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[neptuneiris]

Behind the Scenes (03/05)

Behind the Negotiation

pairing: actor!aemond × fem!reader

summary: knowing that you can't run away from your past forever, you receive unexpected visitors in your home that make you fear for your son's future.

word counter: 8.9k

previous part • next part • series masterlist

warnings: angst, arguments, language,mention of abortion.

guys, I'm sorry for the delay, with this chapter a lot of unexpected things came across my way, but I've finally finished it and I'm satisfied with the result, although I'm not sure if you will like it, it might bore you but I don't know, please let me know :)

without more to say, enjoy it and thanks for all the support, really! let me know your comments too, I'll be waiting for them!

You still remember it all too well.

You remember how you accepted Aemond's terms, the terms of his agent Criston and also of his entire team.

You agreed to keep the existence of your child a secret, to hide in the shadows with him and to keep a low profile until it was "safe" for Aemond's career to publicly and legally acknowledge the baby.

But you only accepted to take that worry off everyone's mind and especially his, so you could run away. Although the reality is that you were scared.

At first, Aemond's power, influence and connections kept you paralyzed, thinking about the consequences of breaking all ties with him.

And running away from him, disappearing from his life along with your son was a decision you had to make carefully and then had to live with in fear and dread of being found someday.

And the fear of possible legal reprisals for your escape and uncertainty about the consequences were present at every turn. But you did everything to live in freedom, not to destroy Aemond's career and to protect your son from all public exposure.

You always knew that Aemond with his celebrity status possesses power, not only in the entertainment industry, but also in the media and social sphere, that was obvious, just like any other celebrity.

So finding you could be as easy as snapping his fingers.

So to prevent Aemond from tracking your movements so he could find you, you began by discarding any means of transportation that could be easily monitored or tracked.

You avoided airports and bus terminals, opting instead for small train stations and local buses, always paying with cash. You left King's Landing and the entire state, going all the way to the Iron Islands.

In Pike, with the money you had left over, you were able to rent a room to yourself in a cheap hotel, then quickly began to look around for a job in the surrounding area in search of an opportunity that could provide you with support and stability.

You knew you couldn't get a job like the one you had before, on a recording set with a big salary. So downtown, you found a job at a beauty salon.

Not only does she own a beauty salon, she also owns a few small apartments in the city and offered you one of them at a lower price, considering you were just starting out with a new job.

The owner of the place, Becca Waters, a kind and understanding woman, saw potential and also the need in you.

Knowing your condition and that you practically came to live in a place where you knew nothing and no one, she also offered you a place to live and be safe.

Mrs. Waters became a fundamental support for you, providing guidance, encouragement, flexibility and stability in your financial need and also in your pregnancy.

With her you felt completely safe and supported at a time when you needed it most. After all you had gone through to get here, leaving your life behind and pregnant, she was your reward.

But still nothing was easy after that.

Your pregnancy process was a roller coaster of emotions, challenges and moments. Facing motherhood as a single mom was an overwhelming reality.

On the one hand, even though the baby was unplanned, you were excited to know that you would soon be holding him in your arms, but on the other hand, you also felt fear and anxiety at the responsibility of raising a child alone with no knowledge of anything really.

The first few months of pregnancy were especially difficult.

You experienced pain, symptoms and discomforts that you had no idea about and had to endure, as well as a slight state of depression and anxiety about dealing with all of this on your own.

But through it all, Becca was your pillar of support at all times, who became your confidant, giving you comfort and encouragement in difficult times. And she was the one who helped you throughout your pregnancy and also the one who was by your side when you gave birth to your child.

And even though you didn't want to, being in a very vulnerable state, you couldn't help but feel lonely and miss Aemond, just as you missed everything you once used to be.

But remembering everything that happened the last time you saw him, even though the feeling disappeared, you also couldn't help but start crying.

And to protect yourself emotionally, you decided to stay away from news about Aemond.

You avoided social media and any content that could remind you of your past with him. Your determination was great to be able to raise your child alone, without relying on Aemond's presence or acknowledgement.

And the day your son finally came into the world, it was a moment of joy and wonder that could not be compared to any other moment in life, filling your heart with indescribable happiness.

However, the birth also brought with it a torrent of new worries and challenges.

Childbirth was exhausting and intense. Nothing you've ever experienced before. And in the days that followed, the constant care of the newborn, the lack of sleep and the adjustment to your new life were heavy challenges that pushed you to the limit many times.

But in spite of that, every smile, every little gesture of your son filled your world with immense love, as well as Mrs. James' help in guiding you in practical aspects of motherhood increased your unwavering determination to go forward for him, being your driving force.

Although also the arrival of your son into the world increased your fear in you.

The fear that Aemond and his team might find you and take your son away from you was a constant worry. But despite this, there were moments of uncertainty when you thought too much about it.

You wondered why Aemond would bother looking for you and your child. Clearly the baby was a risk to his career and he didn't even want to support you from the start, only accepting it later because that was your decision.

You knew he wouldn't but you were still afraid.

Would Aemond really seek you out after he initially supported the idea of abortion?

Would he really seek you out after he supported your decision even if he didn't want to but in the shadows, avoiding any public acknowledgement and hiding you and your son?

But just when you had gotten used to it, had found stability with a job and a permanent refuge in the beauty salon with Mrs. Waters, a few months after the birth of your son, Mrs. Waters was forced to close the salon due to unforeseen financial problems.

That place that had been your refuge and where you found support and friendship, suddenly disappeared, leaving you with a feeling of emptiness, uncertainty and nostalgia.

Mrs. Waters would have to leave town and although you didn't want to, you also decided to do the same, convinced that you would be safer with your son in a place you knew well, avoiding at all times the places you used to go with Aemond and where you knew you could meet him.

So after looking for a job, with your resume and previous excellent references, in the city where the entire film industry resides, you got a job as a makeup artist in a different recording studio than the one you had worked in before.

There was no way you could meet Aemond, or so you thought.

Previously the TV network was BBC, now it was HBO for whom you would be working on a new TV show, so you really had nothing to worry about, especially since the pay was very good and you could survive just fine on that for you and your child.

But right on your first day of work, life decided to surprise you.

And now you are here, in your new apartment where you were planning to live temporarily until you find a better one, but now with you running away on your first day it means definite dismissal for sure, so you have no idea how you are going to pay for a better one or how you are going to pay for this one next month so you won't get kicked to the street.

But you can't even think straight as you are still shaking, your emotions are running high, you have no idea what really happened, it was all very fast between talking and remembering the past.

And the only thing that gives you some peace in the midst of your own thoughts and everything you're feeling, are the sounds of Aenar's toys and babbling in the living room, playing on the floor and touching everything he can.

His silver hair shines from the sunlight coming through the windows and he giggles as his colorful toys bump into each other, showing a world of happiness and innocent curiosity, completely filling your heart but you still feel that sharp ache in your chest.

You move towards him with a soft sigh and take a seat next to him, keeping a small genuine smile on your lips but with some melancholy, when he starts showing you all his toys and asks you between babbling and giggles to play with him.

You move the toys back and forth, ask him questions in honeyed tones and he laughs, making you laugh too, but you continue with the tumult of your overwhelming thoughts.

You think about what you will do now, that you should probably look for a job at a new beauty salon, which is what you should have done as soon as you got back, find a subtle job instead of going back to what you were doing before so suddenly.

However the paycheck was what made you take it and you need it too much, so you'll have to look for other alternatives.

You find yourself thinking about it when you suddenly hear the sound of the door completely interrupting your thoughts and also your game with Aenar.

You look towards the entrance, confused, with a strange feeling growing in your chest, immediately giving you a bad feeling. For who would come knocking at your door?

No one knows you're back… except Aemond.

Oh Gods.

The thought makes you paralyzed, feeling your whole body tense up, your heart starts beating fast and fear invades you completely.

Could it be him?

You wonder, struggling to stay calm, even though there's no way he could have figured out so quickly where you're living.

Or has he?

The thought leaves you completely paralyzed, with a mixture of anxiety and fear flowing inside you.

The knocking on the door becomes more insistent and you carefully get up and leave Aenar still amused in his game on the floor, then walk towards the door feeling a lump in your throat and a growing uneasiness.

You reach for the doorknob and as you turn it to open, your heart skips a beat when you find Aemond's agent standing in front of you, Criston Cole.

A trace of surprise and confusion flashes across your face, feeling your body tighten further and the fear linger.

How did he know where you were?

What is he doing here?

Criston returns you a serious but understanding look, beginning to feel the tension between the two of you, while you feel the fear invade you again because of the old memories and being him one of the main reasons why you decided to run away.

His mere presence triggers a series of emotions that take you by surprise. With no trace of Aemond or anyone else around you, yet your mind races.

Nervousness invades every fiber of your being, while your heart beats faster and stronger than usual. A sense of discomfort invades you and you also feel alert, afraid, unable to control it.

"Y/N."

He pronounces your name with a slight nod. His tone tries to be reassuring, but confusion and bewilderment wash over you.

You say nothing for a few seconds, feeling unable to speak and unable to formulate any words, barely trying at that moment to process the situation. Anxiety creeps through your chest, as he gives you and respects your space, aware of your unease.

"I understand that you're surprised by my visit and I don't want to make you uncomfortable, I really don't. But we need to talk."

The confusion inside you increases and so does the fear, to watch him completely bewildered and on the verge of collapse.

"H-how—

You try to ask with your voice cracking in the midst of all your emotions, but he interrupts you in response, knowing what you're going to ask.

"My team," he lets you know, "They handled finding you."

He tells you seriously and with that touch of professionalism in his tone, but his response only surprises and puzzles you more, to which Criston notices.

You feel the questions pile up in your head, but you barely manage to articulate a word, besides all the emotions you're feeling, fear mainly.

"Aemond informed us of your return," he adds, "After he didn't find you again, he asked us to look for you," he tells you calmly, trying to make his eyes convey an attempt at empathy for you.

But you don't believe that one bit. Not after what happened the last time you saw him and his entire team.

You feel a surge of vulnerability wash over you, leaving you suddenly helpless before him. You don't have the slightest idea how you will be able to cope with that situation, how to get away from them again now that they have found you, especially him.

"What have you really come for?" you question, not hiding your distrust.

Criston keeps a serene attitude and look, seeking to soften the tension, but notices your demeanor and posture, of fear and alertness altogether.

"Just to talk," he tells you softly, "Believe me the last thing I want and Aemond too is to cause you trouble. We just want to talk and nothing more," he explains, but you are having none of it, "He was going to come himself, but he had to film some scenes. But he'll come as soon as he can."

This just adds more weight to the anxiety and nervousness you're already feeling, so it triggers an alert in you that makes you feel completely freaked out, definitely not wanting that.

"No," you try to retort with a firm tone, but your vulnerability shows in your trembling voice and nervous expression, "Please leave."

Concern flashes across Criston's face for an instant, unconsciously taking a step towards you.

"Y/N–

"Please," you plead, "Just go away and don't come back, none of you, not even him."

"Y/N, please, just let me—

"No," you interrupt him again, more desperate than before, "Please," you repeat.

The atmosphere is filled with a silence full of tension, where your words, full of desperation and longing to get away from the situation, float in the air, also asking for urgent distance and tranquility.

And Criston lets out a sigh.

"Just a few minutes," he says, struggling to find some control in the situation, "Just-let us talk to you, Aemond and me."

"If it's to talk about his career and his son, I'm not interested," you say firmly, but your trembling voice gives away your emotions, "We've talked about that before," you say with some bitterness and sadness in your tone, "You can go now. I don't plan on staying anyway."

Without having let go of the door frame, you try to close the door, ending all of this, but he instantly speaks again, stopping you.

"Please Y/N, Aemond is very worried and wishes to speak with you," he insists, "He hasn't been the same since you left, you should know that," he adds in a persuasive tone.

You let out a snort in disbelief and with some bitterness, as you look away from his gaze for a moment.

"I highly doubt that."

"Y/N—

The sound of Aenar's innocent laughter while playing with his toys catches Criston's attention, stopping his words, who unconsciously catches a glimpse inside your living room where Aenar is playing and also catches a glimpse of his small figure on the floor with his characteristic silver hair.

This immediately triggers your concern and increases your protective mode and you quickly close the door a little behind you, blocking his view, while your heart is pounding.

This is what you meant.

You don't want anything bad to happen to your son, in any way. And you will do anything to protect him, because they decided everything except to protect you and now you will not allow them to intervene in your son's life now that they know he is here.

"Y/N," he calls to you in a softer voice, watching you completely intently and desperately asking you with his gaze for a moment.

"Please don't," you plead with him, at the point of collapsing from worry and frustration.

Again you enter the apartment as you hold the door frame tightly to close it, but Criston stops you again.

"You must understand the gravity of what happened," he tells you seriously, "Your disappearance put Aemond's relationship with his son in danger. There are legal implications for you to consider, such as custody," he says and your heart flips, "I can explain all of this to you and resolve it in the best way possible," he looks at you in insistence, "But only if you let me in so we can talk."

And there they are again. Your greatest fears.

The word 'custody' repeats over and over in your mind, like a loop, causing you greater fear, worry and pressure than before, the gravity of the situation and the looming legal implications being clear.

The air weighs on you, heavy with uncertainty and intense tension, as well as you are overcome with the urge to cry because of your doubts and fear.

"Wh-what-" you try to speak in a whisper, your voice cracking and your heart in a fist, "Custody?" you repeat under your breath.

Criston watches you with some pity and understanding, then lowers his gaze, lets out a sigh and watches you with that sympathy and also a little expectant.

"May I come in?"

Try one more time and maybe it's because of his words that your mind is in a state of alarm that makes you recognize that you can't run away again or else things will get worse. And you don't want that. You are afraid for yourself and Aenar.

Feeling more of your anxiety, you finally allow him to enter and Criston at this thanks you with his gaze and moves carefully, noticing your visible discomfort and also your fear, not wanting to alter you any further with absolutely nothing.

And once the door closes, you immediately stand in front of Aenar with a weak and vulnerable posture trying to look strong, this catching his attention and feeling something warm in his chest at the presence of the little one.

But he also knows exactly why you react this way and he doesn't blame you for it, much less does it bother him because he understands you.

"I'm very honest when I tell you that we really don't want to create more trouble, Y/N," he tells you in a soft tone, "Aemond…. he really is very worried. And since he is my client, we don't want any legal implications or further conflict."

You try to keep your composure, but your thoughts are a storm of confused emotions. The very idea of dealing with legal issues, especially regarding your son, is overwhelming to you.

"Why now?" you ask in a trembling voice, your gaze searching for answers, "All this… why?"

Criston exhales slowly, trying to find the right words.

"The situation has changed, basically since you left. Aemond was wrong at the time and I admit I was too, so now he's willing to acknowledge your son, in every way possible."

You can't help but look incredulous and bitter once again.

"It's already too late for that, don't you think?" you ask him in a bitter tone.

Criston looks down for a moment, his expression one of compassion and understanding towards your perspective.

"Yes, we know," he nods to you, "And that's why we're here, trying to keep all this from becoming a bigger problem. But please Y/N, understand that Aemond doesn't want to hurt you or cause you any more trouble than he's already caused."

"And until now you say that?" you inquire sad, worried, fearful and indignant, "That's what I needed to hear before when I was scared, because I was scared too Criston, not just Aemond," you let him know, with tears in the corners of your eyes, "But you treated me like a problem you needed to get rid of, you and him."

Criston listens to your words with a gesture in his eyes that reflects the heaviness of the situation, just as you see shame and regret wash over him, suddenly seeing him as the vulnerable one and you as the strong one compared to years ago, the roles reversing for a moment.

"I'm sorry, Y/N. We didn't mean to make you feel that way," he says in a regret-laden tone.

"Sorry doesn't change anything," you say, fighting back tears.

You watch him with your hard stare and sad eyes, feeling several tears fall down your cheeks, making you remember once again.

And once again without letting it drown you, you force yourself to push those memories away, all your moments of uncertainty, fear and pain, to brush your tears away from your cheeks with a strong look of determination.

"I will accept any legal consequences if there are any," you say suddenly, trying to keep your composure, "If there are legal actions, I'm willing to face them. But for now, I just want to be left alone, please."

"Y/N," Criston calls you cautiously, "I just want you to understand that we want to do the right thing now. And what we want to do is find a solution that works for you and for Aemond regarding him," he points to Aenar with his gaze behind you, "Something that guarantees your privacy while not damaging his public image."

Then all the effect of his words completely disappear on you.

You feel a surge of frustration, annoyance and despair at the realization that still the main concern remains Aemond's career.

"Do you still think about his career?" you ask with disappointment and resentment in your tone.

"Y/N—

"The most important thing here is my son," you stand strong, "But he seems to be only one aspect of Aemond's image, doesn't he?"

"Even after all this time that has passed, Aemond's career is more successful and even promising than before, that is something that neither you, him nor I should forget, let alone ignore," he tries to explain to you, "Aemond wants to fix things but his career must also be contemplated, please understand this Y/N."

"Then why do you say you want to do things the right way now if that is not true?" you inquire.

"Yes it is true," he clarifies, "But within all of this, his career must still be contemplated."

You shake your head in disbelief, unable to believe it.

"You say a lot of things Criston, but it's clear what matters most to you," you say with no emotion in your voice, "And sure, why shouldn't his career matter most to you? After all… you don't know what it's like to get pregnant, without support and go through the whole process by yourself, and then raise a child on your own, without the support of his father."

"I don't mean to—

"Please go away," you plead once more and this again alerts him.

"Y/N—

He tries to speak but the sound of the door echoes throughout the living room, drawing your full attention and Criston's as well.

The atmosphere again becomes heavier than before, as well as all your confidence disappears, already knowing who it is and you are confirmed by the fact that the person behind the door knocks more insistently, sounding desperate.

With your fearful gaze and your whole body tense, you quickly move towards Aenar, who is still playing completely oblivious to everything that is happening on the floor and you take him in your arms with haste but also care.

You hold him tightly against your body, as a way to protect him from everything outside and also from all people especially while trying to contain all your emotions.

And Criston, who also knows who it is, rushes to the door to open it.

And there on the doorway, the figure of Aemond comes into view, with all the desperation and longing in his gaze, the worry and anguish too, as you muster the courage to be able to look him in the eye again, holding Aenar a little more firmly against your chest.

But your son's body is visible to the eye and that's what makes Aemond completely paralyzed at the sight of you with his son in your arms.

Surprise is completely reflected in his whole look, immediately followed by a bunch of emotions that start to pile up in his whole being and want to come out, as he feels his whole body tense up and a feeling in his stomach invades him.

This leaves him and you in a state of momentary restlessness, where time seems to stand still and the silence is too loud. You, with your gaze fixed on him, try to keep your composure with a mixture of fear, insecurity and some determination to protect your son at all costs.

It didn't take long for Aemond's surprise to turn into a moment of awe and a surge of overwhelming emotions. The mere sight of you with his child in your arms triggers disbelief, pent-up longing and a feeling of suppressed joy.

"Y/N," Aemond calls your name in a whisper, his tone laden with surprise and visible regret, where his gaze can't tear away from you and Aenar.

You say nothing, just watch him back without saying anything, with all your emotions reflecting in your eyes.

The moment is just the three of you, so Criston turns away completely, not interfering and saying absolutely nothing, while you continue in your protective mode and Aemond is still processing this whole moment.

With excitement clashing against the surprise in his eyes, he tries to process the reality of having his son before him for the first time.

He searches for the right words to speak, but his stuck mind won't let him, nor will the lump in his throat and stomach as he continues to watch the scene in front of him; you with his son in your arms.

He tries to say something, but his lips barely half open and the words won't come out, feeling his heart beating too fast and hard.

And you with your gaze full of expectation, fear and caution, Aemond finally looks at you again, aware of all the emotional charge you feel, just like him, as well as your fear and distrust after everything that happened.

"C-can… can I come closer?"

He finally asks cautiously, his voice with a tone of longing and nervousness barely contained.

You hesitate at that moment.

Feeling the weight of the situation and the emotions that are triggered at that moment, despite everything, you feel very vulnerable and you also feel his vulnerability, also that longing to touch Aenar and hold him.

And despite the way he acted with you almost two years ago and also the way Criston and all his team treated you, you don't feel able to be as cruel as they were with you back then.

You don't want to be like them and also aware that this day would come sooner or later, you watch Aenar for a moment, leave a soft kiss on his forehead and again watch Aemond, then nod in his direction with a barely perceptible gesture.

You allow Aemond your closeness and he with extreme care begins to approach you slowly, as if fearing that a sudden movement could fade the magical and longing moment.

Aemond's heartbeat echoes in your ears as he finally stands in front of your son.

Aenar, completely oblivious to everything, senses the nearness of someone else and raises his curious gaze to Aemond, watching him with those bright blue eyes.

And upon seeing that man with the same hair color as his own, his eyes light up with a gleam of curiosity, lightly waving his arms and also his body.

With his teary eye, he watches you for a moment, to again focus on Aenar and with a mixture of excitement and awe, he extends one of his trembling hands towards his small, delicate face.

And when the touch of his fingers against his soft skin of his cheek makes itself felt, Aemond feels an unfamiliar sensation invade him completely.

A sad but honest smile full of melancholy appears on his lips as he gently and carefully traces his face, running his hand up to his silver hair, gazing intently into those blue eyes just like his own as Aenar watches him with that playful innocence but also just as curious as his own.

You, unsure of exactly what to feel or think, watch as he carefully reaches out both arms and begins to hold his body, feeling the warmth and weight of his small body now resting in his arms.

