#muse || echo 17

[its-a-full-galaxy]

"Why do you do this?" || Runt & Echo-17 || Drabble

"C'mon, kid! Give it a break! It's done!" the mechanic called up as Wraith 13 continued to scrub the nearly polished surface of her X-wing.

"Unless you've got something else for me to clean, Cubber," she called back down, "I'm not moving."

Cubber threw his hands up in frustration as the turquoise exo continued cleaning her X-Wing, the padded head of her long mop swiping back and forth once again along its fuselage. "Somebody get her down from there! She's gonna wipe the paint clean off!"

Behind him, another pilot approached, his long, brown face looking up at his fellow Wraith. His ear twitched and he narrowed his eyes, thinking about his approach.

"We will help," Runt said, causing Cubber to turn and look at him.

"Great," Cubber said, waving Runt forward, "do what you gotta do. I'd give her the Nara to clean off but it's out for the moment. But if she keeps this up, I'll put her to work cleaning the carriers while she’s at it!"

Runt nodded. "We will get her," he said and strode forward. "Echo?"

The exo paused, straightening as Runt Ekwesh approached, her chest heaving slightly. "Yeah?" she called, slightly out of breath.

"May we talk to you?" he asked, looking up at her.

Echo shrugged and waved him up. "Sure, come on up," she called, stepping over her canopy and onto the other wing.

Runt hesitated. "Uh, that is not what we meant," he called back up.

Echo paused, looked at the tail end of the X-Wing and then down at Runt. "Well, you're gonna have to come up because I'm not ready to come down yet. And unless I have orders, I'm going to clean."

Runt considered her for a moment and gave a nod. Beside the X-Wing was a mobile stair platform, probably what she used to get up there or to hold her things while she scrubbed. He climbed up and rested his arms on the railing of the short staircase, watching the exo as she worked. He frowned deeply.

"Why do you do this to yourself?" he asked, recognition and dislike glinting in his eyes.

"Do what?" Echo asked, running her mop over the outer canopy.

"Punish yourself."

Echo stopped, the audio fins on the side of her head tilting back slightly. "I'm not punishing myself," she said quietly. "It's not a punishment."

"Then what is it?" Runt pressed. "Why do you put yourself through this? Working harder than you should, hiding away from your friends when we know you would rather be with us than away from us."

Echo closed her eyes still catching her breath. How could she explain? How could she explain the pain and the fear she was feeling? The fear she was forcing out through her work while feeding it at the same time?

"It's not a punishment," Echo repeated, turning slightly toward Runt without facing him. "It's... a diversion."

Runt cocked his head and Echo could swear he was part horse or maybe a borzo-chocolate lab mix. "A diversion?"

"Yeah," she answered, turning toward him now, "a diversion. A diversion for me from the things I'm afraid of."

Runt blinked at her, his large, equine eyes fixed on her in confusion. "And what are you afraid of?" he asked, his voice lowering slightly.

Echo paused, her mouth plates pressed together as she pulled the mop in close to lean on it. Here was the million glimmer question - the one thing she didn't want to admit to but was tearing her up inside each day.

She opened her mouth but the words got caught in her throat. She tried again but she couldn't get it out. She tried to gather the words but they kept getting stuck in her mouth.

Well, she could just spit it out and rip the serrated thorn out while she could, maybe bleed out emotionally a bit before patching herself up. Or she could fight with how to word it so it wouldn't make such a big impact and just get back to scrubbing. One option made her quail and the other option made her choke.

Echo took a deep breath and leaned back, gripping her mop in what would've been a white-knuckle grip if she were human. "I'm afraid of being abandoned, okay?" she said at last. "I've been abandoned before, and I just..."

She looked away, closing her optics as she gripped her mop.

Runt lifted his head, a look of deep concern on his face. "You... were abandoned?" he asked carefully.

Echo swallowed and nodded. "Yeah... Yeah I was abandoned." She shifted uncomfortably, lowering her gaze as she spoke. "I... made a bad mistake with my first pack, the people who were first teaching me to be a Hunter. I had it out with them and I left thinking I could still be friends with the rest them even if I wasn't friends with the leader. Maybe I miscommunicated. Maybe I misunderstood. But the moment I wasn't part of them, I was shunned. Abandoned. I was six months old, Runt. I was a guardian without any idea what the hell she was doing, and I got abandoned by the only family I knew at six months old."

Runt was quiet for a long time. Finally he spoke. "I... am sorry," he said quietly.

Echo sighed and shrugged. "It is what it is," she said softly.

Runt was quiet for a moment before he lifted his head to speak again. "Do you think... we would abandon you?"

Echo looked up, alarm, regret, and earnest apology filling her plated features. "No! No, I just..." She put a hand to her face and sighed softly. "It's not you, Runt. It's not you or Piggy or the other Wraiths. It's not even my other pack, my Wolf Pack who tried to help me afterwards. It's me. I know it's me. I know it's me who's in the wrong for thinking this. But I can't stop! I can't make it stop! Even when I know things are going to be or should be okay, it keeps coming back. Like... Like being stuck on the wrong defaults for your X-wing. Or having to re-calibrate an R2 unit after every trip. It doesn't stop. It's just burned into me like bad defaults in an Astromech."

"Like a bad mind in one of my people," Runt murmured, a hint of a low growl in his voice.

Echo looked at him, this time it was her turn to cock her head. "A what?" she asked, a little thrown off. "What's a... bad mind?"

Runt shifted his shoulders, straightening slightly. "We have many minds, my people and I. Many minds for many tasks, the things we need to do to survive and thrive. Some minds are very good! But... some minds are very bad. We have seen some with good minds but we have also seem others with very bad minds. Minds that punish them for mistakes, that run away when they should fight. This fear, this insistence that you will be abandoned is a bad mind."

