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endless-ineffabilities · 2 months ago

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Say Yes To Heaven

chapter 1 of the National Anthem series

President Aemond Targaryen x f!reporter reader

synopsis: a reporter finds herself entangled in an affair with Aemond Targaryen, the President of Westeros.

in this chapter: the President has a proposition for the reader, one which she finds almost impossible to refuse. Will she say yes to entering the enticing world that he so offers? Will she yes to him?

word count: 5.2k

themes/warnings: mild smut (18+), tension that can cut like a damn knife, language, mutual pining, use of power for the purposes of pursuing the reader (obviously, he IS the President)

series masterlist ▪︎ main masterlist

best to read the intro chapter before this one!

President Aemond Targaryen is in the second half of his tenure, and his presidency has already left an indelible mark on the political and historical landscape of Westeros.

From the start, Aemond's detractors were convinced he couldn’t do it. At just 28, they saw him as too young and too much a product of the Targaryen political dynasty. His election, they claimed, was less about his abilities and more about his family’s influence. Who’s to say he wasn’t just a puppet, with the real power lying in the hands of his powerful relatives?

Now, two and a half years later, the country has seen what Aemond Targaryen can do. King’s Landing, once a cesspool of crime and poverty, has undergone a staggering transformation under his leadership. The capital’s streets now gleam with prosperity, lined with new businesses, cultural centres, and bustling markets. Even his detractors begrudgingly admit that his efficiency is something to marvel at.

You’re aware of all this, of course. It’s part of the reason you were chosen to report on his presidency, giving the public a closer look at the enigmatic leader steering the nation. But lately, you can’t help but feel that your perspective on him has shifted, especially after that night in his private suite.

Something lingers. You’ve started researching him more intensely, not because you have to, but because you want to. You pore over old interviews, articles, any scrap of information you can find. You’re supposed to be impartial, and you try to be. But you can’t deny that he fascinates you.

Whatever it is, you’re determined to ignore it. You enjoy your work as a journalist, and you know you were extremely lucky to have landed a position at Highgarden News. Sure, you are still assigned to the team that reports on governmental affairs, but who’s to say that you can’t do your job from a distance? There is no need to get in deep into the thick of it all. The next time you see him, it can be as if that night in his suite at the Highgarden Hotel never happened.

You are a professional.

You know you are also a fool for thinking you can ever resist the attraction, but that does not matter.

Aemond, he asked you to call him, but that must only be reserved for his friends. Those close to him. As far as you’re concerned, you’re just a field reporter doing her job while he is the most powerful man in the country. He must remain President Aemond Targaryen to you. Mister President.

Never mind that he calls you angel, and that it might be the most beautiful name anyone has ever given you.

Angel – it had sounded like prayer on his lips.

What must his wife call him behind closed doors? My dear? My love?

Sitting in the fluorescent-lit office of Highgarden News, the weight of your attraction feels overwhelming. Your eyes linger too long on articles about Aemond, replaying clips of his speeches, watching the way his mouth moves when he talks. It’s pathetic. You close all the tabs, scolding yourself for letting it get this far.

“Still obsessing over him, huh?”

Theon’s voice snaps you back to reality. He’s leaning over your cubicle wall, grinning ear to ear.

Heat rises to your cheeks. “I’m not obsessing,” you mutter, though you can tell from the smirk on Theon’s face that he isn’t buying it.

“Sure,” he teases, nodding mockingly. “You’ve had tabs on Mister President open all morning. Don't think I haven't noticed.”

“I’m doing research. It’s my job, you know. Presidential affairs, national policy, all that fun stuff.”

“Uh-huh.” Theon crosses his arms, his grin widening. “Because staring at his pictures is totally related to national policy.”

You throw a pen at him, laughing despite yourself. “I’m not staring at him! He’s the President of Westeros, and I’m just doing my job.”

Theon raises a brow and leans in, lowering his voice. “Come on, just admit it. You’ve got this crush on him. I won’t tell anyone. Well… not a lot of anyones, at least.”

“He’s married, Theon,” you groan. "That means I can’t be interested.”

“Yeah, and I bet that’s half the appeal,” Theon says, unfazed. “Forbidden fruit, baby. Besides, have you seen the guy? If he looked at me the way he looks at you, I won’t even think twice.”

You bury your face in your hands. The worst part is that he’s not entirely wrong. “Theon, please. I’m trying to work here.”

“You’re trying not to think about how good he probably looks out of that suit.” He winks at you, not missing a beat.

You laugh, shaking your head. “Why are you like this?”

“Because I’m your best friend, and it’s my job to remind you that you need to get laid.” He taps your desk, his grin softening into something more genuine. “Seriously, though. Be careful. I’ve seen the way he looks at you in those press conferences. That man is starved.”

You roll your eyes, but your heart is pounding in your chest. If only he knew the truth of what happened that night. “I’m sure it’s nothing,” you lie, trying to sound casual.

Theon raises an eyebrow, giving you a knowing look. “Whatever you say. By the way, Loras is looking for you.”

You freeze, the mention of your supervisor snapping you back into focus. “Loras? What for?”

Theon shrugs. “No idea. But he’s in his office, waiting for you. Sounds urgent.”

Your stomach flips. Anxiety builds up in your chest as you make your way down the hall to Loras’s office.

Please don’t let this be about Aemond.

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Loras is seated behind his desk when you walk in, flipping through a stack of papers. His sharp eyes flick up to meet yours as he gestures for you to sit.

“Thanks for coming,” he says, getting straight to the point. “I’ve got a pretty major opportunity for you.”

You nod, trying to keep your nerves in check. “What’s the assignment?”

“As you know, President Targaryen’s re-election campaign is kicking off soon,” Loras begins, his tone brisk and no-nonsense. “It’s one of the biggest political stories of the year. We need someone embedded with his team – full access to the President, travelling with him, covering every move.”

Your heart drops into your stomach. Oh no.

“And I want you to be that reporter,” Loras says, folding his hands as he looks at you expectantly. “You’re one of the few reporters we’ve got that are already pre-approved, and the best one for the task.”

You stare at him, your mind racing. “Me?”

“Yes, you.” Loras leans back in his chair, his gaze sharp. “You’ve been covering his administration ever since he got elected. You know him better than anyone else here.”

You swallow hard, trying to process what he’s saying. “That’s… a lot of responsibility.”

“It is,” Loras agrees. “But it’s also the kind of assignment that can make a career. Think of the exposure, the access. This is a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.”

Your thoughts are spiralling. Travelling with Aemond? Watching him up close, day in and day out? You can barely keep it together after one night in his suite – how are you supposed to maintain professionalism while being that close to him for months?

“I don’t know if I’m the right person for this,” you say quietly, your voice barely above a whisper.

Loras raises an eyebrow, clearly surprised by your hesitation. "Why not? You’ve handled plenty of high-pressure situations before."

“It’s just… surely someone else is better qualified. What about Theon? He did a great job at covering the Lannister scandal last year,” you say, searching for the right words. How do you explain that the mere sight of Aemond makes your pulse race?

“That was gossip fodder. The President’s affairs are a completely different territory than what you’re going to cover here. This is serious news. A definitive political profile if you do it well, and I know you will.” Loras watches you for a moment, then leans forward, his voice lowering. “And I’ll be honest with you. The President specifically asked for you to cover the campaign.”

Your heart stops. “What?”

“He requested you by name,” Loras says, a small, knowing smile playing on his lips. “I don’t know what’s going on between you two, and frankly, I don’t care. But if the President wants you on this assignment, I suggest you take it. For your sake – and for the sake of the agency.”

He asked for me? The words send a thrill through you, even as you try to tamp it down.

“I’ll think about it,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

“Don’t take too long,” Loras says. “The campaign starts next week. I need your answer as soon as possible.”

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Hours later, you sit alone at your kitchen table, the contract in front of you. The paper feels heavy, like it’s mocking you. The more you think about it, the more your resolve weakens. This is an opportunity like no other. The benefits are staggering – the access, the prestige, the career-defining stories you could write. But then there’s him.

You know you should sign it and get it over with, but something inside you hesitates. A voice, small but insistent, telling you this is a bad idea. That if you do this, you’ll fall deeper into the pull of him, into something you can’t control.

