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damn-stark · 3 months ago

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Chapter 17 And now we are one

Chapter 17 of Moonlight

A/N- Peak soulmatism unlocked: Both having mommy issues

Warning- Swearing, talks of pregnancy, blood, violence, death, ANGST!!, FLUFF!!, SPOILERS, LONG CHAPTER.

Pairing- Aemond Targaryen x Velaryon!fem-reader, Cregan Stark x Velaryon!fem-reader

Episode- 2x08 & 2 scenes used from 1x07

(If you want to be tagged let me know)

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The truth lies behind that door. With her, the Red Priestess—or more so the fire is imbued with the wisdom of the past, the future, and every single second that lives around you.

You need to know if it’s true that Addam and Alyn are your grandfather's bastards, and you know he won’t tell you so you have to go to the one person who will. But…a part of you does not want to find out. You'll undoubtedly get the truth when you ask, and when you find out then you will be plagued with the fear that yet another title will be taken from your grasp.

Then again you also won’t rest easy if you don’t know, it will be like a splinter in a finger, you can’t get it out but you feel it embedded under your skin. It’ll be pestering, so you need to know. You must.

But you need to know alone.

“Stay here, Ser’s,” you order your sworn protectors, but as easy as it is for Ser Jason to listen, Ser Cane is not as obedient, in the sense that he’s overprotective.

“Really, I will be fine she will not hurt me,” you insist and step back towards the house with the red door, but Ser Cane still does not seem convinced in letting you enter that house alone.

Thus you try to ease that furrowed brow. “Give me ten minutes. If I am not out by then you can go in after me, hm?”

Ser Cane's pierced glare drifts to the red door and he hesitates before he groans and nods in comprehension, letting you let out a deep breath before you turn on your heels and approach the red door. Albeit when you’re standing in front of that door, you raise your hand and fist it, but don’t let your knuckles rap on the door.

You hesitate and nervously watch the door with deep breaths escaping from your lips. In that moment, focusing on a rather insignificant detail on the door to distract yourself from what’s to come, which is the chipped red paint unveiling white wood.

White wood like the one you find from Weirwood trees. It’s unmistakable.

Huh.

“How odd,” you muse and brush the tip of your finger on the softened wood.

You’ve never seen a door made of weirwood.

A sharp cry of a babe then breaks the silence behind the chipped red door and pulls you back to why you’re here, and it’s not to study this beautiful door. You’re here to see Kinvara, so you draw out a deep breath and announce your sudden visit with a knock.

A minute of silence passes before a familiar voice invites you inside. A voice you want to question, but it also captivates you right away so you let it lure you in, finding that Kinvara does not come to welcome you inside, you just mindlessly open the door.

Once you’re inside you’re not greeted by the cold abandonment, a cozy warmth radiating from two tall fire columns at either side of the red door welcomes you inside, not Kinvara, she’s nowhere in sight. Yet the cries of the babes still echo from a nearby room, and sniffles now accompany it, as if the person who invited you inside is crying with the baby. But who is it?

“Kinvara?” You call out and close the door behind you without looking back. You just close the red door behind you and your feet follow the cries of the babe until you walk past long red drapes, and reach a hall with a single white-wooded table in the center and on top of it a fire bowl with an intense fire dancing within.

“Kinvara?” You call out again and look around the hall, but darkness seeps out of every corridor you look at except for the corridor you just walked down, forcing you to stay put where you stand and wait?

She did call you in. Or someone did.

The babe is still crying, and sniffling and soft weeping make their way into your ears, but now it sounds louder. As if you’re in the same room, but where are they? There’s nothing here but the white-wooded table and the fire.

“Kinvara, where—”

“Laenor?”

Every muscle in your body paralyzes, and your breath catches in your throat.

Did you just hear right? Did someone call your father's name?

Your eyes frantically search the hall, but all you find are shadows and specks of dust that float within the light that reflects on every wall.

“Rhaenyra!”

That’s…your father’s voice. No matter how long you’ve lived without him you will always recognize his voice, it’s recorded in your memories forever, so you know right away that you hear your father call out for your mother from inside the flames.

There’s no mistaking where the voices come from, they don’t echo off the walls anymore. It comes from the flames and no amount of warnings that your mind throws at you keeps your eyes from flying to the fire.

You focus your gaze on the fire and right away you forget who you came in search of, you forget the reason you even came; the truth you seek, and entrap all your attention in the flames that paint a vivid image of your mothers old quarters of when she lived in the Red Keep. It’s unmistakable, you see every detail clearly, not misty, or blurred by some dreamy screen, it’s as if you’re actually standing inside, living in the moment that the fire conjures up for you.

But what moment is it? There are some items in the room that you no longer recognize. It’s decorated a bit differently since you last remember, and a cradle sits in the room. People are inside as well, one you recognize as Grand Maester Orwyle, and an armada of handmaidens and wet nurses frantically pacing all over the room, but mainly they gather around the bed, blocking the view of the one they’re tending to.

“A girl,” your father's voice travels out from the group around the bed and catches you by surprise again, but this time rather than being struck with disbelief, you’re completely captivated with relief and awe that you get to hear his voice again. It’s been so long since you’ve heard his sweet voice. You missed it so much.

All you want to do now is follow it, so you do as if entranced by his voice, and once you're past the sea of bodies you come to find your mother on the bed…

“Mama,” your voice trembles, but she does not hear. No one does, life is moving all around you. It’s like you’re a ghost watching over this moment in time when your mother is not the woman that you know now. This version of her is still her but she’s younger in appearance. A lot younger, but still very beautiful. She actually looks around your age.

She probably is…

Which means that the bundle she’s cradling in her arms is…you?

You notice specks of silver-white hair peeking out of the blanket, but that’s all, everything else is covered with the blanket. But you don’t really need to break your head to know it must be you, your mother was young when she had you.

“She,” your mother cries as she rocks you to try and calm you down. “She was not breathing when she came out. She-she…” she trails off and once again her weeping fills the room.

This time though she does not cry for long, she’s quickly cooed at. “She’s breathing now. Look at her, she's crying now. She's okay. She’s alive. Our girl is alive.”

It's your father, you see him now. You were so focused on the image of your mother that you did not notice him sitting on the edge of the bed until now. He’s here, and just like your mother, he’s younger too, but unlike before now tears slowly escape out of your eyes and roll down the curve of your cheeks, whilst a smile trembles on your lips.

“Father,” you whimper and walk closer to him.

Albeit just as you put your hand out a louder voice catches your attention. One you recognize right away as your mother's voice, but not the voice that greeted you inside, this one sounds more mature, like the voice that belongs to her now. “I need you, Uncle.”

Just like before you’re entranced to follow the voice with little control of your own body, finding yourself approaching the balcony of your mother's room.

“<I cannot face the greens alone. They are already sending my only daughter away from me,>” your mother's voice continues to travel out, but this time her words are in High Valyrian and full of desperation. “<Let us bind our blood, just as Aegon the Conqueror did with his sisters.>”

You want to stop approaching the balcony as the words she says push out that bliss you were just overcome with and instead start filling you with anxiety as you don’t know what you’re walking to exactly. Yet your feet keep moving towards the balcony.

“<With you as my husband and Prince consort, my claim would not be so easily challenged.>”

Your breathing punctures as her words hit your ears and your mind slowly finds the meaning behind them.

“<The Velaryons are of the sea, but you and I are made of fire.>”

No…no…please.

You finally reach the balcony doors and no matter how much you want to stop and stay inside secured by the safety of the unknown, you walk out and right away you’re transported to a vast scenery; one with open water stretching out for miles, a boat sailing away in the distance with three dragons accompanying it, while there before you stands your mother as you know her now, and Daemon Targaryen overlooking the beautiful sea.

“<We have always been meant to burn together>.”

“We could not marry unless Laenor were dead,” Daemon breaks his silence to remind your mother of a cruel wicked fact. A fact she’s not phased by. A fact that you see did not slip her mind.

“I know,” she mutters.

It seems that she had already thought about it herself before Daemon even spoke it out loud for her and the sea to hear.

“I will not be a tyrant and rule through terror,” your mother continues to say, and your mind continues to unravel what all this means. Your heart tries hard to keep you from taking it all in, but your mind is persistent in hurting you.

“A tyrant rules only through terror,” Daemon clarifies for her. “If the King isn’t feared he is powerless. If you are to be a strong Queen, you must cultivate love and respect, yes, but your subjects must fear you.”

“I do love Laenor. He gave me my daughter.” Your mother’s words now also tug at your aching heart, making it start to bleed.

“Then grant him this kindness. Set him free,” Daemon says, making you shake your head and back up with disbelief now also consuming your heart.

“This will cost Lord Corlys and Princess Rhaenys their only remaining child,” your mother keeps feeding into this evil idea.

She is the one who brought it up but you still want her to refuse it. She needs to. Please…

“And it will cost my daughter…her father,” she tears at your heart now, making streams of tears flow down your face.

“She will be away by then,” Daemon attempts to comfort your mother who has her head down to watch as she fiddles with her rings, and hides tears that are born for you and the pain that she knows his death would cause you.

“The realm will whisper that I was somehow responsible,” your mother brings up, and Daemon is quick to retort.

“Let them whisper.”

But she couldn’t have. She wasn’t the one who…who…killed your father. No. It was always just supposed to be Daemon out of selfish greed. It was always just supposed to be him.

“We will know the truth of it,” Daemon continues. “And our enemies won’t.”

“They will fear what else we might be capable of,” your mother adds and only reassures your bleeding heart that she—that she always had a hand in taking your father away from you. She worked with Daemon to get rid of your beloved father, she’s the reason you knew heartbreak, she’s the reason you mourned alone, why you hated singing for five years of your life, she…

And all to marry some old man! All just to be with him!

Yes, you heard her reasoning, but you can’t accept it. You can’t accept it over your sorrow and new coming grief. All you know now is that she killed your father just to be with Daemon. She…

Why are you seeing this?! Why?!

“Let me out!” You beg and plead with all your might, but you linger there in torture. “Let me out! Please,” you whimper and turn away to stop seeing the horrible sight, but rather than seeing some stone wall, suddenly the day is swallowed by the night and you’re no longer on a stone bridge. Now you’re standing on sand, covered in darkness, looking at a cloaked man loading a boat that’s waiting to reunite with the ship in the distance. It seems like it’s just you and the distant stranger, but only seconds later you’re proved wrong when hurried footsteps approach.

You don’t want to look back when you hear the running footsteps, you fear what you will see, but your head turns and a hooded person runs by not letting you see their face.

You try to quickly walk after them, however, when that hooded person jumps on the boat with the stranger, they rip their hood off and you’re left horrified as you see your father for a second before you’re pulled from the past and returned to reality, causing the once bleeding heart to shatter.

That untouchable, cherished, and glorified image of your father completely crumbles. Love turns to ash and from it rises hate and rage because now you know that your mother did not kill your father, but she did let you grieve for a living man for six years.

After all this time he was never gone, she did not actually kill him, nor did Daemon kill him, he was alive and she knew. She hid the truth to live a happy life with Daemon. And your father…you’re ever so beloved father that you loved with all your heart, that you grieved for, never died, he…

He…left on his own will. He was not forced, it does not seem that way from what you saw. He left because he agreed to. He left you…behind. He left you.

He left. She lied. And they both broke your heart. The people who were meant to protect your heart, who are never supposed to hurt you, betray you in the worst way possible. In a way that even tops what Aemond did.

They broke your heart and you’re left numb now staring at the flames still raging in the bowl.

You can’t feel a thing anymore. Not your heart shattering, not your world coming apart, and not your rage pumping through your blood. It’s all quiet and it’s all dark. You stand in the abyss with only the raw memories of pain surrounding you, belittling you, ripping you apart limb by limb until there’s nothing left. It’s what makes it easy to turn your body around and slowly make your way out.

Yet as you reach the door and before you can let your sworn protectors know peace by showing you’re alive and physically unharmed, you come to a sudden halt as agony and despair tackle you before you’re free from the house; weakening you as they come together, leaving you unable to catch a breath even if your jaw goes slack, silencing your sobs even as hot streams of tears rush down your face, and bringing with them, writhing pain.

It hurts. It all hurts so much. The memories and the faces of your mother and your father flash in your head and the pain intensifies. It grows louder, making the rushing blood throb in your ears and tipping the limit you can handle.

It all falls apart. You fall apart and the only way you can let it out is with a heartbroken cry of despair that hurts your throat and sends your body thrashing to one side to express your anger by swinging down the fire column on one side of the door before taking down the other.

You don’t stop there, you can’t stop there, you try to, you wander around to try and calm down, but it keeps throbbing and it keeps hurting, so when you end up at the hall with the bowl of fire, you hurl it off the table in a blinding rage.

It’s only after the fire hits the ground and bounces on the long drapes that the anger liberates you, but now your sorrow takes over, and like coming down from an adrenaline rush, you’re left trembling, out of breath, and weak. You think of leaving, but your misery pulls you down to your knees, and has you looking numbly at the rapid fire that does not hesitate eating away at everything in its path. Nor does it debate or wait to combine with the line of fire that the fallen columns created at the entrance.

The fires unite and entrap you in their beautiful destruction before they too begin to eat away at you.

It’s not like you care though, and it’s not like the fire hurts you. It just eats away at the gown you once loved because it was made from rich fabrics only found in Yi-Ti. You should care for the sworn protectors you forced to stay outside, but that worry does not cross your mind either even if all they can worry about is you.

Once you cried out Ser Jason and Ser Cane rushed to the door to try and go to your aid, but the fire you threw down forbade them from opening the door. And no matter how hard they pushed the door they could not get the column in the way to budge away from the door. They tried yelling at you, but those shouts hit a paralyzed husk of a body.

After a while of trying to get the door open, flames then began to consume the door, creating cracks, but that was not enough for them to take it down. Actually, the fire shoved them away, so they were left desperate, trying to frantically find another way in, but the fire grew quick and blocked any and every entrance they could’ve used, making them believe that they failed at their jobs to protect you.

Whereas Ser Cane stared at the burning house in horror and disbelief, Ser Jason fell to his knees feeling the same emotions but also riddled with terror over one single person; Daemon Targaryen. He would fear Aemond too, he looks at Ser Jason as if he wants to kill him with his glare alone, but in truth, Daemon is more terrifying than Aemond ever could be. Besides Daemon threatened Ser Jason, he demanded to keep you alive or it was head; and as he looks at the fire's rage intensifying and consuming more and more of the house before him, he knows that his death sentence is signed.

That’s why he then has the bright idea to escape though. He doesn’t want to die, not for your sake. No matter how captivating you are to him, he does not want to die because of something you did. Thus he makes sure that Ser Cane’s attention is still stolen by the burning house before he gets up from his knees and plans his escape through the gathering crowd watching the scene unfold.

Nevertheless, just before he can take his first step the door to the burning house is opened just a little before it crumbles, revealing none other than you emerging from the lively and rageful flames completely unscarred, with all your limbs intact, and with your silver-white hair untouched. You don’t even cry out for help, you stop under the blazing doorway with streams of tears marked on your soot-covered face, and a piercing glare that matches the fire's intensity.

At first, no one believed it was really you. Not Ser Jason, not Ser Cane, and not the smallfolk there being nosy. To them, you’re some divine apparition ready to join the gods in the heavens until the sound of a piercing roar breaks through the sky, and moves your eyes up to catch your grand purple dragon emerging from the thick smoke ascending from the burning house.

After that, as your dragon lands on a nearby house not crumbling down by flames, everyone watching knows it’s really you. You're unharmed. You’re unburnt and only gods are not burnt by fire; that’s what the smallfolk and Ser Jason think. That’s what they believe you are now as the fire burns around you without as much as marking your skin. A terrifying God. So what do you do when you see a god emerging from flames?

Fear them, while also getting on their knees to bow, fearing being damned if they don’t.

However, not everyone is riddled with fear, Ser Cane stills in front of the crowd. He sees the distress behind your piercing glare, he notes that you’re completely exposed to everyone watching, so he rips his cape from his back and runs towards you.

You notice his attempt and meet him halfway. When he covers your body that intimidation you just held falters and all he sees is a hurt girl yearning for comfort.

“Can we go home?” You ask hoarsely and avoid looking at everyone behind him trying to gawk at you. “I want to go see Aemond.”

Ser Cane is still baffled by what he saw, by you being alive in general, but he doesn’t fret nodding in agreement before he wraps his arm around your shoulders to protect you from the nearing crowd as he guides you back to your horse.

He is completely uncertain how your heart is still beating, how you escaped the fire nude but unburnt, but he does not question it as uncertain as he is. While you…well with all that transcended, after you were swallowed up by the fire, one thing is certain; fire killed the girl, and the dragon has awakened.

Right now it’s just balled up in a corner of yourself, writhing in an agonizing heartache, and unaware and unbothered of the life moving around you. People talk to you when you reach the Red Keep, but even the sweet voice of Vanessa does not penetrate the husk of the body you live in.

People tend to you, your limbs move but with no effort. It’s almost like you’re not even alive, there’s no light in your eyes. They’re dull like that of the dead, reflecting the darkness that drowns you from within and shoves you further and further down an abyss that doesn’t seem to have an escape.

What are you supposed to feel now that you know your father left you? Where do you belong now that you know your own mother lied to you for six years? What is life now that you learned the truth?

Do you go back as you were? Sending your mother secret letters of every plan the Greens make?

You think about it, think about her, and can’t imagine pretending like you aren’t affected by her treachery. But you also look at where you are and can’t imagine even supporting Aegon or what his faction stands for, so where do you belong now?

Do you stand in the middle of the parted line and wait for which arrow hits you first? Do you pretend like you learned nothing?

No, you can’t pretend you don’t know that your mother lied for six years. You can’t pretend you don’t know that your father actually abandoned you, because that truth is crueler than any other pain you have felt before; it’s agonizing, and it keeps drowning you in an abyss of hate.

You want to get out. You don’t want to hate, you don’t want the memory of your father to be tainted, but…it’s too late. You look back at every piece of memory you share with him and it’s polluted by betrayal…and hate. His face is no longer a comfort, his voice is no longer soothing, and that deep longing to see him again is abandoned.

His name is like poison in your mouth. The love, ash, and those damn colors that remind you of him; the colors of house Velaryon are a reminder of him and you can’t stand looking at the gowns you have made of them. You can’t look at the sigil proudly. You can’t stand it. It’s mocking you, reminding you that he left and you can’t stand it!

Thus in a flash of a second, you rip away from the seat Vanessa guided you toward to wipe the soot off your face and storm over to yank the silver, teal, and sea-green gowns from your trunks and hangers to throw them down the balcony. You take the jewelry with the Velaryon house sigil and throw it in the fire without care.

Every single thing that reminds you of your father is thrown in the fire or thrown off the balcony in a blinding rage and with thick angry tears attacking your eyes.

Vanessa tries to calm you down, she tries to stop you, but you shove past her without a care, as if you are a raging storm; electrifying, and dangerous by the minute as you feed off your rage.

You need salvation and Vanessa can only think of one person that will break the storm apart and bring you peace, but he’s miles away, so she tries to be that peace, but you don’t acknowledge her. You actually seem to get worse so it all starts to seem bleak.

That is until the doors are thrown open and in comes Aemond. Yet even when he walks in you fail to acknowledge him. He calls out for you again and again, but you don’t stop throwing things in the fire, or yelling what you have been yelling over and over again. “Traitor! Traitor!”

You spin around to grab something without batting an eye at him, so Aemond quickly rushes over to you and attempts to grab you.

“Leave me alone!” You bellow and try to push his hands off your arms, you try to break away from him fearing it’s your own father, but his grip turns firm before he yanks you towards him, causing you to break from your blinding rage and find him like a sunlight breaking through a storm.

“Aemond,” you gasp as if he’s your lost breath.

His blue eye searches you for any clue as to why you’re so distressed, finding grief and agony raging within your red and teary eyes.

“He,” your voice quivers but you can’t say more, your lips part but they start to tremble, while the body Aemond holds starts to give out, as if standing was extenuating to your withered heart.

Albeit Aemond holds you up, while you grab ahold of his arms. “Talk to me,” he whispers while your own sorrow begins to hurt him.

And you try, you part your lips to share what you learned, but looking at him now, feeling his comforting hands holding you up only works to make you break down. He is the salvation you cried for, he is the one who pulls you from the abyss that was drowning you, but it’s because he’s here, it’s because you’re under his worried gaze that you let your anger go and just cry.

“Aemond,” you whisper, and it’s the heartbreak in your voice that he can’t stand anymore so he pulls you in his embrace.

“<My love,>” he coos in High Valyrian and holds you tightly against him as you grip onto him as if he's life support. And in many ways he is. He’s the only one keeping you upright, keeping you from snapping again, and keeping you from feeling complete isolation. And you couldn’t be more grateful that he is here, that he’s holding you ever so tightly without a hint of wanting to let go.

You don’t want him to let go of your withered body abused by a cruel truth. You want to stay in the safety of his embrace forever, hearing his heart beating inside of his chest because he’s all you have now. He's all you want now that you feel betrayed by the people you loved the most in this world. And unknowingly he feels the same about you.

You’re all he has now as he feels abandoned by his own family. You’re all he wants because you don’t make him feel alone, you're his light, as he is yours.

You only have each other in this cruel world. You are each other's sanctuary. Your hearts tangle together becoming one, and sharing a beat now that his own family makes him feel like he’s fighting alone because they can’t muster the same will to fight like him, while you feel betrayed by your own family.

How romantic is that? Two broken souls finding solace in each other. Is it bad?

You don’t think so. You’re his solace like he is yours, and he hugs you like he’s trying to seep it all from you whilst also helping you calm down and find the will to share what you know so it doesn’t have to be weighing you down a moment longer.

“Aemond,” you whisper hoarsely and step away, but keep grabbing onto his arms since you still need him for support. “It’s my father…” you trail off and have the need to cry, but you can’t shed another tear so you continue with your voice quivering. “He…left six years ago. He did not die…I mean since Seasmoke has a new rider now, I'm sure he is dead now, but he did not die six years ago. He left…he left me.”

Aemond’s eye expresses his confusion over what you shared before it comes down and expresses his pity for you.

“And my mother knew,” you continue above a whisper and he can see every word is like a stab to your heart. “She knew for six years. She made me grieve my father for six years and all this time he actually just left…me,” you whimper and look at him now for help.

There’s nothing he can do to actually help you, this is all in the past, but you still look to him for desperate help.

“I-I loved him with all my heart and he left me. And she…knew.”

Tears roll down your face. You thought you could not muster a single one but more break out as you share what broke your heart. And what could he say in return? He knew how much you loved your father, how much you cherished his memory. How can he tell you that it will be okay when he knows that’s a pain that will never mend?

He could say that you do not need them, but it doesn’t seem like that will be any help. He can also say you have him and that’s all you need, but are those words enough?

Not at this instant, so instead he lets the silence mingle and wipes your tears away before pulling you back against him and wrapping his arms around you ever so tightly so you know he’s there for you. So you know with that embrace alone that yes, you have him and you need no one else but him.

He relishes in that thought, in your neediness, and takes advantage of it for his own needs.

“<Please,” you beg in High Valyrian. “Never leave me. Please, Aemond. I can’t do this without you. You’re all I have.>”

His breath catches in his throat, and just as he wants to assure you he stops as he’s reminded of what Helaena just told him on that balcony.

“…and you’ll be dead…you were swallowed up in the God’s Eye, and you were never seen again. Your children won’t even mourn you, they won’t cling onto your memory…”

Those words hit him like ice-cold water, and he doesn't want to believe them. He wants to refute what she said, but he fears that it will be true, and how can he promise something he will only break?

“…the only tears that will fall for you will be from your wife.”

“<I’m here,” he promises as that last sentence proceeds to echo in his head, assuring him once again that you are all he needs and all he will ever have. “I will always be with you.>”

You nod against his chest and just proceed to nuzzle your face against him to steal more of the comfort he provides.

After a while of being in each other's arms the doors open and Aerion’s wetnurse brings him in, but not asleep, he’s fussy and tired but awake.

“He kept waking up, so I thought putting him in his cradle would put him to sleep,” the wetnurse says as you walk over to meet her halfway.

