#looking forward to in a fortnight's time!

[a-hollow-forest]

.

[roses-and-elixir]

This week feels so insanely long, how is it only wednesday?

[cryptidcrone]

T H E M

I wanted to do more art for Black Emporium 2023 than I managed to finish in time, so here's Cassandra and Vivienne.

[earthtooz]

ratio is jealous bc im weak to him being jealous om, gn!reader but they wear a dress, fluff !!

“darling, this is a serious matter and i expect you to treat it as such,” veritas scolds as his face hovers inches away from yours, his body keeping yours captive against the softness of your shared bed.

“serious? well i think you seriously need to get over it. i spent a lot on that dress and i’ve been looking forward to wearing it to the gala all fortnight,” you scold, trying to look stern with the man hovering above you. “even if you don’t like it, i’m wearing it.”

“don’t like it?" he parrots, utterly appalled. "you’ve got the wrong idea. on the contrary, i think i like it too much.”

your hand snakes up to pinch his heavily defined deltoid. “then what’s the problem?”

“because others will love it just as much as i do.” there’s distaste in his voice when he tells you that, and the way his eyebrows furrow are similar to that of when a student asks him a question that he deems ridiculous.

"sure thing," you roll your eyes at his statement, clearly not believing him, and it vexes him that you are not aware of your ability to capture the attention of bystanders just by entering a room. veritas has witnessed it himself a multitude of times before he had become yours.

the scholar would seethe an envious green whilst keeping an eye on everyone who'd approach you, absolutely burning with jealousy because he was not the sole man of your attention. he'd lament over who he'd become, who you made him become whilst glaring at anyone who came near.

then, you'd smile at him and the fury he felt prior melts away because none of them could ever compete against someone as esteemed as the veritas ratio for your affections.

he's grateful that you saw through those idiots and chose him to be your partner in the end, but aeons, that has not done anything to cure his temper. years of treading the liminal space between friends and something more for too long can make any individual antsy.

"either way, i'm wearing the dress."

"fine. then i should forewarn you that you may find me overbearing tonight, and to not blame me for it."

his arms that were holding up his weight slip when your arms wrap around his neck, bringing him closer to you. veritas feels a little lighter when you litter kisses on his cheeks. "no need to be jealous, ratio, i'm all yours."

(true to his word, he does not part from you that evening, acting as an accessory to your outfit. he clings to you, hand never leaving your skin, always moving from your wrist to your waist to your shoulder. you can’t stray from him for more than an arm's length because you’re always tug back towards him before you can get too far, and then he'd follow you to your destination.

outsiders may observe and call him clingy, but judging by the carefree smile on your face and the way you’d beam at your lover every time he would pull you back to him, it doesn’t seem to bother you too much.)

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

[luveline]

I am so incredibly sick rn and desperately craving some Hotch comfort—maybe bau!gf who desperately tries to hide the fact that she’s sick even when she’s burning up and can’t keep her eyes open, and Hotch who just wants to take care of her!!

thank you for your request! i hope you feel better soon. —hotch fights to take care of you when you hide a fever. fem!reader, 1.4k

Spencer knows you're sick, but he's the only one who's figured it out so far. Everybody else is too busy. 

He pushes your coffee toward him and exchanges it for a cup of water without saying anything. You're relieved to find it's ice cold, fighting to drink it without spilling it, or worse, pressing it to your furnace of a forehead. 

"Just go home," he says. 

"I like it here," you say lightly.

"You're fatigued, obviously running a fever, and probably disoriented if your eyes are anything to go off of." 

"Are they?" you ask, eyes fluttering closed. 

You prop yourself on your hand. Having a desk right next to Spencer has its ups and downs. Ups including physics magic, surprise trinkets, and all the donuts you can eat. Downs include this —he's too good at his job but bad at taking a hint, so while he's realised that you're sick and tired and should probably head home, he hasn't stopped to think you might be keeping it a secret for a reason. 

If you take more sick leave already after your week long bout of food poisoning only a fortnight ago, it will look like you're trying to take advantage of Hotch. You don't want the team thinking you're cheating and you don't want Hotch to think this is how it’s going to be. You’d never use him like that, but it’s so early into the relationship that there’s no way for him to know that for sure. 

You take a measured breath. You're the kind of sick that yearns for bed, head heavy, a pounding pain behind your eyebrows and a nose you can't breathe through. Your lips are chapped despite the thick layer of balm you applied that morning. The weight of a bowling ball rests in your sinuses. Your head begins to list forward. 

"Y/N?" 

You look up, rubbing your forehead as nonchalantly as you can manage. Hotch stands with a hand on the railing of his half-platform, eyebrows pulled together as they tend to be. 

You like the sound of your name on his lips, even if it's said with question. 

"Yeah?" you ask. 

Before, it would've been, Yes, sir? But Hotch told you (while in boyfriend mode, assumedly) that it makes him hot around the collar (though he'd said it more delicately), so now you save it for special occasions, like when you want to get your way, and when he looks especially perturbed.

"Something wrong?" he asks. 

He can't like the way you say, "I'm fine," maybe he spots the far-away look in your eyes, your poorly concealed wince as your head throbs, maybe he just knows you. He gives you a look bordering reproachful and turns away. 

"My office," he says.  

Spencer sends you a pointed look. When he realises you aren't awake enough to glare back, he nudges you encouragingly. "Be honest," Spencer says. 

You almost fall up the short steps to the landing in front of Hotch's office. You don't knock before entering, and later you'll realise how odd this is. Hotch hasn't even sat down, instead straightening a paper from the wrong side of the desk. 

"What's wrong? Another migraine?" he asks. 

"No. I'm alright, did you want something?" 

He turns around fully. You like seeing him after hours without his suit, arms behind his tired neck and eyes half-lidded, but this look is just as good on him: furrowed brows, a hand twitching toward you but not touching. He tries not to cross the line here at work because when it starts it never ends. Your evaluations have to be cross examined and approved by a higher up, you are not permitted to room together on cases, and you have to report to HR every three to six weeks to reaffirm that Hotch isn't being coercive. It's odd and invasive at times, but these are things you have to do to be together. You'd do worse. 

"Did I want something?" he asks. It's more patient than incredulous, but the incredulity is definitely there. 

"From me?" 

"I want lots of things from you." He breaks eye contact with you and turns back to his things, shuffling papers into a manila folder. You blink dozily, wanting a hug and needing him to let you go back to your desk lest you give in and lean against his broad chest. "Like for you to take care of yourself." 

"I'm fine." 

"Forgive me if this is something I shouldn't say, but you don't look okay. You look sick." 

You summon your most convincing smile even while his back is turned and enthuse your tone with some practised pep. "Well, it's not the most romantic thing in the world." 

He ties the cord on his manilla envelope and clicks open his briefcase. It's a testament to how sick you are that you didn't notice it there, nor his coat thrown over the edge of the desk. 

"You going somewhere?" you ask curiously. 

"I'm taking you home, honey." 

You shake your head. "No, you're not. I'm fine." 

Hotch puts his coat on regardless. Briefcase closed and in hand, he walks the short distance to you and scans your expression for any give. "Let's go home." 

"Hotch–" 

"Home," he says, a hint of a smile playing on his lips. "No more 'Hotch'." 

You take a step back but not one more than that, startled by his readiness to leave, and his reluctance to believe you. You're a bad actor and he's trained in the art of untangling deception —it isn't going to work. You give it a valiant effort. 

"You don't have the resources to give me the day off. You definitely don't have the resources to take a day off with me, and that's fine because I'm not sick." You rub your face clean, dust off your work blouse. "I have a headache, it's not so bad." 

Hotch actually smiles, then. You worked for him for three months before you realised he could. It isn't what you're expecting. It disarms you.

"Liar," he says, ducking down to give you a kiss. He sounds amused and sorry at once, an impossible combination marked by his small smile and his protective hand at your elbow. 

Every kiss is like a shock. Not because Hotch is particularly abrasive to the senses, the opposite —it feels right. 

"I'm not lying," you say.

"Take the day off with me, then." 

He knows he's being a bit of a bastard, evidenced by his smile, but he sobers for your sake. "You're lying to me, but that's not what matters. I can feel your head like a flame and I'm not even touching it. And you've kept your secret well, honey, but Reid's a good friend." 

"What did he tell you?" you murmur. 

"You fell asleep for sixteen seconds." 

"When?" you ask in disbelief.

"A couple of minutes before I called for you." Hotch squeezes your arm. 

"If we go home you'll have so much work to do when we come back," you lament. 

"It'll be the same as any other day," he says. He's slipped into his most dulcet tone, the kind he uses with family. "I am… desperate, to take care of you. I can't do that here. Please oblige me and let me do it at home." 

"Oblige you?" you ask. 

"Being your boyfriend isn't working. I thought I would try boss instead." 

You relent, finally. You genuinely can't abstain from him anymore, not when he's being as ridiculously charming and gentle as he is, his hand steadying at your elbow. Plus, your brain is probably gonna explode inside of your skull any second now if your headache is anything to go by. You drop your face into his chest and sigh, relieved when his hand moves to your shoulder, and his cheek presses to the top of your head. 

"This is inappropriate," you mumble. 

"You're really not well, hm?" he asks, just as quietly. "I'd be negligent if I didn't take notice. Doubly negligent if I didn't take you home." 

"Human resources…" You mean to say more. He's solid, he wants to hug you, and he smells like his expensive cologne. Hotch has a presence about him that's automatically comforting once you overcome the intimidating. Sometimes, even, the intimidating helps it along. You feel sheltered by his arms. Totally safe. It's probably why you nearly pass out in his embrace right there and then. 

"Okay," he says, rubbing your back. "Alright. I'll let human resources know your complaint, honey, don't worry. Let's get you to the car." 

[rennalaqotfm]

𖤓 DRAGONSPEAR | J.V (PART IV)

Pairing: Prince Jacaerys Velaryon x Martell Princess! Reader

Synopsys: Upon discovering Aemond Targaryen's alliance with the Triarchy, the Blacks are pushed to the point of desperation. With the war looming over the horizon, they have no choice but to turn to an unlikely ally: House Martell.

Content Warning: Sexual content (but MDNI 18+ just to be safe), dry humping (-ish?), violence, alcohol consumption, toxic dynamics, swearing, themes of prejudice and misogynism, and a lot of 'fucking politicking,' as King Viserys said, (not proofread).

WC: 5.6k

Series Masterlist

(A/N and taglist at the end of the chapter)

As the winds guided Ser Tyland's ship to the Free Cities, the excitement regarding the wedding of the future Princess of Dorne and the Crown Prince buzzed in the air. No ravens had to be sent, for the whispers began within the palace walls, spread through the bustling streets of Sunspear, and were carried by the desert winds across the dunes, reaching the furthest Dornish houses.

Princess Y/n sat before her mirror, watching her handmaiden, Melynda, fasten the back of her dress. A sweet girl of one-and-twenty, Melynda had been brought from Pentos on a cramped boat, a former slave traded by her master for coin. Ever since she had served the Princess with quiet devotion, her nimble fingers always making a masterpiece out of her.

Despite being draped in the finest fabrics of deep sapphire, adorned with intricate golden swirls and beads of amber, Y/n stared blankly at her reflection. The celebrations leading to the wedding were set to last a fortnight, a long stretch filled with feasts, ceremonies, and endless politicking. In mere hours, she would be facing the guests, forced to smile and charm as she and the Velaryon boy persuaded them to align with Rhaenyra's cause. She didn't even know where to begin looking for the strength and willpower she had to gather to convince those lords to join a war she herself didn't fully believe in.

“Is it too tight, Princess?” Melynda asked meekly, noting how Y/n had remained quiet the whole time she had been preparing her. "Princess?"

Suddenly, Y/n's bottom lip began to quiver as she felt a knot forming in her throat. 

“Gods be damned…” she muttered, feeling her tears pooling in her eyes. “How did it all come to this?” 

“If it's too tight, mayhaps I could—”

“Of course, it’s bloody tight! It’s damn near crushing my guts!” the Princess burst out, causing her handmaiden to stumble backward, her hands trembling. “I apologise, Melynda,” she sniffed, feeling the guilt pool in her chest. It wasn’t the first time she had taken her anger and frustration out on the younger girl. Of all the people in the palace, she was the least deserving of such crude treatment. “It’s just—”

“I understand, Princess,” Melynda smiled sadly, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. Y/n held her hand softly, holding back her cries. “To be betrothed to someone who you don't truly love must be a punishment for the soul.”

“I’ve been trying to avoid this all these years. Gods forbid a woman who wants to live a life free from all this nonsense," she muttered bitterly.

“You are to be the Princess of Dorne. It was bound to happen sooner or later.”

“But not with a Targaryen… someone who sees us as nothing more than goatfuckers.”

“Once you get to acquainted with one another, I’m certain he’ll see past the veil of prejudice that blinds the rest of Westeros.”

“Oh, we’re well past the point of acquaintances, and I’m certain we’ve both made it clear that we’d rather kill each other than push forward with this betrothal.”

“And yet, you've hardly spent a moment alone together, away from prying eyes. Forgive me if I'm wrong, my Princess, but this hostility you feel towards one another... it feels more like the weight of your houses than your own. He’s not truly wronged you, nor have you wronged him... well, apart from the few wounds you’ve exchanged.”

“I wish it were as simple as you say, but the hatred between our houses runs deeper than that trial. We’re talking about years of bloodshed, of lives torn apart by their desire to conquer what was never theirs. How can we ever forget that? If anything, those Targaryens are only reaping what they've sown.”

“I understand, Princess, but is it truly fair to place the sins of the forefathers upon their children? Yes, the Targaryens once sought to conquer Dorne, but they failed. And since then, they’ve left us to rule our lands. Why should Prince Jacaerys suffer for the wrongdoings of his ancestors when he himself hasn't harmed you?”

“You speak the truth, Melynda. But do you truly think the rest of the Dorne will see it that way?” She stared at her handmaiden's reflection. “The pain the Targaryens have caused... it’s not just written in our histories, it’s engraved into the souls of our people.”

“I’m not saying that your betrothal to Prince Jacaerys will reconcile your houses overnight, Princess. In fact, it may take generations to heal these wounds. However, if Queen Rhaenyra proves to be the rightful and just ruler she claims to be, and honours your demands... and you and Prince Jacaerys unite the Seven Kingdoms as promised, then mayhaps it could be the beginning of something.” 

Suddenly, both women were startled by a knock on the door.

“Yes?” Y/n cleared her throat.

“My Princess,” Ser Domeric said from the other side. “The guests have begun to arrive, and your presence is expected shortly.”

Princess Y/n quickly composed herself, ensuring that any trace of sorrow had vanished from her face, and replaced her semblance with a mask of indifference.

The late afternoon breeze crept through the palace windows, stirring the heavy air in the Hall but doing little to lift the mood. Spirits were low and the lingering music was drowned out by the quiet murmurs of the guests. Lords and ladies from House Yronwood to House Qorgyle had traversed across the arid deserts to Sunspear, not out of enthusiasm, but out of duty, their gazes shifting warily as they gathered to pay tribute to the Princess. Even Y/n herself, appeared as though she wished to be anywhere else.

At the high table, the Martells sat alongside the Targaryens, not able to look one another eye to eye. They faced the great houses, whose semblance didn’t hide their disdain for the dragonriders. They showed no efforts for forced pleasantries, bracing themselves for the next chapter of conflict rather than celebrating a wedding that would unite the Seven Kingdoms.

Before anything, Prince Qoren stood up, ready to speak before his people.

“It is truly an honour to welcome you all this evening, and I thank each and every one of you for making the long journey to Sunspear. Tonight, we gather not only to celebrate the betrothal of my beloved daughter, Princess Y/n Martell, to the Crown Prince Jacaerys Velaryon... but also, the union between House Martell and House Targaryen,” he spoke, the enthusiasm fading in his voice. 

The crowd fell into an immediate hush, the lords and ladies exchanging uncertain glances, some full of resentment, and some full of disgust. Y/n felt each pressing gaze suffocating her and tried to hide her discomfort behind the rim of her cup, already expecting those pessimistic reactions. After all, who in their right mind would willingly wed a Targaryen?

“Out of all of the suitors that have lost their lives willing to serve you and our realm, you chose to spare the one whose ancestors sought to conquer our lands?” Lady Liara from House Briar’s voice trembled, barely able to hold back her anger. “Could you not have shown mercy to my sweet boy Eldritch instead?”

The Princess had always been taught to hold back in such moments, especially in front of such a large audience, but before she could stop herself, the words were already spilling out of her mouth.

“My Lady,” Y/n began, trying to push down the feeling of irritation rising up her chest. “Remind me… who sent your son, alone, to seek my hand? As far as I know, someone that young shouldn’t be burdened with ‘providing me a strong heir’ or ‘making Dorne more prosperous than it already is.’ Those aren’t words a boy of three-and-ten should be speaking.” 

Lady Liara sank back to her seat with a scowl. The Princess’ gaze swept across the Hall, their faces etched with grief and bitterness, never forgetting the lives lost in pursuit of her hand. 

