#looking forward to in a fortnight's time!

[roses-and-elixir]

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

[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's 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.

Jacerys, 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’s 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. Jacerys 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)

[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. 

[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

[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 ✨

[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.

[mistydeyes]

makeup wipes and cleansing balm - running mascara pt. ii

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summary: After a long argument and scathing words from your significant other, it’s time to face them again. Will they apologize or are you left to clean up your tears and mascara on your own?

read pt.i here!

pairing: Task Force 141 x fem!Reader

warnings: swearing, mentions of depression/mental illness/seperation anxiety

💌 @glitteryeggalmondherring (the og requestor!), @ananas26t, @delilahhhh403, @batmanunicorns523, @zzzennin, @ghostslittlegf, @ihavemanychickens

a/n: you guys went FERAL over this! hope you enjoy part ii! literally just realized how long this was omg

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price

After you stormed out in the middle of the night, you found yourself at the doorstep of your friend’s flat. “God what are you doing here so late?” he said as he rubbed his eyes. It was 3 am after all. However, as he saw your puffy eyes and how you were in your pajamas, he let you in. You sat across the counter, giving him a Sparknotes version of the previous night’s events. “I can’t believe he would say that to you,” he mused as you gingerly sipped on your tea. “I know, it surprised me too,” you uttered, “mind if I use your washroom and splash some cold water out of my face?” He nodded and you found your way to the bathroom. You breathed out as you examined your puffy eyes and tear-stained cheeks. You splashed the cold water with your hands and as you turned off the tap, you heard your friend answer the door. 

At first, the voices were muffled and you dried your face with the towel. However as they approached the kitchen, you realized you heard the baritones of John as he pleaded with your friend. “John, she doesn’t want to see you,” you could hear your friend say through the closed door. You placed the towel down and held your ear to the wood to get a better sense of the situation. “I know, I know, I ju–“ your friend cut John off. “You know what, John? As I said before, she doesn’t want to see you.” You could hear John sigh before sitting down on the couch. “I know I said some things I shouldn’t have but I just want to apologize,” he said and you could hear the defeat in his tone. The floor creaked slightly as your friend sat down next to him. “Do you know how many nights she sat waiting for you? How many cold dinners that she threw out in the morning when you failed to walk through the door? Of course, you wouldn’t know, you weren’t the one she was calling every fortnight!” your friend exclaimed and you were surprised at his rising tone. There was a pause before he continued. “You have some goddamn nerve coming here after what you said to her. She made that house a home and the first thing you do to thank her is berate her? I couldn’t fucking believe it when she showed up at my doorstep.”

There were more words exchanged as you wondered what to do. You couldn’t stay in this bathroom forever and it was clear John knew you had headed here. You wondered if you could fit through the small window. As you plotted your escape, the bathroom door flung open. You turned around to see John standing there with a surprised look on his face. “I told you to not go in the bathroom,” your friend scowled at John. You stared at him blankly and protectively wrapped your arms around yourself. “Hello, John,” you spoke coldly and tried to move around him but he blocked your path. “Are you gonna let me pass?” you asked as you looked up at him. “Will you come home?” he requested and you held your gaze with tears in your eyes. “Depends.” The tension was clear in the room and before your friend could interrupt, John closed and locked the door behind him. You took a step back in the now enclosed space as you realized your exit was closed. You avoided his gaze as he took a step forward, attempting to hold your cheek.

“You can’t just win me back by trapping me in here,” you responded as you peeled his touch off of you. He looked at you sadly and swallowed, trying to find the words to say. “I know,” he began, “and you can tell me to stop.” You nodded at his contentions and leaned against the wall. “I don’t expect you to forgive me, hell, I wouldn't either," he said with a chuckle and you struggled to suppress a small smile, "but I am so sorry for taking my frustrations out on you." "I understand you were frustrated but it was what came after," you trailed off, "you made me feel so inconsequential, John, and I think that's what hurt the most." You tried to shake the tears that were bubbling to the surface but soon they permeated your face. "Please, don't cry," he consoled and grabbed a few tissues for you. You trembled at his touch as he wiped them away. "I know I ask a lot for you and don't give much back but I always appreciate you," he whispered and you leaned into his chest. He wrapped his arms around you as you continue to sob uncontrollably. "You don't owe me anything but will you please come home?" he begged and you looked up at him. As you wiped furiously at the tears, he kissed your forehead gently. "It isn't the same without you there, love," he whispered, pulling you back into his soaked torso. "I think I would like that," you muttered into his chest. You spent a few moments in each other's embrace before you emerged from the bathroom. "I'll be heading home now," you called to your friend and he waved you off. "Don't make her cry again, John, or you're a deadman," you could hear him whisper as he held John back for a moment. For the first time, you could see the words shutter through him. "I promise."

soap

Your eyes shot open with the radiant morning light and you groaned in response. You felt like absolute shit. What would normally be a gorgeous morning was already draining. You rolled your sore shoulders and tried to run your fingers through your tangled hair. Despite being in bed, you were both physically and emotionally exhausted. The entire night Johnny kept pounding on the door and pleading for you to open it. He had tried every tactic in the book and eventually, you had fallen asleep in exhaustion. As you got up and heard the bed creak, the knocking resumed. Bastard must’ve slept on the floor. “Y/N please just open the door,” he pleaded through the closed door. “Can’t hear you!” you shouted back, “too busy being a fucking buzzkill in here!” “I just want to talk to you.” “And I don’t, so just leave me alone,” you replied angrily and you could hear his footsteps exit the flat.

Minutes later as you were playing on your phone, you screamed as you heard a loud knock on the balcony’s door. “What the fuck!” you shrieked as your head whipped around. Johnny stood there panting as he tried to fix himself. He looked worse off than you and you were baffled that he had climbed up to the second story. “Why are you on my balcony?” you asked as you wrapped yourself in the duvet. “You wouldn’t talk to me out there, so I thought about a change in setting,” he said, almost questioningly. God, why did you have to date a military sergeant? You stood there shocked for a moment before you were able to formulate a sentence. “If I hear you out, will you leave me alone?” He paced around a bit before agreeing to your terms. “Will you let me in?” he asked, pulling at the locked door. “Not a fucking chance, I can hear you perfectly clear in here.”

He took a deep breath before he walked closer to the glass. "I'm so sorry, I took it too far," he said quietly and looked for your response. "Johnny, it's always too far with you," you sighed, "I don't know where you get off with these things?" He nodded as you continued to let out your frustrations. "Every time I think we have talked it out, you go and do something more infuriating!" your tone was beginning to build and you could feel your voice reverberate through the room. He looked like a kicked puppy but you wanted him to hear all of it. "I just don't understand why you feel the need to embarrass me like that, especially in front of people that you talk so highly of," with this last statement you trailed off and the defeat was evident in your voice. "I'm sorry that it had to come to this for me to realize," he replied, a sudden acceptance in his tone, "I know I take jokes too far but I never meant to hurt you." You sat up in bed and faced him, preparing to hear him out. "I should've known better but I hear you now," he said sheepishly and rubbed his neck as he looked at you again. You tried to avoid his gaze but you could feel your anger begin to wear away. "I don't want to argue like that again, Johnny," you said, now sounding more broken and exhausted than before, "I want us to enjoy our time out." "I want that too and I promise there won't be a next time when you're sleeping alone," he comforted and that was all you needed to hear.

You got up from the bed and unlocked the door. He entered cautiously and held his arms out for you. You readily returned his embrace and you swayed slightly as you both said nothing. "I missed you," he whispered and you placed a hand on his cheek. "I missed you too, you bastard." He led you gently back into bed and you got under the soft covers. "How about we spend a night in? Watch a movie with some pints?" he offered and you readily agreed. You laid on his chest and played with his calloused fingers, settling in each other's presence. "Maybe after a shower, you smell a little ripe to me," you joked and you could feel his chest rise in laughter. "Might need to go running with Gaz again," he said through chuckles, "that climb to the balcony was awful."

gaz

After your fight with Kyle, you had been spending a few nights with a close friend. You practically moved into her flat and she had graciously let you have the couch for the past week. You had been comfortable thanks to your “overzealous spending.” It afforded you the luxury of a wardrobe and endless amounts of takeout food. Despite the positives, you could tell your friend was growing tired of your presence. “You need to go back,” she said to you softly as you went to grab another Lo Mein box. You wiped a stray noodle from your face and looked at her. “I know, I just don’t want to talk to him.” “You don’t have to, but you should go home where you aren’t living in Amazon boxes.” In comedic timing, both of you turned to see the pile of boxes and bags with sweatpants and t-shirts. You swallowed down another bottle of cheap beer before you conceded. “I’ll go back tomorrow, I promise.”

As your friend dropped you off at your flat, you could feel your stomach churn. "It'll be alright, call me later," she reassured before you saw her car turn down the street. She had kindly given you a duffle to hold your clothes and you held it in your hand as you keyed in. You took a deep breath before you entered. Part of you secretly hoped that Kyle had left and you would have a moment of peace. However, your optimism was shattered as you saw him sitting on your couch. “Hey,” you responded flatly before making your way to the bedroom. You hoped he would let you go and relish in the silence but you knew your fiancé wasn't such a person. As you entered the cleaned bedroom, you heard the floor creak as he followed behind you wordlessly. “Can we talk?” he said defeated and you turned your back to unpack your things. “I’m listening.”

There was a moment of silence before he spoke again. “God this was so much easier in my head.” You scoffed and Kyle knew he was starting to lose you further. “I’m sorry for what I said before and I'll stand apologizing hundreds of times just to have you forgive me," he said, the words exiting his mouth quickly and having a sense of nervousness in them. You crossed your arms, still looking away from him before you replied. "It's not a matter of apologizing, Kyle," you muttered, "I just don't understand where all that venom and anger came from." You could hear him hold his breath and shuffle slightly. "I didn't think it through," he explained, "I kept saying those things and not realizing how much they hurt you." You shook your head in response and resumed opening the drawers to put your new sweatpants in. You tried to put on an uncaring facade but no matter what Kyle was saying now, couldn't make up for how broken you felt. You let a few silent tears fall before you could feel Kyle put a hand on your shoulder. You turned your head and you could see the immediate shock in his eyes as he tried to brush your soaked cheeks.

"Fuck, love, oh my god-" he began to say in a fervor, "I didn't mean to say what I said, and fuck I didn't mean to make you cry." Maybe it was seeing him in front of you but you let your guard down and began to uncontrollably sob. He pulled you into his lap and sat on the duvet as you crumbled. "I-I don't know why I'm like that-" you began to fumble on your words, "I just love shopping and you're not here and I get sad and-" Kyle silenced your tearful rambles. "Love, you aren't to blame here, you don't need to apologize," he reassured and you tried to quell your tears. "I always ask the most from you when I'm deployed and I'm so sorry I made you feel like this," he whispered and you nodded. "Maybe I'm the one with the separation issues," he chuckled, "I just want to know I'm needed in your life even though you're my strong independent woman." You smiled at this and kissed him on the cheek gently. "That'll do for an apology, Sergeant," you mused and you both hugged for a moment. When you separated, he kissed you gently. "Are we okay?" "Of course, we're okay, Kyle, we always figure it out."

ghost

Despite Simon’s harsh words and cold demeanor, you had slept like a baby. Just another benefit of going to therapy and learning how to healthily cope with conflict. You rubbed your slightly puffy eyes before you laid back down in bed. Halfway through the night, you remember hearing the front door close and eventually smelling the pungent odor of cigarette smoke waft into the bedroom window. Simon was presumably out there for a while as you fell asleep before he had come back in. You hoped that he hadn’t returned but nonetheless, you decided to make your way to the kitchen for some breakfast. You had nothing to say to him so why let him interrupt your day?