“It's okay, I will take him,” you relieve her of her stress and take your child who happily lets you cradle him. “Goodnight.”

The wetnurse offers you a curtsy before she quickly strides out of the room, letting you turn to your babe who rubs his little eyes.

“<Giving your wetnurse a hard time?>” You whisper in High Valyrian as you tap his nose. “<You will have siblings soon, you’re going to have to listen. Be a good example.>”

He lets out a big yawn that crinkles his little nose before he nuzzles his head against you without bothering to care about what you’re talking about.

“Did you find what you needed?” Aemond finally finds the right moment to ask.

You shake your head before you turn and make your way back to him by the hearth with your child in your arms. “No,” you reveal. “I was welcomed with the knowledge of my father instead.”

He hums and turns away from you to watch the flames eat away the last fragments of the things you fed it.

“We cannot be sure about Alyn and Addam,” you add and fall by Aemond’s side. “But we also can’t deny that it might be true. And if it is, I'm sure the truth will be revealed sooner or later now that Addam claimed Seasmoke.”

Aemond nods in comprehension before he tilts his head to the side and drops his gaze on Aerion. He watches him not with a soft gaze like he usually does, but something else, like conflict that makes his eye watery.

You notice right away and nothing stops you from turning swiftly to cradle his jaw. “What is it?” You ask with concern.

He keeps his gaze focused on Aerion before a small shaky breath is drawn in. You notice that he hesitates to speak, but he then lets go of that captured breath and meets your worried gaze with a tear escaping down his cheek.

“They won’t fight,” he shares but not with anger or frustration, he sounds almost like you did moments ago. Hurt.

“Not with me. They won’t even try. After I tried so hard to fight for them and for our lives they don’t want to fight,” he sneers and leans his face against your touch. “Helaena won’t even come to Harrenhal. They don’t want to understand the peril we’re in. They don’t understand that they—that she can’t just sit and watch it all unfold around her. She needs to come to Harrenhal, she needs to fight with us on her dragon because it’s no longer just us against Rhaenyra, it’s us against those bastards she picked up to ride dragons.”

You slide your hand up to gently stroke his cheek as you offer him a sweet and loving look as you hear his desperation and worry for his sister and mother. “Oh, my sweet Aemond.”

His eyebrows pinch together for a flickering second before he reaches over and takes your hand in his. “Don't tell me you support their choice? There’s seven dragons. Seven against our three if you count Tessarion. You said it, Vhagar alone will not win against their army of dragons,” he hisses but not with much anger, he’s desperate to be understood.

“I understand that,” you give him that comfort, but you then pull your hand away and face the hearth again before you pull yourself down to the ground with Aerion sleeping in your arms. “But listen, Aemond.”

He hears his name and he knows you’re about to try and be wise to make him see things differently, but he doesn’t want to see things differently when their lives are in danger!

“There’s something you need to realize,” you continue to prove him right. “Not everyone’s ferocity is the same. Every person shows it differently. Whereas some people use a blade, others use their words. Whereas some people's passion to fight and protect is outwardly shown, others can’t express it as easily. And perhaps not fighting back is a weakness, but my love, not everyone is meant to fight like you or me. There’s strength in that too, their ferocity is different, but trust me it’s there. Do you understand?”

Aemond drops his hands on his hips and shakes his head, wanting badly to argue, but not finding anything strong enough to contest you. And he doesn’t want to sound foolish either so instead he keeps quiet even as upset as he is and just listens to you.

“And you’re not alone,” you assure him of something he did not outwardly need reassurance of, but you know him. You saw that fear of being alone in his eye. It screamed its need for comfort.

“Yes it may feel that way because you hold the power with Vhagar, the biggest dragon, and she is tough, she’s why you have this need to prove yourself, to prove you can be reliable, and to prove is a good effort,” you praise him and slowly look over at him, seeing him completely captivated by the words that leave your lips.

“But my love, this weight is not all yours to bear. You’re not alone, and she’s not alone. And so what that Helaena doesn’t want to fight? She may have a dragon, but if her spirit is not capable then neither is her dragon. That’s why you have armies of men, people you can trust leading them. You have Daeron, excellent minds at your council table, and me.”

He draws in a deep breath and his gaze once hardened with stress now eases as it holds relief and awe for you, while your kind words prove that he can count on you and that he has you. And that is enough to make his heart race madly, while also making it bold.

“I know…” he lets his heart take the lead since he knows it’s just you with him, but he does trail off to take a seat beside you on the ground. “…your ferocity.”

You can finally stop straining your neck by looking at your side instead of up at his towering figure.

“Do you?” You probe with a flattered smile slowly appearing on your lips.

“It’s your passion.” His words come easy but he still does not meet your gaze; he watches the fire with a soft adoration that is directed at you; that he holds in his growing smile, and in his eye as he thinks about you.

“You’re driven by your heart in every way. In every choice you make, like choosing what to wear. What to do with your day. In love and hate, and I imagine in battle too because your passion makes you brave and tactful with many things that a princess should not know,” he adds and finally glances at you, catching your captivated gaze and your parted lips caught in surprise.

“But it’s also what puts you in danger sometimes, and it’s gotten you in trouble.”

You giggle breathlessly and the corner of his lips slowly spread to a grin.

“But it’s your greatest strength. It keeps you grounded to who you are and I have always admired that because that’s what lets you push back those who have wanted and want to change you.”

You glance down at your sleeping babe that you cradle in your arm with a wobbly smile before you look over at Aemond and hold his gaze, passing your appreciation and a thousand I love you’s that are not spoken with words, but shared with your love struck eyes before you rest your head on his shoulder.

“I’m going with you to Harrenhal,” you say with no hesitation or deceit. There’s nothing to hide because he does have you now. All of you.

The troubles with your mother are conflicting, you don’t know what to do. You might still send her letters because you know right between wrong; that judgment is clouded but you’re not blinded. You see the right choice and it’s her. But you also know she lied and you can’t let it go, you can’t be okay with it, so yes you dedicate yourself to Aemond.

“We will fight together,” you add, making him press a kiss on the side of your head before he rests his chin against your head, and reaches his long fingers over to interlace them with yours to connect you more as one.

Now rather than walking down parallel lines that kept you just out of arm's reach, you both walk down the same path as one without being wary of any crossroads.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

Now that feeling of not belonging is louder than ever before.

Why did they even try if your father was just going to discard you like a piece of trash? Why even fight so hard to keep you alive if they were going to stay with Jacaerys as heir?

Why, why, and why has been running over and over again in your head. It leaves you…lost in your own head, and unaware. So when Aemond places his fingers on your back you’re startled.

“What?” You ask for clarification and look at him through the tall mirror you had been in front of.

“Your gown,” he says while he drags his fingers around your waist and drops his gaze to study the beautiful blue winter roses embroidered on the bodice. “The flower, I do not recognize it.”

You follow his line of gaze and place your hand over his to trail his fingers along the marvelous design. “Blue Winter roses. They grow in the North.”

He hums and his eyes flip up to now study your face as you keep looking at the flower design also on the end of one of your skirts, noticing that your eyes aren’t as puffy as they were when you woke up, but a sadness still droops them.

“Like the flower crown that knight gave you in our engagement tourney,” Aemond recalls, pulling your eyes up and bringing a smile to your face.

“Exactly!” You grin and turn, making his hand drag around your waist as he does not lose touch. “They’re my favorite. They’re rare and very beautiful. And Helaena and I wanted to coordinate today, so she's wearing a gown with her favorite flowers on it like me.”

He hums and looks you up and down before letting a smile spread on his face and sealing your distance with a small kiss on your lips.

“<You look beautiful,>” he muses.

You flash him a grateful smile and bring your hand up to stroke his cheek before you fix his eyepatch against his hair and end up meeting his gaze with a deep sigh. “I thought maybe I should go talk to my mother,” you bring up an idea you have been pondering all night. “I mean I believe what I saw. There is no reason why those visions would be a lie, but maybe having her explain it will bring me some peace of mind.” You shrug unknowingly.

But as lost as you are and look, what you said scared Aemond because what if you don’t come back? What if they keep you there, or you decide to stay there after your mother traps you in her web of lies?

You already agreed to go to Harrenhal with him, he doesn’t want to end up going alone. He wants you there with him. He does not want you gone. He can’t risk it even if your mother could offer you that peace to your battling mind and heart.

“I think perhaps it’s best if you stay,” Aemond gives his opinion and brings his hand up to your shoulder, seeing your eyebrows slowly pinch together as he gives you the wrong answer—“What if she does not let you return?”

You shake your head lightly to try and refute him but his words keep swirling in your ears, and right now they’re easy to entice you.

“You know the truth,” he adds. “She won’t want it spread. And you have a dragon, Daemon will want to decrease our power by taking you captive because he knows you are my weakness and I will not attack her or any of them if they have you.”

That can be true about Daemon. It’s surprising he did not keep you under lock and key before he left for Harrenhal, but your mother?

She does want you back, she did not even want you to come here in the first place. But would she be as harsh as Aemond says?

You don’t think so, but maybe that’s because he did not really convince you to stay, unlike your mother when she convinced you to stay at Dragonstone before she got attacked. So unless something happens that will convince you to stay you don’t really take his words under consideration, you just let him think he was successful in making you stay, and continue to debate it in your head.

If you end up deciding to go talk to her then you’ll just sneak out and he’ll have no other choice but wait for you to return because you will. Nothing has changed. Not even after he told you what he did at Sharp Point and all those people who lived there and had nothing to do with this war.

Is it cruel? Perhaps, but there was no stopping his wrath. There’s nothing you can do now either, so it’s best to leave it be and continue to debate whether you should go talk to your mother or not.

“Can I ask you something about Helaena?” Aemond interjects as he finally pulls his hands off you and steps away to start your journey toward this morning's Small Council meeting.

“I won’t talk to her about joining this fight,” you throw out bluntly and glance over at him as he glances over at you in annoyance.

“No,” he deadpans and glances at the corridor ahead. “Something else. Has she,” he pauses and hums before he grabs the pommel of his sword and quietly continues. “Ever shared something that hasn’t happened yet?”

“Her dreams?” You query as your eyebrows knit in confusion.

“Mhm.”

“Yes,” you don’t find the need to lie. “She told me I would have twins before I found out. And it was true…why? Has she told you something?” You ask with a smile that vanishes as soon as it spreads on your face.

Aemond draws in a short breath and searches the ground you walk over, piquing your interest while also making you nervous.

“Aemond,” you call and grab his arm. “What did she tell you?”

Aemond blinks and peeks back at the guards tailing you before slowly drifting his eye over to take you in under a fluttering eye which is no consolation.

“Aemond—”

“<She said that Aegon has yet to see victory,” he shares in High Valyrian, making you draw in a deep breath, but not because that revelation scares you, but because you thought it was something much worse, like Aemond’s death or something. “…She said he will sit on a wooden throne.>”

You nod slowly as you take in what he shared while not losing touch of his arm.

“Do you trust her?” He fills your silence in the common tongue with a question to follow his comment.

“She was right about the twins,” you mumble and lose your gaze on your path ahead. “And to not believe her would be foolish considering our family is known to have dreamers, like Daenys and Aegon the Conqueror, but the readings of the future are fickle, it’s not set, so it must be taken with a grain of salt.” You share your thoughts and look back at him, catching him looking at you too.

“We’ll be pushed aside again,” he mutters.

You hold his gaze and nod softly, mirroring the realization and the flicker of sadness that glints in his eye at the mere thought.

“But,” you try to assure him. “We will still fight, that’s what matters. And as cheesy as it sounds we will have each other, we won’t know the secluded corner alone.” You laugh softly, while he looks at the ground and huffs lightheartedly.

“Has…” you drag out. “Has she told you something else?”

Aemond looks ahead and draws out a breath before he shakes his head and redirects the question at you. “Has she told you anything else?”

You sigh deeply and share one thing, but don’t share what she said about you wearing a crown the day you wear a black veil. “She told me I wouldn’t be alone. I,” you chuckle. “Don’t know what that means exactly, but she told me that, so.”

Aemond snaps his gaze to you and his eye lingers on you while the corner of his lips twitch to a frown, but doesn’t actually get to form. “Hm,” is all he communicates. No further interrogation, no digging for any more possible dreams. That’s it.

And even if there was more you do reach the Small Council hall so the conversation comes to an end there, and now you’re reminded of the war, of its cruelty, and that the meaning it once held is faltering under the weight of your troubled mind.

You were once set on having a seat around the table of men to pass their plans to your mother and help her rise to her rightful throne, now you don’t know if you should be around the table. In secret or not.

What do you want exactly?

You wanted to get your hands dirty for your Queen, for your mother, but now? With these lies should you let go and leave?

Should you be a target walking down the marked line between both sides? Should you take no sides?

You hear what they’re discussing, should you take note in your head to send what you heard to your mother later, or let go and let your stance with her falter?

“Just this morning a raven from Ser Tyland came in,” Grand Maester finally voices his news. “He made an alliance with the Triarchy. They will sail together.”

Aemond fiddles with the marble and scoffs before he retorts. “Their ships shall arrive in our waters in a few days then?”

The maester nods eagerly. “If the waters are in our favor.”

“Winds,” you correct the maester and drag your eyes to him. “The wind aids the ships.”

The maester gets flustered but he nods and corrects himself. “If the winds are in our favor the fleet shall arrive soon.”

“Well, at least we will finally be able to breathe with the blockade torn apart,” Aemond comments and you slowly sit back and think again about what you want.

The answer should be easy, shouldn’t it? It’s a lie. That’s all it is. To protect her stance…and to marry Daemon. A lie should not affect your stance that much should it?

But the weight is heavier than anyone can imagine, and it leaves you troubled about what to do and what you want.

Do you let that lie go and reaffirm your stance? Or do you let it spread its hate and take away your once firm stance right from under you?

Do you want to keep passing her letters? Or completely and wholeheartedly dedicate yourself to Aemond?

What do you want?

It’s hard to know. You can’t decide even if the answer should be easy. You can’t choose yet. You need to keep debating even if it’s torture.

Until then you let that part of your day pass even if you’re weighed down by uncertainty, and the words you heard at the Small Council meeting keep repeating in your mind over and over again as if waiting to be brushed aside or written down. You want to keep going on with your day and give your attention to Helaena when it comes to spending time with her, but your mind only distracts you with the agony of the truth. You’re torn apart, and at multiple places at once but the place you want to be; in the gardens with Helaena.

At least that is until she manages to steal your attention by shaking your shoulder.

“Huh?”

Helaena studies you and blinks in confusion before she interjects. “Will you go to Harrenhal with Aemond?”

You nod slowly before looking at the bushes you let your fingers graze over. “That’s the plan, but I have been debating if I should actually go or not. With Vhagar gone the city will be left defenseless. Astraea and I could protect the city while Aemond is gone.”

Besides perhaps you could tell your mother to come while Aemond is gone. You could be that key like you were meant to be—If you push your anger aside, that is.

“I doubt he will be gone long.” You finish.

Helaena then suddenly slaps her hands around your arm and digs her nails into your exposed skin to pull you to a sudden stop with her.

“Ow,” you laugh nervously and glance at her nails digging into your skin before looking over at her in confusion, catching at that moment fear in her eyes; fear that brings goosebumps to your skin.

“You must go to Harrenhal,” she insists with her eyes wide and her grip firm.

“But perhaps I will be better use here,” you try to explain, but she flat-out shakes her head and pulls you towards her, making your heart skip a beat in response to the fear that she’s spreading to you.

“No,” she hisses and lets her eyes flicker away before she continues in an ominous demeanor that makes you slowly stiffen.

“I saw you,” she continues. “I saw you fall. You fall with your dragon...”

Your lips part as your breath stills for a moment, whilst conflict and disbelief make your gaze narrow on her for a moment before your face eases as no part of you reacts as one should when one gets told a possible grim future.

“…An arrow hits Astraea and you both drown in a sea of blood,” she finishes foretelling her dream about you and it should scare you to your very core. You should be baffled, but as you take in her words the thought of death is…welcoming.

Your father left you behind and your mother lied to you about it for six years. They chose someone else over you as heir, and you don’t know if the babies you’re carrying are Aemond’s or Cregan’s, so death is almost tempting.

Helaena notices the fear you were just holding diminish, your body remains stiff, but the fear you should hold after learning something so grievous should affect you, but it does not.

“You’re not scared?” She asks with slight disbelief as she finally drops that death grip.

You let out a deep breath and mindlessly look ahead before you make your way toward the pond and plop yourself on the edge. Helaena follows you and sits down in front of you more slowly.

“As of late I have been given reasons why not to fear death,” you admit a bit too dramatically whilst you dip your fingers in the water and swirl the water. “It may be a comfort. I don’t know.” You shrug and glance at your reflection in the water. “It doesn’t scare me, I know it should, but it doesn’t. Are you?” You now direct at her as you slowly lift your eyes, seeing her draw out a deep breath before she shrugs.

“Everyone dies, don’t they? It’s life and there’s nothing we can do to prevent it. It will reach us eventually.”

A smile spreads on your lips and you nod slowly. “See,” you murmur. “Nothing to fear.”

“I suppose,” she agrees softly. “But I don’t want you to die.”

You stop twirling your fingers in the water and offer her a tender smile before you grab her knee and give it a gentle and grateful squeeze.

“Your hand is wet,” she points out and pulls her knee away.

You giggle and dip your hand in the water before you splash her, making her gasp and look at you with a deadpan face before a smile slowly takes over her face, and she ends up giggling.

You laugh harder and she proceeds to splash you much to her initial dislike, letting you feel like a weight lifted off your chest for that moment that you were ignorant of…well, everything.

It was nice.

——

*THE NEXT DAY*

It’s said that Alicent was not found in bed, she did not break fast with Helaena and has not been seen in any Sept. She’s gone, but does it surprise you? It’s not the first time she’s left without a word, she just recently had a rendezvous at the Kingswood all by herself. For what?

Only she and the Kingsguard that accompanied her know.

And now they’re both gone again so perhaps it’s just another rendezvous who knows, and you could hardly care. You’re just nosy.

Regardless, that's not your focus right now. You should focus on writing to your mother. You should send her what you have heard, that Ser Criston and Ser Gwayne are approaching Harrenhal by the day, and they will be upon Daemon soon.

You should tell her to take advantage of Aemond’s departure and take the throne since Aegon cannot raise even a finger about it, but alas, the ink drips and drips on the paper as you sit in thought and watch Astraea hunting for her next meal in the never-ending waters.

What do you want to do?

Ask for the truth on paper? Tell her what you know and warn her? Or do you go quiet and stop this transaction of secrets?

What do you want?

What do you want…

You let out a deep breath and drop your eyes from your dragon to try and focus on potential words that could mark the page, but as you’re shifting your eyes you catch your Sworn protector, Ser Jason smiling at Astraea with admiration. And thus your mind uses that as an excuse to avoid choosing.

“My friend Lord Stark,” your voice catches him off guard. “Had to bribe her to let him pet her. He would offer her fish which is her favorite, but it took many moons for her to warm up to him. So,” you scoff lightheartedly. “I’m surprised she went up to you.”

Ser Jason tears his eyes away from your dragon diving in the water. “Perhaps I smelled like fish,” he says and you try to think if it's real while also slowly knitting your eyebrows together.

Ser Jason sees that you did not understand it was a joke so he quickly counters. “I did not! I did not smell like fish, I don’t go on smelling like fish. It was just a…jest because she well, you know…”

You muster a forced giggle and nod slowly, while he parts his lips to continue on rambling.

“But I mean it’s not like I know why she would go up to me. My mother worked at a brothel, so it’s not like I have special blood from her, and my father, well, I don’t doubt being a bastard of Prince Daemon qualifies my blood in any way.”

You drop your quill and your jaw drops at the revelation he just threw at you so carelessly and with no warning.

“You,” you mouth and slowly stand up without looking away, as if the truth of what he is would vanish the moment you tore your eyes away from him. “Your father is Daemon?”

Ser Jason’s face goes pale and he gapes like a fish out of water.

“You,” you scoff and turn around to drop your things on the bench while your mind scrambles what you just got told.

It should not be surprising, even you know that Daemon would frequent brothels when he was young. He had a taste for lustful activities. But! To know, and to have his bastard son be your Sworn Protector is completely crazy!

Did he know?

“Does he know?” You spat out your question oozing with your shock.

“N-no,” Ser Jason shakes his head and approaches you with fear someone else will hear him. “I never told him. You are the only one who knows.”

The corner of your lips twitch up but your initial shock still doesn’t let you display how touched you are that you’re the only one who knows.

“You are the only one who will ever know,” he says seriously and doesn’t go sheepish, his cheeks don’t taint with a blush, his gaze is pointed at you, and his lips are pressed in a firm straight line.

“But,” you whisper as your shock and that rush slowly diminishes. “Why? He’s your father. And you’re so close to him. He might as well accept you as his son. You could—”

“I don’t want it,” he cuts you off and is lucky that Ser Cane is not here or else he would’ve been scolded for cutting you off as bluntly as he did. “All the riches, the acknowledgment, and the power that comes with being recognized by my father is not what I desire. I know what that all does to men, they get drunk off power and hurt the small folk in turn. Or give us their back to be with the perfumed lords. I…don’t crave it. I like what I am now. I’m content with my role.”

His words sink in your heart and you don’t have the will to argue against him to try and make him reach higher. You actually admire him for being so sure about himself, and what he wants and doesn’t want. You wish you could say the same in a time like now.

“Many would jump at the opportunity to gain a dragon, to be a Lord. A Targaryen,” you share, making him sigh and nod slowly.

“Once upon a time I entertained those feelings while I was upset at my mother for hiding the truth,” he reveals, only pulling you in deeper. “I could join him, I could be better than she ever was,” he trails off to his usual soft and careful voice. “I was horrible and then she died. I never got to tell her I forgave her. She died thinking I hated her, that she was not enough for me, and ever since then the thought of being recognized as a Targaryen bastard is like bile in my mouth. It doesn’t appeal to me anymore. I detest it.”

You swallow thickly and pity flickers in your gaze, while you also feel a certain spark of connection as you know that you’re battling with lies and forgiveness with your own mother.

“I admire you for it,” you admit, making him blink rapidly while a furious red blush attacks his cheeks—“to have that self-actualization. That self-control when many would let their desires for greater things drive them.”

“He was not there, why should I crave the attention of someone who did not care?” He says and glances at your dragon again before he continues. “It's true I worked under him, it was a coincidence, fate playing a game. And it turns out he's actually not bad of a man, and the stories are right, he is a great warrior. I want to be as talented as him, but that’s all. I am content with what I have, I do not want to complicate my life. It was complicated once. I don't wish for that anymore.”

You slowly follow his line of gaze and an idea starts to form in your mind.

“Did you appreciate that your mother told you?” You have to ask for your own sake. “Even if it was later in your life did you appreciate it? Did it…help you?”

Ser Jason’s Adam’s Apple slides up and then down slowly before he glances at you and lets his deep blue eyes fall on you. “I think I would have driven myself mad if she hadn’t. I confronted her about it, I wanted to know who my father was. I needed to know if it was true so I would not drown in the rushing flood that were my thoughts.”

You snap your gaze to the horizon and think about your own troubles and how you’re in a battle with yourself, how you can’t sleep, or stay focused for too long without being drawn back into the storm of your thoughts; of what you want, of overthinking, rage, hate, and insecurity.

You don’t want to be troubled in a time like now. You can’t afford to with so much on the line. And you don’t think you can live in this confusion or it will drive you mad.

So you know what you must do, and you do it even if Ser Jason protests your leave.

You won’t be gone long, you’ll be in and out, Aemond won’t know, he doesn’t even have to know, and if he does well, he can go after you or stay and wait because you will return with your mind made. Angry or in peace, you will return. You just need to hear the truth from her. It will give you peace of mind.

That’s all you want. You can’t stand these loud thoughts and emotions, you want silence again. You need it.

Then again what exactly do you walk into?

Aemond doesn't surprise you by coming after you, will he be mad when you return? Possibly, but oh well, you’ll make up, so that’s not why you now start to question your daring act.

You descend and land peacefully, you have no trouble walking in the keep, and the guards know you’re no threat because that’s what they were told, but as you’re in search of your mother you come across a reason why you think maybe this plan was…a bit overzealous.