But then your phone buzzes, and you glance down to see a message that sends your heart into overdrive.

Dinner tomorrow. 8 PM. I’ll have someone pick you up. - Aemond

You swallow hard, a mix of surprise and dread washing over you. How does he even have my number? But then again, he’s the President – of course he has access to everything. This isn’t a question; it’s a command, and he knows exactly how to get you. He must sense your wavering resolve.

Your fingers tremble as you type out a reply.

- Why? What for?

His response is immediate. I just want to discuss something with you, angel.

- The assignment. Did you really ask for me?

Yes. I did.

You hesitate, your mind racing through the implications.

- I’m considering it.

Allow me to convince you. Come see me tomorrow.

- Nothing can happen between us.

Understood.

But I can’t pretend that I’m not curious about what could.

- You know what they say about curiosity.

So, what do you say? You take a moment, biting your lip, the playful banter igniting something inside you.

- Fine, I can agree to dinner. But we’ll keep it completely professional.

Deal. Looking forward to it, angel.

Good night.

- Good night to you too, Mister President.

Don’t test me, angel.

A shiver runs down your spine the moment you read those words. His response feels like both a promise and a threat – the kind that ignites something deep inside you. The kind that sends images flashing through your mind, unbidden, making your legs clench together despite your hesitation.

The three little dots disappear as you lock your phone and drop it onto the cushion beside you, as if cutting off the connection to Aemond will somehow help you regain control over your own thoughts.

Tomorrow, you swear to use every ounce of willpower you have to keep things professional. You just hope it’s enough.

A fool, indeed.

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The next night, you're standing in front of the mirror, smoothing down the fabric of your blouse for what feels like the hundredth time. It’s appropriate – a crisp white blouse tucked into a knee-length skirt, modest enough for any work setting, but there’s something about the way you’ve put it together tonight. The way the blouse hugs your figure just right, the slight sheen of the fabric catching the light, the way the skirt fits snugly at your waist.

It’s nothing special, you tell yourself. Perfect for the occasion, suited for the upscale location you’ll likely be heading to. But deep down, you know better. You want to look good for him. And that very thought makes your stomach twist.

You adjust your hair one more time, glancing at the clock. It's almost time. You can handle this, you remind yourself. It’s just dinner. Just a business conversation. You’ve done this a hundred times before.

But you’ve never done this with him. And no matter how hard you try to ignore it, the anticipation buzzing through your veins is impossible to shake.

Suddenly, there’s a knock at the door. You smooth your skirt one more time and walk over, taking a deep breath before opening it.

You’re greeted by the sight of two familiar faces: the same two members of Aemond’s security detail who escorted you to his penthouse that night.

They’re as imposing as you remember – tall, sharp in their tailored suits, one blonde and one brunette, with eyes that give nothing away. The only difference tonight is the extravagant bouquet of flowers in the hands of one of them.

The flowers are breathtaking, an arrangement of deep red roses intertwined with white lilies that feel far too intimate for something as innocent as dinner. But then again, they could very well be a reflection of Aemond’s intentions.

“Good evening, ma’am,” the blonde says, his voice low and composed. “These are for you. From the President.”

Your heart skips a beat. Of course they are. You swallow, glancing at the flowers as if they could explain everything.

The fragrance wafts up to you, rich and intoxicating. You can’t help but wonder if this is just the beginning of the night’s games. Your fingers tremble slightly as you take the bouquet, its weight heavy in your arms, both literally and metaphorically.

“For me?” you murmur, as if the answer isn’t obvious.

“Yes, ma’am,” the man confirms. “The car is ready when you are.”

You leave the flowers on the kitchen counter, stealing one last glance at them before closing the door to your apartment. They feel like a message – a reminder of who you’re dealing with tonight. Aemond Targaryen does not do things subtly.

Soon enough, you’re sitting in the back of a sleek black car, your hands nervously twisting in your lap. The city lights blur past the window, but all you can think about is the man waiting for you inside the restaurant.

After a few moments of silence, curiosity nudges at you. “I suppose you both already know who I am,” you say lightly, your voice cutting through the quiet hum of the car. “Probably more than I’d wish for you to know. So, would you care to tell me your names?”

The man in the passenger seat – the blonde – turns slightly, a smile playing on his lips. “I’m Steve, ma’am,” he says, his tone friendly and warm, a stark contrast to the serious atmosphere.

“James,” the other one says from behind the wheel, his voice low and gruff, eyes fixed on the road ahead. There’s a certain sternness about him, like he’s perpetually on duty.

“Steve and James,” you repeat, letting the names settle into your mind, humanising them. You glance at Steve. “So, James doesn't talk much?”

Steve chuckles, casting a quick glance at his partner. “That's just how he is,” he says. “You’ll get used to him. We all have.”

James doesn’t react, his focus still entirely on driving. You smirk softly to yourself, feeling some of the tension in the car ease with Steve’s casual demeanour.

But the thought of their boss – the boss of the entire damn country, one could say – lingers heavy in the back of your mind.

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The car pulls up to the restaurant, a lavish affair located on the grounds of an exclusive country club just outside the city. As you step out, you recognize the place instantly – The Old Valyria, a restaurant housed in a grand, ornate building that looks more like a palace than a dining establishment. The stone facade is intricately carved, its old-world charm unmistakable.

You’d covered an event here earlier in the year, reporting on one of the prestigious galas held by the Highgarden elite. But tonight, even as a familiar face in the city, you feel like an outsider in this world. The guests you spot entering and leaving are dressed in the finest attire, their movements confident, as if they were born into this luxury.

But then you see him.

Aemond stands just outside the grand entrance, his tall frame unmistakable even from a distance. He’s dressed in a sleek black suit, but what catches you off guard is how casual it seems on him, especially with the black shirt underneath, its top buttons undone. It’s a departure from the rigid, formal image you’re used to seeing in the media. His silver hair is tousled, looser tonight, giving him a youthful, almost rebellious edge.

Your breath catches in your throat as he spots you and strides forward with purpose. His presence, as always, commands attention, but tonight you notice something softer in his expression.

He reaches for you the moment you’re close enough, his fingers brushing over yours before lifting your hand to his lips. The kiss on the back of your hand is slow, deliberate. His eyes stay locked on yours the entire time, and you can’t control the heat that flushes through your body.

“That gesture doesn’t seem very professional,” you manage, your voice a bit shakier than you intended.

Aemond smirks, a spark of amusement flickering in his eyes. He straightens but doesn’t let go of your hand right away. “Sometimes certain gestures are worth bending the rules for, angel.”

You bite the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling. He’s already playing with boundaries, the charming bastard, making it harder for you to maintain your resolve. And you haven’t even made it to the table yet.

“Shall we?” he says smoothly, gesturing toward the entrance.

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The restaurant is even more breathtaking from within. Crystal chandeliers hang from a vaulted ceiling adorned with intricate frescoes, and the soft glow of candlelight reflects off the polished marble floors.

You’re guided to a secluded table near the back, tucked away from prying eyes. Aemond holds your seat out for you, and you thank him, smoothing your skirt as you settle in and try to compose yourself.

He sits across from you, his gaze never leaving yours. He appears at ease, but there’s a sharpness in his eyes, a sense that he’s in control of every detail – of the night, of the atmosphere. Of you.

“Thank you for coming,” he says, his lips curving into a small, satisfied smile. “I wasn’t sure if you would.”

“It was kind of hard to refuse the President,” you reply, trying to sound casual.

He chuckles softly. “Be that as it may, you could have, and yet here you are.”

The waiter appears, setting down wine glasses and pouring a deep, red vintage. You take a sip, hoping it’ll steady your nerves. Aemond watches you over the rim of his glass, his gaze glinting with something that you desperately wish to ignore.

“I know you’ve been thinking about that night,” Aemond says, his voice low and smooth, cutting through the quiet like a blade.

You almost choke on your wine. Leave it to him to cut to the chase. “I… I don’t –” you stammer, but he doesn’t let you finish.

“I’ve been thinking about it too,” he continues, leaning forward slightly, his gaze piercing. “It’s not something I think I can ever forget, angel.”

Your throat feels dry, and you struggle to keep your composure. “It was a mistake.”

