#mother of storms and her star child

[madds-is-ace-trash]

Ok so theoretically if I just had like 8,000 words of the next chapter done but like still don’t have of the stuff I promised do you just want the current version. It’s just adulting is hard and shits taking forever lmao

[greengoblinswifey]

i loved "Shattered" although i would have loved for her to keep the baby and have the same success as in the original ending, would you consider writing something like that? as an alternative ending

Alternative Ending to Shattered— Nicholas Chavez x Actress!Reader

warnings— cheating, mature language, mentions of pregnancy, mentions of unprotected sex, mentions of abortion, happy ending, mentions of birth.

Shattered

When Nicholas told you to get an abortion, you felt a flash of anger surge through you. “No,”you said firmly. “You can’t force me to do that.” Nicholas looked shocked, then furious. “I have a girlfriend, and a kid on the way to raise,” he argued, voice hard and unyielding.

A surge of pain mixed with rage bubbled up in you. “I’m your girlfriend, Nicholas,”you shouted back. “And this is your child. You should be here for us, helping raise them, not running off to hide.”

Without another word, Nicholas stormed out, leaving you sitting there, heart pounding as you clutched your stomach protectively. You weren't showing yet, but the weight of the choice before you felt heavy. “Screw Nicholas”, you thought, wiping a tear from your cheek. “I’ll raise this baby on my own if I have to.”

That night, you lay in bed, staring up at the ceiling, your mind spiraling as you weighed your options. If you kept the baby, everything would change. Your career, just beginning to gain traction, would be stalled indefinitely. You’d be a single mother, left alone to care for a child Nicholas had already written off. And as a man, he’d be fine. Even with two babies on the way, he wouldn’t be the one carrying or caring for them.

On the other hand, if you didn’t keep it, you weren’t even sure if you’d get another chance. The thought tore at you, but you knew what the world would say. They’d call you a homewrecker, maybe even try to destroy your reputation, and all without knowing the truth. It would be you, bearing the weight of his lies.

Finally, with a heavy but hopeful heart, you decided that you were going to keep the life growing inside you. Thoughts raced through your mind, layering one worry after another. How would your career hold up with a pregnancy? The industry wasn’t always kind to young actresses, especially not ones who suddenly had a child in the picture. You imagined the directors and producers who’d invested in your rising stardom questioning your ability to maintain the same dedication once you had a baby to care for. The idea of managing both a career and motherhood alone felt overwhelming.

Filming the rest of the season with Nicholas suddenly seemed like an impossible task. Every scene together would remind you of how easily he had turned his back on you both, his other life casting a shadow over every word he’d said to you. But you’d have to keep it together, remain professional, pretending there wasn’t a storm beneath the surface whenever you shared the screen with him.

And then, there was the question you dreaded most: Who’s the baby’s father? Interviews, press conferences, appearances, the media would demand answers eventually. How could you admit the truth? How could you tell the world that you’d trusted him, fallen for him, fucked your co-star raw, and now were left to handle the responsibility alone because he had a life, another girlfriend and another baby, in his hometown? The thought of admitting you’d opened your heart and legs to your co-star, only for him to abandon you, made your stomach twist. You couldn’t bear to let the world see that vulnerable side of you.

But despite it all, you rested your hand on your stomach and felt a strange sense of resolve. This baby was a part of you, forget being a part of him, and you knew you’d find a way to raise them, no matter how many obstacles lay in your path.

The next day on set, you were barely holding it together, trying to keep the morning’s nausea from spilling over into the day's work. Nicholas approached you quietly before filming began, his expression tense.

“So, did you take care of it?” he asked, his voice cold.

You looked him right in the eyes. “No, Nicholas. I’m keeping this baby. That’s final.” You could see the frustration in his face, the way he clenched his jaw, but he didn’t argue. He only nodded, his gaze shifting away.

Soon, you were called onto set to film a scene, and as you moved into the frame, you felt the weight of your reality pressing down. The scene called for a romantic kiss, but as you leaned in, all you could think was, How could he do this to us? Every touch felt hollow, each moment of pretend affection a painful reminder of his betrayal.

Still, you held it together for the rest of the day, determined to protect yourself and, more importantly, the little life growing inside you. You’d give them all the love they need, you thought, so they wouldn’t feel the absence of their father.

As days turned into weeks, filming continued then the season wrapped, and you noticed subtle changes, how your clothes fit a bit more snugly, the quiet flutter in your stomach that grew stronger with time. You poured your focus into auditions for roles scheduled to film after the baby’s birth, crafting a new life plan that prioritized their future as much as your own.

Finally, when you went to the doctor alone, you learned you were having a baby girl. The news was bittersweet. Part of you ached for the weight of responsibility, raising a girl, teaching her strength and self-worth under such circumstances. Yet, you held onto a fierce determination to make the most of it, to show her resilience and love, no matter what lay ahead.

The night of the premiere, you walked onto the red carpet in a breathtaking gown that hugged your figure, showing off a noticeable baby bump. As you made your way through the crowd, congratulations poured in from all directions, and you felt a mixture of pride and nerves. Then you spotted Nicholas, standing nearby with his girlfriend, who was visibly pregnant as well. For a moment, his eyes met yours, and he did a double-take, clearly taken aback by how radiant you looked with your growing belly.

His girlfriend approached you, offering her congratulations with a polite smile, and you returned the sentiment, fully aware of the irony, that you both carried a piece of him, each in your own way. Nicholas lingered close by, watching intently, as if afraid you might reveal something.

As you spoke to the press, questions about your pregnancy inevitably came up. When asked about the father, you simply smiled, deflecting with comments about your happiness and excitement for what lay ahead, both as a mother and in your career. You radiated confidence, making it clear that your future was only beginning.

Later, you received the incredible news that you’d been cast in a new movie, and the production team was willing to accommodate your new role as a mother. Filming was set to begin after you'd had time with your baby, and they even offered a nanny and daycare on set. Knowing this support was there, you accepted the role, feeling your career blossom alongside your journey into motherhood.

When the day finally arrived, you gave birth to a healthy, beautiful baby girl, the spitting image of you. Holding her for the first time, you felt an overwhelming relief that she looked nothing like Nicholas—she was purely yours. Your sister stood by, sharing in the joy, and as you looked down at your daughter, you felt stronger and more certain than ever.

Motherhood suited you well, and as the months passed, so did the fascination with your personal life. Though speculation about the baby’s father lingered, it eventually faded. Fans and the public were captivated by your story, a young mom balancing stardom with raising her baby girl. As offers poured in, it was clear that your future was bright, your daughter by your side as you continued to captivate the world.

Meanwhile, Nicholas seemed to fade from the spotlight, mostly at home with his girlfriend, waiting for their baby. Until, finally, karma came for him, an article revealed that the child he thought was his was actually someone else’s, belonging to a rockstar his girlfriend had left him for. You couldn’t help the satisfaction that spread through you. He’d reaped exactly what he’d sown, and you hadn’t lifted a finger.

The night of the Oscars was monumental. Walking the red carpet, you held your baby girl close, basking in the awe and admiration from all around. When the ceremony began, you took your seat, unaware that Nicholas was there, too, until he approached you during a break, nervously glancing at your daughter.

“She looks just like you,” he said, trying to keep his voice soft.

You looked at him coldly, replying, “Yeah, and I'm fucking grateful for that”

He shifted uncomfortably. “Look, I’m so sorry for everything. I miss you, I really do. I was an idiot. Please, give me another chance.”

You took a steadying breath, keeping your tone calm but firm. “Nicholas, we’re done. The moment you cheated, lied and then told me to abort my child, you lost any future with me.” You glanced down at your daughter who was playing with your hair not sparing her father a glance, feeling the strength in your decision. “If you want to be in her life, that’s up to you. I’d prefer it if you weren’t near us, but I won’t deny you the right.”

He hesitated, his eyes darting away. It was clear he hadn’t come to build a relationship with his daughter, he was more interested in your newfound fame.

“That's what I thought,” you said, voice sharp. “Stay out of our lives. Don’t speak to me again.”

With that, you walked away, feeling lighter than ever. When your name was called for Best Actress, you took the stage, holding the Oscar with pride as the crowd erupted in applause. This was your night, a celebration of everything you’d fought for, a testament to your resilience and talent, with your daughter’s future in your hands.

[thewordswewrite]

Be My Guest

Pairing | Kate Carter x Tyler Owens

Summary | One time Tyler stays in Kate’s guest room and one time she stays in his

Warnings | discussions of trauma/injury associated with storm chasing, SMUT 18+

W/C | 6.6k

A/N | We wanted to hop into the Twisters fandom before it took ao3 by storm and this is *so far* what we've come up with. So...if you feel it... -smoe <33

AO3 | Link

Donations | Link 

Hers

She came home for safety, familiarity, to find her way forward but instead, she found herself more lost than when she’d arrived. 

It was only supposed to be a week. Sure, Kate thought it would be difficult to be back in the field but she hadn’t anticipated this. She hadn’t anticipated him. It shouldn’t matter. She had a job in New York, a life, a stable, safe job, her own apartment–everything she needed. But was it everything she wanted? 

What Tyler had said crossed a line but that didn’t mean it wasn’t the truth. It was just something she probably already knew, deep down, and hadn’t wanted to accept. She was running away from the storm but she should know better than most that it would always catch up.

With an aggravated sweep of her arm, all of her past research was on the floor, pages floating around her before finding a place to land. She almost immediately regretted the mess but it had felt good. For the last five years, she’s avoided risk but now it almost feels hypocritical to say that she misses it.

Kate bent to gather the papers but only grabbed a few before stopping at her Cloud Physics notebook which had fallen open to a familiar page. She sat down in front of it and traced the impressions of her writing on the pages. It was too much to retrace her steps, to consider what had gone wrong. She needed to get out of her head and she couldn’t do that without getting out of this damn barn.

She knocked lightly on the kitchen door so as not to startle her mom. Being an adult, Kate felt an aversion to putting these things on her mom. Her mother had always been supportive, even when knowing her daughter’s passion was actively putting her in danger. Maybe she just didn’t want her mom to repeat the same sentiments as Tyler but she also knew she wasn’t about to come to any decision without some guidance. Just like seeing her middle school science project again, she felt like a child standing in the kitchen.

“Kate?”

“Yeah, it’s just me.” She sighed and pulled out the chair at the dining table that had always belonged to her. The smell of whatever her mother was stirring made her stomach grumble. “Where’s Tyler?”

“Oh, he drove pretty far so he’s getting cleaned up.” Kate could tell her mom was trying to sound uninterested, maybe for her sake but still she asked, “What’s his story anyway?”

“He’s just some internet star from Arkansas,” She explained, picking at a stain on the table. For a moment she thought about leaving it at that but the fire he had lit in the barn was still burning inside her. Sardonically, she added, “He’s made a living as a so-called ‘Tornado Wrangler’ but so far he’s only shot some fireworks into a cyclone and nearly killed the reporter signed on to cover him and his team.”

Her mom chuckled and replied, “Sounds like a man looking for a thrill to me.”

Again, she felt like a child relaying the latest gossip from the schoolyard but she couldn’t help but continue.

“And his whole team is this ragtag group of people who’ve never been to school for this either!”

“I see.”

“I mean sure he’s studied meteorology but they could get seriously hurt.” Kate had busied herself by fiddling with a napkin she’d pulled from the homemade holder. The shreds of it were getting smaller and smaller.  “They’re no professionals.”

Her mom hummed, acknowledging her annoyance but countered with, “Well he doesn’t seem too bad to me, he did drive all the way here.” Although her mother graciously spared her the ‘for you’ that they both knew completed that thought, she felt its weight. It was easier to make him seem unlikeable than tell her mom that it was her that was in the wrong.

“You’d believe me if you saw the shirts he sells, his face all sprawled across them.” Kate laughed, thinking of the cheesy slogans. It wasn’t lost on her that she had assumed the worst of him. She thought back to what Lily had said and felt ashamed. “Though,” She conceded, “the money does pay for food for the aftermath survivors. They were handing it  out at the last town we were in after the tornado hit.”

“Not all bad then?” Her mother turned fully to face her and Kate knew her teasing expression said all she needed to know.

“I guess not.”

_ _ _

Dinner had been passable, if not enjoyable. Kate had figured it would be awkward, that the dynamic between her and her mom would be offset by Tyler’s presence but it had flowed easily. The only gripe she had was that her mother had gone over her head to invite him to stay the night. In her ideal world, she would’ve ushered him out right after dinner saying a quick thanks for his concern but sending him on his way knowing that she’d never have an obligation to speak to him again. 

Tyler had, of course, helped her mom with the dishes, leaving her to watch awkwardly so as not to take up unnecessary space in the small kitchen. She’d shot him a tight smile as he’d excused himself to his room for the night. 

“Well,” Her mom said from the doorway, “I’m off to bed. Shut the lights, will you?” She didn’t wait for an answer as she made her way past the living room to her bedroom. 

Kate tapped her fingers sporadically against the table, the sound echoing in the quiet house. She hadn’t been fully present for dinner. Every time she looked at Tyler she could only think about what she was doing wrong, what she was missing. As much as she resented the fact, there was no way she could make peace with the past couple of days if she didn’t get in another word with him.

She flipped the last of the switches off and made her way up the stairs, avoiding the ones she knew were extra creaky. At the landing, Kate considered just going to her bedroom but her feet kept their integrity and trudged her towards the guest room.

Her hand was poised to knock when the door opened.

“Kate?” The sound of his voice combined with the unexpected image made her jump. Whatever she had been prepared to say had left with her surprise but Tyler was already speaking again.  “Listen, what I said in the barn was out of line I shouldn’t have–”

“No you shouldn’t have…but you weren’t wrong either.”

Stepping back, he opened the door a bit more and though it wasn’t quite an invitation. It was a line she wasn’t sure she wanted to cross with his apology and her admittance the gist of what she’d hoped for. She promised herself that if he didn’t try to say anything else, she’d just turn around and walk away. He bit his lip, seeming to wrestle with something the same way she was.

“What’s the story behind you and Javi?” The question surprised her and she felt a vague excitement about his interest or rather the fact that he was interested at all. But the story itself was not something she was sure she could share.

“We met in college, he was friends with my…my boyfriend at the time.”

Tyler’s eyebrow raised in a silent question before he said, “And your boyfriend he was…”

She couldn’t stand in the hallway any longer where she was fully open to his scrutiny whether the story inspired pity or something else. Kate stepped past him into the room and started to explain,

“He was in the accident, along with two of my best friends.” She folded her arms across her chest, in a way trying to shield herself from the memories. “We were testing the polymer on what we thought was an EF1 but–”

“It was an EF5.” She nodded and his lips shifted into a sympathetic frown. Kate sat on the edge of the bed so that she didn’t have to face him head on.

She continued with, “So, I quit school and packed up to New York. Javi went back to Miami but because of the outbreak he thought he could use a second pair of eyes and invited me on.” From her peripheral, she could see the way he nodded along as she spoke, the genuine compassion still written in his features. She shrugged, unwilling to allow herself to feel the extent of the situation and the memories in front of him, “None of it matters though, I’ll be back in the city by the end of the week anyway.”

“You mean you’re giving up?” Tyler asked like it was somehow a personal affront to him or some greater injustice. Kate wasn’t sure what he cared. They’d only just met and he didn’t know her, not really. 

“I’m not giving up. I can’t live like this again, risking my life every day.”

“Because of the accident?” The way he said it, like it was only a passing moment and not something that monumentally changed not only her life but her, made her response sharp. 

“Yes, because of the accident.” 

He was unshaken by her hostility and placed a hand lightly on top of hers where it sat between them on the bed.

“Kate, I’ve seen people get hurt too, I’ve–” She couldn’t listen to this, couldn’t have him reduce her experience by comparison. If he thought this was the way to change her mind, he was sorely mistaken.

“Yeah, Tyler, well I got hurt. I watched people die, and I’ll bear those scars for the rest of my life.” Her body filled with tension of the memory as her breath began to quicken. She let the anger take over, the simplicity of it easier than the complicated truth. “I don't know why I even–”

 “Hold on–Kate!”

Kate could feel the air his failed reach created as he tried to grab her wrist to stop her. She was fast though, spurred on by the singular goal of getting the hell away from him. When she made it to the threshold of her room, she moved to shut the door. It almost slammed fully closed but groaned as the wood crashed into the foot he’d managed to snake in.

“Go to bed,” She demanded.

“So what, you’re going to help Javi line the pockets of Riggs for the rest of the week? The real estate shark that's directly profiting off the suffering of these people?” It seemed he couldn’t help, was adept at, pushing her buttons. If she were any bolder, she’d have already struck the self-righteous expression off his face.

“I didn’t know about that, I would have never–these are my people but this isn’t the way, the polymer didn’t work and people died because of it.”

“More will too, but only if you don’t do anything.” He tried to reach for her again but she shrugged away, “It could work. Together we could do this.” Tyler’s expression was pleading, his eyes urging her to make the right decision.

“Goodnight, Tyler.”

His

The flight was thankfully uneventful and much easier than her last flight to Oklahoma when she’d been dreading the very idea of her return. There were still memories that haunted the place she called home but now she could rest assured that they weren’t losses for nothing and that she may very well be able to save someone, hopefully many someones, from the same suffering she had endured for years.

Kate dragged her suitcases through the airport and the bustle of people coming and going made her feel oddly comforted. New York was easy to get lost in and for the time, it was exactly what she needed. But it had only ever been a place she ran away to and after a while she was running too fast to ever see it for what it was. Here, in Oklahoma, she was home.

She made her way out to the pickup lanes and was met with a calm blue sky, one that she knew–or maybe even hoped–wouldn’t last. At the five-minute mark, Kate was unbothered. By ten, she considered concern. By twenty, she was on the phone. It took three calls getting sent to voicemail before her mother picked up on the fourth.

“Hey, are you alright?” She tried not to sound too concerned but it wasn’t like her mother to forget an obligation or to not pick up the phone. 

“Oh, sunshine, I’m fine. It’s my truck that’s acting up,” Her mom replied. “I was on the road already when it decided to quit on me. I’m not sure how long repairs are going to take. You want me to call someone for you?” Kate sighed, more relieved by her mother’s well-being than bothered by the situation.

“No, don’t worry about it,” She answered, “As much as you don’t like it, I am a big girl. I can take care of it.”

“I know you can, baby. Don’t worry about making it here tonight, just take care of yourself.”

They exchanged ‘I love you’s before it sunk in that actually did have to take care of it. She found herself a spot on a nearby bench and tucked her luggage in beside her. Scrolling through her contacts, her thumb hovered over Javi before something urged her to keep going. Kate wasn’t sure if this was a bad idea but lately, she could handle a little risk.

“Hello?” She bit her lip, knowing this was her last chance to turn back. Still, he might not even be around or available to get her.

“Hey, Tyler?”

“Uh, yeah?” His voice was in performance mode, his uncertainty no match to his inherent charisma. Kate found herself filled with an urgent hope.

“It's Kate, Kate Carter.”

“Kate!” She could hear the smile in his voice. It was the first time she’d called him since he gave her his number and she was just beginning to regret not using it sooner. “What uh…what's going on?”

Her stomach flipped at the realization that she had to explain herself, that she wasn’t just calling him. Oh god, was this a mistake? Kate had thought there was something there when they were saying goodbye but maybe this was pushing it.  

“Are you in Oklahoma by any chance?”

“I am actually,” Tyler replied before he, with a hopeful tone, asked, “Are you here?”

“Do you think you could pick me up from the airport?” She fought the urge to cross her fingers like a little girl. It wouldn’t be the end of the world if she had to call Javi but she couldn’t help but want to see where this path led.

“Of course!” Her chest tightened, a mix between excitement and worry. “Is everything alright with your mom?” Kate’s cheeks flushed, touched by his concern. 

“Yeah–truck just wasn’t starting, don’t worry,” She said, hoping she sounded nonchalant.

“Alright then, I’ll be there as soon as I can.” In the background, Kate could hear his keys jingling already and she smiled to herself.

“Thanks so much. Bye.”

_ _ _

Kate had been inside, sitting at a cafe when her phone buzzed in her pocket, Tyler letting her know that he’d made it. She tossed out her empty coffee cup before regathering her things and taking a deep breath. If she was being honest with herself, she was excited to see him but she didn’t want to endure the inevitable teasing she’d be subject to should she seem too eager to be in his presence.

The sliding doors opened and it took her a minute to spot the familiar red truck. Her eyes followed the path to where Tyler was busy basking in the attention of an adoring fan. What more could she expect?

“And did you want this signed cause I could definitely sign this for you.”

He didn’t notice as she siddled up, even with the rumble of her suitcases on the concrete. She shook her head at the display of his ‘Tornado Wrangler’ persona and thought better than to let him off the hook.

With the exaggerated voice of a dedicated fan, she implored, “Oh my goodness! Is that Tyler Owens? I am your biggest fan!”

“That’s me darlin’, what can I do for–Kate.” He cleared his throat and straightened out his posture, putting on the real Tyler at the sight of her. Kate bit her lip, sparing him the laugh that threatened to escape her.

“Tyler,” She said, “You look good.”

“Well, I feel good.” Tyler stood with his hands on his hips, the two of them alone now and it seemed neither of them knew just what to say. She laughed at his remark and began to heave her luggage into the bed. Before she could lift the larger of the two bags, Tyler was stopping her with a hand on her wrist. Kate looked up at him, confused. 

“Don’t make me make you get in the truck.” She glared at him, gauging whether or not he was serious. He only matched her expression. “Get in the truck,” Tyler repeated.

Kate rolled her eyes and climbed into the passenger seat. She couldn’t help but lean over toward the shift, running her fingers across the buttons. Her pointer finger landed on the tape labeled, ‘Kate’s Barrels’ and traced over his writing. When the driver's door opened, she jumped at the movement and tore her hand away. 

“Headed to your mom’s?” Tyler asked, fingers tapping a rhythm onto the wheel.

“Uh, no actually just any motel close would be good. Home’s a bit far and the flight was long. I just want to go to bed.” She reminded herself that that was the only reason.

“I’m close,” He told her. Since when was he close? “I mean you could stay in my guest room and I could take you back to Sapulpa in the morning?” The idea sounded as equally dangerous as it was appealing. With a motel, she was in control of the situation but his place? There was no knowing.

Clearing her throat she answered, “That…sounds fine.”

Tyler tipped his hat toward her and then he was making his way out of the parking spot. For a little while, they sat in comfortable silence, the radio filling the empty space between them. Once they were outside the city, it was comforting to watch as farmland made up her view. The word rattled in her head again. Home.

“So, how did it end up going with the investors?” He asked. “Good, I assume since you’re back in Oklahoma.” Kate couldn’t help but smile knowing well enough already how happy he’d be to hear. Not to mention how happy she was to achieve something she’d been chasing since the possibility entered her mind.

“Yeah, it went very well actually. We uh–we got a lot of people interested and the offers were so good…I quit my job and sold the apartment. I’m back, back.”

Tyler’s smile grew to a million watts as he exclaimed, “Kate! That’s amazing!”

“Thank you, we’re really excited.” She thought she saw his grin falter a bit but she couldn’t pin down why. Still, after a moment he let out a whoop, honking the horn at the expense of the car in front of them. Kate laughed, placing her hand over his to keep him from doing it again.

“So, where you planning on living? With Javi?”

“Actually I’m not sure yet. Javi has this new girlfriend from back in Miami and they’re pretty wrapped up in each other.” His eyebrows raised and she continued, “My mom's kind of out of the way too. Plus, she’s thinking of selling since seed prices just keep going up. Says she’s sick of the weather.”

Tyler’s jaw went slack, exaggerating his shock. “Sick of the–Sick of the weather?”

“What can I say, she doesn’t appreciate the beauty of the storm.” Kate sighed theatrically. Her hand went to her forehead in a ‘woe is me’ gesture. He chuckled, punching her playfully in the arm.

“On the topic of prices though, she is right.” Tyler sighed as he turned onto a new street.  “That’s why I bought land and started from the ground up.”