As you exited the bedroom and went to the kitchen, you could see he was already up and sitting at the kitchen island. He was hunched over a cup of black coffee as you grabbed a cereal bowl. You didn't bother with pleasantries and continued to the pantry. You could feel his gaze follow you as you went through the motions of pouring your favorite cereal and milk. You were just about to walk back to the bedroom when he spoke up. “I just wanted to say before I start, I’m not good at these things,” he said quietly, almost in a whisper. You laughed harshly at his demeanor. “Wow what a fucking way to start an apology,” you replied bitterly, “if you can even call it that.” You brushed past him but he put a hand out, blocking your path. You looked at his eyes, fraught with insomnia, as he spoke. “Please just give me five minutes.”

You stepped back from Simon and leaned against the counter adjacent to him. You could tell his nails were raw from biting them. A bad habit of his. In the tense air, you quietly crunched on your cereal as he tried to find the right words. “I’m sorry for what I said to you, I didn’t mean to generalize therapy like that,” he said and you could tell he was struggling. You put your half-eaten bowl down and took a deep breath. "What you said hurt me, Simon" you began to say and you could feel the tears coat your cheeks. "I know,” he whispered with a sudden gentleness, “that’s why I want you to yell at me, curse at me, tell me how much I messed up!” his tone began to rise. You stood further into the counter as you worried if this would lead to another screaming match. "Simon, please don't yell," you let out quietly and he could see the slight hint of fear in your glossy eyes.

He sipped his coffee and tried to regulate your breathing as you stared at the now soggy cereal. "I'm sorry for raising my voice," he apologized and his tone was much softer than before. You could tell how much this argument affected him and you realized how much you missed him despite his flaws. “Just please don't leave me,” he choked out and tears were fully streaming down your face. You walked over to him and pulled him into a hug. You held him tightly and he returned your embrace by wrapping his arms around your waist. He looked up at you and wiped away your tears. “I’m sorry for taking out my frustrations on you,” he whispered as he looked into your eyes. You blinked a few stray tears away and placed your arms around his neck. “I understand Simon," you said softly, "and I'll always be here for you but I think therapy could be a good thing” he looked away and you placed a hand on his cheek to turn him to you. "I know it's difficult, I've been there but it doesn't hurt to consider some options," you continued and he nodded at the suggestion. "You don’t deserve all the shit life has thrown at you. You never did but let others help you," you concluded and you could see a small smile on his lips from your words of wisdom. "I'll never leave, I promise," you whispered before you kissed him gently and made him feel whole again.

[aemondapologistfrfr]

We're Not Kids Anymore

ward!benji x targ!fem!reader

Summary: Benji has been sent to be a ward in Kings Landing and you two grow up together. Over the years feelings grow and you each wait for the other to admit it. 

Warnings: 18+ maybe a swear word, a cup of wine, loss of virginity, oral(f), p in v

Authors Note: request from @chainsawsangel that I adored writing

Word Count: 5.6k

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10 years old

“Sit down and be quiet. You are representing me and the crown and I will not have you acting like a spoiled little princess.” my mother scolds and I push myself back into the seat and huff. 

“I am a spoiled princess.” I purse my lips and cross my arms. 

“Y/n, I am serious. If you act out, no flying for a fortnight.” I seal my lips shut at her words and sit with a frown. 

“Lord Blackwood.” my mother stands and I drown out the rest of the meeting. I glance to my right and see a boy sitting next to me looking equally as bored. While our parents talk we kick each other’s feet and giggle. 

“What’s your name?” he whispers. 

“Y/n. You?” I tilt my head smiling. 

“Benji.” 

“Do you wanna see a dragon?” his eyes light up with mine as he nods vigorously. We slip out of the council room as quiet as possible. My mother and his father shout after us as we sprint down the hall. Two guards scoop us up and bring us back into the council chambers. Benjis father pulls him to the side of the room while my mother pulls me to the other. 

“What did I say?” she looks down at me sternly. 

“Not to act like a spoiled princess and I didn’t.” I cross my arms. “I was going to take him to see my dragon.” I look over her shoulder and see Benji looking my way. 

“You will have plenty of time to show him your dragon. He’s to stay here with us and be our ward.” I tilt my head at her words confused. “If you two would’ve stayed and actually listened.. Go sit back down.” she shakes her head escorting me back to my seat as Benjis father does the same. 

“Princess, you honor me and my house.” his father bows his head deeply before he turns and gives Benji a pointed look. 

“I promise I will be good and listen.” Benjis voice comes from next to me and my mother smiles. 

“Your loyalty doesn’t go unnoticed and he shall be treated well here.” my mother nods her head to his father. They start talking again and I pretend to pay attention until Benji starts kicking my feet again and we silently giggle. 

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13 years old

“Mother please.” I whine as she looks at me with an unamused expression. 

“You both torment the staff and now you think you’ll be allowed to fly above the city and torment the common folk as well?” I groan rolling my eyes. 

“We were just having fun. I wouldn’t think stealing cake counted as tormenting.” I throw my head back knowing we won’t be able to leave the Keep. 

“No, you two will remain within the Keep walls.” her words final. She exits my chambers and I groan. 

I wait for a couple of minutes before I push open the secret door and enter the tunnels. After three years of constant exploring with Benji we found them and have been memorizing them ever since. I try to not be alone in them for too long because there’s so many rats and bugs but he always makes sure to shoo them away. As I start towards his chambers I hear footsteps. 

“Benji?” I whisper sticking close to the wall. I creep forward hoping I was hearing things. As I turn the corner he jumps out at me and I yelp. I push him back as he’s in a fit of laughter and I turn on my heel to go back to my chambers. 

“You should’ve seen your face.” Benji is still laughing and I huff starting to walk away. “Y/n wait.” he giggles trying to catch his breath. I hear him jog after me and he grabs my wrist. 

“What?” I turn and glare at him. 

“Are we going flying or what?” he gives me a toothy grin. 

“My mother said we can’t leave the Keep.” I sigh. He grabs my hand and sneaks us out of the nearest exit into the halls. He squats down a bit and turns to me. 

“Well get on. I’ll be your dragon for the day.” a smile spreads across my face at his words. 

“Really?” I step closer and he nods. I climb onto his back and his arms hook around my legs to keep me secure as my hands hold onto his shoulders. He stands up and I giggle. 

“Forward, Benji.” I point ahead. 

“You know I don’t speak your secret language.” I don’t even have to see his face to know he’s rolling his eyes. 

“Forward, Benji.” he starts to jog down the halls and I laugh wildly on his back. He brings us down the stairs and guards are looking at us worriedly. As he runs us down the halls my mother steps out of the throne room and is fuming. 

“What are you two doing?” she says through her teeth as Benji brings us closer. “Get off of him.” she looks to me and my feet touch the ground before I stand at his side. 

“We’re just having fun. He offered to be my dragon since I’m not allowed to see mine.” she raises her eyebrows at my words. 

“Guards.” she calls out. “Escort these two back to their own chambers and see to it that they stay there. The guard nods and we sigh following them back up the stairs. After about an hour in my chambers there’s a soft knock on my wall and Benji is slipping in to keep me company once more. 

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16 years old

I close my eyes and lean back into Benji as we fly through the skies. This is one of my favorite things we do together. He’s never been afraid of my dragon and even asks me to take him out flying without me prompting. My dragon flies us over the city and gives out soft chirps and grumbles to the common folk below. We fly around for a couple more hours before we land in the pits where we know my mother is waiting for us. 

“Your dance lessons started an hour ago.” my mother is standing there with crossed arms as we land on the ground. 

“I know how to dance.” I groan dragging my feet over to her. 

“Go get changed and meet your instructor and Benji go to the training yard. You both are late.” she shakes her head before slipping out of the pit. Once we make it back to the Keep we part ways and I groan as I see the gown they want me to wear for this lesson. My handmaidens tie me into it and I’m out of my chambers on my way to my lesson. 

“Lovely of you to join me.” my instructor says and I sigh as we start our first steps. The lesson goes on longer than I would like and once I’m dismissed I race down the stairs and out into the yard. There I spot Benji who’s hammering his sword down onto the man in front of him. I stand back and watch him with a smile. He beats the other man and begins to walk over to me with a smile. 

“Hello princess.” he hums looking down at me in my puffy dress. “Don’t you look absolutely precious in your dress.” he coos pinching my cheeks. 

“Stop.” I cross my arms looking up to him. 

“Is that a command princess?” he taunts and my cheeks flush. 

“Ugh,” I glare at him before turning on my heel. 

“And now you’re pouting.” he teases me even more as he jogs to my side. 

“You’re insufferable and I should’ve never come to see you.” I can’t hide the smile that blooms across my face. 

“Mm, but you can never stay away for long.” I roll my eyes before walking back to the Keep. 

Over the years we’ve grown closer but as we’ve gotten older our teasing has become more flirtatious. I never thought I would see Benji in a different light but what was once just wanting company has turned into something else. We’re attached at the hip and the entire castle knows it. 

“Come train with me.” Benji calls after me and I stop and turn to him. 

“Will you be able to handle it if I beat you in this dress?” I hum with a smile. 

“I would be honored.” he bows deeply to me and I walk past him to the weapons table. 

“After this I’m teaching you how to dance.” he throws his head back and laughs. 

“As you wish.” he smiles as I grab a sword and face him. I know he’s holding back and allowing me to have the upper hand. It doesn’t frustrate me because I know he knows my competitive nature and that I’ll be disgruntled if he were to train with me seriously. We giggle around the ring and the spectators offer us smiles and soft glances. 

“I win.” I smile at him with my blade pressed to his chest. 

“You may be the realms best sword princess.” he grabs the sword from my hand and places our weapons back on the table. 

“And the best dancer.” I hum as I grab his hand leading him back into the Keep. 

“Just collecting all the titles?” he chuckles squeezing my hand. 

“Of course.” I raise my chin and lead him into the empty ballroom. 

“I don’t know how to dance.” he admits sheepishly. 

“Well good thing I’m the best.” I smile up at him. I keep our hands interlocked and bring his other hand to my waist and he looks at me quickly and I chuckle bringing my other hand up to his shoulder. He looks down at me with scrunched brows as I begin to sway us in the silence. 

“This is it?” he mumbles with red cheeks as he tries to move his hand from my waist. 

“Do you not want to dance with me Benji?” I tilt my head. 

“No I- I do.” he nods his head. “There’s just no music and I don’t know-“ 

“Shush.” I shake my head with a smile and place his hand back on my waist. 

We dance around the room in silence and he slowly becomes less tense and holds me closer. I rest my head on his chest as we float around the room. I hear how fast his heart is beating and I look up to him and smile at his flushed cheeks. 

“Your cheeks are redder than they are when you’re training.” I tease him. 

“Well I don’t have the heir to the throne pressed against me when I’m in the training yard.” he pushes me back keeping my hand in his as I twirl. 

“I thought you didn’t know how to dance?” I smirk as I walk around him still twirling. 

“I’ve been to enough balls over the years that I know some of the steps. Besides wasn’t this dress made for you to twirl around?” he pulls me back to him and my hands go to his chest to steady myself. 

“I think it was just made to make me mad at how heavy it is.” I sigh looking up to him. His hands dips down and lift up my skirts just so they rise above my ankles. I look up to him happy that the weight is being held by someone else. 

“Better?” his voice low as he looks down to me. 

“Much.” I smile and offer him a kiss on his cheek. “Thank you.” I feel his hands fist the fabric of my skirts. 

