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milswrites · 2 months

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Hobbies Part 9.

~ Azriel X Reader

Summary: In an attempt to keep Azriel away from Elain, Rhys sends him on a sabbatical to the Day Court. With a lot more free time on his hands Azriel needs to find something to keep him occupied. Unfortunately he meets Y/N who has the annoying habit of not staying away. Can she teach him that there’s more to life than he thought?

Grumpy!Azriel X Sunshine!Reader

Series masterlist

Warnings: none?

Azriel moved through the halls like a starved beast. Hunting for the one thing that could satisfy him. His mate.

After the bond had snapped into place Azriel had wasted no time in travelling through his shadows to the Day Court. Whilst he couldn’t directly travel into the palace, Azriel made sure to get as close to the wards as he possibly could. Not stopping to wait for a single minute as he forced his way into the grand building, uncaring of the shocked guards who had taken to chasing after him through the winding corridors, shouts of their objection flooding his ears.

He was searching for Helion. For the one person who could tell him where Y/N was staying, where Azriel so desperately needed to go.

The shouts of alarm from the Day Court guards was a blessing for Azriel, their call having drawn the attention of the High Lord. Helion appearing before Azriel in all his glory, there was no surprise on his face at the presence of the shadowsinger in his halls. In fact it was almost as if he was waiting for him.

“I must say you’re later than I expected, did you walk here?” The High Lord teased, flashing a blinding smile to an unimpressed Azriel.

“Where is she?” He growled out, not wanting to waste any precious time he could be having with Y/N by staying and talking to Helion longer than he needed to.

“What?” The male gasped mockingly, “no hello Helion? I’ve missed you Helion? You’re the greatest High Lord ever Helion? I was hoping for more after what I did for you, forging relationships isn’t my usual job role.”

“Where is she?” Azriel snarled once more, refusing to play this game. Azriel was surprised at the control he was showing, the ugly monster inside of him that was born from the revelation of the bond wanted nothing more than to hold a knife to the High Lord’s throat until he told him where Y/N had been sent.

Helion sighed, but the glint of something other than annoyance shone in his eyes and Azriel could tell that the male was pleased at Azriel’s impromptu arrival at his court, “She’s in a village North-East of here, it’s about a two hour flight… but with the state you’re in I’d reckon you could make it in one.”

Without as much as a thank you, Azriel sped from the scene, the guards that had been chasing after him divided, allowing the tense Illyrian to pass through them, fearing what would occur if they were to stop him.

Not even waiting until he had cleared the palace gate, Azriel stretched his wings and took flight, as if spending another hour without Y/N’s grounding presence would lead to most certain death.

And so Azriel flew faster than he had ever done in his life. The bitter evening wind biting his cheeks and knotting his unruly hair. But Azriel didn’t care, not about his appearance, not when every minute that passed meant he was getting closer and closer to his mate. His Y/N.

Azriel would have flown for centuries if he had to, if only it meant Y/N would be there waiting for him when he landed. The mating bond must have gifted some cauldron-blessed power to Azriel who found he had never flown so swiftly, wings acting on their own accord as they beat powerfully, allowing Azriel to cut through the sky like a blade.

Until he felt it, the gentle tugging growing stronger, drawing him towards where he most needed to be. Stirred on by the feeling and wanting to be consumed by it completely, Azriel followed. Slowing his flight until he came across a quaint village which was glowing amber as the sun set around it. Y/N was somewhere in this small collection of thatched houses and farms, unaware of the arrival of the male who had become overwhelmed with his want to be near her.

Landing with such a force that his knees buckled, Azriel readily cast his eyes to his surroundings, scanning for the woman he so longed to hold. He walked through the gathering crowd of alarmed villagers, whispering to each other in question as they clearly had never seen an Illyrian soldier before. Let alone one who looked as feral as Azriel no doubt did after his rushed flight, wings flared and cobalt siphons vibrating with the need to release the power building within him due to his increased adrenaline the bond was pulsating through him.