“Land?” She repeated. It hadn’t been that long that she’d been gone. When and more so why had he decided to put down roots and outside of Arkansas for that matter.

“Yes, ma’am.” His mouth quirked up in a prideful smirk.

“And here I thought I’d be sharing some shitty motel room.”

They pulled into a long dirt driveway, the grass surrounding it still young. While the house was clearly new, the style had a nostalgic feel to it. It was painted a fresh shade of cream and the white wrap-around porch just screamed summer nights. If she didn’t know better she’d think she was going to visit some sweet old lady.

“Here we are, home sweet home.”

Tyler opened her door for her like a proper gentleman and she stepped out into pleasant fresh air. The whole thing was picturesque. Kate supposed she shouldn’t really be surprised considering she didn’t really know his tastes but the whole thing surprised her nonetheless. 

She followed Tyler through the front door as he carried her bags inside. The interior was just as sweet as the exterior had been but Kate could see the signs that were uniquely him. There were various piles and pieces of gear strewn about that she recognized from having filled her mother’s house with. Even with the classic style, the appliances and layout were tastefully modern. She was impressed.

Kate stepped into the kitchen which seemed to be the most lived-in room. There were pictures of the Wranglers and what she assumed was his family stuck to the fridge. Her eyes drifted to a bulletin board hung up next to it and tacked up in the center of it was a page ripped out of their article from Ben, one with a picture of her. She could feel her cheeks flush even with him still in the other room. Though she wanted to, Kate knew she wouldn’t mention it.

“You hungry?” She jumped at the sound of Tyler’s voice.

“No, I couldn’t–” The same look that urged her to ‘get in the truck’ painted his face and she reconsidered her answer. “Starved.”

Tyler seemed satisfied. He pulled out a seat at the kitchen island where she could have a clear view of him whipping something together. The whole thing felt unnervingly domestic but she enjoyed it all the same.

“This place is really nice, Tyler,” Kate said. Gesturing toward his tricked-out home office–that was maybe a little too nice for a YouTube star–she pointed out, “Got a nice setup too.”

“Yeah, the team has pretty much paired off and they live here and there but we come back for a warm meal more often than not.”

“Not you though?” It had crossed her mind that maybe the sudden home ownership had been a response to some sort of serious relationship. She tried to sound casual since it wasn’t really any of her business.

Tyler smiled and shrugged. “Nah, a fearless leader has to hold down the fort.” Kate rolled her eyes and laughed at his cockiness. It was better knowing that it didn’t run deep. She thought better than to push it but still, she wanted to know what this whole thing was for.

“No, but seriously, why a house?”

“Oklahoma is the past, present and future of tornadoes. That’s no secret,” He replied like it was some well-known slogan. Yeah, the outbreak they experienced had put Oklahoma back on the map but Tornado Alley spanned a wide area, including Arkansas. 

“How do you figure?”

“Well you’re here, aren’t you?” Her stomach sank, trying to decipher the meaning behind what he said. His focus was trained on the pot in front of him like what he’d said was no big deal. What was she supposed to say to that?

Without an answer, Tyler clarified, “You’ve got better instinct than anyone I’ve ever met, better than any Doppler too.”

He’d turned to her and winked in her continued silence. Kate nodded with a smile like it was casual to her too. She shifted under his intense gaze and thought it was an apt time to break the tension with something she’d been tossing around in her mind. He laid a plate of spaghetti in front of her before sitting down himself. She cleared her throat.

“I was going to wait to bring this up but…I was wondering if you would consider being partners.”

“Really?” The excitement on his face was genuine and Kate could see the surprise too. It made her feel secure in her decision. 

“Javi and I both have stakes in it but he’s avoiding the field as much as he can right now. He’s got the business side under control but, like I said, he’s got someone at home who’d prefer he didn’t get blown away.”

Tyler stayed practically frozen in place. Maybe she’d overstepped her bounds after all. She could tell herself all she wanted that she wouldn’t be hurt if he didn’t want to partner with her but that didn’t make it the truth. 

“What do you say, me and you?” Kate asked, bracing for his answer.

“You and me,” Tyler replied genuinely and with what she hoped was a hint of awe.

They ate silently, half from hunger and half in consideration of their future. As much as Kate didn’t want to admit it, there were other questions lingering between them. When her plate was cleared, he insisted on taking care of the simple cleanup himself leaving Kate to sit idly at the kitchen table, unable to get anywhere else without his direction anyway.

With the dishes washed, Tyler turned his attention back to her but it seemed he had just as much of an idea of how to proceed as she did.

“So, uh…” She began, uncertain where she was going.

“I bet you probably want to get cleaned up. There’s an en suite in the guest room.”

“Yeah, great.” As much as she wanted to bolt, Kate got up from the table slowly as if she were as calm as could be. Still, she didn’t wait for any instructions as to where to go. She didn’t turn back to look at him as she climbed the stairs, internally cursing herself for adding to the awkward atmosphere.

“First door on the right!” Tyler called after her because, of course, she hadn’t asked.

_ _ _

The warm water had been just what she needed, especially paired with the time away from Tyler to think. As much as there had been a sense of tension between them, her feelings had settled on contentment and maybe even excitement. They were partners now and they had plenty of time to figure everything and anything else out. They’d been through hell already and he would help her through it again.

She stepped out of the shower, her feet hitting the plush bath mat, and reached for a towel. Her hand grabbed only air. Upon further inspection, the towel rack was completely unoccupied. Shit.

“Um, Tyler?” Kate called. She waited a few minutes for his response and when it didn’t come she yelled louder. “Tyler!” She let out a breath when she heard his footsteps on the stairs.

“Yeah?” 

“There are no towels in here!”

“Shit. My bad, no one has used that bedroom yet,” Tyler explained. His feet were already causing the wood floor to creak when he assured, “I’ll grab you one, be right back.”

Kate couldn’t believe this was happening. There was a good chance that she’d expose herself in the exchange. She’d even left her clothes on the bed, choosing to strip before going to the bathroom.

A few minutes later there was a hesitant knock on the door.

“Here, I brought you a few. I don’t know what you prefer,” Tyler said.

She had to assume that he was smart enough not to look. He’d been nothing but polite after all. When she opened the door, his eyes were covered by the palm of his hand, and his other arm was extended out to her. Kate tried not to laugh at the look of him.

“Thanks.” 

Kate wrapped the largest towel around herself and used another to dry the excess moisture from her hair. She pulled the door back open, assuming he was gone but she was met with his figure, eyes still shielded. Nearly bumping right into him, she let out an involuntary sound something between a squeak and a groan. Tyler echoed the sound and quickly flipped his hand so he could see her. She had to assume that his subsequent turning around was motivated by her state of undress.

She didn’t know what else to do besides starting to dress. It seemed he wasn’t done talking to her just yet. After a moment, he spoke.

“Uh, Kate…I, uh, realized I didn’t say thank you just then for considering me.”

“Who else could I possibly consider?” She winced at her own words. By no means did Kate want to sound like she was unhappy, she just didn’t want to make it a big deal between them.

“Well, right, I guess there’s not many storm chasers to begin with and especially not ones who’ve studied meteorology.” Kate could hear the slight hurt in his voice even as he tried to tease and she couldn’t blame him. She’d said the wrong thing. She quickly finished pulling on her pajama pants so she could focus on the conversation before she said something else she regretted.

“Tyler,” She said softly. He still had his back considerately turned to her. Like a kid trying to pass notes in class, Kate tapped his shoulder to get his attention. Tyler smiled as he faced her and it gave her the boost she needed to say what she wanted.  “You’re the reason I’m doing this in the first place. You believed in me even when I didn’t. We’re going to be helping people and that’s because of you.”

He was shaking his head before she’d even finished.

“You can’t believe that, it's your polymer, your idea–”

She took a confident step forward, the action effectively shutting him up. The closer Kate got the more she angled up at him, his height towering over her. Her hand found its way to his jaw, cupping it gently, her thumb brushing over the stubble of his skin. Before she had the chance to close the distance, Tyler took his chance to capture her lips with his own.

It started slow, hesitant to the possibility of too much too fast but quickly gained momentum as they threw caution to the wind. It had been years since Kate had done this, never quite feeling able to move on from Jeb and the accident but now with a sense of closure and Tyler’s guiding hand she felt ready.

His mouth was eager as their kiss deepened, Tyler’s tongue painting the inside of her mouth, almost as if he was committing it to memory. Their heavy breaths filled the air and neither of them seemed willing to break the kiss as the minutes went on. It wasn’t until her fingers played at the hem of his shirt that he broke off, looking down at her through hooded eyes, his mouth swollen and flushed.

“Kate…”

The sight was too much and she couldn’t help but bring her lips back to his skin. They found purchase at his pulse point, kisses littering his neck as she made her intentions known to him with every touch.

Taking a step back, Tyler’s hands cradled her face and he searched her eyes, looking for what she wasn’t sure but when he seemed to find it a smile broke across his face. It was the same smile he sported every time the wind picked up and the radar lit up red: a man ready to face a challenge.

“You still wanna stay in my guest room?” He asked, though his joking town was limited by his heavy breathing. Kate knew he was teasing but he was just as eager as she was.

“If you keep up with that attitude I just might,” She replied, smiling ruefully.

“Honey,” Tyler beamed, “all I’ve got is attitude.”

A chuckle escaped her lips and his face turned from cocky to sincere before he leaned in to steal a kiss once more. His hands moved from her face to grasping her own as he led her to what she assumed was his room.

Kate struggled to keep up as he held his hands behind him for her to grasp. She held them awkwardly as the unusual position did not grant her a good grip. The playful air gave her butterflies but also made her feel a sense of safety, knowing that things didn’t have to be heavy between them.

Tyler turned, pulling their hands over his head so that Kate twirled around with him. He used the momentum to guide her backward into his room with his hands on her hips, attempting a cheesily seductive smolder. She used her heel to kick the door shut behind them.

Kate walked ahead of him to go sit on the edge of his bed. She could tell he was watching her closely to consider his next move but she enjoyed the idea of playing coy with him. Ignoring him, she took in the space which was surprisingly sparse especially compared to the ground floor.

“Wow, real homey in here,” Kate joked, feigning awe at the blank walls

“Oh, hush,” Tyler chided, “It hasn’t been that long since we finished construction.”

She put up her hands in surrender and replied, “Sure, sure.” He rolled his eyes at her and then his expression became soft again. Tyler walked forward, kneeing her legs open and standing between them. With just a tilt of her head they were kissing again and this time when she grabbed his shirt, he let her take it off of him. Kate paused a moment to take him in, the image one she intended to commit to memory before pulling her own shirt over her head.

The rest of their clothes came quickly but when it was time for her to remove her jeans she hesitated.

“We don’t have to do this.” Tyler reassured her, misreading her reluctance. Kate shook her head.

“It's not that it’s–” She huffed in frustration and rather than continue to overthink, pulled her pants down in one swift motion, hoping he’d move past the interruption rather than linger on the issue.

Instead, his eyes moved immediately to her lower half and zeroed in on her leg…her scar. Kate’s stomach began to churn. She knew that he knew the story but she hated that it had to be part of this moment between them. He had been part of making it possible for her to redeem herself, to make sure the losses were not worth nothing. Still, the memories and the physical signs would never leave her. It made her insecure but if he had a problem with it, this wasn’t worth continuing.

“Is this from…”

“Yes,” Kate replied flatly. She didn’t have anything to prove and she wanted more than anything to move on from this as soon as possible. Tyler looked up from the marred skin on her leg and cupped her face with one of his hands. His eyes were filled with pure admiration.

“You’re the strongest person I’ve ever met.”

Tyler’s lips were on hers again as he leaned her back into the bed, his body sculpting to hers. She felt a hand trail down her body, over her ass, before he hoisted her leg over his shoulder, his face turning towards her thigh and kissing over her scar as he lined himself up with her entrance. He looked at her until she realized he was waiting for her cue. She grabbed onto his upper arms and nodded, making it clear she was ready.

He was slow with her, caressing in all the right spots and making sure she was comfortable until he was finally fully inside her and they moaned in unison at the feeling. She hadn’t felt like this in a long time and when he took a moment to brush the hair from her face it made it all that much sweeter so much so that she laughed. Tyler looked at her, concerned but when she kissed him, he smiled into it catching her drift.

As he began to grind into her, he coaxed mewls from her lips, her hips meeting his instinctually at the pleasure. The way he watched her carefully for her reactions made her heart soar. He made it evident that they were in this together, that he cared about making her feel good. One of Tyler's hands still held her leg while the other found her clit, circling it while keeping pace and she couldn’t help the words spilling from her mouth.

“Tyler,” Kate pleaded, “Don’t stop.” He listened to her demand but she could see how it made him falter. His expression was that of awe as if he couldn’t believe that he was here with her, that she was enjoying what he was doing for them. She curled an arm around his neck and played with the hair there in a way that caused him to flush.

“I gotcha,” Tyler promised, somehow pressing them closer together, “I gotcha.”

She could’ve been embarrassed at how fast she came but Tyler didn’t give her a chance, instead riding her out through her climax and continuing to thrust even after. It was almost too much as tears of pleasure pricked her eyes and her moans filled the room. Her hands gripped the sheets, his arms, his hair, anything that she could reach to keep hold of her senses as they were overwhelmed. All she could think or comprehend was Tyler.

“I–I’m close,” He stammered, the tremble in his voice radiating throughout his body, “Kate, I–”

Her vision went white when she came again, though she could hear Tyler moan her name like a mantra, his head buried in her neck. One hand reached into his hair while the other traced absent circles on his back. It took him a minute but eventually, he came back to her.

“Hey,” He said, letting out a breathy laugh. 

“Hi.”

Tyler pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, clearly savoring the moment. Kate didn’t want it to end either but she was confident that it was only beginning. They both let out their own versions of a disappointed noise as he pulled out.

When he disappeared into the ensuite, she pulled his comforter up around her, the scent of him enveloping her as well. He came back with a damp towel and once helped her clean up, he flopped into bed beside her, pulling her into his side.

Kate placed a hand on his chest, feeling his steady heartbeat under her palm. Tyler pressed a kiss to the top of her head. She wanted to bask in the moment a bit longer but before she knew it she was beginning to yawn. 

The last thing she remembered before she fell into a peaceful sleep was the sweet kiss they shared and the soft rumble of his voice.

“Goodnight, Kate.”

[damneddamsy]

second sight | cregan stark x oc (part i)

a/n: I suppose this series will be a short one, 4 parts maybe? I just love Claere so much - she's my little unhinged weirdo :')

It was a rather secluded and quiet affair, the marriage between Claere Velaryon and Cregan Stark. There were no great halls crammed with noble witnesses, no bright banners flying high to announce the union of two ancient houses—only the low rustles of the breeze through the pines and the crackle of a distant hearth as the vows were uttered.

The ceremony took place beneath the watchful eyes of the old gods. The holy weirwood tree loomed with its gnarled white bark, etched with time, and ruby leaves swished in the cold Northern breeze. Claere, a priceless dream draped in rare emeralds, silver silks, and white furs akin to seafoam—a nod to her Velaryon heritage—eclipsed against the stark landscape of Winterfell. She made up for the glitz and grandeur that this lifeless gathering lacked.

Cregan Stark, silent and relentless, took her freezing hand with the kind of sworn resilience that marked Northern might—his bold grey eyes sceptical of the bride before him. Though the match had been arranged by the Sea Snake, the union between them was regarded as special—one for the histories. Theirs was not a marriage forged in the fires of splendour but in the subtle rendition of what they each represented: a union between sea and snow, Velaryon and Stark.

No songs were sung, and no cheers erupted, but in that stillness, something more meaningful lingered.

Cregan was first informed of Rhaenyra's second child and only daughter as if she were a fleeting nymph from a fairytale, a cold mystery whispered from beyond the Wall. "She is adrift in dreams," his maester had told him. Claere Velaryon possessed all of her mother’s fabled graces—from her haunting violet eyes and white-gold hair to the sharp, aquiline features that marked her as pure Valyrian. Her skin, fair and translucent as glass, only furthered the ghostly aura that surrounded her.

If summer snow had ever reincarnated in his time, it would have been Claere Velaryon. The rumours spoke of a 'beautiful freak', chiselled like an ice sculpture, who sang like the sweetest lark, whose fingers danced effortlessly over the harp, filling halls with melodies as delicate as her presence. She was drawn more to solitude and the quiet company of the stars than to her brothers, most of her nights spent soaring high above the world on her silvery dragon, Luna—hatched in her cradle and enormous beyond her years.

The whispers had reached him long before he’d ever seen her. She doesn't eat food, prefers the taste of human flesh and blood, they had said, each rumour darker than the last. She once tried to stab her uncle in the heart. She dabbles in blood magic with that wretched dragon of hers. Some claimed her visions could only divine the worst of futures, and that she would cut herself to the bone just to understand pain. It was said everything she touched withered into the gloom.

Cregan swallowed against the rising dread. He had been pragmatic in agreeing to this union, believing the support of the ancient Targaryens would strengthen the North. Yet now, as he stood face to face with the girl cloaked in a bizarre silence, he wondered if he had invited his own destruction. The North had weathered many storms, but this... this felt different. He had faced wildlings, dire winters, wars, and beasts, but Claere Velaryon might be his greatest unknown yet.

Perhaps this alliance, this bond forged for power, would be his ultimate undoing. The Sea Snake must’ve played him for a fool, tying him to a sorceress masked as a Valyrian princess.

As if her touch had stung him, Cregan recoiled and returned his hands to his sides, a flicker of unease settling beneath his skin. The girl’s violet eyes stayed distant at his reaction, focused on some invisible realm beyond the godswood, oblivious to the accusations that swirled around her name like storm clouds. Never meeting anyone’s gaze, she stood perfectly still, frigid as the legends surrounding her, the direwolf sigil on his chest holding her attention.

When the quiet ceremony was over and it was time for goodbyes, the weight of the moment settled heavily on them all. Soft whispers filled the air as hands were clasped, and final glances exchanged. The warmth of shared vows had already begun to fade whilst the mother and daughter, her three brothers and their grandsire traded farewells. Cregan wavered close by, observing his new wife's interactions.

No one cried except the youngest brother, Joffrey, who had refused to let go of the princess. Everyone around her, her own kin, had kept their distance in approaching her.

"Who'll sing to me now, Claerie? The moon song?" Her little brother wept, shedding his tears into her fair silk gown.

Claere’s eyes moved from her tear-streaked brother to the rest of her family. Her voice was glacial, her expression more bored than curious.

"Why does he cry?"

A brief pause passed between the lot of them.

"Because he... we will miss you, sister. We might not see each other for a long time." It was young Lucerys who eventually answered her, his tone painfully understanding. He must be the forbearing one among them.

"Then do not miss me," Claere said to them simply. "It is not my wish to cause you pain till then."

Her certainty unsettled them, a silent dismissal that left her words hovering unanswered. She seemed unaware, perhaps unconcerned, that her family could not comprehend her detachment.

"I love you, Claerie." He buried his face deeper into her gown, as if afraid she might vanish from his arms. Claere remained still as if brooking her brother's overflowing love.

There it was—a twitch in Claere’s blank eyes, a flicker of something almost human. She glanced down at Joffrey, and with visible reluctance, patted his head. The gesture was mechanical, lacking the warmth he sought. A moment later, Jace stepped forward, his hands firm as he pulled Joffrey away, his actions laced with an unspoken fear that any more time in her presence might invite something unwanted.

"Will you stay with me?" Claere asked them, though her voice, usually collected, wobbled just enough to betray the edge of apprehension.

"Not for long, my girl," Rhaenyra said to her, her smile strained, hiding some secret discomfort. "Your home is here now. You will grow to love this place and your husband. I am sure."

"A cage of stone and ice," she murmured, her gaze distant, as if already relinquished to the cold halls of her future.

Rhaenyra's smile faltered, her eyes narrowing slightly. She was unduly firm. "You speak too soon, Claere. You are a Velaryon and a Targaryen—power runs in your blood. You will learn your duty in time."

"And you'll have Luna on your side," Luke appeased her in vain. An unspeaking, fire-breathing beast for a companion. His tender heart did not hold a candle to his blind faith.

But Claere said nothing more, her expression as stony as ever. The distance between her and the life she was meant to embrace felt as vast as the sky beyond.

Cregan watched the exchange in silence, the chill in his chest deepening with each word. His worst fears were confirmed. Claere was a stranger, even to those who should have known her best. They spoke to her as if she were something fragile, something... unnatural.

A freak.

And now, she was his.

X

No one was more reluctant than Cregan to spend his first night with his new bride.

As far as obligations went, he had managed to ban the sickening tradition of a "bedding ceremony" from the occasion, much to the disappointment of some. The thought of parading the princess through a crowd of leering men felt like an abomination, yet even without that outlandish formality, he still felt the burden of duties and expectations ploughing down on him like an axe.

His familiar chambers felt chillier today, the fire crackling weakly in the hearth as Claere stood near the window, her silver hair gleaming in the moonlight. She was silent, as she had been throughout the feast, her face betraying little emotion. She refused to eat, revel in wine, or even speak. She had managed a quiet nod after well-wishes, sometimes pressing her lips tight to pass for a smile.

He recalled, with an involuntary tremble, the black rumours that had plagued him during the dinner. The mention of how his wife’s tastebuds were supposedly tempted not by the fine meats and ales of the North, but by the flesh of those who dared to covet a single glance from the Velaryon beauty. Fattened soldiers who sought her favour and found only their doom.

It was absurd, indeed. And yet, as he glanced at Claere, so still and detached by the firelight, Cregan couldn't shake the disturbing thought. What sort of woman had he brought into his home?

The distance between them felt more than just physical—it was as though she existed in another world entirely, one he had no access to. He didn't know what troubled him more: her silence, or the eerie calmness with which she met her fate.

As Cregan set down his ancestral sword and shrugged off his heavy fur cloaks, Claere moved to him with quiet resignation. Her fingers began to undo the delicate laces of her nightgown, her motions disconnected as if compelled by some unspoken assignment. The fabric slipped, gathering at her shoulders, poised to fall, when Cregan's voice broke the tense stillness.

"There is no need for that," he said sharply, cutting through the air between them, the words coming out quicker than he intended.

He stepped forward, his rough fingers gently, yet firmly, adjusting the cloth back over her bare skin. Every inch of paleness he touched was smoother than the silk she adorned, warmer than the ice-cold fingers he had held in the godswood.

Claere blinked, startled, her violet eyes searching his face for the first time that night. The vigour of that shade disarmed him for a moment before he looked away. Yes, she was his wife, but more than that, she was a mystery. And he was a man who distrusted what he could not comprehend.

"Rest. That is all for now," he added, softer now, the command awkward in his throat.

Claere scrutinized him still, her sharp gaze unrelenting as if she could unearth the truth behind his stoic mask. When she spoke, her voice was flat, devoid of emotion.

"Is there another you hold dear, my lord?"

He sighed, sinking into a cushioned seat by the hearth. "No," he replied, his tone careful, meeting her eyes with conscious composure. "And you?"

A strange smirk flickered across her face, the barest twitch of her lips. "Everything I hold dear gave me away like a pawn on a board."

Her words struck him like a blow, twisting his gut with an uncomfortable pang of pity. He allowed for her loneliness as if somehow, he was responsible for it. Yet, a strange foreboding hung in the air and kept his response locked in his throat.

Instead, he turned his gaze to the flames, fists clenching against the armrests as the fire danced and crackled, its warmth doing little to ease the cold knot of guilt growing in his chest.

"I understand you favour peace and quiet," he began carefully, his words lingering in the space between them. "But would you consider sitting with me tonight?"

Claere, staring at the shadows cast by the firelight, turned her gaze to him. Her eerie eyes, unnervingly calm, gave no indication of her thoughts. For a moment, he regretted speaking.

The pause stretched, and Cregan felt the silence chew at his nerves.

"Why?" she asked finally, her voice as undisturbed as it was empty, as though the idea of companionship was foreign.