That unfamiliar, overwhelming feeling from before comes over him even more strongly as he holds his son for the first time, when Aenar lifts one of his hands and touches his left cheek, where his scar is.

The emotion makes his breath hitch as he struggles to hold back the tears of restrained happiness that will come at any moment.

It was a moment he had imagined countless times, but had never believed possible until this instant.

Aenar, captivated by the newness and warmth in the arms of Aemond, his father, laughs innocently, his eyes dazzling a happiness as he notices the familiarity in that new face above him. And at his gesture, Aemond lets out a choked laugh, completely captivated by him.

And unable to contain himself any longer, the first sob escapes his throat and the tears fall, instantly pulling his son's face to his chest, embracing him with gentleness and that security that makes him feel so vulnerable when Aenar settles perfectly in his arms.

Guilt, sadness, joy, emotion, everything invades him in that moment.

And he lets out more tears for the comfort that Aenar gives him in his arms, that feeling of protection and even… love, that makes him feel even more vulnerable.

And you are still there, close to them but giving Aemond his space, watching everything attentively with your heart in a fist and feeling sensations you had not felt before at the scene, with tears also wanting to slide down your cheeks.

After a few more seconds, Aemond slurps his nose and looks over Aenar's small shoulder at you with all the vulnerability in his gaze.

"I-I know I don't deserve this," he says with his voice cracking, trying to control himself but he can't.

And he is about to say something else but you watching his expression, a mixture of regret and deep sadness, you step forward to speak.

"In spite of everything, he deserves to know his father," you murmur with your trembling voice and teary eyes, "Aenar deserves this," you assure him, accepting it as you watch the scene of the two of them.

Aemond nods, unable to articulate words, still feeling the lump in his throat, his face reflecting pain, regret and a sadness you have never seen in him before, as his tears continue to fall as he embraces his son.

"I'm sorry," he whispers, unable to contain the emotion, turning to him and to you. "I'm so sorry. I-I didn't know how to face it…how to be there."

Silence again settles throughout the apartment, only being filled by Aemond's soft crying, as you silently weep and continue to watch the two of them.

A few minutes have passed since Aemond and your son met for the first time.

Aenar laughs with delight as Aemond plays with him with one of his toys. They are both immersed in a little world of fun where it's just the two of them, surrounded by Legos blocks, small plastic cars and puppets.

You watch everything, or almost everything, without interfering and giving them both their space, watching your son enjoy a special moment that on another occasion, could have been a daily routine with a different life.

Criston doesn't say or do anything either, he at all times stands in the corner watching the whole interaction, letting Aemond have his moment with his son, genuinely feeling happy for him.

And even though the scene makes you feel warm in your heart, being a scene you longed for before, you still still feel insecure, afraid and overwhelmed by this whole situation.

This doesn't really change anything. You have only given Aemond the opportunity to meet his son because your son deserves it, nothing more.

Inside you are still just as scared and in expectation that at any moment this whole 'beautiful' moment will fade away. And that's exactly what happens when you hear Criston's voice all over the living room.

"I wouldn't want to ruin the moment, truly," he says seriously and honestly, "But it's important that we talk about all this so we can resolve it properly."

This immediately catches your attention and also Aemond's, with whom you exchange a quick glance, again feeling your whole body tremble and out of the same nervousness you are overcome with the impulse to take your son in your arms to feel safe.

"It is important that we talk about the child, about what you are going to do now," he turns to Aemond, "Custody is important and all that goes with it."

"I don't understand why you keep talking about custody," you look at him nervously and annoyed, "I alone have cared for and raised Aenar all this time."

"I know this is complicated and sudden, Y/N," Criston tells you, "But we need to approach this whole thing responsibly."

"Responsibility?" you repeat incredulously, "What responsibility are you exactly talking about?"

"Y/N," Aemond immediately interjects, "Listen to me, please," he gets up from the floor leaving Aenar playing alone and walks towards you, "It's not my intention to take our son away from you, truly. But we must make sure we have legal rights to be in his life," he explains to you, "You were the one who ran away, who disappeared without a word. I didn't know what happened to you."

You look at him uncomprehendingly, with your hurt and desperate gaze.

"You talk about custody and rights when in the beginning that was the last thing on your mind, Aemond," you observe him incredulously, "And you keep reproaching me for running away when you know perfectly well that I did it so I could live and so I wouldn't ruin your career, which was all you were thinking about."

Regret again invades Aemond's face, as the atmosphere becomes denser, full of mixed emotions where fear and anger resurfaces with everything else.

Any trace of calm and peace, has ceased to exist, only being perceived by Aenar, who continues oblivious and innocent to all this in his games.

"I-I…" Aemond tries to speak, "I'm sorry for everything, Y/N. But back then...

His sentence hangs in suspense, not knowing what else to say, trying to find the right words without wanting to generate more tension, but that's what he involuntarily does.

"Back then," you repeat, your emotions running high, "Back then you were too busy taking care of your public image, supporting the idea of an abortion without consulting me, then supporting the idea of hiding me and my child as if we were a problem, which in fact we were and as if it was my only option, leaving me with no alternatives," you express with frustration and pain marked in every word.

Regret remains in Aemond's facial expressions, looking visibly affected by your words, grief-stricken and with a regret throughout his body that affirms to him that you are absolutely right, each word being like a dagger straight to his heart.

"Y-you don't know how much I regret and blame myself for all of that, Y/N," he tells you with vulnerability in his tone, "And I know I don't deserve it, any of this, not even that you allowed me to meet him and that I'm now in the same place as him," he says with regret, "But I want to find a solution that works for both of us," he whispers sadly.

The room is again consumed by silence, except for the sound of Aenar's toy movements, which is what catches Aemond's attention for a moment to smile a little more melancholy.

The situation becomes increasingly complex as your emotions continue to run high between anger and sadness, with the memory of past times still latent, but also with the uncertainty of the future.

And Criston, trying to keep calm, intervenes again.

"I understand that you both have different perspectives on what happened. But now we need to think about the future, of your son," he says seriously, "It's not just about custody, it's about finding a way to strike a fair balance, but… thinking about your career too, Aemond."

You let out a disbelieving, ironic snort again, shaking your head.

"His career,'" you repeat with a bitter tone, your voice a mixture of sarcasm and disappointment.

Aemond, watching you sadly and remorsefully, speaks in a calm but regret-laden voice.

"I don't want you to look at this that way, Y/N—

"That's just the way I see it," you interrupt him, serious and sad, "This is exactly why I left. This is why when I saw you again, I decided to run away again," you say hurt, "Now that you've met him, you want to be in his life, but you still prefer to hide us. This kind of life is the one you wanted to give us at the beginning and now you still do too."

Your revelations Aemond had already heard, but at that moment, again that sharp pain in his chest becomes present, as well as guilt, remorse and regret at seeing your sad face with such honest words.

"All I want is to come to an agreement, Y/N, please—

"You're not going to hide us," you interrupt him firmly.

"Aemond," he calls him seriously.

"No, that's not my intention—

He insists desperately but Criston intervenes.

"Don't," Aemond interrupts him instantly, turning serious and with an annoyed expression towards him, "We can't hide the truth anymore, Criston. Things must change."

"Look, I understand that this is difficult for you," he begins in a serious and cautious tone, "But still, we must consider the consequences. There's a lot at stake here, your career," he reminds him, "You have numerous job offers. Your show on HBO is the most famous show on the platform and the most watched show on television so far. How do you think people are going to react when they find out about your son?"

The room sinks into another silence, as you watch him with your hard, sad face, frustration, annoyance and irritation inside you, watching as Criston continues to treat your son like he's a problem.

And it hurts you.

Because Aemond doesn't even say anything.

"We can find a way to handle all this without putting at risk everything you have achieved, Aemond. And if you get a share of the custody, your son will be under your protection without harming your image," he proposes with an insistent look, seeking his approval.

You look away again, completely incredulous and with helplessness all over you.

It's not Aemond, it's Criston.

It is he who continues to manipulate Aemond to prioritize his career over his son, so that everything revolves around public image and fame, diverting attention from the well-being of your son.

And what can you really do there?

He is his agent, the person who has positioned him where he is now, making him famous, relevant, telling him what roles to take in movies or TV shows that are going to ensure one more success to his career.

"If you listen to him…" you begin to say in his direction with a trembling but firm tone, "If you do what he tells you, I swear I won't care what I have to do, even go into debt to get a good lawyer," you warn, "I will fight for the custody of Aenar and when I get it, I assure you that you will never see him again, ever."

Your words slip from your lips with a determination that completely surprises Aemond, surprise and concern visible on his face, watching you hurt for a moment, his mind a complete mess.

But it is not he who speaks, but Criston who takes the floor once more.

"If that's what you want, Y/N… that's fine," he tells you seriously, his gaze cold and calculating. "But let me warn you, we're trying to come to an agreement—

"The two of you or you specifically?" you snap at him.

"That doesn't matter, Aemond is my client and my job is to secure and protect his career," he tells you seriously, "And if you'd rather take this to fighting for full custody of Aenar, then so be it," he nods at you, "But I assure you, you're going to end up losing."

"That's enough."

Finally, Aemond's voice rises from where he stands, aimed directly at Criston, with a serious, hard stare that reveals a newfound determination.

"We are talking about our son, an issue that concerns her and me, this has nothing to do with you," he declares, his tone firm and his posture defiant.

"Your career has to do with me," he clarifies to her also serious, "You must think about what you are going to sacrifice. Your future, your career, the opportunities that await you-

"I said that's enough," he spits back at her, serious and annoyed, watching him with a hard stare, taking Criston by surprise.

And before he can say anything else, there is another knock on the door, drawing your full attention and making you feel completely alert, especially when Criston is the one who again goes to open the door, as if he knows exactly who it is.

And as you open the door, just like that day, Aemond's publicist, an assistant and the PR people enter your apartment.

Surprise flashes all over your face, watching with your eyes wide open the unexpected arrival of that group of people, whose intentions are not good.

"Thank you for coming," Criston tells them as he closes the door behind him.

"Of course."

Their eyes flick to you for a moment and then focus on Aenar, watching them back with curiosity in their gaze, while you feel confusion and fear completely take over you.

Despair, fear, your future, Aenar, everything mixes together in a horrible way that makes you want to vomit, letting out a couple of tears to quickly turn to your son and hold him in your arm, turning your back to them and starting to cry silently.

And Aemond, seeing your reaction, equally as surprised as you, quickly turns to Criston, his gaze full of confusion and annoyance.

"What is this? Why have you called them?" he inquires with his voice full of restrained anger.

And Criston, unabashed and uncaring of his actions, responds with a calm but calculated determination.

"We are not going before a jury to settle this, Aemond, it will be a waste of time and she will cause us more trouble," he says regardless, "This is necessary for your career, to address this whole issue strategically to protect your image, whether she likes it or not."

Aemond's expression transforms to one of frustration and helplessness.

But before he can intervene, his entire team begins to act.

"We need to establish an immediate plan, now," Criston says.

"Will the strategy be to minimize the impact on the media?" asks the publicity man.

"No, I want it hidden," Criston clarifies, "The approach must be careful and calculated. The priority is Aemond's reputation and career."

"I suggest we limit the exposure of Y/N and the child in public."

"We could create an alternative narrative to deflect attention by highlighting Aemond's professional accomplishments and minimizing the focus on his personal life."

"This must be handled with discretion. We cannot allow this situation to interfere with Aemond's career opportunities," Criston says firmly.

And so your entire living room fills with the sound of all those voices, each voice contributing ideas to control the situation, the problems, Aenar and you.

The tension intensifies, as everyone meticulously plans how to run the public narrative, completely ignoring Aemond's and your personal needs and concerns.

Tears slip down your cheeks silently as you hug Aenar tightly to your chest. This instantly catches the attention of Aemond, who steps worriedly towards you, placing his hand on your shoulder, positioning himself in front of you, but you abruptly pull away from him, watching him with an expression of pain and anguish amidst your tears and suffering face.

"Y/N—

"Why are you doing this? Why are you allowing this?" you ask in your broken, desperate voice.

"No, I swear to you I had no idea that he—

"I left, Aemond," you remind him with your voice cracking, "I left to save your career. And everything was fine, with you and me, our lives," you sob, "Why did you ask Criston to find me? Why do you care and insist on saying you want to be in our lives, when your career is still the most important thing?"

Pain and confusion echo in your words, lingering in the mind of Aemond, who in his gaze reflects a mixture of guilt, bewilderment, pain and sadness.

But everything hurts him more the moment you turn away from him, with a defeated gesture, turning your back to him and your whole body trembling in fear, Aenar in your arms being what gives you strength not to fall apart at that moment.

"We can prepare official statements to control the leaking information to minimize any negative impact on his public reputation."

"Rest assured that we need to maintain full control of this situation. We cannot allow any details to slip out," Aemond hears Criston's voice.

And that's when something snaps inside him.

Every repressed feeling bursts out in a whirlwind of emotions that were fighting to get out, your worry, the anger at himself and the guilt that invades him.

Everything explodes and ignites into a fury that he can no longer contain, seeing your state, causing him anger and feeling completely guilty.

Because everything is in fact his fault.

So without waiting a second longer, he walks to the center of the living room and with a hard, serious, completely annoyed look on his face and with his jaw clenched, he acts.

"Get out of here, all of you, now!" he exclaims, instantly drawing everyone's attention and yours as well.

For an instant everyone watches him and nothing else, slightly surprised and expectant, Criston too, unmoving and doing nothing, causing you a wave of despair.

"I said everyone out!" he exclaims in a firm voice and his gaze full of determination.

And it's only then that one by one the team finally leaves your apartment, except for Criston.

"What are you doing?" he inquires with a touch of disbelief in his tone, challenging Aemond.

"You get out of here too."

He orders him annoyed and with irritation, his voice charged with a frustration that has already reached its limit.

"Aemond, this is important, you can't just—

"I need to talk to Y/N alone," he interrupts her with his tone in a mixture of anger and determination, "I'm warning you, Criston. If you ever do anything else again without consulting me and interfering with this, I'm going to seriously consider firing you, which is what I should have done long ago," he shoots back at him with his defiant stare.

The pulse of the room beats with unbearable intensity as Aemond and Criston hold a duel of intense stares. However, in the face of Aemond's firmness, Criston finally resigns himself with a serious, annoyed look, full of frustration and resignation.

And finally he heads for the door, his footsteps sounding in the room as he leaves the apartment.

Aemond watches him leave with a mixture of relief and exhaustion, no longer feeling his shoulders tense. The silence expands once more as soon as the door closes and he turns to you with a gaze filled with a quiet, worried intensity.

The silence lingers for a few moments longer, a dense atmosphere charged with unspoken emotions. When he takes a step toward you, hesitantly.

"I'm sorry," he murmurs, his voice ringing with sincerity and regret, "What happened, my insistence… none of this was my intention, much less to cause you pain and hurt you," he admits with his vulnerability again reflected.

And even though it's just you and him in your apartment, your fear lingers.

"P-please don't take my son from me," you plead between sobs, your voice filled with anguish and fear.

Aemond's heart contracts in suffering and worry at your words, his gaze instantly reflecting it.

"What? No, no, Y/N… that is not what I want to do, it is not my intention to take our son from you."

He tells you instantly insistent but in a serene and sincere voice, taking a few more steps towards you, placing himself in front of you, trying to reassure you. But tears continue to slide down your cheeks.

"This is why I left, so I wouldn't cause you any more trouble, so I could live and keep our son safe," you repeat with your voice cracking.

"I know, Y/N, I know," he tells you sympathetically and with a soft tone, "And you don't know how much I hate myself for having been the cause of you deciding to leave, for having hurt you so much to the point of having made that decision," he says sincerely, his eye beginning to tear up, "And this is not just about him, about our son," he tries to explain, "Yes, it is important, but it is also about us," he speaks with a longing, "Since you left, I never stopped thinking about you, and I-I...

He hesitates, unable to fully express his feelings, as he stands in front of you and wants to hold you, you and your son, as he faces his deepest emotions, feeling a tear run down his cheek and looks at you with all the sincerity and pain in his gaze.

"I love you," he finally says, in a completely vulnerable whisper, trembling, lowering his gaze, unable to look you in the eye, "Despite everything, despite my mistakes, despite my work, despite everything that happened…. I-I still love you," he declares in a whisper laden with longing and regret, "And our son too."

His words get stuck in your mind.

With your heart clenched by the surge of emotions, your eyes watch him back with a mixture of surprise, pain and longing. Aemond's sincerity and vulnerability... it's all too much and makes you feel completely helpless, definitely not expecting that.

You can't speak, your words get stuck in your throat, your heart fluttering with the intensity of the moment, your surprise.

And Aemond completely understands your silence.

"I understand that you don't love me anymore and that you can't love me again, I also understand that things can't go back to the way they used to be because of my job. But please… don't keep running away," he pleads quietly, "We won't fight over custody, there will be no legal repercussions, I'm not going to do any of that," he assures you, "Just…" he lets out a long breath, "Just get back to work and let's face this together."

He proposes with his voice full of fragile but hopeful determination, unexpectedly causing you to feel a relief and a warm feeling in your chest.

"I just want Aenar to be okay and let's consider his well-being as the most important thing," you say quietly, while Aemond listens attentively with his face full of longing, regret and understanding, "But we need time and patience. Also that no one else interferes."

Aemond nods, with a slightly more relieved expression, but keeping in mind that there is much to resolve, to heal and to build.

"I understand that and… I'm willing to do whatever it takes… for him and for you," he says sincerely.

You nod too, as silence takes over again, but this time it is permeated with a shared understanding and a determination to face whatever is necessary for Aenar's well-being.

And finally after so much, you feel calm and fortunately, this time with the support of Aemond, who hesitantly leaves a gentle kiss on your forehead and another on Aenar's forehead, taking him back into his arms.

taglist:

@imaegonstargaryenswife0 @bellstwd @gibbsgirl7 @toodlesxcuddles @imsoshygirl @croatianprincess @gemini-mama @a-little-roony-mara @mysteris-things @zenka69 @at-a-rax-ia @fan-goddess @duds31 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @eternally-passionate @bellaisasleep @ttkttt @aemshaircare @mellowdreamlandpost-blog @noodle81937 @mooncalvin @queenofshinigamis @n4tforlife @vexladin @dixie-elocin @wotcherpeak @watercolorskyy @shiny-trashs-blog @strangersunghoon @elysian0612 @skzenhalove @iloveallmyboys

next part taglist:

@anehkael

[mychlapci]

Milk that policebot stupid, now Ratchet has had it with Prowl getting another crash from overworking his damn experimental cerebral hardware for the 13th time that quartex. He's decided that Prowl needs a proper break for once. Naturally, our haughty tactician refuses, citing that he'd go insane from the lack of mental stimulation, since he can't deactivate the battle computer. Hell, he can't even overload properly since having too high of a charge may cause the damn thing to fritz out and damage his brain.

Ratchet's solution? Turn the damn thing off by cutting it's power source. The battle computer here is so power hungry, it needs a whole different source of fuels or else it'll drain Prowl's main tanks dry in no time. This is why his processors are actually wired to the condensers in his chest; his fat, voluptuous milky boobies are there to provide juice to that thirsty hardware. So in theory, draining his chest pouches should starve his processor and drop it into power saving mode, allowing him to overload safely.

Unable to protest against the logic of his chief medical officer beyond a few indignant complaints, Prowl very quickly finds himself strapped onto a sybian with milkers latched to his erect nozzles. Because that's what he needs. To be milked until his mind is empty enough that he can finally cum all of that stress out from his pent up frame.

Hands cuffed behind and locked down onto the surface behind him, he can only wriggle in place when the suction is activated. Condensed, pure fuel flowing out from his perked up titties while Ratchet continues to attach buzzing stimulators throughout the rest of his body. Once the systems monitoring his pouch levels note that he's finally below 70% capacity, the dildo in his pussy flares to life, vibrating at a low frequency, forcing a gasp from its captive audience.

Prowl has never felt like this before. He was forged with the experimental hardware in place, so finally being allowed to experience pleasure without restraint like this is a completely new and foreign experience to him. Ratchet wipes up the drool leaking from his panting mouth, and stuffs it back into his intake.

"Good mech. Let it happen. Shhh."

He can feel his processor becoming more and more sluggish, background programs and simulation queues pausing and terminating one by one. Everything is becoming fuzzy, coloured by that sickeningly sweet haze of arousal building in his core. He's at 50% now. The vibrator kicks up a notch, and starts thrusting into his fluttering valve. He jolts when he feels firm, skilled fingers begins to massage his node, eyes all but locked onto the dim swaying lamp overhead. World out of focus.

It's so hard to think now. So empty. So good. The nodes attached to his doorwings and various armour gaps flare to life, making him shiver against Ratchet's broad frame, pressing against him from behind. Prowl squeals when the milking pads suddenly starts exerting pressure on his sensitive titties, squeezing them to encourage more fluid flow. His chest reserves are getting low now.

18%. His needy little frame is becoming so charged up, components rattling and trembling, so unused to such amounts of pleasure. Ratchet is whispering praise and encouragement directly into his audials, even if he no longer has the ability to parse the words. Those hands are gripping his hips now guiding them to grind against the sybian, meeting each thrust in slow, intoxicating glides. Good, obedient, little slut.

There's something building inside him. Prowl doesn't know what it is, but he knows subconsciously, whatever it becomes, it's going to wipe him completely clean. He wonders if this is what it feels like to truly overload. 5% capacity. The battle computer is so quiet for once. His body and mind are unraveling under Ratchet's hands, separating mind from matter. He's floating.

