#Hearing our second in command laugh at that was great

[mystic-writings]

nice to meet you

PAIRING — poe dameron x fem!reader

SUMMARY — despite being placed on parental leave by leia, poe has to leave for a last minute mission. you go into labour.

WARNINGS — pregnancy, fluff, real-word cursing, (likely incorrect) depictions of birth, author has not had kids before, depictions of panic, author writes some cliche stuff at the end but its fluffy so it doesn’t matter

WORD COUNT — 3,227

NOTES — this was supposed to be written a lot sooner than two months after the first part was posted. oopsies? anyway, this can be read as a standalone, but you can read part one here!

masterlist | taglist

“What do you mean, ‘emergency rescue mission?’” Poe glared. “I’m on leave! I’ve got a kid on the way!” 

“I’m sorry, Commander, but you’re the only available pilot with the skillset to pull this off this kind of mission,” Admiral Horne sighed, her face showing nothing but apology as she handed the datapad to him. “All of our other qualified pilots are off base.” 

Of course, Poe thought. Of course, he was being shipped off to Mustafar for a rescue mission while you were just about ready to give birth.

After looking over the information, he placed the datapad on a nearby console and huffed, one hand on his hips, the other scrubbing at his face. “Where’s Leia? I need to talk to her.”

“She went to Coruscant this morning with Vice Admiral Holdo,” Horne informed him, driving his stress levels even higher. “She won’t be back for another few days, I’m afraid.”

Great. 

“Fine. I’ll do it. But the second things get too dangerous, I’m coming back. You hear me?”

Admiral Horne only nodded before dismissing him for immediate dispatch. Poe, ever the rebel, stopped off at the hangar after he suited up, finding you watching Jess as she tweaked something in the underbelly of her X-Wing. 

The second he caught sight of you, sitting patiently with a hand cupping the swell of your stomach, laughing gently at something Jess said, everything in him begged not to leave your side. To strip the flight suit from his body and stay right here, by your side. But then you glanced over at him, and your eyes roamed over his body, and he knew from the look in your eye that if he wasn’t going to be facing your wrath, someone else was. And he much preferred that it be someone else. 

“What’s going on?” The worry swimming in your eyes as you stood to meet him broke Poe’s heart. He reached up, brushing some hair from your shoulder before his hand slid up to cup your jaw. 

“I have a mission,” he said, heart shattering as the worry completely consumed your features. 

“But you’re on leave,” you reached up, placing your hand over his. “You’re not supposed to leave the base.” 

“Admiral Horne—” 

“Does she know you’re not supposed to leave? Does she know we’re having a kid?”

“She does, but—” Poe sighed, his hand leaving your cheek, turning over to grasp yours and pull you a bit closer. “I’m the only one on base that’s qualified to do this. She said it’ll only be a few days. It’s a low-risk rescue mission, I promise I will be just fine.” 

You nodded, fighting back the tears that seemed to sneak up on you at any given occasion recently, squeezing Poe’s hand tight. “Be careful, Poe. If something happens, so help me I’ll—” 

“I know, you’ll kill me yourself.” Poe chuckled, lifting your hand, pressing his lips to your knuckles before taking your other hand and doing the same, pressing a kiss to the ring that now rested on your finger — the same ring you used to toy with when it rested on a chain around Poe’s neck. When he lifted his gaze, meeting your eyes, his voice was quiet. “I promise. I will make it back to you. Both of you.”

“I love you,” you whispered, pressing your forehead to Poe’s. 

He leaned forward, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to your lips, whispering,  “I love you, too,” before dipping lower, pressing the most featherlight of kisses to the top of your stomach. “Stay right there for me, got it kiddo? I love you.” 

Poe relished in the giggle his comment pulled from you, smiling bright and kissing you once more before slipping from your grip and out of the hangar, praying to the Maker that he got back before he missed the birth of his firstborn. He’d wring Admiral Horne’s neck if he did. 

Three days. 

Poe’s been gone on some stupid rescue mission for the past three days. You’d been utterly useless, facing sleepless nights and anxiety for most of the time he’d been gone. Between it all, though, you’d been dealing with false labour pains, the same you’d been experiencing before he left, but it only heightened your panic all the more now that Poe was off-planet. 

Rose and Jess had been rotating staying with you, the pair being the only other relief you could find between Poe’s holo-calls every few hours. Every moment in between, though,when you were alone, you twisted the ring on your finger, teeth gnawing your lip with worry. It was the worst you’d ever felt, and the false contractions were doing nothing to ease your fears. 

It was the middle of the afternoon as you stood with Jess, arranging and rearranging the items Leia managed to import for your baby on the dresser top that was now home to a change station. Ever since your fourth month, Leia had moved you into a larger room, a mini-apartment with its own refresher and two rooms bordering on the smaller side — but it was more private space than you’d ever had on the base, and you would never stop being grateful for it. 

“You know, you’ve put that stack of diapers back in that very spot three times now.” Jess commented from the loveseat. “You need to stop worrying,”

“I’ll stop worrying when Poe gets back.” You told her, wincing as another false contraction rippled across your back. “Besides, Leia said this sort of stuff is normal. She called it ‘nesting.’” 

Jess chuckled, leather creaking as she stood from the couch and came to stand beside the dresser, fiddling with a stuffed runyip plush before setting it down. You watched her admire the small set up you had for the baby, multi-coloured blankets and stuffed toys packed neatly into bins, a single crib resting under the window with jungle themed sheets on the mattress. “I can’t believe you’re gonna be a mom. I can’t believe Poe’s gonna be a dad,” 

“You and me both,” you laughed, a hand resting on your bump as another small, less painful contraction tightened the muscles in your abdomen. “Seems like ages ago when we first met.” 

Before you had the time to reminisce further, the door slid open with a woosh, revealing a very breathless, brightly smiling Rose Tico. “He’s back. Poe’s X-Wing landed, like, ten minutes ago.” 

You huffed, relief flooding your veins and soothing the false contraction. You rested a hand on the change table and leaned against it, thumb rubbing at the ring on the same hand as Jess met your eye, smile widening to match your own. “Thank the Maker. And he’s alright?”

“Not a scratch. He’s debriefing with Horne and Leia now.” Rose reported back, stepping into the room. “How’ve things been today?”

Before you even had the chance to open your mouth, your stomach tightened and you gripped the change table, nearly doubling over. This pain was worse than the ones you’d felt before, and as you felt a rush of water down your legs, you knew that this was no false labour. 

Your panicked eyes flitted between Rose and Jess, eyeing the puddle on the floor as the pain worsened before subsiding. You heaved a breath through your mouth, desperately trying to calm yourself. It did little to help, a whimper escaping you as you straightened your back. “Oh, fuck.”

Poe wanted nothing more than for this — quite honestly, completely useless — debrief to be over. It was just him, Leia, and Horne in the room, discussing the details of the mission. “Look, it took me a day to find them, and another to tail him and get him to lead me to our guy. The place wasn’t heavily guarded, so I took them out in no time. No one followed me, and I got him back here without any issues. Now can I please go see my wife?” 

Of course, you and Poe weren’t married yet, but the moment he put that ring on your finger after finding out you were pregnant, you might as well have been. 

“Of course, Commander, you may—” Leia’s datapad beeping cut her sentence short. Poe nearly groaned as she held up a finger to check the urgent message, a grin splitting her lips as her eyes trailed across the screen. “Apologies, Poe. You may go, but I suggest you head to the medbay. It seems your child has perfect timing.”

The wide, bright smile that spread across Poe lips, lighting up his features, sent warmth straight to Leia’s heart. She was glad to see him so happy, and entirely unbothered as he shot from his seat, barely waiting for the meeting room door to open before he slid through the gap, footsteps echoing through the hall as he ran for his life. 

By the time Poe reached the medbay, you were already in a private room, sweating and gritting your teeth with Jess and Rose on either side of you. One of the few non-droid nurses conversed with a med-droid as you lay in the bed, dressed in a medical gown with a blanket draped over your lower half. 

The door slid open, revealing the sight to Poe, who sighed and was by your side immediately. “Hey, baby, how’re you doing? You okay?”

“Well, my body’s currently trying to tear itself apart to get this baby out of me, so I’d say I’m doing just fine, Dameron,” you gritted the words out, squirming in the bed as Rose and Jess slipped from the room with quiet praises and hands on shoulders, wishing you both good luck. 

Poe’s hand instantly slipped into yours, squeezing once as he rested the other above your head, leaning down to press a kiss to your sweat-slick skin. He felt you squeeze back, your grip tightening as you gritted your teeth, another contraction passing over you. “You’re okay, baby. You’re okay,” he whispered, leaning his forehead on your temple. 

Just as the wave of pain began to pass, the nurse, Jane, approached with a gentle smile. “You’re almost there, love. Is it okay if I check your cervix?”

“Mhmm,” you whimpered with a nod, blowing out a shaking breath as Poe lifted his head. 

“How long have you been in labour?” Poe asked, squeezing your hand. 

You huffed, tossing your head back onto the pillows. “No clue.” 

“What do you mean, ‘no clue’?” Poe furrowed his eyebrows, glancing at the nurse and back at you. “Wouldn’t you have felt the contractions?”

“Not between the constant false ones,” you grimaced. “And before you ask, my water broke when Rose came to tell me you were finally home. So I’m kind of blaming all of this on you.” 

Poe laughed, trying to ignore the tears blurring his vision. “Blame it all on me, baby. I don’t mind.” 

Jane stood, peeling the glove from her hand as she smiled again. “Almost there, mom. If you feel at all like you have to push, let me know and we’ll go from there, okay?”

“Yeah,” you said, voice breathy and tired as you squeezed Poe’s hand again. “Will do. Is it okay if my signal is screaming bloody murder? Because I might have to do that if this gets any worse.” 

The nurse laughed, heading back to the med-droid, who Poe noticed was now preparing some sort of incubator for the baby. He wondered exactly what was going to happen. He’d heard often that this would be a defining moment in his life; a moment that would change who he was to the very core. Poe had heard plenty about the day he was born from his father growing up, but he hadn’t believed what he was hearing until now, standing in the room with you, watching the med-droid and nurse work simultaneously to get everything ready for the arrival of your child and to make sure you were as comfortable as you could be. 

As another contraction passed over you, you whimpered, tears building in your eyes as you breathed your way through the pain. “Poe,” you whispered, your voice tinged with pain, sending a deep ache straight to Poe’s chest. “Poe, I don’t— I’m scared,” you admitted, glancing up to meet his eyes, watching the worry pool in them to meet the fear shining in yours. “I’m so scared,” 

“Hey,” Poe called, his voice gentle but firm as he stroked the hair away from your forehead. “We’ll be just fine, okay? All three of us are gonna be fine. Maybe it isn’t how we planned, but we’re safe. And I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere. Our baby isn’t going anywhere. And neither are you. I promise.” 

You nodded, another whimper passing through your lips as you brought your bottom lip between your teeth, biting hard and scrunching your face as another, longer contraction wracked your body. You grunted and groaned, one hand gripping the sheets and the other crushing Poe’s hand. But he kept smoothing your hair, whispering to you, his voice soothing you through the sound of blood rushing through your ears. 

“I think— oh, fuck— I think I need to push,” you huffed, voice strained as the pressure built in your abdomen, stretching and pulling at every muscle in your body. “Jane, I—” your voice crackled, fizzling out with a powerful groan as Jane rushed you, a stool under her and gloves on in an instant. 

“You’re doing great, mom. When you feel another contraction, I want you to give it all you’ve got, okay? Put everything behind it and just push.” Jane advised, peeking her head over the sheet that the med-droid had put in place of the blanket. 

“Is— Is there anything I can do?” Poe asked, his voice breaking as he adjusted his hold on your hand, the other still resting on the back of your head. He looked like a mess, hair mussed from running and eyes wide, shimmering and worried. 

“Be there for her.” Jane answered. “However she needs you to be.” 

Poe only nodded, adjusting his stance to bring his lips to your forehead again as you grit your teeth. Your grip on his hand tightened again, the force of the contraction and the effort you were exerting pushing your chin into your chest. Poe slid his hand to rest between your shoulder blades, supporting as much of your weight as you would let him. 

The pain had been bad before, but the added pressure of actually pushing made the ache in your limbs unbearable. Your muscles were sore from the constant tension, your fingers numb from the pressure you’d squeezed Poe’s hand with. When the pain subsided, and your head fell back, tears mingled with the sweat covering you. You took gulping breaths, huffing in and out to try to bring some relief to your body. Nothing was registering in your mind anymore; you could hear voices speaking to you, giving you words of encouragement, but the pain was blinding. Every inch of you felt broken and aching, and you knew that even after it was over, you would still feel it. 

Then the cycle repeated itself — once more, then another, and then… everything stopped. Relief flooded your body, numbing everything in you as muted cries flooded the room, growing sharper as you came back into yourself. Your vision cleared, catching Poe’s trembling hand as the nurse handed him a pair of medical scissors. Finally, you were able to breathe. Your head fell back onto the bed, the pillow beneath you providing comfort as you watched Jane bring the baby over to the incubator. 

Poe had never felt so much love until he heard his child cry. The wails of fresh life, untouched and full of possibility, filled his heart impossibly full, leaving it with no choice but to hurt with every beat, to ache with every breath his daughter took. He cut the cord with blurred vision, tears already beginning to fall as Jane smiled, carrying the baby over to the med-droid to clean her up. As she did, the baby still wailing loudly, Poe returned to your side, cupping your cheek and bringing your gaze to meet his. 

“Hey,” he whispered, not trusting his voice. His heart warmed at the tired smile that spread across your face, eyes opening to meet him. “You okay?”

“‘M fine,” you muttered. “Is the baby—?”

“Fine. She’s perfect.” He smiled, watching your face light up. 

“It’s a girl?” You whispered, voice laced through with emotions even Poe could feel. “We have a daughter?” 

Poe nodded, sniffling as fresh tears began to fall. He opened his mouth to speak, only to find Jane standing at your side, holding a loosely wrapped baby Dameron. 

“I think someone wants to meet you,” she spoke gently, smiling down at you. 

Wordlessly, you took the baby from Jane, who adjusted your bed so you could sit up straighter without injuring yourself. The moment your daughter was cradled in your arms, then against the skin of your chest, you knew nothing else mattered as much as this did. As she did. 

“Poe, look at her,” you breathed, choking on your own voice as the baby gurgled, deep brown eyes latching onto nothing in particular with her cheek squished into your chest. “She’s beautiful.”

Poe nodded, his eyes stuck on his daughter as she squirmed, face flushed and brows furrowed. When they flickered up to you, Poe found you staring down at your daughter, a finger stroking her back gently as she lay against you, moving slightly with every breath you took. “Are you still scared?” Poe whispered.

“I’m absolutely terrified,” you whispered back. “But we’re doing this together, and I know you’re scared, too. And that makes me feel a bit better.” 

Poe huffed a quiet laugh, his hand settling on the back of his daughter’s head as he kept his gaze on you. “Of course I’m scared. I’m scared shitless. But if I’m sure of one thing, it’s that she’s worth it.” 

You sniffled, nodding and lifting your head, capturing Poe’s lips in a quick, loving kiss. When you pulled back, both of your gazes fell to your daughter, who now seemed to be fast asleep, mouth slightly open and a fist curled against your medical gown. 

“I think I have a name for her,” you said as Poe sat on the edge of the bed. 

“You do?”

“Yeah. I know we were thinking about using Alex, because it would work either way, but…” you glanced down at your hand, resting gently across your baby girl’s back. “I think we should name her after your mom.”

If it was even possible, Poe’s eyes filled with more warmth, tears glistening within them once more as he moved his gaze from the baby to you. “Are you sure?”

You smiled gently, your right hand grasping for Poe’s where it rested on the bed. “Of course I am. Your mother was an amazing woman, Poe. I want to honour that.” 

Poe’s smile matched yours as he nodded, adjusting himself to press a featherlight kiss to the baby’s forehead and rest his hand over yours on her back. “Okay.” The baby cooed, adjusting herself under her parent’s combined touch, settling back into sleep as Poe spoke. “It’s nice to meet you, Shara.”

forever taglist: @mazerunnerrose @theboldandthebootyful @miraclesoflove @heliads

poe dameron taglist: @aria725 @eyelessfaces @klillaah (open!)

[httpknjoon]

surprise, surprise | jjk

plot | When you asked what your boyfriend wants for Valentine's, Jungkook challenged you to surprise him. But when you did, he wasn't the only one surprised.

words | 2.1k+

genres | fluff,  secret relationship au, established relationship au, friends to lovers au

pairing | jungkook x reader

warnings | none

note | another part will follow :)) enjoy reading!

main masterlist  |  drabble series masterlist

It was a late afternoon, during a warm sunny day, you and your boyfriend finally went on with your picnic plans after weeks of talking about it. Under a lush shade tree, Jungkook laid out your classic red gingham picnic blanket. He also has pillows from his place, knowing that you would love to have one while chilling. On the flip side, you brought out the food from your basket which includes various colorful sliced fruits, sandwiches, chips, orange juice, and a bottle of chocolate syrup if ever your boyfriend wants to put it on his fruit.

It has been past an hour since you arrived at this spot in the park, half an hour away from the city you and Jungkook live in. So, with no worries about seeing your friends around, you two were free to basically do whatever you wanted on the grass. Jungkook brought his digital camera and you were already sure that half of the photos he took today are Bam’s. You were just giggling when you saw Jungkook trying to make your pet stand still with his green toy ball and sounds he learned from The Dogist, a dog photographer who posts every dog he meets online.

“One more, Bam. Stay…” he commanded as he closed his left eye to focus on his camera’s viewfinder. 

Your pet, eager to have a treat and his toy, heeded. Followed by a shutter sound, you hear a satisfied chuckle from your boyfriend. He handed Bam a treat and then threw the ball for your pet to run after.

“How was it?” you asked, sipping on your glass of orange juice.

Jungkook turned around in your direction and instead of answering immediately, you found him staring at you. Used to him dazing out sometimes, you just smiled and took another gulp from your glass. Jungkook took this opportunity to point his camera lens to you. He moved around, finding the best angle where the light makes you glow from your greenery background. You were an angel before his sight. He clicks for your candid shot. When you hear the first shutter sound, you realize what he is doing.

“Wait! Take another one.”

This time, you smiled for the camera, making him smile behind the lens. After a couple more shots, he sat next to you to show you the results. By the small sound of awe you made, he knew you loved them.

“You’re such a great photographer, babe,” you told him.

“I just have a very beautiful muse,” he replied.

You looked up at him and he laughed when he saw your eyebrows scrunching together. Perhaps it was too corny and sweet. But your scrunched expression softened up before giving him a peck on his lips. He was about to lean in for more but you pulled away with a smile.

“You used to get girls with those lines?” you teased and laughed.

And before Jungkook can defend his game, Bam runs back with his toy in between his teeth. Half an hour passed, and the camera was now in your hands while Jungkook lay his head on your lap, scrolling through his phone. Bam is napping on the grass beside you two, tired from playing. The weather was not too hot since there was still wind blowing from time to time, perfect for a midday nap. With no more energy to take pictures, you settled his camera down. For the next few minutes, you spent the time running your fingers on Jungkook’s hair and appreciating the peace of the place. You can feel your heart feeling at ease.

“I can’t believe we’re already in the second month of this year,” your boyfriend suddenly spoke, eyes still glued on his phone.

“I know, babe. It seemed like yesterday when we celebrated New Year’s Eve at Dara’s and our anniversary,” you replied. “Then, we told Blaire about us.”

He put down his phone with that, looking at you, “We didn’t tell her, you did.”

You just rolled your eyes since you know you cannot really defend yourself. You were too drunk that night, Jungkook had to tell you what you shared with your friend the morning after. And after a whole-day conversation with Blaire, she agreed to not say anything about it and simply called you two “sneaky rats” in a teasing way.

“Anyway, Valentine’s Day is next week.” Jungkook brought up the topic, sitting up. “Do you want to do anything or go anywhere?”

“Well… we already did this picnic.” you clicked your tongue as your eyes traveled away, thinking. 

And after a few seconds, an idea pops into your head. An activity you saw online that you found cute and perfect for you two. You beamed as you told him about it. Jungkook nodded as he listened intently, eyes traveling down his tattooed knuckles.

“I love that, we can do that! That’s wonderful, princess.” He smiled, eyes crinkling. “Do you already have any ideas about the design?”

You shook your head, “Oh, not yet.”

“Okay, okay.” he nods again,

You squeeze his hands, “How about you? What do you want to do?”

He looked up at the leaves on the tree as he sighed, “I don’t know… Really. That’s why I asked you. What you want is what really matters to me.”

You raised an eyebrow, “Really? Nothing?”

He nodded his head but not a second after, he spoke again, “Okay, I have an idea.”

“Okay, spill.” 

“Surprise me,” he said like it was a challenge.

“Surprise you?” you repeated.

Looking back at your relationship, you were a little weak at doing surprises. You cannot really lie well and always see his reaction when you get him something meant for a surprise. But maybe you can try again.

“Okay, babe.”

“Isn’t this sad?” Wooshik sighed in between the film playing on the television. “It’s the day before Valentine’s. We are both single straight guys, watching Meryl Streep boss around people because we don’t have any plans tomorrow,” he added.

I do, Jungkook said in his head. Today is the thirteenth. It has been days since you two went on that picnic and he has been secretly waiting for your surprise. You didn’t want to give him a spoiler about it since you both know how bad you are at lying. So, you didn’t give him even a single clue.

And since it’s the day before that day, you and the girls in your friend group went out for your Galentine’s Day. You told him your activities for the day, which included going to a baking class and pampering yourselves in hair and nail salons. So, in return, he and Wooshik are pretty much shooed away when the latter begs to come with them.

“It’s for girls only! Go hang out together,” Jenny laughed. 

So, they did. Initially, they planned on playing video games in Jungkook’s place. But after two hours of playing and having succeeding losses, they got exhausted and opted to watch a movie. The streaming service recommended a lot of chick-flicks so that’s what they settled for.

“This is fine. The girls are single too. A lot of people are spending tomorrow single.” he noted, focused on the film.

But Wooshik exclaimed, “But love is in the air! I don’t want to be lonely. Maybe we should pull up at a bar or something. Maybe we can have dates tomorrow.”

“I told you, I’m not into those things anymore.”

“Those things?! It’s called dating, JK. So you’re not into dating now?” Wooshik asked his tone in disbelief. Jungkook just laughed at his dramatic reaction. His friend continued, “What happened to my friend who used to introduce me to his new girlfriend every two weeks?”

Jungkook tossed him a pillow, smacking it right to his face, “Hey, people change!”

“You used to hold the record for most partners in a year in our friend group, JK.” Wooshik snickered.

“And now, I don’t. I’m happy where I am right now.” 

“Blablabla. That’s something a person with a great high-paying job or a nice love life would say. And I don’t think your job pays you that high for you to say that.” Wooshik quipped while watching the movie again.

Jungkook laughs. He’s right. But Wooshik is not aware of how fun he is having with you. Your friend doesn’t know how much you made his life more than nice. You made his days a lot more warmer and brighter than it has ever been.

“And the girls are not really single. Jenny said she will be busy tomorrow–”

“She is. She works as a head chef in a restaurant. Tomorrow is like a festival in her workplace.” Jungkook cuts him off. 

His friend snickered, “Okay, but she’s going on an occasional date with that same guy she met at a food convention. Blaire is having an on and off and on relationship with Grace. Dara is dating–”

“She is?” Jungkook asked.

Wooshik nods like it’s something he has known for a long time, “Yeah… and YN, I just know that one is seeing someone.”

Something in his stomach dropped when Jungkook heard that, “Yeah?”

“Remember when I stayed for like a week in her house when I had something renovated in my place? I swore I saw her sneaking out a guy one early morning.” his friend shared, clueless about the guy who was now sitting in front of him.

“Are you sure?” Jungkook asked.

“Yeah, I just didn’t see him properly since the lights were off. But I heard YN talking to him.” 

Yeah, it’s him. 

Not wanting to talk about it anymore, Jungkook said, “You know what? Maybe we should go out.”

It’s like Wooshik’s ears perked up when heard that, “Where?”

“Just out. Maybe get something to eat or… I saw this new bowling alley opening up around the corner. We can walk there from here.”

Originally, Jungkook wanted to take you there first. But with his best friend being bored and talking about you and your relationship, he just thought of going to that place.

“Oh, okay. Maybe fate can find me a date there.”

Jungkook chuckled, getting up, “Okay, I’ll just take a quick shower. Then, we can go.”

Wooshik nodded and Jungkook walked away. Left alone in the living room, Wooshik reached for the almost-finished bowl of chips on the center table. He rarely watched chick flicks but he really liked this one. Maybe because of the lead actress. But nonetheless, he enjoys the story.

“I just don’t get why she has to leave her great job for Nate. I mean, he did not even support her when she was having growth in her work and she was in Paris!” Wooshik exclaimed as the screen showed Anne Hathaway walking away from her boss, portrayed by Meryl Streep.

The credits were rolling in when he heard the knock on the door. He was about to call his friend when he heard the distant trickling from his shower. Wooshik got up and opened the door, dusting off the cheese powder from the chips. A delivery guy stood in front of the door, holding a box of pretty flower arrangements.

“Delivery for Jeon Jungkook.” the guy said.

Confused, Wooshik had his mouth slightly open before answering, “Oh… uh, he’s in the shower. But I can receive this for him.”

“Okay. Please, sign here.”

The guy handed him a paper and Wooshik followed. After the flowers were handed to him, he said thank you and closed the door. His eyes scanned the whole arrangement filled with various flowers. A white folded card sat on top of it. As he carefully placed it down on the table, one question stayed in his head.

Who the hell would send flowers to his best friend?

So just like what any nosy, curious person would do, Wooshik flicked the card open.

Blooms for the best person I know. 

I was with B in the flower shop and he helped me pick the flowers. I hope you’ll love them.

Know that this is the first of other surprises I’ve planned for tomorrow ;)

But firstly, let me ask you for the first time,

Babe, will you be my Valentine?

-Princess

Princess? Who the hell is Princess? Who is B? Is B a person? Did his friend have a baby and didn’t know it?

“Hey, let’s g– Oh, where did that come from?”

Jungkook came in, hair damp. His eyes land on the bouquet of flowers. Wooshik is frozen in place. His hand is still holding the card as he stares at him.

His eyes gradually squinted, “Who is Princess, and why is she sending you flowers?”

TAGLIST (closed)

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[nalyniavadelletargaryen]

{ TWIN FLAME - Aegon Targaryen + Rhaegar Targaryen }

{ SUMMARY/PREVIEW CHAPTER }: Twins carry a shared soul, a force that only exists between them. One may pull, and the other may push, but by fate's hand, they’ve been conjoined by a shared will for power. The elder strays from the path of morality while the younger strides upon it with just as much pride. Both men share a desire: an attraction to what they are forbidden to have.

{ WARNINGS }: MDNI + SMUT + ANGST + TARGCEST + AGE GAP + BLOOD + LANGUAGE + VIOLENCE + NIECE/FEM READER + MATURE THEMES

{ PRESS ▶️}:

"To war then!"

Aegon's voice rang loud and clear through the council room, setting unease on those who sat on either side of him, but one man remained unmoved by his heady announcement.

Rhaegar smirked, a broad amusement in his expression, "Good..."

The two men share a fulfilled grin; the elder is pleased to see his dark-haired half so encouraged by his decision.

They'd never agree on most things, but inciting rightful violence to achieve personal satisfaction was a common interest.

However, you were another exception to their differing worldviews.

Aegon slid down into his chair, glancing away from his second younger brother to eye the men and his mother, who sat in tense silence. "You are all dismissed..." he left no room for debate on the command. Alicent swallowed hard, holding back the words of wisdom she knew neither man would listen to, and with a slow exhale, her anger dwindled to plain discouragement.

Rhaegar did not shrink under her turning gaze. Unmoved by her silent plea for help, he was firmly comfortable in his seat as she and the rest of his brother's councils rose from their seats.

"Arrogance.." she mumbled bitterly, walking past him with a swiftness he and Aegon had learned to overlook.

"They refuse to act and fear a war that's already started," Rhaegar spoke freely when the last council member had stepped out, the doors to the room slammed shut by the king guard on watch, and a moment of shared silence short-lived between them. Aegon scoffed loudly, a smirk plastered on his face, "That's quite obvious, brother. Our mother intends to be timid about bloodshed. It's quite pathetic." He tossed his hands up in apparent disbelief, shaking his head at the thought of the woman who'd so proudly pushed him to be sovereign now seeking a quick end to a great conflict, and Rhaegar shared his disdain for the anomaly that was their mother.

"She'd sooner trust the gods with our fate than be reasonable. I don't see why you keep her at this table.."

Aegon eyed his twin, his face dropping to a callous frown. "As relieving as it would be to put her aside, you know well how our mother would never cease prying into our dealings with or without permission."

A more accurate statement had never left his elder brother's lips, and Rhaegar was impressed by him for a solemn second.

"Hm. It's surprising to hear you, of all people, see my side of reason." He chuckles, taking a brave gulp from his wine chalice. "Need better spirits at a time like this," the brunette bit out, tongue-numbing from the dull sting of alcohol in the wine, and his observation drew an offended reaction from Aegon

"It's the best drink to my taste." His amusement faded quickly on the premise of his preferences being questioned. "Do you take issue with me-"

Rhaegar laughed, a hearty sound that eliminated anything his twin was apt to spit out, "Oh, don't you dare twist my words, brother!" He set his cup down with a firm shake, grinning wide as Aegon glared at him directly.

"You speak too freely, Rhaegar.."

His laughter halted, grin falling to a closed smile as he relaxed into his chair at the end of the unoccupied table, "I speak what I think, Aeg. Which is much more than you can offer..."

