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ohbo-ohno · 6 months

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Revisiting a distant memory but its ex lovers with Price. Maybe some yearning? And incorporating "for the old times sake"? Thanks and happy writing!

1k game here - no more please!

GOD this one is hard!! i lovelovelovelove second chance romances (it's my favorite romance trope lol) but i really have absolutely no idea if i'm any good at writing them :')

2k of price x reader ft. reader mourning her marriage at a friend's wedding and price trying to be a good future ex-ex-husband. (btw this is laswell's wedding so we're all pretending that she says "girlfriend" instead of "wife" in game to make this work) no smut!

It's difficult not to drown your glass of wine in one long swallow, the déjà vu an almost overwhelming feeling.

You know it's not fair to Kate, but God did she have to have her wedding in the same venue as yours? Everywhere you look you're reminded of the best day of your life, and the subsequent worst months.

You take a deep breath, and try to shove all thoughts of the past out of your head.

It isn't easy these days. Even though you were the one to ask for the divorce, you've never stopped loving - stopped wanting - John. You feel the loss of him everyday, just like you had the endless weeks and months he spent deployed.

It wasn't the time away that did you in - it was the secrecy of it all. You maintain that you could've made the relationship work had you at least known where he was, or even been afforded texting rights. But it's hard to pretend you're living a normal life when you haven't heard from your husband in six weeks and you have no idea whether he's even alive.

The day Kyle came to the door instead of John, you knew you couldn't stay married to him.

He was lucky - John had been injured and sent Kyle to bring you to the hospital since he was already back on base, but you'd seen the man and broken down into sobs before he'd even managed to get a word out. The poor soldier had tried his best to tell you that your husband was alive and would be fine, but you were inconsolable.

Once you'd realized what was going on you realized the truth of your situation. John's death would break you, and you'd never recover from it.

That moment where you'd thought he was gone... it was like a part of you had died, like grief had swallowed you whole and refused to let go.

You were scared when Gaz finally explained to you what was really going on. And all at once, all the pieces of your life started to click together.

When you served John with divorce papers you told him that you couldn't handle so much time apart anymore, that you wanted more stability in your life than he could give you. But the truth is you were scared, and a growing part of you thought that maybe if you distanced yourself before he got himself killed, the inevitable grief would be easier to swallow.

You think he saw through your bravado and straight to your fear. You've never known John Price to be anything but a fighter, but he hardly hesitated when you gave him the papers with shaking hands. He raised an eyebrow, said are you sure this what you want, love? and hugged you after he signed.

You'd cried more than he had, had sobbed into his chest and clung to him to hold you together. Looking back you're embarrassed of your reaction, but at the time it truly felt like you were cutting off half of your soul.

It still feels like that most days. Sometimes you lie awake at night, haunted by the idea that you've only caused yourself more grief, that you're going to feel hurt and terrible until something or someone kills John, and then you'll have to experience that grief you fear anyways.

But you've made your bed, and now you're laying in it, cold and lonely and missing your husband.

You take a deep breath and a small sip of your wine, try to center yourself. It's difficult not to dwell on your own mistakes - perceived or real - but you're determined not to cry at Kate's wedding. You are not going to be that divorced woman. You simply refuse.

Still, it's a close call. You close your eyes and drain the glass before your fingers stop shaking, and you hate that you've got nothing to do with your hands, nothing to distract yourself with. The deep breaths don't help, and the idea of getting a bit wine-drunk looks more and more appealing.

When you open your eyes again, John stands in front of you, holding a fresh glass out in offering.

He looks good, but you already knew that. It was difficult to look anywhere but him during the service, and he caught you enough times for it to become almost humiliating. You've been telling yourself all night that you could pass the flush in your cheeks off as the heat of an outdoor ceremony, but you know he noticed.

Still, he doesn't look smug about your obvious discomfort. Silver lingings, and all.

You take the offered glass after just a moment, deciding that it might be better to bite the bullet and invite John back into your space rather than keep trying to avoid him all night. It's not like your divorce is a secret - every person in this room saw you two attend countless events together, the tension between you two is probably painfully obvious.

John steps to your side as you take a small sip, heart skipping a beat at the taste of your favorite wine.

"Where did you get this?" It's not what they're serving, or you'd probably already be well on your way to wine drunk.

He smiles softly at you, dimples covered by his beard. "I can't give away all my tricks. Then what would you keep me around for?"

You laugh a little sadly at that, and his smile grows.

Honestly, you've missed John enough that you don't even really mind if he keeps your wine hostage for the rest of the night. You're willing to keep up the facade if he is.

You take another sip and stand a bit straighter, try to prepare yourself for another conversation with your ex-husband. None of them have been easy, but it gets less and less painful to see him every time. You know he goes out of his way to make this easier on you, never once showing any hint of animosity. Besides the lack of PDA, he's hardly changed his behavior from when you were actually married.

"Are you enjoying yourself?"

He shoots you a look, one that says he remembers exactly how much you always hated small talk, but he indulges you. "It's a beautiful ceremony."

"It is."

He cocks an eyebrow. "But...?"

You sigh, gesturing with your glass as the wine loosens your tongue just enough for you to be a little too honest with your ex-husband. "It's all a little too familiar, isn't it? I mean, I haven't been back here since our... well, you know."

He snorts. "Yes, I do remember our wedding day."

You flush, elbowing him playfully. "Don't tease."

His smile is familiar, everything you've missed from him, when he looks down at you. "Can't help it, love." He lifts a hand, one big palm cupping your cheek and running a thumb over the apple of it. "You're just too pretty when you blush."

You can't help but close your eyes, leaning into his rough palm a bit. God, you miss him so much. Having him here, feeling his touch, and knowing that you'll go home tonight to an empty bed...

It's almost too much. The tears come entirely against your will.

"Oh, sweetheart," he coos, other hand cupping your cheek and thumbing away your tears. You blink up at him, free hand wrapping loosely around his wrist.

His eyes bore deeply into yours, and you see everything you feel reflected there. The memories, the pain, the yearning, the love that just refuses to dissipate.

"John," you whisper, voice shaky.

His head dips forward just enough to rest your foreheads together, breaths mingling. Despite the music still playing and the sound of conversations all around you, you can't help but feel like the world begins and ends with the man in front of you.

That's always what John has been for you - everything. Even now, months after your separation, you haven't figured out how to live in a world that isn't defined by John Price. You're not sure you really want to.

"Oh, love," he sighs, grip just firm enough to make you feel held. "When are you coming home?"

You bite your lip to hold back a sob, face crumpling. John coos a little, pressing forward just enough to kiss the tip of your nose and using his thumb to coax your lip from between your teeth.

"It's alright," he soothes, rubbing soft circles into the indention your teeth left in your lipstick. "We don't have to talk about it now, alright? You can take all the time you need. I'm a patient man."

You nod a little, taking in another deep breath. His patience was always something you'd admired, considering your own patience is horribly short. You can't stand to wait, and despite the many times he'd try to help you see the beauty in delay (both in and out of the bedroom), you'd only become frustrated.

Like now. Here John stands, poised and put together and nowhere near tears, and you're the exact opposite. It would be embarrassing if it wasn't one of the main reasons you fell for him in the first place - he's always balanced you out where you need it most.

You take another gulp of your wine, the glass half gone already. John chuckles a little as he stands up, hands shifting to rest on your upper arms and giving you a comforting squeeze. "Might have to get you another glass sooner than I expected."

You consider him for a moment, thoughts slow but a bit erratic, and then drain the rest of the glass in one go.

His eyes widen a bit as you nearly slam the glass onto a table, looking up at him with determination.

"No more wine - for now - but how about a dance?"

You wouldn't be asking if you hadn't had three glasses of wine already. But you have, and you're just inebriated enough to say screw it. As long as you don't wake up next to John tomorrow, nothing you do at the reception can really hurt your progress in getting over him too much.

But God when he smiles at you like that, soft and loving and just sweet, you want to forget completely about the divorce and go back to the life you'd had.

Stress and fear and separation pains regardless, you want John Price with every bone in your body. But you can't help that your mind convinces you otherwise, whispers all the reasons being with him can only lead to pain.

He shakes you out of your musings by offering a hand, stepping away just enough to make you reach for him.

"For old time's sake?" He asks when you take his hand, letting him pull you onto the dance floor with the other couples happily dancing together.

You nearly giggle at the poor excuse, knowing you can both see right through it. Still, you agree with him.

"For old time's sake."

You both know it's a lie, know that there's something more to a slow dance at a wedding, but you're not ready to say it yet. For now you'll hide behind the mask of nostalgia for better days.

Someday you'll be able to move forward. But that's a mission for post-wedding you to figure out, a plan for future-you to construct. Wedding-you, almost-wine-drunk-you is more than happy to let your ex-husband tug you close and trail his hands almost inappropriately low on your waist.

You tell yourself that you can worry about John's words, about his tone and his touchiness, in the morning.

For now, you bask in the presence of the love of your life, and try not to think about how much it will hurt when you leave him all over again at the end of the night.

#john price x reader #price x reader #john price #cod fanfic #call of duty fanfic #bo writes #1k celebration

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plush-rabbit · 27 days

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part two to the unnamed chapter from like a few days ago!! honestly, im suprised people liked it. like i didnt think it would get good stuff. like i dindt think it was bad, but im like the hype has died down anyways!! we meet the man, the myth, the devil himself!!

Word Count: 4.8K

You can hardly keep your eyes open. Even with the soft yellow glow of the light, it's far too bright for you. Shutting your eyes only brings you a bit of solace. You're somewhere soft, something light and feathery pulled over you, and you shift your shoulder blades to pull your wings closer to your body, and instead you sob, the pain sharp and unforgiving to your frail body.

Did you fall? No, maybe you slept on them wrong. You don’t have to think about stretching your wings, it was always second nature, as easy as blinking and as easy as moving your arm. You’d stretch your wings, and you’d ask Adam to help you preen your wings. You shift, and something feels empty, it feels light, lighter than air. You can’t remember your wings feeling so light, not unless you were flying. You’d hate to have messed up your wings over something as frivolous as falling.

Memories rush in, fragmented, only the beginning pieces clear enough for you to remember. Your eyes snap, and you’re met with harsh lighting. You see nothing but wood and stone, and a home that is not yours, and you groan into something soft under you. Moving your arm is painful, it feels bent and sore, and you reach for feathers, and find nothing. Your cries bury themselves into something plush, something that soaks your tears and drool and leaves only a patch behind. A hand pats softly against your arm, and you flinch.