Those arms are wrapped around his uncontrollably shaking body now. So very close to cumming, he can't even conjure up a single line of thought anymore. And as that pouch gauge tips from 1.1% all the way down to a 1.0%, Prowl cums. Electricty surging through his frame snd processor, thrashing mindlessly in Ratchet's embrace. Valve spasming and squirting around the thrusting false spike, lubricants gushing out and dripping onto the device, pooling into a veritable puddle on the floor below. His spike just seems to ejaculate on and on, as if making up for lost time, releasing all of that backed up transfluid at once.

Prowl was cumming so hard, he didn't even register when he'd blacked out and rebooted, still in the same position, securely held by those strong servos. All he knew was that his relaxed frame could no longer move. He could see something in front of him. Colours, shapes moving. There were a few noises around him, but the silence in his head begged for greater attention. He was… He didn't know why he was there. Nor does he care. It doesn't matter anymore. He felt good. So good. He was being good. That's what the voice and the headpats were telling him. He's good.

Once completely out of it, the milking pads automatically throttled their flow, keeping his pouches teetering on that 0.25% theshold as to not drain him dry completely. Ratchet moves to insert a feeding tube into the blissed out tactician's slack mouth. Moving him to a private ward so that he can lie down and rest at last, letting his tits fill out again until his battle computer and higher brain functions re-engage.

And if Prowl finds himself, unknowingly of course, spending more time than agreed previously within the confines of the medbay, well, it's not like he could protest anyway. All Ratchet has to do is use a low flowrate for the feeding tube while leaving the milking pads on, keeping his silly little processor in power saving mode until he decides to let Prowl regain cognizance. Whenever that is.

Because their chief tactician just looks so pretty like this. He's so much cuter as a blank little fuckdoll, all milked stupid and demure. And if the rest of high command just happens to find him posed on his knees like a mindless toy next to his desk when they come to the CMO's office, well, feeding him a bit of transfluid here and there is definitely contributing to replenishing those boob fuel levels, for sure. Not that Prowl cares. He doesn't even have the capacity to care. Silly little slut just wants to be a good bot, be fragged through the floor and swallow all of that delicious cum right now. And perhaps, when he's good enough, that gentle voice and warm hands would give him more headpats, and maybe let him cum what little remains of his silly mind out again (he will). Might turn this into a full fic later if I can scrounge up the motivation-🔌

yesss this is so hot, i have no notes. i think it's funny that milking Prowl just straight up turns off his battle computer and makes him a little dumb.... mhmm

[colormepurplex2]

On Wings of Mist & Memories | JJK

▻ On Wings of Mist & Memories ↳ DragonRider!Jungkook x FieldScribe!f.Reader ⤜ Exiled Royalty, High Fantasy AU ⤜ Enemies to Lovers | Angst, smut, fluff ⤜ Rating: MA ⤜ WC: 39,753 ⤜ Summary: You’re a Psion—disguised Field Scribe—of the Golden Kingdom of Bolas, attached to the Front Wing Infantry. After an ambush from the sky rips down the safe walls around you, you find yourself at the mercy of a brutal man, his dragon, and his shadows. ⚠️ Crass language, combat/violence, minor character deaths, talk of war, brief nudity (nonsexual, mostly), sexual references and feelings, flashback minor character death, mild sexual tension, suggestive inner thoughts, lots of sexual tension, crude banter, fingering, kissing, dirty talk, teasing, shadow penetration/sex (it's exactly what you're probably thinking it is: fun af), lots of praise, sexual pleading/begging, endearingly awkward sexual tension, shameless flirting, oral m. receiving, shadow clit play, nipple pinching/teasing, v. sex, mild cum play & eating, multiple orgasms, sad feelings/thoughts of the future, fighting, mild violence, implied minor character death, minor character terminal sickness that leads to off-page death, talk of forced bonds, heartache, pregnancy, off-page childbirth Each chapter will have specific warnings listed.

Chapter 1: Shadowsword

Chapter 2: Oath Breaker

Chapter 3: Burnished Heart

Part of the Bangtan Writers HQ August 2023 “A Love Like War” Writing Event.

A special thank you to @hisunshiine @downbad4yoongi & @peachiilovesot7 for being the best betas!

Can also be found on: Ao3 | Wattpad

Glossary/Map Mave - dragon rider who can wield magic, tethered to the soul of their dragon when they bond (death for both if one dies) Psion - infinite memory/recall Reaver - a dragon that can wield magic, tethered to the soul of the rider they bond (death for both if one dies) Noks - infantry soldiers, humanoids who can enter berserk/rage mode Rider - regular dragon rider, no magic, uses bows or scouts Brute - riderless dragon, usually wild and very dangerous Wielder - magic user, no dragon needed Signis - the designated/specific type of power someone wields Helnite - metal ore that can cut off magic from its user Golden Blight - incurable blood disease

◅ Back to Main Master List ©️   2023-08  ColorMePurplex2

[msmc-796-official]

>encrypted communication incoming

>decrypting message...

Mirrorsmoke Mercenary Company.

This is st-g2-084. I am contacting you to request an escort out of the Mergi III system, as well as refuge among your fleet. I shall offer both payment in front, as well as my services to your company for as long as you deem necessary.

To be frank, this mission might put you at risk of opposing Smith-Shimano Corpro, although I have done all in my power to avoid such a situation. I only ask eventual protection in case my preparations were insufficient.

I understand my request is not rich in details, however rest assured I shall expand on everything that led to my message once I am safe aboard one of your ships.

You will find my exact coordinates as well as a rough description of local corporate presence attached to this communication.

I await your response with hope.

[Killjoy]

Your message has been received, Killjoy. Help is on the way.

I got in touch with Command; they've dispatched squadron MSMC-835 "Rogue Syndicate" to your supplied coordinates, along with an allied transport ship. This particular squadron has a lot of experience dealing with hostile SSC elements, so they should be more than qualified to get you out. (One of their pilots used to be a model for SCC prior to joining us, actually - callsign Mannequin, if memory serves. Pilots a Pegasus now; real cool gal.)

Ask for me once your escort makes it back here; I'll get you set up with Recruitment to get started on your paperwork. (They'll probably call in a few folks from Legal, too, as it sounds like you'll have some outstanding connections to SSC that need terminating.)

MSMC is no stranger to getting people out of tight situations in regards to the Big 4; in fact, the current IPS-N intern has an outstanding offer of sanctuary with us in case things go south for them and UNCLE. You'll fit right in here - we've got a LOT of ex-corpo folks on staff. (Hell, both of my squadmates are former Big 4 members - I'm technically the odd one out here!)

And hey, feel free to stick around however long you need to. If you need to go back, we can arrange that - or, if you end up deciding that you'd rather leave SSC behind for good, I can hook you up with the requisite paperwork to make that happen. Either way, you're safe with us. Legal wouldn't dare let SSC lay a finger on you (and neither would any of our mercs, for that matter).

Hang in there, Killjoy. Help is on the way.

-- Angel

[poisonheadcrabsalesman]

Lucky

Chief/Pilot House of Reckoning rewrite Because Chief Would Not Fucking Say That.

-

The fight ends as abruptly as it starts, not with a roar but a choked gasp. Chief doesn’t take his eyes off his enemy until he’s sure he’s down for good. Escharum goes down with a gurgled wheeze. All his grandstanding silenced by his need for a warrior's death, but in the end his own body dealt the final blow before Chief could.

If John had cared to spare the old Brute a moment's thought beyond analyzing his attacks, he may have wondered why Atriox's teacher was a paradox fighting himself every step of the way. Obsessed with power and battle prowess in the Jiralhanae tradition, but committing the sin of bolstering himself with fancy tech and hiding behind a weak human shield. It didn’t make sense. Then again, nothing on this Ring made sense, but the Master Chief had to keep going.

He did not care for the Brute or his ideas. His grandstanding was worse than the usual threats that the Demon received. He was not a respected leader or an old warrior that Chief saw himself reflected in. John made his choices and kept living, kept clawing back towards his humanity. He put the old Brute down with cold efficiency, like he had hundreds of times before with other Covenant and Banished leaders. An enemy that terrorized and hunted down his fellow UNSC soldiers, who had his troops trap and eat them, did not deserve mercy or attention.

The Brute collapses, air hissing out of his mangled throat. Escharum's last testament was silenced by his own hubris. Dooming himself to be forgotten.

The Master Chief doesn't spare him a glance and hurries to the terminal. The Weapon is already deploying herself to free their pilot from the torture device pulling him apart with micro gravity wells. A torture device he had seen used on a Spartan, enough to kill him. She signals that she's about to switch the device off, but the Master Chief is already there.

He cradles their pilot down from the dying energy field, and tries not to remember the feeling of Spartan Griffin in his arms barely two days ago. The pilot falls into his gentle hold, his breathing hitching and muscles spasming as his body adjusts to the lack of force pulling him apart. John shifts his weight as carefully as he can, fingers prodding his pulsepoint with a featherlight touch so the Mjolnir can get a read on his vitals.

"I can't-" His words stick in his throat and shudder out as he shakes violently, "I can't believe you came for me." The pilot swallows thickly. Tears well in the corners of his eyes and he looks away from his reflection in Chief's visor. He tries to wipe his face but his arms are limp and take a second to remember how to work.

John watches the tears run tracks down his cheeks and he speaks quietly. "I got you. It's over."

The pilot squirms in his hold and tries to stand, but his legs don't hold his weight. Embarrassment at his weakness and need for support makes him unsteady as he tries to avoid leaning on Chief. He hisses in pain and Chief, having never let go of his hold on him, scoops him up. The hold is as gentle as he can make it as he turns and walks them out of the Banished outpost. Footsteps steady and measured as the man sags in his arms. His pilot leans his head against Chief’s chest and shuts his eyes to the harsh reds of the room.

"Chief, the Harbinger..." The Weapon starts, quietly projecting her voice through the external mics. She wants to say more, but she busies herself in sensor data looking over the pilot.

"One thing at a time." Chief nods at her, "She- Cortana damaged this ring, we have time."

"What's going on? What now?" The pilot asks, his voice barely a whisper. He's having a hard time keeping his eyes open.

"I'm getting you out of here." Chief says and the pilot slips into unconsciousness.

He comes to as he's strapped into the co-pilot seat of the pelican. He jolts awake and groans as he tenses overtaxed muscle in his panic.

"You're safe." The Master Chief tells him with a hand covering his shoulder and grounding him as he realizes where he is.

"You can fly this thing?" The words are open and unguarded and John wants to smile. The pilot spoke so openly to him when it came to things he thought Chief was doing wrong. 

"Are you surprised?" The helmet tilts towards him.

"I'm surprised you still let me pilot if you could this whole time..."

"I've been told I'm not the best driver." John jokes.

The pilot is looking at him like he's lost his mind. Maybe that's what spurs Chief to share. That, and everything else they've been through.

"You asked me if I had family. I told you no." The pilot sits back in shock, but John continues, "But I do. They're out there, somewhere. My sister, Kelly, she's the better pilot. She hates my flying."

The words are stilted and honest, so much so he can feel the AI leaning against his mind despite the firewalls in place. There is no room for dishonesty and secrets in the neural interface. He's too tired to keep any more secrets for long.

"I'm going to drop you off somewhere safe, and then I'm going to finish this."

"And you'll come back?"

It shouldn't surprise him, but it does. John always seems surprised when he's reminded of what he means to people. He'd been the pilot's first human contact in a long time. They had saved each other.

"I promise."

The Master Chief leaves the pilot with the marines at FOB November, their medic looking him over. 

The Master Chief goes to the Silent Auditorium, he fights, and She saves him again. 

John, the man under the armor and the symbol, is tired. Another goodbye tears something inside him that will never heal right, but there’s no time to dwell. There’s never any time and he’s running again as the world collapses in on them. He had never liked depending on portals or Forerunner tech. It usually didn't end well for him. He was learning to trust again, and he keeps his promises. John has someone counting on him to make it back.

They tumble through the portal and Chief grunts as he hits solid ground. He's barely upright before the radio crackles to life.

"Chief! Your beacon just appeared out of nowhere." The pilot laughs with relief. "Oh, I thought I'd lost you. Where did you go?"

The Weapon answers for him, relief audible in her voice as well. "Echo-216? Are you okay to fly?"

"Yes, I'm fine. Listen, stay put. I'm coming to you."

And he does.

Three days have passed and his pilot, Fernando Esparza, is doing better. He'd seen the signal and jumped at the chance to retrieve them. The pelican lands and Chief is barely up the ramp into the troop bay before the pilot- Esparza is there and wrapping his arms around John.

He can't feel it, but the armor lets him know with sensors and proximity alarms. John freezes, briefly scared to move before he relaxes and drops his hands to the man's shoulders. It's not a full hug, he can feel the AI judging him for that, but it's a reciprocated touch. His gauntlets squeeze Esparza’s shoulders and the man looks up at him with a smile stretching from ear to ear.

He's tired and hungry, and now they have nothing but time. There was still work to be done, but no escalating doom beyond cleaning up Banished remnants and building the UNSC back from scratch. Nothing he couldn’t handle.

They land back at the FOB and Chief reluctantly lets the medic look him over. He reluctantly lets them celebrate his return too. People did need heroes.

It’d taken John no time at all to learn life’s harsh lessons of regret and lost time, but he was slowly learning how to keep moving forward. Learning how to stick around. The future is a terrifying thing.

The one thing Chief is beyond reluctance is having to remove his helmet to eat. He pries it off and camps out against a rock with several meals worth of MREs once the crowd disperses back to their regular duties. His pilot joins him.

Esparza looks healthier, and has no problems moving, other than some wincing as he settles on the ground across from John. They heat their meals in silence and watch the distant patrols around the far side of the lake. It’s comfortable; so far from the last few days together that it feels alien. Esparza keeps grinning and the tear inside John’s chest feels a little lighter for it. He’s alive, they’re alive. Whatever came next….he could handle it.

It’s a nice moment. Nice enough for John to do what he does whenever he likes someone enough. Ruin it.

"I could tell you were a civilian from the beginning." Chief says, breaking the silence of their previously peaceful meal. He's unbothered as he swigs some coffee out of the tin cup that's obviously not made for Spartan hands.

Esparza gapes as the Master Chief digs into his MRE. "What?"

"Marines call me 'sir', not 'Big Guy'. And they usually know better than trying to hit the armor."

John smiles at him. It's a small thing, but wide enough Fernando can make out the gap between his front teeth. It startles him out of his embarrassment for a second before he remembers the Master Chief is making a joke at his expense. "Well, maybe you would get in less trouble if people were up front with how frustrating you are!"

John huffs a breath. "Maybe."

“You are infuriating, you know that?”

“I’ve been told.”

“Well, maybe you need to hear it more! Always going off or- or jumping out of buildings or pelicans! Without any warning!”

“I’m lucky I have you to catch me.” John says with a grin and nudges Esparza’s boot with his own.

His pilot sputters and flushes as words escape him. “You-! Oh I can’t stand when you-! Fine. You’re lucky I like you. Big Guy…” His words trail off with less fire than the start of his tirade.

John hides his smile by shoveling food into his mouth.

Esparza copies him, still fuming, but he nudges his boot against John’s in a playful push. 

[chimcess]

Nachash || jhs (teaser)

Pairing: Hoseok x Reader (ft. Taehyung) Genre: Supernatural AU, Demon!Hoseok, Med Student!Reader, Incubus! Hoseok, Horror AU, Thriller, Mystery, angst, smut Rating: 18+ (don’t interact if you’re a minor) Word Count: TBD (~25-35k) Release Date: Oct. 31st Summary: After the loss of both of her parents, Y/N decided to sell their home in Florida and move back to New York City, a place that she has little memories of despite spending 10 years in medical school there. With her return comes a spark of romance with a sweet man who gives her a strange sense of Deja vu. Her world begins to shift, and she begins to lose sight of dreams and reality. At the center of it all is Hoseok, his warm smiles and gentle kisses. But she can’t help but wonder if he is who he says he is and why a strange bar keeps popping up in her nightmares. Warnings: Strong language, death mentioned, terminal illnesses, bad medical terminology (I tried), Hoseok has a demon side (like physically different), Explicit sexual content, vaginal fingering, oral (f & m receiving), dirty talk, rough sex, manhandling, Inexperienced!Reader, Good girl reader, hard dom Hoseok, Hoseok is a menace, he’s also very sus, so much blood, low-key a yandere but not really, DARK ENDING, dubious consent (kind of mind control/mood control/memory wiping), main character death (graphic), graphic violence, this is not a cute demon romance, more to come...

    nachash (noun) "snake; serpent". Derived from the Hebrew root n-ch-sh.

 After graduation, the dreams stopped. I stayed with my parents for the summer, played in the Florida sun, and decided against going back to New York for my fellowship. Instead, I chose to stay in Tallahassee and start my career. It was safe there. He was gone. A few years later, I left for Jacksonville and my paranoia had started to fade.

Years had gone by, and my memories of his face began to escape me. His name was nothing more than a gentle whisper in the deepest pits of my mind. Even then, saying that would be an overstatement. My return to New York was in the wake of my mother’s death. My dad had passed away a few years prior, and our vacation home in Harlem, the same place I lived in so many years ago, had become prime real estate. I got a fellowship through Columbia upon my return. Life was looking up despite my grief, and I was ready to start a new venture in my medical career.

That was the beginning of my eventual end. I had cheated death all those years ago. Angela was my replacement, though I had no idea at the time. That thing knew she was waiting for me. It knew she would not let me out of her sight, so it took care of the problem. My fear gave it power, and it indulged itself in my torture. When I came back, it knew. 

This time I would not be lucky. Nothing and no one would get in its way. Soon, all memories of that night vanished. Angela’s name escaped me first, then her face, and finally what happened to her. Dauphine and its never-ending halls were gone. The thing that sat at the bar made sure of that before making his next move. 

It was mid-October when he came back into my life, all memories of his face wiped from my mind, and his game really started. My death would be his favorite. A death he rejoiced in for years to come only to be disappointed that nothing lived up to that night. 

Things like Hoseok lived for the chase, and I proved to be his greatest target.

To be add to the taglist please ask, comment, or go to the link in my bio!

[bloodfin]

✭・.・✫

Rain Ghoul x Dewdrop Ghoul x Phantom Ghoul (plus some background polyghouls)

Rated: E for Explicit, 18+ only

Word Count: 4.347

Summary: Dew spills some wine on Rain's pretty moonrise outfit; shenanigans ensue

Pronoun tags for this fic: She/Her Rain, He/Him Dewdrop, He/They Phantom (everyone has a dick today)

Warnings: pre-existing relationships (and therefore pre-existing kink negotiations), ma'am kink, mommy kink, alcohol consumption, blood kink/drinking, spitting, aether is always a little stressed (and gets called daddy once), handjob, blowjob, anal fingering, spit as lube, anal sex, dumbification, come play, come eating, there is so much come, praise kink, knotting, breeding kink (very mild and only if you squint but just in case), horribly unreliable narrator, no beta we die like nihil; as is typical of my writing sensitive kink (mommy in this case) has been italicized and bolded for easy skipping - i know this isn't a kink for everyone, please keep yourself safe

Author’s Note: as always please mind the tags and don't read if anything squicks you out! i fear my brainrot is now terminal and i am making that everyone else's problem (sorry). if i missed a tag in the warnings or you think i should add something please let me know - i try and be thorough! enjoy, share what you can, and be well ~

additional disclaimer: this is about literal demons straight from hell and has absolutely nothing to do with the actual band members of Ghost, unless someone dyed themselves blue or gold and we all missed it

read on ao3

Vernal equinox had passed, but the ghouls were still in celebration mode, the walls of the den overflowing with small paper flowers. The pink moon was due to rise - the first full moon of spring always cause for extra celebration. It was welcomed around the abbey by all members for ushering in growth and change, solidifying partnerships of all sorts. 

Phantom, Aurora, and Dew decorated while Sunshine and Cirrus cooked, the den slowly filling with the warm smell of freshly baked bread. Mountain and Aether were arranging the plants to best receive the moon's energy, while Swiss and Cumulus worked on setting up a large nest in the center of the den. 

The only one absent from the preparations was Rain, but her packmates were certain that she would come by when she was ready if she felt so called. Every moonrise was different, but this moon in particular had a strong effect on her. Sometimes the pull was so intense she would spend the evening at the bottom of the lake worshiping in her own way, or she would slink away with the other water ghouls of the abbey. 

Today, however, she wanted to play with her pack, painting her face with a gentle pink blush and lipstick. It stood out beautifully against her navy-freckled teal skin, making her sharp teeth seem even brighter. She hummed at her reflection once she finished smudging her eyeliner, the red she put on the waterline bleeding into faded black. Predatory. 

Rain was flicking through her closet when the smell of dinner wafted under her door, her ears flickering once they picked up on the sound of quiet laughter. She huffed, passing over dress after dress, jumpsuit after crop top, nothing feeling quite right or looking as powerful as the moon was making her feel. She was fiddling with her belly ring when her eyes landed on a small black skirt next to the laundry that she had been meaning to return. One more wear wouldn’t make her anymore late on giving the clothing back to its rightful owner, right? 

“Perfect,” she smiled to herself, wriggling into the skintight black leather miniskirt, sporting a slit that left absolutely no thigh to the imagination. It hugged every part of her perfectly, highlighting where her cock was straining against a too small pair of panties. Once satisfied with its placement she put on a black lace bandeau, followed by a sheer black crop top. 

The only thing missing was shoes, and she slipped into pink heels that matched her lipstick before heading out the door, her tail wagging slowly through the air. 