“I should go change. We have supper soon.” he backs away dropping my skirts. He leaves me in the middle of the ballroom confused and embarrassed. 

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19 years old

“I don’t want to go on a tour. Why must I find a husband now?” I slide down in the chair across from my mother. 

“To strengthen your claim and line. I’ve allowed you to push it off as long as I can but you’re turning twenty soon.” my mother shakes her head. “Either find someone or I will have to pick for you.” my eyes widen and I shake my head. 

“I’ll find someone.” I smooth my skirts before darting out of her solar. As I make my way back to my chambers my mind races at having to find a husband. I’ve never looked at men besides Benji. I push the thought from my mind and enter my chambers and collapse to my bed. 

“What’s wrong?” I jolt hearing Benjis voice from my couch. 

“My mother wants me to find a husband or she’ll find one for me.” I roll to my side so I can look at him. 

“Do you have anyone in mind?” he tilts his head and I nibble my lip shaking my head. “No? There’s no one in the Keep?” I bury my head in my blankets at his words. 

“Benji.” I groan. I wish he knew that I’m not just saying his name to quiet him but answering his question as well. 

“Hm?” he hums from the couch. “Is no one here good enough for you?” I lift my head up and glare at him. 

“My mother wants me to go on a tour to seek a husband.” I see his jaw clench and his eyes darken at my words. 

“Do you wish to be paraded around?” he sighs settling back into the couch. 

“No, but I don’t have a choice it seems.” I roll onto my back and stare at the ceiling. I don’t know why it’s so hard for me to admit to Benji that I like him. I want him to say something first but I may be waiting forever. “Will you come with?” my voice small as I turn to face him once more. 

“You want me to help you find a husband?” he looks to me amused. 

“No. Yes.” I sigh wiping my face. “I don’t know, Benji. I just..” I trail off shaking my head. 

“You just what?” he prompts me to keep talking. 

“Come or don’t. I leave at the end of the week.” I wave my hand at him. “I’m going to nap before supper, come get me when it’s ready.” I roll onto my stomach and bury my head in the pillows. I feel the bed dip next to me and I turn and see Benji laying with me. 

“We used to nap all the time.” he murmurs brushing the hair off my face. 

“We’re not kids anymore.” I scoot a fraction closer to him. 

“No we’re not.” he hums kissing my forehead and holding me against him. I turn my body to face him and he pulls me against his chest. I rest my head above his heart and let the even beating lull me to sleep. 

                                   ᓚᘏᗢ

“Princess.” my handmaidens voice wakes me and I sit up blinking. “Supper is soon.” I take in her red cheeks and I know mine are the same color at the position she found us in. 

“Thank you.” I nod my head to her and she leaves my chambers quickly. I turn and look and Benji still asleep next to me. I lay down next to him once more and admire his peaceful expression. I brush his hair back and he starts to stir and slowly opens his eyes. 

“Gods, am I still dreaming?” his voice raspy as he cups one of my cheeks with his hand. 

“Do you dream about me, Benji?” my voice soft as I continue to brush his hair back. 

“Every night.” his tired eyes search mine.

“Supper is ready.” I rise from the bed so he doesn’t see the extent of my blush. 

“Someone is shy after her nap.” Benji laughs as he gets up. “Tell me, did you dream of me too?” his voice low as he comes up behind me. 

“I will not give you the satisfaction of answering that.” I purse my lips and he smiles even wider. 

“You did. Look at you blushing.” he pinches my cheeks and I turn and storm out of my chambers with him close behind. “Well what was the dream about?” he teases and I groan. 

“That I was strangling you.” I roll my eyes and he laughs. 

“How intimate. Were you looking in my eyes when you did it?” his voice low as we glide down the steps. 

“Enough.” I hiss as we turn the corner into the dining hall. 

“Did you end up killing me or just kissing me?” he whispers in my ear and I shoulder past him to my seat. 

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On the tour

My mother was furious when I told her Benji was coming with me on the tour. At first I thought he wouldn’t come with me but when he saw that I wasn’t getting out of it he insisted on coming with. His presence has deterred a lot of my potential suitors but I’m not much mad at it. My mother allowed us a stop in Raventree Hall and Benji is jittery as we approach. 

“Do you think your brother would make a good match for me?” I hum trying to hide my smile as he snaps his head toward me. 

“You are not marrying my brother.” his voice stern. 

“I may.” his nostrils flare at my words. 

“I won’t allow it.” he shakes his head. “If you’re marrying anyone from my house it’ll be-“ he clenches his jaw and turns to look out the carriage once more. 

“Who? Your father? Would you like me to be your mother?” I laugh not trying to hide my amusement. 

“No.” his word clipped. The tension in the carriage is palpable as we approach the gates. He offers me his hand to help me out and I accept. He keeps our hands linked as we enter the main yard and his father is waiting for us. 

“Look at you. A man grown.” his father smiles. “Princess.” he bows his head to me. 

“I’m going to show her around.” his father nods with a smile as we brush past him. Benji takes his time showing me around the grounds and the halls. We end at the massive weirwood that houses hundreds of ravens and I look up at them in awe. 

“When are you going to introduce me to your brother?” I turn to him and see that he’s already watching me. 

“I won’t be.” his eyes dark. 

“Then who here is asking for my hand? The ravens?” I tilt my head with a lazy smile. 

“I am.” I blink at his words as he studies me. 

“Like you’d actually want to wed me.” I squint my eyes watching him. Gods I want him to be serious. I can send a raven back to my mother and we can go home and be wed by the next moon. 

“I do.” his features soften and my heart starts to race. 

“Why?” I ask trying to calm my nerves. 

“Because I’ve been in love with you for almost a decade now.” he steps closer to me and I tilt my head to keep our eye contact. 

“Benji, do not jest with me.” my voice soft as I search his eyes. 

“I’m not. I just never knew when to tell you and now you’re on a tour to find a husband and you asked me to come with and that just..” he shakes his head. “Marry me, Y/n.” he cups my cheeks and I nod my head in his hands. “Say it.”

“I want to marry you, Benjicot Blackwood.” I look up at him with pure adoration. 

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Back in Kings Landing

“I don’t know why you both couldn’t have decided this before I sent you on a tour.” my mother shakes her head with a smile. 

“I wanted to see my options.” Benji scoffs next to me at my words. 

“Did you? You dragged me along with you.” my mother watches us silently laughing. 

“You insisted on coming with.” I roll my eyes turning to him. 

“Regardless, I’m glad you made a decision.” my mother cuts in. “The ceremony will be at the end of the month. Should you two need anything please let me know.” she rises and leaves the council chambers. 

“So why didn’t you tell me earlier?” I fidget with the marble balls. 

“You’re intimidating and a princess of the realm.” he looks to me as if it’s obvious. “The heir to the throne. Why would you pick me? You could have anyone.” I frown at his words. 

“Benji, I’ve wanted you just as badly.” his eyes snap to mine. 

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he shakes his head. 

“I don’t know. I figured you met someone or something..” I trail off avoiding his eyes.

“When would I have met someone?” he chuckles. 

“When you and your little training friends go down to the street of silk.” I nibble my lip. 

“You expected me to wed someone from the street of silk? Growing up in the Red Keep made my tastes a little more refined.” he raises an eyebrow at me. 

“Well I don’t know what happens there. Maybe you had some life changing experience.” my voice soft as I look up to him with red cheeks. 

“What brought this on?” he comes to sit in the chair next to me. 

“I’m not experienced. What if you don’t like bedding me as much. I haven’t even kissed anyone.” I turn to him and he’s biting his lip to hide his smile. “Gods I shouldn’t have said anything.” I cover my face with my hands. He pries my hands away and offers me a warm smile. 

“I’ve thought about bedding you since I’ve hit puberty. You’re my nightly fantasy.” his words cause my blush to deepen. 

“Are you just saying that to make me feel better?” I murmur looking at him. 

“Every night after I leave your chambers I go back to mine and fall back on my bed and shove my hand in my trousers. I think about you laying beneath me squirming as I move my-“ 

“Benji.” my voice breathless as I rise from the chair covering his mouth with my hand. “Are you done?” I ask exasperated lowering my hand. 

“I didn’t even get to the other one where my head is buried beneath your skirts.” he smirks at my ever reddening cheeks. “Do you touch yourself at night when you’re all alone?” my eyes widen. 

“That’s none of your business.” I huff. 

“Try it tonight.” he rises and towers above me. 

“I won’t tell you if I did or not.” I steel myself as he steps closer to me. 

“I’ll know.” his hands rest on my waist. 

“How?” I squeak as he pulls me flush against him and dips his head down to my neck.

“Cause you’ll be blushing furiously the second you see me.” he whispers against my skin before placing a soft kiss. 

“Benji,” I gasp digging my fingers into his arms. “Someone could see us.” I pull back and he chuckles. 

“Of course, princess.” his hand slides into mine and he pulls us out of the council chambers. 

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One week before wedding

Benji and I have been spending the same amount of time together as we normally do but now the energy between us is charged. Every touch has a longing behind it that has us staring at each other. Our hugs seem to linger and soon excuses fall from our lips to always be near one another. 

“I’m surprised you still want to spend so much time with me after an entire decade.” I smile at him from the couch. 

“It’ll never be enough.” my heart flutters at his words. 

“I wish you would’ve said something sooner.” I pout. 

“I had to work up the courage.” he chuckles taking a seat next to me. 

“Waiting until the last minute. We could’ve been wed by now.” I sigh turning to him. 

“We can wait one more week.” he smiles patting my hand. 

“But I want to kiss you now.” his eyes darken at my words. 

“Mm, do you?” his eyes glance at my lips before they meet mine again. 

“Please Benji,” I scoot closer to him. 

“Come here.” he pulls me next to him. “I’ll give you something to think about when you’re under your covers later.” he smirks. 

“Don’t tease me.” I pout. 

“But I love to see you blush.” he hovers his lips above mine. 

“I’ve changed my mind. You don’t deserve to kiss me.” I pull back. He chuckles before pulling me back to him and placing his lips on mine. He licks across my lips and I gasp as he slips it into my mouth. I turn completely and start to climb into his lap. He groans as I settle while my tongue follows his as it explores. 

“We should stop.” he squeezes my waist. 

“No.” I capture his lips again. My hands travel up his neck into his hair holding him against me. Our tongues dance slowly and I absentmindedly roll my hips. He grunts and is lifting us off of the couch. I wrap my legs around him and cling to him while our lips stay on each other. He tosses me back on my bed and looks down at me with red cheeks. 

“Go to bed. I’ll see you in the morning.” his voice low as his eyes travel over my body. 

“Or you can stay.” I nibble my lip looking up to him. 

“Have a good night.” he lingers before he turns and walks to the tunnel entrance. 

“Benji.” I whine from my bed. He turns and looks at me one last time before shaking his head with a smile. 

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Wedding day

I look to Benji as we say our vows and my eyes fill with tears. The maester pronounces us wed and Benji pulls me against him. Our lips seal our bond and I hold him tightly. The crowd around us cheers and we slowly pull apart with flushed faces as we look to our families. 

“My beautiful wife.” he hums looking down at me while we make our way off the dais. He brings us over to our table and servants our filling our plates and cups at once. “Do you think they could spread you across the table for me?” he whispers in my ear and I cough on my wine.

“Enough.” I slide my eyes to him and he’s smirking at me. 

“I suppose I could always go under the table.” his voice only audible to me and I squeeze my thighs together at the thought. 

“Eat your food.” I roll my eyes and start with my own plate. We give each other heated looks throughout the meal until he’s rising and pulling me to the center of the room to share our first dance. 

“The first time I danced here was with you when we were six and ten.” he looks at me tenderly as we begin to sway with the soft music.

