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kneelingshadowsalome · 10 months

Note

Oh GOD, breeding kink with Ghost but he's actually determined to get his darling pregnant because after everything they've been through together, how much he loves her and vice versa? I could go on but it's just something to think about. I also strongly believe he'd be that kind of girl dad heheh

Couldn't Love You More (Ghost x F!Reader)

Left pic credit: @ vhenan_virabelasan on IG

Word count: 3.7 k

Tags/warnings: Tooth-rotting FLUFF. Mild, soft smut 🔞, crying (from joy), breeding kink (obv), comfort no hurt. All the softness and love.

A/N: Excuse me, more soft!Ghost coming through! I hope you like this take anon 💕

"I'm tired of using those things."

Simon rarely whispers, hardly ever murmurs, and never coos. But this time, his voice is deliberately soft.

You sigh and put the condom package down on the table. This evening had been a nice change, a pampering for your poor, stressed-out nerves. He had done his best to take your mind off work ever since he got home: he took you out for a 3-course dinner – which reminded you of the early days of your dating – and it was all supposed to end in a good stress relief of a fuck.

You'd sent him suggestive texts all morning, knowing he was coming home today. Those messages were extra naughty because you happened to be ovulating, and juicy, and horny as hell.

And you know he has waited for this moment as well. Which is why you can't get your head around why he wants to raise the subject of using other methods of contraception right before you're about to have sex.

Why would he suddenly start complaining when both of you are already naked – practically seconds before you're about to roll down the condom for him?

"You know I've tried, Simon," you sigh again – you don't even bother to disguise the annoyance in your voice. After all, you've tried basically everything to make it more pleasurable for you to make love without the risk of getting knocked up. You hate the rubber between the two of you just as much as he does, if not more. Apparently you need to remind him how the last attempt with the pill went.

"I become a bloated monster," you say, realizing you're pouting only when he laughs.

You absolutely love it when he does: it's a rare thing, even with you. Even after all these years of love and dedication, the warm, husky chuckle at the back of his throat makes your heart flutter and your head feel dizzy.

"That's not what I meant."

"Then what did you mean…?"

The man has a tiny twinkle in his eyes, and the flutter in your heart turns into something heavier, more serious. He looks you up and down as if to weigh whether you're ready to take in what he's about to say.

"How about we just ditch the bloody things?"

Your heart is truly getting it today: it skips a beat or two from what he says. From what he implies.

"But you…” you whisper, still unsure if you're truly discussing the same thing here. “You said that kids are a bad idea."

"They are."

The twinkle in those eyes turns into an amused gleam, the corner of his mouth lifts up a bit from seeing you so shocked.

And Simon never said he didn't want children.

It's just that he has avoided the subject like it's a seasonal flu he doesn't want to catch.

He would make the perfect father: you just know it. Sad to say, but it was one of the main reasons you fell for this man. It's stupid, but it's true: women look for these things. They can tell if a guy would be a good choice for a father. They notice safety, security, the willingness to support and provide.

Biology and instincts be damned, you simply can't deny that Simon is the first man who made you think about what it would be like to have children. And of course the perfect candidate for a father thought that kids were a bad idea…

It seemed like a cruel joke, the way he brushed you off when you first approached him with your shy request. You pussyfooted around the subject, were as delicate as one can be, knowing it might make him uncomfortable.

And it did. It more than just did.

He freaked the fuck out, went to work, and worked himself nearly to death – literally almost got himself killed, and you understood that this was serious. His childhood, his past, the dangers of his work – of course he thought himself unfit for the role.

Infuriatingly, it only made you more convinced that he was the perfect choice. The man was just so fricking responsible.

You barred your mouth shut after that. Instinct told you Simon might just leave if you continued the talk about having kids. Not because he couldn't take it, but because he would want to give you a chance to find someone to raise a family with before it was too late.

It was his view of unconditional love: he was ready to let you go if need be. He would set you free if he suspected it would make you happy.

But then you saw him look at tiny kids – usually the ones that had just learned to walk – with a fleeting longing in his stare. It always turned into a withdrawn sulk, the gaze of a man who has accepted his fate.

He seemed to have the softest spot for little girls, especially when they were laughing and giggling or being unruly rascals, and sometimes flinched when a baby started to cry in the store. He looked a bit distressed for a second, and not because of the noise – but because he couldn't locate the immediate source and go and calm the baby.

That's when you realized he actually wanted kids. The biological clock on this man was ticking just as furiously as yours.

Years passed, and you silently buried your dreams of raising a little family together. He was enough for you, more than enough: you would not break up because of this. No man could ever replace Simon.

But it still hurt. It was like a wound that never healed.

Until this night…

This night, it seemed he would not only cure it but heal it so well it wouldn’t even leave a scar.

You suddenly find yourself under him – his moves are so quick that it's almost like you're teleported there. He sometimes does that: lets you play with him for a while, have your fun on top before reminding you who is in control here.

And this time, he won't even let you play.

"Simon, what are you doing," you sigh with barely concealed exhilaration.

As if you didn't know exactly what he is about to do.

