#circulated-army-times

[orcelito]

Shino raising his dead friends and friend's dog from the dead with the power of bugs as one friend's cousin watches [not clickbait]

[dolicekiss]

From Friend To Foe

PAIRING: Dark!Aemond Targaryen X Strong!fem!Reader

CONTENT WARNING: smut (18+, mdni), noncon, virgin!reader, possessive aemond, friends to enemies, childhood friends, reader is from house strong, dragon riding (also riding Aemond), unprotected sex (p in v), forced kissing, breeding, angst, threats, humiliation, reader has dark hair, hair pulling, slapping, cunnilingus, mention of forced marriage, attempted murder.

SYNOPSIS: Aemond and you were childhood friends, you being the daughter of a lord and him being the Targayen prince. When the Greens and Blacks went against each other, your father’s sworn fealty to the blacks became an obstacle in your friendship and when your father was defeated, army overthrown — you were taken prisoner, kneeled before the Targaryen prince who was once your closest friend.

Swords clashed, dragon roared and knights fell after fighting bravely.

All you could do was sit idle in your room and await the promise of a better future. Only it did not come and when silence haunted the grounds of Harrenhal and everything came to a halt, you were certain your family had lost the fight.

You were mere humans, with no possession of such an almighty being.

Dragons were Gods. To be worshiped and prayed — and one was prominently flying over the remains of Harrenhal.

Belonging to none other than Aemond Targaryen, who was once your beloved friend with whom you dreamt of riding on a dragon.

Aemond had promised you when you were younglings. A promise that once he has claimed himself a dragon, you would be the first person he'd take for a flight.

The irony of the situation broke your heart.

The same dragon had left your castle and people in ruins — Vhagar’s loud wails filling up the sky with terror. You knew very well that now your army had fallen, your father definitely slain, you were going to face the same fate as many women during war did.

A prisoner, meat for Aemond’s men.

The door was slammed open and you turned around in a swift motion, finding your servant standing there. A look of horror adorning her once serene features. “It is done. The Targaryen prince has won and we are the only ones left.”

Tears blurred your vision. You did not remember reaching for the sharp blade which you had placed on your side table, an escape from all the atrocities you would eventually be forced to face by the hands of your own closest friend.

War was war.

And with the stories of Aemond’s cruelty circulating about, you knew very well than to beg for mercy or even expect it. Long gone was the sweet prince who made you promises of protection, a dragon and long lasting friendship.

He was your foe now.

An enemy who had slayed the men of your house, your own blood.

As you attempted to cut your own throat, a hand prevented you from doing so. Guards, of house Targaryen. Your face paled and your tears finally rushed down your face in glossy streaks, your one chance of escape taken from you.

The men restrained you but you screamed, struggled even. To break free and somehow draw the blade closer to your throat, only a small cut and you would disappear. You did not care if this was considered weak, you were willing to do just about anything to keep your dignity and honor.

To not be some slave for a man to put his cock in.

“Stay still, woman!” One of the guards berated you but you didn't listen, worming in their grasp.

“Let me go! Release me, right now.�� Your screams echoed in the expanse of your chamber as well as the castle and Aemond heard them too.

He had ordered the demise of everyone, everyone besides you. There was this ache, this need to lay his eye upon you for the first time in awhile. Last time he saw you when you were nine, a beautiful little girl who often came to the red keep with her father — member of the council.

Aemond and your friendship flourished when you defended him against Aegon, comforting him to not lose all hope for a dragon. It was you who encouraged him, who provided him with the mental strength to claim Vhagar.

Your words of strength lingered in the back of his mind when he took claim of the largest dragon.

And now he had caused destruction with the same dragon.

Fate had brought you both to this. Ruined every good thing which was left in his life and he knew that you would never, ever forgive him for destroying your home.

You were kind, loving, sweet. Rebellious too but always stood your ground and believed in achieving justice, by any means. Aemond wondered how you'd grown, how you appeared as an adult now.

Did you braid your dark hair the same way as his Targaryen sister did, since you'd grown so fond of their silver hair? Were your eyes still the same onyx dark as your hair, a stark contrast to his own purple ones and was your choice in clothes still so dreadful? Curiosity pinched at his abdomen.

Your screams boomed through Harrenhal and Aemond felt proud of your resistance, only he had no knowledge of what you were resisting for so prominently.

He had no idea all your desperation and fight was to end your life.

The guards pulled you apart, their blood stained hands managing to rip off the side of your dress which concealed your shoulder during all the commotion to get you to release the blade. You somehow managed to free yourself from one of the guard’s unbearable grip and slashed his face with the blade.

“Ah, you fucking bitch.” He screamed, holding his face with one hand while the other tried to reach for you.

Another guard extracted his revenge, striking you across your face and tugging at the already torn fabric, exposing more of your back.

Your face contorted in pain, wishing to rid yourself off this world. “Don't fucking touch me. Unhand me and I will slaughter you lot like pigs.”

Your threats were larger than your size and some guards found you amusing while some knew you were capable of what you had promised them. A hand reached for your wrist, to tame it but not being able to pry open your clingy fingers around the dagger with all their strength.

Your fingers had paled, losing all their pink hue and the blood had stopped pumping through the small veins. That was how strong your grip around the weapon was.

Being carried down the stairs, your gaze took in the sight of the place that was once your home. Broken and hopeless, you were dragged along to the main hall. Rain pattered over the stones, causing a nauseating feeling in your stomach as you took in the situation of your castle.

Thankfully, your blurry vision did not allow you to take more of the destruction. All you noticed was the daunting figure of your enemy, standing pridefully at the center of the hall, awaiting your arrival.

You were pushed towards someone, forced on your knees and the silky silver strands gave away at the person's identity. Prince Aemond Targaryen stood before you, with his back turned to you and hands clasped behind his back.

You attempted to gather the pieces of your torn dress, holding it over your chest since it was ripped evidently in the back. Aemond upon turning around, did not expect you to be in such ruins. Dress torn apart, dark hair all but a mess and he caught glimpse of the silver rings encircled around your strands.

Now in a complete frenzy.

The same silver you always wore in your hair, around your little braids.

Aemond glanced up at his guards and then back at you, watching you. Demeanor phlegmatic, lips sitting tediously on his face.

You didn't dare to lift up your eyes. It wasn't about possessing enough courage to look him in the eye but having no self control. You knew deep down if you looked at him, you'd lose all control and attack him.

“I don't recall ordering you lot to bring her in such a..” Aemond tilted his head, analyzing the state you were in. “disheveled state.”

“She fought back a lot, my Prince. Intended to cut her throat with that little blade of hers in her hand.” Aemond was slightly taken aback from the revelation but you were right to choose that as an option. Everyone in this room knew what happened to women during war, especially the beautiful ones such as yourself.

The highborns were craved more as they carried noble blood within them.

His one eye fell upon the blade you still held with great vigor in your hand and Aemond nearly snickered. You had not let go of that adamant personality of yours, carrying it with you in adulthood.

Aemond did not like how your beautiful skin was exposed to the lecherous eyes of his guards. This abrupt jealousy even left him bemused for a moment, nonetheless he diverted his attention back to you.

He stepped closer — frame towering over yours and you saw the perfect moment to attack him. A feeble and thoughtless action but it was either succumbing to horrors or extracting revenge. In a fraction of mere seconds, you had risen up from your knees and headed for him with the pointy end of the dagger in his direction.

The guards reached for you and before you could possibly injure the Prince regent, his fingers enveloped your wrist. With potent strength and fast reflexes, Aemond held you in place. A mischievous glint flashed in his one good eye, lips curving up in a malicious smirk.

He saw the raw hatred and hunger for revenge in your eyes — your hand unwavering and stable. You meant the attack. Nowhere was it under the sad emotions of losing your family.

“Bold of you to assume this would work on me, Dōna.” Aemond whispered, face only a few inches apart from yours. Only the dagger separating you. You acknowledged the name he'd called you, from when you were children and the anger inside you was fuelled more. (Sweet)

“Have I not trained in front of you, hm? Did you not see me wield a sword whenever you stayed in the red keep?”

You glared at him. “I will kill you, either with poison or with a dagger. It is my promise to you, tyrant.”

“From raqiros to tyrant? You truly have grown, my Dōna.” He whispered malevolently, his warm breath with its own mind caressing the bridge of your nose, nearly with affectionate. (Friend)

Having spent most of your childhood in the red keep with the targaryens, especially Aemond, he was bound to teach you some high valyrian. You knew what raqiros meant, but he had never unveiled the meaning behind the nickname he gave you. Promising you he would once you two are grown enough.

Aemond looked up from your face to his men who stood on guard. Three of them, big and broad. His eyes raked over their hands and as he imagined those same hands mishandling you, ripping away at your clothes and prying open the corset which held your dress together, his jaw clenched.

“Ser Criston Cole,” he called out and the commander responded, head held high.

Aemond’s hand still prevented you from moving an inch, the pointy end of the dagger only a few inches away from his glistening, pale cheek.

“Behead them.” It was a simple command but it instilled fear in everyone in the room, including you. Even the commander was surprised by such a gruesome order and dared to ask. “Forgive me, my Prince but why?”

Aemond locked gaze with you. “They dared to lay hands on my prize, unveiled her dignity.”

Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion as the Commander nodded, passing the order to his other guards. You heard the sounds of constant struggle, similar to yours as their pleas to live fell upon deaf ears.

“My Prince, please! Spare us, we were only acting upon your order!”

They were ignored, as Aemond continued to stare at you. His purple eye dropping to your lips for a second. He released you and you, on instinct, stepped back with the dagger still in your hand. It was proven that combat was definitely not how you could take down the prince.

Aemond had forced you to come along to the premises of Harrenhal, where his dragon rested. Strained and tired from the war she had indulged in. You had never seen Vhagar up close but knew that she was the second largest dragon, her first rider being Visenya Targaryen.

Your lips shuddered the more closer you were pulled next to the sleeping dragon.

“She can smell fear.” Aemond reminded you, staring ahead. “Conceal it unless you wish to burn to ashes.”

You inhaled a deep breath, closing your eyes and hoping to put an end to the growing fear in the presence of Vhagar.

When you opened your eyes, you were more calm now and in the right state of mind to admire the beast’s beauty. She was gorgeous, a shade of bronze mixed with green and blue highlights. Green, fierce eyes staring ahead and you would have congratulated Aemond on claiming a dragon if only the circumstances were different.

“You will ride with me to King’s Landing.”

“I will not.” You spat, taking a step back from him. That didn't seem to please Aemond as he closed the distance between you and grasped your arm, holding you in place. “Yes, you will.”

“I would rather be fed to your hounds than ride with you upon the back of the dragon which destroyed my home.” Your tone was venomous, full of anger and spite. Aemond knew there was no way calming you down or ridding you of your anger, so he did the next best thing that came to mind.

His slim hands slithered across your waist as he picked you up, settling you down on the dragon’s back. Vhagar released a roar and Aemond whispered something to her in high valyrian, causing her to calm down. Her head settling down, to rest.

He moved in front of you, taking a seat as well. “Hold on tight.”

You glued your hands to your sides, completely ignoring him. Aemond released a frustrated growl at your adamant behavior and lack of pliancy. He reached behind to grab your arms with his gloved hands, forcefully circling them around his small waist.

“Let go of me.” You struggled and Aemond looked back at you with irritation all over his beautiful face. “Do you wish to succumb to your death by falling? If so, feel free to let go.”

That was a lie as Aemond had already tied you to him with the brown belt — locking you with him. Even if you were to let go of him, his body weight restricted on his dragon would prevent you from falling and eventually meeting your demise. This was merely to get you to touch him.

To feel you against him, with little to no distance.

Your lips settled in a frown as you tightened your hold around him causing Aemond to grin. He patted his dragon’s back and then spoke. “Sōvēs, Vhagar.” (Fly)

The dragon shifted on its legs, preparing for the flight and you gasped when you felt it move more beneath you. Subconsciously, your fingers gripped the leather tunic of Aemond, chest pressing tightly over his broad back. Terror filled you as the dragon finally took flight, its huge wings flapping and the force of it made you realize how easy it must have been for Aemond to ruin your house.

“Oh my god,” you gasped, closing your lids shut and burying your face in Aemond’s shoulders.

This is exactly how he had anticipated your first ride on a dragon with him all these years, how you'd react to the beast moving and roaring. Your subtle touches, adorable reactions and soft sounds were just as Aemond had pictured them in his mind.

And he was fulfilling his promise to you.

Until now, Aemond never allowed anyone to ride with him. Only you were the exception and as gruesome the enmity between the two of you was, he could not simply suppress the overwhelming feelings he'd always harbored.

“Aemond..” You whispered, as the dragon took flight and it left you screaming. “Aemond! I'm fucking terrified.”

One hand holding onto his seat, the other reached over and settled on your hand around his chest. In an attempt to comfort you as Vhagar flew into the depths of the sky, Harrenhal nothing but a small scenery when you opened your eyes to look down at it.

A lone tear slid down your face.

This was not how you wished to ride with Aemond.

You hated him, disgust all over your face when you noticed how little and inferior everything appeared from up here. No wonder the Targaryens burned people and houses, as they felt superior being this close to Gods than the rest of you.

“Calm down, Dōna.” He said to you when his dragon had finally flew for King’s Landing.

You didn't say anything, only loosened your hold around him after realizing how awfully close were you to him.

Aemond noticed that and didn't like it.

“Vēzot, Vhagar. Vēzot.” Upon hearing Aemond’s command, the dragon changed route and flew high up in the air, going up tearing through the grey clouds. In fear of falling, your arms once again found themselves around the dragon rider’s small waist. (Up)

You had no idea what Aemond had said but it made his dragon fly up, defying gravity and leaving you gasping for air.

With a satisfied smile on his face, Aemond relished in the feeling of power he had over you and the power he'll soon have over others too. It was painfully evident his brother was incompetent and if something were to befall him, it would be Aemond next in line to inherit the throne.

Never did you ever think or expect that you would be brought back to the red keep as a prize, a symbol of victory — a slave most definitely for Aemond after how he behaved last time with the guards last time. He did not allow anyone to look at you, to touch you, besides your maidens who helped you doll up for the Prince.

His possessiveness was very well known to you when you both were children but you had expected him to grow out of it. How foolish of you to assume that.

Aemond was a possessive child. You recalled the time where he had forbade his siblings from playing with you — or when he did not let anyone touch his sword or even wield it. You remembered how the future lord of Casterly Rock was treated only because he had dared to pass a compliment to Aemond’s sword.

You could hear the cheers of the smallfolk and it disgusted you. He only won against you and your family, not the Blacks. It repulsed you how he was supporting a usurper and not the rightful heir. Your father died for the cause of Rhaenyra Targaryen, you would do too in a heartbeat.

You were lead inside the Red keep after the notorious flight with Aemond. The Prince’s orders were to his servants were to lead you to his own chambers and clean you up. You had no idea why, but you were not going to comply easily.

“I am not your mistress.” Your voice boomed loudly in the main hall, causing Aemond’s footsteps to come to a halt. “Neither am I your whore. Kill me because I too support Rhaenyra Targaryen’s claim to the throne. I shall die a honorable death as my father and kin did.”

You had dared to speak to him, like that, in the presence of not only the Queen but even the other council members.

Aemond’s hands balled up into fits. “Take her.”

You were forcefully dragged somewhere while you struggled, piercing screams enough to damage one's ears. Before you were pulled in a corridor, you made a promise. “I will get my revenge, Aemond Targaryen. You shall answer for the blood of my family that stains your hands. I will never forgive you!”

Alicent followed her son, your threats still lingering in her mind. You had screamed them with tremendous agony and will. She worried, for the kingdom.