Whilst the guests sat in silence, waiting for either Prince Qoren or Princess Y/n to justify such a decision, Rhaenyra seized the moment to capture the crowd’s attention. She cleared her throat and rose slowly, her lilac eyes lingering on each guest, meeting the same eyes that had carried pent-up hatred for generations.

“By coming here, we are not denying the sins of House Targaryen,” she paused, allowing her words to settle, her gaze never leaving the crowd.  “I understand that to many of you, we are still the enemy. I am aware of the blood that was spilled and the pain that has lingered for generations. But the true enemies now are the Greens, who have usurped the Throne and seek to bring all of Westeros to its knees. And I know Dorne will not bend without a fight. Join us, and we will stand together. We can prevent the war that the Greens will bring to your lands.”

Despite Rhaenyra's words, the guests still mumbled with one another and her plea fell on indifferent ears. She clasped her hands together, holding her composure.

“So, the Greens are the enemies now, eh?" A voice echoing across the hall finally broke through the whispers. “To them, you are the usurper. And as far as we are concerned, they have yet to come to our lands to pester us with this petty war of yours.”

“Do not mistake their silence for mercy, my Lord. When they come, they will not ask. They will take. And by then, it may be too late to decide where your loyalties lie,” Daemon retorted.

“They have left us with no other choice,” Lord Lysander Dayne scowled. “Is this why you brought these beasts? So they can burn us if we refuse to join?”

Upon the mere mention of the dragons, the fear of the crowd became palpable. Prince Qoren’s face was flushed with anger, seeing that the celebration had somehow turned into a council meeting.

“Enough of this nonsense!” Prince Qoren bellowed, rising to his feet and jabbing his fist to the table. "We are here to celebrate the upcoming wedding of my daughter, not to squabble over this bloody war! If I hear more of it tonight, I’ll throw you in a pit of scorpions myself," his voice cut through the crowd, making the lords shrink back into their seats as he glared at Rhaenyra.

The music, which had momentarily ceased, began to play again. Princess Y/n exhaled deeply, gripping her cup as she swirled the crimson liquid. If she was going to endure the remainder of this night and persuade those thick-skulled lords to support Rhaenyra, she would need wine. A lot of it. She downed the first cup, the sweet taste lingering on her palate as her gaze shifted across the room, spotting the lords she had to sway.

Lord Lysander of House Dayne sat with his lady wife, his stern face etched with displeasure. He had made it clear where he stood, opposing any involvement in the war. Yet, he was infamously known for his ambition; he was the sort of man who would bend the knee for the right price, advancing his own house in exchange for his formidable army. Then there was Lord Thaddeus of House Yronwood, head of the second-most powerful house in Dorne, capable of providing enough supplies to sustain the armies at sea; a practical man, loyal to tradition, but always open to negotiation. On the other side of the Hall, she spotted Lord Ander of House Jordayne, who owned the largest fleet in Dorne.

Ser Domeric, being part of House Uller and their loyal informant, would provide whatever support was asked. And lastly, House Santagar, though not enthusiastic, had always been fiercely loyal to the Martells and would stand by their house regardless.

Despite the collective disappointment lingering in the air, as the feast came to an end, the guests stood up to salvage what remained of the evening. Jacaerys’ eyes followed Y/n as she rose from her seat, weaving through the multitude and making her way to Lord Lysander. The man bowed his head and extended his hand, offering the Princess a dance which she accepted with a smile that seemed far too charming than she would normally allow herself to be. Jacaerys couldn’t tear his gaze from Y/n, watching how she leaned towards Lord Lysander, her lips closely brushing his ear, as he nodded eagerly so as not to disappoint her.

“A celebration of our upcoming betrothal?” Jacaerys scoffed, already feeling his blood boil at the sight of the Princess with another man. Had they been at the Red Keep, the whispers would have already circled around, rumours of the Princess enjoying the company of other men, even while bound by a betrothal to him, that would call into question not only her honour but the legitimacy of their future children. He could already hear the council’s scandalous whispers behind closed doors–whispers that had been haunting him all his life.

“She’s quite gifted, isn’t she, my dear sister?” Elyas remarked, turning to Jacaerys. “She has a way of making men dance in the palm of her hand.”

“Only if one is foolish enough to fall for whatever games she is playing,” Jacaerys muttered.

Jacaerys and Elyas watched how Lord Lysander placed a kiss on top of her hand. With one final whisper, she slipped away from his arms and disappeared into the crowd, only to be seen again; that time with Lord Ander, who offered the Princess his hand without hesitation. 

“There are a couple of things you should know about her,” Elyas said with a sneer, glancing at the Princess. “One of them is… you’ll never be her only one.”

“You need not tell me what I can already see. It seems your sister is not familiar with the notion of faithfulness.”

“Faithfulness? As far as I’m aware, neither of you are bound by vows just yet,”  Elyas grinned, noting how Jacaerys clearly wasn’t enjoying the conversation. "But listen, this celebration isn’t meant for you to sulk in a corner, watching my sister dance with every lord in Dorne. It's for indulging. There’s a place not too far from the palace, where we know how to truly celebrate. Who knows? You might not even survive this war you’re throwing yourself into. You may as well enjoy the finest pleasures our land has to offer before it’s too late," Jacaerys’s knuckles whitened around his cup, his repulsion palpable, but Elyas only leaned in closer. 

As much as Jacaerys despised watching Princess Y/n flit from lord to lord, he wasn’t about to lower himself to her games. What was she trying to prove? Was she testing him, daring him to show any signs of jealousy or anger? Or mayhaps she was simply making it clear, once again, how much she misliked him?

Jacaerys refused to give Elyas the satisfaction of a response and merely shook his head. Elyas smirked, amused by Jacaerys' restraint, and stood up, ensuring he ruined the evening even more before leaving.

“Oh, and just so you know… whatever illusions you have about loyalty and honour, you'd best cast them aside. If you think my sister will suddenly change her ways after this betrothal of yours, then you’re completely wrong. I’m telling you now, she won’t. She’s as Dornish as they come… untamable and always chasing trouble. The more you tighten the leash, the more she’ll struggle to break free. And she’ll keep playing her games, whether you like them or not... so you better learn how to play them if you don't wish to end up as another one of her playthings,” Elyas said, slapping Jacaerys’ shoulder playfully before walking away.

Jacaerys hadn’t even realised how tightly he was clenching his jaw until the sound of Elyas and his sworn protector’s fading footsteps pulled him back to reality. He let out a breath, trying to shake off the bitterness away, and downed a gulp of wine.

But what he hadn’t noticed was a pair of dark wide eyes watching him from the other end of the table. It was Farien, whose gaze had been flickering between him and Elyas the whole time. When Jacaerys caught the boy's gaze, his expression softened. He set down his cup, watching how the little boy stood up and made his way over to him.

“If you marry my sister, does that mean you’ll become my brother?” Farien asked. 

“I suppose,” he forced a smile, though he wasn’t sure if the little boy was particularly glad about that.

Farien climbed on to the empty seat beside Jacaerys, glancing around the nearly deserted table and making sure none of his family members were nearby. All of the Martells were tending their own business, leaving the Targaryens seated in silence. The boy leaned in close, cupping his small hands around Jacaerys’s ear, scared that someone might hear what he had to say.

“So, does that mean I get to ride your dragon?” He whispered. 

Jacaerys looked at him, his eyes widening in surprise. 

“If your father allows you, then I suppose you could… but are you not afraid?” He asked.

“I’m really, really scared. But I wonder what it must feel like to see the world from up above. The closest I’ve ever gotten to flying is in my dreams, you know? It feels like I’m one of Father’s falcons, soaring high in the skies. Father says I have the gift to turn into one of them at night and watch over the desert,” he glanced up, his eyes gleaming in wonder.

Jacaerys looked at the boy and allowed himself to smile, as Farien somehow reminded him of his younger brother, Joffrey, whom he hadn't seen in a long time.

“Anyway,” Farien continued, “I think we could be brothers, you and I. We even look alike, see?” He pointed at Jacaerys’ curls. “It would be nice to have another brother... because, well, Elyas... he’s nice, sometimes. But not always.”

Jacaerys held back a scoff, figuring as much. 

“And what about your sister?” 

“We like sneaking sweets from the kitchens and feeding them to the horses,” Farien’s eyes suddenly lit up. “And she loves fighting, too. But not the angry, shouting kind, no. She says that sometimes, fighting feels like dancing, and that’s why she enjoys it. She’s really good at it. And I think you are too. But my sister is better.”

Just as he was about to ask Farien what other things his sister enjoyed, one of the little boy’s servants approached them. 

“My Prince, your father has sent me to take you back to your chambers to rest,” she smiled at the little boy, who had no choice but to accept dejectedly.

As the servant took him in her arms, Farien waved at Jacaerys with a small smile. He nodded at the little boy, unable to stop himself from smiling back.

“At least the little one is not as irritating as the rest of his family,” Rhaenyra said as her gaze softened, noticing how the little boy never tore his eyes from them as he got further and further.

“Give him a couple of years. He will turn out exactly like his older brother,” Daemon muttered. 

Then, Jacaerys' gaze trailed back to the Princess once again, who was still locked in a dance with Lord Ander. The exchange of whispers seemed to grow more intense, as his lips lingered on the shell of her ear, making her nod as her smile never left her lips.

“Jacaerys,” Daemon’s sharp voice cut through his thoughts. “Do you not have a duty to fulfil?”

“I have been fulfilling them since the moment we arrived,” he muttered, his voice laced with irritation. As Jacaerys had been doing everything he could to uphold his duties, Daemon merely sat back, watching the spectacle he had set in motion unravel before him. 

“You have, but sitting and watching the Princess be courted by every lord in Dorne is not one of them. Listen to me, these men are doing everything in their power to pull her away from our alliance since they can see she does not favour you,” he paused leaning in closer. “You are no stranger to this. If you two are to rule the Seven Kingdoms, she needs to be seen by your side.”

Jacaerys rose from his seat as he exhaled, growing frustrated by the second. It was all in the name of duty, after all. He headed towards the Princess with steady steps, disappearing into the crowd and dodging every drunken lord and lady that stood in his way. Lord Ander, who seemed to have more intentions than just dancing with the Princess, held her close, too close, his hands lingering on her waist. 

“My Lord,” Jacaerys cleared his throat, barely containing himself. Lord Ander snapped his head towards his direction. “I would hate to interrupt your conversation, but the hour is quite late, and Princess Y/n needs to rest.”

“Is that so?” He pulled Y/n even closer to him, making Jacaerys’ blood boil. “How come the Princess seems to be enjoying herself?”

Jacaerys’ eyes flicked to the cup in her hand, the liquid threatening to spill from the rim. He wasn’t a stranger to that dazed look and that loose smirk playing on her lips. 

“The Princess seems to have indulged in one too many cups. You may continue whatever… conversation you were having on the morrow, my Lord,” Jacaerys forced his words through his teeth. 

“Is that an order from the Crown Prince? Or from a boy who is still learning how to hold a woman’s interest?” Lord Ander raised a brow, sliding his hand even lower on her waist. 

The Princess’ gaze flicked between the two men, unaware of the escalating tension. She took another sip from her cup, her eyes landing on Jacaerys, finally acknowledging how dashing he looked in a Dornish ensemble of deep blues and golds.

“Gods, spare me,” she muttered, rolling her eyes. “You two sound like you’re ready to start another war.”

“If it means winning your favour, Princess,” Lord Ander said with a grin.

“Mayhaps that's a battle for another day. Besides, the Prince is right, the hour is quite late,” she said softly, growing tired at the show of bravado between the two men. She moved away from Lord Ander and took a step towards Jacaerys.

Jacaerys, whose heart was pounding with both anger and relief, offered her his arm. Y/n would’ve hesitated at first, but under the effects of wine, any qualms were long gone. She noted how he tensed his arm uncomfortably, unaware that she was putting pressure on the wound she had given him not too long ago. 

Casymir leaned against one of the pillars with a hint of amusement on his face, watching the whole scene unfold before his eyes. Once Jacaerys and Y/n were away from the crowd, he finally pushed himself off the pillar, approaching Jacaerys, who was struggling to keep her in place.

“Allow me, my Prince. The Princess is in good hands with me,” he said, extending his arm. 

Jacaerys glared at Casymir as he adjusted her weight in his arm, wondering what he was smiling for.

“You are the Princess’ sworn protector, are you not?” He raised his brow. 

“Yes, my Prince,” he smiled proudly.

“Yet all you did was stand and watch how the Princess wandered into the clutches of men with less than noble intentions,” Jacaerys tried to keep his composure, though his anger simmered beneath the surface.

“Do you question my service to the Princess, my Prince?” He chuckled, brushing the Prince’s concerns aside. “The Princess was in no immediate danger. And as far as I’m aware, a dance with a lord hardly constitutes a threat.”

“If you think a man whose ulterior motives are clearly written in his face not to be dangerous, then mayhaps we have very different understandings of the word danger,” Jacaerys said. 

“You greatly misunderstand the Princess. Lord Ander was eager, but he knew better than to cross the line. And besides, she would’ve ended his attempts long before you stepped in. As you might have already… experienced, the Princess knows how to handle herself and hardly needs to be coddled,” his blue eyes trailed at the way their arms were intertwined. “Though, it seems she doesn’t mind letting you try.”

“So, what are you here for, then? Just for decoration?”  

“Is picking fights with other men a favourite pastime of yours, my Prince?” The Princess laughed, poking fun at Jacaerys as she unconsciously tightened her grip around his injured arm. “You do seem to have a talent for making enemies wherever you go.”

Jacaerys hesitated, unsure if replying to the Princess was even worth the efforts given her current state, so he merely scoffed, shaking his head in defeat. However, one thing he couldn’t ignore was the feeling of having her so close as she mindlessly ran her hand up and down the length of his arm. He tried to calm his heart, but he couldn’t keep his composure with each stroke of her fingers that made him lean into her touch ever so slightly.   

Once they reached the Princess’ chambers, Casymir leaned on the door, his arms crossed with an infuriatingly calm expression on his face. 

“If you wish to be escorted back to your chambers, my Prince, I can call for a servant,” Casymir offered, implying that Jacaerys had overstayed his welcome.

“No. I wish to stay. The Princess and I have a few words to exchange,” he said.

“I’ll be fine, Cas,” the Princess slurred, assuring her sworn protector with a slow nod.

“As you wish, my Princess. I'll be just outside, should you require any assistance.”

Jacaerys stood by the door, unsure of what to do now that he was inside the Princess’ chambers. It wasn’t improper of him, as her soon-to-be husband, to be seen there, so he found himself leaning against the wall, trying to regain the composure that he had repeatedly lost throughout the night. His eyes trailed around the intricately carved golden statues that adorned the corners and the colourful tapestries that swayed slightly, catching the faint breeze that slipped through the windows and bringing with it the distant murmurs of the ongoing celebration. 

Only when he heard a soft clink and the steady stream of wine being poured into a cup, he snapped out of his thoughts. Before he could even think, he turned to Y/n, walking towards her and snatching the cup and jug from her hands, causing her mouth to hang open in disbelief and indignation. 

“You will not drink any more tonight,” he ordered, pouring the liquid out of the window and slamming the cup aside.  

“Well, isn’t this absolutely perfect?” She spat, throwing her arms in the air in defeat. “Not only will you take away my freedom, but now you wish to take away one of the few things that bring me joy?”

“You must live a very miserable life, Princess, if wine and men are the few things in life that bring you joy,” Jacaerys burst out, no longer able to contain the pent-up anger that had been brewing all night.

“Oh, believe me, I’ll have a miserable life once I marry you.”

“And what makes you think I want to marry you? That behaviour of yours… is unacceptable,” he wrinkled his nose in disgust. “I do not wish to marry someone who is a slave to their desires.”

“A slave to my desires? Is that what you think of me?” Y/n shouted, unable to control the fury taking over her voice.

“What else am I supposed to think when you go from lord to lord like a marionette whose strings had been cut?” He paused, taking in her dishevelled appearance. “I was not aware how these Dornishmen could name someone so ruthless and so debauched as their Princess.” 

“And I didn’t know you Targaryens go around crowning bastards just to keep your house on the Throne,” she spat, making sure to rest her gaze on his dark eyes and on his brown locks long enough.

“You whore–!”

Before Jacaerys could finish his sentence, Y/n's palm collided with his cheek in a stinging slap, his head snapping to the side. His eyes widened, more in shock than pain, as his hand instinctively rose to the reddening mark on his face.

“A whore? A savage? A goatfucker?” Y/n's voice trembled with fury. “Is that all you see me as?” She shoved him hard, sending him stumbling backward until his back hit the wall. Her finger jabbed into his chest with every word. “You,” she spat, “should be thanking me for getting my hands dirty, persuading those lords to join your petty war!”

Jacaerys was stunned into silence momentarily, feeling every ounce of her rage bleeding through her words.

“And who told you to do that on your own?” Jacaerys shot back. “You could have asked me, we could have gone together and spoken to them like it is expected of us!”