The silence returned, filled with mounting animosity between a brother of pride and another of worthy praise.

A king and a warlord.

A rake and a hidden saint.

Made of one blood but with many contrasts in life.

Silence and lingering hate connected them.

Aegon poised to further it with a heady retort, greedy for triumph in a conflict many knew to be brotherly rivalry, but a solid rap of knocking on the closed council doors stopped him.

Rhaegar raised a brow at the sound, intrigued rather than annoyed as his brother seemed to be.

"They've come back for another debate so soon?" He chides out loud, unbothered by Aegon's grimace.

"Bothersome imbeciles..."

The knocking came again, quicker and louder. Each tap was executed with an exciting pace, different from the slow, solid thumps of a man readied to spill his thoughts on warfare.

Aegon hesitated to allow the visitor entry, glancing at his brother, who already had his eyes on him.

"They seem eager.." he mumbles, finishing his wine without care for his brother's exasperated sigh.

"Enter..!" Aegon announced, taking a gulp of his drink and sucking his teeth at the bitter taste.

The king's guards swung the doors open, nodding their heads to the culprit of the sudden interruption. "Thank you, Ser Lanis and Ser Daleon." Your gentle voice cut through the air in a familiar cadence, alerting the two men of your presence before you came into their direct view.

Both knights showed you a grateful smile, quick to shut the doors again as you paced up the steps leading to the nearly empty table. Rhaegar greeted you first, smiling as he reached a hand for your own. You gave him the courtesy, slipping a hand into his open one, returning his smile as he placed a chaste kiss on the back.

"Niece..." he muttered against your skin, his voice tender and hardened eyes softening completely as you swipe your fingers along his jawline affectionately. "Uncle," you greet him back, chest tightening with pure delight when he chuckles upon hearing it. However, your shared moment abruptly ended as Aegon called you.

"You'd leave your King unnoticed, sweet girl?"

He did not attempt to mask his jealousy, and you yelled at it with practiced grace. "No, my King. You'll always have my attention." You show him a smile, not afraid to roll your eyes at him as you step away from Rhaegar and stride towards him.

Aegon is far less cordial when greeting you, standing from his seat to look down as you bow to him. You are respectful in your initial approach and stand up straight when he rests a hand under your chin. "I'll hold you to that, princess," he lowered his voice as if to tell you a secret, and you merely hum sweetly in response, accepting the lingering kiss he placed on your cheek. Unlike his brother, Rhaegar could hold his tongue to some restraint, seeing you receive affection from his counterpart.

However, it did not last long as Aegon stepped closer to you, clearly set on keeping your attention on him and him alone.

"Why have you come here?.." Rhaegar poised the question in earnest curiosity, satisfied to see it gain your focus and ruin his brother's apparent intentions. You shifted away from your eldest uncle, looking between him and his nearly identical half before divulging why you'd found your way into the council room.

You never seemed to stay away from either of them long enough, with little motivation not to when your mother had urged you to do so longer than you could recall. By consequence, you'd been left in their care at the turn of your grandfather's death, present at his side the night before he took his last breath in hopes of keeping him company since your mother could not manage it. Still, with little warning, you'd found yourself in opposition with your closest kin by association.

You found your position to be a cursed blessing. I'm glad to be within reach of the men you cared about most besides your older brothers; you were highly aware of the danger the nearing conflict of birthright claims would surely bring.

You tried hard not to reminisce about the war's aftermath, keeping yourself observant yet pliable in the grip of the Green faction.

Even as you stood in the presence of the men you'd grown to trust despite all outside protests, their very existence reminded you of fate's tricky hand.

"I've come for your help." You tread carefully with words, pacing them to carry on your voice softly, knowing well what a simple change of tone could do to either man. Rhaegar sat up straighter, eyes never leaving you as he inquired for a better understanding of your intended words.

"Our aid for what, ..?" You paused, hearing the doting nickname he'd chosen to call you since your first encounter, resolve to melt a little as he followed it with a reassuring smile.

Feeling Aegon resting a hand on your lower back did not keep your heart racing slower, his firming touch stealing your train of thought for a split second, but one glimpse at the head seat he'd been sitting in only a moment ago brought your sense back to you.

They had been your weakness for far too long, filling a craving for experience and attention you couldn't satisfy in your mother's household, but now the time for a stronger mindset was needed.

Your mother deserved the seat Aegon so proudly claimed now; no matter your love for him and Rhaegar, you intended to see her in it, and with a steadying inhale, you continued with your mission to do so.

"I've been...having some trouble finding peace as of late. Especially at night, the masters can't find a remedy for my issue.."

Sleep. You hadn't been able to rest since the coronation, and it was no help that both men had made it a point to create boundaries with you that hadn't existed before. You'd grown accustomed to seeking one or both out for a good night of sleep, never having to exchange any flesh for the security they provided, but not above laying your head on their pillow to dream of it.

Aegon smiled at you, his hand on your back sliding in a small circle as if to ease your strife as minimal as it seemed to him, and you flashed him a grateful upturn of your lips in return.

"I...I had hoped that either of you would give me peace of mind. I'm aware of many things but still am left in the dark in the light of the most important knowledge."

Your heart sank as the faces of your brothers, mother, and father crept past the forefront of your mind. Every single one of them dawned an expression of distant concern, so clearly betrayed. Imagine their reaction to the news of your lingering presence with the side of the family who had no right to the throne, which made your stomach twist with knots.

You wanted to get back to them, to be beneficial even if they'd never considered acknowledging you as applicable. Yet, as you implemented a plan to find your way back to them, you couldn't feel entirely confident in their presumable welcome when you did return.

Jace might be the only one who'd be genuinely happy to see you again and not hold a dormant grudge towards you for staying at the late King's side and inevitably supplanting yourself as a hostage for the Greens.

Rhaegar studied you, sensitive to the minor details of your request, discerning every word you spoke on instinct to hang onto each one.

"You wish to know of your place in..." he waved a hand, motioning to the air of war that loomed closer and closer with each passing day, and you nodded tentatively at his gesture. "Yes...or at least if I'm to be used as leverage..."

Your blunt reply cuts through both of them differently. Aegon glares, momentary anger consuming him as he inches closer to you, head lowering so that his voice reaches your ear directly. "You are safe with me. Here in my..." he hesitated, meeting Rhaegar's observatory gaze before finishing his quiet declaration, "...in our protection. That I can swear to you with certainty ."

His noticeable overconfidence peaked through his tone, and your anxiety was anything but calmed by his promise. Your chest lightened from relief, knowing he still harbored adamant devotion to your well-being rather than wishing to use it as an advantage over your mother.

Rhaegar held a similar attachment to you, expressing it with less egoism than Aegon did through an even response. "Our opinion of you has not changed. You shall be kept here in fair respect."

He stood from his chair, leaving his chalice with it as he came to stand on your unattended side.

Your gaze automatically shifted to him, struggling to stay there as Aegon's burned into you with unabashed envy. "You have the King's word and mine," he passed a thumb over your cheek, speaking directly to you as if his brother did not exist inches from you just as he did. Your breath caught in your throat, heat rising to your face and spreading to your lower belly as he took his time gauging your reaction.

"Let that be the answer to your questions. War plans are nothing for a young girl like yourself to be concerned with, understood?"

Rhaegar pressed you into submission with a tailored ease, pairing the underlying demand with a lazy smile that never failed to make your head spin. You bit back your own, nails digging into the draped sleeves of your dress as you clasped your hands behind you.

Of course, he'd seen right through you, cut off your prying for knowledge like any intuitive man of his nature would, and you desperately wanted to push past the restrictions he intended to set up. Still, the possibility of appearing too apt for valuable information made you hold your tongue.

You swallowed the pride, bubbling up to spill from your lips, pressing them into a small smile as you nodded in agreement. "I understand, uncle."

Rhaegar hummed in satisfaction, not bothered by his brother's palpable disdain. "She knows better than to ask us for such details, brother. You needn't mold her to be compliant." Aegon tugged you closer to him, hugging your side and making no move to let go.

You went still in his embrace, familiar with it, but not all pleased with how he spoke of your intentions or concerns.

Stupidity and obliviousness were never your strong suits, and having been pushed to the side and ignored by so many throughout your life made it easy for you to play on those faults better than most.

Rhaegar had grown wiser to your act sooner than Aegon, mentioning nothing of your love for secrets and manipulation to anyone in the simple efforts to bring you to heel at the direst times.

This was the perfect opportunity, and if his all-powerful brother could realize your intentions too, he could have the chance to relish in the delight Rhaegar did seeing your innocent facade falter. Aegon remained unwise to it, resting his chin on your shoulder after placing a ginger kiss on the exposed skin as a wordless apology for his younger's implication.

"No soul in this castle is out to get my throne, Rhaegar. Not my darling girl, anyway..." You shuddered against him as he kissed behind your ear, feeling the smile on his lips as he hugged you tighter. A blush painted your cheeks as his hands kneaded your waist through the fabric of your dress. This openly lustful action brought butterflies to your stomach and agitated Rhaegar to the point of impulsivity.

"Pawing at your niece is unbecoming of you, brother..." he made no effort to mince his words, mirroring Aegon's glare as you lowered your head in slight embarrassment. "She has yet to tell me to stop. It seems to bother you more than it does her..." Aegon chuckled at his blatant mocking, nipping at your ear to earn a soft whine and solidly his claim.

Rhaegar held his stare, failing to withhold an equally rousing laugh before lowering his head to meet yours. He found your eyes with his own as he spoke to you softly.

"Come to me.."

He says it only once, and you react with little thought, longing to feel him like Aegon held you. Your body shifted toward him, one step eliminating the space he'd maintained, and your lips found him with little hesitation or shame. Aegon grunted a scathing curse as you reached for his dark-haired twin, leaning back into him as the younger wrapped a hand around your throat, deepening the kiss with the slip of his tongue into your mouth. Rhaegar peered at his brother as you moaned against his lips, a smirk tugging at him the entire time.

"Bastard..." Aegon grumbled, refusing to show the shreds of amusement he felt seeing you crumble at the simplest pleasures, drooling trickling down your chin, and your weight pressing against him as the emanates of sense left you. It came as no surprise to Rhaegar when the older raised a hand to tangle in your hair, pulling on it so you had no choice but to break away from the heated kiss and his low whine of pain.

You let out shallow breaths, afraid to look into either of their eyes as you tried to compose yourself and ignore the needy warmth culminating in your belly. Aegon turned your head to him with subtle force, taking in the dazed expression on your face, the gradual swell of your plush lips, and the gloss of combined spit that lingered on them.

"Open." He commands in one breath, smiling when you do just as he asks and part your lips for him. He steals a glance at Rhaegar, smug as ever, and spits into your mouth with natural ease, turning his gaze back to you as it slides down your throat with a quiet whimper of his name. His lips come to meet your then, slow and harsh. A complete contrast to his brother's swift and sweet approach. He bites at your bottom lip, drowning in the muffled groan you give at the blooming pain he inflicts, returning it with a timid nip on his.

Your lungs burn for a breath. Aegon won't let you catch, so you peek at Rhaegar for help. You are torn between gratitude and confusion as he tightens his grip on your throat before using it to pull your lips away from his brothers and back to his.

He lets you go when your eyes water with tears, allowing Aegon to turn you around in his arms and hug you close. "It's been some time since we shared you, little one..."

It's a statement. It is a clear fact that you have no will to deny. Too lost in your head to respond appropriately or notice Rhaegar sitting in the nearest council chair. He lounges in it leisurely, head resting on one hand as he watches Aegon's hands begin unlacing your dress strings with unconscious finesse. You find your bearings then, feeling increasingly vulnerable as the eldest of them unties your bodice and steps forward until you have no choice but to be within his twin's reach.

"You've been so faithful and well-behaved for us, too. We'd hate to see you left unrewarded for that. Wouldn't we, brother?" Aegon eyed the brunette over your shoulder; a bittersweet smirk reflected as he nodded in agreement. "Wouldn't be very fair to her at all..." he speaks lowly compared to his brother's boastful tone, deeply embedded in his desires at the sight of your bare skin being exposed to him as your bodice slips to the stone floor.

You shiver as the air douses your skin, breasts pressed to Aegon's clothed chest, and the warmth he emits prompts them to be sensitive and pertinent. His hands find your sides again, steadying you in his hold while Rhaegar rips the fabric of your skirts. He does the same to your small clothes, letting them fall atop the torn clothing. "Wouldn't be very fair to us either."

A/N: A cliffhanger on a smut?... yeah, I know. I'm sorry, but I must lead you guys on before giving you the complete filth of it all...

{ BONUS CONTENT + }

Credits to creator and I literally watch this edit on repeat …it’s so fucking good ;) 🖤

[fillupthisjude]

It started as a joke.

“Wouldn’t it be great if I got you pregnant right now”

I rolled my eyes at your go to line after we sleep together and plant a kiss on your forehead . We both know this isn’t possible with a strap, but I can’t stop you from trying to breed me if I wanted to (which I don’t).

I pull my pyjamas back on noticing that they oddly feel a little more snug than before, but not as much as I notice the hungry glint in your eye.

I saunter over to you ready to start round two when your hand moves forward to grab my nipple, causing me to gasp. “So sensitive already? you tsk, I look down to my chest and see that it’s getting bigger, filling out my normally roomy top. That’s not all, my mind shifts to the constricting feeling in my hips and thighs and I see the waistband of my pants digging into love handles that weren’t there a minute ago. “It looks like we’ll have to retire your clothes already” you laugh as your hands grab onto my new filled out form. I barely have time to panic, instead I moan as your hands dance around to my ass and I feel your fingers sink down further than ever before. “This is a very nice addition, and don’t worry no one will think you’re just getting fat, you’ll start showing soon at this rate” as if your words commanded it the small pressure in my stomach that I previously chalk up to being turned on started to grow. “Why don’t we get these off you, we don’t want anything restricting you, do we?” I nodded between whimpers and soft moans, as I felt every part of my body slowly push outwards. My top you pulled off somewhat easily, but my pants were another story. I couldn’t tell whether they were just that tight or if you were taunting me, but when I looked down I could see the seams straining on my hips and thighs and knew you were struggling for real. You got them off of me just in time to see it start to push out. My belly lurches forward slightly, now completely free of any clothing. My hand drifted to it expecting the same softness as that the rest of my body was accumulating, instead it felt hard, firm. Less like a belly and more like a bump. “Look at you, you’re already glowing” I gave up on any thoughts of panicking as I could feel myself get wet at the feeling of my bump push against my hands spreading them further apart. I had to adjust my stance to accommodate the new weight being added to my middle as it kept pushing outwards. What started as something I could have thought was a food baby, has now grown far past it, growing into a perfect rounded baby bump. “You’re almost there, see?” You took my hands and guided me to our bathroom, my hips knocking into things unexpectedly. “Be careful you’re a wider load than before” you continue to guide me gently taking more care as I get used to my larger frame. You face me towards the mirror just in time as I hear a *pop* and see my bellybutton pop out.

I take a second to see just how much my body has changed. Every inch of my body was covered in a soft layer of fat, my chest doubled in size, my hips widened to bear the weight of my belly far in front of me. I’m a vision of fertility, round, plump, and brimming with life. I feel a flutter and I quickly grab your hands and place them on the bump so you can feel the kicks too.

“I told you it would be great if I got you pregnant right now”

[bteezxyewriter12]

You Won't Regret Me/ 1

Pairing- Wooyoung x Named Reader

Word count- 4k

Includes- enemies to lovers, arguing, insults, hate sex, semi public sex, bathroom sex, wall sex, sex from behind, squirting, multiple orgasms, dirty talk, arguing during sex

Tag List- @mingtina @jaxminnie @yeosayang @delightfulmoonbanana @tannie13 @y00nzin0 @marsstarxhwa

@yeosxxx @seokwoosmole @jjongsbebe @wisejudgedragonhairdo @meowmeowminnie @woo-stars @borntowalkaway @usagionthered @san-realblkwife @seonghwasstar @jejeyeppeo @soulseobi05 @kpop-bambi @prayerofthehaim @realisticnotes @pinkies-things @insomniacatiny @stephy-nicole13 @mknae-jongho @bykeynote

Masterlists- check out for more fics

📝Masterlists 📝ATEEZ Masterlist 📝Wooyoung Masterlist

Wooyoung POV

We all stand behind Hongjoong, watching the drug exchange go down, all of us ready to scrap if we have to

Hongjoong waves his hand, Joanne coming forward with the case full of heroin

She puts the suitcase next to Hongjoong, standing stoically next to him, waiting for the other gang to show the money

I scowl at her back

I can't fucking stand her

She's Hongjoong's best friend from childhood and when he started the ATEEZ gang, she was invited to be in it

As a member of his inner circle

She's tough, loyal and ruthless just like him

But she's also cocky, a know it all and argumentative

She thinks she's better than us

She's mean and rude

I hate her

The other guys tell me to chill the fuck out but I can't

Just her fucking voice grates on me

And the way she presents herself as if she and Seonghwa don't share the title of second in command

How it doesn't bother Seonghwa is beyond me

I'd shut that shit down in a second but Seonghwa lets it go

Probably because they fuck from time to time

But I'll be damned if I let some pussy affect my job

The leader of the gang puts a suitcase on the table and opens it, showing Hongjoong the money

Hongjoong goes closer, checking the bills, making sure it looks like it's all there

We won't know until we count it

"Jo", he says, and she opens the suitcase we brought, showing the rival leader the product

He goes to the suitcase, takes a knife out and opens one of the blocks

Sticking his finger in it, he tastes it and nods

Hongjoong scoffs, "Did you think we'd give you fake heroin?"

"You never know", the leader growls

"We have a reputation to uphold. When we say we'll do something, we do it", Hongjoong sneers, "We don't go back on our word"

"Noted", the leader says dryly

"If that's all", Hongjoong rolls his eyes, waving his hand to the suitcase of money

Seonghwa steps up, closing the suitcase and taking it

"Actually that's not all", the leader says

I hear guns cocking and when I look around us, all the men the leader brought has guns pointed at us

Great

"Give us the money"

Hongjoong sighs, "And what, you'll let us go?"

"No"

"Yeah thought so", Hongjoong says, shaking his head

"You were stupid enough to bring your whole inner circle with you", the leader grins, "It's just too good an opportunity to pass up. Taking out the whole ATEEZ gang. My gang will be famous for that. I will be famous"

"No, you're gang will be eradicated", Hongjoong says, holding his hand up and waving two fingers

Bullets fly by us, hitting all of the rival members

They all go down, some dead, others severely wounded

"You were stupid to think I didn't bring reinforcements", Hongjoong growls

I want to laugh at the leaders shocked and scared face

"How..."

"Snipers", Hongjoong shrugs, "You're an idiot if you didn't think I cased this place out first and thought of every possible scenario that could go wrong. And now your men are dead or dying. You're going to die. And we are going to eliminate your entire gang"

He pulls his gun out and shoots the leader in the kneecaps

He goes down, screaming like a little girl

To us Hongjoong nods, "Go"

Taking out my gun, I walk to the nearest guy to me and check him

Dead

Moving to the next one, he's groaning, holding onto his ribs

Raising my gun to his forehead, I pull the trigger, killing him

As we go around killing all the surviving men, Hongjoong says to the leader, "You should of just taken the money"

Then he shoots him in the head

"Fuck!", I hear San yell, a gun going off

I quickly turn to him, seeing him shoot down, his upper arm bleeding

"You good San?", Hongjoong asks

"Bastard shot me", he says, putting pressure on his arm in an attempt to stop the bleeding, "Flesh wound"

Sucks

"You get him?", Hongjoong asks

"Yeah"

Joanne appears next to San, taking her hoodie off and pressing it against his wound

"I'll fix your arm Sannie", she says

We don't use hospitals

And she is normally the one who fixes the guys when they get banged up

She did Hongjoong the favor and got trained as a nurse, so she knows what she's doing

For cuts, stitches, bruises, minor injuries, flesh bullet wounds, she fixes

Anything major like broken bones or body bullet wounds we go to a hospital and threaten the people there to keep quiet

"Thanks Jo"

"Yeah, let's get you back to Joong's house", she says

"Let's move out", Hongjoong calls

The rest of the guys come back towards us, Jongho dragging one of the rival members

"He's alive?", I ask

"Alive enough to answer questions", he says

We need one alive to tell us about his gangs hideouts and the inner workings of the gang so we can kill them all

No one crosses Hongjoong and ATEEZ

"Woo, drive Jo and San back to my house", Hongjoong orders, "Were going to the interrogation hideout. When she patches up San, all three of you come meet us"

I roll my eyes, keeping in a huff, nodding

As I walk to my car her and San are waiting at, I catch her glaring at me

"Let's go", I growl at her, unlocking my car, "And don't fucking get blood on my seats"

"He's bleeding you fucking idiot", she snaps, climbing in the back after San, "If blood drips deal with it"

"I don't want blood in my car", I snarl

"You can wash it out. Don't be a prick"

"You're such a bitch! It's a simple request. Don't get blood on the seat"

"You fuck-"

"Ok guys, can we go?", San interrupts, "Kinda in pain here"

"Yeah", I answer, remembering that yeah, he's hurt

Arguing with the witch isn't going to help him

Starting the car, I drive towards Hongjoong's house

--------------------------------

The music is loud in the club as I make my way to the bar

After San was patched up, we met Hongjoong and the rest of the guys

Jongho got information out of the rival member he tortured and we used that info to make a plan

Our gangs subunits are hitting all the hideouts as right now, killing everyone in them, essentially erasing that gang

We're on call in case we're needed but honestly we're good

Hongjoong inspires loyalty and everyone in the gang, from the low level drug dealers to us, his inner circle, are totally loyal to him

The low level ones are terrified to fuck him over

They should be

Hongjoong suggested we go to our favorite club to unwind and we all agreed

I'm on my way to get a drink, get shit faced and hopefully lucky

As I pass by the bathroom, it opens, someone walking right into me

I turn to glare at the person and seeing who it is my blood pressure rises

"Watch where you're fucking going!", I snarl at Joanne

"Oh fuck you", she snaps, rolling her eyes

"You walked into me you cunt!"

"Wah wah wah", she mocks

God, she just pushes all the wrong buttons, infuriating me

"You should apologize for being such a clumsy fuck!"

"How was I supposed to know your dumbass was standing by the door? Why are you hanging by the bathroom, you perv?"

My mouth drops momentarily at her stupidity, "I was walking by, idiot"

"Uh huh. Sure"

Oh that's it

I'm so done

"Do you ever shut up?", I snap

"Do you?", she snarls, "You're such a whiny little princess"

Princess?

Is she fucking kidding me?

"Fuck you!", I yell, getting so heated

"No fuck you!", she shouts back, glaring at me

I glare back at her, so much hate and anger running through me

And the next thing I know, I pull her to me, she comes willingly and her lips are against mine

Her kiss sends shivers down my spine, my head spinning and fire running in my veins

Goddamn she's a good kisser

Just as soon as we kiss, she's pushing me back, a look of disgust on her face

Yeah well I'm disgusted too

What the fuck is wrong with me?

"Fuck off!"

"No you fuck off!", I snarl

"Don't fucking kiss me you toad!"

"Toad? Thought I was a princess", I snap

"Yeah, a princess toad!"

"You sound like a five year old", I snort

"Shut up! You're fucking gross"

I gape at her, insulted, "I am not gross!"

I take painstaking steps to ensure I'm not gross, I'm groomed and always looking good

So fuck her

"You are! A dirty whore who fucks anything that walks"

Is she calling me a slut?

"I do not! I may make out with a lot of girls but I don't fuck them all!"

And I use condoms most of the time

"Yeah sure. I wouldn't touch you with a ten foot pole"

I snort, "You would be lucky to fuck me"

She laughs, "Right. Cause you're such a catch"

I am

When I'm in a relationship I give my girl all of me, love her unconditionally

She'd be fucking lucky to have me

"Too bad you would never find out. I'd never touch a wannabe bitch like you"

"Wannabe?", she growls

"Yeah", I spit, "You pretend your tough shit, pretend you're second in command when really you share that title with Seonghwa"

"I earned my title asshole"

"Yeah right,", I snort, "Teachers pet"

"Fuck you, you little prick!", she snarls in my face

"No fuck you", I roar

We glare hatefully at each other and in the next second, her lips are against mine again

I slide my tongue in her mouth, playing with hers as her arms move around my neck

Putting my hands on her hips, I push her back, opening the door to the single bathroom

Slamming and locking the door, I turn her, shoving her against the door, kissing her hungrily

"What are we doing?", she asks between kisses

"Don't think about it", I answer, not knowing what the fuck we're doing

"Ok", she says breathlessly

I move my hands down to her pants, starting to undo them

"Are you trying to fuck me?", she scoffs when she pulls away

"Oh just shut the fuck up and let me take your pants off"

She glares but says nods

"Good. Shut up and kiss me"

She growls but does what I say, her soft lips so good against mine

I get her jeans open and I shove them and her panties down at the same time

She kicks her sneakers off, then moves her legs through the jeans and panties, leaving them a heap on the floor

"Bet you suck at sex too", she snaps as I pick her up and shove her against the door, her legs wrapping around my waist, her arms around my neck

"Suck?", I scoff, "Please, you're going to be screaming my name in a minute"

She actually laughs, pissing me off more, "I seriously doubt that"

"Yeah we'll see", I growl, pulling my pants and boxers down

I'm not stopping to think how stupid this is

Or that I should definitely not do this

I'm ignoring that voice that's telling me to stop because I'm fucking horny

I hate to admit it but I really like her kisses and they turn me on

"We will see", she snarls as I align my cock to her hole

I thrust hard into her, bottoming out in one stroke, splitting her tiny cunt wide open

"Oh my god", we both cry

Holy shit, she's so fucking tight, clenching around me hard and so very wet, drenching me

My god, she feels fucking amazing

But I'm never telling her that or I won't hear the end of it

"Well you have a big cock, I'll give you that", she concedes

I smirk up at her

"Doesn't mean you know how to use it"

Snarling, I grip her ass hard as I pull back until just my head is in her pussy

"You'll see just how well I can use my cock", I snap, then slam back into her forcing her open around me

"Oh fff....", she trails off as I start railing her into the wall

I groan, feeling her pussy suck me in with each ram, like she wants to keep me inside her

I can feel every inch of her pussy impale on my dick, completely soaking my length and my lap

"So wet for my cock huh?", I smirk at her

"Don't flatter yourself", she moans, "It's a natural reaction"

"Oh?", I laugh, "It's a natural reaction for your pussy to drown my cock and douse my lap?"

"Shut up", she groans, pleasure all over her face, her body shivering against mine, her fingers bunching in my hair

"You're this drenched and I haven't even hit your spot yet"

"As if you could find it"

"Oh I can find it", I assure her

I roll my hips into her, plunging deeply

No, not there

I hike her legs up higher on me, shifting her around

Burying in her again, her body shivers and she yells out in bliss

I smirk, "Found it"

"Fffff...fuck you", she stammers as I hit her spot again

"Oh look", I mock, each thrust making my head hit her spot, "You're pussy gets wetter and wetter every time my head rubs you there. What was that about me not finding your spot?"

"Shut up", she roars

"Nope", I say gleefully, watching her tremble with every stroke

Her white shirt is clinging to her in sweat in all the best ways, showing off her big tits

Her hands move from my hair down to my chest, her hands unbuttoning my shirt one at a time

She gets it open, the air cool against my sweaty skin

She pushes it down my arms but I'm not letting her go to take it off, so I just let it hang

Her arms move around my neck again, her lips crashing into mine

I take her kiss eagerly, loving the chills that are running down my spine

I move faster into her, her pussy throbbing like crazy as her moans get louder and louder, her legs tightening around my waist

She's close

And I never wanted a girl to cum on me as much as I want her to

I want her to eat her words from before

"Cum on my cock", I pant, fucking her into the door

"Nnnn....no", she groans

I snap my eyes to hers, peering at her in disbelief through my sweaty hair

"What the fuck do you mean no?", I snarl, snapping my hips harder, smashing her spot

I watch her moan, her pussy clenching my cock like a vice grip

"No", she cries out, "I don't want to"

She's really fucking something else

She has the ability to piss me off during sex

That's a rare gift I wish she'd lose

"Yes you do", I growl, "You're squeezing my cock like you're trying to choke it, your pussy is drooling all over my dick, you want to cum"

"Fuck you", she snaps, her fingers digging into my shoulder, her other hand twisting in my hair, her pussy trying to unclench around me

I fucking had it

"Stop trying to force it back", I yell, thrusting into her with each word, "And. Finish. On. My. Cock. Now!"

Fucking into her once more, she screams as she falls into her orgasm

"Fuck! Wooyoung! I hate you!", she yells, pulling my hair so hard my head is pulled back, her pussy watering my cock like I've never felt before, throbbing like crazy, throwing my body into unbelievable pleasure

"Shit", I whisper, forcing myself to stay up, gripping her thighs hard

"I fucking hate you!", she cries, her body shaking, her face in pleasure as she keeps coming

"I fucking hate you", I snap

God, her orgasm feels so fucking good

That's just another thing to hate her for

I fuck her through it, wanting her to be in complete and utter pleasure because of me

Just to spite her

When she finishes, I pull out, putting her down, then spinning her around

I kick off my shoes, pants and boxers, then throw my shirt on the floor

Getting closer to her, I pull her shirt off her body, then undo her bra

Pulling her against me, her back to my chest, I snarl in her ear, "Open your legs"

She does, moving her hands against the wall as I slip back inside her, her pussy pulling me in so pleasurably

Moving my arms around her waist, I begin to move, getting a fast and hard pace going

It feels phenomenal

Pushing her hair to the side, I growl in her ear, "How does it feel to know you came on the cock of someone you hate?"