It's the man who bonded with Silverwing, he has his feet on the table and a goblet in hand. Giving yet another reason why smallfolk as dragonriders is not a good idea.

“Y-You…”

Gods.

He swings his legs off the table and leaves his goblet behind to come after you. Much to your misfortune.

“You tried killing me,” he throws out boldly.

“If I wanted you dead you would have been dead,” you don’t attempt to be kind, or apologetic because you could not care. “You’re a terrible dragonrider,” you grumble and peer over at the horse guards that you pass by as you make your way to the royal apartments in search of your mother.

“Grab her! Throw her in the dungeon, she’s with the enemy,” the man tries to demand, but the guards don’t even move an inch, they stay put and you stop trying to entertain this bad-smelling man.

“If I were you I would get away from me, I’m your princess, not some whore or servant you can pester,” you threaten him, but you keep hearing the heels of his boots chase after you in an attempt to match your speed.

“Come back—”

“Get him away from me,” you smoothly give your demand to the pair of guards that you approach, and they actually listen to you. The moment you pass them, they lunge out of their spots and block the old man’s path with their swords.

You peer at him over your shoulder and shoot him a cocky smirk before you disappear around the corner and quicken your pace to reach the royal apartments even faster.

Albeit when you reach your mother's quarters she’s not there. There’s not even guards outside her quarters, so onto the next spot where she might be, but first your cat! You go into your quarters, but he’s not there either much to your luck. But he'll be much easier to find than your mother you assume, considering she hasn’t come to meet you.

Actually, in your search, you don’t come across anyone. You assumed either your brother or your mother would have found you after they saw your dragon or got told you arrived, but so far it’s been quiet and calm. So far.

After a while, you’re actually relieved to come across Baela of all people.

“Baela,” you breathe out and come to a quick halt.

Said woman’s brown eyes linger on your face before they slowly trail down to the white-silver gown you wear and glimmers under the sunlight capturing your figure, making it appear like you’re wearing a gown made of a thousand tiny diamonds, or thin chainmail, either or you twinkle in your flowy dreamy gown.

And when her eyes go back up to your face she notes that the silver diadem around your head with the thin chains dangling from it really pronounces your title as Princess Regent.

“I saw Astraea and I thought she carried a letter,” Baela finally breaks her silence. “It's you. You’re back.” She smiles faintly, but you’re quick to steal that joy.

“No,” you deadpan. “I came to talk to my mother. Sooner rather than later, hopefully.”

“What?” She scoffs. “You did not ask your husband's permission to go out?”

You sense her hostility toward Aemond, you understand it, but you still don’t like it. “I do not need it, I came against his will.”

You would defend him but there’s no reason to really waste your breath, she doesn’t like him so wouldn’t understand.

“Is my mother here?” You interrupt her before she comes up with another quip. “I need to talk to her. Urgently.”

Baela draws out a deep breath and answers kinder this time. “She’s not here. She left at first light for Harrenhal. She did not say why.”

Great.

“Alright,” you nod slowly. “I will wait for her then. And do not tell Jacaerys I am here if he doesn’t know. I’m returning to the Red Keep and he will only make it hard.”

A pointed glare flashes on her face before she sighs and her face softens. “He’s only worried about you. You don’t know how many times he’s wanted to go to the Red Keep to bring you back. He says your place is here now more that you’re expecting twins.”

Your mother told them. Of course. But they don’t know that you don’t know where your place is exactly. Not at the moment, you’re in a state of limbo. Neither here nor there.

“And that’s why he cannot know I’m here,” you insist even if what she says really does pull at your heartstrings and makes you want to stay for him. “Let my mother know I’ll be at the Great Hall,” you end the conversation short so you’re not hit with more guilt or pleas to stay with puppy eyes and sweet words.

You do attempt to offer her a smile so she knows this coldness in your demeanor is not directed at her, but your lips hardly tug up; what you need to speak about takes too much from you. And it’s a good thing she doesn’t see that trouble so you’re able to walk past her and disappear into the Great Hall where you expect to be on your lonesome, but lying on the stone throne is your cat, Wolf.

“Look at you,” you coo and rush to him. “So regal.”

Wolf hears your voice and his head shoots up before he lets out an almost huffed meow, letting you know he’s upset you left him behind.

“I know, I know,” you talk to the cat as you walk up the steps of the stone throne to pick him up. “Forgive me, we were in a rush, but this time you are coming home with me.”

You lift him in the air and tilt your head down just slightly to make sure he’s still wearing his pearl collar—and yes, he still has it on.

“Well it seems they have been feeding you well,” you comment on his blubber.

Wolf meows nonchalantly and you flash him a grin before you hug him against you whilst you walk down to sit on a cold stone step.

“Oh, I’ve missed you too,” you tell him and caress his side. “You’ll have to ride Astraea though, I know you’re scared, but it’s the only way you can come home, so just sleep or something”

Wolf purrs under your touch so you gladly continue to show him some affection while you wait for your mother and get pulled deeper and deeper into the angry storm of your thoughts.

Much like before time is irrelevant, your surroundings blur almost to the point it’s nonexistent, and you get so lost in your mind that you hardly exist which makes time move faster.

You don't know how much time passed between you waiting and your mother’s arrival, but by the time the grand doors open and your mother finally joins you, the sun is lower than it was before. Actually, when you let the cat go and stand up on the step you notice that the beam of sunlight is reflecting on the ground now.

“Mother,” you greet but don’t share the relief she does when she finds you secluded in the darkness of the grey stone room. You don’t smile as wide as she does even as hard as you try to show your joy over seeing her and being in the same room without having to pretend.

When she reaches you she doesn’t hesitate or ask you for an embrace. The moment you step down to the ground to let her reach you she wraps her arms around you and pulls you against her. But even if you return her embrace, you don’t hold her as tightly, your body doesn’t ease like hers does at the feeling of your arms secured around her.

You try, you really do try to forget and bask in the warmth and the comfort her mere presence usually brings, but right now the sight of her is enraging the storm within you.

She doesn’t notice though, not yet. And not when she pulls back to let her eyes take you in under the beam of sunlight dancing on your face.

“You look beautiful,” she offers you a compliment as she gently grabs your arms so you won’t go far, but drops one hand to gently press it against your belly. “I did not get to see you when you were expecting Aerion, I want to make the most of it now. How are you feeling? Do you want to talk to the maester?”

You blink and swallow back nervously before you shake your head stiffly and point your eyes at her Kingsguard a few feet behind her.

Your mother seems to understand what you mean so she looks over her shoulder and with a simple passing look sends them away from the hall. It’s only once they’re gone and it’s just you and your mother under the beaming light that you raise your hands and get rid of her touch. And it's at that moment that she realizes the emotions that ride on your face aren’t that of pleasure.

She looks at you now, she really takes you in and notes a long-forming frown painting on your face that's thinner than before due to the twins growing within you, taking what they can from you. She sees your eyebrows slowly creasing lines as they come together, and lastly, there’s flames of anger flickering in your eyes that she did not bother to notice before, but as she sees all of you now she's overcome with worry.

“What is it? What’s wrong?” She finally picks on the emotions becoming more prominent in your features.

You draw in a deep breath and slowly raise your chin as you gain the confidence to be bold in your anger. “I need you to be honest with me. If you lie I will know, so it’s best if you’re truthful…please,” that last word makes your voice falter.

“About what?” She probes and grows conflicted as well as more concerned.

You blink repeatedly as tears begin to sting your eyes, causing your mother's lips to part in confusion. “Did…did,” you strain to continue as the words hurt to even think about saying. “You send my father away to marry Daemon? Yes or no?”

A gasp escapes her parted lips, her lashes bat wildly, and her eyebrows crash in the middle for a second as she’s slammed with shock at the words that came out of your mouth. Words you should not know.

“Did he leave at his own accord or did you send him away?” You sneer emotionally and search her face for an answer. “Tell me,” you whisper softly but with desperation.

Rather than answering right away your mother…steps away with tears glistening in her eyes, but it’s with that single action that you know the answer you wanted to refute, that you wanted to believe was a lie or some mind trick played by magic, but the answer is in her glistening eyes and it weighs your chest down while also pulling tears out of your eyes brought by anger and agony.

Yet even then you still want to hear her say the truth so you demand it. For the first time in your life, you shout at your mother and the agony in your voice echoes in the great hall. “Tell me!”

Your mother's eyebrows once again meet in the middle as she’s surprised by your burst of emotions, but she also knows there’s no more hiding from the truth, so after a deep breath she finally begins to give you what you seek.

“I needed a stronger force behind me in order to defend my claim. We knew it would be contested and it was, so we needed to send…Laenor away…”

“So you could marry Daemon,” you finish for her with more tears rushing down the curve of your cheeks.

“But my Sweet—” she tries to quickly comfort you by trying to grab your arms, but you shove her attempt away and slowly pierce a trembling glare at her, leaving her with no option but to see the tears that run down your face and shine like tiny sparkling diamonds the same way your gown twinkles under the sunlight.

“Don’t,” you bark and shake your head at her as it feels like someone pierced your chest. “Save whatever excuse you’re going to give me. I don’t want to hear it. You lied,” you throw at her. “For six years! You let me grieve him for six years! You let me long for his return for six years! Six years,” you sneer your words. “Do you know what it’s like grieving alone? Losing all your joy and having no one to comfort you because you’re being shipped across the country? No, but I do. And now to find out he left and you were behind it is like…like dying.”

“Don’t say that,” she whispers her own heartbreak. “He—it broke him to leave you and your brothers behind, but he also knew that I needed more than he could offer for our sake. He was selfless. He did it because he loved us, because he loved you.”

“That doesn’t matter,” you mutter as those words don’t work to mend your shattered heart or offer any sort of peace to your agony. “None of it matters because he left and you lied, and now where do I belong? All my life I have fought to prove myself, every step of the way, and now to find out you lied and that my father left makes me feel like nothing. I am nothing.” You sniffle and turn around to pick up your cat off the ground before you face her to utter your last words. “Thank you for making that perfectly clear.”

You storm past her and she calls out to you before managing to capture your arm and reel you to a stop.

“Don’t,” you quickly counter like your life depends on it. “Stop. I’m done…” you trail off and step back, having to purposely avert your gaze before you spin around and finish storming away.

This time she doesn’t come after you, the Great Hall is silent and you have a clear path to leave…or so you thought until you come across Jacaerys making his own way toward the Great Hall, but stopping as he sees you, the person he wanted to see.

Time seizes the moment your eyes meet. Every ounce of rage falters, and that sense of belonging is found there with him. With your little brother.

Looking at him makes you want to stay, to swallow back all the pain, and stay where you belong, but you can’t be so selfless. You choose to be selfish even if taking that route hurts more with him in front of you.

That’s why you didn’t want to see him, but here he is, and here you are with no strength to say goodbye. That's why you just take a deep breath and raise your chin before you try to walk away. But he steps in front of you to block your path.

“Where are you going? What's wrong?” He immediately asks as he sees your face pampered with tears.

“I’m going home,” you mutter bluntly and avert your eyes. “Back to my son, back to my husband.”

You try to leave again, but he grabs your arm and pulls you back to argue. “You cannot be serious? You don’t belong there! This is your home, this is where you belong, just bring Aerion and his dragon and come back home. We don’t need you in the Red Keep anymore, we have strength here.”

His words only work to hurt you deeper. It’s like being pierced in the chest again and again, and deeper with each sweet word.

“No,” your voice quivers. “I belong home. With my son, and Aemond. This is not my home, not anymore.”

He looks back at where you came from before looking back at you in confusion. You don’t need to see it to know that’s what he feels.

“What did mother say?” He wants to know more, but you don’t give him the context. You’ll let her do it.

“It doesn’t matter now, I’m leaving, Jace, let me go.”

Yet he doesn't, his grip only tightens and his gaze grows heavy on you.

“So what? You can go back to them?” He spats.

“To him,” you clarify. “To Aemond!”

Jacaerys tilts his head down and you let him find your gaze painted with it all; rage, agony, guilt, and a yearning for comfort.

“What of Rhaenys?” He hisses to you. “What of Lucerys?” His confrontation falters. “Or do you forget about them while you sleep with him?”

Your bottom lip trembles and your breath shudders, but as weak as you feel you bite back. “I will not stay. You cannot make me.”

“Watch me,” your brother sneers, so you rebuttal by rolling your shoulders back and narrowing your gaze to a glare.

“Do it,” you taunt him.

Jacaerys challenges your gaze waiting for you to falter, but no matter how much you want to give up your fight under his threatening gaze, you muster up your strength and fight back until he’s defeated.

When he lets you free you hug your cat tighter and linger in his presence for a moment longer, but never find the strength to utter that last goodbye. So even with tears welling in his eyes, you leave without saying another word.

Even after that, your mind can’t form a single thought. You fly back home in utter, deafening silence, with only the wind howling in your ears. When that too stops the moment you land in that cove behind the Red Keep, you expect to be bombarded with a wave of thoughts, but it’s like your mind stopped working. It’s quiet, you're quiet, and your cat keeps yelling at you, probably asking why you put him through that flight, but he grows relieved when he’s in the safety of the Red Keep, and then he also grows quiet on your way to your chambers.

The one time you can find the ability to speak words is when you reach your quarters and find Ser Cane outside your doors along with one of Aerion’s sworn protectors. Ser Jason must have taken his leave now that Ser Cane is here.

“Is my husband inside?” You have to ask to know if you should prepare yourself for a fight.

“No,” Ser Cane deadpans and finds your cat that he has not seen at all in his life until now. “That’s…yours?”

A tiny smile tugs on your face and you lift your fat cat to show him off. “Yes, it’s Wolf, don’t worry he’s nice.”

The cat meows, and you look at him and smile wider before you take a step forward, making the guards open your doors for you.

“Please stop wandering off,” Ser Cane says in a very serious voice, and you can’t help but flash him a smile since he figured out all by himself that you were not in the Red Keep, or King’s Landing at all considering you warned Ser Jason not to tell a soul.

“You will have to use a ball and chain for that Ser,” you retort, and for the first time since he’s been your sworn protector, he smiles. It’s faint, the corner of his lips twitch, but you still made him smile and it makes you giddy.

“You can relax for now I’ll be inside,” you assure him as you put Wolf down before you finally walk inside.

Once the doors are closed the smile on your face falls and still, the thoughts you have been expecting fail to come.

Not that you’re eager to fall into a deeper agony after hearing the truth, you just need the shock to pass. You need to admit the truth of what you want to yourself because you know it’s forming there, in your mind.

Albeit you can’t overcome your disbelief or the hurt you received in Dragonstone. Time started moving after your interaction with Jacaerys, but it moves slowly now and because of it your thoughts don’t come quick.

Then again you can’t rush your feelings, so you take a deep breath and head over to Aerion’s cradle to check on him since he should be taking his nap.

Which reminds you that his wetnurse has not come to meet you, odd, but alas you continue your path towards your child and before you can reach the curtains that lead to your bed, Wolf yowls before he suddenly comes sprinting away from that side of the room.

You quickly follow him with your eyes and your amused smile falls as you catch that he left behind bloody footprints.

“Maci?” You call out for Aerion’s wetnurse with your breaths growing heavy with panic, but there’s no answer so should you call out for the guards outside your door?

It might be something dangerous or it might be nothing.

The latter seems more plausible so you keep making your way forward with more caution now.

Aerion is not crying, so it can’t be anything terrible…right?

Unless—no, it’s not him, but you quicken your pace, and when you reach the curtains you slowly pull them back. When you peek one eye inside your heart drops to your stomach, your breath hitches, and every instinct inside you immediately yells at you to fight, so you do.

You’re not carrying any weapon with you to defend yourself, and any you have in your chambers are far compared to the distance this scrawny killer is to Aerion, so with nothing but your strength you rip the curtains open, and part your lips to bellow. “G—”

Yet just as your breath comes out with the first word, a dirty hand suddenly slaps over your mouth before the tip of a blade hovers over your throat, forbidding you from alerting any guard and threatening the cloaked killer approaching Aerion’s cradle with a bloody knife.

You try to push away the hand that’s covering your mouth to try and save your son with a threat, or with a sound ominous enough that the guards will burst through the doors, but the person who is holding you captive begins to drag you away from the bed area of your quarters not caring that you’re kicking, or clawing at his arm.

The other man reaches Aerion’s cradle and you ache to try and reach him, you try to scream, but the person who has you keeps dragging you away until he finally halts and pushes their lips by your ear.

“Long. Live. Queen Rhaenyra,” they whisper in a scratchy voice, and at the sound of those words it’s like a tight grasp wraps around your heart causing it to hurt worse than any other pain.

Yet what’s that ache right now compared to the threat uncovering Aerion’s cradle and revealing him to the killer? It’s nothing.

Your heart pounds and every muscle that makes who you are cries desperately in attempts to reach him, but you can’t challenge the person's strength holding you against them. All you can do is watch as the man finds your son in his cradle with tears rolling down your face and a horror that keeps worsening.

However, just as the man’s eyes land on Aerion, they then shift to something else, and terror strikes within them.

You stop moving to figure out what he saw, but then Shrykos, the answer to all your questions jumps out of the cradle and perches herself on the edge.

It’s Aerion’s dragon. She’s there, emitting low clicking sounds as she tilts her head and studies the man to figure out whether she’s seen him before or not.

Yet perhaps your relief comes too soon because the man swings his blade down at the hatchling. You try to scream out in defense of the hatchling, but much to your surprise Shrykos leaps off the edge of the cradle and flies on the man to claw her long and sharp nails in his throat, rendering him silent instantly before she climbs up his face to blast fire at the man’s eyes which causes him to fall back on the ground with a loud thud, and leaving the person behind you paralyzed.

Albeit not long enough because they pay no mind to the hatchling tearing the man's face to shreds. And maybe they have the right idea not to care, you’re not bonded to the hatchling, and unless given the direct command she won’t come to you to defend you like she did Aerion. You have to fight back yourself. Thus since you can’t bite the person and you can’t outmatch their strength, you kick your foot back as they’re pulling you back towards the balcony, and manage to hit their crotch.

They react with a groan and loosen their grip just enough for you to shove away their hand with the blade, and twist around. Once you’re facing him, you jab your knee in their arm as hard as you can, managing to break it and unarm him, but also causing him to shout in pain.

Is that enough though?

No, they ignore the pain and pretend they’re going for the blade, so you reach for it too, but then at the next second they actually swing their palm against your face so hard it stings, and the taste of iron trickles in your mouth through your parted lips, while more leaks down your chin.

Hurried footsteps then strike the ground and seem to be approaching where you are, so while you’re dazed the man grabs the blade and lunges at your belly, but even if your ears are ringing and your eyesight blurs because of that hard slap, you throw your hands down and manage to catch the blade before he could pierce it through your flesh.

In capturing the blade with your bare hands though, now sharp blinding pain spreads throughout your palms.

“Drop the blade!” You recognize Ser Cane shout at the top of his lungs while he and the other knight slowly stalk toward the man.

However, the man manages to slip his hand away from your bleeding grasp and redirects his threat at your belly, at your twins, leaving you paralyzed out of fear the blade will penetrate with a single move of any muscle.

“Ser,” you call out to your sworn protector between pants and your voice now trembles with fear.

“Not another step or I gut her,” the man sneers and steps toward you to get closer and make his threat that more dangerous, making Ser Cane put his arm out to stop the other knight from getting any closer.

“You will be able to go, just let the princess go,” Ser Cane makes empty promises whilst he steps back. And to the ears of a man’s life hanging by a thread, why would he not take the opportunity?

Yet as tempted as the man is, he hesitates and glances at you with panic in his green eyes. “Long live the Queen.”

The man pulls the blade away from your belly and starts to move it up in an attempt to stab your throat, but the moment he looked away from the knights, Ser Cane managed to slide out a dagger so when the man began to scale the blade up, Ser Cane hurled his dagger and with perfect aim hit the man’s throat. Now the threat the man held falls with his blade, and thick crimson blood squirts out from his gash and splashes all over your face, letting you know it’s all over, there’s no threat looming over you. It’s all done.

Yet your heart doesn’t stop drumming nor does your blood stop rushing with the terror still rattling your body.

“Come with me, Princess,” Ser Cane’s voice travels through your ears and you notice that it's softer than before, but it doesn’t make you do as he says, you look at the dead man bleeding out on the ground, and gasp sharply before you slowly sit on the ground with leg flat on the ground, and the other used to prop your arm on your knee.

“Go fetch Prince Aemond,” Ser Cane demands the other knight before sheathing his blade and rushing to check on Aerion.

“Is he…”

“Still asleep,” Ser Cane finishes for you, so you nod stiffly and let that worry go with a deep and shallow breath, but this new shock still leaves you trembling on the ground, trying to convince yourself that what just happened did happen. It was not a dream, it was real, people did try to kill you and Aerion.

Was it in some twisted act for your mother? Were they sent by someone else? Or was it your own mother and Daemon who sent them?

You don’t know. You don’t know a thing about them and you won’t know because they’re both dead. All that you know for sure is that you almost died. They were going to kill you!

Gods. Gods. Damn. Damn it!

“Let me see, let me see,” Ser Cane startles you as he crouches down beside you to look at the drops of blood coming from your belly since right now your mind is unraveling what happened and letting that shock go.

“He just nicked your skin, you’re okay, your children are okay,” he assures you as he meets your eyes.

And even if your gaze is miles away you nod stiffly in comprehension before you blink slowly and get your focus lost on the blood pooled around the dead man, but not with a blank stare now. This time a slow-growing fire is sparked in your eyes, causing your gaze to narrow just enough to spread a menacing look, while your parted lips letting out your shallow breaths still give your disbelief and fear away.

It’s like you were just hit with a realization because you were. You know what you feel now, and you know what you want. You see it reflected in the pool of blood reaching your foot.

Whether the killers were sent by your mother, by someone else, or they acted alone doesn’t matter. The killers dispersed the cloud that was fogging your mind since you left Dragonstone, and it’s all clear now. There’s no going back, there’s no sufficient apologies that can tear down your rage-fueled hate because that’s what you are. You’re angry at your mother for lying to you for six years, you hate that she lied, and you don’t want to help her anymore because of it.

You tried being good, the perfect princess, and the perfect daughter of a Queen. You risked your life to come here to send her letters of the Greens' plans. You strained yourself to prove something to your mother, to try and be what she needs in this war and as a daughter, but no more. You’re done trying to bend over backwards to prove something to her.

You’re done.

Does it mean you will fight for the Greens?

Well, you will get your hands dirty. You won’t hide who you can really be now and you won’t let them diminish you.

You will fight. She will see you fight. She will know your rage face to face. They will all know your rage.

“What—”

Aemond’s voice registers in your head, and as you follow where his voice comes from you see him stopped only a few paces away with his eye on the dead man.

“Aemond,” you gasp softly, feeling that fear break apart after being penetrated by the mere presence of your best friend and your beloved husband Aemond.

When his eye finds you it widens at the sight of the blood pampered on your face, staining and dulling the white-silver gown that no longer glimmers like shining diamonds. He then sees your hands leaking blood from wounds he can’t see, but knows are there due to the blood dripping on the ground, and his rage snaps to the knights meant to protect you, but you call out to him as you see that darkness spark in his eye.

“Aemond.”

Said man’s eye falls on your face and he debates still tormenting the knights, but as he sees how you plead for him with your eyes alone, he lets his anger go for now with a deep breath and then falls on his knees beside you.

“<Are you hurt?>” He asks in High Valyrian as he studies you to find his answer regardless of what you say.

“<Just cuts on my palms, but I’m, we’re okay.>”

Aemond’s eye drifts to the cradle a few feet away and his lips part as he sees Shrykos covered in blood returning to his spot by Aerion’s side.

“<He’s okay,” you assure Aemond. “He’s asleep. His dragon protected him.>”

Aemond looks back at you and you both share a soft and relieved breathy laugh at the fact that Aerion did not wake at all through the interaction, and that his little hatchling took down a grown man all by herself.

“<Are you okay?>” Aemond asks again and doesn’t hesitate cradling your face covered in blood.

“Aemond my face—”

“I don’t care,” he cuts you off and leans in closer to study you with his eye glossy with tears brought by worry. “Are you okay?” He asks, making your bottom lip tremble. You want to lie, but you can’t with him looking at you with that tender blue eye filled to the brim with concern over your life, so you shake your head lightly.