He scanned all their terrified faces, seeking the familiar features of the woman he had grown to love. Eyes jumping from villager to villager until they finally landed on her. On the woman who Azriel was prepared to drop onto his knees for and beg for her forgiveness. He would do anything to ensure her happiness.

~~~~~

“Azriel” she breathed his name from her lips in disbelief, needing to repeat it to be sure that he had truly existed and that he was here now, “Azriel?”

Here she was, stood before Azriel in the sweetest shade of violet and he found himself unable to speak, stunned by her innocent beauty. Even the small crease of her brows caused his heart to palpitate. All the words he had wished to tell her over the past two weeks lodged themselves in his throat. Nothing he could say would ever do justice to the incredible woman before him.

As the shock of his sudden appearance in the village wore away, confusion flooded her expression, “Is that…my tunic? How did you get that? It was in my house.”

Once more Azriel failed to find the words he so urgently required. His mouth open yet unspeaking like a fool. Instead, he reached into the pocket of his tunic to retrieve the item he had hurriedly crammed inside before his disappearance from the Night Court. Azriel pulled out the sketchbook she had given him on their very first day of meeting and held it out to a stunned Y/N.

“What- what’s this?” She asked, taking the book with a frown on her face.

“You were right” the words finally poured from his mouth, “about me being miserable, about how I don’t do anything. That my friends wouldn’t want me to do nothing and waste away.”

Her eyebrow twitched as she pulled open the sketchbook, the pages of which were filled with inky drawings of her. Azriel knows he had failed to capture the true beauty that is Y/N. He had never drawn before and numerous pages from the book had been torn out in his frustration at his lack of skills. But he had filled the book, page after page being covered in the hours he had spent by himself in the Night Court. The need to print her pretty face in permanent ink and capture her glowing smile before he forgot it led to Azriel picking up this new hobby. The one way to ensure that even if he never saw Y/N again, he would always carry a piece of her with him.

As she took the time to turn through each work or art Azriel had created in her honor, the trails of tears that freely flowed down her rosy cheeks and her rapidly beating heart which Azriel felt entwined with his own, gave the male the confidence to continue.

“I love you” he stated, Y/N’s affectionate gaze moving from the drawings to his deadly serious face. “I have done for a while I think” he continues, “and Y/N if you forgive me I will love you with every ounce of my being until we’re nothing but dust in the stars.”

Now sure that he had her attention and Y/N wouldn’t run away or ignore him for his disappearing act, Azriel felt free to tell her what he should have done when they were in the solitude of the garden all those weeks ago, “You are the reason my heart beats and if I had to live the rest of my life not knowing if you feel the same way I do, if you share the same burning need for you that I have, then I will surely perish because that is not a life that I want to live.”

He slowly stepped towards her, raising his hand to brush the diamond-like tears from her soft cheeks, “You are my salvation and my undoing and I will love you for as long as the mother allows. And if you’ll have me, even after all that happened, I promise that I will do everything in my power to make sure that I take you to explore every inch of Prythian. That we’ll see the world together and leave no place untouched.”

Allowing the notebook to slip through her fingers and drop onto the floor, Y/N grips Azriel by the front of his tunic, the tunic she had so lovingly made him, and pulled him in to a firey kiss, uncaring of the nosy villagers who were still gathered around them.

Unwilling to waste a single moment with Y/N that he was given, Azriel’s arms flew around the woman, pulling her roughly towards his chest and encasing her in his arms as their lips melted together. His lips which moved desperately against hers, wanting to express just how much she means to him and how harrowing the past few weeks without her had been. Y/N seemed to be on the same wavelength as the kiss she delivered him was filled with the same burning passion and uncontrollable need as his.

Finally, not wanting to get too carried away in front of the crowd of people who were now awkwardly staring at the pair, their lips broke apart, though Azriel refused to let go of Y/N’s waist, not wanting her to take another step further from him.

She smiled, lifting her hand so it brushed over the shoulder of his tunic, “it fits” she beams, pleased to see the shadowsinger wearing her clothes. “It’s perfect” he whispered whilst leaning his forehead against hers, “I think I’m going to need a whole wardrobe full of them. All with dresses to match for you of course. Pink, purple, blue, I want them all.”

“That’s a lot of work” she giggled, hands still running over her creation which fit snug against his broad form.

“If you give me another chance we’ll have all the time in the world” he said earnestly, pulling his head away from hers far enough that they could lock their eyes with each other, “I know I don’t deserve it after what I did to you but please allow me to have a do over. A proper date this time now that I’m not afraid to call it what it is.”

“No running away?” She asked, a brief glimpse of sadness in her eyes as the memory of his absence was still fresh in her mind.

“Not even the mother herself could drag me away from you now” he promised, lips brushing against his mates once more.

Part 10

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Notes: I screamed the entire time I was writing this. She knows he loves her but she’s yet to find out about the bond…hmmm wonder how that will go.

Only one more chapter and then the epilogue and it’s over but I really don’t want it to be 😭😭😭

Taglist:

@thelov3lybookworm @minnieoo @going-through-shit @iluvyewman-blog @laughterafter @amysangel @bigcreatorwombatdreamer @aaronwarnerobsessedmylove @justvibbinghere @honeybeeboobaa @willowpains @tele86 @mysticalfuncollectorus @mybestfriendmademe @starryhiraeth @gorlillaglue25 @moonlwghts @darling006 @anuttellaa @serendipityx150 @xxxalicerogersxx @that-one-little-soybean @scatteredstardustt @naturakaashi @nyx-the-alien @lostinpages13 @namelesssav @dreamlandreader @fightmedraco @maxmouse001

#acotar #fanfic #acotar imagine #azriel x reader #sarah j maas #azriel imagine #a court of thorns and roses #azriel shadowsinger #azriel

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ohtobeleah · 1 year

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The Marksman // Bradley Bradshaw

Summary: When Bradley Bradshaw, the most senior chief sniper with the NCIS, is called out to a hostage situation, he comes face to face with his greatest fear in life. His fiancée is on the hostage list.

Warnings: Bradley Bradshaw NCIS au. Bradley Bradshaw x F!reader. Gun violence. Hostage situation. Injuries inflicted on reader due to gun violence. Heavy themes.

Word Count: 8.6k

Author Note: This has been this fanfic’s third rewrite for its third fandom and I will take it with me to every fandom I end up in. This is also not to be confused with my NCIS series. And you don’t have to have seen NCIS to read this. xxx ~ Leah

Bradley Bradshaw or “Rooster” As most of the world knew him better as— (He himself had always prepared the casual nickname over anything else) had a unique skill set.

He simply. Never. Missed.

His ability was unparalleled. He was undoubtedly the most skilled and above all the highest-ranking Marksman in the NCIS - The Naval. Criminal. Investigative. Service. Beside Rooster, there was Jake Seresin. His best friend, his partner. His annoying voice of reason and brother in arms.

Wherever Bradley Bradshaw went Jake Seresin wasn’t far behind. Gone were the days where they’d dick around in pre-flight checks, gone were the days where they’d spend hours pulling G’s and soaring high as jet fuel burned up in the atmosphere. A dynamic duo that served to be more humbling than most, had an incredibly intense and demanding job title.

Bradley though, well he always made time to enjoy the little things in life in and amongst the highly stressful and sometimes dangerous situations he found himself in.

It was something new, something he didn’t really see the point in for a long time. To stop and smell the roses from time to time. Life was seemingly precious and beautiful, although Bradley more than most people knew that in the blink of an eye things could change. That worlds could be turned inside and on their head and shaken to their very foundations.

He’d lost his father at a young age. So young he barely remembered the figment of his father that still remained in his memory—the only faces he could picture now were those he saw in photographs his mother used to have scattered around his childhood home. He kept those photographs and now proudly displayed them above the fireplace in his home, his mother and father had weaved themselves in and out of medallions and awards that over the years Rooster had accumulated.

His mother, Carole, had unexpectedly passed a few years before he joined the Naval Academy, leaving him hollow. Bradley droned on through life on autopilot, just doing what he had to do in order to get where he wanted to go.

But how could Rooster not enjoy the life he’d built for himself, how could he not bask in the glory of the success he’d had in two highly demanding job titles. How could Bradley not love every second of every day that passed him by, how could he not? When he had the most beautiful and intelligent woman by his side. You. Y/n Y/l/n, or soon to be Y/n Y/l/n-Bradshaw. A stunning white gold engagement ring wrapped around your delicately manicured finger most days of the week if not all the days that ended in, well, day. A symbol of love and commitment, a physical reminder of the love Rooster had for you. He wanted you in his life forever. He’d love you forever and a day and you him.

Rooster just adored his soon to be wife, he considered himself the luckiest man in the world to have your perfect self by his side. Every morning before Rooster went to work you would make him a coffee and a slice of avocado toast. It was just a part of your love language—acts of service. Making sure your soon to be husband was always well fed and maintained a balanced diet was just a small step in that process.

You were his backbone, without you? Rooster was pretty sure he’d implode. He’d be stuck with Jake and although he loved him dearly, Rooster had already decided that wasn’t an option he was willing to take.

Life was hard—challenging at times and sometimes Rooster was the taker of that challenging life. That fact could weigh heavily on even the toughest of men. It was something Bradley was plagued with, nightmares riddled his memory, and stole energy from him on taxing days. It made him question almost daily what type of man he was, who he was protecting, why he was the way he was. What was the reason behind the path his life had led? But with you by his side, life could be a little good, life could be just a little great, life could be somewhat perfect for even just a moment......until it wasn’t.

There was nothing out of the ordinary about this particular morning. Rooster groaned as his alarm went off at a crisp 4am, the smell of his fiancée freshly cleaned hair a soothing note in the air around him. Hints of juniper and raspberries danced across the pillows you’d fallen asleep on.

His back stung—marks from last night and nights prior still prominent and deep. Your cat claws had scratched at his muscles when he’d hit deep—hit hard. Bradley wrapped his arms around your waist, his tight hold and bulging muscles held you tight in his grip. The gentle touch of warm flesh was strikingly different to the cool of the morning air that threatened to take you hostage, that threatened to steal you away from the warmth of your soon to be husband and comfortable bed.

“Mornin.” Rooster grumbled into your soft and supple neck. Small and delicate goosebumps soon littered your skin as you smiled softly and moaned in response, snuggling into the covers a little more as Bradley’s hands groped at your breast from under the shirt you’d stolen from him. “Mornin honey.”

“No, not mornin, stay in bed—“ You incoherently mumbled back, eyes still closed. Face pressed heavily into your pillows. “Stay in bed just for five more minutes.” It was a plea that fell on deaf ears as Bradley leaned in to kiss your cheek and shoulder lovingly.

“Can’t.” He chuckled softly. “Gotta have a shower.” Untangling himself from his semi-naked fiancée, Bradley took a second to admire your beauty. Bradley really was in love, oh so in love. He thought he’d never find this kind of love until he met you.

While Rooster showered—revelling in the steam that opened his pores as he sat on the built-in step, you trudged your tired self into the kitchen with fuzzy slippers adorning your feet and began your morning ritual. Two coffees, two pieces of avocado toast and a face mask. Time? 4:15am

Sitting at the dining table with your laptop open, you slowly sipped at your coffee as you began paying the monthly bills. You were always smart with numbers, with maths in general. Specifically financial statements and savings.

As a banker, you were always in your own head dealing with other people’s financial positions. So much so you sometimes disregarded your own health and well-being, you’d only just noticed that the smell of the freshly smashed avocado made you want to vomit as you raised it closer to your mouth. Gagging as you placed it back onto the plate.

It smelt like rotting flesh.

Without thinking too much into it you pressed finalise payments for yours and Rooster ’s monthly bills. Forgetting you hadn’t added the phone bill yet. A pretty substantial payment in all honesty.

“Oh god—“ You held a hand across your mouth as you gagged and rushed over to the sink to spill your guts. Coughing and spewing the content of your stomach which technically wasn’t much being so early in the morning—but that didn’t change the fact you genuinely loved avocados.

As you washed your hands and mouth out— you sighed leaning on the bench. Wiping the evidence of your sudden throw up from the corner of your chin as your soon to be husband rounded the corner, fixing his casual button-down. Hair still wet like an ungroomed labrodour. Mustache perfectly combed as you lost sight of the tufted of chest hair Bradley covered up as he finished doing his shirt up.

“You good mama?” That nickname sent shivers down your spine. A true shock to the system—you and Rooster hadn’t been actively trying. You both wanted to wait until after the wedding. But then again, you hadnt been actively trying to prevent things either.

You stood there biting your lip in a trance-like state for a few seconds. Having an existential crisis as to whether or not you should tell Rooster you just chucked at the smell of avocados, ultimately you opted to keep quiet. You didn’t want to get his hopes up, you knew he wanted to be a father more than anything else in life.

“I’m fine— just a little off this morning? I might actually go back to bed when you leave.” You weren’t lying per se, you really were feeling sick.

“Maybe you should call in sick? Can someone take your shift?” Rooster asked, sipping the coffee you’d ever so nicely made him. Toast in his other hand dropping crumbs all over his shirt as you reached to dust them off for him. “Want my girl always feeling fine.” You couldn’t help but let out a soft scoff at the term of endearment that fell effortlessly from Bradley Bradshaw's lips ever so gently. You had always been and would always be his girl.

“Despite want you want, Bradshaw, sometimes life isn’t always the fairest and we get stuck with unforeseen sickness.” You were smart—always had a comeback that left Rooster speechless with your ability to communicate. “Guess my number was up.”

“You know–” Rooster reached down to place a gentle kiss against your forehead. “I wish I could stay and play nurse with you honey.” Rooster teased as he took a bite of his avocado toast. “But I’m already running late.” Your soon to be husband moved away as he smiled, glancing at the laptop as he did so. “You paid the bills already?” He asked, a frown apparent on his face at the total figure at the bottom of the screen.

“Yeah it’s lower than I thought it wou—“

“Where’s the phone bill, did we already pay it separate this month or--” Rooster quickly glanced over the total amount breakdown. The penny dropped in your head as you felt another bout of sickness threatening to blow.

“Oh shit, I must’ve missed it, here I’ve got time I’ll fix it up now—“ With a mouthful of food Rooster sighed in slight frustration.

“Yeah, that would be great bub.” Bradley finished his coffee in a hurry. “I’m sure it’ll be fine, it’s more of an Inconvenience really—I’m definitely looking forward to that late fee.” Rooster scoffed back a little groan as he picked his jacket up from the coat rack by the front door. “I gotta go, I’m already late—bye beautiful!” Before shutting the door. The sound of his keys rattled through your head as you stood in the kitchen frazzled with what had just happened.

Rooster never left without saying ‘I love you’ Rooster never left without a goodbye kiss. And he just had. Why now? Did he see through your white lie? Did he already know somehow before you did? You hadn’t even taken a test! Was Rooster running away from you? Did he not want a child with you? What happened to wanting to be a father? Did he change his mind all of a sudden? All the possibilities that could have triggered Rooster’s sudden departure rushed through your sensitive head. But all it was was he was running late.

Rooster hit his hands on the steering wheel of his car when he realised what he’d done. He’d blatantly forgotten to tell his soon to be wife he loved you wholeheartedly. Forgot in a flurry to get out the door and off to work to kiss your soft and supple lips goodbye. Rooster swore he’d buy you flowers on his way home. That would make you smile. Surely that would make it up to you. A gentle reminder of how much he loved you.

Because he did love you endlessly—without you? Bradley Bradshaw would be well, nothing.

***~***~***~***~***~

“Dude? You’re fucking late?” Jake mumbled from his desk as he saw the elevator open to reveal his MIA partner. Bradley had given Jake Seresin his callsign way back in their days at the naval academy, before they could tolerate one another. As it turned out the callsign transferred quite seamlessly as they transitioned into a new chapter of their lives. Together and apart.

Jake was always late—especially while his wife was away. No one was around to keep him in check. Hangman always left Rooster hanging. Unintentionally and without malice. He just never got the timing right on traffic.

“You’re never late!”

“Good thing I’m here now huh.” Rooster sassed as he walked past Jake at his desk and dropped to his. Despite being a senior in his own department, Rooster still liked working in the field with Jake. It was their thing. A dynamic duo of utter mayhem and chaos. “What’s in the stack today?” Rooster sighed and kicked his feet up onto his deck. Jake couldn’t help but let out an exaggerated groan as he picked up the three case files and did the same. Mimicking Rooster from across the little hall that separated their decks.

“We got a domestic on the naval base—according to the report her husband came back from deployment and was acting strange, she questioned him, he spazzed out and now she’s filing charges.”

“Fair call.” Rooster responded, nodding in solidarity with Mrs Rogers.

“Then we have a body that turned up in an old naval cemetery. We think it’s something unrelated and that’s just where he ended up so we might turn that over to the FBI.” Jake chucked the files down onto his desk. “And finally I think I found missing Seamen Lang.”

“No fucking way!” Rooster couldn’t help but laugh. Semen lang has been missing for four months. He was meant to be on deployment but on a goodwill shore visit in Indonesia he vanished.

“Yeah, shaking up with his mistress in Mexico of all places.” Jake scoffed. “So he’s being brought back as we speak.”

“Jesus Jake when Spiders away you really do throw yourself into work huh?” Rooster asked almost rhetorically—he already knew the answer.

Annabella Webb, or Annabella Seresin. Jake's beautiful chef of a wife. The most amazing cook according to Jake who lived off ready meals and takeaway while she was on deployment–which was this very second. With her maiden name being Webb— the navy calls all Webb’s by the nickname spider. Get it? Spider Web.

“Anna” Jake emphasised, “Will get nothing but my undivided attention when she gets home.” Jake sighed, rubbing his temples and leaning on his desk. “Bro I miss her so much uugghhh— I can’t believe she’s gone for another four months!”

“You should come around more? I’m sure Y/n wouldn’t mind?” Rooster asked as he watched Jake wipe a soft tear from his eye. Shaking off his emotions.

“I don’t wanna intrude—“

“Jake? Shut the fuck up and get your ass over for a few drinks tonight? I’ll text Y/n when she goes on her break at twelve.”

“You sure?” Jake replied, he was getting pretty lonely on the naval base. Having a home on the confines of the Navy’s barracks.

“I’m positive— look I’m gonna go say morning to Angelo down in the armoury but I’ll be back soon.” Rooster stood up from his desk and tapped Jake on the shoulder on his way past. A teasing smirk plastered on his face.

“I bet your right arms fucking jacked up though?” Rooster laughed as he walked away. Jake swatted at the semi-stable six foot man just a little too late as he walked down the hall.”

“Fuck off Bradshaw.”

***~***~***~***~***~

The first few hours of your shift were as normal and routine as they could possibly have been. Dealing with clients, setting up loans and repayments, laughing with co-workers, you really did love your job. Dealing with numbers and helping people with their financial problems and situations was a passion, it never really felt like just a nine to five to get by.

But there was this one guy. This guy you had noticed probably half an hour prior, sitting in the same spot he’d been sitting in the first time you had seen him. With his bag beside him—he looked all kinds of nervous.

You were just about to go on your break, about to fix yours and Rooster ’s phone bill up. You should’ve walked straight out the door. But you didn’t.

“Are you being served, sir?” You asked politely with a smile. The same smile you’d give Rooster when he kissed your cheek. Almost a second nature tick. “If not, would I be happy to assist you? Sorry about the inconvenience if you’ve been waiting an awful while.”

“No, no one ever listens to me.” He scoffed. It wasn’t a response you were really prepared for.

“Oh, I’m sorry sir? We’re you looking for a consultation or a financial advisor or—“

“I SAID—“ The man got up, startling you as he towered over you—so close you had to back up. The bank stopped as if time stood still. “NO ONE FUCKING LISTENS!!” The man pulled out a gun he’d had concealed from his back pocket as he tangled his fingers into your hair. Pulling you close to him.

“Owww—s-stop oh my god—“ You were panicking, your eyes instantly welled with fear as he threw you down to the ground. You could hear people screaming and running as the disgruntled man fired three direct shots into the roof.

“But they’ll FUCKING LISTEN NOW!!”

***~***~***~***~***~

Jake was still at his desk when he was called to the debriefing room, his initial thought was ‘great, another case’ Not understanding that in a few short minutes his life and the life his best friend had known was about to change. Forever.

“Director Gordon.” Jake greeted the masculine man who looked as if he was about to give a debriefing that was as serious as it gets. Jake walked down the stairs cautiously and stood next to Rooster who was already waiting with Angelo.

“Do you know what’s going on?” Jake asked—crossing his arms across his chest in confusion.

“No idea seems serious though, while I was shooting targets I saw the guys pulling up in the vans. Next thing I knew—“

“Okay ladies,” Director Gordon clapped his hands together as he fixed his microphone, making sure his deep baritone voice could be heard from the front all the way to the back of the amphitheatre-style room. “We have a major situation, unfortunately, unfolding as we speak, so to get out as quickly as possible I need your undivided attention.” Director Gordon sighed. Hands on either side on the podium he stood behind.

“Ex-Navy lieutenant Jonathan Walker has, at 12:05 today, started a hostage like situation in the Bank on the corner of Wilson Road and Downmary Avenue.” Rooster wasn’t a pro at geography, but it didn’t take an expert geographer to know where his fiancée worked—he felt as if his heart stopped beating in his chest and threatened to explode all at once. He forgot how to breathe. Suddenly Rooster heard this high-pitched ringing in his ears as he felt his heart race. Rooster was panicking.

“We can neither confirm or deny at this point in time if his actions are related to his recent dismissal on the basis of physical abuse onboard his last deployment, nor can we say at this moment in time if his actions are directly related to his recent attempt, and rejection, in relation to a job he tried to procure at this very bank. What we can confirm is that the NCIS is actively partaking and in charge of operations to defuse the situation in cooperation with the FBI.” Director Gordon stated. “This is the official media report I’d like you all to memorise in case of media interference.”

Rooster went pale, he stumbled a bit and crashed into Jake's shoulder. His vision had gone blurry with tears that threatened to spill over from his water line.

“Bradshaw, you good? Why do you look as if you’re about to pass out—?” Jake asked quietly and with concern.

“Y/n—she, she works there.” It clicked instantly for Jake—but he didn’t want to worry his partner. Didn’t want him to spiral. Especially not in a debriefing.

“I’m sure she’s fine? 12:05? She’s on break, right? She’s probably out of the building?” Jakes words soothed Rooster for a second. His heartbeat regulated as calm washed over his body. You had to be fine. Fate wouldn’t do that to him. To his darling fiancée. To them. Not after losing his parents. Whatever god was watching over him wouldn’t do this to him again would he?

“We’ll have snipers set up in the surrounding building including senior chief Bradshaw, we request your expert skills on the ground this time around instead of giving orders to your team from headquarters.” Director Gordon explained. “We want men surrounding the entire building— Special agent Bradshaw will lead ground unit A in addition to special agent Homes with ground unit B.” Rooster felt as if he wasn’t in his own body. He was looking in on himself from the outside.

When everybody was dismissed and sent on their way to gear up, Rooster was distant. In his own head, hoping, praying his girl wasn’t, hadn’t been in the building at the time Walker decided to have his breakdown.

“Yo Rooster!” Jake cried out, trying to get his wingman’s attention. “Rooster !” He called again.

“Hmm?” Rooster responded when he felt a hand on his shoulder.

“Director wants you— said it was of importance.” Jake softened his voice, knowing that the reality of the situation was his what felt like a sister in law quite possibly could be on the list of hostages. Rooster nodded softly as he stepped aside—director Gordon approached the van Rooster and Jake found themselves nearest to.

“Bradley” Gordon sighed. “Your fiancées' name please?” It came out more of an order than anything else.

“Y/n sir, Y/n Y/l/n,” Rooster responded softly, but like a soldier, shakingly.

“I thought so—unfortunately son your fiancée's name has shown up on the list of people being held inside the bank no—“

“Jesus,” Jake swore under his breath even though he had a gut feeling deep down.

“No—no, no no no no she can’t be sir, no I—“ Rooster ’s eyes watered when director Gordon placed his hand on his shoulder trying his best to comfort the man who needed to keep his shit together.

“Bradley, I need you to focus on your job, yeah? You gotta get your girl and me taking you off this case isn’t what will help her now is it?” Gordon raised his brows as Rooster looked to the roof and let out a sigh - stopping himself from crying out in utter heartache. “I will relay any and all information that comes through to you alright? I promise.” Rooster nodded. “We’ll get her back, Bradshaw.” Gordon poked Rooster ’s chest. “You’ll get your girl.”

***~***~***~***~***~

You sat curled up in the corner—shivering from fear. Terrified beyond belief as this man you knew for not even a millisecond of time now held the power to save lives and take them away. A modern-day grim reaper.

“You’ll all be lucky if you leave here alive,” He spat as he trudged through the lobby - scared souls spread out in littered groups. Huddling together in fears of being alone in their final moments. You, however? You were alone. Separated from her co-workers.

“You all know NOTHING of betrayal!!“ Walker hissed as he cocked his rifle. “Pain, Hurt, Sorrow. God, I’ll blow this place to FUCKING smithereens before I ever feel rejection again! DO YOU HEAR ME!” Walker shouted caused you to jump, whimpering in the corner as you cried your eyes out.

“Ohhh— do I scare you, sweetheart, do I? Huh?” Walker laughed as he sauntered over to where you had hidden. Dragging you out into the centre of the lobby by your hair. A frightening moment. Flailing – you screamed and cried in so much fear, consuming your entire being.

“Stop! No—no no no p-please let go!”

“I’m gonna hurt you,” Walker chuckled. “Hurt you so bad, make an example out of you that the fucking higher-ups can’t boss us the fuck around and not feel the consequences.”

“Whatever you’re going through you don’t have to do this— you don’t, don’t have to—“. It didn’t hurt at first, the sound ringing in your ear was honestly the thing that got you the most in the first few seconds. Then came the pain. The excruciating, stinging, wet pain that radiated through your shoulder. You could only assume you’d been shot— in shock you were silent. Your hand came up to cover over the wound that leaked dark oozing blood. Your hand was covered in seconds.