He looks at you with that possessive look he sometimes has when you two have been apart for far too long. And there's something more behind that stare. It tells you that this is serious; this means business. The package you placed on the nightstand remains unopened and, apparently, will be the witness to his mission tonight.

Serves the damn thing right…

You take in the absolute beef of this man: the bulk of pecs above you, the wide, solid middle that nearly swallows you every time you're under him.

You almost disappear between him and the mattress when you two are doing missionary, and it's one of the best feelings in the world. You've wanted to sink your teeth in to those huge, solid shoulders for god knows how many times. Once or twice, you actually did give him a little bite, only a nib, really, during a good pounding – and giggled at the breathless grunt of "Hey" that followed.

The trail of hair, darker in tone compared to the hair on his head, spreads over his abs which rest under a thin layer of fat. The happy trail, as you call it, runs down until it meets the heavy cock that always makes your mouth water like it's your favorite meal.

His hand is weighty, adoring when it comes to rest on your waist – the callous of his palms feels just the right kind of rough as he gives you the softest squeeze and a caress.

And he must know from the wanton looks you gave him all evening that he can just walk right in. Probably knew from those texts already that you've been wet all day long.

You try to spread your legs wider than they can go as he grabs himself to be positioned to your entrance. The fat tip of him feels heavy on your folds as he lazily slides himself up and down your slit, teasing the opening but not going in. It feels heavenly to sense him, all of him, with nothing there between you. There's no lifeless rubber: just his thick velvet meeting your wetness and silk.

The darned man won't even answer your question… Probably knows it's not really a question, just an astonished sigh of love.

"It's…not safe," your head falls back as he pushes the first few inches in – teasing you still by not giving you the full length and thick of him.

"Tired of safe, too," he rumbles softly above you, feeds more of himself in, and you tighten around his cock: receive him with fierce love and yearning. He groans at the sensation – it must feel divine for him, too. It must feel like it's meant to be this way. Now and forever.

You sigh as he starts to move, slow and intense, just the way he knows you like it when there's been too much stress and life has been a bitch. He always makes you feel better, always makes you melt in his arms when you run to him from the unfair, fucked up world.

He's got some bad days too, and that’s when you ruffle his hair, scrub his back in the shower, give him a sloppy little blowjob, or make him his favorite dish, anything to make the tension in those mountains of shoulders disappear.

You two worship each other; there’s no question about that.

"Simon–ah… Truly, are you serious…?"

"Hell yeah."

The idea of him cumming inside you is thrilling enough, but it's not just about that.

You're ovulating, and he's a man in his absolute prime. He reminds you of mountain lions and snow leopards, living their life in harsh conditions and in wandering solitude until… Until the perfect companion comes along. He's simply the most virile male there is; broad, wide, and heavy, always ready when you are.

A man like Simon just cannot be infertile.

His eyes are half-lidded already, and those pale eyelashes make you bite your lip and grab his butt like it would be a life or death situation if he chose to withdraw.

And you know he loves it when you grope his ass and try to assist him with the thrusts.

His little helper, indeed…

"Bloody fucking hell, you feel good…"

His head rolls back, exposing the tendons on his neck, thick, like the rest of him. Everything in this man is thick and broad and good – and fuck – he glides in and out like a dream. Somehow the extra layer of rubber has taken the brunt of his thickness away, but you feel it now, all of it, and it's something you could die for.

He grunts and thrusts, then halts for a while, chuckles all breathless…

"It's gonna be one hell of a show, sweetheart."

He's talking about what comes after. How it will be when there's a new addition and not a crew of two anymore. It brings tears to your eyes to see how he's already thinking about the future – and how he does it with a smile and a pleased chuckle.

"I'm used to sleepless nights," he reminds you softly. "You're not."

Ugh – he's thinking about your well-being when it would only make you the happiest woman on earth to take care of his children. Your children.

"I'll manage," you whisper.

"I know you will."

The tears are so close now; he’s simply the one and only person in this world for whom your love is boundless. It’s endless, overflowing.

He pulls back a little, raises your legs to rest on his shoulders, then crawls forward – he’s about to go deep, and the indecent but insanely sweet position makes you quail from him at first. It’s just too much all of a sudden.

"Wait–"

"The boys said this'll do the trick," he explains, waits until you adjust under and around him.

"The–the boys?"

He had been discussing this with his workmates…?

Discussing which position is the best to help conceive?

"Yeah. Wanna do this properly."

This man might actually be serious… He just might be serious about this, and you still have difficulty grasping it.

"I can't believe you want this," you whisper, still trying to catch your breath on what's happening.

"Believe it or not, it's gonna happen now."

The smallest tear escapes, and you purse your lips, shut them tight to prevent a tiny little bawl from erupting.

"I've always wanted you, Simon," you breathe into the air between you as he starts to make love to you, fill you with intent. "Just you, all these years…"

He rarely whispers, but this time, his voice is the softest hush.

"Right back at ya, darling."

"I–I want to give you… want your kids," you whimper, tears coating your voice as he continues the torture while the sweet, tight love surrounds you both.

"I want a family, Simon," you pant weakly, almost distressed. So urgent, desperate, like the wound is yet to be healed. You've never said those words to him before because you were afraid he might leave.

"Love… fuckin' hell."