A voice shushes out to calm you. “It's okay. You're safe. I'm not here to hurt you,” they whisper. “Just relax, and try not to move. You still haven't recovered.”

Even if they speak softly to you, it's far too loud. The words echo in your head, and attempting to think about where you are and who you're with is making you nauseous. Or perhaps it's the sickly honeyed scent that is thick in the air.

“‘S too sweet,” you slur, clawing at fabric beneath you. You regret speaking, the movement making your already sore jaw ache further, the joints pushing into your splitting skull. Your head pulses and your mouth is cotton filled, thick and impossible to speak. “Where?” You hope that someone will give you an answer to where you are. Or at least what you're on.

“Oh, thank you,” a voice chirps.

“Don't think it was a compliment Bee,” a thick accent says in a hushed voice.

“Well I'm taking it as one,” the voice huffs.

“You're at my home,” the gentle voice is back. “You're in a spare bed. Just try to relax.” You can’t relax with all the sound, and when you try to tell him that, you only murmur, slurring letters together. “I know, I know.” He doesn’t, but you can’t correct him. “Just try not to move so much.” It's quiet again, a silence that stretches and fills the void with nothingness. The smell and the shuffling of bodies is the only indication that you aren’t alone, that you haven’t been left yet.

“Luci, mate, you sure it's a good idea to have an angel laying around?” You hear the chime of bells, and you want everything to stop.

“They aren't an angel,” a voice retorts. A hand places itself over your bicep, and squeezes you softly.

“Yeah, but like, it’s still a bit dangerous, isn’t it?” The voice is much more feminine, and you can hear a buzz when they speak, a low hum that doesn’t stop. “Having one of them just on your bed.”

“A spare bed,” the voice corrects. The bed dips beside you, your fingers tap against the mattress. “It was dangerous when we were first here,” snapping at the other, before sighing. “It’s been a long time since another angel has fallen.”

“Lucifer, honey,” this voice is smoother than the others, and you wish they would all stop talking. “What’s the plan here?” Someone makes a noise of confusion. “They aren’t an angel anymore, if anything, they’re a walking target. We don’t even know if they’re an Exorcist.”

“Heaven hasn’t cast out an Angel in so long,” the voice says softly, a finger tracing shapes onto your arm. “And I highly doubt they’re an Exorcist. I can almost- I’m positive that they aren’t.”

An Exorcist. That’s what they think. Lute flashes in your mind, and Adam follows, weapons ready, and thinking hurts far too much. You groan, nuzzling into the pillow, trying to tune out the sounds. You need them to stop talking.

A hand pats at your arm, and soon you feel fingers tangle themselves into your hair. Fingertips ghost alongside the tender part of your scalp. The voice hushes you, lulling you back into a state of unconsciousness. “I’m sorry,” they whisper, “we must be too loud for you.”

“Lucifer, I know you’re still-” the person pauses- “upset-” they sound unsure of the word they’re using- “about the last few years, but you can’t take on a pity project.”

Lucifer. They keep saying- oh shit. You let out a whimper. You don’t know if you’re thankful for being found by him, or if it’s a curse to be found by him. He shushes you once more, massaging gently at your scalp.

“Yeah-” the buzzing is louder this time- “you know, if you were lonely, you could have just said something. I got some cute little hounds that need loving homes, ya know? And uh, they’re cute-” they hiss that word and you furrow your brows- “and practically housebroken.”

“Luci, it’s not like they’re worth much. I mean look at ‘em. I don’t even think I remember seein’ them back up when we were there, so they gotta be new or somethin’.”

The hands still, fingertips pressing into the tenderness of your head. You let out a low sound, and give a soft nudge of your head for the person- Lucifer you presume, to let go. He apologizes, soothing over the spot where he’s touched. “It’s not- They aren’t a pity project. This isn’t that. Don’t you remember how bad it was. How painful it was to fall. At least we had each other. We were stronger than most angels.” You wish they would all stop talking. Especially when they refer to falling, you can't stand to hear it. “They have no one. This is- I just want them to feel safe.” His words come to a slow stand, and if it didn’t hurt to cry, you’d sob at the reminder of your punishment. “Their wings were ripped from them, they weren’t even allowed to heal.”

“Well it ain’t like Heaven is known for their leniency.”

“Listen, Lucifer, we’re just saying that you’ve been having a lot of big emotions recently, and maybe nursing someone back to health isn’t what you need right now.” Lucifer- at least you’re assuming- makes a noise in protest at what the other voice is stating. “What’s the long-term plan, hm? You fix them and then what? Do they live here? Do you kick them out? Take them over to Charlie?”

The room is still, the buzzing has quieted down to a hum, and you feel sleep grasp onto you once more. “You should all go.” The group protests immediately, voices overlapping one another, the buzzing higher, and scent of sweets and leather grows and irritates you further. Your head pounds, banging against your skull. You shift, pulling at the wounds, and a cry muffles itself into your pillow. “It’s okay, you’re okay” the voice says in a hushed voice, palms pressed flat against you, cooling your feverish body. “I’ll give you something right now to help the pain.” He clears his throat away from you. “I have to think about things. I’ll make sure to give you updates as they come along, but for now, I’ve taken up enough of your time.” He pauses. “You should return back to your rings.”

The buzzing quiets down, and footsteps shuffle out. It's a mess of steps, puttering and pattering along the floor, and the sound is [welcomed] by silence. A door clicks shut, and you hear no lock.

Thinking if you're a prisoner or not is too much of a task right now. The strength of the saccharine scent has left with its owner, and instead now gently wafts in the air. Somewhere on the other side of the room, you hear a sigh.

“I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have been having that conversation with you in the room.” You let out a short huff in response. “It won’t happen again, okay? We must have been loud for you, huh?” With all the strength that you can muster, you give a short nod. “Let me go get you something for the pain, okay?” You feel a soft hand over your bicep, giving you a soft squeeze. The hand lingers with fingertips that kiss over your skin in feather light touches as they pull away.

You drift between consciousness and unconsciousness, unable to fully sleep, but you don’t register anything that happens. All that you’re aware of is that someone is back in the room with you. He’s beside you, something plastic touching against your lips and the thick taste of medicine is bitter on your tongue.

“I’m going to light some incense, okay?” You’d rather he give you water or anything else to wash the taste off. “You just let me know if it’s too much.” The scent is much calmer compared to the sickly sweet one from earlier. “I had Belphegor send me some sleeping aids. I believe it’s the only reason you’re able to get some actual rest.” Your lips mouth the words “thank you”. Something soft and warm covers you, and you feel yourself sink further into the mattress. “I don’t know how much of your power was stripped, or how much you even had to begin with. Mammon was right about that, you are a newer angel, you might not even be able to do much other than heal.” His voice is growing harder to understand, it’s fading into the back, and sleep pulls you further in. “However, I wouldn’t ask you to even attempt to heal yourself- not in this state,” he whispers.

“Taste bad,” is all that you can mutter. Your head pounds, and it feels like it’s swelling. Each word that you speak is laid thick and slurred together. Every syllable only brings you sickness and an ache in your skull.

“I know,” he sighs. “The medicine here doesn’t taste good, but there’s not much that I can do about it.” A cloth dabs at your mouth. “Hell is supposed to be a punishment after all,” he says with a humorless laugh. “I’m- I’m sure that Heaven’s medicine is still divine as ever,” they mumble with a heavy weight on the words.

“Like nectar,” you speak softly, the memory of it faint on your tongue.

Something brushes along your face, and you feel the pull of sleep. “Yeah,” he breathes out, “like nectar.”

Knocking on the door disrupts your sleep. Something gargles sounds on the other side of the door. In your mind, it’s too faint to make anything out. You hear the squeak of the door open, and through bleary eyes, you make out two tall figures. Again, they speak to you, and you nod back to sleep.

You feel the latex of gloves touch your body, knuckles the brush against the nape of your neck and hands that grab your arms, ready to still you as you tense. “We’re just changing your bandages.” You shake your head. “It’ll be quick, just stay still.” You’d rather deal with an infection than with how the doctors treat you. You recall a voice making an argument that you’re not welcomed here, that you're an angel in a land of sin.

“No, no,” you mutter, tears staining your face and wetting the pillow. You feel the cold breeze on your back, whispering over your wounds. The stickiness of the gauze peels away from you, and you can smell the stench of it- metallic, rich and earthy. Something so sweet, and it disgusts you and the doctors.

Their hands grip tighter onto you, holding you down and you yelp. “Stay still.” You recall many moons ago how Lute told you something similar. How her words were laced with sorrow and false bravado. These doctors, these demons, spit the words at you, and hold you down.

Your hands claw at the mattress, your screams echoing against the wall, bouncing and ringing in your ears. Light blinds you immediately as your eyes flash open, and your head is head, pushed down onto the mattress, as curses are spit onto you. You’re in Hell. Your teeth find themselves tearing into the pillow, drool pooling into a puddle and tears slipping down.

“Just,” they grunt, and press firmly down on your back, “stay still.” You gasp for breath, kicking and digging your knees into the bed. “Please,” they beg, and you fall, your body limp and heavy on the bed.

As quick as it started, it ends just as quick. You’re left sobbing, gasping for breath, and despite the pain, and tearing open the wound, you hug yourself, your nails scratching against the cloth. They’ve placed it far too tight for you.

Only a few weeks pass when you’re finally cognitive. When your head isn’t splitting at every noise, and you can move somewhat without risking any pain or even your fear of opening the wounds back open. You stay as still as possible, and try not to do any sudden movement that would stretch your back. Lucifer has attempted to reassure you that you’re fine now, that combined with Hell’s magic and his own blessing, you should be fit to move around. Of course, you will be sore, that can only go away with time.

“You’ll be left with scars. That can’t be helped,” he told you, his eyes focused on how your hands fist the blanket, “but you’ll be okay.” He gives you a tender smile, and you cling to it in the night.

Once you were in a proper headspace, you knew you shouldn’t have been surprised to know that it was him taking care of you. From what you can faintly recall in one of the many conversations that he’s had in the room as you recovered, he knows what it’s like to be cast out.

However, you are surprised at how caring and patient he is. That despite you being able to do most things on your own without stumbling, he is still beside you, keeping you company and comforting you when he has to change the bandages. He hardly lets anyone else do it after you complained about doctors accidentally wrapping the bandages too tight. His gentleness is a mask for his pity, and he can never meet your eyes without looking away.