“Do you believe you would be doing the realm anything good by bringing a blood thirsty enemy here?” Alicent questioned as she followed Aemond into the room where the council took place.

His fists shook, with poorly tamed rage. “She is anything but a weak girl.”

Alicent scoffed. “She is openly screaming threats. Either a fool would do that or a person who has got absolutely nothing to lose, Aemond.”

“Her screams will quiet down once I have managed to put a child in her.” Aemond spat at his mother, placing his sword down on the table.

She was appalled at what her son had evolved into. The monster he'd become and somewhere she doubted her own motherly skills.

You were forced into a beautiful, pale dress – the fabric as thin as a sheer curtain – after your bath. The maids obviously did not provide you with anything which could conceal your body in the see through white dress. It had embroidery done on the front, so it somewhat worked to cover your breasts.

But the longer it extended, the more it revealed everything underneath.

Pieces of your wavy dark hair were pinned behind, some braided with silver rings clipped around.

The maids soon excused themselves, leaving you to your solitude. Your body felt cold from the lack of clothes so you moved over to stand before the fireplace. Arms sliding up and down your frame to warm up yourself.

Truth to be told, you were suffering with trepidation. Were you prepared to sleep, to head to bed? But why in Aemond’s chambers? All sorts of vile and impure thoughts came rushing in your mind as you tried to keep them at bay.

The doors were soon opened and there stood Aemond, in a different set of clothes. You immediately stepped back, albeit him standing far away from you. He noticed that but no matter how many walls you tried to build between you two, Aemond was determined to break and crush each and every one of those.

He appeared enamored with you.

You were nothing less than an angel, standing underneath the moonlight illuminating your frame.

“Is this what you brought me here for, Prince Regent? To dress me up and warm your bed late at night?” You questioned with disgust and Aemond stepped froward.

You immediately retreated. “Do not dare to come any closer. I will not be one of your whores.”

“What makes you think I would let you become one of my whores?” Aemond asked with a soft tone. Your beauty had soothed all his irritation but it also ignited a fire within his core.

“You're a monster.” You whispered. “You have become a tyrant, a beast worse than those dragons of yours. It is a pity.”

Aemond was losing his patience with you. He didn't waste time, snapping and running towards you. The man pinned you against the wall, knocking over a vase resting on a table besides you. Pain bloomed in your back from the hardness of the wall — and being slammed into it.

The targaryen man locked eyes with you and let out a smile of satisfaction, witnessing the fear swimming in your innocent gaze. “Pity? You dare pity me when you are left with nothing of your house, nothing.”

The cruel reminder caused tears to well up in your eyes but your gaze stayed locked with Aemond’s. It did not waver and with all your strength, you pushed him away from you.

“I hate you.” You confessed, tears sliding down your face, a testament to the pain you were battling. “You were my friend, my fucking friend. How could you do this to me, to me? Your fucking Dōna, Aemond.”

When he heard the high valyrian word escape your lips, he growled. You saw him take a step further and this time decided to make a run for the door, trying to crawl over the bed hastily but Aemond was fast, vigilant as he grabbed you.

You fought back, slapping and punching him but it didn't work at all. He shoved his lips against yours and he did not care that you didn't want this. He wanted it, that was all that mattered. Aemond’s tongue forcefully entered your mouth as your hands continuously punched his chest.

He pushed you down on the both whilst staying locked to you, tasting your plump lips with vigor.

Head tilted, he pushed open your thighs and buried his knee between them. Rutting it against your cunt and you released a muffled cry in the liplock, hoping he would show some mercy but Aemond was too far gone.

The pressure on your clit – sheer fabric the cause of you and Aemond’s separation – was intense. A burgeoning need lighting up in your core as you struggled. There was no way you would give in, no matter how much you had admired him when you both were children. You knew better. You were only the daughter of some lord, meanwhile he was the Prince.

The fight for dominance was already won by Aemond as his tongue explored the inside of your sweet flesh. He broke apart from you to gaze upon you, a mess he'd turned you into. Face flushed, lips swollen and bloodied from how harshly he had sunk his canines into them.

Your dark hair with glinting silver in pure disarray, spread about everywhere on the bed. Aemond was fucking drunk and there was no stopping him.

“You said I'm a monster, right?” His voice was eerily low, causing you to panic. “I shall show you what monstrosity I am capable of.”

He tore the dress in a single tug, discarding the two pieces somewhere on the ground. Fear evident in your enlarged eyes as you struggled to conceal yourself with your arms but Aemond held them above your head, his fingers roughly pressing into your skin leaving marks.

“Aemond, please.” Tears fell and Aemond nearly softened.

If you'd been kind to him like how you were in the past, this compromising situation wouldn't have fallen you. He would've let you live, be a maid in the red keep but now, he had to prove it to you.

Just what he was capable of.

“Aemond,” you sweetly called out, hoping it would work. “My prince, don't do this. You do not wish to do this.”

“Too late for that sweet tone, my lady. If you do not wish for worse, I suggest you shut your goddamn mouth and take it.” His voice was so soft, so low but his words were as repulsive and cruel. It was what Aemond had become. A broken boy who sought out solace but was too afraid to ask for it, fearful of seeming weak — yet again becoming a target of his brother’s constant bullying.

In the process of becoming what he hated, Aemond lost you too.

One eye raked over your exposed breasts, full and round. You were no longer the little girl who used to chase him around the red keep, in her long dresses. You had flourished, flowered with grown tits and when his eye fell lower, he inhaled sharply. Plush, meaty thighs greeted them. He recalled how at one point you were as skinny as a boy, with no fat to your lean frame.

Now you had blossomed in a beautiful woman.

Your skin glowed neath the moonlight, your presence basking in its light. It showcased all the little minorities your features carried, what you had become, the delicate beauty that you were.

“You are certainly no little girl no more.” He reminded you, words no less than salt over your sounds.

Tears pearled on your waterline. “And you've grown into a fine man yourself.”

Your words were carried on obvious pain and Aemond pretended he did not catch a whiff of that. You continued, with a wavering voice, drained from all your rebellion and fight. “Fine but cruel, Aemond. I thought you were different, ought to be different. You proved me wrong.”

“Keep your lips sealed.” Aemond commanded, as your words nearly made his will to defile you falter. Being the daughter of a high lord, he was certain your maidenhead was still intact. You were never the type to engage in lecherous actions before the pure promise of a marriage.

Aemond’s rough hands took a handful of your breasts, fondling the fat. Thumbs swiping over your peebles, sending them upright. Undeniable pleasure shot through your body in the form of swarming heat as it settled in your lower stomach. A prominent gasp tore from your parted, swollen lips as Aemond stared at you in adoration.

“They are so full.” His comment about your body your pleasure-clad face form into one of grimace. “I wonder how your cunt looks now that you are older. You were always too innocent to consider our friendship anything more than what it was.”

Your back arched off the bed, the writhing of your hips increasing whenever Aemond rubbed his knee over your tiny pearl. You felt it swell up with need and wanton, a dull ache growing, begging to be burned out. The silver haired male pried your thighs open to lay eye on your pink cunt.

Aemond licked a wet tongue over his lips, his hunger to taste your seemingly delicious core pressing at him. He never once got overwhelmed with the urge to put his mouth on a woman's cunt — as the woman he got involved with whores. He had no interest in tasting something where most men found solace in.

But you were a virgin.

He knew that.

Yet he asked, surely to rile you up. “Has anyone been inside of you yet?”

Your eyes widened at the repulsive question of his. Brows scrunching in disgust and the rosette on your cheeks transcending into beetroot. Before you could control your imminent action, a strike echoed in the chambers. Tears had stalled, replaced with a hateful searing look and when Aemond recovered from the slap and faced you, chills enveloped you. Despite the impact, he was still poised. Eyes sheened with darkness and pure rage, his hand moved to reciprocate the harsh movement.

Only his slap hurt more — a scorching sensation awakening below your skin. A hint of red in the form of a hand imprinted on your face.

“Answer my question.”

You shook your head. Not only had the slap worked wonders to make you more pliant, it also made you realize that what Aemond was capable of.

His fingers ran along the line of your plumped up lips. “Use this pretty mouth of yours.”

“I'm not a low born.” You said through gritted teeth. “I'm chaste. Check for yourself if you are disbelieving of me.”

Aemond let out a scoff, fingers dimpling into your cheeks. The angry pout on your lips along with his hand print left behind on your cheek made you look ten times more endearing to him. “That I plan on doing, my lady.”

Hands lowering to your thighs, fingers dipping in the thickness. Aemond nestled his head between them, eyes gliding over your glistening cunt. It was true that you were still chaste and he was sure of it, there was no need to check it. He softly ran his tongue over your pearl, a sharp breath from you entering his ears.

“I don't want this.” Your tone had a hint of plea in it. “Please, Aemond. It is too repulsive, I cannot—”

Aemond growled. “Cannot, what? You cannot allow my cock inside you? Cannot allow me to put a babe in you? Or won't allow me to simply because I'm Aemond.”

“Targaryen with the largest dragon who put an end to my family line.” You finished, vision blurring. Aemond knew this conversation was pointless to carry and he instead closed his lips around your swollen bud, suckling like it would produce the sweetest of nectars in existence.

You tried to fight him off, pushing at his shoulders with the little strength left in your small fingers to no avail. He sucked with great vigor and your demeanor fell — back rising up from the ruined mattress and hips pushing your mound further into his cage. He pulled back, lapping at your swollen clit over and over again, like a dog in heat. Tears furiously caressed down your face as Aemond’s fingers came to collect your arousal from the center of your folds.

By the Gods, you were a waterfall.

“Never did I think I would grow this addicted to the taste of a woman's cunt.” Aemond whispered, his warm breath shooting jolts of pleasure through you. Your hand on its own accord pressed onto his head, palm flaccid and fingers twisting his Targaryen strands around. “The more I taste you, the more famished I become.”

“G-Get off me.” You somehow managed to utter. You were mortified. How your body ached for him to continue, hand forcing his mouth against your hot heat whilst the heavy fists of your morals thudded on the door of your hazed mind.

All but a futile endeavor to fight back.

Aemond pulled back and reached for his slacks, undoing them. You watched with a dazed out look as he released his cock from the confines of his breeches. His fingers moving to curve under the hem of his shirt, ridding himself of the leather as well as his small clothes.

Left bare and naked before you, your gaze caught Aemond’s searing red cock. Head swollen and shining with leaking cum, veins traced up and down. You closed your eyes, in hopes that the nightmare before you would be over but that was only you losing last remnants of your hope.

“I-It won't fit.” You whispered to yourself, more tears sliding down your temples.

Aemond heard it, despite your voice being a low whisper. He reached over to grab your face between his large hand, fingers sinking into your cheeks. That caused you to flutter your weak lids open, staring back at him with a sheen in your pupils. “It will fit. Your maidenhead is still intact, so it might be painful. But who cares?”

Your bottom lip quivered as Aemond let go, holding his cock. He guided it across your wet slit, pushing its thick head past your folds and pressing into your pearl. Your breath was bated, perspiration dancing on your forehead. Your body had grown completely warm and you wished for someone, anyone to burn down the fire which was ignited in the fireplace.

Aemond gathered your arousal, in soft circulation around your pebble. You whined out, hands slapping at his broad shoulders to put an end to his obscenities. Yet he did not falter, will growing more profound and strengthened to a point of no return.

He soon aligned his cock along your hole with the disgusting intention to defile it and slipped in. Your walls squeezing around his cock head tightly, endeavoring to grow used to the size but Aemond did not wait. He pushed and your tears of sadness had now transformed into tears of pain.

Hot searing pain.

“It hurts, it hurts. Let me go, please let me go.” You cried, screamed even, nails scratching rapidly at his chest. You left evidence of your firmness, of your distaste for such degeneration. Long lacerations formed on a pale canvas as Aemond held you down with one hand circled around your throat while the other had pushed your leg up for more easy and open access.

You were crying relentlessly and it was beginning to annoy the young Prince. “Quiet now, or I will have your tongue.”

“I-It is too p-painful.” You sobbed and this time Aemond landed a tight slap to your other cheek, watching it imitate the shade of the other one. “I said, fucking quiet. If I hear anything other than sounds of pleasure out of these lips of yours, I will toss you to my guards.”

It was an empty threat.

Aemond would never, ever do that. You were for him, only him. Insignificant your view was about him.

You were his prize, a sign of victory.

Still Aemond stalled, not having the heart to pummel his cock fully into you. All he managed was to breach your maidenhead and you were already wailing like you'd been shot with an arrow. He waited it out, letting you grow accustomed to his length and thickness.

Once your agony-clad face recovered and softened, Aemond took it as a sign to move further. Your gummy walls sucking his cock in, caressing the rigid veins. Deeper, and deeper. He went slowly and carefully, which you didn't overlook. You felt him sheath his cock fully into you, arms extended out for him, in complete submission.

Aemond, silently surprised by such vulnerability and submission, took your hands into his and brought them to his nape. “Hold me, brace yourself, Dōna.”

That sweet tone of his.

It nearly warmed your heart but the constant reminder which took at Harrenhal haunted you like a ghost. A cursed bestowed upon you, no escape at all. Aemond melted within you, nestling against your spongey spot of nerves. Your lips fell when he found that sensitive spot of yours.

He didn't waste time pummeling his cock into your weeping cunt, growls of a beast escaping him. You could not bring yourself to look at him. Pulling him closer, you concealed your face within the crook of his neck as your hold clasped around his slender nape — fingers intertwining with silver roots. Aemond had only tried Sylvie, his first and last so when he felt you draw him closer, it ignited a fire impossible to end.

“Gods,” Aemond groaned in your ear, his sharp nose running along your cheek, both hands gripping your flesh. “If I had known laying with you would be this pleasurable, I would have done it when we were younglings.”

Disgust would have made path on yout face it it was not for the pleasure Aemond bestowed upon you. His thick cock head repeatedly bruised your cervix and all you could do was wail, your hold for dear life tightening around him. Aemond found delight on your innocent moans, your sweet little hiccups and sounds of pleasure. He pulled from you, to glance down and felt immense satisfaction at the ring of blood around his length. He had officially taken you, not exactly under the circumstances he wanted but pondering about that was futile now.

His one eye stayed focused on you. Examining the lines donning your forehead, dark brows furrowed and a sheen of sweat sitting on your forehead. Pale cheeks flustered and saccharine sweet lips parted, birthing little sounds.

An epitome of nobility and charm you were.

Aemond pulled out of you, just as you were beginning to reach your pounding climax.

He leaned on the head board of the bed, chest glistening with droplets of sweat. The fire crackling was not helping neither of you to find some cold. “Get on top of me.”

You weakly shook your head.

Aemond’s glare obliged you and you shifted on the bed, crawling on top of him. In the process, you caught the blood of your purity staining the pale bed sheets, as well as your thighs. A burning sensation prodded and you finally did what Aemond asked you to do. The evil man grinned, leaning forward to press a kiss to your temple.

“I'm sure you know your job here.”

Your lips trembled. “I-I am supposed to sit on it?”

Innocently you had voiced that question and Aemond almost cooed. He gave you a simple nod and watched as your cheeks burned with newfound embarrassment. You still did what you were told to, aware that fighting him back on this would only make him revoke the small kindness he'd shown you.

You grabbed a hold of his erect cock — pressing it over your soaked hole. As you slipped down on it, Aemond and you groaned in unison.

Your small hands found support on his bleeding chest, fingers swiping over his nipples accidentally and Aemond let out a choked gasp. The feeling of your walls clamping his cock mixed with the way your fingers brushed over his nipples was enough to send him fucking into you. Thrusting upwards into you while his large hand stayed locked on your hip.