He hesitated, searching for words. "I thought it might ease... the strangeness of the night." His eyes flickered to hers. "For both of us."

Claere’s lips barely moved as she gave a soft hum of acknowledgement. The stillness in her made him wonder if she felt anything at all, and a deeper anxiety stirred in him.

Without answering, she crossed the room, her movements as fluid and graceful as a phantom. She sat across from him, her gaze never leaving the flickering flames. Even now, such a short distance felt insurmountable.

"Ask away, my lord," she said quietly, reading into him deftly. "I do owe you many answers."

Cregan’s gaze faltered as Claere contested, and for a moment, the heat of the fire did nothing to chase away the chill crawling up his spine. Something was unnerving about the way she stared at him, something impenetrable, as if her pale eyes held some ancient secret he wasn’t meant to uncover.

"Do you hear them?" His voice was low, almost lost to the sound of the crackling wood. "The whispers about you."

Claere’s expression remained unchanged, her face as still as a porcelain mask. "What do they say?"

"They say that I was a fool to take a girl like you," he said, keeping his emotions hidden. "A girl who walks in dreams, who doesn’t belong to this world. They fear you."

Her gaze did not move an inch, unaffected by his claims. "People fear what they do not understand."

Every rumour, every whispered story of her strange tendencies crept back into his mind, grinding at his resolve. The tales of oddity, rituals, and things best left unspoken—they clung to the air between them.

"Are you afraid of me, my lord?" Her question cut through the silence like a blade.

Cregan swallowed the lump in his throat, his heart lurching in his chest. He wanted to say no, to deny the concern that gripped him, but something in her gaze made him feel exposed, powerless in a way he had not been before. He forced himself to meet her eyes, but the intensity there—the dark, unfeeling stare—made him feel as though he were sinking into a frozen lake.

His jaw clenched for a moment, as though wrestling with the words he ought to say to her. He leaned forward slightly, his voice quieter, but no less intense.

"I will not be made to live in dread of my wife," he countered firmly. "Though, beyond question, those words waver my trust for you. Upon your integrity. Time will tell."

For the first time, a glimmer of something passed over her face—a brief crack in the mask. Hurt? Confusion? Whatever it was, it was fleeting. Claere tilted her head slightly, studying him from head to toe like one might a curious specimen. He shifted back into his chair, unease unfurling in his stomach.

"You should be afraid of me," she said softly. It wasn’t a threat, but a statement, as if she were merely acknowledging a truth he had yet to accept.

Cregan did not sleep a wink that night. His ancient sword, Ice, lingered closer to him than expected, leaning on his bedside. He laid utterly still as Claere slumbered gingerly, uncaring of the shadows that danced around her, like a tarrying chill that would not leave him alone.

As the sun crested over the horizon, spilling its golden light into their chamber, there was one thing he made certain: Cregan understood that his fear was not of Claere herself, but of what she represented—an unknown force that defied everything Winterfell was. Truth and unity.

X

As the days wore on, Cregan Stark found himself perpetually on edge, his mind halved between the secret suspicions that crept through Winterfell and the cold reality of his new wife. Claere moved through the castle like a careless sprite, floating just beyond reach, drifting from room to room, always apart from the people around her. She left a wake of uncertainty in her path, tales trailing behind her like a fog.

Scarcely did she remain grounded; more often than not, she soared into the skies with Luna, her dragon, a creature so tremendous that many in Winterfell whispered it had outgrown the older beasts of war—Vhagar's equal in size and perhaps ferocity. The sight of it, gleaming silver scales slicing through the frozen air, sent shivers through the keep. Claere’s infrequent appearances at suppers left the hall feeling incomplete, her absence punctuated by muttered resentments from the courtiers and smallfolk alike. The duties of a lady to Winterfell—tending to the hearth and home, overseeing the castle’s workings—were not simply ignored but utterly abandoned.

And yet, Cregan could not bring himself to care. As long as Claere caused no disturbance, as long as she kept to the law, she was no hindrance to him.

As it went, Cregan had not slept in her bed since their wedding night. In fact, they had barely spoken. Claere had quietly suggested moving to a nearby chamber, giving him "his breathing space," as she put it, and he hadn’t objected. He offered up the one with arched ceilings, for when she dabbled in her music, and nearest to the enclosure where her dragon was housed.

Her peculiarities deepened with every passing day. In the dead of night, her harp’s haunting refrain would echo through the passageways, its melody weird and hypnotic. At other times, he would hear her soft footsteps racing through the corridor, out into the courtyard, lost in her dreams until dawn. Most of his courtiers noticed her out on the ramparts after nightfall, laying across the roof—how she got there was a mystery—and staring at the sky for hours on end, speaking to herself. But most unsettling of all were the obscure songs she would hum—songs that danced on the edge of his consciousness, unnervingly poignant, yet cruel in the sweet voice they reached. As if she were singing of things far beyond this world.

Blood and shadow, ice and flame, Sing the tune without a name In the frost, their voices hum Of dead unseen, of eyes aglow Of footsteps deep beneath the snow Ice will crack, and winds will wail, Have you seen the end unfold, the secret that never sleeps?

Claere's songs instilled an image of the most unspeakable cold he knew, distant woods beyond the Wall, where horrors awaited, ready to engulf the unwary. Sometimes, the songs became too much, stirring a dread in him so deep he would storm down the hall, ready to confront her. But each time he did, within her room, like a figure of utmost naïveté, she went by weathering her own storm.

This time, she had ensconced herself by the hearthside, rent of her sleeves, weaving dried winter roses across a vine.

"Did I wake you?" she had asked up at him.

His words faltered. Rather a hollow noise whooshed out his lips, his resentment fleeing at the sight of her. How could someone so callow invoke such unease?

"The hour grows late, princess," he would reply stiffly, the reprimand hollow even to his own ears. "It would be wiser to find some sleep before the morn."

"I adore the night," she had said to him. "Without it, you cannot see the stars. There are no shadows, too."

Cregan had expected to hate her. He had expected to find her burdensome, a hardship forced upon him by duty. But he did not. Indeed, he endured her and accommodated her. As unfamiliar as Claere was, there was something fragile beneath the mantle of her mystery. He found himself unable to despise her, though neither could he truly be fond of her. A part of him, born of compassion, wanted to protect her from the world that had turned its back on her. Perhaps, buried beneath her oddities, she yearned for some semblance of a connection she had never known.

It was one of the handmaidens who had come to him, trembling with unease, to speak of her lady’s growing detachment.

"She barely eats, my lord," the young girl had said. "I fear she grows weaker by the day, surviving on little more than water and grain."

"Have you asked the princess what she would prefer? Surely, our larders are rife enough to sustain her... distinct palate," one of the lords from Cregan's council interjected before he could react.

Cregan shot him a sharp, warning glare. He had long since grown weary of the whispers—the looks exchanged behind his back, the way people averted their eyes when his wife entered a room. The court treated her as if she were a curse, a spectre they wished to avoid. It only stoked his resolve to defend her, to ensure she was not devoured by their disdain. Claere was different, but she was not an object to be mocked.

The maid shifted uneasily. "I have spared no effort in this. Though, there is another issue, my lord."

The Stark lord sighed. "Aye, go on."

"Her ladies have dwindled to nought. I am only charged to tend to her meals, if not no one."

Cregan's heart sank at the thought. He wanted to believe that Claere was merely adjusting to her new life, that in time she would settle. But with each passing day, it became harder to ignore the isolation tightening its grip around her.

"And what, pray tell, has come over them to spurn their service to the Lady of Winterfell?" His voice was low but the threat in it was unmistakable.

The handmaiden lowered her head, unwilling to speak the truth aloud, yet the answer was clear enough. Fear. The court, the smallfolk, her own attendants—everyone was frightened of Claere.

When his eyes bore into her, she hesitated whilst wringing her hands. "We see strange things where the dragon sleeps. My lady's songs... people say they hear them echoing in the courtyard when there is no one."

"These slights must cease at once," he hissed, his voice barely above a murmur, but the weight behind it made the girl flinch. "Claere is a princess of the realm, moreover your lady. Any who fail in their duty will answer to me. Am I clear?"

She nodded hurriedly. "Yes, my lord," she stammered, bowing before retreating from the hall.

And when the next issue reached him, it was, once again, centred on the most pressing concern: Claere's dragon.

"We are unable to feed the beast, my lord," a nervous steward reported, his voice trembling as he stood before Cregan. "The men refuse to go near it. Even the bravest among them say they hear odd noises from its holding."

Cregan's brow furrowed deeply. "Are they afraid of a dragon doing what dragons do—eat?"

"It's not just that, my lord," the steward began, his voice shaky. "We simply do not have the numbers to sustain it. We've lost livestock faster than we can replenish, and there is not enough game in the woods this season. Our people will be left with nothing if it continues like this."

Cregan stood from his chair, pacing toward the hearth as the steward’s words sank in. Feeding Claere's dragon was becoming a task fraught with superstition and suspicion—neither of which he could afford in Winterfell. And now that dragon was a looming menace not just for its size, but even for its insatiable appetite. If they couldn't meet its needs, there was no telling what havoc it might wreak.

"I will take her out to hunt on the morrow," a hushed voice spoke up from across the room.

Cregan turned sharply to see Claere standing in the entrance, her pale little figure silhouetted against the dim light of the corridor. No one had even heard her approach.

A rush of murmurs, of "my lady" and "your grace", went across the sparse crowd in the hall.

For the first time, he noticed how discomfited she seemed with the attention on her. She had courteous bows for the little council of lords before she stood before Cregan, silvery hair left dishevelled and her thin lavender silks trailing by her feet. The toll of her attendant's dearth was evident, how she had to cope alone these past days.

“You heard all that?” he muttered to her, trying to mask the unease.

Claere nodded, unruffled. Then she mellowly addressed the rest of the council who was seated and the anxious steward.

"Luna will no longer be a burden to you," she assured. "Thereafter, I will fly her beyond the Wall. There must be plenty of wild herds there that would satisfy her. And it will keep her from Winterfell's rife supply for a time."

While the disparaged lord hung his head, Cregan's breaths began to constrict. The idea of Claere—of anyone—venturing beyond the Wall unsettled him, but the alternative was just as threatening. It was dangerous to let someone so young, so inexperienced roam in the ancient, Northern wilderness. The risks were too great, even for a dragonrider. His argument would be proved right by the last Targaryen who visited the wall, Claere's own great-great-grandmother, the Good Queen Alysanne and her dragon, Silverwing.

His gaze never left Claere as the lords around them voiced their concern, exclaiming how unwise it was for her to embark beyond Castle Black in such perilous times. Yet, she stood before them as cold and unbothered as ever, her violet eyes betraying no hint of fear or doubt.

"You plan to hunt beyond the Wall alone, as winter draws nigh?" Cregan asked, laced with tension. "You would risk that?"

One of his bannermen, old and discerning to the dangers of the North, came forth with an incredulous look. "A Southerner such as you would have no idea of the true perils beyond Whitetree, my lady. Five hundred years have passed since the last great threat, and still, we are not entirely certain what lurks in the darkness. If it isn't the cold that claims you, it might be wildlings or worse—barbed, spindly creatures, drawn from the blackest legends."

Claere tilted her head slightly as if the lord’s words were of little consequence to her. As if she knew something about the Land of Always Winter that he did not.

"Do not fret, ser," Claere replied, gentle yet astute. "Luna is fearsome when she needs to be. She is not just any dragon—she is the last living relic of Old Valyria, a mere egg when Aenar the Exile first claimed Dragonstone. She will protect me."

Her words should have been reassuring, but they left Cregan with a hollow pit in his stomach. It wasn’t her confidence in the dragon that troubled him—it was her complete lack of concern for the threats she would face. He had seen fear in men’s eyes before, but Claere’s violet gaze was barren, as though no amount of danger or uncertainty could touch her.

"You speak of Luna’s strength as if it is enough," Cregan finally said, his voice low. "But what of your own?"

"You needn’t concern yourself with my safety," she replied, her tone as impassive as her expression.

He studied her closely, weighing his options and her obvious solutions, searching her enchanting face for some flicker of apprehension. There was nothing. It irked him to no extent. Did nothing shake her? Did nothing put her off?

"I am the Warden of the North," he bit out. "Your safety is under my jurisdiction."

She shrugged one side of her shoulder. "Then it appears we have reached an impasse, my lord."

Her words were calm and detached, as though she were discussing the weather. Cregan's patience wore thin, his protective instincts clashing with her indifference.

He strode to her side, towering over her, his imposing figure blocking them from the view of the council. Claere leaned away, her eyes dipping down, her face contorting in disquiet at his proximity. Yet he pressed on, tucking a finger under her chin, forcing her gaze back to him.

"Don't," he tried to protest.

"Look at me," he urged, his grip tightening as frustration bled into his words. "I cannot risk you for something as feckless as a hungry pet. Do you understand me, Claere?"

Her gaze flicked up to meet his. For a brief moment, it was as if she were on the verge of revealing some hidden truth, some implicit fear or vulnerability.

"You do not risk me. 'Tis I who take the risk," she said, her voice painfully even.

Cregan's jaw clenched, his exasperation palpable as he released her chin, stepping back but still glaring at her. He could protect Winterfell, the North, and his people—but her? He was not so convinced anymore.

"Fine. Do as you wish," he surrendered. "Ride past the Wall."

She offered him nothing more than a parting curtsey as if she had already said too much. With that, Claere turned to leave the room but his words stopped her dead in her tracks.

"However, I will ride with you."

For a moment, she remained still, her back to him. Slowly, she turned her head, glancing at him over her shoulder. And finally—there it was.

A flicker of astonishment in her violet eyes. A break in the mask of indifference she so carefully maintained. Her lips parted, but no words came. Something deeper, more vulnerable, flickered in her violet gaze, a shadow of doubt or unease, quickly concealed again behind her calm facade.

"Why?" she asked, her foremost intuition to always suspect goodwill.

"It's not a request," Cregan replied, his tone brooking no arguments. "If you are to face danger, you will not do it alone."

Claere’s gaze lingered on him for a beat longer before she gave a slight, almost imperceptible nod. Without another word, she turned once more and left the room, the heavy doors closing behind her with a quiet thud.

Cregan stood still, watching the place where she had just been, and where no one could see him, broke out into a triumphant smirk. This was it then, a game at which two could play. If she was a tempest, then he would be the steadfast mountain, immovable against the storm.

X

thank you for reading! idk how a taglist works but I'd love to hear your thoughts <3

[sapphire-writes]

Playing with Fire

Part 1 | Part 2 | Part 3 | Part 4

pairing: Aemond Targaryen x Reader x Aegon II Targaryen

summary: You travel to the capital, as Prince Aegon intends to take a wife at the command of the King. Much to your surprise, more than one Targaryen prince catches your eye.

warnings: none for this part other than some sensual themes

word count: 4k

A/N: as Katherine Pierce once said, "it's okay to love them both😏"

masterlist

King Viserys announced a ball, to be held within the Red Keep, crafted for his eldest son Aegon to choose a bride. Maidens traveled from all corners of the seven kingdoms and beyond, to attend and vie for Prince Aegon’s affections. You were to be no exception, much to your displeasure. 

Your family had carted you off to the capital, though you put up quite a fight. You did not wish to marry yet, let alone marry Prince Aegon. You had heard nothing but promiscuous rumors about him from ladies returning from their times in the capital. 

Nearly all returned with a story about Prince Aegon; stealing to their rooms in the night or pulling them to darkened corridors only for them to leave with lips bruised from kissing and ruffled skirts. The prince was said to be quite lustful and gluttonous. 

You would listen, eyes wide, as they recalled their stories with blushing cheeks and girlish giggles. One lady even showed the lovebites Prince Aegon had adorned her neck with, pushing back her hair and revealing the purple bruises that had just begun to fade to a deep jade color. 

Prince Aegon was reminiscent of a wolf in your mind, or perhaps a dragon like that of his house sigil. An all-powerful creature who devoured whomever he desired. 

Alas, as the only daughter of your family, it was time for you to find a husband. A prince was too enticing of an offer for your family to keep you at home. You simply would have to avoid Prince Aegon and hope he would not take a liking to you. You figured it should be easy enough to do, he would surely be preoccupied with the dozens of ladies who had come for him.

Still, the night of the ball you found yourself clinging to the corners of the room. Your mother had traveled to the capital with you and was eager to present you to the dragon prince. She had a new gown tailored for you, the soft pink color of a rose from the Reach. Your hair was done in an elaborate style, with silver pins that shone like stars in the candlelight. You slouched into the crowd, spotting her looking for you. 

“Seven hells,” you murmured to yourself, ducking behind a servant carrying a tray of empty goblets. You can hear her voice above the music, calling your name. The serving girl gives you a startled look and you smile at her, apologetically.

You moved swiftly to avoid her, taking cover behind Cassandra Baratheon who is eagerly looking for Aegon. She glances down at you, blue eyes narrowing. She looks breathtakingly beautiful, clad in a sapphire-colored gown that matches her eyes, and makes her pale skin luminescent. Her dark hair is pulled back from her face, spilling down her back. Cassandra has come dressed the part of a princess. 

“What are you doing?” she asks, nose wrinkling. She waves the fan she holds, the fabric matching that of her gown. She barely acknowledges your presence, long neck craning over the crowd hunting for Prince Aegon. 

“Hiding,” you hiss, looking around nervously. Cassandra rolls her eyes folding her fan and whacking you with it on the arm. 

“Ouch!” you yelp, swatting at her. 

“Get away from me!” she scolds, “you shall make me look foolish!”

You make a face at the Baratheon, sticking out your tongue, before dashing to the opposite side of the room. You had briefly resided in Storm’s End when you were a child, as a ward to the Baratheons. Needless to say, you and Cassandra did not get along well. 

You heard your mother’s call once more and panicked, as the crowd began to part. Glancing to your left, you spotted a long table covered with food for grazing guests. The tablecloth was long and dusted against the floor. In your panic you dropped to your knees, and climbed under the table, fixing the tablecloth behind you. 

You exhaled a deep breath as you pushed yourself back, sitting completely under the table. You could hear the crowd around you, but you were hidden. Well, almost. In your haste your slipper had come off, and it lay sticking halfway out from under the table. 

Your eyes widened as you reached for it before it was pulled from your sight. Lifting the table cloth you stuck your head out to address the thief. 

Prince Aemond stood inspecting your slipper, brows furrowed in confusion. He looked very regal, in an outfit such a deep, rich green it almost appeared black. Gold trimmed the cuffs of his sleeves, and down the front of his shirt. You were admiring him until his violet eye met yours.

You had heard of the accident that happened to Aemond when he was a boy but you had never met him. A deep scar marred half his face before disappearing underneath an eyepatch and reappearing through his brow. Aemond’s face twisted in confusion as he looked down at you. 

“What are you doing, my lady?” he asked, voice stiff but polite. He spoke as though he could not be bothered by your foolishness. 

“Please, my prince,” you said in a hushed whisper, reaching for your shoe. Aemond did not move, still perplexed. You could hear your mother’s voice, as she chatted, followed by Cassandra Baratheon’s irritating call. 

“Why are you under- ooof!” 

Aemond was not someone who was easily surprised. But surprise him you did. Without thinking you slammed your hand into the hard muscles of his stomach, grabbing his shirt. The prince doubled over and you pulled him under the table with you. 

Aemond looked at you incredulously, shocked that he was overpowered by a maiden.

“I do apologize, my prince,” you said in earnest, hoping he would spare you his fury. You wore a desperate expression on your face, your eyes pleading. People had lost their hands entirely for putting them upon royalty, and you were rather fond of your extremities. You continue to stare at him, eyes wide, as you are crouched on your knees. 

Aemond had no idea who you were, other than some noble lady. His lips parted as he watched you, his hand still holding your slipper. Your eyes dropped to it. 

“May I have my shoe?” you asked, and Aemond jerked his head in a nod, but did not return your slipper. He felt very confused with the entirety of the situation. Aemond was not used to such tomfoolery. 

“My lady,” he began, “why are you hiding under a table?”

You wet your lips, eyes still nervous. You swallow before answering, still nervous that the prince may drag you by your hair to the nearest black cell. 

“I am hiding.”

“That is obvious,” he said, the corners of his mouth turning upwards, “from whom?”

“My mother,” you say, flinching as a shadow moves past, “she wishes to introduce me to Prince Aegon.”

Aemond hums, tucking a knee towards his chest and resting his arm atop it. He does not need further explanation. His eye roams over your form, over the dress you wear, and the layer of sweat that coats your forehead and throat from your antics. Your hairstyle is disheveled, several pins seem to be out of place, but the ones that remain sparkle in the light that sneaks through the tablecloth. 

You meet his eye and feel your cheeks turn red at his attention. He is devilishly handsome, with his silky, long silver hair and purple eye that seems to peer into your soul. The eyepatch and scar only make him seem more dangerous, causing your palms to sweat nervously. 

“I apologize, it was rather rude to involve you,” you tell him, glancing towards the floor.

Aemond chuckles, the sound coming from deep in his chest. You smile weakly at the sound, having not expected it. 

“This is the most interesting thing that has occurred all evening,” he assures you, “unless, of course, you count Lady Tyrell’s gown mishap.”

He watches your eyes widen and mouth open at his shared gossip. Aemond smiles, happy to have engaged you. He watches as the nervousness begins to fall from your face, and your shoulders relax. 

“What happened?” you ask, brows lifting in curiosity. 

“One of her sleeves caught on Lord Manderly’s broach, and tore,” he tells you, watching you cover your mouth to stifle your giggles. 

“Disasterous indeed,” you snicker and Aemond feels his lips tug into a smile. You laugh once more at the thought. A moment goes by, the pair of you sitting in silence. 

“You are free to leave my prince,” you tell him, “I do not mean to hold you, hostage.” 

“It is quite alight,” he says, earnestly, “I am enjoying the distraction.”

Aemond found this whole affair a slap in the face. Aegon was not interested in marriage, nor was he suited for it. He would rather indulge with any lady, servant, or whore he could get his hands on. 

Yet their father insisted on this spectacle for Aegon to take a wife. If he did fail to do so, Aemond knew the small council was plotting for Aegon to marry their sister Helaena. Aemond did not know which plan he hated more. 

A hand reached the edge of the tablecloth and your mother’s face became visible. Behind her stood a smirking Cassandra Baratheon. 

“Y/N,” your mother hissed, pulling you from under the table. Embarrassment was evident in her voice and you hung your head as she scolded you. 

“There, I told you Lady (Y/L/N),” Cassandra said, in a nasally voice. You scowled at her, as her face twisted in confusion as Aemond exited the table behind you. He stands holding his arms crossed behind his back. You did not realize how tall he was, he towers above you. 

“She behaves like a child,” Cassandra snaps, a shrewd smile on her lips. 

“You are a horrible cow, Cass,” you hiss at her, causing her to sneer. The look fades as she takes in Prince Aemond behind you and she bats her lashes, fanning herself. 

“Oh, my,” your mother said, looking towards Prince Aemond, “your grace.”

She begins to curtsey but Aemond waves her off.

“No need, my lady,” he told her, offering you both a smile, “I was just delighted by your daughter’s company.” Aemond holds your slipper out to show your mother. You glance towards the floor, your bare foot hidden under your skirts. 

“The lady simply lost her slipper, it rolled under the table you see,” he lies to your mother, who nods at his words. A starstruck expression is plastered on her face as she gazes up at the handsome prince. A dreamy smile plays on her mouth. 

You purse your lips, fighting a smile that threatened to appear. Aemond turned to you then, violet eye gleaming, as though acknowledging the secret he kept for you.  

“May I?” he asked, gesturing towards your foot. You nodded and he knelt before you. Aemond curled his hand around your ankle, lifting your foot from the floor and helping you inside your slipper. 

“There,” he said, looking up at you, “no harm done.”

You hear Cassandra scoff behind you, but your mother looks pleased. 