“You overestimate yourself,” she scoffed, narrowing her eyes at him. “Do you even know what those lords think of you? Of your family? If it weren’t for our betrothal, they would have driven a spear through your chests without a second thought. Because to them, you Targaryens are nothing but bloodthirsty murderers who’ve come to take our lands all over again.”

“Enough!” Jacaerys grabbed her by the shoulders and spun her, slamming her against the wall. “You think I do not know that? You think I do not feel it every time I step into a room? The way they look at me? At my family? You think I enjoy being the enemy?” He seethed, feeling his throat grow raw with each word. “Gods, you are infuriating,” he grunted, realising how close their faces were to one another. 

The Princess’ lips curled into a smirk, a flicker of satisfaction lingering in her eyes. She had struck a nerve, realising how Jacaerys was always quick to react to whatever blasphemous speech she had to say about his family, and once again, she had managed to unleash the dormant wrath that blinded his actions. 

As the Princess found herself cornered between his arms and the wall, she crouched low, slipping beneath his arms in a fluid motion and spinning around to pin Jacaerys against the wall, pressing her chest to his back. Jacaerys reacted instinctively, kicking off the wall to shove her back. The sudden force sent her stumbling as she crashed on the ground, and he followed, landing on top of her in a tangle of limbs.

Just as he was about to stand up, Y/n yanked him back down and rolled on top of him, keeping him in place by locking her thighs around his waist and pinning his arms on the floor with one swift movement. Truth be told, Jacaerys could have easily pushed her away as her usual strength was halved by the wine; yet he remained still, feeling the warmth of Y/n’s body pressed into his, and how their faces were inches apart yet again, her breath hot on his skin.

Once again, he found himself under her mercy.

She stared down at him with half-lidded eyes and lips slightly open as she breathed lightly, taking in the sight of Jacaerys’ flushed face and his gaze clouded by desire. Jacaerys looked up at her and gulped, feeling his erection stirring uncomfortably beneath his breeches.

His eyes locked onto her plump lips and trailed towards to the hollow of her neck, down to her chest. He stared hungrily as she leaned towards him, his fingertips itching to explore the skin hidden beneath the fabric of her dress. As she got closer and closer to his face, Jacaerys’ breath hitched, and without realising it, his lips parted slightly as his eyes fluttered shut in anticipation. His pulse quickened, waiting for the warmth of her lips pressing against his.

But instead of the kiss he craved, he felt the hot caress of her breath graze the shell of his ear, sending a shiver down his spine. Her voice, low and smooth, held him captive with each honeyed word.

“If you want to win this little war of yours, you better start by respecting me,” she whispered as she let go of one of his wrists and began tracing delicate patterns with her finger. “Just because I’ve chosen you as my betrothed doesn’t mean I won’t change my mind,” she bucked her hips against his hardened cock, causing Jacaerys to groan at the sudden spark of pleasure coursing in his veins. 

In that very moment, Y/n had uncovered yet another emotion—the primal desire that, despite her infuriating attitude, she had managed to set ablaze. If Jacaerys had to ask himself how it happened, he wouldn’t know where to begin answering. Had it all started when they first met, when she held little regard for him? Was it in the arena, when she brazenly humiliated him in front of everyone? Or was it the fact that they always seemed to find themselves pointing a blade at each other’s throats? Behind all that anger and hatred, and the prejudice that blinded him from seeing the Princess as she truly was, lay a spark of curiosity. Something he knew that once he began to explore, that spark would turn into wildfire.

With each passing second, he fought against the temptation to place his hands on the curve of her hips and make her grind herself against his cock.

“Remember, my Prince,” she purred in his ear, bucking her hips once again. “The wedding has not taken place yet, and anything could happen.” 

A/N: For some reason, i keep beating my wordcount record. istg my fanfic wc is way bigger than all of my uni papers combined, and bare in mind i was a humanities student lmfaooo.

anyway, i feel like this chapter was a mess. jace's patience continuously getting tested by everyone, and our reader making things even harder for him. i actually feel sorry for those two but the way they are handling things is not very demure, mindful or cutesy. we got the exact opposite.

Taglist: @happinessinthebeing @deltamoon666 @dark1paradise @elz-zalarrr @v0dka4a (continued in comments)

[endless-ineffabilities]

sapphire-hearted (part six)

Aemond Targaryen x f!reader

Aemond races to find you, but will he be too late?

themes/warnings: language, some angst and pining, Aemond's attempt at being a wedding crasher

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

The days in King’s Landing have stretched thin and hollow since you departed. Aemond’s face is impassive, his mouth a tense line as he stalks through the stone corridors, but beneath his steely exterior, frustration gnaws away, relentless in its assault.

Your voice, your touch, the sweet nectar of your cunny—the memory of his last encounter with you festers like a wound. He sees it, feels it all whenever he shuts his eyes, the way his incomparable, beautiful Lady rode him without abandon. 

But you left a fortnight ago, bound for your familial seat, House Darry in the Riverlands, with barely a farewell. You mentioned something about duty, and tending to an ailing cousin, and you were gone before he could fully express his displeasure. He impatiently awaits for you to return to him, for it is in his arms where you truly belong. 

Alys is relentless. Her whispered words, her sidelong glances, all promises of power and alliance. She revels in his ambition. In his hunger for victory, which proves to be rather personal than for the good of the Crown. She knows what to offer him, and what to ask for in exchange—a babe, half dragonblood and half witchling—but his mind is distant, always circling back to you. Alys’ proposal has lost its taste in your absence. 

Even Alys senses it now, the dangerous edge in Aemond’s silence, a fury held too tightly under control. He burns with yearning for you, and the possibility of winning without you by his side has begun to feel hollow. 

If only you would understand what he must do. If only you could see the truth of Alys’ hand in keeping Aegon on the throne. But you fail to give credit to what Aemond has had to sacrifice.

The hour is late, but when he turns the corner, Aegon is lounging idly, surrounded by his lackeys by one of the grand columns, an amused smile on his lips.

“Brother, why you look like a storm in chains,” Aegon says, stretching with that lazy indifference only he could manage. “And yet, I believe I am aware of the source of your… troubles.”

Aemond’s eyes narrow. “If you have something to say, then speak it.”

Aegon chuckles, barely perturbed. “Ah, but it is known! In a few hours, your dearest beloved is to wed, or so I hear, I never pay much mind to things of no import… To Ramsay Beesbury of all men, that honeyed sod.” He pauses, savouring the shift in Aemond’s expression. “Surely word must have reached you?”

There is a flash in Aemond’s eyes, one that shifts quickly from shock to a lethal rage. “No one informed me,” he says, his voice taut as a blade. “Who arranged this?”

Aegon only shrugs, entirely too amused. “By the gods, brother, how the fuck should I know? They did make their impending union known at my feast… how long ago was it now, a moon’s time? Well, until you whisked the lady away and bed her, but who am I to pass judgment?”

“Are they not still in the middle of their courtship? It is uncustomary to be wed with such haste—”

“If you ask me, it is about time that the lady wed! She is not growing younger in her years, and she cannot live the rest of her days as your chamberwhore.”

Aemond sees red, and rushes forward in a flash, slamming the King against the wall with a hand constricting his windpipe. “Gods—” Aegon wheezes. His lackeys immediately tense, but none of them possesses the mettle to lay a finger on the one-eyed Prince.

It takes Aemond only a heartbeat to make up his mind. He releases Aegon with a sharp shove, turns on his heel, and strides from the hall without another word, deaf to the empty threats that are hurled at his retreating figure. His steps grow faster, surer as he nears the courtyard. Fury roars within him, a sensation like dragonfire climbing his spine. Sunrise would soon encroach upon the Seven Kingdoms, and its arrival will not herald your being bound to another man, not if he has any say.

Outside, the sky is a gathering of clouds, low and grey against the breaking dawn, as if even the heavens brace for a storm. Vhagar waits, her massive form shifting in the courtyard shadows, her eyes bright with predatory instinct. Aemond mounts her with barely a breath, his mind fixed solely on one destination: Honeyholt, the seat of House Beesbury, the only place the wedding could be held. As Vhagar rises into the evening sky, he feels the wind pull fiercely at him, and he pushes forward with a singular, roaring intensity.

There will be no union between yourself and Beesbury. 

A woman’s hands fasten your cloak, the pale blue silk colour of your House whispering as it settles against your form. Soon, it will be replaced by one of sable and yellow, to symbolise the House of your husband. 

You have not slept all night, thoughts of Aemond swirling in your mind like a curse. You have known this would be difficult, but this was something you need to do, and the day is finally here. Your hands tremble only slightly as they lift to adjust your gown, the scent of fresh lilies filling the room as servants bustle in preparation.

In your mind, you still see him. And in your heart… you still love him, and perhaps you always will. But you have no recourse but to surrender yourself to your marriage, lest you wish to have any chance at happiness. It will be nigh impossible to find any peace of mind whilst in possession of the knowledge that Aemond shares his bed with the witch, who will soon be granted the honour of carrying his babe.

You recall the way he held you as though you belonged to him, as though he could bend your very will. Your breath catches at the memory of how his voice trembled, the barely restrained desire that drove him to bind you closer, never allowing you to slip from his grasp. But you cannot let yourself drown in yearning. Not now. You steel yourself, forcing your thoughts back to the present.

“It is time, my Lady,” one of your handmaidens says gently, watching you with quiet sympathy. You feel the weight of your choice settle upon you, solid and unyielding. It is time to move forward, to leave that chapter of your life behind. Your hands rest against your wedding gown as you straighten, breathing in the finality of it all. 

And breathing his memory out.

Dawn has crept over the landscape, a pale light spilling over the stone walls and casting the ceremony in a shivering, spectral haze. The air is heavy with expectation, the kind that tenses every muscle, as if the entire world holds its breath. You feel it, deep within you—the stupid urge to run, to look over your shoulder, to see if he’s coming. 

It is a senseless thought, to wish for Aemond to come, when you purposefully made arrangements so that he would be unable to. So you force yourself to carry on, your resolve unbroken.

Ramsay Beesbury waits at the altar, the only other soul bound to this day, and you let yourself drift into the ceremony, the Septon’s words washing over you in a haze. You remind yourself to let go of the past; you cannot wait for a man who sees you as something to own, to control. 

Aemond might have sullied the love you once shared, a bond that grew and blossomed through the years—one you once believed unbreakable. 

But everything breaks. Men, kingdoms, dragons.

Even love.

The courtyard is swathed in the sun's early rays. Shadows give way to hazy beams, and as the morning stirs, so does the assembly gathered for the ceremony. The bride stands at the altar, hands clasped tightly as the Septon’s voice resonates through the stillness, weighted with tradition.

“…to honour and cherish, in this life and beyond,” the Septon intones, his voice a steady murmur, melding with the faint rustling of the wind and whispers from the onlookers. Your gaze drifts briefly over the scene, lingering on familiar faces, as you try to anchor yourself in the reality of the moment. Your heart thrums heavily, and your mind threatens to veer right back to Aemond—you can almost hear his voice, and envision how livid he would be when he finds out about your union.

He may burn the Seven Kingdoms to ash. That is, if he would not be occupied with his precious Alys.

High above the clouds, Aemond rides Vhagar, her wings slicing through the clouds with adept ease. The wind howls in his ears, the icy chill biting at his skin, but he urges Vhagar on. The pit of dread in his stomach grows with each passing second. He is running out of time. 

“Naejot!” he yells a command. Faster.

The expanse of Westeros stretches beneath him, a blur of green and grey, but all he sees is his destination—Honeyholt, the place that holds you. His hands grip the rein tightly, and he presses closer to Vhagar’s scales, his mind brimming with the only thought that matters: You are his, and his only.

The ceremony progresses, and you can barely register Ramsay’s vows, the words floating in and out of your consciousness like half-heard whispers. His voice is steady, measured. His hands clasp yours gently, as gentle as the smile that graces his lips. 

“Our marriage will be one of devotion and serenity. You will want for nothing nor will our children,” he had promised. A far cry from Aemond’s proposition that you can be with him so long as he fathers the bastard of a bastard.

To an outsider, it would have been the easiest choice.

“...to protect and honour, as the gods are my witness,” Ramsay declares, his words certain. His grip on your hands tightens as he speaks, binding them together. After a moment, you hear your own name called, and the vows spill from your lips without a thought. 

The sun is now just a speck on the horizon as Aemond approaches Honeyholt. The great stone walls stand tall, silent and stark against the grey morning, but no sounds of gathering reach his ears. He circles once overhead, Vhagar’s immense wings casting a shadow over the land below, and he focuses his gaze, searching, hunting. The courtyard is empty, not a soul to be seen.

A sliver of uncertainty gnaws at him, yet he descends. The ground trembles as Vhagar lands, her powerful body settling on the stones, but as Aemond dismounts, there is no sign of you, no sign of anyone at all save for a few servants tending to the grounds. 

“Where is she?” he spits, his voice a thick growl that pierces through the silence.

As the ceremony nears its end, the tension in your heart becomes lighter. Your gaze lifts, distracted by a shadow that drifted in the periphery. You stand frozen, until you realise that it was but a mere raven. 

The largest dragon in all of the land is not present in the Riverlands.

“I take this vow willingly…” you murmur the end of your vows, your voice quiet, and soon it is over. 

Back at Honeyholt, Aemond’s hands curl into fists as he prowls through the empty courtyard. He has grown frantic, but there is nothing here—no preparations, no guests, no fucking bride. A cold, bitter truth settles over him, tightening his throat, and he mutters in a dark, furious whisper, “No. This can’t be.”

It comes to him in a flash of painful clarity, the realisation that you’re not here, that he’s been chasing shadows. The Riverlands. You’re in your castle in the Riverlands.

It betrays Westerosi custom, to have the union in the territorial land of the Lady’s House and not the Lord’s, but it can be done. And the marriage can still be accepted. 

But how insolent… how precisely aimed to injure him… to shame him… 

You knew this would happen.

“You planned this,” he breathes, his voice laced with anger and something dangerously close to despair. He feels both empty and full of rage, and the pain of your loss nearly brings him to his knees. His jaw is set, his gaze set with a darkness that would terrify anyone who saw it.

In Castle Darry in the Riverlands, the ceremony culminates in the final exchanges whispered between the bride and her groom, and in your cloak being replaced with one of House Beesbury. You take one last breath, a silent farewell to the life you are leaving behind, as your new life, your new future, binds you to Ramsay, your Lord husband.

It is strange, but you feel a peace settle over you. Aemond’s hold over you is no more. And for the first time, you realise that perhaps you are free. 

taglist (let me know in the comments if you wish to be added): @immyowndefender @aemondswifeisme @fuck-the-reaper @shessthunderstorms @aemondsbabygirl @melsunshine @snh96 @noxytopy @ellooo0ooo @brianochka @not-a-glad-gladiator @mac95650 @midnightmystic @saminalloxo @oh-no-tia @magnificentsapphiresoul @clara-geekhime @mariaelizabeth21-blog1 @ananas26t @iloveallmyboys @carriellie @summerposie @verycollectivecreator @toodlesxcuddles @brie-annwyl @dc-marvel-girl96 @bellstwd @bibli0thecary @happinessinthebeing @magnificentsapphiresoul @rorawinters @targaryen-madness @hanula18 @rhaenattargaryen @an0ther-us3r @sugurubabe @theshatteredideal @let-love-bleeds-red @s-we-e-t-t-ea @mydemimonde @the-intjs-dark-academic @heavenly1927 @anehkael @minttea07 @barnes70stark @cheneyq @cloudroomblog @neptuneiris @zaldritzosrose @oh-theseus

Some notes in the margins..

Well, our Lady is finally a Ladywife. And not Aemond's at that! But there is more to come as we near the end. Will Aemond abandon Alys? Will he steal his love away? Parts seven and eight will have the answers 💙

[aprilcolours]

blackheart

A/N: OC is Visenya, daughter of Rhaenyra and Daemon, second eldest child after Jace and before Luc. She rides Vermithor, the Bronze Fury. This is about SHOW Benjicot Blackwood NOT book!! The three seconds we’ve seen of him at least lol <3 Valyrian is translated at the bottom

part two - part three - part four

—

When Vermithor landed, a slew of muck and water sprayed into the humid Riverlands air. Visenya the Second wrinkled her nose and brushed some of the mud specks off her riding leathers. 

She reassured her dragon, “Sȳz, jikagon arghugon,” and slid promptly off onto his shoulder, before deftly sticking the ten foot drop to the ground. The marshes were full of tents, troops mustered from across the realm to gather here in this central region, where the flags waved black. She had made sure to land a little ways away, wouldn’t want to crush any of our own now would we, she thought with a slight smirk. 

She was the daughter of the Rogue Prince, and carried herself as such. There was a latent danger in the way her lithe form prowled forward, a ferocity to the confident tilt of her shoulders. Despite her stature as a young woman, and a slight one at that, she cut an imposing figure. 

The bannerman watched her approach, most tilting their head in recognition at least, some falling into deep bows. She stalked through the lines of troops, searching for the central war council. 

