you wouldn’t be the only visitor to go get coffee in your jammies.” Far from it, if you had to hazard a guess.

He snorts slightly. “I don’t doubt it. But I would hate to steal any of Juan’s new dad thunder.” He jokes, winking at you.

“Juan will be doing everything in bespoke suits with giant buttons that exclaim New Dad! for everyone he meets.” It’s sweet to think about, now that the fear is mostly past. It won’t wither entirely until you get to see mother and baby, but that should be soon.

“Of course he will.” Marcus laughs. “He’s already got an app on his phone that is just for organizing pictures of the baby.”

“Make sure you get the name of it,” you tease, leaning over to kiss him and getting one last stretch in — right into his arms. “We’ll need that for our kids, I’m sure.”

“You know it.” Marcus grins. “I’ve already downloaded it. It also has a wedding portion of the app. Basically you can upload all your important moments in it.” He doesn’t mention that he had set it up for the proposal that didn’t happen last night.

“You think of everything.” He really does, so it’s barely even an embellishment. At this point you’re just relieved that you can think of small things again instead of the larger, overhanging fear of just a few hours ago.

“Not everything.” Marcus snorts, winking at you. “Otherwise, I would have had coffee delivered by now.”

“Mostly everything, then.” One more kiss and you pull back to get your things sorted out around the room. “I’m going to tidy up a little and get out a couple of comfort things for Syd. So when she comes down she’ll have her favorite cardigan and things like that.” Absolutely anything you can do to soothe your best friend’s hellish night, you’re going to.

“That sounds perfect.” Marcus agrees. “I’ll go grab the coffee. What do you want, sweetheart?”

“Just my usual.” Your hum of appreciation is more relaxed than it would have been earlier in the night. “I love you, baby.”

“I love you too.” He promises as he quickly starts changing into the clothes he had brought.

Marcus is gone for about a half an hour before the door to the room opens again, but when it does it's Juan there – holding the door open wide as one of the overnight workers from the transport department wheels Sydney's bed back into the room with her nurse hot on their heels.

“We are back.” His tone is exhausted but elated at the same time. It’s been a sleepless night for him. Afraid that he would close his eyes and Sydney would be gone.

"How are you feeling, honey?" You're at Sydney's side as soon as the nurse is done getting her settled. The woman has the patience of a saint and excuses herself to go retrieve Constance, who is being allowed to leave the NICU.

“Tired. Sore.” She admits with a quick, tired smile. “Impatient to hold my daughter.”

"She'll be down soon." Glancing at the door where the nurse has disappeared to bring around that same little girl, the warmth in the room starts to grow exponentially. "Marcus went to get coffees. And I'll bring sushi for lunch. Cross my heart."

“I don’t know if I’m hungry.” Sydney admits with a slight shrug. She’s still a little disoriented from the drugs. “But coffee sounds amazing. I could sleep for days.”

"Then we won't worry about food right now. But Marcus is bringing back coffee for you, and he should be back very soon." You grin at your friends and send them both a conspiratorial shrug. "I sent him with a map, otherwise you know he would have gotten lost."

Juan laughs as he fuses over Sydney, hovering as if she might disappear if he steps too far away. “He should have been a Lieutenant in the military, as bad as he is.”

“I’ve just learned to always have a map for new places or to set up the gps in his car without asking.” It’s a quirk, and you all have them, but Marcus’s ability to get lost almost anywhere is a standing joke between the four of you and it’s so, so good to hear Syd laugh. Even if it’s only a little, it’s completely worth it.

The knock on the door comes just a moment later and Marcus pokes his head in. “Oh you’re here!” He brightens up and pushes the door open, the delivery person from the flower shop hot on his heels. “I was hoping to get all this inside before you did.”

“We just got back.” Syd is groggy for sure, but not so badly that she doesn’t register the tray of coffees and bag of food with the hospital’s cafe logo on it that you jump forward to snag from him and the delivery of flowers that comes in behind him. With the tension and fear of the last few hours and all the emotions and hormones still raging in her, Sydney is immediately in tears. “You—you got flowers?” She half-squalls like it’s the kindest and most loving thing any person has ever done in the history of time. For her, especially right now, it definitely feels like it.

“Ohhhh don’t cry.” Marcus frets slightly, even though he’s pretty sure that they are happy tears. “I wanted you and Constance to have a beautiful reminder of how loved you both are.” He walks over to the recovering woman, that he now regards as his friend, leaning down to kiss her cheek. “More are coming too.” He promises.

“It’s so sweet!” Syd huffs between large tears, hugging Marcus as tightly as her recovering body will permit. “You’re so sweet.” Even after we interrupted your plans, she thinks loudly, but manages not to say it. She knows what last night was supposed to be and she hated having to call when she knew Marcus was about to sweep you out the door.

“You deserve nothing but happiness right now.” He promises, looking over at Juan and squeezing Sydney gently before he pulls back and moves over to the new father. “Congratulations.” He is somber, aware of what the agony of the night had done to his friend.

“It was a hell of a night.” Juan pulls Marcus in for a hug — something the two men need right now for grounding, but Juan also murmur, “And sorry for the timing” to Marcus before pulling away.

“Don’t ever worry about that.” Marcus insists. “Doesn’t matter if I was in the middle of it, we would have been on our way.” Yes, proposing to you and giving you a beautiful moment is important to him; but some things are always much more important and this is at the top of that priority list.

“We’ll make it work.” Juan promises quietly, glad to see you absorbing Sydney in conversation while she marvels at the flowers that Marcus ordered.

“How’s Constance doing?” Marcus asks quietly, not seeing the bassinet in the room. “Will she be released from the NICU soon?”

“Our doc said she’s stable, so she can come down and have some family time and be fed.” As a brand new father of only about two and a half hours, that has Juan both puffing out his chest and teary with pride. “The nurse should be bringing her down now.”

“That’s great!” Marcus grins, knowing that both mama and daddy will feel better with their newborn daughter in their room.

Having settled Sydney with her coffee and treat — Marcus brought muffins back from the cafe — you excuse yourself to the bathroom and feel like you can finally breathe. Syd is here. You can hear her muffled laughing through the door. And the baby will be down soon. Everyone is okay.

“Looks Marcus…” Sydney’s voice is hushed and he can tell by her guilty expression what is coming. “Please, don’t apologize again.” He begs her softly. “There is nothing to apologize for.”

“I can call Kingbird,” she offers immediately. Explain it was my fault you had to cancel and get you a new reservation.”

“No.” He shakes his head and glances back at the bathroom. “I don’t think she’s going to be leaving your side for quite awhile and I cannot in good conscience try to convince her otherwise.”

He insists that she shouldn’t apologize more but Sydney still feels like she ought to, pursing her lips until she eventually tilts her head to look up at the men standing side by side at her bed. “You could still do it tonight if you wanted to,” she offers. It’s technically morning now — past six, anyway — but she hasn’t gotten any sleep yet so everything blends together. “It…” she blows out a sigh. “I know it wasn’t the easiest night.” For her especially. “But it would be nice to have Constance’s birth surrounded by happiness. Instead of what might have happened.”

Marcus considers it for a moment, frowning slightly and he bites his lip. “That is— are you sure?” He would never want to take away from Constance and her birth.

Sydney sits back in her hospital bed and takes Juan’s hand, letting him anchor her the way you always do with Marcus. “I don’t want the only thing I remember about the day my daughter was born to be that both of us almost died,” she admits quietly, knowing it’s a little selfish to ask him for this but also knowing that the happy memories you make together mean everything to the four of you.

He can understand that and he bites his lip. “Then….what do you think about me proposing here?” He asks. “It’s not the most romantic setting, but I think under the circumstances, it’s the best place to do it.”

“There’s flowers and best friends and I know you brought her back her favourite muffin.” Juan chuckles, feeling a bit misty eyed over more good things happening. “What’s more romantic than that?”

“Maybe we can do something that involves the baby?” Marcus suggests.

“I will squall.” Sydney warns, already tearing up all over again. “But quickly before she comes back…wrap the ring box in the baby blanket?”

“Perfect.” Marcus dives for the bag that had been packed for Constance and finds the soft baby blanket they had decided to wrap her in while in the hospital. “When the baby comes in, ask her to get the blanket for you.” Marcus tells Sydney.

“If we can keep a straight face,” Syd laughs, but agrees immediately.

Marcus hides the ring box in the folds of the blanket. “Are you sure you’re okay with this?”

“More than.” Sydney promises, right before the bathroom door opens.

You had washed up a little again, refreshing yourself and feeling a little more human while you were in the bathroom. “Did you manage to rest a little while you were upstairs?” Your focus is right back on Sydney but you take a second to give Marcus a kiss of thanks when he hands you your coffee.