He has to stop to catch his breath, to catch the truth. Of course he has known it all along without you telling him, because he simply has those instincts of a wild animal.

But words are powerful… They are magic. And this magic wants itself spelled out.

"I'll give them to you," he promises. "All of it. I swear."

Your eyes drift closed from the full wave of his vow. This mission is a crucial one, then, one of his most important ones. The man loves challenges; he loves when you up the stakes. Perhaps that's what this is about: he doesn't want to be a coward about the thing you both want.

The skulls, the brass and death that always surround him can't take away the fact that he's a lifegiver. No matter what anyone says, men can give life, too. He has already given you so much, and now he's going to give you children.

A few more tears push through, and it's one of the sweetest things in your life: to get fucked by him so good while you're crying from joy.

"Luv. You trust me?"

You open your eyes again, and the sight of him is crystallized through tears. It's the most beautiful thing.

"I trust you," you answer with a shaky breath.

Your trust is even more drugging to him than the tightness of your cunt, it seems. The corner of his eye twitches once, his brows knit together, and a pained look passes in his stare: but it's the sweet kind of pain, just like yours is.

"Feels so good," you whisper, looking up at him with devout love. "So, so good…"

"You're damn right," he sighs, panting with strained, short breaths. "Never felt this good."

He rocks you like you're under the sea, at the bottom of the ocean where the waves are mellow and the seabed is made of the softest sand. You're squeezed between his arms, tightly; he pins you to the bed with his body. The flutter of those pale lashes with every thrust is illegally sweet.

Your lips are bolted shut from the raw sensation, the swelling waves, but when a noise finally erupts, it does so with force.

You know it makes him wild whenever you cry and plead under him. You know it sends him straight to the edge, too: when you moan and tighten around his cock, spread yourself for him to plunder while you're clawing at his back. You were so embarrassed the first time you noticed the red marks on his skin after your little sessions, but he was only pleased and said you should never apologize for that. His body is full of past pain and torture, and still, still, he allows, even wants you to destroy it even more.

"Faster, Simon, please…"

"Yeah, that's it. Beg... Beg for me, love… "

And damn right, he's eating up your wrecked state like it's time for Christmas dinner, and the table is brimming with his favorite food. You're close, so close it would be torture, devastation if he stopped.

"Ya want me to give it to you?" His voice is more rough, more commanding. God, he's close too.

"Yes–give it to me, please–"

Just don't stop, whatever you do, don't stop…

You beg some more, but it's incoherent. Just the way he likes.

Simon–fuck…

There's no reason to it, just ah's and fuck's and love's, all knit together in a sweet, heady mess as you come–

Fuck–!

…the orgasm is so intense it points your toes, makes you wrap around his middle with what little strength you have in your arms and fingers and those tiny little claws. Your nails sink in, somewhere between his shoulder blades: he's so wide you can't quite reach to hug him, but you latch onto him like a drowning person nonetheless.

"Oh–oh fucking god…!"

He comes, right after, buries himself so deep that it stings a little, but you would never, ever complain. He pumps you full, doesn't even move, only arches his back to go even deeper, although he's already buried there to the hilt.

And never has he in all your years together sounded so vulnerable. He usually just grunts and huffs when he comes, but now you get a whole string of words and a fragile, broken pitch. He sounds as if he's near the point of breaking into tears.

It must feel divine to cum inside you instead of a condom, and what's even more, with the intent to fulfill a mission with that shot. Give life.

If you don't get pregnant from this, well… you doubt you ever will.

He's lying on top of you in a heavy, panting heap, sounding like he's just done ten deadlift PRs in a row. You can't help but laugh, breathless, too, and caress him as he comes down from his sex high.

"You can let me go now," you ghost your fingertips up and down his back when he still doesn't move. It's not that you want him to release you, but he's simply too heavy to be lying all over you like this for long periods of time.

"Nah not yet. Gotta make sure..."

He thinks you want him to pull out, and you giggle some more.

"You're crushing me," you laugh. "And we can do this all weekend, silly. If you want to make sure."

His middle contracts with a silent laugh, too.

"Got a fair point there, love."

Finally, he lets you out of the spread. He pulls out, too – that's not necessarily what you wanted, but when he takes you in his arms, you don't complain.

"That was… so nice," you say, suddenly shy. As if this was the first time he wrapped himself around you in a post-coital embrace.

"That was the best."

He's so warm, and the arm around you is heavy, even when lax. Especially when lax. You feel soft and sweet in his hold made of pure strength.

"I'd be surprised if not. You were very determined."

"You think that did it..?"

He's suddenly shy, too. You could swear he has never asked such a fragile question during or after a mission.

"No half-assing with my sweetheart."

One could say he really used his whole ass on this. You know it, because you're the one who spurred him on with weak but eager hands.

"...but I think it would be best to try again tomorrow. Just in case," he suggests, and you can hear the smile. God, that you love him.

"I wouldn't say no to that."

You imagine him waking up to your baby's cry with a sigh and a jaw-dislocating yawn, hushing you back to sleep by telling you it's his turn to go. He would finally locate the source of crying and make it his mission to cradle the little breadcrumb back to sleep, too. You just know Simon would sometimes fall asleep on the sofa while the baby is still in his arms, sound asleep just like their dad.