Visenya had flown to the Riverlands a fortnight hence, to guard their troops from a possible attack by Vhagar, to see her mother’s will done in the strategizing, and for a third purpose that was known only to her and her mother. At the center of a camp, a large table had been brought forth, encrusted with maps of the region and the current positions of hosts. Gathered around the table were a group of knights and lords sworn to Rhaenyra: Lords Darklyn, Staunton, Massey, and a group of young lords that had come to be known as the Lads: Lord Kermit Tully, Ser Oscar Tully, and Lord Benjicot Blackwood. 

Benjicot Blackwood had come into his lordship quite recently, with the death of his father mere months ago at the beginning of the war. Despite this, he had already made a formidable reputation for himself as ruthless, bloodthirsty, and a force to be reckoned with. He was not necessarily physically imposing, favoring a lean build, but he had a certain gleam in his eye. Almost rabid, Visenya had thought to herself with a small laugh. 

She looked at each of the gathered as she reached the table, daring any of these older men to show anything other than submission. Each of the lords bowed, averting their eyes. Bar one. Lord Blackwood always held her gaze as he bowed, eyes gleaming and a crooked smile playing at his lips.

She raised a brow, unimpressed. 

It only seemed to make his smile curl even wider. 

“The Western front has shifted closer, your Highness,” Lord Massey informed her. Visenya finally tore her eyes away from the Blackwood to observe the map. Indeed, the Green host mustered at Lannisport had crept closer in the night. It now dared to encroach on the edges of Tully land. 

“The numbers mustered are not insignificant,” Lord Darklyn added. 

“They are when compared to the whole force of the Reach that soon converges upon us from the South,” Lord Staunton argued. The combined Tyrell, Hightower, and Florent host was decidedly large. 

“A problem only made worse if the Lannisters are allowed to join them,” Darklyn shot back. It was clear this argument had been happening for some time at this point. 

As she considered the map and heeded the advisors, Visenya felt a certain piercing dark gaze boring holes into her. She did not indulge him further with another look, but she could feel the unending weight of his stare as it did not abate. 

“We march on the Lannisters,” Visenya declared, voice carrying high and clear. The council ceased their squabbling. 

A short silence descended, as the Lords who disagreed weighed whether they would be endangering themselves if they expressed their opinion. 

“We will cut them off at Lydden, before they can turn southwards,” she continued, gesturing to the spot on the map. “Darklyn is right, they cannot be allowed to join the Reach. Lannister forces will have supplies from Lannisport, so they will not have been affected by the blockade. Time is our greatest ally at the moment. We have the whole of the North marching to us,” Visenya spoke plainly and matter-of-factly, but at this point she smiled slightly and tossed her silver braid over one shoulder. 

“Furthermore, the Green houses are well… green. The longer they wait, they longer they have to ponder tales of fearsome Northmen who need neither food nor sleep, to whisper legends of Rhaenyra the Cruel and her fleet of dragonriders,” she paused to shoot Blackwood the barest hint of a grin, “to hear word of Bloody Ben and the carnage they march towards.” 

The Lads laughed and jostled Ben’s shoulders. 

“I hear he slew fifty men in a single evening over his cup of tea!” Ser Oscar teased, voice mockingly high. Blackwood ducked his head and laughed, rustling the other two men back. 

“The flower knights will quiver and shake their way back to Highall,” Visenya finished, looking to the council members for dissent. 

“What of Vhagar, your highness?” Lord Staunton asked, “The kinslayer will surely come calling.”

Visenya tilted her head. 

“That is why I am here,” she answered. 

With that, and a few more details of the march agreed upon, the council was adjourned. As he began to walk towards his troops however, Visenya called out to him,

“Oh and Blackwood?”

Ben turned back to face her, taking the address as an invitation to step closer. Closer than any other dared step. She had to tilt her head back slightly to look him in the eye. 

“Be sure to give them something to talk about,” she commanded. Her voice did not falter even as she felt her heart begin to hammer in her chest. 

With a lopsided grin and another bow, “I swear it, my lady.”

—

The battle at Lydden was a roaring success. Vermithor made sure to roar it across the skies. Together, Visenya and her dragon burned whole battalions and paved the way for the Black troops to carve through the Lannister forces. It was not without its casualties to the numbers, but still a resounding victory for the Queen. 

In the aftermath, they had landed in a small forest slightly away from the troops, who she could hear were already carousing. Visenya used the flat of one of her blades to scrape dried blood from Vermithor’s scales. 

“Messy business, isn't it,” a voice rang out from behind her, with his signature teasing lilt. Ben stood at the other edge of the clearing, grinning, also covered in blood and mud. She turned, raising an eyebrow at his antics. 

“What I thought was courage I see now might be stupidity,” she responded with a teasing tone of her own, “to approach a dragon on your lonesome.” 

He approached further, despite her warning, and like a moth to a flame she was drawn closer. 

“Ah but I am not alone, am I?” He said, almost breathless still from the battle they had just fought. They drew near together in the center of the clearing. “And my princess is a great dragon rider who would not allow harm to befall me,” he intoned in a low voice. 

“Ha! I have left court only to find flatterers in the fields,” she replied. Perhaps the bloodlust had gone to her head but Visenya ignored any thoughts of impropriety, choosing to match his grin with one of her own. “

“What is it you want, Lord Blackwood?”

Surprisingly, his expression shifted. The giddiness receded, and what rose upon his features then was a simmering focus. It was not unlike the expression he wore in the midst of battle. After a heartbeat of tension, Benjicot Blackwood stepped even closer. Gazing down at her with that signature glint of crazed gleam in his eyes, he confessed, 

“Since meeting you, your highness… my desires have become uniquely singular.”

Even with her years of courtly training, Visenya could not hide her shock. Or her blush. 

“Let none say you are not bold,” she whispered, stupefied. He chuckled slightly and noted,

“So you think me both bold and courageous.”

“Did I say that,” she teased breathlessly, still gathering her bearings.

“You did,” he replied simply, eyes dark and hooded. 

He was enjoying watching her on the back foot for once, she could tell. She felt a flicker of temper rise and latched onto it. Visenya leveled her haughtiest at look at him and remarked, 

“Our surroundings are hardly appropriate for a marriage proposition, do you not think Lord Blackwood?”

Her indignance only seemed to amuse him further. 

“On the contrary, my lady, they are perfect. Together, we have won a great victory and live to see another day. In war, this is the best one could hope for.” 

She considered his words, considered the whole of Benjicot Blackwood and his proposition. 

Certainly an unconventional choice, she thought. I think mother would like it. 

She considered her third purpose for venturing out across the realm: to seek a husband.

And she kissed him.

Benjicot Blackwood kissed like he was drowning man and she was air itself. He kissed like she might change her mind at any moment and he would make every second count. He was all teeth and tongue and grasping pulling hands at her waist, her arms, her face. 

“Do not get blood in my hair,” she broke away to command, voice breathy but firm.

His laugh echoed into the night. 

—

A/N: Truly insane that I wrote this and he's not even in the show yet lmaoo

Sȳz, jikagon arghugon - good, go hunt

i will post this on ao3 too, and i might add more if i feel so inclined!!

[romanteacism]

Knight Aemond x Princess Reader Innocent Touch

Synopsis: You and Ser Aemond are starting to come into a routine and each other's good graces until it is rudely abrupted. Warnings: None (yet), Aemond growing fonder of his station, ¿infatuation?, Slight Jealousy PREVIOUS PART / NEXT PART

“Who is this from?” You asked as a squire handed you another bouquet of flowers. Aemond resisted rolling his eyes as he watched you toy with the petals. He stood behind you as you and your brother sat in the gardens. “Lord Triston, Your Highness,” The squire bowed as he left. “I did not know Lord Tristan was courting you,” Your brother frowned and reached forward to take hold of the scroll placed in the middle of the bouquet. 

“This is the fifth one in three days; it’s quite excessive, is it not?” You pondered as you placed the bouquet on the side, not keen on the smell of roses. You turned to your brother, waiting for his response, but he was too busy reading the scroll— you would guess another poem that he had plagiarized from one of the great poets of the realm. “It’s quite a… bold poem he chose,” your brother frowned, and you shrugged, taking a bite of berries and cream cake. “Since when had he started courting you? I do not remember him asking for Father or I’s permission,” He stated, and you shrugged once more. “He began to send flowers, I believe, a week or so ago?” You said uncertain. “Do I recount right, Ser Aemond?” You turned to your knight for confirmation, slowly warming up to him once more as he had aided in a time of desperation. 

“Yes, princess.” He nodded, and your brother turned his gaze upon your sworn protector, seeing his stoic expression severe into a scowl. “I think it best you keep your distance from Lord Tristan,” Your brother said, glancing over the flowers he sent as well as the rather forward poem he had given. “Very well then,” You agreed, not at all attracted to the young lord who was known for his reputation as a rake.

“See to it that the lord does not bother my sister, Ser Aemond,” Your brother commanded as he stood. “Of course, my prince,” Ser Aemond bowed, agreeing without question as he, too, was unsettled by the lord’s quite fervent attention towards you. He had been noticing lord Tristan trailing you for the past few days, even going as far as walking down the halls of your wing at night. Of course, Aemond always stood guard, ready to challenge the lord. 

“I’ll see you at supper, sister,” your brother said, placing a chaste kiss on the top of your head before leaving. As he left, you placed a lemon tart onto a plate and raised it to offer to your knight. “No, thank you, princess. I had just eaten,” He said, and you nodded. 

“Was lady Davenport present during the last tea party I held?” You questioned Ser Aemond as your memory seemed to fail you, but you had learned your knight had a rather sharp one. “I do not believe so, princess,” He replied, trailing his eye around the gardens as he noticed the distant figure of lord Tristan staring at you from above. “Hm, this is the second session she has missed… I noticed that she has been absent in court as of late,” You mussed, not expecting a reply from your knight as you thought out loud. 

“I hear whispers that the lady Davenport is hiding a swollen belly beneath her dress,” Your knight then said, making your eyes widen, and you turned your body to look at him from where he stood behind you. Aemond bit his tongue as he saw the expression on your face. He does not care for gossip, but he did find your reactions to it quite amusing. “But she is not set to marry until a fortnight.” Ser Aemond shrugged as he imparted the talk he heard from the maids. You let out a breath of a laugh. “I always thought her intended was quite the traditionalist,” you muttered, and Aemond smirked, pondering if he should share the next piece of information he had overheard. “He is… but his brother is proven not.” He quietly added and bit his lip. “No!” You gasped in disbelief, turning to Ser Aemond once more, only for him to shrug again. “Again, these are only whispers I hear, princess,” He said, and you narrowed your eyes as an amused smirk rose to his lips that he could not control as he spoke. 

When Aemond removed his gaze from you, he noticed lord Tristan making his way towards your direction. “Princess, you are late for your meeting with your seamstress,” You turned towards the sun and saw that it was past its peak, “Oh, yes, of course,” You said and stood, going in the direction of your chambers and Aemond content as lord Tristan missed your presence. 

Ser Aemond stood guard outside your chambers as you were fitted for your gowns, passing his gaze through the hall and watching intently all the passersby. He clenched his jaw as he saw lord Tristan standing at the end of the hall, observing the commissioned portraits of you that were made each year for your name day. Aemond resisted the urge to roll his eye as lord Tristan inched his way towards your chambers. Aemond wore his most formidable expression as he was met with the lord. “I wish to seek an audience with the princess,” He said, voice dismissive. “The princess does not wish to be disturbed.” Ser Aemond replied curtly. 

He watched as the lord raised a pompous brow. “I do not believe you understood what I said— I seek an audience with the princess.” He gritted, and Aemond’s hold at the hilt of his sword tigtened. “I understand perfectly. It is you who does not comprehend that the princess does not wish to be disturbed.” Aemond resisted succumbing to his urges and showed great animosity towards the young lord. 

The door to your chambers opened, hindering either man from speaking. Your seamstress exited, and Aemond was quick to hinder the lord, who seemed to forget any sense of manners as he tried to force himself into the sanctity of your chambers. “My lord?” You questioned and turned to Ser Aemond, who had a deep scowl on his face. “Princess— I wish to speak with you,” lord Tristan bowed and threw a glare at your knight. “Oh, I am not receiving company at the moment, my lord. I—I wish to be alone.” You say quietly. “Have you received the flowers I sent?” The lord ignored your words, and Aemond’s jaw ticked as you two locked eyes, seeing apprehension in your gaze. “I have, thank you, lord Tristan… but if you would excuse me,” You curtsied and moved to close your door. Leaving your knight and the rather audacious lord. 

Aemond felt a pompous smirk rise to his lips as you shut and barred your door, the hopefulness in the lord’s eyes disappearing quickly. Aemond bit his lip as lord Tristan walked off in a huff. When you hear his departing footsteps, you unbarred your door and peeked your head out. “Is he gone?” You quietly asked your knight, staring up at him, “Yes, princess,” Aemond nodded, and you fully opened your chamber door. “He’s quite… boorish,” You muttered and took your kitten into your arms, cradling it as if it were a babe as you walked through the halls with your knight. “He certainly is, princess,” he agreed, looking towards the kitten who he had hidden days before. There was a glare in the feline’s eyes as Theodore was familiar with the man who had placed him in the confines of the mouth of a gargoyle. 

You hear your little kitten suddenly hiss, making you frown and run your fingers soothingly through your pet’s fur. “What’s wrong, my darling?” You cooed, looking down at Theodore, who continued to hiss. You doubled your efforts in trying to calm him, unaware that the man beside you was the reason for the agitated state of your kitten. You placed a kiss on his little head, and that seemed to be effective. Theodore slowly calmed down. Aemond bit his lip as he feared that his desperate actions would be known by you— implausible since no one bore witness to his actions, but you would certainly question why your pet would be upset whenever in the presence of Aemond.

You were too distracted as you tried to soothe your kitten, growing unaware of your surroundings and where you walked. Aemond sighed as this was a frequent occurrence; he circled his arm around your waist and guided your way. He bit his tongue as he was enveloped with your scent. At your close proximity, Ser Aemond scowled at the continuation of whining from your kitten. Aemond led you to your solarium, arm growing cold as he removed his hold from your waist. He stood guard by the door and listened to you cooing at your kitten. 

Ser Aemond stood straighter as he heard footsteps revealing your brother. “Is my sister in?” He questioned, and Aemond nodded curtly. “My prince,” He called before your brother entered. “Lord Tristan had been proved rather ungallant… just earlier today, he tried to force himself into the chambers of the princess to seek an audience with her even though he was told that she wishes to be alone.” Aemond had no trouble in tattling. He saw a severe frown on your brother’s face, and only when the prince frowned did Aemond finally see the resemblance between you and the prince. The prince hummed, thinking of a way to protect you further; it was silently known by the court that lord Tristan was persistent— stopping at nothing to acquire anything he wanted, and he usually resorts to ill ways to achieve it. 

“My sister’s safety is of utmost importance, Ser Aemond,” Aemond nodded, “I know… and I agree, my prince,” He agreed. “I shall have no choice but to add another guard to her station,” Aemond stilled at the prince’s words. “My—my prince, I am fully capable of protecting the princess,” He said, almost defensively. Your brother’s eyes widened, fearing that he had offended the knight. “Yes, of course— I would not entrust my sister in your care if you are incapable, but with lord Tristan sniffing around her, I fear you would need aid.” Aemond bit back his tongue, not wanting to speak out of turn. “Ser Adam shall accompany you during the day as an added guard to my sister, so no more run-ins like earlier shall occur.” Aemond gritted his teeth and gave a reluctant nod before opening the door for the prince. 

The following day, Aemond stood guard by your door and waited for you to start your morning. He stiffened at his spot as he heard the clank of armor and the image of Ser Adam taking his post on the other side of your door, a teasing smirk on his lips as he saw Aemond's annoyed face. “Ser Aemond,” He nodded in greeting, “Ser Adam,” Aemond gritted in reluctant courtesy. You opened your chamber doors, and two knights straightened their stances. You looked between your two guards, “Good morrow, Sers,” You greeted and walked off, your kitten in your arms and your two guards following you as you made your way to the gardens. 

The once soothing clang of Ser Aemond’s armor as he walked now turned into an annoying bang as his steps were matched with Ser Adam's. You looked down upon your pet cat, who rested calmly in your arms, still drowsy from his sleep. Aemond noticed your attention was placed on your kitten was more and placed his hand on the small of your back to lead your way, as always. Aemond caught the gaze of Ser Adam, the secondary knight raising a quizzical brow at him, but Aemond did his best to ignore his presence, trying to pretend that it was only you and him, just like days before. 

When in the gardens, Aemond moved to assist you to your chair, but Ser Adam beat him to it. He gritted his jaw as the kind ‘thanks’ that was meant to him was addressed to the other knight. As the day went on with Ser Adam accompanying the both of you— you offering him the same refreshments and chatter as Aemond and even gossiping with him, Aemond felt an odd twisting in his stomach that he did not care for. It was as if fire ants were crawling and biting at his skin, and some strong hand was twisting his gut and possibly even his heart. 