“Don’t tell me what to fucking do or I’ll shoot you right between your fucking eyes— WHOS NEXT!? huh? You!” Walker pointed to one of your co-workers. The barrel of his gun in her face.

“Get me a fucking phone.”

***~***~***~***~***~

Rooster trembled as he walked up the stairs in the Westpack building, adjacent to where his beautiful soon to be wife and 15 of your co-workers were being held hostage. At this moment in time, there had been no reports of hostages injured. The first of many unreported events to happen that day. Rooster was at this moment in time - oblivious to the injury you had been subjected to. If he knew? He’d lose it.

Rooster set himself up, his sniper rifle-armed and loaded, directly facing the bank. Laying on his stomach— Rooster adjusted his earpiece, looking through his magnifier with one eye closed. Manoeuvring his rifle slowly to identify possible hostages, trying to find his beloved fiancée, while also looking for his target.

“Foxtrot in position.” Rooster stated. “Loaded and waiting for further instruction— over.”

“Yeah Roos, it's Jake man, cut the lingo for a second, will you?” Jake groaned from the ground. “Reports have just come in that he’s wearing a dead man’s switch.” Rooster’s heart froze—Walker wearing a bomb meant if Rooster took the shot he’d for sure kill every single person in the building.

“It’s gotta be a bluff” Rooster responded strong. “He wouldn’t be?” He was in total and utter denial.

“Rooster, we can’t take that fucking risk bro stand down!” Jake ordered. Although Rooster was chief in his specific unit—Jake had all eyes and ears on the ground. Rooster himself? Was isolated in the building across the street.

“Director Gordon, do you read?” Rooster sighed as he switched channels from his walkie.

“Lieutenant Bradshaw, you have eyes on Walker?” Gordon asked as he watched news reports play on the enormous screen before him. It was a tactic the director didn’t use all too often but referring to Rooster as Lieutenant Bradshaw kept him grounded. Taking him back to when life and death decisions were paper thin. When G forces and jet fuel were his life.

“No sir not yet, however—“

“You are to only observe if the target walks into frame, that man is wearing an explosive device according to his threats and intent.” Rooster wasn’t going to argue then and there on the spot —he’d wait till later. His heart was racing as he searched each available window for any sign of life.

“I need an update Director,” Rooster growled.

“Walker has made demands we can’t possibly fulfil, we have a standoff situation taking place but until we can confirm or deny the presence of an explosive device I ask you to remain in an observatory state marksman Bradshaw .”

Time stood still for Rooster as a soft tear rolled down his cheek, he let out a sigh of pain and despair as Rooster nodded in response. Knowing his silence was a good enough response.

“Yes sir.” He whimpered as his lip quivered. His beautiful fiancée so desperately needed him and all he could do was watch—not knowing your current state. Rooster wouldn’t even come close to knowing for another five painstaking hours.

***~***~***~***~***~

“Rebecca.” You whispered as you leaned your head on her co-workers shoulder. “Becca you gotta get out of here— see the side door behind us?” You asked as Rebecca slowly and shakingly turned—nodding as she saw it was slightly ajar. “I’m gonna distract him and-“ You couldn’t help but cough a little as pain radiated through your bloodied and mangled shoulder as you did so. “And you’re gonna run, tell the police he doesn’t have a bomb, tell them everything he’s done, okay? You have to.” You knew that the police outside would be trying to confirm if there was a threat of a bomb.

“Y/n, you’re injured—“

“I’d never forgive myself if I didn’t try.” You slowly pulled a positive pregnancy test from your pocket. You’d taken it in the bathroom before you started work. Zipping it in your skirt pocket to show Rooster later that day. “You have to help me by getting out of here, get as many girls to follow you? Understand?” Rebecca nodded as she softly whimpered. Walker was over on the other side of the lobby making one of the cashiers empty any and all of the tills at the foreign exchange units.

“Go, hurry!” You whisper-shouted as you slowly stood. Rebecca shuffled on her ass across the floor away from you as you whimpered in pain. Walker wasted no time in pointing his gun directly at you as you dropped the test you held in your hand to the ground as you raised her hands above your head. An agonising scream left your throat as your shoulder popped. The sound of your pain was loud enough to cover the sound of Rebecca fleeing through the side door—along with two others.

“I—I need something to stop m-myself f-from bleeding out?” You whimpered as you walked slowly but ultimately closer to the man. You were beyond terrified. Nothing about this made sense, why you? Why these people at this mundane time. Why was any of this happening?

“Get the FUCK back against the wall before— hey wait a minute where?” Oh no you thought. He’d noticed. “Where the FUCK did the rest of those girls go!! YOU SNEAKY LITTLE BITCH” Walker yelled as he pointed his gun and fired a bullet into your thigh only to turn around and fire two direct rounds into the skull of your co-worker John who was emptying the tills.

“AAAHH—!” You screamed as you dropped to the floor—another one of your co-workers Andrea rushed to your side.

“Oh god oh god oh god oh god,” She repeated in panic as she held you in her lap. She knew it was bad— seeing the positive pregnancy test on the ground before Walker picked it up and chucked it at the nearest wall. Andrea was a good person, she put her own life on the line so you wouldn’t be alone in your final moments if the god she so desperately prayed to took another young life too soon. “I’m here Y/n I’m here.”

It would inevitably be Homes who started a chain reaction of misplaced information that fateful day. As Rebecca rounded the corner into the street she ran with her hands above her head and tears streaming down her cheeks. It was a bittersweet moment. On one hand, she was safe, on the other her co-workers, including a just revealed to be pregnant you, were still trapped in a life threatening situation.

“Ma’am,” Homes gasped. “Ma’am you’re safe now I’m—“

“He doesn’t hav-have a bomb, do wh-whatever you need to d-do with that information to get my friends the fuck out of there!” Rebecca cried before she fell into the arms of David Homes.

But Homes never passed the message on, a hostage who had just fled the clutches of a captor had given grade A evidence to an agent she trusted—for some reason or another, Homes didn’t find that message to be of importance. Which meant when Rooster locked eyes on his target from across the street when he had him in his sight. A perfect shot. Rooster was denied his shot.

“DIRECTOR!”

“There has been no threat of life Chief Sargent Bradshaw , STAND DOWN!” Director Gordon hissed. “We don’t have confirmation as to whether or not he is wearing—“

“No threat of life? Sir! He has my fiancée held fucking hostage and you’re going to sit behind a screen and tell ME there’s no threat of life!!?”

“Stand down Bradshaw ! That is an ORDER!!” Rooster hovered—his finger grazed the trigger. You could see the little red dot lighting up Walker’s head. It was him. You knew it. It was your Rooster. You noticed the small naval badges on Walker's backpack a few hours prior. You knew Rooster would be near. A painfully peaceful moment. Comforting.

As time lingered you wounded why Rooster didn’t take his shot. It was perfect. Dead centre in fact—you smiled because he was your marksman. But all of a sudden, the little red dot disappeared. A soft “no” escaped your lips in utter disbelief.

Did Rooster truly not want your baby that much he was willing to allow some crazed guy to take your life. Maybe you were delusional? The same hormones which made you spew your guts up this morning making you think such horrible thoughts. Maybe you were right though? Maybe Rooster wasn’t coming for you? Maybe he didn’t care anymore. He didn’t say he loved you this morning. Didn’t kiss you goodbye. Maybe that was your sign? That nobody was coming to rescue you.

Maybe you’d die alone? Maybe you’d die at the hands of evil. Maybe your number truly had been up.

***~***~***~***~***~

Five hours. Five hours Rooster was told to wait for new information. He was losing his mind not knowing. The thought of never seeing the woman he wanted to marry ever again haunted him. His girl. He’d known you since he was your next-door neighbour. At first? Things didn’t work out—you know, the typical new neighbour who doesn’t exactly get off on the right foot situation. Who seemed to not give a shit? But when Rooster actually started trying, you knew he was your end game. Rooster was adamant since the first time he’d laid eyes on you that he wanted you forever. He’d never felt love like this before. He had one shot at love, and you were it.

Being in the unknown petrified Rooster, for all his training was worth he wanted to throw it all out the window if it meant he could have you back safe in his arms— to see you smile, to hear you laugh, to tell you he loved you endlessly and wholeheartedly because he didn’t this morning. He didn’t tell you he loved you and now he may not ever see you again. How cruel was the world? Rooster was no stranger to death—sometimes he himself played the same grim reaper who threatened you as he laid looking through a magnifier for a target he can’t shoot. Contemplating leaving his post, leaving it all behind to save his girl his way.

“Director Gordon? Sir, I wasn’t aware you’d be joining us on the ground?” Rooster heard Jake talk through his ear piece.

“Well Seresin, after five hours of practically twiddling my thumbs and playing yes sir no sir with a very frustrated Marksman I’ve come to the conclusion something just doesn’t seem right.” The Director huffed. “Where’s Homes and his team?”

“Observing the side section of the building—they’re still working on evacuating the west side of the building in case of an explosion.” Jake replied. The director sighed.

“Follow me, son, I fear I’ve made a great flaw in my judgement entrusting special agent Homes with such a responsibility—man can’t even tie a damn tie.” Jake chuckled slightly at Director Gordon as they walked. The old man still had humour riddled through his sixty five year old bones after all. He was old for his job but in tip-top shape. Not a day over 40 he looked.

Rooster laid listening, his skin crawled with anticipation. Jake might have known he was online or not— but Rooster was glad to be a part of something. He felt so isolated up in his nest.

“Homes! What I’m earth is going on?” Director Gordon screeched when he rounded the corner to see those who looked like former hostages sitting with blankets around them.

“Jesus!” Jake gasped. “Why the fuck would you not radio in!”

“We’ve been evacuating the surrounding buildings in case of an explosion! I couldn’t do two things at once?” It was truly a poor excuse. “You try pulling your thumb out of a day Seresin instead of playing desk jockey.”

“If—if you had listened, I said he—he didn’t have a bomb and If you had wanted to help us you would have listened when I said there are people hurt and dead inside!!” Rebecca hissed—her eyes not trained on anything but the ground. She’d suffer from ongoing PTSD like symptoms for her entire life going onwards. “My friend, Y/n” Rooster’s heart stung at the sound of your name. “She was already bleeding to death when she told me to get out and her efforts to get help have gone unnoticed by your poor knowledge of how to operate a functional team.”

Rooster screamed in pain into his microphone, altering Jake to the fact he was online and on Rooster’s channel.

“Bradshaw knows.” Jake looked at his director as he held his earwig—Jake didn’t ask, he already knew the orders which needed to be given. “Rooster, listen, can you see walker?”

Rooster didn’t answer, his heart hurt, he himself felt as if he was dying. The pain of losing his girl was too much to handle. Jake could hear him crying out for you. It broke his heart to hear.

“Rooster, do you copy? Do you see Walker?” Jake yelled still holding his earpiece into his ear.

“NO!” Rooster yelled back through a croaky voice. “I had him, Hangman, I could have fucking shot him five hours ago! She’s dead, isn’t she? SHE’S GONE!?”

“Rooster you gotta get yourself together and find him and the second you do? Put as many fucking rounds as possible in this son of a bitch, Do you copy senior chief Bradshaw.” Only Jake, his best friend, his partner, his wingman and brother, could pull Rooster from the edge of despair and remind Rooster who he was. He was the love of your life. “She needs you, no do you fucking copy!?”

“I c-copy” Rooster cried as he repositioned himself. Moving his gun slowly in hopes of seeing Walker again. “I copy Hangman—“

***~***~***~***~***~

“Why do people do the things they do agent Seresin?” Rebecca asked Jake as he helped her over to the nearest awaiting ambulance.

“I think people do the things they do out of fear—Walkers scared of the unknown, but it doesn’t make it right.” Jake replied.

“You know Y/n?” Rebecca asked as Jake gestured for her to sit on the stretcher—a medic immediately attending to her split eyebrow.

“She’s my soon to be sister in law actually.” Jake softly smiled, he’d known you for as long as Rooster himself did. Having helped Rooster move into his new apartment and having a conversation with you in the lobby when he dropped a box of his clothes.

“She was your soon-to-be sister-in-law agent Wilson” Rebecca sighed as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Was.”

As Jake walked back towards the bank he could hear his name being called what sounded like a thousand times over, getting closer and closer with every single second.

“Jake! Hey Jake! Hangman—Seresin!!” Rooster shouted as he ran as fast as he could—sweat dripped from his forehead.

“What the fuck Rooster!? What are you—?”

“I couldn’t stay up there for another fucking second knowing she needs me, give me a fucking gun before I lose my god damn mind!” Rooster pleaded. Jake only just then realised just how red and blotchy Rooster’s face truly was. He was a mess. Had been since the moment he heard the name of the location nearly seven hours ago.

Jake saw Director Gordon as Rooster heard him load his own handgun gun. Handing it to Rooster as he turned around.

“Son if you truly wanna play the game you gotta learn how to be clever.” Gordon sighed as Rooster took the gun. “But if you really wanna get your girl you gotta break the rules—your best bet is this side door, it’s still ajar slightly.”

“Rush him?” Jake asked.

“I gotta get her outta there Jake she needs me.” Rooster cocked the gun he’s recently been given. “be on my left.”

***~***~***~***~***~

“This is the NSIS Walker disengage your weapons, or we will shoot to kill!” Rooster yelled as he prepared himself to raid the bank, full-body armour on – Jake too along with twenty other agents, including the FBI. “Walker!!?” Rooster wasn’t a killer, if he could fire a shot to injure and disarm, he would take it 99.9999% of the time. However, this was personal.

You knew your fiancé’s voice – your heart swooned when you heard Bradley Bradshaw’s voice echo through the lobby.

“He’s here.” You smiled to yourself. You felt cold. You were so incredibly tired. Andrea held you close—she was covered in your blood. It was pure carnage within the lobby. It looked like a war zone, dark and filled with death.

“Oh, you only listen now huh?” Walker laughed maniacally. “Too FUCKING late!! You!” Walked hissed as he pointed to you, grabbing you by your hair. It felt too normal at this point.

“Leave her alone!” Andrea cried. “Haven’t you done enou—“ Walker didn’t give her a chance to cry. He knew he was done for - taking as many hostages as possible with him along the way. You cried out as walker's arm wrapped around your throat as your feet slipped along the floor, your body was giving out on life from pure and utter exhaustion. Choking as the cold metal of the end of Walker’s gun pressed harshly against your temple.

“Shoot me! Fucking shoot me I dare you, your bastards! I’ll take her FUCKING with me!!” Walker screamed hysterically. Enough was enough for Rooster as he burst the door open as Jake rushes in. Rooster fired straight past him—over Jake's shoulder.

Roosters had a unique skill set. He never missed. His ability was unparalleled. A clean shot directly between the eyes of the name who hurt his girl so badly. Turns out Walker was never good at counting his rounds.

As Rooster rushed towards you, you couldn’t stand another second, falling to your knees.

“Brad—“ You whispered as he slid on his knees and held you so tight Rooster thought you were going to pop. Crying aloud in nothing but heartbreak seeing his beautiful fiancée in so much pain. So hurt.

“I love you.” It was the first thing that came to mind when Rooster cupped your cheeks. Your eyes rolled into the back of your head as Rooster moved your hair from your face—the same face usually so full of happiness and love, cold to the touch and smeared with blood. Your lips were tinted a blue like colour. “I love you so much Y/n do you hear me? I love you, okay you gotta stay with me alright? You can do that for me, you won’t honey?” Rooster sobbed as tears ran down your cheek. Your eyes closed as you fell completely limp in your soon to be husband’s arms.

Rooster came for you. Your marksman. He loved you.

All your questions were answered as you slipped away— Rooster’s gut-wrenching pleas for you to stay were the last thing you heard.

“Don’t you do this to me baby don’t you fucking leave me here!! No—-!”

***~***~***~***~***~

It was like time stood still for Rooster as he rode in the ambulances alongside his girl. Jake had booked it to the nearest car he could find with sirens blasting as he followed.

You were a fighter, you still had your whole life ahead of you. You weren’t going so easily– you’d miss Rooster too much. You were fighting hard to stay on earth and live your life to the fullest. So was your darling baby.

“Rooster?” Jake whispered, trying not to startle Bradley too much. “She’s gonna be alright.”

“She died in my arms Jake, don’t give me falsified hope.” Rooster was tired, he was drained from all emotion and energy. He’s lost you, his girl, holding your white gold engagement ring between his fingers. The ambulance officer had asked him to remove your jewellery. Caked in blood it looked more like copper than white gold.

To say they rushed you into emergency surgery straight away was an understatement. Rooster had no chance to ask if he could say goodbye.

Unbeknownst to Rooster as he sat waiting covered in blood with Jake in the waiting room, you needed a lot of blood transfusions, you needed the bullets removed, and roughly one hundred and fifty stitches, a combination of internal dissolvable and external stitches. The bullet from your shoulder managed to hit at just the right angle—causing minimal damage. The team of doctors who worked around the clock to save your life popped it back in.

The bullet in your thigh missed your artery by 3mm, it took doctors and nurses about twenty minutes to pull the bullet out due to the fact they didn't want to graze it against your femur. It’s a routine check for pregnancy in women which made it extremely complicated and even more of a high-risk surgery and highly complicated when your heart started to fail.

Practising CPR wasn't an option when it came to saving your life due to your shoulder wound, in between doctors stitching you up and connecting you to life support there were nurses using a defibrillator on you just trying to keep your failing heart into a rhythm again. Soon enough though? After a slight panic thinking they might actually lose you? they got you stable, stitched up—doctors took the calm to ramp up the blood transfusions. Pumping you with much needed red blood cells your body so desperately craved.

As your heart steadied towards the end of surgery —doctors were able to eliminate the use of life support. A paediatric nurse stepping in to review your file to check the baby's health once you found yourself out of surgery.

Meanwhile, back in the waiting room, Jake sat on the ground next to Rooster. On a particularly busy night, both boys got up to let a pregnant woman sit down. Rooster went completely numb seeing her, feeling like he was never going to get that life with his beautiful girl—his darling fiancée.

“Mr Bradshaw? Would you like to follow me please?” A lady cooed, both Rooster and Jake following her into a private room.

“How’s my fiancée?” Rooster asked softly, drained from waiting.

“There were complications during surgery from the blood loss, they put her on life support to finish up the stitches, a little tricky, but both of them are fightin strong.” she smiled.

Both Rooster and Jake went into shock, staring at her back as she walked out like she'd grown another head before turning to look at each other still just as confused.

“D-did... did she just say both?' Rooster stuttered.

“I think so.” Jake replied in the same confused, dazed and exhausted tone.

“But that means... no I’m sure I heard her wrong.” Rooster mumbled- the nurse returned again to say you were stable and would be out of surgery soon, Rooster was overcome with relief- deep down he knew you wouldn’t leave him in this cruel world alone - too relieved Rooster honestly forget to ask about her 'both' comment until a different nurse walked in - her scrubs were pink with tiny white flowers scattered across the fabric, unlike the plain blue scrubs of everyone else Rooster had seen that night.

“Hi. Bradley Bradshaw is it?' She asked the two of them, Rooster nodding his head frantically in response.

“Uh, Rooster.” The nurse only smiled in response. “Just Roosters fine.”

“I'm sure you've had a very long day, just thought I'd pop in to let you know your fiancée is going to be out of surgery in about ten minutes, and then she'll be in ICU recovery, we expect you'll be able to go in to be with her in about an hour or two after that, after three or four hours she'll be moved into here in the ICU ward, and I’ll be popping in a few times a day for check-ups until she's discharged from the hospital, and then she'll need to come in once or twice a week for probably one or two months, sound good?” The nurse in pink scrubs rambled on about the important update—but all Rooster could think about was her scrubs, and how he'd seen a nurse going to help the pregnant woman from the waiting area wearing the same ones.

“C-can I ask you why your scrubs aren’t blue?' Rooster asked, his heart racing with anticipation. He couldn’t be? Could he? You couldn’t be? Could you?

“Part of being a paediatric nurse, it’s meant to be a little less clinical for the kids, and for parents.” The nurse smiled brightly in response. It was clear she enjoyed her job position as she walked out of the room.

Within a millisecond though? Rooster once again broke down full-on sobbing, joy, sadness, happiness. Pride, excitement, anger, hurt, all the emotions of the rainbow flooding his exhausted and overwhelmed body because his girl, his beautiful darling fiancée who needed him so much was being held together by a thread in surgery, not only fighting for yourself but your baby too.

***~***~***~***~***~

From the moment Rooster was allowed to be by your bedside, he didn’t leave for a second. He couldn’t take his eyes off your stomach, watching it rise and fall with every breath you took. The only other time he looked away was to check your face– watching your eyelids flutter as you slept. You deserved to rest.

Rooster held your hand tight, afraid if he let go it would all be a dream—slipping your cleaned engaged ring back on your finger, being ever so careful not to move your arm as your shoulder was still tender. Stitched and patched.

“You and I are gonna have a series talk about when you should be taking your lunch breaks bub—“ Rooster joked to himself trying to find a little humour in such a morbid and dark situation. “But dammit Y/n I thought I lost you, god I feel like I’ve been to hell and back today but to see you safe I’d do it again, so just please come back to me.” Rooster whispered. He was talking to himself more than anything.

But you twitched softly—your eyes slowly opening as you tried to say a groggy “hi”

“Hi, my beautiful girl, I’m right here, don’t move too much, okay you’ll be in a lot of pain.” Rooster cooed - watching your eyes land on your flowers by your bedside. Rooster promised he’d buy you flowers.

“Am I alive?” You asked softly, confused as to your whereabouts as Rooster cried softly as he squeezed your hand.

“You sure are honey—I got you, I got him, he won’t ever hurt you again— won’t hurt you both ever again.”

“My marksman huh? You never seem to miss.” You couldn’t help but tease as you left out a soft groan. Your shoulder throbbed as you went to rest your hand above Rooster’s, his hand resting gently on top of your stomach.

“Yeah, clearly mama, I never miss my target.”

#bradley bradshaw x reader #rooster bradshaw #bradley rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw imagine #bradley bradshaw fanfiction #bradley 'rooster' bradshaw #bradley bradshaw #jake hangman imagine #jake seresin imagine

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sapphire-writes · 10 months

Text

Thin Ice (modern!HOTD)

pairing: Aegon x Reader & Cregan Stark x Reader

summary: You travel home with Aegon for the funeral of his father.

rating: Mature (detailed warning below the cut)

series masterlist

previous chapter ~ Ch. 9: Mirrors ~ next chapter

warnings: language, descriptions of death/funerals, descriptions of cuticle picking, oral (m & f receiving, 69), p in v, fingering, spanking, general violence (sibling v. sibling)

word count: 4.9k

note: hope you enjoy this chapter! thanks for all the love so far!

dividers by @firefly-graphics

Aemond is freakishly punctual. You discover this when you make it through security and realize you’re two hours early for your flight. Aegon groans dramatically, pulling you towards a store to stock up on snacks while you wait.

Criston and Aemond seem unbothered, heading to camp out at the gate for the next couple of hours. After spending way too much money on snacks, and way too much time in the airport, your flight boards and you’re headed to the Targaryen home. Dragonstone.

You’d been there briefly once when you went home with Helaena last winter break. But that was short-lived as you left with the family to head north to their winter home. Aegon slept for most of the flight, his fingers laced through yours the entire time.

The drive back to the Targaryen home doesn’t take much time at all; Criston had left his car at the airport and sped out of the parking garage with surprising speed. Dragonstone was a pretty town, covered in a layer of powdery snow that had mostly melted to a gray slush on the streets.

The air was cold as you exited the warmth of the car when pulling up to the house. The last time you’d been here, it had been during the evening. But now, in the afternoon sun, the Targaryen family home stood in all its glory. A tall, brick mansion really, more so than a home. As you walk up the steps you keep your hand in Aegon’s until the front door opens and you pull your hand away.

Helaena runs out the front door to greet you, her hair like a silver cloud trailing behind her.

“You came with Egg,” Helaena says, crushing you in a hug.

You wonder for a moment if she knows if she senses it somehow, this thing between you and her brother, but then she continues speaking.

“Thank you for getting him here,” she murmurs against your shoulder, “It means a lot. To my mom.”

Your heart sinks and you nod.

“Of course, Hel,” you tell her.

She hugs each of her brothers, following Aemond into the house. You and Aegon trail behind a few feet. His eyes fall on your empty hand, his expression like that of a dog that’s been kicked. You reach for him once more.

“After,” you tell Aegon, squeezing his hand. He nods, understanding.

You'd spent the afternoon catching up with Helaena, trying not to wonder how Aegon is doing. He’d made himself scarce this evening, trying to give you as much space as possible to be with Helaena. But you missed him. Even under the same roof, you feel so far from him.

You’re getting ready for bed, brushing your teeth with Helaena in the rather large hallway bathroom. Double marble sinks, a full shower. Sometimes you forget just how loaded the Targareyns are.

Helaena finishes brushing her teeth, retreating to her room. As she leaves, Aegon pushes by her, joining you in the bathroom. His violet eyes meet yours in the mirror, a mischievous smile on his face.

“What are you doing?” you hissed.

“Brushing my teeth,” he answers, placing the toothbrush in his mouth.

You roll your eyes and continue brushing. Aegon reaches out his free hand, pinching the fabric of your pajama top between his thumb and forefinger. You raise an eyebrow at him, before spitting into the sink.

He tugs gently at your shirt, beckoning you closer.

“Come cuddle with me,” he murmurs, around his toothbrush, poking you in the side, “I miss you.”

You twist away from him, a giggle leaving your lips. Your chest warms with the knowledge that he’s missed you as much as you’ve been missing him.

“I can’t,” you tell him, as he rolls your eyes.

You wipe your mouth as he finishes brushing his teeth. After he spits he stands in front of you, smiling widely to show his handy work. You release a breathy laugh at his silly behavior, to which his eyes narrow playfully.

“Kiss goodnight?” Aegon asks, jutting out his lower lip. You decide to indulge him, placing a chaste kiss on his lips.

He hums, hands reaching for your hips, pulling him back against you to kiss you once more.

“Goodnight,” you giggle against his lips. Aegon kisses you again.

And again.

“Goodnight,” he murmurs against your lips, hand reaching to cup the back of your neck, still continuing to kiss you.

You somehow find the strength to pull yourself away from his intoxicating touch, even as he whines disapprovingly as you do so. You head back to Helaena’s room, a stupid grin plastered on your face as you enter. She’s laying in bed already, gaze locked on her ceiling.

You join her, laying beside her and mirroring her position. There are several glow-in-the-dark stars stuck on the ceiling, glowing faintly a greenish-yellow color. You start to count them, listening to the rise and fall of Helaena’s breath.