And you also know the child would make him laugh more. He would have the greatest time hearing all the silly (not to talk about the clever!) things the kid comes up with once it started talking. Simon would listen with a straight face, at first – out of respect – but then he would come to you with an unrestrained smile and a comment: "Did'ya hear what that little thing just said? Unbelievable..."

Whenever the kid had a tricky question, you would send them to Simon. It's decided already. You imagine him explaining things to the child with his steady and calm briefing voice while you're trying to keep your giggle in.

And when the little one was big enough to run around and poke things off the shelves, Simon would embrace you from behind while you're pouring some morning tea and say: "Should we make another one, hmm?"

After all, your little troublemaker would also need a friend to play with...

There's a gigantic, peaceful smile on your face, and Simon should be snoring by now… But he's still awake, and the arm around you draws you closer. He even tucks his hand partly between your body and the mattress. It's the sweetest prison from which you never want to escape.

"What if… What if I get grumpy when I'm pregnant?" You start to chit-chat nonsense while he holds you against a solid chest. You know he will fall asleep soon, and you wish to voice some fragile concerns before he does.

"I'll bring you ice cream to keep you nice and calm," he mutters in the back of your neck, sounding drowsy already.

"What if ice cream won't help?"

"I'll bring you chocolate."

You smile at him having a solution to every problem, no matter how minor.

"You're really not afraid…?"

"Of you being grumpy? Nah I don't think so."

"No," you laugh at him joking around. "Of… changes."

"After all that we've been through? No." He brushes his lips over your neck, and you turn a little to look at him.

"Simon... What made you change your mind?"

He thinks on the answer for a good ten seconds. You know that inward look, which is both a gaze to the past and a shaky, hopeful glimpse to the future.

"Don't wanna die without knowing how our kid would look like. What they would be like."

You swallow past sorrow – it's such a beautiful thing to say that you have to catch your breath for a moment. Then you put your hand over his arm, the one keeping you close to him.

"Guess I got tired of living in fear," he sums up the change of heart, and you have to blink back more tears.

"I'm tired of living in fear, too," you whisper, and he entwines your fingers together. The kiss that follows is like a seal to your change of plans. It's pure hope.

"Could you... Could you say that we'll be fine?" You speak on his lips as softly as you can. You sometimes worry that he's annoyed by your constant need for reassurance, but he sounds as solid as a soldier can be.

"We'll be fine like always. Promise you that."

He doesn't seem to mind: if anything, you could swear that giving you encouragement only makes his chest puff up a little. The man gets satisfaction from you needing him in your life like this.

"Don't worry. I'll take care of us."

You ease fully into his embrace. He has said he'll take care of you many times before, but now your world is changing. It has changed already; you just know it. There's no more you and him, a team of two.

There will be a tiny little breadcrumb too.

#simon ghost riley #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley fluff #simon riley smut #ghost x you #simon riley x you #simon riley imagine #soft simon riley #soft ghost #fluff and smut #call of duty #mw2 fluff

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aeon2407 · 7 months

Text

Pyro's Pyrotechnic Love Life - Chapter 8

For @contentment-of-cats. Also on AO3.

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Recovery Room, The Levinbolt, Task Force Spearhead

Yana couldn’t slice the door. Whoever was in charge of The House’s cybersecurity was almost as good as Odo, which meant they far outstripped her. “All right, they're not going to let us out. Let’s have it.”

She was a direct person by both nature and nurture, and sometimes got very confused around highborns, which both Artur and Yissa were. More than that, they came from two prominent lines of Founders. But Artur was Army, and Yissa was disowned, so this might just work.

Artur tapped into his electro-tattoos and tried to forcibly override the control panel, not realizing that Lapin programmed it to fry anyone opening it from the inside. Ended up with his ass on the floor and his tattoos steaming, groaning in pain.

At the moment Yana was glaring at both of them, tears starting. Her chest hurt and her heart was trying to rip its way out of her chest. “You deserved that. I'm not going to fight both of you. I'm tired and I have seppies to squish. Let's have it out. All of it. Now. I love both of you. I chose you, Yissa, which is apparently not enough. Artur, I chose the Chimaera because - as Lady Domina said - I wanted to fly, not nest. I was twenty. I needed to find out who I am. And I did. Who I am is not someone who puts up with this pussyfooting around and highborn head games. Both of you shoot straight with me, or both of you let me go."

There was silence for a few seconds. Yana was just about to give up when Artur spoke.

“You know how I feel, Yana. It hasn't change. I love you, and if you want to share yourself between me and Yissa I’ll accept it. I...” A sigh. “I just want to be with you, by your side, all the way.”

Yana turned to Yissa. “I chose you. Is that enough?” She was very lucky to be loved by both, but if it made one or both unhappy she'd walk. Nobody deserved to have love used like a knife in the heart.

Yissa looked at her, then Artur. She was seeing him in somewhat of a new – or rather old – light, the light that made her choose him out of the list her parents gave her all those years ago.