"Fuck you", she snarls, her body shaking with each plunge, betraying the pleasure she's in

"Uh uh. Not an answer", I say, burying inside her and grinding into her spot, "How did it feel? Don't lie"

"Stop"

"Just answer the fucking question"

God, can she stop being argumentive for a fucking second?

"It felt.....good", she says through clenches teeth

Pounding into her tight cunt, I press a kiss to her neck, smirking at the way her skin trembles under my lips

"Just good?", I ask, running my fingers softly up her stomach, between her boobs then back down

"Wooyoung-"

"Joanne!", I snap

"Fine! It was fucking amazing! The best orgasm I've had in a while!", she roars, "Happy"

"Extremely", I smirk

"I fucking loathe you"

"But you like my cock", I rub it in, pulling her head back against my shoulder, sliding my hands up her body and squeezing her boobs

She just grunts, the pretty wet sound of her pussy swallowing my cock so loud in the small bathroom

"Cum again", I whisper in her ear

"No!"

Can't she just fucking do something without an argument?

She liked it before, I'd think she'd want another one

But she's so goddamn stubborn

"You're gonna cum again", I snarl, pumping my cock inside her tight wet hole

"Fuck you"

I let out a frustrated cry and grab her neck, squeezing slightly

Her pussy gets so fucking tight, a moan coming from her

Well well, she likes being choked

That works out because I want to strangle her all the time

"You're going to cum on my cock again", I growl in her ear, "Your pussy is going to do what I say, when I say"

"I-"

"Shut up", I snarl, choking her lightly, her pussy getting impossibly tight, "Right now, I own your pussy. It does what I want. Do you hear me?"

I let go of her neck so she can answer but she just grunts

"Do you hear me?", I snap

"Yes!", she bellows

"Good. Cum"

I squeeze her neck as I thrust directly into her spot and she screams wordlessly, her body thrashing against mine as she orgasms

That same utter ecstasy I felt from her previous orgasm washes over me and I close my eyes, just basking in it

Forcing my orgasm back, I let go of her neck, her screams of my name shattering the silence as I let her ride it out on my cock

"Wooyoung! Wooyoung!"

God, I really like hearing her yell my name like this

I hate it when she says my name any other way though

Pushing her forward, I bend her over my arm, resuming my thrusts

Looking down, I gape at how utterly creamed up my cock is

There's a coat of cream all over and a thick ring at the base of my cock

God, I've never seen anything like it

And it's such a turn on

"Yeah you love my cock", I laugh, "If you could see how much you're creaming me, you couldn't argue"

She just grunts, her forehead against the wall

I watch the fascinating sight of her little hole spread open for my dick, straining the closer it gets to the base of my cock

Her hole is smeared in her cream and it's driving me insane

But I had her cream twice and there's something else I want

Moving my fingers to her clit, I play with it, rubbing quickly

"Fuck", she cries, more cream gushing from her hole

"You're gonna squirt", I murmur, rubbing her clit as I thrust, "You're creaming my cock so much and I fucking like seeing that but you need to squirt now"

"I....never....I don't think...."

"You never squirted?"

She shakes her head, her hips starting to move backwards, meeting my thrusts and taking me deeper than before

"Fuck", I whimper, "Yeah shit, fuck yourself on my cock. I'll make you squirt"

We move together, the sound of our skin slapping getting louder as we desperately fuck each other

"Oh god", she whimpers, her fingers scratching at the door, "So good. So fucking good"

I smirk, wondering if she knows what she's saying

I'm never letting her live this down

The next stroke has her pussy raining squirt around my dick, her screams of my name so pretty

I keep fucking her, so close myself

"I'm coming inside you", I grunt, as she finishes gushing all over the place

"You fuck-"

"Shut up", I yell, "I'm coming inside your cunt and you're going to take it"

She snarls but she doesn't say anything

"Ok?", I growl

I need her to agree

I'm not an asshole, if she really says no, I'll pull out

I'm not going to make her do something she doesn't want to

Not that I can anyway

If she doesn't want me to cum inside her her big fucking mouth will tell me

"Yes", she murmurs

"Yes what?"

"Wooyoung-"

"Say it", I urge her, so close

"Yes, come inside me!", she yells

"Is that what you want?", I moan, my body shaking hard from holding it back

"Yes! I want you to fill my pussy!", she cries

Ok then

Shoving my cock in to the hilt, I yell her name, euphoria tidal waving over me as I cum deep inside her

My fingers dig into her hips, holding her on my dick as her pussy milks me dry

Stars blast in my vision, it feels fucking amazing

Best orgasm I've ever had, hands down

But unlike her, I'm not dumb enough to tell her that

I pull out of her, watching my cum drip from her hole to her thighs

"Don't clean up", I order her, moving to grab my clothes, getting my shirt on

She glares at me hatefully, "What?"

"Keep my cum in your pussy", I clarify, picking up her panties and tossing them at her, "Let it drip out on your panties. I want you to feel me there the whole night. I want you to be reminded that you have the person you hate's cum leaking from your cunt, making a mess in your panties"

"I fucking hate you"

I roll my eyes, already knowing this

"Put your panties on now. Princess", I snap

She grumbles but she does like I ask, pulling her panties on

We dress in silence, then she heads for the door

"Don't fucking tell anyone", she snarls

"Oh I won't. I don't want anyone to know I banged the witch", I scoff

"Fuck you asshole"

Leaning down to her, I whisper in her ear, "The asshole who's cum is making a mess in your panties"

She huffs, despise in her eyes as she opens the door, the loud music crashing into the room

She immediately walks out, practically running to get away from me

I just smile, step out and continue my way to the bar

[kate-komics]

Scars of the Protector

A (very) short story about how Wrecker got his scars.

This started as a warm up drawing then morphed into this. I'm just in a very Bad Batch mood lately. I've always been curious about Wrecker's scars. I had a dialogue going on in my head what drawing so I thought I'd practice a little writing too! Let me know what you think! I'm always very nervous to share my writing because I have no idea if it's any good 😅 so any constructive criticism is welcome!

Star Wars- The Bad Batch

Word Count: 660

Warnings: Angsty as hell, vague descriptions of battle, vague descriptions of panicking

Scars of the Protector

His hulking form was barely contained in the Bacta tank. The medics seemed doubtful he’d even fit. For the first time in his life, he looked small. Over a day now he floated in the salty healing water, motionless. His brothers watched on in suspense as the hours sluggishly rolled on. If they got him here sooner he’d already be healed and there wouldn’t be scarring like the medics predicted. He’d still have two working eyes and hearing in his left ear. If they actually worked as a team this wouldn’t have happened.

Hunter was always their unquestioned leader, but Wrecker was the protector. Despite his gentle nature, he knew how the regs saw him. A threat. A brute. He took on the role with great pride, always willing to step up. Always willing to fight the battles for his brothers. 

This is our fault.

The unspoken words made the air in the small sterile room heavy. There was no point in saying it out loud, they all knew. The guilt was so evident on their faces. They all panicked and now their brother was paying the price.

From the moment they were born, they were told they were special. Different in a good way. It made them better than the rest. The perfect soldiers. Out there, it made them cocky.

It was their first mission. A battlefield they’d trained for and dreamed about their entire lives. Finally fighting the war they existed for. It should have been second nature, and in a way it was. In the beginning, they flowed with the action flawlessly. The commands and formations drilled into their heads. Was it really this easy? It was, until their numbers started to dwindle. They were forced into a corner in the heat of battle.

After gurgling hours of fighting they were the only ones in the squadron left, surrounded in the rubble with no way out. How could it have gotten this bad? They were better than this, weren’t they? Instead, the prodigy Bad Batch had been reduced to cowering children in the bodies of men. They’d ceased firing. The march of the remaining droids was deafening. They’d all froze, fear gripping their quivering limbs. All of them, except for him. 

Their strongest brother. The explosives expert still had something left to save them. He gathered his final handful of thermal detonators and armed them all quickly. It was more than enough to take care of what clankers were left. He removes his helmet to get a better aim before tossing the charges over their rubble barricade.  

He turned to smile down at his brothers, as he had so many times before, to assure them it was going to be okay now. He’d protected them like he always had. They were safe again. Before he could speak, a single detonator was returned, Wrecker taking nearly all of the blow.  

The battle was won. Medics took hours to arrive.

Most men would be dead, but then again he wasn’t most men. A bred killing machine. A freak. Their brother. And now the only one to wear the evidence of the horrors they’d seen on his face. Something to remind them how they failed him that day, and a quiet promise they’d never let it happen again. They’d all make sure of it. 

They knew he wouldn’t be angry when he woke up. He was never angry. Still, they were afraid of what had changed in him. Would this be the same brother they knew? Would he still smile and laugh the way he always did? Could he even still do that?

Only time and healing will tell, and they stay by his side for all of it.

They all drift in and out of sleep in the medical bay, but none of them ever notice the small eyes peering around the corner. A vigilante gaze, like theirs, that also makes sure her brother would be okay.

[dreamymoonpearl]

He almost ran over the servants and nobles he passed, all bowing and congratulating him on the birth of his first grandson.

His heart was beating so fast, his little pearl had gone into labor and he didn't want to miss it, but upon receiving the message and the long road he would have to go through, he knew that the possibility of the baby having already been born was high…

– Has the baby already been born? Where's Jace?

He asked Ser Harwin who was outside Lucerys' room, he looked just as anxious.

– He came in 10 minutes ago, Prince Luke didn't stop calling him, just a few seconds had passed before he stopped shouting.

Both men were interrupted by the doors opening slowly, with Prince Jacaerys with a smile and dazzling eyes, he looked so happy that they could breathe easily.

– It's a boy… a beautiful boy – he didn’t know who to look at Laenor and Harwin tried to see through the opening of the door – Luke said you both have to meet him.

Oh…Laenor watched Ser Harwin tense, of course, there were eyes everywhere, especially those of “them” on his children since they were born, this would be no exception.

But he didn't care anymore, years ago he didn't protect Rhaenyra enough, but he wouldn't fail with Luke, especially Jace wouldn't let anyone dare parade his husband and newborn son

– There is no one nearby – he said, taking a quick look around – and it is our servants who attended the birth,after you,Ser Strong.

Ser Laenor and Jacaerys let the man pass who walked doubtfully into the room,where Princess Rhaenyra with the baby in her arms and a very tired Lucerys Velaryon lying on his bed were waiting for them.

– Kepa…

His heart squeezed at the pale face, tears in his eyes and sweat on his forehead did not kill the happy smile of his little boy, Jacaerys almost ran to his beloved husband's side, kissing his hand and hugging him gently as he sat on the bed at his side.

– A boy,I heard,the gods have blessed us,son.

– Not during childbirth – Lucerys laughed without enthusiasm – Do you want to hold him?

- Can?

– Muña.

He called, Rhaenyra approached and could see that she also cried, she smiled at him, who with trembling hands that took the baby gently, he felt his eyes fill with tears...he looked so much like his Lucerys when he was born, the little baby looked at him with his eyes big eyes and his small hand was trying to grab a lock of his dreadlocks.

– Oh, Joffrey really likes you, Kepa.

What? He hear correctly...the baby's name?

– Joffrey? – A lump formed in his throat, upon hearing that name after so many years – Did you name him, Joffrey?

His two sons smiled at him, giving each other a knowing look.

– I remember the stories you told us as children and about the great knight Ser Joffrey, it is a shame that we could not meet him, I thought it would be an honor to our father's great friend, right?

They knew they were more than his friend, they knew it, what it was for Laenor, the man's eyes returned to the baby who was still trying to grab his hair.

– What a fine king you are going to be make the future – he cooed at the baby in his arms – also a great knight with good training from our commander, right, Ser Harwin?

The entire time he was silently observing the family, not daring to say a word, it was not his time and place with both princes, not anymore.

– If my princes allow me – he gave a small bow – it will be an honor for me to train our future king.

Both Jace and Luke gave the commander a big smile.

They knew,it was impossible for that gossip not to reach them,but it didn't matter,Princess Rhaenyra and Ser Laenor were they’re parents,Jacaerys and Lucerys were Velaryon,THEY ARE HIS CHILDREN,is what the man tells himself.

– Do you wish to hold Joffrey, Ser Harwin?

Jace's offer startles the commander, who looks at the spouses and Laenor who has Joffrey in her arms.

– Could? – He answers with another question especially for Lucerys, who nods slowly without erasing his smile – Ser Laenor.

Like him, Harwin has trembling hands, it's been a while since they've held a baby, the practice has been lost, they can see it in the way he lulls the baby, he looks happy.

– Without a doubt he looks like both, especially Prince Lucerys – he comments making both princes laugh more than happily – you will be a great king, Prince Joffrey.

They are happy, the 6 of them in their own little world, with all the attention on the little baby who keeps trying to grab Ser Harwin Strong's hair now after trying with Rhaenyra and Leanor, with anyone who crosses his little gaze.

[mynameismckenziemae]

Okay, hear me out (I know okay, I know I need to work in my current WIPs but but but but…)

This is WaspIke . He’s a Service pupper who serves on the USS Wasp. (His rank is listed as LCDR (lieutenant commander) 🤭).

And… here is where the idea comes in. (And god, my brain needs to chill but I can’t help it, especially when it’s fluffy fluff.)

The Navy is complex. The Daggers are not just a permanent Squadron at Miramar (which is not Navy anymore so technically, they’d probably work out of NAS Lemoore, btw but I digress), but they’ve also been assigned to a specific aircraft carrier. It’s fiction, so one can make up a name.

The carrier has been accepted as part of the Mutts With A Mission program, thus, it’s been assigned a pupper. The pupper would have a handler, of course. And they’re civilian. (Yes, I already researched this. There are civilian contractors aboard those ships and carriers although most work in technical/engineering fields or for MWR.)

Ahhhh… I’m getting sidetracked omg. My brain is a bit all over the place today. I’m sorry.

Okay…

Aircraft carrier.

Service pupper.

Civilian handler.

And one day, the first day actually, the pupper runs up to this tall dude with glasses, almost knocks him over because the pup’s handler has thrown a toy and it went farther than anticipated. “Oh my god, I’m so sorry. The sun was in my eyes. Are you okay?”

The voice is sweet, amused, but also apologetic. And once Bob finds his bearings after being taken off guard that there’s a golden retriever on the ship (what?), he turns to the voice, holds his breath because woahhhh. “Uhm…” Bob is legit lost for words. First a pupper and now a beautiful woman dressed in civilian clothing. “Are you lost, ma’am?” Are you lost? Of course, she’s lost Floyd, jfc. Bob scolds himself mentally. The carrier is still docked and there are tours of the ship today as part of Fleet Week. Even so, this area is restricted to civilians.

“What? No. Actually, we’re checking out our second home, aren’t we Morla? Yes we are.”

Bob watches as Morla rolls over, accepting belly scritches like it’s totally normal to get belly scritches on an aircraft carrier. “Your second home?”

There’s a soft laugh, bright eyes scanning over Bob. “Yes. Morla is part of the Mutts With A Mission program.” You stretch out your hand, introduce yourself and Bob gently squeezes your hand in return. “I’m a veterinary assistant on base. In order for Morla to be part of the program, she needs a handler, preferably with a background in veterinary care so, I applied. And here we are. Didn’t think they’d process my paperwork this fast, so I’m scrambling to get to know the crew and ship. It’s a lot, really. But I’m part of the upcoming deployment. At least, Morla and I have our own room. Which by the way I hope we didn’t take from someone else. That would suck. I know space is a luxury on these ships. My dad was in the navy. So I know a few things… and… I’m talking too much, aren’t I? Gosh I’m sorry. First, Morla almost knocks you over and now, you’re listening to me go on and on, and I didn’t even ask for your name.”

Bob is still holding your hand, and now he’s laughing softly, cause how adorable are you. Honestly, you could’ve continued on and on. He wouldn’t have minded at all. But he’s volunteered to be a guide today and the next group will be here in ten minutes and he still has to get the welcome packets. “I’m Lieutenant Floyd.”

“Nice to meet you Lieutenant Floyd.” You smile and Bob is finally snapping out of it, slowly lets go of your hand.

He inhales sharply, chuckles when Morla bumps your hand with her head. And then he has a lightbulb moment. “The next group should be here soon, you know, for a tour of the ship. If you like, you and Morla can join us.”

You smile grows wider. “That sounds like a great idea, actually. I swear, I got turned around five times before I found the right way to the upper deck. Please tell me we’re stopping by the galley. I need a coffee. And something to snack on. Honestly considering on making a travel bag with snacks. I might starve to death if I ever get lost on this ship.”

Bob chuckles. There you go again. Talking away. But he already likes it. You’re already the energetic Yang to his quiet Yin. “Not to worry. I’ll show you how to read the plaques by the stairs so you’ll always know which deck and section of the ship you’re on.”

1. Where did you get video of my dog? Because WaspIke is a doppelgänger to my Holley.

2. I LOVE THIS IDEA SO MUCH! Morla 😍 and the meet cute and the Yang to his yin? I love the bubbly, energetic, talkative personality with his quiet, subdued one

3. Write this. Right. Now.

[reds-skull]

Not Alive, Nor Dead

[PREV PART] [AO3]

So I use a text-to-speech site to let me spot mistakes more easily (when the robot actually says it, I find it way easier), and that leads to this robot lady saying "fuck" in the calmest way possible.

For this chapter, it decided 'Phil.' stands for 'Philosophy'. So Graves' full name is now "Philosophy Graves". Almost died laughing.

Anyways...

The following day brought a lot of meetings with it. They would need extensive planning for their upcoming mission, if they want to catch what they dubbed ‘The PMC Revenant’.

Ghost has been on edge the entire day. Something about Graves has been pissing him off (well, something besides his personality and entire existence). The American has been avoiding everyone since his little chat with Shepherd, and Ghost doesn’t trust either of them not to plan anything behind their backs.

He knows, given the choice between glory and power, and saving lives, the Americans would go for the former every single time.

In that, they’re not so different from the enemies Ghost erases for them.

The sun is setting, and the Vaquero base is winding down for the day. The bright yellows and oranges remind him of the second thing that’s been bothering him - Johnny.

Well, not the man himself. The amount of secrets hidden beneath that easygoing smile. Ghost has been racking his brain for days trying to figure the Konchar riddle out, and he still is no closer to solving it.

His feet take him to the shooting range. He needs something to let his frustrations out on, and he rather not deal with the screams of Limbo right about now.

To his dismay, there’s someone else there already. Ghost can see the shots coming from one of the sniper nests. Whoever is it, they know their way around a rifle.

His feet are silent when he walks to the farthest nest, and settles down in front of an M24 SWS. He automatically goes through checking the rifle, before setting his scope on a target.

A quick inhale and the target falls, Ghost instantly moving onto another, when his companion shoots it down.

Annoyed, he takes a farther one, downing it perfectly. From then on, him and the other sniper enter an unspoken competition, each of them shooting farther and farther, until they both hit the last one together, the mannequin falling off the track and flying a few meters back.

Ghost huffs. He can appreciate the skills required to match him, no matter how irked he was when they started shooting his targets. He hears footsteps behind him and raises up to meet his new rival in sniping.

From the corner pops out Commander Karim, and she raises her brows, before smirking, “good shots, Lieutenant.”

Ghost nods, “likewise, Commander. Where did you get your training?” he can’t help the professional curiosity.

Farah’s face darkens, something defiant in her expression, “the streets of Urzikstan. We’re not an army - we’re a resistance. No… fancy bases and training programs.” She looks around, at the vast training fields, “my soldiers are people who want freedom, who are sick of seeing their family die for the crime of being born in their own country.”

He hums. Having to face such a great enemy with practically no support, the punishment being death and consequences equal your entire world… no wonder they so readily accepted the PMC revenant.

“I didn’t know that revenant deals in such… vile business.” Farah spits after a while.

Something in him believes her, “be careful who you trust.” 

She huffs, “I learned that lesson the hard way. But I trust the Captain, and so I trust you.” she turns to him, “I will help you hunt him. My soldiers are not safe until he’s out of the game - he knows too much about our operations.”

Ghost crosses his arms, “you got any other skills? Besides being a good shot.”

Farah smiles, walking towards the gunnery behind them. She inspects the weapons hanging on the wall, taking one revolver, opening the chamber to reveal one bullet.

She gives the gun to Ghost, and walks a step back. “Go ahead, shoot me.” she lifts her head up.

He looks from her to the revolver in his hands, thinking about it for a moment, before lining up and shooting her in the head half a second later.

Ghost tilts his head when Farah is completely unaffected, the bullet clinking on the floor. “They call it Ironskin. Shoot me, and the bullet falls to the ground, stab me, and the knife breaks.”

“How’d you get captured?” He returns the revolver to the wall, turning to lean on the table next to it.

“Gas. Not immune to that.” Farah snarls, and he gets the feeling there’s something more to that vulnerability than she lets on. She meets his stare head on, “I’ve heard rumors about you, Ghost. About your powers. Is Limbo truly as powerful as they say?”

“No”, he sighs, pushing off the table to leave, “It’s stronger.”

As he walks by her, Farah nods, silently analyzing him. She would make a powerful ally when Ghost deems her trustworthy. He’ll find out soon enough, on the field.

Price and Ghost are currently scoping out a potential location for the PMC revenant’s deal. The building is a small bar in a dark corner of Las Almas, with a back exit that leads to a car park, where intel suggests a truck housing the ‘goods’ will be.

The Captain has started irritating him about 5 minutes ago, when their very professional conversation about the best way to kill a man with a spoon has taken a sharp turn of topic to become about… Soap of all things.

“So… you and Soap, huh?” Price smirks, his voice filling his mind with his new most hated conversation starter. Seriously, when are they gonna learn there’s nothing interesting to gossip about him and Johnny?

The Captain side eyes him, “I beg to differ, I think it’s quite exciting, what you two got there.”

“What we got is a professional friendship between soldiers, Captain.” Ghost booms in return.

Price nudges his shoulder, cackling in his brain, “that so? Let me take a look…”

Ghost stiffens, “don’t you fucking dare-!”

“Don’t think about Soap MacTavish then, Simon.” He can practically hear the singsong way Price burrows into his memories.

Oh, now this is low, even for Price. Pulling out the ‘don’t think about the red balloon’ trick? Alright. Ghost won’t think about Johnny on principle.

He will not think about how Johnny smiles at him at mess, or how he claps his shoulder before leaving. He won’t think about all the nights he spent awake, staring at the ceiling, falling asleep to the memory of Johnny’s warmth on his skin. He certainly won’t think about how, when their eyes meet, he’s filled with this sudden urge to wrap his arms around him, how he wishes he could just do it one more time, how he’s going insane just thinking about it-

Ghost turns his head slowly, taking in Price’s gaping mouth and wide eyes.

…fuck.

He hears Price inhale to react, and drags a hand over his mask, “I don’t wanna fuckin’ hear it. I know it’s a problem. I won’t act on that, I swear on it Captain.”

Price returns to look at the bar, processing the information. Ghost starts to feel antsy when he finally pipes up, “as long as you keep it quiet, I don’t care what you do. We break a lot of rules, Simon. You really think I give a damn if you two start fucki-”

“We’re not fucking!” he says out loud, glaring at Price, and instantly turns away, unable to hold the Captain’s gaze, “and it’s not… it’s not exactly what I want.”

“What do you want, son?”

What does he want? Scratch that, it doesn’t matter what it is, he won’t get it. Not when it’s…

Price hums, “maybe something like this?” he projects a scene into Ghost’s head - two men, their faces flickering and undefined for a few moments before solidifying into Ghost and Soap. They’re sitting on a couch, in a small living room of sorts. Not talking, not doing anything really, just… cuddling. Trailing hands, flames warming skin, tracing scars, soothing. 

It feels safe. It feels… complete.

Ghost snarls and shakes his head to rid himself of the image, “stop.”

The Captain has a somber look that Ghost catches in the peripheral of his vision, “you want this, Simon. I could feel just how much. Question is, why do you think you don’t deserve it?”

Dead men don’t get to deserve, a memory whispers to him.

“We’re all dead. Doesn’t stop me from wanting, and deserving. Since when has that stopped you?”

Since he couldn’t even vocalise it. Couldn’t even form the words, his wants, in his scarred mouth. 

“Actions speak louder than words, son. I’m sure Soap will understand, he’s smart enough.”

Ghost sighs, “since when are you a relationship counselor, Captain?”

“Comes with the fuckin’ job, apparently.”

They huff a laugh, and return to their actual job, watching this extremely boring bar, and judging silently the people deciding 4 pm on a Tuesday is the time to get fuckin’ wasted.

Intel is slowly being pieced together, Farah and Alex joining on the efforts to plan for every possible outcome of the mission.

The two of them have been quite useful, providing details on the PMC revenant they couldn’t have gathered beforehand. 

The revenant is able to see from the eyes of all their soldiers, the puppets working as a hive mind. They’re not reanimated corpses, or replications of the revenant themselves, but a conjured creation, controlled like a robot from afar.

They can’t actually die, but destroy enough of their body, and the revenant will deem them useless, opting to melt the creature and focus their efforts on the rest.

Alex suggested attacking from multiple fronts, as the revenant’s greatest weakness is their own brain - they’re limited with how much they can divide their attention.

Optimally, they would go after the revenant themselves, but as Farah told them before, they’re likely not even in Mexico. For this mission, they aim to threaten, to scare the revenant into hiding, following his tracks to the snake den.

The two new revenants introduce the rest to their powers. Ghost already saw Farah’s, but he gets to see how knives just bend and refuse to pierce her. He reckons, if her powers are kept a secret, she can be practically unbeatable, if the enemy doesn’t prepare gas.

Alex’s showcase, while less shocking than Farah’s, is no less impressive. One moment, the man stands in front of him, the next he’s gone. 

Invisibility. Not hard to guess how he died. Ghost morbidly wonders if he lost his leg in the same incident.

Gaz volunteers to have a go at Farah’s Ironskin, and proceeds to throw whole tanks at the woman, who just stands there unamused. Soap is about to join in when Price blocks him, shaking his head. He informs Ghost the muppets had the bright idea of detonating trucks to use as rockets.

Ghost doesn’t even want to imagine how that would’ve turned out.

As he makes his way back to his barrack for the night, Ghost overhears two familiar voices arguing.

He sneaks closer, interest piqued.

“-playing at games you don’t understand, Phil.”

A barking laugh grates his teeth, “you’re always thinking so small, no wonder you’re still a Captain after all this time. You had potential, but you threw it all away to play with your little special soldiers.”

“At least I have soldiers, you two faced bastard.” Price growls, more anger than Ghost has heard in a while in his tone.

What does he mean by that?

“You can’t tell anyone, Captain” Graves mockingly enunciates, “higher brass got you tongue-tied, don’t it?” he chuckles cruelly, “this is what fucking annoys me about the military - so many damn rules!”

Footsteps echo, walking away, “you’ll learn one day, John. Sometimes you gotta step over red tape to get anywhere.”

The Captain is silent as Graves leaves. Eventually, he tells Ghost in his mind, “I know you’re there, son. Come out.”

Price is wearing a tired expression when Ghost slinks out of his hiding spot. “I suppose you have questions”, the Captain sighs.

“Not if the answers will get you in trouble.” he nods at the way Graves went, “is he going to be a problem?”

Price readjusts his hat, overlooking the horizon with contempt, replying honestly, “I don’t know. Keep a safe distance from him, and let Soap and Gaz know to not trust him. He won’t do anything while being tied to Shepherd, but the moment Graves will see an opportunity, I can’t guarantee he’ll keep his loyalties in check.”

Something tightens in his chest at the mention of the Sergeants. If Graves lays his hands on either one of them…

Limbo will be a mercy on him.

Can you tell I hate the military yet

[scaryscarecrows]

Welcome to Camp Kill Batman

When the first batch of recruits come, it’s going to rain any minute. The skies are black, the humidity is unbearable, and the jungle is silent.

It’s no wonder the Knight’s nowhere in sight when the APC pulls into the compound.

Antoine’s the one who went to collect them. He won’t scare them, and he’s not busy; Frank, the other Good Choice, had had a breakthrough on some drone thing and had left firm instructions that unless the compound was actively going to self-destruct in two minutes, Do Not Disturb. Riley had tagged along, which maybe wasn’t a great idea, but really, Trent figures, how bad can it possibly have gone?

What he should figure, he realizes later, is how bad can it possibly go. The men pile out, already bitching about the heat. They’re professionals, though, and they get lined up fast enough despite their obvious confusion.

“These the new recruits?”

Trent doesn’t jump. He just shudders a little, that’s all. The Knight is way, way too stealthy for a guy dressed like…well…that. Antoine, who probably saw him coming, just drawls, “Yessir,” in a tone that screams, no shit these’re the new recruits.

There’s another movement, small and fast like a bug, on his left. A second later Riley’s nudging him in the ribs and going, HOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOT. He grunts an acknowledgement. He doesn’t have to be here, but he’s a little curious, really, as to how this is gonna go.

“I want to know what I’m working with,” the boss says suddenly. He steps back, cocks his head, and Trent has just enough time to think, oh for fuck’s sake when he continues with, “Attack me.”

There’s a beat. Two. Then one of them, with a long scar down the back of his head, asks, “All of us? Together?”

“Mm-hm.”

“But that’s–”

“What you’ll be doing in Gotham. I’m giving you all an order. Follow it, or leave.”

They follow it.

About four and half minutes later, Antoine lights a cigarette, gives Trent and Riley a very, very tired Look, and gets back in the APC.

Yeah. Mark’s probably not gonna be very happy.

* * *

Honestly, Trent chalks that one up to needing to make an impression. This whole thing sounds crazy on paper. And it worked: the second and third batches are swiftly pulled aside with, “He kicked our asses like five minutes after we got here, this guy means business.”

So when batch five rolls around, Trent’s not expecting to be called over.