“I’m not sad,” she says suddenly, and you stop counting at thirteen.

“What do you mean?” you ask, rolling on your side to face her.

Helaena sighs and closes her eyes before she continues speaking.

“My dad and I weren’t that close. Not really. And…” she wets her lips, “He really only had one daughter.” Helaena’s eyes remain closed as she says it. You bring your hand to hold hers, squeezing it softly.

“You don’t have to say anything,” she tells you, a tear escaping her eye and rolling off her cheek, onto the pillow, “I just…I don’t know how I’m supposed to feel.”

“Fuck how you’re supposed to feel,” you tell her, “Whatever you feel, however you feel about this Hel is okay. There’s no wrong way.”

Helaena’s eyes flutter open and she turns her head to look at you. Her lavender eyes watch you a moment before she purses her lips and nods.

“I’m really glad you’re here,” she says softly.

“Me too,” you agree, returning her smile with one of your own. You squeeze her hand once more before letting go.

Helaena’s breathing grows heavy as you lie on your back once more, starting over with your counting of the stars on her ceiling.

You make it to 72 before you decide you really can’t sleep. Helaena snores beside you as you fiddle with your fingers before checking the time on your phone. Even with the brightness on the lowest setting it still feels too harsh on your eyes as you glance at the time.

1:37 am

Fuck.

You can hear muffled noises from around the house, down the hall. You doubt Alicent is getting any sleep. Apparently, a lot happens right after someone dies. It seems people have been in and out of the house all day speaking with Viserys’ widow.

It’s going to be a long night if you can’t sleep.

You rise from Helaena’s bed, letting the sheets fall as you quietly tip-toe out of her room. You close the door gently behind you as you head down the hall. You’ll just grab a glass of water, and then-

His voice. You clearly hear Aegon’s voice behind the fourth door you pass. It’s closed and you lean closer. It’s Aegon for sure. He’s cursing someone out, probably playing a video game or something. You knock gently on the door and his voice stops. You hear him shuffle around for a moment before the door opens, revealing a shirtless Aegon with gray sweats hanging low on his hips.

Aegon’s lips curl into a smile as he sees you, and he steps to the side, motioning for you to enter.

“This is your room?” you ask, stepping inside as he closes the door behind you.

Aegon nods, holding his arms open. It’s a nice room, decent sized with a large king-sized bed in the middle. It looks like Alicent took control of decorating- apart from several hockey posters the room is very not Aegon.

“It’s nice,” you tell him, smiling.

“You come to cuddle?” Aegon asks, walking toward you.

“Just for a little bit,” you warn him as he stands in front of you, “I can’t sleep.”

“I know the perfect thing for that,” he says like he’s discovered the cure for greyscale.

You laugh softly.

“I’m sure you do,” you tease as Aegon smiles pulling you in for a kiss.

He kisses you slowly and softly, building with intensity as he tilts his head. With a sigh, he slips his tongue into your mouth, the familiar cold of his tongue ring making you shiver. Aegon backs up, taking you with him as his knees hit the edge of the bed and he tumbles onto it.

Your hands tangle in his silver hair, nails scraping against the back of his neck. Aegon groans as you do that.

“You wanna play another game?” Aegon asks, kissing the tip of your nose.

“You know you sound like Jigsaw when you say that, right?” you tease, kissing him again. Aegon moves to kiss your collarbone, lips climbing up your neck.

“Wanna play a game?” Aegon says, imitating the Saw character. You burst into laughter, and Aegon places his hand over your mouth, shushing you.

“Shhh,” he says softly, though he’s in stitches as well.

You take a moment more before you’re okay enough to continue.

“What game?” you ask, anticipation curling in your belly.

“I want to see who can cum first,” Aegon says, keeping his voice low, “And whoever does, loses.”

Your heart pounds wildly in your chest. He always says these things so casually, like he has no idea it sends your pulse racing. Or maybe he does, maybe that’s why he likes doing it. His fingers are tracing a path down your side on the exposed flesh from your pajama top that has ridden up.

“Aegon,” you tell him sternly, “I don’t think that’s a good idea. Your family is here.”

“Makes it even more fun,” he tells you with a shrug as his fingers trace lazy patterns on your lower stomach, “Just stay quiet, baby.”

“That’s kinda difficult when you’re oooh,” you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut as his fingers drift below your waistband, stroking the front of your panties.

“Fuck you’re wet already,” Aegon muses, “I get you all excited, bunny?” His teeth find purchase on your earlobe as he says it and you buck your hips against his fingers. “I think you want to play.”

“Aegon,” you whimper, nails digging into his shoulder, dragging him closer to you.

“Say it,” Aegon encourages, fingers slipping underneath your panties and dragging slow circles over your clit.

Your lashes flutter and you meet his eyes, warmth flooding through you.

“I want to play,” you whine, as he sinks a finger into your tight heat, “Oh fuck.”

Aegon hums appreciatively, kissing the side of your neck as he steadily fingers you, curling his finger to stroke against your sweet spot.

“Give me one, and then we’ll play,” he says, adding a second finger inside you. Your jaw slacks and you spread your legs wider, bending your knees against the mattress allowing him more room to continue.

Your orgasm quickly builds, winding tighter in your belly until your pussy constricts his fingers, spasming into your release. Your legs tremble and Aegon removes his fingers slowly, bringing them to his mouth to lick clean.

“Fucking perfect,” he moans as you watch with wide eyes. Aegon grins before laying on his back. “Now get up here.”

Your face floods with warmth.

“What?” you ask.

“You’re gonna ride my face,” Aegon clarifies.

“Are-are you sure?” you manage to squeak. You’d done it a couple of times- guys loved 69’ing for some reason- but you were never the biggest fan when doing it with male partners. But for some reason, the thought of doing it with Aegon, and the temptation of his game, had your heart racing.

“Mhmm,” Aegon says, “Very sure. Desperate actually.” That makes you giggle. He always knows how to make you feel comfortable.

“Come up here, bunny, I’m getting impatient,” he teases and you remove your shorts and shirt. Aegon takes the time to remove his sweatpants and you get a glimpse of his full tattoo that runs down his ribs to his thigh.

You’ve only seen the top half before, so you find yourself staring for a moment, admiring the full body of the dragon, before Aegon whistles at you.

“Goddamn, bunny,” he says, eyes roaming your naked form.

You don’t make him wait any longer. You move to straddle his face, thighs on either side of his head as you lower your dripping pussy onto him. Just as his tongue spreads your folds, you wrap your hand around his hardened length, earning a moan from him.

Aegon truly has a beautiful cock. You’d never taken the time to appreciate it as much as you do right now. Long, thick, and pale except for the red tip that weeps with precum. There are several veins running down the shaft that you run your fingers along gently, causing Aegon to shiver. He’s girthier than anyone you’d been with previously.

Anticipation coils in your gut at the thought of sucking Aegon’s cock. You hadn’t done that yet. A moan leaves your lips as he drags his tongue to circle your clit before diving lower to tease at your entrance. You wet your lips, pumping him in your hand a few more times before lowering your lips to the tip.

You wrap your lips around his tip, letting your tongue flick out against his slit, cleaning off the precum that gathered there. The warm and salty taste coats your tongue and you hum appreciatively. Aegon hisses below you, you can feel his breath against your center. You hollow your cheeks, still just suckling at his tip. This awards you a deep groan from him and he lets his hand smack harshly against your right asscheek.

You yelp in surprise, popping your mouth off of his cock for a moment.

“You tease,” Aegon murmurs, before starting to fuck you with the warm, wet muscle of his tongue. You giggle, bringing your mouth to him once more.

You bob your head around him, taking more of him into your mouth, hollowing your cheeks, and trying to remember to breathe through your nose. Jesus, he’s big. You take what you can’t fit into your mouth into your hand as you move up and down along his shaft. Drool seeps down from your mouth, and you lube up your hand to join in your ministries.

“Fuck,” Aegon curses below you and you can’t help but smile. He digs his hands into your asscheeks, pressing you as close as he can to his eager mouth as he laps away, “Jesus bunny.”

Pride courses through you, and you move your hand to play with his balls. His hips jerk upwards at your touch as you fondly them carefully in tandem with the movement of your mouth.

“Okay shiiiit,” Aegon says breathily, “You’re trying to win, fuuuck.” You hum against him as he curses, hoping the vibrations drive him crazy. They seem to, as he releases another string of curses and brings his hand to help his mouth.

You moan as you feel his finger enter you, curling upwards against your sweet spot, stroking it with intense purpose. The bastard knows how to get what he wants. You try to keep up your rhythm, you have him right in the palm of your hand, but then he adds another finger, wraps his lips around your bud, and sucks and you tremble against him, grinding your pussy against his face as you fall apart.

“Fuck!” you quietly yell as your orgasm crashes over you and Aegon chuckles from below.

You pull yourself off of him, and he grabs your hips, pushing you onto your back and climbing on top of you. His smile is smug, and his chin is glistening with your slickness as he kisses you. You hold him close, kissing him desperately as he grinds against you, his cock wet and heavy against your thigh.

“You win,” you breathe, “What’s your prize?”

Aegon hums against your lips, reaching down to sling your leg over his shoulder, before guiding his cock to your entrance. Your lips part as he sinks in, stretching you out in the best way before bottoming out in your tight heat. Aegon presses his forehead against you, resting for a moment, not moving.

“You’re my prize,” he murmurs, pressing a soft kiss to your lips. Emotion swells in your chest at his words, and he rolls his hips against you. Sparks of pleasure dance through your abdomen, trickling down your legs and up your spine.

It’s slow and sweet, every roll of his hips carefully calculated like he’s trying to feel every inch of you. The pressure in your gut builds with every thrust and Aegon brushes some sweat from your forehead. You tremble, from pleasure and the emotions of lovemaking.

Lovemaking.

That’s what it feels like, as he looks into your eyes, as you hold his neck in one hand and claw at his lower back with the other. This feels like love. This feels like love. Your breathing turns to gasps as Aegon brings his hand between you, rubbing your clit.

“Aegon,” you whimper. I love you.

“I know baby,” he answers, but you don’t say anything except his name.

“Aegon,” you whimper again, fighting tears as he buries his face in your shoulder.

You slide your leg off of his shoulder, wrapping it around his waist, keeping him deep inside of you as you cum for the third time. Aegon’s hips stutter as he finds his release as well, staying inside you a moment more, kissing your lips again.

He lays on top of you, nearly crushing you not that you mind. You want him to never move, just stay on top of you like your own personal weighted blanket.

“Stay,” he murmurs, kissing your lips softly as he wraps his arms around you, holding your tightly against his chest, “Stay, just for a little bit.”

You should head back to Helaena’s room. It’s already too risky, hooking up with Aegon right down the hall from her. You’d pushed your luck already. You sigh contentedly, nuzzling against his chest.

“Just for a little bit,” you agree, eyelids fluttering shut.

“Egg, you need to get up and-”

Your eyes fly open and you sit up, coming face to face with Helaena who has just walked into Aegon’s room. Aegon sits up, getting tangled in the sheets, falling to the floor with a loud thump. You’d fallen asleep. Shit. Shitshitshit.

She’s already dressed for the funeral, wearing a black dress with buttons down the front and on the short sleeves. They shimmer in the light like the eyes of a spider. Her hair is pulled back, out of her face in a low ponytail at the base of her skull. Helaena’s eyes are wide, but there’s something behind them. A confirmation. Like she had a feeling but couldn’t put a finger on what it was.

“Wait,” you call, getting out of bed, leaving Aegon groaning from the floor. You chase after Helaena, “Hel-”

She turns to face you, lips firmly pressed together.

“No,” she says firmly, “No, not your fault.”

You shake your head.

“But it is-”

“No it's his,” she spits the words like venom, “This is what he does, Y/N.”

Tears fill your eyes.

“I know,” you tell her, “And I’m so sorry- but Hel, he’s chang-”

“Don’t,” she says, “Don’t worry, I’ll handle this.”

“Hel please,” you beg, reaching for her arm. She pulls away, not meeting your eyes. “Get dressed. The family is going first but Harwin will be around to drive you. He’ll be waiting out front.” She hurries away after that, walking down the hall and out of sight.

“Y/N?” Aegon calls from the doorway of his room. He’d thrown on sweats to make himself somewhat decent.

“Oh god,” you breathe, “Oh fuck what do I do?”

“It’s okay,” Aegon says, coming up and placing his arms around you, pulling you into a hug, “I’ll talk to her, it’ll be alright.”

Tears fall, beginning to drip onto his shoulder as he strokes the back of your head as you continue to cry. You can’t ruin your friendship with Helaena. But you can’t ruin your relationship with Aegon either. Is it even a relationship? Your mind drifts to the previous night but you shove away the thoughts as you push away from him.

“We have to get dressed,” you tell him, wiping your face, “I’ll see you there, okay?”

Aegon watches you carefully but nods. You press a kiss to his cheek before heading back to Helaena’s room, and shutting the door.

After getting ready, you watch out the window as the family gets into their cars, and a gentle rain begins.

The family rides in two black Cadillacs. Rhaenyra rides with Alicent, while Aegon, Helaena, Aemond, and Daeron ride separately with each other.

Helaena punches Aegon in the nose when the doors close.

“Ouch!” Aegon yells as Helaena continues raining fists upon her elder brother.

“You stupid, man-whore!” she yells, as Aemond grabs her forearms dragging her into the back seats of the car, “Couldn’t keep your sad dick away from her, could you?”

Aegon pinches the bridge of his nose, mouth open in a mixture of pain and shock. Aemond still holds a squirming Helaena as the door opens once more and Daeron slides in. His eyes are wide, a confused expression on his face.

“What happened?”

“Hel’s mental!” Aegon says, his voice coming out strained from his nose being blocked.

“She’s my best friend!” Helaena yells as the car begins to move. Cole is used to their antics and barely glances up to check on them in the rearview mirror. “My best friend Aegon. And I told you, I told you to leave her alone!”

“I know!” Aegon says, patting his nose. There’s no blood, luckily. “Fuck you could’ve broken my nose!”

“You asshole!” she yells, eyes wide, her voice shrill, “Why? Why did you sleep with her?”

“She knows?” Aemond asks, glancing at Aegon. Helaena’s head snaps toward him.

“You knew?” she asks, breathing heavily, eyebrows knitting together, “Wait, how do you know?”

Aemond, sensing he’s made a mistake, shuts his mouth.

“How do you know, Aemond?” Helaena repeats.

“I don’t know,” Aemond says quickly.

“Nice job genius,” Aegon says, shaking his head.

“Last night….wasn’t the first time?” Helaena asks. Aegon and Aemond share a look but say nothing.

Helaena punches Aemond on the shoulder, hard. He winces, letting out a yelp, and putting up his hands to defend himself.

“It wasn’t one time?? You didn’t tell me!?” Helaena accuses, as Daeron reaches back to stop her. Helaena glares at him, “Did you know too?”

“I don’t know what’s going on!” Daeron yells, “Stop hitting!”

“Assholes! All of you!” Helaena shouts, deciding to focus her anger on Aegon again.

She reaches for him, clawing at his arm as he pushes himself away, pressing against the window of the car. He swats at her hands, slapping them away from him, and begins to laugh, kicking his feet at her.

“I’m going to kill you!”

“Hel stop!”

The car comes to a harsh stop and Criston throws the car in park, leaning to look back at them.

“Alright enough!” he says, and the siblings stop quarreling, “Look….I know this is a hard day for you….but you can’t kill each other right now! Can you keep it together? For one afternoon?”

Four pairs of lilac eyes watch him. Criston sighs dramatically, knowing he’s asking for too much.

“He start-” Helaena begins.

“I don’t care,” Criston says, “Put it on pause. Please.”

Helaena lets out an annoyed huff, fixing her hair. Aegon sucks his teeth loudly before clicking his tongue, earning a glare from Aemond. Daeron still wears a confused expression on his face. Criston exits the car and opens the door for the siblings. Daeron pops out first, followed by Aemond.

As Aegon moves to exit next, Helaena grabs his shoulder stopping him. Aegon meets her eyes. They’ve often been referred to as twins, born almost exactly a year apart. Aegon never understood beyond that how they were alike- he always thought it was Aemond who Helaena shared that sibling connection with. But Alicent always insisted that it was Aegon and Helaena who were more alike than either cared to admit.

Helaena wears her fury unmasked, written all over her face. Perhaps that’s part of it. Aegon and Helaena cannot hide their emotions as Aemond or Daeron can. They feel and show everything deeply.

“You end things, and you end them today,” Helaena says solemnly.

“I can’t Hel,” Aegon says, his nose still aching. He hopes she doesn’t decide to punch him again, if she does she’ll definitely draw blood this time.

Helaena grimaces.

“Yes you can,” she tells him, “You can have any girl you want. Not her.”

“I only want her,” Aegon insists, “Hel I lo…I really care about her.”

“You’re going to hurt her. You are. It’s what you do,” she tells him.

People have said that to him before, but it never cuts as deep when they say it. But Alicent, or Helaena…their words have meaning. Aegon feels the cut of every word she speaks, slicing through him like he’s made of butter. It's physically painful and cracks his jaw to disguise the trembling of his lower lip.

“I’m not like that anymore,” Aegon says softly, “You know that.”

“I don’t trust you,” she hisses, “Not with her.”

“Tough shit,” he snaps and Helaena tilts her head, a warning look in her eye, “Look, I’m sorry Hel. I didn’t think this would happen, but it did. And she cares about me too.”

“Fuck off,” Helaena says loudly, “I know you. I know you.” She holds his gaze until Aegon forces himself to look away.

“Hel I’m sorry,” Aegon says softly, still not looking at her. He exits the car, turning to face her. “I really care about her. I’m not going to hurt her. And I know you don’t trust me, and I get it. You have every reason to but….” he trails off.

Helaena exits the car, and Criston holds an umbrella over the siblings as the rain picks up. She watches Aegon, watches as he struggles to find the words.

“Let’s go,” Helaena says softly. This is a conversation that needs to be saved for later.

She swallows her anger, takes her brother’s hand, and leads him into Sept.

Harwin drove you to the sept, where you stayed in the back with others attending the funeral. You kept your eyes on Helaena and Aegon but gave them their space. Thankfully, the rain had let up for the graveside service and the lowering of Viserys’ casket.

The air was cold as you stood to the side, pressing your hands deeper into the pockets of your coat. The family stands silently together, the tension palpable between Rhaenyra and her half-siblings.

Aegon sniffles, silent tears running down his cheeks. Helaena looks at him, eyes falling on his shaky hands. He’s picked his cuticles again, they’re red and raw like Alicent’s. Mother and son are mirrors of each other.

Aegon is Alicent’s twin in many ways. They share the same large eyes and soft jawline not afforded to her other children. Even their lips are the same, the cupid’s bow waiting to be kissed.

Alicent stands beside him, hands clasped in front of her inside a pair of silk black gloves. Aegon doesn’t hide his pain, he wears it like a badge of armor.

Helaena’s eyes flicker to where you stand, meeting yours for the first time this afternoon before she breaks from her family line to approach you. Alicent’s eyes follow her. You raise your gaze from the ground as she stands in front of you, her lavender eyes watery. She holds out her hand.

Your lower lip trembles, but you take it as she guides you to where her family stands. Brings you next to Aegon.

Replaces her hand with his.

You meet her eyes again, understanding. Helaena presses her lips in a tight smile, before shifting her gaze to her elder brother. Aegon is watching her, his lower lip quivering and fresh tears painting his cherubic cheeks. Helaena reaches up, brushing her thumb against his cheek and wiping away the tear. Aegon’s shoulders slack at her touch and she hugs him, pressing her face against his shoulder.

Aegon holds her tightly with one arm, still holding your hand with the other. Helaena whispers something to him you can’t make out, but you watch a smile twitch on the corner of his mouth as he nods at whatever she says.

You stand sandwiched between them for the rest of the service, and at some point, Helaena grabs your hand to hold as well.

note: screaming, crying, throwing up MY BABIES!!!

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nightmareworks · 8 months

Text

hi i have been Cooking lancer fic

Once again, we meet Union Auxiliary Pilot, (28th Voidcombat Division, Mercenary Wing Bravo,) ["Kingfishers",] Callsign- VI The Lovers. We meet Miss Allison Wax (she/her) [Her Body, a borrowed face]

And her Loverboy (he/him) [Stone Butch Death Machine]

(both art gotten from @skycrimedraws who NAILS IT EVERY TIME BABY)

"Hey boss man," The words fell out of her lips, halfway through (the next words were a question) when her CO interrupts with "I told you not to call me that." She stops. (She doesn't flinch, its not flinching.) [She kind of just needs to run through some maybes.] For just that moment, there's no one in the body in front of the CO. And then she starts again, words coming back out. "Alright, alright. CO, what's the job you got lined up for me and my Loverboy?" The CO gestured to the spare chair with a file, and Allison picked her way across the floor. (She walked on the tips of her toes, even in the sneakers.) [She walked with a gait to big for her body, like her legs were blades.] {She's En Pointe} She pulled out the chair and sat, crossing a leg across her lap and looking at the CO through her bangs. "The next mission shouldn't be for a while yet, Miss Wax." The CO's voice was always even, collected. That's why they were the CO. That's why they wore Union Grays and Allison wore what she always did. (Just put clothes on Her body) [What kind of clothes did She wear before Allison?] A thought dismissed with the disappointment of nearlight engines. "Really now, CO? How long are you gonna keep me up? More time in medbay?" The CO shakes their head, opening files, going through them. The work seems endless, running a Merc Lance. (But what's Alllison gotta worry about work?) [Gets to wound up, being in a ship conapt too long without her Loverboy.]

"So is it more time with the headmeds?" The CO looks up from the papers and gives that kind of pained smile as Allison snatches a file off the table to read. (One of the ones with the Mission Seal on it.) [Can't read Unionite Legalese for shit.] "No, Miss Wax, you're scheduled for wind-down, but you don't need to go see one of the after-action therapists- unless you feel the need of course." So she started paging through the mission file, going over the after action reports compiled from her Loverboy (From his eye, from his soul.) [The stars are beautiful at 2,000 kmph.] "So there's really no jobs, CO? Not even basic patrols? I get bored when I'm stuck down too long." The CO holds out their hand, and she returns the file. (She likes to feel like she earns her keep.) [That's just polite, for all the things Union offers.] "Miss Wax," the CO begins "I understand that talented pilots get odd without flight." That's the thing about Grays- they're willing to work with you more than they aren't. (Its not that Allison thought they were pushovers.) [Just the most reasonable kind of people, mostly.] I can organize testflights for you, if you see that there isn't more work for the technicians." There's what she wants to hear (But not quite).

"Work's good for me, CO. You wouldn't let a butterfly starve in a jar, would you?" The CO folds the file closed. (Her file.) [The one that says "Obvious signs of long-term Chronos exposure."] Doctors let you read files out this way. Its nice to know they care, at least. CO gives their answer. "Miss Wax, war's a failure and you're a contingency. Glory only comes with time. Take your mech out, call it a patrol if that helps, but my job is to make sure the mercenaries stay healthy and stay flying." There's more, Allison knows there's more, and she stops a moment. For that split second, she's not in Her body. Allison is watching Her sit there, in the chair, in Allison's clothes, across from the CO. (The look on their face is kind of worried.) [People still caught in their meat don't like being reminded of it's hold on them.] Allison picks a maybe, a series of words that seem right, and then the moment is over, and she's back in Her body. "So where are we headed, CO? You can at least let me prepare for the future."

"We're headed to Dawnline, Miss Wax. There'll be work aplenty for you in the Long Rim and beyond."

======

The cavalry technician looked up at the frame he was gonna work on. It was a custom job, one of the Lancers that the Aux had brought onboard when coming out of the Range. Long haul ships for Union do that sometimes, guard presence in exchange for amnesty and escape. Good people get trapped places. He just wasn't sure whoever flew this thing was the best kinda people. "Beautiful damn monster you are." The mechtech murmured under his breath, looking through a sheaf of printouts. Specs for the machine in front of him, an IPS-N Frame the pilot apparently fit together herself. He didn't, really trust the speed listed under its maximum output. That kind of speed would make someone grayout (The speed at which the blood of a human body begins to pool in the limbs, causing the pilot to lose consciousness). Redout even. [The point of g-force at which the brain is starved of blood, and dies.]

He looked up again at the machine and saw it was staring back at him, great singular eye tracking along its axis, to cast its baleful red upon him. He noted it, and looked back to his notes. Looking for if this thing had a casket it in, a C/C programmed to play tricks. The normal shit pilots pull on their technicians. He came up around the great black thing in its bay, and stared it in the eye from the gantry. It stared back, body making the clittering hiss of a mech at rest. (Mechanized Cavalry frames that are in regular usage are rarely quite things.) Coolant pumped through the entire frame, keeping the coldcore under wraps until it really needed to go. Fusion engines, power-reroutes designed along the Albatross style… where the verniers and thrusters aren't shaped for an RPV. (Remote Pilot Vehicles aren't uncommonly retrofitted for pilot use, he notes under his breath) [Under that red eye.] He eyes them again, as the giant thing keeps staring. There isn't any record of a computer smart enough to do anything of worth on this machine.

It was strictly Turning-Compliant, according to the CO's paperwork. That left the damages to repair. Bits of slagged armor along the leg-blades and shoulder plating. Nothing a few hours work with the rigs wouldn't fix. The mechtech flicked a few switches and brought the frame up to the light, to the arms that pulled and printed in smooth motions as his fingers danced across the keys. It was slower going than he thought. And the mech was making a noise. It was keening, a clatter-chatter at once both rumbling low and piercingly high. Something was wrong with the feedback from the mech-harness, reporting simple and blunt legionspace attacks. Best the cavalry technician could manage was to remove the offending plates before the assembly limbs gave up and stalled. That's when a hand touched his shoulder, and a voice rang in his ear. "My Loverboy doesn't know you, mechtech, but I do. Gimmie a minute to settle him down and you can get back to work."

The girl walks past him then, almost teeter-tottering as she glides across the floor on the tips of her shoes. She moves her legs wrong, picking her way as much as stepping. The cavalry tech looks at the mech's legs and puts together the kind of pilot he's dealing with. The kind that have gone in a direction past human, hunting for something else. (He'd never really known someone in full body prosthesis) [Was rare, in his neck of the galaxy.] She moves like her mech even as she steps off the gantry and onto its chest, placing hands against the grinning skull. Ever since she came in, the eye's been locked onto her alone. He worries and wonders what kind of monster he's got to work on now.

===

He screams for her, against the void, he tears away from the cling-gravity of the UNS-CV Paris (Like the commune, she offers) [Like lights, the therapist offers back.] But the past doesn't matter when the future is laid out in the bleeding world of 2000 kmph. She was safe from everything, safe from Gravity itself as she lay coiled in her Loverboy's guts, aching through Chronos haze and picking his flight path for him as a beautiful dance. She wanted him to run through his paces, and he was eager to please. To show her what he could do. How he was built for her. Like a butterfly flitting across a windless sky, like a shark dancing through a school of fish- Loverboy puts on a show for his girl.