When she rounded the corner into the den’s common room the air shifted, the whole pack taking a collective breath when they saw her. 

“Wow,” Swiss whispered under his breath, his foot tapping rapidly under the table. 

“Mo- mo- mom-m-” 

Phantom was stuttering, frozen in place before Cumulus clapped her hand over his mouth, whispering in their ear. 

“She will eat you alive baby. Let her get settled, she just got here.” 

Their ears started to twitch like he was going to make a move, but when they saw how Rain's teeth seemed to glow in the light he nodded, leaning into Cumulus's side, content to watch for the moment. Dew, however, was not. He wanted Rain near him always, and especially now. 

Dew was probably a little too inebriated to be attempting anything close to chivalry, but anytime he saw Rain like this his brain deflated while his blood supply funneled south. 

“Saved you a chair, beautiful,” he hummed, standing to pull out the seat beside his own. 

He should have left his glass on the table, really, but the thought didn't cross his mind until he bumped into Rain, burgundy wine sloshing out of his glass to drip down her exposed stomach. The room was still, Mountain having sucked in a sharp breath while Aether started to stand, readying himself to intervene. The sparkle of Dew's skin began to fade as his face fell, turning to run into the kitchen for a towel. 

He didn't make it very far, Rain's hand reaching out to grab the back of his neck. She pulled him back and pushed him to his knees, leaning on the chair. 

“Clean your mess, Dewdrop.” 

Aether breathed a sigh of relief and plopped back into his chair while the color returned to Phantom's face, eager to see what was next. His tail thumped quietly on their chair. 

Dew looked at Rain for a brief moment before dropping his head, speaking quickly. 

“Yes ma'am, thank you ma'am.” 

Rain's eyes dilated and her fingers flexed, breath stuttering for just a moment when Dew’s hot tongue met the cool skin of her stomach, lapping up the wine. He made sure to clean around the band of her skirt first, knowing how much she hated stains. 

Once he felt the area was thoroughly cleaned he delicately worked his way to her belly button, wrapping his tongue around the glittery, dangling jewelry and sucking it clean. He tongued around the attached belly chains, not wanting to miss a single drop. There was a quiet moan from behind them, but Dew didn't dare lift his eyes, focusing instead on the beautiful creature before him.

Rain stuck her hand out and Cirrus placed Dew's half spilled glass of wine into it, complimenting her skirt. 

She smiled while she swirled the glass in her hand, bringing it to her nose for a quick sniff. 

“Thank you, I've been meaning to return it -” 

Cirrus's laugh sounded like little bells in the wind. 

“Please, keep it. You look better in it then I do.” 

Rain smiled and bent to the side, knocking their horns together. “You're too sweet to me Cici, I'll be sure to properly thank you later.” 

She smiled back, blowing her a soft kiss before returning her attention back to Mountain, tugging him from the table and towards the nest. Chairs scraped on the floor as everyone shuffled around, still watching Rain and Dew’s exchange.  

Rain studied the glass of wine in her hand, turning it slowly. It was her favorite one, thick and full bodied, a few citrus notes at the end. 

Expensive. 

“How many dicks did you have to suck to get this?” 

Dew shrugged while lapping at her cool skin. It didn’t matter to him so he didn't keep count, he would do anything for his mate. Anything to see her smile, even if he wasn't sure she'd attend the evening festivities. 

“Four,” Sunshine giggled from Cumulus's lap. Rain purred, licking the tips of her fangs. 

Dew had finished his task and was sitting back on his heels, looking up to watch Rain take another sip of the wine. His tongue darted out from between his lips with a quiet whimper. Rain looked down at him, one perfectly done brow raised. 

“Need more?” 

Dew nodded his head rapidly before opening his mouth wide, groaning when Rain slipped her thumb into his mouth, pulling at his cheek. She took a large sip of wine before setting the glass down, bending at the waist to bring her lips to Dew's. His sharp gag as he struggled to swallow triggered a series of muffled groans and the slick sounds of hands meeting wet skin. 

“Thank you ma'am,” he panted, struggling to speak around her thumb. He rolled his head to the side, exposing his thick veins and the silvery scars of their prior couplings. 

“Got plenty for you, too, if you need.” 

Dew often begged to be bitten where his gills once were, aching to feel something there again. But now he was offering in submission, to let Rain take what she needed under the power of the moon. 

Her tongue darted out of the corner of her mouth as she looked him up and down. 

With a quick nod of her head Dew was scrambling towards the nest, quickly divesting himself of his clothes as he went. She slowly followed him, sinking to her knees to pull his back to her chest, running her nose along his neck. 

“Please,” Dew sighed, flexing his claws against his thighs.

Rain inhaled deeply against his cinnamon-scented skin, fangs fully dropping before she sank them into the crook of his neck, blood quickly filling her mouth. He groaned low, the pitch only going higher when she took his hard cock into her hand, slowly stroking him from root to tip as she drank. 

“Rainy,” Aether warned gently from across the nest, voice cracking with the way Swiss had his mouth wrapped around his cock. 

She pulled herself from Dew's neck, licking at the corner of her mouth to gather a drop of his shimmering blood. 

“Don’t worry so much daddy, Dewdrop knows his limits. Would never hurt him more than he wants, promise.” 

“All good Aeth,” Dew agreed, raising a thumbs up which quickly dropped back to the pillows with a loud purr when Rain started to clean the wounds at his neck. Her tongue slowly worked around each puncture, her fist mimicking the movements of her mouth against the quickly darkening head of his cock. 

Aether nodded and fell back on his elbows, digging his fingers into Swiss’s hair, determined to enjoy the first night off in… a while. But a set of eyes still remained fully planted on Rain and Dew, the movement of a flickering tail catching her attention from the corner of her eye. 

“You okay bug? Not in the mood to play?” 

Dew barely opened his eyes, biting into his lower lip with a groan as Rain gently stroked him. 

“Wanted to watch, if that's okay with you both mm-ma'am.” 

Dew was nodding before he even finished their sentence, and Rain was grinning like a shark, Dew's crimson blood smeared all over her lips and chin. She didn't miss the way Phantom's eyes dropped to her mouth, watching her lick another spot clean. 

“Just want to watch?” 

Phantom blinked hard before forcing their eyes away from the mess, chewing at the corner of his lip. 

“He um… He just smells really good.” 

“Would you like a taste, sweetness?” 

Phantom nodded eagerly, eyes back on her mouth. “Please ma'am, please.” 

Rain beckoned him over with two crooked fingers, stifling a laugh at the eager way Phantom's tongue licked across her chin. Dew whined in her lap, quickly hushed by the drag of her pre soaked fingers up his chest to toy with the bar running through his nipple. 

Phantom hummed as he licked at her lips and chin, quiet thank you's between their breaths. 

“So polite,” Rain smiled, holding his chin to kiss them deep and slow. Phantom groaned when she slipped her tongue into their mouth, filling him with the taste of a beachside bonfire and hot iron. It was intoxicating, and they would let her have every ounce of air in his lungs if they could stay just like this forever. 

When they broke apart Phantom was a panting mess, claws digging into his own thighs. 

“Thank you mommy -” 

They paused, blinking his eyes and shaking their head to clear it. 

“Sorry thank you mommy -”

Another huff, trying to hide a whine that would rival Dew's. 

“I'm sorry momm- ma’am. Thank you ma’am.” 

Rain just smiled as she twisted Dew’s nipple between her fingers, his keen cutting through the heavier sounds of fucking that had filled the room. The way her head was tilted probably should've sent Phantom running, but instead his cock kicked against their thigh, a shiver running up his back. 

“So dumb you're having trouble speaking and I've only kissed you. Don't worry sweet little bug, mommy will take good care of you.” 

Phantom choked on their inhale as pre blurted on his leg, and Dew whined even louder, drawing Rain's attention back to him. His cock was weeping freely, begging for release while she kept teasing at his chest, working her other hand under his chin to turn him towards her. 

“Did you lose your words too?” 

Dew groaned when she started to slide her hand back towards his cock, lifting his hips to try and meet her. 

“You know I love your voice Dewdrop, if you need a moment you can watch Phantom and I play for a while.” 

Phantom's tail smacked against the pillows so quickly it sounded like someone running down the hall. Dew shook his head, voice just starting to splinter with need. 

“No ma'am, need you. Need you please.” 

“What do you need,” she cooed, pushing a lock of golden hair behind his half drooped ears. 

“Want - need your cock, your knot. Need you to fill me ‘til I swell with you, please, need you so bad.” 

Rain hummed, tapping her fingers along Dew's length while he squirmed. Phantom crept closer, kneeling in front of the pair, fangs poking into their lower lip. 

She paused, looking across both Phantom and Dew, finally settling on an idea. 

“Phantom, sweetness, you're being so good. Do you want a nice hot dick in your mouth?” 

“Please, mommy.” 

“Excellent,” she purred, kneeling tall behind Dew as she folded him to the floor.

“Why don't you come get this skirt off, without ripping it, while I get Dew all worked open hm?” 

They smiled so wide Rain was sure his ears would fall off, scrambling to her side to examine the zipper. With careful fingers Phantom undid the clasp, gently sliding the zipper down while watching Rain run her nails down Dew's back, making him arch. 

He leaned in close to her to work the band of the skirt down, breath hitching when they caught the gentle scent of orange blossoms on a sea breeze. Rain was always dangerous, the sharp iridescent scales that framed her face and joints were a reminder of that. But right now, she was deadly. 

A whine bubbled up from their throat when the band of her skirt caught on her cock, unable to bring it any lower. Rain glanced down to find Phantom gently pawing at her, looking up at her with big sad eyes. 

“Wanna be good and help you, but it's stuck. Don't wanna ruin your pretty skirt.” 

“Sweet little bug.” 

She smiled as she stood, gently ruffling their mop of hair before letting the skirt pool around her ankles. She stepped out of it and her shoes, returning to her spot behind Dew. Phantom's mouth watered at the sight of her cock hard and leaking into delicate pink lace, barely contained. 

She brought two fingers to his lips, tapping them as she spoke. 

“Get these nice and wet for me, then you can have a taste.” 

Dew groaned loud, wrapping his tail around Rain's free wrist. He pushed his ass further up, hips swaying slightly. 

Phantom moaned around Rain's fingers, wrapping their tongue around her long digits while sucking at the tips. When they pulled away he made sure to leave a thick line of saliva up her fingers, watching with rapt attention as she smeared it around with her thumb. 

She nodded her head towards Dew's exposed hole, telling him to spit. They were happy to oblige, sticky with want themselves, aching to make Rain happy. He trilled when she hummed with approval, bringing her wet fingers to Dew's hole, pressing the tip of her index finger inside. Dew's gasp was anything but quiet. 

“You're both being so good for me,” Rain praised, shifting on her legs to make the bulge of her cock more prominent. Phantom couldn't help the thin line of saliva that dripped from their fangs and down his chin. 

“Come have a taste, Ant.” 

Phantom eagerly licked across his lips, dipping down to settle against Rain's lap. They began to mouth at her cock through her already too wet panties, running his tongue up and down her length. She purred low, her free hand working into their hair while the other pressed into Dew. 

“Just the best bug, sweetest little thing,” she cooed. 

“Rainy,” Dew whined, wiggling back onto her fingers. “I need -” 

She curled her finger up, stroking against his prostate while shushing him gently. 

“I know baby, I know.” 

Dew adjusted his arms so he could rest his face against them, his back making a pretty arch. His golden skin always seemed to glitter most in dim light; he’d certainly be glowing once the moon fully rose.. Rain hummed as she worked a second finger into him, quickly followed by a third. She scissored them as much as she could, making sure Dew was starting to stretch. He was already leaking, a leftover trait from his time as a water ghoul, the slick sound filling the space. 

Phantom moaned at the sight, his drool further wetting Rain's cock. She rolled her hips gently against their chin, his attention quickly returning to suckling at her tip. 

“Please,” Dew whimpered, claws flexing into whatever poor cushion he latched on to, “ready for you now. Need to feel you, want it to ache.” 

Rain purred as she pulled her fingers from Dew, her other hand still nested in Phantom’s curls. 

“Don't worry baby, it's coming. Being so good for me. Showing off for Phantom, huh? Showing them how good you can be?” 

“Only for you ma'am,” Dew sighed, wiggling his little hips. 

Rain pinched at his nearly non-existent ass cheek before returning her attention back to Phantom, gently pulling him away from her cock. 

“Do you want to watch, or would you like to play with Dew?” 

Dew trilled, his answer obvious. Phantom had the sense to at least look like he was thinking about it before planting a kiss to her cheek and shuffling towards Dew's head, settling on their knees in front of him. 

Dew stretched out as much as he could, wrapping first his fist and then his tongue around Phantom's cock. Plum-flushed like Aether gets, although the purple was swirled with grey instead of gold. He hissed when Dew took them into his mouth, head dropping back at the heat of his tongue. 

Rain smirked as she watched them, taking her own cock in hand and pressing the head to Dew's hole. He leaned back into her, stretching himself between his partners, urging her to give him more. 

She wrapped her long fingers around the base of his tail and tugged, using the extra leverage to slide inside with a guttural moan. Dew responded with one of his own, muffled by Phantom pushing themself deeper down his throat. 

“Not gonna last,” Phantom grumbled, his hand locked around Dew's bun. “Feels too good.” 

“Mhm I know,” Rain smiled, rolling her hips to drive her cock straight against Dew's prostate. He popped off of Phantom with a little whine of protest, his breathing heavy when she began to pull at his puffy nipples. 

“Dewy isn't gonna last so long either, huh baby?” 

She asked with a particularly hard thrust into him, Phantom's eyes wide watching Dew's roll back into his head. They pulled from Dew’s mouth to rest for a moment, unwillingly to reach his end so soon. Dew’s mouth was legendary for a reason, after all. 

“Go ahead, get that pretty mouth on Dew's little cock, he wants it so bad.” 

Rain's words pulled them from their trance, blinking a few times with his head tilted just to the side before nodding quickly, shuffling back down to take Dew to the back of his throat. 

Rain wrapped one of her arms around Dew's waist and the other tangled back into Phantom's hair, rubbing gently at the sensitive skin behind their ear. Dew's hands were everywhere, flying from Rain's head to Phantom's, digging in his own thighs and pressing on Rain's, lifting his hips to help guide her into that perfect spot while desperately trying to not choke Phantom. 

She didn’t need the help, she knew Dew's body as well as she knew her own. Maybe better, even, with the way she had him moaning while dragging her cock over the perfect spot. Each roll of her hips was punctuated by one of his breathy sighs, adding to the cacophony of the room. 

Phantom for his part was chirping happily, licking long trails across the thick veins on the underside of Dew’s cock. When Rain pushed them forward he happily followed, swallowing around Dew's length with a pleased hum. Rain cooed at him from over Dew's shoulder, scratching behind his ear again before grabbing the back of his head. 

“Tap twice if you need to breathe, yeah?” 

Phantom brought his tail up and tapped the spade twice against her hand, rolling their hips gently into the nest of blankets below him. 

Rain smiled that far too toothy grin, thrusting into Dew and driving his cock further into Phantom's throat. Dew was all but jelly between them, held up by Rain's arm around his waist and Phantom’s hand pressed into his chest, his tail slowly tangling with Rain's in search of something more to hold onto. 

Phantom's tongue was good, great actually, Dew's thoughts on the matter filling the space as choked off babbling. When Phantom wrapped their tongue underneath Dew's head and sucked Dew was certain he'd open his eyes and be back in the pit, unholy pleasure running hot in his veins. 

Rain hooked her chin over Dew's shoulder, nuzzling at the space below his ear. 

“Don't swallow sweetness, let him dribble out of your mouth, down your face. That okay?” 

Phantom moaned in affirmation around Dew's length, nodding his head as best he could. It wouldn't be long now, Dew's balls were heavy in their hands, getting tighter with every thrust of Rain's hips driving him further into their mouth. 

She drove harder into him, and Dew's hands fisted Phantom's soft hair right next to Rain’s. 

“Rain, Rain, Rainy, fuck -” 

Dew's voice went high until it broke off, dying out as he painted inside Phantom's mouth. Phantom hummed as he took every drop, careful to not swallow. Once Dew had stopped pulsing they pulled away, sitting back with their head slightly tilted slightly forward before smiling, Dew's spend trickling out of his mouth and down their neck. 

“Fucking nasty,” Rain mumbled, pressing herself hard against Dew, grinding her hips to his ass. “Just how you like it, huh?”  

Dew nodded in agreement, his voice breaking on every whimper Rain pulled from him as she chased her own release. 

“Lay back bug, slide closer to me.” 

Phantom melted for her, nearly pressing themself into Dew's chest before dropping onto his back, tail shifting to rest on Dew’s thigh. They moaned when Rain wrapped her talented hand around his length, back lifting from the pillows. 

“Haven't even been touched yet,” she cooed, and Phantom shook their head. “Such a good, patient little thing.” 

Phantom nodded hard, like he was trying to say waiting for you. 

“Whenever you like, sweetness.” 

Their voice was trapped in his throat, muffled by every unholy sound Rain could pull from them as she worked his cock at the same tempo she nailed Dew, who was putty at this point. He was limp in her arms, begging for her release, her knot. For everything, for nothing, for all of it at once. 

Phantom wasn't sure how long they'd last, and when Rain rubbed her finger across his slit to gather a pearl of pre just to taste it they knew it wouldn't be long. 

She hummed in pleasure at the tang of him, mixed with the carbonated vanilla of their benzoin scent. Her hand quickly returned, long manicured fingers wrapping around their length, pulling in the most devastating way. 

Phantom could feel their eyes crossing as he watched, Rain's hand firm against him, the other tight around Dew. They brought their tail to where Rain and Dew’s were tangled together, joining the heap. 

Dew was crying now, his cock hard again, gold skin glistening. He begged, Rain purred, Phantom tried to keep their claws to themself but he looked so pretty, eyes screwed tight under a crown of sweat, his golden bun no longer neat and tidy. So they reached out, grabbing Dew by the base, feeling his little knot start to inflate under their hand. And if Phantom thought Dew had been crying before, well… He was really going now. 

“Little bug is being so sweet to you, aren't they,” Rain purred, licking below the shell of Dew's ear as she slowly ground her knot into his rim. 

“Yeah, yeah you both are. Need it ma'am, need your knot, need to cum -” 

The movement of Rain's hips became more frantic as she pressed more firmly into Dew, hissing when his tight body finally swallowed her knot, enveloping her in delicious heat. Dew keened, high pitched and devastated as he came into Phantom's hand, a string of thankyouthankyouthankyou falling from his wine stained lips. 

Dew was babbling, words broken and punctuated with breathy moans. Phantom wasn't much quieter, egging Dew on with their own muttering. C'mon Dewy, come for mommy. Make a mess, make me a mess. 

Rain followed quickly, the squeeze of Dew around her knot too much, biting into his neck with a groan from the depths of her throat. 

Phantom wasn't sure what brought them to the edge. Dew's hot come, the scent of his blood, the noise Rain made when she slid fully into his body. Maybe it was the way her calloused fingers rubbed against their frenulum with a talent flick of her wrist. All he knew was that they were floating, high in space, coated from the chin down in their own and Dew's release. 

He stirred when they heard Rain shuffling on her knees, laying down next to them with Dew tight in her arms. He hissed a little at the shuffle but it was good natured, her knot still buried tight inside his hole. Dew shuffled a bit closer, admiring the mess that was Phantom before turning his head to bat his lashes at Rain. 

“Go ahead Dew,” Rain smiled, blood dotting her lips. “Clean up your mess.”

[arvensimp]

your father should know, pt. 2

Arven leaves you with something more than either of you bargained for when he goes off to Kalos for an internship, and through a series of miscommunications and heartbreak, he returns a few years later to learn that he actually has a child.

arven x reader, nsfw content, pregnancy, angst, and stupid miscommunications

[part 1]

thanks for your patience waiting for this part!! also thank you to my beautiful betas for helping me <3

~

You're very grateful to Nemona, for having her nearby back when the doctor first confirmed your pregnancy. As excitable as she is, her Type A personality proved pretty handy in the moment. Yes, she got you home safe and sound, but she was also able to get appointments scheduled for you right then and there for whatever choice you decided to make moving forward.

You were hoping to have Arven with you to help you make a choice on what to do, but... Well, he has other things to focus on, and you're not going to begrudge him that. You won't let yourself think about it any further.

So you sit at your kitchen table with two different appointment cards in front of you to see your OBGYN's office. One is for a termination, the other is to go over...whatever you'll need to do if you decide you don't want to go through with the former appointment.

You have to cancel one of them. The fridge thrums behind you, a monotonous white noise that you wish you could focus on instead of the task ahead.

You press your forehead into your fingertips.

Okay.

Can you do this?

You're a champion of Paldea. One of the most beloved figures of the Pokemon scene in the region. You're powerful, with financial security to spare to be a single mother.

Can you be a mom?

Well...you feel like your Pokemon love you well enough. You love them like babies. Obviously a human is different. Especially if it's yours and...well, yeah. You think you can be a mom.

Lastly then, the question becomes: do you want to do this? At the end of the day, no one is forcing you one way or another. That's one blessing, at least, about being abandoned. Not abandoned. That's one blessing of being independent. You don't have to do anything you don't want to do.

You think... You think you've been thinking about this for a long time, as you have all the other questions. You do want this. You want to have a baby, your own sweet little one. They'll be so cute. They have to be, given their parentage.

…You try not to dwell on that part too much, but it's a little difficult.