Aemond caresses your cheek with his thumb and presses his forehead against yours. “I’m here,” he reassures you before he embraces you against him, letting you sink into his warm and comforting embrace, and become one.

You don’t need to prove anything to each other. You don’t need to sweat blood to try and be something worthwhile for each other. You’re enough. You’re all each other needed when you were kids, and you’re all each other needs now.

Is your rage extinguished? No, it’s still very much alive and it blazes like wildfire as your fire becomes one with Aemond’s, because you both share a similar rage that you want everyone to see. That they will all see.

A/N- I’m afraid Cregan is the only one who can pull you out of this dark corner now.

Tagged- @namelesslosers @stargaryenx @chainsawsangel @lauftivy @winxschester @cloudroomblog @llarue @padsdarlg @sofietargaryen @gracielikegrapes @dreaming-of-the-reality @itzelpeyton @patdsinner33 @mrsdominickstark @elaena-aerrin @todoroki-slut @snh96 @urmomsgirlfriend1 @nifujiswhore @sweethoneyblossom1 @kaetastic @lightdragonrayne @squidscottjeans @oh-you-mean-me @wallacewillow0773638 @icefrye19 @thescottpack @fiction-fanfic-reader @crazymusicgirl104 @r-3dlips @strangersunghoon @just-pure-trash @ethereal-athalia @missyviolet123 @callsignwidow @xunquish-blog @tabathastan @weepingfashionwritingplaid

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mcflymemes · 7 months ago

Text

SCI FI SETTINGS / LOCATIONS PROMPTS * sci-fi location based prompts for starters, adjust as necessary

spaceship-specific

[ 01 ] the cockpit of a dilapidated spaceship

[ 02 ] the bridge of a massive starship, with windows around the room giving you an incredible view of the stars

[ 03 ] beside the burning remains of a crashed ship

[ 04 ] tucked away in the bunks of a tiny spaceship

[ 05 ] outside a spaceship in the middle of space, using gravity-boots to walk safely across the ship and perform repairs or check a bad sensor

[ 06 ] a bustling ship hangar with crewmembers running about, rushing to get into their ships as the battle draws near

[ 07 ] the weapons locker onboard the ship

[ 08 ] the locker rooms onboard the ship

[ 09 ] the echo-y shuttle bay of a spaceship

[ 10 ] in the ship's command center during an intense battle

[ 11 ] the narrow passageway leading to the ship's weapon system/turrets

[ 12 ] the mess hall, crowded with crewmembers

[ 13 ] your muse's private room onboard the ship

different types of planets

[ 14 ] a dense, foggy planet with oversized plants

[ 15 ] the abandoned base on a moon with low gravity

[ 16 ] a swampy, foggy planet with frightening creatures lurking beneath the water's surface

[ 17 ] an entirely water-covered planet with structures built above the stormy seas for safety

[ 18 ] a hilly, remote planet covered in grasslands

[ 19 ] a lava-covered, mountainous planet with bubbling volcanoes

[ 20 ] a planet trapped in a constant storm, always raining and thundering

[ 21 ] the site of an abandoned colony on a once-habitable planet, now taken over by nature and destroyed by time

[ 22 ] a planet where life only exists underground, where it is impossible to survive on the surface

[ 23 ] a city planet, completely built up of buildings, nightlife, neon lights, and a seedy underbelly

assorted locations + scenarios

[ 24 ] a military base, now abandoned and controlled by a rogue ai

[ 25 ] trapped within a high security prison full of space pirates

[ 26 ] a holy temple, obscured in the mountains of a distant planet

[ 27 ] on the craggy side of a massive meteor

[ 28 ] a dangerous off-world facility rumored to house illegal experimentations

[ 29 ] a bustling, cramped cantina filled with music, drinking, and the occasional gunshot or two

[ 30 ] secretly aboard the enemy's ship, trying to remain hidden

#mcflymemes #mine #sci fi prompts #rp prompt #rp meme #rp memes #roleplay memes #roleplay prompt #rp starters #ask meme #ask memes #roleplay meme #roleplay inbox prompts #rp inbox meme #inbox prompt #inbox meme #sentence starter prompt #sentence starter #sentence starters

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its-a-full-galaxy · 3 months ago

Note

Echo let out a few choice curses as she tried to mentally peel herself off the ceiling. She'd nearly jumped out of her armor when the blond pilot spoke, not noticing him until now, thanks to all the noise in her head. She worked through her mental filters as she tried to reign in her mouth and brain.

"Traveler's ghost, you scared the snot out of me," she said running a hand over her face. She took a deep breath and looked over at him, gauging whether or not to give him a serious answer. Normally, she either hid or played it off when she was feeling like this, like she was getting sapped by a void soul or squeezed in an Uluran's grip.

The exomind let out a static huff and shook her head. "No, it's not a problem with the room," she said finally. "I'm just..." She paused and looked at him.

"You ever get caught out of your ship when you're outside?" she asked, gesturing to the hanger. "I'm feeling like that and being in an alien room on an alien spaceship in the void of space. And I'm saying alien because it's not from earth which means it's alien to me."

Echo took a breath and ran her hand over her head. "I just need something familiar. Today has been a lot, y'know? A lot..."

After getting caught in a dogfight and rescued from being shepherded away by TIE fighters, Echo-17 had gotten a decent welcome from her rescuers. Whisper had been supervising the repair of her Velocimancer while she had been doing a meet and greet with security. They still weren't sure about her and, honestly, she still wasn't sure about them. They did provide her a room and food though, and the guys in Rogue Flight weren't that bad either.

However, as nice as it was that they'd made room for her, sleeping in it was... just not appealing. Echo hoped it was just the shock of everything and that the discomfort would go away soon, but for now, it was almost more comforting sleeping in the ammo closet of the Warmind, Rasputin's bunker. At least she knew what to expect... what was there and how to get out safely if she wanted...

Echo shook her head, marching her way to the hanger. Under her arm was the pillow and blanket that had been on the bed in the room she'd been assigned. Nope. She was on a space station in weird, alien space with the only connection to home being her ship and her ghost. She was NOT sleeping in a weird cot tonight. -- Echo-17

The ship was close to its night cycle. Activity had slowed down, the corridors were emptying out of beings, and the lights were visibly dimming toward lights-out. When the Exo passed by, a figure peeled away from its position along the wall where it had gone unnoticed and assumed a place at her shoulder.

"Problem with the room?"

The blonde pilot had been quiet for several minutes walking at Echo's side as she worked her way from the assigned quarters back to the hanger. Before she could cross the threshold though, Hobbie had briefly quickened his step to reach the door before her and halted, forcing her to stop or bowl him over. He looked at the pillow and blanket roll in her arms and raised his brows.

#verse || wrong place wrong time wrong everything #hobbie || red flight #Muse || Destiny 2 || Echo 17 #itsafullgalaxy

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incognit0slut · 10 months ago

Text

Right Kind of Wrong (19)

She never thought she’d be involved in a murder investigation and encounter her one-night-stand again, the awkward guy who isn’t exactly that good in bed—Or is he? Offended by the sentiment, Spencer is determined to prove her wrong… But as he gets tangled with the beautiful stranger, he realizes there is more to her than what meets the eye.

Part Summary: Spencer finally takes her out on a date. Part Warning: 18+ explicit content (Public fingering) A/n: I did not forget this series, I've just been distracted I'm sorry!! I also apologize if there are any inaccuracies in some random facts, I am not as smart as him, I can only do a quick research from Google.

Other parts: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12, 13, 14, 15, 16, 17, 18

"SO, HOW DO I LOOK?"

She spun in front of the mirror, showing off the dress she had picked out that afternoon on an impromptu shopping spree. The garment had looked stunning on the store mannequin, and now, in the soft glow of her bedroom, it was more appealing.

The spaghetti straps delicately framed her shoulders, and the lavender fabric accentuated her curves. The bottom of the dress, hovering just below her knees, gave a playful vibe with a teasing slit inching up her right thigh. And the neckline, with its very low plunge, offered a glimpse of her cleavage she couldn't help but wonder whether it was showing too much skin.

"Like you want to get laid," a playful voice called.

Her laughter echoed through the room as she turned to face her phone and realized the dress was hugging her ass quite snugly. "It's too much, isn't it?"

"Not at all," Sandy's voice echoed through the phone again. She glanced at the screen, seeing her friend's smiling face. "You look gorgeous."

She grinned, the reassurance from Sandy making her feel more at ease. "You think so?"

"Absolutely."

She reached for a sparkling necklace and dangling earrings, holding them to the camera. "Necklace or earrings?"

"Hmm." Sandy squinted at the screen, studying the options through the video call. "Go with the earrings. They'll add a touch of glamour without stealing the spotlight from the dress."

She nodded in agreement. "Earrings it is, then."

As she carefully slipped herself into the accessories, Sandy couldn't help but muse her thoughts. "I don't think I've ever seen you wear purple."

She cleared her throat awkwardly. "What do you mean? I've worn this color before."

"Your wardrobe either consists of black or gray. You had to go out shopping to buy this dress."

She laughed nervously, caught in the act of her predictable wardrobe choices. "Alright, fine." She pursed her lips together before letting out a sigh. "I may or may not have asked his friend what his favorite color is."

"You sly fox," Sandy laughed with a huge grin. "So you do want to get laid."

She blushed, adjusting the earrings. "I mean, if the occasion arises..."

"You've got this all planned out, huh?"

"Well, not exactly, more like... strategically considered?" She tilted her head and observed herself in the mirror again. "Does it make me look desperate?"

"Of course not," Sandy reassured. "It just shows you're putting in effort. Besides, confidence is attractive. You look hot."

She blushed at the compliment, but before she could respond, the distant hum of an engine reached her ears. Her eyes widened, and instinctively, she moved towards the window and noticed a car pulling into her driveway. It wasn't the usual sleek, black government vehicle; instead, the car looked like it had seen better days, although it held a vintage charm that caught her by surprise.

Then reality finally kicked in—he was here for a date, not because of his job. They were actually going out for a nice dinner he had prepared.

She suddenly felt sick.

"Sandy, he's here," she whispered, her voice betraying a touch of panic.

Somehow Sandy still managed to hear her voice from across the room. "You'll be fine! It's not like you haven't spent time with him before."

"Not when my life wasn't on the line." She was met with silence and walked over to her phone, picking it up to find Sandy's disapproving glare. She sheepishly smiled towards the screen. "Too soon?"

Sandy shook her head with a sigh. "Only you would joke about your near-death experience."

"Spencer told me it's a coping mechanism."

"You've joked about it to him as well?"

She nodded. "He's not a fan either." The sound of the doorbell ringing brought her back to the present. "I need to go."

"Wait!" Sandy's urgent voice echoed through the phone again. She watched as her friend's expression softened. "How are you feeling today?"

A warm smile graced her lips, moved by Sandy's ongoing concern. Ever since they reunited at the hospital, Sandy couldn't stop apologizing for what had happened, even when it wasn't her fault to begin with. Her friend consistently checked in on her well-being.

"I'm actually feeling pretty good. Nervous, but good."

Sandy nodded, her smile carrying reassurance. "Good. Now, go enjoy your date."

She reciprocated the sentiment with a blow of a kiss towards the camera. "I'll call you later," she promised before ending the call. Taking a deep breath, she composed herself, slipping her phone into her purse as she descended the stairs.

Spencer was waiting at the door when she opened it, all cleaned up and undeniably handsome. His well-fitted suit accentuated his strong shoulders, and the crisp white shirt beneath complemented the subtle purple tie he wore. The fabric of the suit, in a rich charcoal shade, seemed to bring out the warmth in his hazel eyes.

A nervous smile played on his lips, only enhancing his charm and giving him an endearing quality that made her heart skip a beat. His eyes, however, spoke volumes as they assessed her, taking in the way her dress hugged her curves. Spencer couldn't help but be mesmerized by the sight before him.

He was so mesmerized that without thinking, he stepped forward and wrapped an arm around her waist, catching her by surprise. In an instant, he leaned down, his lips meeting hers in an unexpected yet tender kiss. The warmth of the moment enveloped them, and for a brief instant, her worries seemed to fade away.

Her initial surprise transformed into a soft smile as she reciprocated the kiss, savoring the way lips moved against hers, and when he finally pulled away, he looked into her eyes with a mixture of admiration and affection.

"I couldn't resist," he admitted, his nervous smile now replaced by one of genuine warmth.

She couldn't help but smile, feeling a flutter of excitement in her chest. "I'm certainly not complaining."

As they exchanged smiles, she noticed a smudge of her lipstick on his lips. She burst into laughter, breaking the moment with a lighthearted touch.

"You've got a little something right here," she teased, reaching up to gently wipe off the lipstick with her thumb.

He simply gazed into her eyes with a sincere smile. "You look beautiful."

Blushing at the compliment, she smiled appreciatively. "Why thank you. You don't look too bad yourself," she replied with a playful glint in her eyes.

"Come on," Spencer urged, gently tugging her arm, and she willingly followed him after locking her door.

As they walked down her driveway, she felt Spencer's hand on her lower back, a gesture that added an extra layer of comfort to their connection. Unable to contain her surprise, she couldn't help but comment on the unexpected sight of his vehicle.

"I never pictured you as someone who owned a car," she commented, her tone teasing but filled with curiosity.

Spencer chuckled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "It may not be as sleek as the government vehicle, but it gets the job done."

She laughed, finding his revelation endearing. "Well, I'm impressed. It suits you." Her eyes scanned the vintage-looking car. "It reminds me of you actually."

"What? Old and worn out?"

She shook her head, smiling. "No, not at all. I meant classic, with a certain charm."

His smile widened at her response. "I'll take that as a compliment."

Spencer graciously opened the car door for her, and she beamed appreciatively, slipping into the vintage car's comfortable interior. The soft glow of the dashboard highlighted the nostalgia-infused details of the vehicle, making it clear that Spencer had a penchant for classic styles beyond his usual government responsibilities.

As he closed her door, he circled to the driver's side, sliding behind the wheel. The engine hummed softly and as she watched him, she felt a certain warmth traveling through her body.

In the soft glow of the car's interior, she couldn't help but notice how attractive he looked. His features were highlighted by the dashboard lights, casting a subtle yet captivating glow. Before he could pull away from the driveway, a spontaneous impulse surged within her.

"Wait," she said, her voice breaking the quiet ambiance of the car. Without overthinking, she reached over and gently grabbed Spencer's arm, tugging him back for a moment.

He looked at her with concern. "What's wrong?"

She smiled, feeling a surge of boldness, and leaned over to him. She closed the distance between them, her lips meeting his in a more passionate kiss than before.

He responded with a mixture of surprise, yet his hand gently found its way to the back of her neck, deepening the kiss. His lips moved in sync with hers, and when she softly sighed in contentment, he pushed his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her ever so slightly as his other hand found its place on her thigh.

But when his hand inched under her dress, she laughed and gently pulled away. "I don't think we'll be eating anything if we continue this."

He looked at her sheepishly. "Right," he murmured, readjusting himself in the driver's seat. "Sorry."

With a mischievous twinkle in her eyes, she settled back into her seat, fastening her seatbelt. "So, where are you taking me, Handsome?"

His lips curved into a smile as he finally pulled away from her driveway. "It's a surprise," he said. "You'll see."

It wasn't really a surprise. Spencer had already mentioned wanting to visit this place and the big sign saying 'PLANETARIUM' at the entrance was already a dead giveaway.

However, the unusual quietness that enveloped the space caught her off guard. With only a handful of staff present, the vastness of the empty lobby echoed the click of her heels.

The atmosphere shifted when he gently urged her to close her eyes. Suspicion mixed with curiosity, she couldn't resist teasing him as she followed his instructions. "What do you not want me to see? I already know where we are."

A secure arm wrapped around her waist as Spencer guided her through the darkness. She could sense a grin in his voice as he replied, "Sure, but the location isn't exactly the surprise."

"What is then?" She asked. The echo of their footsteps persisted, creating a rhythm in the quiet space of the planetarium.

"The experience," he simply answered. "Keep your eyes closed a bit longer, we're almost there."

"This is kind of making me nervous," she admitted. "You're not going to kidnap and murder me secretly, are you?"

His steps faltered briefly before she let out a sigh, urging him to continue moving. "Sorry, that sounded way better in my head."

There was a heavy silence before he replied, "We should do something about you joking on that matter."

"It's called dark humor."

He softly hummed. "There's actually a psychological explanation for dark humor as a coping mechanism. It's a way for people to navigate and make light of challenging situations."

"You've mentioned this before."

"I know," he confirmed. "I just want to remind you that every time you think you're being morbidly funny you're using a well-established psychological defense mechanism."

"And what do I have to do with that information?"

"Well, for starters, you can appreciate your brain's attempt to keep things light." He gently squeezed her hip. "But maybe try to cut yourself some slack for the occasional dark joke."

She couldn't help but smile, even with her eyes still closed. The subtle squeeze on her hip added a reassuring warmth to his words. "I still don't get why your boss wants me to see the therapist you guys provided when I already have you."

Spencer chuckled and pulled her closer. "Because one, I'm not a licensed therapist. And two, my therapeutic techniques might involve a bit too much intimacy for the average counseling session."

She laughed. "You mean sex?"

"Sexual intercourse," he corrected, still not wanting to say the word, which she nudged her elbow into his side in response.

As their footsteps finally ceased, Spencer gently urged her to open her eyes. When she complied, her eyes widened in astonishment at the breathtaking sight before her—a vast array of galaxies projected onto the ceiling of the planetarium. The cosmic display painted the dark expanse with hues of celestial beauty, leaving her momentarily awestruck.

Yet, what surprised her even more was the scene at the center of the room. A table setting, elegantly arranged, caught her eye. The table was adorned with flickering candles, casting a soft glow on the carefully arranged dishes and the gleam of polished silverware.

She stood in awe. "Spencer, this is... incredible." Her eyes swept over to him. "You did all this?"

"Well, technically the staff prepared this." He guided her further into the room. "But I pulled some strings."

"Some strings? I think you pulled all the strings." She threw him a grateful smile as he pulled her chair, urging her to sit down. "This must cost a fortune."

"Don't worry about that," he assured her, settling in the seat opposite her. "I just want you to enjoy the night."

As she took her seat, the soft glow of candlelight accentuated the contours of his face. She felt a flutter in her chest, realizing she was falling even harder for him. It wasn't just the fancy setup; it was the thought behind it that got to her.

Fate truly had a peculiar way of guiding her to this present, bringing Spencer into her life. It was a bit surreal knowing that the worst things she'd been through somehow brought her to a moment like this.

Maybe, she pondered, there's a silver lining, a reminder that good things can sneak up when you least expect them. And now it was worth focusing on those good things.

So she savored his company, the easy flow of their conversation, the delicious meal he had prepared, and the soft music playing through the stereo. She also enjoyed being close to him moments later when they finished their dinner. The warmth of his presence felt comforting as they lounged in the viewing seats, gazing up at the scene above.

"Do you see the seven bright stars forming a distinct pattern?" he asked, gesturing toward a shimmering formation.

She followed his guidance and nodded. "They look like a tiny ladle or a dipper."

He smiled, appreciating her observation. "That's the Ursa Minor, also known as the Little Dipper. And the North Star, Polaris, is at the end of its handle."

"The North Star?" She repeated.

"It's a crucial navigational star. Sailors and travelers have used it for centuries to find their way. It remains relatively fixed in the northern sky, making it a reliable reference point."

"Hmm," she hummed. She then pointed to another set of stars. "What about that one?"

He followed her gaze and smiled.

"That's the Orion constellation," he said. "It's one of the most recognizable and has a lot of myths around it. In some cultures, it's a hunter chasing various prey across the sky."

"And what's the story behind that?"

He leaned in closer to her. "Well, in Greek mythology, Orion was a mighty hunter who fell in love with the Pleiades. However, fate had different plans, and he ended up among the stars, forever pursuing them."

Her gaze remained fixed on the celestial display, captivated by the tales woven into the stars. "So, he's like a romantic?"

Spencer chuckled. "In a way, yes. Myths often carry themes of love, tragedy, and destiny."

"Like human nature."

He nodded in agreement. "Like human nature."

There was a moment of silence before she turned to him. "How do you even know all of this?"

"We often travel outside the city and the skies are pretty clear in remote areas. Sometimes you can see a few constellations."

She raised an eyebrow. "You're telling me you're a secret astronomy enthusiast while solving crimes?"

A bashful smile played on his lips. "When I have the time," he admitted. "There's something fascinating about the stars. They offer a sense of perspective."

She smiled. "It's nice to know even a man of logic and facts finds magic in the sky."

His gaze softened. "Magic has its place in the world, even for a man of logic." He suddenly reached out to the back of her ear and retrieved a dollar bill out of thin air. "See? Magic."

She couldn't help but laugh as she took the bill from him and examined it, tracing the edges. "I remember you doing this trick the first time we met."

He leaned back, a contemplative look in his eyes. "It feels like a lifetime ago, doesn't it?"

"Considering everything that happened since then, yes," she replied. "You know, I never asked why you were at that bar in the first place."

A subtle blush painted on his cheeks. "I was... enjoying a drink." When she gave him a deadpanned look, he raised his eyebrows. "What? Do I not seem like the type to be hanging out alone at a bar?"

"You stood out like a sore thumb." She gave him back the dollar bill. "I remember you barely touching your beer."

Spencer sighed, taking the money and placing it back in his pocket. "I was supposed to hang out with the team, but they ditched me."

She arched an eyebrow. "They ditched you? Why?"

He shrugged. "Apparently something important came up."

"So they left you hanging at a bar?" When he nodded, she tilted her head in mock sympathy. "Well, it certainly worked in my favor."

He watched her, the flickering memory of that night flashing before him. The first time he kissed her, the taste of her lips, the sensation of holding her naked in his arms. Then his eyes raked down her collarbone, pausing slightly at the swell of her breasts before looking back up to meet her gaze.

"It worked in my favor too."

She noticed his gaze lingering, a subtle heat spreading across her cheeks. The air suddenly shifted as he leaned closer, creating an intimate space between them. There was a magnetic pull, and she felt her breath catch in anticipation. He gently tucked a strand of hair behind her ear, his fingers lightly grazing her skin.

"Tell me what you remember that night," he said, a low timbre in his voice.

She felt the warmth of his breath against her ear and she met his gaze with a flush coloring her cheeks. "I remember seeing you sitting alone at the bar."

His reply, a mere whisper, reverberated dangerously low. "What else?"

"You came up to me and did that magic trick." A faint smile played on her lips as she reminisced. "I was amused, and we sat together."

His eyes lingered on her mouth. A subtle tension lingered in the air, each exchange building upon the last. "And then what happened?"

"We talked," she breathed, the word lingering in the air like a shared secret as he leaned closer. "We laughed." She felt his breath brushing against her lips.

"Then you kissed me," she confessed, and in the heartbeat that followed, he leaned in, his lips meeting hers gently. She let herself sink into his touch as he held her face, keeping her in place while he continued to taste her all over again.

His lips fit perfectly and she kissed him back as eager, letting his tongue glide into her mouth so effortlessly. She held onto him, slightly pulling him closer as if he wasn’t close enough even when he was practically pressing his body against hers.

When he slowly pulled away, she suppressed a moan. "Like this?" He asked.

"Like that," she murmured, the taste of him lingering on her lips as they shared the space between breaths.

The warmth of his lips traveled down her jaw, leaving a trail of soft, lingering kisses that brushed over her skin. "What else do you remember?"

His lips trailed further down, and she shivered. "We..." Her voice wavered, breath hitching, as his hand slid down her arm before his fingertips began to faintly stroke her skin, grazing over the hem of her skirt. "W-We went back to your place."

"Go on," he urged the words hanging in the air. She felt his fingers glide over her inner thigh, stopping abruptly as he reached the middle.

"You..." She let out a small, shaky sigh as he dragged his fingers up, stopping just before the rough pads of his fingers brushed over her panties softly. "...you touched me."

He began carefully moving his middle and forefinger in a gentle circular motion, rubbing her teasingly through her damp panties before, without warning, they were pushed aside, the hot pads of his fingers finally making direct contact with her clit.