She's spinning him a dance, putting the engine to its test. Her Loverboy screams for his girl as he dances, frame keening against the speed and void. (Allison watches Her legs twist against the seat.) [That's how she knew the engine was art] {State-of-the-art affection} She doesn't like to think about home. Not home anymore, and not worth thinking about. More Gravity shorn free from her under the speed. So what's it worth if its pulled away so easily? Home wasn't ever home, no matter how much anyone told Allison it was. What's where you're born compared to where you'll be? (What's the flesh you were born in but another place to be trapped in?) Allison feels her brain reel as Loverboy spins in a piroutte ascending. It doesn't spin in place, but it recognizes the forces working upon it as her Loverboy pulls into a rise. (The snap from horizontal to vertical would snap necks.) [But when you don't have Gravity, moving is easier.]

Verniers howl with force as Allison considers Her. (And the changes Allison had made to Her.) [Would She mind? Would She understand?] There are protective tendons, built from the same kind of whipcord steel that run through Loverboy. There are stabilization systems built into her braincase, that absorb and disperse the shock of sudden shifts of g-force. There's a dozen, a hundred little aftermarket touches to Her body that Allison has made. (But is it really that bad, when the body is aftermarket?) [When the body wasn't built for you.] Allison still watches Her, curled as Allison left Her. (Back curved gentle. Arms on knees, resting eyes against forearm.) [The clunky implants hooking Her to Loverboy peek their tubes from beneath Her shirt] She was still perfect. Still beautiful. Everything Allison had wanted to be back then. There She was, with Allison's brain in Her body, Allison's Loverboy hooked through feeds to Her back.

Allison reached in the stopped little flaring moments between directing Loverboy through his dance. They were all the same moment. Allison reached out, and cradled Her face, and said Her name. Something Allison couldn't ever know. (How was she supposed find Her? Long way from Ketherese.) [From everything from that life.] Everything but her Loverboy. He counts the micromovements of her eyes. His own whirrs and focuses, keening as the scopes hone in on a target and his body twists with his girl's desire. He counts the times she stops existing as a presence registered at the controls. He rolls over and considers in his clicking thoughts the ways he loves her. His adoration burns in him as retros flare and he lands blades first, touching against an asteroid with the grace of a butterfly upon a blossom. His thoughts turn and his computers chitter and churn. His whitewash tanks purge into rawmat resivors and a new batch is rapidly encoded, new chains of acids and code written by mute-drive, a silent organ buried deep in his frame, coiled round and through his girl.

The Hyperkinesis Module develops a novel admixture of nanites and adrenaline and feeds through the connection to Allison, filling her endocrine system with a soothing electricity synchronized to readouts and full reports of engine efficiencies, micrometeor grazes, and heat venting. (His body hisses for her, waste gas for heat disperial in null atmosphere environments) [He bares his heart to her, reactor dropping as he stretches against the asteroid.] Allison leans forward, the Chronos uptake stretching from her back and into the cockpit's back wall. (Little tubes running up to her spine and kidneys) [One of the other aftermarket touches to Her body.] Allison's face reaches through the holoscreen outputs of Loverboy's eye. She kisses the armored outer hull of her cockpit. (She stands to her toes.) And her Loverboy gently touches off the asteroid, into the void, gently floating in the empty place beyond Gravity.

Allison lowers her oxygen uptake, and rides the Chronos her Loverboy made for her. (She dreams like an editor.) [Looking at scenes and picking them.] A wash along the nervous system, stuttering climbing up her spinal column and into the brainstem. She dreams of Ketherese, and what was left behind. Consider the Gravity that's been shed. (In the embrace of her Loverboy.) [Memories are the only thing you can't shed.] Her grandfather's dirt is far from everything she'll ever see again. No one will see the frontiers she sees. (Allison will see things even She'll never see.) [Or maybe they'll see the same stars some day.] {Face-to-borrowed-face.}

No one she had ever known would see what she sees, know what she knows. (She'd shed them, like her old body.) [Like Gravity.]

#lancer oc #lancer rpg #lancer #Allison & Loverboy #they! are! deeply! in! Love!#also allison talks like a freak when she isn't in her own head #kinda love that for her #spacenoids man they're weird

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nolita-fairytale · 1 year

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call sign: tennessee whiskey | rooster x fem!reader & hangman x phoenix | chapter one

summary: phoenix has always wanted to set up her two best friends in the navy -- ones that have, for whatever reason, still never crossed paths. that's all about to change when you get called back to TOPGUN for a special mission.

warnings: enemies to lovers, slow burn, eventual smut, swearing, mentions of death, strong possibility of military inaccuracies, second person pov, no use of y/n,

wc: 4.2k

a/n: not me having the audacity to take a crack at a top gun: maverick fic. this is what happens when i watch tgm 7x in one week. a fic is born. and in my defense, this cast has so much damn chemistry how could i not?! this is a oneshot idea that turned into a series that's turned into a series and a sequel? oops. 10/10 recommend listening to the song tennessee whiskey by chris stapleton.

masterlist | the playlist | chapter two

She’s shocked but she knows better than to be surprised.

At least that’s what Phoenix reminds herself as she watches the heated interaction between Rooster and Hangman at the pool table. It can’t have been more than five minutes since Rooster’s arrival for the two of them to get into it. And the way he looked at her just a moment ago? With his smug, annoyingly handsome, overconfident face right before taking another dig at Rooster?

She hates it.

And she hates that it made her feel something.

She can’t put her finger on it: disgust, unadulterated rage, whatever the hell else would make you want to kiss and kill someone at the same time.

She exchanges unamused glances with Rooster once again, shaking her head in the beyond cocky fighter pilot.

“Well, he sure hasn’t changed,” she scoffs, watching as Hangman makes his way back to the jukebox to select another song.

“Nope. Sure hasn’t,” Rooster agrees with dismay.

“Check it out. More badges,” Payback says, turning his attention to the way of the new arrivals. “That’s Harvard, Yale, Omaha… shit that’s Fritz.”

“What kind of mission is this?” Fanboy asks, taking note as the best of the best continue to arrive at the Hard Deck tonight.

As Phoenix asks the question everyone is wondering – who the hell the US Navy plans to teach the top 1% of fighter pilots – she notices Rooster’s disappeared from the conversation around the pool table. It doesn’t take long before someone’s cut the power to the jukebox causing a collective groan to ring out within the four walls of the Hard Deck.

A smile creeps across Phoenix’s face as she knows exactly where Rooster’s gone. The sound of a few riffs on the piano being played catch her attention, and she excuses herself from the pool table. She joins her good friend she met at flight school, in all of his Hawaiin shirt-clad glory.

“You missed me, Trace?” Rooster says, stealing a glance from the side of his old friend.

“Not even a little bit,” she teases him in return.

But Rooster understands.

What she means is ‘yes I have,’ and ��you could’ve called.’

The commotion of Maverick being thrown out of the bar interrupts their brief reunion, and while Phoenix watches, Rooster occupies himself with the task at hand. His large aviators that cover his eyes make it easier to ignore the fact that the closest thing he’d ever had to a father figure had been called back to North Island too. His long fingers run over the keys of the barely-in-tune piano of the Hard Deck, unwilling to acknowledge the presence of the man. Instead, he charges forward, noticing how easy it is to slip into the familiar rhythm of being back at TOPGUN.

Outside of the bar, Jake’s having a little too much fun throwing the old aviator overboard with Payback and Coyote. As he heads back inside, he doesn’t join Payback and Fanboy at the piano with the rest of them, instead choosing to head to the bar for another round of beers. He leans back against the bar, watching as the whole bar seems wrapped in singing along to Rooster’s personal anthem. Hangman takes another swig of his beer amused by the sight.

He’s not sure why he’s so hesitant to join in on the fun but he doesn’t move – can’t let Rooster have this one. Hangman lets his gaze linger on Phoenix from a distance as she dances (in his opinion) a little too closely for his liking to Rooster.

He’ll never admit it, but he’s always been entranced by the woman he met at TOPGUN all those years ago at his graduation. She was a part of the incoming class, the one right behind his, and he’s not sure how, in the same damn khaki uniform as everyone else, she’s always looked this good.

Her eyes light up as someone or something across the room catches her attention, and she’s practically jumping up, sprinting across the Hard Deck and into the arms of another naval aviator.

And for the first time tonight, a genuine smile spreads across his lips.

He wondered when you’d show.

As soon as he got the call, you’d texted him immediately asking if he’d gotten the same request for this mysterious special op. Earlier, when he’d watched Harvard and Yale roll in with Halo, your WSO he knew your arrival was almost moments away. But you’d never been the most punctual when it came to your personal life, so he wasn’t surprised that you were running behind. Jake chuckles to himself thinking about all the trouble you used to get into at the academy for not being on time. Almost got you kicked out a few times too, if he recalls correctly.

It'd been too long since he’d seen you last, now that you were stationed at Lemoore. He loved teasing you about what a Californian you’d turned into, now that you’d been out of Texas.

“Gonna start callin’ you Phoenix if you spend any more time in California, kid,” he’d teased you during your last phone call, referencing the LA native you both admired.

But Jake’s almost forgotten about how close you are with Natasha – the three of you always circling around each other, never quite in the same place at the same time. He’s definitely forgotten (or at least tried to) the time you called him a lovesick idiot after he wouldn’t shut up about a certain fighter pilot he’d met during a certain deployment.

What could he say?

His first deployment with Phoenix had left… quite the impression on him… and you knew him well enough to call him out on it.

Of course, Phoenix had wanted nothing to do with him at the time. His usual tricks – that Southern Charm and perfectly symmetrical face – only seemed to repulse her even more and he had to admit that it made him like her even more.

“Whiskey!” she practically shouts, as Jake watches the two of you embrace.

“Sorry I’m late. I would’ve come earlier if I knew there was a singalong,” you smirk, taking in the sigh of the more than jovial crowd huddled around the piano. “But once I hit LA traffic. Shit. That’s what I get for leaving for wanting to take my own damn car.”

“Oh I think he’s just getting started,” she replies, nodding towards Rooster.

Before you can say anything else, before you can take a good look at the man behind the piano, Hangman’s cut your reunion-for-two short.

“Well, well. Look what the cat dragged in,” he croons, his Texas drawl prominent in the way he says each word.

“Hangman, you son of a bitch!” you squeal, meaning the last part in the most endearing way possible.

“Hey, kid,” he greets you with the biggest smile you’ve seen all day.

You immediately wrap your arms around his neck, jumping into his arms. Jake picks you up, spinning you around before setting you back down on the ground as you laugh. Your public display of affection earns a few looks your way, and Phoenix pretends to vomit on the floor in response.

You laugh again, “You think I’d get a free pass after putting up with this one for over ten years.”

“This… is something I’ll never understand,” Natasha replies, gesturing towards the space between the two of you.

“You jealous, Phoenix?” Hangman asks, a confidence behind his words.

Nat sends a snarky look his way before answering, dryly:

“Only in your dreams, Bagman.”

“You’re right about that,” he flirts shamelessly, giving her a wink.

“Oh gross!” you say with an eye roll. You playfully punch Jake in the chest, pushing him away from you and Natasha.

“Get your own friend. Besides, Nat and I have some catching up to do and I’m in need of a drink,” you continue, earning a groan from Jake.

“What? I can’t watch?” he smirks, earning another fake vomit from Phoenix.

“No, Bagman,” you tease, using the callsign you know Nat loves to demean him with. “We’re gonna talk shit about you.”

He shoots you a look, shaking his head at your snarky remark. He knows it’s out of love – at least from you. He concedes, tipping his beer towards you as a form of ‘cheers’ before taking a few steps away.

You and Nat exchange a laugh, before linking arms and heading towards the bar.

“I don’t know how you’ve put up with him for more than five minutes,” she remarks, searching for an available bartender.

“He’s not all that bad once you get past all the bullshit. And there’s a lot of it,” you reply honestly.

“No thanks,” Phoenix dismisses, before flagging down Penny.

You watch as she orders the two of you a round of beers and you can’t help but find it funny how quick she was to dismiss Jake. It’s true: you’ve always thought the two of them were more alike than they were different. Sure, Jake made questionable decisions on the daily. But even after all of these years, he still had more heart than anyone you’d met this side of the Mississippi.

“How was your trip?” you ask Phoenix, making small talk to start.

“It was alright. Came in a few days earlier to see some family in LA first,” she answers with a shrug.

“How’s your mom?” you ask, curiously.

And Phoenix answers, filling you in that her mom is doing much better than the last time you talked, and her brother and his wife are moving back to LA. You tell her that you’re finally getting used to California, while the two of you wonder about this top secret, special mission that you’ve all been called back to TOPGUN for.

“Oh! Speaking of the best of the best. Uh… my best friend is here,” she starts with a smile on her face.

“Excuse me. I thought… I was your best friend… at least in the Navy,” you tease her.

She rolls her eyes playfully, “No, I mean. Rooster. I’ve actually been wanting to introduce the two of you for years...”

Phoenix gestures towards the man behind the piano still going at it, and you move over to get a good look at him. He’s hot. You’ll give her that. And you’re not usually into the whole mustache thing but it somehow seems to make him even more attractive. His oversized aviators are hanging off his face as he pounds away at the keys of the piano and you can’t imagine what grown adult man would wear Hawaiin shirts by choice.

And yet, everything about him you’d normally find cringe-worthy in a man, he seems to pull off.

He knows it too.

There’s a group of girls gathered around the piano that are gossiping as they watch him riff on another instrumental song.

And boy is he eating it up: the attention, the praise, he knows he has the ears of everyone at the Hard Deck tonight.

“The piano player. From flight school?” you question, curiously, as you begin to connect the dots.

“Yeah!” she answers, her eyes lighting up at your immediate recognition. “Yeah that’s where we met. Reminds me of you, actually. Just the way we both clicked instantly… and you’ve both become life-long friends.”

You think back to your first deployment as a naval aviator. You and Phoenix were sent on a mission in Sarajevo and had become fast friends. At first, you wondered if you grew so close so quickly because you were the only women on that deployment, but you’d discovered over the years that your friendship with Nat was unique. While you’d usually expect a fast friendship to fizzle out, your relationship with Nat had only grown stronger over the years.

“Hm,” you sound in response, giving Rooster another lookover.

Nat’s other best friend.

Sure.

Nat’s hot other best friend.

“What’s with the porn ‘stache?” you ask, playfully.

She chuckles, “Long story for a different time.”

“C’mon! I’ll introduce you to everyone else,” Phoenix encourages you, grabbing your hand and practically dragging you over to the pool table with her.

“Gentleman,” she says cooly, greeting the uniform-clad men that surround the pool table.

“This is Whiskey,” she announces, introducing you. “Top of her class at TOPGUN and the only person on the planet that can get me to drink the worm at the bottom of a bottle of tequila.”

“Yo, I’ve heard about you,” Payback says, immediately recognizing your callsign.

“I could say the same about you, Payback,” you reply, and he’s surprised to see you already know his callsign. “Coyote, ‘s always a pleasure.”

“Yes, ma’am,” he nods to you.

“Wait. You two already know each other?” Payback asks, looking from you to Coyote.

“Texas,” you both answer at the same time, exchanging a smile.

“Us Texans gotta stick together. Especially at the top,” Coyote clarifies.

“I’m Fanboy. And this here is Harvard and Bob,” Fanboy says, finishing his introduction of at least the aviators engaged in the game at the time.

“It’s nice to meet you two,” you reply, looking from Fanboy to Harvard.

You notice that it seems like Rooster’s little performance has ended and the jukebox has been plugged back in. It doesn’t surprise you that Hangman’s slipped out, probably to cue up his own personal soundtrack for the night. Bob is busy lining up his pool cue, but you already know him from Lemoore. He and Fanboy continue their game, and you wonder where Halo snuck off to.

Bob shoots his shot, missing miserably with a sigh as the rest of the aviators cry out in supportive disappointment for him.

“Bob, ya really can’t do better than that, huh?” you hear the Southern drawl of Jake heading your way.

You and Phoenix exchange a look, knowing just how much Jake is going to enjoy picking on the little guy.

“Let me show you how it’s really done,” Jake smirks, snatching the pool cue out of Fanboy’s hands as he struts towards the pool table.

You decide that someone needs to humble him, and you know just how you’re going to do it.

“Easy there, Seresin,” you say, intercepting his gait. You stand your ground, right between him and the pool table, blocking his way.

Jake stops in his tracks, as you stand toe to toe with him, barely inches apart from each other in a battle of the egos. Coyote lets out a whistle and you can hear Phoenix and Bob snickering in the corner as they watch on.

“You see, I can’t let you do that because… it’s my turn, actually,” you challenge him, a rebellious look on your face. “So you’re just going to have to wait for yours.”

“Damn. You gonna let her talk to you like that, Hangman?” Coyote whistles, always amused by how willing you are to throw yourself in front of the moving bus that is Jake Seresin.

“Don’t let her fool you. Whiskey’s always been sweet on me. Ain't that right, kid?” he coos, his eyes never leaving yours.

“HA!” you hear Nat laugh loudly, as you raise your eyebrows up at Jake.

You don’t dare break eye contact. There’s no way in hell he’s winning this one.

He shoots you a look that says, ‘you really want to do this right now?’ and you shoot him a look that says, ‘you’re being a bully.’

“Bullshit. She’s got you by the balls, lieutenant,” Phoenix hollers.

“And he wouldn’t have it any other way,” you say, winking in her direction. You refocus your attention back on your best friend, pressing your lips together in a thin line “Besides, we all know that Hangman here has a soft spot for women who degrade him.”

You grab the pool cue out of his hand before bringing your opposite hand to tap him twice on the cheek, eliciting another round and whoops and hollers from the group of guys.

“Ain’t that right, Bagman?” you throw in, parroting his condescending phrase from earlier.

Jake shakes his head, knowing that you won this one as he watches you move around the pool table to set up your next shot. Bob watches on, impressed with the way you stood up to Hangman like that, especially in defense of himself.

“If nobody warned you, Bob, the ‘T’ in Texas stands for trouble,” Coyote remarks, nudging Bob as he settles in next to the WSO.

While you’re busy celebrating your win with Bob, Fanboy, and Phoenix, Rooster’s across the room, closing out his tab and grabbing his last beer of the night. He eyes you carefully. He’s never seen someone standup to Hangman like that, nor has he witnessed Hangman take it. He’s heard about you – remembered what Nat’s said over the years: that you were her other best friend, that you were one hell of a pilot, that he should stop making shitty decisions with women and just let her set the two of you up.

And after what he’s seen tonight? He’s intrigued.

You’re electric, and he’s impressed.

What he doesn’t remember is Nat ever mentioning that you knew Hangman – let alone this well. Were you and Hangman a thing? He can see a closeness between the two of you – a kind of intimacy he’s never seen Hangman have with anyone, despite the revolving door of women he seems to keep around whenever they’ve been deployed together. But it doesn’t make sense, because why the hell would Phoenix want to set him up with someone if she were Hangman’s girl?

Rooster makes his way over to the pool table after you and Hangman’s confrontation, his lips pressed to the top of the glass bottle.

Hangman’s hanging out on the edge of the group, flipping through something on his phone with his right hand and nursing a beer in his left.

He doesn’t want to sound too interested, but curiosity gets the best of him as he asks, “What was that all about?”

“What?” Jake shoots back, looking up from his smartphone.

“You and Whiskey…” Rooster says, trying not to sound too desperate for information.

But Hangman picks up on Rooster’s interest in his best friend immediately. He smirks, knowing that his relationship with you is just another thing he can use to get under Bradshaw’s skin.

“Spent a little time at the naval academy together, that’s all,” Hangman replies vaguely. When he’s met with silence, Jake knows that he’s got something here. He turns to his rival, scanning for a reaction on Rooster’s face.

“What? You interested?”

Instead of answering, Rooster just shakes his head, taking another swig of his beer. It doesn’t take long for Natasha to steal Rooster away so that she can introduce the two of you, her eyes glimmering with excitement and the gears turning in her head.

“Call it a rescue,” she mutters under breath as she drags him away from Hangman’s presence.

Much to Nat’s disappointment, the introduction isn’t much. Just an exchange of hellos, names and callsigns before Halo comes to find you for a catch up.

The rest of the night goes on, accompanied by Hangman’s pick of tunes, and it’s filled with old friends, catch ups, and a few more rounds of pool. It’s good to be back here. In a way it feels nostalgic, and anyone would be lying if they couldn’t admit that being selected to be a part of this mission was a huge boost for the ego. While it’s cool to have some Lemoore buddies with you, it’s good to see your old friends too – the ones you don’t get to see as often – like Jake. Like Phoenix. These are bonds forged in battle, and people you’d trust with your life.

It’s not till the end of the night that you realize that you may have had one too many, so you step out for some air. San Diego is perfect almost year round, you think, as you watch the waves crash against each other.

“You good? I saw you slip out,” you hear a voice say.

You’re surprised to find Rooster standing behind you, just outside of the entrance of the Hard Deck. You hadn’t gotten much time to meet him, despite Nat’s best efforts.

“Yeah, I just think I’ve had a little too much to drink. Wanted to get some air,” you reply with a small laugh. “Thanks though. For checking in.”

“Can’t have you gettin’ into any trouble. Nat would kill me,” he says, taking a few steps toward you.

This time, you fully turn towards him, resting your back against the railing, as he holds out a cup of water.

“Thought you might want a glass of water too.”

“You’re a good friend. At least that’s what Nat’s said about you,” you say with a smile, taking the glass of water he’s offered you.

“She said that?” he asks, only a little surprised.

You nod in response.

Rooster joins you, standing side by side, his back pressed against the railing, mirroring your body language.

There’s a long silence between the two of you as you drink your water. After a big night of friends old and new, it’s nice to have a moment of quiet too – the waves being the only sound between the two of you.

“So… you and Jake?” Rooster asks, interrupting your momentary shared silence.

“Oh!” you gasp, another laugh following.

You’re not sure if it’s the alcohol or the question that makes you feel a little warmer as you contemplate how to answer his question. Between your greeting upon arrival and your standoff at the pool table, you can imagine why Rooster would think that. You can’t blame him. The two of you get mistaken as a couple all the time, especially when you’re out and about in your civvies.

“No, there's-, there’s no me and Jake. I mean. We… met at the naval academy. He was two years ahead of me and kinda took me under his wing when he found out that I was a fellow Texan. We’ve been close friends ever since,” you clarify, trying your best to explain your uncommon friendship with Hangman.

Rooster scoffs, a blush running across his cheeks as he mutters an unconvinced yet conceding with, “Okay.”

“What? You don’t believe me,” you ask, turning your head to watch his reaction.

“No, it’s not that! I uh… I’ve just… never seen Hangman let anyone talk to him like that. I just… made some assumptions, I guess. Sorry,” he apologizes, almost embarrassed that he asked in the first place.

“No it’s okay,” you reassure him, placing a gentle hand on his shoulder before crossing your arms over your chest. “In your defense, there was one kiss at school back in the day that ended promptly when I laughed him out of my dorm room.”

Rooster laughs, the idea of it completely contradictory to the playboy persona Hangman portrays to the world.

“Now that’s a story I want to hear,” he smirks.

You shake your head, “There’s not much to tell. I promise.”

“He always been this much of an ass?” Rooster asks, stealing another glance your way.

“Oh yeah. And he’s always been this fucking annoying too,” you add playfully.

He agrees and the two of you exchange glances again. You’re starting to see why Phoenix has raved about him all these years and you’ve barely had a real conversation with him.

“Then why do you put up with him?” Rooster asks again, this time a little more seriously. He’s not sure why, but he really wants to hear that you don’t have feelings for Jake.

“Because… there was a time we were both just dumb kids, y'know? Because he may be an annoying, self-centered, overconfident little shit... but he's my annoying, self-centered, overconfident little shit. And I’m stuck with him,” you admit, genuinely.

Your capacity for empathy leaves an impact on him. He’s going to be thinking about this conversation for a few days.

“Fair enough.”

“So what’s the story behind your callsign?” he asks, changing the subject.

You raise an eyebrow, “What’s the story behind yours?”

Instead of answering, he just shakes his head and you laugh, knowing he’s not going to tell you. You don’t answer either, taking another sip of the water he’s brought out for you.

“Hooooly shit,” Rooster marvels, watching as you pull of an extremely tricky maneuver in your two-seater F/A-18.

It’s you and Halo paired up with Harvard as your wingman for this round of the dogfight exercise. And while you may be impressive, you’re still no match for Maverick, as he gets you with a killshot just for trying to show off.

“You got to give it to her. That was smooth,” Fanboy admires as the rest of the aviators watch the exercise from inside the watchtower.

Jake chuckles in response. You’ve always been full of surprises and he’s always finds it amusing when someone new discovers it.

“Like Tennessee Whiskey, fellas,” he answers, his Texas drawl a love letter to your shared home state.

He shakes his head watching you fly before adding:

“Some things never change.”

read: chapter two

A/N: HI ITS ME. How're feeling up in this club and why is everyone so hot and have so much sexual tension? Anyways... should I continue this or nah??

#call sign tennessee whiskey #rooster bradshaw #rooster bradshaw x reader #hangman x phoenix #hannix #top gun maverick #top gun maverick fanfiction #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradsaw x reader #bradley bradshaw x reader #natasha phoenix trace #phoenix top gun #jake hangman seresin #rooster x reader #hangman top gun #jake seresin

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thethiefandtheairbender · 1 month

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I think the biggest difference for me between projects (like to be clear I think NATLA is not good as an adaptation or a show, and I think the PJO tv show works as an adaptation and a show) is something that feels so basic, but shocked me when it clicked, which is that

NATLA has no actual visual storytelling going on