“Some of you are probably thinking that this is overkill,” he says. “Ages here is going to show you why it’s not.”

What.

“Sir,” he starts, but the Knight just turns to him and spreads his hands.

“Shoot at me.”

“What.”

“Your last physical said your hearing was fine.” Little shit. “Shoot at me.”

He regrets not being busy today. Oh, well. Look, this is on camera. If this goes badly, it’s on camera that he was literally just following orders.

He hefts his minigun up. Wonders, a few seconds later, why he was worried; he gets a few rounds off, sure, but the Knight just does that annoying-ass sproing, bounces off the gun like it’s a damn diving board, and probably only doesn’t use gravity to drag Trent to the ground after because that’s not the point. The recruits are suitably awed. Trent’s just annoyed. There were a thousand ways that could have gone horribly wrong and also, what the fuck.

“You owe me a fight later,” he gripes. “No guns. No holds barred.”

The Knight just laughs.

“Sure,” he says easily. “Why the hell not.”

* * *

Twice is coincidence. The third time, when the Knight opens with some absolute bullshit line about, ‘whoever kills me gets to command–and profit from–this entire operation’, Trent just sits back to watch the fun.

He didn’t know this was going to happen. Hell, the boss just got back from Gotham. Showed up a few minutes after they did, actually, roaring into base on a bike Trent doesn’t recognize.* But he hopped off, collared one of the mechanics and told them to take it to Frank, and came over to investigate. And, well, he led with that.

“There’s no way he can take on that many guys,” one of the newbies whispers. And. It’s just, well, look. Nobody is stupid enough to accuse Trent of being a fine, upstanding gentleman.

He heads over, relishing a little in the path that gets cleared for him immediately, and rumbles, “Wanna bet?” The man blanches and he clarifies, grinning, “Twenty bucks.”

Newbie looks very much like he does not wanna bet, but he also doesn’t wanna risk losing face.

“You’re on. Twenty bucks this guy gets his ass kicked.”

“Anyone else?”

There’s a few takers that agree, there’s no way this nutcase can come out of this. Trent suddenly has a wonderful, awful idea and twists over to go, “Hey, Antoine.”

That causes a ripple of worry. Apparently, they didn’t realize they were betting with one of the Top. Oh, well. Antoine shakes a cigarette out and looks over.

“What.”

“We got a bet going over here that the boss is gonna get clobbered. Wanna pick a side?”

He shrugs, flicks his lighter open.

“Twenty that one of ‘em insists they need medical.”

Good point.

“Yeah, I’m changing mine to that, actually. All right. Anyone else?”

No.

They walk away with roughly ten new mortal enemies. Better than the one insisting that he had a broken arm; it was a sprain, and Mark was not happy to have to explain this.

Still, Trent figures, rifling through his cash, he’ll be around for newbies every time. This isn’t a bad haul.

THE END

*It’s Dick’s. Jason steals two bikes from him (that we know of), presumably for use with his own tech, though he’s also such a little fucker about it. :p

[b4rbi3l4nd]

SOS — i might kill my ex

Alr y'all, third chapter is OFFICIALY OUTT, thank you all again for all the love shown on the previous chapters, I will make a masterlist after the fifth chapter so keep an eye out on that. I'm thinking of starting oneshots and imagines but i don't know if y'all want me to wait till i finish SOS or not 😭 cuz i can pop out a new chapter pretty much every 2-3 days. Tell me what y'all want and I'll provide but anyways, enjoy!

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐋

GIF by mandalor-din

series summary: you broke up with shuri a few years ago and left wakanda for good until namor. now that he's killed the queen and multiple wakandan civilians, he's seen as a great threat and as former second in command at shuri's lab and wakanda's loyal warrior it is your duty to return and fight for your country. but a certain somebody makes the mission way too hard to deal with.

episode summary: you thought you died but unfortunately, you didn't and now you're being kept hostage in prison. another attack on Wakanda ensues which tests your loyalty to your country vs your sanity. eventually, you're put on trial for treason and in court, things take an unfortunate twist of events

genre: ANGST, slow, slow, slow burn

pairing: shuri x black fem reader

episode warnings: mature dialogue, cursing, trauma, shouting, mentions of death, suicide, missing people etc. this is a series. you are currently looking at the third chapter of the series, please go to my profile to read the previous chapters before continuing (if you haven't read the other chapters yet, if so, please continue)

taglist: @yvxmpire, @sweetalittleselfish-honey, @xxmilli, @queenofsimpsblog, @ziayamikaelson, @shuriislut, @atssukoo, @widowmakker, @cuddl3s4shur1, @n7cje, @ts1mp0ne

proofread?: no but if there are errors then it's grammarly's fault.

word count: girl idfk

inspirations: 'SOS' — SZA

song: 'Kill Bill' — SZA

send your thoughts and requests

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Your eyes dart open and you gasp for air.

"Calm down, calm down."

You hear a voice talking to you but it's muffled. It's like you're underwater. You're coughing and gasping, breathing heavy. It takes you almost a minute till the feeling washes away.

Slowing down you're breathing you look around, realizing you're sitting on the floor in a black room. You lift your hands up and the sounds of chains fill the room, same as your legs. You're in a cell but not just any cell, the cell.

You sigh. They only put the worst criminals in these cells and for some reason, you were put here. You know exactly why though. Shuri, or Malia. One of those bastards got you here.

You look to your left to see Nakia standing on the other side of the cell. It was like there was nothing in front of you, dividing you between you and her but you knew there was an invisible vibranium wall there that pushed anything back that approached it with maximum force.

And you know that because

you built it.

"So what's the trend now? Put me in my own creation? You guys know that I know how to get out of here right?" You say, tugging at the chains and Nakia sighed.

"This isn't the cell you created...Malia created it."

It takes you a minute before you laugh out loud. You're actually genuinely laughing but then you looked at Nakia and it ceased.

"Seriously? That dumb bimbo actually does stuff around here?" You say surprised as Nakia looks at you sternly.

"Don't call her that, she is going to be our queen one day."

"Why does everyone keep saying that-"

"Shuri confirmed it."

Your eyes widened at this and you looked at her like she was crazy.

"What?"

"Shuri...she wants to marry her." Nakia finished, leaving you speechless.

"No!" You stand up abruptly, lunging to get outside of the cell but reality pulls you back, literally. The chains tightened and you're sent flying until your back hits the wall you were just resting on. You slump down with a thud.

You weren't jealous that Malia and Shuri were going to get married. Okay, maybe a little bit. But you were more concerned that Wakanda was going to fall and you knew this because if Malia got her hands on that crown, so would Namor.

"Nakia, you can't let her do that, there's something I need to tell you, tell all of you-" You started but she cut you off.

"I'm not even supposed to be here..but Y/N...why would you do this to yourself" She looked at you sympathetically like she wanted to cry. Nakia was one of your closest friends, like a sister to you. She took a deep breath then paused, hearing some footsteps before putting her hand to her lips and walking in the opposite direction.

As soon as she disappeared out of sight, a new woman stepped in.

You scoffed at the sight and turned your head to the side.

"You can act coy all you want but you're at my mercy now."

Shuri.

You turned back to face her as she moved her kimoyo beads across the vibranium border. A small patch opened up and she dropped a tray of food through it before closing it once again.

You watched it clatter on the floor, some food pieces spilling out.

"Eat." She said as she sat down on a stool across from your room cell.

"I'd rather die, just kill me now. I don't want to be alive when you make a fool of yourself at that altar." You narrow your eyes at her and she scoffed.

"Why do hate my fiancee?" Shuri asked and you paused before sitting up straight.

"Fiancee? How long was I passed out?"

"2 weeks." She said, shrugging as your eyes widened. "You slipped off the window and fell from the 20th floor, once you hit the floor, everyone thought you were dead. You rolled off into the water and stayed below there for about 20 minutes till you were eventually found. You momentarily died."

You looked at her face, she had no sign of a sympathetic expression or even an expression at all.

"Why did you save me then.."

"I didn't." She almost looked offended that you assumed and you let out a shaky breath. "Riri did, she did everything in her power to save you, then you were put in a coma and now you're awake. Congrats."

You blinked back tears and looked down.

"So you really don't care?"

"The Crown" and "Euphoria" reference...more like dialogue coming in. Disclaimer, I took some dialogue from these shows and put it in the chapter. Some parts are mine, some are directly from the show, but I don't own the ones from the show so yea.

"You're no longer my priority Y/N. You haven't been for years." Shuri stood up, walking over to your cell, standing right in front of you. "I have way more important people to worry about."

"Who are you referring to?"

"Malia."

"Why would I care about her?!" You said, raising your voice slightly.

"BECAUSE I CARE ABOUT HER!" She screamed at you, causing you to look up at her with a frown on your face. "MORNING NOON AND NIGHT, I CARE ABOUT HER!" She paused, taking a deep sigh. "And you hurt her. And if you hurt her...you hurt me." She turned around and started walking away only to stop and then look at you. "Malia is who I want, that is where my loyalties lie. That is who my priority is."

"Not the woman who's suffered, bled, and sacrificed so much for you?"

"Don't bring the family into this."

"Alright. NOT THE WOMAN YOU PROPOSED TO?! THE WOMAN WHO STUCK IT OUT FOR YOU, THE WOMAN WHO ACTUALLY KNOWS YOU AND YOUR FAMILY?! THE WOMAN WHO WAS THERE WHEN YOUR FATHER DIED?! DO YOU REMEMBER HUH? REMEMBER YOUR THOUGHTS?! I LOST SLEEP FOR YOU, EVERY DAY I WAS WONDERING IF YOU WERE GOING TO COMMIT AND I'D NEVER SEE YOU AGAIN. THE WOMAN WHO CARRIED YOUR CHILD?! The woman who loves you..."

You whispered the last parts as Shuri just shook her head, looking off to side.

"No...you fucking left me..when I fucking needed you.." She turned over to you, pointing at you with tears in her eyes. "You fucking left me...when I was at my fucking low- ha..." She couldn't even finish her words because she was starting to tear up and cry. She turned around and took breaths in, sniffing.

Your tears started to fall as you took in what she said.

"You fucking left me...at my FUCKING lowest...and a real fucking girlfriend, someone who loves you wouldn't do some shit like that Y/N!"

"Really? What is this now, pin the blame on the donkey?!" You voiced out through your sobs. "Don't act all innocent now." You breathed in, your voice starting to crack, your breathing getting heavy.

"My dad.." you started. "He's gone." Those words were more a whisper. "He's gone and he's gone because of YOU!"

"Remember those weapons you gave him...huh?! Said it would help him better in combat? DO YOU FUCKING REMEMBER?!" You screamed at her, moving your hands up but the chains held you down.

"IT BLEW UP IN HIS FUCKING FACE SHURI!"

"It was still in testing..." she started.

"YOU GAVE HIM YOUR WORD! You promised..."

"And you wanna know how I found out that my father died Shuri? THROUGH A FUCKING EMAIL. WHAT KINDA SHIT IS THAT HUH?! TELL ME! WHAT KINDA SHIT IS THAT?!" You bit your lip hard as you tired to steady your breaths.

"I didn't even get to say goodbye...."

As you recalled your last encounter with your father, it was more of an angry one. He was angry that you were leaving Wakanda and you guys got into a huge fight.

"Y/N...you disappoint me, daughter."

Those words hit you like spears to the heart, and they still do now. You've always been a daddy's girl, he loved you so, so much and the fact that those were his last words to you, broke your heart.

"My little brother..." You started again as Shuri folded her lips, trying not to cry.

"He's gone. I don't know where he is Shuri. He was just 13, he was still a KID!" You were now coughing, the tears overtaking you, blurring your vision.

"They took him. And you swore. You swore to EVERYONE that you and T'Challa would bring him back. You swore to my mother...you swore to my father...you swore to me. You gave me your word. You promised me...and you broke it. That was 6 years ago. But hey, I still stuck beside you didn't I?" Your voice was breaking at that point. You were just 16 when he was taken from your family.

"And then our child, Bast bless their heart."

This one got you both, you both turned around, and you didn't even have the strength to continue. Your sobs filled the room. You were only 20 when you found out you were pregnant, Shuri was 21.

Shuri was still suffering from the death of her father and then getting engulfed with her lab work, it just wasn't working out between you guys.

When you broke the news to her, it was a celebration. Everyone was happy but 2 weeks and it blew over. The stress from all your problems at Wakanda and in your relationship caused a miscarriage.

Shuri didn't speak to you after that, she barely slept in the apartment and she was always working in the lab. There were days when she even had the Dora restrict you from entering the lab because you were a 'distraction.'

You couldn't take it anymore and left that year. It was the same year that you also discovered her. You swore to yourself you'd never be back here and now 4 years later, chained up like a prisoner.

"My queen, there has been an attack at the border."

These words pulled you away from your thoughts as you saw Shuri quickly wipe her tears and follow the warriors who had informed you guys of this news.

"What?!" You started breathing heavily. You're from the border tribe, your family is over there but most importantly, your father's grave that you still hadn't visited yet.

"HEY! NO!" You screamed at the top of your lungs, pulling your arms and legs away at the chains but they didn't resist.

You took deep breaths, your mind wandering over to your father once again, your eyes swelling up.

"Bast please..."

You muttered under your breath before standing up. Almost as if on cue, the chains broke and the vibranium wall gave way and you walked out of your cell.

Wasting no time, you ran up the stairs and up into a dark hallway. Fuck, you don't remember your way around here. You started racing down the hallway, feeling the walls and looking for exits. Eventually, you felt a body behind you.

"AH!" You turn around surprised to see a phone light point right at you.

"Hey, hey! It's okay, I'm here to help you.." A voice said reassuringly.

As the phone lowered, you squinted your eyes to see it was Riri.

"Come with me,"

She took your hand and rushed you out of the hallway and into a mini door. Once you shuffled through, you found yourself back in the lab.

"When did they build that.."

"Malia did." Riri said as she walked over to a table with some tools.

You clenched your teeth but you had no time to reminisce on her. You had people to protect. You looked over to the window to see a huge puff of smoke at the border and then water flooding in, people running around, cattle trampling some people down, some kids shouting for their parents.

I started walking over to the door but Riri stopped me.

"Hey! Where are you going? We have to stay inside, this is dangerous."

"Riri, I'm on the verge of a mental breakdown and honestly, I think I might assassinate a whole country if I don't get there fast enough to see what I need to see."

You exited the building, almost getting run over by some people frantically running around. You ignored everything and made your way over to the border, running, practically sprinting over there. It didn't even feel like your feet were touching the ground.

Once you made it over there, your eyes landed on the now flooded graves. You slowly walked over to them, your eyes widening as you noticed your father's name on one of the tombstones.

It was still standing but one more push and it would fall over. Your eyes filled with tears as you slowly dropped to your knees.

"Dad..?"

You got on all 4s, your hands frantically searching the ground for the part of the ground where he was buried. In Wakanda, there was normally indicators on the ground but none. This wasn't even where his grave originally was.

"No...No, No, NO! DAD! AGH!" You grabbed his tombstone and screamed out of agony. He was gone. You don't even know where his body was buried, you don't even know if it's washed up or not. All you know is that he's gone.

More screams followed as you hugged the tombstone.

"WHAT IS SHE DOING HERE?!" You heard Shuri but you couldn't care.

Your sobs and screams of frustration blocked out any bit of dialogue. You felt a hand on your shoulder but that's when you lost it.

You fell over and screamed so loud, purple rays of energy just came bursting out of your body. Everywhere. Out of the corner of your eye, you could see people get thrown back, flying. Some nearby houses collapsed, even some of the water reversed in direction.

And then you collapsed and blacked out, water slowly filling up your lungs once more.

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You woke up to your entire body chained down to the floor. You cough out, some sputters of blood landing on your body bag.

"Take it easy.." You hear a voice say

"You cry in your sleep.." Another voice adds on.

You immediately realize who the voices belonged to. The first was Nakia, the second Riri.

Your lips were beyond dry and you felt drained and weak. That's right, you haven't eaten or drunk anything for weeks, how are you still alive? Because of her.

You turn around to see Nakia, Shuri, and Riri all sitting down, looking at you.

"Y/N you need to eat...please." Nakia begged. You looked at the ground in front of you, there was a fresh plate of jollof rice with plantains and chicken with 2 full bottles of water next to it.

Tempting, but no. You were going to wait it out.

"I don't plan on being here long." You sigh out, looking up, knowing damn well the minute they left you alone, you'd devour it. No matter how angry you are, they're crazy if they think you're going to pass up food, especially your favorite.

"But even if I wanted to eat it, I can't. I'm chained down. Why-"

"Because you're a threat." Shuri said, finally looking up and leaning on her stool. She had a furious look on her face. "What the hell was that out there huh?"

You looked at her like she was crazy, your breaths getting heavier as you tried to remember and collect yourself before sighing. "Oh..."

"Do you have powers? That was some intense shit." Riri said, leaning in slightly as you looked down.

You didn't say anything before Shuri finally spoke out.

"That's what you did to Malia too, wasn't it."

"I didn't touch her." You said annoyed, looking up. That was technically correct. You didn't touch her, she did. The one living in you. It was..complicated.

"Really? Because when you were examined, we found this in your pocket." Shuri said, taking out Malia's phone from her pocket.

"It's a good thing her phone is waterproof. You would've ruined everything on here. Like you always do." Shuri spoke the last part lowly.

You chose to ignore it, you were too tired to argue with her, but you had a point to get across.

"I'm sure she would've loved that.." You mutter under your breath.

"And why exactly is that?" Shuri asked, pretending to be interested in what you're going to say.

"Your girlfriend isn't who she says she is." You start but Shuri rolled her eyes. "She's-"

"I don't want to hear it Y/N, save it for court." She says but your eyes bulge.

"What..? Court?" Confused, you look around as Nakia's head falls.

"You've been charged for treason." Riri informs sadly as you look between the 3 women.

"What?! WHY?!" No one responded and you looked at Shuri, an impatient and demanding look on your face. "What did you do?! WHAT DID YOU DO?!"

"ASK YOURSELF THAT Y/N!" Shuri shouts back at you. She sighed, disgusted as she tapped on her kimoyo beads and then dragged her finger from them, over to the vibranium border between you and the women.

A video played on screen. A video of you, whispering something and then your chains breaking. A video of you, searching in agony for your father's grave while screaming "NO". A video of you, screaming while holding onto the tombstone as purple radiations of energy burst through your body, sending EVERYTHING in your way, even water, flying back.

Shuri paused exactly at that moment as she fast-forwarded to when you passed out. Your mother ran over to you, picking you up and rushing you over to safety but in the background of the video, you could see all the damage you had caused.

"Jesus." Nakia whispered under her breath.

"How did you do that.." Shuri asked you as you whimpered.

You never liked to recall how this comes out of you. You don't like to remember how it happened. You normally keep it deep down and try to forget but it always comes out.

Shuri just exhaled sharply and started walking away before pausing. "Your court hearing is in a week, sharp. Don't be late. We'll decide whether to exile you or execute you." She then turned away and walked up the stairs until she was out of sight.

"Y/N..." Riri started but you looked up at her, your eyebrows furrowed and your face full of determination to be heard.

"No. I will speak and you will listen. Malia isn't who she says she is."

"We know you don't like her...but she's going to be the queen of Wakanda in a possibly few months." Nakia started but you cut her off.

"No, listen to me. Her father is Namor."

This caught the women's attention as they looked at each other and then at you.

"I swear to Bast, I'm not crazy. The day that she was attacked, her phone. I saw her phone on the ground, She was texting her dad and Shuri and Wakanda was in the conversation. They're planning to kill her, you, me, every last one of us. They had childhood pictures and everything. We have to get rid of her."

Nakia closed her eyes before nodding. She understood you. If someone asked her to describe you, she'd use multiple words but she'll never use crazy. You've always knew what you were talking about.

"Riri get your laptop, we're hacking into that motherfucker's phone. If I'm dying in court, she's dying with me"

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Mood.

You walked in the hallways, wearing all white. All white suit, all white nails, hair, makeup. In Wakanda, white is worn to funerals and that was the exact mood you were giving. It's a funeral bitch and everybody's getting buried.

Riri was on your right, Nakia on your left. The Dora Milaje noticed you and opened the doors to the throne room. It was divided like a court room, as always. The chairs, the podium, the desks and the seats for the jury. The judge was on both sides of the throne which Shuri sat upon.

M'Baku, Okoye and Malia were all in the jury as you stepped up to take your position behind the desk.

"Y/N Amadi. Daughter of late Chief Ndozhna Amadi of the Border Tribe." An elder began. "And former fiancee to the present queen of Wakanda, you have been charged with treason for the destruction of property and unexplainable occurrences, thus giving the enemy an upper hand in battle. How do you plea?"

You looked at the jury, M'Baku and Okoye looking with sympathetic looks towards you. Your eyes focus on Malia, she looks straight ahead, confident with a smirk on her face. You can't wait to wipe that stupid look off her dumb face. You look straight ahead, your eyes focusing on Shuri and her body language.

She was wearing all black, as opposed to you. She was sitting in a man spread, relaxing in her throne. Your eyes met and you guys held intense eye contact. She leaned away from you, looking at you like you were one of the low people. You turn back to the elder and judges, speaking on the mic.

"Guilty. On my own admission."

Everyone gasped but you chuckled to yourself, your eyes closing momentarily as you looked down, to the side and then back up.

"But I'm not the one who should be standing here tonight.

"I know all your secrets, Malia McKenzie..or should I say Tzultacaj, daughter of K'uk'ulkan also known as...Namor."

Whispering filled the room before it ultimately fell silent, all eyes landing on Malia.

Immediately her face dropped, a panicked expression once replacing a confident one.

"I- I- I- I don't know what she's talking about.." She stuttered nervously, placing a smile on her face that constantly dropped.

"What you're looking at now." You say and on cue, Riri pulled up all the receipts, the pictures, messages everything. "Are conversations and evidence between Tzultacaj and her father, furthermore proving that she is the enemy and I was right, once again."

The texts talking about overthrowing and killing Shur all bold and highlighted.

"What do you plea?" You ask boldly, looking her dead in the fact. You had won. A few moments of silence filled the room as Malia looked down, tears escaping her eyes.

"Don't cry now bitch, own it. Own that shit. You played yourself, congratulations." You add onto your previous statement, a smile leaving your lips, showcasing some tooth gems you had put on that morning.

A phone call between Malia and Namor filled the silence of the room, replacing her sobs.

Namor: And what is the best way to get in daughter?

Malia: Out back, don't go for the water borders, if you really want to surprise them you're going to have to get on land. They give me a lot of crazy and information around here it's crazy.

They shared laughs as Namor continued.

Namor: And how is your girlfriend?

Malia: Fiancee now. We're getting married soon. Once I get that crown, you make your move. I got her exactly where I wanted.

Namor: You got it?

Malia: Yup.

You turned to Shuri who looked enraged at this information. Her chest heaving, moving up and down rapidly with each breath.

"Malia is this true?" She asked, looking at her girlfriend enraged who immediately broke.

"I'm sorry! I'm so sorry baby, I- I just didn't want to want to disappoint my daddy and my country and...I ended up falling in love with you, I love you so much baby please.." She sobbed and cried.

Immediately, Okoye stood up, along with a few other Dora Milaje warriors and they handcuffed her, holding her in place.

"Sedate her." Shuri said coldly.

"NO! NO! NO, NO, BABY PLEASE!" Malia screamed and thrashed around, more warriors joining in to hold her down.

Eventually, they had her head down on the table. Your mother was handed the syringe and as she was about to inject it in your neck, she paused.

Her hand slowly lowered as her eyes widened. She slowly reached her hand out, placing it on Malia.

"What are you waiting for?!" Shuri asked impatiently. "SEDATE HER."

Your mother shook her head. "I'm sorry your highness I cannot do that for the woman..."

"is with child."

She reached her hand out to touch Malia's stomach and your face immediately dropped.

"What?"

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[bohemian-nights]

What We May We Mend (Chapter 4)

Word Count: ~19,019 (yes I know)

Rating: Mature

Pairing: Daemon Targaryen × Laena Velaryon

Warnings⚠️: Does Daemon Targaryen count as one? This chapter also gets a little steamy 😏

Description: In the year 126 AC Lady Laena Velaryon survives her difficult in a foreign land surrounded by strangers. With a second chance to mend their fractured marriage she and her husband Prince Daemon Targaryen return to Westeros with their children in tow as chaos unfolds around them🐉

AN: Sorry for the delay, but it’s another huge chapter and the gang is all here so yay🌊

Chapter 1, Chapter 2, Chapter 3, Chapter 5, Chapter 6,

Her mother’s warning stuck with her for a spell. It was hard for it not to with everything that transpired around her. An impending doom. A strong current in the eye of a storm and she was caught in the undertow. She could hear voices. She could see land, she was not very far away from it, but she could not move. 

Even if she could she had no way of escaping as the water surrounded her. Wishing to pull her down into its depths to what would surely be her doom She was caught swimming against that current until the sound of her husband's laugh pulled her out of the sea and back to the shore with a jolt. A strange feeling it was. For she had felt lost and even when one is found it is hard to forget the feeling of being lost.                                                                                                                                                              

He laughed. He actually laughed. Laena would not have thought anything of it had they been anywhere else, had it been any other time, about anyone else, but here, now, one this day, in front of everyone who mattered to them; this was wrong; even for him.                       

True enough, it was her uncle's words he laughed at. “Ours runs true. And ours must never thin.” Blood. Their blood. The ancient and noble blood of house Velaryon.The proud blood of old Valyria forged in fires the sea as house Targaryens through the sky. Just as pure. Just as deserving of the respect that a name from old Valyria could command. Fates intertwined. Where they ruled the skies they ruled the seas. Brothers bond in the only way they could be as the last vestiges of a great fallen empire. Save House Celtigar Laena supposed, but they had never been a particularly important house in their ancestral land or Westeros. Never been particularly close to House Targaryen either. Not in the way they were.   

Salt ran through every Velaryon's blood, every Velaryon apart from three who were Velaryon in name only and their very Valyrian mother. Their very Valyrian mother Laena was currently doing her best to not meet the gaze of standing on the same rocky outcrop just to the right of them clutching her eldest sons closer. Yet the same could not be said of the Targaryen woman.

She felt the weight of her stare burning a hole into the side of her skull. Paranoia some would call it. 

Paranoia directed at her good sister. She had to keep reminding herself that she was in fact her good sister and not just any woman, even though she was the same woman who haunted her so for what felt like its own not so little an eternity. She was the same woman who now stood in the flesh before her instead of a ghostly figment in her nightmares kept only at bay by the sea, but that sea was no more.

Lena knew she had not grown paranoid in the time that they had been standing on that rock. Her own mother had confirmed her suspicions when she kept glancing over at the younger Targaryen with a small frown lining her face. Her mother was never one for rudeness just for the sake of it. She was not impolite. One could never call Rhaenys Targaryen impolite without a reason. She most certainly would not take the time to be so here they were grieving. She would not have glanced Rhaenyra's way unless she had glanced at theirs first. 

There was something to this feeling of being watched like prey, but it was a matter to be dealt with another time, even if that other time would be in a mere hour or two. When they were not here. When she did not feel the sea calling to her. The crashing of waves over laughter.

Mayhaps it was not the best idea to have Ser Vaemond give the eulogy for her brother. Daemion had volunteered himself, she and Laenor loved all their cousins just as much as the last, but he was their favorite.  

“I would be happy to do it uncle,” he had told her father. Probably with an infectious smile gracing his long brown face to put them at ease. The matter had been pushed aside in all upheaval that had fallen over Driftmark’s shores and not settled until shortly before the morning they had arrived, but his own father unsurprisingly cut in. Dismissing the idea in its entirety by putting his own name forward.

“You need not trouble yourself Daemion. I shall do it.” As the elder, short of her own father taking up the task, his right was paramount. They could not refuse him. And so her uncle was given the honor of sending her brother off to his final resting place, oh and what a thing he made of it. 

The Velaryon man simply could not help himself when it came to theatrics. It was truly what he was best at. He always had to make a statement, especially on matters which he did not approve of, Matters which he felt were a stain. He would not hold back his tongue. Not but that was no excuse for Daemon’s actions. 

No excuse for that hearty chuckle that caused their guests, the likes of Otto Hightower and his own brother who were standing behind him, to look down on him as if he had gone mad. Laena imagined that the lord hand often looked at her husband as if he had no sense no matter if he was deserving of that look or not, but in this instance, her husband was most certainly not helping his case.    

Daemon made no move to hide the smirk on his face or the glint in his pale green eyes. Not when her mother, whose bloodshot hazel eyes brimming with a mountain of unshed tears were set ablaze. Looking as if she wished to reach past Rhaena and push him towards the edge of the rocky outcrop they stood on top of into the sea below them. Nor when her father, who despite her husband's mercurial ways had always had a soft spot for the Targaryen prince, looked like he might join her mother in pushing him into the depths of the bay. The only one who looked pleased was Ser Vaemond. He continued on with his speech with a glow on his face for the success of his efforts. 

“Kepa,” Baela gasped furrowing her dark brows up at her father. Twas the same tone and look she would use to chastise Aemon when he was placed in her lap by Rhaena after his feeding. She had burped the babe, Beth had taught her how, but the little dear would almost always let out an infinitesimal amount of spittle on her dress. 

Ruining the garment much to her vexation, which did not help to endear him to her, except her brother was a babe. He could not help what he did. He did not know it was impolite; it just happened to come out. Her father, on the other hand, was certainly not a babe. He had full control over his actions. Daemon knew better and yet, he had laughed. 

At that, his grin fell. He looked down at Baela to find disappointment in that little brown face that was so beloved to him and then backed up at her own identical one. He did not meet his eye, her gaze steady on what was her brother. That told him more than if she had met it.