"Was it like this?"

Her hand wrapped around his forearm, trying to stop herself from moaning aloud, her eyes fluttering closed as he began to play with her clit, his fingers skillful as he rubbed in small circular motions, his eyes fixed on her. She looked over at him, her mouth going slack as she felt the sensation in the pit of her stomach.

She didn't seem like herself, and although she didn't mind public displays of affection, she wouldn't let it go beyond a kiss. She wasn't the kind of person to be intimate in public, but here she was, letting him touch her when any of the staff could walk in. Heck, she wasn't sure he was the type of person who would do something like this.

His fingers moved from her clit, dragging down her slit and collecting her arousal, briefly plunging them inside and curling upward, pressing firmly against her walls. She looked down to see his fingers gently pumping in and out of her cunt. Her legs were so wide from him that her knee was practically resting against his thigh.

"Tell me," he whispered, "Did I touch you like this?"

Her chest began to heave, her hips unconsciously bucking against his hand as he worked over her casually. "Yes," she breathed out.

Soft whimpers escaped her as she bit her bottom lip, trying desperately to be as quiet as she could manage. The fire in her stomach burned hotter with each expert glide of his slick fingers. Her legs opened wider and wider for him which seemed to please him judging by how fast his fingers began to pump into her cunt.

A strained whimper filled his ears the moment he circled her clit with his thumb, the added stimulation did nothing to help her sanity, and moans began to spill from her lips, mouth parting in pure bliss.

"Spence," she whined, voice so unsteady and breathless, she couldn't control her volume anymore, desperate moans mixing with the sounds of her wetness dripping between her thighs.

"That's it," he encouraged, speeding up his fingers. "Let go for me."

The pressure of his fingers was making her impending orgasm loom dangerously close as her back arched from her seat, hand gripping around his wrist. Her eyes flew over to him as she reached her peak, body shivering and writhing as she pushed her hips down against his fingers, feeling them slide from her pussy before circling her clit in rapid motions.

With a final gasp, she lost all control, her mind growing numb, feeling him wildly as wave after wave of pleasure pulsed through her entire body. She cried out silently, calling his name over and over until she grew too weak while she desperately clung to him.

When he finally pulled away, she felt her arousal dripping down her legs. She stared at him wide-eyed as he fixed her panties back in place before brushing her dress over her legs. When she kept looking at him in a daze, he softly laughed and leaned down, brushing his lips over her cheek.

"Are you okay?"

"I..." she was gasping for air, a hand-tossed over her chest. "Did that actually happen?"

He chuckled, his warm breath tickling her ear. His fingers gently traced the outline of her jaw as her face flushed—lips delicately swollen, eyes glazed with a mixture of desire and surprise. The aftermath of her climax painted her cheeks in a captivating shade.

"Come on," he said, extending a hand and gently pulling her up.

"Where are we going?" she asked, her voice still carrying the traces of her orgasm. His gaze met hers with an intensity that spoke volumes, revealing an unspoken hunger that mirrored her own desires. His intention was clear.

"We're going home."

>> NEXT PART

a/n: it did not occur to me the possibility of CCTV cameras in a planetarium lmao please excuse me. Also, the plan is to write one last part and an epilogue to wrap it all up.

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herlondonboy · 10 months ago

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metaphor, clarisse la rue

summary: nudes is a metaphor for love, but surely there are other way to express your feelings?

warnings: ITS NOT SEXUAL!!! it's 100% pg-13. DIOR IS 17, that's weird. nudes is a metaphor for love but reader doesn't get it. just says nudes a bunch. again, NOT SEXUAL.

wc: 1.1k

a/n: please tell me if this makes sense...

you share nudes when you trust someone deeply. it’s considered a high form of showing your love. allowing someone so far away to see you at your most vulnerable. it was what you did when you were in love, right?

did you understand it?

do you understand why, in a world painted with vulnerability, the exchange of nudes becomes a delicate dance of trust? each pixel, a brushstroke revealing the canvas of intimacy between two souls. as you bare your essence through the lens, it's not just skin on display; it's a testament to the trust woven into the fabric of your connection.

the subtle play of light and shadow mirrors the nuanced layers of your emotions, creating a mosaic of intimacy that transcends the physical. each shared image is a whispered promise, an unspoken pact that echoes the trust built brick by brick in the architecture of your relationship.

the digital realm transforms into a sanctuary where openness thrives, and the exchange of nudes becomes a metaphorical bridge connecting hearts. in the vulnerability of exposure, trust finds its strongest anchor, fostering a bond that withstands the test of time.

as you navigate the terrain of shared moments, the pixels become vessels of sincerity, encapsulating the essence of trust in a world where transparency is often obscured. nudes, in this verse, transcend mere visuals, becoming the language of trust that binds two souls in a symphony of shared vulnerability.

in the quiet corridors of your mind, scepticism echoes louder than the gentle whispers of trust. the metaphorical dance of nudes as a symbol of profound love seems like a concept too fantastical to grasp. as you navigate the digital landscape, you can't help but question the validity of such an intimate metaphor.

the canvas of your doubts is painted with shades of scepticism, and you find yourself hesitating at the threshold of vulnerability. the notion that sharing nudes could encapsulate the depth of love feels like a poetic exaggeration, a narrative spun by the romantic minds that may have overlooked the intricacies of real-life connections.

in the glow of your screen, you ponder the fragility of trust and whether pixels can truly translate into a language of profound emotions. the scepticism is a shield, a defence mechanism honed through years of navigating a world where trust is often elusive and fragile.

as you scroll through messages and shared images, you can't shake the nagging belief that love, true and unfiltered, transcends the digital realm. it's a sentiment anchored in tangible actions, shared experiences, and the messy, imperfect reality of human connection. nudes, you argue within yourself, can't possibly encapsulate the complexity of emotions that define genuine love.

so, no. you don’t understand it.

yet, even in your disbelief, a subtle curiosity lingers. perhaps there's a kernel of truth in the metaphor, a flicker of understanding waiting to be unearthed. as you continue to grapple with these thoughts, you find yourself at the crossroads of scepticism and the potential for a deeper understanding of the intricate dance between trust and love.

in the quiet moments of introspection, you wonder if embracing vulnerability in the digital realm could indeed be a bridge to a more profound connection.

then came along clarisse la rue.

she emerges as an unexpected muse, but your scepticism remains steadfast. the fiery connection you share with clarisse doesn't completely dissolve the doubts that linger around the metaphor of expressing love through shared nudes.

in the soft glow of your screen, your affection for clarisse grows, but you continue to believe that love transcends the digital realm. the metaphor, in your eyes, simplifies a complex spectrum of emotions into a narrow perspective. you yearn to express your love for clarisse through diverse channels, beyond the confines of shared images.

for you, love is a multi-dimensional tapestry, woven with actions, shared experiences, and genuine moments of connection. clarisse becomes the recipient of your affection, and you express your love through handwritten letters, spontaneous gestures, and the timeless art of conversation. the pixels on a screen, while a part of your journey, don't encapsulate the entirety of your feelings.

despite the depth of your emotions for clarisse, you remain unconvinced that exposing the vulnerable aspects of yourself through shared nudes is the pinnacle of trust and intimacy. your belief in the richness of diverse expressions of love becomes a testament to the complexity inherent in human connections.

you can show your vulnerability through your words.

inside the area cabin, you and clarisse found yourselves wrapped in the embrace of each other's presence. the soft rustle of leaves overhead provided a natural symphony as you both sat together, the moon casting its gentle glow upon your shared solitude.

as you stared into the distance, clarisse's voice broke the tranquil silence. "what are you thinking about?" she asked, curiosity lacing her words. the night air held a subtle chill, but the warmth of your connection created an invisible cocoon around both of you.

a thoughtful smile played on your lips, contemplating how to articulate the intricate thoughts dancing through your mind. you ended up just settling on a short, “nothin’.”

clarisse nodded, her eyes, filled with a depth of emotion, met yours. in that moment, her voice softened, carrying a weight of sincerity, "i love you infinitely."

the simplicity of those words held a profound impact, resonating with the unspoken understanding that had grown between you. a rush of warmth surged within you as you locked eyes with clarisse. in the quiet embrace of the night, you knew words were unnecessary— your hearts spoke a language more profound than any conversation could convey. than any picture could convey.

with a reciprocal smile, you reached for her hand, intertwining your fingers in a silent acknowledgement of the love that bound you together. the night seemed to stand still as the world around you faded into insignificance, leaving only the intimacy of the present moment.

"i love you too," you finally uttered, the words carrying a sense of completeness. with those three simple words, the unspoken thoughts and emotions found a voice, echoing through the stillness of the night. “i’ll love you for forever and a day.”

as the night continued its slow journey, you both lingered in each other's presence, finding solace in the depth of your connection. the world outside melted away, leaving only the shared heartbeat and the whispered promises of love exchanged beneath the celestial canopy. in the quietude of the night, you revelled in the beauty of a love that needed no explanation— it simply existed, profound and infinite.

in your own way.

#clarisse la rue x y/n #clarisse my beloved #clarisse x reader #clarisse la rue x reader #clarisse x you #clarisse pjo #clarisse la rue #elijah writes #does this make sense #please reblog

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37sommz-archive · 4 months ago

Text

✼. INVITATION | 2019.

CH. 05. NOW PLAYING: essence by wizkid [fluff, suggestive]. ✼.⠀summary: michaela makes a promise, 2.5k. ✼.⠀view:⠀masterlist⠀⸻⠀join the taglist⠀⸻⠀request.

✼.⠀MARCH 14, 2019 — melbourne, australia

“P9, Michaela. That is points at home; well done.”

Eugenio’s voice crackled into Michaela’s helmet. The celebratory shower of applause from the Alfa Romeo garage echoed alongside his voice, adding to the near imperceptibility of his speech.

Though the sweat from the Melbourne heat simmered underneath Michaela’s baklava, she could only focus on the calming fact relayed to her by her engineer—points in her debut race.

“Couldn’t have done it without you all. Cheers to the new season,” she responded with a sigh of satisfaction. It wasn’t long after that when she heard her father's voice leak into the radio. A gentle, “Amazing drive, Mickey. We’re eternally proud” only magnified the moment's euphoria.

Though it was nowhere close to a podium, Michaela figured keeping up with Kimi Raikkonen just ahead in P8 was more than worth celebrating. Finally reaching the garage and kicking the engine off, Michaela hopped out of the car's cockpit with practiced grace. Fist bumps and energized embraces from the team personnel eager to congratulate the rookie driver.

Rushing to embrace her family before turning away to be weighed, her sister, Courtney, was the one to remind her that she had joined a small list of modern drivers who had scored on debut. A whisper of Hamilton and Prost and Villeneuve slipped through her lips and into the shy ears of her younger sister.

Varied strengths of celebratory pats and friendly hugs kept Michaela in a daze as she floated from the Alfa Romeo garage to the weighing platform. Words of congratulatory relief left the lips of the remaining 17 drivers excluded from the parc ferme madness.

As she pulled the straw of her energy drink to her mouth, a particularly firm clap on the back shook her from her daze. A familiar German accent filled her ears before she could fully regain control of her breathing.

“You might have the biggest balls here. Solid drive, Mick.” Helmet in hand, Sebastian Vettel’s acknowledgment drew chuckles of appreciation from the nearby Perez and Hulkenberg.

Rolling her eyes in response to the senior driver’s sense of humor, Michaela threw a friendly punch into his shoulder. Quickly engaging in light-hearted conversation with a few of the surrounding drivers, Michaela found herself back in that daze. As if totally disconnected from her body, it wasn’t until she was sitting on the floor of her parents’ living room that Michaela realized the magnitude of her achievement.

The Sommers had taken it upon themselves to invite several drivers to a small cookout after the race. Though George, Lando, Alex, and Pierre, the usual guests, had made their way over, Pierre and Lando’s parents were in tow. Michaela was more than shocked to see Antonio Giovinazzi find his way among the group. Somebody—likely her father—must have extended his invitation to a plus one, Michaela figured. The familiar face of his friend Olivier stood out to her almost immediately.

Between the chilly November night, they shared in Abu Dhabi and the race in Melbourne, the two had shared little more than polite half acknowledgments. Michaela never got around to calling him back. Not that she planned on it or even truly believed he’d give her the time of day. It must have been that same sense of self-sabotage that Pierre had once mused would “obliterate any potential for romance.” She had called him a dick at the time, remembering the long eye roll she responded with at the time. Sitting there on the floor with her head leaned against her mother’s legs, her hands pulling Michaela’s hair into two neat Dutch braids, she couldn’t help but realize he was right. As he often was, frustratingly.

It was Pierre’s mother’s words that shook her out of her thoughts. “Have you met Antonio’s friend? The French one?” The question was innocent, but Michaela couldn’t shake the nagging feeling that the older woman knew more about him than she let on.

“Briefly,” she decided would suffice to satiate Pascale’s curiosity. Sitting to his mother’s left, Pierre seemed to perk up at the mention of Olivier. Leaning over to mention something to his mother in French, Michaela gritted her teeth as she strained to catch what the Frenchman could be saying.

“English, Pierre,” she almost begged, embarrassment written all over her face.

Her mother and sister sensed the discomfort on the youngest Sommers’ face. Courtney, jumping up to sit on the other side of Pierre, tapped him on the shoulder. Reciprocating her energy, Pierre whispered into her ear as well. A delighted laugh left the lips of the Australian two years his senior.

Courtney let out a more boisterous laugh in response to her younger sister’s irritation. Her amusement spurred on additional laughter from Pascale and Pierre, who were both keen on the secret. Catching her breath, Courtney couldn’t shake the smile adorning her glossed lips, the very same brand Michaela used for hers, at the newly revealed information.

“You know him?” Courtney almost exclaimed from her seat directly across from her sister. Rolling her eyes once she recognized the hidden implications of Courtney’s question, Michaela sighed against Miriam’s legs.

“Yeah, he used to drive F3,” she muttered. Miriam began to chuckle herself, knowing her daughter’s self-imposed avoidance of romantic interaction. “Not with me, though.” The words are tacked on quietly, parroting information she learned from Antonio—Alfa Romeo’s reserve driver.

“Where did you even meet him?” Miriam questioned calmly, trying—more than could be said about the giggling pair of 20-somethings—not to set off the youngest child.

“In Abu Dhabi,” was muttering one more by the embarrassed Australian. “He was at the club I went to with Alex.” Finally catching on to the unspoken, Miriam’s words faltered in her throat until she caught Pascale’s eyes and fell into a fit of laughter herself. A short “Oh!” left her lips between her amusement, triggering a teasing snicker from Pierre.

“Did you text him back?” He spoke up from his side of the room. A glint in his eyes not unfamiliar to Michaela made her skeptical of his intentions in posing the question.

“No…” she drawled out slowly, eyes squinting at the older driver. A sudden gasp from Pascale broke their staring contest, and she excitedly spoke with a clap of her hands.

“Why not? He’s so sweet, and he’s French!” Her eyes widened cartoonishly. The blues become brighter still as she symbolically adopts a schoolgirl’s interest in Michaela’s love life.

Miriam’s amused chuckle at the added “qualification” only added to the heat Michaela couldn’t shake from her face. The embarrassment seemed to radiate off of her very being, only serving to make her increasingly wary of drawing attention from the other side of the room.

When her mother laughed, her father noticed. It was one of the criteria a younger Courtney had added to her blue and purple ‘Cute Things Daddy Does for Mummy’ list, the same one that still hung in her childhood room. Michaela remembers the differences in their rooms, even in their childhood years. Courtney, the romantic, decorated her room head to toe with posters from her favorite movies, while Michaela, the anti-romantic, hoarded posters of her favorite circuits.

“I don’t do relationships,” Michaela spoke under her breath. Her hands found their way to her warm cheeks, wishing them to cool down before turning her attention away from the group, catching sight of her father seated with a beer in his hand, speaking animatedly—by some cruel coincidence—with Olivier.

“It’s lonely at the top,” Miriam hummed, reaching for her glass of wine. As Michaela exhaled deeply in response, Pascale echoed the statement hanging in the air. “If you’re worried about a man understanding your commitment to your career, don’t waste your time. They won’t.”

Hums of appreciation spiral through the air from the three other women in the small circle. Michaela catches Pierre’s eyes, suppressing a giggle as it rips through her. A bratty scowl rested upon his face at his mother’s words, his mind scrambling to find the right words to defend himself in an effort to prove he was exempt from her quip.

Before he could get the words out, his mother added to her statement. A carefree, “Just find a polite one and keep him around for a good lay” leaves Pascale’s lips before the rest of them can even begin to process the thought. It is Miriam who chokes on her wine first, reaching over the center table to grasp the Frenchwoman’s hand in her own. The two parents giggle together over the idea as if a congratulations.

Their three children look on with uncomfortable sighs, Michaela herself seemingly the most painful. Her lips curl up into a tense grimace before a deeper set of voices snaps her out of her discomfort. A low French accent hits her ears first before the others—Italian and Australian—can strike her as familiar. Her heart quickens once she lays eyes on the owner of the husky voice, his hazel eyes having yearned for hers from across the room over the last several hours.

Ignoring Pierre's stray whistle coinciding with his mother's shushes, Michaela shakes herself from her lavender cloud. A quirk of his head towards the kitchen is all it takes to rouse her from her place on the floor. She could not bring herself to care if she were aware of the eyes tracking their movements. The husk of his scent and the drawl in his voice almost hypnotized her from the beginning.

Only vaguely aware of the sound that fails to emit from the shocked few now seated in the living room, Michaela finds comfort leaning into the countertop behind her. Olivier’s near-golden eyes sweep the length of her body, leaving her burning to feel his touch on her. It is a clear of his throat that only accelerates her misery, pulling in a breath as his hand sweeps through his dark curls.

“So?” is what Olivier opens with. A twitch in her features draws a small chuckle out of him. “If I was that bad, you should have just told me then.” When Michaela can only furrow her eyebrows in confusion, he laughs once more. His hand lifts his beer to his lips, taking a gulp as if drawing strength from the alcohol.

“You never called,” he almost whispers as if embarrassed. The odd tone strikes Michaela, who straightens up in anticipation of his following words. “You wanted me to call?” Her voice is just as soft as his, and her eyes struggle to look anywhere but into his.

He waves off the question with an immediate scoff, breaking eye contact for just a moment as he carefully places his chilled beer on the counter behind him. Taking a confident step forward, a hand reaches out to her before hesitating and falling back to his side.

Deciding to cross them, he answers her decisively, “Of course, I wanted the pretty girl to call.” It’s smooth as it rolls off his tongue, twirling with the French accent that dances through the sentence. This time, it was Michaela’s turn to break eye contact, the ‘pretty girl’ being the last thing she heard before falling back into her desperate yearning.

“Plus, I’m quite a fan of yours.”

The sentence draws a giggle out of an embarrassed Michaela. The Australian’s heart fluttered beneath her blushing skin, leaving Olivier with practical stars in his eyes as he watched her fluster. Anyone else would find the behavior distinctly out of character for the ultra-competitive driver. Her usual gentle cockiness was replaced with an unfamiliar coyness that nearly left her paralyzed to his charms.

Wordlessly, Michaela finds a surge of courage, tossing her blonde locks over her shoulder before taking a step forward to shorten the gap floating between the two of them. The move brings a falter to her steps as she takes in a whiff of his cologne. Expensive-smelling is what she decided the scent was. As Michaela places her out in wait, Olivier’s features twist with confusion.

Her simple request, "Hand me your phone, I'll put my number in," shocks him immensely.

The words hang in the air, heavy with unspoken promise. A scoff leaves his lips, a playful sound that betrays the spark of curiosity in his eyes. In one fluid motion, his honey-toned hand reaches into his pocket, releasing his phone from its confines and placing it in her waiting hands. Her short, manicured fingers wrap around the device, the touch sending a jolt of anticipation through him.

With an ease that hints at a confidence typically seen in her Sauber racesuits, Michaela's thumbs dance across the screen, her name and number slowly appearing on his contacts list. She adds the details with a quickness, a desire to commit to the action before her mind can intervene.

"Okay?"

The question is a challenge, her voice laced with a vulnerability that dares him to reject her. Her lips quirk upwards, a gentle smile that contrasts with the doe eyes locked on his, pleading for approval.

"Perfect."

The affirmation falls from the Frenchman's lips, the single word a decisive praise that sparks a giggle from Michaela. A uncharacteristically delicate hand rises to cover the lower half of her face, as if willing herself to hide her reaction. The sound is melodic, a sweet note that hangs in the air between them.

The room around them fades into the background, the hum of conversation and clinking glasses receding until all that remains is the crackle of tension between their bodies. It is Olivier who bridges the nearly nonexistent gap, his movements an act of casual seduction. A hand snakes down to rest on the curve of her lower back, the touch sending a shiver down her spine. His fingers draw loose circles into the material of her shirt, the caress featherlight yet full of intent.

As if drawn by an unseen force, Michaela's hands find their way up the length of his firm torso, coming to rest on the broad expanse of his shoulders. The contact burns unexpectedly, the heat of his skin seeping into hers. The air between them thickens, heavy with the weight of unspoken promises. His breath intermingles with hers, a mix of anticipation and desire.

"Promise you'll answer?"

The question is a whispered desperation, a plea for reassurance.

Words become useless as her lips find his, the contact a jolt of electricity that sears through them. The 'yes' is unspoken, conveyed in the press of her mouth and in the sweep of her tongue. She pulls away before he can fully process the sensation, leaving him longing, his chest rising and falling in a rhythmic motion. A soft "I promise" is her parting gift, the honeyed words hanging in the air like a promise of more to come.

With a grace that contradicts the turmoil bubbling inside her, Michaela leaves the kitchen, her steps a slow withdrawal back into the familiar safety of the living room. He remains still, his phone still clutched in his hand, her number and name staring back at him. A challenge and invitation consuming him totally.

✼.⠀taglist:⠀

@cha-hot @certifiedlesbianbaddie @nichmeddar

@d3kstar @thewannabewriter @hwalllllllelujah

@pacmacs-macs @thearchieves @doodlehunz

@lavisenri @evie-119 @bxdbxtxh

@seaweed-orchid @glitterquadricorn @99snse

@ginghampearlsnsweettea @alliwantisadonut @hiireadstuff

@emilyval1 @scarlettwidow3000 @anotherblackreader

@sv5beehives @mynameisangeloflife @tellybearryyyy

@melancholyy-hill

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vodika-vibes · 27 days ago

Note

Congrats on 800, vode!

I would love to request prompt #9 for either Alpha-17 or Echo. (I know, two completely different characters.)

No preference on genre, honestly. Just go where the clone-shaped muse takes you. 😁

Thank you, and I can't wait to see the stories from this event!

@dreamie411

As The Moon Rises

Summary: When you and Echo get stranded on a planet, he takes advantage of the stunning scenery and takes you on a hike. A hike that turns into a camping trip, as the sun sets when you’re on top of the mountain.

Pairing: ARC Trooper Echo x F!Reader

Word Count: 853

Warnings: None

A/N: I picked Echo because the idea I had was just too cute! I hope you like it! I also hope you don't mind that I picked ARC Echo rather than TBB Echo.

Click HERE to be added to my taglist

“I can’t believe that they ditched us,” You grumble, loudly, as you scramble up the side of a boulder, trying to follow the path that Echo is making.

A hand appears in front of your face, and you gratefully take his hand to allow him to pull you up onto the boulder neck to him, “They didn’t ditch us, angel.” There’s an amused smile on his face as he helps you to your feet and ensures you haven’t gotten hurt while trying to climb up after him, “They didn’t have a choice.”

“Yeah, yeah. I know,”

Echo grins at you, mischievous and boyish, as he drops your hand and presses his hand against your cheek, tilting your head slightly so you’re looking at him. “Besides, now we get to spend time together without my brothers looking over our shoulders.”

You make a face, “I could always kick them out of my office,”

“And that would only work for about 30 minutes before someone is knocking again.” He brushes his thumb against the corner of your mouth for a moment, a wistful look crossing his handsome face, “It seems like they don’t want us to have any alone time.”

You lean your head into his touch, “Well, they just don’t want us to accidentally practice multiplication, that’s all.”