Which sounds ridiculous, but let me explain what I mean. "Visual storytelling" is how you communicate aspects of character or relationship through visual framing, parallels, that kind of thing, usually to indicate progression or a character's viewpoint. Many people have noticed that NATLA's cinematography leaves much to be desired, there are some shots that are good particularly in episode 6 (the Zuko transition shots between past and present, and one of the ending shots between him and Aang) but that's by and large the exception.

What I mean when I say "visual storytelling" is that NATLA doesn't have visual motifs. It doesn't really have parallels happening that much in the text or in the visuals. And this is something that ATLA did really, really well, all the time, particularly with Zuko's scar. Just take this framing of Zuko and Aang, in particular, from The Storm and The Blue Spirit.

They even have consistent colour tones of Aang having a warmer, lighter yellow (Air Nomad) and Zuko having a darker, deeper red (Fire Nation).

And this is something I think Percy Jackson does pretty well. They have consistent motifs / descriptions if it were, particularly when it comes to Percy and Annabeth's relationship and her character.

Percy: [Choosing Annabeth] And if the mission required someone to push me down a flight of stairs for it to succeed, you want someone who won't hesitate when they do it.

Percy: [literally pushes her down the stairs but to save her life]

Ares: You're new to the family, young one, so let me fill you in on how we work. [...] Olympians fight. We betray. We backstab. We will push anyone down a flight of stairs to get ahead. Annabeth: This isn't the Arch, Seaweed Brain. You're not pushing me into the stairwell aagain. Percy: Yes I am! [...] It's why you're here. When I was choosing my team, I told Chiron I needed someone who wouldn't hesitate to sacrifice me if the quest required it. He agreed. That was you. [...] You're better at this than me. You just are.

Annabeth: [Refusing to get back in Athena's good graces] It isn't how it should be! It isn't. Eat or be eaten [referencing the Kronos story Ares said earlier]. Power and glory and nothing else matters. Ares is that way. Zeus is that way. My mother is that way. He isn't that way. He's better than that. Maybe I was that way once. But I don't wanna be that way anymore. I won't be like all of you. I just won't.

But we also see this visually.

And to be clear I think it's well done, I'm not saying this kind of thing is a Masterpiece™ but what I am saying is that if you do these things, it's a great way to convey information to your audience visually and a sense of progress both in individual characterization and relationship development. And it just makes sense to lean on things visually if you're a visual medium, because prose can't do framing like this to the same degree.

And NATLA just... never does it. There's almost no real parallels, there's very little framing happening, and the even more intense overload of exposition does not help matters in this way either. The original series had a lot of parallels steadily built up (i.e. Aang's presence in the SWT and Sokka's plotline in Jet -- hell, even some of the lines he gets at Roku's Fire Sage temple -- were to show how Sokka was moving away from a more xenophobic worldview even if it was still a work in progress). There were also more overt ones, such as Sokka dressing himself for battle versus Zuko having guards/servants do it for him, but both ultimately tether the two together into having to put on a performance of confidence, manhood, and war more so than being the children they actually are.

And NATLA just has... no real visual parallels. The closest we get is the parallels between Sokka-Yue, Tui and La, and Kataang in the finale, but that's about it.

There's not a lot of scenes where a character is presented the chance to make a similar choice only to then make a different one. Even Aang wanting to go to the NWT to make a difference is muted because he never actually ran away in the first place; when you rip away character flaws or mistakes, you also gut their room for growth. When you strip away visual storytelling, it means that what you see on screen is a 1:1 of exactly what you're getting, and that is just a lot more Boring to watch as well as gutting your chances to show more character exposition. And it's just - it's just not good

#natla critical #natla #pjo tv show #the one that kills me the most is when hahn is like 'you have something the rest of us don't [in fighting the FN]: experience'#and it's like. sokka has not fought zuko or barely any firebenders since the pilot #the only other time his fighting skills got developed was with suki. also at the beginning #he has not done basically anything since then warrior wise. nvm with the fire nation directly #analysis series #analysis #sincerely a very tired nb english major #pjo

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candywife333 · 6 months

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Damn, Dude's Horny

PART 5 of Just Want to See you Like That

This series is based on Jungkook's 3D and is probably going to have close to 6-7 parts, depending on where the storyline takes me. I'm feeling a bit dramatic, so expect a lot of angst. Tumblr is going to be referenced in this fic under a different name, Bumblr (I know, totally goofy name).

Summary: Y/N, an overworked employee at HYBE , only ever posted on Bumblr when she was feeling cornered. It was truly her escape. She didn't really do insta or even twitter. Most people would look at her and think this glass wearing quiet girl would most probably be posting pics of flowers and cute animals. But no, looks could be deceiving. Y/N's posts were far from innocent. In fact , they were borderline risque. She didn't expect anybody but a few horny people to come across these pics; people who would view and compliment in the best case scenario. What she didn't expect was that a certain star would be a regular consumer of her material. A star that technically had no business simping after her like that.

Disclaimer: This work is not representative of the real Jungkook's personality and behavior. It is merely fiction and please treat it as such.

Trigger Warning: voyeurism, exhibitionism, may or may not have dub-con later on

Please don't read the fic if any of these themes are disturbing or offensive to you.

Taglist is open

I grumbled under my breath the entire way back to my house. I still couldn't believe I was going back home with my literal harasser; a guy I barely knew. I thanked the cab driver and grabbed Jungkook to help him out of the car. His majesty obliged my poor effort by grabbing one of my tits with his right hand and my back with his other, shoving his face into my collarbone , hot breath gliding over my skin, making me shiver.

Climbing up a flight of stairs with a heavy man leaning on me would not be pleasant. But with some grunting and cursing, I finally got him up to my solace, my beautiful home; the one redeeming quality in my life. My grandmother had left it to me. Initially it was a house with two separate floors, with separate kitchens on each floor. The floors were connected by a staircase, but were otherwise two separate units. With the tough financial constraints of having to fund my own life, I leased the bottom floor to a renter, so I could get some sort of passive income to save in my bank account.

In my opinion, the top floor was the best floor. I kept a beautiful terrace filled with a full nursery of flowers of many varieties and vegetables aplenty for me to cook with. With how much produce I got from my garden, I barely had to venture out to the farmer's market for fruits and vegetables. My roses, my babies were all lined up in a row, merely swaying with the night breeze. Placed right next to it was my sofa swing, adorned with fairy lights in the center.

Gazing at my little plant babies to calm me down, I placed Jungkook on my sky blue comfy roll out sofa. He would be sleeping on it tonight. Placing a cup of water and 2 ibuprofen pills on the coffee table next to his sleeping form, I pushed him onto his side to ensure that he wouldn't choke on his own spit and die.

I walked into my bedroom, showering quickly and put on a pink babydoll lace top and matching shorts. I turned off my lamplight, getting my alarm ready for the next day.

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

I got up in the morning in a surprisingly good mood, despite what had transpired the night before. I opened my window, feeling the cool breeze filter in. My only suitors, the bevy of morning glories outside my window had changed into a mauve shade in the presence of weak sunlight.

I decided to forgo my robe. It was my house, why should I feel uncomfortable in it? He was the unwelcome guest. I ventured out to see him sprawled out onto the pull out couch still knocked out. I don't know how a human being could look so ethereal even with drool dripping down his chin. I guess that's what glutathione drips, thousands of dollars spent at a dermatologist, and good genes does for a person.

I decided to whip up a hearty breakfast before heading into work around 10 AM since there wouldn't be much to do today. I worked on dicing vegetables for the japchae I would make and got some salmon out to lightly fry with a marinade. I made a few omelettes, cutting up a few of them into tiny strips to go with fried rice for lunch. The last item to be made was kimbap stuffed with chicken and spicy mayo sauce I had already made yesterday.

As I was busy getting everything together, I failed to notice the man slowly waking up near me.

Jungkook's POV

I woke up to what seemed to be the faint noises of cooking. It was quiet except for some soft humming and the faint sizzle of oil simmering in a pan. The smell was spectacular, the scent of meat and noodles permeating the place. I sat up slowly to be greeted by a sight so different from what I was prepared for. The house was very quaintly decorated, like something in a movie about fairies and elves.

There were two humongous bay windows filled with soft looking pink cushions next to them and numerous other sofa cushions strewn over the house giving the place a cozy feel. Daylight filtered in and I caught the sight of humongous maple trees and flowers of different varieties clustered outside the windows. A wind chime sat next to the window, making faint musical harmonies with the birds chirping outside.

The place looked like a cross between a tree house and a cottage, yet somehow furnished with cozy interiors of pink and baby blue. I couldn't believe a place like this existed in Seoul. It must be super expensive to acquire this space.

My cheeks blushed as I was met with an even more delectable sight, Y/N was at the kitchen, back faced towards me. She was cooking something at the stove, expertly flipping what seemed to be numerous omelettes and grilling fish. It was my lucky day. Her scrumptious ass was faced towards me. She was in a dainty baby doll dress littered with little flowers, her ass framed by pink silk shorts that barely covered her. Her thick thighs and voluptuous butt were even more accentuated as she bent upwards to reach for something in a cupboard above.

If she looked so perfect from the back, I couldn't wait to see what she looked like from the front. I had never seen her so scantily clad, and I was already frothing at the mouth. She was my dream girl when I found her online, and after seeing her in person, I merely confirmed my prior assumption. She was definitely the one for me. Her sassy mouth, confidence, strength, and her beautifully addictive body could not go to any other man but me.

She turned around and as my jaw dropped seeing her plentiful cleavage spilling out of the bounds of the top, begging to be squeezed and kissed, she quirked her eyebrow at me, "Aren't you going to leave now? Wouldn't want your presence disturbing my brunch".

taglist: @fortunecookiesworld, @sporadicarcadebanana

@darkuni63 , @jessicalynn85 ,

#chubby reader #jungkook x reader #bts x reader #bts x plus size reader #eventual smut #curvy reader #bts #angst #self love #smut #chubby reader x bts #chubby reader x jungkook #chubby reader smut #y/n x bts #y/n x jungkook #jungkook 3D #jungkook x chubby reader smut #jungkook fanfic

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vinciwolf · 1 year

Text

Loyalty Pt 4

(Recom)Na’vi!Miles Quaritch x (fem)Na’vi!Reader

Warnings: SLOW BURN, THIS IS AN EVENTUAL NSFT SERIES, ENEMIES TO LOVERS, capture, romance, reader is female

Warnings for this chapter: LONG ASS CHAPTER, so much happens, adult themes, morning glory, reader and Miles flirting???, mentions of withdrawals, violence, fluff if you squint hard enough

Notes: Na’vi spoken is in italics, but inner thoughts are also in italics.

Tags: @perseny @mechformers @ragingloser @drinking-tea-and-be-obsessed @avatar-lover @dakotali @elegantkidfansoul @esposadomd

The Colonel scrunched his eyes as he woke up, groggy, with a long grunt. Massaging his eyes, he wiped his face with his large hand before letting it drape lazily across his bare chest. It was funny. This new body was still odd to him, making lucid dreams that would sink him deep into his subconscious. The tip of his tail moved contently as Miles realized how good he felt. He hadn’t slept this good in a long ass time. Then he felt something tugging below.

He was hard.

Miles brushed his fingers over his briefs and felt… a wet spot. He blew through his nose, shaking his chin, for how stupid this was. The last thing he needed was waking up with a giant boner getting his underwear all gross.

The Recom pinched his nose, ears tipping back, at the embarrassing memories flooding his mind from the dream he had. Now he understood his dilemma. He saw you in the shower. Your skin was glistening from the steam, breasts puckered. His mind relived every detail of you. Your soggy hair falling down the valley of your chest with the plum hue of your tight nipples peaking forward made his heartrate skip.

No wonder he was leaking.

Miles chewed his bottom lip, clearly frustrated by how a pair of tits could rile him up. So, thumbs hooked along his waistband and slowly pulled them down until his member was free, the air kissing the shining tip of his purple erection.

A hand gently seized the base and gave an experimental stroke upwards, causing Miles to tense, lungs caught briefly, from how sensitive the head was.

Oh, he needed this bad.

Your hand shielded your vision. The sunlight made your eyes hurt momentarily as your pupils adjusted to the bright environment around you, unused to nature's blinding rays after being tucked away inside florescent rooms for a week.

The deck was subtle yet dangerous with armed military men who gave pointed looks at you and the Recombinants trailing behind the Colonel in front. Ardmore was nowhere to be seen, yet, as she said she had something small to take care of before seeing you out.

Spider skipped beside you trying to keep up with the heavy footfall from the rest of the group. You tried to stay behind with him but it was hard when you’re told to be joined at the hip with the Colonel, for he was the one who would soon hold the key to your life once the General showed up to give him the remote.

“You’re in a good mood,” Lyle teased.

The Colonel’s cheeks puffed giving his friend a cocky smirk.

You were walking right behind him and he couldn’t shake the image of your perky tits out of his head. But soon that moment of weakness would pass when the banana Ikran came into view, the whole point of gathering his men out here in this damn heat.

Sylway flung her wings hard back and forth, taking mid-flight then landing, repeating this futile action. The lock and chain around her neck kept her attached to the Bridgehead concrete.

Wide eyes almost watered from the sickening screams your Ikran made. You didn't know how long she had been like this, but she appeared to have lost weight and her neck was pink from the chain's tight hold on her. Spider mimicked your emotions. He was angry and in pain from seeing the creature squirm in its confines.

You wanted to run to her and flee away from here with Spider as fast as the winds could carry you, but you knew Ardmore still held the remote to your own chain. Fingernails indented the inside of your palm from how the anger boiled inside you, blood growing hot, lips pursed.

Stepping forward, you asked to nobody in particular but loud enough to disturb anyone in earshot range, “Why is she like this!?”

One solider answered, “She flew down and began attacking our men.”

“Could she have been landing to rest her wings!? No tamed Ikran would attack unless provoked by your machine guns!” It took everything in you not to pick up the human soldiers and toss them overboard.

“Watch your talk!” Lyle growled, his black shades reflecting your face when you sneered at his comment.

“Fuck you!” you snapped.

Your legs carried you past the group in hard struts. The Colonel didn’t stop you. He felt a tinge of regret that he hadn’t told you sooner that your banshee had to be bolted down.

You approached Sylway and she purred weakly when you slid your hand along her brow bone and looked into her red eyes. She blinked a few times and swayed her tail. It was her way of saying 'I see you, sister. I am alright.'

Reaching a hand over your shoulder, you took your braid.

“Boss, you really gonna let her do this?” Lyle leaned in and asked quietly to Miles.

With massive arms crossed, “I’m gathering intel,” was all he replied. Lyle pouted with a nod, satisfied with that answer. Truthfully, Miles was captivated and wanted to see how this bond between rider and banshee was made.

Your queue tendrils exposed themselves while you gently guided Sylway’s queue with your hand until both wrapped together and connected tightly. You could feel her anguish. She was in fact starving and in pain from how the chain rubbed her skin dry over the long days in the sun. But she was happy to be with you again.

"That's freaky."

"She really gonna ride that thing?"

“I can give her something better to ride~”

“You’re so fucking gross. Bet it’s still only four inches.”

“Hey!”

Your eyes rolled around hard in their sockets while some of the Recoms whispered to themselves.

Turning your body, you glanced at Miles. “She needs to eat. She’s starving.” Then, bending a knee, you placed your foot on Sylway’s harness, and with an expert motion, you mounted your Ikran.

The edge of Miles’ lip tugged upward. This was incredible.

You were incredible.

Then your neck ignited with a brutal sting, causing your torso to buckle inward as you fell to the ground on your back, muscles tensing up as shock waves flooded your limbs. Sylway screeched and bounced against her chain again.

Brow furrowed deeply, the Colonel was taken aback by the power of the collar and the sight of you shuddering in agony of the ground.

Spider ran to your side, but couldn’t touch you in fear of being shocked too, then he screamed “Stop it! Please, don’t hurt her!” several times at only who you could assumed was that Bitch.

"No one authorized you to ride your banshee!" Ardmore yelled as she furiously stormed between the tall bodies of the Recoms until she stood upfront.

Panting heavily, your body relaxed on the ground when the electrical pulses stopped.

“Ah… fuck me…”

You twisted onto your stomach and slowly gathered yourself to your hands and knees, limbs feeling like heavy rocks and still trying to catch your breath.

"Why didn't y'all just shoot the damn thing when it landed!?” the General asked sternly.

“Sir, I thought I could master the banshee, but it’s been bonded with (Y/N) already so I kept it alive for her use later,” Miles replied hastily. “She and the kid can show us where to get our own. Banshee could give us a tactical advantage in the field against the insurgency.”

Ardmore whipped her head to you on the ground and then to the Recoms.

“You are dismissed,” the General barked. “I would like to speak with the Colonel alone for now.”

Miles and Ardmore debated from afar, but you could care less to keep up with the conversation as your ears rung, hobbling away with an arm around Lyle’s shoulder, of all people, but not before giving the Colonel a passing glance. You narrowed your eyes as you thought about how he was the only one who kept Sylway alive when all others wanted to put her down.

It was some time before the General and the Colonel reappeared. But soon you felt a sense of dread fall over you when you saw the thing that caused you so much pain earlier. Ardmore turned to Miles and held out her hand. He opened his palm and she gave him the remote.

“Here you go, Colonel. Hope she’s not too much to handle from here on out,” the general said upbeat. "If you fly anywhere the Colonel doesn't authorize, your throat gets cut. Understood?"

“You would like that, huh, bitch?”

"I don't understand a word of that mud language nor do I give a fuck."

"I said I won't fly away,” you responded too sweetly, head slanting lazily as your mock doe eyes traveled the length of the General face.

“Good,” then she brought her attention to the Recoms. “These two,” she gestured to you and Spider, “will give you guidance, for now. Learn well, and maybe we’ll see an end to this Na’vi revolt once and for all.”

Around you, the Recoms nodded their heads, fist pumping each other, riling themselves up like the one-dimensional jarheads they were. Things were going to get messy from here on out. Closing your eyes, you sighed and prayed to Eywa, hoping that she might hear you this time.

“Alright, let’s go,” Miles ordered, clapping his hands a few times, getting the Recoms to start filing towards the aircraft docks.

When you got closer to the designated airship that would take you away from here, all started to bend carefully beneath the heavy gunship blades and tuck their way inside the humming vessel. You and Spider were closer together naturally.

The kid looked in your direction and smiled, “That's not what you said.”

“Shut up,” you smirked while draping your large fingers over his head and shook them through his hair, wobbling the kid a little making him giggle, then you departed from his side, leaving for Sylway.

Miles watched from behind and wondered if he could ever do the same.

You yanked firm on Sylway’s harness for good measure. There was relief in your chest and airy lightness to your step. It wasn’t hard to debate which was better: stay here with the Bitch, or go with Miles and be in nature again. You’d be much happier to get away from Ardmore than remain here at Bridgehead. And at least you’d feel some resemblance of freedom.

While you were putting your boots on, much to your displeasure but at the behest of the Colonel to show the General you were ‘conforming,’ your body swayed and felt funny.

A flow of rapid beating formed around your cranium, causing your world to tip slightly. Your stomach churned with a little too much heat in your throat as you bent over the side of the dock and lurched forward this morning’s menu into the ocean. You took the back of your hand and wiped your mouth. Gross.

Fucking pills. Fucking collar. Fucking withdrawals! Fuck!

The Colonel stopped his trek in surprise, eyes adverting elsewhere, from the sight of you hunched over, round ass a little too far in the air, but soon your spine straightens and you picked yourself up.

“You good?” Miles inquired passively, ears rolled back with caution.

“Yes, I’m good,” you said slowly, out of breath.

Brow dewy, head a little faint, your hand found Sylway’s harness and leaned on her for support.

You pointed at the Colonel. “That’s twice I owe you.”

“I wasn’t keeping count,” he shrugged. “Besides, I needed to get that remote from Ardmore to gain mobility. Can’t keep needing her to approve your every step.”

It wasn’t a total lie. But he wouldn’t admit that he wanted to get away too. He wanted to hunt.

You blew out deeply with a shake of your chin, grinning. “Just take a ‘thank you’ already, Jesus…”

The Colonel grunted then headed to his ship.

The flight was peaceful. You loved being in the air, aside from the loud drum of gunship rutters flying closely near your Ikran. You weren’t being followed but it wasn’t a pleasant ride either, having the Recoms poking their heads out to watch you soar beside them, causing you to feel like some sort of celebrity, even if it was just briefly.

However, the Colonel was a constant in your peripheral vision. He held himself by the doorway at the belly of the gunship, watching you and everything that passed by. His eyes made you nervous, made you squirm inside, like his gaze would bore into your mind and see how his presence warmed your sheets at night, so you stayed focused on flying, eyes never faltering on the view in front, even though your mind was allowed to wander in secret.

It wasn’t long before the gunship arrived at your destination and landed. The Recoms exited the ship then regrouped beyond the tree line as they waited for you. Where the gunship took off, blowing the greenery flat and curving some of the smaller trees, you landed and dismounted from Sylway. Through your queue connection, you told her to find some food and take her time, much to her excitement.

The Ikran batted her wings and flew away.

Lyle groaned and asked why they didn’t take turns with you flying up the mountain on your banshee.

“Y’all wanted to go full tilt the Na’vi way,” you stated while getting on a knee and untying your laces. “This is how we do it.”

Tugging off the tight and uncomfortable leather from your feet, you tossed the boots at the Colonel with a wink to which he smugly grinned. He hated how you were taking advantage of this. Being in control only for a brief moment even though he had the device that could end you.

Here, you were in your element as you took hold of the rocks and vines and began climbing, hips and tail swaying from your expert movements. Spider soon followed, hopping up onto the giant rocks. You grabbed his elbow and threw him upwards as he clutched a vine before continuing to ascend the mountain like he did so many times in the past.

Miles felt a tightness in his groin while studying your climbing patterns, so he hurriedly chunked off his boots and began hoisting himself up the mountain to cover his mild erection. He loved a woman who could carry her own and test his limits.

Soon his men followed, up the long trek into the Hallelujah Mountains.

“Come on! Keep up losers!” Spider chimed from above.

You smiled through the pain bubbling inside your head from his upbeat spirit. He was so fast. You loved him, but you didn’t love the aches in your joints from your body protesting for you to get a fix. But you didn’t have them and everyday was growing slower, harder as you fought through what felt like wet cement.

You took a vine and tried to pull yourself up, but you became nauseated and needed a second to breathe. Spider patted your hand.

“You ok?” his brown eyes softened, staring at the droplets of sweat crowing your forehead, something that was rare for Na’vi since they had great stamina to withstand the harshness of Pandora’s frontier.

You cupped his small hand in your large one and grinned weakly. “I’ll catch up.”

Finally, you and the Recoms climbed into a hallow tunnel system of one of the giant, floating rocks. It was cool and damp, some of the water pattering onto your face and you sighed from how cold it felt on your radiating head. The Recoms also took a breath of relief for the tunnel looked like an easy ascension, able to be scaled without climbing, just basic walking.

Then you noticed the young frontrunner was missing.

“Spider?” Miles gruff voice echoed off the stone walls.

“Boo!” the kid jumped from between the cracks and startled some of the Recoms, making a few snicker at the ones who got scared.

You smiled timidly, hand over mouth, and away from everyone’s eyes.

This spot would do for a small pause before continuing to the peak.

After having a moment for you brain to stop buzzing, scanning around the boulders and stalagmites, you caught a hint of Miles’ backside disappearing around a shadowed corner.

Looking over your shoulder, like you were inspecting anyone else for confirmation that you weren’t crazy, you saw that all the Recoms were busy wiping their sweat off and drinking water, chatting lightly, some sitting down to rest their legs. Spider was perched on a rock and joking with Lyle about something that was muted by the waterfalls because you had creeped out of earshot distance while following the Colonel.

You turned your head back to the shadowed corner and allowed curiosity to guide your steps, carefully placing each foot on the rocks in slow strides. As you made your way into the cave, the air became cooler, much to your burning skin’s delight. Fingers wiped across your forehead and got some of the loose strands sticking to your hairline behind your ears. You began to miss your braids.

The caves echoed with the roaring life of water as you ventured further into the shadow of the tunnels. There were many and if someone wasn't careful could probably find themselves on the other side of a floating rock leading to nowhere. Your ears flattened when you heard the cracking sound of a pebble falling from the walls.

“Miles?” you hiss softly, heart skipping fast.

Then a large hand gripped your arm, one covering your mouth, making you welp and inhale violently through your nose as you were pushed back first into the harsh cave wall. You were pinned under Miles' weight, the hand bruising your arm moving fast to seize your side, just below the line of your breast. Your hands frantically pushed the Colonel's massive shoulders, nails raking his round biceps, only for him to suddenly release your mouth, to which you huffed.

"What the fuck, Miles!?" You hissed quietly.

“You’ve been acting strange since the beginning—” he now held your upper arm, thumb stroking your muscle slowly “—and I need to know if you’re compromised.”

“This is ridiculous!” you said as you squirmed, but his large fingers dug into your ribcage and held firm, keeping you trapped.

He leaned forward, face intruding too close making your skin tingle. Then you felt it. A leg, more specifically a knee, breaching the space between of your legs and settling idly against the stone that was painfully digging into your shoulder blades.

“I need to know—” your eyes held firm with his, faltering only slightly to sweep his features, while his thick voice filled your senses “—if I can trust you.”