She was also coming to terms with the fact that her mistrust of him, from the moment he stepped foot onto the Chimaera, had nothing to do with him being a Tagge, and everything to do with her not believing that she’d be enough to keep Yana from leaving her and coming back to him. Artur was just so… him, and she’d been so wrapped up in those thoughts she’d failed to notice the love and trust her lover, her wyf, gave her. “Yes, Yana. It's enough.”

Yana exhaled. Worst part is over. “All right. Do either of you have any more issues with me?” Both of them shook their heads. “No issues? Good. Now we can talk about how this is gonna work going forward.”

Both of them were looking at her as if she was supposed to be leading them, as if they didn’t both outrank her. “You can both have me, but you have to work out your issues with each other before that can happen. If I take both of you, it is all the way. Absolutely equal. I have your backs, you have mine, and you need to have each other’s. It's a mean old galaxy full of assholes – we have to be a unit.”

Artur had no problems with Yissa as far as she could tell. Yiss was the one who needed some work here. The Sensors Officer was refusing to look either of them in the eyes, ashamed of herself now that she had time to reflect.

Yana came to her. Luckily she was short and could look Yissa in the eyes from multiple angles. Nothing really needed to be said. Well, that wasn’t true, but it could wait. For now, Yana simply wrapped her arms around Yissa's front and her wyf started crying.

And Yana was a sucker. Yana was the comforter and the make-better one. “I love you. I always will. I will never stop. Even if I die.”

“I know that Yana. I know. It's just... I see the way you look at him, and then I find out about little pieces of your relationship through Jash and Aylin, and it just feels like even though you love me, you'll still realize that he's the better choice. The one that truly has your heart.”

“But do you see the way I look at you? There is no better choice. You’re both unique, amazing.”

And she was truly crying now, bawling in Yana's embrace.

Artur kept his eyes averted, admittedly a little uncomfortable with seeing his ex-fiancé this vulnerable. He had the same conversation with himself their second year, same doubts about whether Yana would fall out of love with him and find someone new. Someone better.

He had Revy, Aunt Mina, and the Twins there to set him straight. Yissa didn't even have family to turn to without breaching professional boundaries.

Yana would never abandon Yissa. Yissa – like her – had no family, disgraced and disowned when she ran from her own wedding to enlist. They've been family since six months after Thrawn came to the Chimaera.

Once Yissa was done crying and Yana released her, Artur scooted closer. Gently, slowly. She was still emotional, easily spooked. He looked at her and opened his arms with a soft, faint smile. She sank in, muttering apologies into his shirt as they hugged. He didn’t say anything, but she understood.

All was forgiven.

Yana’s comlink chimed and she deftly switched it off, hugging Yissa from the back. The graft on her shoulders throbbed and was promptly ignored.

However, she was troubled. Her family was the Chimaera, her loves Yissa and Artur. They could go back, all three of them. Phyrre, Jash, and Odo already liked Artur and they would accept him into the circle the way they did Yissa. In her own opinion she was not ready for command, but she knew it was inevitable at this point.

Cherno and Vergilio were of the opposite view. She got tossed in the deep and and came swimming in like a fireswan. Thrawn happened to agree with them. She had been forced to grow into a command no smaller than that of an Imperial Navy Commander, four ranks above her own, and had flourished. Faro thought that she could use another year or two before her first official command, but that she was ready if needed.

Yana was getting that promotion, whether she liked it or not.

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Command Bridge, The Levinbolt, Task Force Spearhead

Phyrre watched the security feed with glee. A pool has already been started fleetwide. Jash had a month’s pay on a triad marriage, Odo on a concubine. She had her own pay on a classic husband-wife-wyf setup. Lapin was vibrating with excitement in the command chair, already picking out dresses.

The core family and relevant blood ties were already informed and Cassio, being Baron, was in charge of preparations to bring Pyrondi into the aristocracy. Yissa was already a Lady before being disowned so she was a simpler case.

Meanwhile, Tonio was having a fit. His best Weapons Officer AND his best Sensors Officer!? POACHING!

Lapin decided that their job here was over. “Captain Virgilio, the bridge is yours.”

“Copy that, Marshal.”

“Prepare my shuttle. I’m going back to the Acquisitor.”

“Yes, sir. Informing hangar technicians now.”

When it came to wedding preparations, especially for The Eldest of The Eldest, it was best to discuss things in person.

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Executive Quarters, The Acquisitor, Tagge Armada

“They might want to be married in uniform. Lady Ilyana might need to marry Lady Yissa first, then marry Artur. The Hammerlys will have tookas.”

Domina considered things. “The Hammerly Family won't accept being merged into House Tagge, Lapin. Their pride as a fellow Founder won't allow it.” That would be a problem.

“They disowned Lady Yissa, my Lady - finders keepers, losers weepers.” Red dress. Red and gold. Tagge colors. “Lady Yissa has a little bit leftover from draining her trust fund, but that's the last of her connection to that family besides her name. And I think Artur prefers to be married in Special Forces colors. Maybe the red Barony Sash on top?”

“Still, Tagges are expected to be of a certain… financial state. It’ll be a substantial amoun-“ A pause to look at Yana’s business account.

Lapin shrugged. “Lady Ilyana bought an older Arquetiens after graduation so her accounts are a little low. None of the Nerds have needed to work since they founded Find Out Inc. and patented the Pyrondi System. They could retire tomorrow and be very comfortable.”