“I remember.” I hum fondly. “You ran out after I gave you a kiss on your cheek.” I giggle caressing his cheek. 

“Mm, so you’re teasing me now?” he raises an eyebrow. 

“No, I would never.” I bite my lip to hide my smile. 

“I’ll remember this later.” his voice low as my cheeks heat. We finish our dance and the rest of the guests join us for more as the next song begins. After an hour we begin to walk around and talk with guests who congratulate us. We slip out of the main doors and we walk to my chambers together. 

“Now I don’t have to sneak in through the tunnels.” he laughs opening the door for me. I watch him shut the door nibbling my lip. “Are you feeling shy now?” he says lowly walking over to me. 

“No.” my voice small as I shake my head. He cups my face and I look up to him through my lashes. 

“Do you want me to kiss you?” he glances at my lips and I nod my head. His lips press against mine and I sigh into him. I push my hands under his jacket feeling his muscles under his tunic. He groans into me as I lift it up and press my fingers into his skin. “Gods how are you the one teasing right now?” he mumbles kissing down my jaw. 

“I’m not.” my voice breathy as he starts to suck on my neck. “I just want to touch you.” he nips at my neck and I moan. 

“Can I take your dress off?” his hands are waiting at the laces. 

“Yes, please,” I nod my head as he slowly pulls on them. He helps the dress slide down my arms and watches as it forms a satin pile at my feet. I step out of it and he watches my every move. His eyes travel over my exposed skin until they find my pout. 

“What could you possibly be pouting about?” he chuckles placing his hands on my bare waist. 

“I want to touch your skin too.” I pull at his belt and he makes quick work of the rest of his clothes. “Thank you, husband.” I hum as my hands go to his chest. He leans down and captures me in a kiss as our chests press into one another. 

“Tell me, did you ever touch yourself?” my eyes fly open at his words. 

“Benj-“ my words stopped by a moan as his fingers dip between my thighs. 

“I think you did after you begged me to stay the other night.” he taunts swirling his fingers around my bud. “Did you come?” a whine falls from my lips as my nails dig into his arms. 

“No.” I gasp resting my head on his chest as my hips chase his fingers. “I wanted to wait for you.” his fingers move faster at my words. 

“Let me not keep you waiting any longer.” he holds me against him to support me as his fingers slide through my wetness bringing more back to my throbbing bud. 

“Benji, I-“ I whimper as I hold onto him as my legs begin to shake. 

“I got you.” his fingers start a quick rhythm and I cry out as pleasure washes through me. My legs clamp around his hand as his fingers keep moving. He chuckles as I tremble in his arms before he removes his hand. He walks us back to the bed and watches me try to catch my breath as I lay back. He settles between my thighs and I look down to him with scrunched brows. 

“What’re you doing?” I look down at him and he offers me a dark smile. 

“I’m gunna taste you.” he dips his head down and looks up to me as he licks up my slit. 

“Benji,” I gasp fisting the sheets. His hands hold my thighs open as he begins to lap at my wetness. “Yes,” I whine as my hips grind against his face. I feel him chuckle into me and I moan at the feeling. He lifts up but starts to slide his fingers through me again. 

“Let me know if you need me to stop.” I nod my head looking down at him. His tongue makes its way back to my bud as he begins to push a finger in. My body jolts at the feeling but it’s replaced with loud moans as he presses a second finger in. One of my hands tangles in his hair holding him against me as he licks at me. 

“Please, Benji yes,” I cry as I explode around his fingers. He slowly pulls his fingers out and looks up to me with a wet chin. He makes his way up to my face and I pull his lips against mine. I feel him press into my wetness and I whimper against him. 

“Are you ready?” he searches my eyes as I squirm beneath him. 

“Yes.” I nod my head. He starts to push into me and I gasp at the stretch. Every inch is stealing my breath and he presses kisses across my face until he’s fully settled in me. He kisses me softly as he brings his fingers back to my bud to slowly swirl around. I slowly start to rock my hips and he presses his forehead against mine. 

“Can I move?” he rasps. 

“Please.” I nod my head and bring his lips back to mine. He starts a slow rhythm that has me clinging onto him. His hips start to move faster and my moans begin to pour out of my mouth. His fingers swirl quicker around my bud and my pleasure slams through me. I feel his warmth begin to fill me as I continue to pulse around him. 

“You’re perfect.” he grunts still slowly pushing into me. I shudder beneath him as he pulls out and collapses next me to me. He pulls me against his chest and brushes my hair back. 

“I hope I was as good as your fantasies.” I say softly looking up to him. 

“Gods you were so much better.” he pulls me up to place a kiss on my lips once more. 

ততততততততততততততততততততততততততততততত

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[daceydeath]

I Want to Watch (Part 2)

Pairing: Wooyoung x reader x Jongho

Word Count: 2.5K

Genre: Pure Smut 🔞

Warnings: 18+, MDNI, Explicit Activities

Wooyoung's brilliant idea has played on his mind even more since San maybe you would be up for more than just that one time...

Wooyoung had been insatiable for the entire fortnight after your night with San, wanting you in every possible way until you just about couldn’t sit down properly you were fucked so raw. It also had unlocked a whole new list of things he wanted to try, well things he wanted you to try with different members. To begin with you had just taken it as just talk as a way for him to let out every fantasy that he could come up with but when he had decided what he wanted to try next there was not much you could do to dissuade him. Even though you didn’t really want to after all you had, had fun with San and you wouldn’t mind in the slightest to do it again.

“Baby, I have an idea I think you will like” Wooyoung started smiling like the Cheshire cat as he wandered out of his bedroom with his phone in his hands. You had been sitting on the couch in one of his shirts and your underwear reading since he had told you that Jongho was out for the whole night and Hongjoong was in the studio and therefore not coming home until at least 3am.

“Uhuh and what would that be?” You rolled your eyes playfully knowing that the pair of you being alone in the dorm meant only one thing.

“I know I sprung the whole San thing on you and I know you loved it but I thought maybe you might want to do it again but we would talk about it first” he smirked knowing you were going to leap at the chance if you were given it.

“Ok” you furrowed your brows “Why would we need to talk about it? San and I have already fucked once”. Kneeling before you he spread your legs slotting himself between them and rubbing his hands teasingly up your thighs, his fingers dancing along the sensitive flesh of your inner thighs giving you goosebumps. 

“Well there were some rules that San broke that I wanted to talk to you about, also perhaps how you would feel about another member joining us” He murmured, placing a kiss on your clothed stomach.

“What rules did you have, Wooyo?” you hummed, closing your eyes as he continued his ministrations.

“No one is to taste you, that is just mine” he continued “and I will also decide what you are doing with who after you have agreed of course”.

“That’s fine” you purred as his hands crept up under his shirt “whatever you want”. You couldn’t help leaning back into the couch spreading your thighs even wider for him.

“I want to watch you suck Jongho’s dick, want to watch him fuck you from behind” he admitted leaning forward to press a kiss to you covered core. “Will you do that for me baby, will you let him fuck you?” 

“Yes” you whined letting him nuzzle his face against your cover core, your fingers threading into his hair as he continued to tease you, chuckling darkly as he felt your wetness beginning to soak through the flimsy fabric.

“Good because he will be home and minute now and he was as enthusiastic as San was” he mumbled against you one of his fingers hooking under the fabric to pull it aside exposing your slick folds to the warmth of his breath. Licking a long lazy stipe through your fold you let your head drop back against the pillows enjoying the feeling of his perfect tongue on you. Sucking your clit between his lips you moaned softly hearing the front door open.

“Well that's a very nice welcome home” Jongho’s honeyed voice filled your ears making your eyes pop open to look at him.

“Thought I should get her ready for you” Wooyoung grinned smugly, pulling away from you his lips shining with your arousal.

“That’s why you are my favorite hyung” Jongho replied, his eyes glued to your exposed slit.

“I’m going to always be your favorite after I let you fuck my girl” Wooyoung laughed getting up from the floor and pulling you forward so he could pull his shirt up over your head to leave you in just your underwear.

“Fuck” Jongho whispered stepping towards you his eyes trailing over your breasts hungrily “So I can kiss her, fuck her and finger her I just can’t taste her?”

“Yep” Wooyoung agreed instantly, looking almost predatory as he sat on the armchair to your right watchin closely as Jongho continued to move closer to you. 

“Can I?” Jongho breathed softly, his eyes finally meeting yours, asking if you would actually let him do what Wooyoung had told him he could do.

“Please Jjongie” you swallowed hard feeling how much slick was pooling between your legs at this point. “I wanna make you feel good”.

Jongho pulled you to your feet gently, his hands almost shaking as he moved to grab your hips before slowly brushing them up your sides to your waist before closing the distance and pressing his lips to yours. His lips were so tentative as he continued to move them against yours, you sighed quietly running your tongue along his bottom lip to encourage him while pulling him in further by his shoulders one hand fisting in his hoodie that he was still wearing. Feeling your enthusiasm Jongho pressed you against him, letting his tongue invade your mouth to suck on your own while you slipped one hand down to squeeze his half hard length.

“Shit, how do you want to do this on your knees or sitting?” he gasped against your lips.

“Sit down, she can show you how good her throat is, can’t you baby? be his perfect little whore” Wooyoung cooed as you couldn’t stop the whine coming from your lips. Jongho sat watching you intensely as you sank to your knees where Wooyoung had been before. You gently ran your fingernails up his thighs leaning forward to grab the zipper between your teeth wiggling your arse as you did to make sure Wooyoung was enjoying the view as much as Jongho was going to enjoy your mouth. Freeing him from his pants you couldn’t help how your eyes widened in surprise at the thick heavy cock that sprang up against the fabric of his clothes, it was almost as pretty as your boyfriends straight, veiny and leaking as your grasped it to lazily stroke it a few times before licking a teasingly slow stripe from his balls to the blushing pink tip. Circling the tip a few times with your tongue you allowed your saliva to pool in your mouth before letting it begin to drip down the hard flesh, Jongho’s breathing was coming out in shallow puffs as you finally looked up to meet his eyes through your lashes and sank your lips down around him as far as you could.

“Oh Fuck” Jongho groaned one hand carding into your hair to cup your head.

“Such a good girl baby. Go on, swallow his whole cock baby” Wooyoung playfully encouraged your desperation.

Working your hand in time with your mouth you worked on relaxing your throat and jaw so you could take as much of his length into you without gagging each bob of your head causing more of your spit to leak from the corners of your mouth. Holding your head Jongho because to carefully thrust his hips his breath coming out in heavy pants now as you swallowed as much as you could of him. 

“So eager to swallow Jongho’s dick, acting like I don’t give you mine” Wooyoung groaned while Jongho began loudly groaning as you hummed around his cock.

“Such a heavenly mouth” he groaned rolling his hips harder and forcing you further onto his length you were almost at your limit your lips stretched around his fat cock the tips bumping the back of your throat with each movement swallowing around him you felt Jongho start to lose his composure forcing your head lower until he was actually fucking into your mouth. Choking slightly you gurgled around him trying to remember to breathe through your nose as he held you still and fucked himself as far as he could into your throat maoning as your throat restricted him with every slight gag tears running down your cheeks.

“Do you want Jongho to cum down your throat baby? Going to drink it all down?” Wooyoung mocked, smirking as you whined pathetically as Jongho continued to use your throat as his own personal cocksleeve. You felt him begin to swell on your tongue, his cock twitching as he got closer and closer to his high.