You felt caged under his weight, his hands, his piercing eyes. Your cheeks flared from how close his breath and voice bated into your personal space, assaulting your eardrums from the throaty rumble of his voice. That same tone drumming into your legs and beating between your thighs. It was painful for you to stand straight when you wanted desperately to fall onto his large thigh and ride that fucking knee that wouldn't budge any damn higher.

The Colonel’s face remained stoic, lips twitching, as he kept his amusement hidden the best he could. He would kill himself first before allowing you to see his want for you. How he yearned for you to melt already so he could fuck you against this cave wall.

But he wanted to indulge… wanted to see how far you’d allow him to tip the edge.

No matter how hard you tried to hide it, he saw you twitch with need in the slight tilt of your ears, the wetness dewing atop your lip, and the way your tail swatted only to curl tightly when he did finally lift his knee higher and rub deep into your heat.

“Fine—!” your breath hitched “—I use.”

You felt a thumb wander the expansion of the underside of your soft mound. It glided smoothly over your shirt back and forth in long, slow sweeps. The air was too thick around as your mind became heavy.

“Use?” Miles raised his brow.

He was close, but you were still unsure, unwilling to spill your guts.

So, his hand at your side inched upwards. Now his thumb ran lazily over your shirt with eager, feather-like pressure to find your tight, puckered nipple tenting the fabric. Your toes curled when it grazed the hard pebble, gently bobbing the peak side to side with every short pass.

“I use meds to get high, OK?” you growl, jerking around in the Colonel’s grasp until he finally lessened his grip and pulled back.

“Withdrawals…?” he concluded, more to himself then at you.

“Yeah, ain’t that a bitch,” you puffed, once uptight posture now slacking along the tunnel.

“Does anybody else know?”

“No,” you assert, “and I’d like to keep it that way…please…”

The hands that held you disappeared quickly, leaving you feeling hollowed out, as Miles stepped back, expression firm with ears slanted back.

“You…” he started, “…should go before anyone thinks you’ve run off.”

With a small shake of your head, your tongue swirled around a canine as your eyes glanced around and rolled in annoyance. Your heartbeat was rapid from your mind reliving how you just confessed for the first time to your sins, in front of the last person you wanted to know, but somehow your body felt…lighter.

You plucked yourself from the wall and headed into the tunnels to return to the other Recoms, leaving the Colonel to mentally toss over your words, but also think about how you felt so good under his weight. Your nipples were indeed everything he had imagined.

The rest of the climb to the top of the mountains was quiet between you and the Colonel. Spider and the rest of the Recoms were the only ones who broke the silence with friendly banter amongst themselves. You had to focus on keeping up a tough front because you didn’t want Miles to see that you were flushed, legs still shaky, by what happened in the caves. The phantom sensation of his finger prodding your nipple lingered at your breast causing your cheeks to burn hotter every time the memory of Miles pushed against you crossed your vision.

Eventually the team made it to the Ikran’s territory. The large creatures screamed in protest and flew away from your approach. Holding their guns close, some of the Recoms flinched as the flying lizards flapped away overhead. Spider found a fallen log that he crouched and balanced himself on, unafraid, before the rest of the group huddled together, using this log as a barrier between them and the dangers screeching from afar.

The kid sat between you and the Colonel, you eventually seating yourself closer to him as you were about to educated Miles on the proper way to tame an Ikran, only for you to notice that Lyle was loading a rifle with a vile of strange liquid.

Your ears irked back until Spider laughed, causing you and Miles to turn heads at the boy.

“Na’vi kids younger than me can do this with their bare hands.”

“Jake Sully did it the hard way?”

“What do you think?”

The Colonel was taken aback, ears flicking, then the small edge of his mouth tugged faintly as you observed him mentally accepting the challenge of getting his Banshee the ‘hard way.’

You stayed behind as the Colonel slowly took guarded steps into the heart of the Ikran nest, effortlessly laying his queue over his shoulder, a recall to what he had seen you do. He breathed a few deep inhales to calm his heart before one of the creatures noticed him and screeched in his direction, prompting Miles to hiss back to proclaim his contest.

“This is gonna be good,” Spider joked to Lyle.

The leader smiled, “Alright, just you and me Cupcake~”

Then the fight ensued, with the Colonel punching the Banshee before jumping and seizing the lizard’s neck with his limbs.

Of course he would punch an Ikran.

You studied the fight and gripped a ghost knife at your side that wasn’t there anymore. Ardmore instructed that you wouldn’t have any weapons on your person, making your lips purse in frustration. Then your chest fell when Miles tumbled over the cliff with the Ikran.

“SHIT!” you ran over to the edge. Spider appeared beside you with the same concern while examining the clouds below for the Colonel.

Putting your thumb and index finger between your lips, you blew hard and whistled for Sylway, but Lyle clasped a hand on your shoulder.

“The fuck you think you’re doing!?”

“Do you want Quaritch to fall to his death!?” you snapped, forearm swatting away the Corporal’s grip. Then a loud, winded swoosh propelled itself onto the cliffside.

“Yeah, that’s right!” Miles hollered victoriously from atop his Ikran.

Spider beamed while the rest of the Recoms rejoiced and fisted their hands in the air. You exhaled through your nostrils in relief and allowed your mouth to pull into a wide smile.

“Yeah, Boss! Get some!” Lyle shouted happily beside you.

Your feet were light when you hopped over and down the mountainous rocks away from the Recoms when Sylway batted her wings to a halt as she landed on the side of the mountain. Toes gripped tightly to the harness around your Ikran’s neck as you tossed yourself over her back and took off into the air.

Finding Miles enjoying himself, you flew your mount level with his and viewed him over your shoulder, the wind carrying your loose tresses across the breeze.

“Hell yeah!” he shouted at you from afar.

Miles couldn’t believe he was actually flying – a pipedream for any man back on Earth. Watching you fly in front of him, he studied your form, the way your hair flew behind your backside, the way your teeth beamed, and how the sunlight highlighted the amber of your crinkled eyes when you glanced at him.

After years of emptiness controlling your life, your chest suddenly burst with happiness. Taming an Ikran was a rite of passage and a time of excitement for any warrior, so you didn’t hide that you were somewhat proud of Miles for making tsaheylu.

Then the edges of his mouth neutralized into a tight line when his eyes traveled to your neck, the lights of the deadly collar flickering, mocking, that it was still on and alive, like a parasite.

It was a noose, and he had the lever to activate it.

He quickly adverted his eyes forward and fixated on learning to navigate with you. His heart pulled low when your smile fell as you noticed he was serious again.

Back to business, you guessed.

[Deleted scene]

Your eyes traveled along the details of the trees above while tuning out the Colonel's speech he was handing his men. Then he started listing away the skills they'd need to get inside the mind of Jake Sully— something about that 'full-tilt' he had mentioned to you in the shower bay.

"We eat Na'vi, ride Na'vi, think Na'vi—"

Boredom getting the best of you sloped against a log near Spider, mouth moving to your invasive thoughts as you muttered behind the Colonel's last item with "Fuck Na'vi…"

Miles’ eyes rounded, ears twitched back, then the whole group turned to your position in collective shock.

Your face burned tightly.

Oops…

Then the Colonel broke the silence, “Wanna bet?”

#miles quaritch x reader #miles quaritch x you #miles quaritch x fem reader #miles quaritch x y/n #quaritch x reader #quaritch x you #quaritch x y/n #na'vi quaritch x reader #recom quaritch x reader #na'vi x reader #na'vi miles quaritch #recom miles quaritch #na'vi quaritch #recom quaritch #miles quaritch x reader smut #miles quaritch smut #quaritch

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aroaessidhe · 4 months

Text

faves of 2023: adult sci-fi

The Deep Sky

Emergent Properties

System Collapse

Chain-Gang All-Stars

The Vanished Birds

Some Desperate Glory

Flight & Anchor

Translation State (also entire Imperial Radch series)

World Running Down

Feed Them Silence

The Infinite

The Meister of Decimen City

#read in 2023 #the deep sky #emergent properties #chain-gang all-stars #world running down #the vanished birds #translation state

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dotieeee · 9 months

Text

A Small Set of Agreements

Part 2 of A Small Act of Kindness

A DARK three-shot

Pairing: Dark!Morpheus x you, afab reader

Warnings: dark!Morpheus, obsessive behaviour, dark!Dream won't take 'no' for an answer, disturbing themes like kidnapping, imprisonment, isolation, non-con/dub-con kissing and touching etc, 18+ only!!

Inspired by this ask for @roguelov See: https://www.tumblr.com/roguelov/721739134130143232/this-isnt-smut-but-dream-has-strong-miette?source=share

Officially now a three-part series!!! Masterlist here Part 1: Click here

Summary: You were imprisoned by a vindictive Endless, who will stop at nothing to win you over, including taking advantage of your forced vulnerability.

The grand dining hall of the Dreaming was empty, save the King of Dreams and you, his little plaything, the one he claimed to have caught his affections. Clearly, with this splendid display of all your favourite dishes, with the elaborate, ruby-coloured gown he said he fashioned from his own sand that you now wore, the miles and miles of red tulips he showed you during your walk with him on Fiddler's Green, he was trying to win you over.

Yet, despite the voracious appetite you had developed the moment you were free from your glass cage, here you were, toying with a slice of peach on your plate, very much not hungry and over all just about done with the way your jailer was unabashedly staring at you across from where he was sitting. The hungry looks you were getting from barely three feet away had absolutely nothing to do with food.

You tucked your fork neatly on the plate and pushed it away gently. Morpheus, who was leaning back on his dining chair like the king he was, tilted his head in concern. "Is there something the matter, my beloved? Is the food not to your liking?"

You gave a quick smile that didn't quite reach your eyes. "The food was great, thank you. Is there, uh…" is there no end to this, you had meant to ask, but decided against it. "Is there anything more you'd like me to do?"

You didn't like the sly grin that followed your question.

"I can think of many things I'd like you to do," he said, his voice dipping dangerously lower.

Fidgeting in your seat, you fought the urge to glare at him, and instead looked daggers at the innocent, half-finished peach cake on your abandoned plate. “I’m just saying, it’s getting a bit late. Not that I had much to do anyway…” Your voice trailed off, your mind drifting off to simpler times: how, around five in the afternoon, you and a colleague would get some coffee from the bakeshop, then rush back to the office to finish wherever you left off; sometimes your boss would get a box of those fancy doughnuts delivered and all of you would share five minutes of the afternoon sugar rush and bitching about the accounting department. Boring as it might’ve been in hindsight, right then and there, you would’ve given just about anything, including a limb, to be there instead of here as mere passing entertainment for an age-old nightmare lord.

Said nightmare lord leaned forward, still with that annoying smirk, and said, "We are in no rush, my love. The day is not over until I say so.”

When you offered no reply, he stood from his seat and approached your side, extending his hand.

"Come with me."

Taking a deep breath, you took his hand and allowed him to lead you away from the dining hall. Where to, you had no idea, and after several flights of wide, marble stairs you tried to pry your hand away, but he tightened his grip with a warning look in his eyes. Nowhere in the enormous palace did you see anyone else around, making you feel even more alone with him than ever before. After seemingly endless staircases, he pushed open a double door, revealing a massive, extravagant gallery of pristine marble and velvet tapestries. Hand in hand, albeit unwillingly, he led you to probably the largest balcony you’ve ever been, offering the most breathtaking sight you’ve ever seen in your life:

His kingdom in all its glory, basking in the orange-purple glow of the setting sun.

You sighed deeply, closed your eyes and let the glow of the sunset warm you up, pretending you were all alone in a five-star hotel enjoying the nicest vacation you've ever had.

Until you felt a pair of lips kiss your hand and ruined the fantasy.

Morpheus let go of your hand as you open your eyes in favour of wrapping his arms around your midriff from behind. Your back stiffened as he pulled you close to his chest and planted a soft kiss on your hair, just above your earlobe. You heard him hum in satisfaction as his forefinger lazily drew circles on your clothed waist.

“Morpheus, what are you doing…?” you whispered, your breath hitching as you felt him take an audible whiff of your hair.

"One of the many things I had in mind," he whispered.

You shivered at the rather vulnerable position you were in, but it wasn't like you could tear yourself away from his unwanted embrace. He had you trapped, just like the cage he'd be putting you back in if he senses just the slightest resistance from you, so you stood there, rigid as a board. You tried your best to concentrate on the view that lay before you, but it was made even more impossible with the way those lips brushed against your earlobe and then kissed the base of your neck.

“Please…stop…”

Morpheus only hummed in response. He’d been keeping you on your toes the entire day, but what he said next just floored you.

“Come lay with me, my beloved.”

“Wh-what? You mean, sleep with you?” You gathered strength to abruptly pull away from him in utter shock. He’s clearly lost his damn mind. Once free, you put enough distance between you and him and faced him with your cheeks flaring up. “I don't believe this…you can't be serious!”

Unfazed and clearly taking offence at the wide berth, he said, “Do you doubt my love for you? Have I not been clear with my intentions? I wish for you to be my lover. Do lovers not declare their devotion to each other by indulging in each other's flesh?”

“One. Date.” You said pointedly. “That was all we agreed upon. One fucking date!”

“That is why I am asking now. Will you lay with me?”

The audacity of this cosmic being had you reeling inside, close to tearing your hair out in absolute frustration. “This is crazy. I've done everything you've wanted me to do today, but you can't expect me to just go along with that!”

Still incensed, you watch him take a threatening step forward with hands clasped in front of him, his jaw clenched and his eyes narrowed slightly. “I am giving you a chance to recant your response. After all, I freed you from your enclosure in the condition that you will do as I ask.”

“You're fucking sick, you know that?” You backed away as much as the balcony railing allowed you to. “I'd rather rot in that glass cage than sleep with you. No way.”

Morpheus just scoffed at you, his hands unfurling to his side. “Pride. I once recall being held captive in a prison not unlike yours. I could've been freed much sooner had I not been proud.”

Your eyes slowly widened as you observed fine grains of sand trailing upwards to his curled fingers. You’ve learned to fear his sand over time. It was a source of his immense power, and judging by the way he melted your glass cage that morning into sand with a single wave of his hand, he was more than ready to create another he could put you into. But, amidst the growing terror in you as his power, something else he said caught your attention.

“You, however, are human, and I, an Endless. Would you last a hundred years like I did?” he asked, his eyes flashing silver in contrast with the last dying embers of the sun.

Your captor was once captured for a century. But who would do such a thing to him? Was this why, even as an otherworldly being, he was so messed up and acting like he is?

“You…you were imprisoned,” you said in a hushed tone, suddenly finding yourself unable to meet his eyes. “And for that long? Ho-how did you get out? Why would anyone do that? How does that happen to…someone like you? I mean no offence, I’m just…uh…”

“Being compassionate.”

It was the gentlest tone you’ve ever heard from Morpheus since after your rejection of him. Glancing up at him, you were surprised how soft his facial features had become. Despite the circumstance, you were mesmerised by the way his eyes glistened in blue and all the stars it held. His hands relaxed and the sand gradually receded until it faded to nothing. Could you perhaps persuade him to have a change of heart?

“You are concerned for me,” he said. "It is an admirable trait you cannot help but display, even in duress. Your heart is good. All the more reason for me to possess it." His tone shifted, and in a split second, the galaxies in his eyes vanished, consumed by the pitch-black abyss that could destroy anything in its path. "My human captors paid a hefty price for their transgressions against me. I do not wish the same on you."

It was then you knew that whatever happened to him in his capture, there was no saving him from it, there was no change possible in him. There was no hope for you.

“I have, not once, ‘transgressed’ against you, and you know it, you fucking cu-”

“And yet, here you are,” he interrupted through gritted teeth, “Refusing me the only thing I have dared to want since your kind has wronged me.”

“Then why would you want anything to do with me, if 'my kind' offends you that much?” you spat back.

He paused at words as if contemplating them. You could tell by the way his expression faltered a little that they had an effect on him. He turned away from you to stare into the skyline, now void of the warm sun you were starting to miss.

“Those who trapped me sought those which do not belong to them. Their actions caused the collapse of the Dreaming.” He eyed you sideways, and continued, “Your actions on that fateful day of our meeting, however, led me to a better understanding of my responsibilities to my realm. Do not associate yourself with their sins.”

It took him only a few steps to finally close the distance between you. He was barely a few inches away from you now, no longer able to hide the look of longing in his eyes. He dipped his head so close to yours you could feel his breath fan your cheeks, and if you leaned any further against the balcony railing, you risked falling over.

“I see you as you are, so pure and selfless, someone who has so little, yet deserves everything she dreams of. I can give you that, and more, my precious little saviour. You need only say the word.”

But you saw him as he was, too: he was a monster; your abductor and tormentor, and you, a mere human, meant to be kept in a cage in this sick game only he knew how to play. You’d never give him the satisfaction.

“No.”

“'No?’ I suggest you reconsider.”

“Alright, give me a moment.” You followed that with a short pause, crossing your arms, then continued, “There, I've thought of it. Still no. Put me back in my cage, lock me up for ten, twenty, fifty, years – hell, make it a hundred so we're even, I’d be dead by then – I don't care. I am not sleeping with you.”

You matched his reproachful and hurt look with an unyielding expression, bracing yourself for the consequences of your words. He withdrew from you with a slight curl of lips, and the sand that had once receded whirled itself around the both of you.

“Have it your way.”

As you closed your eyes, the floor beneath your feet shifted, and you were lifted to your feet momentarily before setting you back down on a cold, uneven surface. When you felt the sand around you disappear, your eyes were greeted by the familiar sight of a spherical glass enclosure. You placed a palm on the clammy surface and moved closer so you could better see where he had brought you.

It was an enormous chamber, more opulent than anything you’ve ever been in the entire day, yet somehow emptier, darker, more foreboding. Right in the middle of the expanse was a massive four-poster bed covered in midnight, silky sheets. In the dark, you could barely make out a symbol carved on the headboard: a helmet of some sort, akin to a gasmask, with an odd spinal vertebrae sticking out at the end of it. This wasn’t the artificial space he had constructed – it was his room.

He brought you to his room so he could watch you perish.

“Judging by your expression, you already know where you are.”

The ruler of nightmares stepped out of the shadows to reveal himself. He strode with dawdling steps closer to your cage with arms behind his back and stopped only a few inches away from your glass prison.

“You have no idea how displeased I am with your actions today, my little saviour,” he spoke, slowly placing his hand on the glass directly over your palm. “You shall be punished as I see fit. Death will not come for you. You are mine for eternity.”

You shivered, but not from the cold, as he withdrew his hand from the glass and turned around, presumably to leave.

Morpheus turned his head to the side and said with a final tone, “Should you seek my forgiveness, you need only call upon me and say the word.”

The King of Nightmares then left for good, his long cloak billowing behind him, leaving only the resounding bang of the giant double doors as they closed. Left entirely to yourself, you had only one thought as you curled in a ball inside your prison:

You weren’t going to last much longer.

***

The first few days trapped in your sphere inside his room had its ups and downs.

On a positive note, you were no longer floating in artificial space and can now tell between night and day by the light streaming from his tall windows and perpetually open balcony. On the other hand, you now had company night after night, in the form of a nightmare personified, with his eyes glowing in the dark as it focused only on you. Although he’d occasionally leave, presumably to attend to his duties as a king, he always came back, sat on his royal, high-backed chair, and observed you, without a word, in captivity. It was deeply unsettling. Both of you had not spoken since, but there was no need to.

By your seventh day stuck in your glass cage, you woke up to a different sight: he had taken you to his throne room. The sphere was floating just a few inches from the ground at the foot of the pristine stairs leading to his throne. Your increasingly pale pallor looked terribly out-of-place in a hall surrounded with colourful glass panels that seemed to shift its display of images, plus the enchanted ceiling made to look like the night sky. You looked around to see where he was, but he was absent. He may have gone off to wherever the hell his attention was called for.

But it didn't take long for you to have company. Out of the corner of your eye, you saw that one of the massive double doors to the hall had opened. Thankfully, it wasn't him you saw. It was a tall, bald woman with pointy ears, wearing a fine-looking suit taking long strides towards you with an alarmed expression, mouthing something you couldn't hear.

Maybe she could free you!

Getting up and kneeling on the curved glass, you rapped the glass with your knuckles with urgency and for the first time in seven days, you spoke, "Help! Help me, please!"

The woman crouched down to touch the glass and said something, but you couldn't really concentrate on reading lips now, given how stressed you were getting. Was she mute? Maybe she didn't hear you the first time. You shouted, "Please, let me out! Help me!"

But then she motioned to her ears, and then mouthed, slowly this time, so you could read what she was saying through her lips:

'I can't hear you.'

"Lucienne."

Your heart jumped at the suddenness of the Nightmare King's voice booming inside the hall. You could hear him just fine. What the fuck was going on?

"There is no point engaging her in a conversation, Lucienne. She can only hear my voice, and only I can hear her. That is her punishment. I suggest you leave her be the next time you see her."

Morpheus appeared in your line of vision, locking his cold, pitiless eyes on your wide, bewildered ones. Turning to the woman named Lucienne, who got to her feet and bowed slightly to him, he said, "There is a new island that emerged northwest of the Land of Unfinished Inventions. Have someone survey the island and list its inhabitants. I shall be at the library to fetch the report by sundown."

Whatever Lucienne replied was to anybody's guess. With a final bow and a sympathetic look at your direction, she exited the throne room and left you alone with him. He gave you a searing look just before he climbed the stairs to his throne, fluffed his long black coat and settled down on his royal seat. You shot back a reproachful glare before turning your back to him, hugging your knees and completely ignoring him.

Several more of his subjects dropped by that morning, presumably to seek his counsel. A raven even tried to peck on your glass cage, but Morpheus, who called the raven Matthew, basically told him to ignore you, then sent him away. He spoke to all them with an authoritative tone, but by then you had learned how to block him out so you never really understood the conversations. Anyone who approached his throne had a clear view of you, displayed like a prize won from the spoils of war. Everyone ogled at you, some even gave looks of pity, but there wasn’t anything they could’ve done in the presence of their ruler. You had never been so embarrassed in your life, but you tried ignoring these looks as best you can, seeing as your captor had planned this so he could break you and force you to do his bidding. By midday, the slew of Dreaming subjects seeking their king’s presence had waned, and once again, you were left alone with him in total silence.

He broke the silence blanketing the throne room by calling your name. You heard it loud and clear, but his call was completely and deliberately ignored. He decided to call your name once more, this time with a tone of slight warning.

You gingerly sat up to see him standing before your cage, his hands behind his back and looking down at you with a disapproving look.

“Shall I take your voice away, as well, seeing as you refuse to use it in my presence?”

“Go to hell,” you replied flatly as you met his stare head on. It was getting exhausting, trying to put on a brave face, especially after he just threatened to take away your ability to speak, but you did so anyway.

“I have been there, my beloved,” he said with a slightly amused tone. “That does not insult me.”

Great, why couldn’t he have just stayed there?

“Frankly, I don’t care where you’ve been.”

His smirk only grew wider, and he started circling your cage at a leisurely pace. "Oh, but you'd care where I am going."

Why would I, you thought to yourself, and you couldn't help but raise a curious eyebrow.

"I will be at the library."

Part of you knew he was baiting you, but at that point, it couldn't hurt hearing him out, would it? Truth be told, you were dying for anything to do. Anything.

So you asked, "You have a library?" You recognized the flash of victory on his face.

"I do," he replied, crouching down on his knees to better look at you. "It contains everything humanity has ever written, including those that it has yet to finish. There is none like it across all the realms in the universe."

A library. The last time you had been to a library was about three months ago (if your calculation of your time spent in his realm was correct) and it was because of work. You hadn't had a time to even enjoy the place, and given that it'll be a long time before you even go back there (if he'd even let you), you now regretted not checking out a few books you had meant to borrow.

"I am aware you are partial to Mary Wollstonecraft. There is but one novel of hers she left unfinished when she passed."

Of course. The Wrongs of Woman.

"It lies in my library, completed, and it awaits you," he goaded on with that infuriatingly smug expression. "You only have to say the word."

As tempting as it was, you knew that by agreeing with his proposal, you would be giving away any remaining dignity you had left. Between a book and your autonomy, it was an easy choice. You withdrew as far back as you could in your cage and shook your head once.

"I can't."

Morpheus seemed genuinely taken aback by your resistance. "You would keep yourself from reading your favourite author's work in favour of refusing me?" He asked incredulously.

"I don't want it," you whispered, trying to keep your voice from breaking. "Just leave me alone. Please."

Your captor clenched his jaw and fists and said nothing, but guessing from how his knuckles turned white, he was furious. You couldn't care less if he was, though. Maybe you'd make him angry enough to kill you instead – that way, you wouldn't have to put up with all this anymore.

You hugged your knees, buried your face in them, and finally started to cry.

***

It stung. Your words actually felt like a whiplash to Morpheus's heart. He was seething, true, but everyday without you in his arms wounded him further, it was getting more strenuous for him to reel in his frustration without further taking it out on you. Your heart was farther out of reach than ever before, and nothing he could offer you seemed to work.

And then, he heard you sob, just as he was leaving to blow off steam and attend to his kingdom. It pained him to leave you in such a broken state, but you left him no choice. He had to keep you there until you saw your error. He knew the moment you said the words, he would take you in his arms and give you all the stars in the universe, should you ask him.