Both of you moved simultaneously, greedily chasing after your own pleasure. Aemond saw a goddess in front of him — a weeping goddess who possessed the cunt of a hungry whore. Your small waist and bare tits bouncing with each move had him obsessed like a dog.

“Fuck, fuck, Dōna.”

He panted like his dragon, matching your pace with his, hand fondling your breasts. He was close but ripping an orgasm through you first was his priority and he was dedicated to it. Aemond felt your cunt squeeze him, watching as your tears fell in little pearls. “I am going to put a babe in you, Dōna. Can you believe it? Your childhood friend putting a babe in you.”

You couldn't even voice out your disagreement, Aemond was bound to do what he promised you. An intense feeling surged in your stomach, your pace slowing down and your sobbing growing more and more. Your orgasm tore through you in the form of essence, as your eyes disappeared behind your lids.

“Aemond, Aemond! Aemond.” You chanted his name out like a mantra and he slapped his cock deeper into you.

He fucking loved how submissive you were being now — entirely at his mercy and neath him. His own climax followed thoroughly, filling your walls with his spend. Spurting our rope after rope of white to fill up your expanded womb. Growls of need and ache echoed in the room and you couldn't stay still anymore, losing all your balance and colliding right in his chest.

Your little body was spent, fatigue and tiredness weakening you. Aemond was quick to wrap his arms around you, shushing you gently while you cried in his chest.

“It's over now.” He reassured but you knew very well that it was not. It was only for tonight that it was over.

Aemond comforted you, holding you against him with his cock still inside you.

“I hate you.” You cried, tears coating his chest as your forehead rested on his muscular chest. Aemond could only sigh, loathing the situation that bad befallen them. He did not resent you as you were the only one who had shown him true kindness.

But the war and throne were far more important.

“Rest, you need it.” He said, an order it was and you felt forced to comply. “Things will be very different from now on, Dōna. I will have the high sept marry us tomorrow, our child will not be a bastard.”

All you could do was weakly stir in his arms at that. There was no way you were willing but it was better than being a slave for Aemond’s guards. Being one man's whore was better than being a thousand’s.

[probablyasocialecologist]

The latest questions are centered around Anat Schwartz, an Israeli who co-authored several of the paper’s most widely circulated reports, including the now well-known and scrutinized December 28 article headlined: “‘Screams Without Words’’ How Hamas Weaponized Sexual Violence on Oct. 7.” Independent researchers scrutinized the online record, and raised serious questions about Schwartz. First, she has apparently never been a reporter but is actually a filmmaker, who the Times suddenly hired in October. You would expect the paper to look for someone with actual journalistic experience, especially for a story as sensitive as this one, written during the fog of war. Surely the paper had enough of its own correspondents on staff who could have been assigned to it. Next, the researchers found that Schwartz had not hidden her strong feelings online. There are screenshots of her “liking” certain posts that repeated the “40 beheaded baby” hoax, and that endorsed another hysterical post that urged the Israeli army to “turn Gaza into a slaughterhouse,” and called Palestinians “human animals.” (Just this morning, more evidence emerged online; Schwartz apparently also served in Israeli Military Intelligence.) Finally, one of her co-authors on two of the reports was Adam Sella, who is her nephew.  Let’s pause here. What would happen if the Times suddenly hired a Palestinian filmmaker with no journalistic background, who had recently publicly “liked” posts that called for “pushing Israeli Jews into the sea,” to co-write several of its most sensitive and contested reports? 

[...]

There’s another related example of how the Times has botched the sexual violence story. One of the first Israeli organizations that arrived on the scene of the Hamas attack was Zaka, a volunteer group that recovers dead bodies. On January 15, Times reporter Sheena Frankel wrote a positive profile of the group; she included 3 or 4 sentences of criticism, only to quickly dismiss them. This site had already raised serious doubts about Zaka weeks earlier, pointing out that “the organization’s volunteers have systematically given false testimonies, and continue repeating them to journalists on behalf of the Israel government.” Then, on January 31, the Israeli daily Haaretz published a long investigation, that highlighted “cases of negligence, misinformation and a fundraising campaign that used the dead as props.” Haaretz cited one Zaka report that said a volunteer had seen a murdered pregnant woman, with the baby still attached by the umbilical cord — before concluding that the incident “simply didn’t happen.” At this stage, there are serious doubts about many aspects of Israel’s overall account about October 7. Only a genuinely independent and impartial investigation might some day get closer to the truth. But meanwhile, at the very least the New York Times must publicly recognize its errors, and assign new, unbiased reporters to try to clean up its mess. 

Continue reading

[starsandsuch]

Nakshatras I associate with fame:

Disclaimer: In this post I seek to reveal Nakshatras that bestow fame yet aren’t usually talked about when it comes to “fame” Nakshatras. We already know the more obvious Nakshatras that bestow fame like Dhanishta, Magha, Aqua/Leo etc but the following naks are ones that I see in the charts of many famous people , influencers and public figures. Sun, Moon, Ascendant or Atmakaraka Planet.

Vishaka -usually popular in the music industry. They accumulate a lot of power and achieve a lot in the public eye. They are polarizing figures -ppl either love them or hate them, but they gain even more fame from having haters than lovers.

Revati - they gain popularity easily and it tends to be long lasting for them. They’ll have a lot of followers on social media and people fawn over everything they do. Like “omg she wore army pants and flip flops, so I bought army pants and flip flops”. They are excellent socialites as well-they know a lot of people.

Punarvasu - they have a global appeal. They’ll be famous where they’re from but also in different countries and cities, worldwide. I notice these natives pictures/content gets reposted on social media a lot. They’ll be popular IRL and online. Many Punarvasus will have a famous spouse/parter and gain fame bc of them.

Ashlesha - there is almost always a current social trend that traces back its origins to an Ashlesha native. Which I talk about in this post about mercury naks. They are always trending on social media, even the most followed people on IG -Cristiano Ronaldo and Kylie Jenner- both are Ashlesha natives. People circulate Ashlesha’s images a lot online, and even if they don’t post frequently a lot of people obsess over their content/images that are years old. They have many “copycats” as well. Hence why certain trends can started by them, but often they might not receive credit for said trends. Marilyn Monroe had Ashlesha Asc and in present day people are still circulating her images and copying her look, decades after her death.

Pushya - this is one of the top socialite Nakshatras. They’re good at being all things it all people, they’re public image is just naturally likable. They have a balanced reputation that is favored by many demographics. They tend to be the “cash cow” for their family, record label, franchise etc so they have big machines/teams of people behind them that prolong and maintain their fame.

Swati - another top socialite Nakshatra. Over the course of their life they accumulate so many different social connections, that they are just undeniably popular. They are great at manipulating their public image to attract bigger audiences. They are polarizing figures, that tend to profit from having haters.

Purva Phalguni - if anyone was destined to gain fame at some point in their life, it’s purva phalguni. These natives will gain worldwide fame very quickly, even at a young age. They “blow up” over night, and people can’t get enough of their theatrics. They love performing and out of all the Nakshatras listed here , I feel like they enjoy + desire fame the most. They’re someone that may be disliked in personal relationships but the public loves them + their image.

Purva Ashadha - they are talented at being theatrical and interesting. Their image in the public eye is a glamorous one. People consider them “goals” a lot of the time, so frequently they have a cult like following.

Related posts:

Leo Nakshatras and fame

Mercury Nakshatras and manipulation

Fame indicators in Astrology

What would make you famous based on your birth chart?

[todoriin]

adore me, hold me and explore me | moze x afab!reader

18+ NSFW, MDNI or i will delete your account, vanilla ass sex, no established relationship, obsessive themes from moze, cunnilingus, p in v, porn no plot

Being Feixiao’s closest advisor means you get to experience various interesting interactions.

Since joining her ranks, you feel as though you’ve lived through countless lifetimes, consulting and strategising with her and Jiaoqiu against formidable foes and expansive armies. You’ve seen the Merlin’s Claw swing her blade and slash countless enemies in half, learnt medicinal techniques from Jiaoqiu that may cure simple illnesses, like the common cold. 

However, the most interesting soul, without a double, is a certain Shadow Guard of the Xianzhou Yaoqing, one you have the pleasure of working with most intimately. Figuratively and… literally.

There’s a creak coming from the windows of your bedroom, the hinges wincing softly as they’re pushed open gently but too wide to be an action of the wind. At this stage, you’re no longer surprised by the stealthiness of the intruder, after all, you had purposefully left the windows open, waiting for the moment an intruder who could coat himself with invisibility would show up. 

Besides, it’s nearing dusk, he promised he’d visit then. 

“Good evening, Moze,” you greet, back turned to him as you look in the mirror, swiping balm over your lips before puckering them. 

A breath of satisfaction leaves you when he finally materialises before you, purple haze clouding out around his silhouette, revealing the usual, skin-tight attire he opts for daily. It’s a shade you’ve grown to love now, seeing it everyday (and taking it off for him a few times a week).

“You look nice,” he comments, words curt but sweet. 

You omit to tell him that you didn’t doll up because you doubt he’ll live longer with that information. “Thank you,” is all you say, smiling up at his reflection. Then, a cold hand comes up to your neck, fingers resting over your pulse as he traces your skin, eventually snaking back to fix your hair.

“The lipstick you wore today also looked nice,” he mumbles, meeting your gaze with his piercing one. 

You turn around in your vanity stool, swinging your legs over to the other side of the seat as you look up at him. His hands move up slightly to cup your jaw, indiscernible eyes gently admiring your features as you look up at him. Here, in your home, he can unwind, a skilled assassin let in to a haven too safe for him and the blood on his hands.

That’s why you’re perfect for him, because you know how to slice a man’s neck and leave him begging for more.

“Did you like it, Moze?”

He’s silent as ever, opting to just play with the strands of your hair. There are moments when Moze is silent because he does not wish to speak, but there are always thoughts circulating in that head of his, you realised that a year into the job when he started providing a sarcastic retort whenever he could. This time he’s silent because he doesn’t know how to respond, rendered speechless as you blink up at him. 

It’s an honour to render a man like him speechless, but you still want to have your fun.

“So quiet, I’ll take it as a no?” You ask, rising from your chair and walking past him. An arm snakes itself around your waist before you could get too far, tugging you right back against the chest of the Shadow Guard. “Use your words, Moze.”

“There are no words worthy enough to describe your beauty.”

Your mouth drops slightly as a sudden shyness creeps up your expression, an uncontrollable smile that you can’t hide behind your hands tugging on your lips. “Smooth talker,” you retort, pushing his chest lightly, but he hardly budges. 

You’re used to being the one to initiate all the conversations, as well as ending them.

“The day must have been treacherous. I’ll make some refreshments for you.”

Just as you turn to go downstairs, he’s once again tugging you back against him. This time, he leads you to the edge of the bed where he sits down with you standing between his legs, now a head shorter than you. Your positions have switched, now it is you running your fingers along the hood he keeps on his head, looking down into his multi-coloured eyes.

“No need for any of those,” he denies, “I am well.”

“Are you sure? No tea, snacks?”

“I have no desire for any of those, only you.”

You look away from him, bashful from his flirtatious words that he says in that serious tone of his. Seriously, how can he say that with a straight face?

“Okay, fine. You can have me,” you mutter and a phantom of a smile appears on his expression, eyes glimmering when you finally give him the indication he’s been waiting for. The thin strap of your top is being dragged down your shoulder and you shudder when he hovers a ghost of a kiss over your pulse point, getting flustered when you then feel him smile against your skin. “Please don’t tease.”

“Since you asked so nicely,” in an instant, your chest is bared to him and his hands creep up to explore the expanse of your body, touch gentle but purposeful, as if he was sculpting your curves himself, careful not to ruin you with any rogue or unwelcome grazes. “I’ll reap what’s mine.”

Then, he yanks your shorts off and cups the back of your thighs. A yelp leaves your lips when he suddenly switches you around so that you are now sat on the edge of the bed, and he, awaiting on his knees before you with hungry eyes.

There’s no time to think because all of a sudden, his mouth is on you, infiltrating your most sensitive part and the whimper that leaves you cannot be held back. You don’t know when your leg got on his shoulder, but it grants him more access as his tongue licks up a slow, torturous swipe up your entrance. 

“Moze!” You exclaim, legs twitching as if trying to kick him away, but he immediately holds you down you, an arm wrapping around your thigh to keep you there. 

You’re his target after all, he won’t stop until he’s through with you.

“Be good and take it,” he says against you, pressing a kiss to your clit before sucking and you gulp at the sensation as filthy sounds fill the atmosphere. No matter how many close nights you’ve experienced together, you’ll never get sick of him, grip inhumanely tight to keep you still as you beg for mercy, but the feeling of his mouth is too sweet to push away. The apex of his tongue circles the nub as his spare hand crawls up, collecting the slick from your entrance before two fingers intrude, breaching your walls. 

When he curls them, you know you’re done for, falling against the mattress to try and deal with the onslaught of pleasure that Moze knows how to inflict. It keeps coming in waves and waves, and neither his fingers or tongue lets up. You didn’t even realise you were crying until you felt tears drop down your face and onto the sheets. 

He’s pumping into you, briefly curling and scissoring his fingers, and his ministrations on your clit go from suckling to tracing shapes with the bud; a cruel torture that eventually results in a buildup of tension in your lower abdomen. 

You warn him about your incoming orgasm with a shrill cry of his name and a babble of words that loosely resembles a sentence, and the only thing he says in response is:

“Let go, pretty.”

So you do, mind becoming cloudy, hazed with nothing but the feeling of pleasure. Moze has now swapped his mouth and fingers, tongue lapping up everything you give him, licking you clean whilst his thumb rubs your clit in circles, trying to prod more out of you; a routine choreographed for your demise.

“Perfect,” he murmurs against your core, letting you come down from the high as he presses a few kisses up your stomach. 

His hawkish eyes watches as your expression untwists itself, no longer contorted by overwhelming pleasure. He can’t help the way his gaze then drifts to your chest, how it rises and falls hurriedly, still trying to regain your breath after he stole it. 

Your reverie is interrupted when you feel his tongue licking your entrance once again, folds pulled back by his fingers to bare more of you, and your nerves flinch at the sensation of pleasure enhanced to the maximum. “Moze! Stop!”

He obeys, pulling away immediately, serious expression unchanged save for the little glimmer of disappointment in his eyes.

“Next time,” he gruffly promises. 

Wrapping both of your thighs around his waist, you’re maneuvred further up your mattress by the assassin, completely helpless in his grip as he moves you however he wants. You would not have wanted him to stop anyways. 

Nimble hands shed his clothes and you unabashedly admire the sight between your legs, eyes so brave to wander across a scarred body that none others will get to lay their eyes upon. You trace the curve of his defined torso, how the shadows and light dance along the crevices, enhancing his already-impressive muscles. You leisurely run your gaze further down, following his abs to his cock.

Red and leaking with precum. 

It was intimidating when you first came face-to-face with it, and whilst you’re still impressed by his size, he’s taken care of you through the process every time, walking you through the pain and adaptations whilst being completely patient with you.

You want to prepare and take care of him like he had with you, so without thinking, you reach out and begin stroking him exactly how he likes it and a grunt passes by his lips, composure faltering ever so slightly.

There is no other Moze would bare himself like this to and, as a sign of his own twisted desires, he wants you to think the same of him. He wants you in ways he cannot justify, especially the part of himself that drips with violent and obsessive tendencies.

Should he get too close, he fears he will devour you when neither of you are expecting it.

Although, recently it seems that Moze allows himself to indulge in pleasures that he hadn’t permitted before, and as his hand wraps around your wrist to stop your ministrations, he can’t help but smile at the small pout that graces your lips. Rubbing his erection along your cunt, your slick coats his underside whilst his hand leisurely travels around your torso. Your supple skin hasn’t seen the severities of the battlefield, hasn’t fought and handled the brutality of men and blades like he has; the distinction between the two of you almost makes him seem like a monster.