Aemond’s lips twitch, amusement flickering in his eyes. “A mistake?” He leans back, swirling the wine in his glass. “If that’s what you want to call it.”

“I came here because you said you have something you want to discuss, sir,” you say, more firmly this time. “My supervisor informed me that – ”

“Sir.” Aemond clicks his tongue, the word dripping with distaste as his expression shifts into something darker. His brow furrows briefly, and you think you’ve hit a nerve, but then his lips twitch into a smirk, his amusement unmistakable.

His posture is relaxed yet deliberate, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “I have to admit, I was about to protest. To tell you I never want you to call me something so impersonal as that.” His smirk widens, and there’s a spark of playful danger in his gaze. “But then… a scenario came to mind.”

“What scenario?” you ask, the words slipping out before you can stop them.

His smile turns devilish as he leans forward slightly, elbows resting on the table, his fingers lacing together. “One where you do call me sir,” he says, his voice dropping lower, more intimate now. “But not in the way you just did. Not with that sharp, cold professionalism. No…” He lets the sentence hang in the air for a moment, drawing it out, savouring it. “In a different setting. One where it’s… earned.”

Your heart stutters, your breath catching as the meaning behind his words sinks in. Heat blooms in your cheeks, and you quickly break eye contact, staring down at the table as you try to collect yourself.

“That’s… not what I meant,” you say, your voice unsteady, trying to bring the conversation back to safer ground. But it’s too late.

Aemond doesn’t seem fazed by your attempt to regain control. If anything, the flicker of a grin on his lips tells you he’s pleased with how easily you’ve been disarmed.

“Of course,” he says smoothly. “You’re here for a discussion.”

“I’m here for the assignment,” you manage to say. “To discuss my role. Professionally.”

His smirk fades into something more thoughtful, though the tension between you continues to coil tighter with every second that passes. “Is that how you really want to play this?”

“It’s the only way to play this,” you reply.

“Oh, is it?” Aemond’s voice is low, almost a whisper. “You always have a choice. You could walk out of here right now, tell your supervisor you’ve changed your mind, that you’re not up for the assignment.” He pauses, his eyes narrowing slightly as he studies you. “But you won’t.”

You swallow hard, his words hitting you squarely. He’s right, isn’t he?

“You need this job,” Aemond continues, his voice smooth as silk. “But I think it’s more than that. I think you want to be here. In my orbit.”

Of course he’s right, but admitting that would be walking into a trap. One that you might not be able to escape.

“You’re wrong,” you say quietly, though the words sound weak, even to your own ears.

“Angel… I don’t think I am.”

For a moment, everything hangs in the balance, the tension thrumming in the air. It would be so easy to let go. To give in to whatever this is. But you can’t. Not yet.

You sit up straighter, forcing yourself to meet his eyes again. “As I mentioned, I came here for the assignment,” you say, more firmly this time, regaining some of your composure. “So, if there’s something you need to discuss, let’s talk about that.”

Aemond watches you for a moment, his gaze lingering on your face, searching for something. Then, finally, he sits back, exhaling softly as if deciding to play along – for now.

“Very well,” he says, his tone shifting back to something more neutral, though you can tell he’s not finished with you yet. “We’ll have dinner, and then discuss.”

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The dinner goes better than you expected. Aemond is calm, composed, and – surprisingly – reigning himself in. He makes casual conversation, steering the discussion toward neutral topics. Politics, the upcoming campaign, even light-hearted comments about the restaurant. Every word is measured, delivered with that cool confidence you know so well.

But no matter how carefully he plays it, the tension simmers just beneath the surface, a constant pulse between you. Every glance he steals in your direction, every time his hand brushes yours as he reaches for his glass, it sends a jolt through your body. You feel it, deep in your core, the magnetic energy that makes it impossible to stay unaffected. Like the way his eyes linger on your lips when you smile… it’s all so subtle, but dripping with intention.

By the time dessert arrives, your heart is racing, and you’re almost grateful when the dinner ends. Because while Aemond has kept it together, you’re not sure how much longer you can.

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The ride back is a different story.

You sit on one side of the sleek, leather seat, your body tense, trying to create as much distance between you and Aemond as possible. He’s stoic, seemingly focused on something else entirely, his eyes fixed on the window as the city lights flash by. But the air inside the car is practically electric.

It’s only when you glance forward that you notice the screen divider has been put up. Steve, or maybe James – you’re not sure who did it – must have done it without you noticing. The realisation sinks in, laden with meaning. What did they think would happen? What did they expect?

Your pulse quickens. You cross your legs, a nervous habit, but when you do, your skirt rides up just a little too high, exposing more of your thigh than you intended.

That’s when you notice Aemond’s gaze shift. His eyes, dark and intense, flick down to your leg. The moment hangs in the air, thick and heavy. His face, calm and controlled just a second ago, hardens with something primal. And that look – it’s all it takes to flick a switch inside you.

In a flash, he’s on you.

The restraint he held so carefully through dinner shatters. His hands are on you, gripping your thighs, pulling you toward him, and his mouth crashes against yours, hungry, desperate, ravaging. You let out a gasp, but it’s swallowed by the intensity of his kiss, his tongue sliding against yours with a raw urgency that leaves you breathless.

You meet him in the middle of the seat, your bodies colliding with a heat you’ve tried so hard to ignore. His hands are everywhere, sliding under your now untucked blouse, searching, gripping, pulling you closer. The feel of him against you, the strength in his hands, the way he kisses you like he’s starving – it sends a rush of warmth straight through your core.

Your head spins, your breath coming in shallow gasps between kisses as you manage to push back, if only for a second. “We can’t,” you whisper, your voice shaky, weak. But you’re not pulling away. Your hands are still tangled in his hair, your body still pressed against his.

“Fuck, I know, angel,” Aemond growls, his mouth moving to your neck, his breath hot against your skin. “But I want you…” His words trail off, full of frustration.

You should stop this. Every logical part of your mind screams at you to pull away, to remember who he is, who you are. This can’t happen. Not with him. Not like this. But the other part of you – the part that’s burning, aching for him – doesn’t care. That part wants him more than anything.

His lips find yours again, and this time, it’s slower. His hand pushes your skirt higher, his fingers grazing your bare skin. You kiss him back, your hands sliding down his chest, gripping his shirt as if it’s the only thing keeping you grounded.

Between kisses, you manage to pull back, your lips barely an inch from his. “We can't do this... sir,” you whisper, your voice trembling, the word sir meant to ground you, to remind yourself that he’s your superior, that this is wrong. But even as you say it, the way your body reacts to him betrays the word’s other meaning.

It shifts something inside him. You see it. His eyes darken, his breathing quickens, and for a moment, it’s like a switch has been flipped.

Aemond growls low in his throat, the sound vibrating between your bodies as his hand grips your thigh even harder, pulling you flush against him. “Say that again,” he murmurs, his voice rough, his lips brushing against your jaw as he speaks. “Call me that again.”

Your breath hitches, a dizzying mixture of fear and desire coursing through you. “Sir,” you whisper, and the way his body responds – the way his fingers dig in the soft flesh of your thighs – it’s overwhelming.

He kisses you, sucking on your bottom lip. He moves his hand higher, fingers grazing the inside of your thigh, teasing the heat pooling between your legs, and you let out a gasp, your body trembling against him.

“This is wrong,” you whisper, but your legs clench around his hand, trapping it within, pressed against the material of your panties.

“We can’t… sir,” you repeat, but the word sir falls from your lips like a plea, and it’s the final straw.

“Fuck,” he growls, his mouth hot against your neck, his words slurred with need. “You keep saying that we can’t, but I don’t think you mean it.”

He’s right. You don’t.

But just as his fingers nudge the material of your panties to the side, his thumb teasing your clit, the car slows, the outside lights shifting. Reality crashes back in – suddenly, you’re aware of the sound of the tires on gravel, of the car pulling up to the curb. You blink, the haze of heat between you shattering as the car stops.

“We’re here,” you whisper, breathless, your body still pressed against his.

For a moment, Aemond’s hand freezes on your thigh, his breath hot against your neck as he pulls away just slightly. He looks at you, his gaze still dark, filled with that same intensity, but there’s a flicker of something else now. Frustration.