“Yes.” She’s still tired and exhausted, but she smiles. “I did, you don’t worry about me.” She huffs, knowing that it won’t do any good. You will fret over her just like Juan will. “Looking forward to sushi later.”

“We’ll have a sushi party and baby girl can get milk drunk like a party animal.” Making the best of what had been a nearly calamitous situation is good for everyone’s spirits right now. You help the guys set up a little area as a breakfast ‘table’ for the three of you and set Sydney’s things on her tray. It’s about time for the morning shows that Juan loves so the tv goes on, and seconds later the nurse enters with her bundled up charge yawning as loudly as her little lungs can manage.

“Oh my god.” Marcus coos as soon as he sees the little angel in the flesh. She is perfect and nothing will convince him otherwise, falling in love with his goddaughter in a split second. “She’s so precious.”

“She’s perfect.” As expected, Sydney and Juan are both in tears all over again, and the nurse who helped Sydney get comfortable upstairs makes sure Mom and Dad have everything they need before bowing out to let the family bond.

“She’s beyond perfect.” It’s all you can do not to cry with them, looking at your best friend and goddaughter together.

“Isn’t she?” Sydney completely agrees as she finally gets to hold her newborn daughter. Completely in awe of how perfect she is.

The room is practically full of the sound of smiling, whatever that really is, but you end up half-laughing under your breath and looking to Marcus with fresh water behind your eyes. "I want one too," you laugh, overwhelmed with absolute joy and love.

He laughs at your eagerness, the yearning and knows that you are only partially joking. “I don’t know if we could top how perfect she is.” He admits with his own chuckle.

"Maybe not." The only possible place for you to be right now is snuggled into his side and you tuck yourself in there to just stare at your goddaughter together. "We can't know until we try, though."

Sydney spares a glance at Marcus, who nods as he holds you close. “We have to get through a few other things first.” He reminds you.

"I know." You hum when he presses a kiss to the top of your head and sigh again. "I just love her so much and I wanna give her everything. Including playmates."

Sydney coos at Constance and cuddles her closer. “Birdie, would you get me her baby blanket?” She asks softly. “From her bag? I want her in the things we picked out.”

"Yeah, of course!" You hop to immediately, slipping out of Marcus's arms to go to the bag Sydney packed. The baby blanket from Sydney's parents is folded near the top. It's a light thing, a beautiful hand knitted piece done in their chosen color of green and then embroidered with the initials CMB for Constance Marie Badillo.

The blanket slips a little in your hand when you pick it up, and when you go to right it a small but weighty something falls out from the center. The realization that it's probably something that Juan tucked away as a surprise for Sydney has you tucking it back inside quickly and handing over the blanket like you're suddenly holding a hot potato.

Sydney hadn’t been expecting you to hand over the blanket so fast so she pushes towards you again for a moment. “Hold it please.” She requests, knowing you will do anything. She has to give Marcus time to get into position.

"Of course," you agree again, bobbing your head on a nod. Glancing over at Juan makes you wonder if you should do something to help, like opening up the blanket so she can see the little jewelry box or something. Maybe hold it sort of presentationally? You can't quite make up your mind and end up clutching the blanket to your chest in surprise when you hear Marcus clear his throat and whirl around to see him down on one knee in the middle of the little hospital room.

That jewelry box was definitely not for Sydney...

“Before you panic, I have the happy new parent’s permission.” Marcus promises as he reaches for the hand that is not clutching the blanket protectively. “And today is a celebration. Of life, and love.” He tells you softly.

"Oh my god." It's just about all you can think to say as you choke on a fresh round of tears and tighten your fingers in his hand.

“I know.” Marcus flashes you a grin. “Sweetheart, there is no one else I want by my side, confiding in, planning for the future and sharing part of my soul with.” He promises you. “I love everything about you and there is not one thing that I could possibly imagine changing. I love your loyalty to friends and family, your work ethic and your tenacity. Your tender heart and your penchant for dreaming.” He takes a big breath, clearly saying your full name. “Will you marry me?”

He can barely finish the question before your thick, cracking voice is chirping endless yeses. Before you're crumpling to your knees to kiss him, cradling the blanket between you as delicately as if the baby was already wrapped in it. "I love you" gets mixed in with all the "Yes!" and more "Oh my god" as if you can't quite believe that it's finally happening. From the moment that the two of you individually became a unit, you've both known that this was the direction you were heading in. But now that you're here? It feels even better than you could ever have guessed.

He knew your answer, he’s known it, but he still giggles in relief and cupping your cheek to kiss you. “I love you.” He promises softly, pecking your lips again and again. He hears both Juan and Sydney sniffling happily and knows this was the right call.

For a moment the room is just happy tears and sniffles and giggling, and you’re both so jittery that you get a little mixed up in retrieving the ring box from deep inside the handmade baby blanket in your arms. Marcus had said he bought your promise and engagement rings together so they would match and of course his decision is perfect — the haloed diamond stands out over heart shaped stones of the promise ring he gave you months ago, and the fact that they’re from him makes them so perfect you could just fall apart right here in his arm.

“It was.” He admits with a modest tilt of his head. “But I think that this might be even better. “Your best friend and goddaughter got to witness it.”

“And your best friend too.” No one who ever ran into Marcus and Juan now would think they had spent so many years apart. They’re more likely to be mistaken for twins than anything else, and actually had been on a dinner out a few weeks ago.

“It makes it better than anything else.” He nods in agreement, looking over at your friends. “We are friends and family.”

“Matron of honor and best man?” It’s hardly a question, but Marcus has slipped the beautifully shimmering engagement ring onto your finger and you glance back over at your tearful friends with absolute joy. “And the tiniest, sweetest, most perfect little flower girl in the whole world?”

“The perfect flower girl.” Marcus agrees with his own emotional chuckle. “And of course they are our matron of honor and best man. What else could they possibly be?”

“Your caterer.” Syd half-complains with a pout, but it’s so half-hearted that she just ends up laughing through the tears. “Get over here and let us hug you two, and meet your goddaughter up close. Obviously we’re going to be whatever you want us to be. All three of us.”

“Not going to happen.” Marcus snorts, shooting Sydney a smile. “You’re going to participate in the reception. But…” he shrugs. “We will let you create our menu.”

“Here we go.” Juan teases, gently taking the baby blanket out of your arms to wrap up his daughter with the already precious heirloom. “Breakfast and wedding planning.” He grins down at Sydney. “I’ll get your notebook and take notes. You focus on our angel.”

Marcus laughs because he knows that’s exactly what will happen. Although there might be a little more cooing over the baby than anything else going on. As it is, he can’t wait to get his hands on her.

“I already know what wedding cake you want.” Syd grins, readjusting in her seat so this conversation can include food for everyone, including little Constance. She’s already gotten her little girl to latch once without a hellish amount of trouble so she’s hoping to do it on her own this time.

There has already been plenty of conversation about Sydney breastfeeding, but Marcus busies himself with his bag while she gets her daughter situated. It’s not because he’s weirded out, just a respect thing, giving the new mother time to get used to being exposed without feeling like she’s in a fishbowl.

“I’m covered,” Sydney assures him, after a few minutes of fussing where Marcus does anything but look directly at her. His respect level is top notch and she appreciates that about him. “Let’s talk food, please? And—” Before she can even ask, Juan is handing her a cup of water and she melts and murmurs a quiet “Thank you.”

“I just wanted to give you some time.” Marcus joins the small group, sitting down when you stand up and pulling you into his lap while Juan sits on the bed with his wife and child. “So right off the bat, what’s your first ideas?” He’s smart enough to know the final menu will be completely different from the first one.

“Americana.” You and Sydney grin at each other and you lean back in Marcus’s lap to sip your coffee while you talk. “Updated versions of classic American dishes.”

“What would that look like?” He asks, frowning in confusion. “Meat loaf?”

“Could be.” Sydney nods. “It could be things like gourmet versions of tv dinners.”

“Or it could be modern versions of older popular dishes,” you nod in agreement. “Like upscale Steak Diane or deconstructed chicken pot pie.”

“Finger foods?” Marcus asks. “I’m sure there will have to be a buffet of canapés.”

“Depends on the events.” Smiling around a sip of iced coffee, you press a kiss to Marcus’s temple a second later. “I’m thinking four.”

“Four events?” Marcus chuckles. “That’s bachelorette party, bridal shower, rehearsal dinner and wedding?”

“Maybe five,” you admit with a sheepish grin. “You said you wanted to have an engagement party.”

“I think that it’s a good place for the publicity your mom wants.” He reminds you.

“Five events is a lot, but if we space them out I think we can manage it.” Looking down at him with an absolute glow on your face, your brand new engagement ring catches the light and makes your chest swell. “What season do you want to get married in?”