A monster who wants to hide you from the darkness in which he lives in. 

“What are you grinning at?” You ask from under him.

“Nothing,” he murmurs, lowering his face to yours to press delicate kisses on your skin and you shift impatiently, eyelashes fluttering and hands clenching into fists. 

He notices the subtle action, takes it as sign of desperation that he wants to devour and dissolve into his veins, as if keeping a part of you with him forever. Aligning his cockhead with your entrance, your moan is unrestrained when he finally breaches your walls.

Slowly, Moze bottoms out, hands holding your hips to press you flush against him as you squirm. He doesn’t mind the way you wriggle around trying to adjust to his thickness and length, he’ll patiently hover above you, pressing soothing kisses along your face whilst staying as still as a shadow.

Even as your walls twitch and clench, he doesn’t budge, refusing to move until you are ready for him to. In a way, being connected with you like this makes him feel closer to you, and it brings a sense of peace that he cannot find elsewhere.

You are the source of it, the centrepiece of all his desires and he cannot swallow you down anymore. 

“I’m okay now,” you whimper.

He reels his hips back, almost pulling out before slamming right back into you and you cry loudly. “You sure?”

“More, Moze, please don’t be cruel to me.”

Cruel? He wouldn’t dream of it.

Setting a bearable pace, the room is filled with a cacophony of moans and continuous ‘plap, plap, plap’s of skin meeting skin. You are still the centre of his vision, eyes hardly straying away from your expression and body, keenly watching every microreaction of yours. He notices the way you shut your eyes tighter when he angles a particular way, cock breaching the most sensitive but pleasurable parts of you. 

It’s insatiable, his appetite for you. The only thing he wants to do is bring you to endless highs, over, and over, and over again.

Gradually, his pace speeds up over time, violating your insides with the neverending push-and-pull. Every time his hips snap back to meet yours, cock buried to the hilt, you feel the strands of your sanity slipping away. All you can do is babble his name and whimpers of how good he feels, hands reaching blindly for any part of him that you can hold.

He dives right into your open touch, torso leaning down to now hover directly over yours and the added heat of his body temperature makes you feel even more lucid. His shoulders are so broad, the planes of his chest defined, and stomach so toned that it drives you insane with desire; added with his precise strokes and thick cock, you don’t ever want him to leave. You don’t ever want him to stop. 

“Moze-” his lips are pressed against yours, swallowing the moan of his name and every other small noise you make as his member relentlessly spears you. 

He kisses you again and again, never straying too far, but parting often to let you catch your breath. 

“Moze, I’m-” you cry out in between kisses, “I’m gonna-!”

“Me too,” he gruffly responds, “relax for me, you’re clenching too hard.”

His words have the opposite effect because next thing you know, you’re cumming again, spasming around his cock as his strokes try to lure more out of you, draining you for all you’re worth. When you’re done, all of your nerves are fried, limbs weak and unable to hold themselves up for long without any support, but Moze hasn’t come yet, so all you can do is take his desperate and hurried strokes as he catches up to the last bit of pleasure.

Then, he comes to a halt whilst hot ropes gush into your cunt as he twitches inside you. Suddenly, his teeth latch on to the juncture of your shoulder and your neck, biting hard enough to leave a mark. 

You catch your breath in unison, waiting for him to finish completely before moving again, and when the final load is emptied, he’s capturing your lips in a kiss again. It’s hot, and your muscles feel like jelly, but he’s still desperate for more of you despite being as humanly close as possible. 

So, only moments after both of you have descended from the peak, he begins moving again, gently shushing any of your protests with a light kiss that breaks down your already weak defences. 

The squelches and plaps this time are obscene as he slowly eases in and out of you, grinding weakly whenever your walls twitch around him, but none of it is enough to quell his desire.

And he won’t stop until he has his fill. 

© todoriin 2024, do not steal, translate, repost my fics and do not recommend my fics onto any other site

[lordprettyflackotara]

noise || ben drowned || maid!reader || (𝓕𝓻𝓮𝓪𝓴𝓵𝔂pasta au)

SMUT MINORS DNI 18+. tw: switch!stoner!ben, orgasm denial, thigh riding, face fucking, weed use (duh)

You awkwardly jogged down the main hallway, arms full of cleaning supplies. You had accidentally caught Jeff at a bad time, the pale killer soaked in blood and unhappy with his new wound that came from his victim. Pissing him off was not an intentional act, but it was one you were certainly going to pay for. Apparently tending to the blood soaked floor before him was insulting. You found this absurd considering you were the mansions maid, not doctor. Nevertheless your attention being focused elsewhere pissed him off, resulting in your feet pattering against the floor as you ran down the hall.

Your bottles full of various cleaners swished around as you turned the corner, your body ramming straight into an all too familiar blonde. A wave of marijuana invaded your nostrils, bong water splashing out of his glass piece and landing on the both of you. “Oh shit i’m so so sorry,” You say. Awkwardly you ripped off a paper towel, trying to dab at Ben’s shirt. Ben wasn’t much taller than you, a joint loosely hanging from his lips as he looked down at you. “Dont sweat it princess. Say uh, is there a reason you’re running a marathon?” He asked, tilting his head to the side. It was then the loud pounding stomps interrupted your conversation, your face turning red. “Where are you?! You little bitch!” Jeff screeched. Frantically you grabbed his army green hoodie, pawing at the fabric.

“Hide me!”

Ben may have been too high to fully comprehend your request, but that didn’t stop him from shoving you into his bedroom and shutting the door.

You gasped, a couple of your cleaning bottles falling from your arms. It was then you slapped your hand over your mouth, determined to keep quiet as Jeff’s storm raged on. “Where is she?” You heard him hiss, presumably at Ben. Unknowingly to you the blonde stood on the other side of the door, unfazed by Jeff’s absurd antics, “Where’s who?” Ben asked nonchalantly. Jeff angrily paced back and forth, his blood soaked boots littering the floor with footprints. “That little maid. You know who i’m talking about,” Jeff barked. Ben shrugged, taking his lighter out of his pocket. “Couldn’t tell you dude. Want a hit?” Ben asked, gesturing to the joint that he was now relighting.

Jeff dramatically threw his hands up, stomping away. “Jesus everyone in this mansion is fuckin useless,” He grumbled, continuing his hunt for you. You jumped as Ben’s door opened, the blonde stepping inside and shutting the door behind him. “You look like a scared bunny, relax pretty princess. Here, try this,” Ben offered. You watched him inhale the joint, his pointy ears twitching as he did so. He hoped you couldn’t notice how much he was staring at your exposed breast in that slutty piece of clothing you were forced to call a work uniform. Somehow the lanky man’s calm demeanor made you feel somewhat relaxed. He seemed so much more down to earth than the others. So much so it almost made you forget he was a killer just like the rest of them. Almost.

Hesitantly you reached out, grabbing the joint and taking it in between your fingers. “I haven’t smoked since high school,” You admitted sheepishly, bringing the joint to your lips. You inhaled briefly at first, allowing the smoke to circulate around your lungs. “You’re gonna love this then. I get that premium shit. If there’s one thing you’re gonna know about me, you should know my green is always going to be out of this world,” Ben replied, confidence lacing his words. You looked so cute to him, awkwardly sitting on your knees on his bedroom floor. Band posters and neon led lights covered the walls, while groovy lava lamps and incense burned in the background. It was the cleanest creep room you had ever seen. As you exhaled you began to cough, your eyes watering as you handed Ben back the joint.

“Noted. Holy fuck that’s strong,” You gasped, trying to cover the sound of your coughs with your hand. Ben reached over to his mini fridge, digging past the unholy amount of monsters and handing you some bottled water. “Thanks,” You say in between coughs, tears flooding your waterline. The blonde sat himself down beside you, raising his hand and tenderly wiping away a line of tears falling down your cheek. You chugged the water, the icy cold liquid combating the fire that had engulfed your throat. “You’re cute when you cry,” Ben mumbled. If you weren’t so focused on your coughing, his suggestive comment would’ve made you incredibly flustered. You swallowed, regaining some form of composure after you wiped away your other tears.

“You too,” You managed to pant, referring to the stray drops of crimson blood that fell down his cheeks. Ben seemed unfazed by it, a mischievous grin creeping across his lips. “You’re a witty one. I can see why everyone likes you so much,” He chuckled. You watched, completely mesmerized as he exhaled the smoke through his nose. You let his comment slip past you, wanting to focus on the man before you and not all of the previous ones that had kept you up late at night. “Holy shit that’s so cool. Teach me,” You say, grinning lazily. Ben shook his head, inhaling and exhaling through his mouth this time. He pointed it towards the ceiling, the hazy smoke disappearing into the air. “Not this time pretty princess. I give it two more hits and you’re gonna be cooked,” He explained, causing you to roll your eyes. You became more relaxed as you inhaled this time, your coughs minimal and cleaning supplies long left discarded at the blondes doorway.

You leaned back against the closest wall, Ben sitting in front of you. He was so enchanted by your beauty, watching you hit the joint like a goddess. “What are you looking at?” You asked shyly. Ben leaned forward, tucking some stray hairs behind your ear. “You. You’re awfully pretty,” He mumbled, his words only audible enough for you to hear. You could feel your face turn red as you exhaled, the blue led lights concealing your blush. You weren’t sure what to say, the blonde making your stomach do unfamiliar backflips. “So, you save me from Jeff and now let me smoke your premium weed. How can I ever repay you?” You asked, nervously twiddling with your hair. Ben grinned, leaning forward. “Kiss me,” He murmured, desperation lacing his words.

You leaned forward, your nose brushing against his before you fluttered your eyes shut. You could feel your lips press against his, your high making every move seem much more longer and calculated. You pulled yourself closer to him, straddling his lap as you kissed him deeper. Ben was just as eager as you, his arms wrapping themselves around your waist as your hips slowly grinded against him. You mumbled a curse against his lips, your core growing wetter with excitement as he lowered both of you back against the floor. You leaned over him, kissing down his neck as he shuddered underneath you. “Someone’s desperate,” He teased, smirking as you grabbed the hem of his shirt.

“You’re one to talk. Your porn addiction doesn’t go unheard you know,” You countered. Shoving his shirt over his head you threw it elsewhere, kissing down his chest before reaching his jeans. “Watch yourself pretty girl. Porn has taught me a lot of things. Things that’ll make you cream your pants,” Ben snickered. Cockily he propped his hands up behind his head, watching you teasingly drag the zipper down with your teeth. You maintained eye contact with the blonde, relishing in the temporary sense of control. You then roughly tugged his pants down, desperate to suck his cock. Once he was exposed you eagerly began to suck him off, Ben kind enough to grab your hair into a makeshift ponytail. “Fuck, just like that,” He whimpered, biting his lower lip. You took him down to the base, allowing his tip to abuse the back of your throat as you deep throated him.

Ben was a whimpering mess, strings of curses with mixtures of your names falling off of his lips like a mantra. You continued to suck him off, watching as he grabbed a fresh joint from his pocket, lighting it. You hated to admit how attractive it was to have him smoking nonchalantly as you put your heart and soul into getting him off. “Such a good girl. My pretty princess,” He purred, shoving you down further on his cock. You gripped his thighs, gagging as he hit the back of your throat more aggressively. “Fuck, you’re so fuckin hot,” He grumbled, exhaling the smoke before face fucking you. Your nails dug into his thighs, the pain only bringing him more excitement as he abused your throat. Your gags and whines were heavenly sounds to him, the blonde in a pure state of bliss as he inhaled more of the joint.

Just when you thought you were going to run out of oxygen Ben pulled you off of him. A string of saliva connected you to his tip, your lungs grateful as you gasped for gulps of air. Ben smirked at the sight, dragging you towards him. He sat against the side of his bed, propping you up against his thigh. You whined as his jeans brushed against your clothed cunt, your panties damp from arousal. You went to move to straddle Ben properly, his large hands stopping you. “Go on pretty princess, ride my thigh,” He ordered. His sudden switch made you as a loss for words, your hands gathering handfuls of his hoodie. “Go on, don’t get all shy on me now. I’ve heard those cute noises you make for the others. Just wanna hear you make them for me,” Ben cooed. He smirked as he inhaled more of the joint. He pulled down your dress, your bare breast bouncing out before him.

“No bra? Naughty naughty girl,” He snickered. You whimpered as his hands guided you to grind down on his thigh, your small whines becoming louder moans. Ben leaned down and grabbed your breast, bringing it to his mouth as he guided you to ride him faster. You tilted your head back, moaning as his tongue swirled around your nipple. “Ben,” You groaned, your wet slick covering his jeans. You felt his hand slither to your panties, pushing them to the side so your clit had better access. You bit your bottom lip, unable to control your sinful noises as Ben released your nipple with a pop. “Oh that feels good doesn’t it?” Ben asked mockingly. Frantically you nodded in agreement, the cord inside of your stomach tightening. “So fucking close Benny, so close,” You panted. You were so close, your thighs beginning to tremble.

You were almost over the edge, before abruptly the blonde flipped the two of you over. Your back hit the floor, a gasp escaping your lips. Desperately you rubbed your thighs together, attempting to create friction. “Awe you didn’t think I was gonna let you cum that easily, did you?” Ben gloated. He nudged his way in between your thighs, grabbing your wrist and pinning them beside your head. “You’re gonna beg. You’re gonna beg me to fuck you. You’re gonna beg me like the little bitch you are to make you cum,” Ben commanded devilishly. Leaning close to your face he gave you a sadistic grin, your pathetic desperation only making his cock harder. “And if you don’t, you can go ask Jeff to get you off instead,” He countered. You licked your dry lips, your hips bucking upwards. He set the joint aside on an ashtray, awaiting your answer.

“Ben please, fucking please, I need you. I need you so fucking bad. Please,” You whined. Your pleas were shameless, your core throbbing in desire. Ben grinned at the sound of your begging, the words music to his ears. Quickly he aligned himself with your entrance, shoving himself inside of you. You gasped at how fast he bottomed out, your gummy walls clinging to his cock. “If you’re out here taking EJ’s dick I know you can handle mine. Now let me hear those pretty noises you love to make,” He grinned. Slowly and teasingly he dragged his hips out of you, before roughly slamming them back inside. You couldn’t control your unholy noises, Ben’s whines and whimpers almost as loud as yours. “Fuckin, shit-, fuck. Such a tight pussy,” Ben panted, ramming his hips into yours.

His cock abused your cunt as he pleased, your wrist burning under the carpet he held you down. His soulless eyes stared into yours, watching every micro expression you made as he pounded into you. You were seeing stars, your high combined with your body shaking from the pleasure bringing you closer and closer to the edge. “You’re so good. Feel so fuckin good, fucking shit,” Ben grunted. He leaned forward, burying his face into your neck as he fucked you mercilessly. His whimpers and whines sounded like heaven, your sinful noises bouncing off of his colorful bedroom walls. “Ben- i’m close. So close,” You warned. Ben then held himself up, his sadistic gaze staring right into your soul. “Hold it,” He barked. You tried to close your legs, Ben’s hips stopping you.

His thrust didn’t slow down by any means, the cord inside of you threatening to snap. “I-I can’t,” You stuttered. You bit your bottom lip, avoiding the blondes stern gaze. “You can and you will,” Ben growled. You threw your head back, your eyes rolling into the back of your head as you came on Ben’s cock. The euphoria was heavenly, your vision temporarily turning white. As you came down you babbled apologies, Ben’s thrust now halted. He was still balls deep inside of you, his lips curling upwards into a sadistic grin.

“You shouldn’t have done that. I think I need to call reinforcements.”