You take a deep, shaky breath and pull yourself back, your lips swollen, your body still burning. “This can’t happen again,” you say, your voice unsteady, though you don’t even believe your own words.

Aemond doesn’t respond at first. His eyes stay locked on yours, and for a second, you wonder if he’s going to drag you back into him, consequences be damned. But then, slowly, torturously, his hand slides higher again, fingers curling under the waistband of your panties.

Your breath catches in your throat, the world narrowing to the sensation of his touch. Then, with steady precision, he pulls the delicate fabric down, his fingertips grazing over the slick, sensitive lips of your cunt. The touch sends a shockwave through your body, a shiver of need that leaves you breathless.

Aemond slips your panties off in one smooth motion, and with a smirk that’s maddening, tucks them into the pocket of his trousers, his eyes never leaving yours. The gesture is possessive, unhinged, filled with a promise that you know you can’t outrun.

“See you soon,” he murmurs, his voice low. His lips curl into that same wicked smirk, but this time it’s softer, almost reverent as he adds, "Angel."

The word hangs in the air as you step out of the car.

You’re his angel, and there is no turning back now.

Series only taglist (comment to be added) - @aemond-lover98 @pinkpeachbloom @whencokewascasual @salinaiacono6 @mycheersricochet @bloodstained-porcelain-doll @chattylurker

General HotD taglists (refer here)

Vhagar taglist 1 - @kravitzwhore @litchifaerie @g-cf2020 @noxytopy @fan-goddess @m00n5t0n3 @diannnnsss @nsr-15 @the-awkward-barbie @rockstwrsz @yellowstonebaby @urdeftonesgrrrl @eddieslut69 @callsigncrushx @starwarsdinosaur @qweq-6802 @tulips2715 @hotdismylife @joyismm @itseunaimonia @just-mj-or-not @crystal-siren @zaldrizzes @all-for-aemond @ajantanijhum @darylandbethfanforever9 @vhwyrm @purpleskiesandroses @technicallystrangereview @jjkysnk @anukulee (continued...)

Some notes in the margins...

Well... that sure escalated quickly. How could you have ever resisted? Good luck keeping it professional on the campaign trail, angel. 😇

Some new characters are introduced: Loras and Theon. Steve and James (*wink*). Soon we'll meet the Vice President, the campaign manager. etc. etc.... the wife (!!!)

Let me know how you're faring! It's only just begun 🤍

#aemond targaryen #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen imagine #aemond targaryen smut #aemond targaryen fanfiction #modern!aemond targaryen x reader #hotd #house of the dragon #ewan mitchell #national anthem #president!aemond

482 notes · View notes

megalony · 6 months ago

Text

I Need To Help You

This is a new Eddie Diaz imagine, requested by @heart-35 I hope you like how it turned out.

I would love to do a follow up if anyone is interested/ has any ideas.

Taglist: @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 @chaoticnosleepinfluencer @gs29 @wh0reforsmutstuff @mel-vaz @natashamea18 @chrisevansdaughter @alexandra8484 @deena-beena-weena @targaryenluvs @shelbygeek @kpoplover-19 @marvelmenarebeautiful @gillybear17

@zoeybennett @mrspeacem1nusone @zephyrmonkey @estella-novella

@shauna-carsley @dottierose @cfdhouse51 @darkfemme1 @rainechase45 @ml572 @jessie-lynn28 @lolalolsstuff @senjoritanana

Eddie Diaz Masterlist

Part 2

Summary: (Y/n) hasn't been feeling well lately, and when she gets worse while Eddie is at work, Chris has to call him to come home and help.

Enjoy.

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

A headache began to cloud over behind (Y/n)'s eyes and churn in tandem with the storm raging in her stomach. She felt like she was going to be sick. She felt like her brain was going to shut down and go unconscious at any moment.

Her head tilted down to press into her hands and each shallow breath she took fanned against her palms and blew hot air right back at her. But something about it was calming. It was soothing to feel each breath and try to control the state of frenzy she felt like she was going into.

But with her head bent forward into her hands and her back arched over, (Y/n) could feel herself beginning to slip. Her head was leaning down more and more until her body was on the verge of falling off the armchair.

All she wanted was for the sickness and the unease to go away. She didn't need this right now. She didn't want this now. Not considering the amount of migraines she had been getting lately and the two sickness bugs she had gotten last month, curtesy of Chris who seemed to always pick them up at school.

The doorbell jolted (Y/n) out of her wallowing state and acted as a restart button in her system. Suddenly, after the bell chimed, (Y/n) could hear the tv softly playing the music channel in the background. And she could hear Chris singing in the dining room as he did some arts and crafts. And she could hear the shower vaguely in the background and the Queen anthems blasting from the bathroom where Eddie seemed to be having his own private concert.

Everything came flooding back to her in waves and she allowed herself to slide down off the chair and down onto her knees so she could restart her body.

The doorbell chimed again and she quietly groaned, using the chair as leverage to get herself up and moving towards the hall.

It was too early to be Buck coming round to pick Eddie up for quiz night. It wasn't likely to be Maddie. (Y/n) was sure her sister was on shift today and Chimney would be home with Jee.

She couldn't think who it would be as she shuffled towards the door on unsteady feet.

(Y/n) took a deep breath and tried to hold her chin up and straighten her shoulders as she unlocked the door. Greeting anyone while she was doubled over and looked like she had just woken up from a thousand year nap wasn't going to give the best impression, no matter who was on the other side of the threshold.

"Hello?" Her smile contradicted the confusion and unease in her voice when she looked at the woman on the doorstep.

(Y/n) didn't know her.

The woman had long flowing brown hair and a fringe that was long enough to cover her brows and almost curve right into her eyesight. Her hair settled nicely across her shoulders in long chocolate waves like a river and her eyes matched the colour of her hair. But there was something almost scrutinising behind her eyes that set (Y/n) on edge.

And she wasn't too sure about the woman's smile either. It was a tight smile, as if smiling any wider or relaxing any further would cause her to fragment into pieces.

She had one hand around her bag on her shoulder and her other hand was nervously rubbing across her hip like she had too much energy and didn't know what to do with herself.

"Can I help you?" (Y/n) did her best to smile again and she tried not to let all of her weight lean on the door in case her knees buckled beneath her.

She leant her cheek against the door and clung to the handle while her weight shifted from her heels to her toes.

"Oh, I… I was looking for Eddie? Eddie Diaz?" The woman took a daring peek behind (Y/n) to try and see into the apartment. To try and catch any glimpse of Eddie and assure herself that she had come to the right house and found the right person.

And (Y/n) could understand that. She could understand how much courage and nerves it took to go to a strange place and wonder if she had the right address and wonder if she would be welcomed or shunned. But as nervous as the woman looked, she also seemed determined and maybe not like she was in a rush, but like she was impatient for something.

"He's just in the shower, he'll be out soon." (Y/n) took a deep breath and rolled her lips together before she tried to form a bit of courage and make sure she didn't sound too rude. "Um, who should I say is here?"

She snook a glance over her shoulder, but she could still faintly hear the rock music blasting all the way from the bathroom at the back of the house. If the music was still playing, Eddie wasn't out yet. (Y/n) didn't feel okay with welcoming a total stranger to wait in their home. She didn't know this woman and until Eddie came out and helped this situation, (Y/n) didn't want to let her inside.

"I'm Shannon. Who are you?" Her smile started to dampen around the corners, giving away her thinning patience.

Something sharp clawed at (Y/n)'s chest and made her stomach squeeze uncomfortably when realisation set in.

This was Eddie's ex-wife. This was Chris's mum. This was the person Eddie hadn't seen in four years, even when he got divorced, he never saw Shannon face to face. All of that had been done through the divorce lawyers, without fuss, without contempt.

(Y/n) never thought she would get to meet Shannon, and a big part of her wasn't sure she was too happy to meet her either. This was the woman who had so easily walked out on both boys. She left Eddie and walked away from Chris without looking back. And (Y/n) was an understanding person. She could sympathise and agree and understand a lot of different perspectives.