“Good night, Ser Adam,” You smiled as the knight went to retire for the night, much to Aemond’s relief. You and your sworn protector walked the halls to your room, and you noticed that he had been rather rigged the whole day— nothing odd, but you did notice that he was starting to unclench the past few days. “You’re scowling.” You mused as you two turned a hallway; Aemond glanced at you who observed his expression. “Am I, princess?” He asked, knowing full well he was.  Aemond feigned confused, as he did not want his annoyance to be revealed. “You are; you’ve had that line between your brows the whole day,” You say, and stood at the tip of your toes and trying to smoothen the furrow between his brows.

Aemond froze at your actions that were not mediated and thought about by yourself, forgetting your sensibilities as you invaded your knight’s personal space. You froze as you realized what you had done, quickly backing away, your cheeks heating at your actions, and felt embarrassment course through your veins. “I… I apologize,” you say, your voice just a squeak, and you hurriedly turn on your heels as you rush toward your chambers. Aemond battled through his shock and followed you through your chambers, the both of you uttering a quick and awkward ‘good night’ before you disappeared behind your door. 

Aemond stood at his post, breathing ragged as his hand fingers went to where you left your soft and burning touch. Aemond tried to calm his breathing, dismayed by his reaction. It was just an innocent touch, nothing to fuss over about, is it not? He rested the back of his head on the cold stone and tried not to let his thoughts be consumed by you even more. 

[azmageddon]

Silence (Part Two)

Pairing: Azriel x Cassian’s twin!healer! reader

Summary: It’s your turn to find the silence deafening.

Warnings: Short section of spiciness, but definitely not smutty. Also, you can pry the angst from my cold, dead, hands. Give me all the angst. Also painfully inaccurate to the original storyline.

A/n: Sorry it took so long! I’m obsessed with making everything perfect. Enjoy! Let me know what you think and what else you want to see.

“I have one for you too, Y/N.”

You looked up from where you were leaning against the wall at the back of Rhys’s office. Everyone’s eyes were on you and you could have sworn that Azriel, who was leaning against the wall next to you, had stopped breathing all together.

“Me?” you asked, confused.

Rhys only nodded, holding the invitation out further in his outstretched hand. You shuffled your way forward, Mor and Amren stepping aside to give you space. When you finally reached his desk and gripped the letter, you gave it a swift tug, but Rhys didnt let go. The two of you stood there for a moment, hands attached to the letter in a quiet tug-of-war over his desk. You caught eyes with the High Lord. They seemed to say be careful before he finally released the envelope.

Worry hummed across the bond, mixing with yours and sitting in the pit of your stomach. Turning back toward your spot in the back of the room, you risked a quick glance up to Azriel and saw concern plain on his face.

“Watch your face,” you reminded him in his mind and he quickly returned to his stoic, unreadable expression. “Wouldn’t want to blow our secret over a silly invitation, would you?” You tried to keep the conversation light and carefree, but it was difficult when dread had crept into your mind. If Azriel felt your nervousness, he didn't acknowledge it.

“You know,” he replied, “I’ve been rethinking keeping this a secret. Don’t you think it’s time they knew?”

“But it’s so much fun sneaking around.”

You could feel Azriel’s metaphorical eye roll through the bond and suppressed a chuckle while you took your place back against the wall. “I just thought it would be nice after keeping it a secret for nearly 400 years. But we can talk about this later. Open the letter so I can read it, too.”

You did as he asked, slipping your finger under the delicate fold of the envelope and pulling at the wax seal until it released with a pop. Slipping the invitation nestled inside, you turned it around so as to read the looped cursive sprawled in fluorescent gold ink across the page. You felt Azriel shuffle closer to get a better opportunity to read over your shoulder.

Y/N,

It is with great pleasure that we request your presence at the Masquerade Ball hosted by her majesty, Queen Amarantha of Under the Mountain. Please kindly reply within a fortnight. Punctuality is of the utmost importance.

“I don’t like the look of this,” came the voice of your mate in your head.

***

“How do I look?”

Azriel’s eyes snapped up from the book he was reading and instantly dragged themselves across your body. A groan from deep in his chest vibrated through the room and you were hit with a wave of arousal across the bond.

“Down boy,” you teased, stepping toward the vanity at the corner of the room to touch up your makeup. You felt Azriel’s eyes glued to you as you moved. Your dress, dark and revealing, was something Rhys insisted you wore to the party. You were used to outfits like this, the fabric accentuating your full hips and showing off your years and years of hard training. It reached up over the curve of your breasts and plummeted, reaching nearly low enough to expose your belly button. The Night Court demanded respect from those outside the bubble that was Velaris, and your High Lord chose to express the Inner Circle’s blind confidence through dress.

“Gods, if I knew you were going to wear that I would have argued with Rhys more to let me accompany you two.”

You sat at the vanity and reapplied your lipstick. From over your bare left shoulder came a lone tendril of Azriel’s shadows. It snaked along the curve of your collarbone and circled around your neck a few times before settling itself snuggly around your throat like the most priceless of necklaces.

A shiver went through you as the shadow gave a gentle squeeze. “Honestly, I’m surprised he didn’t insist on you and Cassian to join us. You’d have thought he would use this opportunity to show off the strength of the Night Court to the other courts.”

Quiet as his shadows himself, Azriel’s large fingers slowly replaced the wisp of temporary jewelry. It dissipated at its master’s touch, and his hand gently, but firmly, tilted your head back so as to give him better access to the pulse point currently beating wildly at your neck. His lips brushed over the shell of your ear and you let out a soft moan.

“I’d like to see you out of that dress,” he whispered against your skin.

Your throat bobbed as you swallowed hard at his words. A quick nip at your skin had you gasping out a response. “I can’t,” you managed. “Rhys will be here any second.”

Azriel trailed a rough calloused finger along the membrane of your wing and you felt a flush of desire and pleasure run through your body. The need for him flowed through your veins and it seeped deep into your bones. He could tell your willpower was faltering. Every emotion and neediness that you felt was pouring through the bond into his own soul.

“So tell him you’re not ready yet. I won’t take long.” Another nip at your skin, this time at the cleavage of your breast, had you nearly giving in. Your eyes fluttered closed and your chest heaved as he peppered kisses along your neck. But before you could utter another word, there was a knock at the door.

“Y/N?” came the voice of your High Lord. “Are you ready?”

Knowing neither of you could actually delay your departure, you sprung apart. Jumping up so quickly, you felt your chair tipping backward, only to be caught by one of Azriel’s shadows.

“One minute!” You called through the door and turned back to your mate.

“You have to go,” you whispered in a rush, quickly grabbing your bag from the bed and your shoes from their place beside the closet. “You’re not supposed to be in here!”

In your frantic dash across the room to retrieve your items, Azriel gripped your shoulders, halting you. His lips crashed into yours, passionate, hungry, and hurried. It left you breathless and you gasped for air as he pulled back, traces of your lipstick staining his own lips.

“Later, Shadowsinger,” you whispered as you reached up on tiptoe to place your lips against his again, more gently this time.

“I’ll meet you at the exit to say goodbye with the others,” he said into your mind and, stepping into a swirl of mist and shadow, he was gone.

***

“Az, the Autumn brothers are here.” Across the bond, you felt Azriel perk up. He must have been focused on something, perhaps reading a report or reviewing paperwork for his next mission. But at the sound of your voice in his head, you could feel his attention shifting to your gossip.

“Did they dress up?” he asked. “Please tell me Eris came as something ridiculous. Like a chicken or something.”

“Gods, no.” You suppressed a smile and glanced over at the heir to Autumn Court. The only costume he wore was his flaming red hair and permanent scowl on his face.

“Actually,” you continued across the bond, “It looks like Rhys and I aren’t the only ones who refused to dress up. In fact, the only ones who have costumes are the Spring Court.”

Amarantha was saying something, servants coming around to pass out wine in goblets that rivaled the finery of Rhy’s own private collection. You took one without thinking but hesitated before taking a sip. You recalled the words toast and finest wine coming from your hosts lips at some point. When your High Lord, who hadn’t left your side all night, didn’t drink from his yet, you followed his lead.

You barely paid attention all night, anyway. One arm constantly linked into your High Lord’s, you had to play the part of the mysterious, ruthless, second-in-command of the Night Court. Not many outside of Velaris knew much about you, except that you were an exceptional healer and twin the Night Court General. You played the role Rhys had expected you to, and Gods, did you play it well. Not a male in the room could take their eyes off of you, with your long flowing hair, curvy, yet muscular, body, and strong, unclipped Illyrian wings.

But frequently, you found your thoughts drifting back to your mate and the strong fingers you had wrapped around your throat a few hours ago. You hoped they would find their home there again upon your return to The House of Wind later tonight.

A wave of arousal hit you that wasn’t entirely your own and you realized Azriel must be having the same thoughts.

“Having fun without me, Shadowsinger?”

“Just remembering you in that dress,” came Azriel’s voice, low and sultry. “And all the ways I could take it off of you later.” You nearly choked on the breath you took. Rhys cast you a look out of the side of his eye, but you ignored it because Azriel was still speaking.

“Or maybe you can leave the dress on. It doesn’t offer much coverage, anyway.” His voice was growing darker, deeper, and more sensual with every word. “Or maybe the heels. Just the heels.”

You shook your head to clear it, attempting to focus on whatever Amarantha was saying in her toast. Wealth… happiness… friendship… blah blah blah. You ignored her sentences, picking up only on a few words. You did manage to make out her command to drink! before you caught eyes with Rhys. They portrayed something you couldn’t quite read. Sadness? Regret? You must have missed a part of her speech that was important.

Deciding to ask him about it later, you took a swig of your glass along with all the others in the chamber. The wine was sweet, thick like honey, and coated your throat on its way down. In fact, you felt it coating your entire body like a warm blanket. It worked its way into your bones and after a few moments of warmth, you felt the feeling turn to ice.

Icy tendrils shot through your limbs and you ruffled your wings to try and dispel the feeling. But it only became stronger and stronger until finally you felt a deep, soul crushing, emptiness. Quick as it began, the feeling was gone, and with it, the hum of the bond in your chest.

“Azriel?” you called to him. But no response came. Panic seized you and you clutched at your chest with your free hand, your other wrapping tighter around the arm of your High Lord. He was turning toward you now, saying something, but you ignored him. In fact, the entire chamber had erupted into chaos. Voices were all around you, angry and yelling. But the one voice you called for again and longed to hear was silent.

You didn’t know what it felt like to have a bond that was closed. You only knew that this was far, far worse.

“Y/N.” The sound of your name jolted you from your panicked soul searching. You looked up, catching eyes with the High Lord.

“Azriel,” you whispered out loud to him.

“What?” He asked, hands on either one of your shoulders, steadying you.

“Azriel,” you repeated to him. “He’s my mate.” The truth came tumbling out of you. The secret the two of you had kept for 400 years suddenly seemed foolish.

Rhys shook his head, not understanding your words. “Your mate?” He asked, confused. “For how long? Does he know?”

You nodded, tears suddenly filling your eyes. You pushed against the golden thread that tethered the two of you together, but it only ended in darkness. “We’ve been mates for nearly 400 years. We’ve kept it a secret for… oh Gods, Rhys, what has she done?”

He opened his mouth to respond, but quickly snapped it closed. He looked over your shoulder and you whirled, finding Amarantha standing there.

“Oh, my dears,” she began, her voice scraping across your ears like nails against stone. “The two of you are just lovely, aren’t you?”

[moonstruckme]

Hi lovely Mae, I hope you're doing well! Could you please write a drabble with poly!jily where they deal with reader who has a social anxiety and after a busy day or a social event or something she's sick of making small talk and just wants to cuddle up with her partners? No worries if not! Love you mwah <3

Thanks for requesting angel! Hope you're doing well too <3

cw: social anxiety/burnout

poly!Jily x fem!reader ♡ 626 words

You come home feeling raw, worn down to nothing. You want to go into a dark, quiet room and never emerge. But there are two people you need to see first. 

“Angel!” James cheers as you come in and take your shoes off. “How was dinner?” 

He’s sitting with Lily on the couch. She looks happy to see you, but when you wordlessly hold your arms out and walk towards them her expression bends with sympathy. 

“Oh.” James extends his arms for you, folding you into a hug. “Not very good, then?” 

“No,” you mumble into his jumper, “I think it went okay. It was just a lot.” 

Lily makes a soft sound of understanding. They both know you were half dreading your plans tonight, a good friend’s birthday dinner where unfortunately she was the only person you’d know there. You spent the whole time sipping your water to avoid talking and trying not to seem awkward when you couldn’t avoid it. 

Lily’s fingers slip underneath your scarf, cool against your neck as she tugs it off gently. “Was everyone nice?” she asks. 

“Yeah. I’m just afraid I embarrassed myself.” Self-conscious tears prickle at the back of your throat. “I can’t think about it anymore, honestly.” 

“That’s okay,” she says. “I’m sure you didn’t embarrass yourself, lovely. Can I see your hand? You’re going to be sweltering in a minute here.” 

You pass her one hand and then the other, allowing her to pull your gloves off for you. 

“I’m sure everyone there loved you,” says James, rubbing your back while Lily pulls your hat from your head. Her nails scratch lightly at your scalp as she combs her fingers through your roots, smoothing out the frizzies it left behind. “Know how I know?” 

Between both of their touches, you’re starting to relax. “How?” 

“Because,” James whispers like it’s a secret, “Lily loves you. That means everyone must. She’s very picky.” 

“What?” your girlfriend exclaims while you laugh into James’ jumper. “I am not.” 

“It took me years, angel,” James tells you. “Years. But she snatched you up in under a fortnight. Given that, I really don’t see how anyone else could possibly resist you.” 

“I am not that picky.” 

“Oh,” says James, “so what you’re saying is, you’d drop either one of us for someone new in ten seconds flat?” 

You turn your head to peek, and Lily’s narrowed her eyes at him. “Careful,” you murmur. “She might do it to prove a point.” 

She lets out a short, appalled laugh. “You two are so awful!”

“Awful enough to be rid of?” James asks, but when she makes to walk away he leans forward and tugs her back onto the couch with you. 

Lily looks happy to be tugged. She lands in a heap next to James, her glare playful as she meets your eyes. “I hope all these jokes at my expense are making you feel better.” 

You know she’s teasing, but you go soft nonetheless, reaching for her hand and intertwining your fingers. “I’m sorry,” you say, earnest. “Love you.” 

Lily melts, and James gives your middle an affectionate squeeze. “I love you too, sweetheart,” she says. “Do you want to talk about dinner?” 

You let your head lay upon James’ shoulder, looking at her sideways. “Not really. I’m too tired.” 

James starts rubbing your back again, fondness emanating from his touch like a pleasant ache. “Is there anything we can do, then?” 

You hum. “This?” 

Lily’s lips tilt in a bemused sort of smile. “Just this?” 

“Yeah,” you sigh. You melt against James’ front, your fingers in Lily’s grasp. “This is nice.” 

A warm chuckle rumbles through James’ chest. He presses a kiss to your hair. “I think we can manage that.” 

[vixen7243]

Wrong Chat : 1

Johnny X AFAB!Reader| TF141 X AFAB!Reader

MDNI‼️

Part 1 | Part 2

Johnny getting home finally after being away from you for months and feeling feral after all the teasing photos you had sent of new lingerie which then was followed up with a damn video of you grinding on HIS pillow moaning his name. Giggling at the end when you showed him the wet spot, “Wish it was your face love.” Turning the camera up to you, you smiled sweetly, “Come home safe so you can cum in me.” Video ended to soon in his opinion, which he intends to teach you as soon as he has you in the bed, face in the pillow your sweet cunt was grinding on a fortnight ago.

“Next time ye send a sexy little video like that ye better get all of ye’s angles Bonnie.” Johnny moved your phone closer as he thrust his cock deeper you moan ripping through your throat whimpering as you gripped the pillow. “Come now Bonnie, show the camera a little love.”

Johnny moved the camera forward and had it leaning against the headboard your face main view and your ass just above your head, bouncing as Johnny continued to jackhammer into you gummy spasming walls. You cried out as you came for the 3rd time around his cock, “Johnny please cum please! I need it, oh god, there!”

Johnny groaned as he ground his hips into you, squeezing your ass cheeks before patting your hip lightly. You reached out with a shaky hand grabbing your phone stopping the video, for the 3rd time that night you were sending the video to Johnny as he had made you do to the first two videos. Due to your watery eyes and shaky hands you might have accidentally hit the group chat your boyfriend made up of you and his team for game nights and pub nights. As soon as you hit send and Johnny’s phone dinged he turned you over smiling, “Ready for round 4 Bonnie.” As Johnny started kissing a trail to you breasts his phone dinged a few more times making him freeze and look up at you noticing that your phone was recording again and propped up on your pillow aimed at your face, cock drunk and teary.

Pushing pack up he snatched his phone from the bed side table and his eyes damn near burst out his sockets, “Jesus Bonnie you sent the video to the lads.”

“Huh?”

You were so out of it that you weren’t registering his words at all, instead you wrapped your legs around his waist and whimpered.