She could see out from the corner of her eyes that those green eyes of his had softened. Try as she had not to cry she could help it. While he had not cared what Otto Hightower, her mother, or any of the other mourners thought of his actions, it seemed as if he cared for her opinion and Baela’s. 

Mayhaps he had not even thought that the reaction would hurt her. After all, he was not laughing at her brother, not really. She had no real reason to be vexed with him, but he could see the pained look in her dark irises that she averted from his gaze.

Daemon bent down, taking her head between his hands and placing a kiss on the top of Baela’s silver locs. That apology seemed to satisfy their daughter. Going back to watching the proceedings with a somber expression. He meant to repeat the apology to the mother as he had the daughter. reached out to grab her unoccupied hand that was not warped onto Baela like a vine on the edge of a cliff. He managed to bring her wrist up to his lips to place what she was sure was an I’m sorry for behaving as an ass kiss upon the back of her bronze skin, but she snatched it out from his grasp, not caring who saw. 

People would notice that she reminded herself, but he had already made a spectacle of them. A mockery and she did not wish to forgive him for it. To coddle him and allow him to go on as if he had done nothing. That it meant nothing that was what he wanted. To soothe his guilty conscience. She knew that is what he wanted when he reached for her. It was not entirely for her benefit. If it had been he would’ve held his tongue in the first place.

True enough, his laugh was not directed at her brother, he had no quarrel with the recently departed, but it indirectly was directed at her brother's shame. His inability to live up to the Velaryon name. His inability to secure their house. His legacy, another man’s. Her uncle had reminded friend and foe alike of that and Daemon had given it recognition with a laugh. He was his good-brother. His cousin. He should have thought about what others would think of it. What she would think of it? He should have known better. Her brother was being lowered into the sea before them. Right before her eyes. In that coffin.  

She had not seen his body. No one would let her. It is for the best Laena. You would not want to see him that way. Better to picture him as he was sweet girl, but when she tried to picture him as Daemon suggested she could not. Nothing could come to mind except a black pit. Filled with the vastness of his absence. 

He was not here, he would never be here. He was not her brother anymore. He was in the seas now. A pile of flesh and bones that would be swallowed by it. Becoming nothing more than food for whatever lived down there to gorge themselves upon. 

A sob caught in her throat. She tried to scream, but she could not. Her hands went to wrap around her neck, clawing at it to force the sound out, but it did nothing. She choked. Her throat felt like it was burning. Struggling even to get breath to her lungs. 

She was caught in the sea again. Everything that was, her parents' ashen faces, Daemon’s morose humor, Baela’s hand in hers, all gone. Faded away. As if she had been pushed off the rocky ledge into the sea. Drowning. She was drowning with Laenor, only she looked around, but he was not there. His coffin was nowhere in sight.  Nothing was as she floated down. She could see nothing. The light from the surface dimmer the further down she went. The current was all there was. Dragging her down into the depths of the sea.  

“Laena,” it was Daemon’s voice. It sounded as if he were an ocean away. Panicked. Trying to keep her here with him as if she really was drowning before him. Throwing out a line before it was too late she was lost to him to the tide.  “Laena breathe.” He cupped her face in between his warm palms. They felt so warm, but she supposed anything that wasn't. The pads of those warm digits drew gentle circles into the apples of her cheeks.

She made note of that somehow beneath the darkness she was. His voice was so far away, but she could feel his touch no different than if she had not been drowning or what felt like she was drowning. Funny how that worked.  “I’m right here. You are right here with me. Just breathe. Breathe for me Laena. I need you to breathe.” Breathe. Just breathe. How does one breathe when they are drowning?  

“I’m drowning.” Where his voice sounded faint her own sounded a water-logged whisper from the depths of her mind. Had she said it aloud? Could anyone hear it?

She tried looking around and all she saw was the sea. She closed her eyelids with a flutter. Squeezing them shut so as not to see the darkness. It was easier this way. If she was still truly on that rocky outcrop with him and not wherever down wherever the current would take her, she had really made a spectacle of them. She supposed it didn't matter. Not when she could not breathe.

“Laena breath please just breathe. Please sweet girl. Please. Just breathe.” His voice broke and something in it broke her. Breaking through the haze. Forcing her to focus on the gentle ministrations of his fingers. Letting it lead her ashore and the water empty from her lungs. 

She opened her eyes. “I’m fine. I’m just—“ Feel like a part of me sank with my brother. “I’m fine Daemon.” She was not with her brother. Not down at the bottom of the sea. She was on dry land. With Daemon holding her “I’m fine.” She said that more to herself than anyone in particular. She was fine. She was fine and she was—- being led out of the sun. Back toward the garden above them. 

Back inside the safety of Hide Tides' white stone walls, but her feet were not moving. She was not vertical. No, she was being carried across the balcony. Carried by Daemon like a bride. The second time this way in a moon. An eerily familiar feeling of disquietude. 

She suspected that this familiarity was the only thing on her husband's mind with the pace he set. How it could be she and not her brother they buried? If she were the one they mourned for. Would he collapse under his own grief as she had?   

Laena shoved those unpleasant thoughts down. Focusing on what was here instead of what had happened or could have happened. She was not in danger. She was alive. Safe and whole. Daemon had to be reminded of that. 

“Put me down.” He did not stop. He did not look at her. He did not even act as if he heard her. “Daemon I am fine. Put me down.” He slowed, but he still would not stop. He kept his eyes on the stone archway of the castle's garden entrance ahead. 

“You need rest.” Laena blanched. Feeling dread digging a pit in her belly. Rest. Of all the words and phrases in the common tongue, those three which were repeated so often that they were branded into the back of her skull had become the most abhorrent to her ears.

Rest is what her father's maester had advised for her last night when he had come to check her over and again that morning while her mother and husband were fretting over her. Echoing the same sentiments as the magistrate's healer. 

“You ought to get some rest, my lady.” He was sympathetic, but they almost had not let her go down to the shore and send Laenor off. Wanting her to watch from a safe distance from the window where her view of the proceedings would be partially obscured. It would be too much to see her brother so close in the state he was in. 

Laena had written of their concern for overbearingness. Her husband’s need for control facilitated by maesters and healers should not be given into. She turned to her only ally. Just having managed to appeal to her mother's sensibilities. 

A suggestion from Maester Croton was never an order that must be followed. If he had meant for her to stay in bed he would’ve ordered her to stay, but now Laena had proven the suggestion was more an order than she wished. 

Mere sympathy from an old man who had grown sentimental and wished to appease the little girl who he had looked after over the years, administering whatever tincture to cure her of malaise, cleaning many scraps, and setting to right a bone or two, against his better judgments as a maester and healer. That lively girl was a hard one to say no to, but the girl was gone and the woman left in her place was a shadow of her. 

She had become a frail bird in everyone’s eyes, one that at the slightest upset such as now would mean confinement. Regulated to sit and watch everyone go about their days while she sat languishing in her bed, waiting. Laena would be lucky now if Beth was so much as to stick up for her against the chorus of abnegation of her personal freedom that would surely follow this blunder. 

Mayhaps she would have accepted the gravity of the maesters' suggestions and orders in reference to her prognosis for what they were, but she had been regulated to waiting long before the tumultuous business of Aemon’s birth. She had enough of that to last her a lifetime.

“Put me down Daemon or I shall scream,” She meant it. She was getting good at that. Meaning what she said. He had already caused a scene as had she. They already thought them mad. What would be the point of trying to preserve proprietary now? 

He kept going though. Not believing her. One step. Two. Three. She screamed. Like a banshee. It was ear spluttering. It hurt her own ears and everyone who happened to be in the immediate vicinity, including Rhaenyra and her eldest son who was still glued to her side. 

The pair got more than they bargained for when they took to following them. An earful more than they had bargained for as they stopped in their tracks. Flinging their arms up to cover their ears before fleeing the scene. 

For the boy, Laena did feel some inkling of remorse for inflicting that small torment upon him, but the former did not feel very sorry for torturing her. 

“By the Gods, put her down Daemon!” Her father barked out between gritted teeth. About ready to strangle him by the looks of it. 

He was not one to take orders, but she had not left him much of a choice. Placing her gently on a nearby bench as he glared down at her. Laena wondered if he would have dropped her from where he stood on that bench if he did not have a very present audience that included a highly agitated Velaryon lord. 

 “Must you behave like a child?” All traces of concern had vanished from her husband's face. The faint worry lines deepened in aggravation. There was something about it that made her grin with laughter. Her laugh was not nearly as grating as her scream, but it was just as childish. It was petty. He did not like that. 

“I thought you liked children.” He liked that less. Her mother's face blanched. Turning as white as a sheet. Baela who had held her not once let go of her hand since she had taken it before they came down that morning sported a frown. 

It was her reaction that concerned Laena the most. Her expression should have mirrored her sister's naivety, but instead, it matched that of her grandfather who looked like he would have rather been anywhere else. The Velaryon lord cleared his throat. Shifting on the balls of his feet. He had only not left her side because was concerned for her health. 

“I—I shall fetch Maester Croton.” Daemion, who had been a part of the crowd trailing them, stuttered out. The usually graceful man almost tripped over his long limbs as made his exit. He could have called over one of the servants and commanded him to find the maester of Driftmark, but she had made things rather awkward. She could not blame him for taking the opportunity to leave them. Even Rhaenyra who had been watching her since she entered the gates of Hide Tide was nowhere to be found. She had seemingly scampered off. Laena could not say she missed her presence.  

Laena meant to lift herself up, she could not stand everyone crowding around her and treating her like an invalid. She rose from the bench. Had gotten to her feet and taken a step away from it when she caught sight of the sea. She would have collapsed on the ground had Daemon not wrapped an arm around her. Bringing her into his hold before turning her to face him as he raised his hairless brow and wore a smirk that said, I told you that you needed rest. He placed her back on the beach without saying a word. She sank into the cold stone with the weight of defeat upon her shoulders. 

She was not fine or at least not fine enough to look at the sea without panicking and hurting herself. No, she could not be fine if something so insignificant sent her spiraling.

There would be no argument this time. She knew her husband would not wait for the maester. The  man would come down from his chambers to find they had left. To bed, she would go with him carrying her off to their chambers. Mayhaps this time he would throw her over his shoulder. She imagined it was more difficult to scream with the same intensity while less blood came to her head. It had the added benefit of robbing her of her ability to break free from his hold. Yes, that would be how it would go. 

No one could stop him from doing so. Not even her father could. He had lost that privilege the moment he had put her hand in her husband’s and the septon pronounced them man and wife. She was Daemon’s, but he was still her father and the two got on well. Mayhaps she could sway him.

Though he did not show it, keeping the face of the mighty formidable Sea Snake as best as he could he was like the rest of them in a particularly doleful mood. The time was now to appeal to his compassion. 

Laena turned to her father, preparing to offer him the most doleful gaze she could muster, but he was not looking at her.

His gaze had drifted to the garden ledge where none other than Lucerys stood by his lonesome. Or at least she guessed the pale dark-haired boy was Luke. 

He was shorter than his brother. He had to be Rhaena’s age though he was shorter than her by several inches, but that was not uncommon for boys his age. 

Laena could recall being taller than Daeron, much to his dismay, until they reached two and ten. He had made up the difference in height twofold. Quite literally lording it over her by sneaking into her chambers and placing her possessions out of her reach. Only stopping when she finally relented and told Laenor about it. She had not known what her brother had said to him, but she had seen the evidence of that talk in the inky bruise that he sported for a week afterward and more importantly in the way that her belongings remained undisturbed. 

Laena planted her stare on the boy her brother claimed as his own. Lucerys did not look a thing like him. She knew Aemon did not look like her, but he looked just as Targaryen as any other. That made sense. It was expected. Her husband was a Targaryen and she was half Targaryen. It was not as if anyone could deny that he was hers. She had the marks lining her thighs and stomach to prove it.

Dark of hair and plain of face and eyes that were a rather unremarkable shade, the boy was common. He would surely grow into a handsome young man, but he was common. He had none of the dark Valyrian grace and regality of house Velaryon or the fairer one of house Targaryen. He did not have the Baratheon look, he was not hardy enough to be one. He did not look like Arryn either. He barely looked as if he belonged to his own mother much less his father and yet the boy was his father's son. 

Laenor was the only father he had been allowed to know. The one who kissed his bruises accepted his childish scribblings with pride, listened to him complain of his maesters lessons, or broke up rows with his brother. He was the one who he called father and now he was gone and Lucerys was left without at the most tender of ages. His tears left a trail of streaks down his pale face as he stared out at the spot that marked his father's watery grave. 

Her father turned his attention back to them. He gave her a sheepish look when he realized he had been watched when he should’ve been watching her. 

Laena wanted to tell him that she would not mind if he were to go to the boy. She was a mother. She had a heart and the sight of him, small pale thing as he was against the waves, pulled at it. He was not responsible for the sins of his mother. He did not deserve to pay for them with solitude. 

If it had been her girls standing there in replace of him she would want someone, anyone who cared for them, blood or not, to comfort them. To dry their tears and let them know that they were not alone. That they were loved and would always be so. 

Luke had lost something, someone, which could never be replaced, but he was not alone and he had more than just his mothers or brothers to depend upon. 

There was really no need for her father to stay at her side. She had her mother and Daemon breathing down her neck. They would not let anything happen to her, but he would not take her word. Thinking that she was just doing so to be accommodating in that way all mothers became when they witnessed a child in need. It was, he believed, maternal nature to put another before themselves.

No, he would believe her if she told him to leave. He would, however, take her mothers. While a mother would put a child before themselves they would never put another child before their own.

Laena had been right in her assessment. Not even needing to catch her mother's eye for she had found the source of her husband's confliction with ease. Pity shone from a white face bathed in her own grief. 

“Go husband.” Rhaenys placed her hand in her father's and gave it a squeeze. He raised a silver brow, obsidian eyes drifting towards Laena but her mother shook her head. Giving him another squeeze. Leave this to me. No other words were spoken. 

He looked relieved. The weight of the guilt that would’ve eaten at him if he stayed gone from his dark face. Rushing to brush a kiss on her mother's cheek then her brown one. He had not once looked back as he made his way to console Luke. Not questioning. Never doubting he had been wrong to leave them.

It was a simple thing, an unimportant thing in the madness of the day, but there was a part of Laena who envied that. Envying your own mother if not sin was surely a tragedy. She knew her parents' marriage was not perfect, but they knew one another in ways no other living soul did. 

Laena wondered if she and Daemon would ever have that. If it was too late for them to have that. To know and understand someone so well that there wasn’t a need for words. They shared one spirit in two bodies. One could just be and exist with the other occupying that very being with them. She turned her head away and as luck would have it landed upon the present subject of her musings. 

He was watching her. Assessing her person. Green orbs afire; boring into hers. Piercing past the dermis of her skin with its blaze. He did not retreat when she caught him. In fact that fire burned brighter when green met brown. Trapping her in its flame, but she did not mind how it enveloped her. 

If she lived in a realm where there only lived them and that feeling Laena would have let Daemon carry her off and do as he pleased. Let the warmth of his fire shield her. Keeping the chill of the sea at bay that wished to engulf her. 

She wanted to be doted upon him. To see him fuss over her. To make sure that she did indeed get rest. She was in fact quite tired. Traveling across the narrow sea was never a particularly comfortable experience. It was even less so under the circumstances she found herself in between recovery and mourning with two restless children and a newborn at her bosom. 

Laena turned her head up at the castle. Landing on a pair of windows she had stared out of earlier that morn. If she were to transport herself inside she would find Aemon with Beth and his nursemaid. He would be on the verge of waking up from his nap and would be in want of his dinner judging by how the shadows climbed up the white stone of the castle's walls. 

She turned back to Daemon. He was still watching her. He held out a calloused hand for her. The spell was not broken. She bit her lip and exhaled. 

Laena was beyond exhausted. Her feet ached. Her breasts were sore. She hated that she was being gawked at by their guests. Expressions ranging from pity to contempt. She dreaded the sight of the sea and was starting to hate the sound of the waves crashing on the rocks and the smell of the salty air. 

A soft feather bed. A warm cup of tea. The sound of Baela and Rhaena chattering amongst themselves as they entertained each other in their sitting room with a game of cyvasse or with their dolls, and Aemons little face looking up at her as he suckled on his super sounded like heaven.

She had done her duty. She had accomplished what she had set out to even with the minor inconvenience of her overactive imagination. What else was there to do? Sit on this bench and try to avoid gazing back at the water while accepting condolences from those who did not care about Laenor but were under obligation to express it, such is the way civilized society dictates until the sun went down.  

Rest, she wanted rest. If he had been here himself Laenor would’ve told her to do as she pleased. She did not owe any of these people. She did not want to be here and she did not have to. 

She reached to take Daemon’s hand, but stopped, her bronze hand suspended in midair as a pale figure caught in the corner of her eye. 

Rhaenyra had not scampered off as she had thought.  Laena doubted she had ever ceased her leering. She was standing there in the archway. Half shrouded in shadows. Watching her. Watching them. Watching him with such intensity it burned a hole in her chest. 

Want. Need. Lust. She had seen it in a hundred faces over the years. A hundred faces who had looked at her husband that way, but those hundred faces had never meant anything. They had come and gone like the wind. Blurring into one another. Each face was more forgettable than the last. The faces of strangers, but this face was etched into her memory from old. This face held more than pure carnality. This face held her fate in its pale glower. 

Unwillingly events that Laena was sure would unfold before her in a matter of minutes played out in her mind. Rhaenyra would follow them to their chambers just as she had here. 

You needn’t worry about anything. She would say once her mother had left for her own chambers after Daemon had commanded her to leave. Get some rest, dear sister. She would put on quite the show of consanguinity and sisterly concern for her health. That glower, however, would stay no matter how she tried to keep it hidden. She would not be able to conceal the sea of loathing within her from bubbling to the surface. She never had. 

Not even at her own wedding Laena recalled. Her eyes plunged a dagger into her back while Daemon twirled her around the dance floor. She had tried to dismiss it then as a young bride who was all too aware of the lonely road ahead of her instead of some tale of marital bliss Septa’s spun to their impressionable charges. She knew better now. 

She had the object of her desires that was denied. There would be no denial now for that object wanted her in return. Who would stop them? Her father was old. Weak. Laenor was dead, as was her lover. Laena’s own father was pacified by an infant grandson who would carry his legacy as well as his blood. Her mother, a princess yes, but still a woman who could do little more than voice objections which would be promptly brushed aside. 

Rhaenyra and Daemon would have what was owed to them. The slight mended and Laena would be made to smile and cheer as they claimed each other. 

We shall be here when you wake. She would place a kiss upon her temple. A caress down her cheek for good measure and then made her way to the door of their bed chambers. Waiting for one final time as Daemon would kiss her in the exact spot where she had. 

They would leave together. Hours would pass, mayhaps she would find herself giving into the temptation of a dreamless bout of sleep within them. There would be nothing else to entertain herself with except madness and cruel imaginings. When she awakened it would be to Rhaenyra sitting by her bed bouncing Aemon on her lap as she would tell her in a honey voice laced with venomous sting of her triumph. It is done Laena. We shall leave for Dragonstone on the morn.  

There would be nothing she could do about it. Nothing she could say to stop it. To stop them. They wanted one another. They would have one another. Their fate was each other and it was her fate to wither. 

She broke the spell. Her sight shifted over to the sea. Felt that pit of uneasiness grow within her. Would it be so bad if she was in Laenor’s place? If it had been she who the stranger took. Mayhaps he and the mother had not spared her. It seems that they had not. Her fate was inescapable. The same extraneous existence whether she lived or died. She would always just be the one he settled for and Rhaenyra would be the one his fires burned for. 

Any moment now he would see her. Any moment now that destiny would be sealed as a silent spectator. Any moment now and—he noticed.

He noticed her. Laena witnessed the exact moment that green met blue. Her eyes blazed. His breath hitched. Laena doubted anyone would notice the way his chest rose an inch, but that inch might as well be a foot.

They held each other in the same orbit. On a plane where only they appeared to exist. Taking in the other after all these years. She had seen that same long years past, but never quite forgotten. On that night Daemon had chosen to make her his. 

Was it really a choice then? A mere convenience she was. He had no choice but to choose her if he wished for a Valyrian bride and his need for one outweighed his want for another, but a want does not leave just because one buries it. 

For her part, Laena had done the job to the best of her ability, given him his heir he so desired, but she was no substitute for the one he had been denied.

A moment. Two. Three passed and then, he averted his gaze. Moving from his nieces back to hers. That plane shut once more.

There was a hard edge to his gaze. His face was a mask of sternness, there was no fiery determination in it, but it was entirely for her and there was a manner of resolve. 

Daemon took her hand in his. Bringing it to his lips before placing a single kiss on the bronze patch of skin. His thumb moved over her knuckles in a caress. “We are going to bed.” We. He had emphasized that. Not you. We. They would. She would not be left to wither tonight. 

Laena let out a breath she had not known that she had been holding. Feeling her shoulders sag with relief.  

“All of us?” Baela asked, wrinkling her brow in displeasure. Seemingly unaware of what passed between her mother and father. Laena sent a silent prayer to the mother for that small mercy.

To her credit their daughter was trying to keep the whine from her voice, she knew her mother needed rest, she had not let go of her hand, but she was doing a rather poor job of containing her disappointment. She was not tired and she would rather not have to be put to bed. “It is not even dark outside kepa—”

“Your mother needs rest pet.” Her use of the endearment had not swayed her father in her favor. He turned his head but kept on caressing her hand as he spoke. 

One look, a look he rarely used for her, for she was undoubtedly his favorite and he was hers, was all it took for Baela’s protests to quieten though she did sulk. Her hand grew limp in her mother's hold as she began to pout at her father. She hoped to sway him to spare her from being made to go to bed, but her hopes remained unfulfilled. 

“I shall join you,” Rhaenys said. Hazel eyes back to scanning the growing crowd, another small mercy from the maiden for Laena knew she would not be able to withstand her mother's anguish for her or her wrath at Daemon and her cousin, til they landed upon the silver head of Ser Vaemond who was currently striding right past her father who was doing his best to console Luke with a self-satisfied sneer. 

He made a beeline for Ser Otto with at his side Daeron and his wife who looked like she could do with a bit of rest as well. “Your uncle has done an excellent job of conveying our sorrow. We shall leave him to continue on as he so dutifully has been.” Something told Laena that her uncle would not mind it one bit. 

The older princess stood from her seat and turned to her grandchildren with renewed vigor. “I have a tapestry of my father and my mother along with your fathers in my sitting room. If you girls are not too tired, I would—”

“I am not too tired.” Baela interrupted. Alert, eager, and radiating with excitement. She looked as if she was about ready to jump up from where she sat and sprint inside, ignoring all decorum with a jig in her steps the entirety of the way to her chambers. 

“Nor I.” Rhaena piped in. The younger girl was much better at containing her jubilation at the prospect though the crest of a smile could be seen cutting into the corners of her brown cheeks. 

“Then we shall leave your—Good lord.” Rhaenys had turned as white as a sheet. Her irises magnifying. As if she had seen a ghost. What she had meant to say was forgotten in favor of horror. A horror that frightened Laena in turn. “What in the seven is he doing?” At that, she had to look. 

If Laena’s skin were several shades lighter mayhaps she would’ve been capable of losing all her color, but she felt a great deal of blood drain out of her face at the sight of him. It was hard not to see why her mother was horrified. 

 “Your brother wants you.” Her mouth was agape, the words tumbling out of it. She was surprised her husband had not seen it, but he only looked at her. 

“My brother can wait.” Daemon did not turn his head so much to glance over at the man despite the grave look on his wife’s paling brown face.  He more than likely dismissed the dullness of her complexion on her illness. His focus remained firmly affixed to her. Reaching out a hand to pet her cheek all traces of annoyance gone once more. She liked this side of him best. When he truly was content with her. When no one else came between them, it was so rare that  it appeared. Most days she wished to hurl the nearest object at him, but on these rare moments, well he could be quite lovely. However, there were other demands present.  

While she understood why he refused, and truly did not want him to leave her side, quite enjoying how he fussed over her in that moment given the present circumstances, Laena almost wished he had gone over to his brother. For the king wished to speak to his brother whether Daemon wanted to or not. He would and was coming over to them and she would rather not be in his company. 

Laena had no fond memories of the man to speak of. She had hardly any memories of him at all. He was a scarce figure in her girlhood. He was the king, the man who stole her mother's crown, then the man who she was expected to marry, then just the king again, then her brother's good father, and finally her own good brother. A distant good brother. A good brother in name only.  

He was never family. Never cousin. Never just Viserys. There was never a need to categorize any memories of him. Never any need to mark them other than to shuffle them off into the distant recesses of her mind, but one among them stood out. A letter in the early days of her marriage. A mere fortnight after her wedding.

She could picture the inky words clearly in her head. Even the smell of the parchment. You could not have my daughter so you have done away with your wife and have taken another child bride, my cast off, against her mother's wishes on the eve of Rhaenyra’s wedding. Must you wound me so? Must you always wound this family so? Why do you take such pleasure in your greed and destruction? 

She had stumbled upon it by pure accident. Looking for a quill which she promptly forgot about when she read the words on the parchment. Daemon had apologized for it when he had found her hiding under his desk. Tears staining the ink. He kissed those tears away as he wrapped her arms. My brother is a jealous old fool. He married an Andal whore when he could have had you my beauty, but I suppose I should thank him for it. 

It was most surely pitiless to take satisfaction in her husband's barbarous tongue. Alicent Hightower had never been cruel to her, quite the opposite for she could distinctly recall how the slightly older girl had found her on a bench in the Red Keeps gardens not unlike this one after that dreadful day of courting the king, and gifted her a handkerchief embroidered with moonblooms as she comforted her in the way she would later see Baela do Rhaena when she was unhappy with herself. You are lucky my lady.

It was said so sweetly that she could not be upset when she learned that Alicent would be their new queen. She had not wanted the man. She had not really wanted to be queen. She was ten and two. A girl who had nothing more on her mind than claiming a dragon. 

She did not want any of it. She had only wanted to make her father happy. She doubted Alicent wanted anything more than that herself. A girl on the cusp of womanhood married to a man old enough to be her father. By the seven, he was the father of her friend. 

It was cruel to laugh at her good sister's misfortune, however, in that fortnight during her honeymoon Laena did. Most heartily because it had paid for her husband's affection. 

It was the first and last time Daemon apologized and offered her any sort of reassurance that at least some part of him wanted her until Aemon’s birth. Laena lapped the praise up like a dying man in need of a drink. She had so desperately wanted him. Wanted to be needed by him. Letting herself take pleasure in his affections in whatever form he would give them to her. 

Daemon must have written back to Viserys for the next letter he received, which he let her read to him, was much warmer. You, Laena, and whatever children come from your union will always have a place in my court brother.

She had clung to that memory for so long, on sleepless nights and every cold morning, it frayed and she had to lock it away before it was lost to her.  

She shook her head trying not to let the memory ensnare her. “I do not think he can.”  Laena doubted he believed that himself. Now he would not take not take his eyes off the man who was slowly, but determinedly hobbling over to them. His youngest daughter was at his side. Leaning on her a great deal. Laena half wondered if he would even make it to reach them.  She wondered how he went on as he was. 

She could not get over the sight of him. It had been ten years since she had last seen him, but on him, it looked as if it had been twenty. 

She had seen the king from a distance. He looked older than she remembered, but the years had aged them. It was natural that he should not look as illustrious as he once did. However, the man standing before her was a fright. He was frail; complexion sallow. His hair was thin, retreating from his head. His face was lined and marked with scars. Some crusted over showing their age, others fresh and a grayish sort of pink. 

The difference in age between her husband and his brother was not very great. It was not the difference between Baela and Rhaena who had but a year separating them. Nor was it the difference between herself and Daemon. From what Laena could recall it was the difference between Rhaena and Aemon. Give or take a year or two. He was Daemon’s elder, but he looked like his father more so than his elder brother.  He looked older than her own mother and she had been the oldest of the old king's grandchildren by several years. 

“When was the last time you saw him?” Her husband asked, turning to her mother, green eyes hardened with hurt and anger once the initiation shock of his brother's appearance had worn off.   

“A while.” Her reply was quiet. Barely above a whisper. “Not since Lucerys first nameday.” She expounded. Her hazel eyes were wide as she could not peel them off the figure of their king. There was shame there in her voice. and she was trying to come up with a worthy excuse. “Your brother's court is not what it once was. Laenor said he was not his best, but,” she hesitated, deliberating in her mind if her next words were wise to say to the irascible dragon before her. They apparently were for she pressed on, “Alicent has been there for him.” 

Her husband grumbled at the mention of the Hightower woman’s name. She had been his good-sister for ten and three years, but she might as well be a stranger. No, he treated her worse than a stranger when she thought about it. Daemon would give the stranger something which he would never give their queen. The benefit of benevolence. 

At the first meeting at least. Then he’d judge the poor soul guilty the same as the rest if he found crime to be offensive to his strange code of sensibilities, but it was more than he would give Alicent. As long as she breathed he would judge her guilty. 

Daemon's eyes narrowed to slits as he looked around for her, but her mother reached out to place a hand on his arm. He glared down at his cousin turned good mother and opened his mouth to speak, but was silenced when she beat him to it. “It is not her fault Daemon. Viserys has not been in good health since he took the throne.” He regarded Rhaenys with suspicion. Green eyes remained narrowed, but he did not say a word against what she had voiced. 

She was right. He could not argue against that fact. Even from her scant visits as a child, Laena would see the cuts on his hands and neck. Red and angry with some oozing out puss. All courtesy of the Iron Throne. The signs of its rejection of him one might say. 

“Is he diseased?” Baela questioned. This time screwing up her nose and mouth. Dark eyes as wide as her grandmother's albeit with revulsion rather than shock. She did not even attempt to hide it. 