She could understand that Shannon needed a break. She needed to be with her family, she was at her breaking point. All of that was understandable, but walking away and never looking back was unfathomable. How she could leave without saying goodbye. How she could go every Christmas and birthday and not send a card. How she could so easily turn a blind eye and not have the decency to call and ask how Chris was. That was something (Y/n) couldn't come to grips with.

She had come to think of Chris as her own son and even the notion of going one day without knowing how he was made (Y/n) feel paranoid and sick to her stomach.

Shannon left four years ago and she didn't look back. She cut all the ties and connections she had with them and left Eddie to explain and pick up the pieces and try to tell Chris that it was nothing Chris had done that made his mother leave.

"I'm Eddie's wife."

(Y/n) rolled her lips together into a thin smile that showed unease and discontent and a small bottled up token of rage that she couldn't unleash.

She found herself standing up straighter and moving onto the doorstep so she could pull the door until it was open only by a partial gap. She didn't want Chris to hear and find out who was at the door. Not when (Y/n) had no idea why Shannon was even here.

How would Chris take this if he found his mother on the doorstep? He would think this was a sign that she was coming back to him. And if she left again, (Y/n) and Eddie would have to deal with the aftermath. They couldn't let him get hurt a second time. They couldn't take that risk.

She could see the anger that swirled in Shannon's eyes and the resentment that was plastered across her face when her upper lip curled and she was at the point of baring her teeth.

"He- he's married?" She huffed and moved both hands to her hips, leaning back at an angle as if she had been shoved off balance. "Typical." Shannon let out a small, cynical laugh and moved her hand to run her thumb across her lips. Her head tilted to the side like she was looking to God or to somewhere unknown for a source of strength and a group of answers she needed.

"I'm sorry? You're divorced, did you think he wouldn't get into another relationship?"

They had divorced, they were legally cut from one another, no more ties connecting them to reopen the wounds that had taken years to heal. Did Shannon believe Eddie would never get into another serious relationship with someone else? Did she think he was wrong for finding love again and marrying (Y/n)?

It wasn't as if he had left Shannon a few months ago and had quickly moved onto (Y/n). It had been four years since they split up, not four months.

"I didn't think he'd get married again, considering he only married me because I got pregnant. Is that what happened with you?"

"No, it wasn't. I guess I didn't need a child for him to commit to a relationship with me. Now what do you want?"

Her headache was coming back. She felt like she was going to be sick. She wasn't standing here getting insulted on her own doorstep. If Shannon was here to pick a fight, she had made a wasted trip because (Y/n) wouldn't indulge and she was sure Eddie didn't want to fight with her either.

Before Shannon could come up with an answer, they both heard a faint, low voice coming from the hallway.

"Mi amor, who was at the door?"

(Y/n) was surprised Eddie had heard the doorbell considering the volume he'd been playing his music at. But then again, there was a door chime plugged in the hallway and one in the back hall near the bedrooms so they could hear any calls during the night and around the house.

She leaned back into the door and pushed it open, glancing over her shoulder towards her husband.

There he was, just walking out of the living room. Eddie had one hand rummaging through his curls that were sodden and glued to his forehead in such a messy way that it made (Y/n)'s heart skip. He was barefoot, padding around with just a pair of sweatpants on that were hung very low on his hips, showing off the top dip of his hipbone. And it made (Y/n) wonder whether he was wearing boxers or not.

"It's for you," Their eyes locked while (Y/n)'s quiet voice gave away how nervous she felt.

Her voice set Eddie on edge as his hand dropped from his hair and he picked up the pace to reach the front door.

One hand found (Y/n)'s hip and the other held the door which he curved his head around to see who was outside. It couldn't have been Buck or else (Y/n) would have already invited him in and Chris would have been all over him by now.

The way Eddie's nose crinkled and his lips parted like they were melting made (Y/n) shiver. It was as if he was made of wax and his composure was starting to melt away. She could feel his hand tightening around her hip while his other hand clenched around the door that was giving him splinters from how deeply his nails were puncturing into it.

"What the Hell are you doing here?"

Shannon scoffed. Clearly, that wasn't the welcome she was looking for, although (Y/n) wasn't sure what she had expected after ghosting them for years and then suddenly appearing out of the blue without so much as a warning.

(Y/n) could feel Eddie's chest tensing behind her and the way his shoulders rose like he was growing and re-shaping right there behind her. His hand stayed on her hip and his thumb brushed up and down her skin while he leaned against the door, waiting for an answer from his ex-wife.

"I came to see you… I wanted to talk." Her eyes kept dithering across to (Y/n) as if she was some stranger listening in on their conversation.

The look she gave (Y/n) made Eddie's jaw clench and he didn't move from his spot leaning against the door. Not allowing (Y/n) to disappear back inside and hide away. She was his wife, she lived here. She had a smuch right to be a part of this conversation as the rest of them.

"It's a bit late for that." His eyes glanced down at his wrist as if there was an invisible watch strapped to his wrist telling him exactly how long Shannon had disappeared for.

He used to keep track of the time. He used to count the days which turned into weeks and then he'd notice each month that slipped past while he was left on his own to care for their son. But when (Y/n) walked into his life, that clock stopped working and it stopped mattering to Eddie. Suddenly he didn't care how long Shannon had been gone for, because he didn't want her to come back any more. He stopped begging for her to come home and started wishing she would never return.

He had Chris, he had (Y/n) and they both took care of Chris and loved him to the end of the Earth. This little family right here was all that they needed.

"Eddie please, we need to talk. Alone."

Her eyes made another burning wave towards (Y/n) and it was as if Shannon had hit her. The look sent another wave of dizziness through (Y/n) and she found herself leaning back into Eddie, trying to soak up some of his strength and energy.

She knew Eddie could feel her resolve fading away, but when (Y/n) tried to turn and excuse herself from the conversation, Eddie had other ideas. His hand left her hip so his arm could bind around her waist instead and he pinned her protectively into his chest.

"Whatever you wanna say, you can say to both of us." He tilted his head down so his lips could smother the back of (Y/n)'s head which started to turn warm and fuzzy beneath his touch.

Eddie didn't want (Y/n) to feel like she had to go inside. She was his wife, she was part of this and Eddie wasn't going to reitterate everything back to her. He wasn't going to let Shannon make (Y/n) feel out of place in her own home.

"Mum! I need help, it's broken again!"

Chris's soft voice travelled through the hall and distantly reached the three of them out on the doorstep.

His words made panic pool in (Y/n)'s stomach, caused Eddie to tense and brought out a dangerous look across Shannon's face. It was as if all the anger was physically bubbling up inside of her and her skin started to turn a dark shade of rouge while her hands balled up into fists at her sides.

She wasn't stupid. She knew Chris didn't know she was here on the doorstep and if he did, that wouldn't be the first thing he called out to her. He was asking for (Y/n). He was calling (Y/n) his mum. It was as if reality came crashing down onto Shannon and showed her just how much time had passed since she last saw her son. Time was telling her that there was always a deadline and she had far missed her deadline by a few years.

(Y/n) had stepped into the role Shannon had left behind. She had become Chris's mother and he was thrilled to have her in his life.

When Shannon leaned forward, Eddie twisted to the left. He turned (Y/n) in his arm and nudged the door open so she could head back inside and go see Chris before he came out here and realised who was on the doorstep. They didn't need Chris to witness this or know that Shannon was here; Eddie wasn't having this bombard him today, out of the blue.

She quickly slipped back inside, feeling Eddie's hand linger on her waist and his lips against the top of her head before they parted and he pulled the door closed behind him. Effectively cutting Shannon off from his family who he wanted to protect at all costs.

"No. No! Eddie I am his mother-"

"What kind of mother disappears for four years at a time Shannon? Just go-"

"She's not his mother. I had to leave, you know I did but I thought of him every single day."

The tears in her eyes almost made Eddie feel bad. Almost. But he couldn't fall back into the argument again. It was the same every time. It ended with Eddie having to argue his own wrong-doings and justify himself. When Eddie went in the army, he always came back. He had a set date for coming back, he never left with the intention of walking away and leaving his family behind. That was the difference between them.

Eddie went away with a day set to come home. Shannon walked out without the intention of returning. And Eddie always kept in contact. He was thousands of miles away in a war-torn zone and he tried. He tried to video-call and message and ring and send letters every day. Shannon didn't send so much as a text.