Ben leaned over to his bed and grabbed his phone, putting it up to his ear. He grabbed his previous joint, relighting it as he dialed a number. You nervously listened to the dial tone, gulping.

“Hey Jeff, I got your little maid and she’s in need of a punishment.”

[megalony]

Our Army- Part 3

Thank you all for the lovely feedback on this Eddie Diaz mini series, I hope you will all enjoy this part it's rather long.

Please let me know what you think.

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Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Part 1

Part 2

Summary: With another impending arrival, (Y/n) and Eddie get ready to move their family into a new home and get ready for a life with six children.

Enjoy.

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"Everyone's in bed." (Y/n) managed a tight-lipped smile as she slowly walked back into her and Eddie's room. She pushed the door shut behind her and took a moment to catch her breath before she walked over to the bed.

Her shoulders dropped and the tension in her back lessened when she felt Eddie's hand on her lower back and his other hand on her hip. And when she sat down on the bed, she felt his arms move to bind around her waist, easing her back so she was leaning against his chest. She tilted her head back on his shoulder and pressed a kiss to his neck.

"First night in our new bed, hm?" The way Eddie wiggled his brows and smirked made (Y/n)'s stomach flutter.

She lifted her hand to cup the side of his face, smoothing her thumb across his cheek as she craned her head to kiss him. "Oh yeah, and what are you thinking?" She murmured against his lips while his hands roamed her stomach.

"That we can… sleep."

A laugh rumbled in (Y/n)'s chest and she pecked his lips again, nodding in agreement.

In any other situation, there would have been something else on Eddie's mind and they both knew it. But right now, sleep was more prominent than anything else.

Last night had been their last night in their old home and because they had been moving today, Eddie (With the help of Buck) had taken down all the bed frames ready to be moved. So all of them had slept on mattresses on the floor last night.

It did not to (Y/n) any favours. She barely slept and she felt horrid to have to keep waking Eddie when she needed the bathroom so he could help her up. She could barely walk this morning when it was finally time to get up and get ready. So being in their new bed tonight- which was new and bigger than their old one- was going to be much easier on (Y/n)'s back. And she would be able to get up without needing any assistance tonight.

Moving her hands down to the mattress, (Y/n) shuffled back until she was leaning against the pillows and Eddie did the same. The tv was on in the background, but neither of them would be watching for much longer, they were too tired.

"What're you thinking?" Eddie's voice was soft and quiet as he lifted an arm so (Y/n) could inch closer and lean into his chest. He could see something was circulating through her head.

"A few things." She mused quietly while she looped her arm around Eddie's torso and nuzzled her face into his bare chest. He felt like a radiator, giving off waves of heat and it made (Y/n) cuddle closer into his side.

"Like?"

"Just, we- we are gonna cope, with two babies, right?" (Y/n) felt silly for even voicing these worries and she closed her eyes and meshed her face into his chest so she didn't have to look up at him.

She heard him turn the tv down. They both knew in about ten minutes Eddie would just turn it off, it was only on to serve background noise and give them some light.

Having six kids was going to be a trial on its own without the added factor of having two babies at once. That meant trial and error with feeding and settling one and then moving straight onto feeding the next one. It meant getting up during the night for twice as long to feed and change them both. It would be hard taking the kids out when they had two babies to handle.

It also meant there would be trouble with trying to give all the kids attention. (Y/n) would have to scatter dinner time and feed the kids before she fed and changed the twins. Bath time would be doubly hard.

And (Y/n) didn't want to imagine what it would be like when Eddie would be back to work.

"I think we're gonna have our hands full, but we're gonna cope just fine, amor."

"Really?"

"Yeah. Lia's older now, she can help around the house or give us a hand with one of the twins if needed. Chris is old enough to help with the house too. And all the team have already signed up for babysitting duties if we ever want a break or a night with just the twins."

The team had been surprised and delighted when Eddie told them he and (Y/n) were having twins. And all of them had said they never minded babysitting. Buck loved the kids, he was an uncle to them and Tilly was best friends with Jee while Chris and Paul got along great with Denny.

All of the team said they would babysit if ever needed, especially if Eddie and (Y/n) needed a night to themselves or a night to spend focusing on the twins.

"Plus, ma and papi are coming down at some point, they wanna stay for a few weeks to be with the kids." Eddie's parents hadn't been the best when he was growing up, his father had been absent and his mother worked a lot.

Eddie vowed to be different with his kids and so far he had stuck to that and tried to do better by them. But his parents had stepped up since Eddie and (Y/n) had their family together. They tried to visit often, they rang and kept in contact with the kids and often stayed for a week or so at a time to be with them.

His mum had already made it clear that once the twins were born, they would be coming down for at least two weeks. So they could help look after the kids and be with the twins and generally make things easier for them.

Eddie had suggested they wait until he went back to work to come down. Then it wouldn't be so hard on (Y/n) if he was working, at least his parents would be nearby to help with the kids.

"I'll have to feed them both in shifts, God you know that means no sleep, right?" When she felt Eddie's hand move down to her waist, she gripped his wrist and held tight.

It would be fine during the day to feed one twin then the other, and do the same for changing them. But when it came to the nights, they weren't going to get much sleep. By the time they fed one twin and settled them, they would have to move onto the next one and do it again. And then they wouldn't get much sleep before they had to get up and repeat the process all over again. It was going to be a struggle. Not to mention if they had to get up during the night for the rest of the kids.

"So for the first few weeks, you sort one, and I'll have the other." Eddie and Bobby had managed to worm around the rota. Eddie was going to get his typical two weeks maternity leave, but then he had booked the week after off as annual leave.

All in all he would get three straight weeks off work to be home with (Y/n) and the kids to try and get into a routine and make things easier. That way (Y/n) would hopefully be feeling better by the time Eddie had to go back to work and things would be settled at home so he wouldn't have to worry as much while on shift.

They stayed quiet for a little while as Eddie finally turned the tv off and laid down. He bent one arm behind his head, with his knuckles tapping against the headboard and his right arm secured around (Y/n)'s waist. He smoothed his thumb up and down her stomach while she shimmied to try and get comfy beside him- or technically on him as she was laid over his chest.

After a minute or two, Eddie tilted his head forward and pressed a kiss to her hair.

"What're you really worried about, mi amor?" He could sense there was something else on her mind that she hadn't said and he didn't want her to worry. They were going to make this work, their family was going to be large and loved and perfect.

"I- I don't want you to start feeling like work is a break for you… you know?" (Y/n) hated the words that passed her lips and she cringed when she felt Eddie suck in a deep breath.

Six kids, two newborns, that was going to be hard and stressful and the last thing (Y/n) wanted was for Eddie to feel like work was a break away from all of that. She didn't want Eddie to feel like he had to get an escape and that he might prefer being at work away from the stress at home.

"Baby, I promise that work is never going to feel like that to me. I'll always wanna be home with you; with our family."

A shiver coursed down (Y/n)'s spine when Eddie's words muffled into her hair and she felt him kissing the top of her head. That made her feel better. She hoped it would still be true when the midnight feeds came around and they had two babies to soothe and four other kids to settle.

She closed her eyes and burrowed down against him which made him smile wider. And she smothered down a grumble and reached out for Eddie's hand when the twins started to move.

"I think they heard you." She murmured into his chest, grateful when his hand started gliding across her skin to see if he could calm them down.

Eddie wouldn't lie, he loved how animated the twins were. He thought Tilly would of been their last, so to feel the babies kicking and wriggling and having this experience again was making his heart feel full to the point of exploding.

And he loved to watch the way (Y/n)'s shape changed and how she was starting to live in his clothes now. It made him happy and proud.

He could feel himself nodding off and he knew (Y/n) had fallen asleep by the change in her breathing and how she relaxed against him. Eddie felt like his body was swaying from side to side as if he were sailing on the sea. He wasn't too sure how long he had been drifting like that for, but when a thud rattled against the wall, he jerked awake.

His head shot up off the pillow and his chest jerked up, jostling (Y/n) against him making her clutch his chest in panic.

Both of them waited in silence as (Y/n) clung to Eddie, unsure what had woken him and Eddie felt much the same. But when another thud echoed through the walls, followed by a distant but audible cry, Eddie eased from beneath (Y/n) and got to his feet.

"It's Lia." He tried to hurry, padding across the carpet to leave the room. His hands trailed the walls, fumbling for the hallway light switch once he was out of their room.

Eddie didn't have his bearings yet, none of them did. He had no idea where the lightswitches were in this house and the layout was still vague in his mind. He could walk the old house blindfolded, this time he was going to have to learn the layout first.

"Lia, Carino you okay?" He had to flick the bedroom light on to see where the boxes were.

All they had set up in the bedrooms were the beds and the tvs, the essentials as the kids called them. Eddie had yet to put up any shelves in any of the kid's bedrooms and their toys and teddies and accessories were still strewn around and laid in boxes.

"D- d- dad…" The way Amelia's head was tilted to one side looked odd, but it was her dilated pupils and locked jaw that made Eddie wince.

He plonked down on the side of the bed beside the guard rail, trying to assess his eldest but it was hard. Amelia was almost slouched into the wall, both hands on her lap and the cover strewn about her ankles. And her legs were violently thrashing up and down like she was being electrocuted.

"Okay-" Eddie winced and leaned back when she screamed. The sound was muffled because she could barely loosen her jaw, but it didn't stop her from trying. And her hands moved down to her thighs so her nails could scratch up and down her legs, almost drawing blood in her efforts.

Shuffling closer, Eddie held her hands and moved them onto his lap instead to stop her from hurting herself. Clearly this seizure was affecting her legs more than anywhere else, and the slight bump on her temple implied the thud Eddie heard was her headbutting the wall.

"Carino, it's alright. I've got you, it won't last long."

He kept her arms laid on his lap and began moving his hands up and down her arms towards her shoulders and back down like he was giving her a massage. It stopped her from screaming again and her blown pupils focused on him as her legs continued to thrash and twitch against his hip and the bed.

He was relieved after a minute that the shaking started to subside. But he visibly winced when Amelia's head suddenly snapped forward. It looked like her neck had been broken and her chin went right down near her sternum which must have hurt the back of her neck and down her spine.

"Woah, okay come here." His hands moved to cup her face and he carefully tilted her head back, wiping away the tears with the pad of his thumbs.

Head-drops were common during these type of seizures, but it didn't mean they were nice to witness and Eddie could tell it hurt. He kept her head tilted up in his direction and when a feeble cry escaped her lips, he sighed.

He knew what she was silently asking, and he didn't feel able to refuse.

A soft, "Come here," passed his lips again and he shuffled closer until her face was meshed into his shoulder. He looped her arms around his neck and edged backwards off the bed, easing Amelia with him until he could pick her up.

Eddie knew she would want to stay with him and (Y/n) and she was still trembling like a leaf. She would feel safer with them rather than in a room by herself on the first night in their new home. If she seized again or got up during the night and tripped, it would be a lot worse. It would be safer to just let her sleep with them.

He held Amelia in his arms, hating how she continued to shake and tremble against him while she whimpered into his shoulder. Each tear he felt soaking into his skin made him want to cry. Eddie hated seeing any of the kids in pain, but seeing Amelia seize and suffer the effects always tore his heart out.

He switched the light off as he passed, but just as he stepped into the hall and went to turn the hallway light off, a small gasp caught his attention.

He twisted to the left, squinting down the hall before he sighed and tilted his head to one side.

"Tilly, what're you doing?" Eddie rose a brow and waited, watching his youngest as she dithered in the doorway to her room. But when he squinted, he realised she was sniffling.

"Scared, t-the shadows," She feebly pointed behind her into the bedroom while she stayed tucked up in the doorframe.

All the kids wanted their own rooms, but they were all so used to sharing that being alone was unnerving. Tilly had to get used to the different shadows and shapes in her room and the fact that she didn't have her big sister moving around or banging into things. Or the quiet sound of music playing from Amelia's headphones when they used to share rooms.

It was unnerving and Eddie didn't have the strength to settle Tilly and try to calm her down. They had time to get her used to sleeping alone, she didn't have to learn right away on the first night.

"Quick then." As soon as Eddie pointed to his room, Tilly made a break for it.

The three year old zoomed down the hall as if she were afraid Eddie would turn the light out before she got there.

He waited for her to scramble up onto the bed before he turned the hallway light off and shut the door behind him. He headed towards the bed and carefully laid Amelia down in the middle while Tilly scuttled under (Y/n)'s arm and burrowed into her side.

"We've got company," (Y/n) mused quietly while she wrapped Tilly up in her arms, watching as Eddie climbed in and tucked Amelia up in the middle. They couldn't have Amelia on the end of the bed in case she seized and fell out, she had to be in the middle.

Which meant that (Y/n) and Eddie felt like they were miles apart, especially in a new, big bed with both their daughter in between them.

"As always." Eddie's response was light-hearted and well meant. He pressed a kiss to Amelia's temple before he closed his eyes, already feeling sleep overtaking him.

Twisting his head from left to right, Eddie groaned and sucked in a deep breath, but it only made his nose scrunch up and his lips curl. When he felt something tickling his nose, he lifted his hand, groggily trying to bat away whatever was annoying him.

But he paused when his hand brushed his nose and he realised it was hair that was annoying him; and there was no way it was his hair.

He tiredly opened his eyes and tried to look around the room, guessing it had to be sometime in the morning because the room was lighter than before. His arms moved again and he flopped his right hand around until his palm pressed down on a small back.

It was Tilly.

He ran his hand up and down her back for a few moments, but as his senses came back to him, Eddie couldn't help but grunt. She was laid in a funny position. The toddler was laid on Eddie's right shoulder with her head and chest pressed down into his neck and collar bone.

"Tilly… princess, I can't breathe." He coughed, trying to nudge her up a bit so he could actually take in a proper breath. Now he knew why he really woke up; she was suffocating him by crushing his windpipe.

She shuffled the tiniest bit until her head was tucked beneath his chin but her body was no longer pressing down on his throat. She was still laid sideways across his pillow though.

"Thanks." He muttered quietly and continued to glide his right hand across her back to serenade them both back to sleep.

But after a minute or two, Eddie had to slide his left hand beneath the cover and pat across his thighs. He suddenly realised there was a leg strewn over his lap, but Eddie knew instantly that it wasn't his wife.

He trailed his hand across the leg and once his fingers danced across the owner's foot, he got a swift kick in the leg and a grunt.

It was Chris.

A frown formed on Eddie's face and he cracked his bleary eyes open and managed to lift his head from the pillow, despite Tilly being in the way like she was a scarf wrapped around him.

"Jesus."

Eddie was hanging on the edge of the bed, one leg dangerously close to crashing down to the floor. He had Tilly beside him on the pillow and Amelia was laid directly in the middle of the bed with her head lost between the pillows, flopped on the mattress. Further down the bed between Amelia and Eddie, there happened to be Chris who was curled up like a little fox with his head pressing into his sister's abdomen and his legs strewn next to Eddie.

And when Eddie glanced at the other half of the bed, he found (Y/n) laid on her back. One arm draped across her bump almost protectively, but her left arm was wrapped around Paul. He was cuddled into her side, his face meshed into her baby bump and his legs laid on her lap so he was effectively curled around the twins.

So the boys had snook into the bed at some point during the night too. God, Eddie was relieved they would have two or three years yet before the twins would be able to creep into their bed. He wasn't sure they could fit eight of them all together in here.

He dropped his head back onto the pillow with a sigh and closed his eyes, trying to switch his mind off and get some more sleep.

"Thank God we got a bigger bed."

***

A wide grin spread across Chris's face when he managed to reach out and pat Paul's shoulder. As soon as he did, he shot past his little brother and headed out the bedroom, making a speedy path down the hallway. They were playing tag and now that they had a bigger house, it meant more games to play and more chances to get away and win.