The Nerds, formerly the Four Demons of Royal Imperial, were millionaires, one and all. Pyrondi System, KYS System, Invisi-Hull, PNM, there were a dozen patents under their names, consolidated into Find Out Incorporated. They made more a month in royalties than Thrawn did a year as Grand Admiral. “Why didn’t Yana, or the rest of the Nerds, use their wealth to find accommodation on Canto Bight? Why ask Artur?”

Lapin looked into it. “Hmm. All of their fees are on autopay, but otherwise I don’t see any activity on any of their company accounts for the past two years. My guess? They forgot that they’re rich. They seem humble enough to not focus on wealth.”

Domina smirked as she opened her comlink. “Let’s test that theory, shall we? Phyrre, my dear, I have a question for you.”

An audible gulp. Adorable. “What is it, Lady Domina?”

“Do you remember Find Out Incorporated?”

“Of course. My friends and I founded it in our third year at Royal to patent the Pyrondi System. What about it, my Lady?”

“Why didn’t you use the royalties to get accommodations while on leave? You have more than enough.”

A very telling silence. “You all forgot about those accounts, didn’t you?”

A sigh. “Yes we did.”

“That’s all I need to know. Thank you, darling.”

Lapin was chuckling. Typical nerd behavior. Domina giggled in amusement as she ended the call. “Take a million from Yana as a dowry. That should appease the more traditional relatives. Recommend investments and saving plans for the rest. If she's going to be a Tagge, she's going to be a proper one. That means adding extra zeroes to this number, Lapin. Get it done.”

“Of course, auntie.”

“Also, offer the Nerds jobs. Multiple options, salaries in the third bracket should do nicely.” It would be beneficial to keep her friends close by. She'd need a support network to deal with life as a Tagge.

Lapin handed her a datapad. “A list of those from the 7th approaching retirement, or who might be waffling on renewing commissions. If we want Thrawn, we have to offer more, and we can.” The Dynasty had outlived more regimes than they had fingers and toes. The Seventh had nearly 3000 ships, split into multiple task forces. They could beat it.

Domina had been interested in Thrawn ever since he was a lieutenant. Wanted him in the Armada when he made Captain. Now was her chance. “Sources close to Cassio told me that Thrawn joined the Navy to protect his people with a military force.” A Pause. Ah. Idea. “Is the High Marshal position open, Lapin?”

A corresponding Pause. “It can be. Where are you going with this?”

A Resign Sigh. This was the best option she could see. “Offer him the Armada. All of it.”

Shocked silence. “Are you sure, Lady Domina?”

Domina noted the formal address. Lapin was serious. “Yes, I am. Thrawn has proven himself loyal to the hand that provides for him. We need to make sure that it's my hand.”

The Armada itself could confront the Imperial Navy head-on. A million ships, including thirty thousand Domina-Class capital ships, armed to the teeth with the best hardware money couldn’t buy. Consolidated yet modular and flexible in deployment. Over two billion soldiers, all highly trained and carefully vetted. Unlike the Imperial Academies, TaggeCo spared no expense and cut no corners in making sure that their troops were the best in the galaxy.

If Thrawn accepted, eighty percent of the 7th would go with him. All of the women in the fleet would. Domina wanted that fleet. It was only ever Thrawn, maybe that mathematical genius aide of his, but this? This was a prize. She told Lapin to handle the talent acquisition, and also to discuss with Artur about an open Marshal position. Time to bring the man home. Most, if not all, of 1st SCAR would come with him. Yet another prize that she couldn’t pass up.

Palpatine would do nothing against her. He couldn’t. If the Dynasty collapsed, TaggeCo collapsed. If TaggeCo collapsed, the Empire would be reduced to the Core and nothing else. The Seswenna sector would go all in with Tepasi, and the Expansion Region with Seswenna. Tagges around the galaxy had their hooks in the Inner Rim, Mid Rim, Outer Rim, even the Unknown and Wild Space. If he killed the Dynasty, 95% of the Empire would die with it.

She checked on the status of Spearhead, then kicked her plan into action. Lucrative job offers by the millions were sent out to every name on the list. All she needed were for the Nerds and Thrawn to accept and the rest would follow. She’d essentially be annexing the 7th Fleet into the Armada.

Vader made use of the shock and confusion to slip a sighting of Kenobi into the records, then mobilized the Inquisitors and left for Byss. He’d get rid of them once they were there. Lapin prepared to welcome the Grand Admiral and Commander Vanto. Lady Karyn too, after a moment’s consideration. There were offers on the table in the form of insignias, gleaming on the literal table.

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

Thrawn analyzed the room. The decoration was subtle, yet prominent. An air of elegance, and also an intimidating yet subtle statement of their strength and wealth. Interesting. Meanwhile, Karyn reminisced on the few times she’d been here before, when she was still fooling around with Cas.

Eli stared at the insignias on the table. High Marshal, Fleet Admiral, Vice Admiral. Looked at Thrawn. “They're handing over their armada. All of it. To you. Now.”