Gaz 🚁☠️: Well ello to you too gorgeous, is this your guys way of an invite?

If so I’ll be there in 15

Ghost💀🥸: You were moaning the wrong name Love, I’ll be there in 10 to teach you how to say Simon.

Gaz🚁☠️: 10?! Wtf you know I’m already breaking speed limits to just get there in 15 not fair!🤬

Captain🐻💰: Darling, is he not enough? Tell the boy to move aside I’ll be there soon.

Johnny couldn’t remember if he had locked the front door when he had thrown you over his shoulder abruptly before rushing up the stairs to your shared room. That didn’t matter too much considering he heard the front door hit the wall when it was opened feet marching up the stairs.“Damnit Bonnie.”

When the bedroom door shoved open is when you finally got your mind clear of the fogginess and shrinked into Johnny a blush covering your cheeks. “Oops”

Part 2

[cherikyassss]

Cataloguing my top ten Cherik fics in order of popularity, in case anyone fancies some new reading material 😉

https://archiveofourown.org/users/FuryRed/works

Five Nights in Nuremberg

When Charles escapes from the mutant prison he has been held in for the last two years he knows that he’s going to need help to avoid being recaptured.

What he doesn’t expect is that help will come in the form of a mysterious German man who rescues Charles and takes him to his home; a handsome stranger who, frustratingly, doesn’t speak a single word of English…

Bound

Is there anything worse than someone else’s wedding? Well, perhaps your sister’s wedding- where the groom just has to invite his boss and that man just happens to be your ex-boyfriend; a person you had an extremely passionate and tumultuous relationship with that ended badly.

Charles hadn’t seen Erik for a year by the time Raven had told him about the wedding. He wasn’t looking forward to the occasion, particularly when Raven explained that they would be celebrating the event with a two-week extravaganza at a luxury hotel, meaning that Charles would be forced to spend a whole fortnight with the man who he’d given everything to; the man who had ultimately broken his heart…

Can You Feel My Heart

Erik Lehnsherr hates Charles Xavier.

It’s as true as the words written on the wall in the bathroom at the university that Erik attends. Erik sees them one day- accompanied by a crude drawing of Erik and Charles glaring at each other- and recognises the truth of the sentence, and smiles.

He hates Charles.

Probably…

The Best You Never Had

By the time Erik is in his late twenties he has grown tired of his mother meddling in his love life- always setting him up on numerous dates with various suitors.

But then Erik’s mother offers to set him up with someone he used to know- the gorgeous blue-eyed boy Erik had a crush on in school, the boy Erik desperately wishes he had been nicer to.

How Erik ends up entering into a fake relationship with the man in order to keep his mother happy is anyone’s guess…

Forgotten

Charles is having a really bad day. Not only has he woken up in the middle of the afternoon with no idea where he is or how he got there, but when he returns home he’s confronted by a stranger with intense eyes, who insists that he knows Charles rather more intimately than Charles remembers…

In Service of the King

Co-authored by the wonderful @pinkoptics

The people of Britannia have been saved from an unbearable fate at the hands of Emperor Shaw. In order to express their immense gratitude, they offer the ultimate tribute- Charles Xavier, the beloved son of their leader.

Far from naive, and even before agreeing to be made a gift, Charles is only too aware of what such an arrangement will entail- a life spent on his knees for more reasons than one... But upon arriving on Genosha’s shores, it soon becomes clear that sexual submission may not be all that is desired of Charles, and that King Erik may have some notions of how he wishes to be serviced that are not at all what Charles expected...

Power and Control

Charles had done a number of stupid things in his lifetime, but this was probably the worst.

Deciding to piss off the leader of The Brotherhood of Mutants was a recipe for disaster, particularly when said leader had a reputation for swift and bloody vengeance. But, as it turned out, being murdered wasn’t what Charles would need to worry about. Apparently there’s a great many things you can do to exert your power over someone, rather than simply killing them…

Enemies With Benefits

Charles Xavier and Erik Lehnsherr are the leaders of two opposing mutant factions; their rivalry played out over televised debates and in the articles of tabloid newspapers.

The tension between them is so palpable that, naturally, everyone assumes they're fucking- which they are, not that Erik is particularly happy about it... But he is content to console himself with the idea that it's just sex and nothing else, and that he is in no way interested in the spoilt little rich boy he can't seem to stay away from.

But then an attempt is made on both their lives and they are relocated to a safe house- a secluded cabin in the middle of the woods. At first Erik hates being forced into such close quarters with Charles, but gradually he begins to realise that 'hate' might not be the emotion driving him after all...

I Know

Charles had always considered himself quite a moral person, so he was as surprised as anyone to one day find himself with his mother’s boyfriend between his legs…

The Right King of Wrong

When Erik accepts a job working as a mechanic for the Xavier family he thinks it will be the solution to all his problems; a way for him to get inside the Xavier mansion without raising suspicion, so he can find out more about the labs rumoured to be hidden in the basement- a location where numerous mutant experiments are said to have taken place.

The mission is only supposed to take a few weeks, but then Erik meets Charles- the nineteen-year-old heir to the Xavier family fortune, who is back from Oxford University for the summer. Rather suddenly all of Erik’s carefully made plans fall spectacularly to pieces as the two of them embark on a love affair that has the potential to alter both of their futures, and their lives, forever…

[peachsukii]

listening to fortnight got me thinking about bakugo and reader having a very brief fling, something that happened in the past during their 20s, but stuck with both of them for years.

i touched you for only a fortnight i touched you, but i touched you

fast forward to living in the same city, the two of you now in your 30s and end up becoming neighbors by happenstance. you're both married to other people since you only talked in shared friend group settings after said fling.

all my mornings are mondays stuck in an endless february

you watch his wife water her flowers in the garden out back while making coffee in the kitchen every goddamn morning. you have no clue why it irks you so much, that the sight of her stupid smile makes you wanna punch her lights out.

occasionally, you run into bakugo at your mailboxes after a long day at work. small talk is the only thing you two can muster - a comment about the weather or harmless compliments about each other's appearance.

"sure rained like hell yesterday."

"nice sweater, your wife buy it for you?"

"god, it's too fucking hot today."

"that dress looks nice on ya."

one night, both of your spouses are away when a storm comes raging through the city. your power goes out, leaving you in the dark because your stupid husband forgot to replace the generator. from your windows, you see bakugo's household has power and decide to hightail it over for some company.

he answers the door with a confused look on his face. "the fuck you doin' in the rain? get in here!"

bakugo makes you a coffee to share with him in the kitchen, bullshitting through the night like you used to do as twenty somethings. it felt natural, your heart soaring as you watched him laugh and retell jokes from the past. when the conversation died down, you blurted out something you didn't plan to vocalize to anyone.

"i think my husband's cheating. sometimes i just wanna kill the bastard."

caught off guard by your admittance, bakugo quirks an eyebrow at you in response. "little extreme, but i'm sure that could be arranged."

"would be cheaper than a damn divorce. that asshole would take everything from me."

he snickers, taking another sip of his coffee. "think my wife's doin' the same. comes home late and shit, never can tell me why."

"how'd we get stuck with this shit luck?" you retort, forcing a laugh from your tightened chest.

"could be worse. we're neighbors, that's fuckin' lucky for me."

i love you...it's ruining my life.

"oh? i'm starting to think that's not a coincidence anymore."

bakugo sets his mug on the countertop, turning to face you while crossing his arms over the broadness of his chest.

"might'a convinced my wife to move here. thought maybe we could be friends again."

"so you bought a fucking house next to me instead of just calling to go to dinner?" you ask mockingly, a smirk on your face as you awaited his bullshit answer.

he shakes his head with a grin of his own. "sure did."

i love you...it's ruining my life.

"how come you never ask or invite me over then? we're literal neighbors, kats."

"pretty sure my wife's scared of ya. plus, i want time with you, not us."

that makes your heart skip a beat.

"hell of a way to say you miss me." you pause before setting your own cup down on the counter. "i'm glad you're here."

"me too."

right as he's approaching you, the front door swings open.

"babe, i'm home!" his wife calls, handful of shopping bags. she sees you standing in the kitchen aside bakugo - you give her a soft wave.

"oh, hi. i didn't expect company tonight."

"her dumbass husband forgot to replace their generator. just helpin' her out."

she gives him a glare, tilting her chin up at him, almost condescendingly, as she assesses his answer.

"how unfortunate. stay as long as you need, i'm gonna go put this away."

and with that, she leaves for their bedroom to unload her shopping haul. once she's out of earshot, you turn to bakugo and chuckle under your breath.

"oh yeah, she hates me."

bakugo rolls his eyes. "let her be miserable, it's her strong suit. come on, let's go take'a look at that generator."

the generator works just fine, you unplugged it before coming over.

you were curious if there was a spark leftover between you two, only to find the fire was not only stoked, but never fully extinguished.

blasty tags; @slayfics @maddietries @queenpiranhadon @starieq ✨

[voxslays]

FOR A FORTNIGHT

Featuring >>> Alastor x Reader; In which, Alastor and reader have been friends for a year, having built a strong connection. One day, Alastor asks Reader to accompany him on one of his errands, where he spills his darkest secret…and some blood.

You and Alastor were neighbors, having lived next to each other for almost a year. He was a popular radio host in the area, who always said goodmorning and goodnight to you when coming home from work. You had invited eachother over for dinner countless times. He knew your home almost as well as you did by how much time you spent together. It wasn’t long before you had noticed that you had grown to care for Alastor. How could you not? He was charming and charismatic. He was gorgeous, with his dark hazel eyes, olive skin, and dark curly hair. He spoke french; one of your favorite languages, and had even started to teach you some! You cared for Alastor. Deeply.

It was a friday afternoon. You and Alastor were sitting on his porch, discussing the recent murders and disappearances of men in New Orleans. Alastor leans back in his chair, his eyes never leaving yours as he listens to your concerns. He takes a slow sip of his own tea, his gaze never leaving yours. “Ah, the state of our New Orleans, you say?” He sets his teacup down, his expression turning thoughtful. “I mean…the bayou butcher is still running loose.” You say, taking a sip from one of the beautifully painted china teacups. Alastor's immutable grin darkens slightly at the mention of the famed serial killer. He steeples his fingers beneath his chin, his eyes glinting with a cold intensity. "A problem that has persisted far too long, wouldn't you say, dear?"

And for a fortnight there, we were forever~

“How have the police not caught the perpetrator?” You ask. Alastor's smile grows wider, his eyes gleaming with a sinister light as he reveals his true identity. "Ah, the police? They are blind to the truth, chéri. They think they're hunting a monster, but they have no idea the true nature of the beast they seek." You look at him in disbelief. “What do you mean?” He takes a sip of his black tea, before putting it back down onto the plate. Leaning forward, Alastor's voice drops to a conspiratorial whisper. "The bayou butcher is not some mindless killer, my dear. Every person he has killed had it coming. They were all terrible people."

You go silent for a moment, contemplating his words, before speaking again. “It doesn’t matter. People are still dead.” ​​Alastor's smile returns, but this time it's laced with a hint of sadness. "Ah, but that's where you're wrong, cher. They deserved what they got, and in a way, the city is better off without them, mon coeur.” You look into his gorgeous hazel eyes, trying to search his face, before continuing. “Maybe so, but murder is still murder.” Alastor chuckles darkly, his eyes glinting with a cold, unyielding light. "You're too naive, cher. The world isn't black and white. Sometimes, justice needs a helping hand...or a bloody knife." He leans back, his gaze never leaving yours.

Run into you sometimes, ask about the weather~

“I know that! That’s exactly why murder is never okay! These people could have changed or gone to prison if necessary! But they didn't need to die!” Alastor's face darkens. His smile twitching as a flash of anger passes over his features before he regains his composure. He leans forward, his voice low and menacing. "You think you understand, but you don't. You haven't seen the depths of human cruelty that I have." Alastor's eyes narrow as he studies your face, searching for any hint of understanding or agreement. After a long, tense moment, he leans back, his smile returning but lacking its usual warmth. "You're so pure and righteous."

Alastor chuckles softly, but there's no real amusement in the sound. "It's admirable, truly. But in this world, such naivety can be dangerous." His gaze drifts to the window, his voice taking on a wistful tone. “It’s getting late. You should run home.” You get up, and place your teacup back on its saucer. “I’ll see you tomorrow, Alastor.” You walk home, and get ready for bed. You contemplate Alastor’s words. Why was he on the killer’s side? As you drift off to sleep, you're unaware of the figure watching you from the shadows outside your window. It's Alastor, standing motionless in the darkness, his eyes fixed on your sleeping form. "Such a pure soul.”

Now you’re at my mailbox, turned into good neighbors~

The next morning, after getting dressed and cooking yourself some eggs and bacon, you walk outside to your mailbox. As you reach for your mail, a gloved hand suddenly appears, plucking a letter from the pile. You turn to see Alastor standing beside you, his smile as charming as ever. "Good morning, cher. I hope you slept well." He holds up the letter. You smile up at him. “Morning.” Alastor's eyes flicker to the letter, then back to your face. He tucks the letter into his pocket and extends his hand to you. "Would you do me the honor of accompanying me on a little errand today, dear?"

My husband is cheating, I wanna kill him~

“And what would this errand be, Mr. Heartfelt?” Alastor's smile widens, his eyes glinting with a hint of mischief. "Oh, just a little matter that requires my...particular set of skills. And I thought it would be nice to have some company." He bows slightly, his gloved hand still extended. You take his hand and walk with him. As you stroll through the city, Alastor keeps up a steady stream of charming banter, his accent thick as syrup as he regales you with tales of New Orleans' history. But you can sense that something's off, that he's tenser than usual. 

Eventually, you arrive at an old, dilapidated warehouse on the outskirts of the city. Alastor's expression darkens as he gazes up at the peeling paint and boarded-up windows. "Here we are, cher," he says softly. “Why are we here?” You ask as a wave of dread washes over you. Alastor turns to you, his eyes glinting with a dangerous light. "Let's just say this place holds some... unpleasant memories for me. Memories tied to the Bayou Butcher." He squeezes your hand almost painfully. "I need to settle an old score, dear." You gasp. “What!?” Alastor releases your hand and strides toward the warehouse doors, beckoning for you to follow. He produces a set of lockpicks from his pocket and gets to work.

I love you, its ruining my life~

As Alastor opens the front door of the old rundown warehouse, you see a man tied to a chair, blindfolded, in the middle of the room. Alastor steps inside, his eyes fixed on the man in the chair. He turns to you with a sickeningly sweet smile. "Well, well. Looks like our friend is already here waiting for us." He saunters over to the man and rips off his blindfold. “Oh my god!” You gasp, horrified. The man in the chair is none other than Detective Jameson, the one who's been investigating the Bayou Butcher's murders. He stares up at Alastor with a mixture of fear and recognition. "Heartfelt...you can't be serious," Jameson stammers.

"You have no idea how long I've been waiting to do this." Alastor paces around Jameson, his gloved hands clenching and unclenching. “Don’t hurt him!” You scream as Alastor punches him in the gut. Alastor pauses, looking back at you with a twisted smile. "Oh, mon amour, you're so precious when you're worried about someone else." He turns back to Jameson and pulls out a knife. "Now, let's talk about the Bayou Butcher, shall we?" Jameson tries to speak, but Alastor cuts him off by pressing the knife against his throat. "You think you're so smart, don't you, detective? Thinking you can outwit me and bring me to prison." Alastor's voice is cold, menacing. I love you, It’s ruining my life~

“What are you talking about?” You ask anxiously. Alastor's eyes flick to you briefly before returning to Jameson's terrified face. "Our dear detective here thinks he's solved the case. He thinks I am the Bayou Butcher." Alastor laughs darkly, the sound echoing through the empty house. “He’s right.” You feel a wave of uneasiness wash over you, almost like you're going to throw up. “You. All this time? I trusted you!” You yell, tears brimming your eyes. Alastor's smile widens, his eyes gleaming with a madman's excitement. "Of course, ma chéri. Who better to trust than your own neighbor, your own friend?" He leans in closer to Jameson, the knife pressing harder against his throat. 

You slowly back towards the exit of the abandoned warehouse. Alastor's gaze flicks to you, and he calls out, "Now, now, ma chéri, don't go rushing off. The fun's just about to begin." You freeze as his attention returns to Jameson, who's breathing heavily, eyes darting between Alastor and you. You know this is your chance. You reach the door and turn to run, but Alastor is too fast. He grabs you by the arm and spins you back around, his other hand holding the knife to Jameson's throat. "Not so fast, mon coeur. You're going to watch this little reunion." Alastor's gaze is cold, unyielding as he looks at you. "You see, detective, you were close, but you never quite figured it out. And now, it's time for you to pay the price for your meddling." He looks back at Jameson. I touched you for only a fortnight~

You can feel your eyes begin to tear up as you silently cry. Not for yourself, but for everyone Alastor has killed. Especially the detective, who’s only crime was trying to stop him. Alastor notices your tears and his expression softens slightly, almost tenderly. "Ah, ma belle, don't cry for him. He brought this upon himself." He turns back to Jameson, the knife now resting against the detective's chest. "Last words, detective?" Jameson glares at Alastor, his face contorted with hatred and defiance. "You're...you're going to pay for this, Heartfelt. Even if it's the last thing I do..." His voice trails off as Alastor drives the knife into his chest. Your silent tears run down your rosy cheeks, as a feeling of helplessness sinks in.