“Ahh…shit..”Jongho called loudly forcing his cock as far into your mouth as he could your nose brushing his pubic bone as he released thick ropes of hot cum into your throat and mouth as you desperately swallowed so you wouldn’t waste any. Jongho pulled himself from your swollen lips wiping your tears with his thumbs while you licked the last of his seed from your lips, opening your mouth and sticking out your tongue to show him you had swallowed most of it.

“You are incredible” Jongho panted, his voice strained as you preened under his praise.

“Don’t forget your manners baby” Wooyoung scolded half heartedly, his eyebrows raised as he looked at you seriously.

“Thankyou Jjongie” you whispered roughly as you swallowed again trying to clear your throat.

“Come here” Jongho grinned, pulling you off the ground and swinging you over his shoulder taking you to Wooyoung’s room.

“Undress Jongho” Wooyoung ordered making himself comfortable at the end of the bed, stripping himself of most of his clothes.

You helped Jongho pull his hoodie and shirt over his head, dropping it beside you as you worked on shimmying his jeans and boxers down his legs. You had never really seen Jongho without clothes and you couldn’t help but stare at his toned chest and perfect thighs when they were finally exposed to you. He kissed you against his hands groping and squeezing your flesh as his tongue once again plundered your mouth licking into it as you whined against him feeling his hardness against you. Backing you up to the bed, Jongho lowered you to the mattress, kissing his way down your neck to your breasts, pinching and teasing each of your nipples until they were puffy and red before lapping at them with his tongue.

“Please Jongho, more” you whimpered arching into him as he sucked light marks all over both the mounds of flesh, pushing your underwear aside he moaned against your skin as he felt how dripping wet your folds were allowing him to easily push one finger inside you pumping it a few times before adding a second and then a third opening you up ready for him. Fucking you with his fingers the obscene squelch that filled the room made your cheeks flush with embarrassment about how easy it was for Jongho to get you needy for him. Your walls started to tighten, quivering around his digits as you quickly began to feel your orgasm approaching you hips bucking against his hand. Jongho moved back to your face, kissing you deeply as you mewled, arching and rolling your hips until you felt yourself fall over the edge.

“Jongho...ngh…Oh god” you cried, your nectar flooding around his fingers and dripping onto his palm.

“Fuck, you didn’t tell me she squirts” Jongho ground out his eyes watching your hole clenching around his fingers rapidly.

“My girl is a good girl, she loves to squirt on the nice boys who fuck her properly” Wooyoung purred as Jongho slipped his fingers from you giving them to you to suck clean, you licked and suckled them until he was satisfied letting them go with a lewd pop and he manhandled you onto your knees at the edge of the bed. “Be as rough as you want, she won’t break”.

Jongho dragged his leaking cock head against your folds, pressing it against your clit making you jolt, both he and Wooyoung laugh before he sheathed himself completely inside you, bottoming out with a long moan. Even with the prep you could feel him splitting you in half his thick cock stretching your walls almost painfully as he gave you a moment to adjust. Gripping your hips bruisingly he because snapping his hips against your arse rapidly each thrust forcing you forward before he dragged you back against him in a brutal pace bouncing you against him until he pushed your face down towards the bed letting him push even deeper inside you until his cock was almost kissing your cervix. 

“Ah..Ah…Jjongie” You pleaded, bunching the sheets uselessly between your fingers trying to ground yourself.

“Is Jongho fucking you properly baby? Just like Sannie? Wootoung teased making you turn your head towards him, finding him idly stroking himself as he watched Jongho’s cock split you open. 

“Fuck can I cum inside her or not?” Jongho strained not slowing his pace as he partially draped himself over you to kiss between your shoulder blades hitting the gummy spot within your walls the made you see stars.

“Yes Jjongie… fuck please fill me up” you begged between harsh breaths and loud cries.

“Yeah Jongho fuck her full, you would love that wouldn’t you being filled with another man’s cum again?” Wooyoung rasped so deeply you moaned clenching around Jongho, feeling him falter in his pace, his cock twitching inside you. Slipping his arm around your waist he pressed his fingers against your clit rubbing a few tight circles to get you clenching him again.

“Jongho…Jongho” you chanted as you felt fire reignite in your veins and your vision turn white, you would have collapsed completely into the sheets hand Jongho not been holding your hips so tightly as you spasmed around him your walls continuing to flutter as he fucked you through your orgasm trying to milk him of his release. A few thrusts later Jongho stilled inside you the warmth of his cum spreading through your core as he filled you so full it began to leak out around the base of his dick.

“Fuck, you are such a goddess for me” Wooyoung praised leaning forward to sweep your sweaty hair out of your face.

“I second that” Jongho panted, his cock still inside you even though it was starting to soften.

“Can you lay her on the bed?” Wooyoung asked moving towards the bathroom to get a washcloth to clean you up with. Jongho carefully maneuvered you onto your back before lifting you again and laying you in the middle of Wooyoung’s bed stroking your hair and cheeks as you smiled up at him.   

“Thank you Jjongie” you whispered, reaching out to pull him down towards you.

“I should go clean up and let hyung take care of you” he smiled shyly as though he hadn’t just tried to fuck your soul out of you.

“I forgot to mention that she gets super clingy afterwards, it took a full hour before she would let go of San Wooyoung, sniggered as he returned holding the warm cloth and carefully wiping your swollen and used folds.

“I guess a little while won’t hurt, but I’m only doing this for her not you hyung” Jongho smiled his usual gummy smile pulling the sheets up over the pair of you and letting you burrow into the side of his chest.

A/N: Thank you for reading my loveliest loves, all your likes, reblogs and comments continue to encourage me to keep writing xx

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[da-birb-writes-sometimes]

Prompt 7 with Malleus? And the reader as the ghost? 😳

Visions of the Past; Malleus Draconia

Content; Gender-neutral reader, hurt/comfort, pining left unresolved

Content Warning; Reader death (not heavily described)

Word Count; 700+

Please do not put my work into AI. If you would like to see more of my work check out my masterlist!

Time heals all wounds. But Malleus knew that wasn’t true. Yes, time may heal physical wounds, although not always perfectly, but it no longer weeps or festers. Whereas emotional wounds, such as trauma, grief, and anger do not fade or heal in the same manner as a cut would.

Malleus was standing outside the entrance of Ramshackle, once his nightly walking grounds turned to the home of the first person that befriended him for him. The first person who didn’t know or care, even after finding out about his identity, that he was the Malleus Draconia. A magicless human who treated him as they did with others, but with a tad bit more ease, humour, and kindness since they were friends.

Were friends.

His heart knew though that you weren’t just friends. He had felt this emotion before to some extent with his passion for gargoyles, but they paled in comparison to you.

Your brightness. Your laugh. Your little mannerisms that most wouldn’t pay attention to, but he did. 

“Do you think we’ll still be friends when we’re older,” you mused while on one of your nightly walks with Malleus. Malleus furrowed his brow and looked at you quizzically, “Why wouldn’t we be? I have no intention of not being in your life.” You had stopped moving forward and Malleus came to a stop beside you. “Well, I don’t know. You’re a prince, future king, and you might get swapped in royal business and duties…” You pursed your lips, an unpleasant taste in your mouth. “And isn’t that more important?”  “Do you not like spending time with me?” Malleus’ voice was more sharp, on edge. “NO!” You shouted, the word echoing a bit in the quiet night. “I like spending time with you. I love it!” Malleus looked at you with confusion, and if he were looking at anyone else the way he had been in the past minute, they would have been grovelling, asking for forgiveness. But not you.  “Then why did you bring it up in the first place? Should there not be time, I will simply make it,” he said quietly. A small smile and chuckle replaced the irritated look of moments prior, “I will even make it ‘royal business’ as you put it.” You cough-laughed at his statement, but you only laughed harder when you looked at him to see a baffled expression.  Malleus chuckled lightly, joining your amusement, even though he didn’t understand what was so funny that had you tearing up. You let out a long sigh, recollecting yourself. “Well, I’ll be there then, promise.”

And you had held that promise. Despite both of your hectic lives, you both met at least twice a month. If neither of you had the time? Well, Malleus would just show up outside your place, like old times, and you would both go about the property. Sometimes talking away, and other times in silence, just happy to be next to each other again.

Malleus knew he liked you, loved you even — the way he felt more like himself when he was around you, and a tinge of jealousy made that distinction clear — and he was planning on asking you if you felt the same.

But he didn’t have the chance.

He would never have the chance.

He knew that he wouldn’t have many years with you, but he had planned that it was old age that took you away from him.

Ramshackle had not changed, but Malleus could still smell the scent of soot, even after all of these years. The foyer stopped, and Malleus looked into the gloom of the burnt ruins.

“ … do you remember our promise?”

He had been coming here, once a fortnight, asking the same question and hoping for an answer. Every time all he ever received was the sound of rotting wood and the scampering of mice.

He took in a breath and was ready to leave, to go back to his duties, but he stopped.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He couldn’t see you, but you were here. And that was all that mattered to Malleus. That although you may not physically be here anymore, he had not lost you.

Time may heal all wounds, but Malleus didn’t want this wound to heal. He didn’t want to lose you, not again.

. . .

. . .