Chris trailed his eyes along the familiar pictures on the walls as he headed towards the other side of the hall. Their parent's room was the neutral zone, no one could be tagged in there.

He looked up at the main family photo hanging on the wall between Amelia's room and their parent's room. It was from two years ago when Tilly had only just turned one and they had been at a party at the station. They had a lot of family photos, and Chris loved them all.

He also loved the fact that there was a large canvas photo downstairs in the living room above the fireplace. It was one of the photo sets they had done when Tilly had been born. Chris couldn't wait because he knew in a few short weeks when the twins were here, they would get updated family photos. He loved photoshoots.

He was about to zoom into their parent's room when he noticed the door was open on his left. The twin's room.

The boys had been a little more than surprised after the twins room was decorated and they didn't see the cots in there. They had been even more dismayed to find both cots put up in their parent's room. But then they remembered that it had been the same when Tilly had been born.

It would be hard for (Y/n) and Eddie to constantly be walking in and out of the twins room to feed and settle them both at different times, and it might wake or disturb the rest of the kids. They always had newborns in their room with them for the first few months.

"Got you!" Paul patted his hand rapidly against Chris's shoulder, but he paused too when they both looked into the room and saw their dad.

Eddie was mulling about the room which now had shelves up on the walls which empty picture frames and teddies scattered about. There was a changing unit near the window, stacks of nappies in the corner and a chest of drawers with all the clothes neatly folded away. There were even Disney stickers on the walls which Tilly was a bit jealous of.

"What you doing?" Paul padded into the room and moved to stand beside Eddie, trying to push up onto his tip toes to try and see the bag that was on top of the chest of drawers. And Chris followed, moving to stand on Eddie's other side.

"Uh, getting everything ready for tomorrow." Eddie raked his hand through his hair, brushing the curls away from his eyes before he reached down and ruffled both the boys hair.

"Why?"

Eddie turned around and leaned his hips back against the chest of drawers and folded his arms over his chest. He looked between both of them as they stared up at him with wide, curious eyes and matching grins. Sometimes the boys were almost like twins even though there were five years separating them.

He smiled at them both, figuring that he could tell them now rather than later on tonight.

"Okay, tomorrow uncle Buck's gonna come and stay with you after school so I can take mum to hospital. She's gonna have the babies tomorrow."

Amelia already knew, she had seen the date on the calendar and they had explained to her since she was the eldest. And he would sit down and tell Tilly on her own because they knew she wasn't going to be happy about being away from her parents, even for one night.

"How'd you know that? You don't get to choose." The pointed look on Chris's face made Eddie smile. He was smart. He knew how some of this worked, and he remembered from the other times his mum had been pregnant. They had all waited, it had been a surprise each time when she went into labour, they didn't know beforehand.

"When you have twins, sometimes you can choose, buddy. The doctor will start labour tomorrow when we get there, it means your mum and the twins will be safer if they come now."

This had been planned for the last three months. (Y/n) would be thirty-five weeks pregnant and that was a safe date where the twins could be born a bit earlier without too many risks. It stopped (Y/n) from developing any complications or issues and the risks that came with a natural, multiple birth.

It also meant Eddie had been able to get his annual leave booked and tell Bobby exactly when they would need someone to cover his shifts for the next three weeks.

"When will you come home?" The panic in Paul's voice made Eddie's heart become erratic.

And when the five year old pushed forward and wrapped his arms around Eddie, he smiled softly at him. He moved his hand to cradle the back of Paul's head who looked up at him with those big brown eyes that matched Eddie down to the very last detail.

He felt Chris lean his head on his chest which was his way of silently asking for a hug too, so Eddie looped his other arm around Chris. Cuddling both boys against him like he was going to be away for weeks, not a matter of days.

"I'll be back the day after tomorrow, and hopefully mum and the babies will be home by the end of the week. Don't worry, it's all sorted."

Eddie had just finished the hospital bag they would be taking with them, everything was set. He would take the kids to school tomorrow, then get (Y/n) down to the hospital straight after. And Buck would pick all the kids up and stay here with them tomorrow night and take them to school the next day. Then Eddie would be home to look after them again, and they would work out from then on when exactly (Y/n) and the twins would be coming home.

***

"Dad's home!" No sooner did the words leave Amelia's lips, and her younger siblings were all scrambling behind her to look out the window.

As soon as they all saw for themselves that Eddie's car was in the drive, they bolted for the door, leaving Buck behind them hurrying to catch them up with a quiet 'wait for me'.

He leaned down and scooped Tilly up, holding the toddler high in his arms so he could speed after the rest of the kids.

Amelia flung the door open and bolted outside, looping her arms around Eddie's neck as soon as he was within reach. She pressed into him, grinning into his neck while Paul and Chris hurried to latch onto his legs and cling to him like all of them were vying for his love and attention.

"Woah, didn't I see you all yesterday?" He looped his arms around them all, enclosing them in a hug and he kissed their foreheads before he tried to get them to let him walk. He ushered them back towards the house where Buck was stood in the doorway, holding Tilly who was wriggling and giggling, trying her best to reach out for Eddie.

As soon as he was close, Eddie scooped Tilly up and pressed a sloppy kiss to her cheek.

"Hi honey." Buck grinned and nudged the door shut once everyone was back inside. He knew the kids had been waiting around in agony, unsure when exactly Eddie would be coming home this afternoon and they were eager to know what was going on.

Although (Y/n) had the twins yesterday, Eddie made them all wait in suspense, including Buck and the team. He hadn't told anyone what the genders were and how it went yesterday. He messaged Buck to check on the kids and said they would talk once he came home this afternoon.

"Are you okay, have they been good?" Eddie and (Y/n) weren't used to leaving the kids for a whole night and they had been worried how Buck would cope with them all. But his smile showed he had been in his element, if anything.

"They were great, we had a movie night, all of them have been amazing. So, how's (Y/n)?"

"Is mum okay?"

"Are the twins here now?"

Eddie kissed Tilly's cheek once again before he set her down to her feet and looked around his army that were crowding him in the hallway. He had barely gotten into the house before they started their interrogation.

"Alright, everyone go sit down and we'll talk, come on." Eddie ushered them inside and watched all of them huddle to sit down. While they were arguing on where to sit and whether or not to turn the tv off, Eddie backed up towards the stairs. He folded his arms over his chest and leaned against the wall, sharing a look with Buck. They had a moment to talk without prying ears listening in.

"Did it go as planned then… (Y/n)'s good, right?" Buck had been a little unsure when Eddie didn't say how it went. The most he got was 'twins are here, all recovering' and that was worrying. Buck knew Eddie, he was one to explain and excitedly rant or call and talk for a few minutes. Getting none of that had worried Buck to say the least.

He watched Eddie run his hands up and down his face and take a deep breath to try and settle his rattled system.

"We had a C-section."

"But- but I thought it was induced labour?" Surely Buck hadn't gotten things wrong? He could of sworn Eddie and (Y/n)'s plan was to have the doctor give her the necessary injections to enforce contractions and break her waters.

Other than that, it was supposed to be natural labour and (Y/n) would have the twins just like she had the rest of the kids. The only difference was they planned the day and started her body off into labour rather than waiting for it to happen on its own.

"That was the plan. Four hours into labour, the placenta blocked the cervix and then she started to bleed out. Lost a pint of blood like water from a tap… Jesus she scared me. Doctor called for emergency C-section, but she's okay, they're all okay."

Eddie ran his hands up and down his face again, trying to liven himself up and shake off the nerves so he could smile.

It had been going according to plan for the first few hours. They got booked in, set up in a room. (Y/n) went into labour straight away from the medication and she got contractions like normal. They had been in the swing of things, calm and happy just like every other time.

Then it went wrong.

(Y/n) started to push, and suddenly she was crippled in agony. The placenta had moved in the way of the babies and blocked the cervix and it caused a haemorrhage. Eddie had never seen her bleed so much and so fast like that, the bed turned crimson before they had a chance to press the emergency button.

A C-section had been their only choice to stop the bleeding and prevent another one, and they couldn't move the placenta once it was in the way.

Eddie's heart had been in his throat the whole time until (Y/n) was finally stitched up and back on the ward and the twins were safely in their arms.

"You should of said, I would of stayed with the kids tonight for you."

"No, we couldn't ask that, besides I needed to see them. Come on," Eddie ticked his head to the side and headed into the living room. It wouldn't be fair to ask that of Buck and (Y/n) was okay. Her mum was at the hospital with her for now while Eddie stayed home tonight with the kids and he would go straight back once they were all at school.

Eddie slumped down into the armchair and when Paul hurried over to him, he smiled and opened his arms, letting the five year old clamber up onto his lap. Both his arms bound around Paul's waist and he snuggled down into him, hugging him tightly as he kissed his temple.

He watched Buck sit in the opposite chair while Amelia, Chris and Tilly were perched on the sofa, all on the edge of their seats with eagerness. They had been waiting all night to know the news.

"So?"

"You've got a little brother, and another sister."

Eddie wouldn't say it was what he had been hoping for, because he hadn't cared whether they had one of each, two boys or two girls. But it did feel good to know they had three of each. It was equal. And they wouldn't be having any more kids. Tilly and the twins hadn't exactly been planned, but this was their family complete now. Three boys, three girls.

"Where's mummy?" Tilly looked around as if she was expecting (Y/n) to walk through the door with the babies at any moment. After a moment of silence, Tilly hopped off the sofa and moved to sit on Buck's knee since Paul was with their dad.

"Mum's at the hospital, she can come home tomorrow."

"Yay-"

"Ah, but if mum comes home, I need you all to promise me something."

Eddie twisted Paul round so he was looking at him while the rest of them stared at him with curious, worried wide eyes.

"Mum really wasn't well yesterday, she had to have an operation to have the twins. She's gonna be fine, but if she comes home, I need you all to help me. Your mum can't bend down properly or carry the washing or pick any of you up, she has to rest. We have to look after her, okay?"

(Y/n) wouldn't be able to bend down and pick toys up off the floor and tidy up after them. She couldn't carry anything heavier than the twins, she wouldn't be able to bend down and put the washing on or carry heavy things up the stairs. And Paul and Tilly couldn't be begging her to pick them up, neither could Chris since he sometimes liked to be carried.

Eddie had to have the kids help him and help look after (Y/n), they had to make it easier for her. It would be hard enough for (Y/n) to get up during the night and climb the stairs now she had stitches.

They hadn't been prepared for surgery and the aftercare that came with it.

A chorus of 'promise' and 'we will' made Eddie smile. He knew he was lucky, the kids would bend over backwards for him and (Y/n), they would all relish looking after her and trying to make her smile and feel better.

"Are the twins okay?" The worry in Amelia's eyes hit Eddie straight in the chest. She was the only one who knew what kind of surgery (Y/n) must of had and what a C-section was.

"They're both fine, they can come home in a few days too. Everyone's okay."

The sound of the front door slamming closed brought (Y/n) out of her trance. Her body jolted on the spot and she shivered, trying not to jostle the newborn cradled in the crook of her left arm.

She stayed stooped over, leaning forwards until her stomach was creased and her back clicked out of place with how far forwards she was sitting. Her feet tapped away on the soft carpet, having gone numb ages ago from the way she was sitting like she was trying to will herself to get up.

Her thumb smoothed up and down Jamie's arm as she cradled him a bit closer to her chest wishing it would somehow make her feel better, but it didn't.

She could hear multiple footsteps pounding up the stairs and it made her bow her head and brush her free hand across her face to rid the tears that had been steadily streaming for the last hour or so.

She knew the footsteps meant Eddie had brought the kids home from school.

She heard a soft "Hi mum," hollered from the hallway before the sound of Amelia's bedroom door opened and shut again. The eldest was home, clearly.

(Y/n) tried to wipe her face down again and she rocked Jamie in her arm, trying to keep him settled and asleep. She had just fed him and she knew she had to set him down soon so he could sleep properly rather than doze off in her arm like this. But she didn't have the strength to get up off the bed, let alone try and lean down and set him in the cot again. Picking him up had been enough of a struggle.

Eddie ran his hand along the back of his neck as he trudged up the stairs once he watched Paul scuttle into the living room. Both Chris and Tilly were toddling up the stairs just in front of him and he had watched Amelia hurry up.

He had done the school run today. Tilly was only three so she was only going to nursery three times a week. Eddie picked her up, took her for a walk to the park and then went to get the rest of the kids from school. He knew all of them would be tired now which meant it would be a bit easier for him and (Y/n) this afternoon.

A smile danced across his lips when he watched Chris and Tilly hurry down the hall and into his and (Y/n)'s room like bulldozers. They wanted to see her and the twins.

"Daddy…" Tilly looked from the bedroom doorway down to Eddie in the hallway and silently pointed back into the bedroom. Her actions caused a frown to appear on Eddie's lips.

He walked over to her, resting his hand on the back of her head as he leaned into the room to see why she looked so nervous all of a sudden. Was (Y/n) sleeping? Had she been sick?

(Y/n) was sitting on the edge of the bed like she wasn't sure whether she was going to slide off onto the floor or not. Her upper body was arched over until she almost had her chest pressing down into her thighs. One arm had one of the twins cradled into her side, and her head was bowed forward.

It was clear from the way her shoulders were quaking that she was crying. If that wasn't enough of an incentive, Eddie could tell by how Chris was stood at her side, running his hand up and down her back while he kissed her shoulder. None of the kids ever knew what to do when their parents were crying or how to console them.

"Alright, downstairs you two."

Once the pair of them scuttled out the room, Eddie walked in and sank down on the side of the bed next to her. He gently nudged his knee into hers and wrapped his right arm around her waist while his left hand cradled the back of Jamie's head.

"Why the tears, amor? What's up?"

"I didn't think it would hurt this much." (Y/n) huffed and kept her head tilted down so Eddie couldn't see her grave expression.

She felt stupid. She felt so silly for not realising just how much having a C-section was going to hurt in the aftermath. But she could barely get out of bed. They had four kids and two newborns to care for and (Y/n) had barely been able to leave the bedroom at all today.

She had been home all of two days and she wanted to curl up and disappear. Her stomach was killing her. It felt like she was covered in itching powder that she couldn't wash off no matter what she did. She just wanted to claw at her abdomen until her skin came off and she got some sense of relief. And sitting up was proving to be something she couldn't do.

(Y/n) couldn't straighten up without being in absolute agony, and she didn't know what to do with herself anymore.

"Pass him here so I can take a look, amor."

(Y/n) didn't grumble when Eddie carefully eased their boy from her arms and into his instead.

He pressed a quick kiss to Jamie's forehead before he got up and moved over to the crib opposite the bed. He eased him down, taking a peek to make sure that Lottie was still asleep and settled too before he went over to (Y/n).

Both her hands were now gripping the bed and she was leaning forward like she was about to take a nose dive off the bed onto the carpet.

Eddie went down on his knees in front of her and placed his hands on her thighs, carefully parting her legs enough so that he could kneel between them. His hands found her waist and her shoulder and he was slow and tentative as he tried to help ease her up into a straightened sitting position so she wasn't stooped over.

The movement made (Y/n) shudder and another wave of tears poured down her face. She tipped her head back and bit down on her lip until she could taste burnt copper on her tongue.

"Okay," He mused while he lifted her shirt up and carefully peeled back the elastic band of her pyjama bottoms.

His fingers carefully traced the neat row of stitches lining her abdomen in line between her hip bones below her belly button. He couldn't help but wince when (Y/n)'s stomach sucked in away from his touch and she all but shrieked at his tender touch.

"I'm guessing it itches too?"

"It- it's like it blisters, oh Eddie it hurts." Tears trickled down the bridge of her nose and she watched Eddie's face fall and his lips pursed into a saddened expression.

"Shit, baby I think they're infected."