“Any one you want.” It’s fair in his mind, he’s been married before and all that matters to him is that you repeat your vows in front of friends and family. What the weather is like doesn’t matter a lick to him. “I guess it depends on how fast we can get it planned?”

“Don’t do less than six months,” Juan warns. His cousin had rushed things to disastrous consequences.

“I wouldn’t.” You can totally agree to that. “My impulse would be to say a year but…I’ve kind of always liked the idea of a summer wedding.” Chewing on the idea, you turn your eyes back down to Marcus again. “Roses stop blooming at the end of the summer.”

“Early fall?” He suggests. “October? It gives us seven months. And you will more than likely have White House help.” He shrugs. “Along with mine, of course.”

“If we did October, maybe I can do a summer bridal shower in the White House rose garden?” Your eyes widen, practically begging. “I would really love to use the rose garden.”

“Then you better make sure your mom doesn’t book it for a tea party.” He teases with a wink, reaching for your hand that now holds his engagement ring. “I think October is perfect. Hell, we could do a Halloween rehearsal dinner.” He jokes.

“Don’t even tease me about that,” you huff. A Halloween event would be exactly your style. “Halloween next year is on a Wednesday, otherwise I would be begging you to get married on Halloween.”

“Baby, if that’s what you want….” He shoots Juan a grin and shrugs. “I’m okay with that.”

“I don’t want to get married on a Wednesday night.” No one parties deep into a Wednesday night in their thirties. It doesn’t feel as special to you. “How about we get married earlier in October and I talk you into visiting the Paris catacombs with me on Halloween night during our honeymoon?”

“That works for me just as easily as anything else.” Marcus promises. “Only thing I care about is you and I celebrating our love and making a public commitment to each other.”

“I love you, too.” If it were just the two of you, you would be getting dressed to run off to a soulmate chapel immediately. But promises have been made and they need to be honored, and every chance to declare your love for Marcus loud and clear is worth taking. “Any Pike family traditions we should keep in mind that I don’t know about already?”

Marcus smiles. “There’s a jewelry set that is passed down to be used in the wedding, if wanted.” He adds. “It was my great, great grandmother’s.”

“Really?” Your expression softens immediately, eyes widening a little, and you nod right away. There is no question in your mind that you’re going to wear it. “Your Mom swore to pass down some family recipes after the wedding but she never mentioned heirlooms.”

“It’s only ever offered after the engagement.” He explains. “We had a certain cousin’s wife - I’m sure you can guess who - think that it was for her to keep.”

When Sydney and Juan look equal parts amused and confused, you snicker slightly. “Hannah has very interesting thoughts about the family,” you tell them, glossing over the few less than kind things Hannah Pike had said either to you or that had been relayed to you. “Which reminds me. I’m absolutely going to ask Selena to be a bridesmaid.”

“Sydney, you will love her.” Marcus promises. “She’ll be flying out every other weekend to help you plan.” He warns you. “Or just staying out here, she can work from anywhere.”

“She’s been thinking about moving,” you admit, barely biting back a grin at how much fun it would be to have her nearby permanently. Marcus’s cousin has become one of your closest friends in the months since your first visit to Texas. “She said she wants to come see what winter is like here to make sure it’s not too bad, but her office is opening a DC branch and asked her if she would be interested in heading up the new team out here.”

“How do you know that and I don’t?” He asks, putting on a faux pout.

“Because she hasn’t told your aunt and uncle yet and she didn’t want it to get back to the family.” That grin of yours becomes full force and you kiss his temple again. “She was trying to save you from having to lie if you got asked.”

“Well, then, you didn’t say anything to me.” He mimes zipping his lips and locking them to throw away the key.

"Probably a good policy," you agree, snickering quietly even as you squeeze his shoulders tightly.

There’s a sense of lazy content in the room. Everyone slowly savors the baked goods that Marcus had brought and sips their coffee. The baby, Constance, is the noisiest of them all, her hungry sucking and grasping one that makes all the adults smile as they look at her every thirty seconds.

She is Sydney’s entire focus, and when the baby is done with her own breakfast there is a little fuss over making sure she’s burped properly before she cuddles up against her mother’s chest to have a post-meal nap. Something that makes Sydney sigh in relief and hold her close. “You’d never know how bad last night almost was by looking at her.”

“Children are resilient.” Marcus muses. “She will never remember her birth and be completely unaffected by it, while it will stay with us forever.”

“All the better.” Sydney soothes one hand over her sleeping daughter’s back.

Marcus watches the loving gesture, almost aching for the time where he can watch you soothe the children you will have together. Will you look as much like Madonna and Child like Sydney does now? He thinks it will be even more profound like undoubtedly Juan feels like it is.

______

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My Masterlist!

[singxfus]

@call-2-arms

It is the ache that persists between her thighs that wakes her. As she struggles to sit up, she feels a hand upon her shoulder, gently easing her back against the pillows. Opening her eyes, it is the face of the kindly old maester that she sees. In an instant, the memories somewhat return to her.

The agony had came to her in the dead of night. It had been like nothing she had ever felt before- she would have gladly relived Biter shattering her arm over and over if it meant she could escape the pains that ripped through her then.

The maester tells her she had laboured for near three days, almost meeting the Stranger more than once before the squalling babe had finally arrived. Brienne’s consciousness had been so addled by milk of the poppy that she scarcely recalled much of the actual birth. And the last thing she could recall before giving in to blackness was the warmth of the child as it was laid upon her chest.

It is then that the door opens and sapphires land upon her husband. Instantly, tears fill her eyes. The babe was not in his arms.

“Jaime…”

@call-2-arms

Sapphires search emeralds for any sign of rage, almost desperately, as he steps closer to her. The babe seemed to have sucked all resilience from her, leaving her fearful of near everything- was this how a woman ought to feel? She did not know.

Heart pounds in her chest, but it eases the moment his hand rests upon her cheek, as though restoring at least some of her strength. And there was a smile upon his lips, one which eased her discomfort even more so.

“I…I’ve known for two moons…” she answers, hoping her confession does not provoke him to anger. “The maester believes me to be five moons now…”

She feels the babe shift within her belly, a sensation that had frightened her when she first felt it a moon ago, but one which brings her comfort now. Slowly, she takes Jaime’s hand, presses it to the swell where the babe is nudging.

“I could not bring myself to tell you…” she whispers and in that moment, the tears return unbidden. “I feared you would flee…and I fear I will not survive this…just like my mother before me…”

[dykethevvitch]

This is like my Jonny D'Ville thesis. He's a character of all time

(also if tumblr kills the quality pls click on it)

[under-the-eye]

The last few days have been an absolute rollercoaster in the Dominguez household. First of all, little Maggie learned how to walk! Here she is wearing Gennie’s old toddler clothes– isn’t she so cute?

Later on I felt the first labor pains, so I let Javi know, then went to lay down because I was feeling a bit dizzy. When Javi came to check on me a few hours later, he said I was alarmingly pale and wouldn’t wake up no matter how much he shook me.

I don’t remember any of this, but Javi said he called his mother to come watch the kids and raced me over to the hospital. That was the right choice– apparently something had torn inside my body and I was bleeding internally.

I came to in the hospital. At first I was scared, then I realized that Javi was still right next to me.

The doctors were able to stitch me up and get the baby out without injury, thank the Watcher. It’s a baby boy, bringing us to three boys and three girls, the perfect split. Javi named him Lucas. 

I was in the hospital for another day while I stabilized. The doctors were very concerned over how many children I had borne without any medical supervision and warned me that further pregnancies could be disastrous. 

When we got home, Javi and I sat down to talk about it.

Javier: Maybe it’s time we took a break from blessings.

Mariah: But what about Mother Iris? And the Watcher? We pledged to allow It to control our blessings.

Javier: I know, but I think it’s too dangerous. The Watcher wouldn’t want you to put yourself into a situation where you could leave the blessings we have without a mother. 

Mariah: I don’t want to go on the pill. 

Javier: You don’t have to. There are other things we can do. And maybe in a few years, after your body has had a break, we’ll be able to go back to following Mother Iris’ example. I just want you to be safe, and if the Watcher holds it against us after we’re gone, It can put all the blame on me. 

Mariah: … Ok. I love you, Javi. 

Javier: I love you too, Mariah. So much.

[quccninchains]

Her labors began early in the morning, before the sun had even broken the horizon. Twice before she had done this--and both Aegon and Helaena had come quickly and without much pain. But this, this was a hell too cruel, too real. The entire pregnancy had been a nightmare. Constantly drained, constantly sick--bloody noses that would interrupt rare peaceful moments with her husband or with her two young children.