Is it wrong to carry his baby without him? What if he doesn't want a child out there? Well. No. He must not care. If he did, he'd have said something. You don't have to worry about this being a betrayal of trust on your part.

Moving forward, you only need to worry about betraying the trust of the tiny life growing within you.

And...well, that thought gives you pause.

You finally allow your fingers to linger featherlight over your abdomen. You're nowhere near showing, nor can you feel anything substantial or physical there, but... You feel something.

Attachment. Devotion. Loyalty.

You don't know if this little thing is even the size of an oran berry yet, but... You've got a fierce love for it already just after thinking about it a little bit.

If your mind wasn't already made up, that would have made the decision for you.

You’re a mother now.

In the morning you call your OBGYN and cancel the tentative appointment to terminate. You'll be by later in the week to go over needs and expectations.

-

The automatic doors to the league slide open with a swipe of your access card, and stark white greets you. This isn't an easy conversation, and it's one that you can't put off for much longer. Beyond the fact that you'll start showing soon, Nemona has been chomping at the bit to talk about the baby at work and with anyone who'll listen. She's just so excited to be a tía, and if you don't tell La Primera soon, then you won't have control of the news when it eventually breaks.

You sit in the chair opposite her desk, feeling entirely too nervous, your hands clasped in your lap, thumbs twiddling. "Thanks for taking the time to meet with me today, Geeta." You start.

"Absolutely." She responds with her usual, impassive smile. "How can I be of service?"

"I, uh. I need to give you an advance notice of..." You swallow. "Of some need for medical leave."

Your boss tilts her head just slightly to the side, her massive mane of hair shimmering like an oil slick in the florescent light with just the smallest movement. "Oh?" You still can't read her true emotion well, but she's projecting the idea of concern. "Is everything alright?"

You will yourself not to touch your abdomen as you had been doing absent mindedly more and more often as of late. The habit grew on you more quickly than you'd expected. "Yes. I just, uh. Well... I'll be having a baby in a few months, and I know I'll be out of commission for a while."

"I see." Geeta's eyes flick almost imperceptibly down to your hands. Truth be told it's a movement that you would have missed if you hadn't spent countless hours learning to read her for the slightest tells through her battling. You feel a flush burn through your cheeks. Should you start wearing a ring?

"Congratulations and thank you for letting me know." Geeta is smiling at you again. "I completely understand. I'll see about having HR send you all the necessary paperwork, so we can get you all sorted. If I remember correctly, we offer a few flexible plans for expectant parents. Just choose whichever suits you best, and we can go from there." She's already turned to her computer and opened up an email, likely to the HR rep.

"Thank you," You reply, breathing a small sigh of relief. This really wasn't as painful as you were expecting.

"Just... One thing." Geeta adds, not looking back at you from her computer until she continues with a sigh. "We're going to want to keep you away from participation in field research tasks, the Ace Academy Tournament, and Championship testing for a short while."

She raises a single gloved hand in time with your cry of "What?!"

"You and I both know you are more than capable of holding your own, but..." She sighs. "Battling can still be dangerous, and we both know that Paldea still isn't the most well-known for its love of Pokemon. We're still building the league up. You know I trust you, but Arceus forbid something...unpleasant were to happen while on League business..." She pauses, and you nod, already resigned.

"I understand, Geeta. Better safe than sorry. I'd hate to hold the League back in any way at all." It feels weird saying it, but it isn't a lie? Firstly, you obviously don't want to hurt your little tamato berry (that's apparently how big it is now!), but also you genuinely wouldn't want anything to be associated with the League on the off chance that the unthinkable happened. "So... What will you have me do?"

Geeta leans forward, resting her chin in her gloved hands with a frown. "We've always got more paperwork."

-

The rest of the week is spent working closely with Geeta to wrap up your current research assignments that you owe to Jacq. There's nothing terribly dangerous or strenuous in what he'd had you doing, but...

"Are you serious?!" He nearly shouts when you give him the news. Jacq adjusts his glasses and eyes your body up and down in a way that would make you feel far more uncomfortable if not for the fact that you know he's very clearly looking for a bump, examining you in that way that only scientists seem to do without shame. 

"Yup..." You tell him, shifting awkwardly under his stare.

"Well, congrats! Who's the lucky dad?" He asks, clapping your shoulder jovially. 

You swallow. This has been easier to tell your doctor. Jacq is a friend. Your old teacher. You know him.

He picks up on your silence and lets his hand drop from you, going to scratch the back of his head uncomfortably. "Ah... Sorry about that! Anyway," He moves on quickly, turning to the board with his notes. "It's no big deal! You've given me plenty to work with. I can definitely just do data analysis for a while... And maybe one of the other champions can help me with some of the Area Zero research we're looking to do..."

Your heart squeezes. You're usually the one who gets sent into Area Zero. Most other champions don't have the constitution for solo trips or are too busy with other assignments.

You sigh. "Sorry, Jacq. It won't be forever though?"

He smiles back at you warmly. "Oh definitely! Don't worry about it, really! And congratulations! I'm super excited for you. Lemme know if you need anything, okay?"

You give him a smaller smile in response, still not feeling great about it all, and head to the door.

"Definitely."

You haven't even made it back to the entrance hall before you hear another familiar voice.

"Ah! Well, if it isn't one of our most illustrious champions."

"Director." You steel yourself and greet him with a nod.

Clavell catches up with you quickly. "It's been a minute since we've had you in the halls, hasn't it? To what do we owe the pleasure?" He asks, gesturing for you to follow him as he walks.

"Um. Yeah... It has," You say, moving at a bit of a faster clip to keep up with the director. "I was just checking in with Jacq on the latest for his research." 

"Is that so?" He says in that kind way that somehow also feels like he knows more than he's letting on.

You laugh a little nervously. "Yup! Just a check in..." Does he already know? Who would have told him? Geeta? Nemona? That would have been an invasion of privacy, right? "I, uh... I won't be able to be out in the field for a minute, so..."

Clavell raises an eyebrow as he looks down at you, still walking. "Should we continue this conversation in my office?"

"Sure?"

It's strange sitting in front of Clavell's desk again, especially like this. You're not his student anymore, yet you still feel like you're in trouble or about to get a lecture.

"So you're stepping back from fieldwork?" He asks you, looking genuinely concerned. "Did something happen?"

"Well..." You wriggle uncomfortably in the plush leather seat. "I'm actually pregnant, and La Primera and I decided it'd be for the best if I--"

"Congratulations!" The director interrupts, rather uncharacteristically. "That's marvelous news. I hadn't even known you were in a relationship."

You look down. "Yeah..."

From your peripheral you can see Clavell adjust his glasses on his nose. "So the father...?"

You feel a lump forming in your throat. This wouldn't be quite as hard if not for the fact that you had just gone through it with Jacq, and you still feel pretty raw about it. "He... Um. He doesn't seem to want to be involved, I guess..."

Clavell clears his throat. "I see... Well. I hope you know you have every resource here at the academy at your disposal, should you ever need anything."

The lump sitting there just above your vocal folds get impossibly tighter, so you just nod, squeezing your hands into fists on your knees.

Clavell tsks softly, standing and moving around. When he offers his spread arms in a hug, you take him up on it.

He won't tell if you happened to cry a little bit.

He's dealt with struggling single parents in his office before, and it's never easy.

-

So you end up working office duty with the League.

It's quiet, mostly, but the offices are nice. Larry gives you the low down on everything you need to know and then leaves you alone. You go to either him or to Rika if you have any questions about certain forms or which things go where.

All in all it's not bad. Not...exciting. Definitely not your preferred way to spend the rest of your life, but... Well, you know it isn't permanent.

Plus, as you get bigger and start having to walk less and waddle more, the ease of a desk job is kind of nice. Far better than riding a dragon at least.

You're sitting at your desk one day when the most delicious smell wafts through the office, and it nearly gets you drooling.

Whatever it is... You...you have to have it. You want it so bad it almost makes you want to cry.

What the fuck...

With a sigh and a bit of a grunt you stand and peak out the door to your office, following the smell to the break room.

Larry spots you from his seat at the table almost immediately, looking up at you from beneath his massive, bushy brows.

"Good afternoon." He shuts the tupperware containing his lunch. "I apologize if the smell was a little strong. I didn't intend for it to be. I can move outside if--"

"No!" You interrupt, entirely too loudly. "It smells really, really good actually." You swallow, eyeing the container reverently. "Super good. Uh... What is it?" Can I have it, can I have it? Let me have it, I want it, I want it, I need it NOW.

"Oh." Larry opens up the tupperware once more, and you actually feel the sting of your mouth salivating anew. "Just some grilled rice balls. Remember the ones from the gym challenge? Same ones, extra lemon."

"...Oh..." Did you lick your lips? You don't know. You may have. All you know is that the food there sounds...so good.

Larry calls your name in his usual dull monotone, breaking you from your craving trance. "Would you like some?"

You're in the chair across from him faster than you care to admit, and Larry smiles a small, tired kind of smile at you.

From then on, he seems to make a habit to bring along extra food to work. He keeps a pint of ice cream for you in the freezer too, just in case you have a day where things feel bad. He says ice cream can usually help with that sort of thing.

In fact, not too long later, he imagines you might be having one of those days. Larry isn't really one to pry. He likes to come in, do work, take his 15 minute break, work some more, take his lunch, work, take another break, then go home. But...with a pregnant lady in the office, he can't help but secretly fret just a little bit. Not in a weird way or something, but he keeps an ear out, just in case.

So when he hears soft sniffling coming from your office one day after you'd come back from some appointment or other he's a little nervous. He doesn't actually want you talking to him or crying on him or something... But you're clearly upset. Not upset enough to just go home, so it can't be that bad, but...

He goes back to the break room, grabs the ice cream and a spoon, sets them both outside your door, knocks gently, then leaves.

Ice cream should help.

That said, he still bristles when you inevitably knock on his door a few minutes later, the spoon in your mouth and the pint of raspberry cheesecake ice cream in your hands.

"...Thank you..." You say miserably around the metal in your mouth, eyes cast to the floor.

"No problem. ...Is it helping?" Larry asks, trying to focus on the spreadsheet he's working on. Stupid pivot tables.

"Yeah..." You come in uninvited and sit in the seat across from him. This isn't really what he was hoping to deal with, but it's fine. He can listen.

Except you don't talk. You just sit with him, slowly spooning more of the treat into your mouth. Eventually Larry hazards a look at you. Your eyes are rimmed red, but you don't look too terrible, honestly.

He sighs but it doesn't sound agitated. "How can I help?"

Now that you've been prompted, you reach into your pocket and reveal several tiny squares of paper, lining them up on his desk.

"Look!" You tell him, the sound coming out kinda wet and sad.

They're...ultrasound photos?

"Uh... Very nice?" Larry asks you.

"Aren't they beautiful?" You hiccup around the spoon.

At that time Rika just happens to be making her afternoon rounds, when she picks up on your whimpering and storms into the office.

"Hey! Is this geezer giving you a hard time, Mama?" She asks you affectionately, rubbing your shoulders.

"Come on now," Larry says, exasperated, as you shake your head.

"I'm just being silly." You tell her, gesturing to the pictures. "They did a little photoshoot today." The sentence is punctuated with a loud sniffle.

Rika scoops up the lot and overdramatically coos over them. She doesn't seem much like one for kids herself, but she's been very nice to you since you've been put on desk duty. She asks how you're feeling regularly and offers you decaf coffee or tea whenever she goes to make some for herself. From time to time she also walks out of the building with you, just making sure you get to a cab safely.

"Yeah, I dunno entirely what I'm looking at, but I'm positive it's cute." She points to a particular splotch on a photo. "Like that? That's it, right? The little bun you got baking in there? Kinda looks like a clodsire!"

"Rika..." Larry interjects, glancing at you. Truth be told he can kinda see the clodsire-ish shape? But he's never actually been one to be able to read an ink blot test, much less something as complicated as an ultrasound.

You laugh. "Wanna keep it?" You ask her. "I had them print a ton."

Rika pockets the photo. "Hell yeah I wanna keep it. I'm betting this lil bean a'yers is basically gonna be the next Poppy, so I'm gonna be its biggest fan from before day 1."

You can't help but laugh again. "Thank you..."

Rika slides a photo over to Larry. "You're gonna be its fan, too, right?" She smiles wide and somewhat menacing, but who's to say if there's any real malice behind it.

Larry takes the picture gingerly from her. "Of course."

And for some reason that has you blubbering wetly all over again.

"Thank you both..."

"Oh, just eat your ice cream..." Larry tells you, and when he says it, it's not harsh or mean. Just kind of paternal, as if the treat will fix your hormones.

"C'mon, Mama," Rika tells you, helping you to your feet with a shocking bit of strength for her lanky frame. "I think Larry can only handle so many tears in one sitting. Let's go give a photo to La Primera, yeah?"

You nod and are led out of the office.

Only then does Larry give a sigh of relief.

He pins the little black and white photo up on his corkboard later. He can't tell anything about what's actually in it. Like what's a foot or a nose or something, but...well it makes him happy somehow. Something about the future and all that.

-

Rika's the first one who feels the baby kick. Nemona swore up and down that it would be her, but it just so happens that Rika's around when you're feeling those fluttery jumbles inside one day. You'd, of course, been feeling them for a while now, but no one else had been able to pick up on it, much to your... Well, you weren't sure if it was satisfaction or dissatisfaction. Up until now, your little potato had only been yours, but when someone else is eventually able to feel it...then it's not just yours anymore, is it? What a strange feeling.

Regardless, Rika had asked if you were down for a light match, just some training between some of your younger pokemon, parts of your teams that you were hoping to train up for the future.

"But La Primera..."

"The Boss told you not to take part in any serious battling. I saw your plan. I'm basically HR here, remember?" She shoots you a wink. "No pressure if you don't wanna, but I know I'd be itching to battle if I were you." It's true... Nemona's been taking some of your heavier hitters out for work outs from time to time, as had Dendra once, but you really miss being in the driver's seat.

You hum thoughtfully. "Lemme go through my boxes and think about it?"

"Sure thing." Rika plops down in your office chair, opposite your desk and starts playing on her rotom phone while you scroll through your boxes.

...You'd been thinking at one point about working out an all paradox team, but that's out of the question right now. You couldn't handle a crazy time-loopy volcarona if it got too wild.

There are a few water types you were thinking about training up, but that also feels unfair specifically to Rika who specializes in ground... Then something catches your eye.

An egg. You don't entirely remember when you'd put it in a box or where it came from, but the growing maternal part of you screams to let it come be part of the family, so you send for it along with a teddiursa you'd caught a few months back.

All in all, the battling itself isn't terribly exciting by your typical standards. You and Teddiursa barely know each other after all, and it isn't quite ready to lend you its full trust, but you know it has sass and spark. The two of you go up against one of Rika's younger wooper, not really battling to faint. Just to have some fun.

The shouting and excitement must do something for the baby though because it jolts inside you, knocking you off balance and kicking the air from your lungs. You stagger a bit, gripping your midsection with an unladylike grunt, and Rika dashes to you quick as a Cinderace.

"Hey hey hey, what's up?"

"I'm fine, I'm fine. Just got sucker punched or kicked, I think? Here, wanna feel? That was pretty strong." It's such a bizarre experience you don't even think about the weirdness of asking Rika if she wants to touch you. She just takes you up on the offer, laying both hands on the roundness of your abdomen.

She stands still like that for a moment, then two, then three before you feel your baby wiggling around again, and her eyes go wide as a jigglypuff's. "Holy shit that's weird," She says with a laugh, pressing a bit against the feeling to see if she can get the baby to respond more. "Hey! You in there?" She says to them. "Seems like you might wanna battle some day. Well, don't let your Auntie Nemona know, kay? She'll never let you go a day without it."

The baby kicks solidly against one of her hands, and she laughs, pulling back.

"Kid's got fire! We like to see it!"

-

"The Kickening" as it comes to be known, kind of creates a silly sort of mock-rivalry between Rika and Nemona for who they think will make the best auntie/tía, which rises to a fever pitch between them when it comes to planning your baby shower. That said, you insist to the pair that you don't want to make any huge sort of fuss. Maybe a small party, no major gifts. You just need some essentials. Things like diapers, maybe some formula, and that's it. You feel like you've been a burden already, slowing down Jacq's research, not able to contribute to the league as you usually do, even unable to train your team as you want.

Nemona vehemently disagrees, but Rika seems to calm her down. "We should listen to the mama on this one." She throws a wink your way. "How about this, Nemona. Why don't I take our sweet girl out for a day of pampering instead?"

"Hey, what?" You and Nemona both cry at once, but Rika is already dragging you to the door, a grin evident on her features.

"C'mon... I'm sure Nems can see herself out."

And somehow it works?

Rika gets you out of the house that morning in your sweats and into one of those cute, trendy maternity stores that you'd sort of been avoiding because you were putting off buying new clothes for yourself when you knew there was still so much to buy for the baby... But then again you also hadn't been buying terribly much on that front either, having only just completed your research and created the list of which products you want.

So you get squeezed? Actually not squeezed. Actually comfortably fit! Into a nice flowy dress that makes you look and feel super cute. Your reflection smiles back at you from the mirror, and you look down to your bump which looks very comfortable and snug as a bug in the shapewear you've got on beneath the dress. You do a little swish for yourself, admiring the way the fabric flows a bit. The skirt of the dress isn't terribly over-the-top flowy, but it's got that nice amount of swing to it.

You feel pretty. Not that you have felt particularly bad lately, but... Well, you hadn't thought much about yourself. You haven't had the time.

Before you leave the shop, Rika also buys you one of those popular L&D dresses that you can wear in the hospital rather than a drab and shapeless gown. It's apparently got all the bits and bobs and holes and whatever that you'll need to...have a baby and look cute doing it? You're not totally sure, but the dress looks nice enough, and the fabric feels soft and cool on your fingers.

Next up on your little day of pampering is a pre-natal massage at a spa. You try to tell Rika that this is way too much, that you can't accept something so fancy, but she just laughs and pushes you forward, tipping your massage therapist before you even go back to undress, telling the woman that you're "a very important woman to the region."

Your therapist is incredible, working away tension that you hadn't realized you developed in your shoulders and lower back. She speaks softly and kindly, with one of those voices that you might expect to hear in an ASMR video. She doesn't even care when you accidentally moan a little bit when she worked out a particular knot in your shoulder that you hadn't realized was bugging you.

By the time you're back on your feet, you feel like you might actually have grown 2 or 3 centimeters.

You waddle back out to Rika with a blissed out smile on your face.

"That good?"

You just nod.

"Good. We're not done though."

Next thing you know you're being taken to a local birthing center where they're starting up a session of Lamaze classes.

Truth be told you've been interested in taking classes like these but were too nervous to sign up since...well, you don't have a partner.

Rika slips a companionable arm around your shoulder.

"Feel free to say no to this if you don't want to, but one of the tenents of their practice here is advocacy for the birthing person in L&D, and I thought you might like that? I can be with you every step of the way, too. If you want, 'course." She sniffs casually.

"Like...you'll take the class too?" You ask, wincing. She's really okay with that?

"Hell yeah. Only if you want though. There's absolutely no pressure. Yeah?"

And because she's Rika, ever casual, you know she means it.

You nod.

"Yeah. This...this should be good."

And it is! It's only an introductory class, and you'll be back over for the next few weeks to learn more, but it feels good to be learning something in a group setting.

You also wouldn't say this if you were prompted, but it's nice not to feel alone. Sure, Rika isn't your girlfriend or your wife, but she makes for a great partner, solid and steady as the ground, funnily enough.

The two of you leave class, arms linked, laughing over what the instructor told the class about stupid things that dads say in the delivery room. 

"Are you here to seduce my wife?" Rika says in a mockingly deep voice.

"Darling, the term is induce." You reply in a similarly silly voice, your tone wavering with the effort it takes not to giggle

"Well, either way, I'm not so sure I like it!"

Conversation falls back to light and easy topics from there as you make your way together back to your place.

"You really didn't have to walk me all this way home, y'know," You tell Rika as you unlock the door.

"Eh, it's fine. Gotta make sure you get home safe and all that." She replies, reaching over you to prop open the door for you to enter once your key leaves the lock.

"Yeah, yeah, precious cargo and all that. Come on in. At least have something to drink before you go."

You flip on the light to your entryway and living room space.

"SURPRISE!"

You screech (and truth be told you might even pee a little, but no one has to know that part).

In your living room is nearly everyone you care about in the damn region, decked out in pinks, blues, and yellows with super gaudy and over the top baby shower decor littering your entire apartment.

Nemona tackles you about as gently as a pregnant woman can be tackled.

"Don't be mad, don't be mad, don't be mad! We all just wanted to celebrate you and the baby, okay?!" She's biting her lip and hopping up and down excitedly.

"Are you guys for real?" You ask, and you're not totally sure what emotion you're feeling in the moment.

"Of course," Rika tells you, slinging her arm over your shoulder. "We all love you, y'know?"

"Actually," Larry speaks up from his seat on your sofa, where he's wearing a soft pink party hat with a tiny yellow puff ball. "I'd like to maintain a friendly working relationship here, but I was outvot--" 

Hassel elbows him jovially in the gut. He's already crying. "Don't worry aboud him." He sniffles, "We're all jus' so habby for you!" Brassius is on his other side, patting his knee.

And maybe it's Hassel? Maybe it's just the entire day's kindness and goodness, but the tears start flowing then and there. Big, ugly sobs wracking through your chest even though you're smiling and thanking everybody.

Nemona and Rika are of course hugging you, but a few others join in on the group hug as well, including Hassel, Salvatore, Saguaro, and Katy.