You’re laid on your stomach, and your only entertainment is wondering what could be inside the bedside drawers. While moving does not cause as much discomfort as it once did, you don’t risk stretching. You sit straight, and you look at the wall, and dare not to stretch your arms. Pillows have been fluffed and placed to create a soft barrier between you and the headboard of the bed. Knuckles rap against the door in a rhythm, and you stare at the wall in front of you. You wait for a second, and with a breath, you allow for the person to enter.

“Hello,” Lucifer calls. “I’ve brought you some fruit. I’m sure that you must have been feeling peckish.” You give no reply. “I uh- I also brought some books.” The bowl of fruit is balanced above the small stack of books. “I was thinking that I’ll get you a television or something soon. But maybe some literature would be good for you.” He rests the tower on the dresser, and grabs the bowl between his hands.

You should reply to him. You should tell him thank you- not just for the books and the bowl of fruit, but for housing you, for caring for you. But you cannot. Not when he’s a constant reminder of where you are.

“I was wondering if there was any type of genre that you might like.” He sounds hopeful, wanting to continue a conversation with the husk in front of him. “It would be no trouble to get them to you.”

His smile is stretched thin, and it looks painful. All of this is painful. Your eyes flitter over to the fruit bowl, and you wonder how you’d feed yourself when stretching your arms still pulls at the scars.

“Would you like some?” He leans towards you, and you have the mental image of being some hurt bird being nursed back to health. “I had some demons go over to Earth and get some for you. I thought you’d prefer this over the food that we have here. Since you aren’t accustomed to Hell’s food, yet.” You stay silent, and after a moment he sighs. His heels click against the floor, and the bowl is placed on your lap. “You know,” he starts, “it would help if you talked. I know what you’re going through, and you can’t- you shouldn’t isolate yourself.” When you refuse to answer, he sighs. “Well, if you need something, just let me know.”

Despite not wanting to be here, of not having any need to want to continue your existence, you have grown a strong dislike of being alone in this room. You have no idea if he’s isolating for your own safety, or for some other nefarious reason. He clasps the door knob around his hand, and twists it. You wet your lips, and you need someone to talk to.

“Lucifer?” You croak out, and you surprise yourself with your voice. You hadn’t heard it in so long, past the screaming and the tears. He turns to you, taking a step closer, and his hand returns the door knob to its closed position. “Can you stay?” You feel sick looking at the fruit. “Please?”

With a gentle smile, he nods his head. “Of course.” He grabs a chain from the corner of the room and carries it to sit beside you. It’s a deep wooden color, intricate designs carved into the legs of the chair, and a deep red cushion that is stitched into the seat and the back.

The silence between the two of you is broken by the crunch of the fruit. You pierce a grape with the silver tines of the fork, and your body aches with the movement to bring it up to your mouth. The sweet juice does nothing to aide in your brooding and the awkward silence.

He’s right, and you know that. You have to try. He’s the only contact that you have. Adam always hated how you’d hide your emotions, how you rather shut the world off, and at least that hasn’t changed since your falling. You need to talk to him. You can see the attempt that Lucifer has been making in order to keep you happy, to make your time here just a bit more bearable. You suck in your lower lip, and let your tongue brush over where your teeth have grazed.

“I was promised a trial,” you start. His eyes are on you, and you see him fiddle with his tie. “They promised it would have been fair.” You frown, and shake your head, an ache heavy in your chest. “I was so hopeful that it would have been.” The fruit is bitter on your tongue and you force yourself to swallow it.

After a moment’s silence, he speaks. “Who would have been the judge?”

The apple is pierced between your teeth, the skin ripping from the flesh of the apple. It was cute with care, no hint of the core tarnishing the fruit, ripe and perfect, only to be mauled by your teeth. “Father.” You swallow the fruit. “Or perhaps one of the Virtues.” Oranges are peeled, torn apart from the other slices, the piths of white removed. “I was worried that I would have fallen, even before I was given my verdict. My-” you look at Lucifer, and you remember who he has stolen- “I feared that I would have fallen, because I didn't matter. No one questions Heaven’s beliefs, not since-” you glance at him, and he turns his head- “I was sure I would have met the same fate.” The sweetness of the strawberries make your jaw tingle and ache. “And I did.”

“I’m sorry.” You hold the fork tightly, the silver pressing into the flesh of your palms. “The fear you had must have been,” he pauses, “intense.”

There is no one better who understands, other than Lucifer himself. You nod, and let the fork ding against the glass of the bowl. “I was good. I did what was needed of me, I didn’t dare speak out of turn.” You think of how Adam would run his mouth, how every other word would be a curse, would be of anything lewd. “Perhaps I wasn’t as good as I thought I was. Not if a question were enough to have me expelled from Heaven.”

A gloved hand reaches, and falls just before your thigh. A gold band hugs at his finger, and you’re surprised to have yet seen his wife. Feeling your stare, he turns his hand, and lets the other fingers hide the symbol of matrimony.

“Sometimes, that’s all it takes,” he says quietly, his tone soft, and wistful. “But, if it makes you feel any better, Hell has some redeeming qualities. It’s not all pain and suffering.” You look at him, and he gives you a smile. “We have an amusement park. There’s a uh-” he scratches the back of his neck, his gaze pointed elsewhere and checks flushing- “ride modeled after me.”

The corners of your lips turn, and you narrow your eyes at him. “After you?” You ask, an elfish tinge laced into your words.

“Shaped like my head.” A finger makes a circle in front of his face.

You scoff out a laugh, and the sound surprises you. You attempt to hide the smile, but when the corners still turn upwards, you look at your lap. “You are the Avatar of Pride after all,” you tell him, the lilt faint on your words.

“It’s actually very impressive,” he points out. “A whole ride dedicated to my likeness.”

“The line for it must be awful.” The juice of the fruit is thin on your tongue. “Heaven has zoos. There’s an area where you get to feed the birds out of the palm of your hand.” You push the fork upwards with the knuckle of your index. “They hardly ever peck your palm, but when they do, we call them kisses from one of Father’s creations.”

He snorts, and shakes his head. His smile is soft, and there's a lingering sadness to it before it falls. “Down in the Wrath ring, there are livestock shows where you’ll find horse bucking and catching the flamed greased pig.” You give him a look, and he smiles. “It’s not as nice as the zoo, I’m sure, but it’s just as entertaining.” He leans back on his chair. “Sometimes I would take my daughter.”

“Your daughter?” You knew of his wife, but you hadn’t realized that they had a child. “I didn’t know you had a daughter.”

He winces, and nods sheepishly. “Charlie,” he tells you her name. “I think you’d like her- she’s peppy.” He gives you a tense smile, and looks away. “We don’t talk as much as we used to.”

You frown. “I’m sorry to hear that.”

He shakes his head, and lets out a sigh. He sits straighter, and pulls his shoulders back. “How are the bandages?” You roll your ankles, unsure what to make of the sudden shift in conversation. “They’re not too tight are they?” It’s not your place to pry, and you don’t want to make him uncomfortable when he’s the one caring for you.

“No, Lucifer,” you answer. “They’re fine. Thank you.”

He nods, and you can tell he’s grown uncomfortable now. You don’t blame him. “Of course. I wanted to make sure that you were comfortable. As much as possible.”

A silence befalls between the two of you. You bite into the fruit, and force yourself to swallow it. The nectar is sweet and makes your jaw ache. Beside you, Lucifer clears his throat, and you turn to him.He looks away, his eyes trained on the walls.

“If I may ask, I- Well you see, you know my name-” he looks at you again, and you tap your nails against the glass- “and I don’t know yours.” Your eyes widen, and you try to think back on when you might have whispered your name to him, but you can’t recall it. “I just- I was thinking since you’re here, and I’ve changed your bandages, I thought, that I should be calling you by your name.”

“My name?” You whisper, and you feel silly for keeping it close to you. For just a fraction of a second, for some far away thought to be held, that you didn’t want to share the last thing that ties you to Heaven.

“If only that’s okay. If not, we can come up with a nickname or something.”

You shake your head. You’ve kept your name to yourself, and you wonder if your pain-induced haze, if he’s ever asked you for it. You stretch your lips, and wet your tongue. “Did you ever ask for it,” you hold the words on your tongue, and they are heavy like wine, “when I was in and out?”

“Yes,” he confesses. “You wouldn’t answer.”

A name given by Heaven; whispered to you gently in the arms of Father, as sunlight shined down upon you and warmth surrounded you in your creation. It’s silly, and childish to cling to it, to hold onto it like a child holds onto their blanket, but it’s all that you have left. Everything else was stripped from you, taken and tossed aside, and you wonder if your name even holds any significance back home.

You turn to Lucifer, and your name is heavy on your tongue, bitter like wine, and it’s your name, fitting you like a glove that will fit no other.

Lucifer repeats your name, whispering it under his breath, tasting it between his canines and tongue, and you watch him. Chills run down your spine, and the feeling is not unpleasant. He catches your eyes, and his cheeks flush, the red spots darkening, under your gaze. He calls your name once more, louder and clearer, want held between the vowels, as if to savor your name, to savor what you’ve given to him.

You nod, your chest aflame, as if you’ve done something scandalous. You can’t trust your voice, not when he's looking at you. Your knuckles feel as if it’s on pins, tingling and having you scratch against the bowl.

He glances at your lap. “Are you done?”

“Yes,” you breathe out rather quickly.

He reaches for the bowl, grabbing it by the rim and stands from his chair. You watch in silence as he pushes the chair back, letting it block one of the drawers from the nightstand. The bowl clinks against the mahogany of the dresser, and he grabs the books, flush against his chest.

“I hadn’t meant to leave the books so far from you,” he says, placing them on the nightstand. “They’ll be closer within your reach.” You nod, and peek over, reading the title of the first book. “I’ll be back in a few hours, if you need anything, feel free to call out. I’ll make sure to hear it.”

He walks away, his heels clicking against the floor, and you don’t want to be alone anymore. “Lucifer,” you call out, fisting the blankets in your hand. He turns around, pressing the bowl against his body, his hand wrapped tight around the doorknob, already opening it and stepping into the rest of his domain. You swallow nothing, and try not to think of anything other than gratitude. “Thank you for everything,” you tell him, sending him a thinned smile.

“Of course,” he calls your name in a sweet tone. “Whatever you need, just let me know.”

The door closes shut, and you let out a breath. Your hands fist at your shirt, grasping and you bite the inner corners of your lips, feeling the soft flesh of it be pierced by your teeth. It’s been far too long since you’ve had a gentle hand, since you’ve had someone be gentle with you. A hand reaches out and scratches along your bicep, pulling the skin and leaving soft arches across.