Echo looks confused for a moment, and then he laughs and drops his hand, “Well, I suppose that’s fair.” He offers you his hand and you slide yours into his firm grip without hesitation, “I’ll try to carve an easier path from here on.”

“I’d appreciate that.” It’s no secret that you’re not the most physically fit person on the Resolute. In fact, seeing as you’re tech support, you might actually be the least fit person on the ship.

Still, Echo likes you, enough that he has a hard time taking his eyes off you, even in a crowded room, and that’s enough for you.

True to his word, the path that Echo carves up the mountainside is much easier, with a lot less climbing and a lot more weaving. The downside to taking a weaving path, though, is that when you reach the summit, the sun is already starting to set.

It’s kind of a romantic scene, you can’t help but think as you sit on a rock and stretch your legs out in front of you. The setting sun casts a golden glow on the valley below the mountain, and the sky is an array of pinks and purples.

Echo, too, is painted in the golden glow of the setting sun. And you can’t help but compare him to some of the paintings that you see in museums. It’s a silly thought, but you can’t help but think that, like this, Echo looks like he should be royalty.

He definitely shouldn’t be slumming it with some girl from the lower levels of Coruscant.

Echo turns to look at you, a broad grin on his face, and you feel your heart skip a beat.

You love him. You’ve known this for a while, but this is the first time where you really and truly considered a future with him by your side. You always assumed that he would leave you when someone better showed their interest, but right here, right now, the idea of someone better seems impossible.

“You’re staring,” Echo teases, there’s something warm in his voice that makes you feel warm down to your toes. He’s also being a hypocrite because he’s staring at you too.

“You look happy,” You reply.

“I am happy.” Echo walks over to you and offers you his hand one more time. You take it without thinking about it, and squeak when he tugs you to your feet and into his arms, “I’m on the most beautiful planet I’ve ever seen, with the love of my life in my arms. How could I not be happy?”

“Love of your life, huh?”

He just grins at you in response.

“Well, I’m glad we’re on the same page at least,” You add as you reach up and lightly press your hands against his cheeks, your fingers lightly tracing his cheekbones.

The sky darkens, and Echo drops his hand to his belt to activate his flashlight, before sliding his arm around your waist again and pulling you tighter against him. His dark eyes scan your face for a moment, “We won’t be able to head back down until morning.”

You hum your understanding, “I don’t mind. You’ll keep me safe from the wild animals.” You lean up towards him and catch his lips with yours.

It’s not your first kiss, Echo steals kisses from you daily, but this kiss seems different. It’s deeper and quickly becomes the most heated kiss you’ve ever had in your life.

He breaks the kiss, almost grudgingly, and puts a little space between the pair of you. “I’m going to start a fire,” Echo murmurs, “And then we can continue this.”

Your heart is racing and your face is heated, not to mention you’re a little breathless, but you favor him with a bright smile all the same, “I can wait.”

@bad4amficideas

@justiceandwar98

@mira-loves-star-wars

@tiredbi-peach

@dukeoftheblackstar

@trixie2023

@kimiheartblade

@padawancat97

@falconfeather23435

@etod

@bb8-99

@kiss-anon

@continous-mistakes

@yoitsjay

@liz-stat

@cc--2224

@adriennelenoir

@cdblake1565

@sweater-sloot

@heidnspeak

@wax-birds

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@imabeautifulbutterfly

@n0vqni

#star wars #tcw #800 follower event #arc trooper echo x reader #echo x reader #star wars fanfiction #x reader fanfiction #f!reader fic #answered asks

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its-a-full-galaxy · 26 days ago

Note

which of your ocs is most apt to end up in jail? What is their crime? Who do they take with them, canon or oc? Why do they take the person with him?

The most apt person to end up in jail is actually a toss-up between Echo and Face. Both because they're Wraiths under Wedge Antilles' ( @red-flight ) tutelage and are either cooling their heels after a fight in a tapcaf, or as part of an intelligence op they're in on.

Chances are, one of them was jailed simply for a public disturbance and property damage and the other is there to either break them out or give them the tools to break out. And if it isn't one of them going in initially, then it's one of them breaking another Wraith out.~

#ooc || outofupgrades #muse || echo 17 #muse || garik 'Face' loran #face loran #garik face loran #garik loran #wraith squadron #wraith squadron rp #crossover oc #destiny 2 crossover #d2 x sw

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badbatchsprincess · 6 months ago

Text

Heated ~ pt.11

Pt.1 ~ Pt.2 ~ Pt.3 ~ Pt.4 ~ Pt.5 ~ Pt.6 ~ Pt.7 ~ Pt.8 ~ Pt.9 ~ Pt.10 ~Pt.11 ~ Pt.12 ~ Pt.13 ~ Pt.14 ~ Pt.15 ~ Pt.16 ~ Pt.17 ~ Pt.18 ~ Pt.19 ~ Pt.20 ~ Pt.21 ~ Pt.22 ~ Pt.23 ~ Pt.24 ~ Pt.25

Masterlist

Summary: This is an ABO Bad batch!Poly x Omega Reader smut with a plot. This takes place as an AU before order 66. Y/N previously served under the 501st before being transferred to Special Forces 99. This is her adventure with these rowdy Alphas in a quickly changing universe.

THIS IS AN ABO AU ABOUT THE BAD BATCH (NO CANON OMEGA!) Due to the unfortunate situation of her name being Omega… Omega the child from the canon series is not going to be apart of this fanfic/porn with a plot. I feel obligated to put this warning in because it makes my skin crawl thinking anyone could make that mistake.

Warnings: We got some action, some canon typical violence, and a little angst. Shits about to get wild from here on out hold onto your pants. Hunter's growing breeding kink and Crosshair's riffle.

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

"We’re literally never going to get shore leave," Wrecker groaned, picking up Gonky and putting the battery droid into the Marauder. It seemed like the repairmen were able to get all new parts installed overnight, leaving the Marauder in pristine condition.

"They didn’t tell you why we needed to go to Kamino?" Crosshair asked, busy reloading the armory with a new crate of weapons.

"No," Echo shook his head.

"Why do I need to come to Kamino?" You chirped, sipping on your to-go cup of caff and breakfast.

"Your presence was requested," Echo shrugged.

"I didn’t even think your creators knew about me," you pondered.

"It is strange," Tech responded from the cockpit. "They don’t usually like civilians in Tipoca City."

"Do you think it’s something bad?" You took a bite of your egg sandwich.

"There is no indication of such things, but who is to know really," Tech mused, adjusting the settings on the console to his liking.

"Let’s get a move on," Hunter ordered. "The faster we get there, the faster we can get back."

"Sounds good to me!" You slid off the crate and grabbed your brand new medic pack, double-checking all your requested supplies were in there, along with the backup supply in the ship’s storage.

You felt Tech start up the engines and ran to the front to strap in.

It wasn’t long before the Marauder was up in the air and zooming through hyperspace. It would be a few hours before you entered Kamino airspace, so you decided to busy yourself and study the way Crosshair cleaned Firepuncher.

Crosshair seemed to be enjoying your attention, making sure to show you all the nooks and crannies that are usually missed. He even let you take the little brush with the cleaning solution and do a few pieces yourself.

"Atta girl," he praised as you followed his instructions to a T.

You smiled, handing him back the tools. He reassembled the weapon, giving it one last pass with the cleansing cloth before oiling the moving mechanisms. He pulled out a hand wipe, cleaning the oil and blaster residue off his own fingers, before taking your hands and cleaning yours. He tossed away the dirtied wipe before taking your chin in his hands, plucking his toothpick from his lip, and tilting your face up to meet his. He bent down to press a loving kiss to your lips, making your cheeks heat.

He popped the pick back between his teeth and took Firepuncher with him to the cockpit. You shamelessly watched the lithe sniper saunter out of the room.

"He’s only like that with you," Hunter smirked at you.

"I doubt that," you sighed, cleaning up the dining table with a damp towel.

"I’m serious," he crossed his arms. "You’re good for him."

You rolled your eyes. "Hardly."

"He let you clean Firepuncher," Hunter smiled. "Safe to say you’re the only one he’s ever let do that."

"I’ll keep that in mind," you said, putting the rag into the dirty hamper.

"He’s never let anyone get close to him. I mean, none of us have really. We didn’t exactly have an easy upbringing," Hunter shared, trying to open up a bit more, but it was obvious it had hurt him too. "Crosshair is the youngest. He struggled the most with all the ostracization. I think it’s what made him so cold and severe, but he seems to have taken a liking to you. I noticed the way he changed slightly when you joined. Like how he started bringing you things when we were out."

"So he was the one leaving them on my cot?" You smiled, thinking back to all of the little trinkets, stones, or sweets.

"You’re getting through to him," Hunter said, standing up and walking over to you. "It’s more than we ever could have."

"He’s your brother," you sighed, looking down at Hunter’s lips.

“Exactly.” He whispered pressing forwards until your lips met. You purred into Hunter’s mouth feeling him bring one hand up to support your cheek as he kissed you passionately. He then deepened the kiss urging you to open your mouth slightly for his tongue to explore. You too explored, you wanted to memorize everything Hunter liked, well really what each alpha liked, but you decided you’d start with Hunter. You already knew Tech and Crosshair liked when you’d brat a little and that would end up in your submission to them. Hunter however, seemed a lot more like Wrecker in that he was mainly interested in your pleasure… but you were determined.

You ran your hands to the nape of his neck and massaged there feeling him moan into your mouth. Okay, nape, check. You smiled tugging him further down do you were laid out on the table with your legs wrapped around his waist while he bent over pinning you to the surface.

He surged forwards pushing his cod piece into your clothed core. You whined and squirmed against him feeling yourself get turned on by the weight at your apex.

You moved your hand from his name to around the front of his neck giving it an experimental squeeze. He gave you a soft warning growl which made you immediately continue your journey south. Okay no choking for him.

You hand your hands over his chest plate wishing you could feel the hard planes of his chest.

Hunter pulled back looking down at you with a suspicious smirk, “What are you going little one?”

You tried catching your breath and smiled back, “Nothing.”

“Hmm.” He eyed you before diving back in to capture your lips. When you leaned up to reciprocate, he snatched up your neck and slammed you back down to the table making your eyes widen in surprise. He squeezed. Not hard enough to hurt you but just enough that it made your stomach flip and your heart race… maybe he was more dominant than you gave the Sargent credit for.

“Are you… studying me?” He gave you a wolfish grin.

You swallowed looking up into his amber eyes, “Maybe…”

He grinned keeping you pinned to the table.

“Mesh’la…” He leaned down to lick at your gland under his thumb. You whined grinding down on his codpiece. He stood back up rubbing small circles into the gland making you writhe on the table, “You’re adorable little ‘mega.”

You felt yourself getting wetter by the second, absolutely destroying your panties. Maker you wanted him so badly.

“J-just want to know how to make you feel good.” You whimpered trying to get some kind of release for the tension thrumming through your entire system.

He sighed a laugh leaning over you again giving you some mercy by grinding into you. You moaned. Between the rubbing between your thighs and the stimulation to your mating gland, you were on the edge of cumming.

“Such a perfect little omega aren’t you?” He hummed watching you start to sweat. He could smell your slick and hear the way your heart hammered in your chest and he knew you were being edged, “Always so concerned with your alphas.”

You cried out grabbing at the wrist around your neck and using the heel of your boots to force him even closer to you. He chuckled at your attempts to buck harder into him.

“Do you want to cum pip?” He drawled.

“Yes sir.” You whimpered desperate for this torture to end.

“Well because you’ve been such a good girl,” He used his free hand to unbutton your pants and slide them inside towards your pulsing core. You nearly screamed when he finally started to rub tantalizing little circles into your aching clit.

“Cum omega.” He commanded.

You gasped feeling the sudden rush of your orgasm take over you. You arched up off the table pressing into him further. He only stopped stimulating your gland when you had finally worked through your orgasm.

He smiled down as he released your neck and buttoned up your pants.

“You feeling good, makes me feel good ‘mega.” He pushed his forehead into yours, “But if you want me to be more dominant like my brothers then we can do that too.”

You hummed, “I only want what you want Hunter, whatever feels right.”

He flashed his teeth at you again, growling, “What feels right… what feels right is me sinking my teeth right here little one.” He thumbed your glad again making you shudder, “as much as I want to totally loose myself, I know I can’t… You make me feel feral Ad’ika. You scent, it drives me wild.”

You starred up at him through your heavy eyes feeling your heart start to beat quickly again.

“You want to mate me Hunter?” You whispered seductively tilting your neck back so he could grip you again.

You watched his eyes dilate at your words, “fuck mesh’la.” He sighed and shook his head trying to snap himself out of it, “I want to pup you.” He admitted and pressed his other hand to your abdomen, “Fucking Layla got me thinking about it.” He massaged your belly imagining what you’d look like swollen with his pups.

You studied him… he seems to have quite the breeding kink, a mischievous smile crept up onto your lip, “boy or girl Hunter?”

“Hmm?” He looked up from your belly into your heady eyes.

“Boy or girl?” You repeated.

“Girl… definitely a girl.” He kissed you pressing you back down to the table.

“Is that why your hindbrain cut out my implant?” You giggled and squirmed under him, “You want to knock me up?”

“M’guess so.” He mumbled nuzzling your gland.

You just sighed in contentment enjoying the way he mouthed at your shoulder keeping a firm grip on your side.

“Better keep those fangs to yourself Hunter.” Tech groused passing by data pad in hand.

Serge sighed sitting up finally snapping out of the trance you had put him in.

“Sharing is caring.” Crosshair stepped into the hallway to tease his older brother.

“You’re gonna make him territorial.” You lulled your head to the side to look at the sniper.

Crosshair chuckled, “He’s always been territorial.”

“As are you.” Tech stepped into the doorway.

“Byproduct of being an alpha.” Crosshair flashed a fangy smile at you. You giggled sitting up making Hunter stand.

“I’m not territorial.” Tech looked up from his search.

You scoffed, “Oh yes you are.”

“What?” He was confused, “When have I displayed territorial tendencies.”

“When I first saw the 501st after joining you.” You pushed Hunter back so you could saunter over to Tech, “In 79’s, I saw that look in your eye when I danced with regs, and then when I almost drowned, you got your punches in. Don’t think I didn’t see that.” You smirked poking him in the chest plate.

“Is that considered territorial?” He looked up at his brothers.

“Sounds about right.” Hunter nodded. Crosshair agreed.

You smirked and crossed your arms, “Then you and Cross marked me up on Mimban. Had those women thinking I was in trouble.”

He widened his eyes realizing you were right.

“It would seem I do display territorial behavior.” He nodded, “I must look into this.” He walked off typing furiously into his data pad.

You just shook your head laughing and walked back to lean on the table.

“How much longer to Kamino?” Hunter asked Crosshair.

“Half an hour.”

“Alright, let’s get ready to doc.” Hunter ushered the two of you out and into the cockpit.

~~~

"Where are you taking me?" you asked the Kaminoan.

"We need your assistance in the medical wing. You're the only one with experience regarding the spice chemical compounds," she replied.

You glanced at Hunter, who gave you an approving nod. Swallowing nervously, you agreed to follow the female alien, feeling a little uneasy about leaving your pack with this unfamiliar woman. Looking back, you noticed they were still watching you as you disappeared down the hallway.

"What is your name?" the Kaminoan asked.

"Y/N Y/L/N," you responded, clutching the straps of your med pack, feeling a little like you were back in school.

All around you, shinies and cadets marched in perfect lines. Every few clones would break their focus to peer at you. You ignored them, following behind the Kaminoan called Nala Se.

As you neared the medical wing, you noticed a group of pacing soldiers in blue.

"Fives?" you called out to him. He looked at you, confused at first, before walking over to you.

"CT-5555," Nala Se nodded.

He nodded back before embracing you. You hugged him back, stepping up on your tiptoes to whisper in his ear, "Layla got your memo. Echo and I read it."

"Did Layla send you?" he whispered back before standing upright, "It’s been so long, kid. How are you doing?"

You scrunched your brow in confusion for a second before realizing he was prompting you to play along. "I’m doing fine. How’s Rex?"

"Eh, you know... as good as he was after Umbara," Fives said, sounding too cheerful for referring to THE Umbara siege. You nodded, understanding that Rex and the boys weren’t doing well and that there was some sort of conspiracy at play.

You double-tapped your arm, signaling a "no" in reference to his first question. "Oh, that’s great. I’ll have to spend some time with him when we’re back on rotation."

He flashed you a sign he and the boys used to let you know to stay quiet in tough situations. "I know he’ll love that. You were always his favorite civ."

"Hah," you smiled, giving another signal that you understood the mission. "Well, let the others know I’m sending my love."

"Of course, Tiny," he embraced you again and whispered, "Don’t trust the Kaminoans," before pulling back with a charming smile.

You smiled too, giving his arm a squeeze.

Nala Se continued on, and you followed after her, giving Fives one more glance before turning left and disappearing into the medical facility.

"Did you serve under CT-7567?" Nala Se asked while approaching her desk.

"Yes. I was a medic for the 501st before the 99’s," you replied, using your military-trained voice.

"They seem to like you," she remarked.

You didn’t know if she was trying to pry information out of you. The way she spoke seemed to indicate so. "I’m the only one not giving them orders and fixing their injuries. The position tends to make friends."

"Friends," she repeated, picking up her data pad. "After the incident on Crait, we’ve been trying to ascertain a sample of the same compound used. I was wondering if you could give me a recount of the events. Most of our clones have been altered to withstand almost all stressors, diseases, and injury. As I’m sure you’re well aware, they’re stronger than most natural-born humans. This is their design. It is a concern of ours to have this weakness in them. We wish to alter our work for future cloning and perhaps even develop a cure for the battlefield."

You sighed before crossing your arms and bringing back the information to the forefront of your mind. "Well, I didn’t know what happened until it was too late. Hu-uhh-CT-9901 later recounted the events that led to the dosing. There was already a Republic team researching the findings based on suspicious reconnaissance information. They went missing, and my unit went to retrieve them and their findings. I rarely leave the ship, so one second everything is fine, then the next…” You swallowed, trying to find the words to appropriately explain what occurred. “CT-9901 had incapacitated CT-1409 while trying to get to me. The drug affected his alpha instincts and rendered him feral. I had the implant, but due to his enhanced scent, he could still pick up on my pheromones, and then it was a struggle until I shot him. It was the only thing that was going to stop him. The others kept him tied up in the brig until it was all out of his system. It took almost a day."

"In the report, it said he had cut out your implant," Nala Se read through it.

"That is correct."

"Then you were able to get medical assistance aboard General Skywalker’s vessel."

"That is correct."

"Did CT-9901 have any lingering effects?" she asked.

"Not that I’m aware of," you shook your head.

"It’s not often we have a human female omega in this facility. Is it alright if I take some blood samples for testing purposes?"

You nodded, "Sure."

She sat you down on a chair before grabbing the injector site. She cleaned your arm before pressing the machine to your skin.

She took the samples and placed them in the care of a medic droid.

"Is there anything else I can assist with?" you asked, standing up and pressing a bandage to the small wound.

"Yes, actually. We had a clone recently turn on a Jedi and unfortunately kill her. We’re suspecting it was caused by this bioweapon altering his behavior."

You steeled the expression that was begging to come out on your face. You kept a neutral expression, but deep down, you knew it was deeper than this. The drug may make alphas become feral, but to kill a Jedi, that wasn’t adding up.

"He killed a Jedi?" you clarified.

"Yes," Nala Se wasn’t giving any more information.

Was that why she was asking about Hunter cutting you? You knew you were going to have to really guard your words from here on out.

She walked you over to the other side of her office before opening a door out onto a viewing platform. Below, seemed to be the training facilities that the clones had told you about from their teen years.

Down below, there was a single clone standing there and a medical droid. You watched the droid inject a crimson substance into the clone. He started to growl as the spice entered his system. You watched in abject horror as they experimented cruelly on this poor man. You bit your tongue, however. If Fives was right, you were being watched too, and you had to be so careful.

The man writhed and howled as he slipped into the hindbrain. His face contorted into something aggressive and frightening. Then the same droid that took your blood sample hovered down toward one of the barricades out of view of the clone, it dripped your blood onto the sterile surface, and suddenly the man whipped his head up like Hunter had. He made a direct beeline for your scent.

He was making soft cooing noises trying to lure out the omega he thought was there. When he turned the corner and found nothing but blood, he roared, touching the drop and bringing it to his nose. Then, like out of one of Kix’s favorite horror movies, the affected clone zeroed in on you and Nala Se on the viewing platform like Hunter when he’s tracking. He snarled and started running toward you, determined to climb up there.

Nala Se gave the order to have him sedated, and you watched the fighting clone collapse into stillness. You let out a breath you didn’t know you were holding and looked to the Kaminoan.

"Was the Jedi an omega?" you deadpanned, still a little shocked from the demonstration.

Nala Se hesitated, “No.”

You nodded.

"We have requested you and your unit to assist us in finding more information about the origins of this research," she walked you out of the lab and back into the hallway where Fives had been, "Your group leader has already been briefed, but we wish to have you involved as you were there from the genesis of this issue."

"I will do my best," you swallowed nervously. You were hoping none of you would have to go near this ever again, but it seems it’s becoming the main focus of the GAR whether you like it or not.

~~~

When you entered the 99’s barracks, you were first hit with the smell. Ugh… unkempt alpha… you scrunched your nose and stepped inside.

"Are you okay?" Hunter asked, walking up to you, seeing the bandage.

"Yeah, they just wanted my blood," you brushed him off.

"What for?" Echo asked.

You shuffled nervously, "T-they’re running tests… on regs. It was horrible." You bit back tears, "They dosed a shiny and lured him around with my blood to see how feral he’d become. Right before he decided to come after me, they sedated him and took him away."

"They used you as bait?" Crosshair growled, plucking the pick from his mouth.

"No… I mean not really. Just my blood sample," you tried to console him.

"Why are they doing that?" Hunter asked.

"Nala Se said they’re trying to develop a cure for the drug. They wanted my blood since there's no omegas around here."

"That’s what they wanted you for?" Wrecker wondered.

"She wanted me to go over Crait again. I don’t know why. She wanted to know the specifics of Hunter cutting out my implant. She seemed interested."

"Interested?" Tech pondered, and you nodded, "Did she say anything else?"

"Just that we’re supposed to be going on another mission? She said you already were briefed," you looked to Hunter.

He reached a hand out to cup your cheek when the door whooshed open, and Fives came running inside. Hunter immediately retreated his hand to glare at the reg.

"Fives?" you quirked your head, "What are you doing here?"

"I tried finding you after I saw you, but Nala Se was alone. I knew you’d be here," he caught his breath.

"What’s wrong?" you asked, stepping toward him, intending a hand on his shoulder. You heard Crosshair make a warning growl, but you just threw him a look.

"I needed to talk to you without them watching."

"Okay," you nodded, pulling out a stool for him to sit on.

"Is this about Tup?" Echo asked, coming closer to sit.

"Yeah," Fives nodded, "Something is going on around here."

"Nala Se said he was drugged with the spice," you sat on the table, pushing Tech’s old scribbles to the side.

Fives shook his head, "No, he wasn’t drugged."

You cringed, "Wait so he killed the Jedi on his own?"

"Who killed a Jedi?" Hunter squawked.

"Tup," Echo shook his head.

"Why could a clone kill a Jedi? It’s literally impossible for us to even fathom that," Tech was confused. It goes against all of their programming.

"Were you there?" you asked.

Fives nodded, "We all were. I insisted I come back with him, he’s my brother ya know? Rex is distraught and Anakin doesn’t understand what the hell is going on. But I knew something was off when the Kaminoans started insisting it was the spice. Kix literally tested him for any substances and he cleared the test. Plus, if that was the case we’d all be rutting like crazy right now." He shook his head, "I don’t trust the Kaminoans, they’re hiding something."

"So what are you saying you think it is?" Tech asked.

"Kix thinks it’s stress-related," Fives shrugged.

"That’s not possible, that part of our brain was altered to not experience stress," Tech shook his head.

You scoffed, what a dream.

“That’s what Rex said,” Fives replied.

“Well, where is Tup now?” you asked.

“Sedated in one of the medical wards.”

“Sedated?”