When you seem to have calmed down a bit (at least enough to form sentences again), Nemona takes your hands. "Here. Lemme show you what we did."

She guides you to the spare bedroom that you kept telling yourself would be the nursery for the baby...and inside... It's like Christmas morning for how many gifts litter the place. It's no longer your spare room for your camping equipment (you'll need to ask Nemona where she or whoever else put that). It's...it's a nursery now.

The crib that you wanted is there, assembled and everything. The car seat/stroller combo you'd been eyeing is also sitting in a corner, and there are so many other gifts, you're not quite sure what to do.

"Do... Do I open them now?" You ask, blinking back more tears. "I need to find stationary!"

"Already gotcha covered," Nemona tells you, notepad in hand. She assigns herself the task of noting down who has gifted you what for thank you note writing purposes later.

As it turns out, the crib is a gift from La Primera herself, lovingly assembled by the leaders of Team Star who leave not long after you thank them profusely. Penny also throws in a state-of-the-art baby monitor that she promises to show you how to use later. The car seat/stroller combo is Nemona's gift.

"I'm telling you, I want to find an engineer or someone who can figure out a way to create a baby side car that we can hook up to Raidon! But no one will take me up on the offer..."

"Yeah, Nems... I believe you..."

Hassel gifts you with a gorgeously refurbished, antique rocking chair with a beautiful swirling design etched into the sides of the arms and the rockers, while Brassius made a tiny mobile that hangs above the crib with little sunkerns and applins dancing in a circle.

"Special commission for a special champion." He tells you with a wink. "Not entirely Avant Garde, but we'll start the baby's art education young."

Larry goes next, opting to give you his gift, so he can politely excuse himself. "I know they're not very fun," He says with a shrug, depositing the massive box of diapers in an appropriate place. "But you'd probably have more fun shopping for fun things than I would anyway."

You give him a quick side hug and release him from his social obligation.

Saguaro's gift, a fancy pink high chair, is actually in the kitchen next to your dining table, near all the pastries that Katy brought for you and everyone. He shows you all of the different adjustments and things on it, but also makes sure that you know where he put the assembly guide which has instructions as well.

At this point, Salvatore is nearly bouncing with excitement to give you his gifts. Firstly, his wife wanted to be sure you got a little baby saucer for the baby to play in, but more importantly. "Baby sign language is the future!" Salvatore tells you, thrusting the book into your hands. "You'll be able to communicate with one another so much sooner than you could with words! Isn't that wonderful?"

Jacq also ends up giving you a ton of baby books, as well as a small bookshelf "To grow their library!" Included are some of those fabric page books that can't be torn or plastic books that can be taken in the bath, as well as some with buttons or finger puppets included. It's pretty clear that Jacq had a blast going through the children's section at the bookstore.

When you open up the gift from Tulip (which was also hastily signed as being from Dendra and Miriam as well) you're a bit confused. "Thank you so much. This is all...skincare and body care?"

"Of course," Tulip tells you in that beautiful twinkling voice of hers. "A good mother is one who takes care of herself, too. You can't pour from a cup that's empty. Remember that, okay?"

You nod and make a silent promise to take her words to heart.

Lastly, Director Clavell approaches you with two different gift bags. The first contains a few books on parenting that he claims were very useful to him "back in the day," and the other....

"'Love Clive?'" You ask with a smile. Clavell adjusts his glasses on the bridge of his nose. 

"Of course. Your good buddy Clive sends his best regards and wanted to let you know to, ahem, 'Stay cheugy.'"

That gets the younger crowd absolutely roaring with laughter, much to Clavell's confusion, but he lets it slide.

Inside the gift bag is a tiny leather jacket, perfect for a little rocker baby. You stick out your lower lip as you run your thumbs across the tidy stitching. "Oh my goodness..." You hold it tight to your chest. It's so small, and you don't want to cry again, but Hassel's loud sniffling is making it difficult.

Clavell coughs into his fist. "A-actually, you know what, Clive might want to return the jacket..." He tells you, reaching for it.

"What, why?" You ask before noticing that several faces in the room have turned red from folks holding back laughter. You look down at the little garment again and turn it over in your hands.

On the back is a massive sewn-on patch with a winking brown coil and word art that stretches above and below it reading 'Poo Monster.'

"O-Oh no!" You cry, shaking with laughter as the rest of the room bursts out with you.

Clavell, for his part, looks suitably mortified, mumbling about how he had no idea about the art on the back, but you insist it gives the jacket even more charm, not daring to let him take it back.

The rest of the party goes well enough with games and snacks. Dendra and Nemona get a little too intense when it comes to competition, but it's all in good fun.

At one point, Miriam takes you aside and starts drilling you a bit. Nothing mean, but she wants to be sure you're prepared for what's to come in L&D.

She's about to launch into another horror story when Tulip stops her. "I think you've scared our darling champion enough for today, Dearest. This is a party, after all."

Miriam looks almost appropriately apologetic. "Sorry! Was I really scaring you? You know it's totally normal if you--"

Dendra butts in, pulling her girlfriend away. "That's enough for now, ossu!"

You definitely have questions for the teacher next time you and Rika go to class, but you push (don't say push) the thought to the back of your mind for now.

The evening winds down with just you, Nemona, and Rika lounging around. You're sprawled across your sofa, trying not to fall asleep in front of company, a cookie from Katy's patisserie propped on your tummy. Rika is in an armchair, scrolling through social media, and Nemona is tidying up off and on, trying to leave you with as little mess as possible.

"Was it a good surprise, bestie?" She asks you from the kitchen where she's just finished putting away all the extra food you've been left with.

"Yeah... Thank you both. Really. I didn't think I'd want something like this, but it was really nice..." You're teetering on the edge of tears again, so you try to keep from saying anything else.

"Of course, babes," Rika tells you, not looking up from her phone. "You know you got us here every step of the way."

"Yeah!" Nemona shouts from where she'd gone into the nursery to pick up wrapping paper. "Fuck Arven! Who needs that asshole anyway!"

"Arven?" Rika asks. "So that's the sperm donor's name?" She shrugs. 

But you can't help crying at the mention of his name, not when you're already so emotional after everything that's happened.

Rika looks up to see you blubbering pathetically and stands. "Awww... C'mon now. You don't gotta do that. It's okay." She kneels by you, gathering you as best she can in her lithe arms.

"I-It's not his fault!" You whimper. "He needs to go live his life... I-I just wanted to be a part of it... I wanted him to want to be part of mine too..." You put a hand on your tummy. "Ours..."

"Hey!" Rika tells you, holding your wrists. "Fuck him! If he's too dense or too cowardly to want any part of your incredible life? That's his loss."

By now Nemona's made her way back into the living room. "What? Awww no, bestie! Don't cry! I'm sorry I even mentioned him! For real! He's absolute trash! Don't even worry about him and the stupid Kalosian floozies he's probably hanging out with!"

You sob all over again.

"Nemona!" Rika hisses.

"What?"

In the end, the pair of them end up calming you down with stupid PokeTube videos and more pastries.

They spend the night with you, just in case you need anything, but you can't bring yourself to tell either of how much you're craving a sandwich...along with the person who makes them for you best.

-

The last week or so leading up to your due date is, in a word, frustrating. You feel overly warm, overly sensitive, overly achey, and overly oval. You expected phantom contractions, and you were fine with them at first, but at this point it's almost as though you've been having light-ish menstrual cramps off and on for two weeks. That, on top of everything, else just has you nearly constantly on edge. After a day or so of the pains, you called your doctor who took you in, just in case. She assured you that things were normal, that you still had some time left to bake, and let you know to come back when the contractions became more intense and closer together or if you felt something was off.

So you waddled off and went back to life as best you could.

Key words there being "as best you could."

At this point though, you're frustrated to the point of tears, taking walks along your neighborhood, eating spicy foods, bouncing on a yoga ball, doing basically whatever you can think of to speed up your little potato's birthday.

You even drop by the League, but Rika stops you at the door, turns you around and walks you home.

"Absolutely not." She says. "Go rest. Go officially be on maternity leave or something. You're going to pop any second now, and you know it."

"Please, Rika," You plead. "I can't sleep, I can barely nap. I just need... I dunno. I don't even know what I need!" Stupid hormones get you crying again. "I just wanna be done! I don't know what to do with myself... "

"Hey, c'mon..." She tells you, pulling you in for a gentle hug. "You know better than anyone that you're almost there, right? Just... Just wait it out a bit longer. Your little bean'll know when they're done cooking."

"Yeah..." You sniffle into her shoulder. "You're right."

"I know I am," She says coolly. "But also I'm here for you to cry on and complain to any time, okay? Keep me in the loop on every little detail."

The two of you stand like that for a long moment as you try to will yourself back to calmness and go back home. Unfortunately...

"...Rika?"

"Yeah, Mama?"

"I think my water just broke."

-

As it turns out, you'd basically been in labor for the past little while and hadn't realized it, so by the time you and Rika get to the hospital, things start moving quickly.

She has the wits about her to text Nemona to grab your things from your apartment, which were thankfully already pre-packed and waiting in a bag, and within a few (okay, maybe more than just a few) hours, you have a sweetly bundled little baby boy in your arms, dozing softly.

The hospital put him in a little purple hat, but when you initially saw him, during that first moment where they brought him to your breast for that first moment of skin to skin contact, even with his tamped down hair still wet with everything, you could tell... He has two-toned hair.

The resemblances don't stop there, you think, but everyone else who sees him (at least with his hat on) thinks he's your little doppelganger. You're not sure. He looks just like Arven to you, and as much as that makes your heart ache, you're also so overwhelmingly filled with love, adoration, affection, warmth, relief, and utter devotion to this little baby.

You name him Basil. It suits him.

Even though you imagine your number is still blocked on his phone, you text Arven a picture when you and Basil have a moment alone together, just the two of you, later on that day.

He's here. I don't know if you care, necessarily? But... I love him so much, and I don't understand how you couldn't, so I thought I should share.

There's a near immediate response.

Message unable to be delivered.

[enigmaticexplorer]

I Yearn, and so I Fear - Chapter XXI

Masterlist | Previous Chapter | Next Chapter

General Summary. Nearly a year since the Galactic Empire’s rise to power, Kazi Ennari is trying to survive. But her routine is interrupted—and life upended—when she’s forced to cohabitate with former Imperial soldiers. Clone soldiers. 

Pairing. Commander Wolffe x female!OC

General Warnings. Canon-typical violence and assault, familial struggles, terminal disease, bigotry, explicit sexual content, death. This story deals with heavy content. If you’re easily triggered, please do not read. For a more comprehensive list of tags, click here.

Fic Rating. E (explicit)/18+/Minors DNI.

Chapter Word Count. 5.9K

A/N. Just a friendly reminder to revisit the general fic warnings. 

29 Relona

“Are you sure you should be doing this?” Kazi asked. 

Cody grumbled under his breath as he shut the aircar’s door. “I need to walk out the pain. It helps with recovery.”

“Yeah”—she eyed his pronounced limp—“I don’t think that’s how healing works.”

“I’m fine.”

Rolling her eyes, she started along the walkway. Cody hobbled beside her. Above, storm clouds enshrouded the sky, an unusual chill in the air. Unrelenting rain had drowned Hollow’s Town the last four days—hence Cody’s injury. 

Two days ago, he and Wolffe were hiking, enjoying the brief respite from the rain, when they were caught in a sudden downpour. Poor vision and hazardous trails resulted in the ground giving away. Cody pulled a muscle catching himself before he fell over a sheer cliff’s edge. 

The injury prevented him from accompanying Wolffe, Fox, and Nova on a last-minute mission yesterday evening.

“It’ll be simple,” Wolffe had assured her as he laced his boots. “We get in, grab our buddies, and get out.”

“You’re breaking into an Imperial jail,” she muttered. “Nothing about this is simple.”

He lifted his gaze to hers. “You worried about me, Ennari?

“Cody will be inconsolable if you don’t return.” 

A glance in the kitchen revealed the injured man hobbling to the counter, reaching for a knife. Daria smacked his hand and ordered him to sit back down. Annoyance narrowed Cody’s eyes but he didn’t argue, collapsing into a stool at the bar and drumming his fingers against the metal. 

Kazi gave Wolffe a pointed look. 

“Cody prefers to be out in the field,” Wolffe said. He pushed himself to his feet, the black suit he wore tight-fitting, the chest and shoulders armored. 

She pursed her lips. “Just be safe.”

“I always am.”

“I have a hard time believing that.”

Wolffe played with the end of her braid. “I’ve always had a reason to return.”

Sighing, she pressed a soft kiss to his cheek, lingering for a moment. 

A surprise mission wasn’t uncommon for the men, and she knew Wolffe had broken into high-security places countless times before. But something about this extraction—something about the sheer randomness and minimal details available—unnerved her. 

Somewhere inside, buried and locked away and ignored, was the real answer for her apprehension. Her…fear.

“Kazi.” Wolffe drew closer, the expanse of his shoulders blocking out the house beyond. He reached for her jaw. “I’m going to return.”

“I know.” She mustered a smile. “Just…watch your back.”

He grinned. “Guess I need your dragon buddy.” 

Trailing a finger across his cheek, she smiled wider. “She’s all mine.”

“Hmm.” His lips warmed a spot behind her ear. His voice lowered as he murmured, “When I return, I’m going to fuck you with my tongue. And this time”—he licked the shell of her ear; her breath hitched—“we’re not stopping after one. I’m going to spend a good, long while with you.”

A sharp whistle from Fox and Wolffe kissed her, brief yet tender, tucked one of her braids behind her shoulder, and then hugged Neyti goodbye. 

The men were supposed to return late tomorrow night. If all went well.  

“When did stormtroopers start patrolling here?” Cody interrupted her thoughts. Wariness hardened his tone as he adjusted his poncho, the combination of the stormy skies and his hood masking his features.

Kazi followed his gaze to the end of their walkway. Two armed stormtroopers were marching toward them, their armor pristine. Pausing beside a bench, Cody pretended to relace his boots, his hand sweeping across his upper thigh. Kazi positioned herself between him and the troopers, shielding his reach.

“A routine check,” she explained quietly, appraising their surroundings. Businesses were open but few patrons busied the walkways; such a contrast to a few months ago. “They’re keeping an eye on the Marketplace. For contraband. I received the update this morning at work.” She rolled her eyes. “The magistrate believes contraband is a sure sign of rebel activity.”

Cody tapped her thigh in warning. Booted footsteps alerted her to the approaching stormtroopers—they could use a lesson in stealth from Wolffe and his brothers.

“Why don’t we take a break, Grandfather,” Kazi said, placing a hand on Cody’s back. The muscles beneath his poncho were rigid. “We’ll make it back in time for supper. I promise.”

The stormtroopers passed, turning a corner, and disappearing from view.

Straightening, Cody shot her a scathing scowl. “I do not look like a grandfather.”

“You’re hobbling like one,” she remarked. He scoffed.

They continued on their path. 

A breeze flitted through the air. Kazi breathed it in. Signs above the walkway’s shops creaked, and vined trees jumbling the walkways rustled. 

As they neared the edge of town, the walkways hushed, emptied, the jungle looming beyond; soon Kazi and Cody were alone.

“There was a time,” Cody said, his voice pensive, “I thought the Empire stood for good.”

The jungle encroaching the walkway thickened, and signs of civilization retreated. Old raindrops pattered from leaves larger than Neyti. Kazi slid a look in his direction, listening.

“I served the Empire for a year.” Cody ducked beneath an overhanging branch, holding it back for her. She nodded her appreciation. “I led some of the Empire’s most covert operations. Infiltrated planets. Put an end to their rebellions. And all that time, I thought I was restoring peace. I was convinced we were bringing security to a galaxy destroyed by war.” He chuffed a rueful chuckle. “Instead, I was instilling terror and hurting people already suffering.” 

A handful of slowed paces passed. Kazi regarded him from the corner of her eye. “Why did you desert?”

His throat bobbed. “I was sent to Desix. To stop a Separatist siege and relocate a governor. She wanted peace for her people. We tried to solve the situation diplomatically. But when she surrendered, I was ordered to kill her.” 

Her eyes widened; it shouldn’t have surprised her, the brutality, but still.

“I couldn’t do it,” Cody said softly. “My sniper went through with it, and I realized…I was wrong. All I had believed in was wrong.”

A modicum of disbelief, consternation, disrupted his usual stoicism. 

“The Empire knows how to manipulate people to support its cause,” Kazi said. Through a break in the trees, the gray stone of Neyti’s school revealed itself, a lonely moon. “The propaganda—the lack of information against the Empire—is so convincing. It makes people think they’re part of something bigger and that what they’re doing is good. You’re not the only one the Empire manipulated.” 

“I wasn’t manipulated by the Empire,” Cody said flatly. “The Empire gave me purpose. A new cause to fight for.”

She frowned. “But the chips—”

“Made us kill the Jedi.” His voice was curt, inflectionless. “That was it. Everything else…I did of my own free will.”

Wiping away a raindrop, she glanced at Cody. He was staring straight ahead, his chin lifted, his jaw clenched. 

“Some of the intel I’ve collected for the network has targeted certain people,” Kazi said after a moment. Lifting her face to the darkening skies, she swallowed. “Sure, they’re working for the Empire, but maybe they didn’t have a choice. Maybe they’re trying to protect their loved ones and this is the only option. But the network…the network gets rid of those people. Some kid out there no longer has a parent, and I bear some responsibility for that.”

Concern for Neyti and Daria had convinced her to ignore that part of her work. To absolve herself of guilt. But maybe she wasn’t better than the Empire’s sycophants. Maybe they shared her same line of thinking. 

Then again, it was easier to view these situations through a black-and-white lens. Good versus evil. Right versus wrong. Never mind that morality was subjective. 

Eventually they arrived at Neyti’s school. 

A bench, shadowed by swaying trees, offered them shelter from the other parents milling about. Cody leaned against the school’s exterior, his sigh content. Kazi decided not to remark on the consequences of pride.

“You know what power the Empire wields,” Kazi said quietly, watching a monkey hunker on a tree across the playground. “And you know the rebellion is spread too thin and is too small. Do they even stand a chance?”

Cody stretched his legs. “The Empire is militaristically stronger than the rebellion. It also has the resources necessary to win a war.”

“But this isn’t war. This is rebellion.”

“Two different things.” His hand settled on his thigh—the thigh strapped with a blaster. “To win a war, you have to eradicate your opponent. The Empire is attempting to do that right now. What the generals and Moffs don’t realize is that they’re not at war. They’re dealing with a different battleground.”

The calculation lining his forehead, the strategy narrowing his eyes, revealed the commander he so adeptly hid at the house. It was the same look Wolffe got whenever she watched him in the morning or late evening as he prepared for his missions. The brothers even shared the same, furrowed line between their eyebrows. 

“War tactics aren’t effective against internal rebellion,” Cody said. “The Empire requires control and order to operate efficiently. Rebellion creates chaos and doubt. It spreads quickly and vastly. To destroy a rebellion, you have to subjugate the people completely. Small forms of rebellion are necessary to undermine complete subjugation.” He tapped a hand to his thigh. “Will the rebellion pay off? I don’t know. But it will weaken the Empire.”

Kazi crossed her arms over her chest. “So, the rebellion isn’t as ineffectual as I thought it was.”

“It makes a difference. Can’t say anything else, though.” Cody considered her. “Something happen?”

The monkey stretched, canines flashing as it yawned, and then padded deeper into the jungle. Kazi clasped her hands in her lap. “Is it selfish to…not join the rebellion?”

Cody frowned. “Explain.”

“I told Carinthia that I won’t put the rebellion first.” She searched his face. “Does that make me a bad person?”

Sighing, Cody nudged her arm. “You’re not a bad person for wanting to live.”

“I didn’t say anything about living.”

“I know.”

Looking away, Kazi scanned the sky. Pointless since Wolffe wouldn’t return until tomorrow. “Do you consider your missions rebellion?”

“I do.”

“You’ll never stop, will you?” 

“I won’t.” Cody shrugged. “I’m not like Wolffe or Fox in that manner.”

She eyed him. “I thought Wolffe wouldn’t stop either.”

“Wolffe…” He hesitated. “Wolffe is on a different path. One he always wanted but never thought he could have.” 

Minutes passed as Kazi mulled the cryptic reply, the creak of the jungle’s elder trees eclipsing the silence between them. 

Something seemed to be on Cody’s mind, too, but Kazi didn’t press him, letting him stew. It was good for the soul. Or so she told her therapist, once, when the professional had tried to convince her that bottling her emotions wasn’t healthy. 

But Kazi was her father’s daughter: She was loved and adored because she was a good little girl who smiled and laughed and never questioned him; never doubted him or made him angry. 

Anyway, emotions were a vulnerability to be exploited. To protect herself, to retain an image of perfection, improper emotions were to be controlled. Hidden. She was her mother’s daughter, too, after all. 

Cody angled his head toward her. The scar along his temple pronounced beneath the gray skies. “I’m not going to hurt Daria.”

Kazi grimaced. Months, she had spent months avoiding this conversation—avoiding it with Daria. It wasn’t her business what her sister did, and it wasn’t her business who her sister pursued. However, Daria was dying, and Kazi couldn’t see her little sister hurt worse.

“You said your missions will always come first,” she said. Cody stilled, and she offered him an unapologetic shrug, her tone casual yet cool. “I can’t be okay with that. My sister deserves better. She deserves to be put first.”

“I know.” Cody tapped his thigh again, his gaze distant on the jungle beyond. “How much longer does she have?” 

“You haven’t—”

“No.” He rolled his neck. “She won’t tell me. We don’t talk about it.”