For the first time in her short life, she felt death's watchful gaze on her life, her thread.

With her husband, with her father, she couldn't complain about her illnesses. She was expected to grin and bear it--after all, it was an honor to bear not just one or two of the King's children, but a third. And in such quick succession. Her children, her sweet little joys, were kept blissfully in the dark about her misery. They were too young, too sweet, too PRECIOUS to bog down with her worries. For Aegon and Helaena, she didn't mind putting on a smile, getting down on her knees and playing with them despite the aches and pains.

The only one she could confide in was Ser Criston, since he was so often at her side. He had invited her confidence, had made her feel comfortable expressing her fears, her anxieties. He was, in truth, her BEST friend. The only one who could coax a genuine smile on her face.

She felt awful when she begged him to kill her swiftly if her labors went awry. 'Quick and clean. My throat, Ser Criston. I do not want to suffer as Queen Aemma did.' The maesters, the King, her father would choose the babe over her.

Queens were easily replaceable. Mothers were easily replaceable. Heirs to the throne, on the other hand...

She had written a note, signed it and gave it to her sworn sword to carry with him. Should her labors prove fatal, he was to kill her before the maesters cut her belly open. She would pray to the Gods for forgiveness as she bled out.

When her waters broke, she had been pacing her rooms, unable to shake the overwhelming blanket of doom that settled on her shoulders. Her ladies swarmed into the room while Talya went to alert the Grand Maester, the King.

Her pained screams echoed down the hallway, scaring even her most faithful maid. Guttural cries ripped from her throat as the pains crashed into her wave after wave. Alicent laid in her bed, gripping the ropes tied to the bedposts like a drowning woman. Tears and sweat drenched her pillows, her hair. It felt as though the Silent Sisters had already begun preserving her--yanking her organs out through her womb with malicious intent.

The Gods punish me. They punish me for my indifference. Please--please spare me. Please spare my children.

Her ladies brought her milk of the poppy and it lulled her into a deep sleep late in the afternoon. All she could focus on was the pain abating her, floating around her like a specter, a WRAITH. Waiting to claim her soul in the end. By late evening, she could smell dinner from the feast below wafting into her room, sending her into a spiral.

Clambering from her bed like a newborn foal, she stumbled to her chamber pot, vomiting until her throat burned.

Viserys hadn't come to check on her once. Her father had stuck his head in, watched her attempt to labor on her hands and knees and left with a muttered prayer on his lips. She suspected he would miss her more for the fact that his mouthpiece would be gone. The moon had come and gone, sinking low below the coast.

She had ordered the children to stay away--far away from her chambers. The last thing she wanted was for them to see her dying, screaming, writhing in pain.

As the sun returned, Alicent believed she had descended into hell. Hadn't it just been yesterday when her waters broke? Aegon had been born in a matter of hours, Helaena in even less. And yet, she continued to wail and scream, the pain ripping her in half.

Another dosage of milk of the poppy relaxed her, though she couldn't sleep. She knew that if the child did not come soon, decisions would be made. Viserys would choose the babe and she would bleed out, like a slaughtered sheep. Through the haze of her drug induced daze, she overheard the maester mention the baby's precarious position. He lived, but the situation was dire. He would try to turn the babe, ease him out of her body as best he could.

But if that failed...

Alicent's panic peaked when she saw a gleam of KNIFE on the maester's table. Her voice was hoarse, like she'd swallowed glass and she shook her head. "No, you will not...I will not..." The milk of the poppy still clouded her mind, but her anxieties would not fully give her over. The Gods were cruel.

She tried to scream again, call out for Ser Criston but it sounded as if she were screaming down an empty corridor. She was utterly alone. She would die here, surrounded by maids and maesters. Her father would see her buried in the crypt here in King's Landing, instead of at home in Oldtown, beside her mother. Her children would grow up without her, perhaps given a new mother. Viserys would neglect her children, his favorite always his firstborn. Rhaenyra would never know how sorry she was for her coldness, her resentment. Criston would never know her true feelings. She was going to die here, alone--with no one.

Cool hands held her down as she watched the maester duck between her legs. She didn't even have a chance to feel shame as his hand pressed against her womb and her belly, shoving and manipulating the baby in her belly. Another scream, weak and pained, bubbled out of her lips but the pain in her belly subsided some.

It was still hellish, but it seemed as though Death had backed away for a moment.

"Your Grace, we can proceed now--please, try and push now!"

She doesn't know how it happens, doesn't know how her body realizes that it can finish this. Her mind is still so clouded by fear and poppy, she barely registers being sat up. Tears continue to slide down her cheeks, as relief and a new fear wash over her. She could do this. She would do this.

She didn't have to die. Not today, anyway.

When the babe slithered from her womb, she was terrified at the silence. "Why is it--" Her whispered question was interuppted by a powerful little cry, her babe held up before her with triumph.

"Another strong, healthy son, Your Grace."

Alicent laid back against the pillows, blood and fluid still spilling from her womb as the ladies moved to clean her up. "Give him to me," she orders hoarsely, holding her weary arms up. They felt like sold gold. The child was beautiful, covered in her fluids, but beneath it she could see a soft down of silver hair. His cry was healthy, and his grip strong. She knew he would live and she was grateful for it.

Looking down at the child in her arms, she smiled with exhausted pride. "You...will be my troublemaker, I should think," she whispered, leaning forward to press a shaky kiss to his forehead. He laid on her chest, continuing to squall, and Alicent let the maesters and ladies do their work.

Until they tried to take him from her. "No. No. The King, the Council..." She swallowed her exhaustion. "They can come here to me. He will not leave my side," Alicent commanded, arching a dark brow. She closed her eyes for a moment and shook her head, holding her son to her chest. "If they wish to greet him, they may come of their own accord."

Twice before, she'd made the long trek from the birthing chamber to the small council chamber.

She would not bow this time. But she would go to the Great Sept when she recovered and spend the day on her knees--thanking the Mother for her safe passage.

They bow and adjust her blankets, her sheets. The babe is cleaned and returned to her, draped in the embroidered blanket Alicent had worked on for nine long months. She still felt delirious, her body still trembled, and her womb continued to ache with increasing dullness. And yet, she knew the Gods had spared her.

Pale, exhausted, trembling in pain, Alicent was laid in her bed like a doll. Hair curled around her shoulders, some wine given to put color back in her cheeks. They curtsy and bow, file out of the room. She stops Talya and smiles wanly. "Please let Ser Criston know he can come in. I should like him to meet Aemond."

[margoteliise]

pink skies ♡ robstan.

Margot would be the first to admit that, while absolutely a gift, pregnancy was no walk in the park. She was admittedly a bit more nervous this time around, given how scary everything had been with Rey; while unlikely that this time would follow suit, it was hard to convince her mind of otherwise -- especially on sleepless nights. She'd had a few of those recently, which accounted for her grogginess; she couldn't even bear to look at her reflection in the mirror, dreading the sight of the darkest circles under her eyes marking the exhaustion. Still, though, she was grateful above else -- and it was with gratitude that, even on days like this that had her feeling run ragged, she managed to find a smile on her face. Sunlight was slipping through the windows in a particularly beautiful way -- it tickled the flooring and spread itself up the walls until the entire master bedroom of the Stan residence was engulfed in a hazy morning glow. Those same beams had eventually found Margot's face and stirred her, at which point she'd slipped into her robe and slippers before sauntering down the stairs in search of Seb. She groaned only a time or two as she made her descent, right hand rubbing softly at her growing belly -- as if that would stop the nausea, but she figured it was worth trying. "It's okay," she'd whisper to the bump, as silly as it may have felt at times, "we don't have to feel sick." She hummed a bit to herself as she made her way to the kitchen, filling a kettle with water before setting it on the stove to boil to prepare a cup of tea. Her hands wrapped softly around her favorite mug as she waited, leaning up against the countertop and taking a slow, deep breath. @sebastianseb

[sailorr-eclipse]

bhaal’s broken dragon princess, and mystra’s former chosen

her name is naerys, and my head canon is that her mother is a usurped queen of a distant land.(my guardian is based off of her, I don’t have a pic yet) in order to help her regain power, she pleads to the dragon god, tiamat, that she will exchange her daughter for her throne back.

instead, bhaal hears this plea, and intercepts. he tricks her mother into believing Tiamat is answering her prayers, when naerys is born, her mother dies shortly after due to naerys’ dragon abnormalities. bhaal’s first gift to naerys, the dragon wings (I know they are cambion wings let me have fun), given to her in the womb to kill her first victim. She’s taken into bhaal’s grace ever since

[simplydnp]

i hate the medical system <3

[vi0light]