But even when he had finished all the work he had intended to do, even when he had already obtained the report he had asked Lucienne to make, that piteous weep plagued his mind. In all the days he's had you inside your glass enclosure, he had never heard you cry like so. He was always aware of your inner strength – your display of backbone in your imprisonment was nothing short of admirable. But you were wasting away the longer you resisted him, and he could not have that.

Despite all these conflicting emotions stirring up a storm inside him, what he desperately needed was to just spend precious time with you, to feel your soft touch, and to have you fall asleep in his arms as he read you poetry from a long-forgotten era…

The last thought brought forth a rather inspiring notion. He had distractedly drifted to the bookshelf that held the book he had taunted you with that morning. He hated having to deprive you of reading the book he thought you'd adore, but perhaps he could make a compromise.

He pulled the book out of the shelf without wasting time, and willed himself inside your cramped glass cage. You were asleep, it seemed, as far back as you could, with your head resting uncomfortably on the glass. There was not much space so he had to be careful and sat with his legs crossed. As he did, however, you had chosen to shift in your sleep and your hand had hit his leg lightly, stirring you awake. Even with your tear-stained cheeks, he found it adorable how you blearily rubbed your eyes to better focus on what exactly you had accidentally touched.

The sun had long since set, so Morpheus used his sand to transport the entire glass enclosure to his bedroom. This was an intimate moment he felt should remain away from prying eyes. Once the sand had cleared, he softly said your name out loud. His voice instantly jolted you alert, your eyes growing wide, and he knew that if you had room you would get as far away from him as you could. He was quite thankful he had created such a constricted space.

"What are you doing here?" You asked. Your voice sounded strained, probably from crying, and your eyes were red and puffy. He hated how you looked so forlorn, he had to stop himself from taking you in his arms, whisking you to his bed and kissing all your troubles away. He had to remind himself that there would be a time for that once you had ultimately, utterly surrendered to him. He had to concentrate, not on your supple, slightly trembling lips, but on what he truly came here for.

"I have in my hand the book I have told you about." He held the book up so you could better see it and know he was not trying to trick you. He saw your eyes light up momentarily at the sight of the tome, and that delighted him immensely. It had been a while since he had seen your light. He needed more of it.

"I would like to read it to you."

Your innocently confused expression was nothing but endearing. "I can just read it myself," you said.

"And you shall – once you have accepted my terms. Until then, you will have to get used to my story-telling," he countered, slightly teasing you. Morpheus had been told many times how alluring his voice was. Perhaps it would have the same effect on you. You seemed to weigh your options and tried detecting deception from him. He was starting to lose hope that you didn't want him with you, so he was relieved when you finally nodded.

Morpheus had almost forgotten how to smile after your refusal at his balcony, but the one he showed you was genuine, nonetheless.

You were quiet the entire time he read from the book, but the way you were so focused on him and hung onto every word made his heart flutter. He was halfway through one chapter when you started to shift just a little bit closer to him, your head leaning on the glass as you took to his storytelling. Just as he reached the end of the chapter, your eyes were already trying to stave off sleep and your head was falling to the side, but the limited space in the glass sphere he already occupied prevented you from laying down.

Momentarily pausing his reading, he said, "You can rest your head here, if you'd like." He tapped his thigh lightly, urging you to use it as a pillow. He knew how uncomfortable it was to lie on cold glass, and you had not slept on a proper bed since your arrival to his realm. If he had his way, he lamented, he'd have you in his arms and on his bed, the both of you stripped of all your clothing, yet draped in the most luxurious silk sheets his kingdom could offer. He hoped you would accept his invitation of resting on his lap just so he could have your bodies touch again, to feel your warmth, to be connected with you in any way once more. To his absolute delight, you did, and he happily continued to read from the book until he heard your deep, rhythmic breathing.

You had fallen asleep on his lap.

It was nothing compared to the kiss he had shared with you in your home, of course, but it was enough for Morpheus to cry a small victory: you had trusted him enough to fall asleep with him, on him, in his presence. He smiled to himself, sighing minutely, as his fingers traced your exposed cheek with a longing even he could not describe. He hardly dared move in fear of waking you up and you recoiling at your closeness, so he found contentment in stroking your hair with all the gentleness he could muster.

There, in the glass amidst the stillness provided by your hushed breathing, he resolved to be more patient: if this was how being with you made him feel, then it would be worth the wait.

***

The sun was streaming through your eyelids when you came to, but you didn't want to wake up just yet. You just had the best, albeit dreamless, sleep you've ever had in a long while, owing to that pillow your head had been resting on. You were hoping you'd be able to squeeze in five more minutes, until it struck you:

You never had a pillow in your glass prison.

Your eyes immediately shot open, greeted by a multitude of swirling galaxies that seem to float in deep blue waters. You just slept on the lap of Dream of the Endless, him and that soft, radiant smile and those long, fluttering eyelashes. You knew that stare perfectly well even when you haven't been at the receiving end of until now: it was the gaze of a lover.

He was anything but.

"Good morning, my precious little saviour."

You sat up at once, trying to assure yourself you couldn't have slept anywhere else due to the limited amount of space in the glass cage. Nevertheless, you automatically muttered an apology under your breath for falling asleep on him.

"My love, there is nothing to apologise for," he said gently as he watched you pull your legs close to your chest. "It must have caused you great discomfort to have been sleeping on such an unfriendly surface for so long."

And whose fault is that? You thought wryly. Your eyes landed on the book he had propped against the glass. The book he had been reading to you just before you fell asleep. This didn't escape his ever-observant eyes.

"Should you like to continue where we left off, I am willing to relinquish the book…release you from this glass sphere, let you peruse other books in my library..."

He picked up the book and waved it lightly in front of him.

"For a price, of course."

Ah, there it was. He wouldn't be offering you anything for free at this stage, Hell would freeze over first (which is apparently a place that actually exists). He drew closer to you, his hands leaning against the glass on both your sides to trap you.

"Kiss me, my beloved," he whispered. Thankfully you still had your knees to your chest or your noses would've already touched. His heavy gaze focused on nothing but your lips, he continued, "Grant me a kiss, and I shall allow you unfettered access to a library like no other."

You calculated your options. While you were grateful he hadn't asked you to sleep with him, a kiss was still a form of contact with a being keeping you against your will you'd much rather have nothing at all to do with. Still, you couldn't help but look at his slightly parted lips, and a memory of you kissing them in your home surfaced. Had it really been that long ago? It wasn't bad, if you tried being objective. Plus, you'd finally have something to do outside your sphere. It's just a kiss, nothing more.

You gave him a single nod.

Delight washed over your captor's features as he touched your knees lightly, urging you to lower them and allow him to get closer. You could feel your skin tingling where he touched them, but that was soon forgotten the moment you shifted to a more relaxed pose. Without an ounce of hesitation, he cupped your face and pressed his lips on yours.

Reluctant as you were, he didn't seem to mind, for he gripped the back of your neck and changed his angle, his tongue prying your mouth open. Within seconds, his tongue danced with yours, and you were struggling to keep up. His other hand gripped your waist and pulled you closer to him as he bit your lower lip gently, and the surprised gasp you let out only made him deepen the kiss. An eternity seemed to pass before his lips withdrew from yours, but to your horror, he started caressing your jaw, dipping lower into your neck and suckling your skin. You placed a hand on his chest and tapped.

Breathless, you said, "Don't…please, you said it was just a kiss – "

You felt a rumble from his chest, and he harshly yanked your wrist away, effectively cutting off any complaint you had.

"The kiss will be over when I say so," he growled against your ear, before nipping on your earlobe and planting open-mouthed kisses on your neck once more.

Dear heavens, his mouth scorched your skin, and you knew the way he sucked on it would leave bruises. You wanted to break free from his death grip and scream, but you took his thumb placed on your pulse point as a warning, so instead you gripped his coat and closed your eyes tight with a whimper. You felt his teeth scrape your collarbone before he pulled the neckline of your dress so he could bite down on your shoulder.

Just as you were about to cry, Dream pulled away, gave you one last peck on the lips, and nudged your chin a little. When you opened your eyes at last, you found yourself sitting on the floor of his room and the glass you had been encased in nowhere in sight. He helped you to your feet with his arm still around your body.

"I will have an attendant help you with your preparations," he said as he let go. "You will meet me at the dining hall."

The kiss he left you with on your forehead did not help your shaking and the shame you felt at what you just did for this little bit of freedom.

***

Morpheus said you needed to meet him in the dining hall, which meant fuck-all because you had absolutely no clue where it was. His palace was an elaborate maze of rooms and galleries, hallways and staircases, and the occasional dreamer wandering around, lost just like you were. You tried asking one of them where it was, but the response you got didn't make sense at all (to them it probably did, as dreams often were; when they wake up from it, not so much).

A loud crash and a string of curses interrupted your musing, so you followed the sound, and after two right turns and a left, you found a woman at the end of the hallway kneeling on the floor, fussing over a broken dish and the spilled contents it once held. You were on her side at once, picking up the broken ceramic as carefully as you could.

"Oh, this is so embarrassing," the woman whined, fishing out a cloth to wipe the mess off the floor as best she could. "I'm sorry you had to see this, I'm not normally this clumsy…"

"It's okay, I'm happy to help," you brushed her off as you began picking up the smaller bits and piling them on a corner. "Besides, I'm kind of lost, maybe after we clear this up, you can help me find the way to the dining hall?"

You looked at her expectantly, but she had already paused at cleaning the mess in favour of ogling at you.

"I know you, " She exclaimed. "You're the girl he put in the glass cage!"

Distracted by her reaction, you let out a soft, pained gasp; a tiny piece of the ceramic had pricked your finger.

"If you don't mind my asking, are you alright?" The woman asked hesitantly with a concerned expression.

You nodded. "It's just a nick, I'll be fine."

"No, I don't mean your finger, dear," she whispered as she drew closer to you. "How did you end up on his bad side?"

"Oh." The question had taken you aback, but you weren't sure how to respond. Maybe if she knew the truth, she could help? "I didn't –"

A firm call for your name made you freeze midspeech. It was Dream, striding purposefully to where you were. It was clear with his expression that he wasn't happy.

"You were to meet me at the dining hall. What kept you?" he questioned as soon as he reached you.

"I got lost," you defended as you got up to your feet. Not wanting to upset him any further, you tried to hide your bleeding finger behind your back, but it was too late; he grabbed your wrist and brought it to his view. If he was unhappy then, he became furious in an instant.

"What have you done to yourself?" He asked through gritted teeth, his grip on your hand tightening, his eyes blazing and demanding answers.

Your heart was beating wildly as you tried to explain, "N-nothing, it-it was just – "

"My Lord, if I may."

The woman you just met interrupted and stood calmly even under the scrutiny of her ill-tempered king. That took courage, which you found yourself being drained of every single day with him.

"I tripped over myself and made a mess of this dish I was supposed to bring to the dining hall," she began. "The good lady, seeing my distress, temporarily abandoned her search for her destination and only tried to assist me, injuring herself in the process."

Morpheus turned to you, his features softening a little. "Is this true, my beloved?"

All you could do was give him a shaky nod. You felt relieved when his anger visibly dissipated and his grip on you softened, his expression turning apologetic. Without looking at the woman, he ordered her to fetch someone named Mervyn to clean the spill on the floor, to which she simply bowed and left.

"Then, there is no excuse for my harshness," he said, before bringing your injured finger to his lips. The cut healed itself in a matter of seconds, much to your astonishment. "I should be grateful that you were willing to put yourself in harm's way to help my palace staff."

He went further by placing your palm on his cheek and then kissing it, his stare darkening as he did. You fought that nagging urge to yank your hand away, fearing that his anger might resurface.

"I could not have chosen better."

You averted that increasingly heated gaze of his, but it was too late to avoid the other thing you had been dreading: he pulled you by the hand to him for a kiss on your lips.

Dream pinned you in place with a firm grip on your waist and another behind your back, which then travelled to the back of your neck. Struggling was futile, so you did your best to hold it all in as he suckled your lower lip and drew in all your gasps, leaving you close to suffocating, just like the way he spirited you away. With every motion you allowed his tongue on your mouth, he syphoned away whatever self-respect you had left.

Will he leave you with anything?

It didn't take long before a sob began to form at the back of your throat. Perhaps he heard it, or felt it, for he let go with much reluctance. Instead, he settled with bringing your foreheads together while you composed yourself. It wouldn't do you much good if you suddenly lost your mind right in front of him, right?

"Have I told you how much I am in awe of your beauty, my love?" He whispered against your lips. "You prove to me time and again that your heart is just as beautiful, if not more so."

You offered no words while he stroked your cheek with his forefinger and he placed his lips over your ear.

"As such, I will prove to you just how much it belongs to me."

He will take everything from you, even after you have nothing left. *****************************

Part III here!!!

Thank you for reading!!!! Please engage and all that. it's really appreciated :)

Part 3 out now will contain smutSMUTSMUT---

#dark!dream x reader #dark!dream x you #dark!Morpheus fic #dark!morpheus x you #dark!morpheus x reader #dark!dream three-shot #dark!dream of the endless #dark!morpheus fanfic #the sandman #the sandman fanfiction

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sheeple · 1 year

Text

Lady Strong | Part 2

PHOTO NOT MINE. THIS IS ALL FICTION. Genre(s): Strong!reader / Angst? Fandom(s): House of the Dragon (TV series) Pairing(s): Aemond Targaryan x Strong!reader / Jacaerys Velaryon x Strong!reader (platonic/siblings) Summary: It's not easy being a Strong; with a mother who committed suicide, a father who sired three children out of wedlock and then died for it, and a creepy uncle who has nefarious plans for his niece, it's hard to find people who truly mean the best for you. Luckily there are your brothers and your fiance... right? Warning(s): Murder of a man A/n: I may or may not went a bit overboard with the second part. [Masterlist] [Mini masterlist] [Part One] [Part Three]

Six years have passed. The wound took a long time to heal and left a big scar. It sometimes throbs, like the memory.

Harrenhal is almost finished with its reconstruction. After the fire, not all was lost. The main pillars of the castle still stood upright once the fire was extinguished. And after six years it's almost rebuilt to its former glory.

The flapping of wings pulls your attention and you look up. From a distance, the distinct green colour of Vermax is easily spotted. Jace circles the tower you stand in before flying down and landing in the courtyard.

You run down the endless flights of stairs and into Jace's arms. He holds you tight to his chest, laying a hand on the back of your head. "Jace! It's been too long. How is your mother? And how is Luke?"

Jace laughs as you lead him into the castle. You ask a couple of servants to make both of you tea and some tarts. Taking place in one of the informal reception rooms, Jace and you take a couch.

"You would know how mother and Luke were if you came by more often..." Jace gives you a slight glance over his mug, but you wave his comment away.

"My dear lord uncle knew when I snuck off with you to go to Dragonstone every time. He has rats everywhere. I'm convinced he's locked me up in Harrenhal to either kill me by boredom or marry me off to the highest bidder." You slump down in your seat and huff.

The oldest Valeryon prince puts down his cup and turns to you. "If finding the right suitor makes you worried, I could..."

A gag escapes your mouth. "I respect your Targaryen traditions and customs, but no. Gross. Can't you ask your mother if she knows some houses with lads of my age? Isn't the Lord of Winterfell of our age?" You give Jace a teasing smile, but it drops as you see the serious look on his face.

"I didn't come here to catch up, my dear sister. We have a favour to ask of you." He grabs both of your hands. "Luke's claim to the Drifmark throne is being challenged by the brother of our Grandsire. We ask of you to stand by the Blacks to bolden Luke's claim."

"What does Luke want? What do you want?", you ask, peering into Jace's eyes.

He sighs. "Luke had been preparing most of his life to take the Driftmark throne. Is he ready? No. He still is young. And I? I just... want you safe and not in the middle of the family conflict."

You hum, nibbling on your bottom lip. "I already took a knife for him, so why not? When are we leaving?"

Jace jumps up from the couch and pulls you along the corridors. "Now, mother and Luke are almost at King's Landing."

"Couldn't you get to me sooner? What if I said no? I need to change first into a red or black dress!", you motion to the soft orange tone of the dress your currently wearing. Jace huffs but lets you change into something more appropriate.

Jace lifts you up on Vermax by your middle and secures you to the saddle before climbing behind you. And with that, you are off to the capital.

For your first time riding a dragon, it wasn't that bad. It was nice to feel the wind through your hair and it felt incredibly freeing, soaring above the water and through clouds. If you had a dragon, you would be flying every day.

Jace rushes past a ship, the one his mother and prince Daemon are on. A dragon flies next to the both of you. Arrax, Luke's dragon. He waves at you happily before taking a nosedive towards the water and nearly missing it.

As much fun as it is to fly on a dragon, you are happy that your feet are touching the muddy ground of the Red Keep. There is nobody to greet the Princess and her family and they huff in annoyance.

The two princes rush off towards the training grounds, but you stick around Rhaenyra.

"My Princess", you say while curtsying deeply. "You practically glow."

She waves you off with a smile and grabs the arm of her husband as she motions for you to walk with her. "How are you dear? Is Harrenhal good to you?"

You nod. "Yes, your Highness. It can be a tad boring, but it's good and safe."

Princess Rhaenyra seems content with that answer and you let her and her husband go to her father. You chose to follow her sons and go to the training field.

There is a crowd collected around one fight; Ser Criston against Prince Aemond. You grimace. You kinda hoped to not see the prince. Or at least the bear minimum. Both Luke and Jace watch gleefully the match.

As you want to turn around, a voice stops you. "Lady Strong, nephews, what a pleasure."

With a scowl, you turn around and give the prince the slightest smile. "My Prince. Well done, you'll be winning tourneys in no time." You curtsey slightly.

Aemond Targaryen has grown quite a lot over the years. He has grown taller, and leaner, and his hair resembles that of his forefathers. A true Targaryen prince if you have ever seen one.

What clashes with his fair complexion is the leather eyepatch over his left eye. A scar creeps from both under and above the patch.

You can feel his stare do the same to you, sizing you up, seeing how you've changed over the years, and then landing on the scar that cuts into your upper lip and goes over your left cheek.

You turn your face away, chewing on your bottom lip. Jace comes to stand next to you in support.

"I don't give a shit about tourneys, Lady Strong."

With a nod and a curtsy, you turn around, not caring to stick around any longer.

Knowing that the Princess is with the King, Princess Heleana is with her children, and your brothers are at the training grounds. So you aimlessly wander about the castle, seeing how much it has changed through the years.

The clicking of a cane you can hear come closer to you from down the hall, and you let out a sigh. "Uncle."

Larys Strong stops in front of you, his face without emotion. "What are you doing here? Didn't I order you to stay put at Harrenhal?"

Straightening your back, you answer back, "I am here to show my support to Prince Lucerys' claim to Driftmark."

Your uncle tightens his grip on the cane he holds, his jaw ticked. He looks like he wants to make words foul. But instead, he turns around and limps away.

"You for sure are not your uncle's favourite niece." Aemond appears behind you.

Feeling on edge, you bow. "Prince Aemond."

The corners of his lips turn up, a mischievous look in his eyes. "So, you're here to defend the little bastard? How brave of you, Lady Strong."

"How so, my Prince?" Your eyes narrow at him. The mention of your brothers' parentage is still a sore spot for the family. People still doubt they're late Leanor Valeryon's sons. And you're all too glad to say that all three of your brothers are Valeryon's to spare them a hard life.

Aemond takes an unexpected step towards you and reaches out a hand, softly trailing over the scar above your exposed collarbone. You pull away, the touch scorning hot against your skin.

His lips part to say something but at that moment the announcement of the vote beginning makes him snap out of his trance.

You bow and hurry away. Once the coast is clear, you lean against a wall and hold your chest, cursing your heart for beating so rapidly and the flutters in your stomach to calm down. You shouldn't be feeling this way about the one who constantly insults and speaks blasphemy about your brothers.

Making your way into the throne room, you stand at the back of the small group, squeezing Luke's hand in support. He gives you a grateful smile and turns back to the throne, holding onto his mother for dear life.

As you're not even listening to Vaemond Valeryon, you look around the throne room.

The Hand of the King, Otto Hightower, is seated on the throne, nodding along with Vaemond. The Queen stands with her children, and Uncle Larrys is somewhere in the crowd, his judgemental eyes burning to the back of your head.

From the hand full of sentences you shared, you know he isn't happy with your decision to stand by the Blacks. But you don't care. This is the family that truly cares about you, even if it needs to be a secret.

This is the family that celebrates your name day every year. And you are invited to spend every one of theirs in their company. This is the family that makes sure you don't wilt away in that damned castle like your mother.

This is the family, even if you weren't related by blood, still would be your family.

Another pair of eyes ─ or rather one eye and an eyepatch ─ have their unwavering attention on you. Aemond's. You glance at him and you lock eyes with him. He smirks slightly, his tongue darting out to wet his lips. His smirk unnerves you.

Jace also notices his uncle's full attention on you and he takes a small step backwards, standing protectively in front of you. His own eyes challenged that of the prince's to dare something, now or later.

As it is the turn of princess Rhaenyra to speak for her son and defend his claim, the doors open and in comes the King, hunched over and leaning heavily on his cane.

"King Viserys I Targaryen, the King of the Andals, the Rhoynar, and the First Men", announces a King's Guard and a gasp of surprise ripples through the throne room.

As the King drags himself into the room, everybody bows, just like you.

His breath is laboured and he has half of his face covered by a plate of gold, an imprint of a face decorating it.

The Greens share borderline panicked looks like this isn't supposed to happen. Which you guess shouldn't, seeing the state of the King.

Otto Hightower quickly moves off the throne and stands on the right side, with his family.

Before the King moves up the steps, he turns towards his hand. "I'll sit the throne today", he wheezes out before struggling upwards. He waves away a guard and continues on.

Halfway there, the crown falls off his head, and the King rests tiredly on his cane. Prince Daemon moves out of the crowd to help the King. He helps him sit on the throne before placing the crown back on the King's head.

After a moment of collecting his breath, the King speaks. "I must... admit... my confusion. I do not understand why petitions are being heard over a settled succession."

The voice of the King, although weak, echoes with power through the throne room.

"The only one present... who might offer keener insight into Lord Corlys's wishes, is the Princess Rhaenys."

At the words of the King, everyone turns to the Princess, who stands with one of her granddaughters. "Indeed, Your Grace."

She moves to the middle of the room. "It was ever my husband's will that Driftmark pass through Ser Laenor to his trueborn son... Lucerys Velaryon. His mind never changed. Nor did my support of him.

"As a matter of fact, the Princess Rhaenyra has just informed me of her desire to marry her sons Jace and Luke to Lord Corlys's granddaughters, Baela and Rhaena. A proposal which I heartily agree."

You turn towards Jace, and he towards you, questions in his eyes.

"Well", begins the King again, "the matter is settled. Again, I hereby reaffirm Prince Lucerys of House Velaryon as heir to Driftmark, the Driftwood Throne, and the next Lord of the Tides."

A silent relief goes through my body and a smile breaks out on my face. Luke's future is safe, as heir to Driftwood, but also in marriage to his cousin.

Vaemond Velaryon lashed out, angry at the decision of the King. He starts screaming around, pointing towards Luke angrily.

"You may run your house as you see fit, but you will not decide the future of mine. My house survived the Doom, and a thousand tribulations besides, and gods be damned, I will not see it ended on the account of this b..." Vaemond stops just in time before he can utter that dreaded word.

On Prince Daemon's face grows a sadistic smirk. "Say it."

He turns towards Prince Daemon with a smile. "Her children... are BASTARDS! And she is a whore."

Gasps are going around the crowd. You want to go to Vaemond, fight him, claw his eyes out to even dare to claim such a thing.

Suddenly, Vaemond turns towards you. "And we all know why they kept that wench around. I would bet on my life she’s also one of her BASTARD children."

Prince Daemon sneaks behind the lord and hacks off his head, only his tongue staying in place.

A whimper leaves your lips and you turn to hide on Jace's shoulder. He puts a protective arm around you as he leads you away, Luke in tow.

You are fully prepared to spend your evening supper alone, not too keen on company after witnessing such a brutal sight. A knock on your door however informs you that you are to be expected in the dining room.

A handmaiden helps you in a formal dress and put your hair up before you make your way down, fully aware of your lateness.

As the doors get opened for you, you see the entire royal family seated at the table, King Viserys in the middle flanked by his wife and his daughter. Eyes fall upon you and you grow uncomfortable, picking at the edge of your long sleeve, covering most of the burn.

Jace raises out of his chair, a smile forming on his face.

"I'm sorry to interrupt, Your Graces." You bow, ashamed.

The queen stands up, a bright smile on her face. "None sense, my child. Let us pull up a chair for you." She motions for you to come in.

Servants move quickly to set up a place next to Prince Aemond, the only free place left at the table. You make eye contact with Jace before moving towards the seat.

Aemond shoots up and moves to push your chair once you are seated on it. Sending a quick smile towards the Hand and Prince Aegon, you look at your plate.

The Queen grabs her goblet and raises it in the air. "I am proud to announce the betrothal of my son, Prince Aemond Targaryen and Lady (Y/n) Strong."

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