Alastor wipes the bloody knife on Jameson's shirt, a satisfied smile playing on his lips. He turns to you, his expression gentle, almost loving. "Now, cher, where were we?" He steps closer, reaching out to touch your face. “Don’t touch me.” You flinch out of his touch. Alastor's eyes flash with anger at your rejection, but he quickly masks it with a charming smile. "Tsk tsk, ma chérie. Is that any way to treat a gentleman?" He chuckles darkly. "You're upset, I understand." You only cry harder at his words, letting out little gasps as you try your best to stop. Alastor's voice takes on a soothing, almost hypnotic quality. "Shh, it's alright, ma belle. The detective, he was just a means to an end. You and I, we have something special."

I love you, It's ruining my life~

“I used to believe that. Not anymore.” Alastor's eyes narrow, a flicker of hurt and anger passing through them, while still keeping his same signature, everlasting smile. "Not anymore? But darling, how could you say such a thing?" He reaches for you again, his gloved hand hovering near your cheek. "I've given you everything." He says malevolently. “You are a killer! A monster!” You shriek, backing away two steps, only for Alastor to take another four towards you. Alastor's face darkens, the charming facade shattering like glass. He lunges at you, grabbing your wrists and pinning them behind your back. 

Alastor’s voice hisses in your ear, "Monster? Me? No, cher, that would be you, if you keep pushing me away." His usual charming smile is now somewhat manic, as Alastor takes out a syringe filled with a strange blue liquid. Before you can react, Alastor plunges the syringe into your neck. As the liquid enters your system, you feel a wave of dizziness, your vision blurring. You feel yourself quickly slipping out of consciousness. Alastor's voice comes to you as if from a great distance. "Goodnight, ma chérie. When you wake up, everything will be as it should be.”

A/N: please ignore the fact that I have completely abandoned my Haztober theming

[megalony]

All These Kids

This is my newest Eddie Diaz imagine, based on two requests I've merged together, it's rather long but very fluffy. I hope you will all like it, let me know what you think.

Taglist: @lunaticspoem@sj-thefanthefan@hellsdragon@im-an-adult-ish@crazylittlethingg@allauraleigh@onceuponadetectivedemigod@ceres27@avyannadawn@sleepylunarwolf@coverupps@justagirlthatlovedtoread @musicistheway @avada-kedavra-bitch-187 @luula @missdreamofendless @bradleybeachbabe @woderfulkawaii  @amberpanda99 @daggersquadphantom @marvel-and-chicago-fan @angryknightstatesmantrash @minjix @lyjen @kmc1989 @itsmytimetoodream @noonenuts @hiireadstuff @ashie-babie @classyunknownlover @jayyeahthatsme @sp1ritssz @dumb-fawkin-bitch @oliverstarksbae @gimatida @heart-35 @supernaturalstilinski @stefansalvatoresgf @kyky9103 @wutheringhearts2275 @gay4hotmilfs @itshamleth @gillybear17 @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Summary: Eddie and (Y/n) have a soccer team of kids together, who they introduce to the 118 team.

Enjoy.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

"Dad- hang on a second." Tilting her head down to the left, (Y/n) looked down at her daughter with raised brows and a smile. She pressed her hips up into the counter and waited patiently for Evie to tell her what she wanted.

But the three-year-old just held her hands up towards the phone with grabbing fingers and a sweet, toothy grin. She knew who was on the phone.

"I think I'm gonna have to pass you over. Go talk to grandad then." She leaned over and held her phone out towards Evie who clapped before she took the phone. The confusion was clear on Evie's face. She was so used to talking to her grandparents over Facetime, she wasn't used to simple phone calls anymore.

But she quickly worked it out and pressed the phone to her ear with a wide grin as she turned around. "Grandad!" Evie toddled out of the kitchen, taking (Y/n)'s phone along with her to where Chris, Finn and Nate were playing a game in the living room.

(Y/n) smiled to herself and put the kettle on to make a drink. At least she had talked to her dad for a while this time rather than a few seconds before the kids came and took the phone from her. Every time he was on the phone, all four kids seemed to sense it and take the phone to talk to him.

They were even worse if Eddie was on shift, especially an evening shift. If he missed bedtime, (Y/n) usually had to Facetime him so he could say goodnight to the kids.

Thankfully, (Y/n)'s job meant she could work from home and only had to visit the office once or twice a fortnight. She could work while the kids were at school and always be there to pick them up or stay home with them if they were sick and couldn't go to school.

So it didn't matter if Eddie wanted to do a mixture of day and night shifts or if he did a long stretch of double shifts. (Y/n) was usually able to look after the kids and Eddie did a lot of double shifts so he got a lot of bulk time off at home with his family.

Leaning forwards, (Y/n) folded her arms on the counter and arched her lower back out while she waited for the kettle. But just as it clicked, a grin wormed its way back onto her lips when she felt a familiar set of arms curve around her waist.

She straightened up and moved forwards until her hips and abdomen were pressed into the counter and she felt Eddie press up behind her. His chest moulded around hers like a blanket and his hands gave her hips a squeeze while he tilted his head down. His lips attached to her neck and made a shiver course down (Y/n)'s spine and tingle down to her arms.

"Hi babe," She reached her hand down to give Eddie's wrist a squeeze while she leaned her head against his.

"You got something you need to tell me?" Eddie's words were soft and low as they vibrated through (Y/n)'s neck.

Those words made her heart race and she nuzzled her nose into his hair, trying to rack her brain to think what he meant by that. His words weren't daring or annoyed, they were quite the opposite which made (Y/n) even more dazed. She couldn't think what he was referring to.

She didn't have anything to tell him, did she? Nothing significant had happened. She hadn't told Chris, Finn or the twins anything or any secret surprise for Eddie that they could have let loose.

"I… I don't think so. Why, should I?"

When Eddie bit down on her neck, (Y/n) pressed her lips together so she didn't make a sound. But she knew he felt the deep breath she took, especially when he dragged his tongue across the mark he'd just created.

She stayed still while Eddie curved his left arm around her waist, tugging her back as if the tiny membrane of space between them was far too much. His chest tensed up against her back and his face stayed tucked into her neck with his nose brushing across the side of her jaw like a feather.

(Y/n) almost closed her eyes until she felt Eddie's right arm move over her hip and he placed something down on the counter in front of her.

"Are we expecting a new arrival?"

Eddie dragged his lips up (Y/n)'s neck, across her jaw and around until he was hovering over her lips. He pecked her lips once, then twice, then again until (Y/n) almost forgot what he'd even asked her.

She kissed him again, cupping the side of his face with her right hand before Eddie finally pulled back and looked down at the counter.

He'd been a little more than surprised when he looked in the bathroom cabinet and found a pregnancy test which he knew hadn't been there last week. He could still remember each of the other three times she'd told him she was pregnant.

Eddie had been about to head back to the army for another tour when (Y/n) gave him a baby grow for his birthday and said they were expecting Chris. And when Chris was four, he gave Eddie a small box for father's day with a pair of baby booties in and a positive test. He remembered the way he'd almost collapsed at their first scan when they found out they were having two babies, not just one.

Eddie had been more than in love with the way (Y/n) looked and changed when she was pregnant.

The last time (Y/n) was pregnant Eddie had figured it out before she told him. He started to notice the signs, she had been really sick during the first few months when they were expecting Evie. And it had been uplifting to finally have a girl that time after three boys.

He leaned back a little so (Y/n) could turn around his arms so she was facing him. When her hands moved to cup his face and smooth across his jaw, Eddie glided his hands down from her hips to grab the back of her thighs. He lifted her up and slid her back onto the counter, moving so he was stood between her legs that instantly wrapped around his waist and squeezed him tight.

"Mi amor?"

"I think so, I haven't had chance to take the test yet." (Y/n) looped her arms around the back of his neck and leaned her forehead against his.

(Y/n) didn't like to tell Eddie if she thought she was pregnant, just in case it turned out she wasn't. She thought that if she was, she would surprise him again like she did with Chris and then the twins. But she hadn't found the time to take the test yet, it had been sitting in the back of the bathroom cupboard while (Y/n) tried to get some time and courage to do it.

"You know you've kind of ruined the surprise if I am." She knew she should have done it as soon as she bought the test. (Y/n) didn't like just coming out with it or having Eddie work it out like he did with Evie, she wanted to tell him. She wanted to try and make it a surprise and something special.

"We don't technically know yet, so go take the test and surprise me."

He leaned his temple against hers as his hands wormed beneath her shirt and splayed out across her back.

They hadn't exactly talked about having more kids. They always said they wanted kids together. Finding out about Chris was the reason they got married so quickly and Eddie didn't do anymore tours in the army after Chris was born. He couldn't bear to be separated from his family anymore.

Having twins had been a big surprise but they had coped amazingly well with double trouble and looking after Chris. And Evie had been a very welcomed gift and (Y/n) knew Eddie had been ecstatic about finally having a little girl to spoil.

"Eager?" (Y/n) whispered against his lips as she tightened her legs around his hips and pulled him closer until his groin bumped into hers.

"Yeah. I miss you being pregnant, and how small Evie was when she was born." Eddie wasn't ashamed to admit it. He was always attached to (Y/n) at the hip when she was pregnant. And he missed having a baby in his arms. Evie had been two months early and she had been so tiny that she didn't even fit the length of Eddie's arm.

He loved having his tiny little girl wrapped up in his arms or snuggled down on his chest. He used to call her his little doll because of how little she cried and how tiny and porcelean she looked.

When his lips curved up into a smile, (Y/n) closed the gap between them and smothered his lips with hers.

(Y/n)'s fingers reached up to tangle in the short hairs at the back of his neck and when she gave a sharp tug, she swallowed up the groan Eddie let out. She could feel herself smiling against his lips and she used her legs to pull him closer. Sliding herself onto the edge of the counter so she was almost sitting on Eddie's hips.

"What if it's negative?" Her lips barely parted from his to ask what was playing on the back of her mind.

(Y/n) had been thinking and thinking about this and built herself up with the thought that she probably was pregnant. If the test was negative (Y/n) knew her mood was going to deflate and Eddie's would too which was why she didn't want to tell him unless she was certain.

"Then I can help with that," His hands slid down from under her shirt and in one quick swoop, he held her by the thighs again and pulled her onto his torso. "We can always try for a baby this time, you know."

The twins had been somewhat planned and Evie was a complete surprise, but there was nothing stopping them from planning to have a baby this time if the test was negative.

"Really?"

"Hm. I don't think we'll have to try too hard, either."

Pulling back, (Y/n) trailed her lips down to Eddie's jaw when he turned around. But she quickly pulled away and looked over her shoulder when Eddie stopped walking. Evie was stood in front of him in the doorway to the kitchen, holding the phone up to them.

(Y/n) bit down on her lip and tilted her head forward, burrowing her face back into the crook of Eddie's neck when she realised Chris had showed her how to switch the call to Facetime. Her dad was on the phone and he could see her clinging to Eddie like a baby monkey.

"Am I unterrupting?" Her dad narrowed his eyes and tilted his head back when Evie turned the phone to face her parents.

She, Chris and the twins had all been showing their grandad the new video game Chris was playing. Which Chris knew Eddie had secretly played at night and unlocked at least seven new levels that Chris was now re-doing.

"Nope, what can we do for you?" Eddie leaned forward and took (Y/n)'s phone from their daughter. "Thank you baby," He whispered and pecked Evie's temple while he juggled to keep (Y/n) on his hips with one arm. He didn't want her to get down, he was perfectly happy carrying her around for a while. Eddie wanted her as close as possible and their families were accustomed to the amount of PDA the couple showed, this was nothing new.

"I just wanted to double check if the kids are staying over this weekend?"

"You can have them at the weekend if you want them." (Y/n) nudged her forehead against Eddie's neck and leaned her cheek against his collar bone so she could look at her dad on the phone. Her eyes drifted back up to look at Eddie though, giving him a warning look when he hitched his hand up from her thigh to hold her bum instead.

Her parents had taken to having all the kids almost every weekend while Eddie was at work. It gave (Y/n) and Eddie some time alone when he was back from work since his weekends off were usually spent down at the beach or the amusements with the kids.

And usually one weekend a month, (Y/n) and Eddie would take the kids down to see Eddie's parents and sisters back in Texas if they could.

"Perfect. Alright, I'll let you all go and see you at the weekend."

(Y/n) tightened her arms around Eddie's neck and held her breath when he flopped down on the armchair and she thudded down onto his lap. She could see Chris trying to show Nate how to play the new video game, but Nate was usually more content to watch rather than play. Finn was already settled and knew what he was doing in the game.

And Evie usually liked to try and play the games, especially when Eddie was playing as she liked to copy him.

"Where'd you think you're going?" Eddie murmured, grazing his teeth along the side of (Y/n)'s neck when her hands moved to his shoulders and she tried to get up.

"I thought you wanted me to find out." She waved her hand towards the kitchen where he'd left the test and a smile graced her lips when he nodded. She could see him fighting off a smile but he couldn't help it.

Eddie let go of her without a fuss and listened to the sound of her walking back into the kitchen. But he tilted his head back, supressing a groan when Evie grabbed his knees and started to clamber up onto his lap too.

She scrambled over his legs, accidentally kicked him and wriggled until she could flop onto the middle of his chest and sprawl out across him. She grinned to herself and draped her arms over Eddie's chest and snuggled into his neck until he shivered.

"Hi baby girl," He murmured softly, tilting his head down to kiss the top of her head while he smoothed his hand up and down her back.

He let his eyes drift over to his boys. Chris and Nate were sat next to each other on the sofa and Finn was on the floor leaning up against Chris's legs as they played their new video game. Eddie liked that game. He was rather good at all the combat missions and he could never help himself when Chris left the games switched on and Eddie couldn't sleep.

"Finn, where are your glasses?" Eddie propped his head up on his left hand while his right hand continued to smooth up and down Evie's back. It was hard to keep his eyes open and focused on his boys when he was slouched down in the chair and this was how he always laid to get Evie to take a nap and go to sleep.

But Eddie managed to keep his gaze focused on Finn, watching the seven year old glance up at him with a sheepish look and tightly pursed lips.

"Bedroom." He whispered back but he began to pout when Eddie clicked his fingers and pointed to the hall.

"Go put them on please."

"But-"

"If you don't wear them, you don't play the game. Go put them on."

Finn passed the control up to Nate who shuffled closer to Chris, he wasn't good at video games and was more content to watch than to play.

At their last eye test, Nate had perfect vision whereas Finn was starting to struggle like Chris, but he didn't like glasses. Something about the feel of them upset him.

(Y/n) had been back to the opticians twice to get new pairs when Finn ripped them off and broke the arm and then he'd tossed them and popped the lens out. They had to keep persevering with him because his eyesight wasn't going to get any better without his glasses. They were trying to get him to wear them when he was concentrating such as playing games or when he was reading.

He didn't have to wear them early in the morning or late into the night or if he was building with his Lego. Eddie hoped they'd get him wearing them all the time soon, and with Chris wearing glasses, it was prompting and showing Finn he needed his too.

"Are you both having a nap?" (Y/n) commented when Eddie propped his feet up on the coffee table and tilted his head back. She watched him smile while he closed his eyes, and Evie already had her eyes closed and her body snuggled under Eddie's arm like it was a blanket.

"We're tired." He didn't bother to open his eyes, but he moved his right arm out instinctively and waited for (Y/n) to sit back down on his lap. She wriggled to get comfy and make sure she wasn't leaning on Evie before she slumped her head into the crook of Eddie's neck and pecked his cheek. "So?"

He cracked one eye open and tilted his head to look down at her, but (Y/n) kept her face buried against Eddie's neck and continued to pepper kisses up and down his skin.

"You can officially dig my maternity clothes out again."

***

"Where's dad?"

(Y/n) turned to the left and looked over at Chris with a smile. She loved the way his eyes danced around the station in wonder. He had been wanting to come down for a while now and see where Eddie worked, but they had never found the right time.

She knew Eddie was trying to make friends here and get along with the team before he introduced them to his family. And the kids were a handful, (Y/n) was always too nervous to bring any of them down here in case they ran round and caused a scene or got in the way.

Eddie's job was demanding and hectic, the last thing they needed was kids running ramped and causing chaos. And (Y/n) would never want to disrupt Eddie at work or get him in trouble for bringing the kids down. She didn't know the rules here, if family were allowed to come by unannounced or not.

"He should be here somewhere. I hope."

When Evie wriggled in her arms, (Y/n) set the toddler down to her feet but kept hold of her hand so she stayed close.

She had Chris next to her on her left, Evie now between her legs and the twins near Chris taking in their new surroundings.

"Hi, can I help you?"