"And while you were thinking of him, (Y/n) was taking care of him. She took him to school, she sat with him when he had nightmares, she patched him up when he fell and she's adopted him. If Chris wants to call her his mum, I sure as Hell won't stop him."

(Y/n) rolled her lips together and tilted her head down when she heard the front door slam.

A nagging thought in the back of her mind wished she could have focused her hearing and made out the small, one-minute argument happening outside before Eddie came back in. But she pushed the thought aside and tried to concentrate on holding the two wooden pieces together.

Chris had a new craft project, making a figure from a movie out of wooden sticks and cuttings. It was going well, but the glue took a while to cement and the pieces kept falling apart every now and then.

Her arms dug uncomfortably into the back of the dining chair next to the one Chris was sat in. She had her lower back arched out to see if it would relieve the tension in her spine and make her feel any better. But with her head hung forward, she just wanted to slip down to the floor and go to sleep.

"Here you go baby." Her voice wobbled as she handed the newly glued pieces over to Chris.

She barely managed to kiss the top of his head before she made a beeline for the kitchen. Straightening up made her lower back twinge and made her stomach feel like it was stretching too far so she settled for walking doubled over with her arms around her waist.

Her arms stretched out and her trembling fingers curled around the rim of the sink just in time to throw up.

Her chest slammed into the counter edge and sent shockwaves through her while her stomach twisted and burned and her knees pressed uncomfortably into the kitchen cupboard. Everything started to shake and a hot flush crept across her skin as she threw up her lunch.

Sparks fluttered beneath her skin when she felt a pair of hands glide around her waist and a bare chest mould over her back. She could feel Eddie's wet lips pressing softly against the base of her neck and towards her shoulder while his thumbs stroked across her waist softly.

"Is this nerves, mi amor, or are you getting sick again?" The concern was dripping from Eddie's quiet, gravelly voice and it made (Y/n)'s stomach jump again, but in a different way this time. If she didn't feel so sluggish and sick she would have swooned at the tone of his voice.

Her heart almost gave out and her vision sparkled with white dots when Eddie pressed himself against her so he could reach his left hand around her front. He kept hold of her hip while his left hand pressed against her temple, feeling how hot and flushed her skin was.

"Sick," She murmured quietly, pulling back from the sink when she knew for sure that she wasn't going to throw up anything else.

She hated being sick. She hated feeling this down and low and the way her stomach would twist and cramp and how her spine felt like there was a brick resting heavy against each column. This would be the third time (Y/n) had gotten a sickness bug in less than three months and she felt worse this time.

Why couldn't she catch a break?

"Then we need to get you laid down. Me and Chris will look after you."

She barely had time to turn around in his embrace before his hands were on the back of her thighs and he was lifting her up. Her legs settled around his torso and her head fell against his shoulder, humming against his neck while he carried her out of the kitchen.

***

Tears traced down the bridge of (Y/n)'s nose and trickled across her lips that were meshed tightly together to stop herself from screaming.

Her arms bound tighter around her waist until she was almost sure that her circulation was being cut off to her torso. And when she brought her knees up to press against her arms, her eyes closed and her forehead pressed down against the top of her knees.

She didn't feel well.

No, she was in agony. What was she supposed to do? She was home alone with Chris and it was almost nine o'clock at night. Eddie was out on a double shift that started at lunch time and wouldn't finish until eight o'clock in the morning. (Y/n) couldn't wait that long. She couldn't go another eleven hours in crippling agony like this, but she didn't know what other options she had.

Could she call Maddie? Was her big sister at work, surely she wouldn't be, Maddie didn't often do night shifts. She couldn't call herself an ambulance and risk frightening Chris and dragging him along to the hospital with her. She couldn't drive herself anywhere in this state.

Maybe she would have to call Eddie and see if he could come home. But did she want to risk getting him into trouble and worrying her husband when she didn't know what was wrong?

Yesterday after Shannon left, (Y/n) chalked this down to a sickness bug. Last night when it felt worse, she thought maybe it was her period. That would explain the stomach cramps and the back ache, but every time she went to the bathroom she was shocked to see it wasn't her period.

When another pain tore through her stomach, (Y/n) wasn't sure whether she was going to pass out or be sick.

A choked moan spluttered past her lips and into her knees as she began to rock herself back and forth on the bed.

All afternoon since picking Chris up from school- something she had barely managed without collapsing on the way home- (Y/n) had been sluggish and had to hide her pain from him so she didn't worry her boy. They had spent most of the afternoon watching movies in the lounge until (Y/n) retreated to bed and Chris went to his room to play video games with his friends online.

This was the easiest option for them both. This way Chris could play and entertain himself and wouldn't have to see (Y/n) in pain and she wouldn't have to keep feigning a brave face and pretending she was okay when she wasn't.

Spots danced in front of her eyes when she lifted her head from her knees and allowed a small sob to escape her lips.

Her arms loosened from her legs which dropped down to the bed and she shuffled across until she flopped down onto unsteady feet. Why didn't she feel like this last night when Eddie was home? Why did the pain have to get worse after he left for his shift? He asked her if she would be okay and she stupidly told him yes, not wanting to be a pain.

Now she wished she'd asked him to stay home with her because if he was here, he would know what to do. Eddie would know how to make this better and what to say and how to take the pain away.

She wobbled out of the bedroom, walking with her body hunkered over until her chest was almost meshed into the top of her thighs. And her arms stretched out in front of her as she hurried to the bathroom.

Once the door was safely closed and bolted shut behind her, (Y/n) allowed herself to drop down to her knees on the damp bathmat. Her face smothered against her bare knees again and her arms pinned to her stomach as she knelt like she was praying and in a way, she was. She was praying for the pain to stop or for Eddie to magically know what was going on and come home to help her.

Tears soaked into her knees as muffled cries vibrated against her legs and her body started to rock back and forth to try and calm herself down. It wasn't working.

She could feel the tears getting worse as spasms rolled through her body and she shuddered against the floor.

Straightening up didn't feel like the right move, but (Y/n) knew she had to try and move around and do something to help herself. Somehow. Her hands clung to the edge of the bath that she used as leverage to sit up again while shivers coursed down her spine and she trembled back and forth like she was sitting in the Arctic.

She moved round to use the sink instead to get herself stood up, but she couldn't do it. Her knees started to buckle and her arms flopped against the sink as she crumpled over like a scrunched up piece of paper. Her knees bashed into the base of the sink and her elbow clocked the black and white speckled pot that held all the toothbrushes on the edge of the sink.

(Y/n) barely heard the sound of the pot falling into the sink basin or the way it broke apart on impact and split into fragments. All she could hear was a horrid ringing in her ears which her cries couldn't break through.

A frown appeared on Chris's face and he tilted his head to one side, looking around the hallway.

He was aiming for his parent's bedroom but he paused mid-walk and looked to the left towards the bathroom.

What had his mum broken in there? Why could he hear her crying?

Unease flooded his chest along with a dreaded slither of panic that grew and grew with each passing second when he heard more cries coming from the bathroom. He knew (Y/n) hadn't been feeling well lately and it was clear she hadn't been well when she took herself to bed two hours ago. They would usually stay up and watch a film together in the evening before bed.

Not that it had been too unsettling for Chris, he had been allowed to play his video game with his friends online and chat to them even though it was after tea time. He was happy enough to play his game, but he knew it was bed time now. He knew it was time to turn off the electronics and get ready for bed.

And he never went to bed without saying goodnight to his mum and dad.

"Mum?" Caution flooded Chris's voice and he tenderly knocked on the bathroom door, shifting his gaze down to his bare feet while he waited for a response.

His body jumped back and he gasped when he heard a loud bang. It sounded like (Y/n) had fallen ir in the very least, knocked something over.

His hand curled around the door handle but he whimpered when he jiggled the handle and realised it was locked. What was he supposed to do? Was his mum okay? Did he continue banging on the door and hope she would open it soon? Did he try and get some help? Did he go back to his room and wait, just in case (Y/n) was alright and just throwing up or being a bit clumsy? He had no idea what kind of situation this was, whether it was one that called for alarm or one that could be easily rectified.

"Mum? Mum!" His voice turned to loud whines and he continued to hit the door when he could still hear (Y/n) crying.