“Thank you, my prince,” you tell Aemond, as he stands. You feel fluttering in your stomach as he holds your gaze. Your ankle tingles where his hand has been.

“I do hope we run into each other again, during your stay in the capital,” he tells you.

“I should like that, very much, my prince.”

“Aemond,” he insists. 

“Aemond,” you say, enjoying the sound of his name on your tongue, with no titles attached. You smile tentatively as his name lingers in the space between you. 

Aemond bids your mother farewell and departs toward the other side of the room. Your mother locks her hand around your arm. 

“That is not the prince we came for,” she scolds, but you can tell Aemond still has her flustered. Her face is flushed, as though she is remembering her youth. She fans herself with a gloved hand. 

“You are blushing, mother,” you tease and she shoos you away, “where is Prince Aegon then?”

You glance around the room, and the only other silver-crowned head you spot is that of Princess Helaena who is engaged in a dance with her grandsire. Your mother instructed you earlier to befriend the princess, something she would surely remind you to do on the morrow as well. 

“You are too late,” Cassandra calls, fanning herself once more. You roll your eyes at her eavesdropping. Ever the nosy gossip, Cassandra is. 

“The prince has left for the night. I assume he found someone to entertain him,” Cassandra says, feigning that this does not bother her. You see through her though; Cassandra believes she is already married to Aegon in her mind. 

You flush at her words. Targaryens seem to have insatiable appetites. You bring your gaze back to your mother who frowns. 

“Do you hear how she talks of him?” you ask, “do you truly wish a man like that for me?”

Your mother scoffs at your concerns. 

“He would give you a dozen children then, several grandchildren for me,” she says, patting your arm. Your eyes widen in horror at the thought. Your mother has no qualms with you marrying a lecherous man, then. She sees your expression and gives you a look of a mother’s aggravation. 

“Do not look at me like that,” she tells you, “you need not be scared of the marriage bed.”

“Easy for you to say,” you tell her, sighing, “you are not a maiden.”

“I was once,” she says, tone hardening, “when the time is right, I shall tell you all you need know. It need not be frightening.” 

You remember the bruises on the lady’s neck and know your mother must be lying to you. How could they be born of something pleasurable? 

“May I go to bed, now that the prince is gone?” you ask and your mother sighs, before shaking her head. 

“I have been without your company all evening, you shall stay a while longer.”

You stay much longer than you intend, getting lost in gossip with your mother and other lords and ladies of court. You are even able to introduce yourself to Princess Helaena, who captures your attention with her latest fascination with an insect found on the islands of the Jade Sea. She had been reading about it, and her eyes lit up when talking about it.  

The hour is late when your mother leaves you to retire to the guest chambers you share. You linger behind to hear Lord Beesbury finish a tale. You find yourself wandering the Red Keep, searching for your chambers. 

You pass by several goldcloaks who murmur to you, politely. You yawn, as you turn a corner, walking down a corridor lit by recently revived torches. The servants of the Keep must have been told to refresh them with all the late running festivities. 

A noise catches your attention; the squeaking hinge of a door being opened followed by a giggle. The shape of a lady appears, her green dress sparkling in the light. She has red hair, and you recognize her but cannot recall her name. Your eyes widen as she smiles, hand outstretched behind her, holding onto someone. 

She pulls her partner towards her, and your eyes nearly pop out of your skull. The silver hair is unmistakable. His hair is shorter than his brother, though he wears a similar outfit to that of Aemond. His shirt is untucked and you notice the laces of the lady’s corset are loose, as though restrung in haste. Prince Aegon grins as he reaches to cup the lady’s cheeks, covering her lips in a passionate kiss. 

You stand frozen and unnoticed by the pair, entranced by their embrace. The lady makes a whimpering noise as Aegon’s hand slips down her throat, the other holding her waist against him. He removes his lips from hers, only to bring them to the side of her throat. Your lips part as you watch him kiss her neck as though it were her lips. The lady seems to enjoy this, tangling her hands in his short locks.

You are so hypnotized by Aegon’s actions, you don’t notice when the lady’s eyes open to a half-lidded stare. Her eyes widen as notices you observing them. The lady shrieks, pushing Aegon away from her. 

“What?” he grumbles, as the lady smoothes her skirt, fleeing the scene with a reddened face. Aegon watches as she rushes by you, his violet eyes meeting yours. 

Your eyes are wide, lips parted in shock, and you feel as though your feet are rooted to where you stand. Though your mind is telling you to run away, following the fleeing lady, you stare at the prince. Aegon stands shorter than his brother, his shoulders slouched in a carefree manner. His hair is wavy, the strands ending near his jaw. Like his brother, he is painfully handsome. A curse all Targaryens seem to bear. 

Aegon wets his lips, which are a shining feature of his face. Reddened and plumped from kissing, begging to be kissed again. It is as though the gods molded them for kissing and kissing alone. Aegon’s mouth opens, and his brows come together, as he takes a lazy step toward you. 

“I do not know you,” he says, his lips downturned into a pout. You swallow hard.

“I am Lady Y/N, my prince,” you tell him, clasping your hands in front of you, trying to stop them from fiddling nervously. 

“Lady Y/N,” he says your name slowly, as though tasting it. “I did not see you at the ball.”

“I was there, my prince,” you tell him, knowing your efforts of avoiding him were in vain, “it appears I did not make an impression.”

His lips turn into a smile, revealing a row of shiny white teeth. He runs his tongue over his bottom lip drawing your eyes toward his mouth.

“I should bid you goodnight, my prince,” you say urgently, turning to leave. 

“Wait!” he calls, a quickens his steps until coming to face you. 

His eyes narrow, a smile still playing on his face.

“How did I not see you?” he asks, “I always remember a pretty face.”

You feel your face flush. No matter how much he frightens you, flirtation with a prince is not something you are used to. 

“I do not know, my prince,” you tell him, flustered by his compliment. 

He sinks his teeth into his lower lip as though enjoying how you squirm beneath his gaze. 

“Come have a drink with me,” he offers, “and we can review your evening, and why we did not make each other’s acquaintance.”

Insatiable indeed. The prince was just with a maiden, and yet here he stands, planning his next course. He holds out a hand to you, a glimmer of mischief in his eye. You can picture the ladies who stood in your shoes before you, who said yes to him. Who indulged him in the pleasures of the known world. You could do so too if you so desired. His voice is inviting, a sensual caress. 

“May I speak freely, my prince?” you ask and he nods, curiously.

“I am quite frightened.”

Aegon’s head snaps back at that. 

“Frightened?” 

You nod. 

He takes a step back from you, hands held out in surrender. 

“There is no need to be frightened, my lady,” he tells you, “I wish you no harm, only the pleasure of your company.”

Your breath comes out shakily. 

“I do not wish you to bed me,” you tell him, rushing out the words, “I do not wish you to take my maidenhead.”

Aegon’s eyes go wide as saucers and he releases a laugh, before shushing you. 

“My lady, we are in a corridor,” he says, looking around as though you’ve made a foolish assumption. Your mouth opens and closes like a fish. 

“I have heard stories,” you tell him and he frowns, though there is amusement in his eyes. 

“Oh, you have?” 

“Yes,” you say, growing annoyed with him, “that you lure helpless maidens into your bed, OR any place that suits you.” You gesture to the corridor you stand in. A bed, a wall, probably on dragonback. It likely did not matter.

Aegon laughs again, a pink blush dusting his cheeks. No one has spoken to him of his reputation so directly before, outside of the members of his family. 

“How lustful of me,” he says, a grin stretching from ear to ear, “you paint me as such a wanton creature Lady Y/N.”

You raise your brows. Aegon stands before you, unashamed. It must be so easy for a prince, to be a man in this world. He is so relaxed with the conversation about his promiscuity. 

“You just had a lady in your company,” you accuse, “and now you look at me like that?”

“Like what?” he asks, leaning against the stone wall, as though the conversation was entirely natural to him. You laugh, breaking his gaze, before looking at him once more. He raises a brow, eyes still half lidded, intrigued. 

“As though you are a man starving, who has happened upon a feast,” you say, laughing at the ridiculousness of it gesturing to the space between you.  

Aegon gives you a once-over with his eyes before answering. A tingle rolls down your spine as his eyes take in every inch of you. You feel naked under his gaze. 

“Perhaps I am famished,” he tells you, and your entire body feels like it is on fire. He is very good at this, and you suddenly realize what makes women want to crawl into bed with him. If this is anything like what pleasure awaits the marriage bed, perhaps your mother was right. 

Aegon wets his lips when you do not answer, tilting his head against the wall, and exposing his neck to you. You watch the apple of his throat bob up and down and have a sudden urge to place a kiss on it. You roll your shoulders back, steadying yourself.

“Yes well,” you stutter, trying to find words, “perhaps there are leftovers from the feast.”

“Are you in the capital long?’ he asks suddenly changing the subject. You blink, the room suddenly seeming uncomfortably warm. 

“Yes, my prince, at least-”

“Good,” he interrupts, pushing off the wall and walking towards you. He comes to stand face to face with you, so close you can feel the heat radiating from his body, smell the sweet wine on his breath from the feast and something else; something rich and smoky that makes you want to bury your face in his chest and inhale. 

“I shall have that drink with you,” he says, eyes locked on yours until the final word he speaks. Only then does he drop his eyes to your parted lips, before bringing them back to your eyes. He flashes you a smile, before continuing his leave in the direction you came. 

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he calls and you turn, confused by his exit. There was something in the air between you that promised something more. The tension gnawing at you. Aegon has begun walking backward slowly, so he could face you, a smirk on his lips, as he takes in your expression. You feel your thoughts are not safe around him. 

“Goodnight, my prince,” you manage to choke out, head spinning from the interaction. 

“Aegon,” he insists.

“Aegon,” you repeat and he tilts his head back, as though enjoying hearing you speak his name. 

Then he turns on his heel and is gone. 

When you finally make it to your chambers, the sky has begun to lighten with the promise of imminent sunrise. You lay in bed, thoughts racing and heart pounding. Your dreams are restless, filled with dragon princes with silver hair and lavender eyes.

[cardigan-ns]

Wandering Star

Pairing: Diego Hargreeves x Reader

Summary: Your parents helped run the commission with the handler, Reginald hargreeves somehow caught wind of this and invited you to help on missions with the umbrella academy as a child. You befriended the Hargreeves, becoming one with the group, you fell in love with Diego, even though it was never technically good for either of you. Later to find out you don’t have a marigold, your power is something much stronger.

Synopsis: HERE. PART2. <- here

A/N: PART 1 - this will be a series, lemme know what you think of it, I’ll have it on Ao3 soon.

On the first of October 1989, 43 women gave birth, having not been pregnant when the day first began. Reginald hargreeves adopted seven such children, Luther, Diego, Allison, Klaus, Five, Ben and Viktor. He trained them up to be an elite academy, to save the end of the world, and to bring his wife home from the moon, that last part they weren’t in on. They’d go on missions and save people, causing some destruction in the meantime.

That was until on their 13th year, Reginald called them down to the grand foyer, alerting them he had someone he’d like to show them. The seven kids stood confused as there was a strange suited man with a young girl at the door. The man was holding a briefcase and the girl holding a small bag, looking annoyed to even be there.

“Children, this is your new comrade. Y/N Bardot.” You looked up at the old man introducing you to a bunch of wannabes. You could fight miles better than them, you’ve time travelled and assassinated multiple people fucking up the previous timeline. Yet the hargreeves think they’re something special. Your eyes scanned each and every one of them, each of their emotions similar, that, you could feel. Except for one of them, he stood second in line, flipping a knife, trying to intimidate you, only making you roll your eyes and laugh at how dull his tactic was, yet you had to take one more look, he felt different than anyone else your powers picked up, he wouldn’t shake from your mind.

“Is she even capable?” He chirped, angrily, typical boy, you thought, you been exposed to too many rageful assassins in your time, Diego was on his way to being another stuck up prick. You looked at the boy, flicking your hand and suddenly he started crying, your power made him see his worst fear, needles, making you hold back a little amusement. Reginald looked at you excited, he was proud. You acknowledged his approval, while Diego stormed off to the kitchen.

You’d been brought here by your father, Peter. He was a head organiser at the commission, along with your mother, Eliza. They had you unexpectedly on the same day the hargreeves came along. Just like the umbrellas, you had powers, extended empathy. It was a lot more than intuition and premonition, you could warp, ripple and even freeze someone’s emotions, sometimes causing them to be in a loop of anything you’d like them to feel. It was amazing, you had the world in your hands. Their world. Your parents were horrified yet proud at your arrival, immediately declaring that you’d continue the Bardot name, and that you did, being the youngest assassin on the entire commission. Except for Lila of course, but she can’t use her power unless you’re there. That brightened your ego significantly, being raised to believe you’re better, which was going to make staying here for the summer a difficult ride.

“Where’s she staying?” Luther asked his father, he seemed stuck up, you coined. You’d declared he hated this predicament. Reginald gave Luther a look of bewilderment at this question, as if he was being very rude. “Why boy, she’s staying here for the summer. Keep this up and she’s taking your room.” Their number 1 immediately kept quiet, now annoyed and guilty that he made his father mad.

“I’ve heard you have 43 bedrooms, I’m sure there’s room for me to squeeze in.” You spoke sarcastically to Luther, which made Five let out a dry laugh at how high strung you were. You looked at the gelled haired boy, he had a smirk painted on his face, as if he respected you, you liked that. But you looked at your father who now gave you a stern look, you just nodded, it was his ‘be nice’ look, god you wished your mother had brought you, your father was way too nice to strangers, made you wonder how he came so far. You huffed and started swingling your back slowly, a little bored of just standing at the front entrance.

Allison then walked over to you, she touched your hand and it glowed a little, that’s never happened with you before, you froze up a little at the sudden lilac highlight to your fingertips. Your power was usually invisible. But as soon as she spoke the glow dimmed and your apprehension eased, “Come on, I’ll show you around, it’s good to have another girl around.” Reginald dismissed the children and he then took your father into his office for a meeting. You knew how they usually went, you were debriefed on it already, you’d visit here every summer and winter, and spend fall and spring at the commission, a season swapping between lives, for the foreseeable future. You didn’t like that arrangement at first, but you were a weapon who didn’t have a say, causing you to see this as something to hate.

The boys retreated to their rooms, Allison giving you a tour of the entire house, around 20 minutes went by, you got very irritated all of a sudden, then you looked to where the girl was taking you, down the bedroom halls, you’d be across from Diego, great. What a joy. You walked into your new room, setting your bag on the desk, a lady was there already making your bed, the room smelt like fresh paint and air freshener. You looked over at Allison wondering who this lady was. “That’s our mom, Grace, she’s a robot.”

She taught you of their parental situation and you soon clocked that they have never met their birth parents, that actually made you sad, for once since you got here, you didn’t know if that was just because you picked up on Allison or that you realised were going to suffer being in a shoebox room for 3 months at a time. “Purple” you looked at the wall, making Grace turn to look at you, a simple smile on her robotic frame. “I had a feeling you’d like it, dear.” She was wonderful, she was correct, it was your favourite colour. “Thank you.” You thought it was only right to be kind to her, after all she had no choice but to be a machine, following orders, just like you.

You and Allison left your room, your heart feeling heavy suddenly as you walked closer to Diego’s room. Why the hell was this happening, you could usually just project emotions onto people, now it’s affecting your actual body. Not in the way it usually worked, you’d feel empathy obviously but not just randomly out of nowhere, you knew it wasn’t Allison feeling this, and not Diego, you could differentiate. And you weren’t going through anything to enable this. “This is Diego, whom you’ve made your stance clear on…” Allison spoke, a little humour in her tone as she found you making Diego cry funny. Allison left the room, seeing to that you spend some time with each sibling, her tour over.

“What’re you bringing her in here for?!” Diego spoke loudly at an exiting Allison, he threw a knife at you, tad bit aggressive, it hit the wall, he didn’t actually want to physically impale your brains. You gave him an angered look, you just got here and now he’s being violent, you took everything within you to not use your practiced training on him, you’d win of course. But as your father said, “They’re your equals. Not your enemies.” You just walked to the wall and yanked the knife off of it, suddenly, your eyes glowed white, making you halt, seeing him imagining throwing it right at your head, you falling to the ground. Your eyes went back to normal and Diego gave you a concerned look.

“Why’d you go all thriller?” He stood from his bed yanking the knife from you, the contact with both your skin causing his fingertips to glow a purple colour, just like yours did earlier when Allison touched your hand, only now it actually lingering, not vanishing, it was now rushing up his veins, and his face grew more and more pissed of as it retreated up his arm. “What the fuck?” You were concerned until you then felt it too, you looked at your arm, the purple glow absorbing into your skin. You looked up at Diego a little defensive. “Look I didn’t do this. I don’t know what’s happening.” He just gripped the knife and pushed you out of his room, slamming the door. You just stood in the hallway, hearing Ben and Viktor talking in Bens room. You’d hoped to god your father hadn’t left yet, you were scared.

You ran through the academy and down into Reginald’s office, getting stopped by a chimpanzee, this wasn’t the weirdest thing you’d ever seen, your board of directors for the commission was a man with a fish for a head. “Uhm, I need to see my father.” You looked really petrified at what just happened between you and Diego, hell, even you and Allison. What was wrong with these kids? “Madam Bardot, I’m afraid your father has just left.” Your face contorted into heartache, which is what the chimp was feeling, why? “Wha- he didn’t even say goodbye. I’m gonna be here all summer.” Usually you didn’t care but today you felt especially homesick. “Please, come with me.” He ushered you to walk with him downstairs further into the kitchen which lay in the basement.

Klaus was in there, sleeping on the sofa across the arch, you coined that he’d crashed out from lack of sleep from treacherous outings in a mausoleum. Pogo poured you a cup of apple juice and sat by you. “You’re different than the rest, dear.” He just immediately broke the news, causing you to become angry. “The hells that supposed to mean?” He put his hands together. “Your power isn’t the same source as the hargreeves children. Yours is a Durango.” Your eyes questioned him, you didn’t truly know much about how you got a power but it was called a Durango? That was cool you figured. “The hargreeves have what’s called a Marigold. They aren’t meant to mix per se, but when they do, its effects may mean trouble.” Its effects may mean trouble. Wow great. So why on earth did Reginald scout you knowing its dangers. “So I’m a fucking time bomb as long as I’m their presence.” Your language was sour for someone of your age, and that made pogo wince. “Language, madam.” It made you shut up, and let him speak. “Only if you make contact with one another. Some marigolds are okay, some are more severe of an impact. 5 percent have a reaction.” Hence why you felt calm with Allison and hostile with Diego, yet through that hostility brought you unbearable magnetism. “You’re fine with contact with all but Diego. Master Hargreeves noticed that when you walked through the door. He alerted your father of its danger in their meeting. I’m only telling you now because nobody else had the decency to.” As pogo concluded your debrief, your mind wouldn’t shake Diego. You craved to be around him or atleast just see him ever since he kicked you out of his room, but it was easy to push back for now, but it wouldn’t be for long. You rose from the table and ran up to your room.

The sheets now on, the room still pulling your senses with the fresh paint, you lay there, unknowing of what to do.

How were you meant to go forever without accidentally bumping into them. What if the longer you stayed here you became friends, you wouldn’t be able to hold hands, hug. It’s vile. A life of torture that you’re not allowed to become close to them in extended amounts. Even though the rest of them could handle your durangos presence, It still meant that your relationship would be more extreme than an average one. It’s almost making you want to more.

You remembered when you sparred with Lila, at commission training, nothing severe happened, she mimicked your Durango power hence cancelling out her marigolds effect. So you thought to yourself, Diego’s the only problem. But he wasn’t a problem. Maybe befriend him, maybe then he won’t hate you so much.

Feeling bored, you stuck a cassette in the player you brought with you, and put your headphones on, listening to some music to calm yourself down but no matter what, that heaviness in your heart and soul were still there. Usually you loved music, you could feel what the singers were feeling when they portrayed the lyrics but now your own absence was taking over, your own emotions, you’ve never had to feel them, usually intellectualising them and shoving them away, but now that you didn’t have to worry about shooting someone in the head everyday, your mind was whirring. You angrily yanked the headphones off and screamed firing the cassette player on the ground, hearing a crack. You immediately snapped out of whatever frenzy you were in and scrambled to the ground to pick it up, as if what you just did wasn’t in your own doing. “Shit shit shit.” You picked up the cracked player and sat back down in defeat, resting it on the bedside table.

It was late anyways so you just laid down in your bed, and slept.

Morning came and you heard a faint alarm ring, Reginald had planted mini speakers in each room to ensure everyone woke up on time, you looked at your door and found a navy boarding school uniform hanging from your door, with a domino mask dangling from the door handle, Grace had left them there, so you were prepared. You’d groggily got changed and immediately you had a vision, Diego and Luther arguing in the living room, then your eyes adjusted back to your room, you were confused at this new ability, it startled you, you hesitated putting your tie on, knowing that after that you were one step closer to walking into the living room and being the new kid who nobody cared about.

As you slipped on and tied your brogue shoes, you flattened your skirt and looked at yourself in the mirror. “Pull yourself together. It’s pathetic how miserable you’re being.” You gave yourself a not-so pep talk and ran briskfully downstairs. Reginald sat at the table, eating his breakfast, starting at you. They’d moved a dining table in here. That was new. “Number 8 you’re unbelievably tardy to breakfast.” He sounded astounded at your rudeness to his meal. You nodded and took a seat beside Viktor at the head of the table, it was chilling how he had you all sit in numbered order. “Sorry, sir.” You corrected your lateness and he just shook his head.

You noticed all of the kids doing their own things which made them individuals. Your stomach churning from hunger and unknowing. Grace handed you a plate of pancakes, with a smiley face on them, it made you smile at how positive your food was. Diego just looked at Grace, wondering why he gave her smiley faces too. That wasn’t fair. As klaus rolled a joint, Ben read a book, Diego carved the table, Allison and Luther mimed a conversation to one another, you and Viktor sat and jumped when five slammed his own knife on the table, begging to time travel. You’d done it many times, your favourite decade was the 80s that past was extremely entertaining and you just wish the hargreeves could fully see it. Having only been born on the last year of it.

Reginald and number five argued back and forth which you figured was an average breakfast thing. But then five stormed out. And that was the last you’d ever see him.

His disappearance confused you greatly, time travel was not to be messed but you messed with it almost bi weekly. They held a local search lookout for him, and you wondered where he’d got himself stuck. He definitely wasn’t here, not in this year at least, any object of his you touched didn’t make you see where he currently was. It worried you.

It’s been 4 weeks since you arrived and 3 weeks and 6 days since five disappeared. You haven’t really spoken to many of the hargreeves except for Allison. You two realised how similar your powers were and just how much chaos you two could bring. She was, and you hated to admit this, your first true best friend. You both adored having another girl around and it made life a little easier admitting things to each-other that you couldn’t tell anyone else. Diego hasn’t spoken to you since your Durango mishap, not a single word, you’d slipped a letter under his door, an angry letter, pleading your innocence, and after you did it, yet again you felt like it wasn’t your own emotions, it must’ve been him causing you to reach those angered states, but you still weren’t so sure why this was causing that effect.

As you and Allison laid on her floor reading magazines; which she rumoured the both of you to get on the front cover of. You were painting each-others nails you got startled when the door burst open. “WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?” Diego yelled and you just looked confused but also your hand glowed a little at his closeness to you again, you haven’t really seen him, he’s got another cut on his face, on his eyebrow, it looked deep, like it would scar.