࣪𓏲ּ  ֶָ  𝑤𝑒𝑠𝑡𝑒𝑟𝑜𝑠𝒕𝒗   ⁝         annabelle wallis,  38 ,  cisgendered woman ,  she / her.    announcing  the  arrival  of  𝐑𝐇𝐀𝐄𝐍𝐘𝐒  𝐎𝐅  𝐇𝐎𝐔𝐒𝐄  𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐓𝐇  𝐍𝐄𝐄  𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍,  the  𝐋𝐀𝐃𝐘  of  𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐍𝐅𝐀𝐋𝐋  𝐇𝐀𝐋𝐋.  whispers  among  the  court  name  them  to  be  both  gregarious  and  dogmatic  in  disposition,  and  those  closest  to  them  speak  to  their  interests  in  travelling.  if  we  bards  could  compose  a  song  for  them,  it  might  tell  stories  of  scintillate  gemstones  quarried  from  the  depths  of  castamere  proud  against  moonbathed  flesh , enticing  waters  lapping  at  the  hem  of  yitish  silks  as  tendrils  of  molten  platinum tease  in  the  breeze ,  fire  forged  and  storm  bound  ;  a  widows  watch  and  mournful  yearning  for beast  not  man .  the  seven  whisper  to  their  most  devout  queen  as  she  sleeps,  making  her  question  where  their  loyalties  truly  lie.  are  they  right  to  whisper?  for  their  loyalties  truly  lie  with  𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐀𝐑𝐆𝐀𝐑𝐘𝐄𝐍𝐒  . 

#  𝐛𝐚𝐬𝐢𝐜  𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 .

official  name:  rhaenys  tarth  née  targaryen.  nicknames:  the  jewel  of  castamere , the  sapphire  dragoness ,  lady  moonfall.  noble  title:  lady  of  castamere , lady  of  tarth ,  lady  of  the  sapphire  isle , lady of evenfall hall.  date  of  birth:  tbd.  age:  thirty 8.  birthplace:  tbd.  home:  castamere , westerlands ( formerly )  evenfall  hall , tarth.  nationality:  westerosi.  gender:  cisgendered  woman.  pronouns:  she / her.  orientation:  heterosexual.  languages:  common  tongue , high  valyrian , low  valyrian .  accent:  westerland.

#  𝐩𝐡𝐲𝐬𝐢𝐜𝐚𝐥  𝐢𝐧𝐟𝐨𝐫𝐦𝐚𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧 .

faceclaim:  annabelle  wallis.  ethnicity:  valyrian & westerosi.  hair:  platinum  blonde  akin  to  the  glow  of  a  full  moon.  eyes:  pale  violet.  height:  5ft 8.  build:  ectomorph ;  slender  and  elegant.  scent:  lavender  and  amber.  dominant  hand:  right.  allergies:  n/a.  scars:  none  distinctive.  distinguishing  features:  large  almond  shape  eyes  ,  long  moonlit  tresses  that  fall  to  her  lower  back  in  well  defined  waves.  clothing  style:  draws  on  popular  stylings  from  her  travels  in  essos ,  prefers  lightweight  fabrics  usually  in  various  shades  of  purple ,  pink  ,  pale  blue  and  gold .  she  is  seldom  without  some  form  of  statement  jewellery ,  particularly  adoring  precious  gems  such  as  moonstone , diamonds ,  rubies  and  pearls .

#  𝐩𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐧𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 .

label:   the  tempest.   mbti:   entj.   enneagram:   the  achiever.   element:   fire.   star   sign:   aires.   temperament:   sanguine.   character   inspirations:   queen gorgo ( 300 )  ,  cleopatra  ,  elizabeth  woodville.   deadly   sin:   greed.   heavenly   virtue:   dilligence.   godly   parent:   hera.

#  𝐝𝐫𝐢𝐯𝐞𝐬 .

hobbies:  collecting  shells  upon  tarths  sandy  beaches  ,  swimming  in  the  sapphire  lakes  ,  soaring  through  the  skies  aback  her  dragon.  religion:  the  seven  formally ,  leaning  more  towards  old  gods.  alliance:  the  targaryens.  personal goals:  to  ensure  the  prosperity  of  her  family  and  some  other  shenanigans  probably.  would they choose family or power?  family ...  probably .

#  𝐟𝐚𝐦𝐢𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐥  𝐭𝐢𝐞𝐬 .

parent one:  lucerys  targaryen.  relationship:  father.  parent two:  alys  targaryen  née  marbrand. relationship:  mother.  spouse:  baris  tarth . relationship:  husband.  sibling:  aerion  targaryen. relationship:  brother.  sibling:  maesella  targaryen.  relationship:  sister.  sibling:  rhaegar  targaryen. relationship:  brother.  offspring:  utp  tarth. relationship:  adopted  child , aged 22 .  offspring:  laena  tarth , 16.  relationship:  adopted  child.  offspring:  maegor  &  maegelle  tarth.  relationship:  twin  son  and  daughter , aged 7 . 

 𝐓𝐇𝐄  𝐍𝐀𝐑𝐑𝐀𝐓𝐈𝐕𝐄...

triggers :  mentions  of  fertility  issues  ,  arranged  marriages  ,  traumatic  childbirth  ,  mental  illness .

the  bountiful  mines  of  castamere  lure  the  second  child  of  lucerys  and  alys  targaryen  from  her  mothers  womb  ;  a  true  dragon  ,  of  folkloric  proportion  ,  for  what  literary  dragon  can  even  resist  such  a  hoard ?  rhaenys  they  call  her  ,  for  the  queen  who  never  was  ,  so  too  shall  she  never  be  .   a  tragedy   ,  for  what  a  queen  she  should  have  been  ,  but  the  bards  seldom  dabble  in  the  tragedies  of  what  could  have  been  &  so  it  will  remain  unwritten  .   her  name  a  mere  footnote  within  the  annals  of  history  .  simply   another  daughter  of  the  dragonlord  dynasty  with  the  same  moonbathed  hair  and  violet  eyes  ,  the  last  remaining  vestiges  of  old  valyria  .   but  centuries  have  past  since  the  fragile  remnants  travelled  over  the  narrow  sea  aback  three  mighty  beasts ,  their  seed  has  taken  root  ,  the  tendrils  of  their  legacy  saturated  within  the  soil  of  westeros  and  beyond .  to  be  a  targaryen  is  no  longer  tantamount  to  godhood  ,  but  it  is  a  prideful  epithet  all  the  same .    

second  born  ,  she  is  spared  the  burden  of  heirship  but  that  does  not  mean  she's  void  of  duty  .  they  may  not  be  born  of  the  ruling  line  ,  but  they  still  hold  value  ,  their  name  carries  weight  amongst  the  westerosi  lords  ,  ladies  &  lieges .  for  as  long  as  memory  serves  ,  rhaenys  is  aware  her  future  lies  within  the  stormlands  ;  tarth  to  be  exact .  she  is  to  be  compensation  of  sorts  ,  a  conciliatory  prize  to  house  tarth  for  the  sorry  affair  with  the  baratheons  ruling  lord  &  their  beloved  lady  –  she  is  a  subtle  to  the  stormkings  reminder  that  the  true  crown  is  watching  .  her  opinion  matters  little  ,  her  mournful  departure  from  castamere  ,  from  her  family  ,  a  small  sacrifice  willingly  made  to  maintain  peace .  

life  is  not  easy  for  the  dragoness  ,  though  her  days  are  filled  with  ease  ;  there  is  little  for  her  lord  husband  to  do  whilst  his  father  still  draws  breath ,  lesser  still  for  herself ,  save  for  the  making  of  heirs  &  even  with  that  she  falters  .  years  flitter  by  &  her  womb  remains  barren  ,  but  they  do  not  remain  childless  .  the  gods  wreck  a  ship  and  bless  her  with  her  first  child  ;  orphaned  by  the  storm  they  are  in  want  of  a  family  and  rhaenys  is  desperate  for  motherhood .  laena  finds  them  next  and  with  their  children  at  their  side  ,  they  leave  the  sapphire  isle  in  search  of  purpose . 

essos  is  explored  ,  alliances  and  trade  deals  are  brokered  ,  they  are  feted  by  magisters  ,  princes  and  other  ruling  nobles  –  her  family  thrive   &  still  there  is  an  absence  in  her  heart  .  there  will  be  a  price  ,  the  woman  is  quick  to  warn  ,  but  the  dismissive  wave  of  her  hand  encourages  her  onwards  .  it  would  not  work  ,  such  things  are  tales  of  fantasy  and  nothing  more .   when  she  does  not  bleed  the  following  month  she  deems  it  a  fluke  ;  when  her  belly  swells  she  blames  it  on  the  richness  of  pentoshi  dishes .  when  she  feels  a  kick  ,  her  heart  stop  still .  her  twins  are  born  across  the  narrow  see  ,  in  blood  and  sweat  stained  sheets  ;  her  screams  carrying  upon  the  winds  to  the  dragonpit  of  castamere  ,  where  her  slumbering  beast  echoes  its  mistresses  cries  of  agony .  as  dawn  breaks  ,  rhaenys  barters  with  the  stranger  for  more  time ;  there  will  be  a  price  ,  the  womans  spectre  whispers  –  but  it  won't  be  her ,  not  that  day  at  east . 