A/N; Hope you enjoyed what I came up with for this combination! And *hands you an emotional dragon fae that misses you*

~~~~

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[toms-cherry-trees]

Not Worthy Of You || Aemond Targaryen x Reader

Summary: An unexpected visitor at night brings some clarity to the last months

Word count: 2.9k

Warnings: Mention of B&C and Storm's End. No beta reading

Author's note: This was supposed to be short. This was supposed to be 1k words. But I got carried away. Enjoy!

The candles had long died out, and only dying embers remained in the smouldering fireplace, too feeble to give the room any light. Piercing darkness entered through the gaps in the drapes, the moonless night shrouding the Red Keep in a thick, ponderous veil of black. Not a sound disturbed the quietness of the Holdfast, nor the peace of those sleeping in it.

You stirred in the bed, the sheets rustling and a pleasant tingle spreading through your body as you stretched your limbs lazily. You felt well rested, perhaps for the first time in many moons. It had been a long time since you last woke up naturally, instead of being forcefully taken from your slumber by aches, cramps, and most recently, little cries throughout the night. At that thought your eyebrows furrowed, and still partially asleep you rolled over in the bed, your hand searching in the darkness for the little wooden cradle by your side.

Your fingers only found emptiness, the abandoned blankets still holding your newborn’s warmth.

Whatever drowsiness lingered in your mind soon dissipated as worry crept upon you, settling like a heavy weight atop your chest. You sat upright with such haste you felt faint, having to hold onto your head until the bright lights vanished from your  vision. Fright quickly overcame your senses. You double checked the crib, pulling blankets out and looking under your bed, as if somehow the babe, barely a fortnight old, could have climbed out and hidden somewhere without you noticing. 

Desperation clouded your thoughts, your heartbeat quickening and your breath coming in shallow pants. You scrambled from bed, barely having half a mind to grab a robe; the parky night air covered your skin in gooseflesh. You headed for the door, the call for help ready to sprout from your lips, when the smallest, softest of coos drew your attention to the opposite side of the chamber. 

Now that your eyes had adjusted a bit, you could vaguely make out the shape of a person sitting in front of the large windows in a sturdy rocking chair your family had gifted you when they received the news of your impending motherhood. Slightly hunched forward, gently swaying back and forth, the rockers barely made noise against the thick carpet they laid upon. At first you believed it to be the wetnurse, who usually sat there to feed the baby, but you had specifically requested to have no servants in your chambers at night, wishing to carry the bulk of the childcare yourself. Hoping that that way you would feel more connected to your child, instead of staring at it like a foreign being that had been dropped on your lap by the Mother. Lovely, yes, and so dearly loved, but foreign nonetheless. 

Soon it became obvious, however, that it was not the wetnurse, nor a maid, the one who sat in the chair. The dark figure sat tall, shoulders muscular and long legs stretched out, rocking the chair with a lazy sway of heavy boots. Oppressive panic stole the breath from your lungs at the vision of the unknown man, his arms positioned in a way that could only mean he currently held the infant in his embrace. The memory of what had recently happened to Helaena and her sweet child remained fresh in your mind. 

You considered screaming for help, but not even a choked cry managed to come forth. Or maybe it did, and you just couldn’t hear it above the frantic hammering of your heart, rumbling in your ears like menacing war drums. Blindly you sought a weapon, any means of protection you could grasp to defend yourself and your child. Your trembling fingers gripped tightly the handle of an ornate letter opener you so happened to have left in the nightstand. You tried to swallow, but found your mouth to be as dry as the Dornish deserts. 

Your feet barely made a sound in the flagstone as you carefully approached the intruder. Your mind overflowed with horrifying images of what had occurred to sweet Helaena. Even though you had not been witness to the act, the whispers reached you nonetheless, despite the Dowager Queen having carefully instructed the servants to not mention the crime near you, for fear of upsetting your mood and spoiling your health, right in the middle of your seventh moon of pregnancy. Despite the efforts, the nightmares lasted for weeks, fuelled by the clamour of your good sister’s wails as she escaped her chambers at night and wandered the halls calling for her lost son.

Slowly, as if wading through mud, you approached the chair. But it seemed the distance lengthened with each step, or perhaps your imagination had fooled you and you remained rooted in the spot. Your brain overflowed with horrific scenarios, a million outcomes to the situation, and the hopeless need to cry out, even if your mouth refused to open. As your eyes finally adjusted to the pitch darkness, however, you noticed silvery white tresses covering the person’s shoulders, and a thin dark strap wound around the head. The arm carrying the weapon lowered slowly, and the letter opener slid from your sweaty grasp onto the floor. Although weightless, in the silence of the night, the little piece of metal resonated like thunder.

The man didn’t flinch nor move to seek the source of such scandal; his smooth voice echoed in the chamber, a careful murmur to be heard without waking the baby. 

“Abrazȳrys” 

The familiar term of endearment should have calmed your nerves, but the word spoken so abruptly made you jump in your spot, hand coming to your bosom as your heart raced, as if ready to escape from the confines of your chest and make a run to safety. 

“Seven hells, husband. You scared me half to death” You protested, pressing your cool palms against your heated cheeks and taking slow breaths. An immense wave of relief washed over you, mixed with an overpowering sense of weakness; all your energy had been consumed in the eternal moments you thought yourself and your child in danger, and now it took all you had not to collapse on your knees.

“My sincerest apologies, wife” He replied with a tone of propriety so usual in him, as if he merely apologised for bumping on you in the hallway, instead of scaring the living daylights out of you. His violet eye met yours as you moved within line of vision, taking seat in a low cushioned bench against the wall.

The bundle of blankets wrapping their firstborn appeared small and radiant against the dark planes of Aemond’s chest; the child tightly tucked in shades of green and trimmings of gold, chubby cheek snuggled against the warmth of her father’s body as she slept soundly. It amused you how easily the girl cozied up to Aemond, considering that, as far as you knew, they had not met before.

Fifteen nights and fourteen days had passed since their daughter Daenys came into their arms, letting her powerful cries be heard throughout the halls of Maegor’s Holdfast as the hour of the bat reached its peak of darkness. The child stunned those who helped bring her forth into the world, having been born with her eyes open, the right one violet like a Targaryen, and the left one with her mother’s colouring. A full head of silvery hair mixed with stray wisps of darker hues, giving her a colour no one could quite describe. 

The day of her birth, her father shone in his absence. He evaded the Holdfast as if it were a cursed place. First he escaped towards the sparring yard, demanding to be taught the usage of a bastard sword, and turning a deaf ear to Cole’s comments that he should be with his wife. When the pestering became unbearable he tried to see his sister instead, but his wife’s screams echoed through every hall, making it impossible to ignore. Defeated and overwhelmed, he turned towards his dragon, far away from everyone. The smallfolk saw the massive shadow of a winged beast soar the skies, framed by the last rays of the setting sun as if engulfed in a fireball. Sight of him was lost with nightfall, but the dragon’s cries could still be heard, hidden behind clouds. 

Aemond would have remained airborne until sunrise, had not young Daeron been sent out to pursue him and inform him that his wife had brought forth a most precious healthy girl. But not even such joyous news managed to lure the Prince back to the Red Keep. He flew again, towards unknown destination, not to be seen until the following day, well after the sun had begun its journey across the sky. Yet instead of rushing towards his family, he locked himself in the library, buried between books and scrolls until past dinner.

His attitude puzzled many around the court. Even if he perhaps found disappointment in the gender of his firstborn, his commitment to avoid his wife and child surpassed all levels of understanding; whispers began to spread of all sorts, most showing support to the beloved lady than to him. Some even said it was for the best; who would want a kinslayer to come near a newborn anyway?

No one could come even close to understand the why of his actions..

He had not been the same since Storm’s End. After his return, while his brother rejoiced and his elders frowned in worry, Aemond found himself numb, cold even, as if the icy winds and gelid rain that accompanied his flight that night had seeped into his bones. He only recalled broken fragments of what had occurred after he flew in pursuit of his nephew; the rattling of the saddle chains against the wind, Valyrian words shouted into the storm he did not remember pronouncing; a feeble, pathetic little fireball blown into Vhagar’s eyes, not doing more harm than a pebble would against the mountain. The horrific crunch of Arrax’s bones under ferocious jaws, as whatever remained of him and his rider floated down towards the restless sea.

The horrifying knowledge that his actions had caused the death of not one, but two boys.

After that, he shut himself more, if possible. He refused to see anyone, spending days and nights alone in his chambers, permitting only the presence of a servant to bring him his meals and news from the outside, isolated like a common prisoner. He abandoned his marital chamber, moving instead to the ones once meant for his wife; connected by a door he kept permanently locked and blocked. 

His mother attempted to coax him out with gentle words and his grandsire with stern reproaches. You knocked on his door at nights, softly whispering his name, almost like a plea. He saw your shadow under the door, pacing or sitting on the floor against it, waiting for something to happen, to at least receive a word of acknowledgement; but night after night your hopes crumbled into dust, and soon you gave up. There’s no helping someone who doesn’t want to be helped

Yet a flicker remained, that the ice would melt with the fire of newborn life. That the cries of their so awaited child would break the trance Aemond had submerged into and return him to his senses.

He opened his door that day, yes, but only with the intention to flee. 

And now, without warning or explanation, he showed up in the dead of the night, hidden by darkness like a lowly criminal, pushed by some unknown force to finally hold the being that had changed his status from man to father. 

You sat with your hands on your lap, patiently awaiting for an explanation. Yet Aemond didn’t move, nor spared you a second glance; his whole focus on Daenys. His eye fixed on her soft features, arms protectively around her, holding her with dexterity you did not yet possess, but he had acquired with his little brother and his niece and nephews. One arm around the body, the other under, lithe finger cradling her head and gently caressing the silvery hair. Even in the dark, you could see the enthrallment in his gaze. The fearsome warrior Prince, wrapped around Daenys’ minuscule finger

“Husband?” You called out softly, trying to attract his attention

“I heard her cry” He replied, his thumb brushing across Daenys’ cheek “Whenever she cries I hear her from my chamber. You always tend to her so quickly, almost as if you awake before she makes a sound” You blinked fast, perplexed. You never imagined he could hear from his chambers, but again, Daenys had a pair of lungs that could be heard from across the city if you wanted to. 

“But she cried and cried tonight, and nothing happened. I thought you could not settle her, but I didn’t hear your voice like when you speak or sing to her. So I came” 

You wanted to be embarrassed that he had heard that too, but instead focused more on the fact that if Aemond knew all of that, he lingered at the door whenever their daughter cried, wishing to know what was happening with her. For a moment you imagined him with his ear pressed to the wood, holding in his breath to not miss a sound.

“She kicks a lot when she cries” He commented “I thought she wanted to be fed, or was cold. But you were asleep and I didn’t want to wake you, and I-” He swallowed before continuing, His index traced the baby’s features, from the roundness of the cheeks to the sharpness of the nose, a perfect match of his own.  

“I took her in my arms and she settled. I suppose she didn’t want to be alone” 

His voice held amusement. As if he could not believe his daughter, his own blood, could find comfort in his embrace. He had expected her to kick and scream and alert the world that a monster had come for her. But she didn’t. She just snuggled close to him and drifted off to sleep, lulled by the safety of her dad’s arms.

You felt your heart ache for him, as you finally began to comprehend some things. The why of Aemond’s distance. He had killed a boy. His bastard nephew, and the object of his ire, but a boy nonetheless. Because of that, Jaehaerys had been lost. And now he feared something similar would find his girl, for it seemed that a path of tragedy and blood followed his every step and dragged those close to him into the same fate.

You stood, not without difficulty, and moved to stand behind him, one hand on his shoulder. He shifted position, holding Daenys on one arm and holding your hand with the other, thumb caressing your knuckles. They remained in silence, both staring at the fruit of their love with adoration only a first time parent can conjure.

“She’s beautiful” He whispered “Gevie hae se hūra”

You only understood ‘gevie’, and that sufficed to make you smile. You leaned down until your chin rested atop Aemond’s shoulder, cheeks pressed against each other “She’s perfect. And she looks so much like you” 

“Only the good parts” He replied, almost a bit harshly, the mere notion of his daughter resembling him setting him off. But soon he relaxed as Daenys stirred, mouth open in a quiet yawn which left her tongue trapped between her lips. 

“She will be the best of us” You commented, your arms coming under his own to hold her. To hold them both; Aemond needed your support as much as the babe did. Right there, maybe even more. 