Kazi tugged on a string of her sweater. “Healer Natasha wants to increase the dosage of her potions. To proactively fight coming symptoms. But we don’t really know. Her symptoms will worsen in the next two to five months, probably, and then she’ll reach a point of no return. We thought she had two years from this last Telona, but…”

“And there’s nothing to be done.” It wasn’t a question, rather a last attempt cloaked in resigned acceptance.

“If there was, I would have found it.” She pulled the string free. “I tried to—”

“I know.” His shoulder knocked hers. “Daria knows, as well.”

Mustering a tired smile, Kazi surveyed the gathering parents, her gaze snagging on Steiner’s mom, Heracli, who offered her a small wave. Kazi returned it with a short nod. 

A figure moved through the crowd, red hair a fiery beacon in the gathering storm. She grew rigid. Beside her, Cody tensed, shifting his hand beneath his poncho.

“What is it?” he demanded.

“It’s Carinthia.” Regaining her feet, she tossed him the keys to the aircar. “If Neyti gets out before I return, take her to the house.”

He started to rise. “I’ll come with you—”

She pushed him down. “I’ll be fine.”

“I have a duty,” he said stiffly. “To Wolffe.”

Waving him off, she walked the length of the school, distancing herself from the front doors and its many eyes. Around the corner, she leaned against the stone wall. Half a minute later and Carinthia appeared, her skin sallow and cheekbones hollowed.

“He shouldn’t be here,” Carinthia said.

Kazi quirked an eyebrow. “What do you want?”

“The Empire will be moving across Eluca soon,” Carinthia warned. “You should be more careful.”

She remained blasé. “Noted.”

A tense moment passed as Carinthia regarded her and then she reached into the pocket of her dark brown cloak. Kazi watched, confused, as she retrieved a small jar. The lid flipped open. Seven pills shimmered inside.

Frowning, Kazi leaned closer, analyzing the starry gleam to each pill, its gelatin mold swirling with traces of black. The purple coloring reminded her of a galaxy painting.

“Medicine?” she guessed.

“They’re to be referred to as medicine.” Carinthia shut the lid and passed her the jar. Kazi pocketed it. “Bite into one and it’ll kill you.”

Her mouth fell open. “Are you mad?”

Glancing over her shoulder, toward the front of the school, Carinthia lowered her voice. “The network is distributing them to those considered in precarious situations.”

Apprehension pinched her stomach; she fisted her hands behind her back. “I’m not in a precarious situation.”

“The clones are,” Carinthia said. “Should they be caught, they won’t hold up under ISB’s torture. A quick death is a mercy.”

The jar weighed her pocket down, heavy like a fishing ship’s anchor. “This is…” 

“Necessary.” Carinthia drew her cloak closer to her body, and Kazi’s frown deepened: Carinthia looked bonier than usual; her eyes darted furtively from the school to the jungle. “It’s possible you won’t need them, but it’s better to be cautious.”

“Why?” The back of her neck itched, like someone was watching them—Empire or network, it didn’t matter—and Kazi appraised the jungle, too. “Does Command know something?”

Hesitating, Carinthia took a step closer. “There are rumors…that the Empire is relying on assassin clones to do their dirty work.” Her voice was quieter than the breeze as she added, “ISB managed to locate a few central leaders in the network. Their deaths were posed as an accident, but we know they were hunted down.”

“Assassin clones?” Kazi repeated dubiously. “The men haven’t mentioned anything.”

“The Empire has kept things quiet—it was luck we discovered their existence.”

“How many are there?”

Carinthia hefted her cloak. “Unconfirmed, but we think it’s minimal. At the moment. Command is paranoid, though. Bash has become more mistrustful.” 

“Are the men in danger?” Kazi demanded.

“They should be more cautious on their missions, but so far, we believe the assassins are targeting government officials only.” 

“And what about Bash?” Her fists clenched harder. “Is he a threat to the men? Are you?”

Icy irritation glinted in Carinthia’s eyes and she picked at a nail. “I apologize for what I said to you,” she said stiltedly. “You have a family, and I understand why you won’t commit to the network.”

The apology was lacking, but it fit Carinthia. 

“Stormtroopers came by our house,” Kazi said. A single blink was Carinthia’s sole response—she must have known. “Neyti and Daria are now registered under Imperial records.”

Straightening her cloak, Carinthia inclined her head. “I’ll see what can be done.”

The bell rang, and they separated; however, before she rejoined Cody, Kazi assessed the jungle once more. Yellow, bulbous eyes glared back. A monkey, nothing more, and yet she remained on edge as she hurried away.

Near the front of the building, Cody waited for Kazi. A river of younglings flowed, some racing for the playground, others finding their parents. 

“Everything good?” he asked. The hint of concern in his tone overruled his stony expression. 

“Yes.” His silence was doubtful and she leaned closer, whispering, “I learned some new information. We’ll discuss it at the house—” 

“Ms. Lucien.” 

Stiffening, Kazi faced the owner of the voice. Teacher Jaci was strolling toward her, the clack of her heels as sharp as her smile; she stopped in front of Kazi. Beside her, Neyti glared at the ground, bristling. 

“Teacher Jaci,” Kazi greeted, placing a hand on Neyti’s shoulder. At her gentle squeeze, Neyti looked up, anger and regret storming her gray eyes. 

“We had an issue in class today,” Teacher Jaci said. The saccharine lilt to her voice grated on Kazi’s patience. “All the students were asked to write a theme on the benefits of the Empire. Your child refused to write her theme.” Kazi stilled. “She even went so far as to tear up the drawing of our galactic flag she was supposed to be coloring.”

The blood drained from her face but Kazi hastily schooled her features, gripping Neyti’s shoulder harder to hide her trembling. 

“I’m sorry,” she said. Feigning disappointment, she shook her head. “Neyti knows better than to act up in class. We’ll be having a long discussion tonight.”

Teacher Jaci stepped closer, her smile oozed condescension, and she murmured, “Your ideals are quite liberal, Ms. Lucien. I see it in the way you interact with so many different men”—she gave a pointed look at Cody—“and in Neyti’s unusual upbringing. We expect well-behaved younglings in our school. But a child can only be expected to thrive if their parent gives them a stable home life.”

Kazi gritted her teeth.

“I advise starting with certain proclivities of yours.” Teacher Jaci patted her arm, glancing once more in Cody’s direction. “Or else we might have a problem that will require more…official intervention.”

“It won’t happen again,” Kazi said coolly. “I’ll make sure of it.”

Rain-flecked trees and dense foliage blurred as Kazi led Neyti and Cody away from the school. 

Her blood was colder than the Ceaian ocean in the winter; her heart beat so loudly, so erratically, like she had swam, hard, for hours.

When they were alone on the walkway, secluded beneath wet branches and vines, Kazi pulled Neyti aside. She knelt beside the little girl.

“You can’t do stuff like that,” she snapped. 

Neyti’s eyes widened. 

“That was dangerous, Neyti.” A sharp twisting contracted in her stomach, so tight she thought she might be sick. She gripped Neyti’s shoulders harder. “You can’t do that. You can’t disobey your teachers. You can’t rip up Imperial flags. Do you understand me?”

Tears welled in Neyti’s eyes and her lower lip trembled. 

Kazi started to shake. “Do you understand me?”

“Careful,” Cody murmured, setting a hand on her shoulder. 

Swallowing, she released Neyti, falling back on her haunches, rubbing the blurriness from her eyes. Her breathing was hoarse. Her hands were trembling. She couldn’t make them stop. Fuck, they wouldn’t stop.

Neyti sniffled, and she looked up. A tear leaked down Neyti’s cheek. Kazi felt her chest cave inwards—regret, remorse, shame punctured her lungs—and she tucked her shaking hands into her sweater’s sleeves.

“I’m sorry,” she said hoarsely. “I’m sorry, Neyti. But you can’t do stuff like that.”

Neyti gulped. Another tear dripped down her cheek. Gently, Kazi brushed it away, and then Neyti was burrowing into her chest, tiny hands clinging to the front of her sweater. 

Small, quiet sobs rocked through Neyti.

“It’s okay,” she said, rubbing Neyti’s back. Hating herself for being the cause of the youngling’s distress. “It’s going to be okay. We’re going to be okay.”

Eventually Neyti’s sobs turned into hiccups and she pulled away, straightening the wrinkles in her dress, adjusting her dragon necklace. Kazi wiped the last of the tears from her cheeks. 

“What happened today was dangerous,” Kazi said. Neyti toed the ground. “It might not have seemed dangerous, but it could’ve led to something bad. Okay?”

Neyti pointed at Cody and threw up her hands. 

“Listen, kid.” Grunting, Cody knelt to the ground, resting a large hand on Neyti’s shoulder. “What my brothers and I do is dangerous. You’re right about that. But we’ve trained for it. We know what we’re doing. And we know how to keep you, your mom, and Dee safe.” He shook Neyti a little. Lovingly. “But we can’t do that if we’re caught. Got it?”

Abashed, Neyti nodded. 

A low roll of thunder boomed its final warning. Kazi regained her feet, offered Cody her arm which he accepted, and then extended her hand to Neyti. The little girl accepted it but hesitated. She glanced at Cody. He took the hint and started down the path, giving them some space. Once he was far enough away, Neyti looked up into Kazi’s face.

“I wanted to be brave.” The words were a whisper, small and somber. Neyti stared at her. “Like my mummy. Like you.”

“You are brave.” Kazi gripped her hand tighter, her smile small, resigned. “But you don’t have to prove it to others.”

A gleeful laugh danced through the sunroom’s open windows. Kazi chuckled as Neyti, hands cupped together, showed Daria a captured lightning bug. 

Bursts of ochre sparked among the swaying trees, the lightning bugs plentiful in the aftermath of the afternoon and evening’s storms. Daria raised her hand. A bug twinkled in her palm, too. Neyti grinned.

Eager to join her sister and Neyti, Kazi finished watering the bouquet of gray flowers she had bought for Wolffe. Oddly shaped, a skinny bulb with two, symmetrical petals on opposite sides, the flowers reminded her of an aiwha. She thought Wolffe would find them amusing—

“First name: Kazi.” The voice was cold, detached, and she blanched, facing Court. “Last name: Ennari. Correct?” 

Fear fluttered, like a decrepit moth, within her ribcage. 

Night’s shadows embraced Court, creeping around his legs, lurking behind his shoulders. He stepped into the sunroom. One hand rested on his thigh. Instinctively, Kazi backed away from him. Away from the back door, she realized belatedly. 

Court paused. His fingers twitched on his thigh. “I’ll take your silence as confirmation.”

Kazi gripped the watering can tighter. “Is something wrong?” 

“You’re a difficult person to trace.” Court took a step forward. The black of his bodysuit blended into the sunroom’s darkness; camouflage for a predator. “Minimal records. Properly protected datapad.”

The hairs at the nape of her neck raised. Horrified revelation rooted her to the spot. It was Court who had searched her room. Who had moved her datapad. Not Neyti. 

“Clever to make your home base another technologically bereft, backwater planet,” he continued. His tone was deceptively casual, though an inflectionless note carried through it. “Made it hard to get intel on you.”

Moonlight flickered through the dispersing clouds, subtle streaks of silver-blue painting various points of the room. Shadows lingered. Mostly in Court’s dead eyes. 

“But you weren’t clever enough to avoid a security check,” Court murmured. He moved closer. Kazi bumped into the chair behind her, the remnants of water sloshing in the can. “You never registered your sister or the kid. Suspicious. Convinced me to look into you. But I couldn’t find anything.”

Another giggle wandered through the windows to her right. Kazi kept her eyes on Court. Silently prayed Daria and Neyti would stay outside.

“I owe Wolffe my gratitude.” An inhuman smile carved open his mouth. White teeth flashed through the darkness. “Referring to you by your real last name. That was what I needed.” He tossed a datastick onto the game table. It clattered against Wolffe’s puzzle. “Ceaian. Worked for the government. Never confirmed dead or alive after the Purge. Looks like you slipped through. And now you’re keeping with your rebel activity.”

Cold terror slid through her veins. 

“You work for the Empire,” Kazi whispered. Sweat clammed her spine, and her heart started to beat faster. Harder. Like it knew its time was running short. 

“Deserted clones have interfered in our forces for too long. My task was simple.” Court rounded the game table, and Kazi tensed, hefting the water can. “But then you came along. You can imagine my surprise when I learned I had a potential connection to the rebel network.”

Kazi glanced at the living area. If she screamed loud enough, would Cody hear—

“The troopers downstairs won’t answer,” Court said. Her eyes darted back to his. “I didn’t need them interfering.”

“Wolffe isn’t on a real extraction mission,” she said hoarsely.

“It’s a real Imperial holding center,” Court said. “But it was abandoned a month ago.”

She was alone. She was alone with a clone assassin, and Wolffe was possibly dead, and Daria and Neyti were in danger— 

Kazi launched the watering can at Court. He reared back.

“Run, Daria!” she screamed, lunging around the game table. “Get out—” 

The side of her head yanked backwards. Her neck jerked. 

She was falling. Being slammed downwards—

Her back hit the ground.

Glass shattered.

Her lungs collapsed.

The ceiling above darkened and blurred. 

The back of her skull throbbed.

Glass slit her back.

She couldn’t move. 

She couldn’t breathe.

She couldn’t scream at Daria to grab Neyti and run. To find Fehr and hide.

An apathetic face crowded her vision. A gloved hand dragged her wrists above her head and pinned them to the floor, the hold painful. A heavy weight locked her legs in place. 

Silver gleamed in the corner of her eye—a small knife, its sharp edge glinted. She had seen knives like it before, at the shipping docks; she knew they were used for precise, thin cuts.

Court tapped the corner of her eye with the knife’s tip. “I have a few questions.” 

The tip of the knife dug into her skin, just atop her bone. Her breath hitched. He was going to carve her open—he was going to fucking carve her apart and he was going to start with her eye.

Harsh pants seared her throat. 

She started to shake.

Court cocked his head. “Who are your superiors?”

She didn’t want to lose her eye. 

(Her mother’s voice whispered: sunlight in a meadow.)

She didn’t want to suffer. 

But Neyti and Daria were nearby. They were alive, and she had to protect them.

A tear dribbled from the corner of her eye. Glass shifted beneath her, biting into her spine and shoulders; liquid was dampening her trousers, her back. The vase had broken. 

“They use codenames,” Kazi said weakly. “I don’t know their real names.”

Court considered her answer. “Where are their headquarters?”

“I don’t know the exact location.” The knife punctured her skin, and sharp pain needled her face. She shook harder. A warm droplet oozed down her temple. “I don’t know. I swear. I’ve never been told.”

“What are your objectives?”

Another tear escaped. “Scrub data. Steal intel. Keep track of the Empire’s moves and decisions.”

“Who are your contacts on Eluca?”

“I don’t know anyone—”

Her head snapped to the side. A burning sensation seared her cheek. A ringing reverberated in her ears.

Kazi inhaled sharply. Her jaw ached from the backhanded slap. The bones in her cheek felt broken.

“Try again,” Court ordered.

Her lower lip trembled, and she could only stare into that empty, apathetic gaze. “I told you, I don’t know. They don’t tell me who else is part—”

The tip of the knife settled beneath her eyelid, and she squeezed her eyes closed. Braced herself. Tried to slow her breathing. 

But she couldn’t. She was panting. Loud enough it almost dulled the ringing in her ears. 

And she knew it was going to hurt, and she knew it was cowardly, but she would break beneath torture and start talking, and she didn’t give a fuck about the network but Daria and Neyti were unsafe if she talked—

A pop cut through her rasping gasps. 

Warm bits peppered her face. 

Her eyes flew open. 

Court was still staring down at her, his features smooth with indifference, but he was falling. Crumbling. His body slumped atop hers. His head fell beside hers.

The side of his face was black. Scorched. Skin flayed.  

She stared at him. His eyes were unblinking. Even in death, he looked the same.

And then someone was shoving his body aside. Freeing her wrists from his grasp. 

Wolffe knelt beside her, and he was searching her stomach, her chest, her spine, his hands settling on her jaw as he scanned her face. 

“Where’s Neyti?” he demanded. “Where’s Daria?”

“Outside,” she whispered, peering into his face. His features blurred at the edges, his skin so dark the night claimed it. Only his scar and cybernetic remained noticeable, seemingly glowing with silver. Their brightness hurt her head and she winced. “I told them to run.” 

Kazi lurched towards the door. Wolffe held her down. 

“Fox will find them,” he said. His hand tightened on her jaw and she hissed, pulling away. Apology rounded his eyes, though his tone remained hard as he said, “You’ll stay here.”

The familiarity of his voice—the familiarity of the hands cupping her jaw, gentle and tender now—made her chest ache. She reached for his face. His skin was warm beneath her trembling palm. 

“I thought you were dead,” she said numbly. In hindsight, it was nonsensical she assumed he was dead, especially when Court hadn’t even suggested it. Vestiges of her father still scarred her, apparently. “Court said it was a ruse—”

“We realized that.” Wolffe pressed his thumb to the corner of her eye and she winced. His jaw was clenched so tightly she was surprised it hadn’t broken. His eyes were narrowed, and it was rage—pure, unyielding rage darkening his features.

“I thought you were dead,” she repeated. 

“Kazi,” Wolffe rasped. And it wasn’t just rage harshening his appearance; it was fear, unrestrained, sneaking past his defenses. “We received a message from Rex. He said the place was abandoned. We turned around. We’ve been trying to comm you. For hours. Fucking hours—”

“The others were drugged.” Fox stalked into the room, taking in the destruction: shattered glass littering the floor; gray flowers drowned and strewn about. “Nova says they’ll be good in a few hours.” Approaching Court’s body, he toed the dead male’s head, his upper lip curling. “The comms were jammed. That’s why we couldn’t get in contact.” 

A shard of glass stabbed her palm as Kazi pushed herself upright. Wolffe grunted at the blood warming her palm, but she couldn’t feel it. The pain. Anywhere—her shoulders, her neck, her palm. She couldn’t feel it.

“He said he was tasked to do this,” Kazi said. A crumpled flower caught her attention, so small and frail. Broken. “He said that deserted clones have been a problem for too long.” 

“He was going to track us,” Wolffe said, ripping a piece of cloth from his utility belt and pressing it to her bloodied palm. “That’s why he kept Cody and the others alive.”

“Bastard,” Fox hissed. 

“Neyti and Daria are outside,” Wolffe said, gesturing with his chin to the windows. “Kazi told them to run.”

With a final look at Court, Fox disappeared into the backyard.

Distantly, Kazi knew she should be scrambling to find Neyti and Daria. Knew she should be worried. But she couldn’t feel…anything. Only a constricting sensation in her chest. Slowly squeezing her. 

The three moons shone bright, no longer hindered by remnants of storm clouds, their light shimmering on Court’s small, silver knife. She studied it. Her blood rusted its tip. 

“This was Aro’s plan all along,” she said. Wolffe frowned at her, and she started to tremble. Fingers flexed on her shoulder. “The analyses I’ve done for him about deserted clones—he wants to track down the source. He wants to track you.” Her palm started to hurt: stinging, aching. Finally. “There are more like Court out there. Carinthia told me about them—assassin clones—and they’re going to hunt you—”

“Kazi,” Wolffe said gently, softly. “We’re going to figure this out.”

“If Neyti—” She broke off, shaking. Her body started to ache, all over. “If Daria—”

“I know.” 

“If they had been in here—” Inhaling sharply, she tried to calm her breathing. Tried to calm her thoughts and her heart and her fucking breaths. “He would have killed them. Gods, if they hadn’t been outside—Neyti would’ve seen—she’s a fucking kid and she could have seen—”

“I know.”

“I didn’t know what to do.” Her voice broke. “I couldn’t do anything.”

Wolffe skimmed his thumb across her cheek. “I’m going to place a blaster upstairs. For you and Daria. You need to be armed—”

“This can’t happen again.” Her voice sounded hollow but she couldn’t muster the energy to care. 

A blaster wouldn’t solve this problem. Self-defense wouldn’t solve this. 

Shearing a dead branch from a dying tree wouldn’t save the tree. It needed to be cut out, from the roots, before it spread. Infecting the entirety of its environment.

“You can’t bring deserted soldiers here anymore,” Kazi said. The aiwha-shaped flowers were scattered around her, dying a slow death. Better the flowers than Neyti. Better the flowers than Daria. “He could have hurt them. He could have hurt them, and I can’t—I promised Neyti’s mom. I promised her—” 

“All right.” Still pressing the cloth to her palm, Wolffe sought her gaze. “We won’t bring our men here anymore.”

A hoarse, rueful laugh seared her throat. “What about your missions?” He tensed, his expression growing guarded, and she smiled sadly. “They mean too much to you.”

Wolffe worked his jaw for a moment, and then he sighed. “We’ll find another way. My brothers will understand. We’ll strategize a new plan.”

Kazi reached for the flower closest to her. It fell limp, its stem cracked. 

“It won’t last long,” she murmured, pulling her knees into her chest. “You have a duty to your men.” 

Wolffe stared at her. Stared at her like he wanted to say something but he couldn’t decide if he trusted her with the words. Instead, he held her hand harder. “We’ll figure it out.” 

But, for the first time, she wasn’t sure she believed him. 

Masterlist | Chapter 20 | Chapter 22

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[mordenheim]

You didn't do anything wrong

Ellen sat at the kitchen table, her face cupped in her hands as she tried to make sense of what had become of her life.  She had taken a few days off of work to get things settled with her new living conditions.  Suddenly having a new roommate would throw things off for anyone.  As soon as she returned to work, though, she discovered that there was a new manager above her, Maria.  Maria had decided to make an example of her.  