there  will  be  no  more  children  with  violet  eyes  and  moonbathed  hair ,  the  maesters  had  informed  her  as  much  .  that  is  my  price  ,  rhaenys  thinks ,  wishes  ,  preys  .  and  in  time  she  puts  it  to  the  back  of  her  mind  ,  her  children  flourish  &  that  woman  becomes  nothing  more  than  a  fraud ,  an  easy  declaration  to  make  ,  when  distance  is  put  between  you .  maegelle  and  maegor  complete  her  family  ,  but  there  is  no  ease  to  be  had  .  they  are  sickly  too  frequently  ,  the  strain  of  her  worry  threatening  to  fracture  all  she  holds  dear .  no  expense  is  spared  when  it  comes  to  finding  remedies  ,  it  consumes  her  &  she  can  become  neglectful  of  all  else  she  holds  dear .  her  twins  are  needy  and  it  is  draining  ,  paradoxically  she  seeks  her  distance  from  them  and  yet  cannot  abide  their  absence .  this  is  the  price  ,  rhaella  whispers  ,  her  sanity  loosening   with  every  sleepless  night .  

recent  events  at  king's  landing  have  only  compounded  her  fears  ;  blood  magic ,  they  whisper ,  and  her  blood  runs  cold  at  every  utterance .  determined  not  to  succumb  to  her  price  ,  rhaenys  has  travelled  to  highgarden  in  hopes  of  finding  some  peace  amongst  her  kin  and  perhaps  even  finding  some  form  of  purpose . 

[silverandzlo]

Have you ever wondered the story of Canada's first air ambulance story? Why is there so little information on such a historic event? Because the first call was such a disaster no one but the family involved wants to remember. Well I am a member of the family involved so buckle up!

It is February in 1946 and my great grandma is in labor during a snow storm. It was going badly. A call was made and the air ambulances was sent out. Two of her children were sent out to start and keep a fire going so the plane could find them. Mother and oldest daughter got on the plane to the hospital. Three kids died. No it wasn't triplets. But how can a single birth results in three deaths without even including the mother? Well one of the kids sent out to signal the plane got pneumonia and died. The daughter that went with got an infection at the hospital and died. And they lost the baby at the end of it all. Had there been no air ambulance there would have only been one death.

[sablesfables]

TW for Traumatic birth, near death, strained mother child relationship

Edewi thinks their mom doesn't like them. They've thought this since they were young, what with her seeming to favor the twins and being constantly disappointed in Edewi. But the one thing that doesn't help to reassure them is their birth itself.

The twins were fairly easy to birth(easy, meaning quick and smooth with pain of course). Edewi came earlier than predicted, and came violently. The labor had the queen more terrified than anyone had ever seen her. She nearly bled to death. But in the end Edewi was born, alive, and for all intents and purposes, healthy. Oloja didn't die thankfully.

No one in Azharii except the family andthose present knew about this and the queen forbids speaking of it in her presence.

Adeli once told Edewi they almost killed their mother and that it was their fault. Oloja overheard. Edewi wasn't the one she was mad at but their blood ran cold at the look on their mom's face.

Edewi knows rationally that it wasn't their fault but since they can't talk about it, it can't be resolved.

Sorry for this sadness

[systemic-stupidity]

Oh we had so many birth complications. 1 month premature, born incredibly sickly with a twin sister who died shortly after birth, emergency C section, kept in the NICU for fuck knows how long, unable to even be held by my mom- yeah…

-R

Extremely curious because I have a theory. So, systems;

PLEASE reblog for sample size.

(THIS POLL IS ANTI-ENDO, DNI IF YOU SUPPORT)

This poll was inspired by the time I was in a discord server and mentioned how I was a premature birth and wondered if that contributed to (NOT FORMED) my system forming, and discovering 5 other systems who were also premature. This is not meant to be an airtight, without a doubt REASON for anyone to be a system, I'm just curious how much (if at all) overlap there is!

Thank you!!

-❔ (It/He)

[nyratcrg]

// Nyra gave birth to her oldest son naturally, but then went the Cesarean route for the rest of her children. 

[zaldritzosrose]

Nepenthe (Aemond x Wife!Reader)

Nepenthe – something that makes you forget grief or suffering.

Summary: In the aftermath of the death of Lucerys at Aemond’s hand, Daemon was dead set on vengeance. ‘A son for a son’, that was how the phrase went, and Daemon intended to live by that. It was known that you, Aemond’s wife, were pregnant with your first child. And there was no limit to the revenge Daemon intended to take.

TW: PLEASE READ THESE BEFORE CONTINUING! Mentions of child death (including Lucerys), descriptions of miscarriage/traumatic birth (A special divider has been placed around this scene), strained marriage, depictions of grief and suffering, there is no happy ending here. You have been warned. dead dove, do not eat. MINORS DNI. AFAB Reader. Baratheon coded reader.

Word Count: 3484

The day Aemond had returned from Storm’s End had been nightmarish. You had hoped he would return successful, your marriage to him and the child in your belly enough to persuade your father, Lord Borros, to bend the knee to Aegon.

But the news Aemond returned with was anything but.

Yes, your father had kept his promise and would support Aegon. But everything that happened afterwards was a disaster. While not unexpected, the arrival of Lucerys had sent Aemond on a downward spiral of rage and revenge. Seeing the young Velaryon had brought back the horrors of losing his eye. Of the lack of punishment his nephew had received. Aemond had seen red, threatening the boy and chasing him through the skies over your family home.

So many times, you had cautioned Aemond on his need for recompense. Short of making him vow to forget the slight and focus on you, your marriage and now your child, he had tried his best to leave it behind.

And he had, for the most part. Rarely speaking of it unless prompted. Focusing on aiding his brother in his ascension as King, and you as the mother of his child. Everything had been as calm as it could have been.

Now, it was not.

The tension in the Keep was palpable. Between Aemond and his family. Between Aemond and you. You had taken the death of Lucerys to heart. Not for any affection held towards the young prince, though you harboured no ill will either. But for the slight to your home and your House. You felt embarrassed. The letter you received from your father, that did nothing but berate and insult Aemond’s actions did not help.

Aemond, to his credit, had not spoken of it to you until you would bring up the topic. And today was one of those days.

The council had discussed it, his first time sitting there and the Lords in attendance had done nothing but whine and complain about the war he had now started. Aemond had returned to your chambers seething, pacing the room as he waited for your return.

You were followed by your maid as you entered, the young girl quickly disappearing at the sight of your agitated husband. As the door closed behind her, you watched him. His whole body tense, like an animal circling a cage. The longer you watched, the more you heard him muttering in anger to himself.

“Sit.” you said softly, all but commanding him.

Aemond surprisingly complied. Taking a seat by the fire, his fingers clenching and unclenching on the leather covered armrest. You took the seat opposite, your hand resting gently on the swell of your stomach as you shifted to find comfort.

“The council had words for you, I presume?”

It was only then that Aemond looked at you. Eye raking up from your rounded stomach to your face, etched in concern for him. If there was one thing he adored about you, it was your perceptiveness. Knowing him well enough for him to rarely need words to express his feelings.

“They did.” he answered shortly, though his anger was not directed at you.It rarely was.

You did not expect much more from him. In every instance, Aemond was one to bottle up his feelings until they were unable to be contained, spilling over like lava from a volcano, burning everything around it.

“They did nothing but berate me! As though I sought to kill him, as though I am a child?” Aemond finally let his anger free. 

You understood his feelings, as you understood the council’s. This would no doubt plunge the realm into war. The Blacks would never let Lucerys’ death go unpunished.

“Did you intend to?”

Your question made him tense. It was not something that had really crossed his mind. His sole focus had been preparing to return home, and whatever came with that. He had barely considered the consequences until they were laid out before him

When he remained silent, you asked him again.

“Did you mean to kill him, husband?”

You watched the muscle in his jaw clench, knowing your question was only adding to his anger. But you were not going to leave the topic be. His eye bored into yours as he found the words to answer.

“I only wanted what I was owed.”

There it was. The hurt little boy. But you had heard him complain time and time again that vengeance would get him nothing. That it would never be as he expected. And you did not have the same sympathy you had at the start.