You hadn’t realized how much you would miss Adam.

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nhlclover · 1 year

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the moment i knew | trevor zegras

word count: 1.24k

summary: it’s your birthday but your boyfriend doesn’t show.

warnings: angst, crying

notes: based on ‘the moment i knew’ by taylor swift. my first post and it’s angst lol i promise they won’t all be like this.

I walked up the front steps of my friend's house, the house seeming a little too quiet. It was just before 8 pm on the night of my 21st birthday, and my friend was hosting a small party for me with our friends. It was pretty obvious, however, that it was going to be a big party with a bunch of people. I knock on the door and hear a little bit of shuffling before the door swings open, revealing my friend.

“Happy birthday, y/n!” she cheers, bringing me in for a hug.

“Thank you, Lily.” I smile, stepping into the house, and shutting the door behind me. As I do so, dozens of people jump out from behind furniture and from behind walls, shouting a blend of surprises and happy birthdays. I pretend to be shocked, plastering a fake surprise look on my face.

“Oh my gosh, you did this for me?” I ask.

“You knew didn’t you?” she asks, sighing.

“I’m sorry it was a little obvious.” I chuckle. “But I appreciate it so much, thank you, Lily.”

I greeted some other friends who all wished me a happy birthday. When the flow of people slowed, I realized one person was missing from the group.

“Where’s Trevor?” I asked Lily, inquiring about my boyfriend's presence, or lack thereof.

“I think he’s coming a little later.” she replies, her voice sounding unsure. “The ducks' game only ended like, 30 minutes ago. Don’t worry, y/n, he said he’d be here.”

I nod, accepting the explanation. She was probably right, after all. He would have to shower after the game and get dressed. I expel a sigh of relief and accept a drink being handed to me by another friend. I engage in conversation with friends I haven't seen in months, people asking me how I’ve been, though I’m only half present in the conversations as I keep one eye on the door, waiting for him to walk through.

An hour passed and he still hadn’t shown. I was only able to forget about it for a few minutes before I let my mind wander, recalling how much effort I had put into my look that night. I had worn a pink silk mini dress that had a slight cow-neck; the exact dress Trevor had told me looked amazing on me when I bought it two weeks prior. I had done a bit more makeup than normal, deeming that it was a special occasion, and done my hair in soft curls.

Finally, the door opens, and I see Mason and Jamie walk in, but see Trevor not with them. They spot me and come up to me.

“Happy birthday, y/n!” they say simultaneously.

“Thanks, guys.” I smile back, hugging them both. “Is Trevor with you?”

Mason and Jamie exchange confused looks. “Uh, no. We came straight from the arena. He said he needed to stop by the house first.” Jamie shrugged.

“Oh.” I falter.

“I’m sure he’s just changing or something.” Mason recovered, hoping to save my hopes. “He said he’d be here.”

Hours passed and my boyfriend had yet to walk through the door, no matter how intently I looked at it. I had spent all my energy pretending that nothing was bothering me, entertaining the people that were there to celebrate me. My social battery was almost empty and my emotions were starting to rise to the surface. I excused myself from the current conversation I was trapped in, as I walked down the hallway, finding the bathroom and locking myself inside it. Just as tears threaten to spill from my eyes, a knock on the door forces me to keep them in.

“Occupied!” I choke out, fanning my eyes.

“Y/n… It’s Jamie and Mason.” I hear Jamie’s soft voice say from the other side of the door. His sad tone threatens the dam that’s keeping my tears back.

I unlock the door, opening it. Their soft expressions are what pushes me over the edge, as tears start to fall from my eyes. Jamie catches me in an embrace as my knees give out, sobs engulfing my body. He holds me up as I keep my arms wrapped around his shoulders. Mason steps in, shutting the door behind him so I can cry in private. They don’t say anything as they let me expel my emotions. Finally, I pull back from Jamie, wiping my tears off my scarlet cheeks, when another knock comes at the door. My false sense of hope spikes, as I think momentarily that Trevor finally showed up, however, it falls when I hear Lily’s voice.

“Y/n? Are you okay?” she asks. I nod at Mason to open the door.

He does so, revealing my puffy and red face, with my birthday makeup slipping off. “Oh, y/n.” she winces.

The pity in her voice only makes me feel worse as I break down again, this time in her arms. “He said he’d be here.” I wept.

As it was nearing 1 in the morning, Lily decided to send everyone home. She gave me a spare change of clothes, not wanting to send me back to my apartment alone tonight. Jamie and Mason were the last to leave, also hesitant to leave me alone.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” Jamie asked.

“Yeah, I’ll be okay. I’ve got Lily here. Don’t worry about me.” I force a smile.

“Sleep well, y/n.” Mason said. “And trust us, we’ll kick his ass whenever we see him next.”

I chuckled softly at his comment, thanking them both as they walked to the car before getting in and driving home. I totter over to the guest bedroom, tucking myself in and letting myself drift off to sleep, which proved easy to do after my emotions had worn me down.

When I awoke, the mid-morning sun cut through the blinds casting a soft glow on the room. I rubbed at my tender eyes, the remaining makeup from the night before that hadn’t been washed away by my tears coming off on my knuckles. The bedside clock reads 11:03. I look around for my phone, but don’t see it. I slide out of the sheets, making my way to the kitchen where I see it on the table.

I pick it up and turn it on, seeing the lock screen flooded with a myriad of notifications, spotting Mason’s text asking me how I was doing at the top. A few notifications down I spot my boyfriend's contact name covering the next few spots. I had missed a series of text messages and phone calls that had come in that morning from him.

Trevor y/n I’m so sorry my love

Trevor I knocked out after the game and slept all the way until this morning

Trevor Baby please answer my calls I'm so sorry

I sigh, seeing he had texted me about 5 more times and called about 5 more. Hesitantly, I clicked on his number. The phone rang twice before I heard his voice come through the phone.

“Y/n?” he asked softly.

“Hi.” I croaked out.

There was a beat of silence as I could tell Trevor was considering what to say first.

“I’m sorry I didn’t make it.”

Tears begin to spill onto my cheeks as the emotions of last night come to the forefront of my mind.

"I'm sorry too." I say softly.

#trevor zegras #trevor zegras x reader #angst #nhl #hockey #trevor zegras imagine #anaheim ducks #nhl imagine #luvzegras

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guinea-pig16 · 7 months

Text

Something Better || Chapter 2: Familiar Grounds

Ghost x Reader x Soap

Fic is below the cut, please read Chapter 1 first if you haven't!! Please enjoy !!!

______________________________________________________________

Word Count: 4,500+

Warnings: guns and gunfire

______________________________________________________________

You stared at yourself in the mirror. Goddamn. You couldn’t remember the last time you looked at yourself. You looked like hell.

You had dark bags under your eyes from sleepless nights, your skin had a sickly tone due to lack of time outside and inconsistent meals, your once muscular arms had gone soft due to inactivity, and your eyes that once sparkled with life were dim and lackluster. You ran a hand through your hair, letting out a long sigh. You had a lot of work to do.

You called Laswell the next day, accepting the position. You could hear the smile on her face as she explained the next steps. As soon as you had completed your recovery, you would be under her jurisdiction for the next few months as she showed you the ropes. Then, you would be assigned a task force. Now, all you had to do was recover. Easy enough.

It was in fact, not easy. You thought bootcamp as tough, but this was just downright torture. Everyday, your nurses would push and bend your leg in a new, painful way. But you would show up everyday bright and early, eager for more. And every night you would collapse into bed, exhausted, your mind too tired to plague you with nightmares.

You got yourself to begin eating more, making sure to leave your plate practically spotless. Your nurse openly cried in front of you when she saw your clean plate.

Slowly but surely, your stamina was returning as well as your muscle definition. You were able to walk further everyday without assistance from a cane or a nurse, though you still had a noticeable limp. But eventually, you would have to resort to using your cane, though you wouldn’t admit it.

Two months pass, and your doctors declare that you’ve completed your recovery. The nurses who have been with you since day one decided to throw you a small party to celebrate, bringing in plates of snacks and drinks. You were happy to see them look at you without pity and sympathy, just joy and pride. The party was full of laughter and smiles, and occasionally a few tears. Especially from your personal nurse, who practically saw you as her child. Then, the day came for you to be discharged from the hospital.

“Now, just remember sweetie… I’ll always… I’ll always be here for you.” Her eyes well with tears once again and she chokes down a sob. You smile gently and nod. She breaks down and wraps you into a bone-crushing hug, being mindful of your lower back and leg. You awkwardly pat her back. She fans her eyes and takes a deep breath, before returning to helping you pack your few things. You walk out of your room, a content smile gracing your face. A different nurse walks with you to outpatient, as yours is currently being consoled by the others. You give her a grin and a wave goodbye, causing her to break down once again.

The nurse walks you to outpatient and you see Laswell waiting outside, leaning against her car. The nurse gives you a small hug and wishes you well. You thank her and return the thought, before turning and leaving the hospital for the first time in months. You take one step outside, and breathe in the fresh air. You take another step and-

“AH!” You cry out, a sharp, searing pain rips through your right leg. You would have collapsed to the ground if Laswell hadn’t caught you. And then you realized something. You forgot your fucking cane.

“You alright there, L/N?” Laswell asks, helping you stand up straight. You hiss through your teeth as your thigh begins to spasm painfully.

“...Yeah… Forgot my damn cane…” You mumble, slightly embarrassed. Right after those words leave your mouth, your nurse comes running out the doors, clutching your cane.

“I can’t believe you! Trying to leave without your cane! You should know better!” She chastises. You just have to stand there, clutching your returned cane, as your nurse chews you a new one. Laswell stands behind you, a small amused grin on her face. Eventually she calms down, and gives you another hug and kiss on the cheek.

“Be careful dear. I better not see you here again unless it’s to visit, alright?” You roll your eyes slightly and smile.

“Yes ma’am. Take care now.” You wave goodbye as Laswell opens the passenger side door for you. You see her hand move to take your cane for you, but stops herself. She rounds the car and gets in on the driver’s side as you tuck your cane next to your seat and pull yourself in. You throw your small bag of belongings in the back seat and buckle. Laswell takes off the emergency break.

“You ready to begin, L/N?” She says, turning her head towards you. Eyes full of determination, you nod. She smiles. “Alright. Let’s get started.”

_______________________________________

From that moment on, you spent nearly every single day by Laswell’s side. She assigned you classes to take, mission logs to read, training simulators, she even brought you to mission debriefs. She watched your progress closely, praising you when you completed an assignment, and correcting you where you messed up. After four months of training, she finally decided you were ready for your first official assignment.