“He is your uncle Baela.” His only defense as he tried to glare at her, but he looked more sad than anything else. There was not much even he could say or do. Laena thought, but they could not lie to her. Not when they could all see just how sickly the man who walked toward them looked. This time one look was not enough to quieten her. 

“But is he—ow—Rhaena.” Her disgust turned into a whine directed at her sister who had taken up the seat of her namesake and pinched her arm.

“He’s too close,” Rhaena replied with a gentle whisper to her. Lightly jerking her head in their uncle's direction. Her honey face a picture of pity. She, unlike her parents and grandmother, had gained her senses surprisingly quickly or not very surprising if one knew her. She did like to spend a great deal of time in maesters' chambers bombarding them with as many questions as they could answer. “He will hear you.” 

Daemon reached out a hand to steady the older Targaryen man when he grew near enough, but he waved it away. 

“Do not tell me.” Viserys rasped out at his brother in lew of a proper greeting. Trying to catch his breath. “You must be Baela.” He pointed the tip of his cane in their eldest direction. Leaning heavier on Helaena to make up the difference in his balance. “And you Rhaena. “You look like your mother when she was your age.” His gaze flitted to Baela and then back at Rhaena before proclaiming. “She spit you both out.” He regarded her with another flourish of his cane. “They do not look a thing like you Daemon.” Baela glared at him and some of the sympathy from Rhaena’s face, but Daemon laughed.   

“Thank the Gods for that.” His brother joined in the laughter. Well, it was more of a wheeze. Could one call that strained with pain that made his voice breathless? Like strings out of tune. 

“You will regret saying that in five years' time.” His eyes had drifted in the direction of his sons as he spoke. Only the eldest two were present. Laena had been told that the youngest Daeron resided in Oldtown with his mother's family. 

His brothers more than made up for his absence. They had not come over once to express their condolences remaining at their mother's side or with each other, but that did little to stop their observing. Two sets of eyes on Baela and Rhaena. Whispering to themselves as they stared. 

 By the gods had Alicent informed them of her intentions? Had they told their father in turn? Aemond’s stare at Rhaena was not cruel, more curious than anything, even more curious was the fact that he kept switching between Seasmoke, who unlike the other dragons present had grown restless and kept circling around the castle, and Rhaena. but nothing malicious in it. Aegon’s, however, was nothing short of disdain and Baela had noticed the boy who glared at her from the rim of his bottle. Taking to scowling at him in turn. 

They had been told by their mother. It would be her desperation that had made her do so. Be kind to them sweetlings. She would say, tucking an errant silver curl behind their ears as she implored them to win her girl's favor. They are to be your brides. 

Alicent was a mother. She had a daughter. She knew It would make the matter more appealing if the boys were to endear themselves to her girls and herself, but it appeared as though only one had listened to her desperate pleas and it was not their future king. 

Desperation was never one’s friend and it would certainly be her enemy if the king knew and told his brother of it. His prediction of his enmity at the prospects of their daughter's betrothals would show by night's end rather than five years' time. 

Laena averted her gaze. If he had found out better to play the fool when Daemon would question her.  

“Aemon looks like father.” It was said in that sweet tone of Rhaena’s whenever she spoke of her baby brother. It was enough to make one smile. Said softly, but even someone hard of hearing could hear her. Viserys could hear her perfectly well, nonetheless, he looked at his youngest niece like she had just spoken Dothraki.

“Who?” Laena felt her smile die upon her lips. She knew she looked at him as if had lost his senses, but he appeared to have lost exactly that. Letters had been sent at a constant from Pentos ever since she had informed her parents that she was once. How bad off was he? Mayhaps Baela was right to think the man was diseased. If not contagious what ailed him had spread to his mind and made him slow-witted. Her husband had not missed it. 

“My son Aemon.” The sullen look on his person made its reappearance as Daemon spoke. Patient as he waited for the recognition to sink. He was not usually patient with anyone apart from Baela, but seeing one’s brother in this state would cause anyone’s patience to amplify. 

“Oh yes, yes your boy.” Recognition came at last but left to give way to puzzlement once more.  It was a vicious cycle. The king's face cracked under his bewilderment. “Not Baelon? Surely I would have thought you would have thought you would name your son after our father.”

“Baela is named for our father.” Her husband let go of her hand to grab Baela’s. The girl preening at the homage. 

“Aegon then. You resisted the temptation of that brother?” For the life of Laena she could not understand why the man before her would ask such a question. 

“Is your son not named Aegon your grace?” The son that was within ear and eyeshot of. The son who had turned his flare 

The king let out a humph and dismissed her with a flourish of his cane. Not caring to acknowledge what she had said. Poor boy Laena thought to herself, but that pity faded when she saw that he had begun to glare at Baela again, who had that same scowl on his face.

Its fever had been great enough to bring about the attention of his grandsire who proceeded to knock the boy on the back of his pale head, and snatched the bottle from his hand, before he took him by his collar and dragged him inside. Harsh yes, but he was deserving of it. 

“I would like to meet your Aemon.” At that, Baela snapped her neck in her uncle's direction, mirroring her cousin's repulsion only directing it at his griseled father. 

In a rather uncharacteristic show of sisterly affection, which up until then was solely reserved for Rhaena and not the little beast, Baela put upon a sneer that would rival Ser Vaemonds “Aemon is sleeping. He is not to be disturbed when he is sleeping.” As if to salvage some of the good manners she had lost in her derision, she added, her voice gaining an octave and matching her sisters,  “Mayhaps on the mourn uncle.” 

Her uncle took to wheezing again. Sounding as if he might laugh himself into a fit.  “Gods. She has that look of yours Daemon when you are cross with me. He focused his attention on her. His face cracked under the stretch of his smile to reveal a set of relatively intact teeth much to Laena’s relief. “I am sorry Laena.”

“Younger brothers are lovely creatures.” it was said by a wistful voice belonging to Helaena who had not spoken until now. A pale silvery thing she was and skinny too. It was a wonder how she was even able to support her father leaning upon her. “But I suppose all babes are lovely creatures.” 

“Indeed.” Viserys did not wheeze this time. Gifting his youngest daughter a half smile rather than a laugh he placed an affectionate pat on the young supple hand that held him up with a leathery one. “I believe it is past our bedtime, come child.” His grip upon Helaena tightened as he took one shaky step, then another, but paused and turned half his body to face them again. ” He regarded her mother with a small nod. The expression he had, the apologetic sort, aged him another ten years. “Laenor was a good man. A good father and he would have made my daughter a fine consort.” 

He probably did not believe the last part.  Laenor was never for politics or ruling, he would’ve made quite the abysmal lord if he had ever taken up his father's seat. The Gods only knew what manner of consort he would make, but he had been a father,  he was his cousin's child, and now he was gone. The loss of a child was one her good brother knew well. That was the reason for that look. 

Her mother did not say anything, but when a gnarled hand reached out for her, she took it. Clutching it tightly between her own as she nodded her head. It was a rare moment of familial tenderness, but in the haze of morning, the rare became the expected. A few moments of plaintive silence passed them until they finally pulled their hands away. Visery cleared his throat, regarded her husband with a small smile, and renewed his steps leaning a little more on his cane than his daughter. The two made quite the contrasting figure retreating back to the castle's warmth for much-needed respite.

“I believe I have had enough excitement for one day.” Her mother spoke. Her eyes puffy with unshed tears as she coughed. Trying to clear the emotion from her throat. She turned on her heels.  Her black skirts fluttered in the wind as she stooped down to cup Laena’s face in her hands then placed a kiss on her temple. “Please get some rest sweetling.” Her mother pulled back slightly. Continuing to stoke her cheeks. It made her feel like a child again, but Laena supposed she needed the reminder of motherhood more than anything else. 

The older Targaryen women placed one last kiss on her cheek before pulling back fully to let Baela and Rhaena do the same. Murmuring Goodnight muna, Goodnight mama, and a Goodnight kepa in the former's case who received a kiss on her head for it from her kepa, before joining their grandmother. The trio left the same way Viserys and Helaena had a few minutes passed. 

Daemon took her hand in his when they had disappeared out of sight. Pulling her up from the bench and with a smile bent to whisper into her ear.  “Aemon will be wanting you, sweet girl.” His smile was infectious. It made her feel giddy. She almost laughed. Oh sweet maiden, she almost laughed a few feet away from where her brother had just been buried. Almost until the wispy silver curls on the back of her neck began to stand on their ends. 

Laena felt her before she saw her. That leering presence at her back that had been staring her down since she came through the gates of Hide Tide reached a crescendo as she swooped down from the archway she had perched herself on after her mother and the girls had passed her by. 

Rhaenyra spoke first. A demure penitent look that did not match the glint in her eye when she gazed up at her husband. “It is unfortunate we must meet under these circumstances.” She reached out a hand to take Laena’s in hers. It was cold. Not unnaturally so, but the difference was great enough for her to notice. “I am glad you have recovered Laena. You and your—”

“Aemon.” It was short. Clipped not at all patient like with his brother. Clipped enough to warrant Rhaenyra’s light to dim somewhat, but not to turn any heads to those that might be watching them. 

“Your Aemon.” She smiled, recovering from the cold sting of her uncle's bite with grace. Her voice became overbearingly saccharine as she looked her square in the eye. “I believe he and Joffrey share a nameday.” They did not. Joffrey was older by a week. A small difference, but it was a difference. “And my Jace shares your Baela’s as well.” That most definitely was not the case.  Although all the children were close in age.  

Laena would have thought it planned between the two, but how would they do so, and for what purpose? They did not need to be of exact age for betrothals and there wasn’t any way to control what sex they might be. It would be a wasted effort to synchronize their conceptions and the thought alone made her nauseous. 

“She is lovely as is Rhaena Laena.” She would have returned the compliment, her boys were well-mannered from her observation, but her lips would not move. That tone of hers grated her ears. 

Laena could do no more than nod and take the compliment for what it was. Ignoring how she had made a point to use your when referring to her and not her husband. Separating them from him. She imagined that is what Rhaenyra wished for. For those babes he had sired upon her  just to be her children

“Might I have a word with my uncle?” Her smile was polite and there was some light in her eyes, but there was that undercurrent of disesteem ever-present. “Alone.” She stressed the last word as those blue orbs tried to turn her to ash.   

“In the mourn.” Short once more. His green eyes lacked much of the luster they had moments before his niece had interrupted their plans. Her husband was on the verge of snapping at her, but Rhaenyra who had begun to pout, did not seem to take note of just how agitated her uncle was becoming with her. 

Mayhaps she just thought it was some great mirage he conjured up to keep Laena pacified. He could not very well make eyes at her in front of his wife for a second time this evening then go off with her on the day of Laenor’s funeral, and send Laena to bed. What would people think? The scandal of it all. No, he could not very well talk with her alone here. In an odd cruel twist of fate, Rhaenyra could very well be right “We are—“

Laena placed a hand on Daemon’s chest, stopping him before he could say more. She could feel his eyes upon her. Not having to look up to know what his expression held. Confusion across his white face. Eyes scrunching. Increasing the lines upon his face. 

He thought her mad and for that matter, Rhaenyra would as well. Mayhaps she was mad. The mad woman who could not look at the sea, who wished herself dead rather than her husband leave her. She was mad and there was nothing that could be done. 

 If her cousin so desperately wanted to be alone with him then let her be so. Daemon himself had wanted to go to her what not a half hour ago. She saw that spark of interest when their eyes met. 

What had changed now? What would stop him from changing his mind again? He had wanted Rhaenyra for so long, had made his own wife he had chosen feel like she could never live up to her, and now he could give her up?

Desire or whatever else they may have could not be swept away so easily. Laena could not be so naive as to think that. The Velaryon lady did not wish to retire to bed with her husband only to wake up and find that bed empty before morning light. Better to have whatever may happen, happen now and learn how to tamper her disappointment without wanting to fling herself off a ledge into the sea or have Vhagar send her to whatever the Gods had waiting for her. 

Laena put on her most dazzling smile as she met her cousin's eye. Not willing to give her the full satisfaction of victory. “Of course niece,” Rhaenyra winced, the word sounded awkward to her own ears, but she soldiered on. “I am sure my husband would like to express his condolences for your losses. You are our chief concern.” The Targaryen woman’s smile hardened and that comforted Laena. Losses, she had not missed that slight thrown her way. Good. Let her have this small taste of embarrassment. 

She craned her neck up at her husband, ignoring Rhaenyra’s sour face for a moment. Moving a hand from her side to caress his face. That confused look was there, but he leaned into her touch. She almost didn’t want to leave him. To make an error which they could not come back from, but she saw no other way.

“It is Aemons dinner time anyway, my prince. Our little lord will be wanting me.” Laema whispered the last part, her fear showing in her voice, but pushed it down as she leaned in to breathe it into the pocket-marked skin of his neck. She placed a kiss on his jawline. Feeling his pulse jump beneath her lips. Pushed away with some reluctance curtseyed and to Rhaenyra who returned the farwell with that smile not reaching her pale eyes. 

Laena counted her steps as she left. One after the other. Not looking back or down at her feet. Head held high. Her moves were measured. Precise. Her slippers, having been banned from anything with a heel of even an inch, made a scuffing sound on the garden's stones ground, but she liked to think that in her black mourning dress she looked every inch the future Lady of the Tides who did not mind her husband conversing alone with the woman he loved. 

She had counted to thirty before she lost that regality. She tripped over her skirts when her foot caught on the bottom of her trail as she reached a step. Forgetting that her balance was not quite what it ought to be and her skirts too long. Daemon was too far away to catch her though he could surely see her. Probably cursing her silent command to stay. She would have fallen on her face if an olive hand had not reached out to grab her.  

“Careful my lady.” His voice was surprisingly gentle as he pulled her upright. Dark of hair. Dark eyes to match with a warm complexion. Decidingly Dornish. Handsome. Much more handsome than her husband, she never really noticed until now how handsome he was. Cutting quite dashing in the silver and white of his Kingsguard armor. 

“Thank you Ser Criston.” She was too close. She knew she was too close. She probably should have pulled away from him. She did not still have to hold onto his arm for balance or smile at him so, but had caught a glimpse of her husband's face from the corner of her eyes and Ser Criston for his part did not seem to mind. Some part of him enjoyed this too judging by the hint of a smirk on his tan face. The pride of men. 

Daemon had gone beat red. His lips were a thin line and the green of his eyes was overtaken by the black of his pupils. He looked like he wanted to run the man through with Dark Sister which was thankfully not on his person. Having it left back in the safety of their chambers at her insistence. Why would he need a sword at her brother’s funeral? They had guards and no one would attack them here. She was sure he was regretting listening to her. 

If had it in his hand he would have stood across the garden and plunged his sword into the Dornish knight's chest straight into his heart without a care for who witnessed it and she liked it. 

Laena liked this look on him. She had been so starved of his affections that she actually liked it. She liked imagining what her husband might do for her in a fit of jealous rage. What those pale battle-hardened hands of his might do. 

Would he strangle the man or beat him into a bloody pulp? Who would win? She had seen what the knight could do when he was provoked, but her husband was a force when his emotions were up. How many men would it take to pull him off the Dornish man? What would be the damage that those hands might do? 

She dreamed of how they might look wrapped around his throat, but it was not her husband's hands that came to claim her.  Her elation ended before she could become too excited at the prospect of her husband leaving Rhaenyra’s side to strangle a man in her honor. 

Ser Vaemond appeared in front of Laena seemingly out of thin air. “That will be all Ser Criston.” He did not look at the Dornish knight. That sneer that never quite reached his dark eyes ever present and directed at her. “My son and I shall escort my niece back to her chambers.”

She looked around her uncle to find both Daeron, Daemion, and the maester. A new plan hatched as she molded her lips into that same cheery smile she gave Rhaenyra. “I thank you uncle, but Ser Criston shall escort me to my chambers. Maester Croton may join us.” Her voice all honey. Straining by a margin to ensure it was loud enough for her husband to hear her. 

He should be relieved that she had asked the maester to come with them when she could have ordered the old man to go ahead of them. He had what he wanted beside him. He should have turned around back to Rhaenyra without another thought on the matter, but he hadn’t. Instead, he clenched and unclenched that fist which would normally hold Dark Sister over and over.  That vein on his jaw where she had kissed a minute ago, ticking under his ire. 

She saw Rhaenyra’s lips move. Saw her grab his sleeve, attempting to tug her husband's focus back onto her, but he shoved her off. She looked bereft as he stepped forward. Heels hot on the ground. He would have made it to her in seconds, but that too was over before it could begin. 

“I insist, niece. We must let Ser Criston attend to his duties and Maester Croton must attend to you.” Ser Vaemond’s, who had blocked her view of her husband, mouth stretched into a mirthless grin as he held out his arm for her to take.     

She took it. Laena had no choice, but to take it, bid the knight farewell, and let him lead her inside. If she had not, Daemon would have immediately suspended his thunderous steps. Slithering back to Rhaenyra, the moment he saw her arm in her uncles rather than Ser Cristons, would have come over and ended the dismal day with an encore to its proceedings.

They set off in silence. The shuffle of boots and her slippers echoing off the castle walls was the only sound that marked their presence until her uncle broke that lull midway to her chambers  “You and your mother play a dangerous game.” His dark eyes shone in the dim light in a way that would have made her trip over her own feet for the umpteenth time that day if he had not taken to holding most of her weight. 

He knew. She had not once gone to Alicent during Laenor’s wake. Had not even talked to her, nor had her mother outside of greeting her. Laena barely looked in her direction. 

True enough she had seen Ser Vaemond conversing with Ser Otto earlier, but the hand would not know of his daughter’s plans. The Hightower man would never agree to them which would leave Alicent with no choice but to keep them from him. Her mother would do the same. Not even trusting her father who had a soft spot for Rhaenyra’s boys with their plans.  

So the two their schemes between themselves until all who opposed would be forced to agree to it. Hoping Laena could somehow sway Daemon that the grandsons of Otto Hightower would be the best match for their daughters. Until that time came, no one who would tell her uncle would know, and yet he knew. 

Laena turned her head keeping her eyes in front of her.

“I am afraid I do not know what you are speaking of uncle” She whispered. She should not have whispered, it could only serve to confirm what he suspected, for she reasoned that he could not possibly have more than a hunch, but her cousins as well as Maester Croton were just a few paces behind them. Well within hearing. 

Laena would not mind so much if Daemion knew. He was good at keeping secrets. He would not tell anyone if she asked him not to. As would the old maester, though he would more than likely tell her father, but that was a small price to pay. No, they would not be the issue. That title belonged to her oldest cousin. Ser Daeron Velaryon would gleefully go blabbing to anyone who would listen if he found it to be beneficial to himself. 

Laena tried her best to keep a neutral expression on her face, fighting off the way her lips wished to twist up, but she knew she was failing. She had never been a particularly good liar. She never had much to lie about in the first place, but no she most certainly did. 

“Do you take me for an oblivious old fool the same as your father?” He halted them before they reached the first landing. His grip on her arm tightened. Her head snapped in his direction. Narrowing her eyes at him into slits. 

“My father is not a fool.” She would not hear it. Not from Ser Vaemond. Not from anyone. A fool Corlys Velaryon was not. He knew what was around him. He knew his enemies and he knew those he could depend on and yet he kept those closer than his friends. He had never been oblivious. He would not have made House Velaryon the richest house in the seven kingdoms if he was truly an oblivious fool. 

“Mayhaps not a fool, but he is willfully oblivious. He turns a blind eye to the actions of those around him for the sake of ambition.” That was rich coming from the likes of Ser Vaemond Velaryon. Her father was ambitious, yes, but no more than any other man. No more than any lord ought to be certainly not more than him. 

Laena schooled her features. This time she let her full lips raise just the slightest in a smirk. “Are you still upset that my father refused your offer of Daeron for me?” Ser Vaemond winced and she tried not to look too pleased. Thanking the Gods that it was still a sore spot for him. A grudge he would carry against her father for the rest of their natural lives. 

Marry her to Daeron and have the business be done with. He had advised her father on numerous occasions over the years. It was born from his own self-interest, yes,  but it was not as if it was out of the realm of tradition. 

Velaryons may not have ever been dragonlords, but they were still Valyrian. Their blood was untainted. Pure. The purity of it had to be preserved. 

Of course, they did not marry brother and sister as Targaryens did, there wasn’t a need to, but a cousin, even an aunt and nephew or niece uncle was the expectation. Her father turned down that exception every time her uncle proposed it. On the last occasion, he had allowed her to choose and she chose Daemon. 

Her cousin would not have been a bad husband. Overbearing mayhaps, poor company yes,  a nuisance, undoubtedly, but not a bad husband. In many ways, he might have been a better husband than Daemon. The man made her want to rip her hair out and let the wind drown out her screams, but she loved him. She loved him with every fiber of her being. She could not live without him. She would never have loved Daeron in the way she did her husband. 

 “The Driftwood throne would have been yours, uncle, your grandson would have sat upon it, but now it shall go to a Targaryen and you can not write this one off as a bastard” It was a distraction and a poor one at that judging by the way he too was trying to dampen his temper. Nonetheless, she still held out a hope he would take the bait. “Now your hope rests on the fate of a child still in its mother's womb. What will you do if Hazel Hearte births another son?”

He had not taken her bait. Succeeding in his endeavor she had failed to keep her neutrality and manner of carelessness. Giving more than she got. Instead of snapping at her as she hoped he gave a sort of forlong smile. The kind when one knows that they have said all they could and now they left it to the recipient. 

“Be careful Laena. You know me. My ambition aligns with yours, but you do not know them.” He leaned into her. If someone were to pass them in the winding hallway or if sons were to overtake them they might have thought he had told her a jape by the expressions of mild amusement on their brown faces. 

“Do not be oblivious as your father is. Alicent Hightower is not your friend. She cares for nothing more but to see her son sit upon your good-brother’s throne.” 

They had arrived at the door to her chambers before she could counter his claim. They came to a halt and he placed a fatherly peck upon her cheek. The kind he would give her when she was a child on a rare moment.

The ones where she would sneak into the library hiding from her septa or from the boys. Wanting a rest from their roughhousing. He had not minded it as long as she was quiet. Sometimes he would even let her join him at his desk. Sitting in companionable silence as he wrote his letters and she with her head in some book. He, like the rest of them, still saw her as that little girl, maybe she was underneath this lost hopeless woman she had become. Or maybe the little girl had grown up and through her despair, she had learned. She was still alive after all. The sea had not swallowed her nor had dragon fire consumed her. That was something. 

Her uncle left her to ponder over her memories in the care of the maester. 

Maester Croton’s examination was brief. The man looked her over once. Pronounced her in no immediate danger when she, with great indignation, had recited every house in the Crownlands and described their sigil. He gave her a tonic for her nerves, proceeded to order two maids not to leave her unattended for the night, and then told them to send a serving boy to his chambers if Laena’s condition were to change, before departing for said chambers. 

The girls to their credit or rather their fear of what the lady of the keep might do to them if they were to be discovered having left her side took to watching her like a hawk. Laena did not mind it for the first hour and a half when she had thought that at any moment Daemon would come in and dismiss the pair of clucking mother hens, but he had not. 

The second hour she had attempted to close the door to her bed chambers and leave them in the sitting room for a bit of privacy and to relieve herself from their chattering, but they remained ever vigil. We can not see you, my lady. Her hope of rescue was dashed with their refusal by her own hand or her husband’s so she settled in an armchair by the chamber's fire and tried to distract herself with needlework. 

They made for excellent nanny dogs, guard dogs they were not. Their presence did little to deter other visitors. Namely, Beth who had come in to check on her at least half a dozen times once the maester had left. Always finding some excuse to. The first time she had brought in Aemon who had woken up from his nap crying out for his super which she had more than happy to oblige him with. 

The second time she had not been called for, but it was a sweet surprise. Coming in with a tray of assortment of cakes and a steaming pot of tea that smelled divine. “Tea my lady?” 

The third time she had heard Aemon’s cries. Recognizing them from the nursery as his cries for food. “Would you like me to take the little lord to the wetnurse?"

Laena dismissed that suggestion. Her breast had grown full again and Daemon was not there to scold her for it so she fed the babe once more. Aemon had his fill falling asleep at her bosom without any strain on her person. 

“Do you want any company, my lady?” The last time Beth had said with her mending in hand. Laena had relented with a sigh. Wanting more than anything else to rid herself “You may stay Beth.” Her company was preferable to that of the giggling pair of ninnies charged with the care of her health and safety. 

Laena’s sitting room had become a den of ideal chatter, mainly on the children, Rhaena made this the other day, I do believe Baela is starting to soften up to the little lord Aemon almost smiled at her and she returned it until Beth like Aemon had fallen asleep by the sound of the gentle waves crashing on the shore from the open window and the chamber fires crackle. The sun had set hours ago leaving only the light from it that fire. The shadows on the walls had grown long.

It was peaceful, quiet, and yet lonely. So very lonely. Laena’s thoughts drifted to last night in her solitude when it had not been so lonely. Last night. Gods, what she would give for those hours cloaked in darkness now. 

It was exceedingly late when Daemon arrived at their chambers. Well past the hour of the bat. The sun would be up in a few hours. They had a long day ahead of them, yet there he was as naked as his nameday placing open-mouth kisses up her heated figure. 

“Laena.” He breathed it into her skin. The way he did when he wanted her and he did want her. Nipping at the delicate patch of bronze skin on her inner thigh. His mouth landed on a particularly sensitive spot that made her whole body shiver.

“Laena.” He murmured again. His breath grazed her heat as his head rested on the junction of where her pelvis met her womanhood. 

A hand wandering up and up to cup a breast, he leaned his weight upon her. He had stripped himself of every last stitch of clothing when he had crawled into bed. She could feel his hardened length warmed her bare skin where her nightgown had ridden up from his petting. 

“My sweet pearl.” He was happy. He only called her that when he was exceedingly happy. 

Laena had thought about feigning sleep. She had no reason to do so. He wanted her and she wanted him, but it had been so long since he had touched her in this way. 

She could lie, pretend to be well ensconced in the land of dreams, but he knew she was not asleep. Besides, even if she had truly been asleep, that would not have stopped him. Her being asleep had never stopped him before. She had lost count of how many times she had awakened to find him suckling on her breasts. A finger circling her pearl hidden beneath her curls or plunging his member into her waiting channel. Burning himself to the hilt in one single thrust. His length bullied that spot deep within her that would have her come alive to see stars. Sending shockwaves of pleasure through her. Even in her sleep, she would let him have her. I need you was all he needed to whisper into her ear and she would let him do to her as he pleased. 

He made it good for her too. He wasn’t a selfish lover, at least not with her. For every orgasm she’d give him, he’d wring two more from her spent body, but that night she felt the weight of everything and nothing to give in to the pleasure that awaited her. 

“It is late husband.” Laena managed to pant out between little breaths. Swallowing the moan that wished to be let out from her throat. Daemon had taken to circling her pebbled nipple with the rough pad of his thumb. Drops of milk landed on the pale digit, but he didn’t mind it as he brought the finger down to his mouth. His tongue peeked out to lap at the sweet liquid. At the sight of it Laena felt her belly burst into flutters that traveled straight to her cunt. 

“Very, sweet girl.” He said absentmindedly as he took to staring at her leaking heat. He did not wait for her to reply. Taking her pearl between his teeth and sucking on the bud for half a second before pulling away when she began to pulse on his tongue. “I’ve missed you.” He breathed into her dampening skin. 

“Daemon,” She tried to bite back a moan but failed when he licked a strip down her weeping center. “I’m tired.” He laughed into cunt. The vibrations made her heat spasming around nothing. Not even attempting to hold her whines in. 

Laena thought about saying she was still sore, but the maester had already come to check on her. “You may resume your wifely duties whenever you should like my lady.” He informed her. Not looking her in the eyes as her mother, who had turned red-faced, had been there holding her hands. The older man had surely informed her husband of that fact as well. 

In any case, the fact that she had started to grind her cunt on his arm that he had draped underneath her to hold her up to relieve the growing ache deep between her thighs showed was not very tired nor sore in any sense of the word.  Both could see the trail of wetness decorating his marble skin. 

“Tell me if you wish me to stop.” She barely heard him over the sound of blood rushing to her head. Relief flooded through her as he licked another strip down her slit then repeated the action in reverse. This time his tongue landed on her clit. He circled the bub round before drawing it into his mouth to suckle upon. 

“Muna kepa, Rhaena can not sleep.” It was Baela’s little voice. She faintly recognized the sound seeping in past the euphoric spell she was under.

“Have her sleep in your bed, pet.”  Daemon pulled away from her for half a second to answer their daughter before she slipped her fingers through his silver strands and forced him back down upon her pulsing heat. Smothering him as she had begun to grind on his face. Desperately chasing her climax. Thinking that would be the end of it, but Baela was as persistent as she. 

“She does not want to.” Her voice was more urgent this time. Louder too. “She’s brought Aemon too.” Laena felt her cheeks heat up with embarrassment. The fog of arousal slowly dissipated with each word she spoke.  Baela had heard something. She wouldn’t know what it was, but she had heard. 

Laena let out a heavy sigh as she pushed her husband away from her. Pulling his mouth from her spasming cunt as she let out a whimper and he with a groan. She opened her mouth to speak, but all that came out was something between a squeak and a moan. Only adding to her embarrassment. 

“Wait a moment pet,” Daemon called out. He lifted himself up with a grin to hover over her and enveloped her in a kiss. He tasted of her slick, sweet wine, and something warm that she only associated with her husband. It was over before they could work themselves up again. 

Pulling off away from her and off the bed to rummage around the room as he found himself a dressing gown and undergarments and a nightgown for her that was not soiled with sweat and arousal. 

Baela eyed them both with suspicion when her father finally opened the door to their chambers, but it faded the moment Rhaena set Aemon down in his bassinet and leaped into their bed. Piling in after her sister to cuddle at her side. Monopolizing her as well as most of the bed. 