You sat higher in your chair, preparing yourself for the argument you knew would come.But the words needed to be said.

“What did you think would happen, Aemond? You chased a boy on a war dragon!”

You rarely raised your voice, but your tone was enough to spark the fire in him.

“I did not intend to kill him!” Aemond snapped back, wrenching himself from his chair and resuming his angered pacing.

He may not have intended it. But he had done it, and your joined families were now at risk.

“You may not have intended it, but you could have made different choices.” You replied, remaining seated but watching him intently as he paced up and down.

“Not only have you plunged us into war without a doubt. The Blacks will want vengeance for this!”

When he remained silent you continued.

“Do you have any idea what this means for my House? To have a prince killed over our waters?"

Aemond froze mid pace. He had not and a fresh wave of guilt licked at his heart. He had never considered the consequences to you. His wife, the mother of his child.

“I..I did not think…” 

But his words did nothing to stem your anger. It was one thing to hear him imagine taking his revenge, but to now have to live with the consequences was another.

“You never do.”

Aemond said nothing. The mask of cold indifference returned as he turned on his heel and stormed from the room. You had no desire to follow him. Knowing he would return when he was calm.

Though the two of you never spoke of that night again, it was never forgotten. It was a dark cloud on your marriage, on your family, and the realm. It was only a matter of time before the Blacks sought their revenge. 

You would go to bed at night, dreaming of all the possible ways they would seek retribution. Aemond, however, would play that moment over and over again in his mind as he slept. A different outcome each time. None of them good.

It had been a few weeks now. The Keep remained on edge. Aemond had demanded extra guards at your door, and he never left your side where duty allowed him to. In any other circumstance, you would have relished in his attention. But the way he seemed to always hover just to your periphery soon had you feeling claustrophobic.

Soon, though, the Keep settled. War still loomed, but the focus shifted from its catalyst to the path to its end. The guards at your door remained, but you soon stopped noticing them. You tried to return to normal, but the fear still lingered. You knew something was coming.

Aemond had a permanent seat on the council now, a way of earning forgiveness for his actions by helping plan the war he pushed the realm to. It was a fair price to pay, he wagered. Though his thoughts often drifted to what you had said. What a mistake he had made, how he had let his temper cloud his judgement.

The rain outside was usually a welcome sight for you. Reminding you of the constant storm that would batter the walls of your home in Storm’s End. But when Aemond had returned to you, soaked to the skin in that very same rain, it had lost its happy memory. Tainted. 

It was now a physical manifestation of the darkness that lingered around the Keep and your family. Like the heavy cloud had pulled its way from your consciousness to your reality.

Today was one of the days you spent in your chambers. The stiffness in your body weighing on you as your babe grew. More often than not, you were brought soothing teas mixed by the Grand Maester to soothe your aches and pains. The warm, herby liquid was always a welcome reprieve.

Six moons of your child growing inside you. The most recent times coloured dark with war but you were happy nonetheless. Your marriage to Aemond was never going to be simple. He was not an easy man to love, he had warned you of that himself. But you loved him nonetheless.

And your child was the fruit of that. A child that might now be in danger for its father’s actions.

You were sat at your window, ignoring the rain and focusing on the sound of Vhagar in the distance. A sound that should have roused fear in you. But it reminded you of Aemond, so it brought you comfort.

Aemond was sitting in the council and your only marker of time was a servant bringing your tea. You did not recognise this one, but the Keep’s staff changed so often now it barely brought you concern.

“Your tea, my lady,” the maid said softly, placing the stone cup on the sill before you before stepping away.

You thanked her with a smile, taking a sip of the hot liquid and letting out a satisfied sigh. At first, the taste had made you wince, but it was welcome now. Knowing your body would soon ease and relax.

Your eyes remained locked on the city below as you drank. Feeling the warmth trickle down and seep through your joints. Your hand rested on your swollen stomach, stroking soft patterns to soothe your child. If you tried, you could almost feel them through your skin, but you were likely imagining such things.

You did not know when you had fallen asleep, but the searing pain in your stomach woke you with a scream. It was as though your entire body was aflame, your skin clammy and your muscles tight.

You forced yourself to stand, almost dragging yourself to the door and calling for your guard.

“Get the Maester…get Orwyle now!” you panted out, clinging to the door frame like it was your lifeline.

The knight hurried away, loud footsteps bringing him to the council door as fast as he could. His fearful expression the one thing that forced the doors open.

“Grand Maester, you are needed.” The guard’s tone was serious enough to have the entire council turn to look at him.

Orwyle walked quickly to him, but Aemond knew the guard as one he had posted at your door. He knew immediately something was wrong. The guard’s eyes met Aemond’s as he crossed the room behind Orwyle.

“Speak plainly, ser.” Orwyle said gently, before Aemond could speak.

“It is your wife, my prince…”

Aemond heard nothing else, storming from the room and running down the halls to your chambers. He could hear the guard and Orwyle behind him, but he cared little.He could hear your screams before he reached the room, screams of pain.

The door had been left open and you had managed to find your way to your bed. Clammy hands clutching at the bedpost to steady yourself. You heard people enter and you could just about hear the sound of the maester’s voice.

“The babe…it hurts…”

You remembered nothing else, the pain too much as your eyes slipped shut.

Aemond could not bring himself to cross the threshold. The Grand Maester had called for midwives to assist and the room was a flurry. You floated in and out of consciousness, and when you were awake, you did nothing but scream out your pain.

He barely heard the midwife inform the Maester the babe was being born. He scarcely registered your cries of despair. It was too early, even he knew that. 

The Maester instructed the midwives to tend to you while he looked around your room. It was only then his eyes landed on the tea cup. The shake of his head did not go unnoticed by Aemond. Something had happened. 

Orwyle quickly lifted the cup. It was too early for the tea, the routine never faltered. There was something very, very wrong. 

On the bed, you were in agony. Midwives circled around you and every single one looked terrified.

“My lady, you have to push.” The midwife instructed and you shook your head.

“No…no it’s not time. It is too early…” you whined, but your body began to do what was necessary.

Aemond finally moved, making his way to your side. But your reaction was not what he wanted. Your hands pushed him away, stopping him from even touching you. The action was like a knife to his heart. You were in pain and you did not want him. Aemond backed away slowly, watching silently as the midwives tended to you.

What felt like hours passed, your screams and cries never subsiding until the midwives informed you that your babe was born, a boy. But the silence that followed was haunting. 

“Why is he not crying?” you whispered, your voice hoarse and broken.

The midwives remained silent and that only angered you.

“Tell me!!” 

Your shriek was a mix of anger and despair, but it was Orwyle who answered you.

“Your son did not survive. I am so very sorry, my lady.” Orwyle spoke softly, the pain evident in his words.

You refused to believe it, demanding your son to be placed in your arms. The midwife holding him opened her mouth to refuse, but Orwyle silenced her and took the babe himself and handed him to you.

It was only when you held him, did it hit you. Your child was gone.You had not even noticed Aemond was still in the room until he moved closer to you. But you refused him again, wanting no one to touch you including your husband.

Aemond was at a loss at what to do, hovering at your side while you refused to look at him.

It was only when Orwyle said his name did he move.

“My prince,” the Maester whispered, “I fear it was not natural causes that brought this about.”

Aemond’s head turned to look at the Maester in confusion, silently asking for an explanation. Orwyle continued on, holding the stone cup for Aemond to see.

“The tea I brew for her pains, it was not due for an hour if not more. Whoever brought her this…”

The implication was clear. None of this was natural, outside forces had caused this loss. Aemond nodded, taking one last look at you before he left. If you did not want him here, he would not stay.

It had taken a lot of convincing for you to allow your son to be prepared by the Silent Sisters. Barely holding back your anguish as he was taken from your sight. You had watched Orwyle and Aemond speak, even through your grief you were able to deduce what they were speaking of.

The tea. You should have known. When you thought back, you did not recognise the face of the maid who delivered it. Aemond always told you of new staff. It should have aroused your suspicions immediately.

And now your son was gone. Taken from you.You called for a guard to bring you the Maester. You had to know.

When Orwyle arrived, he saw the determined look on your face.

“What did you tell my husband about the tea?”

Orwyle blinked in shock before answering, not having expected that to be the reason he was called.

“My lady, I…” he began and you knew he was going to skirt the question.

“Truth. Now, Orwyle.”

Your tone was harsh, and he knew he had no choice but to answer.

“The tea, I fear, was tampered with.”

He was not entirely sure of the exact concoction used, but he was certain the two events were connected.

“So I was poisoned, is that what you are saying?”

Orwyle could only nod, tears stinging his own eyes as they did yours. Your next request surprised him.