Echo considered Runt for a moment, her grip on the mop handle loosening somewhat. It made sense for someone like Runt to see it as a "mind". It made sense how he separated it too. Echo looked over absently and rested her eyes on the Astromech socket behind the cockpit.

"A bad mind..." she murmured and looked back at the Thakwaash pilot. "Alright, if I have a bad mind, how do I fix it?" she asked. "Because right now, I don't know if it's a bad mind anymore than a bad default. I mean, I'm more machine than organic at this point and I'm pretty sure you can't override burned-in defaults."

Runt hummed, frowning as he stroked his chin in thought. "No, but you forget that you are not a droid! Droids have defaults, things even a factory reset cannot destroy, personalities set in their circuits. They can be reset at will! But you cannot. You struggle with overcoming bad programing, your bad mind, but you still try, still fight to become better!"

Runt grinned, his blocky teeth pale against his brown fur. "We have seen you be better! You used to run and hide for a long time when this would happen. You have not been doing that so much. You have been working instead! Letting your friends and fellow Wraiths find you when we need you."

Echo paused and tilted her head at Runt. "And... you needed me? while I was up here?"

Runt shook his head. "No," he said and looked at her fixedly. "You needed me. Just as you needed Piggy when your pilot and hunter mind were not listening, we believe you needed us to help you with your bad mind, your fear mind. And we will! We will help you... Ah, if you will let us."

He lowered his head at the last few words, making it less of a statement and more of a deference to her boundaries.

Echo smiled lightly, a feat of facial control managed by few exos outside the legendary Cayde-6.

"I'd like that," she said, letting the mop lean a bit as she loosened her grip. "I'd like that a lot."

Runt lifted his head, beaming with a horse-ish grin. "Well, come on then!" he said, waving her toward the small staircase. "The sooner we get started, the sooner we can fix it!" He turned and trotted down the stairs, the spring in his step getting a laugh out of Echo.

"Alright, alright, hang on," the exo said and called down to the mechanic below. "Year that Cubber? You got your wish! I'm coming down."

A whoop of relief and delight sounded from across the hanger.

"Finally!" the mechanic hollered and made his way to the X-wing as Echo and Runt departed.

[mantleoflight]

Well now i need the blurted adjectives from Echo, Whisper, and maybe even Alex for the boys XD

send 💬 for my muse to blurt out the first three adjectives that come to their mind when they think about yours! || Accepting!

ALEX

Curiosity got the better of Alex as he scanned the cloud-faced card. Unfortunately for him, one of the four pilots he was with asked him what he found, and twelve words were blurted out as his optic landed on each pilot Wes: "ENTHUSIASTIC, STRESSFUL, LOVE!" Hobbie: "TERRIFYING, LOYAL, STALWART!" Wedge: "QUIET, FORTHRIGHT, DECISIVE!" Tycho: "PROPER, PERSONABLE, TERRIFYING"

Echo

After being passed the card Echo gave a chuckle, not feeling nearly so shy about what first came to mind when she thought of the Rogues. Wes: "Playful, tricky, unexpected." Hobbie: "Reliable, quiet, exemplary." Wedge: "Stalwart, protective, loyal." Tycho: "Brave, devoted, indomitable."

Whisper

"Alright, what dumb shenanigans are you all getting up to now?" Little does she know what shenanigans she's been caught in!

Wes: "Trouble, tricky, biteable." Hobbie: "Stoic, observant, also tricky!" Wedge: "Trustable, dogged, spiteful." Tycho: "Charming, adamant, damn romantic."

[anantaru]

DAY 17 — VIRGINITY LOSS

kinktober 2023. — masterlist | ao3

𖧡 — including — blade, jing yuan

𖧡 — warnings — fem! reader, first time, virgin! reader, taking your v card, soft & passionate, pussy drunk hsr men

𖧡 — BLADE

the jammed breathes blade expelled from the top of his lungs evidently showcased the current emotions he had been experiencing— and despite him taking his time with his darling, letting you adjust to his throbbing cock without actually hurting you, knowing it was the right route to take, he applauds his self control for being so strong and resilient.

blade doesn't thrust into you after he slides his inches into you, rather did he take dazzling delight in traversing over your thudding desire— he coughs and it's followed by a muttered curse, whilst your own short, pitchy whines were muffled into his neck as they echoed on his flesh.

still shaking from the intrusion, your hips had a mind of their own and tremble as you jerk up a little, desperately seeking more contact of him, you need him faster, stronger, to water down the slight, lingering burn on your creamy hole, a raging fire wavering on his cock when you begin to constrict and let go, clamp on his length before milking him with your warmness.

"b-blade.." your voice breaks into delicate trembles, "you can move now.."

he nods at you, most handsome and alluring before tightening his arms around your body, idle musing being acted out as blade plants a kiss on your forehead— fuck, everything felt different now, especially since you're completely open to him and he doesn't know how to react, or how you're vulnerable from inside and out and blade practically floats at the feeling of a deep satisfaction matching your own.

"how does that feel?" he was continuously content with you, never once looking back to view his own sentiments, the brightest hues of his vulnerabilities exploding inside the humidity of the room— through soft fingertips and passionate gazes, through a steady breathing rattling over your lips and through those sweet words, sinful noises, all combined into one giant sensation weighing above you.

you pant, scrunching your eyes together before folding your arms around his back, "g-good," you whisper, "you feel.. nice," and he smiles at your words, as if your existance was the key to his soul, silencing the gruesome whisperings of doubts in him.

his cock throbs at your mewls, the length hot and wet when he begins to pick up on pace, eagerly gazing down in between your bodies as you took him in, bathing the swelling vehemence of his frame when you accepted him wholly— before blade, your handsome boyfriend, clenches his fists around the silken sheets at the pressure of just how much he loved and craved you.