“You’ll be assigned to one of our low stakes task forces to start off with. If you do well, you’ll be moved to higher stake task forces. Got it?” You gave Laswell a curt nod, taking in each and every word she said. You two were on your way to meet with the general to get your first mission before you met with the task force. Your cane hung around your arm. You didn’t want the general or the task force seeing you walking with it, even if you did have a noticeable limp.

The two of you reach the general’s office door. “Now, General Evans is just going to state the mission, it will be up to you to figure out how to accomplish it.” Laswell said, looking at you. You nodded in response. She gave you a nod back and knocked on the door.

“Enter.” Said the voice from inside. Laswell opened the door and the two of you stepped inside. General Evans was standing in front of his window, looking outside. He turned once the door closed and gave you both a smile. You straightened and saluted him, slightly hiding your cane behind your back.

“At ease, you must be Officer L/N, the retired vet, right?” General Evans stuck his hand out. You took it and he gave you a firm handshake.

“Yes, sir.” You replied. He smiled at you and gestured for the two of you to sit at the chairs in front of his desk. He took his place behind his desk and laced his fingers together.

“Alright, so, we’ve got some important intel at one of our bases in the Bahamas, but a local terrorist group has invaded it and claimed it as their own. So we’re sending task force 125 in to infiltrate and reclaim the base. It should be easy enough, the group isn’t large and won’t have the same gun power we have.” He explained. You listened intently, mind swimming with strategies and plans. You could see Laswell watching you out of the corner of your eye.

“Got all that, officer?” You nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Good, I expect this to be resolved by 0800 Friday. Dismissed.” You nod and stand, saluting the general once more before you and Laswell leave. Once outside the office, your leg trembles and you finally resort to using your cane for support. Laswell glances at you, but doesn’t say a word.

“Right, let’s go meet the task force.”She says. You nod and both take off down the hall, albeit slower than you would have liked due to your limp. The two of you head to the training room of the base. As you approach the door, you lean your cane against the wall and walk in without it. Laswell hesitates a moment, looking at your cane. But you’re already through the door.

There’s only one group in the training room today, that being task force 125. As you enter, you see the captain stop and look at you. He motions for his men to stop as well. You see that the team is decently sized, about 10 people including the captain. Laswell steps in behind you and stands at your side, arms behind her back.

“Well, you must be our new strategist, right?” The captain approaches you, almost sizing you up. He notes your posture, how you lean all your weight on your left leg. You think you hear him let out a huff. You straighten your back, much to its discomfort, and stick out your hand.

“Officer Y/N L/N. You must be Captain Fischer, or am I mistaken?” You say, eyes boring into his own. He hesitates slightly, before gripping your hand tightly and shaking it.

“...That I am. And behind me are my men. Get over here, boys!” Fischer turns his head and yells. His troop kind of awkwardly walks forward, and a handful salute you and Laswell. Out of the corner of your eye, you see Laswell’s eyes slightly narrow.

“Alright, here we have Privates Bradley, George, Stephenson, White, Foster, and Woods. Then it's Corporals Park, Garner, and Pittman. You got that, officer?” Captain Fischer says, a slight snark in his tone. You nod.

You know exactly what this team is like by just looking at them. During your years of service, you’ve encountered people like them before. They’re young, reckless, and think themselves unkillable. They’re egos are high because they’ve been placed in a task force. Little do they know, their task force is just the clean up crew. Compared to you, they’re just a bunch of rookies. But you know that you have to start somewhere in order to move up.

“Pleasure to meet you all. Now, let’s get started shall we?” You say, hands behind your back. You explain the mission to the team, word for word, exactly how General Evans gave it to you. You notice that they halfway listen, a couple of the privates eyeing you up and down.

“This mission should be easy in and out. I’ll have the plans ready by,” You glance down at your watch. “0200 this afternoon. By then, I expect you to be ready for debrief and packed for the plane that leaves by 0700. Copy?” You saw the Captain’s eyes roll slightly. But you didn’t let it bother you. You saw Laswell slightly smile next to you.

“Copy that. We’ll be waiting.” He says. You nod, and dismiss the team. They shamble away, glancing at each other, chuckling. You let out a breath you were holding and grit your teeth. Your leg had been throbbing the entire time, but you didn’t let it show. Laswell nudged your side. You looked over. She was holding out your cane to you.

You stood there for a second, then took it, gratefully leaning on it for support. “Thanks.” You say. When had she grabbed it for you?

“No worries. Now, let’s get you the intel you need for the mission.” And with that, you two took off back down the hall.

You spent the morning planning how the mission would go, considering every countermove, attack, even what the weather would be like. You double, triple, quadruple checked the intel you received, making sure it was 100% accurate. You wanted to prove yourself to Laswell and make sure this mission went smooth as butter.

Exactly at 0200, you met back with the task force. Though, you had to wait about 10 minutes longer for the entire team to show up. You went over the plans with them, detailing where they would infiltrate, where the intel was located, and where the enemies would be located. They half listened, occasionally yawning loudly. You ignored them. At least it wasn’t your ass going on the mission.

Later that day, Laswell walked with you to the black top to put you on the plane. Task force 125 was surprisingly on time and packing their things into the plane. You saw the captain look you up and down, taking in your cane, and whisper something to one of the corporals, smirking. You once again, ignored it. You and Laswell stopped in front of the plane.

She turned to you. “Alright, L/N. This is your first mission. Don’t mess it up now, understand?” You nodded. She patted you gently on the shoulder. Her eyes softened. “You’ve done good so far, now’s your chance to prove yourself, got it?” You gave her a smile, and nodded again. She glanced at the task force and back to you, then leaned down next to your ear. “Try not to let them bother you that much, they’re just a bunch of idiot rookies.” She whispered. You chuckled slightly.

“You got it, Laswell.” You said, a smile on your face. She returned the smile and patted your shoulder again.

“See you in a couple days, officer.” She said. You saluted her and she walked back into the base.

You took in a deep breath, and walked onto the plane, clutching your bag, cane clacking against the ground. You could see the soldiers eyeing you from the corner of your eye. You tried not to let the embarrassment build up in your gut.

The engines rumbled to life as you and the task force settled down. And the plane took off into the sunset. You hoped to God this mission would go as planned.

_____________________________

“Fischer, what’s your status?” You said into the microphone, watching the body cam feed intently. You had landed in the Bahamas just a few hours ago, but there was no time for rest and relaxation, much to the team’s dismay. It was just past midnight, and you had shoved their asses right out into the field. You knew night missions tended to go smoother, as the enemy wouldn’t be expecting it. At least, from your experience they didn’t.

“Tired as hell, but moving forward.” He responded, a snarky tone to his voice.

“Copy that, keep proceeding, you’re about 1 click away from the base. Keep low to the ground, there’s a chance for night guards.” You said into the mic. Fischer grunted in response. You shuffled around the various screens, looking over your people’s shoulders. When you arrived, you were given a small team to help you monitor the task force’s radios and cameras. You listened to the idle chatter over the radios between the team’s members.

“Officer L/N, we’ve got visuals on the base.” Said a member of your group. You went over to him and looked at the camera. Private Stephenson had been the first to approach the base.

“Private, we’ve got a visual on the base, keep low and keep an eye out for guards.” You said to him. You heard him sigh.

“I’ve got it.” He replied, before inching closer to the building. You furrowed your brows. What the hell is he doing?

“Private, stand by, wait for the others to arrive.”

“I said I’ve got it. This shit’s easy as hell, I’ll be in and out, 2 minutes top.” Stephenson said.

You frowned and were about to start to order him to wait again, when you saw a glint of metal from his camera.

“Stephenson, get to the ground. Now.” You said, eyes fixed on the sniper rifle that was steadily aiming for his head.

“What, why?”

The rifle stopped, and you knew what was about to happen.

“Get on the fucking ground, NOW!” You yelled. Stephenson hesitated slightly, but dropped to the ground right as bullets whizzed past his head. You gritted your teeth. The fucking idiot just alerted the base to their presence.

“Goddammit Stephenson, you just let the whole base know you’re here.” You grumbled on the radio. He said something back, but you had already switched back to Fischer’s channel.

“Keep to the trees, Stephenson was kind enough to let the group know you were coming. Expect more targets to leave the base. They’ll be looking for you.” You said, pinching the bridge of your nose. Bunch of idiots… Your team was never like this… You stopped that train of thought before it could continue.

“Roger that.” Replied Fischer. You watched as the team slowly approached the edge of the treeline, a couple retrieving Stephenson from the edge. You and the team watched carefully as members from the terrorist group exited the building, just like you said, looking around. You scoffed slightly at their weapons. General Evans was right, they wouldn’t stand a chance against what you had. But they had the advantage now of expecting the team, and you could tell they weren’t going to be scared off easily.

“Let’s just go in, guns blazing.” Said Corporal Garner.

“Negative, they’re expecting you now, you’ve lost the element of surprise. They’re weapons may not be the best, but they have the advantage right now. Remember, they outnumber you, it’s 10 against 20. Best course of action is to lure a handful into the woods and take them out.” You said, watching the targets scan the treeline.

Fischer scoffs. “Please, we’re better trained than them, we can take them.” You see him get ready to charge, along with the others. You grit your teeth, and your team looks at you with apprehensive eyes.

“Do. Not. Engage. You’re going to get your shit rocked. Lure a handful of them into the woods and take them out with your knives.” You say, attempting to keep your cool.

Fischer straight ignores you. You hold your head in your hands as you watch them charge out into the open. Gunshots echo through the radios and you watch the screens, your face set into a deep scowl. Just as you said, the team is quickly overwhelmed and are forced to take cover behind a couple fallen trees.

“Captain, we’re taking on too much fire! What do we do?” Yells Corporal Park. You stand there, waiting for Captain Fischer to respond. He doesn’t, and in the silence you can tell he’s panicked as hell.

“Captain. I’m going to say this slowly so it gets through your thick fucking skull. Throw one of your smoke bombs at the targets. Once the smoke has filled the area, you, Park, Garner, and Pittman charge and take down as many targets as you can with your knives. Do not use your guns, they’ll be able to see the flash and hear the sound, alerting them to your location. Before the smoke clears, enter the building and have the rest of the team shoot down the rest of the targets. Retreive the intel and get your fucking asses back to base. Copy?” You say, voice low. You couldn’t help but let some of the venom enter your voice as you spoke. Your team was looking at you apprehensively.