“Tell my husband I need him.”

Aemond was quick to follow your invitation, surprised at Orwyle being the one to deliver it but he went nonetheless. As he entered, his heart almost stopped at the sight of you. Sat before the fire, having had it lit not long ago.

Your back to him as you held a small blanket in your arms. A blanket you had embroidered when you first learned of your pregnancy.

“Orwyle told you?” he asked, fearing what would come next.

You still did not turn to him as you spoke.

“I warned you. I warned you they would take revenge.” You spat the words at him, nothing but hurt and venom on your tongue.

“I warned you nothing good would come of vengeance and now…”

You could not bring yourself to utter the words. Speaking them would make them final and true. You brought yourself to your feet, rounding on Aemond with a fury he had never seen in you before. Your grief had moulded itself into anger. Anger at the gods for taking your son this way, anger at Aemond for causing it, anger at the Blacks for being the bringers of such vengeance.

“You did this.”

Aemond could feel his very heart shatter. You were blaming him? He wanted to argue with you,but he knew you were in pain, grieving. Channelling all of that against the only person you could.

He listened to your screams and rants, his face never changing from its stoic mask. But inside, he felt sick. Was this his fault? Was this the revenge you had warned him of? Would his half sister and her people really commit such a foul act?

Of course they would, he thought. Not they, however, one person would surely stoop to this. His uncle had the ability for such cruelty, there was no doubt. Daemon was the epitome of rage and vengeance.

His attention wandered back to you when you uttered one hurtful line.

“Was the murder of one child not enough?”

The nausea that ate at his insides turned to fire.You were outright blaming him. Placing all of this tragedy on his shoulders.

“Mind your tongue, wife.” he spat back.

Angry that you were blaming him and no other. Angry that you were acting as though he had not also suffered a loss in the child’s death.

“You are not the only one grieving.” 

The scoff you let out in response only fuelled his rage more. He could see the fire behind your eyes. Nothing should be feared more than a grieving mother.

“None of this would have happened if it were not for your age old grudge, husband.”

You wanted him to hurt as you did. To feel the pain you did. You were the victim here, not him. Not in your eyes. Aemond’s jaw clenched and unclenched, wanting to match the vitriol you spewed at him in kind. But it would get him nowhere. He knew that.

Before any words could leave his mouth, you spoke words that felt like a hammer to the already fragile glass of your marriage.

“Get out. I do not want to look at you.”

He felt like he was in Driftmark again. Watching his injury go unpunished. He was losing you, and there was nothing he could do. His mouth was dry, his heart near still in his chest. If you had looked closer, you would have seen the unshed tears in his eye before he turned and stormed out of your rooms.

The door had barely closed behind him when he let his own tears fall. A mix of anger and pain stinging his cheeks. He wanted nothing more than to burn down the world. To force others to feel the pain he did. The pain you felt.

He would not lose you. Not like this.

There was a phrase, hell hath no fury like a woman scorned. But whoever spoke those words had never met a grieving mother. The anger would burn you from the inside if you let it. And the Baratheon words rung in your mind.

Ours is the fury.

You were to live by those words now. Fury for your child. Fury at your husband. Fury at the ones who had hurt you.

Aemond on the other hand, let the rage burn. Fire and Blood. The Targaryen words had never tempted him more. The world would burn for the pain he had wrought.

No tag list purely because I don't want to unintentionally make people see something they don't want.

If you read it, thank you. I will appreciate any feedback you have.

There will be a part two, thanks to some lovely moots who let me bother them with ideas.

[sxorpiomooon]

Astrology observations

paid readings 💐

- your sun sign might be where people look up to you for example people with a Libra sun might have people asking them for relationship or connection advices or might look upto them in that aspect

- your 12th sign can also show what kind of birth your mother might have had while having you for example with scorpio it might have been very traumatic and possibly alot of things might have changed with your birth

- i always say this but if you want to know the environment of someone's home look at their 4th house but to know how THEY are treated in that environment you have to look at their sun and moon even saturn at times that will tell you more accurately about their relations. Bc I've seen in alot of charts and home's that the environment is generally pleasant but not for that person

- if there's an artist that you feel most connected to or with their music it's possible that you are share your big three placements with them lmao I've checked so many charts with my friends and all the artist he liked had placements in common with him

- people with a prominent venus might always have people taking advantage of them look at where exactly the venus is placed to see in which aspect someone with 1h venus might feel used bc of their looks it always reminds me of the lyric "but you don't feel pretty, you just feel used"

- people with jupiter in their 12h are straight up delusional and overconfident but guess what this also ends up making up excellent at manifestation lmao

- people with saturn in 5h might either get into relationships too late and if the ruler is in 11h or something they will be in frequent online relationships

- if you have a stellium in 5h and your partner has a good 5h house too you will see them being the artist and you being their muse(my boyf and I have this lmao)

- while determining your career make sure to check your 2h as well as it deals with finances for example I have my 2h ruler in 8h and I sure do earn from my paid astrology/tarot readings on tumblr (check them out btw)

- you can think of your 4th and 10th house as cause and effect like nature vs nurture or what happened and what you got out of it. for example you have taurus in your 4th house and scorpio in your 10th house this can show you coming from a extremely traditional and fixed value families which has made you yearn for change and it will directly manifest in your career

- tw// sa

I've seen alot of people with mars in their 8h being sexually assaulted by people in public? Especially men by men

- tw// death?

Mars in the 8h people tend to have this feeling that they're going to die an extreme violent death, I've never quite seen other people know this?

- if you know someone with moon conjunct saturn in their 12h, you need to know that all you can do is TRY to help them you cannot save them no matter how hard you try. Alot of things mostly everything honestly is hidden from them by their own subconscious you can tell it to them 1000 times and they still will be on the level one

thankyou so much<3

[a-hazbin-reader]

Can I request how Alastor would be when wifey was giving birth to any of the kids??

Alastor X Reader Headcanons

✅️Romantic

❌️Platonic

TW: Childbirth?

Description: 👆⬆️

When you go into labor, Alastor is probably in an overlord meeting or something when he gets the news

On the outside he's very calm, simply nodding and standing up while dusting himself off

"Ah, my most sincere apologies but I really must be going! Carmilla, your assistance would be deeply appreciated!"

Carmilla immediately gets the hint and ends the meeting early, Zestial and her daughters trailing behind her

Of course all the other overlords are curious af but Alastor doesn't give them the satisfaction of an answer

"Is it your pretty wife, radioman? She having the baby already?!"

Velvette is shoving her phone in his face and already opening up all her social media apps, Alastor simply walking around her

"Another time, my dear Velvette~"

In fact, he's all laid back smiles and effortless charm just like always, despite everyone else around him panicking

Charlie

"Charlie~ My dear, you must calm down! My wife is the strongest woman I know! She will be fine..!"

He instills confidence in everyone else around him until he's actually alone with you

Husk is the only one who sees through his facade but doesn't comment on it, simply sliding Alastor a single shot to knock back

He refuses to let anybody in that isn't strictly necessary, so Charlie is booted out, and Niffty has to be escorted out like five times

He tries to convince Zestial to leave, but at that point, he's much too focused on you

His grip on your hand is just as tight as your own and his smile is strained with worry, his usual air of confidence has now turned into quiet anxiety

Alastor's lips are nearly pressed against your temple as he whispers soft words of encouragement and apologies to you, rubbing your hip soothingly

If you're in a lot of pain or the birth is extremely traumatic for you then he'll feel guilty and give Lucifer a few dirty looks because it's partly his fault too

He is very soft and gentle with you throughout the entire labor process no matter how you treat him, he's only worried about you and the pain you're in

"This is all your fault! You did this to me!You terrible man!!"

"I know, darling... I'm sorry, please forgive me."

Once you've given birth then he's wiping sweat from your forehead and telling you how proud he is of you, cooing at you and trying to make you smile even though you're exhausted

"Even when you've been through such an ordeal, you're just as beautiful as ever, darling~"

Of course he's super interested in the baby too, checking them over and just watching you hold them with a lovesick expression

Your husband is also eager to hold his child, singing you to sleep while rocking the baby in his arms

He dotes on you and the baby, making sure every need is taken care of and crawling into bed to join the snuggles if you let him

He absolutely doesn't leave your side until you're practically begging him to give you space, and even then, he's reluctant to leave

"Darling, surely an hour is too long? Can't we shave it down to thirty minutes and I'll bring you back some jambalaya?"

He has the biggest, sweetest, most earnest look on his face. You almost forget he's a cold-blooded killer and a demonic overlord

"Make it forty minutes and bring me an extra pillow, please?"

"It's a deal~"

It's so sweet and domestic that it makes his teeth hurt, but he wouldn't trade it for the world