“I will hurt her” He whispered, barely audible, his grip on Daenys tightening as he leaned down, his forehead against hers as he closed his eye. “If something bad happens to her, it will be on me”

“You would never” You rushed to reply, a coil tightening in your throat. How could Aemond think such a thing? He could never. You knew it. You knew it from the moment you saw him with the child in his arms, that he would burn down the entire country to safekeep that little girl

“Directly or indirectly, but I am dangerous for her. I’m not worthy of her” Sorrow laced his words, a sentiment foreign to your husband, who always held his emotions carefully and kept them well hidden under a mask of serene indifference. Seeing his vulnerabilities surface felt wrong, as if you had witnessed something private, a crack in the surface of an indomitable mountain. But he had no privacies with you; you were his wife, and you were meant to know him whole.

You moved to crouch before him, hands cradling his face and forcing him to meet your firm gaze “You are her father. The Gods blessed us with this gift because they deemed us worthy of her. And I know you won’t let anyone touch a single hair in her head, because they will be ash and dust before they can even get close” This time, you flattened your forehead against his, never letting go of him “You are worthy of this. Of her. You are worthy of good things” 

His eye closed and he leaned into you, your bodies together shielding Daenys, keeping her warm. You two remained there for who knows how long, in silence, holding each other again after so long apart. It was him who broke the spell, his hand coming to circle your waist

“Let’s put her to sleep” He replied in a soft whisper “And then I’d like to sleep in your bed, if my lady wife will have me tonight”

You smiled without meaning to, feeling his warmth spread over you

“Tonight and every night. All the nights you want”

[annwrites]

one in the same. part five.

— pairing: otto hightower x fem!reader

— type: part of a series

— summary: you & otto share an afternoon & then an evening together.

— tw: eating

— word count: 3,361

— a/n: oh i can't wait until i catch up to the show's events

— tagging list: @ohsnapitzmarvelficrec

You glance to Otto from under your lashes, settling your quill upon the desk. "I am still surprised that you trust me to aid in your work."

He shrugs, pouring wax over his current piece of correspondence. "In truth, I have no reason not to now."

You hold the letter you have completed toward him. "Even if you have endeavored to believe, or, rather, find proof to believe otherwise."

He takes it from you, meeting your eyes with a hard gaze. This again, he thinks. "Can we not leave the past in the past?"

You lean back. "I hold grudges."

He shakes his head. "To which I am becoming quickly aware."

"Placing salve over a continuously oozing wound does not necessarily treat the source of the problem," you reply, folding your hands in your lap.

"Then what would you suggest?" He asks, exasperated.

Your lip twitches after studying him for a moment. "Perhaps I should be afforded a handsome stipend for doing half your work."

He raises a brow. "I think you overestimate just how much help you provide." A pause. "My stimulating company should be reward enough, should it not?"

His lip twitches and you smirk, shaking your head.

He unfolds another scroll. "You cannot be serious in implying—"

"I merely jest."

You are both quiet for a moment, the sound of seagulls and crashing waves drifting in from the open doors to his balcony, him scratching away on a new sheet of parchment and the fire in his hearth across the room quietly crackling, filling the silence.

You speak. "You are right. That...having company is payment enough."

"I doubt that."

You lean forward, propping your elbows upon the surface, then your cheeks upon your fists as you stare at him. "My company is not enough?"

He doesn't look up. "I was referring to mine own. Yours makes the hours pass far more quickly."

You flush when his eyes meet your own then, expression serious, before he goes back to his work.

That afternoon, after a small council meeting, Otto returns to his chambers with a pounding headache.

He sinks down into a stuffed armchair, closing his eyes, feeling utterly drained.

You emerge from the balcony a moment later and pad over to him, seating yourself upon the arm to his right. "Council today was not pleasant, I take it?"

He groans in the back of his throat. "When is it ever?" Then, "I did not look, but I presume you have been cleaning again?"

It'd been a fortnight since your argument. The one which had ended with Otto admitting to having committed murder on your behalf.

It had frightened you, but only at first.

You'd spent your life seeing him as someone who only wielded the pen and not a sword—no, you had assumed the latter as being just for show—until that admittance had been made.

But, after it had, you'd looked at him differently. As a man with hidden depths. Perhaps ones steeped in blood. Him going to such lengths to defend your honor...you did not want to admit to it having set your body alight the more you thought on it.

That you could feel heat pool between your thighs each time you imagined it.

Then, you worry that, mayhaps, something is deeply wrong with you to burn with pleasure at such a thing. That, perhaps, you are...disturbed.

But him making you aware of him having cared all along, in his own way, even if it was a violent one, had dampened some of your contempt toward him, if nothing else.

And he, after seeing how upset you had become after sending you from his room that morn, had resolved to let you stay—come and go from them—as you pleased. You would no longer be alone, if you did not wish to be.

So, you sometimes sat in silence reading—him quite often working—or, as of late, cleaning.

Making his bed, picking up his garments from around the room, tidying his dining table and mantle. He'd—the first day you began your undertaking of clearly becoming his own personal maid—tried to chastise you, insisting it was a servant's duties, until you glared at him, asking why he did not let them in daily to perform them, then. He'd grown quiet, uttering 'continue', before you did as much.

His desk you refused to touch, however—unsure of his organization system. You're sure he has one, but only he is clearly able to decipher it.

His guards were ordered to exercise discretion when it came to your new, and then, subsequently, regular presence. Nothing unseemly was occurring between the two of you, so the King was not to be bothered with such harmless matters.

You smile softly. "Perhaps."

His brow twitches in response.

"I can turn down your bed, if you'd like to rest."

He remains silent and you finally sigh, standing. "Come."

Your lip twitches at you sounding like him now.

His tired eyes ease open. "I do not take commands from young ladies."

You reach down, taking his hand in your own, trying to pull him up.

"My head aches, Y/N. Leave me be."

"Then allow me to help you."

He groans in irritation then, standing, if it will only get you to be quiet. Another trait of yours: always managing to irritate him at nearly every turn.

The two of you had bickered nearly every day in one another's company, but every day you also returned to him. Or he sought you out in the gardens, the library, your secret place down by the Blackwater. Only once or twice your room to retrieve you back to his own to dine with him—those summons only came from him personally, because he knew sending a servant to fetch you would end with them coming back empty-handed.

He likes to think that he knows how to get you to obey, unlike anyone else.

While you like to think you are in control.

You lead him over to his bed, sitting back against the headboard, legs crossed, your dress draped over them. And then you pat your lap with a small smile as you stare up at him amusedly.

He does not share your happy sentiments. He merely rolls his eyes. "This is not necessary." He glances to his desk. "I have missives to see to—"

"Lie down," you say, tone firm.

"Young Lady—"

"Old man," you reply sweetly.

He grips your chin then. "You do not command me."

You stare up at him, blinking, your mind empty.

Finally, he sighs. "Fine."

He shrugs off his cloak, tossing it upon the foot of the bed, toeing off his boots before crawling onto the mattress and groaning as he positions himself with his head in your lap.

This, too, was becoming a common occurrence. Him returning weary and worn to his chambers, ready to loose his temper on any member of the small council that he was cross with, to find you waiting for him, ready to provide comfort. At times, it was just your silent company you gave. Others, an ear to listen.

And there were the evenings where it was your hands tangled in his hair, gently kneading his throbbing temples, his creased forehead. Once or twice he'd fallen asleep from your touch.

Which was saying a great deal, as sleep was often difficult for him to find, try as he might. It is why, some nights, he altogether does not even bother trying to rest, knowing it will not come to him.

So, he instead works.

Even if his duties are never-ending...

"Which of them was it today?" You ask quietly.

"Lord Beesbury."

Your fingers ease into his hair and his eyes slowly close.

"May I ask?"

He hums. "His Grace wishes to hold a ball, along with a grand feast, so as to celebrate Rhaenyra's appointment as his heir. Lord Lyman, as always, was very conscientious about coin—as is his duty—but your father did not wish to hear of it. He insisted that it is a day to be celebrated, with no cost spared.

You raise a brow, your fingers then coming to massage between his own, which are drawn together at present. "Would it have not made more sense to hold such celebrations while all the lords of the kingdoms were already here pledging fealty to her?"

"I do not believe your father saw it as an occasion to be lauded—at that time—with flowers and cakes and music. It was to instead be remembered as a day of utmost importance with utter seriosity, written into history as the beginning of a new era that he was forging for House Targaryen by his own hand—his own might."

Your fingertips move to his temples and he moans quietly at the feel.

You're both quiet for a moment, until he speaks again. "I detest balls and celebratory events. A waste of time and coin."

You roll your eyes. "Of course you would object to a moment of merrymaking."

"My days of 'merrymaking'," he quotes back to you. "Are long past."

Old man, you think.

"I cannot imagine you ever partaking in such events."

His lip twitches.

"Then again, I find you hard to picture as having ever been young."

His eyes open then, and he squints up at you. "I dare say you would have liked me even less."

You raise a brow. "Oh?"

He closes his eyes again, humming. "You find me too self-important now."

He shakes his head at such implications.

"All I do, I endeavor to do for the good of the Realm. Every decision has a consequence, which I have learned to accept. You cannot please everyone. But do not mistake me—the council I give His Grace has nothing to do with me. Unlike some," he states, thinking of Lord Corlys.

"But when I was your age..." It feels so long ago now. Then again, he supposes, it was. "I was conceited. Proud. Haughty."

He opens his eyes once more, staring up into your own. "I would not have cared for you as I do now."

Your fingers still and he quickly clears his throat.

"Looked after your best interests, I mean to say. Being Hand to Jaehaerys—he was a good king, as all well know—quickly taught me how to be a better man. At the very least, a bit more considerate toward others whose standing is underneath mine."

So almost all the Realm, you think, fingers moving back into his hair.

He continues. "My Lady Wife even more-so."

"I never told you how sorry I was for your loss," you reply quietly.

A muscle in his jaw feathers. "Thank you, Y/N."

The both of you grow quiet then, merely enjoying the sound of the Blackwater outside, until Otto begins to snore softly in your lap.

Your fingers cease their ministrations then as you lean your head back, closing your own eyes—just for a moment.

"Beg your pardons, Ser, My Lady."

Otto jerks awake, quickly rising from your lap and when your own eyes open, you see the sun is beginning to set, casting shades of pink and purple across the sky outside—the Sept of Baelor off in the distance casting long shadows.

You sit up, stretching, while Otto escorts the young maid back toward the door, whispering something which you cannot make out before she nods, curtsies and then exits the room.

Otto returns to you then, standing at the edge of the bed nearest where you sit.

“What did you tell her?” You ask, hair falling over your shoulders.

He reaches forward, tucking a lock behind your ear before settling his arm behind him once more. “Merely to bring us supper.”

You dig through the dish of noodles in front of you, stabbing at mushrooms and subsequently plopping them down onto Otto’s plate every time you discover yet another one.

And every time he eats one, you wrinkle your nose in disgust.

“I can have them prepare you something else,” he states, sipping his wine.

You give him yet another one in silent response.

He shakes his head, watching you. “Perhaps if you instead tried one—”

Plop.

He stabs at it. “I forget who I am speaking to. You would rather be difficult.”

You narrow your eyes at him, taking a carrot from his plate and placing it in your mouth, chewing with a smile.

He merely raises a brow.

Once you swallow, you speak. “You should be pleased that I am eating at all,” you state, taking another carrot.

He then lifts his plate, scraping the rest of them onto yours. “I am.”

Once the two of you have filled yourselves—Otto, as per usual, refusing to allow you to leave the table until you have cleaned your dish and also assured him that, no, you are no longer hungry—he seats himself on the settee before the room’s hearth, while you lie down at the opposite end of where he is seated, lying your head back on the arm, pulling the blanket from the back of it over you and pressing your feet against his thigh as you reach around to pick up your book from the night previous from the end table behind you.

The two of you share amicable silence as you read and he works, until he eventually scoffs at a piece of parchment in his hand, gaining your interest.

You lower your novel then, looking at him. “Is something the matter?”

He shakes his head, crumpling the paper, then throwing it into the hearth. “A reoccurring annoyance, which I fear will only become more prevalent after upcoming celebrations.”

You continue looking at him, waiting for an elaboration, which it quickly becomes clear he does not intend to provide.

“You will not tell me, then?”

He moves onto another document. “Duties for the Hand.”

You shrug, picking your book back up, stretching your legs and settling your feet in his lap.