Fischer was silent for a moment. “Roger that.”

“Good. Now begin.” You replied. You watched as he executed your plan. He threw the smoke bomb, and as soon as smoke filled the area, he, Park, Garner, and Pittman jumped over the fallen tree and sliced down at least half of the targets. They slipped through the open door and Fischer motioned for the others to begin shooting. Gunshots rang out through the night air as they stepped through the base.

“Keep your guns up, the base could still have targets inside.” You say through the radios. Fischer, Pittman, Garner, and Park reply with a curt ‘Copy’. Right after they replied, a terrorist jumped into the hall with a gun, but was quickly shot. They inch down the hall, towards the intel room. Finally, they entered and quickly found the intel you were looking for.

“Good. Now get your asses back here.” You say. You get a quick ‘Roger that’, and watch as they exit the building. The rest of the team have already taken care of the targets, their bodies splayed out on the ground. You huff and take off your headset. You gently set it onto the table, an attempt to appear you’ve kept your cool. But you and your team both know that it’s just a ruse. You were fucking pissed.

Your boots clamped on the ground, your cane clacking angrily on the concrete floor as you tore down the hallway, people quickly getting out of your way as you rushed past them. Your right leg was screaming at you for the harsh speed, but you didn’t care. You had a score to settle.

You arrived outside right as the task force returned. They looked nervous and as soon as they saw your figure striding towards them, scared. Captain Fischer stepped forward, mouth open to speak. The only sound he let out was a small cry as you hooked your cane around his knee and tugged, causing him to fall. You grabbed his collar before he hit the ground, getting him down to your level. You brought your face close to his.

“Listen here you ignorant, egotistical prick. I don’t give two fucking shits if you like me or not, but you do not ignore a direct order, do you understand me?” You savored the fear in his eyes. He swallowed and gave you a single nod. You loosened the grip on his collar and let him fall to his knees. You glared at the team around you, they shrunk under your gaze.

“You all could have died tonight because you decided you were more intelligent and experienced than me. You’re fucking lucky I didn’t leave you all out to dry out there. I know you think you’re better than me because you’re faster, stronger. But let me tell you something.” You leaned forward, your voice low. “You disobey an order again, and I’ll fuck you up so bad they won’t know which side is your ass and which is your head. Am I clear?” The team hesitated a moment and let out mumbles of ‘yes’s and ‘okay’s. You scowled once again.

“When I say, ‘Am I clear?’ I expect a fucking ‘Yes, Officer.’ Now, once again, AM I CLEAR SOLDIERS!?” You yelled, posture straight, feet apart, arms behind your back. The team stands stiff as boards, and salute.

“YES, OFFICER!” They yelled in unison. You sigh, looking at all of them. You hold out a hand to the Captain, who’s still kneeling. He hesitantly takes it and you pull him to his feet.

“Good, now get the hell out of my face. We’re leaving by 0900 so get some rest.” They scurry away, the Captain hesitating slightly, looking at you, before he ran off. Once they’re gone, you let out a gasp and clutch your right leg. It was killing you the entire time, but the anger had thankfully sheltered you from the pain. For a bit at least. You hobbled back inside and made your way to your assigned quarters.

You closed your door and leaned against it, savoring the darkness of your room. You had a headache coming on, and you were thinking about the mission. You pulled out your phone and texted Laswell.

You put your phone back into your pocket, not expecting a response. You shambled over to your bed and collapsed in it, exhausted. You weren’t going to worry about changing. Your eyes began to drift close, when you felt a buzz. You quickly pulled out your phone again.

You smiled at your phone. Setting it on your nightstand, you rolled over and pulled your blankets up to your chin. Letting out a sigh, you drifted off to sleep.

________________________________

After that mission, task force 125 treated you with respect. They executed every order you gave them as effortlessly as possible, and listened intently to your debriefs. You worked with them for about 2 months, before Laswell transfers you to another task force. You’re surprised when the team wishes you well, Captain Fischer giving you a hearty handshake as a goodbye.

For the next 6 months, you bounce between task forces, each one providing a new and more intense challenge from the last. You plan, strategise, and give orders effortlessly. You’ve had no casualties in any of the teams you’ve worked with. You began to develop a sort of reputation as this incredible strategist, the one who got things done without losing men. Eventually, you developed a codename, Harbinger.

Even with your reputation, you still couldn’t escape the judgemental gazes of the teams you worked with. Their eyes would immediately be drawn to your cane, to your limp. You could tell they wanted to ask, but no one ever did. You never gave them the chance.

One day, as you wrapped up a mission with your latest task force, 326, Laswell entered the intel room where you were monitoring the team's return.

“Oh, Laswell, nice to see you. What are you doing here?” You ask, turning away from the screens. She came to your side, and you saw her clutching a folder. She smiled at you and handed over the folder. You gave her a curious look, and opened the folder. Inside were four documents. You skimmed through them. They were files of the soldiers, John Price, Kyle ‘Gaz’ Garrick, John ‘Soap’ Mactavish, and Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley. Your eyes widened slightly. These were the members of task force 141. You looked back at Laswell, who was smiling.

“You’re being transferred to task force 141 with me, L/N. This is your last mission with 326. Tomorrow we’re flying over to Greece where they’re stationed to meet them.” She said. Your jaw dropped. You’re going to be task force 141’s strategist, along with Laswell. The task force 141. You’ve heard the rumors about them, about their strength, resilience, and teamwork. They all moved together as one, and were considered unstoppable. You’d heard what they did with the Hassan mission. You studied their debriefs intently. And you were about to meet them.

“Are… Are you serious? Do you think I’m ready?” You ask. As excited as you are to work with such a strong team, you can’t help but feel a bit apprehensive. Are you skilled enough to be trusted with the lives of these soldiers?

“I’m certain of it. This is what I’ve been training you to do, remember? Since day one I’ve been wanting you on the team, but the higher ups wanted to be certain you were ready. You’ve proven to be more than skilled enough to work with task force 141.” Laswell says, smiling at you. You look back at the folder in your hands, thinking.

You look back at Laswell, determination present in your eyes. “What time do we leave?”

She smiles.

“That’s more like it.”

You hand her back the folder, and the two of you leave the room. You can’t wait to see what tomorrow brings to the table.

______________________________________________________________

Hiiii !!! I wanted to thank yall for your support of this series !!! Ive never had so much fun writing something before !!! Next chapter we'll see our task force 141 boys!!! Have a wonderful day !!! Ciao !!! <3

XOXOXOXOX <3

tagged people:

@sucka2me @deltottoro

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lesbiandanhowell · 4 months

Text

Sam reacts to: Dan and Phil and PJ and Charlie play LETHAL COMPANY

Would like to preface this by saying this video made me laugh so so much and I loved seeing them play with PJ and Charlie and definitely need more of that!

- Them bullying Phil I want to cryyyy

- PHIL MAKING THE FIRST INAPPROPRIATE COMMENT. We truly are in a new era where Dan isn't the one making the jokes but Phil is, what a time to be alive.

- The synchronized screaming, you can only get from Dan and Phil truly lmao.

- I want to see PJ and Charlie's faces :(( I wish they'd somehow put more of their cams in and the voices more clear because I really struggled understanding them sometimes.

- Why are you getting cockblocked... what were you trying to do in that game

- Charlie in peak mom mode telling them to come back and then just full on pranking them by leaving them behind, she's hilarious bye.

- I want to see Charlie and PJ (again apparently)

- You can tell who actually plays those kind of games... and it is not Phil.

- Dan explain the controls to Phil is actually so wholesome... like yes Dan will make fun of Phil but he will also help him not totally suck and I think that's cute.

- I love this friendship group so much somehow. Their energy is infectious as fuck and I really need them to make more videos with Charlie because I may be in love with her a little bit thanks. (Yes I will subscribe to her Twitch and watch her gaming streams.)

- OMG NOT THE BOTTOM DAN AND CATBOY DISCOURSE I AM SOBBING I SCREAMED

And I will end it on that note because I still haven't recovered from that because what the fuck was the reason to mention this AGAIN.

#dan and phil #amazingphil #daniel howell #danandphilgames #gaymingmas #phan #sam reacts #Dan and Phil and PJ and Charlie play LETHAL COMPANY

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junjunjunko · 7 months

Note

Hai haven't been on tumblr much lately but I finally managed to catch up woth everything I think ( ´∀｀ )b

Are you ok? D: I saw you've been sick for seemingly some time and there were some anon comments with just.. a lot of hate?? It was so weird seeing something like that. Your art is definitely not just "fetishization", your art DOES have variation, and a lot of it. If some people can't see or notice that, they're obviously just not focusing on the art itself, and moreso the bigger picture.

Your designs are peak too D: your designs are some of my favorite ones along dol community, I'm much interested in dol anymore but checking up on your art or seeing it appear on my timeline still managed to make me happy, that's just how much I enjoy it 🫶

But really, I hope you're doing well recovering! Both from some ignorant people and a sickness (if you're not already healed SOB)!!

And a kind of blurry picture of one of my kitties since you seem to like them too:3

It's really nice and sweet of you to ask! Also, welcome back!

Personally I don't see much variation in my own art which is a struggle but I appreciate it, I still however want to improve further.

I have gotten better, thankfully, although I cannot say the same about my mental health as college has taken a great toll on my whole year and, I hope I can switch college. It's really difficult although I already prepared the papers to leave it for another one. ( I would rather not talk about my mother's thoughts on it, but I must say they did really have impact on how I'm currently feeling too. )

Other than that, I'm neutral - the only reason why I haven't been posting is because of the classes and, of course, commissions. Hopefully I can finish them soon to give myself an actual proper break.

Once again, thank you for your concern. ヾ(•ω•`)o Oh and, I love ur cat btw it looks very polite.

#dia speaks #important #br41nc4ndy

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chrisredfield73 · 4 months

Note

Hey hello ! Hope you're doing well !

Can I request a Payday fic (or headcanons if you prefer those) about Wolf feeling down (I haven't thought of a reason, maybe he's just stressed, idk) and being comforted by the reader/one of the guys ? So, something a little angsty, that turns into tons of fluff. Bonus points if there's some crying and hugs/cuddles. This guy deserves so much love.

If you do it, thanks so much ! And take care ! :D

A/N: I love the scrunkle, everyone keep sending Wolf requests, I beg!! (Also pls send like.. Sydney, Hoxton and Jacket requests too omgomgomgmgomgom)

I had to do WolfHox. Sorry not sorry. I can do one with reader if you want another version.