“What are you talking about?” Allison chimed in now standing up to confront Diego’s forward entrance. Diego just scoffed and pulled up his sleeve to show his arm glowing again, he had a cut on the area where it glowed, as if trying to cut it out. “Ask her!” Diego looked at you and you stood up slowly, looking at the damage that’s been done. “You should stitch that up Diego, let’s go get your mom.” You tried to get him out the door but he just looked at you, “Why’re you even here, nobody wants you and your freakshow.” He spat out and stormed out slamming the door, Allison just pulled you into a hug, seeing how his words hit you, but you pushed her off after a brief comfort, storming out and finding Diego. You pushed him, this caused a rise out of both of you, both extremely volatile in emotions. “I told you, this isn’t just my fault! It’s also yours!” The way you spoke to him, he didn’t like that. He pulled his sleeve down, grabbed your hand, yanking you back to Allison. “Rumour her!” He spoke demandingly. Allison immediately shook her head and got protective over her friend. “Are you crazy?” She shouted at her brother, disgusted that he would suggest she use her power on her. “Do it. Rumour her to go home!” Diego pushed you towards Allison, and she caught you. You just flicked your hand and made Diego locked in a trance of yesterday, making it repeat highlights of his day in his mind, his eyes glowed white and you left allisons room.

These outbursts continued over the years, eventually getting worse and worse until Reginald had to bedrid you guys and forbid you from participating in missions and dinners together, making you take turns with the family, having you train in separate rooms, and eat dinner in bed. Some days were better than others but Reginald couldn’t predict how they would go so he did this as precaution.

You were now 16, it was the 1st of December and you were back from the commission and at the academy, it was a free day and Reginald figured that the power sources in your bodies could calm down for one day. Due to you being away for 3 months prior. He let you see Diego for longer than 15 minutes at a time, that was nice. You sat in the kitchen with the 7 hargreeves, you all sat around playing monopoly, as Ben asked you a question. “How was your fall?” You looked at number six with a ‘god why did you ask this’ smile and you told him, “Gained about 7 more bodies on my kill count.” They all laughed thinking you were fooling them, all laughed except Diego, he’d been having visions of you assassinating people left right and centre with the commission, not bringing it up, in case you admitted to seeing what he’s been up to when he’s alone. Which you’ve seen but won’t admit for the same reason. The hargreeves thought you’d just be home with parents when you weren’t with them, little did they know.

As the night died down, some of the hargreeves retreated to hang out separately, Viktor, Klaus and Ben went to the garden to chill and watch the stars. Allison and Luther both just went to sleep. Diego stayed though, wherever your eyes looked his did too, you said you wanted to stay in the kitchen, he did too. His connection felt different somehow yet still the same. “Thought you were boxing tomorrow? You said you needed an early night.” You relayed what Diego had told the group when you first walked in here earlier that day. “It’s not happening right now, is it?” He was sat beside you just staring at the abandoned bored game. You peered your eyes over to him, he seemed off, as did you when you thought about it, maybe the marigold and Durango had wore off from the both of you. Thankfully. You hated being angry, even though you’ve virtually always felt that way, you wanted the academy to be a calming focus on your life, knowing that after 3 months you’d need to go back to getting blood on your hands again, at least the blood here was minimal and it was mostly rescue missions and retrieving artefacts.

“What’s up your ass?” You spoke in a more bantering way than angry, which made him confused. Obviously it’s been three years since your first big argument but he still always assumed and theorised that it was all your doing, in making him so hostile, even though it wasn’t. Diego chuckled at your question anyways, “Nothing, I’m just sick of not being able to talk to you all the time.” You gave him a pondering look, as if you’d thought he was joking, he despises you why would he miss seeing you. The more you thought on it, you couldn’t really say much, you missed Diego when you’d go back home, non stop talking about him to your parents. You’d miss Diego when Reginald locked you away from one another and you also missed him when he was right in front of you. “Me too. It’s seems like when we’re told to stay away it makes us want to actually talk.” You looked around the room, as you spoke, not exactly wanting to make eye contact in case that send another anger spell through each of your veins. You noticed him nod along and proceed to pull out his favourite knife and start flipping it, it was his comfort thing to do, helping him get through conversations of great thought. You’d noticed that everytime you’d watch the group train outside while you were conditioned to train in the gym upstairs. He did the same with you when it was his turn to do isolated training. He’d look out the window and notice that how every-time you use your power on someone your veins become a little more prominent. Not that he cared or anything…

“Why’d you decide to stay up?” He asked you as he kept flipping the knife as he stood and walked to get one of the cookies that Grace made earlier. He bit into it as you began to speak. “I like the silence.” He narrowed his eyes, his face going a little sour as he didn’t agree. “Don’t you think you get enough of that?.” Yeah, Diego also loved and craved being alone but somehow he missed the human interaction with literally anyone when he got it again. Now that he’s been trained to be alone he wants to refuse it. You just shrugged, your power never really leaving you with much muted mind time, your thoughts always raging, peoples thoughts always raging and their emotions impacting your own down time. “No, I don’t.” You were honest, standing up to get a cookie too, he made you want one by savouring his bites on it, as if it were going to turn into cardboard if he didn’t appreciate it.

You snatched one off the plate, now you took a bite. “So why are you letting me invade your quiet time?” He stood close to you. And as if a dying lightbulb were there, your wrists flickered, the Durango taking shape again, but not fully, you haven’t touched. “Because you won’t leave me alone.” You spoke with fake annoyance, finished your cookie now. His eyes gazed on yours, lingering glances all night left him no other choice, and he thought ‘fuck it’ and pulled you in for a kiss. It was a little awkward seeing as it was both your first kiss, but also felt like you were destined to do it. His hand cupped your cheek and yours wrapped around his waist. It didn’t last too long but the spark was there, he pulled away hastily and sat down, running his hands through his hair. “I shouldn’t have done that, fuck.” You stood there, not angry and not happy, just a middle emotion you’ve never seemed to feel, definitely not like this. “Then why’d you do it?” You asked a little pissed now, there we go, you’re back on track. The Durango reminding you it’ll never leave. He looked at you, tilting his head, taking in your every movement of the face. “I needed to.” He spoke now completely dazed, knowing that he wanted and craved doing that since you left to see your parents again in the fall. “Ah, but you said you shouldn’t have done it. Sounds pretty mixed, can you make up your goddamn mind?” Your words made him bothered, but you didn’t know what to think, you’ve never gotten along, you’ve been moral frenemies and now he kissed you and is giving you two reason as to why he should and shouldn’t have done it. He stood up, slinging his knife back in its holder and pointed his finger to you, “I’ll make up my mind when you learn to fucking see me.” He seemed hurt by that, as if he’s been trying to signal he’s liked you for a while, but he hasn’t. “I’m not a mind reader, Diego.” He scoffed at your excuse, grabbing your wrist. “You are, actually.” Signalling that he knows you had visions of him while you were gone, just like he had of you, he wasn’t stupid so why on earth were you making this so difficult on him.

“You were right. You shouldn’t have done it.” You pushed him away from you and made your way to your room, you knew in the morning you’d beg Reginald to keep you away from him again. Not ready to admit your drowning feelings.

Note: okay this was part one, an introduction before the season one part, part 2 will be them when they’ve left the academy at 17.

Tags: @shadowbriar @total-lunareclipse4 @vesper4seance

[redheadspark]

Trust

Summary - Azriel takes his son flying for the first time

Warnings - Fluff with a hint of smut

Author's Note - I am thinking of turning this into a series with Azriel, the reader, and their son! Let me know if you want to see a series for it!

“Today’s the day!  Are we ready?”

“You should be asking his mother that very question.”

You grinned as you turned around to see both Feyre and Rhysand standing together, hand in hand as they were watching for your reaction.  But their eyes were down to your hands that were clenched tight together, almost in a death grip.  It rang bells in Feyre’s head, she immediately walked over and took your hands together in her own to make you unclasp your fingers.

“You alright?” She asked, you nodding and taking in a long breath as she spoke once more, “It’s going to be fine, okay?”

“Nothing will happen, you have my word,” Rhysand vowed to you as he too walked over to place a reassuring hand on your arm to give you some sense of comfort, “I’ll be there for every moment of it, I promise.  And you know your husband wouldn’t let anything happen, not on his watch.”

“I know,” You said to him, reaching over to squeeze his hand, “I know it’s going to be fine and you both will be there.  It’s just….this is a lot.”

“It is,” Feyre hummed in agreement, her warm smile giving you a sense of comfort as she leaned against her mate and husband, “’ I was feeling the same thing you’re feeling with Nyx.  But I knew deep down he was easy, and so is your son,”

You were both excited and dreading this day for some time, excited since you knew it would be a life-changing day for not just your child but for your family, and dreading since it was a sure sign that he was growing up on you.  He was only 4 years old, yet you could remember the day he was born and how he came wailing into the world with a pair of lungs and a thirst to live.  Your pregnancy was not ideal, nor was it something you would ever regret.  Nor did his father, who was beyond excited to have his own little family to love on and to nurture.

His father and your mate, Azriel. 

You two grew up together as Illryians, you were one of the very few female Illryians that was born into the Illyrian training camp.  Although your mother died in childbirth with you and your father abandoned you because of the loss of his mate, your cousin was Rhysand and his own mother took in. She was the mother you needed, both nurturing and stern with you when you needed it, but she also taught you all you needed to know in order to survive the Illyrian life.  As a seamstress, she also taught you the trade and you were making dresses alongside her as you got older.

She sheltered you and protected you, made you feel a motherly love in a cruel world.  It was then you met Cassian and Azriel, two Illyrian boys who became close to you and your cousin Rhysand.  They both were wild, filled with that boyish charm and thrill, and you grew to love them instantly.  Especially Azriel, who caught your heart from the moment you saw his hazel eyes that were etched in pain and torment from all he went through with his own childhood.  Yet he was kind, sheltered with his own feelings, and willing to bond with Cassian and Rhysand as If they were his own blood related brothers.

You both fell in love with each other over time, there was no way of stopping the sensation of being in love with him as you two grew up side by side.  He loved you with all of him, showing you the sides of him that would hide in the dark and would never be seen by others.  Although Azriel thought of you as the rays of the sun along his shadows and a lighthouse in the chaos of a storm, he was afraid that you would run from him and think of him as a monster.

He was far from wrong as you kissed him under the stars when you two were teenagers.  He knew then that his heart belonged to you and you alone. 

Years came and went, tears and torment threatened to take the two of you apart, but you two stayed together and never lost one another along the way.  When Rhysand was taken Under the Mountain, you were left in charge of Night Court because you were blood-related.  It was a heavy burden to carry on, but you weren’t alone.  You had Cassian, your other cousin from the Court of Nightmares named Mor, a wise yet intimidating being named Armen, and of course Azriel.  They all were behind you running Night Court and keeping it safe from the enemy’s hand.  Especially Azriel, who was your backbone and your words of wisdom when things were rough.  Most of all, he poured out his love for you when he knew you needed it, when you missed your cousin, when you felt unworthy yourself.  You did the same to him, constantly loving him and making him feel so important and adored as you knew he was.  

Your mating bond came easily one night when you two were deep in your lovemaking.  His hands along your body, his hips rolling deeply against yours to bring you that pleasure you have been craving and needed from no one but him, you both felt that snap when you were about to orgasm.  It was as if The Cauldron itself snapped inside of you and that bond was seeping along your veins.  Azriel felt it too, gasping for air as you both orgasmed at the same time and your bond was singing in happiness and joy.  As you two clung onto each other in happiness and in euphoria, you knew your life was forever changed because of him and no force would take the two of you away from each other. 

So many years came and went: Rhsyand coming back as the High Lord of Night Court and finding his mate in Feyre, fighting against the human king Hybern to keep your Court and the citizens safe, there was finally a moment of peace for you and Azriel.  You both were settling down in a small little house outside of the city.  Azriel wanted a peaceful life with you, he knew you both needed it after going through stress and agitation.  It was always the two of you for so long, which was what you both craved as the topic of growing your family came about.

Azriel knew you were hesitant since birthing Illyrian children was no easy task, let alone being pregnant with a Illyrian child.  It was brutal, over half of mothers never survive in childbirth.  Your mother was part of that statistic, and Azriel would never dare to loose you in such a way. You were mostly afraid of what could happen to you and the baby, talking to Azriel about it in hopes of wondering how he felt about bringing a child into the world. All you two knew was the way of children in the Illyrian world, a world that was cold and filled with avoidance and distance.

“If we are meant to be parents, then we’ll make it a happy home,” He reassured you as you both were sitting side by side on the front porch of your home, holding you in your arms as you were looking at your matching wedding rings, “Our home will be loving, something we both need from all we went through.  But let’s not dwell on children now, I wanna simply be here with you, okay?”

“Okay.” You replied, feeling him kiss you on the cheek as you both watched the moon hanging high above.  It always was on the back of your mind, but Azriel was right.  You two needed some year alone together to simply build back up what was almost lost thanks to the Battle and the harshness of your childhood. 

But come to find out, a few months later, you were with child.  And your son, Alec Rhysand, was born.

As if on cue, you heard a cluster of feet coming from the hallway of the House of Wind, the three of you looking to see the cluster of beings coming down the hall.  You beamed from seeing them, massive smiles on their faces and excitement in their laughter and giggles.  Nyx was leading the group, dressed in his small leathers that were a gift to him on his birthday by his father a year ago with his raven hair swept over his bright eyes. After him was Cassian in his leathers and his mate Nesta, their toddler daughter named Rose on Nesta’s hip who was babbling away with her bright wavy hair. She was an exact carbon copy of her mother, down to the nose and the grin that seemed both infectious and genuine.  

“Big day today!” Cassian said with a pep in his step as Rose saw you, screeching for you as she grabbed at you with her little fingers.  You giggled, taking the little one in your arms and snuggling her as Cassian gave him a big hug, “It’s a great day to learn how to fly!”

“Perfect weather conditions,” Rhsyand hummed in agreement, “And I think the balcony is the best place for Alec to start,”

“Can’t I fly with him, Dad?  Please?” Nyx asked in earnest as he ran over to Rhsyand, hugging his father around the legs with his violet eyes pleading with him.

“Remember our deal?  Let him fly with his dad first and then we can join them, okay?” Rhysand reminded his song, who grumbled and nodded his head.  Rhysand chuckled and ruffled his hair with his fingers, “You watch, before you know it he’ll join us for our nightly flights,”

“Hey!” You said to him as Feyre slapped his shoulder.

“When he’s bigger!  That’s what I meant!” Rhysand said in defense.

“I’m surprised Azriel is letting him fly,” Nesta commented to you as she took her daughter back in her arms, “But, I think it’s great.  I bet he’s been looking forward to taking Alec flying hasn’t he?”

“He has,” You said lightly, “He hasn’t stopped talking about it for weeks.”

If you were hesitant about letting your son fly, Azriel was the opposite.  In fact, he was looking forward to having his son in with the sky, sole because he knew nothing would happen to his child when he was there with them.  Azriel was an amazing father to Alec, loving him from the moment Madja helped bring him into the world and placed him in Azriel’s arms.  You saw the shift in your husband's eyes as your baby was whining and wiggling in his hold, his tiny wings and dark hair made him look just like his father and it made you cry in happiness.  

He made every milestone with Alec memorable, from his first steps to his first words. Azriel never wanted to miss a moment, wanting to give his son the childhood he wish he had himself.  It was making up for the lost memories he never had, the lost moments he wanted with his own mother but was taken abruptly to be replaced with pain and torment.  Not with Alec, he would make it filled with love and kindness along with joy and warmth.  All you could do was simply stand back and see Azriel's love on his son, holding him close if he would cry, tucking him into bed with a kiss on the head, even laughing together after wrestling in the grass.

It was the childhood Azriel wanted for himself, but now he was giving it to his own boy.

“There he is, the boy of the hour!”  

You all turned to see Azriel walking down the hall in his Spymaster leathers and a big grin on his face.  But by his side, holding his fingers in his hand, was your four-year-old Alec.  

Alec had his father’s dark locks and tan skin, but your bright blue eyes that Azriel knew were pure gifts from The Cauldron.  He was simply perfect and had a nervous smile on his face as he saw you.  His face brightened as he waved at you shyly.

As Azriel and Alec made it to you, you knelt down to open your arms to your son as he huddled in close to your embrace.  His wings, which have grown in the past year and have been deemed strong enough for flight, were tucked tight against his backside as you kissed your son on the head and felt him giggle. 

“How are we feeling about flying today?”  You asked him as you pulled away and looked at his eyes.  He bit his lower lip, looking down at his feet for a brief moment before he showed you his bright blue eyes that were mirroring some hesitance and worry.  

“I’m nervous, momma,” He said to you, to which you hummed and framed his face gently with your fingers.

“And remember that it’s okay to be nervous?” You reminded him, seeing him nod his head.  You kissed the tip of his nose, “You are ready, Alec.  And I know you are going to be amazing at flying, you need to trust your wings.  They will not steer you wrong, okay?”

Azriel knelt down next to you, peering at his son with his soft smile that he would always use on his son.  Alec would hang on his father’s every word if he could, thinking of Azriel as the center of his world and beyond.  There was no doubt they both had a bond together since Alec was a baby, Alec fixing comfort with his father most of the time and Azriel never hesitating in helping his son through anything.  

“You are strong, Alec.  I’m going to be up there with you and not leave your side, just like we practiced at home.” He said to Alec, who nodded his head.  You knew they were practicing constantly at your little home, Azriel showing Alec how to stretch and strengthen his wings to get him ready to hove off the ground.  You showed your son with your own wings, Alec watching in amazement as his mother hovered off the ground and landed gracefully on the grass with ease. Even before that, when he was still a toddler, you would take Alec in your arms and fly around your home to both show him how flying felt and to bring in ease.  

It was a core memory, Alec as a small toddler snuggled against you as you would soar in the sky and see him watch with his big blue eyes.  Azriel would fly next to you, being ever protective of his wife and son as you hear Alec giggle in excitement and coo in joy.  To watch his son bathed in the night sky and amongst the stars, held by his beloved wife and mate of centuries, it brought more love to Azriel than he ever felt before.  

After Madja checked his wings and gave you both the green light to let him fly, Rhysand wanted it to be a monumental day since it involved his nephew.  He wanted it to be on a warm Spring day, making sure the weather would be perfect.  You and Azriel were grateful for him, and you most of all since he was your Cousin and yet considered you a sister of his since you were children yourselves.  He protected you throughout your teenage years, praised you for keeping Night Court safe in his absence, and adored you when you and Azriel became mates and were married.  

Rhsyand walked over to open the balcony door, the warm spring air coming into the room as you were all filtering out onto the grassy terrace.  The massive view of Velaris below you was enchanting in the bright sunlight, with the glistening ocean not too far away bringing in the sea air with ease while Azriel walked with Alec in his hand to the middle of the grass.  You stood at the side, biting your lower lip as Rhysand squeezed your shoulder with ease.  As much as you wanted to be there to help him fly as well, you knew this was a moment with only Alec and his father.  You never minded it, knowing your mate would do this perfectly with your son.  

Azriel knelt in front of Alec, his shadow licking around his arms and wings to be ready for protection as his massive wings were sprawled out and ready.  Alec watched, his father’s wings were bringing a shadow in front of his tiny face as Azriel nodded at his son.

“Get your wings ready,” Azriel instructed him, Alec nodding and rolling his shoulders.  His own wings with some muscles seen started to stretch out, mirroring his father’s wings and he kept holding his father’s hands tightly in his own as Azriel grinned.

“Good, you’re doing good,” Azriel said to him in a soothing tone, “Now, concentrate on your wings and let them move.  You can do it, buddy.  Just take in a deep breath and take your time,” 

Your heart warmed instantly from hearing how Azriel was talking to him, seeing his hazel eyes look at his son with love and patience as Alec slammed his eyes shut and tried his best to make his wings work.  Everyone else was waiting on bated breath, not wishing to move and break the moment that was in the air.  This was a sacred moment, a right of passage that was going to be remembered for the rest of one’s life.  You and Azriel talked about it over and over, wanting it to both be perfect and filled with positivity for your son.  

A redo to what you both endured as children.  

Cassian was the first one to react, then his mate, and after Feyre and Rhysand.  Gasps were heard, along with sharp intakes of breaths and murmurs.  You were the last, fat tears were streaming down your face at the sight of your son how hovering over the grass with his toes barely touching the ground.  His wings moved easily, naturally even, while his father was watching with the biggest smile on his face.  

“Alec, open your eyes, baby.  Look,” Azriel said to him as he held his son’s hands.  Alec, with some reluctance, opened his blue eyes.  His eyes went huge, looking down to see himself hovering and he giggled.

“I did it!  I did it, Daddy!” He said in glee as he looked at Azriel.  Azriel smiled widely, pride was all over his face as Alec looked over at you still he was still hovering off the ground with his feet kicking in giddiness, “Look, momma!  I’m doing it!”

You were freely crying at this point, covering your mouth with your hands and smiling in pure ecstasy.  It made your heart swell to see such a moment with not just your immediately family, but your Found family too.  It was healing all the pain you had in your heart and in your past that seemed to go away, that healing was coming in small waves and not slowing down.  Rhysand helped you heal, and Azriel helped you heal. 

And now, your son was helping you heal.

“You ready?” Azriel asked Alec, getting his attention again as Alec nodded in excitement.  Azriel’s wings were now active, making Azriel hover up a bit and bring Alec along with him with his little wings trying to keep up.  They were now a few feet up from the ground, still holding each other’s hands as Azriel guided Alec to be nose-to-nose with him.  You were more in love with him all the more, watching him guide your own in the best way he could.  

Azriel’s shadows were now hovering around the pair of them in a protective bubble, they were still visible amongst the shadows with ease as your husband and son were still watching each other. You felt through your mating bond that Azriel was proud of his son, how happy he was to see his child go through a great milestone, and how much love he had in his moment.  You were mirroring it yourself, knowing Azriel would feel it through the bond himself.  

“You are strong, Alec Rhysand.  Let your wings show you how strong you are,” he reminded him calmly.  Within a few moments, Azriel was releasing his hold on Alec’s hands, letting Alec fly with no help and nothing else aiding him.  Azriel was hovering right in front of him, his own hands were shaking from the sight but he was nonetheless grinning from ear to ear with pride etched all over his face.  

“Atta boy, Alec!” Cassian cheered as the others were grinning and clapping, “You’re doing great, kid!”

“Well done!” Feyre said in a clasp of her hands as Nyx was bouncing on his feet in excitement.

“You did it, Alec!  You’re flying!” Nyx shouted with a cup of his hands around his mouth.  Alec was giggling in pure joy, no longer shy or afraid as he was looking around at himself and noticing his wings were already flapping in ease.  But of course, his eyes were looking over to you as he gestured wildly to you.

“I’m doing it momma!  Look, I’m flying, momma!” He said with a massive smile.  Rhysand kissed the side of your head as Azriel look at you two.  You both were sharing a mutual feeling of pride and love for your son as the others were cheering him on and encouraging him to keep going.  You were dreaming of this day for years, dreaming of your future child being free in their own wings and loving the thrill of flying.  Not the fear of it, not the fear needing to be sheltered away from whom they were.  It was a new time for you all, and this was a sure sign of a bright future.  

Come on, babe.  Come fly with us.  You heard Azriel say in the bond as Alec was now reaching out to you with his fingers, still hovering in front of his father but his eyes were pinned on you.

“Come on, momma!  Fly with me!” He pleaded.  It was like a siren call that you could never stray from, that you could never ever turn your back on no matter how hard you tried.  Seeing the two loves of your life wishing for you to join them was all you could ever need in this life that was now filled with brightness.  You moved away from your family, stretching your wings as you took flight with ease.  Your wings were sighing relief in being in the air, you grinning as you met your son and husband in the air.  Instantly, Azriel’s shadows stretched to be around you now as the three of you were in your own world together.

“You’re doing so well, my darling boy,” You cooed as Alec, whose wings were flapping faster now, “I’m so proud of you!”

“Me too, Alec,” Azriel added as Alec was watching him, “Now, follow me.  Nice and easy now, okay?” 

You were behind Alec as he was following his father at a snail’s pace, but was not showing any signs of slowing down or getting tired.  Neither of you noticed Rhsyand, Nyx, and Cassian taking to the sky as well and making high circles above the three of you.  But you were simply focusing on your son, who was having the time of his life in this milestone. Every struggle that you had, every nightmare you experienced thinking that you would never see the light at the end of the tunnel, none of that was there anymore.  