𖧡 — JING YUAN

you always knew that you won't ever regret giving yourself to someone such as jing yuan— you'd never look back at it with any form of remorse, not one bit, because you utterly loved him and were certain that he was the one.

a breathless heave follows a murmured swear as jing yuan bucks his hips into you, to get a feeling for the situation and reach some guise of control, even though he could barely contain himself right now— for one, the thought about you being, untouched, and him being your first in basically everything, was holding his heart in a choke hold, a bristling warmth on his chest perfectly slotted against your own.

the general loved you so much, realizing that he will forever be in love with you, and between his body and mind, it was an honor to be chosen by you.

"oh... fuck! my love, you're so tight," he grunts, swallowing down the assemblage of saliva in his mouth before kitty licking across your bottom lip, surrendering to your warm pussy trapping him in between, not wanting this moment to end and go on forevermore.

jing yuan was confined inside the tenderness of how good you felt touching him up, taking his inches and gushing around his shaft— but he wants more, he needs to feel more and begins to rock his hips deeper— your creamy arousal sousing over your wrecked insides before dribbling down his balls with every new drag in and out, his head silently slanting forward to have his lips placed on the crown of your head before you both cry out in a plethora of salacious sobs and hasty whispers.

but he still wanted more, needed everything, everything. everything.

it's incredible and your legs ache at his hips keeping them parted with the stinging nerves on your hole shrieking and twisting from being penetrated for the very first time in your life, fusing with the bliss touching you like pins and needles on your wet sex— jing yuan carries on to move in and out, stretching you flawlessly with his weighty dick dripping his pre on your warmness, throbbing against your walls all the while slamming his body on top of yours, your little pussy doing all the work, stroking his hard length— sharp, frantic jerks battering your cunt as you remained enclosed in each others arms.

©2023 anantaru's kinktober do not repost, copy, translate, modify

[mcflymemes]

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

[incognit0slut]

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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[damn-stark]

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)

————

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?

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

[herlondonboy]

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.

[37sommz-archive]

✼. 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

[lyranova]

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~!

[shanastoryteller]

Happy holidays! Could you do something with Sokka/Zuko/Yue? <3

a continuation of 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14 15 16 17 18 19 20 21

Sokka likes them both, but he likes the differently.

He thinks that they make a good contrast, filling in for the other. Yue's softness hides her sternness, and for Zuko it's the opposite, he knows that if he'd never met either of them then they would be perfectly content with each other. That makes him - not nervous, exactly, but sometimes he worries, because of it. What if they get sick of him? What if he's difficult or cross and they decided they'd rather just deal with their own company? At the end of the day, she's a princess and she's a prince, set to one day rule the whole Fire Nation, and he's just a chief's son. He knows that if there's a piece that doesn't fit, then it's him.

Later, after Yue and Zuko are married and he can lie in their bed between them rather than moving between their separate rooms, he whispers his fears into the smooth silk of their pillow.

When the silence stretches out too long, he risks peaking up at them, and finds both of his lovers looking down at him in exasperation.

"And what am I to you two?" Zuko demands. "You are Water Tribe, and I am not. Half the court thinks you're both planning to slit my throat in my sleep and run off with each other."

He sputters, but before he can say how ridiculous that is, Yue adds, "And what about me, in love with two warriors when I have no skill to claim myself? Both the Southern Tribes and the Fire Nation put a value on being dangerous, something you both are and I am not. What can I offer two warriors after battle besides words of comfort, words you are both better equipped to provide each other than I ever will be?"

Sokka snorts, Zuko echoing the sound a moment later. He and Zuko are definitely not the ones that are good with words.

Which is probably her whole point.

"There's no framework for a second spouse," Zuko muses, "but I suppose I could make you concubine."

"Do not," Sokka squawks even as Yue loses herself to giggles and Zuko smiles at him, so wide it's nearly crooked.

[its-a-full-galaxy]

Inbound Flight

Echo-17: “that’s Hoth?“

Wes: “yep!”

Hobby: “in all its frostbitten misery.“

Echo– 17: “geez, and I thought Europa was a frozen waste. This place doesn’t even have fancy ruins to run through!”

Wes over comms to Hobbie: “you know, every time she says something like that I get the impulse to ask ‘where did you grow up that you had frozen ruins?’ But then I stop myself when I remember the rest of what she said and decide you know what I don’t think I want to know, you know?”

Hobbie: “just one more thing to add to her file. Come on, let’s make sure she lands in the right place.”

@red-flight

[mantleoflight]

“Sometimes, when something breaks…”

“It stays broken.”

“And it doesn’t get better…”

[sylusjinwoon]

{ 78 }

waltz in the rain.

ichigo kurosaki x fem.reader

10 stages of love

bleach - au

1. first sight

june 17, 20XX

you had been living in karakura town for a few months now, ready to start your medical residency at a nearby hospital. your parents shared their concerns with you being so far away from home, but you didn’t want to change any of your plans. 

the sole reason why you chose karakura town was because you wanted to spread your wings and come out of your comfort zone. you spent your whole life growing up in your small town and was looking forward to experiencing something new. the first time you had seen karakura located on the map, something clicked from deep inside you. 

this town was special, and you were going to have an amazing experience, you were sure of it. 

since moving in to your new apartment, you didn’t have too many pieces of furniture save for your bed, desk, and single dining room table. because you were so busy preparing for your residency near the end of june, you usually bought convenient foods at your local store. 

today was no different. 

while walking around town, you were aware of how hot and humid the weather had become as gentle droplets of rain were felt sliding down your face. the hoodie you wore was a thin one and didn’t do much to protect you from the rain. thanks to the sudden downpour, you end up purchasing an umbrella along with your dinner for the night before making your way back home. 

your footsteps echo across the streets slick with rain, immediately regretting your decision of leaving your apartment to get food. the rain that was once a drizzle now turned into a downpour, leaving you shivering as you tried to walk faster back to your apartment. 

it almost feels as though the sky is crying.

your gentle musing earns a smile from you while crossing the street. you stick to the sidewalk, but suddenly became aware of the flowing river to your right. you take in the beautiful scenery, becoming almost mesmerized at the sight of the pelting rain against the river when a sudden figure makes you stop in your tracks. 

settled in front of the river was a tall young man. his bright orange hair was something that was hard to miss as his clothes began to darken with the ongoing rain. he wore no jacket and had no umbrella, filling you with concern for this stranger. 

he was definitely was going to get sick, and you didn’t want that. 

pulling up the hood of your hoodie, you step into the wet grass, making your way closer to him. he seems to hear you, becoming aware of your presence when the sight of his back suddenly stiffening makes you slow your movements-

he looked like he was ready to strike. 