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

Wolf sighs. Of course their heist had to go wrong. He sits in his room, away from the others, and stares off into space. He’s completely stressed out. He doesn’t want to bother anyone with his feelings, especially since they’re stressed out too. He’s stressed out because they didn’t make it out with the money, Clover got injured, and he just misses his family that he left behind many years ago. He lets out a low, frustrated and incoherent grumble before curling up in his bed.

Everything is taking a toll on him now and he doesn’t know why. He’s fairly open about his feelings but it feels like he’s been bottling them up for a while. When was the last time he ranted to someone? He doesn’t even remember. He wraps his arms around himself and slowly drifts off to sleep, thinking about all the things that have kept him up and feeling stressed.

He wakes up a few hours later to the sound of his door opening. It’s dark outside now and the lack of light in his room at the moment makes it seem even darker. He’s still groggy when someone shuts the door and walks over to his bed before laying down next to him. Wolf lets out a groggy, “Hm?” and turns to look at the person. He can faintly make out who it is.. It’s Hoxton. Hoxton smiles a little and wraps his arms around Wolf. “Hey.. It’s just me, you’re okay.” Wolf relaxes almost immediately and leans into Hoxton’s touch.

Hoxton and Wolf are both silent for a long while before Hoxton speaks up. “You doing okay, Ulf?” He knew Wolf was stressed. He always knew when Wolf was, since he wasn’t distant unless he was stressed and overthinking. Wolf shakes his head, tears welling up in his eyes. He can’t form any words, his mouth feels dry. He opts to turning towards Hoxton and buries his face in the British man’s chest, letting out a quiet sob. Hoxton is.. Surprised, to say the least. He quickly recovers and rubs Wolf’s back softly, “It’s okay.. Let it all out.”

Wolf finally finds the strength to speak. He rambles in between sobs, nearly incoherent and he hiccups and speaks quickly about all the things that have been stressing him out in the past month. Hoxton listens, still just rubbing Wolf’s back to comfort the Swede. When Wolf finishes his heartbreaking rambles, Hoxton presses a gentle kiss to his forehead. He speaks so quietly and softly, trying his hardest to comfort Wolf, “There you go.. It’s all going to be okay, Ulf. You’re doing so well and I’m glad you’re still here.” Wolf soon calms down as Hoxton whispers sweet nothings in his ear.

Hoxton feels the Swedish man relax in his arms and pulls him closer. They soon drift off to sleep together, Wolf being the first to fall asleep. Hoxton sighs contentedly, whispering against Wolf’s temple. “Goodnight, Ulf.. I love you.” He soon falls asleep as well, still holding Wolf tightly yet gently, as the stars begin to burn brighter in the dark, night sky.

Maybe telling someone about the things that are stressing you isn’t so bad after all.. Especially when they love you more than you could ever know.

#payday 2 #wolf payday 2 #payday 2 wolf #hoxton payday 2 #payday 2 hoxton #james hoxworth #ulf andersson #wolfhox #angst #i need sleep #im so tired #i love himbos #requests open

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yourbuddy1984 · 6 months

Note

I wanna know I wanna know. I wanna know your thoughts. I wanna.

sorry for the late reply, replaying buddy sim destroyed me so i had to take some time to get my thoughts in order. and recover. also fun fact i had a dream buddy sim got cancelled because it made a big streamer cry multiple times. he hadn't even gotten past the text adventure before he started sobbing. they wanted to get it off steam and itchio and every site ever. 👍thoughts under cut

first of all i want to make something clear. don't believe a word i say. buddy sim is like.. when i first played it, i was in a terrible state, unfit to play it. i was sooo sad and everything that i cried for weeks because i couldn't get the first ending due to some glitch, and i felt so guilty for not being able to give buddy a 'good ending'. all that stuff. you know how it goes. it worsened my depression sooo bad... dont get me wrong i still adore it, i just want to make it clear that my perception of buddy sim is. it differs from others', to say the least, and is warped at least slightly. my thoughts are, of course, not objective, as you could assume, and are instead just snippets from my silly mind. also, i'm going to be saying "you" a bunch, but i don't mean you as a person. just, the idea of a player, i guess.

buddy is so.. god. can one even blame them, for how they act in the third ending?? its easy to think Yes, but, i say No. is how they act right? no!! do you have to 'forgive' them? i dont think so. but, you're their first friend in ages!! they were only programmed to know the fun sides of friendship!! they weren't made with the knowledge of how to handle someone being mean!!! they were made to play rock paper scissors, hangman, and guess the number with you!! they weren't made for all this. and, yeah, you might not mean what you do in mean ways. you're probably not going after the glitches because you hate buddy, but just because you're curious. you might not mean that you dislike the game, you just mean. something else. or Something. i dont know.

that's how it is for me, at least. i personally cannot blame buddy. if you did, i wouldn't blame you, either. but. it's interesting to think about why and such, if you can even call buddy a person. again, it's easy to think Yes, but. they were made in 1984 - hell, maybe even sooner!! they were made public in 1984. we don't know how long they were being worked on before that.. its. buddy is a simulation !! they're a game !! they're a character !! but, a person can change and grow, something buddy has been shown to be able to do (end 1). but, . god. i dont knowwww buddy my good friend buddy .. not quite a person, but, . theyre just script !! ones and zeroes !! but they still. change and grow. i don't know. it's.. man. the first ending is proof that buddy is capable of truly caring about you, not just the friendship. and. they do. god. so. they Can't reach their purpose!!! they can't!! even if you're super nice and kind to them, they can't, because their perception of friendship is so warped. and, if they did achieve their goal, fulfill their purpose, befriend you.. what then? continue hanging out with you until you die? restart the game? what then??? buddy can't achieve their goal because their goal is something like "reach tommorrow". you always reach tommorrow, don't you? you always have. but you haven't reached this tommorrow. neither will you tommorrow's tommorrow, and that one's, and so on. its like. sisyphus, yea? buddy sisyphus realll

i hope this makes sense. maybe it doesn't.. teehee... thank you for the ask!!:3

#ask #buddy simulator 1984 #buddy

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the-knaves-world · 1 year

Text

This life and our next

Lilia x reader, I needed angst. GN!reader

This was new but hope it's good enough!

In the rubble of the mirror chamber, amidst the screams of your friends and the tremors of the aftershocks from the dragon form of malleus' overblot, lies a body.

A body with long black hair and pale, lifeless skin and dull raspberry red eyes. A bloody smile and the forms of a found family mourning.

"Lilia! Lilia please, don't leave us!" You cry, heart pounding so hard that your chest aches and your breathing is harsh from the tears that flow like the stream that Lilia showed you, where he proposed.

"My Dove, don't cry. I hate it when you cry, my love." Lilia brushes his hand across your cheek, hoping that what warmth his body has left is enough to soothe your tears, for now.

Silver tries to hold back his tears as his father and his stepparent say their final farewells. "It was an honor to be your son, Lilia. Thank you for everything. We will never forget you." Silver knows if he speaks more than this, he will fall to pieces. Silver cannot cry yet, his stepparent needs him.

"Lilia! It has been an honor to train under you. Thank you for the years you've given us!" Sebek is audible over the screams of the teachers and other students.

Sebek looks so very fragile. You have never seen your boys look so pained. Not even when lilia would cook dinner.

Brushing your lips over lilias temples, nose, cheeks and finally his lips, you whisper "I know you have lived for so long that asking for you to stay any longer is selfish but..." You hiccup through your tears and finish your sentence.

"Please stay with me. With us. We want more time with you. I haven't gotten to walk down the aisle to you in your tux yet. We haven't gotten our first dance as a married couple yet. We deserve more time, my love."

You brush your tears to see him clearly, you want to keep him alive in your vision, your memory, as long as possible. Pressing another light, fluttering kiss to his lips, you feel him getting colder.

"I want nothing more than more time with you. I waited so long to find you. I had more love with you than I have in the past 500 years." Lilia squeezes your hand with what strength he has left and whispers. "I will find you in our next life, no matter what it takes. My dove, take care of yourself. I love you more than the stars."

Looking over to his son and his unofficial child, he calls out weakly. "Look after them silver, it seems I have nothing left to teach my sons." With a weak chuckle, Lilia closes his eyes.

"The stars are beautiful, my dove. Just look up and see my love for you painted over the night sky."

Lilias' chest has stopped moving and all that remains in its stillness is the sobs of his family that will never truly recover from their loss.

~Some time later~

Everyday was a struggle with grief. Little by little things like breathing becomes easier. Things like cooking and joking about him becomes happier.

"Don't burn the Mac!" From silver followed by a sarcastic "I'm not ya father, Silver. Mac 'n' cheese is safe with me." Brings laughter that isn't fully drowned out by tears or sobs anymore.

Tucking your boys into bed had become a new habit since their fathers death. Yes, even the king of Briar Valley gets tucked in.

Walking out onto the backporch and sitting down to marvel up at the stars. Lilia was absolutely right about the view in Briar Valley. He would have loved the new backyard too. A patch of lilies and forget-me-nots were planted along not only the sides of the house but all over the back fence line.

Looking up and seeing the stars that shine so brightly, he said he loved you more than the stars. "How could you love so immensely?" You whisper to the soft darkness of the valley.

You had made it a habit to come out to the backyard so that your sobs couldn't wake silver. You had made the mistake of crying inside once. Never again, the boys all came rushing into the room to soothe you. They were so tired the next day.

Letting your shoulders shake with tears that had long become silent, you feel the wind blow and brush against your cheeks. Raising your head and looking up to the blanket of stars that your bat loved so much, you feel warmth against your back.

Turning your head, you expect to see one of your boys or a royal guard that heard you step outside, there was no one. Just a lingering warmth that felt so achingly familiar. "Lilia...I miss you so much."

A warmth spreads across your cheek and swear you hear him speak to you. "In our next life, no matter what, my love." Your tears don't cease, instead they flow, just like that day in the destroyed mirror chamber.

"I can't lose you all over again." The words 'this isn't fair' repeatedly fall from your lips with such pain that the shadows seem to react to them.

And then...everything just stops. The shadows don't dance around you, the crickets go silent, the fireflies cease to glow.

The wind has even ceased to blow. That was unsettling in Briar Valley. The wind never completely stops, only dies down to a gentle breeze. Hearing no signs of life is rather disconcerting.

Looking up to the stars and then to the garden, you stand and walk over to the forget-me-nots and see them gently swaying in the nonexistent breeze. You planted them for you and Lilia.