Thrawn raised an eyebrow and looked at Lapin, who nodded. “Yes, we are. In exchange, we want you to secure an expansion of Tagge Space to every available system nearby, and improve our officers' tactical prowess. We've also sent offers to every member of the 7th that potentially wants to come with you, which is to say most of them.”

Thrawn’s mind was processing this admittedly unexpected turn of events. They have just offered him everything he could’ve wanted in an ally. After all, nothing was more incorruptible than a Tagge’s self-interest.

Lapin cleared their throat. “But first, I want to know what you think about… overthrowing the Empire?”

The first response was quick to come. “Are you with the Rebellion?”

A scoff. “Oh Margulis no. I stand with my family, Grand Admiral. That won’t change anytime soon.”

“I assume the Dynasty intends to replace the Empire?”

“We do. How do you feel about that?”

Eli knew that Thrawn had been bound ever tighter to the Empire, and that if Eli himself was having doubts lately, that Thrawn was having them, too.

And, on the surface level alone, Thrawn was just handed over three hundred times the amount of ships he had as Grand Admiral, even more firepower, and as much funding as he desired to finish the Defender Project. Although, the project could technically be scrapped and the Sienar contract terminated, then a similar project could be created at TaggeCo. Eli would handle that. His CO had no subtlety.

Thrawn weighed every factor like always. The Empire was so dependent on TaggeCo that it would cease to be without them. The House of Tagge was an empire of its own. Why not just replace the entire regime? It would be risky, especially with Palpatine's Sithly nature, but it could be done.

He picked up the insignia and the Force wobbled. In a cell on the Levinbolt, Ezra felt his heart seized up and his stomach dropped, feeling like his destiny just got bitchslapped.

Eli assumed that Fleet Admiral was for Faro, so he picked up the last one. Vice Admiral. Flag rank. Still an aide, mind, probably Chief Aide, but Vice Admiral Vanto had a very nice ring to it. He looked at Thrawn. The message was clear. ‘You go, I go.’ Faro was telling him the same thing with her eyes.

All three of them took their plaques off, put the insignias on, and sat down. Lapin smiled from the head of the table. Lady Domina would be so pleased. The Rebellion’s command would be decimated once they started, but the rest would have to be put on the backup engine. They'd serve as a distraction while the Tagges pulled off the coup of the millennium. No prolonged battle, no great war. Subtle setups, then one night to assassinate Palpatine and the galaxy would have an Empress Tagge on the throne.

“Welcome to the Tagge Armada, High Marshal, Admirals. Shall we get to work?”

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Deputy Director’s Office, ISB Headquarters, Coruscant

Partagaz and Yularen were having lunch and chatting at Yularen’s desk when the intel came. Domina was essentially annexing the 7th Fleet into the Armada. They looked at each other. The coup has begun. Time to put their control of the ISB to good use.

Partagaz got a request from General Tagge to get himself to Krownest for ‘extensive and advanced interrogation of the Spectres. Immediately made his way back to his office to pack. Yularen called for his private shuttle. No way was he missing this.

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Imperial High Command, Coruscant

Motti heard about the poaching attempt from Domina a little while ago and now he was in a crisis. At first, he had been glad. Thrawn produced results, yes, but the Chiss did it a little too well and he wouldn’t have put it past Palpatine to eventually make him Naval Chief, kicking Motti himself out of the IHC in the process.

Then he heard that every woman in the 7th would be going with him and he was elated. Women in the Navy was fine, but Thrawn’s command was nearly 25% women, with women in senior command positions. That felt weird to a man like Motti, and so he was glad that they were leaving.

And then he sat down and thought about it. About 20% of the 7th as a whole was expected to stay. That was over a million sailors that were, while undoubtedly talented, too off-center for the other fleets. Where would they go?

Maybe he’d encourage transfers to the Army, make it Cassio’s problem. His cousin’s been complaining about a shortage of skilled officers anyway.

Palpatine wouldn’t be happy about losing his largest fleet, but Conan Antonio Motti didn’t make Naval Chief by not knowing how to nerfshit his way out of things.

His comlink chimed. Not the work one, not the personal one. The hidden one. He reached in and checked it with shaking hands. ‘Operation Titanfall is live. Stage One.’

If he got this message, Uncle Wil and Uncle Wullf got it too, so would Uncle Hurst, Uncle Moradmin, and Siward. The entire High Command was in on this, besides Vader that was.

Another message. “Vader is in.”

HOW THE KR-

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Command Bridge, The Visionary, First Fleet

Karyn finally got that fleet she always wanted. It was with the Armada instead of the Imperial Navy, but the feeling was still incredible. Lapin had told her to get use to her new flagship, the Visionary, so she made her way there while Thrawn and Eli went back to the Harbinger.

Karyn expected many things as she stepped into the bridge. She didn’t expect her ex to be there, looking out the viewport.

“Cassio. Oh kriff me”, she groaned.

He turned around, that damn smirk on his lips. “Not exactly the best place, Karyn, but if you insist…”

“Kriff off, Cas.”

She was happy to see him, but damn her if she ever let him know it.

He chuckled. “The fleet is yours, Fleet Admiral Faro.”

It was hers. All hers. Finally. Time to overthrow a regime.