“uhm, excuse me?” 

finally listening to the sound of your voice, he relaxes his stance and faces you-

and you become caught off guard with the sheer, masculine beauty he displayed. his face was all hard angles, with full lips that would have appeared seductive had he not had them frowning in a permanent scowl. his eyes reminded you of a warm coffee hue, the sight of it making your whole body heat up as you trembled.

you were speechless, so mesmerized by him that all you could do was hold out your umbrella for him to take. 

“h-here, take it. i don’t want you to get sick.”

“what? why are you giving me your umbrella?” oh no, even his voice sounded incredibly rich and seductive to you. you could feel your cheeks heating up as you couldn’t even bring yourself to look at him. 

“j-just take it, okay?!” not giving this perfect stranger a choice, you shove the umbrella in his arms before turning away from him. you were aware of the way he calls out to you, beckoning you to stop-

yet still, you couldn’t do it. instead, you tighten your hands around your bag before sprinting away from him. 

you didn’t dare to look back, and simply accepted the fact that you may never see him again. 

2. introduction

dr. uryu ishida was a man who was definitely pragmatic and stiff, and you found that despite how much you respected him, you couldn’t seem to follow or enjoy the way he interacted with his patients. 

he was a man that worked fast and efficiently. you were honestly amazed at how far he had become as a doctor while being just a few years older than you. 

dr. ishida takes you on rounds and asks you questions here and there about how you planned to treat certain patients if they had specific disease states. you did your best to think critically and answer him, but something about this whole residency left you feeling cold. 

there was no warmth, no interaction with those patients, and it left you with an almost gaping feeling of emptiness. you were once so excited, being able to start your residency under the tutelage of dr. ishida, but now that you saw how he worked firsthand, it was so different than what you were expecting. 

three weeks in to your residency, dr. ishida senses your distance and asks that you come into his office so that you could talk first thing in the morning. 

to say that you were nervous over this meeting would have been a huge understatement.

here you were, awkwardly settled on one of the chairs in ishida’s office as your eyes wander around the private space. everything was so neat and proper, with everything in its place. from the laptop, to the stacks of papers settled around the desk, it was all so perfect to you. 

however, as you continued looking around, you became aware of a picture frame settled to the right of his desk. it was the one item that seemed out of place, being settled at an angle. turning the frame around so that it was now facing you, your heart melted at the sight. 

in the picture, dr. ishida was holding a beautiful woman with long, auburn hair. his hands were settled on her swollen belly, indicating that she was pregnant with his child. never before has dr. ishida smiled so widely as he did at that very moment. 

“ah, i see you’ve met my greatest treasures.” 

you jump a bit at his sudden entrance, sporting an apologetic smile on your face when you turn back the frame to its original position. “i’m sorry for snooping, i was just a little curious.” 

he lets out a tiny laugh, pushing up his glasses while taking a seat across from you, “that’s my wife, orihime. she’s expecting our first child soon, in the next couple of months.” 

you congratulate him on his future status of becoming a parent, and he simply smiles at your thoughtfulness before clearing his throat. he says your name with his hands clasped on his desk, getting straight to the point, “you’re unhappy here.”

you stiffen, actually becoming tongue tied as you tried to find the right words to say so as to not offend him. but he simply shakes his head, sitting back in his seat while picking up his picture frame. “i understand that the work here at karakura hospital may be a bit too fast-paced, given the sheer amount of patients we have staying in this hospital and must treat. perhaps such a route of medicine may not be for you. i can handle such stressful work in my life solely because i have someone to come home to that takes all of that stress away.” 

“i know you’d much rather have a more intimate relationship with your patients to better treat them. that’s why, i’ve already called a close...colleague of mine, and they agreed to take you in.”

you notice how hesitant dr. ishida sounded when he mentions this mysterious colleague, and the doubt you felt must have been written all over your face when he suddenly chuckles, “dr. kurosaki isn’t a bad man. he’s eccentric, yes, but i’m sure he’s the man that can show you the type of patient care that you want.”

dr. ishida then takes out his writing pad and jots down the address of the clinic, telling you that you can start right away and head towards the clinic. feeling touched by his genuine kindness, you take the address and hold it close to your chest, thanking dr. ishida for giving you such an amazing opportunity. 

------

your heart was steadily racing, making you feel slightly anxious and nauseous when you finally arrive at the small clinic. 

you wonder if this place was perhaps run by family. in a stark contrast to karakura hospital, the place seemed to exude warmth and hospitality. it was as though this place had a gentle air to it, and that made you feel all the more excited to work under dr. kurosaki. 

“can i help you?” 

that voice, it’s that voice!

the raspiness was undeniable; you couldn’t count the sheer amount of times you’ve replayed that voice in your head along with the memory of his face. turning around to fully face him, you swore you could feel your whole body turn warm at the sight of him.

bright orange hair and deep brown eyes-

your perfect stranger. 

“are you dr. kurosaki?” your question comes out almost like a whisper, since you found it so hard to speak clearly when you were around him. it was pathetic, really, with your knees getting all mushy and weak just because he had a pretty face. 

he seems to scoff at your question, hands folded across his chest as he corrected you, “not even close, that’s my pops. i’m ichigo kurosaki.” 

3. interaction

“ichigo-” you gasp, cutting yourself off when you put both hands against your lips. just how rude could you be, calling him by his first name like that! 