He simply tugs the edge of the blanket over your bare feet, hardly looking away from whatever he is currently reading over as he does so.

Long after nightfall has settled over King’s Landing does Otto finally glance up from his work, to find you fast asleep beside him, your book splayed open atop your breasts, your hands resting delicately over its covers.

He glances to your slightly parted lips for only a moment before reaching over and carefully removing the novel from your grip, sliding a marker into place before setting it beside him.

He sighs, caught between choices of waking you—which he’s sure will go smoothly—and sending you back to your room, or simply continuing on with his work while also allowing you to continue resting.

He finally sets his stationary aside, knowing the later is gets, the more unseemly the sight of you leaving his chambers at such a late hour will seem.

He takes one of your hands in his, and begins to gently shake you awake.

At first your brows merely furrow, before your eyes open, looking glassy and tired. And then a small smile spreads across your lips at the sight of him leaning over you. “What is—”

“The hour is late. I will have one of my guards escort you back to your rooms.”

You groan then, shutting your eyes again as you roll over, shoving your face against the back of the settee. “No,” you mumble into the fabric.

He looks toward the ceiling. He should’ve known you wouldn’t simply do as told.

“Y/N—”

“I wish to sleep here. It is such a long walk.”

He sighs in irritation. “You cannot. For reasons I should not have to explain.”

You finally sit up, slowly, pushing down against the cushions as you rise, leaning in toward him.

Your gown slips from your shoulders, your hair a wild mess, cheeks flushed, lids hooded as you look into his eyes. “No one has to know,” you whisper, blinking tiredly.

He drags the blanket over his lap. That he has most certainly not experienced for quite some time. He knows he should chastise himself, force you to your feet and out the door, but, instead, he relents, unable to deny you just this once.

The Hand of the King—one of the most revered men in all the Realm—bested by a comely young woman with five whispered words alone.

It will be both the first and last time, he assures himself.

He leans back, staring up at the ceiling. “Only for tonight. And come dawn, you are to be in your own bed, in your own chambers, found sleeping soundly by your handmaiden, is that clear?”

You nod, smiling happily that you will now not have to traverse winding halls in the dark on tired feet. “Yes.”

He shuts his eyes. “You may take my bed. I will—”

“You’re not going to sleep here,” you say, cutting him short.

He looks at you then in disbelief. “Have you lost all sense? If we were to be found—”

“If I am found asleep in your bed, the circumstances of how, I think, will matter very little to my father. If that is who you are worried about. Then again, he trusts you wholly. And as a friend, as well. I think he knows my virtue is safe in your hands.”

With that, you stand, padding over to his bed.

He already deeply, deeply regrets this decision. He stands as well, then, ready to tell you that now that you are on your feet, it would be best, after all, that you leave.

You are up and alert and oriented. He will walk you back himself, if that is what you prefer.

He turns, stepping around the piece of furniture you’d previously shared and stops in the middle of the room as he watches your gown slide down your body, pooling at your feet before you pick it up, folding it neatly, and setting it upon the chest at the foot of his bed.

“Young lady, you cannot—”

You look to him. “I’m not sleeping in a dress. Nor am I a corset.”

You turn your back to him then, trying to unlace it, and then look over your shoulder. “Will you help me?”

He slowly steps over to you, wondering what the fuck he’s doing as his fingers overtake yours, making quick work of the strings binding you.

And then you lift it up and over your head, settling it atop your dress before turning around.

His jaw is set as hard as iron as he keeps his eyes trained solely on your own.

“Thank you,” you say softly before crawling into bed, tucking blankets around yourself.

If they are real—if any one of them is listening: Gods save him.

Otto lies next to you, staring up at the canopy, mind racing, preventing sleep.

He glances to you, who is now turned on your side toward him, one arm under your—rather, his—pillow, your other hand near your parted lips, your long hair splayed out behind you, your shift slipped down your shoulder, leaving it bare as moonlight pours in from the glass windows on the balcony doors, illuminating your soft skin.

A month ago, such a moment between the two of you would’ve been completely unthinkable. But now, here you lay in his bed, near-wholly undressed.

He wonders, briefly, what you might think of him if he were twenty years younger. In terms of looks. Personality-wise, the two of you have already discussed.

He glances to the hearth across the room, the fire now mere embers, and the satisfaction he felt earlier, after throwing a correspondence from a young knight asking boldly for a specific young maiden’s hand, now also burned to ash.

It had been wrong, what he had done. Such communications should have been delegated to the King instead, but, as he sinks down beside you, turning onto his side, so your face is the last thing he sees before shutting his eyes for sleep, he thinks—in regards to Viserys (similarly to what he had also thought toward said maiden when he did it…and not for the first time, at that)—what he doesn’t know will not harm him.

[xob1tchs]

| mutual help ; l. berkshire

genre; smut 😜

warnings; bickering, NOT e2l sorry every1!!, no actual sex, mentions of blowjob, food play (?), oral (f receiving), public sex, fingering, dirty talk, name calling (baby, honey bc that’s readers nn and babe)

a/n; idk i saw these pics on pinterest and thought they were cute and then i just got to thinking abt how i could make smth and use them and yeahhhhh — but i actually like this a lot so im thinking this isn’t the end 😅😅 pt.2 maybeee

playlist; meddle about by chase atlantic, single by the neighborhood, cry baby by the neighborhood.

You smile around the ice cream filling your jaw, cheeks puffing out in a way that makes enzo's pants grow tighter, some of the pinkish-white cream dribbling from the corners of your mouth, making a mess that stains the pristine collar of your dress shirt.

He toys with the mechanical pencil in his grasp, running it along the seam of his lips, pressing them into a cat-like grin when you look up at him over the top of your textbook, eyes turning to crescents when your grin widens. Your book thumps against the table when you lean forward, caught between your chest and the hardwood, making you stutter over whatever you were gonna say, shiny lips falling into a confused pout, blinking down at the pages before you roll your eyes, nudging it to the floor with your elbow, letting it clatter against the wood without a care.

“You’re going to get us in trouble – ” Lorenzo warns, watching as the ice cream cone in your hand melts over your knuckles, seeping into the cuffs of your cardigan, forming sticky lines between your knuckles “Finish that, or i’ll throw it away.” he finishes, arching a perfectly trimmed brow as you bring the strawberry cream to your lips again, licking a thick strip from the base of the cone to the top of the cream.

You hum in satisfaction, ready to bring the cone back for another lick, when a group of students brushes past, one of their shoes knocking the back of your chair, grip on the come loosening for a moment before it topples from your fingers and lands in the crevice of your thighs. You gasp, scowling at the fifth years as they giggle, rushing around a corner.

“God damn it, honey” enzo growls deep under his breath, snapping his book shut, making you flinch as you look up at him from the mess between your thighs. Your brows draw together in confusion, used to hearing the nick name in a more saccharine tone. This wasn’t your fault.

You tilt your head “they bumped into me!” you whisper yell, uncomfortably rubbing your thighs together, only spreading the sticky mess further.

Frowning he scoots his chair back, leaning back enough to see the drying ice cream, something straight out of wet dream as you spread your thighs, chasing some sort of relief from the uncomfortable feeling - he can see your white panties, delicate lace trim along the edges and a cute little with bow just below your navel.

“You’ve made a fucking mess” his tone is annoyed, shoulders tensing as you gaze into his puppy like eyes, puffy lips parting in a pout once again.

This has been torture – weeks of tutoring you, dealing with the innocent pouts and whines, begging him to just lie to professor snape for you. Games of on and off, that he knows he’s definitely winning, because you were practically begging for his cock a fortnight ago. He’s thought about you so many times – thought about beating the shit out of the guys that talk about you.

He can’t fucking take it anymore, cock throbbing in his boxers as you squirm around in your chair, huffing out delicate breaths, wide eyes turned glassy – you look like you might even cry, and makes him tick, knuckles pale from how tightly his fists clench against the smooth hard wood table.

Gripping the table with one hand, and the hem of your skirt with the other, you sigh “I can clean it up enzo” you plead, nervous as he shifts in his chair, tugging the sleeves of his dress shirt up his forearms.

The whole library falls silent when he looks at you, rasping out a command that makes your eyes go wide “spread your legs” he mumbles. He drops to his knees not a moment sooner, brunette head of hair disappearing under the table, the drag of his chair back to the table making you gasp.

Fingers wrap around your ankles, forcing your legs apart, unveiling your clothed pussy to his sparkling eyes when your skirt rides up your thighs, the fabric is damp and stained with strawberry ice cream, molding your warm folds to the cotton, puffy pussy straining for attention against the threads. He blows out a soft breath between puckered lips, chuckling hotly when you squirm, thighs trembling against his strength.

“Lorenzo — we’ll be caught” you whisper, glassy eyes meeting his own dark ones, a gentle blush spread across the bridge of your nose and the apples of your cheeks. He tuts, leaning forward just enough for his nose to rub your clit, breathing in the musky-sweet scent emitting from your core.

“You don’t want me to help you out?” He murmurs, tongue darting out to lick a stripe along your seam, planting a wet kiss against your hole as one of his hands creep up the inseam of your thigh, toying with the outer hem of your panties.

You sigh, cradling your face in your palms, unable to voice the denial you thought you had wanted to say, overwhelmed by the heat from his breath ghosting your cunt.

“be a good girl and keep quiet” he mutters, peeking up at your flushed face between your fingers before he tugs your panties to the side, the threads snapping under the pressure, ripping the crotch right out of them, ruined as they fall to the floor.

he takes his time, as he leans in, eyelids fluttering closed, jaw hanging slack – pressing an open mouth kiss to your spread folds, humming in delight at the sticky slick seeping from your core, pressing in deeper for more, nails digging crescents into your sticky thighs.

his tongue toys at your entrance, the warm muscle prodding your tight walls until you let out the softest wine from above him, hips bucking forward against his face, pressing his nose into your clit.

“s’fucking good” he mouths against your cunt, shaking his face side to side, making your squirm against the wooden chair, thighs threatening to squeeze around his head if he were to let go.

“shit- enzo '' you chirp, drooping eyes casting a weary look around the library, despite knowing your meticulously tucked away study corner is shielded from most prying eyes.

one of his hands drifts from the inseam of your thigh, to the top of your pussy, pulling the hood up so he can wrap his puffy lips around your clit, gently tugging on the nub with his teeth, before giving it a lewd suck, slurping and smacking sounding from between your legs - he’s the one being fucking loud.

his other hand glides down your pussy as he pulls away, spreading your folds to watch your greedy hole wink, pulsing for something to fill you up - seeping wetness that runs down your asshole and the wooden chair, staining the hardwood floor below you even further.

he groans as he presses the pad of his middle finger to your pussy, watching as you suck him in, gliding to the second knuckle with ease “you can take more than that, can’t you baby?” you hum from above him, thighs spreading further in a silent agreement, etching a wicked grin across his lips.

he slides a second finger in with ease, cock jumping in his trousers when he feels the suction of your velvet walls around his thick fingers, clenching around him with need even when he doesn’t make a move.

when he leans in to flick your clit, your thighs clamp around his head, one hand tangling in the hair the crown of his skull, the other gripping the edge of a textbook so harshly you fear the pages will rip.

he groans against your heat, eyelids rolling back in his skull as he makes harsh thrusts in and out with his fingers, alternating between quick sucks and nips at your swollen bud, the weight of his cock in his boxers becoming unbearably heavy with every jut of your hips against his face, precum making his boxers stick to his length in an uncomfortable manner.

“m’so close enzo, baby please” you croon, leaning back in your chair to lock eyes with him, tears brimming at your lash line as you press a palm to your mouth, muffling the sounds that multiply with every passing second.

he doesn’t stop at your confession, the words spurring him on, desperate to swallow your cum and taste it on his tongue for hours to come, cock twitching at just the thought alone.

his hand drives into you with so much force that wet smacking sounds start to ring out, so fast and frequent that if anyone were near they’d surely know what you were up to.

it’s only a couple seconds later that you’re falling apart on his fingers, thighs squeezing around him so tightly that he begins to go lightheaded, surely not helped by the way he desperately laps at your seeping cunt like a man starved, groaning and moaning into your folds until he’s satiated, and your hips are squirming away from his mouth, pussy swollen and sensitive against the cool air of the library when he finally does pull back.

you look down at him through a bleary gaze, flushing at the sight, covered in a mix of sweat, cum and strawberry ice cream, smeared along his jaw and across the tip of his nose, you lick your lips, shaking your head when he meets your eyes “now we’ve both made messes” you mumble, using the cuff of your sweater to wipe some of the liquid from his face, glancing between his legs to where his cock strains against the zipper.

“now i should help you then, right?”