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Command Bridge, ISD Harbinger, Seventh Fleet

High Marshal Thrawn. That would take some getting used to. Eli hadn’t expect to call him anything besides Admiral or Grand Admiral for the rest of his career. Vice Admiral Vanto, though… That was just fun to say in his head. He was finally flag rank, and now to see who’d accept it. Thrawn took his seat.

“Lock down the ship, Lieutenant.”

“Yes sir.”

A click on his armrest comm.

“Attention crew of the Harbinger, this is Thrawn. As of twenty standard minutes ago, I have resigned my commission with the Imperial Navy and accepted an offer to become High Marshal of the Tagge Armada. My mission is to lead a coup against Emperor Palpatine and instate Lady Domina Tagge as Empress. Most of you have already received your own offers. Whether you accept them or not is your own prerogative, but should you accept, report to the secondary hangar bay in one hour. Should you not accept, report to the primary hangar and you will be allowed to leave. Whether you warn Imperial High Command or not will be irrelevant. Thrawn out.”

Another click to cut the feed. “Monitor all attempts of outside contact, Lieutenant. Report to me immediately and have them detained.”

“Right away, sir. And sir?”

“Yes, Lieutenant?”

“Long may you serve, High Marshal.”

Thrawn’s lips quirked up slightly. Long may they all serve.

A chime on his sensors. Ah, Colonel Yularen and Major Partagaz were here to question their prisoners. Good.

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Galactic Senate Chamber, Imperial Senate Building, Coruscant

Ulric was already preparing for the next Senate session when The Message came, followed immediately by an information package from Uncle Wullf. Evidence proving Mon Mothma, Breha Organa, and a slew of aristocrats and senators covered up the genocide on Jegsziv to save Saw Gererra’s ass, financial ties between Mothma, Organa, and the Rebellion, recordings of Leia Organa’s holocalls to rebel agents to plan the theft of her own ships…

Everything he needed to have them kicked off the Senate was there. The ISB was already standing by for arrests, simply waiting for him to present the data in front of the Senate and on record.

And so he did.

“The Senator for Tepasi has the chamber.”

“Thank you, Grand Vizier. Fellow senators, something has come to my attention just this morning that I feel requires an immediate response. If you all check your datapads, I have sent you the same information package I received from Colonel Wullf Yularen. Alarming, yet irrefutable, evidence of several beings in this very chamber covering up a planet-wide genocide, a genocide that killed over a billion people, just to save one man from rightfully being prosecuted for his crimes: Saw Gererra, a known insurgent that has been on the Empire’s Most Wanted list since its conception for charges such as terrorism, mass murder, and biological warfare.”

A deep breath.

“Inside that package, you will also see evidence financially connecting Senator Mon Mothma and Senator Bail Organa to the insurgent group known as the Rebellion, along with ISB recordings of Princess Leia Organa orchestrating with rebel agents on ways to steal Alderaanian ships for the rebel fleet. Senators, I motion for the removal and arrest of those named and accused by this evidence until a proper investigation into their crimes is completed.”

The vote was as one-sided as he predicted. Once Riyo Chuchi, a vocal supporter of Mothma’s, voted against her own friend with a horrified and disgusted look on her face, Ulric knew it was over.

In the end, they arrested Bail Organa, Mon Mothma, a host of other senators previously held in high esteem, and ISB troopers were moving to contain Alderaan and arrest Queen Breha.

The Grand Vizier and Emperor Palpatine ended the session early once it became clear that the Senate was too chaotic to be productive. Ulric smiled privately. His part was done.

Now he simply hoped that the others could do their parts.

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Recovery Room, The Levinbolt, Task Force Spearhead

Yissa had some time to think as she got a double hug. Did she like men? Or was it just Artur? She didn’t bed men, that was certain, but loving them? Hmm.

She decided to experiment, putting a hand on Artur's jaw and guiding him closer. Silently asked permission before tentatively meeting his lips with her own.

There was a fluttering in her chest that definitely wasn’t there the first and last time she kissed a man years ago. Yana was not going to disturb this. However, she found that watching them kiss felt Good. Yissa pulled him in closer, moaning lightly as Yana slid her hands up and under, then roamed. Things were heating up and she was glad.

Merri Barlin was in the corridor outside the medbay, trying to listen in and nursing a gigantic crush on Artur, and slightly smaller ones on Yissa and Yana.

Phyrre saw, snuck up behind her, unlocked the door, pushed her in, then relocked the door.

Her eyes widened. Yissa was spread wide, Yana stuffing her face between her legs while Artur railed her from behind.

They stared at her. She stared at them. Blushed. Stammered out an apology and tried to unlock the door.

Yissa recognized the marks of a Phyrre and Jash tag teaming. Meanwhile, Yana was melting into the bed, Artur making sure she came again before pulling out. Merri’s eyes widened even more at the size. She… Had Not.

Yissa patted the bedding. “Come.”

Merri obeyed the order like a good sailor. Looked at Yana. The little carnivore had been kriffed nonverbal and was currently the consistently of pulled taffy. “Well um… What now?”

Twin smirks answered her. Merri shivered with anticipation.

Oh well, to hell with it. “Yes.”

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