“s-sorry, i didn’t mean to call you by your first name, and it’s my first time ever meeting you.” 

you hear him scoff, placing a hand behind his head while running a hand through his hair, “it’s fine, just tell me your name and we can call it even.”

you could feel your lips lift up in a grin, feeling happy and warm all over at his awkward kindness. within seconds, you tell him your name and step closer to him, “it’s so nice to finally meet you, ichigo kurosaki.” 

you watch as his own lips tilt up in a smile, already feeling your heart race at the sight when he tells you, “likewise.” 

he sighs, looking away from you briefly. his mouth opens, as if wanting to say something when a booming voice interrupts your first interaction with ichigo. 

“AH, I SEE YOU’VE ALREADY MET MY LOVELY ASSISTANT!” an older man with spiky, salt and pepper hair suddenly appears beside ichigo, slapping his son’s back with fervor. ichigo, clearly annoyed with his father’s antics, steps away from him first. “i’ll leave you two alone, and please, don’t annoy her too much.”

“wait, was there something you needed?” 

ichigo shakes his head, muttering “i can come back some other time.” he gives his father a simple wave. not knowing what comes over you, you step closer and call out to him, “wait, ichigo?”

he stops, with both him and his father giving you a curious glance. the heat returns back to your skin, and you felt so foolish for stopping ichigo-

but you were sure if you didn’t stop him, then you wouldn’t see him again.

“will you come back, y-you know, to maybe show me around karakura town?” 

ichigo gives you a wide-eyed expression before softening his gaze, “yeah, of course. i’ll come back.” 

you, feeling filled with happiness at the thought of seeing ichigo again, were completely unaware of the knowing smile isshin kurosaki gives while watching your interaction with his son. 

4. attraction

“you know, i give you my full blessing to date my son.”

you nearly trip over your own feet upon hearing such ridiculous words coming from isshin’s mouth. “d-doctor kurosaki! don’t be ridiculous!” 

he sighs, giving you a playful pout while placing a hand on your shoulder, “i’m not kidding. i’m afraid my son has grown up to be quite lonesome with no one by his side.”

“that’s a silly notion.” you distract yourself with taking the inventory of all the medications isshin had stocked in his clinic, “besides, i’m sure he’s not as alone as you think he is. he seems like such a wonderful guy.” 

“he is a wonderful guy.” the older kurosaki agrees with you, but it was his next words that makes you stop in your tracks, “in fact, he’s so wonderful he let his best friend marry the woman he once loved.” 

this new piece pertaining to ichigo’s life makes you stiffen, your hands frozen on the spot as they lay suspended against the shelf. you listen as isshin spoke fondly about ichigo’s teenaged years. 

“he’s always wanted to protect everyone, placing such a burden on his shoulders at such a young age. all he wanted was to be strong and have the strength to protect everything that was precious to him.” 

“orihime inoue was one of those people.” 

you could feel the coldness seep into your veins at the familiar name. it was dr. ishida’s wife, the same woman who he had admitted to being his light, his sole purpose for living each day. 

“she was a beauty, reminding me a lot of my late wife, masaki. she had a kindness that even my dense son became drawn to, and they were together for a while. 

but a rift suddenly came between them. to this day, my son has not changed his desire to protect everyone he meets. perhaps this made orihime lonely, or perhaps he did this on purpose to force uryu to finally act on his feelings for the girl.”

by now, your mind was spinning at this knowledge. seeing the perplexed expression on your face makes him smile as he shakes his head, “perhaps it’s just my wishful thinking, since i want my son to be happy. but i can’t ignore the way his eyes soften each time he looks at you. 

if anyone can make him happy like he deserves, i feel like it would be you.” 

you didn’t know what to say, feeling your heart race at what isshin was implying. “i-i don’t know dr. kurosaki. although i admit, i am attracted to ichigo and am drawn to him, i just don’t think he feels the same way.” 

a sudden knock heard coming from the door makes you look away from isshin, feeling your mouth turn dry upon seeing ichigo standing before you, “i-ichigo, how long have you been standing there?!” 

he frowns at your question and the sight of your panicked expression, “not long at all. i just got here, and i was hoping you’d still be here.” 

“dad, do you mind giving her some time off this weekend? i promised to show her around.” 

you could feel the way your heart began to race at his question, making isshin let out a hearty laugh while clapping his hands together, “BUT OF COURSE! ANYTHING FOR MY PRECIOUS SON!” 

this earns yet another scowl from ichigo as he ends up bickering back and forth with his dad. yet all you could focus on was how much your ears were ringing as a sweet anticipation for the weekend fills your veins. 

5. date

this isn’t a date. 

the weekend had finally came, and that’s all you kept telling yourself when you got ready to meet with ichigo. you were dressed casually, and wore a light sheen of makeup just to be safe. 

your heart refused to stop racing, and you were so anxious to finally see ichigo once more. you had never felt so nervous before, with even your palms sweating at the thought of seeing him again. 

checking your phone, you figured it was best to meet him at the station first. you definitely didn’t want to be late, or keep him waiting for you. besides, the excited butterflies that filled your stomach made it harder for you to keep still. 

with a noticeable bounce in your step, you walk out of your apartment and down the steps. your mind was filled with various scenarios on how your interactions with ichigo would go. 

but the last thing you expected was to actually see ichigo standing outside your apartment complex. he had his hands buried within the pockets of his jeans all while dressed in a tight, black shirt that fit him all too well. just seeing him standing so perfectly before you makes you do a double take, feeling shy all of a sudden as you take him in. 

he’s so perfect.

he sees you standing there and gives you a smile, holding out a hand for you to take, “what are you waiting for? come on...”