The cry that (Y/n) let out broke Eddie's heart into a million pieces and he pushed up on his knees just as (Y/n) leaned down. Her head dropped onto his shoulder and her arms looped tightly around his neck, binding herself to him to refrain from scratching her stomach into shreds.

Eddie knew it shouldn't be hurting her this much, it should be uncomfortable and tight but not burning and itching like this. And if she continued to itch them she could tear them and make them bleed. But Eddie guessed she had an infection and that meant antibiotics, possibly new stitches and a longer recovery time.

"Okay, shh it's okay." His hand cupped the back of her neck and his other arm bound around her waist as he began peppering soft kisses against her temple.

(Y/n) had never had a C-section before now. Their other four births had been natural and they hadn't expected this set back this time either. It meant (Y/n) wouldn't recover as quickly. It meant more rest, less lifting and she couldn't stand up straight when she was walking around. Straining would make her worse too and she had kids to care for.

"Let me call Hen, see if she can watch the kids and I'll take you down to the emergency room. We'll sort it out, it won't hurt for much longer baby, I promise."

***

A constant ache burned in Eddie's arm as he rhythmically patted his hand against Jamie's leg while his other hand tapped against the bottle he was feeding him. The ache in his arms had been there since he fed and winded Lottie, who was now asleep in the living room.

Now he understood what the doctor was talking about when saying it would be hard but easier to do shifts with feeding them.

He continued to move about the kitchen, making sure to be slow so he didn't jostle the one week old too much and disrupt him.

Tilting his head down, Eddie pressed his chin against the end of the bottle, expertly trapping it between his chest and chin so his hand was free to reach out and turn the kettle on.

He could just about hear the music drifting down from upstairs over the sound of the kids chatting away.

(Y/n) had been upstairs for a while with Amelia so the eldest could get a bath. She could only have a bath if someone went with her in the bathroom so she wasn't at risk of seizing and slipping under the water. And Eddie was sure Amelia was staying up there with (Y/n) now to try and help her mum get washed and changed.

He grabbed a cup from the cupboard and closed his eyes, sighing when he heard the rest of the kids start to get louder in the dining room.

Chris and Tilly were painting at the table, and Eddie wasn't too sure what Paul was doing. He had been watching tv but now he seemed to be joining in the painting.

When a shrill scream tore through the air and vibrated into the kitchen, Eddie clutched his baby boy tighter to his chest and grimaced. He set the bottle down when poor Jamie coughed and moved into a spluttering cry from the scream that clearly frightened him.

Before Eddie could turn around, he could hear Chris whining and the sound of something clashing onto the table. Another scream tore through the air which he was sure was Tilly before Chris's voice rung out through the house.

"Dad!" Chris tilted his head back and slammed the paintbrush from his hand down onto the table.

When Paul tried to lean over him, Chris slapped his arm a bit too harshly, causing the five year old to recoil with a whine that turned into blubbering tears pouring down his face.

Paul had knocked into Chris when he tried to do his painting, causing a bright streak of green to slash across his page. And when Chris pushed Paul away, it caused him to clash into Tilly who knocked the cup of water across the table and onto the pallet of paints they had between them.

Tilly tried to hit and push both her brothers as large tears poured down her face and she let out a scream of defiance. She began to bash her hands against the table that was now a mess of children's paint and water and damp paper.

Over the noise they were making, the three of them could distinctly hear two sets of wails they recognised to be the twins, sounding from different rooms. But all of them stopped slapping and pushing each other when a harsh set of footsteps thundered into the dining room.

"Enough!"

A gasp tumbled past Tilly's lips and she jumped in her seat, twisting around on the cushion she had placed on the chair to make herself taller. She looked behind her, eyes wide and tears soaking her cheeks as she stared up at their dad.

He didn't look happy.

His hair was skewed and wild about his head. His brows were furrowed and his upper lip was curled like he was about to snarl at them. He had one of the twins resting against his shoulder, continuing to rub his back and trying to soothe him while his eyes roamed the rest of his kids to see what they had been up to.

"Chris, living room. You two clean the table now." Eddie pointed between the three of them before he patted Chris's shoulder to get him to stand up.

If they were going to fight they could all disperse around the house and stop painting. And now that Lottie was awake too, Chris could help Eddie with the twins so there wouldn't be anymore trouble.

When Tilly reached out and pushed Paul away from her, he turned round and slapped her hand until Eddie grabbed his shoulder and pulled him away so he wasn't stood between the chairs anymore.

"Stop it." He sneered and he pointed his hand down at Tilly when she leaned over like she was going to continue to try and hit the boys in frustration.

"Not fair!"

"Paul's fault-"

"Don't you think I've got enough fucking work to do? Get that mess cleaned up now or get out of my sight."

Chris shuddered and scarpered off past the double doors to get into the living room so he wouldn't be told off again. And he winced when he heard Tilly burst out into tears, sobbing loudly in the way she did when things didn't go her way rather than when she was unwell.

He knew Paul was starting to sniff and sob too. None of them liked being told off, and Eddie's tone had been harsh and snappy.

Eddie twisted on his heels and stormed out of the dining room, shutting the doors behind him so Paul and Tilly wouldn't follow. And in case they tried to sneak out the dining room without cleaning up. Eddie would hear either these doors or the kitchen door open if they tried to leave and he would tell them off if they didn't clean up.

He could feel his chest rising and falling and his raging eyes looked around the living room.

In an instant, he switched off the tv that was starting to annoy him. The background noise wasn't going to help the twins.

He pointed to the sofa, waiting silently for Chris to sit down even though Chris wasn't sure what he was being asked or what was going on.

"You all woke the twins. You can feed Jamie for me while I put Lottie back to sleep; again."

Chris nodded even though he knew he wasn't really being given a choice here. He sat up straight and stretched his legs out, opening his arms patiently for his little brother to be laid over his lap. Once Eddie adjusted his arms safely, Eddie headed through the hall to retrieve the bottle from the kitchen so he wouldn't have to go in the dining room.

He handed Chris the bottle before he carefully scooped Lottie up from the rocker near the armchair.

"Alright baby girl, I'm here." He carefully eased Lottie onto his chest, tilting back so she was laid against him with her face burrowed into his neck and his hand gliding up and down her back. He rocked her on his chest and began pacing the living room behind the sofa to try and settle her back down to sleep.

The kids couldn't play up and start messing around like that and expect Eddie or (Y/n) to play referee. Eddie needed (Y/n) to stay upstairs and rest, she still wasn't well and that meant that he was sorting the twins and keeping an eye on the rest of the kids. And he was trying to do some of the endless washing so (Y/n) wouldn't dare try and do it and over-exert herself.

He was playing the role of mother hen and he needed the kids to listen and do what they promised. Be good and help look after (Y/n).

"Dad…" Chris timidly looked behind him and held up the finished bottle, he had fed his brother but he wasn't good at winding him.

Eddie carefully laid Lottie on the sofa next to Chris, despite the way she was still whining and wriggling. He took Jamie and winded him and when he was done, he pointed at the rocker in the corner until Chris got down and sat next to the rocker on the floor.

"Settle him for me." Eddie's voice was thawing out a little but it still sounded gritty and Chris wouldn't dare argue.

He sat obligingly and started to sway the rocker up and down, nudging his brother's foot every now and then to try and get him to sleep. It meant Eddie could pick Lottie back up and soothe her while he slowly padded into the kitchen.

He settled on making a coffee and rocking Lottie in his arm as she fisted his shirt in her tiny hand and started to tug.

Eddie began humming quietly while he made a drink for him and (Y/n) and set on making a hot chocolate for Amelia. He knew if he didn't she would only come down and make one herself and tease him for not making her one.

His lips pursed and he straightened up, taking a deep breath when he heard slow, placid footsteps behind him.

"Yes?" His voice was cold but he'd lost the frustration he held earlier. He didn't have to look behind him to know it was Paul and Tilly trotting into the kitchen now they knew he was in here.

"Sorry daddy." Paul's voice was meek and he hurriedly set the cups, paint pallets and brushes down in the sink next to Eddie before backing away in case he was still in trouble.

"Sorry… you s-still mad at us daddy?" Tilly rubbed at her eyes and tried to sniff and take a deep breath, but she continued to huff and whimper, unable to stop herself from getting upset. She could be dramatic at times, if Eddie told her calmly to stop doing something she would cry and throw a tantrum as if he had shouted at her.

So whenever Eddie lost his well kept temper around her, it felt like the end of the world to Tilly.

Eddie's shoulders dropped and he turned round to look at them, feeling his heart plummet down to his stomach when he saw how sorry they looked for themselves. He kept Lottie cradled in his right arm, tucking her into his chest now she was starting to doze off and he crouched down, beckoning them both to come over to him.

"No, princess. But I just need you to help me. Mummy is sick, Lia's trying to help her and that means I'm feeding and changing the twins and looking after you three as well. You can't be throwing things and arguing and waking the twins up, that's not fair."

They both nodded, murmuring another round of sorry before they moved over and tucked into his chest. Tilly leaned her cheek against his chest and observed the newborn in his arm, trying not to squish up against her sister. While Paul burrowed down against Eddie's arm and kissed his cheek as way of an apology.

"But I shouldn't have snapped at you either, I'm sorry. I've got a lot to do, that's all."

He didn't mean it, he just needed them to help him. Eddie had two more weeks before he had to go back to work and he was dreading it. He hated the thought of leaving his growing family and leaving (Y/n) to care for them all when she still wouldn't be one hundred percent yet.

Eddie wanted to do everything he could for all of them, even if that meant wearing himself thin.

[annwrites]

⸻ sons & daughters. aemond | rook's rest outtake. ⸻

· pairing: aemond targaryen x niece!reader · type: outtake from this series · summary: aemond considers regicide. · word count: 1,214 · ꒰a/n꒱: gif

Aemond takes slow, measured steps—twigs and broken branches crunching underfoot, the air filled with smoke from dragonfire, Sunfyre lowly grumbling in pain as he curls further round his fallen rider—unsheathing Blackfyre from its scabbard.

He curls his long, gloved fingers round the pommel, gripping it tightly.

His chance—this most opportune moment—has finally arrived. He’d reluctantly bided his time, but now it has paid off.

He needs finish the job. Vhagar’s fire had not been enough.

Aegon will be dead—not that he ever deserved a thing he was given to begin with; it should’ve instead been his. All of it. The throne—with you sitting upon his lap; his lovely, beloved niece as his kind-hearted, gentle queen—the conqueror's crown resting easily upon his silver brow, your womb heavy with his heir. The Seven Kingdoms at his feet.

He will right uncountable wrongs.

He will get it all back.

Starting with you.

It will be his first decree once he is crowned—once he is coronated before the masses; ordained as King of Westeros by the Gods themselves—that the bastard Cregan Stark return his beloved niece; his lover; his betrothed; the mother of his future children; his future wife and magnificent queen to him at once.

Elsewise, if his demands are refused, he will fly North, root the traitor out of his pathetic stone castle, and put him to the sword before taking back that which should have remained by his side all along. He will have his southron armies destroy his entire kingdom as recompense for stealing one of his things.

He will save you from yourself.

It has always been his responsibility to look after you.

You.

Your delicate, feminine body.

Your gentle heart.

Your too-fragile mind.

A mind he’d thought for so long he solely held in the palms of his hands—had thought belonged to him, had believed thought of naught else but him—he had taken countless measures when the two of you were only children to try and ensure as much—just as his did and does you…at an inconceivable level now. Your name—the words beloved and niece—in constant circulation within.

It has made conducting Small Council meetings…difficult. The inability to concentrate on any one thought that isn’t you.

Once he has you back in his possession, all will be well. Things will calm and return to what he needs them to be.

His loving niece.

How good it will be to know where you are at all times finally: locked safely within his chambers, which only he shall possess the key to. Your life will be perfect. He will spoil you with fine, decadent things, and you will be grateful. He is sure of it.

And he will have Maester Orwyle remove that revolting parasite from inside you. And once he is ready, he will give you a new child to love and carry and grow in your perfect, royal womb.

Left to your own devices, you prove clearly helpless. Unable to think properly for yourself.

Look at the damage you have already wrought. He knows the blame still yet lies heavily with his mother—his grandsire—but you must shoulder a portion of it as well.

You broke his heart. Have driven him to the brink of madness.

How…how could you be so selfish? You have never been before. Never. Not his beloved niece. You’d never behave in such a manner.

Always kind and selfless was you. Always.

Perhaps your whore mother is to blame, then, for this sudden change.

Yes. It is she that is to blame! She had wanted the North, and so she handed you over to that revolting northern dog to take to wife to have it.

She will pay for it. With fire and blood.

Killing Rhaenys is only the start.

He won’t stop until he has you back.

He will seek vengeance to no end.

What else does he have to live for now? You are the only person in all the world who ever treated him with genuine kindness. Who ever loved him unconditionally. The only one who ever understood him. The only friend he ever had.

He can’t wrap his mind around the expectation that he is to bear his existence without you now. He can’t fathom it.

You are his purpose.

Mayhaps the blame partly falls upon himself as well. He’d made a promise to take care of you—to keep the two of you together—and how many times has he now failed you in that? He should’ve gone to you the last night where you’d been present at the Red Keep—present within your rightful home—and taken whatever measure was necessary to make you his at last.

Coaxed you gently into bed—you’d been so like a frightened young fawn that day when the two of you were reunited; had been so shy in his arms, so innocent. His teaching you about your own body and his had been cut far too short as children. He’d needed more time.

He always needed more time when it came to you.

None would ever be enough.

Not even eternity would be.

Gods, how he fucking needs you back. Needs you with him every fucking moment of every day. Always within his hand, within his eye’s sight. Or otherwise, safely locked away.

He takes step after step until his brother’s broken body lies before him. Half-burned and bleeding—limbs turned the wrong way—choking on himself.

A few more steps now and he will finally—finally—be in control at last. Everyone will answer to him. Everything will be as he wants it to.

Including you. Most of all…you.

His beloved—

“Your Grace!”

No.

No.

He turns his head, looking slightly over his shoulder, silver strands slipping down his back, watching as Ser Criston approaches.

He clenches his jaw so hard, he fears cracking his teeth under the pressure.

He should kill them both. Neither shall be missed. Criston as Hand. What a jest.

He will not be his. He does not need him, or require his services.

Aemond kneels, retrieving Aegon’s catspaw dagger from the burnt forest floor.

Criston drops to his knees.

Aemond steps quietly toward him and begins to raise the blade.

He is so close to having what he wants now.

What he needs.

One slice.

And then another.

It will be done.

He is standing behind him now.

One slice.

And then another.

It will be—

“Ser Criston!” Calls someone from behind.

And when Aemond turns, a handful of men in full armor come toward them.

“Is His Grace alive?!”

Aemond sheathes the dagger, anger radiating from him. Pure loathing.

Malice.

Ruined. It is all fucking ruined.

He begins heading back toward Vhagar, seething.

He will win you back. One way or another, he will.

This war is not yet over.

Not nearly.

And when he becomes king? Fuck clemency.

He will be a tyrant.

It is now the only way.

They’ve all left him no other choice.

He needs be in control.

Of everything.

Most of all?

His beloved niece. It will be the best thing for you. In time, you will see. Will understand that all he does, he does for you. In your best interest.

Uncle Aemond knows best. It had been his mantra at one time when it came to you. It shall be again.

[sayruq]

Here's another update because the situation is changing again.

The fighting continues

Things are clearly not going well for the Israelis because they've trotted out the widely unpopular president of the Palestinian Authority to try and weaken support for Hamas among Palestinians and the global South.