"Yeah, he wouldn’t shut up about following orders or something like that," Fives shrugged. "Shaak Ti thinks he’s been brainwashed by seppies."

“Is that a possibility?” Hunter asked. "No one’s ever heard of that before."

“No, he was with us the entire time. He just snapped all of a sudden,” Fives sounded worried.

You put your hand on his, trying to comfort him. He just smiled sadly and sighed, “Kix says hi, by the way.”

“Is he here?” You asked, perking up.

“Yeah, but they have him working. A batch of shinies got pretty banged up on their first dispatch.”

“Typical,” you laughed, thinking about the nearly thousand times you’ve had to patch up the 501st boys, especially in the early days.

“I heard some pretty crazy stuff about you all,” he looked around. “Did you guys really crash land on Mimban?”

“Now, how did you hear about that?” You laughed.

“I have my sources,” he jested.

“Any chance your source is 5’3 and wears mini skirts?” You smirked.

“Now, how could you have possibly guessed that?” He mimicked you.

“Layla!” Tech said, like it was trivia.

“You know Layla?” Fives scrunched his nose.

“We were all on Ani’s Venator for a week, Fives!” You shook your head.

“Oh yeah!” Fives laughed. “When Sarge here put you into heat!”

You deflated. “Thanks for the reminder.”

“No problem,” he smiled.

“Layla baked us cookies!” Wrecker added.

“No! Tech and I made the cookies!” You pouted.

“Okay, fine, you made the cookies, but Layla was there,” Wrecker rolled his eyes.

“Ya’ll are hanging out without me, darlin’?” He playfully shoved you.

“Yup,” you smiled standing up, “And I found out Layla has a thing for ARC troopers.”

Fives scrunched his nose before turning to Echo, who looked smug.

“Like the good old days!” Five punched his batch mate Echo; just shoved him back playfully. “Cool place, by the way,” Fives waved around at the super messy barracks.

“Thanks,” the 99’s answered in unison.

Crosshair played with his toothpick. “Aren’t we supposed to be leaving?” Crosshair drawled, clearly bored with the reg.

“Oh yeah,” Hunter nodded, standing up again, “We’re leaving for Kaller.”

“Kaller?” Fives stood up, grabbing his helmet. “Kriff is on Kaller?”

“Apparently, the origin point of the spice compound,” Tech informed.

“Am I coming?” You asked Hunter.

“Yeah, we’re definitely not leaving you here,” Hunter replied.

Fives gave you a little suggestive look, which you just rolled your eyes at.

“Let’s go before Nala Se wants all my blood,” you grabbed your med pack, slinging the straps over your shoulders.

“She took what?” Fives grabbed you by the shoulders.

“She took my blood,” you looked over to Echo, then back to Fives.

“What for?” He squeezed you a bit.

“She was running tests on shinies and the spice. She wanted my blood to test the efficacy of their symptoms.”

“They used her as bait,” Crosshair corrected.

“How much did she take?” Fives asked.

You shrugged. “Two vials.”

“She asked for you specifically?” Fives was starting to sound nervous.

“Fives, you’re scaring me,” you whined.

Hunter stepped in, separating the two of you, keeping you tucked into his side. “What are you saying?”

“Have any of you noticed how different she smells?” He gestured to you.

You narrowed your eyes, looking around at the others.

“She doesn’t smell like any omega I’ve ever been around,” Fives crossed his arms.

“Is that a bad thing?” You asked quietly.

“No,” everyone said in unison.

“Why would the Kaminoans want Pip’s blood?” Tech asked.

“I don’t know,” Fives shrugged. “But Kaminoans don’t do anything without a purpose. She’s unique. For what reason, I don’t know. But I’m guessing it has something to do with this spice stuff.”

“All the more reason to get her far away from here,” Hunter said.

“I’m fine with that,” you were thrilled to get off this waterlogged planet. You looked to Fives. “Are you staying here?”

“I can’t let the others handle this on their own, Rex’s orders,” he shrugged. “As much as Kaller sounds like so much fun,” he was being sarcastic.

“We’ll catch up later, brother,” Echo clapped Fives on the shoulder before opening the door to the hallway.

“When you’re back on rotation, you owe me a night at 79’s!” Fives fitted his helmet back on and started off in the direction of the medical wing.

“Sounds like a plan!” Echo yelled after him.

“So, Kaller?” You asked, feeling a little trepidation.

“Shaak Ti informed us that the council needs us to infiltrate a secret base on Kaller to retrieve the research on this mystery drug. I know you’re probably worried about getting involved in this again, but I don’t know what else we can do,” Hunter sighed, knowing this topic was still sore for the both of you.

“It’s fine, Hunter,” you nodded, “My anxiety about this drug is nothing compared to the damage it does, which is far more important to stop.”

You got flashes back to that poor clone under its insidious influence. This had to be stopped.

“Pip obviously is going nowhere near that drug and risk getting exposed,” Tech asserted. The others agreed.

“But what about you guys?” You worried as you all made it to the docking bay. “What do we do if you get exposed?”

“We lock ourselves up in the brig,” Crosshair pointed out, “Just like we did with Hunter, until it wears out. The side effects are much worse for an omega than an alpha.”

You shivered, remembering the sharp pain of Hunter’s blade in your shoulder.

“Okay,” you acquiesced. It’s not like you could go against orders anyway. No matter how scared you might be.