"C-call your dad."

That was the sign Chris had been waiting for. That was the signal that this was a bad situation. If (Y/n) wanted to call Eddie while he was at work, that told him that this was an emergency and something bad was happening.

Chris patted his hand against the wall as he hurried back to his room, stimming along the way with his head nodding back and forth and his fingers clenching and curling.

What if his dad didn't answer? Who was he supposed to call if he couldn't get hold of Eddie? Who was the next in line for this kind of situation?

He flopped down on his bed, tapping his toes against the floor as his body swayed back and forth and he pressed his phone to his ear. While his free hand scrunched up in the cover to steady himself and give him something to focus on. Each dial the phone made caused Chris to rut his jaw from side to side and make little clicking noises. He needed help. He needed Eddie to answer the phone. He had to be told what he was meant to do.

"Hey buddy, you okay?" Confusion was woven through Eddie's words as he tried to prevent a yawn from escaping his lips.

He slouched back in his chair and propped his feet up on the chair next to him so he was reclined with one elbow leant against the table. It had been a while since Eddie did a night shift and he was already tired when the night hadn't truly begun yet. He hoped to God this wouldn't be another full moon night where they had call after call and dealings with strange cases. He couldn't be doing with that tonight.

And he wasn't sure why Chris was ringing him either. Sometimes (Y/n) would call when he was on a night shift so Chris could say goodnight before he went to bed. But they hadn't done that in a while. Eddie knew it was around Chris's bedtime, but he'd never had Chris call him while he was on shift before, it was always (Y/n).

"Dad!"

"Chris what's wrong?" He dropped his legs from the chair and sat up straight as goosebumps covered his flesh and the hairs on the back of his neck started to stick up on end.

"Mum's crying… she- she won't let me in. Dad do something!"

The panic was evident in his son's voice and Eddie knew if Chris was sitting in front of him right now, he would be stimming away. He sounded like he was about to cry and that made Eddie's heart go ten to the dozen in his chest.

Where was (Y/n)? Why was she crying, was she being sick again? Had she gotten worse since Eddie left her at lunch?

"Where is she? What's going on?"

"Bathroom, door's locked. I think mum's hurt…" Chris dared to venture out into the hallway again and tapped his hand on the bathroom door. He was close enough now that Eddie could hear the clattering about coming from the bathroom and the quiet cries that crackled through the phone.

"Fuck! Fuck I'm coming home now okay? Go back to your room buddy and wait for me and uncle Buck to get there. Don't go near the bathroom, just leave your mum in there. It's okay, I'm coming."

Oh God, what was happening back at home? Why did he come on shift today? Why didn't he go with his gut and stay home to look after her? Why did this have to happen when he wasn't home?

What was he going to go home to?

***

"Eddie, what do you need?"

"Do you want the gurney or just a medic bag, or we can-"

Eddie held his hands out in front of him and shook his head that was already on overload without all their voices bombarding him at once. He could feel his weight swaying back and forth from his toes to his heels as he tried to find his sense of balance and prevent himself from collapsing. That was the last thing he needed right now.

The cold night air whipped against his skin and had him shivering since he had forgone his jacket back at the station in his hurry to get the team to help him. But the brisk temperature helped to liven him up and keep him alert; that was what he wanted right now.

"Bring the kit but don't- I need to find out what's happening first. I need to see (Y/n) first. Buck I need you to sit with Chris."

It was a silent agreement that Eddie was taking the lead on this one. This was his family, his case and his surroundings, they would follow his directions here. Bobby had already contacted dispatch to alert them that they had a personal call they needed to be on just in case they tried to redirect them anytime soon.

Hen and Chimney placed a medic bag on the gurney and wheeled it after the team.

Eddie led the way, using the spare key to let himself in since his keys and wallet were back in his locker at the station. He stormed into the hallway with Buck hot on his heels and Bobby behind them. He didn't want any of them coming too close and seeing (Y/n) until he knew what was going on and what kind of medical emergency (Y/n) was having.

The last thing she would want or need was the team gawping at her and trying to bustle in. Eddie had to see her first.

His boots thudded against the floor and echoed off the walls and when they got into the corridor, he pointed towards Chris's room. When Buck bypassed him and headed inside, Eddie peered his head around the door so Chris would know he was home and trying to get a handle on the situation.

With Chris now comforted and safe, Eddie turned his attention to the bathroom. The bedroom door was wide open and empty so he knew (Y/n) hadn't come out of the bathroom in the time it took the team to get down here.

"Baby? Baby it's me." He tried the handle but it was still locked, he couldn't expect anything else. If he himself was ill or in a state he wouldn't want Chris walking in and seeing him like that.

He waited. His forehead was almost touching the door and his hand stayed fisted around the handle but he could feel the panic growing when he didn't get a response and the door didn't open. He was here. He was home. (Y/n) needed to let him in so he could see what was going on and try to help her. He could feel the eyes of the team watching him as the three of them stood with the gurney at the end of the hall.

They wouldn't come any closer until Eddie gave them the signal and told them what he needed.

"(Y/n) open the door." He rapped his knuckles on the door, trying not to punch an indent into the wood, but he couldn't quite restrain himself. She had to let him in.

"I… I…"

"What? Baby, open the door please. I need to help you." Eddie's free hand dug into the doorframe while he rested his arm against the door and pressed his temple against his arm.

He could of cried when something along the lines of 'I can't' whimpered past (Y/n)'s lips. Either she was somehow incapacitated and couldn't get to the door or she didn't feel able to open it. Either way, this wouldn't do. Eddie was going to have to break it if she couldn't get it open and let him in.

"Then stay back because I'm gonna break it."

With his hands braced on either side of the door, Eddie took a step back and leaned his weight backwards. He balanced on his left foot and rammed the heel of his boot into the door beneath the handle, swiftly breaking the bolt that kept it locked.

The door swung open so far it collided with the wall and almost rebounded back into Eddie.

He didn't know where to look.

The sink was littered with broken glass. Bottles and creams had been knocked from the stacker by the bath and had scattered across the floor and fallen in the empty bathtub. At least four different towels were laid around the floor in various ways. Some wet, some dry and scrunched up, and some were lathered in blood.

But when his eyes locked on his wife, curled up in the corner of the room beneath the window, Eddie's heart faltered in rhythm and his lungs squeezed and made him choke on his breath.

"E-Eddie…"

"Oh God."

He broke out of his frozen state, kicking the towels out of the way until he could crash down on his knees in front of (Y/n). And again, he wasn't sure where he was meant to look.

Did he concentrate on her eyes that were blown wide and barely able to focus on him? Did he look at her chest that was rising and falling so light and quickly that she didn't seem to be breathing at all? His he focus on the way she was slumped back against the wall with her knees half propped up?

Or did he look at her hands that were trembling, holding a baby between her thighs?

(Y/n) could barely get any energy into her arms that felt so weak she couldn't even register if her muscles were moving and flexing or not. Her hands and arms began to jutter up and down as she held the baby out towards Eddie with tears tracing down her cheeks.

She was relieved when Eddie reached out and took the baby from her. She couldn't hold them any longer, she could barely keep her eyes open.

All of her energy had been directed into pushing when she realised- far too late- what was happening to her.

She'd had a baby.

She and Eddie had a baby.

(Y/n) didn't know she had been pregnant. Let alone that she had been somewhere around eight months pregnant, judging by looking at her baby.

Her feet skidded against the floor and her legs finally dropped down, soothed by the cold tiled floor that felt lovely against her skin that was burning up. She let her head loll to the left and her eyes tried to keep watch over Eddie. She had always envisioned him with a baby. Wondered what he looked like when he had held Chris for the first time. Wondered how small a baby would look in Eddie's strong arms.

(Y/n) wondered what it would be like for them to start a family, but she didn't think it would start like this. She imagined coming up with all sorts of ways to tell Eddie when she became pregnant. She thought about telling him and seeing her body change and grow and feeling the baby move and going to appointments.

They'd had none of that.

All the little signs over the last few months, (Y/n) had misread them all. The constant sickness bugs she had been getting lately might not have been bugs at all. The back ache was clearly from carrying a baby around with her. Whatever odd, spotting periods she thought she had been having clearly weren't periods either. The little changes she noticed in her moods and appetite and how she was feeling, there had been a reason for it all. And that reason was laid out in Eddie's arms.