For a while there, it seemed Israel was truly preparing for the ground invasion of Gaza it has been promising since Operation Al Aqsa Flood started

Israel has even come up with a plan for the tunnels of Gaza that the Palestinian resistance was planning on using and it's predictably evil and, by their own admission, unlikely to truly work

Israel and Hezbollah have been increasingly tussling over the past day and a half. Remember Hezbollah has said if there's a ground operation in Gaza, it will officially join the war (unofficially, it's been supporting Palestine by bombing military targets in northern and southern Israel)

Israel is understandable worried about Hezbollah. After all, they were humiliated in 2006 when they invaded Lebanon. They were so humiliated, they don't really mess with Hezbollah (prior to this war that is). They bomb Syria, assassinate Iranian officials, bomb the Egyptian border but they largely leave Lebanon alone.

In fact, they're so worried about facing Hamas in Gaza with Hezbollah and possibly Iran coming in that the inevitable Gaza ground operation started to get hiccups

Ah yes, clouds.

But that's not the real reason. Rumours have been circulating that there has desertions in the army, enough people are leaving that the top Israeli military officials are having trouble with their plans. Morale is also very low which is part of the reason they're attacking Gaza so heavily. It's a depraved and desperate attempt to project strength to their soldiers and the settlers

There is also the fact that Hezbollah is nothing to sneer at

The situation is simply not looking good for Israel at all and America is rightly worried

America has tried helping it out by convincing Iran to back down

I bet both America and Israel regret all those assassinations.

So, what now? It should be obvious that a ground of invasion of Gaza is unlikely to happen

Israel situation is so humbling, it is putting out statements like this. Imagine Israel saying this 2 weeks ago

Surely without a ground invasion, Iran and Hezbollah will also back down? Nope, the red line has shifted and now Israel has to stop its bombardment of Gaza or face a regional war

Israel now has a choice to make that will decide the future of the settler colony

Of course when Israel inevitably backs down, it'll try to frame it as though it was because the West pressured them to, out of concern for Palestinians. Nevermind Biden outrightly lying about seeing pictures of the 40 beheaded babies and this

and also nevermind that the entire western media has been calling for genocide against Palestinians. Nevermind the EU's first act when the war broke out was to cut off aid to Palestine.

Needless to say the rest of the world will know what caused Israel to back down.

Palestine.

Palestinians have dealt a huge blow, not just to Israel but also the US and the EU who have lost a lot of credibility by publicly calling for and materially supporting genocide in Gaza.

Best believe the global South has been watching this closely.

[ghouljams]

Okey but Gaz in my bloody valentine is so sexy. Approved. (Not that you need approval)

Here are my Gaz x My Bloody Valentine thoughts:

(spoiler they don't exactly follow the movie but I think they work well.)

Twenty years after Harry Warden's Valentine's Massacre, and the subsequent cancellation of the Valentine's dance, Kyle "Gaz" Garrick arrives in Valentine Bluffs to check out his family's mines with the intention of selling. Gaz is charming and funny, but he's also clearly an outsider and there isn't a lot of good will towards his family after they abandoned the town for London right after the Harry Warden tragedy. Not to mention the way Gaz pokes around and asks questions about the Warden murders, claiming that he's writing a book now that he's left the army.

Still, Gaz makes friends with a pretty little thing in the supermarket and learns that their mom was one of the nurses that Harry Warden killed after his rescue. He's sympathetic of course, and mentions that he's always had a fascination with Warden, that initially the story inspired him to try police work but eventually he ended up in the army.

Miners and people around town start turning up dead, butchered, and with the anniversary of the Warden Massacre coming up, people are obviously on edge. They also are pointing the finger at Gaz. He's new in town and the murders didn't start until he showed up. Gaz's pretty thing sees a Miner in a gas mask skulking around, and manages to escape his grasp with nothing but a few scrapes and bruises after witnessing the brutal murder of a town resident. Rumors begin circulating that Harry Warden is back and taking revenge on the town yet again.

Still, people are skeptical and Gaz is taken in for questioning after he is unable to provide an alibi. Gaz's pretty thing starts looking for evidence that Warden might have escaped from the asylum and is unable to find any records of him. Gaz posts bail while Pretty Thing witnesses the Miner kill a police officer who's been posted outside her house. Another chase ensues and Pretty Thing is nearly dragged to the mines before managing to escape. While running through the woods we see Pretty Thing stumble across an open grave, and finally make it out of the woods straight into Gaz's arms.

Despite Gaz's hesitance he takes Pretty Thing to the police where they file a report. The police are led to the grave where the mayor and former police chief are forced to admit that they buried Warden. With all evidence pointing towards a supernatural occurrence, Gaz is cleared of all charges. Gaz and Pretty Thing go back to Pretty's house, since Gaz's hotel room is still roped off, and have sex. Pretty Thing convinces Gaz not to sell the mine, and Gaz convinces Pretty to let him sleep over.

Gaz gets up in the middle of the night to pee, and Pretty thing hears him shout, and witnesses a spray of blood, before the Miner appears yet again and attempts to catch/kill them. During the chase Pretty Thing notices that the time on their phone is different from the one on their stove and realizes someone must have changed it. A quick calculation and a flashback reveals that given the time difference Gaz would have posted bail at least 30 minutes before the second chase.

Pretty Thing is caught by the miner and begs Gaz not to kill them, which startles the miner enough to stop him from killing them. Gaz rips off the mask with a grin and tells Pretty Thing that he knew they were smart, before knocking them out.

The credits roll, and in a small epilogue we see Gaz sitting in a helicopter with Pretty Thing passed out across his lap. The pilot asks if he got everything settled in Valentine Bluffs and Gaz tells him they'll make a killing on the movie rights.

[hiael]

Obey Me! Headcanons that the voices in my head created

The pact marks don't affect the MC in general, but when they are used, the color of the user's eyes tends to change to the color of sin (when Solomon sees the color of his eyes changing to the colors of his brothers, geez, jealousy boy), it happens more often than you think and in addition to the marks on the body, it's a reminder to everyone that you're connected with the lords of hell.

Human beings can speak very quickly and neither demons nor angels can keep up when this happens. Scientifically, we talk fast because of anxiety, nervousness, excitement or the communication conditions that the environment provides. Solomon and MC talking about something they thought was cool during the tea? For the others it becomes a RAP battle and all they can hear is "hum, nah, ha, hehe", the rest is indecipherable. More than once, during a presentation or debate in class, MC was told to shut the fuck up or slow down so that everyone could understand.

All material related to the history of the human world is more or less 100 to 200 years out of date in the library. Satan is slowly trying to update this, but they think that 200 years is almost nothing for humans to change, so unlike technology (which they think they created with magic) they just don't care. A new iPhone ok, now the human being landed on the moon during a bloodless war? Their lie, do you still believe what mortals say?

Humans sleep more than angels and demons, but even less than demons from the circle of laziness. MC, Solomon and Belphie (and sometimes Luke) usually sleep in some places at RAD during and between classes.

All exchange students have their own fan club. Luke's must be the quietest, everyone friendly and kind so as not to disappoint the little angel. Did you see him walking past you today, sad that he hadn't managed to buy a keyring at the RAD art fair? Bitch surprise, his fan club are still demons, the keyring will mysteriously appear on his desk in the classroom written "To Luke, a little big ray of sunshine in our lives" and the person who bought it has left the RAD, anyone know why?

Still on the subject of fan clubs, we're not talking about Solomon's. If the number of demons he has a pact with isn't enough of a warning, there are others walking around in capes and blouses as if they were cosplayers and sending letters to his house with phrases like 'roses are red, violets are blue, can we make a pact? Signed: Demon X' should be a better warning

And to end the fan clubs, MC's are trained in the art of being meticulous, a silent army that lives in the shadows - meaning they are in the devildom version of twitter. Lots of photos taken on the sly, fanart of all kinds, fanfics, merchandise and videos edits of (and when were they sheep? There are millions and millions of images circulating out there). Ever wondered why Miss Em sold so much? The MC fandom. They won't compete with anyone for their attention, the sweet human is simply appreciated the way they are (and they don't want to be on the brothers' list to "get away from the MC"). The Human Appreciation Club was not approved by the student council and they removed their devilpedia page, but that didn't erase these demons desire to idolize MCs. Live, love and laugh for MC, the way simps are.

At some point, the Real or Cake trend went crazy until Luke, who started making desserts that looked like everyday things, only stopped after surprising Simeon by cutting a cell phone-shaped cake (Simeon tried to break his with his hand after that, thinking it was cake. He spent 3 weeks without a phone)

Every time MC returns from a trip to the human world, they have to bring a suitcase just with souvenirs from there. Luckily, it can be anything they find fun, like a frog-shaped coaster, a jar of M&Ms with a pinwheel on top, a whole corn cake, a tie with a motivational quote, a children's book, or a coin of a specific year. Everyone just loves the fact that MC was thinking of them and they love using the gift they received. Barbatos's favorite tea set is now a completely transparent one with gold floral details.

Children's cartoons from 1940 still show on Devildom TV and Beel watches while eating or working out.

Lucifer has a family photo inside his wallet, Mammon once tried to steal his credit card, he was so shocked that he ended up screaming, he was caught and punish. Neither of them mention the photo.

[alpydk]

Inside Out

Oh, this is what I needed after all the smut. Just some lovely angst and pain... Oh, I feel so much better now. Thank you for @an-excellent-choice for this beautiful inspiration and letting me use it.

CW - angst (some comfort) - Despictions of wounds (possibly gross) - Also now edited - any mistakes are just me being a poor writer.

The bandages always itched and even wrapped tightly made no difference. All that was left then was simply the pressure around Gale’s wrists, a cutoff to his circulation as he tried to flex out his fingertips for the spells needed. “Sol Invictus.” The small pale lights glimmered under the fabric of his tent, a stark contrast to what lay beneath his flesh. A darkness, a shadow, much like he had become.

He sat alone, listening for the movement of his companions outside. They laughed over the cheap bottles of wine that had been discovered earlier in the day, a moment of forgetting their present lives of tadpoles and the constant threat of death or ceremorphosis, whichever came first. Sliding up the sleeves of his tattered robe, one once sewn by his mother of whom he missed desperately, he noticed the spread of the rot. How white bandages had become stained with dead flesh and had done little to contain what ate away at him.

Magical artefacts had been doing what they could, keeping the pain at bay whilst they travelled, keeping his mind together as his nerves burnt with every touch and movement. His body ached, but mostly his soul felt as if it were being torn apart. As if the very damage that was being done to him was all a construct of guilt and self-loathing. A positive can-do attitude and a few trinkets is all it would take to be fine, at least that is what he kept telling himself, and would do until the time of Midnight Tears arose. 

Unwrapping the stuck bandages made him grimace, a pulling as what was left of skin came away with the cloth. There was little pain with it, the damage done, the discomfort more of stubbing his toe than a surgical extraction with little anaesthetic, but still the sight was as unpleasant as the first time it had happened. Back then he would have panicked, would have tried all he could to repair or mask what was happening to him, even from himself. Now he simply did what he could to contain the damage, to keep it from his companions. They knew of the orb, but to this extent… He wouldn’t let them find the monster that lay beneath his smile.

A mixture of healing potions removed the worst of the blackened skin that lay along his forearms, the familiar taste of balsam and berries now no longer sickly sweet but just sickly. It was too much to take in one go, but it would be enough to knock him out for the night. His stomach turning would be a problem for him to deal with in the morning. Possibly something I’ve eaten, he would lie, should the question be posed to him.

 A light breeze blew in and a shiver of pain shot through his spine, causing him to grip onto the cloth of his robes. He buried his chin into his chest, muffling the low groan that threatened to alert his party. Long moments passed, one continual thought that maybe this was it, the time to depart, the consequences of his actions finally coming to greet him as if they were an old friend.

It had spread; he examined as the sensation passed up his forearms, his lower legs and feet now also requiring the same beige treatment. He’d never been one for alchemy or first aid, but he had learnt quickly what he needed to do if he were to prevent anyone seeing what he’d done to himself. The blackened tones of his skin, the path of his veins, a roadmap of where the poisons in his body spread. The markings of the orb were merely the capital of this landscape, the rot nothing but where slow conquering armies decimated and corrupted wherever they had been. It was only a matter of time before all was lost, before his body became that of a walking corpse. A ghoul with a soul, but no grave to speak of.

---

Days passed, magic items began to dwindle, bandages wrapped around Gale’s stomach now, and with each step he felt the ache in his knees as his joints rubbed upon one another. Every breath was tight within his chest, his diaphragm struggling to move against the cloth which held him together, a corset of his own construction binding his soul and body as one.

Tav had noticed the changes, the weight loss, the sunken eyes, but little help had been accepted other than the odd magical artifact. She could see Gale vanishing before her very eyes, once the proud wizard who spoke of knitting needles, now the one who spent much of his evenings in solitude, either gazing lost into the embers of a dying fire, or in secret in his tent refusing the help of others.

Tonight had been exactly the same. She had watched as he had departed the group, rubbing his forearms, the monk like dressings wrapped around his hands, woven between his fingertips when weeks before they had been absent. Tomorrow he would emerge with fresh ones, claim they were for aesthetical purposes before batting away any further questions. As he disappeared, she thought over what her intentions would be of questioning him. Was it for his good or hers? Did she really care about him, or was he a means to an end of ridding her of the tadpole? Little deliberation was done as she heard the faintest groan from his tent and she rushed over before stopping, catching her breath and knocking on the wood above the closed flaps.

“Gale, it’s me Tav…”

He tensed up immediately, his robes removed, his bare chest on display, the bandages hanging loosely. Some had become stuck upon one another, and he’d had to pull sharply to remove them, causing a deep stab of pain as the wound had responded angrily. “Tav,” he managed to speak out, trying to keep his voice level despite the breaths he was trying to capture. “Now is not the best of times.”

She could hear the waiver of his voice, the pain she herself was all too familiar with from her own life, one of her bones weary and tormenting. The tadpole for her had been a blessing, but clearly it was not the same for him. “Are you okay?” It was a ridiculous question, she knew, but she did not want to leave until she was sure he could manage alone.

The sound of Tav’s voice put his mind in turmoil. To have her leave or join, he could not cope with either way. There was simply too much for him to handle and he longed for a dreamless sleep brought on by wine and the mixture of potions. “Yes, merely dropped a tome upon my foot,” he lied through gritted teeth as he slumped onto his bedroll beneath him, his body too weak to support him any longer.

She heard the thud, the rush of adrenaline in her system causing her to act, and she entered the tent with little regard for his objections.

“It’s nothing. You need not fuss over me.”

It took a moment for her to gather what she was seeing, the way he had been decomposing, the scent of spices, sandalwood and apple, washed into the bindings to prevent the smell of death from spreading further than his own body. She saw the blisters over pale flesh, the stains of blood and puss upon his skin and robes. “Gale…I…”

“I said it’s nothing!” he snapped at her before gripping his hand to his chest, the anger causing the markings of the orb to illuminate brightly in the dim light. He breathed deeply, trying to take his mind to a glade of tranquillity, one far away from Netherese magic and Mindflayers. It was as Tav’s hand touched his shoulders that he was brought back to reality, her cool palm on his feverish flesh almost overwhelming after a year of solitude.

She said nothing, but knelt down beside him, examining the wounds that lay upon his body, wishing there was something she could do, anything to save him from this fate.

He knew he was nothing but skin, bone, and rot; knew that beneath that, he was even less, and yet still she sat with him. And it was with that one simple act he broke, that the tears fell, and the truth came out. He felt weak, vulnerable, nothing but a child crying over red roses once again. She would leave him, or he would leave her, but either way, he would be alone.

And yet she stayed, for the entire night she stayed with him, holding him close, embracing the shadows as if they were her own. She watched over him as potions took their effect, wiped his brow with a cool cloth as sweat beaded like blood on fresh cuts. She stayed. She stayed…