6. holding hands

oh no, are my palms sweating? should i wipe them on my clothes or...?

you were so caught up in your panicked thoughts that even ichigo couldn’t help but roll his eyes at your hesitance. “come on, i’m not gonna bite you or anything.” 

he makes the move first, taking a hold of your hand. the moment his palm met with yours, you could feel your face heat up, the blood rushing beneath your skin as you became hotter upon feeling such a close contact. 

as if that wasn’t enough on your poor heart, ichigo actually starts to intertwine his fingertips with yours, locking your hand together with his as he takes the lead and begins walking. 

“let’s go.” 

so caught up in your reverie, you didn’t notice ichigo and his own nervousness permeating through the air. had you payed even a speck of attention to him and his own reactions instead of being so caught up in your own little world, you would have noticed the way the tip of his ears turned red and how much he was smiling whenever you were around. 

little did you both know, you had found something achingly special within one another. 

7. first kiss

this certainly feels like a date.

you couldn’t help but think to yourself whilst exploring karakura town with ichigo. he made everything feel so bright and beautiful to you, and you never wanted this feeling to end. 

ichigo takes you to all of his favorite hangouts; from eating at a diner he frequents at to his old high school, you found yourself taking in everything he was telling you. you found yourself wanting to know him more and all the mysteries he had to offer. 

your exploration comes to a slow halt when he takes you to a local park, sitting beside you on the bench while admiring the warm summer air. the glow of the streetlamp coupled along with the ephemeral lights exuded from the fireflies painted the entire night in such an intimate light. you found yourself unconsciously leaning closer to ichigo, earning his attention when he glances down at you. 

you rest your head against his shoulder, feeling far too embarrassed to face him when you tell him, “thank you for tonight, i had a lot of fun. and it was so nice listening to your stories pertaining to this town.” 

he swallows thickly, frowning slightly whilst deep in thought. it was quiet for a few more minutes before you hear ichigo let out a quiet curse. 

“i’m sorry for this.” 

“huh?” 

his hand was suddenly on your chin, bringing you closer to him. his eyes were dilated even from beneath the light of the streetlamp, and he was looking at you with such an intensity you had never seen before. he appeared uncertain, his thumb shakily stroking at your bottom lip when he asks in a breathless whisper, “can i...?”

“yes, god yes, you can.” 

that was all the urging he needed to surge forward, finally claiming your lips with his as you fell into his arms, quickly becoming drunk off of his kisses alone. 

8. relationship

who knew that you coming to karakura town would be the start of something so beautiful?

all you wanted was to experience something new in your life, something that your home couldn’t quite give you anymore as you grew to be more independent. working under isshin enforces your desire to become a doctor, with goals of perhaps owning your own clinic someday. 

but what you hadn’t counted on was meeting someone who fit you so perfectly, like a missing puzzle piece. 

ichigo was everything you wanted and more in a significant other. he was so kind, so patient-

and you couldn’t believe how lucky you were to have him; to be able to call him as your own. 

some nights, when he was too busy to spend time with you, you would feel lonely, but that never made your feelings waver for him. you would always know that you were on his mind as well when he sends you a goodnight and good morning text. and if neither of you were too tired, then you would call each other just to talk about your respective day. 

being in a relationship with ichigo was honestly pure and utter bliss. 

9. love

you loved ichigo, yet was so terrified when it came to finally telling him. 

thoughts kept invading your mind, like was it too early to tell your boyfriend you loved him despite dating him for six months?

you just didn’t want to appear clingy, or not genuine if you said you loved him too soon-

but really, that’s how you felt. only a fool would be unable to fall for ichigo. his kindness and desire to protect you at all costs were such attractive traits to you. 

you adored him. each time you looked at him, you were certain that he was the reason why the sun came up each day, just to pass by him and admire the sheer brilliance of him- 

but you were afraid. 

you think back to seeing orihime’s picture on dr. ishida’s desk. she was so beautiful that you couldn’t help but feel pale in comparison to her. despite how happy ichigo made you, it hurt a bit to know that he once had such a beautiful woman in his arms. 

which was why you were so afraid of coming clean to him about your feelings. 

your troubled thoughts is what admittedly makes you a bit distracted while at work at the kurosaki clinic, and isshin was kind enough to give you the rest of the day off with orders to “enjoy the weekend and come back monday once you were more refreshed.” 

you thank him for this chance to clear your mind, and you took this chance to simply relax within the comfort of your apartment. 

you were starting to feel better, dressed in your oversized shirt with a carton of your favorite ice cream in hand while watching a movie. you were halfway through your favorite treat when a sudden knock heard at your door makes you turn down the volume of your tv. getting off the couch, you peek through the fish-eye lens of your door to see ichigo standing with two large bags in his hands.

“ichigo!” you gasp, opening the door for him. he enters the apartment while giving your forehead a kiss. “hey, dad told me you weren’t feeling so well, so i figured i should come over with your favorite takeout.” 

your heart melts at how considerate your boyfriend was. you were about to tell him that he didn’t need to go though such trouble, but he simply waves off your concern, “i’m your boyfriend, it’s my job to make you feel better.” 

he takes a seat on your couch, already getting out the paper plates as he gets a bit of everything on to the plates. instead of feeling hungry with all of your favorite foods settled before you, you felt your feelings of love for him begin to overflow, ready to burst at the seams. 

you join him on the couch, catching his attention when you place a hand on his chin. he lets go of the plate, settling it on your table when you push him back on the sofa and give him a passionate kiss. 

he sharply inhales, but returns your kiss just a few seconds later. you settle yourself on top of his chest, pulling away from the kiss first all while staring down at him with complete and utter adoration in your gaze. 