You saw positivity, positivity and hope.

“He’s fast asleep, the poor thing is tuckered out,” You heard Azriel inform you as you were perched on the terrace of the House of Wind, grinning from ear to ear as the warm spring night was all around you in Velaris.  The glittering city below you was still alive and filled with energy as your husband joined you.  The rest of the home was quiet, Rhysand and Feyre winnowed back to the River House leaving Nyx to sleep with Alec in one of the guest rooms.  Cassian and Nesta were in their own room for the night with Rose, leaving you and Azriel alone together and enjoying the view in peace.

You were standing against the railing, wrapped in a night robe as you felt his shadows lick against your neck and arms as a way to show his presence.  

“He had a big day today, along with you,” you said as Azriel pulled you in his arms and pressed his head into yours lovingly.  Breathing him in always brought you back to your center, feeling his toned muscles along your fingers made you feel safe and secure once again.  Even after all of these years of being married and mates, he always knew the best way to hug you to make you feel loved. 

“We both did,” He reminded you gently, you grinning as he searched your eyes, “And I know how far we both have come to be here, so I wanted to tell you how proud of you I am,”

“Az,” You said his name in a weka tone, though he hummed and shook his head.

“You have been so strong for so many years, saving this Court from downfall, saving me from being lost.  I know I’m not the same person I was when I was young when we met, and I owe my life to you,” He proclaimed, you feeling fresh tears in your eyes while he wiped your tears gently with his soothing fingers “Our son is a reflection of you, my love.  And I know I’m not one for saying how much I love you—“

“Hush,” You soothed him, hearing go silent instantly as you pressed a soothing kiss to his lips.  He leaned into you, kissing you back just as gently as you two were drinking in the quiet moment together. 

Once you pulled away from his lips, you nuzzled his nose against yours as you spoke once more, “You have loved me with no restraint and nothing holding you back.  I don’t ever wish to have anything else replace your love for me, Az. Not in this life or the next, you have been and will always be everything to me and our son.  I’m so proud of you too,”

Azriel smiled, the moon reflecting off his beautiful eyes as you two were still wrapped in each other’s arms from simple yet powerful words of affirmation.  It was always like this with the pair of you, building each other up from the depths of pain and lack of self-worth.  You saw the light in each other, the hope that was nestled deep inside and neither of you gave up on the other.  It took a hard road, and plenty of arguments and fights, just to stay strong for one another.  

Because of that, you have this new life, a beautiful and perfect son, and it felt as if nothing else could damage that.  

You reached down to lace your fingers one another, clutching his palm to yours tightly as you grinned widely at him.  Leaning in to barely touch your lips to his, you whispered, “Come fly with me,”

And he did, the pair of you taking to the sky and soaring amongst the stars with the city below, your love showing no abandon or no diminish. 

The End.

Tagged - @valeridarkness

[sanjisluvbot]

As Above So Below

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Synopsis: You had your entire life just beginning, fresh into college, and as a treat, you were going on a trip across the world where you find out what your father truly does for work and why you were able to move into a nice new home. A normal young girl thrust into a world where she needed to relearn everything she ever knew and escape the clutches of an assassin clan who wanted her as a wife.

Perfectly manicured nails are now chipped and brittle. Your mother spent the next half an hour pacing your new hotel room. You lay slumped on a chair, eyes following her every move back and forth, forth and back. You bit your lip knowing the millions of thoughts running overdrive in her mind not knowing whether or not to speak up. 

You wanted to comfort her but knowing your mother that might make the situation worse, the last thing you needed was to be at odds with her after what just went down. Rubbing your hands down your arms you give yourself slight comfort, a touch of warmth in a room chilled by the reality and graveness of the situation. With a sharp intake of breath, you regained determination. 

“ I think you should get off your feet and take a shower, it’s been a long night,” 

She paused, turning to you eyes slightly wide as if she had broken out of a trance. Seeing the exhausted state you were in, her gaze softened, still all done up as if it were a good night to remember. A lump formed in her throat seeing the bags forming underneath her daughter's eyes while draped in glitter and riches like a star falling from grace. 

 Dropping her hand from her lips she smiled softly, “ Would you like to shower first? I’ll order some room service and we can maybe watch a movie…”

You nodded and unstrapped the clasps of your heels, you silently made your way to the bathroom while your mother went over to her suitcase. The blinding fluorescent light felt too harsh as you stared at yourself in the mirror. You looked so pretty, in a nice dress with accessories you dreamed of owning, it felt foreign looking at the girl in the mirror. 

You sighed and turned the shower on quickly undressing and stepping into the warmth of the water. You took your time, even letting your hair get wet, wanting to wash away everything from the last few hours— the previous few days you’ve had to endure. 

After everything was said and done you were curled into your mother's side on the bed. The exhaustion finally beginning to take its toll on the two of you. You shared whispered giggles over the movie you watched, a piece of nostalgia for the movie your mother had rented, it was one you constantly watched on tape as a child. A thought popped into your head before you drifted off to sleep. It angered you slightly as your father's face popped into your mind's eye. 

Was he alright? What happened when the two of you left? Would you both speak to him in the morning? 

The next morning you felt anew. The rest was needed and the jet lag completely dissipated, You woke to your mother on the phone and scribbling on a notepad. You made your presence known and she smiled pointing to the line connecting to room service in the corner of the room. 

The morning came and went and you felt you could take the day by storm facing anything thrown at you head-on without fear. An announcement on the ship had notified you and your mother that you would arrive on the island, you made a note from a previous conversation that the room number on the ship would be the same as the one within the hotel. The island was clear as day, and you grew jittery thinking about being on land once again. 

The two of you were quick to leave the ship and go to the hotel, your mother had told you that she would be spending the day talking to lawyers about the contract. Looking out the window you notice the large pool and there were already a few people basking in the sun. You quickly change smiling to your mother on your way out of the room letting her know you’d be right where she could see you out at the pool. 

You walked passed people carefully eyeing them to make sure you didn’t run into the moron you met last night. “ The last thing I need is to see that freak by the pool,” you thought to yourself. When you settled into your chair a waiter quickly passed you by and you ordered a drink to help you relax. The sun beamed down in all its glory, you generously sprayed sunscreen on every inch of skin you could reach. You felt the eyes on you, perverted and judgemental all the same. Moving your hair over your shoulder, you try your best to get your back. You bit your lip out of frustration and embarrassment, it felt like everyone was laughing at your awkward position. 

“ Need a helping hand, wife.” 

A large hand easily slipped the spray out of your hand while another steadied you by your waist. You hastily pushed the hands off of you turning around to face the dark-eyed bastard you prayed never to see again. He gleamed down at you menacingly, wide-toothed demonic smile shining right at you so proud of himself for catching you in such a state. 

Dressed head to toe in Dakr clothing without a care in the world for the heat, you glared back at him lip scrunching up in disgust at how he dared to touch you.

 “ Give me back my sunscreen,”

He laughed manically shaking his head. You click your tongue before trying to snatch it from his hand. He swiftly evaded you and tossed it into his other hand and when you went to strike again he held it over his head. How childish you think, you huffed before looking off at the pool seeing people's gaze even more on you than before. While looking away Raian’s eyes wandered over your figure. He was more than used to seeing different kinds of people but the way your skin seemed to glow under the sun was distracting, to say the least. He wanted to tease you more, have your eyes solely focused on him rather than the fucktards who meant nothing staring at his woman. 

He sucked his teeth at the skimpy little bikini you wore. Wanting to ask you why the only thing left to the imagination seemed to be your nipples. When he first spotted you he went from your hair straight to the roundness of your ass and the small triangle of cloth up your ass. He was sure if you bent over everyone would get a nice view of what he planned to take claim of on your wedding night, he couldn’t help but make his way over to you. 

Your fiery gaze was upon him again and that gaze was the lighter to the match in his chest. Raian never really focused much on women throughout his last twenty-one years as from a very young age he knew that his marriage would be arranged. He would never say he didn’t let his eyes wander, that he was ignorant to human nature but— he never truly sought out a woman before you. 

Letting his mind wander he didn’t realize until you were right under his nose, that you were pushing him toward the pool hoping he would release the hold on your sunscreen and fall right on his ass. He smiled once again before snaking his arm around your waist and falling back into the pool. 

The water was a stark contrast to the heat of the sun, drenching you in icy coldness. His hold was still tight on you as you came back up to the surface. He laughed heartily at your disheveled state, his hand wandering lower on your waist. You wriggled out of his grasp pulling yourself out of the water. Fingers pointed and hushed whispers were all you could focus on as you wrapped your towel around yourself. 

“ What’s the matter? Can’t handle what you dish out or—”

You didn’t stay to hear anymore grabbing your phone and running into the hotel. What an embarrassment, was he trying to belittle you and let you know just how powerless you were in this situation? Your damp skin was making you shiver as you squeaked through the main hall, loudly stomping in your flip-flops not caring about the water you were tracking in the lobby. You all but slammed your finger on the elevator button hoping that would make it come down faster. 

The door opened and a few people sparred you glances, you shifted your head towards the floor and leaned on the elevator walls pressing the button to your floor. As the door was closing you met his gaze, he had just run into the lobby searching for you and you were thankful he didn’t make it in time. The ride up to your floor was accompanied by annoying soft music that did more to irritate than to calm you. 

You rolled your eyes in annoyance when instead of the thirtieth floor it stopped on the twentieth. As the doors opened your eyes widened in shock, Although slightly out of breath Raian was towering in the doorway. You were quick to try and slip out but his arm slammed on the door in front of you. 

Voice trembling in fear and anger you say, “ Move out of my way. Now!” 

He doesn’t move an inch and you duck under only to be jerked back by your arm. You look up to him and there isn’t a trace of a smile on his face, making him look even more intimidating if that were possible. He gave you a once-over before taking his eyes from you and pulling you completely out of the elevator. You berated him with your words and dragged your feet across the ground and he ignored your angered pleas of release as he stalked through the hallway. 

Using his free hand he dug into his pocket pulling out his key card and a dangerous thought made its way into your mind. The room opened and you felt tears well up in your eyes. The room was almost pitch black, the curtains blocking out most of the light. He threw the card onto the mini desk before finally turning to you. His eyes held something different— something softer if that could be used for a man like him. 

You held the towel tighter taking a step back, something flashed in his eyes almost like he could smell the fear brewing inside you. He stepped towards you and you took another step back quickly turning your head to the door to try and make a run for it. He licked his lips before grabbing you once more, you yelped in fear when he pulled you close. You fought for your towel until he completely took it off you. 

“ Don’t do this, please…Raian,” 

He felt like his heart was going to leap from his chest, His name had never sounded better. He looked into your fear-stricken eyes once more, the tears already falling as you begged him not to hurt you. Without a word, he placed the towel on your head trying his best to be soft while drying your hair. 

You had calmed down slightly allowing him to dry you off. When he removed the towel you both stared at one another, who was going to make the first move. The silence was unbearable and with a huff, you were finally out the door. You didn’t want to give this psychopath any kind of wrong impression by lingering in his room in the dark too long. 

You choose the stairway instead of the elevator feeling overexposed without your towel. You exhausted your last energy running up the ten floors, unbeknownst to you the cameras had been watching your every move. 

“ Grandfather, is it alright for the two of them to be alone together so soon?” 

The old man chuckled light-heartedly at his granddaughter, he was more than glad to see the way Raian was already zeroing in on you. He thought it would take a much more forceful approach to get you to comply but his grandson was less of an anomaly than he thought. 

The old man knew better than to think the two of you had been intimate behind that door as he watched the situation unfold before his eyes. He knew that In Raian’s way, he was trying to apologize for embarrassing you and making a scene in front of all those people. 

A/N: Is this the calm before the storm?

🏷️: @arans-princess-reblogs @imaginarydreams

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[sophrosynesworld]

With all my love, pt 6

Our car drives out of Tokyo, the once vibrant neon lights dimming in the rearview mirror. Inside the vehicle, a heavy silence hangs like a storm cloud. 

Bakugou sits rigid beside me, jaw clenched, staring straight ahead. Izuku, in the driver’s seat, occasionally glances at us through the rearview mirror, his knuckles white from gripping the steering wheel.

The bustling cityscape fades into the countryside, the stars now twinkling brightly against the night sky, freed from the city's light pollution. It’s been so long since I left the city, the last time was for our training camp at UA. What happened to us?

"Can someone please tell me what happened back there?" Izuku’s voice cuts through the silence, his eyes darting between us in the mirror.

Bakugou's grip tightens on his knees. I take a deep breath. "It’s complicated, Izuku. Katsuki and I... we’ve been going through some things." I sound like a mother breaking bad news to her child.

Izuku’s gaze shifts to Bakugou. "You two need to talk. This silence isn't helping anyone."

Bakugou scoffs. "Talk? She thinks I’ve been cheating on her."

Izuku's eyebrows shoot up, but he stays silent. For once, I’m grateful.

"You’ve been distant, Katsuki. Coming home late, missing our dates, disappearing for days. What else was I supposed to think?" My arms cross over my chest, frustration bubbling.

Bakugou sighs, running a hand through his hair. "You really think I'd do that to you? I’ve been hiding something, but it’s not what you think."

"What is it, then?" I question him, but he averts his gaze, staring out the window instead.

The landscape outside changes subtly, flat fields giving way to gentle hills and clusters of trees. Moonlight casts an eerie glow, illuminating our path.The car falls silent again, the tension thick as Izuku navigates through the dark roads. Finally, after what feels like an eternity, Izuku turns down a dirt road, leading us to a modest house. Bakugou lets out a deep breath, his grip on the door handle tightening.

"Come on," he says gruffly, stepping out of the car and gesturing for me to follow. ‘

I follow Bakugou up the path to the house, my heart pounding in my chest. He stops at the door, fumbling with the keys before pushing it open. 

As we step inside, I take in the surroundings. The entrance hall is warmly lit by a small chandelier, casting a soft glow on the polished wooden floor. A plush rug lies beneath our feet, muffling our steps. The walls are adorned with tasteful art pieces, and a small table by the door holds a neatly arranged stack of mail and a decorative bowl for keys. I slip my shoes off next to him. 

Bakugou leads me into the living room, and I can't help but marvel at the space. It’s furnished and beautiful. The room is spacious yet cozy, with large windows that offer a view of a well-kept garden outside. A comfortable-looking sectional sofa dominates the room, adorned with an array of throw pillows in various shades of blue and gray. A coffee table sits in front of it, holding a few magazines and an empty vase. The walls are painted a soothing shade of light gray, complemented by dark wooden bookshelves filled with an assortment of books and knick-knacks.

A large flat-screen TV is mounted on the wall, and below it, a sleek entertainment center holds various electronics and neatly arranged DVDs. The soft hum of an air purifier is the only sound in the otherwise silent room. Everything is meticulously arranged, reflecting a sense of order and calm.

“I don’t understand what we’re doing here.” I tug on Bakugou's sleeve to get his attention, my frustration clear. The room is shrouded in dim light, with the moon casting its soft glow through the windows, painting the walls in a subtle hue of silver. “Why did you bring me into the middle of nowhere?”

He doesn’t answer for a moment, his back towards me as he walks towards the large glass window overlooking the garden. The soft rustle of leaves and distant chirping of crickets create a serene backdrop to our conversation.

“Whose house is this?” I ask, my voice rising with a mix of confusion and anger.

"It's ours," he admits, turning around slowly, his voice low and strained. The moonlight catches the edges of his face, highlighting the contours and curves. "It was going to be the home we raised our children in."

My heart skips a beat as I process his words. "What are you talking about?" I press, confusion consuming me. "This isn’t our home."

He sighs, running a hand through his disheveled hair. "When you got hurt, it was one of the few times I’ve been afraid." His voice cracks, and I can see his shoulders tremble. "The doctors didn’t know if you’d ever wake up."

I want to reach out, to comfort him, but I stay silent. He needs to get this out.

"When you opened your eyes and called my name," his voice wavers, tears spilling from his eyes, "I knew I wanted to spend eternity with you."

I’m stunned. "You’ve been planning this since then?"

"Six months ago, I bought the land. I picked up extra shifts to build this. Every detail, every corner, designed with you in mind. I wanted to build this home for us, to show you that I’m serious about our future.”

I look around the room with new eyes. Everything reflects my tastes. My heart aches with the realization of his efforts. The soft gray walls, the comfortable sectional sofa adorned with an array of throw pillows, the sleek coffee table—every detail reflects my preferences, my style. The thought of him working tirelessly to create this place tugs at my heart.

"You’ve been working on this for six months?" My voice softens as I slowly begin to understand..

"Yeah," he murmurs, regret mingling in his eyes. "I wanted to surprise you. To make up for all the times I’ve been absent. But I couldn’t tell you. I didn’t want to ruin it."

I know I should be ecstatic, but anger ignites within me. "You kept this from me while I worried we were falling apart? Do you know how that feels?"

His expression hardens. "I was doing it for us! To prove I could give you everything you ever wanted!"

"But I never asked for this!" I shout. "I just wanted you, Katsuki!"

"I was trying to make things better!" he yells back. "I thought if I finished this place, you’d see how much I care!"

"What do you want from me?" I scream, tears spilling over.

"I want you to be my wife!" His voice cracks, the raw emotion behind his words slicing through the tension in the air.

I stare at him, shock consuming all of my words.

"What?"

Without another word, he storms to a drawer, yanking it open with a force that rattles the whole dresser. He pulls out a small velvet box, his hands trembling. "I wanted to propose to you here, in the house I built with you in mind." he says, his voice barely above a whisper, yet charged with desperation. "I love you more than anything and if I don’t ask you now, I might not be able to later. 

Katsuki drops to one knee before me, holding out an engagement ring that catches the light with a mesmerizing sparkle. The band is a delicate, platinum twist, leading up to a stunning solitaire diamond, flawlessly cut and glistening like a fragment of a star. Smaller diamonds are embedded along the band, adding an extra layer of brilliance. It’s breathtakingly beautiful. 

“Will you marry me?"

Tears blur my vision. "Katsuki..."

The weight of Bakugou's words hangs in the air, his raw admission still echoing in my ears. As he kneels before me, holding out the ring, time seems to stand still. My heart races, a whirlwind of emotions threatening to overwhelm me. Shock, confusion, anger, and a glimmer of hope—all tangled together.

"No more secrets, no more running away. Just you and me, building our life together. Please, say you’ll be my wife."

I look down at him, the moonlight casting a soft glow on his face. His eyes are filled with a mixture of desperation and vulnerability that I’ve rarely seen. This strong, fierce man is baring his soul to me, and it breaks something inside me.

My hands tremble as I touch his face. "Yes, I’ll marry you."

Relief and joy light up his face as he slips the ring onto my finger. He pulls me into a tight embrace, the tension finally dissolving.

He takes a deep breath, his gaze never wavering from mine. “I know I messed up. I thought I was doing the right thing, building this place for us. But I see now that I was wrong to keep it from you. I was afraid, afraid that I wasn’t enough, that I couldn’t give you what you needed.”

Tears blur my vision as I kneel down to be level with him, our faces inches apart. “All I ever wanted was you, Katsuki. Not some perfect house, not grand gestures. Just you.”

He reaches out, his fingers gently brushing away my tears. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, his voice breaking. “I’m so sorry.”

For a moment, we just sit there, on the floor of this beautiful house, holding each other. The anger and hurt begin to melt away, replaced by a deep, aching love. The road ahead is still uncertain, but I can see a glimmer of the future we could have together.

[heaartzzforcupidzz]

Heyyy I was wondering if I could request something?? You don't have to do it but I wondering if you could do a Catnap and Dogday x reader who acts very motherly to everyone? It can be smut or not, you can decide. But I'd really appreciate it if you did my request. Thanksss :3

“Kitty Catty.”

Relationship(s): catnap x bunny!mother!reader x Dogday

Warning(s): fluff, suggestive

You were basically everyone’s mother. They all adored you when you were created. You were created for the purpose of acting like a caring mother to the poor orphans. You did your job so well that even the other critters considered you their mom except Catnap and Dogday. They saw you as.. well, we will talk about that, later, hm?

There was a storm that night and instead of sleeping in your warm cozy bed, you had laid in the middle of the floor with a blanket because Kickin’ oddly enough was afraid of all the thunder and lightning. you didn’t complain though. you hummed a tune until you were sure, he was out like a light.

For another instance, if Bubba had become stressed that he couldn’t answer a problem, you would gently ease his mind with questions he could answer and then help him figure out the one he couldn’t by himself. Afterwards, you’d tell him how proud you were of him.

Lastly, it’s how when Bobby felt alone and that nobody really reciprocated how she loved. You’d try to match her love or even top it. She loved you the most for it. You never made her feel like a problem. You even looked at her like she was everything to you and she loved you dearly for it.

Dogday and Catnap loved that about you. You were sweet, caring, and made sure others were okay before you tried to even look after yourself. That last part was good and bad to them but nevertheless, it still made you so special in everyone’s hearts.

“Wake up, Kitty Catty,” one of the kids said as he poked the side of Catnaps fur. Catnap just opened his eyes and stared. Trying to determine if he’d use his gas or not. This was the second time this kids, Timothy, he believed has walked away from the group to mess with him.

Catnap stood tall. Timothy instantly became fearful, his heart thumping loudly. Soon enough, here you came and ushered Timothy out of Catnaps ‘hiding’ place. you then turned, a nervous smile on your plush lips. “Im sorry, Kitty-“ something he has grown a liking to ever since you called him that your first meet. “He’s just playful and can be a bit eccentric at times.”

Catnap only stared at you. He nodded before he walked away. Strange? he usually put up more of a fight with the others.. why was he so different towards you? you didn’t care too much though as you heard a child cry. your feet moved quicker than your mind and soon, you were holding the crying child up to your chest.

“Charlie? what’s wrong, my dear?” you said, sweetly as you softly rubbed circles on her stomach as she looked up at you. She sniffed and told you she had fell and the other kids began to laugh at her. you sighed, before you pressed a soft kiss to her forehead. “Mm, did you tell them that wasn’t very nice?” You asked. Charlotte otherwise known as Charlie shook her head. “Well, maybe you should.. and if it doesn’t stop, tell them that mama is coming for them.” You said, before putting her down and watching her smile.

“Thanks, mama.” She said before she ran off with the other children. You hadn’t noticed Dogday standing behind you with Timothy. Timothy had been telling Dogday all about how Catnap had frightened him.

“That was amazing.” Dogday said, breaking the silence. you were abit frightened but turning around and seeing Dogday, you smiled. “Oh hello!” You greeted. That’s how you and Dogdays friendship began.

You had already knew Catnap and he sat with you sometimes and just watched the ‘stars’ with you. You weren’t expecting for both of them to confess to you a year or maybe even two later. But you weren’t complaining.

They both accepted the fact that you loved them both equally and that they’d have to learn to share. Which they did. It worked good for all three parties and you became an actual mother to your own litter soon enough.

They made you the happiest mother in the world.

[cmdrfupa]

Mother knows

1.04k words

I’m trying something out. Working my way into a Gojo piece. Spoilers ahead. Thank you for reading!

The garden had always been a place of quiet reflection, but tonight it felt heavier, weighted by the unspoken tension in the air.

Gojo’s mother sat with the poise of someone used to bearing burdens, her spine straight, her hands clasped delicately in her lap. You sat beside her, mirroring her posture, though your fingers betrayed you, nervously tracing patterns on the hem of your sleeve.

For a long while, neither of you spoke. It wasn’t necessary. This was the first time meeting your husband’s mother in person but there was a mutual understanding in the silence, an unspoken acknowledgment of the storm looming on the horizon.

Finally, she broke the quiet. “I used to come here with him when he was just toddling,” she said, her voice carrying a wistfulness that felt foreign coming from someone as composed as her. “He would sit right there on the grass, picking flowers, and tell me which ones I had to keep alive forever. ‘You can do it, Mom,’ he’d say. ‘You’re a Gojo too.’”