"Hen! Get in here I need help!" Eddie glanced over his shoulder before he looked at (Y/n), and then down to the bundle in his arms.

He glided his knuckles across the newborn's chest and then pressed a finger against their lips to check that the airways were clear.

He almost jumped when he felt a small movement and a subtle, croaky breath finally passed the newborn's lips. How had he missed this? How had he not realised something like this was happening? How had he left (Y/n) today and not been here when she went through this trauma alone?

"Oh- oh!" Hen looked something between delighted and horrified when she crouched down beside Eddie and took in the scene in front of her.

She rummaged around in her medic bag until she found two clamps and carefully leaned over Eddie to clamp the cord. Once it was cut, she tried to smile at (Y/n) before moving to check the placenta was in tact.

"Switch." Eddie mumbled quietly, offering out his daughter for Hen to take instead so he could assess his wife.

His arms felt oddly empty when he passed her over to Hen who immediately started checking her vitals and listening to her breathing. There were hundreds of complications that could happen or go wrong with the baby since (Y/n) had clearly had no antinatal care. Hundreds of things could happen to (Y/n) now that she'd gone through this.

Static buzzed in (Y/n)'s ears and she jumped when Eddie was suddenly leaning over her.

One hand curled around her arm and the other cupped her neck while his chest was so close that she could feel each breath he took as he hovered over her. He pressed his fingers to her pulse and counted the beats while his thumb traced her jawline.

"Talk to me, mi amor. How do you feel?" Eddie could guess a million ways (Y/n) would be feeling right now, but he needed to know if she was in pain. He had to know if she was having cramps or stabbing pains or chest pains or difficulty breathing in case there was something he had to worry about.

"Sick…" (Y/n) dropped her head down before Eddie firmly held her chin and leaned her head back again. She let her head turn in Hen's direction and tried to look down at her baby.

She had been so shocked and frightened that she didn't take much time to assess her baby. All (Y/n) could do was hold this new, terrifying life and wait for Eddie to come in and help.

"Is s-she okay?"

"Heartbeat and breathing are good, she's reacting well… you didn't know, at all? You didn't even suspect you might be a few months pregnant?"

(Y/n) hummed and shook her head. If she thought she was she would have gone to the doctor and shared her thoughts with Eddie. They wanted a baby, but not quite in this manner. A little forewarning first would have been good.

"I'd say she's about eight months, but the doctors will check you both over." Hen placed a gentle hand on (Y/n)'s knee before she turned around. "Chim, bring in that gurney, we need to go."

Eddie took the stethoscope from Hen and listened to (Y/n)'s heart before he carefully eased her forward. He let her lean on his left arm and took the time to kiss the side of her temple while he leaned over her and pressed the scope to her back so he could check her breathing.

He switched the stethoscope for a blood pressure cuff and slid it up (Y/n)'s arm. A frown pulled at his lips and he growled when he saw how low the numbers were going.

"BP is crashing. Jesus Christ, mi amor. What am I gonna do with you, hm?"

He managed a soft smile when (Y/n) tilted her head forward onto his shoulder and reached her hands out to curl around his arm. She mumbled something into his skin but he couldn't make out what she said.

He took a look between her legs, scrunching his nose at the blood caked across her thighs which had formed a small puddle beneath her. It looked to have stopped, but Eddie wanted to make sure she didn't haemorrhage again. He found some clotting medication in the medic bag and eased (Y/n) against his chest since she clearly wanted and needed some comfort right now.

She didn't grumble or even wince when he lifted her shirt and injected the medication into her stomach. That told Eddie that she was clearly going into a state of shock or about to pass out because she wasn't good with needles.

"Oh my God, what happened?"

Chimney and Bobby wriggled their way into the bathroom which was now full to the brim and felt like they were all sardines squashed in a tin.

"A surprise baby happened, let's get them in the ambulance." Hen backed up near the door with the baby so it would be easier for them to get (Y/n) on the gurney. They had to go now and get (Y/n) admitted and sorted out, she had been in enough pain and trauma for one night.

"I'm s-sorry-"

"No, I don't wanna hear that." Eddie's voice was sharp and firm while he busied himself looping (Y/n)'s arms around the back of his neck. "Let's get you both down to the hospital and sorted out. Then we can talk about you deciding to surprise me with a daughter, hm?"

He curved one arm around (Y/n)'s waist and slipped the other beneath her thighs. He felt Chimney hover beside him in case he needed help but Eddie easily laid (Y/n) down on the gurney. It took him a few moments to unlock (Y/n)'s arms from his neck and he tilted her head back so he could press a sweet kiss to her lips before he jogged out of the room. He needed to check on Chris.

"Chris-"

"Is mum okay?"

The nine year old shot off the bed where he had been sitting with Buck's arm around him, reassuring him everything was going to be fine. He wrapped his arms around Eddie and looked up at him with such a pleading look in his eyes that made Eddie feel like crying.

He held Chris's arms soothingly and crouched down to be level with him, trying to smile so he knew everything was alright.

"Buddy, I gotta take mum to the hospital, but she's okay. She's gonna be just fine… she's had a baby." His eyes couldn't help but flicker over to Buck who's brows furrowed and his lips parted in confusion.

Since when had (Y/n) been pregnant? Eddie never mentioned anything and this was something that surely would have come up in conversation. And by the look on his face and the tension in the air, Buck couldn't imagine this being a premature birth. The team would have ran off to the ambulance if they had a preemie baby to take to the hospital.

"A baby? Now? But, but you didn't say mum was having a baby-"

"I know, I know… buddy I promise once mum's safe at the hospital I'll explain and you can see her and your new sister. And then you can help me get everything ready to bring them home, okay?"

When Chris nodded, Eddie reeled him in for a tight embrace. He couldn't explain now, he didn't have the time, let alone the words.

Chris wasn't stupid, he knew it wasn't normal to have a baby out of the blue like this. He knew his mum didn't look pregnant and if she and Eddie hadn't mentioned it before now then it was clear they didn't know.

They had nothing here for a baby. No clothes, no nappies or a carrier, no crib, no bottles or food or anything that they would need. The spare room was technically a study which would have to be sorted out quickly now that a baby was already here.

He placed a sloppy kiss to the side of Chris's head before he looked over at Buck.

"Can you watch him?" The silence behind his words was clear. He didn't want to have to take Chris to the hospital and have him watch all this mess.

He didn't want Chris to see (Y/n) in this state or watch them admit her. Everything was going to be hectic. Eddie would have to keep an eye on (Y/n) and help get her onto a ward because he knew she hated hospitals and she was almost passing out. He had to make sure she was okay. And he also wanted to keep track of his new baby girl and make sure she was okay and being looked after. That was no place for Chris to be, especially not this late at night.

Buck nodded and gave Chris's shoulders a squeeze before he exited the room and headed over to Bobby.

"Cap, if uh, if Eddie goes in the ambulance with (Y/n), am I good to take Chris back to the station with me? I mean, my shift finishes in an hour and going to the hospital might not be a good idea."

"Course you can, go get him in the truck."

Eddie watched Buck carry Chris towards the front door, he would take him to the station so Buck could get changed and get his keys. Then he would come back here and stay the night here with Chris. It would be easier for Chris to be in his own bed and be somewhere comfortable, and Buck had a set of keys anyway. He knew he was welcome to stay and watch Chris here.

Once they were out the door, Eddie turned to the gurney that was in the hall and let (Y/n) deadlock her hands around his wrist. She pulled his arm close and kissed his wrist while she rubbed her hand up and down his arm.

(Y/n)'s eyes danced down the hall where Hen was walking with their newborn in her arms, ready to get in the ambulance. And when she looked back up at Eddie, she found his lips smothering her temple.

"We've got a baby."

She could feel his lips curving into a grin against her skin and she could feel the love radiating off of him, despite the adrenaline and panic he was also feeling. Because one thought was overriding everything else going through his mind.

He now had a little girl.

#imagine #911 imagine #eddie diaz x reader #eddie diaz imagine #eddie x reader #eddie diaz #evan buckley

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