“i love you, ichigo, so much.” you gently frame at his face when you finally revealed your deepest secret to him. “and it’s okay if you don’t feel the same way about me. i just wanted to let you know that i admire and adore how kind you are, always putting other people’s happiness first before your own.” 

by now, you were getting emotional, with tears filling your eyes when you shakily tell him, “orihime was a fool for not choosing you. because i know if i had your love, i would never let you go or choose someone else. never ever.”

unable to stop your tears from flowing, you cling to ichigo, landing against his chest while clutching at the front of his shirt. he remains silent for some time, as if trying to gather his thoughts before wrapping his arms around you. 

he brings you closer to him, and you found yourself surrounded by his warmth and gentle scent of his cologne. he presses a kiss against the top of your head, and you could feel him smiling against your skin, “do you really think that i don’t love you?” 

ichigo then lifts your face away from his chest, wanting to see your beautiful expression even if you were crying. he gently wipes away at your tears, “the reason why i could let orihime go so easily was because i knew someone loved her more than i ever could.

it hurt, knowing that i couldn’t make her happy like ishida could, but i’ve long accepted that now.” he rests his forehead against yours, eyes turning soft as they shone with love for you. “but losing you, that would pretty much kill me.” 

“so you’re pretty much stuck with me until the end of our days.” 

you end up showing him a tearful smile, feeling happier than ever when you fling your arms around him to press another kiss against his lips. 

i love you. the words were finally exchanged between the two lovers, and you swore you never felt so complete before in your life. 

10. commitment 

ichigo wanted to be with you for the rest of his life. 

after being together with you for a total of three years, he had never been so certain about anything else before in his life.

but there was just this one tiny little problem-

he had forgotten where he hid his engagement ring for you. 

and that was going to be a complete and total disaster if he couldn’t find it before going to his reservation tonight. 

ichigo must have searched every nook and cranny for that damned black velvet box, but it never turned up. when he called his sisters in a panic, unable to decide what he should do, they simply called him an idiot before telling him to ‘figure it out’ before upsetting you. 

in the midst of his search, he hears what sounds like you softly crying, coming from the laundry room. hearing your cries makes him forget all about the damn ring when he enters the room, calling out your name while asking what was wrong. 

he watches as your eyes fill with tears as a familiar velvet box was in your hand, opened completely as it revealed the diamond ring he had planned to propose to you with tonight during dinner. 

ichigo lets out a string of curses at the sight, nearly banging his head on the wall for forgetting how he had hidden the velvet box behind some boxes of fabric softeners settled on the shelf. 

“i was about to do laundry when i found this settled in the corner. and i...oh ichigo i’m so sorry.” ichigo could feel his heart physically stop at the sound of regret in your voice, not wanting to lose you or have his heart broken because it may have been too soon to propose to you...!

yet instead of hearing your rejection, you continue to cry and berate yourself for finding the ring on your own accord, “i’m sure this was going to be a surprise during our dinner, and i ruined it, i ruined your proposal!” 

by now, you were a complete wreck, in shambles over ruining what you thought was going to be the perfect proposal. instead of feeling angry, ichigo couldn’t stop the relief from coursing through him. 

not wanting you to cry over something so trivial, he kneels down to your height and takes you in his arms. he comforts you, rubbing your back in hopes of calming down the sobs that made your body tremble and shake. “baby, calm down. it’s okay, regardless of where and how i was going to propose, the end goal was going to be the same: i am going to be your husband, and you’re going to be my wife.” 

gently, he takes the velvet box out of your hand, getting down on one knee as he presented the ring to you. he says your full name while admitting to you, “i’m positive i fell in love with you at first sight, when you gave me that umbrella on that rainy day; a day you now know as the anniversary of my mother’s death. 

i’m certain that she was the one who lead you to me that day, and i’ll never regret it. so please, marry me.” 

with the same happy expression ichigo has come to adore painting your features, you give him a tearful nod, unable to speak due to how overwhelming your emotions had become for the man settled in front of you. with his own hands shaking, he takes out the ring and places it on your left ring finger, swallowing thickly while commenting, “it’s a perfect fit.” 

you wrap your arms around your lover’s neck, sitting on his lap while littering his face full of butterfly kisses. as you kissed at his jawline, you murmur with a dreamy sigh against his skin, “i look forward to being together with you as your wife, for forever and a day."

a.n. - this is a rewrite of a story i had written a long time ago when i was younger. i miss writing for ichigo so much; he looks amazing during the thousand year blood war arc 🥹 currently unedited, but i'll make edits once this is posted as usual ♡

all stories are written by rei; reposts, translations, and plagiarism are not allowed.

[cherrylng]

Guitar Princes - Part 3 [STYLES Series #004 - Muse (August 2010)]

Ian McCulloch leads Echo & The Bunnymen. His childlike face and up-turned hair with a pouty expression really captured the hearts of 80s UK-loving girls.

Green Gartside, the face of Scritti Politti, was extremely popular in the 1980s. He is still active with his gentle voice and ability that Miles Davis and others would recognise.

The Prince of Neo-acoustic music is this man, Roddy Frame of Aztec Camera. The atmosphere that hasn't changed from his boyish first period to the present is amazing! He is also an excellent guitarist.

Charlie Sexton, aka Charlie Boy, made his solo debut as a boy prodigy at the age of just 17. He has had a long and successful career, recognised by Bob Dylan and others. But he was still beautiful! pic: Koh Hasebe

Johnny Marr is currently the guitarist for The Cribs. He looks like a reliable guitar brother, but back in The Smiths days he had such a sensitive vibe.

Bernard Butler, who wielded his glamourous charm alongside vocalist Brett Anderson during the Suede era.

The Reid brothers Jim (left) and William (right) of The Jesus and Mary Chain, were the ‘Feedback Princes’. They broke up and resumed their activities in 2007, but they are no longer princes!

This is Extreme's Nuno Bettencourt, the electric prince of the metal world. With his exotic face, rich black hair and exceptional technique, he has risen to the status of guitar hero.

Rich Robinson (left) of The Black Crowes shows a completely different personality backing his wild frontman brother Chris (right).