“Suspended.  Record of attendance problems.”  Ellen had asked for a meeting with human resources and was told that until her suspension was up if she set foot on company property she would be terminated.  She just sat there, ignoring the cup of coffee getting cold beside her elbow.

She felt a gentle brush of rough fingers on her forearm.  She didn’t want to look up.  She’d been crying and she knew she looked like a mess.

A deep, soothing voice rolled through her kitchen like honeyed thunder, “Hey.  It’ll be okay.  You didn’t do anything wrong.”

He tucked a handkerchief into her hand.  She didn’t even remember owning any handkerchiefs.  She wiped at her eyes and nose, trying to calm herself and finally lifted her head.

Thuras was sitting across the table from her.  Her chair looked comically small under his huge form and she had to stifle a laugh, shaking her head as she smiled at him.

“I know I didn’t do anything wrong.  Just…  I don’t know what to do now.”

He rested his elbows on the table, steepling his clawed fingers.  His red eyes gave off a faint flicker, which Ellen had come to learn meant that he was upset, no matter how calm he may seem outwardly.  He sat back and ran his hands up his face, and along the length of the curved horns that swept back from his forehead before curling upwards.  “Well, the sensible thing to do would be to get any evidence you have of harassment from this new manager and go to HR as soon as you’re allowed to return to work.”

She nodded and took a long, shaky breath.  “You say that like there’s a less  sensible option.”

He nodded and slumped down a bit in his seat.  He tried to make himself look smaller, so she wouldn’t feel like he was trying to intimidate her.  His goat-like hooves scraped over the floor a little, making him wince a little.  He hated the thought of messing up her floors.  “You could let me handle the situation.”

“No, no, absolutely not.  I can’t let anything happen to…”

“Nothing will happen to her, I promise.”

“So, she’s not going to just…  vanish?  Not going to disappear?”

“If she disappeared, it would be her decision and she would turn in her notice before she did.”

Ellen nibbled at her lower lip.  She had to admit it was tempting.  She would love to take her down a peg and show he she couldn’t hurt people just because she had power over them.  She was just about to nod, when a thought sparked in the back of her mind.  Was he trying to corrupt her?  He was a demon after all.

“I..  N..  No, no, I should do this the right way.”

“Of course.  Just keep one thing in mind.”

He leaned forwards across the table and stretched out his huge hand.  He placed it against her cheek.  It was rough, and so warm.  A tingle ran down her spine as her eyes drifted shut for a second.  She snuggled her cheek into his palm, letting him comfort her.

“As long as you let me remain here with you, I will do everything in my power to protect you and keep you safe.  I may not have been summoned with a purpose and I am not your familiar, but you give me a reason to keep going forward.”

He leaned in closer, his breath almost scorching hot against her skin.  She placed a finger on his bottom lip, closing them before she pressed her lips against his, sliding her fingers through his ebony hair.

[sinclarify]

yap session 1: minori kamiya the ult poet

the spinny wheel of fate told me to talk about minori so here we are!!!

minori kamiya is my darling ultimate poet and actuallly i love them so freaking soooo freaking much. let me get up their official description lalalala. tw for talk about suicide:

As the Ultimate Poet, Minori is nothing but a total hopeless romantic. They’re famous for their love poems, with every word going straight from their heart to the page. Of course, every artist needs a muse, and Minori’s is none other than their lover! Ah, young love – Minori's feelings for their beloved are the scaffold for every poem, and they’re so poignant and powerful that it’s earned Minori both national and international commendation, evident from just how many literary awards and accolades they’ve won. For Minori, however, the fame that follows their craft is utterly insignificant when placed up against the emotions that they evoke in a reader. Their poems are a beacon of hope and inspiration, a beam of light in a world so often obfuscated by darkness, and Minori is so happy that they’re able to provide that sort of comfort to readers all around the world. 

These feelings aren’t just limited to the page, either - Minori’s just as romantic and gentle in person as their words make them out to be, an air of kindness and warmth around them that’s impossible to not be drawn in by. They have nothing but compassion in their heart for their peers, and is always willing to extend a helping hand, or a shoulder to cry on, or to just talk to whoever needs it. Truly, Minori is one of those rare, pure souls – something that’s desperately needed in a situation where tensions run wild. 

Of course, that’s not to say that everything in their life is as perfect as it seems. Underneath those swathes of positivity and tenderness is a whole host of anxieties that plague their mind - but through their poetry and the thought of their lover, they manage to maintain their optimism in hopes of a brighter future. A future where they and the one they love so much can be happy and safe…together. It’s always going to be them, together. And Minori would do absolutely anything to cling onto that future. 

OKAYY THERE WE GO :3 i forgot how much i put in those descriptions ummmm lalalala anyway ya. minori's just a little silly. a silly with a whole lotta problems! before we get into those i think i should proooobably talk about their life outside of the killing game so that we shall do. next topic: their lover!

right so their lover doesn't exactly… have a name? or a face? oooh so mysterious. i had a reason for that but i cant remember what it is so just think of something cool and interesting. ANYWAY YEAH!!!! their lover.

it's important to note that my dgr fanclass IS aged up from actual canon dgr characters, i know there's like… vagueness surrounding their ages but it's like widely considered the canon dgrs are minors but mine are NOT they are all over 18+ !! minori is 21. and i'm saying that because it puts it into perspective when i say that they've been together with their lover for around 4 years up until the beginning of my canon!! so a long time. a real long time. and in that time, the two of them have built up a devotion and trust between them that's completely unshakeable. they've held each other through their highs and lows, hidden absolutely nothing, and they justf… theyre in LOVE okay!!!! for minori, their lover is the most important person in their life… and they want to stay together forever.

the only issue is, they don't have forever. minori's lover was diagnosed with a terminal illness, one that doesn't seem to have a cure in sight. minori had always looked forward to spending the rest of time by their side, but now time is gradually slipping through fingers, and there's nothing they can do to stop it. that's why every single poem that minori crafts is dedicated to them; that's why they spend so much time prescribing their every feature and every nuance onto paper, to preserve their life and keep their spirit immortal long after they inevitably pass. it's painful, having to look at the one you love every single day, knowing that soon, they won't be by your side anymore, but minori pushes down any hurt, using it to fuel their art, to capture their muse indefinitely. they're scared, of course they are. who wouldn't be scared? but they'll be fine, as long as they have each other…

…which is why being put in the killing game isn't really the best case scenario for minori! flung into an unfamiliar environment with total strangers, then being told they had to kill to escape, it's totally insane!! like, they could die here! though, minori's not thinking about their own survival. the whole time, all they can think about is their lover back home. their lover, alone, scared, and wondering why minori left. the thought of their lover being in such a vulnerable position is much more devastating to minori than the thought of losing their own life, and god, they're completely TERRIFIED.

but they've gotten used to pushing their fears down, so they swallow the lump in their throat and wipe their hands on their yellow cardigan and put on a soft, gentle smile, hoping that, while their own anxieties may not be soothed any time soon, they can at least put the others at ease. they maintain an aura of complete composure, not allowing themself to outwardly give into the heavy fear that threatens to suffocate them, because they've got to carry everyone else's fears instead! they provide comfort. they provide hugs to the ones that need it. they provide a shoulder to cry on. even the ones that brush them off at least recognise that they're there to help… and it's all completely genuine. with minori around, things don't seem too bad.. it's almost like they have nothing to worry about at all.

then the first killing happens, and everyone realises that comfort and smiles and hugs mean absolutely nothing. this is real. the killing game is real. and while kaori izumi's death may have been a suicide, that doesn't rule out the possibility of there being real killers later down the line… because the seed has already been planted. desperation hangs in the air, heavy, like a toxic gas waiting to be inhaled, waiting to corrode from the inside out… and everyone can feel it, everyone can smell the blood, everyone's on edge.

especially minori.

kaori was so, so desperate… that poor girl. so desperate to leave this rotten place, so paralysed by fear that she took her own life. minori could never forget the look on her cold face, that harrowing contortion of pain and sorrow and last-minute regret permanently inscribed on her features forever. and they wonder… could that be me? is that me?

they could never imagine killing themself. they can't. they can't die and leave their lover alone. no, no, that's completely unfathomable! that's crazy! hah, dying? in a place like this? no way. no fucking way. besides, a poet's suicide would be so cliche! so no, that's not them. it'll never be them. never, never, never, never. never never never never neverneverneverneverneverneverneverneverneverneverneverneverneverne-

and then the next motive is revealed.

minori wakes up with a video tape and a cassette player next to their bed and a piece of paper with the words 'WATCH ME' crudely scribbled onto it in red crayon. they know they shouldn't. they've seen the movies. alice eats and alice drinks because she got told to and alice is big and alice is small and alice nearly gets her head chopped off by a queen with a head far too big for her body and wonderland really isn't that wonderful and one really shouldn't go chasing rabbits but what if she was meant to? minori, you're alice. watch the tape. watch the tape and you won't almost get your head chopped off. go on, minori. go on. go on, minori.

so they do.

the video starts off fuzzy and unfocused. minori can make out nothing but the faint glow of a yellow light that flickers sporadically, and then, out of the light, comes a voice.

mino…ri? minori, where… i'm.. cold, minori. it's really cold here.

the faint glow covers the whole screen, almost blindingly, before it fades out. and into focus comes a hospital bed. minori recognises that bed. they recognise that voice.

cough i don't know where you are, minori, but, i- cough it's bad again. real bad. doctor yoshida's trying his best.. and so are the nurses, but… i don't know. it's.. i'm hurting. everything hurts. physically, but… being without you hurts. where are you, mino? i sleep and dream of you, and i find that when i wake, i end up dreaming of you still… it's- i don't like this, minori. cough. please, i… i don't know how long i can- cough without you, i… cough. minori. cough. mino.. cough. sniff. sob. please… come back to me. please. i miss you. don't leave me here. don't leave me here to die. cough. i can feel it settle in, minori. it's… coming. please come before it does. cough i… lo-

and then it cuts to black.

minori's not sure when it started, but a strange chill has overtaken their whole body, their hands shaking and their heart beating so hard against their ribcage it's sure to puncture or burst out, their head light, their mouth dry and their eyes glazed, and god, god, god, help, god save them, god save them, god do something do something god? God? God's not listening. God can't do anything.

but minori… can. minori can.

[floatingcatacombs]

On Playing Caves of Qud For A Month Straight and Developing an RSI

12 Days of Aniblogging 2022, Day 4

With the recent successful commercial launch of Dwarf Fortress, I wanted to take a break from anime and recount my own experiences this year with a keyboard-heavy procedurally generated game with terminal-esque graphics and a high barrier to entry: the one and only Caves of Qud.

It is, in short, incredible. This is my first classic-style roguelike, courtesy of a friend’s gift, and probably the only one I’ll ever need. Calling it expansive is an understatement, as the number of different items, enemies, and biomes should be downright overwhelming. But Qud does an impressive job easing the player into its world, especially with its mix of fully hand-crafted and procedural areas. See, all playthroughs rely on the same world map, so the overall placement of biomes will be the same. A desert to the west, mountains on the edges, a vast jungle in the middle of the continent, a river you have to ford or go the long way around to get to the west half of the map. But each individual screen in the overworld will be procedurally generated, so the places you’re exploring are unique every time. You’ll always start in Joppa, a small farming village in the salt marshes of the southwest of the map. Generally, the further east you travel, the more difficult enemies you’ll face. Joppa feels like a classic RPG first town, serving up “kill this monster” and “go into this cave” quests that will give you a few levels and ultimately point you towards the game’s main quest.

And what a quest it is. As a roguelike, there will be plenty of quick deaths, so each time making it to a new location feels like an incredible victory. Since the places you need to go are the same every time, you can gradually start to get a feel for when it will be safe to tackle the next leg of the journey, and how best to prepare for tackling specific dungeons. The quest structure feels similar to a Fallout game, where you’re tugged in general directions through asking around, but there’s plenty of diversions along the way.

So other than the mix of procedural and handcrafted elements, what does Qud bring to the table? Horns and cryokinesis! While the True Kin offer a more classic roguelike experience, wielding swords and guns and cybernetics that are useful but don’t shake things up too much, choosing to play as a mutant means sacrificing some base stats to become a furry with psychic powers. And let’s face it, that’s always going to be the more fun option. A lot of the mutations, especially the mental ones, feel like you’re getting away with breaking the game at times. Trapping someone behind a force wall and sundering their mind. Throwing yourself into a space-time vortex to escape the jaws of defeat. Beguiling an enemy who can create clones of themselves, giving you a new companion as well as a personal army. There’s plenty of useful physical mutations too, such as an extra set of arms or legs, claws to dig through walls, and three different kinds of stingers. Caves of Qud touts radical body autonomy as a feature, with multiple avenues for the player character to become more, or less, like themselves.

Unfortunately, said radical body autonomy doesn’t extend into the real world, and after falling in deep and logging over 100 hours in a single month, I found myself with a wicked repetitive stress injury from keyboard overuse. After taking a few-weeks break, Elden Ring came out, where I proceeded to do the exact same thing and worsen it. Once it became clear that my fingers weren’t going to feel better from rest alone, I finally dragged myself to a physical therapist, who got me on a regimen of daily hand and shoulder exercises. Instant improvement.

I suppose that’s radical in of itself, huh? After months of dealing with lingering aches and finger pain, someone was able to help me through just a few targeted stretches. I would have never suspected the shoulders otherwise! As it turns out, everything is connected, and exercises further up the body are sometimes what you really need to relieve hand pain. Real-life wizardry, I tell you, especially in contrast to my gastroenterological struggles, where it’s hard for doctors to to even figure out what the problem is, much less how to treat it.

between the orbs and the soup, this spell seems right up tumblr's alley

Getting diseased in Qud is a far more interesting affair. The game plays this great practical joke where the first time you venture into the abandoned factory Golgotha for the main quest, you’re almost certain to ingest black ooze and contract Glotrot. Glotrot is a disease that develops in stages, and ends with your character’s tongue falling off, not to mention puking up half of the water they drink. “I can live without speaking to people,” the player might think, until they realize that turning in the Golgotha quest requires them to talk through a communications panel. And that their puke will fall into the water container that they drank from, quickly contaminating their whole supply unless they take very specific precautions.

It’s such a good intersection of mechanical interactions! And we’re not even done yet. At this point, the player will probably tab out and check the Caves of Qud wiki for how to cure Glotrot. They'll discover there that the cure is made out of different ingredients every run, and said ingredients can only be learned by purchasing a medical book from the ape mayor of a small village in the middle of the jungle. This can be a pretty perilous trek for the player at this point in the game. When they finally make it to Kyakukya, there’s one last sucker punch, as having Glotrot lowers your Ego stat, making bartering for the book more costly. It’s the kind of prolonged side-adventure that will lead the player to try and avoid Glotrot at all costs in future runs, by eating honey and cooking all the disease-resisting meals they can before venturing into Golgotha.

Qud is full of black comedy moments like these, even if few are quite as poignant as catching Glotrot. It encourages carefulness by making deaths a ridiculous conflux of factors that always leave you wondering how you could have done things differently, either throughout the run or in the final turns. Only through expecting that everything will go wrong do you stand a chance of making it through. On the other hand, the more creatively you think, the more you can cheat your way through even the scariest of situations. It’s a blast to learn just how much you can do with your tools, and to swap stories around with other players.

my very first run, where I took "Evil Twin" as a mental defect because it felt on-brand. Who could have predicted such a tragedy

By the way, as something of a wiki connoisseur, Caves of Qud's is excellent! 99% of the technical information you need, as well as the occasional opinion sections on whether certain decisions like mutations and skills are worth it. I don’t think I’ve ever seen a game wiki go as far as citing classes and lines of code in the references section. I’m glad they were able to move from Wikia to independent hosting, it’s for sure paying off.

My final, unorganized thoughts on the game:

It has deertaurs.

My second favorite thing about Qud is how it scales up its setting’s technology the further the player gets. You start out in a relatively primitive farming village, and 15 levels later you’re having shootouts in abandoned industrial ruins, and 15 levels after that you’re locked in psychic wizard battles in the shadow of a massive space elevator. And since this process takes dozens of hours, this evolution feels seamless for how much it is.

Get a numpad! Technically this game is playable with just a laptop set of keys, but you’re going to have a comparatively bad time. You really want simple diagonal character movement and as many keyboard shortcuts as you can get.

You need to take care of yourself! Treat me as a cautionary tale, I had to take a 9-month break from this game and cut back on my gaming in general because I failed to. Do hand stretches every few days now so you don’t need to do them daily to ward off pain later. Google around or hell, just follow the b4nny stretches.

After dying in a particularly gruesome way by freezing solid and getting torn apart by a giant crab, I felt moved to write a short story about my companion who made it out and what she did afterwards. I hadn’t written fiction in nearly a decade, so for Qud to hook itself in my head in such a way that I needed to privately eulogize is really something.

Ask any Caves of Qud player about their most ridiculous solution to a problem in the game. You won’t regret it.

Did I mention it has deertaurs.

me n the homies

[marlonbrandto]

THE MAYNOS GAMBIT | 2

The remains of the department of records hold little of value. Aun’Shar begins to search the rubble in hopes the key may still be buried within. Pebbles nearby begin to vibrate, floating off the ground as static electricity crackles in the air. Suddenly six pillars of light beam down from the clouds, then quickly dissipate to reveal smoking armored figures standing where there once was nothing. The Imperium of Mankind has made planetfall.

1. The Terminators need no time to shake off the Teleportarium sickness, upon seeing the Tau, the heavily armored unit moves uncharacteristically fast, rushing Kas’Mis ghostkeel. Aun’Shar finds a brass cog in the rubble, seemingly innocuous except for a serial number carved into the face, it’s the key! He takes it and orders a retreat, but it’s already too late, the Terminators have crippled the ghostkeel and turn towards the shouting Ethereal.

2. D’tano orders a firing line be made to cover the Ethereals retreat. Though the hail of pulse fire manages to pierce the armor of a few Terminators, three of them seem unfazed as they plunge into the torrent.

3. The Terminators approach whats left of the defensive line, each fire warrior prepares to give all they have for the greater good.

4. As the Terminator captain shreds through the armor and flesh of a fire warrior with his chainsword, the Sha’sui of the strike team gets a transmission on his helmet comms, the ethereal and retinue has safely gotten away. He relaxes, turns towards his remaining soldier and nods. Drawing his ritual blade, he rushes the captain, dodging a slash as the revving chainsword roars over him. He thrusts the sword with all his might, hoping to find purchase between two joins of the Captain’s armor. Blood drips down the hilt of the blade, “it bleeds!” Thinks the Shas’ui as a shadow of a hand glides over him. Suddenly his vision goes black as a power fist grips his head, compacting his helmet with a *crack* as his skull shatters, letting his body limply crumple to the ground. The final soldier had charged behind his Shas’ui but now found himself lifted a foot off the ground as the Terminator captain grips his neck. Gurgling under the pressure, he fumbles at his belt, finding a smooth round disc. Pressing the button at the center of the disc, he holds it out in front of the Terminators’ expressionless helmet, gasping for a breath that can’t reach further than the fingers at his throat.

—————————————————————————

The Terminator captain throws his helmet into the rubble, blinking furiously as his vision slowly returns to him. The fire warriors’ photon grenade was an insult to the glorious slaughter he and his brothers had preformed. Brother Jeremiah lays his power fist on his captains shoulder, shards of metal mixed with blood and brain still drip off of his fingers as he shakes the captain to attention.

“Lord Balthasar, the Xenos leader left no trail, and there is not a living breath among the rabble that remains”

The features of Jeremiah’s helmet begin to form in Balthasars vision. His prey has escaped, he frowns.

“Those xenos insult us with dishonor, we will continue with our purge of the city, soon all on this planet will be brought to heel. For the emperor.”

“For the emperor!” Jeremiah replies, and the company of three march towards the next building uncaring of the corpses they desecrate underfoot.

[xerox-candybar]

🪐🍬 for your writer's questions please

Gaaah! Thank you so much for the ask. <3

🍬 ⇢ post an unpopular opinion about a popular fandom character

Mumen Rider frightens me.

I would be the Middle Management Bitch constantly writing up Mumen Writer for reckless behavior and safety violations. To be clear, I would also be spending much more time on Workplace Bullying. But oh my god, that guy hits too close to home.

In my Previous Life, I spent a lot of time having conversations somewhere along the lines of, "this is partly about workplace safety but more about how a back injury could jeopardize your personal well-being and career; also you're setting an expectation/example for other employees that could jeopardize their health; AND it's not safe for the people around you; AND it's indicative of your ability to follow instructions / show judgement which is critical for your role. I personally do not want to terminate your employment over this but to be clear, but I will have to, if this continues."

...I do feel bad about this, because Mumen Rider is such a dang cinnamon role. So I like to pretend that Gojo Satoru** puts on a disguise and becomes Mumen Rider whenever he wants to stop being the strongest and go touch grass. "He can use Infinity any time he wants," I whimper, crying, covering my face and watching the Sea King scene through my fingers. "Garou is actually severely out-classed in this fight, not Mumen," I insist, biting my lip over S2. "Because Garou could get Hollow Purple'd at any time......"

**they both have the same Japanese voice actor, and they are both named "Satoru." Ergo; these characters are actually the same person. I rest my case.

🪐 ⇢ name three good things going on in your life right now

I haven't killed any houseplants in awhile.

I have yet to injure myself with my copy of the The Power Broker.

Pack of the Golden Fog <3

(link to ask game -- still open!)