A soft laugh escaped her, but it faded quickly, replaced by a pensive look. “I always wondered if he knew, even then, how much weight the name Gojo carries. How much the world would demand of him.”

You glanced at her, her words striking a chord within you. “He must’ve known, even if he didn’t understand it yet,” you replied, your voice low. “It’s part of him. But that doesn’t mean it’s fair. Not to him, not to you.”

She turned her head slightly to look at you, her gaze sharp yet searching, as if trying to unravel the layers of your own thoughts. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

You hesitated, the question catching you off guard. Finally, you nodded. “Terrified,” you admitted. “Not because I doubt him. I know what he’s capable of. But even Satoru has limits. And this fight... Sukuna... it feels different.”

Her eyes softened at your confession, and she reached over, placing a hand on yours. Her touch was cool but steady, grounding you in the moment. “It’s different because it’s not just about the fight,” she said quietly. “It’s about what happens after. What happens if he wins and loses a piece of himself in the process. Or worse.” Her voice faltered, just for a moment, before she composed herself again. “It’s about the things we can’t control. The things that even Satoru can’t control.”

You tightened your grip on her hand, drawing strength from the shared vulnerability. “You’re right,” you said. “No matter how scared I am, I refuse to let him see it. He’s always carrying so much—he doesn’t need to carry my fear too.”

His Mother looked out at the tranquil ripple of the pond nearby. “When he wrote home and told the high council of the family he’d found someone to marry, I felt an inkling of relief for the first time since he was born.”

She studied you for a moment, her lips curving into a faint smile. It wasn’t a smile of amusement but one of approval, of recognition. “I see it, you know. The way his eyes soften when he looks at you. The way he jokes a little louder, stands a little taller when you’re around or even speaks of you. He may never say it outright, but you’ve given him something no one in this clan ever could—a reason to keep fighting that isn’t just about duty or power. You’ve reminded him what it means to live.”

Her words hang in the air, heavy and luminous, like the first stars appearing in the dusk. You can’t help but glance down, feeling the full weight of what she’s saying.

“We never had much a connection. He was sent off for schooling the moment the world said so. Training and duties for a child.” She shook her head ever so gently. “But I knew he was going to do what was best.”

She looked back out to the pond. “He might be strong but you are stronger. You saw what he had to deal with and what he had to become and stuck by his side through it all.”

You let out a small laugh, feeling the heat rise to your cheeks. “I think I get it from him,” you said, your tone light but your words genuine.

Her smile widened just a fraction, and for the first time, you saw a glimmer of pride in her expression—not just for Satoru, but for you. “You had it before you met him. You’re just the first person he felt comfortable being malleable around.”

The moment hung between you, a shared understanding settling into place, when a familiar voice broke the quiet.

“Did I just catch my mom smiling? To someone who isn’t me? This has to be a historic moment.”

Satoru stood at the edge of the garden, his hands in his pockets and his signature cocky grin plastered across his face. The sight of him, so casual and carefree, was both a comfort and a stark reminder of what lay ahead.

His mother’s composure returned in an instant, though her tone held a trace of humor as she responded. “Don’t flatter yourself, Satoru. It’s not that rare.”

“Sure it isn’t,” he quipped, striding over to join you. He dropped onto the bench beside you, leaning back with a languid ease that belied the tension in the air. Leaning in to kiss your cheek then his mother’s. “So, what’s the topic? My amazing childhood? My stunning good looks?”

“Your stunning arrogance,” you shot back, unable to resist the jab.

He smirked, but there was a warmth in his gaze as he looked between you and his mother. “I leave you two alone for five minutes, and suddenly you’re ganging up on me. Guess I should be flattered.”

Despite his teasing, there was a flicker of something deeper in his expression—gratitude, maybe, or relief. He might not say it out loud, but you knew he appreciated this moment, this connection between the two people genuinely cared for him the most. No abilities, no strength. Just his existence.

As the three of you sat together, the weight of the coming battle didn’t disappear, but it felt a little lighter.

For now, that was enough

[madds-is-ace-trash]

I gave in to temptation and made memes for my fic. So ummmmm here ya go.

Edit: link to fic

[purpledemonlilyposting]

[Lily's Post]

Look I know alot of you think my criticisms of A Place Further Than the Universe are only cause Lorch likes it but there is absolutely zero focus on science in the show and that's part of my problem with it.

It really is just a slice of a life focused entirely on getting 4 high school girls on a big technical boat for purity moeblob gooners.

At one point the girls go outside on the ship, alone, at night, during a storm, getting soaked by freezing cold ocean water in their pajamas against a thin rail they could easily get swept away from and this is treated as cute rather than idiotically suicidal. They just giggle and talk about how salty the water is.

SCIENCE!

None of the 4 girls are interested in anything STEM related. They all just want to go to Antartica because that's the plot.

Kimari just wants to do "something with her youth" because that's how 50 year old Jukki Hanada thinks 15 year old girls talk, Hinata just overheard them talking about it in the convenience store she works at and thought it sounded neat, and Yuzuki is only going cause she's like a minor child star celebrity idol vlogger or some shit and her manager mom (who is NOT accompanying her) thought sending her on a Japanese civilian expedition to Antarctica would be... good PR? Yuzuki also the only way the other girls even conveniently get on the trip.

Shirase at least HAS a reason, even if its a desperate, stupid one based on grief. Her mom disappeared out there 3 years ago and she wants to "find" her (more she just wants closure and is clinging to a childish hope her mom is still alive.) But Shirase's mom ALSO was NOT a scientist and ALSO just went to Antarctica just because she thought it sounded neat. And died in a blizzard out there trying to retrieve a laptop so she could email her daughter a photo of the aurora australis.

The girls get like one night of tent training and thats it. They don't even have to be in peak physical condition for a trip to one of the most dangerous places on Earth. It is barely about this expedition, its just there as an excuse to put moe high school girls next to accurately rendered machinery.

Here's how I'd rewrite this show: if it HAS to be high school girls maybe have the four attend the same school and be into different aspects of research. Maybe Hinata wants to be an engineer, Shirase is following in her artic researcher mother's footsteps despite the danger, Yuzuki could still run a popular vlog but maybe its climate science and no one takes her seriously cause she's a young girl believing she's just the presenter being fed information by a team, and Kimari could just be getting introduced to these fields she never even thought about before. And they're all trying to earn a grant that will allow them to go on the expedition.

But I suppose "girls and women being scientists" is too much of a stretch of the imagination for an aging Japanese man.

[ax-killjoy]

☆ Because, you’re kind.

Note ! 𖦹 : this is based on a D&D tiktok i saw. :,) i hope this fic makes sense- if not then it becomes part of my sleep deprived nonsense.

Jake Sully/Gn!Reader (Platonic !)

tw !!: child neglect

Y/N was a child birthed from two horribly neglectful parents. Jake Sully remembers vividly, the way your body was born into the light, a gift from Eywa. And the look of your mother’s disgust written on her face, and the distant look from your father.

Jake couldn’t tell whether the heat rising from his throat was bile, or the anger he felt.

I guess Na’vi can be shitty parents too.

He tried giving your parents a chance, seeing that maybe they were just simply fatigued. But that wasn’t the case, he watched over you closely as you grew up. Neytiri could tell something was up with Jake, whenever your parents came to help with operations.

Jake was stiff, his teeth gritting, his jaw clenched and furrowed brows. “you should be looking after your kid.” he seethes, glaring at the parents who were gathering guns. They were chanting loudly, loading guns into saddles as they cheered, killing sky people around the wreckage. “Why ? That child is no gift from Eywa, a mistake maybe. but no gift.” The father says, and Neytiri ears flatten. A crack in her heart, like glass. Jake Sully suddenly stops what he is doing, “You will love your child, you should. Your child, EVERY child is a gift from Eywa.” he says, before storming off to find more guns.

After that, both Neytiri and Jake swore to look after you. To watch you closely, to treat you like one of their own. Until you officially became one of their own.

When you turned 13, you don’t remember it. And Jake thanks Eywa for that, but both of your parents seemingly forgot about you. Or maybe it was intentional.

It was your first hunting trip, you had been begging your parents to take you hunting. They took you to the forest, to the deepest parts of forbidden to unmarked territory, Telling you that all the good animals to eat were here. Your father and mother say that they will watch from afar, and before you knew it. They had left you there, in part of the forest unmarked on a map.

It took a week for Jake and Neytiri to find you, you hid yourself in the nook of the tree. You slept soundly, and the seeds of Eywa surrounded you like an unspoken hug, as if Eywa was reassuring you. Jake’s eyes became glossy, he kneeled down over your body, and he cried. His body shivered and small sobs were let out, god he was so scared. He was so fucking scared you died.

That was when you became an official Sully.

.｡.:*☆♡*.+

As you grew up, you forgot about your parents. Or that’s what everyone saw, you were bubbly now. Nature loving, Curious, full of life. A personality that was never shown when your parents took care of you.

The Sully family cherished you dearly, quickly becoming one of the eldest of the Sully children. Jake and Neytiri were everything your parents weren’t.

Your parents were quickly exiled from Omatikaya, It felt like the sun got brighter, the stars twinkled more, and the breeze welcomed Jake when they left. Relief washed over him.

It was a quiet day, you had come back from hunting with Neteyam. You and Neteyam had just finally turned 15, meaning you both could officially hunt without supervision. Neteyam went to explore with the rest of the family, whilst you and Jake stayed home. He watched as you prepared food, whilst he cleaned his weapons and reassembled them. Checking each bullet intently, putting the broken ones in a separate box. It was a comfortable silence, the warmth of breeze welcomed both of you.

“I know you’re not my real father.” You said simply, cutting the chunks of meat and putting it in a basket with various vegetables.

Jake stopped what he was doing, looking up but not looking at you.

“I know that Neytiri is not my mother.“ you say softly, like it was a secret. As if it was forbidden to say.

“how did you know ?” he asks, his voice is raspy yet ever so soft.

You look back at him, your eyes bright yet spoke a million words. you stopped cutting the meat, you walked to him and sat next to him. Letting your head rest on his shoulder, and you sigh.

“because you and Neytiri are kind.”

[dottores]

HELIOTROPES: A SIDE STORY

pairing: dottore x fem!reader & segments

summary: the gods were sick and twisted. for five hundred years, he believed he was fated to be alone. he had long accepted it—embraced it, even. that is, until a midwinter night when that elusive red thread finally appeared on his finger. but as much as he wants to ignore it, the pull of a soulmate simply cannot be ignored.

genre: soulmate au, canon compliant for the most part.

warnings: fem!reader, worldbuilding, brief mention of alcoholism and implied child abuse (not to reader), totally unedited (didn't have time! sorry!) reminder that segment list is on the masterlist if needed!

notes: THE BDAY SIDE STORY IS HERE, sorry i couldn't get it out on time i've been so busy i literally did not have the time to format or do anything sobs but i hope u guys enjoy because i had so much fun writing it. i originally came up with the idea for milk's bday a few weeks ago hehe. i rlly love it because it gives more background into reader and some of my fav segments (minus theta </3 he didn't make it in this one. but perhaps i shall do a christmas side story and make him the star).

THREE TIMES THE SEGMENTS MET YOU WITHOUT REALIZING IT,  AND ONE TIME THEY DID.

I. THE KAPPA SEGMENT & THE EPSILON SEGMENT; READER, AGE 6

You were cold. Soft puffs of air left your lips, shaky and weak. You were curled up in a ball on the ground, and a part of you knew that you needed to move but you couldn’t bring yourself to, your limbs felt as if they were iced to the ground—maybe they were, you could barely even pry your eyes open to check. 

The storm had died down, brief and brutal as they usually were, but you had been unable to find shelter before it hit. The town had to be close, you could hear people leaving their homes to fix up their properties from destruction of the harsh winds. It was only a matter of time before someone spotted you curled up on the ground, you were wearing a bright purple cloak. Your mother would find you, she would come to your rescue, she’d bring you home and make some hot cocoa for you just like you guys used to do during the bad storms before your father left for Fontaine City. 

It felt like an eternity. It might’ve been an eternity, you couldn’t tell. All you knew was that everything was cold, and you felt sluggish and slow, and you were starting to struggle to breathe because the air felt like icicles scraping at your lungs. You were tired, you could feel yourself falling asleep but living on the northern border, you knew better—you had to make it somewhere warm before you fell asleep, otherwise you might not wake up. 

But you couldn’t move, you thought you should feel scared and you thought you should definitely be crying but you couldn’t even do that. And as the minutes passed, slow and agonizing, you began to question whether or not someone would find you in time. The more those doubts began to surface, the more appealing the relief of sleep became—at least if you slept, you wouldn’t have to wait out these freezing and harrowing minutes alone. You could dream of your mother and father, of Sylvie and Elliot, maybe you would even dream of your soulmate. You heard that some people who were favored by the gods had dreams of their soulmate well before they ever met. 

Your weak breaths began to even out as you gave into the lull, but just as you were on the verge of falling asleep, you heard it—the crunching of snow, fast and loud heading in your direction. You forced your eyes open now, whimpering as the ice and snow caked on your face ripped at your skin painfully, and through little slits, you watched a figure dashing toward you.

At first, you thought it was your mother, wishing you could cry in relief because of course she found you, she would always find you. She would always come to your rescue. She would wrap you up in her arms and cry at you for being such a fool, but you knew she would just be happy you were okay. 

But as the figure drew closer, you realized that it was far too small to be your mother—you thought maybe it was Sylvie or Elliot, rushing ahead to get to you and maybe your mother was right behind them, but again, you were proven wrong as an unfamiliar boy knelt at your side, red eyes wide and silvery-blue curls hanging in his eyes as he peered down at you. 

He pressed his hands against both of your cheeks, as if to warm you up, but you thought it might’ve made it worse, because with the small bit of warmth against your skin and the feeling of someone else’s touch after being alone so long in the blizzard, you found your eyes drooping shut again, being lulled to sleep far faster this time. 

At once, the boy ripped his hands away and you could hear him pulling off his own cloak. He wrapped it around you tightly tucking one of your arms inside the thick material but hesitated before stuffing your other arm in there too. You forced your eyes back open, watching as he stared at your hand in confusion, and you parted your lips to ask what he was doing but no noise left them besides a wheeze of cold air that had ice slicing down your windpipe and your body shuddering in pain. 

Noticing your reaction, he put your arm into the cloak. He stood up, and you wondered if he was going to try to lift you himself, or leave you, but then another voice reached your ears, loud and tired, calling a name that you couldn’t quite make out but it had the boy lifting his arms and waving them frantically. 

A few moments later, there was a new figure kneeling next to you, brows furrowed as he looked down at you. “How did you get out here all on your own in this weather?” he murmured more to himself than you, and careful to keep you wrapped up in the small one’s cloak, he took his own off and wrapped you in that one too, easily lifting you up into his arms.

He was a stranger, and you knew you shouldn’t feel so comfortable in his arms, but you couldn’t help the way you leaned into his chest, basking in the warmth and relief of having been found, even if it wasn’t by the person you wanted it to be. You started to doze off again but found yourself disrupted as he jostled you in his arms suddenly, eyes blearily reopening to give him a confused look. 

“No sleeping,” he warned, giving you a steady look before motioning for the boy to follow him as he brought you into the town.

He took you to the inn, bustling with people who had taken refuge from the sudden storm, and immediately the innkeeper recognized you, gasping as she hobbled over to the man and led him in the direction of the fireplace, shouting for people to go fetch your mother or stepfather. He placed you down on the ratty couch of the inn, keeping you nestled inside both cloaks before pushing it as close as possible to the fireplace. 

He stepped away and at once you felt cold again—not physically, but mentally. Empty in a way that you’d never experienced before. You wanted to tell him to come back but you still couldn’t speak, your throat hurt and your lips still felt numb. 

The boy lingered for a moment, standing in front of the couch and staring at you as if he wanted to say something, but couldn’t—much like you.

“Come, Kappa,” the man who saved you said just as you finally began to drift off to sleep with the warmth of the fireplace next to you and the weight of their cloaks pressing down on you. “She will be fine. Delta is waiting, you know how he feels about wasting time.”

You could only watch them leave, confused as to the warmth you felt when you were wrapped up in his arms—you knew it was different than normal but didn’t know why—and Epsilon never noticed the thread tied neatly around your finger, which was hidden by his and Kappa’s cloak. Kappa, mute and anxious, was unable to force the words out of his mouth as Epsilon held his wrist and led him from the tavern away from you. 

II. THE IOTA SEGMENT; READER, AGE 11

You shuffled through the streets, sniffling and wiping at your eyes with baggy sleeves. You were getting odd looks from all around, wondering why an eleven-year-old was wandering around the streets alone wearing clothes that were far too big for her body. You had stolen Wriothesley’s jacket and gloves to cover your nice dress and the rings adorning your fingers, you probably should have taken them off before leaving the palace—the last thing you needed was for your mother to yell at you for losing her grandmother’s pearl ring and the city was out of control with pickpockets the past few months. 

It had already started raining, much to your displeasure, you remembered the prophecy that spoke of the day Fontaine City would be drowned by the gods and not for the first time, you wished that the day would just come already. You were so tired of dealing with your stepfather, and you hated the way he looked at you, and you hated how now he was even turning people against you and your father. 

You were supposed to have joined your mother and siblings in visiting your uncle for dinner, but instead, your mother had made an off-handed comment about how you should go spend some time with your father and grandfather instead, and you knew it was because your stepfather must have said something to your uncle. You didn’t know what, you had never been close to your uncle but you’d thought that since he was still family, he wouldn’t care for the words of an outsider.

But you should have expected this, in Fontaine, nothing came above the word of a person’s soulmate, Celestia’s gift to humanity. Of course he would believe your stepfather, because your stepfather was his sister’s gift from the gods—he only ever wanted the best for her, and he had somehow convinced your uncle that you, her own daughter, were not the best for her. 

Another sob bubbled at your lips, you pressed the sleeves of Wriothesley’s jacket to your mouth to muffle it. You wondered if your mother thought you were stupid, that you wouldn’t know what she really meant, but of course you knew. You spent too much time just observing people to not know. You didn’t have any friends to talk to besides Wriothesley, and Wriothesley was always busy. All you could do was sit around and observe until you got bored. 

Maybe you should have just gone to your father or grandfather and tell them what happened, but you knew if you did that, they would be livid and it would escalate things even more, and you were the one that would deal with the backlash of that, not them. So instead you went to Wriothesley, and stole his jacket and gloves, and refused to tell him what happened before you fled from the room to leave the palace. 

Just as you were about to turn the corner, you slammed into a figure and hit the ground hard, crying even more when mud splattered all over your face and into your mouth. You tried to wipe the mud off of your face through choked sobs but now the gloves were covered in mud too from you trying to catch yourself, and you only smeared it even worse.

“Oh.” 

It was a young boy who you had slammed into you but you couldn’t make out his facial features through your blurred vision. You were caught off guard when he was suddenly pressing his cloak against your face, using it as a rag to try to wipe off the mud. It didn’t help much, all he did was smear it around more because his cloak was drenched, but it had at least cleared your vision. 

“... Better?” he said hesitantly, looking down at you.

You sniffled a bit, using the clean part of Wriothesley’s jacket to wipe at your eyes before you nodded, but you didn’t stand up from where you were sitting on the ground. You didn’t want to. The boy leaned in a bit closer, frowning, “Are you… crying?” 

“I am not,” you denied immediately, but your voice betrayed you, cracking and breath shuddering over another sob. The boy looked suspicious. “I’m not.”

“Yes, you are.”

“No, I’m not!”

“You are.”

“Not!”

“Yes, you are!”

“I am not!”

You glared at him. 

He glared back. 

Then he sat down in the mud next to you, plopping down hard and splattering mud all over you again. 

“Are you crying because you fell because of me?” the boy asked.

“‘m not crying,” you muttered, but with far less vigor this time. When he only stared at you, red eyes wide and earnest as he waited for an actual response, you finally said: “My stepfather is mean to me.”

“Oh,” the boy said in response, and the two of you just sat there for a moment, ignoring the way people kept giving you strange looks. Then, he reached up and patted your head, getting mud in your hair and on your forehead. Your brows furrowed as you stared at him, trying to figure out what he was doing, but he looked just as confused as you. “The Doctor pats my head when I get sad sometimes. It makes me feel better. Do you feel better?”

He drew his hand back swiftly into his lap, as if the single touch had poisoned him, and then you noticed how he was sitting with a large space between the two of you, the hand that had touched your head trembling and his body stiff. You wondered if he was like Wriothesley, Wriothesley used to get scared whenever people touched him, even just a kiss on the cheek or a pat on the head, and he never initiated contact with anyone else—you were pretty sure it was because his grandfather drank a lot, and when he drank a lot, he hurt people but whenever you asked your father, he said it was none of your business. But your father didn’t like Wriothesley’s grandfather, and you supposed that said enough, your father liked pretty much everyone. And then, realizing he might be like Wriothesley, you felt sad because he still tried to make you feel better even though he was scared. 

“I feel better,” you said quietly.

He smiled, brightening up a bit, but just as he was about to say something, you heard your name being called, loud and panicked. Your eyes turned up to where Wriothesley’s father was rushing through the rain in your direction, a few of his men following close behind. 

At his side, Wriothesley was with him, looking guilty as he refused to meet your eyes.

“Traitor!” you cried at Wriothesley as his father gently hauled you out of the mud to your feet. “I don’t want to go back there!” 

“He was worried, little one,” Wriothesley’s father patted your head, voice quiet as he spoke. “We all were. The city has been dangerous lately, you cannot go running off on your own. Your father just about had a heart attack when Wriothesley came to us and told us that you took his jacket and left the palace grounds.”

Wriothesley’s father pulled off the muddy gloves and coat to drape his own cleaner one over your shoulders—if he had been a second faster, maybe Iota would have caught sight of the thread tied to your finger before he ran off to get back to Delta. 

III. THE GAMMA SEGMENT; READER, AGE 16

You had made it your goal to attend every festival you possibly could across all of Teyvat. The music festivals of Fontaine were an easy tick to your list, but it had taken a lot of convincing to get your mother to agree to the Lantern Rite Festival of Liyue. With you, Sylvie and Elliot combined though, it was impossible for her to say no. 

It was all you’d been thinking about for days now, and as you walked over the bridge to enter Liyue Harbor, you thought the city might’ve been the most beautiful sight you’d ever seen, eyes drawing upon all of the decorations and stands—it was dark out already, but somehow the city was still completely lit up and alive. People were singing and dancing, chatting loudly and laughing.

It reminded you of Fontaine City before the curfews were set and you were confined to the palace. 

“Look at all of the lights,” Sylvie whispered excitedly, tugging at your arm as she pointed to the lanterns decorating each corner of every building. 

“They say that they release thousands of lanterns at the end of the festival into the air,” Elliot said, squinting as he dipped his head down to see the words of the book he was reading. “They send their soldiers traveling throughout Liyue to collect all of them after Lantern Rite ends.” 

“Do you think we’ll be able to release one?” Sylvie asked, bouncing in her feet as she turned to look at Elliot, who just shrugged. “Can we go explore? Please, mother.”

Your mother looked tired from all of the traveling, sharing a look with your stepfather before nodding. “We’re going to go check in at the inn we’re staying at. Be sure to meet back here before nightfall, we have reservations at the Xinyue Kiosk tonight.”

Delighted, you lit up, watching as your stepfather told Elliot and Sylvie to go buy themselves a kite from the Toy Shop before handing them each a pouch of mora. You should’ve known better, but still, you glanced at him after Elliot and Sylvie ran off in opposite directions. His eyes glazed right over you as he held your tired mother by the waist and led her off in the direction of the inn. 

Your smile faltered but you refused to let it ruin your mood—you were in Liyue Harbor during Lantern Rite. You weren’t going to let him make you sad, you had your own coins anyway that you got from tutoring the Beaumont kids. Instead, you rushed off across the bridge and down the street, in the direction of the main area of the city. 