“You may sleep with Aemon papa.” Rhaena lifted a little finger to point at her brother's crib which earned her chuckle as he moved Baela to climb back into bed. Swaddling his pet in his embrace. 

Laena had thought about leaning over their girls to place a kiss on the shadow of his broad chin, but grabbed the hand that had taken to stroking the back of Baela’s locs, trying to lull their wild girl to sleep, and brought the back of it to her lips. Planting a kiss on each knuckle. I. Love. You. He knew that. He knew she was incapable of anything else.  I’m. Sorry. That he knew was a lie, but he had not held it against her. Squeezing her hand,  he mouthed the words over Baela’s silver curls. I love you too, you minx. 

Love, he loved her. Maybe not the way he loved Rhaenyra. Maybe never in that way, but was a part of him that loved her. That part of him that had chosen her when he had not had to. 

Gods she was so stupid. Was it so terribly silly of her to have Daemon open their chambers last night? Should she have just let him take her and succumb to their passion? Should she have told the girls that they were too old to join them? That they just needed to get used to their new chambers?

No, she hadn’t been wrong to do that, but it was mad to do what she had a few hours ago. He had not even wanted to leave her side. Had turned Rhaenyra down for her. She should’ve taken it for what it was. Not to question it, but she had pushed him right into her arms with her questioning. Now the Gods only knew what he was doing with her that kept him from their bed. 

A knock sounded at the door to their chambers. Breaking Laena free of her memories and waking Beth with a start from her nap as she asked her guards stationed at the door who it was as she made herself and Aemon presentable enough for whatever visitor deigned to disturb them at this hour. “The queen, my lady.” Her guard spoke causing the girl to turn to her with a slight panic, but she commanded that they be let in

The door opened wide enough for Laena to peak around to see Ser Criston standing vigil, she wondered if the Dornish night might join them, she wondered more what her husband might say if he were to find him in here even if the queen was as well, but the man remained on the other side of the door when Alicent’s had been let in, and Beth who she had to dismiss by ordering the girl to get some proper rest, was let out. 

She meant to stand and curtsy to her, not forgetting her manners even at this late hour, but the woman waved a hand for her to stay where she was. “You must be exhausted. There is no need for that when it is just us.” Us. She did not miss the informality in her address, but Laena settled back into the chair not having to be told twice. She was not tired. In fact, she doubted she would have slept a wink that night, but her feet were sore from standing on them for most of the day. 

Alicent remained standing. Wringing her pale hands she gave her a shy smile. “I wanted to give my condolences to you personally, Laena. I did not know your brother well, but I am sorry for your loss.” It was more sincere than Rhaenyra’s attempt, she decided it was best to compare the two to each other for they both wanted something or another from her, but it was not the truth. Not at all why she was truly here. It would be improper to speak on it now so she let it be left unsaid. The unspoken hanging in the air around them. 

The Hightower queen's smile relaxed when her gaze landed upon Aemon who had been awakened by the knock and was currently squirming in his mother's lap. “And I admit I wanted to meet your little one.”

She held out her arms, smile widening. “May I?” Laena bid her closer and handed her the babe. Watching her cradle him with practiced hands. “He looks like my Aemond when he was little.” 

“Does he?” Laena would have thought it was some kind of jape, but it could not have been more plain that it was more an observation than condensation. They were both Targaryens. To be perfectly fair, Targaryens only had so many features to pull from. Their pool was not an especially large one to allow for much difference besides various shades of pale eyes and silvery white hair. 

“Aegon and Helaena were plump,” Laena could see a glint of light in Alicent’s brown eyes and a hint of a smile when she spoke of her children as she bounced Aemon. “Chubby little cherubs. Daeron too. Aemond was my smallest. I used to spend hours just watching when he was a babe. Precious thing.” To that she did not know who she was referring to, but it mattered not. 

Laena almost did not wish to ruin the moment. Alicent did look genuinely content holding him as was Aemon with being held for he had seized his squirming and instead took to observing the person attached to the new pair of arms he was in, but that unspoken thing remained heavy in the air and she wanted to be the one to give a voice to it. Least the Hightower woman remembered why exactly she had come to her chambers and caught her unaware. 

“It is easy is it not?” She wore a smile on her face. Alicent would find it to be friendly enough if she were to pull away from cooing over the babe. Inviting. Innocent. Laena thought. Her tone was equally unassuming. Nothing which suggested she spoke of anything  “To imagine him when in your arms.” 

“Imagine who?” Her gaze had turned back to the babe with a smile humming softly as she rocked him. Not really paying her much attention to anything apart from his coos. Laena almost let her reply die in her throat, but she pushed it out before she lost her nerve. 

“Imagine what our future king will look like.” Alicent stopped her swaying. Standing rod still as Aemon let out a yawn. Oblivious to the chasm that had formed in the chamber sucking out the light. “The king that my daughter will birth your son.” Alicent opened her mouth. She looked like a doe caught unaware by a hunter. “That is truly why you are here, is it, not my queen.” 

“Your daughters are lovely Laena.” The queen recovered quickly though her nerves shone through. The gaping mouth that made her look like a lost puppy was replaced with that same expression she had made when she first came in as she resumed bouncing Aemon in her arms. 

“Twas the same thing my cousin said to me not an hour past.” Flattery was a rather obvious choice, but unlike with Rhaenyra, the sincerity held more truth. Her cousin had said it as a jape. They look like you, not a thing like my uncle. That was what she had meant, the woman who gave birth to bastards who had been humiliated by See Vaemond wanted to make her feel inadequate. This was a compliment. There was no jape in it though it was just as self-serving. “She wants them for her sons too.” She had not said anything. She could feel the queen's anger so she pushed on. 

“Let’s see,” Laena paused to look off towards the window as if truly in thought. “You were five and ten when you married Viserys and I was on the eve of my sixth and tenth name day when Daemon and I said our vows to one another here on these shores.” She turned her gaze back towards the Hightower woman her head held high. She had stopped bouncing Aemon, but the babe had not minded. He entertained himself instead with a bright auburn curl as he nibbled on the edge of her strands. Her spine turned to steel. 

“We were barely more than children,” but that was the way things went. “I suppose Baela is to follow in our footsteps. Or shall she marry your drunken prince bed the moment she has bled? Am I to tell you that so that she can give us our grandson.” She had tried to keep her voice calm. Measured when all she wished to do was scream. 

“They will not marry a day before she is six and ten.” She walked closer towards her, Aemon in hand. “You have my word Laena. She will not just be a broodmare. I swear on the Seven that Baela shall be Aegon’s wife, queen, and equal.” She had said it with so much conviction so much resolve that Laena almost believed her, but she knew better than to be so naive.  

They were pretty words, but pretty words were just as empty as the rest. They did little other than placate one’s vanity, but what was vanity compared to the truth? It may feel good at that moment, but eventually, all it would do would be to leave her with a broken heart.

Lies they were. All lies said to comfort them in their empty bed chambers. Baela may be his wife and queen, but she would never be his equal. She would bend to him.  That was the way the world worked. Even for a Targaryen. 

“You forget yourself Alicent. You may have married a Targaryen and raised four, but you are not one. You forget that I did not marry into this family. My mother is a Targaryen. Though you and your father look down on him, my father is just as Valyrian as she.” Laena felt her temper boiling over past the point of containment as she sneered down at the queen. 

She remembered her mother letting her read some of the letters her father sent home from his time on the small council as master of ships. It was to prepare her for what she may face, to know her enemies, When they thought she might still be Viserys’ queen. His account of Otto Hightower had never been complimentary. She knew that the man envied her father's lordship, his heritage, and his closeness to House Targaryen. 

He was a second son who had only been handed scraps from his brother. He had to claw his way to where he got to and once he had the position he coveted and his daughter seated beside the king, he pushed her father out and replaced him with his lackeys. Much like he did with her own husband. Although he could never truly get rid of Daemon no matter how he tried. His king had a weakness for him. They all did. 

“Daemon is my cousin as well as my husband. I ride the largest dragon in the world.” He would not have had her if she had not. She was good enough. She knew that with every passing minute he remained with Rhaenyra she knew she had been just good enough as would her daughters be.

“I have borne him three children. I have borne him a son and heir who shall inherit my father's throne. I might have been queen in my own right. I am the blood of old Valyria. I am the blood of the dragon and yet I am not his equal.” Mayhaps it was foolish to speak to her with such venom. Powerless and weak as she may appear to be, she was still queen, but Laena did not care anymore. Let the truth reign for once. For what good were lives when the world may very well fall apart after tonight? 

“I am not my husband's equal nor will I ever be. No matter what I am, what I do, what I can give him, my very soul, it matters not. My existence is for the pleasure of Daemon Targaryen. I am his plaything, you are Viserys, and my daughter shall be your Aegon’s.”

 A pair of big watery brown eyes looked as if they wished to pop Alicent’s skull. Laena had shocked the woman to silence with her ranting. The truth was a heavy burden to bear and exhausting one too for she was panting like she had run around Driftmark twice over. She had barely breathed since she had opened her mouth and yet there was one last truth to lay bare before them. 

“My husband has a claim to the throne.” Alicent's eyes contracted back. Regaining some of her senses with the reminder of that threat. “We have an heir now.” She was holding said heir rocking him, trying to calm him as he had begun to fuss finally sensing the growing tension in the room. 

Aemon was a babe. He was just a babe with no care more than milk, sleep, and being held until he fell asleep, but babes soon enough turn into men with wants greater than food or affection from their mother. He was the firstborn son of the Rogue Prince. The untainted blood of old Valyria. His father would wish to give him all he felt owed to him. “What is to stop him from staking his claim for our son?”

“Your husband has never been well-liked Laena. I would think carefully before you put your faith in his claim.”  It wasn’t a threat. There was no venom there. It was a fact. Daemon made his share of enemies. He made more of those than friends.  

He had never much sought to endear himself to the lords of the realm and it was their support and not just of the common people or a half a dozen dragons that he would need to win him his crown. 

“I have a claim.” She was not some motherless child of an overly ambitious second son who had the misfortune of marrying into this treacherous family. She was Lady Laena Velaryon. 

She was the great-granddaughter of the old king. If her grandsire had lived long enough to ascend to his father's throne she would have been her mother’s heir or the heir of her brother.

Her claim was better in fact than that of her husband. Better than Viserys even

Of course, no one would back her while her good-brother lived, but if she were to endear herself to the lords of the realm now she might hold enough sway to get them to call for a Great Council on his deathbed. 

The lords did not know. It could be an advantage, though it would not help much. They may not know her, but they knew she was the daughter of the queen who never was and the Sea Snakes daughter and now the wife of the king's temperamental younger brother.  She had been raised to be a queen, yes, but queen consort. Not a queen in her own right, 

Even if she were to muster up enough support and betroth Baela, Rhaena, and  Aemon to the likes of Houses Tully, Tyrell, or Lannister, it would not be enough. She might not be her husband, but she had his stain upon her. House Baratheon would support her regardless even if begrudgingly, but Houses Arryn, the Stark, and Greyjoy and their vessel would not bend so easily. 

The Arryns were kin to Rhaenyra’s mother, the Starks would honor whatever vows they had made even from a thousand years ago, and the Greyjoys could not be trusted on anything but petty violence. Blood would pay for her claim and that is what Alicent counted on.

“You would not start a war for the throne Laena.” The corners of her mouth quirked up into a  small smile. It was the pitying kind. The kind that said I know you because I know myself. “No more than I.” She was presumptions, but this conversation was presumptions. 

“You do not know me, Alicent.” A gamble, but she had already taken a dozen of those. Why not this one as well? 

Alicent believed her to be weak, the safer option, the only between Rhaenyra’s rule and her son's death, but she was a dragon too. Just as much as her husband or Rhaenyra.“One word from me and it shall be Aemon who sits upon the throne of my ancestors. I promise I will make sure that my husband sees to it.” She swallowed the last bits of whatever fear remained. “My husband will prove your father's fears to be true. Do not test my patience, your grace.” 

“My father does trust your husband and neither do I.” She drew closer still. Placing Aemon in his crib. “But I trust you Laena. I trust that you are a mother. I trust that you will do anything to protect your children as I would mine, but we do not have to plunge this realm into chaos and shed the blood of innocents to do that.” Alicent grabbed both her hands in her pale ones hand and held fast. They were soft, but her grip was surprisingly firm. 

“Aegon has his faults. I will not deny you that.” How could she? The evidence was plain. She would have to think her a half-wit when she had seen with her own eyes how Aegon was.“But he knows his duty. He knows who his duty is. He will protect his queen, the mother of his children, with his life. As will Aemond with Rhaena.”  

“Your children will never be safe with Rhaenyra on the throne. Your Aemon is a threat to Rhaenyra’s son just as much.” She flinched. She wanted to tell the woman bent before her that her husband would never allow anything to harm Aemon or their girl, but her throat felt like it had been filled with sand. “The lords of the realm will never allow a bastard to sit upon the Iron Throne. Your girls will not be protected if you marry them to her boys, not in the way mine can.”

Brown met brown as her gaze bore into the back of her skull. “Please Laena. We have a chance. Let us not make the same mistakes as our husbands and fathers have. I am begging you for the sake of our children let us join our houses and protect them.” 

Laena scanned the pale woman’s face. Assessing her every word and action since she entered the chambers that had culminated with her kneeling to her. It was not a sight witnessed every day that one witnessed a queen kneeling to what should be her subject, but Laena supposed that as far as queens go, Alicent Hightower's power at her husband's court was middling at best if she had to stoop so low as to beg her for an alliance. 

Save for one of Laena’s great-great uncle Maegor the Cruel's many wives, who left as quickly as they came,  she had nothing. No one. She was a complete outsider. Locked out and alone. She had no choice but to beg. To plead so that someone might hear her cries. They were the cries of a desperate woman, but she had not lied. She had not told a single lie to her. Had not denied why she was here, or what she wanted from her. She had not lied. 

Her plans were a bit idealistic, but Laena saw the merit in them. What other way was there? 

Rhaenyra had already seen the threat that her half-brothers possessed. She could not touch Aemon, Daemon would kill her himself if she did, but her girls would never know peace if they married those boys. She herself would not for her cousin would find a way to insert herself into every facet of her life, the lives of her children, and her marriage. Alicent offered them both a way out without bloodshed. Laena had to take it. 

Another knock sounded at the door before she could answer the plea. The voice of her guards and Ser Criston came through from the wood. She bade them to come in while Alicent rose from the floor. Smoothing out her wrinkled dark green skirts. 

First entered the Dornish knight looking rather miffed with the messenger standing next to him. 

A boy really. He was short and dark. Shifting upon the balls of his feet, no doubt doing so to calm the growing ball of nerves that had formed from his given task. Whoever had dealt it to him must not have done so out of spite. 

“You-uur grace. My-my lady,” He stammered out Eyes glued to the ground. As he made hurried little bows half a dozen times. Stopping and starting his speech just as many.  “There has been—there has — there has been—well there ha-aa—”

“Speak or have someone else will do it for you boy,” Ser Criston barked, growing impatient with his ability to finish his sentences. It did drive one made, but Laena hardly thought that the frightened thing would help matters. However, it did serve to instill in the poor boy enough fear to finish his speech lest he be chastised by her father's steward for his inability to complete a simple task. 

“Ppp-rince Aemond has be-een gravely injured m-my queen bbby  Pr-rrince Lucerys.” He spoke. Swallowing as he trembled where he stood. “And the ladies Baela and Rhaena ha—vvve be-een injured as well.”

Her body went stiff. Every last drop of blood drained from her body. All she could hear was a ringing in her ears. How she remained standing she did not know. Laena almost wished she was staring at the sea again. For drowning was preferable to having your heart ripped out from your chest. 

[partystoragechest]

A story of romance, drama, and politics which neither Trevelyan nor Cullen wish to be in.

Canon divergent fic in which Josephine solves the matter of post-Wicked Hearts attention by inviting invites four noblewomen to compete for Cullen's affections. In this chapter, the Ladies get lewd.

(Masterpost. Beginning. Previous entry. Next entry. Words: 2,244. Rating: most audiences. Warnings: innuendo, sex references, and general bawdiness.)

Chapter 43: Afterparty

The ball had come to its end—and yet, for the Ladies, the party had just begun.

They’d all piled into Trevelyan’s room (on its last night of being so) to gossip and giggle amongst themselves. Every available cushion and blanket had been thrown into a plush heap upon the floor. A platter of food—and multiple drinks—had been stolen from the hall. The night wore on, but the gossip was good. They feasted, and drank, and talked, and were merry.

“Listen to this, listen to this!” said Lady Erridge, plumping onto a cushion, having fetched a letter from her room. “I received a reply from my parents about the engagement between Lady Orroat and I, and you shan’t believe what they said!”

She held the letter up, and read aloud:

‘Dearest daughter,

We are, of course, elated and overjoyed, for the news of your betrothal. Lady Orroat is a fine woman, and one whom we should naturally be proud to see you marry.

However, we must admit our confusion. It was our belief that you and Lady Orroat had been engaged for some years now. In fact, it was the last wish of Great Aunt Orroat that, should Lady Orroat refuse the task, you would wear her wedding gown on the day of your own union.

We look forward to seeing you both again and—’

“So on and so forth,” Erridge finished. She looked desperately to the other Ladies, who bit their tongues. “Am I truly that oblivious? That even my own mother and father knew!?”

“Well, at least they approve,” commented the Baroness.

Lady Erridge huffed, and fell upon Trevelyan’s arm—as well as her mercy.

“Oh, please tell me—it was not so obvious, was it?”

Trevelyan put on her best show of diplomacy. “No, no!” she lied. “Of course not! Not at all!”

It wasn’t as if she’d noticed within mere days of knowing her Ladyship and within mere seconds of knowing Lady Orroat.

Erridge grunted, and turned instead to Samient. “I know you shall tell me the truth, Lady Samient. Am I a fool?”

“Lady Erridge”—Samient took her hands, and looked her in the eye—“you are a beautiful, kind, and caring woman. Perfection itself! However… you are also quite the fool.”

Lady Erridge squealed in dismay, and flopped, back-first, onto the pile of pillows behind her, ruffles flying into the air on impact.

The other Ladies laughed, as was only good and proper—though they could not tease their friend for long. Trevelyan latched onto Erridge’s arm, and hauled her back to sitting; the Baroness took to the duty of reassuring her:

“Do not be so harsh upon yourself, Lady Erridge. After all, you shall leave Skyhold betrothed—which is far more than I have accomplished.”

“Excuse you!” Trevelyan piped up. “I am not engaged either. And there are far greater achievements to be had.”

Touledy gave her a wicked grin. “I said when we leave Skyhold, your Ladyship. And if that day should come, upon which you finally leave Skyhold, dear Trevelyan… you may well be engaged.”

It was Erridge’s turn to laugh, for she and Lady Samient burst into giggles. Trevelyan feigned great indignance. “Then we ought return to lamenting your misery, dear Baroness, instead of speculating upon mine.”

“Oh, I don’t think the Baroness has had as much a miserable time as she claims,” Lady Samient purred, popping a chocolate into her mouth. “In fact, I hear that our dear Baroness has tested half the beds around Skyhold.”

Trevelyan gasped; Lady Erridge squeaked! The Baroness remained nonchalant.

“Well, what else was I supposed to do?” she complained. “I wasn’t going to get any from the Commander.”

Screams went up. Maker, the scandal!

“Who!?” pleaded Erridge.

“Rumour says twenty,” Samient answered.

The Baroness laughed. “Five.”

“Far more reasonable than twenty,” Trevelyan remarked. “Who has the time?”

“Exactly.”

“One per week.”

“Not quite”—Touledy reached for her drink—“two were at once.”

Screaming, once more! Thank the Maker the only other person inhabiting the corridor at the time was Lady Orroat, for anyone else would think they were under attack.

“Well, then!” said Samient, as their screeches died down. “It seems we’re left to pity only you, Lady Trevelyan. You have no betrothal, and no such visitors to your bed—that we know of.”

Trevelyan snorted. “You needn’t add the caveat.”

“Really!” said Erridge. “Did I not, during the ball, happen to see yourself and the Commander whispering upon the balcony? I wonder what secrets would cause you to whisper so!”

“What secrets, indeed! There is nothing to tell.”

“Well! Then if you have no claim on the Commander, I suppose you would not mind if the Baroness were to leave betrothed after all.”

Touledy gagged. “I would not have him if he begged!”

Lady Erridge giggled, and met Trevelyan’s eye: “What about you, your Ladyship? Would you have him if he begged?”

Trevelyan’s jaw dropped, much to the others’ amusement. They clapped and cheered at Lady Erridge’s impertinence, and teased her for the answer.

“Please!” said Trevelyan, taking to her feet and marching for her bed. “I will not say a word about my feelings towards the Commander!”

The Ladies booed; Trevelyan laughed. She swung around a bedpost, and collapsed upon the covers.

“Even if I do want him to butter me like warm bread and lick it all off.”

They shrieked.

Trevelyan barely heard it. Her mind was quite elsewhere, absented within the same fantasy it had occupied the past few nights, laid in this bed, thinking of the Commander…

But movement upon the mattress roused her from such reverie. Lady Erridge scrambled up beside her.

“Scandal!” she cried. “Lady Trevelyan, I dub thee a flirt!”

“As well you may!” Trevelyan rose up. “But one can hardly be called a flirt when one’s flirtation goes unrewarded!”

The Baroness found this uproarious. “Lady Trevelyan, if you instructed him so, the Commander would get on his knees, prostrate himself before you, and beg for you to look in his direction.”

Lady Samient cackled. “That is not how I thought that sentence would end.”

“Well, that too, of course!”

They squealed and laughed once more. The room was warm, so full of mirth it could have burst. It was a silliness Trevelyan had not had the benefit of since adolescence. All it was missing was a Templar banging on the door and telling them to go to sleep—

Someone banged on the door. The Ladies startled into silence, and then tittered at their own skittishness.

“It’s probably one of my ladies’ maids,” Trevelyan reassured them, as she tiptoed across their impromptu picnic, “so hush yourselves!”

An enormous request to make at such a time. Especially given that, when she opened the door, it was decidedly not one of her ladies’ maids.

“Arcanist?”

“Commander!” Trevelyan gasped, to the sound of excited whispers and dampened squeals behind her.

Out of his doublet and now in his mantle—no armour beneath, just a shirt—the Commander stood in her doorway, shuffling awkwardly on the spot.

“Ah, forgive me. I was… you hadn’t come to the battlements. I wanted to make sure everything was all right.”

Trevelyan’s insides melted. He’d come to find her. Oh, Maker.

“I am... quite all right, yes. The Ladies and I are having one last night together.”

“I see,” he said, with an apologetic bow. “Forgive me for intruding.”

Oh, no intrusion. Not at all. Really, one could call it perfect timing, if only he knew what debauchery she had spoken of mere moments ago. She wondered if such thoughts had ever crossed his mind, as well.

“Well, I should… ah—I will see you tomorrow.”

Trevelyan bit her lip. “Another time, Commander.”

Though he attempted a second bow, he lost faith halfway through, and—with a stuttered farewell—simply made his exit. Trevelyan watched him stride away, quite enjoying the view.

Besides, she did not wish to return to her chamber too soon. She knew what was to happen upon re-entry.

It was not immediate. The Ladies had all settled themselves upon their proper seats, sitting quietly. They observed with interest, as Trevelyan sauntered in. Mouths quite shut.

“It was the Commander?” asked Lady Erridge.

“It was the Commander,” Trevelyan said.

“You didn’t wish to invite him in?” Lady Samient wondered.

“No, I have guests,” Trevelyan told her.

“And if you didn’t have guests?” suggested the Baroness.

“If I didn’t have guests—” Trevelyan pursed her lips, and let her mind contemplate the answer. Long and hard. “Then perhaps...”

Their giddiness erupted once more. Teasing and laughing, each of them in turn. Neither Maker nor Void could spoil their mood tonight.

“What a shame we disrupted your stargazing so!” chirped the Baroness.

Trevelyan scoffed. “The stars will still be there tomorrow.”

“And so will the Commander,” Lady Samient muttered.

“But I shan’t be!” Erridge interjected, suddenly upright. “And I haven’t been!”

“Well, if you’d like to”—Trevelyan glanced at the other Ladies, who gave their affirmation—“then at least we know the Commander shan’t interrupt us again!”

They laughed once more, and set about gathering themselves. Food and drink were set aside, the blankets and pillows thrown over the chairs. It was almost like cleaning. Whatever. One last job for Missy and Cara.

Bedcoats were found and dragged over shoulders, and one-by-one, the Ladies assembled in the corridor. To adventure!

What a sight they must have been, traipsing through the hall on their merry way. Still giggling, still gossiping. Laughing, as the Baroness salaciously winked to a guard beside the garden door.

They ventured out into the night, dancing over the garden path. Lady Erridge twirled without a care. Lady Samient caught her before she collided with a column.

“Come along,” Trevelyan called, “it’ll be dawn before we make it!”

She saw the Ladies each up the stairs, and then climbed them herself. The rowdy bunch spilled out onto the battlement—and quieted in an instant.

The sky unfolded before them. The night was clear, the radiance of the cosmos entirely undisturbed. Every star was out, as if just for them.

They came together at the parapet, huddled up to stave off the cold. The Baroness draped her shawl over Samient’s shoulders; Lady Erridge nestled her head beside Trevelyan’s.

Homage was paid in whispers, as if in attendance at a Chantry. The stars, sanctified. A taste of the divine. Perhaps this was how worshippers felt, whenst kneeling before Andraste.

“When I am in the Marches,” said Lady Samient, to Trevelyan, “I shall look at the stars, and think of you.”

“So shall I, in Val Misrenne,” the Baroness added.

“And I in Coldon,” said Erridge.

Trevelyan spread her arms across their backs, and squeezed them all tight.

“Don’t make me cry again,” she begged. “I feel that’s all I’ve done this month.”

Samient shook her head. “I can’t believe it’s been a month.”

“Feels as if a year,” said Touledy.

Lady Erridge sighed. “I wish it were.”

Trevelyan smiled. At least she knew, if it ever went tits-up with Skyhold, there were several options for her next venture. A nice little cottage in Coldon might be nice. Travelling with the Dalish. Working alongside the mages of Val Misrenne.

She needed Ostwick no more. There was so much else to the world.

So much...

She could not help but glance in the direction of the mage tower. Perhaps he’d take a second walk tonight. She really would send them away, this time.

Instead, she saw not the Commander, but another familiar sight. A lone night watchman, watching anything but they.

The Ladies, so packed together, felt Trevelyan’s shift to stare in his direction. Lady Samient squinted and stretched, to pick him out of the darkness. She asked:

“Who’s that?”

“The watchman who guards this area,” Trevelyan explained. “Don’t worry, I quite believe he knows the definition of confidentiality.”

“What’s his name?” asked Erridge.

“I’m not too sure.”

The Baroness leant back. “Excuse me!” she called, drawing the man’s attention. “What is your name, Ser?”

“Tenbry, ma’am,” he answered, in the wavering voice of a soldier who’d never seen battle—or four such merry noblewomen.

“Well, Ser Tenbry, our Lady Trevelyan here wishes to thank you for your secrecy!”

Trevelyan laughed, but still did as prompted: “Thank you, Ser Tenbry!”

He stood to attention. “Of course, your Ladyship! I’m only supposed to report danger, your Ladyship. I don’t see none when you’re here, so I don’t report, your Ladyship.”

Trevelyan smiled; with it, an idea sprang to mind.

“And what is your favourite colour, Ser Tenbry?”

“Green,” he said, albeit confused.

Trevelyan parted from the Ladies, and ushered them back a step. Rubbing her hands together, she called forth a warmth, generated from the motes of the Fade which clung to her presence. It grew and grew, beyond the capacity of the natural. And once it burned—

She threw her hands forward, a jet of green flame lancing out over the parapet. For a moment, all was doused in its aberrant light—and then it was gone, the night reset.

“There!” she told him. “A little danger, for you!”

“Thank you!” he said, a smile appearing beneath his helm.

The Ladies, too, seemed quite amused; Lady Erridge applauded particularly enthusiastically.

“That was beautiful!” she breathed. “Do you think you could do pink!?”

Trevelyan revealed her palm, a rose-coloured flame already flickering within.

“Easily,” she said.

[a-world-of-whimsy-5]

Hi M! Hope I manage to slide this request in on time, may I request Caranthir x reader [AFAB] (if you're writing for the elves) with the bondage prompt for kinktober? Looking forward to lots of spice for kinktober ;)

"The vow"

Pairing: Caranthir x Fem. Reader (human/second person POV) | Location: Forests of Thargelion

Themes: Smut (Lemon/graphic)

Warnings: Brief mention of injuries | Explicit language | Bondage (hands and arms) | Kissing | Sex in a tent | Dirty talk | Rough sex | Penetrative sex | Cream pie

Summary: Caranthir makes a vow to his significant other, something which is quite rare for him.

Word count: 1.1K words

Rating: 🔥🔥 | Minors DNI | 🔞 | You are responsible for the media you consume. 

The strips were freshly woven wool. They were strong and yet soft at the same time. 

They had been wound around your wrists and arms, keeping them in place. It was how Caranthir liked it—having you bound, your body completely open to his whim and pleasure. 

Tonight, there was no exception. The tent rustled softly against the wind that swept through the camp, fallen leaves lifting and swirling around the dying embers of a great pit fire. Inside, it was still warm. A brazier was lit, its dim, flickering light throwing shadows all over Caranthir's ruddy skin.

"You must remain silent, my love," Caranthir commanded in a hushed tone. You had moaned, deep and long and throaty. He was certain the sound carried beyond the tent. "Or the others will hear."