A shiver bolted down (Y/n)'s spine and she tried to smile politely when her eyes landed on an older man. He had a kind smile and his eyes were soft and warm as he looked across the kids before he looked over at (Y/n). He stood in front of them, a smile still gracing his face and both hands on his hips. He had an authoritive aura about him and when (Y/n) saw Nash written on his shirt, she knew he was the captain Eddie was always talking about.

"I was wondering if-" (Y/n) broke off when Evie suddenly let go of her hand and tore off into a sprint.

Her little arms stretched out in front of her and she squealed, kicking up dust behind her from how fast she bolted while (Y/n) was distracted. "It's daddy!"

(Y/n) sucked in a deep breath and bit down on her lip when she looked at who Evie had set her sights on. That wasn't Eddie. The hair was too light and short on top. The shoulders were too square and set high. The circular tattoo on his forearm was on the wrong arm for it to be her husband.

"No Evie that's not- I'm so sorry." She looked back over at the Captain, apologies clear in her eyes and written across her face as she turned to her boys. "Stay there."

She hitched her bag higher up her shoulder and took off in a sprint after her daughter who squealed again and caught the attention of whoever it was she had her sights set on. Her steps faltered and her smile deflated instantly when the man turned around and Evie realised it wasn't Eddie.

"Hey cutie, where'd you come from?" Evan grinned from ear to ear and crouched down in front of the toddler who looked like she wanted to reach out for him but suddenly didn't dare.

"It's not daddy," Evie whispered and looked over her shoulder up at her mum but when she looked back at Evan, she managed a cheeky smile that made his heart jump.

"No, it's not sweetie."

"I'm Buck… does your daddy work here?" When Evie nodded, Evan kindly held his arms out to her. "We've got some brownies upstairs, do you want one?" He looked up at (Y/n) and when she nodded, Evan picked Evie up and sat her down on his hip.

"I'll be one minute, you stay with Buck, okay?" (Y/n) kissed Evie's cheek and let Buck take her upstairs. He was the one Eddie kept talking about, the person he was partnered up with a lot who he really got along with. She knew he would be safe and fine to look after Evie for a little while.

Once he began his ascent up the stairs, (Y/n) turned and headed back near the fire truck to see what the boys were doing.

A fond smile took over her face when she saw Bobby with Chris. He was stood beneath the fire pole, Chris hoisted up in his arms to help him slide down the pole as if he were one of the team.

She got out her phone and took a quick photo before she took another step closer and looked around.

"Where are the twins?" Her question was directed more at Chris than at Bobby and she glanced around, feeling her heart pick up pace when she couldn't see the boys anywhere.

"I believe they wandered upstairs, they wanted to see the pole properly." Bobby set Chris down to his feet and smiled across at (Y/n) as he pointed upwards. He had given the boys the okay to head upstairs and come down the pole from the top as long as they were careful and he said he would wait down here for them. But he figured they got sidetracked as they hadn't come down yet.

"I'm really sorry-"

(Y/n) could feel her panic bubbling up inside of her as she moved her hand from her hip to rub across her forehead. The boys were as good as gold until they were about to make first impressions. Then they would run for their lives and go off wandering even when (Y/n) told them to stay put. But if Bobby had told them it was okay, (Y/n) couldn't really blame them.

"Don't be, families are welcome here, you know. They're fine to wander around and take a look. Who are you here to see, by the way?"

"Dad works here." Chris tilted his head back and grinned up at Bobby before he reached across and took (Y/n)'s hand.

"Oh, who's your dad?"

"Eddie." (Y/n)'s soft voice matched the melting look in her eyes and she couldn't help how she smirked when Bobby rose his brows and let out a quiet 'huh'. Clearly they didn't have Eddie pegged as a family man.

When Bobby uttered a soft "He's upstairs," (Y/n) nodded and let Chris guide her over towards the stairs.

"Oh, you found one too, huh?" Glancing around the kitchen, Hen smiled over at Evan when he climbed up the stairs with a little girl in his arms. She had just found two boys looking at the fire pole. Nobody told them they would be expecting guests today. They weren't told of friends or family coming down, not that it was an issue. But Hen was surprised. That made three kids so far that they had come across like an Easter egg hunt.

A tender smile flooded Evan's face when he saw the two boys who sat down at the table with Hen. Evan nodded proudly and bounced the little girl on his hip, aiming for the fridge until she squealed and stopped him dead in his tracks.

Eddie ducked his head down to miss a low-hanging beam but he hurried past the pool table when he suddenly heard Evie's voice.

What was she doing here?

"Hey boys," When he reached the dining table, Eddie leaned over and ruffled the twins hair and kissed the top of their heads before he headed over to Evan. "Hey baby. I see you found my kids." His grin made his eyes crease and he held his arms out when Evie wriggled against Evan to get over to him.

"Daddy!"

Eddie lifted her up and kissed her cheek before he settled her down on his chest and nuzzled his nose against hers to make her squirm.

"They're your kids?" Hen looked between the boys and the girl in Eddie's arms. He never mentioned having a family. He never even said if he was married or not. All they seemed to wangle out of Eddie was that he clearly went home to someone when he left shift. He was always happy to be here but also eager to leave.

He didn't come out for drinks that often after a shift either and he checked his phone a lot, but then again so did Evan and he didn't have a family waiting at home for him.

"You have three kids, and you never said anything?" Evan reached his hand out and leaned against the kitchen counter, crossing one leg over the other.

Why didn't he tell them? Why wouldn't he say he had kids or bring them down to the station sooner? He had seen Hen bring Denny and Bobby brought May and Harry down all the time. They all brought their kids and partners down to see the team and get to know the station and what they did here.

"Wow, you have three kids?" Ravi wandered over from the sofa where he had been watching tv. He stuffed his hands into his pockets and looked between the kids as he leaned back against the balcony rail with a smile. But as all eyes looked at Eddie, they watched a dangerous smile overtake his face and he shook his head.

His eyes locked on the stairs and Eddie watched Bobby walk up with the rest of his family and his dangerous smile broadened.

"Try five." Eddie scratched his jaw and pointed across at (Y/n) and Chris before he reached his arm out and let Chris barrel into his side and wrap around him like a vine.

When Chris moved to sit down opposite Hen and the twins, Eddie curled his arm around (Y/n) instead and reeled her into his side while Evie stayed curled up in his other arm. He smoothed his thumb up and down her hip and leaned his forehead against hers as (Y/n) pressed a chaste kiss to his cheek.

"Where's number five?" Evan did a quick sweep around to look for the fifth kid but he couldn't find one. He could see three boys and one cute little girl.

"In production." Eddie leaned back and curved his hand a little tighter around (Y/n)'s waist so his fingers could skim across her bump that Evan clearly failed to notice. They only had four months to go before they could meet baby number five, possibly less than that if their next child decided to come early like Evie had.

"Are you trying to make your own football team with all these kids?" Ravi glanced his eyes around the annex before he pushed off the balcony and moved towards the kitchen. If he was aiming for his own team, Eddie was roughly halfway there. Especially with a handful of boys and only one girl so far.

"Something like that."

Tilting her head to the side, (Y/n) leaned her cheek on Eddie's shoulder and smiled when she felt his lips against the top of her head. Her arms moved to wrap around his chest and when Eddie leaned forward, (Y/n) leaned with him. She watched him ease Evie down into the chair in front of him so she was sat beside Chris.

She began patting her hands against the table like she was drumming out a beat for everyone. When she stretched her hands out for the cup in the middle of the table, Eddie quickly grabbed it first and slid it down the end of the table towards Evan. "You're not having coffee baby, nice try."

Evan grabbed the mug and put it in the sink and found a juice bottle in the fridge which he handed over to the toddler instead.

"Why did you come down today, I thought you were all going out?" Eddie spoke quietly, hovering his lips over the shell of (Y/n)'s ear until she was shivering and squirming against him.

"I need to borrow the jeep."

"What's wrong with the car?"

It was usual for Eddie to take the jeep to work and leave (Y/n) with the car. Eddie was so used to driving bigger cars and the trucks here at the station that going back to a small car always made his driving worse. And (Y/n) felt safer driving something smaller than the jeep Eddie had. She only drove the jeep when she was desperate and had no other choice.

"Mum broke the car-"

"Chris! I didn't break the car." (Y/n) unravelled an arm from around Eddie so she could swat Chris's shoulder playfully. She pressed her lips into a thin line when he tipped his head back into her stomach and started laughing. "The car's got a flat tyre and I can't change it. Can I take the jeep, I'll come back and pick you up later when you finish."

They had been really lucky this afternoon when they went to get in the car that Nate had noticed the back tyre was deflated. (Y/n) checked it over but she couldn't put the spare on, not when she was five months pregnant and she didn't have the energy to be messing around with it.

So they had all taken a walk down to the station in hopes of robbing the jeep for the afternoon. (Y/n) would bring the kids back out later and pick Eddie up from shift so he didn't have to walk home after an eighteen hour shift.

"I'll give you a ride home. Save bringing your troop back out later to get you." A grin spread across Evan's face as he took a seat at the end of the table. He didn't mind dropping Eddie off, they finished at the same time today anyway. And it saved (Y/n) having to drag all the kids back out this way to go back home again.

"Thanks. I'll get you the keys in a minute."

"Do you boys wanna look round the fire truck before you go?"

Three pairs of eyes suddenly set on Eddie, staring up at him with pleading looks waiting for permission to go and look. The moment Eddie nodded, the twins were up and at the stairs and Chris followed behind, kissing (Y/n)'s arm as he passed.

"Do you want to go too?" Evie tilted her head back to look at Eddie and she shook her head. She didn't want to go anywhere, she was fine at the table.

She pushed her empty juice bottle away and scrambled up onto the table so she could crawl across to Hen who happily picked her up and gave her some attention.

(Y/n) perched her chin on Eddie's shoulder and smiled sweetly up at him as she moved her arms from his chest to wrap around his neck instead. Her smile broadened when Eddie turned so his chest was merged with hers and he looped both arms around her waist, rubbing his hands up and down her hips. Although they kept moving dangerously south.

"I'll go grab the keys… will you need a leg up to get in the jeep?" His teeth punctured down into his lower lip when (Y/n)'s arms tightened around his neck. He watched the way she pursed her lips and leaned her head to the side with one brow arched.

"What do you mean by that, Eddie?" If he was going to start teasing her, she was going to start using his name. He was used to petnames rolling off her lips, hearing his name meant he was either in trouble or in for a good night.

"Be careful what you say next." Bobby muttered and patted Eddie's shoulder as he walked past him to get into the kitchen.

"You think you can get up that high?" He taunted while his eyes did another sweep up and down her frame and lingered on her stomach for a few extra seconds. Eddie loved winding her up. It was always easy to get (Y/n) riled up and it didn't matter if she knew he was joking, she always went along with it and teased him in return.

"Hm, maybe not." Pushing up on her tiptoes, (Y/n) pecked his lips before she wriggled out of his arms and took a look around. "Maybe I should find a fireman strong enough to help me. Any suggestions?" Her eyes darted over his arms, squinting as if she were scrutinising him and she patted his shoulder as she walked past him like she was dismissing him out of that category.

"I think that's a challenge I can win."

(Y/n) bit down on her lower lip, trying to distort her smile as she looked across at Evan when he got up from the table. It was clear in his eyes that he was trying to wind Eddie up and taking a few steps closer to (Y/n) as if he was about to do something clearly sparked the competitive, teasing side in Eddie.

She looked across at Evie who was giggling on Hen's lap even though she didn't really understand the conversation or what they were talking about.

She felt a familiar set of hands on her arms and her breath caught in her lungs when Eddie spun her around so she was facing him.

Her arms moved and she was about to fold them over her chest but she reached out quickly when Eddie bent down. (Y/n) had no idea what he was doing. A gasp tumbled past her lips and she grabbed his shoulders to steady herself when he held her thighs and lifted her up. He lifted her high enough that she had to loop her legs around his hips when she realised he wasn't about to put her down anytime soon.

His hands stayed curled tight around the back of her thighs and he grinned when she leaned forward, pressing her chest into his and hiding her face in the crook of his neck.

"If you drop me-"

"What, like this?" Eddie bent his knees and loosened his hands on her thighs until (Y/n) slid down his torso just a little.

"Eddie!" (Y/n) snapped her eyes closed and kept her face smothered in his neck so she didn't have to look around at the team who were laughing while Evie cheered. Her arms deadlocked around Eddie's neck and she pushed forward until he dug his fingertips into her soft thighs to reassure her he had a good grip. He wouldn't purposely drop her. He would never.

"Am I strong enough for you now?"

***

(Y/n) took a step back into Eddie, hovering over the threshold when she opened the front door only to be faced with Chris. He had either been about to open the door for them or he had been waiting near the door for them to come home.

A grin spread across her features and she reached out to wrap her arms around him when he pushed forward and curled around her.

"Were you waiting for us?" She mumbled softly into his hair as she kissed his temple. She felt Eddie's hands on her hips and he slowly walked the three of them forwards so they could get inside and shut the door.

They both looked up when Carla walked out of the kitchen, the twins following at her side. "He's been waiting anxiously for you to come home." She spoke with a soft smile which made Chris lean forward and press his face into (Y/n)'s stomach.

He giggled into her shirt which made her shiver and when (Y/n) started to rake her hands through his curls, he tilted his head back and rested his chin on her stomach instead so he was looking up at her.

"You said you'd find out today. What is it?"

"It's… a baby."

(Y/n) rolled her eyes and looked over her shoulder with an unamused expression at her husband. She watched Eddie grin and ruffle Chris's hair when Chris groaned and nudged him. All the kids knew they were going to find out if the new baby was a boy or a girl and they all wanted to know. Especially Chris. He was excited to tell his friends and his teachers at school.

Chris stayed tucked under (Y/n)'s arm as they followed Eddie into the living room where Carla and the twins were setting up a movie to watch.

A grin broke out on Eddie's face and made his heart jump in his chest when he looked over at the sofa. Evie was having a power nap. The three year old was laid on her side, curled up on the cushion with her blanket tightly bound in her arms against her chest.

Moving across to the sofa, Eddie crouched down and tenderly reached out to brush his thumb across Evie's cheek. He didn't really want to wake her up from her nap, but they were home now and she needed to wake up to hear the good news.

"Hi baby," He spoke softly and quietly when Evie's eyes fluttered open and a tired smile pulled at her lips when she realised who was talking to her.

She didn't have to speak. She shuffled across until Eddie took the hint and reached out for her. He lifted her up and switched places so he was sat in her seat and she was laid on his chest instead. Her head tucked beneath his chin and her arms bound around his chest as she wriggled to get comfy against him.

Chris slumped down on the sofa next to Eddie while Finn sat next to him and Carla stood near the end of the sofa. She was eager to find out what the new baby would be, if there would be another little girl around to spoil or an army of boys to outnumber them.

And Nate shuffled across to sit between (Y/n)'s legs instead with his arms folded over her lap and his eyes concentrated on her stomach.

"Daddy?"

"Yeah, baby?" Eddie tilted his chin down so he could look at Evie. She could barely keep her eyes open and he knew in a few minutes she would be back to sleep if she didn't get overexcited about the new baby.

He took to gliding his hand up and down her back while Chris leaned his head on his shoulder.

"If it's a sister… will I still be your baby girl?" She snuggled deeper into Eddie's chest while he pressed his lips to the top of her head.

His eyes drifted over to look at (Y/n) and he could see her biting back a soft smile. Evie was so used to Eddie saying she was his little girl, his only girl apart from (Y/n). If they had another girl, she wondered if that nickname would disappear and if Eddie would have to start calling her something else.

Eddie had been in two minds about it. Up to now he had been content to say that he had one little girl and three amazing boys. He would love another girl. He loved all the kids equally, but Evie seemed the most like him, his little shadow, whereas Chris was most like (Y/n), and the twins would always switch between them. But Eddie also wanted Evie to stay his only girl.

"You don't have to worry about that, baby. You're gonna have a little brother."

"It's a boy?" Nate pushed up on his knees and pressed his lips and nose against (Y/n)'s stomach as if he was trying to see through her stomach to see the baby.

"Yep. I'm well and truly outnumbered by my boys." Leaning over, (Y/n) pressed a kiss to the top of Nate's head and began rubbing her hand up and down his back as he clung to her front.

There would be five boys in the house and only two girls.

"Another boy." Chris grinned and leaned his head on Eddie's shoulder, wrapping his arms around him to snuggle into his side. While Finn nudged his glasses higher up his nose and grinned up at Carla who was clapping happily.

"I'm daddy's only girl." Evie mumbled happily as she moved her arms higher to lock them around Eddie's neck. She shuffled up a little higher so she could tiredly look up at him with a grin and she nudged her nose against his, prompting him to give her a kiss.

"No, I've got two girls. You're my baby girl, and mummy's my best girl."

Evie nodded and began to giggle when Eddie peppered kisses all across her cheeks. She could live with that. She could very happily be his only little girl and share the title of Eddie's only girl with her mum. She slumped back down onto his chest, giggling and squirming when Eddie bound his arms around her in a bear hug and Chris leaned over to hug her too.

Soon they would have four boys and only one girl. For now.