There were people everywhere, all of the shops stayed open, your smile widened as you watched a bunch of kids Elliot and Sylvie’s age run around with kites in their hands, ignoring how the adults were chiding them for doing it while the streets were so busy. 

You peeked around at some of the market stands, tempted to try some of the food but you figured that you’d get yelled at if you filled yourself up before the reservation, knowing that your mother spent a lot of time and mora getting someone down to Liyue a few months ago to make sure you guys were put on the waitlist. 

Instead, you found yourself in front of a jewelry shop, looking through the glass windows at the gemstones perched up on pretty purple cushions. They were already sold out of Emeralds, Topazes and Agates, but they had a full stock of Turquoises, Jades, and Diamonds. Distantly, you wondered who the hell was going to buy Diamonds from the jeweler, knowing that the rest would at least be bought by people with a vision. 

Your eyes narrowed, and just as disappointment was about to hit you, you caught sight of what you were looking for:

Varunada Lazurite. 

Your gaze shot open in surprise—the gemstone was always sold out in the Land of Hydro with so many people who had hydro visions living within the city. You had managed to get your hands on three chunks the last time the shop near the palace restocked, even though you had to wait in a line for nearly twelve hours to make sure you were the first one there after the restock. You had thought you’d have to wait another month or two for a chance at obtaining the other three you needed. 

But right there were the three brilliant and shiny chunks of Lazurite you needed tucked in the corner of the glass box. Excited, you realized that you wouldn’t have to wait as long as you thought—once you got home, you’d be able to grab the three you already had and crush them down into dust with your father for the second-to-last vision ceremony, to give you the increased connection with your hydro energy that you needed to finally start learning your family’s passed down hydro art. 

Then, you would start the long process of trying to acquire the full gemstones, which were far more expensive and rarer than the chunks. 

“Unless you’re going to buy something, I suggest you move on. You’re holding up my customers,” the woman behind the stand said boredly.

“How much for the three chunks of Lazurite?” you asked, raising your chin. 

She only quirked her brow upward. “Forty geo sigils each.”

“Geo sigils?” you gasped, eyes wide and lips parted as your elation immediately disappeared. 

How were you supposed to get geo sigils? You weren’t a Liyue native, you had no way of knowing how to find them. You barely even had any Hydro sigils and you were from Fontaine. 

“You’re a foreigner?” the woman asked, squinting her eyes a bit as she looked you over. You nodded, and she sighed heavily. “Very well, seventy-five thousand mora. Each.”

You blanched, knowing in your heart that she was ripping you off. Forty geo sigils was worth closer to sixty-thousand than seventy-five thousand but you weren’t going to argue that when she was doing you a favor by taking the common currency for you already. 

Defeated, you asked: “Do you take bank checks?” 

The woman nodded, and you pulled out one of the Northland Bank check slips that your mother had given you a few months back—it was your stepfather’s, he was the only one that had a bank account with the Northland Bank, and you figured that he would be mad when he realized you’d spent over two-hundred thousand of his mora on your Lazurite chunks but you thought that he deserved it, and signed the check happily after making it out to Mingxing Jewelry. 

She handed you the bag with the Lazurite chunks and thanked you for the business. Smiling to yourself, you made your way down the street again, this time looking for Sylvie or Elliot.

You got no further than a few yards before someone slammed into you, sending you both sprawling out to the ground. 

All the air left your lungs as a heavy weight dropped onto your stomach, scrambling off of you almost immediately, panicked. Your eyes met a pair of red ones and a face flushed pink in embarrassment, burn scars decorated the upper half of his face and for a moment, you thought he was familiar from somewhere. He was around your age, you couldn’t help but notice.

“I’m sorry,” he blurted out. “Sorry, I was just-I wasn’t looking where I was going. I’m looking for someone and-”

“It’s-” You began to say ‘it’s fine’ but the words died on your tongue when you realized that the bag you were holding was significantly lighter. You shot an accusing look at him, thinking that he had pickpocketed you but as you did that, your eyes caught a glimmer from the corner of your eye. 

The Lazurite.

You rushed toward it, but not fast enough, only able to watch as a small child darted through the crowd to steal the shiny object.

“Hey!” you shouted angrily, glaring back furiously at the boy who had bumped into you, who looked even more humiliated now, pressing his knuckles against his mouth as if refraining the urge to gnaw at them. “Look at what you did!”

You didn’t even spare him another glance, ignoring his apologies and his offers to help you get it back as you gave chase to the child who had stolen your seventy-five thousand mora gem. 

You hadn’t noticed the warm feeling that had swept through you when he had crashed into you, nor had Gamma noticed the thin red thread wrapped around your finger in his panic.

IV. THE ZETA SEGMENT; READER, AGE 19

The Windblume Festival.

You smiled as you stepped into Mondstadt City, the beams of the sun washing over you and a gentle breeze sweeping through the city. You had heard that Anemo Archon makes the days of the Festival the most beautiful that the city sees all year—you had doubted it, partially because the Hydro Archon thought it was the greatest entertainment to douse the city in rain and storms whenever the music festivals were taking place. It never deterred them, the musicians would always play on even through the rain and thunder, but you had never quite experienced a festival like this, even during Lantern Rite, you had been unlucky with dreary clouds draped over the harbor. 

You didn’t even know where to go first, you were so overwhelmed with all of the colors and all of the people and you thought you shouldn’t be, you should be used to crowds by now, but you’d spent so much time locked up in the palace after your father’s death that you were getting anxiety just being in the vicinity of so many people. 

Your father. Your throat felt tight just as the reminder of him. He was supposed to be at Windblume with you—he had promised to bring you last year knowing how excited you were to see all of the nations’ different festivals, but he’d died before he could. You hadn’t even been able to bring yourself to go without him, but you forced yourself to go this year, to enjoy it for the both of you. 

And you couldn’t enjoy it with such a cloud of gloom hanging over you, so you squared off your shoulders and pushed away all of the dark feelings, forcing the small smile back onto your face as you made your way into the city, although it wasn’t quite as bright as before. 

You sighed as you made your way up the steps to the city’s main square. There were kids dancing to the music of a bard and flower stands set up all around the fountain in the center of the square. You wanted to buy one to give to someone, as per the Windblume tradition, but you didn’t have anyone to give it to. Sylvie and Elliot were supposed to have joined you for the festival, but their stepfather forbade them at the last minute, forcing you to attend the festival alone.

You looked around, eyes falling upon where a pretty woman with brown hair and green eyes was leaning into a tall blonde woman, and next to them, where a shorter blonde man was being dragged to the center of the square by a little girl dressed in red, who was pointing excitedly to a stand somewhere behind you. 

“Are you waiting on someone?”

You jumped at the unfamiliar voice, turning to the side only for your eyes to fall upon a handsome man with dark skin and blue hair. His lip ticked up a bit as you studied him, and a bit embarrassed, he added: “Sorry. I was just wondering, you’re not from Mondstadt, are you?”

“Is it that obvious?” you asked dryly, glancing down at yourself. You wondered if it was the way you were dressed or if it was the way you looked like a lost duckling trying to figure out where to go. Disappointed, you thought you had made sure to wear an outfit that leaned more toward Mondstadt’s typical fashion than Fontaine’s but either way, it was a bit embarrassing. 

“No,” the man said immediately. “I was just throwing it out there for a conversation starter, I’ve found it works wonders.”

“Does it?” you asked curiously, peering around the pavilion as more people began to wander around.

He hummed in agreement. “Usually, they start asking me why I think that because they are from Mondstadt,” you laughed a bit and the corner of his lip pulled up, “and if they aren’t, I explain to them why I asked, and then they laugh, kind of like how you are now.”

“You’ve got it all figured it out, don’t you?” you asked, letting the tease slip into your tone as you relaxed against the stone wall behind you, glancing up at him.

“Not at all,” he corrected. You gave him a questioning look and his grin widened a bit as he leaned in, as if to whisper to you in conspiracy. “I just made all of that up.”

You laughed louder this time, more in surprise than humor, but he seemed to take it as a positive regardless, straightening back up and looking down on you. “I’m Kaeya,” he greeted. “Cavalry Captain of the Knight’s of Favonius.”

“I’m…” you began, but found yourself trailing off as you caught sight of a figure ducking into an alleyway. All you caught was a head of silvery-blue hair, but somehow you could feel yourself drawn in that direction as if something was pulling you and were a puppet on a string that could only follow along. “Excuse me for a second.”

You didn’t hear his response and though you felt a bit bad about leaving him hanging like that, you were more focused on trying to figure out whatever the pull to this person was. You took off in that direction, relief hitting you when you realized he was still lingering at the mouth of the alley, fiddling with something in his hands.

“Excuse me,” you called, trying to get his attention. He didn’t respond, he didn’t even look up, so you repeated yourself as you drew closer, reaching out to touch his arm but he jerked away, dropping whatever was in his hands and your eyes widened as it hit the ground hard, shattering. 

You couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him, you could feel the cold and harsh gaze set on you as he waited for you to say whatever you wanted to say, but now you were at a loss for words because you didn’t even know why you came after him and you didn’t know what you wanted. 

“Did you need something?” Clipped and icy, the thin smile on his lips did not meet the red of his eyes, and any words that you might’ve been trying to say to excuse your actions died on your tongue. 

“I’m sorry,” you finally said, grateful that your voice remained steady even under his severe look. “You looked familiar. I thought we might’ve met before.”

He looked ridiculously familiar, in fact. You swore that you’d seen him before—the red eyes, silvery-blue hair and the scarred upper half of his face—it was all so familiar but you just couldn’t place from where. He looked taken aback a bit by your words, examining you for just a second before his lips twisted down again. 

“We have not,” he said, voice frigid as he knelt down to pick up the broken pieces of the object that he had been holding. It was a dismissal if you’d ever heard one, but instead of leaving, you knelt down next to him.

“Here, let me help-” you tried to say, but at once, he grabbed your forearm, fingers pressing deep into your skin to stop you.

At once, a jolt shot through you and he seemed to feel it too, if the way he drew back as if he had slapped had anything to say about it. He stared at your hand as if he had just seen a ghost, lips parted in shock and eyes wide, and just as you were about to ask if he was okay, he spluttered something out about being late for something and then he was moving, disappearing around the corner before you even knew what was happening. 

You sat there for a moment, stunned, and completely oblivious as to what he had seen.

Zeta’s heart was racing and his head was pounding, red eyes wide with disbelief as he leaned against a wall around the corner, far away from you. A part of him was embarrassed at the way he had run, he couldn’t even remember what excuse he had given—something along the lines of having to go because something important came up, a load of bullshit of course, but he thought it was better than what would have happened if he stayed there any longer after seeing that thread. 

The thread.

Zeta didn’t know what to think. He had known of your existence—he knew because the moment the Iota segment found out years ago, the boy went running to every segment to tell them how a thread showed up on the Doctor’s finger, how they finally had their soulmate. He never expected to meet you though, much less before any of the other segments, and even then, a part of him had been convinced by Lambda’s persistence that this was all just a ploy for them to drop their guards, a fake, a means to destroy them in a way they had yet to be destroyed. 

But you were there. You were right there. Zeta couldn’t help the way he peeked back around the corner, eyes immediately drawn to where he had left you in the middle of the alley. You looked upset, expression downcast as you glanced around, still trying to find him. A part of Zeta wanted to walk back over to you—talk to you, study you, try to figure out just who you were and why you were tied to them, there had to be something unique about you that made you their soulmate, that made them have to wait five hundred years just to meet you. 

But he knew better. 

The Doctor would already be suspicious. 

It wasn’t unlike Zeta to have bursts of emotion when dealing with too many people—he got overwhelmed quickly after spending years having to keep up a friendly mask at the Akademiya. No matter how hard he tried to keep himself calm and learn new methods for not exhausting his thin tolerance of social situations, he never seemed to be able to do anything to fix it, an unfortunate side-effect of having been created with this mindset, because he would always revert back to the one in which he was originally made in.

But it was not the sudden outburst that was the issue. It was that shock that spread through him when your hand brushed his arm. The warm feeling. The familiarity with someone who should not be familiar. The Doctor would have noticed it, and he would have questions.

Zeta sighed heavily, pressing his fingers to the bridge of his nose as he leaned his head back against the wall. He cast one last long look backward, eyes lingering on you, memorizing your face and your body, the outfit you wore and the gems that donned your fingers and neck. 

With a tight feeling in his throat, he pushed himself off the wall and head in the opposite direction of where you were standing, knowing that it was only a matter of time before the Doctor reached out demanding to know what had happened and Zeta needed to figure out what he was going to say before that happened, wanting to keep this little encounter a secret to himself because he knew that Lambda would inevitably find out through the Doctor and then he would try to hunt you down. 

One last look, he told himself, again. He glanced back as he reached another corner, the alley where he left you only barely visible from the distance, but you were already gone.  

[raayllum]

Allegorical Rayllum in "Dreamer's Nightmare"

Really thought I'd walk out of Dreamer's Nightmare thinking more about the broyals + Harrow, or an Ezran centric meta (and there may be ones to follow) but this was something that stuck out to me on my first two read throughs and was a truly unexpected part of the graphic novel so...

This is exactly what it says on the tin, and full spoilers for all of Dreamer's Nightmare.

Let's go

Crumbs

The biggest crumb(s) we get are arguably Callum 1) recognizing the mural as belonging to an elven temple, and 2) this panel below that definitely made me chuckle.

I also, accordingly, lost my mind over the elf-toy from 1x04 being a gift given to Ezran / the boys by the end of the comic, which seems to be modelled both after the Moonshadow elf featured in the story, and of actual canon Rayla per 1x04 itself, down to the girl having a similar hair style, markings, and being a sword wielder. (This also informs our basis for the next section.)

However, the definitely meatier stuff has to do with the Dream Warden (DW) creature, its history, and Ezran's interactions with it, so that's where we'll be focusing, and subsequently big spoilers for the graphic novel. Last chance to get out if you hadn't read it yet!

Identity and Loss

So there's a few things we learn about DW and their little mortal friend.

Long ago, a Dream Warden, still new to the world, befriended a mortal child. This violated the traditions of its kind, but the Dream Warden was young. Each night, it flew to the silver shores of sleep and each night found its friend there, wide-eyed and waiting. And beneath the watchful stars, they could adventure together through the child's dreaming world. But one night, sleep blossomed into dream, the Warden found itself alone. The child did not appear that night, nor any night that followed. The Dream Warden searched dream after dream for its friend. Sorrow became fear came anger, and soon the Warden left nothing but nightmares to flower in its wake.

This happens, of course, because the child has grown up and left their old dreaming behind, and the relationship between youth and dreams vs adulthood (actual and perceived) is something the comic is likewise interested in. Callum wants to be grow up so he can help, but as Harrow says, "Part of being grown-up is looking out for others," and there are many moments Callum acts far more like the 9-11 year old child that he is here than an adult, even if he is definitely more mature by the novel's close than he was at the beginning (and so on and so forth into S1 / beyond).

It is these two things — the abandonment of dreams (a life with Callum) to taking up an 'adult' task (assassinating Viren) in the name of "looking out for others" (Callum, the world) — that leads to Rayla leaving in Through the Moon. This is due to having fallen out of favour the idea that she's "stronger together" (BH) with anyone and missing the memo the boys receive/believe from Harrow—and their mother's actions—that they are "safest together".

So we have a Moon creature (seemingly) befriending an elven (mortal) child, even though doing so goes against the traditions of its kind. Then one day the Moon elf disappears in the action / guise of growing up, leaving the DW despondent, angry, and alone. Saddened, fearful, and furious they leave behind nightmares. [Sidenote: I do love the consistent metaphor of blossoming to flowering, it's nice.] Eventually, they fall into a deep depression and slumber.

This is a pretty close beat-for-beat of Esmeray as well, down to being left behind by a creature connected to the Moon arcanum who specifically "mysteriously dies"/leaves and subsequently causing an icy, snowy storm that shrouds the heavens (hides the starlight) until a return and/or reconciliation.

When she disappeared, she left you all alone. In pain. The storm isn't your rage. It's your grief. Your loneliness. On moonless nights, you miss her the most.

All of this is, however, mostly subtext, even if Callum and Esmeray match up in S6 and S4 in more than one instance, so I thought going through Dreamer's Nightmare that Callum's evident parallels to DW, and even Rayla to the moon child, that it would likewise remain subtext. Imagine my surprise when it wasn't.

Ezran

I've talked about Ezran and Rayla and their parallels before, decently extensively. Despite having different personality presentations, they have very similar cores. Both are less inclined towards violence in spite of Ezran having access to power and in spite of Rayla's upbringing, both have received prejudiced consequences for things they couldn't control (the assassin hit out on Ezran due to his father's crimes / Rayla being Ghosted partially because of her parents' as well as being seen as a monster), and these things contribute to them questioning perceived monstrosity more than, say, Callum, would.

We see this even reflected in Dreamer's Nightmare, where Callum despairs and in a desire to protect him and Ez, defaults to, "If I can't fight it, what can I do?" versus Ezran stating, "I can't fight you, and even if I could, I don't want to."

And while I have other thoughts on Callum and the 'monster' motif / label that you can read here, what I want to reaffirm here is the way through Ezran's connection with the Dream Warden, we also highlight his understanding of Callum both in the graphic novel and while Rayla was away / in the early days of her return.

Callum as a character has always been a character with a tenuous grasp on his own identity, especially in arc 1. He states in 2x04 that "when I got magic, I finally felt like myself" in trying to explain "how I've lost that. I'm just trying to find my way back". I think we can draw a point of comparison between Callum losing magic and not feeling like himself and Callum losing his mother and not feeling like himself, both in the immediate aftermath and repeatedly on the anniversary of her death. We also see elements Ezran mentions of Callum not feeling like himself (not drawing, his anger) that come out in S4 / 4x01 and 4x02, notably while Rayla was gone. It's only after she returns and they've begun to reconcile that we see Callum draw again (5x02) for example and indeed be more relaxed (somewhat) with his temper.

Through these periods, though, Ezran has been his cornerstone. Callum was lost in grief with Sarai, but finds his way back to Ezran; Ezran guides him out of the tower in 1x03 and into the quest to Xadia; Ezran is there even when Rayla is not, and Ezran encourages him to open up, recognizing there just as he does with the Dream Warden:

But it's easy to lose ourselves if we don't let others in. And I don't think you want to be angry and alone forever.

So Ezran through his assertions and understanding of both his brother in the comic's present, as well as the Dream Warden, takes everything that was previously subtext for Callum in the graphic novel as a character in the context of how he responds to loss (specifically Sarai and Rayla's loss), and makes it text:

DW lost their Moon arcanum connected best friend and fell into a furious sorrow, and that sorrow being disturbed is what brings the angered splintering back in full force. Dreamer's Nightmare ends, of course, with the creature being pacified and presumably going to bond with more new children, rather than just being shut away forever. Since Rayla isn't fully gone, and since she comes back, his tale of moon-friend-disappearing related woe ends differently with the full reconciliation, but the period of processing the grief and anger to "to hope and maybe forgive and love again" (4x03) remains the same.

This bodes well for theories regarding his love for Rayla and despair/desperation over losing her being what turns Callum into a 'monster' in S7, by which I mean Callum believing himself to become a monster through helping Aaravos / dark magic corruption, and believing himself to be something worth killing (4x07, 6x03) should those things transpire. But as Ezran says, all it takes is one (or two) people seeing you through the periods of anger, sadness, or splintered corruption to bring you back to your whole self again. Given the basis for Dreamer's Nightmare, I'm extremely hopeful that both Ezran and Rayla will have their roles to play in bringing Callum back to himself, just as Ezran's bonds with Callum and with Rayla will undeniably play a part in bringing Ezran back to himself, too.

With all this in mind, let's talk about the doll.

The Elf Toy

So the elf doll haunts me, nor is this new, by any means. I posted a bit about it when Dreamer's Nightmare had just come out, but I've had my eye on this thing since I first noticed the game motif some time after S3 aired. While it's since expanded to include Aaravos and his pawns (and dark magic) more directly in arc 2, said game motif in arc 1 mostly referred to the Key of Aaravos, with the motif and key itself being properly introduced in 1x04: "This is the game room, cube should be in there" / "It's a toy. A piece from a children's game."

A game motif oriented episode that then, therefore, likewise introduces a toy Rayla stand in, and one that Dreamer's Nightmare, purposefully being released before S7 for evident reasons for both brothers at least, harkens back to directly.

Like I think I can speak for all of us when I say I never thought we'd see the damn thing again. It's in 1x04 primarily to just emphasize how humans (namely Amaya) have always seen elves as scary monsters, it looks like Rayla to drive that subsequent point home, and yes it's a toy in an episode with the series' core Game Motif being centred for the first time, but that doesn't mean it's automatically connected. I'd like it to be, I think it'd be fun and very on brand for TDP's style of writing if it was.

That's said, let's go over it from various angles, starting with order of events:

Kid has elf toy, is buried under rubble

Callum and Ez pull them out and usher the kid to safety

The boys / Ezran resolve the conflict and defeat the 'monster,' with Ezran realizing it's not a monster, and instead relating it to Callum explicitly

The boys receive the elf toy as a gift

The most direct reasoning here, then, goes twofold:

Placing the toy here adds depth to Ezran thinking back in 1x04 about what makes something/someone a monster, which is the subject of the conversation at hand, and how it was incorrect

It is here in DM because we're revisiting the Banther Lodge next season, and there's going to be an emphasis on seeing people (others towards Callum; Ezran towards Runaan) not as monsters / reminding Ezran of his love for Rayla. We may see the toy, probably not, but that could be the thread

Therefore, that is where I think I'd leave it in terms of being a toy with a deeper purpose... if not for the fact it's referred to as a Gift. I've talked about the gift motif here in TDP and how arc 2 makes it much more of an emphasis, largely in regards to magic and magical sources of power:

However, where it's most notable in the 'gifts' Aaravos gives: his pawns are not just his pawns, but often tethered to him through magical objects. Claudia's current pawn intro has the Sun staff, which was given from Aaravos to Viren to her; Callum has the cube, a similarly ancient relic passed down through generations; "Lay it down? But it was a gift," Ziard says, the Staff clutched in his hand, and Viren later cites it explicitly a toy: "You had a lifetime to play with your toys, but now you hide them all away or destroy them."

To the point that throughout the various gifts given (the moon opal pendant, Rayla's goodbye letter, the sun orb from the Sun, the trio's gifts of sacrifice to Rex Igneous, Janai's sword and Miyana delivering the sun seed, and more I'm sure) the only things referred to as / that are both gifts and toys are the Key of Aaravos and the Relic Staff.

And, now thanks to Dreamer's Nightmare, the Elf (Rayla) doll.

Obviously this doesn't mean the elf doll is an ancient relic, or powerful, or even important, I think. Not on a literal level. But the final pages do tease it's a bringer of misfortune, which Rayla absolutely is (or is supposed to) when she lands on the boys' doorstep 6-5 years later. She's assumed to be a bringer of misfortune at said Banther Lodge where both the toy and cube are found, which is why she's taken captive.

What characters thus far receive things in the graphic novels, too, comes into play later. Claudia's map to the unicorn she acquired in The Puzzle House seemingly fulfilled its purpose pre-series with her tracking one down already, only to have another purpose in mind as of 7x01.

It's not beyond the realm of possibility to me, therefore, with all this in mind:

The doll was included as a throwback to 1x04

It will have importance

This importance will possibly relate to Rayla

If the motif of it being a gift and a toy is relevant, than the objects on par with it are the Relic staff and Key of Aaravos

Something something "Rayla's life is a fair exchange for the Key of Aaravos" because we all know what we're doing here by now

In summary: you lost your Moonshadow elf best friend and that caused you to become a monster / nightmare ("we had to fight our own people, it was a nightmare") and Dreamer's Nightmare just expected me to feel totally normal even before interweaving the gift motif into the game/toy motif with the damn Rayla stand in doll from 1x04 of all episodes. Yeah.

And that's really all I got for this one, but I hoped you enjoyed the allegorical thread break down and the game motif theorizing!