Einstürzende Neubauten frontman Blixa Bargeld. Also played in Nick Cave & The Bad Seeds. pic: Koh Hasebe

Guitar Princes Part 1 Guitar Princes Part 2 Guitar Princes Part 4

[whimsicallyenchantedrose]

Season 3 Rewatch Drabbles: 3x7 Dark Hollow

Summary:  A series of 100-500 word drabbles to accompany my    rewatch of season 3 of Once Upon a Time.  There will be a drabble–either a deleted scene, a “fix it” fic or a character musing for each episode of the season.  Focus will be on Emma, Henry, the Charmings and Killian–with an emphasis on Captain Swan’s epic love story.

Word Count: 856

Other Chapters: (1) (2) (3) (4) (5) (6) (8) (9) (10) (11) (12) (13) (14) (15) (16) (17) (18) (19) (20) (21) (22) (23) (24) (25) (26) (27) (28)

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Killian stalked away, anger bubbling up inside him.

You want me to choose?  I choose Henry.  He’s the only love I have room for in my heart.

It had been like a slap in the face–a slap he clearly desperately needed.

Stupid, bloody love-sick simpleton!

His anger flared even hotter.  He wished for something, anything to skewer with his hook.  Oh his anger wasn’t directed at her.  It wasn’t even directed at Baelfire.  No, he was bloody furious with himself alone.

Swan had been entirely correct to call the both of them out for their childish tactics.  Fighting over a lighter like a pair of churlish school boys!  Doing so as a proxy for the woman they both truly wanted to fight over!  It was utterly disgraceful.

She’d reacted as he would have expected her to if he’d had his wits about him, but clearly he’d lost them entirely sometime over the course of the last day.

He hadn’t felt so awkward and off-balance around a woman he fancied since he was a green youth in the navy.  At the risk of sounding unbearably vain, he’d never had to.  He’d had to do little more than smile devilishly at a lady, and she’d be ready to swoon right into his arms.

Not Swan, though, never Swan.  She was made of stronger stuff than that, and it was one of many reasons he loved her.

He snorted.  He had quite a way of showing it, didn’t he?  Acting like a jealous nitwit, and in the process jeopardizing their entire reason for being on this terrible island.  Jeopardizing the safety of Swan’s lad.  Forget requiting his love; he’d be lucky if she didn’t skewer him with Baelfire’s cutlass.  It would be no more than he deserved!

Killian let out a long breath.  He’d have to rejoin them in a moment.  With the shadow in tow, it was time to execute their plan to rescue Henry, and there wasn’t a second to lose.  He had to get a hold of himself and fast.

What meant something was you telling us about Neal.  Thank you.

It had hurt to see the surprise in her eyes at that, to hear her half-teasing “well you are a pirate”.  Aye he was, and he’d been so for centuries, but he’d hoped, especially after that kiss, that she’d begun to see him differently, begun to see him as a man of honor.  That she’d ever, for a moment, think he’d allow Baelfire to rot in Pan’s custody, simply because he was a rival, cut him to the quick.

And yet…and yet, she’d likely never know just how hard it had been to take that information immediately to her parents.

He thought back to Echo Cave, to his secret and the look on her face when he’d laid his heart out before her.  She had been surprised, aye, but she hadn’t been disgusted.  Indeed, she’d taken a small step toward him, her hand slightly outstretched, her mouth opening as if to speak…before she was interrupted by her father’s confession.

He wondered what she would have said.  Not confessed her love in return, to be sure.  He wasn’t so self-deluded as to expect that, but perhaps give him a glimmer of hope?

There’d not been time to delve deeper into the mystery, as her parents in turn shared their secrets and then Swan had crossed the bridge to her erstwhile lover.

Killian had been too far away to hear the secret she’d shared to dissolve Bae’s cage, but the quick, fervent hug they’d shared afterwards had spoken volumes.

As had Bae’s own confession to her outside of the cave.  I’ll never stop fighting for you.

Killian little knew what had transpired between the two of them in the past, aside from the obvious which had led to Henry’s creation–an act he very definitely did not wish to dwell upon–but when she’d spoken of Neal in the past, there had always been a shadow behind her eyes, a pain so deep it could never be fully concealed behind the walls she set up around her heart.

Killian wanted Emma, wanted her more than he’d ever wanted another woman, at least since Milah, but even more than that, he wanted that pain erased from her eyes.  He wanted her happy and at peace.  If that meant a reconciliation with Bae, he’d accept it; he’d have to.

Oh he wouldn’t give up on her without a fight; he still intended to win her heart should she be amenable, but as he’d told her, he wouldn’t do so through trickery.  After the debacle that had been this afternoon, he was determined he also wouldn’t attempt to do so through the childish, neanderthal tactics of fighting with his rival as though she was some sort of spoil of war.

At any rate, now was not the time to focus on his love life.  Now was the time to get her son back, and until that objective was achieved, he’d remain laser focused.

It was the very least he owed her.

With one more deep breath he headed back to the camp.

NEXT CHAPTER->

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Fic: Noise

Etho/Grian, NC-17, ~6k

Set during Limited Life episode 8: Etho and Grian form an alliance and suffer through their first night together.

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“Hmm,” Etho muses quietly from the doorway of the Submarine, his body a long line of judgement as he glances around.

“I know,” Grian hurries to agree, sealing up the last of the holes in the roof. “I know it’s not much, but we just need something safe for the night, right?”

“Right,” Etho echos, finally stepping the rest of the way inside and closing the door behind himself.

It shuts with a click of finality and Grian knows it won’t keep anyone out if they truly want to get inside, but it gives the illusion of safety that makes him finally feel as though he can lower his guard — just a little.

“I thought being up high would help,” Grian tells him. “But, y’know, I’m open to suggestions.”

“This is fine,” Etho admits, stepping across the room to peer out the nearest window. “Though, we should keep you away from ladders. You don’t have a good track record with them.”

He laughs quietly as he turns back to look at Grian, who rubs the back of his neck, self-consciously.

“Funny,” he says without actually laughing and Etho’s face shifts as though he might be grinning behind his mask. “It’ll be fine.”

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