He then reconsidered his command. Why did it matter if the sounds of shared pleasures drifted beyond the boundaries of the tent you had come to share with him? The two of you were bound to each other. Not just in flesh, but in spirit as well. The others knew. His brothers knew. They did not necessarily approve of this cleaving to one another before sacred vows had been exchanged, but they knew. 

Another moan parted your lips. "You ask for the impossible, my love, and you know it."

Caranthir laughed. "Then I should find another way to silence you."

"I thought you already had a way to silence me."

"Oho! Is that the way of it? Very well. I will make use of that little trick of mine some other time. Am I hurting you?"

He was not. Caranthir had been exceedingly gentle as always. It amazed you how an elf as fiery-tempered as the one who sired him could be so gentle at the same time. 

"You are not, my love." Skin slapped against skin when his thighs struck yours, unleashing sparks that turned to flame, setting you ablaze from within. "But I am not certain if I could... Oh, my stars!"

He pulled on the bindings around your wrists and thrust deep, finding the secret place that gave you nothing but the most indescribable bliss. Caranthir had a good grip on your hip and your hands. His legs rested over yours. It stopped you from squirming too much. You enjoyed it, submitting to his will. You turned your head to the side, a little away from your pillow. It was all the better then. 

"Good." Caranthir stopped. He leaned down ever so briefly, his lips brushing against the shell of your ear. "And when Rána is at its brightest, I will make good on my vow. I will take you to wife, with my kin and our followers as witnesses. I will not be like that fool, Aegnor. I will not give you up, as he did Andreth. I love you, and you are mine."

"And I cannot wait for that day," you reply without even a moment's reflection. Reflection was not needed. Not now. Not after everything the two of you had endured together. "I love you, Morifinwë."

His eyes slowly filled with tears. They were welcome tears, a sign of his joy. A hand callused by years of fighting and sword use skimmed over your belly. It made you shiver. He pulled out of you, turned you onto your back, and entered you again. Caranthir moved, slowly and gently this time, his hand resting on your cheek. He repeated a pledge he once made when the two of you lay beneath an inky black sky, with nothing but the stars as witnesses. 

"Flesh of two, joined as one. Bound in spirit. Bound in body. Bound beneath the light of the stars. Bound for all days, till the end of all days. Perhaps, if the great ones are willing, even beyond that."

You repeated his words, your breath nothing more than quickening gasps. It was as if you had been running. Caranthir panted. He whispered sweet obscenities in your ear—the kind one should not expect to hear from an elf of such high birth. 

“I enjoy nothing more than looking into your eyes while I fuck you.”

“I cannot get enough of how eager you are to submit to me like this, letting me use that glorious body of yours however I see fit.”

“I know I urged you to be quiet before, but now I yearn to hear you cry out my name when I take you over the cliff.”

He leaned down and kissed you. His skin smelled of the cold, clean air and the fields he loved to ride in. His name came so easily to you. Morifinwë. Morifinwë. Morifinwë. It was like a song for his ears alone. He was now ceaseless, his mouth parting in a strangled cry. It triggered something hot and sweet—a gathering that spread just beneath your skin. His name left your lips again, now ragged, desperate, and hungry. Caranthir sated it, making you soar, taking you higher and higher until you cried out, loudly and without shame. Then he let himself go with a low groan, his entire body quivering violently before it slowly went still. He shuddered, his spend spilling freely after one last, powerful thrust. 

The world beyond the tent was still quiet, save for the sudden, sharp gasps of chilling wind. Caranthir took a deep, steadying breath and drew back, then laid you down on the pelts that served as a feather bed. He undid your bindings. The painful, abrupt rush of blood made you yelp. He rubbed your arms to soothe you.

"Do these still hurt?" He asked. 

Your gaze skimmed over the ugly scars that served as a visible reminder of the nightmarish orc raid that nearly claimed your life. 

"Not anymore." Your sigh of relief rose from the tips of your toes when Caranthir ran his hands down trembling limbs, taking great care not to be too rough or fast. It made you feel so pampered. "I just cannot bear to look at them."

It was one Caranthir loathed above all—how he could not take the scars away. "I do not love you any less for it," he returned, dipping his head to kiss a scar that cut across your shoulder. "But I will see what else I can do."

"It does not matter," you reply. Caranthir had done so much for you already. It was another aspect of him that surprised you—the lengths he was willing to go to make sure you were well and happy. "You having done all that you could already is enough for me."

Caramthir smiled—really smiled. He stayed awake, content to watch while you curled into him and slept. 

[josefavomjaaga]

Hi!!!!! flower here!!!!! As of late I've been getting increasingly invested in the human golden retriever that was Édouard Mortier and especially in his relationship with Soult. I know the way I portray relationships between marshals through my drawings and designs isn't always the most historically accurate (just look at my BessiMu obsession :sob:), but I am genuinely curious to know what their relationship was like? Do you happen to know anything about it? They seemed to be quite a mismatched pair, Mortier seems to me like quite a happy person who had an easy time befriending others and therefore had a lot of friends who loved and cared for him, while Soult is... Soult, he did have friends who loved and cared for him but he is as friendly as a cold slab of ice :sob: it makes me wonder how they became friends and how their friendship held itself together for seemingly so long. Thank you for any info you can provide on this, love your marshal posts!!! c:

Hi there, petal! Great to hear from you! 💖

And thank you for the question! Though I fear lately I'm getting mostly Asks beyond my competence 😥. I know very little about Mortier, frankly, and have yet to read a biography of his.

But, judging from the little I do know, your golden retriever comparison seems pretty accurate 😁. So far, I have yet to find somebody who did not like Mortier. And yes, even Soult - clearly not somebody to befriend easily - seems to have genuinely cared for him.

From Soult's "Mémoires - Espagne et Portugal", about Mortier leaving Spain in April 1813 (in order to join Napoleon on the Russian campaign - talk about "out of the frying pan and into the fire"):

I was very sorry to see Marshal Mortier go. I made every effort to hold him back. I was with him on the terms of a friendship that dated back a long way. I counted entirely on him. The slight clouds that had accidentally risen between us had long since cleared.

As to the long-standing friendship, it must date back at least as far as Soult's campaign in Switzerland, as I've come across a letter from that time. And as to the "slight clouds" 😁: Mortier was apparently just as eager as any other marshal to obey to Soult's more-or-less superior command. The editors quote excerpts from a long letter Soult wrote to Mortier in 1810, replying to complaints the latter had made, and explaining and justifying pretty much every decision and every order he had dared to give to Mortier. I'm not much acquainted with military matters but I dare assume that this is not the usual way a chain of command works in thy army 😁. It may be evidence that Mortier's opinion did indeed matter a lot to Soult.

Of course, between the rather tense letter of 1810 (at a time when the "roi Nicolas" affair was in everybody's mind) and Soult's sorrowful farewell to Mortier in 1813, a lot had happened. Among other things, the siege of Badajoz, where the two of them had worked very well together and where, according to the memoirs of Auguste Petiet, ...

[...] a cannonball fell between the two marshals, who had jointly decided on the final arrangements. This projectile covered them with earth in full view of our troops, who redoubled their ardour […]

[...] most likely after having had a good laugh at their superior commanders being turned into pillars of mud. In any case, I assume things like almost being hit by the same cannonball would strengthen their connection.

As to the end of the empire, Mortier was a bit wiser than Soult during the Hundred Days; he rallied to Napoleon but took a convenient sick leave for the actual fighting and thus was largely unmolested during the Second Restauration. During the July Monarchy he briefly took over the ministry of War and the presidency of the Council from Soult, but that was clearly not his strong point, and he was probably very relieved to return it.

I also remember that Mortier was mentioned in Davout's correspondence at the beginning of the Empire, when everybody suddenly found himself a marshal and had court duties: Davout asked Soult about the colours the livrées of the servants were supposed to have, and Soult, who apparently did not know either, then asked Bessières and Mortier.

This is probably not really what you wanted to hear but it's the best I can do as of now. I'm still learning, and I wish I would do so faster. As to Soult being

as friendly as a cold slab of ice

I'm not sure if I would fully agree. He was taciturn, rather direct and was in general seen as rude - but he also lived in a society with very refined manners and an elaborate system of courtesies that he may never really have felt comfortable with. While he clearly was not good at showing emotions, I'm not sure he really was "cold". At least when British historian Napier first met him, his first impression was rather that of somebody who hid behind his grim face "an excellent heart".

On a sidenote: As usual, while looking for quotes and more information in order to answer you a little better, I found lots of other stuff. (Did you guys know that Oudinot's oldest son, who accompanied Masséna during the third campaign into Portugal, has left memoirs? Or that Wellingtom claimed to have met Masséna through Soult?) Thank you for that, too! 💖

[ladyelissarose]

‘A Mother’s Revenge’

Chapter 3- ‘Can I Trust You?’

Warnings: mentions of warfare stuff, it’s COD stuff, this chapter mainly focuses on them getting to know and trust her, as her with them… but pay attention to details ;)

I sat inside what sounded like a large SUV or truck, the motor/engine was pretty loud. My hands were tied in front of me and I had a blindfold over my face, or to be more exact, it was a black balaclava, but it was put on me backwards so I wouldn’t see anyone or anything. I felt two people sit next to me on both sides, their arms felt large compared to mine, as we were squeezed up next to each other. I knew they were men, only because they breathe loud and smelled like men, hardworking men that pay for food with the sweat of their brow. I knew that for sure the Captain, John Price, sat in front of me, for he said he would in case I needed anything. (So far he was the only person I’ve met, that has been gentle, he was still serious, and quiet, but gentle.)  The road was very bumpy at first, loud too as we tried to find a way out of the safe house hidden in the forest, but now it feels like we are on an actual road, things felt smooth, and I could hear my surroundings more clearly without all the noise of the outside. I stiffened when I heard a low voice speak, finally breaking the silence,

 “Cap’, are we almost there yet?”

I thought for a second after hearing that voice, it sounded familiar,

 ‘Hey… I’ve heard that voice before… was it on the bus when I heard it?’

I voiced my thoughts out loud after clearing my throat,

 “I’ve heard you before..”

Soap’s POV

‘Fuck me! There’s no way in hell that this lass remembers my voice?? It was like… two to three words that I said??!’

I turned to look at Price, wondering if I should respond to her, he nodded his head once, and sat back, waiting for me to do the talking. I held silence for a bit, it wasn’t that I was shy, I just didn’t know what to say. But my good ol’ boy Ghost, Simon the fuckin’ Ghost Riley, spoke up for me, loud and clear, making his ‘heavenly’ and ‘gracious’ presence known in his deep, British accent,

 “You met him on the bus earlier… before you got down.”

Ghost sat on the right, next to her, I saw her clasp her hands together nervously, and nod slowly, it looked like she was collecting her thoughts and words. For it only took a minute for her to reply, in a calm, voice.

 “He’s wearing a Mohawk right? And black combat boots with grey laces?”

Alejandro stifled a laugh as he silently mocked my hairstyle and choice of shoes (as per usual). I looked at Ghost hoping he’d do something about that, but I didn’t find his eyes looking at mine, I found them already glaring at Alejandro and Rudy, who were talking amongst themselves. I smiled proudly knowing I didn’t have to worry about them when Ghost was around, but this time I did simply reply to Melione, 

 “Yes, I am. You have great memory.”

I heard her scoff lowly, 

 “I have to.”

 And from the rest of the ride on, that’s was all she had said, but though her talk was short, it still amazed me how much she remembered in such a little time. I could only imagine that she was probably military before or worked for a great agency, her talent and background was really good, and I had seen her too, while watching her on camera back at her place, that she could perhaps kill quite a few at once, she had the drive, and the motive that we are yet to figure out. 

 Ghost’s POV

Once we arrived, I was given specific orders from Price before we got down,

 “Lieutenant, take her to the basement, and leave her there, then come back up to see me, I need to talk to all you boys. Let’s go.”

 Commander Philip Graves and Sergeant Major Rodolfo ‘Rudy’ Parra, opened the two doors of the back of our truck and got out first, they looked around the area for a quick second then told us it was clear to go on. Immediately we all grabbed our things to move out in sync. Soap hopped out before Melione, and being the gentleman I never knew he was, he worded what he was going to do first, then took Melione’s waist carefully, and carried her off and made sure her feet were flat on the ground before he let her go. He then looked at me with a pleased look and I simply rolled my eyes and muttered to him,

 “Show off.”

I watched Soap’s face defaulter with a frown and I winked at him. 

 ‘Sensitive Scot.’

I then grasped Melione’s arm and started to walk her towards the little room we were about to walk in, well, it actually looked like a tiny shed, but behind those doors was a flight of stairs, going down. Price spoke through his radio and let the other soldiers know that they could let us in. Soon we were granted entrance and headed onward, I pulled Melione close to me as I informed her while at the edge of the first step,

 “We’re going down a flight of stairs, so don’t pull away and go slow.”

 She nodded and let out a small response,

 “Ok.”

The stairs went down about 40 feet. But it only took a few minutes for all of us to reach the ground. I recognized our personal safe house once we actually arrived. It was full of tactical gear and soldiers around us as usual, the same old shitty light that was above us, and the large wooden table that stood in the middle of the room, (that was where we usually had our ‘meetings’ or combat planning done) To my left was a door, that also had a flight of stairs behind it, which led to the ‘basement’. It was simply an empty room, maybe a ‘10 by 10’ size, with only a single lightbulb hanging on the ceiling. We usually held our captives there, to interrogate them and such. But before I began making my way there, Price pulled me away and whispered in my ear,

 “Take off her blindfold once she’s inside, But don’t undo her ties.”

To let him know I understood, I locked my eyes on him and shook my head, then I proceeded. Melione seemed nonthreatening for now, she was attentive though to instructions and obeyed them all, even if they were small orders. I warned her once more about the stairs and she replied the same, and we made our way down quickly but safely. I unlocked the door and guided her in, as she faced away from me I took the top of the balaclava she wore and yanked it off. In seconds she turned to face me to see who I was. And if I had to describe how I saw her expression change in seconds, I’d say it looked like if her breath had escaped her lungs, and her skin had lost its shade of color. Her eyes widened a bit, and she took a step back.

Your POV

‘Your eyes… they’re so empty? Why are you scaring me though? What about you is scaring me- shiiit… his eyes look like the ones that killed my family… cold and heartless.’

 The more I looked into his eyes the more I saw it, how dark they really were, how dark his soul probably was. I couldn’t see anything of him but his eyes, but it was enough for me to take into count, who he was, a cold-hearted killer. It was like if I could feel his intimidating soul lurking around me, trying to find a way inside me. Never in my life, had I seen someone so scary, but so intriguing at the same time, hence why my eyes, hadn’t left him yet. There was something about them that felt so familiar to me, but right now, the memory or realization didn’t click. I snapped out of it when he then sighed,

 “Stay here until someone gets you.”

And with that he turned around and left me alone in this tiny, dim lighted room. 

To say the least I felt a little worried, these people were military trained, killers, experts at their job, basically better off than me in a fight. But, my only known advantage at the moment was the fact that no one else knew who I really was, except for that lady Laswell and her unusual looking teddy-bear guy named Captain Price. The rest were completely unaware that I was a regular civilian with the capability of causing much more damage that they all combined could cause. And I really didn’t have problem with working with them, I didn’t. For I wasn’t here for them, or to get to know them, my only purpose, interest, and reason to breathe was to get the man that them and I are after, and as for right now, I didn’t care how or what means it took, to catch him and cage his soul into my own hands.

 Prices POV

I watched Ghost closely as he came up from the stairs and walked towards where we all stood. Honestly, for the first time in a long time, he looked… concerned. I could read it in his eyes, eyes that usual held no emotion but anger and sorrow, now held a twinkle in them that put me immediately off guard. But I would ask him about it later, when no one was around to hear his deep thoughts that he kept quite hidden and sacred from everyone else. 

“Melione is going to be working on our team, she will be beside us the entire time.  Though I expect every one of you to be vigilant of her actions, and mark her every move. Whatever questions you have, ask them now and never ask them again if not any.”

 I eyed them all, I could see Soap looking at me like if he needed to say something, so I asked him,

 “Lad, do you have a question?”

I saw Soap’s eyes gleam up as he replied,

 “Yes sir, umm... is Melione going to be staying with us too? And be working around us in everything?”

 I shook my head,

 “Yes, consider her a new member of the team. She’s doing everything we’re doing, going where we go. All her personal information is hidden and kept classified by the order of General Shepherd. So that I can’t give you.”

 Gaz then cocked his head and voiced,

 “She’s here to help us with our mission, right? I mean doesn’t have more than we do about our target?”

Ghost grunted and answered for me with a scoff,

 “I assuming she does if Laswell has her here, Sergeant.”

 I turned to Ghost and saw the gears turning in his head, something about all this was throwing him off, I definitely had to talk to him about it. But once again, I let it slide for now as I went on to say and suggest to them,

 “Try to be as civil as possible with this one. Let her open up to you so we can gain her trust and grab good information. If she doesn’t trust any of you, she won’t open up, she only use what you know to add up to what she has. We have to show her that we are not the enemy, because we aren’t. Understood boys?”

 They all nodded in sync, and Graves spoke up as he offered, 

 “I’ll try to open up to her, get her comfortable if not even give her a tour of this place... show her that we trust her around everything. Give her a place here.”

Ghost grunted again under his breath at what Graves mentioned, meaning he didn’t really approve, and I usually took a big interest in what he thought. So I then proposed,

 “Why don’t you and Soap do that? Soap happens to have an awful humor that miraculously breaks through all kinds of ice.”

 Soap scowled at me but I sent him a wink, knowing he’d understand. Ghost nodded and hummed approvingly this time. Soap then took a deep breath and commented,

 “Cap’s right... I’ll go on wi’ you Graves... come on, le’s go now.”

Graves clenched his fists and subtly rolled his eyes, which was weird, he always liked going with Soap everywhere, why not now? He’s probably in a mood. I then dismissed everyone and let them go do their own things for now, like check out their weapons and gear, make sure all is in tact and such. For tonight, was when we did the official planning to move on.

 Ghost was about to stomp off when I snapped my fingers and whistled for his attention. His head snapped towards me and then followed my finger which was pointed towards the room where we needed to talk. He closed his eyes and took a deep breath in, before walking in front of me. As I mentioned before, I trusted Ghost’s thoughts, so I was always willing to hear a piece of what we he was willing to let go. 

Ghost’s POV

‘I think I should wear dark shades over my fuckin’ mask, Price has learned to read through my damn eyes.’

I waited for Price to walk in and sit down, then I shut the door after I made sure no one was around to come and listen in at the door. I then leaned against the door and covered my face with my gloved palm, trying to collect exactly what I wanted to say, so it’d make sense. I heard Price sigh lowly and ask,

 “Simon... what’s wrong? You seem.. off.”

‘Price wants to talk to Simon... alright.’

I trailed my hand behind me and locked the door. With my eyes on Price I slipped off my mask, and saw how his face lit up and how his shoulders dropped. He relaxed at my confidence to let my guard down for a little while. A switch always flipped the minute I took off my mask, I felt more... vulnerable and.. small. I found the floor interesting to look at while I spoke out my mind,

 “Listen John, I’m not sure about this one, Melione.”

I knew Price would understand me, my history of not trusting others right away was known to him. Price took off his hat and ruffled his hair as he replied,

“I’m not sure either... but Laswell seems pretty confident about this... and I wholly trust Laswell.”

 “I know you do... but do you trust her.. Melione?”

Price leaned towards me, making me snap my eyes on him as he quietly asked,

 “Do you trust her?”

I swallowed hard, and thought for a moment,

 ‘I don’t.. but I do at the same time... the way she looked at me... she looked afraid, but strong. Like if she’d be terrified to take me down, but she’d still do it... while terrified.’

 I shook my head and scoffed,

 “I don’t know yet, I trust her capabilities or abilities.. but not her.. not yet at least.”

Price sent me a warm smile, and could only say,

 “You’re Ghost, Simon. Treat her like Simon would.. but watch her like Ghost would. Balance who you are to get to her. That’s your main mission. I can’t tell you who she is, because I don’t even know. I only did what I was ordered and that was it, so if you want to know more about her... learn her. Maybe through all of this, we can still save her, before she’s all gone.”

‘Save her?? Damn it I really wish I knew where she came from...’

“Alright then... I will. Thanks John.”

Price stood up and gave me back my balaclava, with a smile he watched me put it on as he said,

 “Anytime Simon, you know where to find me if you need to know or tell anything.”

Once behind the mask I replied,

“I will Captain.”

 Your POV

I was now walking between two men, after they let my ties loose. I mean, I could’ve done it on my own, but I didn’t want to pose as a threat to them because I don’t listen to simple orders. The Mohawk guy told me in his Scottish accent that he was known as ‘Soap’. I did my best to hold my thoughts to myself at hearing such a funny name for a tough guy. The other was a blond guy, who asked me to call him ‘Graves’ or ‘Philip’. I was surprised to hear him tell me his full name, unlike Soap who only gave me his callsign or nickname. But he sounded and looked American, someone from my homeland, so he was probably a more relaxed and chill person. We had already gone through some other rooms, like the kitchenette, the resting rooms, showers and restrooms, all the civil places here underground. Soap talked my ears off telling me every detail of every room, I thought I would get annoyed after 5 minutes of hearing his rather interesting words and Scottish slang, but he actually kept me calm and interested. Graves on the other hand… was only eyeing me the entire time, he said a few words here and there, only when Soap asked him to free with him on a comment he made. But I caught him several times just staring at my face, at to start the least, the more time we spent together, I trusted him less, he made me feel uncomfortable.

‘I thought no one knew about me… why do I feel like he knows more than he says he does?’

Finally after an hour, we neared a room where Soap told me prior to arriving there that is was the room where planning for missions took place. Upon walking in, I caught eye of their entire team.

‘Why do they all stand like statues… and look like they’re part of a cult?’

I swallowed what was left in my already dry mouth, and stuck close to Soap, I felt 1% safer around him than anyone else right now. I guess he noticed my tense state, for he told me in a soft and low tone,

“T’s is our team lass, the 141 Task Force.. and Los Vaqueros. The’re all good guys, don’t worry your min’ eh?”

I sent him a curt nod that gave me a small smile from him, he then raised his voice and called to the rest,

“Boi’s… This is Melione. She’s working with us now.”

A tall man with a darker colored skin than the rest approached me first with a sweet smile and gentle voice, he shook my hand as he spoke up,

“I’m Gaz… glad to have you here.”

I replied as kindly and shortly as possible, trying to bury away my growing nerves,

“Melione.”

He accepted my answer and walked away after a sort nod. Then Two Mexican looking men, (good looking men) came towards me and the one with a goatee saluted me first,

“Lieutenant Melione, quite the rank you got their corazon… Colonel Alejandro Vargas.”

‘Lieutenant? Damn I didn’t read that part on the papers… why such a high rank though?’

He seemed like your cocky or proud type, but it was manageable, I shook his hand and replied in his energy,

“Earned it Vargas.. thank you.”

He sent me a toothy smile then ushered his buddy to stand in front of me as he spoke for his pal,

“This here is mi amigo, Sergeant Major Rodolfo Parra… my second in command for Los Vaqueros.”

Parra was shy for sure, he couldn’t even look me in the eye, but trying to be the normal looking one here, I took his hand into mine and shook it firmly,

“Nice to meet you Parra.”

“Y-You too, Melione.”

Those two were definitely Mexican, sharing everything about themselves, I had met people like them before, very kind and open to you, if you spent five more minutes with them you’d already be in their grandmothers house at their dinner table.

You know, if I had thought my nerves had disappeared, they resurfaced and came crashing harder when I met the scary man again… the skull faced one. He walked into the room with Price, with his eyes on mine almost immediately. It was like if my eyes were glued to his too, because I couldn’t get them off of him no matter how much he terrified me. His long legs got him to stand in front of me in seconds, which practically took my breath away. He then looked down at me, with those cold ass eyes, and sighed,

“Lieutenant… Ghost.”

He called you Lieutenant then gave you his name, ‘Ghost’.

‘Your name had to be just as freaky as you… happy fuckin Halloween.’

In my greatest ability to not have my hand shaking while raising it up to his, I took it and replied with the same tone he used, cold yet calm.

“Melione.”

He sent me a curt nod, looked like approval. His eyes then left mine and he stayed in the same place, right next to me, as Captain Price began to inform.

“Melione, you already have some kind of communication with our target… Hassan. I need you to contact him and see if you can push the deal for tomorrow night. If he really wants to work with you, he’ll oblige to what you want. We need time to seriously plan this.”

Taking out a burner phone from my pocket I waved it in the it as I asked,

“What time would be good?”

Ghost turned to Price as he suggested,

“Can we do 9:30?”

Price bounced on his heel for a split second before replying,

“certainly.. sounds like a good time. And the location, had you already discussed that Melione?”

“I did, we were planning to meet at the sea port where I’d arrive. Then from there I’d go where they wanted to deal.”

Graves shook his head and mockingly said,

“You were trusting them to take you wherever they pleased?”

‘Is he calling me stupid?’

“It’s called gaining their trust, stud.”

“T’s not a bad call, mate.”

Soap and I had spoken at once against Graves, him defending me and I defending myself and my choices.

We then all stayed quiet for a few seconds, weighing our next words of peace or fire if someone slipped up with an unnecessary comment again. But Alejandro spared us a when he broke the silence,

“If we are able to get a camera on you, we can see where you’re going, and follow behind as much as possible without getting caught.”

I sent Alejandro a tight lipped smile,

‘That’s more like it…’

“I agree.. Melione… make that call when you’re ready but not after midnight, and let me or Ghost know when the cal is through and successful. For the rest of you boys, call it a night and rest up, tomorrow we got an important mission.”

Like little busy bodies they all blessed themselves with a ‘good night’ and left the room, heading to their own destinations for sleep. But before Soap left, he called out to Ghost and said,

“Lt. Can I have a minute with you?”

I would be the only one left in the room if they left, which was ok, that’s give me time to make the call. I watched them both walk off, Sop looked back and saluted me goodbye, I returned the gesture before he was out of sight. For now, Price, Soap, and Gaz were the only ones I trusted, oh and Alejandro and Rudolfo for sure. The rest… like Ghost and Graves… I wasn’t too sure yet.

Ghost’s POV

I followed Johnny to a dark corner, and listened as he rapidly said,

“Gonna make t’s quick, but I think Melione has a family…”

I eyed him with confusion as I asked with a whisper,

“And how do you know Johnny?”

He looked down at my feet and murmured,

“itookherwatchonthebusandsawapictureofamanandchildonthebackofit.”

I scrunched my face in more confusion, causing me to grab his face and face it towards me as I questioned again,

“what?!”

He couldn’t look me in the eye still, but this time he did amswer me more clearer and simpler,

“I said I saw a picture of a family on her watch, pickpocketed it then returned it like if she dropped it. And the name ‘Benjamin’ was incarved on the band.”

‘I guess that pickpocketing cruelly paid off after all these years of him trying to master it for some god forbidden reason.’

I clapped his cheek softly and sighed,

“ok… thank you Johnny. Next time, be careful about that pickpocketing…”

He finally set his blue dumb orbs on my eyes as he smirked,

“It’s only good as long as I don’t get caught, Lt.”

I pushed his head away playfully as I ordered,

“Get some rest asshole.”

He scoffed while flipping the bird,

“Ya too Lt.”

I then started walking back to the room as I thought,

‘So she has a family? Why risk losing herself if she has them? Or maybe she doesn’t anymore..?’

Getting closer to the room I caught Graves lurking around, I whistled for his attention and he slightly jumped at my presence. He even cursed at me playfully, trying to play off what he did,

“Fucking damn, They don’t call you Ghost for nothing… didn’t even hear you-“

“shouldn’t have anyways… didn’t Cap tell ya to get your arse in bed?”

He stood still not believing that I didn’t buy his humor at the moment, and I could see his eyes change to a slight annoyance and anger. When he saw I didn’t budge, he then huffed while now brushing past me,

“yeah yeah, I know. Just was making sure the girl wasn’t doing anything weird-“

I caught his upper arm and pulled him close as I threatened,

“leave. her. alone. If not, we’ll talk long and hard.”

He yanked his arm away from my hold and stomped away before I let anything else happen.

‘The hell is his deal? Why is he so eager to get her on her own?-‘

“Ghost?”

I was brought out of my thoughts for a split second when I saw Melione in sight with a stance of a scared girl. I could see it through her, in her… the innocence she held, her eyes still even held color… though every time I saw her again, those colors got duller and duller. She was clutching the phone in her hand painfully, I could see the color of her skin turn white, and her eyes bounced between mine. I didn’t dare move from where I stood, I didn’t want to scare her more, if she was scared. So I then raised my voice enough to where she could hear me clearly ask,

“Did it go through?”

She swallowed harshly and nodded,

“Yes. His partner answered and said that I’d meet him tomorrow at his place… not at the seaport.”

‘sounds about right…’

“ok.. tomorrow Price will debrief us on the rest, I’ll inform him tonight though… did the boys show you the barracks-“

“-yeah, they did… though I’m going to umm… stay here.”

I could tell it was her untrustworthiness in us that was speaking, but that was ok… I remember it took a lot of me to trust who I trust now, and even then, I sometimes still struggle.

“that’s fine…”

She then took a seat on one of the chairs there, and checked her watch, the one Johnny mentioned to me about. I didn’t want to see like a creep or worse, so I just offered one last thing before going,

“Steal a blanket if you need. Or anything. Price is going to be behind the last door in the hall if you need him.”

She quietly nodded, giving me a short sense of peace before she asked this one last question, that caught my deepest attention,

“And where are you staying Ghost?”

‘why?’

As much as she somewhat frightened me, I replied knowing I was now going to keep a gun in hand in my sleep,

“I’m right next to him…”

“ok.. thanks.”