“Kaller here we come!” Wrecker laughed.

~~~

“This planet is soooo… cold,” you sighed, shivering as the hatch opened. Tech had found a cave in the side of an icy mountain where he landed the Marauder, keeping it out of sight and out of the elements.

You ran back inside to grab the GAR-issued snow coat lined with nexu fur. You pulled it on and zipped it all the way up to your chin.

“How are you not cold?” You jumped up and down, trying to warm up.

“Genetics,” Tech leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “Behave, alright?”

You chewed your lip. “If I feel like it.”

“Omega,” he warned, turning you around and pushing you into Crosshair. “Behave.”

You huffed before snuggling into the sniper. “You heard Tech. Be a good girl until we get back.”

“Okay,” you leaned up on your tiptoes to kiss him. He smiled, melding his lips with yours.

“Bye Pip!” Wrecker came over, shoving Crosshair away from you before picking you up and hugging you. “We’ll be back!”

“I know, big guy!” You smiled. “Please, be careful.” You were obviously worried.

“We’ll be okay,” Hunter collected you from his little brother. “Radio in every thirty minutes, even if we don’t respond.”

“I know! I know!” You rubbed your scent on his chest plate. “Just like always.”

“Bye, Tiny!” Echo yelled as he descended the steps.

“Bye!” You yelped.

You watched the boys leave and the hatch close, leaving you in stark silence. You locked the access door. It’s been so long since you had been totally alone without one of them staying back with you. You almost didn’t know what to do with yourself.

Checking your datapad time, you knew they had two hours to complete this mission before you were allowed to start worrying for real.

You wandered around the ship a bit, looking for something to clean or organize. Deciding you’d take a crack at the surplus supplies, you waltzed into the back of the ship where the brig was down below. You slid down the ladder, landing with a thud in the dark underbelly of the Marauder. This is where you kicked on the lights and decided to get to work sorting and organizing everything.

To make the time go by faster, you stole Crosshair’s datapad from his bunk drawer to play some of his rock music.

You’d checked in three times already, knowing you’d only have one more to go before they’d start making their way back. You had sorted through all of the surplus food, making sure to group the meals Layala had brought you guys by preference. You made sure to include everyone’s favorites along with little snack packs and dehydrated blue milk.

You were just about to start on the ammunition supply when you got beeped on your com.

“Havoc 6, come in,” Hunter’s voice startled you. You scrambled to turn down Crosshair’s music before radioing back.

“This is Havoc 6, Havoc 1, are you alright?” You asked, feeling your heart start to race and the hair stand up on your neck… something was wrong. You just knew it.

“We’re okay, but we found… a kid?” Hunter replied, “We got the research, we’re making our way back, there’s a change of plans.”

“A kid? What? Change of plans?” You stuttered into the com channel, “What are you talking about?”

“You’ll see when we get there, get the ship warmed up,” Hunter cut the line, and you scrambled out of the brig and up into the main cabin before jogging into the cockpit. You entered Tech’s special code before being able to begin the ignition process.

Just as you got the engines primed, you heard them approach and opened the hatch door.

They came jogging inside, helmets still on. You were looking at them a bit perplexed when a smaller figure followed them inside behind Crosshair.

“A pup?” You rushed forward, unable to stop yourself, before taking the little kid into your hands, sniffing and checking him for injuries. “W-where did you find him?”

“Hey, lady!” He swatted at you, making you back up. He scowled, smoothing down his robes. That’s when you realized he was a Padawan… You suddenly stood up and looked at the boys, putting your hands on your hips.

“Sorry, kid,” Hunter chuckled, “She’s a fussy little omega.”

“You’re an omega?” He asked, looking up at you with wide eyes.

“Where is his master!?” You instantly jumped on your unit, “Did you steal a Padawan?”

“As funny as that would be, no… we didn’t steal him,” Echo shook his head, taking off his helmet, “He found us.”

You turned to look at the kid, “Are you lost?”

He scoffed, “No, I’m not lost. I was sent to find reinforcements.”

“How old are you?” You were shocked this child was being battle-tested already.

“14,” he replied.

Your eyes softened, “He’s just a baby!” You growled, looking to your unit.

They just shrugged, “Hey, it’s not our fault what the Jedi do with their littles,” Wrecker defended.

“I’m not little!” He squawked, “And we really need help, so are you going to help us or what?”

“What’s your name, kid?” Echo asked.

“Caleb. Caleb Dume.”

“Where’s your master?” Hunter asked, and the pup handed him the coordinates.

“Alright, let’s go,” Hunter decided, and you just stood there flabbergasted.

“Relax, ‘Mega,” Crosshair tried to help you come to terms with this, “He’s a Jedi, probably could kick all of our asses if he wanted to.”

“That doesn’t make me feel better,” you sighed.

“He’s not your pup,” Crosshair reminded you, “It’s not your problem.”

You growled. Crosshair just smirked. You were fiercely protective, that was for certain.

You peeked your head around the sniper to look at Caleb, “Have you eaten anything, hun?”

“Stop mothering him!” Echo yelled from his seat.

“I can’t help it!” You shook your head before heading for your jump seat. Hunter eyed you.

“I’m alright, miss,” Caleb grabbed onto the side of the ship as Tech brought the Marauder up into the air.

You were not liking this situation. First the spice, and now the kid. Why can’t missions just go how they’re supposed to?

Tech expertly flew the ship not too far from where you were hidden in the mountains. He found a clearing just before all of the blaster fire in the distance.

As the ship touched down, you stood up to follow them, but they all turned around, pointing fingers at you, “Pip, stay on the ship.”

“Ugh! Fine!” You groused, going over to Tech’s seat, ignoring the itch to take care of the kid.

“Are all omegas like that?” Caleb asked, picking up his lightsaber from his belt.

“Pip’s extra mothering when it comes to pups,” Tech replied, adjusting his holovisor.

“Should have seen her on Ryloth…” Echo started telling Caleb the story when the hatch door closed, leaving you once again alone in the ship.

You let out a loud groan, spinning the pilot’s seat around. The primal need to make sure the kid was okay was eating you from the inside out. He was literally walking into a war zone. That goes against everything your instincts wanted.

“Don’t do it, Y/N,” you shook your head, spinning the chair again.

But when you slowed down the spin, you noticed Caleb had left behind his robe and something in you snapped.

The pup was going to be cold…

"Fuck this." You got up, snatching the robe and smashed the hatch opening. You knew your alphas were going to kill you, but you didn’t care. You could care after you knew the pup was okay. At least you grabbed the thigh holster and a spare pistol, strapping it to yourself before stomping down the steps and out into the snow-covered forest. As you neared the battlefield, you heard bullets flying and explosions in the distance. You went running, suddenly overwhelmed with instincts… you didn’t know why this was happening. This hadn’t ever happened to you before, not even with the little girl on Ryloth. Something was very, very wrong.

Your jog turned into a sprint as you dodged trees and jumped over fallen trunks.

Letting your omega instinct guide you, you appeared in the clearing, seeing the last of the droids being destroyed by the cunning skills of your unit.

"We got a problem," Crosshair’s voice rang out through their comms, "Pip left the ship."

"What?" Hunter whipped around, finding you wandering through the smoke, clearly looking for something in the literal middle of the battlefield.

"Kark," Echo cursed, "She’s looking for the kid."

"Omega…" Hunter growled into the com channel. You ignored him.

They started walking back over to you, looking angry as a pissed-off rancor as the smoke started to clear. Crosshair came sliding down the side of the icy hill, joining their little clique when you spun around, finding Caleb walking over towards you.

"Hey, Miss?" He gave you a kind smile.

"Hi," you said, looking around a bit dazed.

"Are you okay, miss?" He asked, walking up to you.

"Y-yeah, I just had to make sure you were okay," you shook your head, starting to come back to your senses.

"I’m okay," he nodded, "Thanks to your friends."

"You left this behind," you handed him the brown robe, which he happily took and put on, shaking off the chill in the air.

"Y/N!" Hunter’s roar cut through the war zone.

"Kark," you sighed, closing your eyes.

Caleb giggled, pulling up his hood.

"I gave you direct orders to stay on the ship!" Hunter was so mad, "Then you run out into a literal battlefield. You could have been killed!"

"I-I’m…" you struggled to get the words out as the hair on the back of your neck stood up.

Turning around, you saw the master Jedi step up out of her trench, only to ignite her saber as her captain turned on her.

"Master!" Caleb screeched, igniting his saber and running towards his master. You couldn’t help but run after the pup despite your alpha’s roars of disapproval. Caleb suddenly stopped, realizing that his master was outnumbered.

"Run, Caleb!" She screamed, taking the brunt of the fire.

You flung yourself over the pup just in time to dodge a plasma bullet. Caleb was reacting much faster than you. When he looked up to see the 99’s jogging towards you two guns in hand, he quickly grabbed onto your wrist and started dragging you into the woods with him, running for your lives.

"Caleb!" You yelped, running with him.

"They’ve turned!" He said, jumping over branches. He was much faster than you, but you tried your best to keep up, "The clones can’t be trusted."

"What?" You were gasping for air, starting to feel the fatigue.

"I can feel it," he said, weaving left, trying to throw anyone off your trail.

A plasma bullet went whizzing by your head before exploding into a nearby tree. You both were forced to halt your sprint in the crunchy snow.

"Maker Crosshair, you could have hit her!" Echo growled, knocking the sniper’s gun out of his hand.

"Stop running, kid!" Hunter called out to the two of you.

Caleb just stepped in front of you, igniting his saber, "Stay back!"

They stopped their approach. You were beyond confused.

Crosshair kept his weapon trained on the kid while the others tried their hardest not to come off as intimidating.

"It’s okay, Caleb," Hunter said, putting his gun away and keeping his hands up in the air, "We just want to help you."

Crosshair decided then he would take the shot. You watched in horror as the blue plasma blast soared through the air, and Caleb skillfully deflected it, sending it back into the trees. You screamed and grabbed the kid, curling your body around him on instinct. You knelt in the snow, shielding Caleb from your alphas.

You heard shouting, then you heard firepuncher go off again, but this time the blast missed wildly. You flinched at the sound of it exploding into nearby rocks. You cradled Caleb's head like a mother would, keeping him pressed to you safely.

When you dared to look behind you, you saw Hunter and Crosshair wrestling in the snow while Tech held firepuncher, keeping it away from his little brother.

"Good soldiers follow orders," Crosshair repeated over and over again as Hunter demanded to know why the hell he would shoot at their omega and the kid.

Wrecker tried to approach you, but you let out the nastiest snarl you could muster, flashing your fangs at him.

He just put his hands up, staying at a comfortable distance.

"They’re coming," Caleb said, holding onto your shirt.

"Who?" You asked.

"The other clones," he said, "We have to go, now!"

"I can’t," you felt tears start to shed as your instincts were ripping you in half. You wanted to protect the pup, but the other part of you needed to be with your alphas.

"They’re not who you think they are… not anymore," he warned.

"I can’t leave them," you bent down, picking up his lightsaber and handing it to him. You smoothed down his hair and looked the child in the eyes, "You need to run. You need to stay alive."

"What about you?" He asked, looking at your fighting unit.

"They won’t hurt me," you nodded.

He just stood up, looking skeptical before looking into the tree line where approaching noises were coming from.

You gave the child a nod before he turned and sprinted off into the woods, disappearing into the snowy wilderness. You heaved in the snow, feeling like you failed somehow.

"Omega?" Tech asked, slowly approaching you, hoping you wouldn’t snap.

You refused to face them, feeling your tears slide down your hot cheeks, "What the fuck just happened?"

Ruh Roh... it's imperial Crosshair time...

─ ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──── ♡ ─── ⋅ ⋅ ⋅ ──

Taglist: @substantial-exposure

@rains-on-kamino

@minimissmoo

@z-and-the-batboys

@aynavaano

@9902sgirl

@sideofhorny

#crosshair #hunter #tech #wrecker #abo #echo #star wars #bad batch #omega #smut #tbb #rut #heat #fanfic #au #tbbhunter #tbbcrosshair #tbbwrecker #tbbecho #tbbtech

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mantleoflight · 2 years ago

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“Sometimes, when something breaks…”

“It stays broken.”

“And it doesn’t get better…”

#echo #musings #echo 17 #echo’s morning thoughts #//Yeahhh kinda woke up sad today

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caregiverz · 1 month ago

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ECHO’S BLOG

ECHO/MAPLE, afab

early 20's

SFW caregiver and handler

therian <3

i’m new to tumblr so please say hi! this is my first blog / platform so i am still learning :)

this is just a space to post about my musings and all of that stufff… anyone is allowed to interact/follow/etc AS LONG AS YOU ARE SFW

i’d love to make friends and other connections as well!

DNI: DDLG, any NSFW (you will be blocked immediately), pro-sh/ed. no drama please.

ANONS

🫧, 🌸✨, 🎪, 🐝☀️, 🍰, 🐾, 🧸

TAGS!

#🐾 bingo barks - my posts!

#✨ tippy taps - reblogs

#🐶 wags tail - my answers to asks!!!

join my sfw agere community!!!

#sfw caregiver #sfw little #sfw petre #sfw littlespace #sfw agere #agere blog #agere community #safe agere #age regression #age regressor #pet regression #petre blog

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lyranova · 4 months ago

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Chapter 17: Chrysanthemums and Moonflowers

Hiya guys! I apologize this chapter took a while, I had finals and a bunch of IRL things going on that kept me from being able to update this. But here is the reception chapter, originally it was going to have smut in it but…the muses took it into a completely different direction and now it’s completely SFW! I hope you all enjoy~!

Word Count: 6, 326

Solara belongs to @thoughtfullyrainynightmare , Josele belongs to @loosesodamarble , Briar belongs to @koneko-pi , Acylla belongs to @faewraithsworld , Helena belongs to @kalolasfantasyworld , Rosette belongs to @vilandel , and Lorena belongs to @hybridanafrost

Warnings: Mentions of Breeding kink (for comedic purposes), Hurt-Comfort, Slight Suggestive themes (but not much).

As afternoon turned to evening, all the wedding guests moved from the ceremony outside to the reception inside the Golden Dawn base.

The guests talked and mingled with one another as Zera’s friends from town, the Black Market, and in a few noble and royal social circles got to know William’s squad members, his noble and royal friends. It was quite the sight.

When Zera and William walked into the room, it went silent for a moment before cheers and applause echoed around them; making William blush in slight embarrassment as Zera giggled and soaked in the attention.

The newly married couple walked into the center of the dance floor, and Zera turned to face William. He took her hand in his before placing his other hand on her waist as she placed her free hand on top of his shoulder.

The moment the music started, the couple slowly began to dance. Their feet gliding across the floor as they moved perfectly with the music.

William’s step mother and father had made sure he took dance lessons when he was younger, since that was considered a ‘requirement’ for a nobleman in Clover, as his step mother put it. While Zera, on the other hand, had never taken a dance lesson in her life!

It took the couple a bit to ‘find their footing’, so to speak, but they eventually did…even if it cost William a bruised toe or two.

“ Careful darling,” Zera began softly, her voice pulling him out of his thoughts. “ Don’t want you to accidentally step on my toes.”

He blinked for a moment before he chuckled.

“ Shouldn’t I be the one telling you that?” He asked softly, his brow raising slightly.

As soon as Zera opened her mouth to reply, William felt her foot step right on his toes.

The two paused briefly and looked down at their feet, where they could clearly see her foot resting on top of his.

As they slowly looked back up at each other, Zera smiled sheepishly at her husband and her cheeks turned slightly red.

“ Oops, sorry about that, I guess I still have two left feet.” She told him with a sheepish laugh as her hand reached up to rub the back of her head.

William chuckled and shook his head at her; usually he would feel a throbbing pain in his foot, but not now, right now all he felt was love and amusement for his wife and her poor dancing skills.

“ It’s alright, it doesn’t even hurt.” He told her as he began to lead the dance again, watching as his wife’s eyes narrowed.

“ Liar,” She muttered under her breath as her gaze shifted away from him.

William chuckled again before he placed a chaste kiss on her forehead, trying to comfort and reassure her that it was all okay.

After a few more spins, glides, and toes getting stepped on the couple finally stood in the center of the dance floor as the song came to an end and other couples began to walk onto the floor as a different song started to play.

William took Zera’s hand in his and led her off the floor and towards the refreshment table, which was filled with various foods, desserts, and drinks.

“ For you, my beautiful wife,” He said warmly as he grabbed a beautiful flute full of a light gold champagne and handed it to her.

Zera smirked as she took it gently from his hand, the tips of her fingers lightly, and flirtatiously, brushed against the back of his hand; sending an electric tingle up and down Williams spine.

“ Thank you, my handsome husband,” She replied before bringing the champagne flute up to her lips and taking a sip.

William watched her drink from the champagne flute as though it were the hottest, most sensual thing in the world.

The way her lips gently pressed against the edge of the glass before slightly parting to allow the golden liquid to slip into her mouth before disappearing down her throat. He watched as a drop of the champagne slipped from around the glass and began to slide down the corner of her mouth, down her throat, before stopping right at her chest.

When she pulled the glass away with slightly flushed cheeks, her fingers reaching up to wipe away some of the excess champagne that sat on her lips, and William couldn’t help but swallow the lump in his throat.

He never thought he would be so jealous of a glass of champagne.

“ What’s wrong, dear? Dirty thoughts running through your mind?” Zera suddenly asked, her ice blue eyes giving him a playful look as her smirk returned to her face.

William’s face turned bright red as his eyes shifted away.

“ Not at all,” He clearly lied, making Zera giggle as she could tell she hit the nail on the head.

“ Don’t worry, I’ve been having dirty thoughts about you too,” She told him as she turned away to face the ballroom, another giggle escaping her as she nearly caused William to spit out his drink.

Zera’s scanned the room as her husband cleared his throat behind her, all of her friends and family were there; she could see Rika and her brothers standing in one corner having what appeared to be a serious discussion, her friends from the Black Market were talking with each other while simultaneously trying to talk the nobles and royals into coming to visit their shops, her fellow Wives were all seated at a table together, happily chatting away while their spouses and significant others stood a few feet away from them.

Everyone she had met over her lifetime, were all in this one room, together, and it made her so very happy.

“ Hello, Lord Vangeance, Ms. Cassia,” A slightly older woman in her late 40’s-early 50’s began as she walked up to the couple.

Zera’s eyes narrowed slightly in thought as she tried to think about who this lady was, she looked vaguely familiar…but she just couldn’t place her.

“ Ah, Lady Stark, we’re glad you could make it,” William said politely as he took the woman’s hand in his and gave it a small shake.

“ Ah, that’s right, she’s a really high up noblewoman,” Zera thought as she watched the woman and William exchange pleasantries.

“ You know I wouldn’t miss this for the world, especially since your father and I were friends for the longest time,” She replied with a smile as she slowly pulled her hand back.

Zera watched as her husband’s brow twitched slightly in irritation at the mention of his father, but he still forced a smile onto his face to try to seem polite.

He didn’t want to cause a scene…

“ Is it Ms. Cassia, or Mrs. Vangeance?” Lady Stark suddenly asked, her gaze shifting from William to Zera, who blinked in surprise.

“ Oh, um, I haven’t quite decided on it yet,” Zera replied with a sheepish laugh.

The woman's eyes narrowed, her gaze turning somewhat stern.

“ Usually that’s one of the first things a woman decides on before she gets married.” The woman responded, her tone turning serious.

Zera glanced over at William, who glanced back at her, both having a feeling they knew where this conversation was headed.

“ Sorry, but I was a bit busy dealing with all of the other urgent things that we needed for the wedding.” Zera said, her voice sounding sugary sweet, but William could hear the sharp undertones in it.

“ Oh yes, of course, of course,” Lady Stark said with a calm smile, William wasn’t sure whether she heard his wife’s sharpness or if she just elected to ignore it.

“ As a Captain’s wife there’ll be many urgent matters you’ll have to attend to, which makes me curious; have you made a decision on whether you’ll sell your flower shop, or will you continue to work there?”

William once again glanced over at his wife, he swore he saw her eyebrow twitch in annoyance at Lady Stark’s question.

“ I plan on still working at the flower shop even as a Captain’s wife,” Zera replied, her teeth gritted slightly, and her voice growing a little more sharp despite how sweet it sounded.

“ Ah, I see,” Lady Stark said as she placed a hand under her chin. “ But won’t you be stretched pretty thin between running your shop and your duties as a Captain’s wife? Especially after you and William have children?”

“ Oh, speaking of children; now that the two of you are married, when do you think you’ll start having children?”

William took a deep, calming breath; Lady Stark was going too far with her questions and nosiness now. When he and Zera decided to have, or not to have, children wasn’t any of her business.

“ Um, well, we haven’t really discussed it-.” William began, trying to come up with some sort of excuse as his mind scrambled to find a way out of this conversation.

But he was cut off from continuing his sentence by his very irritated wife.

“ Hm, well, if I’m not pregnant already then it’ll probably sooner than you’d expect since I have a breeding kink.” Zera told the woman bluntly, a sweet and playful smile on her face as she stared at the older woman.

The area around them went so silent at Zera’s sentence one could hear a pin drop.

“ ZERA!!” William exclaimed in shock, his face pale and purple eyes wide as he stared at her.

He shouldn’t be surprised by this, he really shouldn’t, and yet her openly admitting that she had a breeding kink and that there was a chance she could already be pregnant took him completely by surprise and almost made him speechless.

Apparently, it also took Lady Stark by surprise as well, since her face turned bright red and her eyes began to shift around nervously.

“ O-Oh I see,” She stammered uncomfortably, quickly clearing her throat. “ Well if you’ll excuse me, it was lovely to see you again Lord Vangeance, and it was a…pleasure to meet you Ms. Cassia.”

And then she shuffled away and disappeared into the crowd, leaving a triumphant Zera and a shocked William standing there.

“ That’ll teach her not to ask questions like that again,” Zera said with a triumphant grin, and William took a long and deep breath as his hand reached up to pinch the bridge of his nose.

“ What? It’s not like you weren’t just thinking about planting some seedlings in me a moment ago.” Zera told him before taking another small sip of her champagne.

William took another deep, calming breath, his mind wondering why on earth he had decided to fall in love with a crazy woman like her.

“ You okay there Goldie Guts?” Yami Sukehiro asked as he walked up to the food table to grab a drink. “ You sound like you’re having a heart attack or hyperventilating.”

“ He’s fine!” Zera exclaimed cheerfully. “ I was just telling him how I couldn’t wait for him to plant some seedlings in my garden tonight.” She added, causing William’s head to snap in her direction and for his eyes to widen even more.

Did she just really tell Yami that?!

“ Oh my go-.” He began, but Yami cut him off.

“ Ah, well good luck tonight Goldie Guts,” Yami began nonchalantly as he picked up a glass of wine. “ I have a feeling she ain’t going to let you go until you complete your mission.” He added before taking a sip.

“ Indeed.” Zera agreed with a peaceful smile on her face.

Meanwhile, William just stood there speechless, his eyes darting back and forth between the two.

Yami turned towards him with a raised brow.

“ What? It's not like all the married men here haven’t been on that mission during their wedding night? You might've ringed it, but a real fisherman knows that luring the fish into the boat isn't enough.” He explained, making William frown a bit.

“ Oooh that’s true!” Zera said with a small clap of her hands. “ And tonight, we’ll get to see if he’s a real fisherman or not.”

Yami burst into laughter as he clapped Zera on the shoulder, and William couldn’t help but feel like the two were bullying him again, just as they had the day he and Zera met.

“ Well, I think I’ll leave you boys to it! I’m going to go and mingle with the other ladies.” She suddenly announced before giving her husband a kiss on the cheek before walking away.

As she walked towards the table where the other wives sat, she stopped to talk to her newest friends Helena Drazel, Rosette Vitrail, and Lorena Harlow for a moment.

Helena was wearing a long red gown with beautiful white and gold accents. Rosette was wearing a simple yet elegant grey gown with light pink ribbons and accents, while Lorena wore a green, knee length dress that was comfortable yet very classy.

Zera greeted them warmly, making sure they were having fun and were having a good time before bidding them a small goodbye, promising that they would all catch up soon.

She smiled fondly as she saw her friends Solara Equinox, Josele Canty, Briar Rose, and Acylla Rhine.

Solara was wearing a beautiful cocktail dress that was blue but slowly transitioned to gold as it went down. It had slightly thin straps, and was slightly low cut with a thigh length slit on the left leg. It was a sexy yet very classy dress that suited her perfectly!

Josele, who was sitting between her and Acylla, wore a beautiful, knee length tulle cobalt blue dress with a black corset around the waist. The straps were made of black ribbon and she finished off the look with a beautiful lace black choker. It was really the perfect dress for her!

Briar, who sat on the other side of Solara, wore a beautiful, calf length half silver-half white, billowy wrap-gown that floated behind her as she walked. The neckline was low like Solara’s, but the sleeves were longer than any of the others, and she wore a beautiful silver-white accessory around her ears. It was a very lovely dress that suited her perfectly!

Acylla, who sat between Josele and Briar, wore a beautiful, yet simple, light blue high-low dress that complimented her hair and eyes perfectly. It had a high neckline and halter-like sleeves, her blonde hair was in loose yet classy waves that perfectly framed her lovely face. The dress may’ve been more simple then some of the others, but it looked stunning on her!

Zera could hear them all chatting and giggling away amongst themselves, and her smile widened. It made her heart fill with warmth seeing her friends, whom she almost considered as sisters, all talking together and having a good time.

It…was really nice.

She walked over to them and leaned over Josele and Solara’s shoulders.

“ What are we talking about?” She half whispered as though they were having some sort of secret meeting.

The other women’s gazes looked from each other to Zera as soon as the question left her lips.

“ Well if it isn’t the woman of the hour,” Acylla said with a grin as she and Briar pulled out the chair between them for Zera to sit down in.

“ We were just discussing your breeding kink announcement,” Solara said with an amused smile as she lifted her drink to take a sip.

“ I think I saw William’s soul leave his body for a moment when you said you could already be pregnant,” Josele chimed in with a small laugh.

“ Well, it wasn’t a lie, there is a chance I could be,” Zera said with a knowing smirk, making the others laugh and shake their heads at her.

“ We were also talking about Neva,” Briar said softly as the laughter around the table began to quiet down. “ She and Yuno have been standing there quietly for nearly five minutes.”

Zera, as well as the others, all turned their attention towards the two young Golden Dawn members that were standing together on the far side of the room.

While to some the pair looked awkward and uncomfortable, to the ladies sitting at the table they looked nervous, and like they were trying their best to hide it.

Zera let out an exasperated sigh.

“ I told her she should be more forward tonight,” She groaned as she rested her head on the table. “ So why isn’t she asking him to dance?”

“ Because, despite how Neva projects herself to others, she’s actually quite shy.” Solara said knowingly as she glanced at the others before looking back towards Yuno and Neva.

“ Yuno isn’t much different from what I’ve heard,” Josele said as she looked at the women. “ He’s pretty shy too, but I’ve also heard that he can be pretty oblivious to things like romance and crushes.”

The other ladies nodded, all of them knowing all too well about men being oblivious to women and their romantic feelings towards them.

“ Should we go over there and give them a hand? Maybe try and encourage them to dance together?” Briar asked as she looked at the others.

“ I don’t know if that would help,” Acylla said, making the others frown a bit. “ They’re both already kind of shy around each other, so if we step in now, we could just make things worse.”

The ladies all looked at each other; she had a point, if they pushed Yuno and Neva too far too quickly, then they could easily make things awkward between them, then the two would never get together!

“ Please Neva, just ask him to dance! Gather all of that bravery and just ask him!” The women all pleaded softly to whatever deity was listening at the moment.

And just as the ladies were about to give up hope, they watched as Neva turned to Yuno, said something they couldn’t quite make out, and took his hand in hers before leading him towards the dance floor.

“ Are they-?” Zera began, her eyes wide and voice sounding hopeful.

“ I think they are,” Solara agreed, her eyes just as wide and voice just as hopeful as Zera’s.

“ She took charge and actually asked him to dance, this is exciting!” Briar said softly as she clasped her hands together.

“ 5,000 yul says he steps on her toes at least once,” Acylla said as she leaned back in her seat.

The other ladies all turned to look at her with slightly bewildered eyes.

“ What?”

“ Are you really suggesting that we bet on how Yuno and Neva’s dance is going to go?” Josele asked with a slightly raised brow.

Acylla shrugged.

“ Jack and Yami do it all the time, so why can’t we?” She asked, and Josele opened her mouth to argue before quickly closing it again.

She had a point, Jack and Yami did tend to bet on all their love lives at one point or another…

Before Josele could reply, Solara quickly cleared her throat in order to get their attention, and they all began to watch as the two finally made it to the center of the dance floor.

They watched as Neva and Yuno spoke before she placed his hand on her waist and held his other hand in hers.

At first they took slow steps in time with the music, and the ladies couldn’t help but giggle slightly as Yuno’s normally stoic face held a bit of an apprehension in it. It was pretty clear to them, and possibly to everyone else as well, that he had absolutely no idea how to dance.

But luckily for him, it appeared that Neva knew how to dance…at least a bit.

“ I didn’t know Neva knew how to dance,” Briar said softly, and Zera hummed before nodding.

“ William probably taught her at some point,” She explained simply, her gaze not leaving the dance floor as the others nodded in agreement.

The group of women gasped and cringed a bit as Yuno’s feet became tangled with Neva’s, causing him to stumble forward and almost knock her over.

“ This isn’t going well,” Acylla groaned as she closed her eyes briefly.

“ Just give them time, they’ll get better I’m sure.” Solara said as she glanced at the others for a moment.

They could hear laughter and snickering emit from the dance floor as people noticed Yuno’s small mistake. Words like ‘what did you expect from a mere peasant?’ and ‘oh my, I guess he isn’t as special as we thought’ echoed around quietly, and it made Zera grit her teeth in annoyance.

No one talked badly about her children.

Just as she was about to stand up and say something, she watched as Yuno and Neva glared icily at the people openly mocking them, before they looked back at each other and appeared to have a silent conversation.

The ladies watched as Neva held out a hand towards him, and he took it firmly. The two then began to dance again with her taking the lead, and him following.

It started out a little rough and awkward, but the longer they danced, the better the two got. They were already in sync with one another on the battlefield and in their everyday lives, so why would dancing together be any different?

As the song ended and the pair stood together in the middle of the dance floor, their bodies pressed firmly against one other as they held each other close, Zera and the others watched and waited with bated breath as the pair stared into each other's eyes.

“ C’mon, kiss already! You know you both want to, so go ahead and do it already!” They all thought, hoping the same deity that answered their pleas before would do so again.

But sadly, their hopes fell on deaf ears this time, as the two seemed to come to their senses and slowly moved away from each other.

“ Dammit!” Zera cried as she forcefully rested her head against the table, making the items on it tremble and clink together.

“ They were so close!” Briar exclaimed sadly as she patted Zera’s back.

“ Well, that was anticlimactic,” Acylla muttered with a slow shake of her head.

“ How long do they plan on making us wait for them to get together?” Josele groaned as she also shook her head sadly.

“ Well, they do say it’s best not to rush these sorts of things,” Solara began as she also held a look of disappointment on her face. “ and it’s not like we can exactly force them to date when they aren’t ready.”

The ladies looked at each other and sighed in resignation. It was true, they couldn’t force the two to date even though they clearly had feelings for each other…so all they could do was wait until the pair were ready to be together.

As Zera pouted in her seat she suddenly felt large, but gentle hands land on her shoulders. She looked up and saw the warm, smiling face of Rika looking down at her.

“ Ladies, are you all having a good time?” He asked politely as the other womens’ gazes turned towards him.

“ Oh, hi Rika,” Zera said, her disappointment disappearing and being replaced with a warm happiness. “ We were just watching a few friends dance while chatting away.”

“ Ah, I see,” Rika said, giving his daughter a look. “ So you were gossiping?”

“ No,” She tried to lie before a giggle escaped her. “ Okay, maybe a bit.”

Rika sighed and shook his head as an amused, unsurprised smile appeared on his face.

“ I figured,” He chuckled before he looked at the other ladies at the table. “ Do you all mind if I borrow my daughter for a dance?”

The others smiled and quickly shook their heads, biding Zera goodbye as she stood up and walked with her father towards the dance floor.

She and Rika weaved through the group of people until they found a free spot on the dance floor, and the two stood there for a moment before they began to sway side to side, since neither of them could dance very well.

As they moved, Zera could just feel something was wrong with her adopted father. He was acting warm and cheerful like normal, but there was something in his eyes that told her everything was not normal. She had sensed it back in the dressing room when he hugged her, but now she was feeling it even more.

“ Rika? What’s going on?” She asked softly, and Rika, being pulled out of his thoughts, blinked in surprise before looking down at her.

“ Hm? Oh, nothing’s wrong,” He told her softly, but she wasn’t convinced.

“ Liar,” She muttered as her eyes narrowed. “ You’re acting weird, and have been since earlier.”

“ So tell me; what’s going on?” Rika’s red eyes searched her ice blue ones for a moment before a soft sigh escaped him.

“ I’ll tell you when the reception’s over,” He told her softly, but she shook her head.

“ No, I want you to tell me now!” She stated firmly, her eyes narrowing more and her bottom lip sticking out in a slight pout.

Rika sighed again and closed his eyes for a moment, and that made her heart race anxiously. Whenever he closed his eyes and took a deep breath that meant that she wasn’t going to like what he had to say.

“ Zera, your brothers and I are leaving.”

She blinked for a moment before confusion took over and she tilted her head; that was what he wanted to tell her when the party was over?

“ Really? That’s all?” She scoffed with a small laugh. “ You guys leave all the time, that’s nothing new.”

“ So, when are you guys coming back?”

As soon as the question left her lips Zera could tell that wasn’t what he meant when he said he and her brothers were leaving…

“ Zera,” He began softly, his hands moving to rest gently on her upper arms. “ Your brothers and I aren’t coming back.”

Everything seemed to stop at that moment. The music, the voices, the people dancing around them, even her breath and heartbeat seemed to stop.

They…weren’t coming back? What was he talking about? They couldn’t…they couldn’t just leave…

Zera gripped his shirt tightly, and firmly shook her head as his words sank in and tears began to prick at the corners of her eyes.

“ No, no, you can’t…you can’t leave!” She cried softly, her feet no longer moving on the dance floor.

“ Zera,” Rika sighed softly, but she cut him off.

“ You told me that we would be a family forever! So why…why are you saying goodbye?!”

“ Zera-,” But before he could answer she firmly shook her head again.

“ No, no I won’t let this happen! I won’t let you leave like this…we’re family; and family sticks together no matter what!”

When one got married, you were supposed to gain a new family while keeping your old one…you weren’t supposed to gain one and lose the other!

“ I won’t allow this, I refuse to accept this!”

Rika placed his hands on either side of her face, and gently began to wipe away the tears that were pouring down her cheeks.

“ Zera, it’s okay,” He whispered, his loving, fatherly smile appearing on his face as he bent forward a bit to become more eye level with her.

“ How? How is any of this okay?” She cried, her body beginning to tremble with her sobs. “ You’re telling me that tonight will be the last time I ever see you and my brothers again, how is that okay?!”

“ It’s okay, Zera,” He repeated softly. “ You have a new family now-.”

Her grip on his shirt tightened and she shook her head vigorously.

“ I don’t want a new family! I want you, Meino, Jin, Shiro, Felix, and Casper; I want to keep our family!” Rika nodded slowly.

“ I know, and I want that too, but we can’t anymore,” Rika said softly as he continued to wipe her tears away. “ You… are a glorious, shining Chrysanthemum that thrives in the sunlight. While your brothers and I are a group of Moonflowers that bask in the soft moonlight.”

“ We live in two opposite worlds now, Zera, and you can’t be anywhere near ours,” He told her seriously. “ If your brothers and I were to get caught by the Magic Parliament for the things we do, and they find out we’re still in contact, they’ll drag you and your husband and any of your future children into it…and it’ll completely destroy your life.”

“ I will not allow that to happen, not after everything you and William have gone through to be together,” He said firmly. “ So…this is all I can do to protect you both…I have to let you go.”

Zera’s body trembled as more and more sobs left her, this wasn’t right…this wasn’t fair! Why couldn’t she just have both, why could she only choose one or the other?!

She felt Rika’s arms wrap around her in a tight, comforting hug just like he would when she was a child. His hand moving up and down her back in a soothing motion as he tried to calm her down.

“ Please…please don’t go dad,” She softly pleaded against his chest, and Rika felt his heart shatter into a million pieces in his chest.

He always hated making her cry.

“ Hey, what’s going on?” Meino asked as he and Zera’s other brothers walked up to them.

And when they saw Zera’s tear stained face they all knew exactly what was going on; Rika had told her…

The boys all walked up to their father and sister, wrapped them up in their arms, and hugged them tightly.

William and Yami watched the scene in slight confusion, and a hint of worry.

“ I wonder what’s going on over there,” Yami muttered with a frown.

“ I’m curious too,” Nozel Silva said as he and Fuegoleon Vermillion walked up to the pair.

“ Normally, I would like to believe it’s a touching, family moment. But something tells me that this isn’t the case.” Fuegoleon said as he stood beside the others.

William nodded in agreement, he wanted to believe the Cassia family was doing nothing more than talking about different things would be now that she was married and how happy and proud of her they were. But his gut told him that this was a much, much sadder family moment.

As the party wound down and the guests all began to leave, Zera and William also made their way to their living quarters.

The walk was quiet except for the sound of their shoes clicking against the stone floor. Ever since she danced with Rika he had noticed a shift in her mood; instead of being her bright, bubbly self she had grown more subdued and her brightness dimmed significantly.

And yet, when he asked her about it, she quickly said everything was fine and began trying to act like her normal self.

But he could clearly see that she was pretending.

When they walked into the room, they saw various candles lit, and a bottle of champagne chilling in a bucket on the coffee table by the fireplace.

His squad members and their friends must’ve prepared this for them.

William watched as she let go of his hand and walked towards the champagne, her hips swaying sensually as she moved.

“ Would you like a glass?” She asked as she turned around to face him with the bottle and a glass in each of her hands.

He looked at her for a moment before shaking his head.

“ Actually, I would like to know what happened tonight between you and Rika at the reception,” William said, and he watched the smile on her face falter for a moment before it moved back into place.

“ Nothing, everything’s fine.” Zera told him as she opened the bottle and began to pour it into the glasses.

“ Now you’re the one who’s lying,” He responded as he walked up to her. He watched as she stopped pouring champagne into the glasses to look up at him.

“ Tell me; what happened between you and your family, please.” He pleaded softly as he stood beside her, his hand moving to the small of her back.

He watched as her eyes darted back and forth in thought before she set down the glasses and bottle onto the coffee table and walked away.

“ Zera?” He muttered softly as he turned to watch her walk towards their bed, where she sat down on the edge of the mattress, her hands clasped firmly in her lap as her eyes stared at the ground.

After the room was silent for a minute or so, Zera finally took a deep breath and spoke.

“ They…left.”

William frowned in confusion, they left? What did that mean? He walked over to her, kneeled down in front of her, and watched as she bit her bottom lip as tears welled up in her eyes.

“ They said that I can’t see them anymore because I’m a Captain’s wife now,” She said softly, breaking the silence that had fallen over them. “ They’re scared that if they get caught by the Magic Parliament that we could get caught up in it too…so they’re letting me go…”

“ Rika even used a flower analogy to get his point across,” She laughed humorlessly as more tears slid down her cheeks. “ He said that I was a ‘glorious, shining Chrysanthemum that thrives in the sunlight. While he and my brothers are a group of Moonflowers that bask in the soft moonlight’.”

As William listened to her repeat Rika’s analogy, he was suddenly reminded of what he had told him when he had taken William to the rooftop when they had first met.

“ I…want you to keep Zera from coming back to the Black Market.”

“ Zera is too good for that place, you’ve seen her shop, she worked herself to the bone in order to get that place. She doesn’t belong in the Black Market Captain Vangeance, and I think you know that just as much as I do.”

“ Besides, when you two get married, how do you think it’s going to look if people see a Captain’s wife going in and out of there?”

“ So, this was what he meant…” William thought sadly as he reached out to hold her hands and gently rubbed the back of them with his thumbs.

He and Rika both knew there was no way that they could keep Zera from going to the Black Market as long as he and her brothers were there; so, to stop her from going there, they must’ve decided to remove themselves from the area completely.

“ I’m sorry dear, I’m so sorry,” He apologized softly as he stood up, sat down on the bed beside her, and pulled her into a comforting embrace.

He held her gently as cried against his chest, muttering how this wasn’t fair, that she hadn’t asked for this to happen, and William couldn’t help but empathize and sympathize with her.

Many years ago, when William’s father had come to collect him in the Forsaken realm after his other son, the original heir to House Vangeance, had died he had asked the universe the exact same questions.

Going from peasant or commoner to a noble nearly overnight wasn’t as easy as one may think…

As Zera’s sobs slowly turned into quiet sniffles he continued to cradle her against him gently, slowly rubbing soothing circles on her back until she calmed down and pulled away from him slightly.

“ Aah, I’m sorry, this wasn’t how tonight was supposed to go,” She sniffled as she began to wipe her tears away. “ Tonight was supposed to be a lot sexier than this.”

William chuckled and shook his head as he reached a hand up and began to wipe her tears away as well.

“ It’s alright, there will be plenty of other nights where we can be sexy,” He told her before cringing slightly as the words left his lips, why did it sound so cute and sexy when she said things like that, but awkward and cheesy when he did?

However, to his surprise, Zera began to giggle, and a genuine smile finally appeared on her face.

“ But not every night will be our wedding night,” She pouted slightly as her giggles subsided. “ And, because this was a special occasion, I even picked out a new lingerie set.”

William’s throat suddenly went dry as his mind went straight into the gutter as the image of her wearing lingerie popped into his mind. But he quickly shook the thought away.

“ Well, why don’t you wear it on our honeymoon? That way it won’t ‘go to waste’.” He suggested, and he watched her eyes light up as he mentioned their honeymoon.

“ That’s right, we still have our honeymoon in Raque,” She said with a small, excited clap of her hands. “ I had nearly forgotten about that!”

William chuckled and shook his head; at first it concerned him how quickly Zera could go from one emotion to another, however now he was no longer concerned, but instead was amazed by it. It showed him just how resilient she was…just like a wildflower.

“ So, tonight, instead of doing anything ‘fun’ or ‘sexy’ we just…lie in bed together and relax. Maybe have a drink or two as well?” He suggested as he gently placed a loose strand of her hair behind her ear.

“ And tomorrow, when we go on our honeymoon, we can have all the sexy fun we want?” She asked with a look in her eye that almost made William blush.

“ Yes, when we go on our honeymoon tomorrow, we can do whatever you want.” He told her with a soft and amused smile.

However, when he saw the wicked smirk on Zera’s face, he couldn’t help but feel like he might regret those words.

Thank you all so much for reading and I hope you all have a good day~!

#black clover #black clover fanfiction #dandelion wishes #oc; zera #william vangeance #zerilliam #zera x william #william x zera #black clover oc

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