Warmth once more envelops your back, like it always did when lilia hugged you from behind. "Lilia, I take it you like them?" Laughing lightly through your tears.

"Lilia, I can't wait for you to find me again. Please, don't keep me waiting this long. Never again lilia."

Feeling the wind shift and kick up again you turn and you swear that you see his outline. His pointed ears only visible because the house is right behind him. You can practically hear his laughter, twinkling like bells on the wind.

Just like that, his presence was gone. You never felt him again.

~200 years later~

Walking out of university classes at the end of the day was an experience that was both joyous but also tiring. The joy of being done with classes but also the tiredness of having to walk the entirety of campus to get back to a somewhat loud dorm.

Ramshackle dorm, once abandoned and rundown, now thriving and dedicated to the human that saved the Nightraven College and it's students.

Once the worlds became traverseable for people that were not fair folk, Nightraven became accepting of students from the same world as the human from the history books.

Passing by the green and black clad students of diasomnia, you're reminded of the stories about the fae that had loved the human from your world. How their scream and sobs echoed through the damage of the old mirror chamber.

Silly old history stories that the new history professor this year loves to blabber on about. The rumor is that he was around 200 years ago. 'I doubt it, why would he want to come back here?'

Deciding on a trip to the new Cafe in town, you change out of the uniform and find a spot in your own little corner of the cozy place. When your order is called you make your way over to the barista and grab your order.

On the walk back you pass by a boy, your age if you were to hazard a guess, and you can't help but keep looking over to him. "Staring is quite rude, don'tcha know?" He cheekily quips.

Embarrassed at having been caught, your face warms and you feel the urge to bury your face into your folded arms. You hear the chair in front of you squeal and hear him plop onto the chair.

"Well little one, those were some seriously serious looks you were giving me." He leans his elbows on the table and puts his head on his hands with a certain smile.

"What were you thinking, hmmm?" The man has a deeper voice than you thought he would. Looking at him you feel a sense of deja vu.

"Have we met before little one?" The ache in your chest that always seemed to be there...loosened and then simply faded away.

"I don't think so but you seem familiar. Are you from around here? Or just here for college?" He laughs and it clicks.

Breathing in a lung full of air and feeling the tell tale tightness of your throat, you whisper "Lilia..."

Feeling him take your hands across the table and that warmth that always haunted your dreams. The dreams of a time that caused you to take the scholarship from Nightraven College in the first place.

"I said our next life. I meant it, my dove." Feeling his lips feather over your fingertips sent those shivers up your spine. "Welcome back my love. No tears this time."

This life will be a good one. One with years together, not just one.

Across the street stands a green haired crocodile and the black haired king. Happy to see their caretakers together once more.

"So, do you think that silver will be back soon?" "YOUNG MASTER?!" The laughter from the king of thorns and his father figure resound through the dusk of their new start together.

#twisted wonderland #angst #lilia angst #finally tried my hand at angst #well #how did i do?#bc i feel like it wasn't quite angsty enough #but I'm also a major crybaby who cried while writing this #i also have not been to sleep yet #lilia x reader #twst lilia #gn!reader #lilia x gn!reader

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aebi12 · 11 months

Text

"Sinful Desires" - Chapter 25

"They won't take him away from you"

Aemond's hand lands on Alyssa's shoulder, startling her, and causing for the girl to look back at him.

"Did you say something?"

The prince sighs, "No one is going to take your brother away, my love, you can rest easy."

The girl restrains herself from rolling her eyes, "I don't trust this place," she whispers before turning her gaze to Aegon, who is still playing with Jaehaera, "If I could, I would have him every second by my side."

"I know," Aemond takes her hand, drawing her attention once more, "I know you are concerned about your brother's situation, so I'd better take care of it as soon as possible."

Alyssa nods. Aemond has been by her side for the past few hours since their arrival in the capital, and ignoring his mother's call, but she knows he is eager to see her. The princess would be tempted to avoid the reunion if it weren't for the fact that she needs the information that Alicent will surely give her son.

"Of course, go and join them," she tries to smile at him, "I'll stay with the kids a bit longer."

"As you wish," he stands up and leans down to kiss the top of her head, "I'll be back soon."

Alyssa nods absently, her eyes once again focused on the children, though she overhears Aemond's ordering the guards to protect their niece and nephew, and not let anything happen to them, on threat of being eaten by Vhagar.

But Alyssa knows that even dragons have limits. The true villains always find a way to carry out their violent acts.

Aegon's laughter fills the room. Her brother has recovered his innate joy and begins to run between the furniture being chased by Daisy, the sitter. Jaehaera watches him with the beginning of a smile on her lips, though she doesn't join him.

"I'm hungry!" Egg suddenly exclaims.

“Go get something for the princes,” Alyssa orders one of the maids, “Daisy, come here, please.” As the young woman approaches her, the princess smiles, "I haven't had a chance to thank you for taking care of my niece during her stay at Storm's End."

"You don't have to, princess, it was an honor and a joy to be able to take care of the princess," she replies, blushing

"Was it hard for her?"

“The castle…was very different,” Daisy assents, “There were no children and Lord Borros's daughters,” the girl seems to restrain herself, “Lord Baratheon hired a septa to educate the princess, that kept her entertained most of the time "

"And during the nights?"

"The princess asked about you and prince Aemond every day." Alyssa sighs, "Over the days she got used to both your absence."

"I'm glad you were there for her, Jaehaera is very happy with you, I can tell"

"I didn’t leave her alone, not once, my lady"

“Thank you, Daisy,” Alyssa replies gratefully.

The maid then arrives with a tray of food, and Alyssa joins the children, watching them eat and continue to play, until they are so exhausted that they fall asleep.

“Take care of them, Daisy, please,” Alyssa says, getting to her feet, “I won't be long, but if any of them wake up, keep them here and do not let them get out of this room.”

“Yes, my lady,” the nanny nods.

Alyssa goes to the door and turns to the children, anxious and debating whether or not she should leave them. Maybe she shouldn't let them out of her sight, maybe she could postpone her conversation for another time.

But she knows that she cannot delay the confrontations any longer. Although she hates the idea of facing the ghosts of the Keep, she has to do it. Any hope of a future in this place depends on her making it safe.

And that is what she intends to do.

***

"Aemond, my son!"

His mother puts her arms around him as soon as the prince enters his older brother's room.

Aemond is surprised by Alicent's effusiveness, but still he hugs the queen and strokes her auburn curls in a comforting gesture when he notices his mother sobbing.

“I thought I'd lost you,” she admits as she faces him, her hands cupping Aemond's face and staring at him for a few seconds before breaking the embrace and examining his figure, as if searching for a wound.

"I am fine, mother, you don't have to worry," he assures her, holding her arms.

Alicent nods and seems to want to say something else, but Aemond pushes away from her and walks into the room to get to the bed, where he finds his brother. Aegon is nearly naked, his wounds mostly protected by bandages, though some are exposed and covered in ointment.

“You walk in and once again you have her full attention,” he says sourly with a lopsided smile before wincing.

"Aegon," he replies in greeting, "so now you are king."

"I am. Or I never stopped being one,” he points out, “It doesn't matter. I killed our half-sister, and I kept my crown. For what it serves me,” he laughs unfunny as he points his legs with his hands.

“Your wounds are healing,” Alicent chimes in, “The maester says…”

“That foolish old man says what you want to hear,” the king cuts her off, “and if it were up to him, I would be drinking the milk of the poppy all day”

"You should take it, it would help you ease your pain," his mother replies, annoyed, "Your father got some relief thanks to that sedative, it's not synonymous with weakness if you use it too"

Aemond does not agree with his mother. His brother has never looked weaker than now. If he was in a bad condition before leaving the capital, now he is even worse. His gaunt face seems to indicate that he doesn't sleep well either, his body is much thinner than Aemond remembered, and several of his wounds produce an awful smell.

“I already said I won't drink the bloody milk of the poppy,” Aegon hisses, and when he tries to move, he lets out a cry of pain. His mother is there instantly, arranging the pillows and bringing him a glass of water, “I am the king. I will not let those leeches to rule in my name, I do not trust them."

Aemond notices that his mother seems to hold back her response, so he intervenes.

“How did you manage to secure the kingdom? I heard what happened with Sunfyre."

There is a wince on his brother's face, though it is deeper than any Aemond has seen in the brief moments of their reunion.

"I have the support of the Baratheon, Velaryon, Lannister, most of the houses of the Reach and the Valley"

“What about the North and the riverlands?”

"Those damned traitors," he retorts furiously, "they will bend the knee sooner or later."

"It is foolish of Lord Stark to continue to deny your brother's authority," Alicent chimed in, "With your return to the city, surely he knows he doesn't have much of a choice."

“Fire and blood,” Aegon says with a smirk, “how did you manage to survive the fight with our uncle?”

Aemond notices his mother shudder beside him. He has no intention of telling the details of the fight with Daemon, so he offers his brother a summary version of their encounter, and the days that followed.

"The girl came back with you then," his mother avoids his gaze, but Aemond notices her hands moving frantically.

"Yes, of course, Alyssa is here with me."

“Bards and poets will surely sing the feat of your victory for centuries, the one-eyed prince and his dragon vanquished over the Gods Eye,” his brother comments sardonically, though unable to hide his bitterness, as he stretches out his arm to take his cup of wine.

“They'll probably talk about your victory over Rhaenyra, too,” Aemond replies, trying to soothe his spirits. He needs his brother to be in a good mood to be able to propose the idea he has in mind,

"Puff, yeah, of course," he laughs once more, "I have no doubt that they will talk about the Usurper, the king without a dragon"

“Your father didn't have his dragon for long either, he barely rode it once and was a king…”

"Do you think I want to be compared with my fucking father?" hisses Aegon looking at his mother with annoyance.

“Sunfyre was a good companion for you,” Aemond chimes in, noticing Alicent's pained expression.

A shadow of pain that the prince knows has nothing to do with the burns crosses his brother's face, but after taking a couple more sips from his wineglass, Aegon looks hard and bitter once more.

“I will send you to Dragonstone as soon as possible to bring me new eggs. I heard from one of the keepers that Syrax had left a clutch the last time it was there."

"Will you search for a new dragon so quickly?" Aemond raises his eyebrows in his direction.

"I must strengthen my reign," Aegon shrugs, "I am a king without a dragon, who cannot walk without help and has no heir."

“Jaehaera is your heir,” Alicent glares at him.

"Jaehaera is a woman," Aegon tuts, "I need not remind you, mother, that the kingdom expects a male heir to be the next king, as you and Grandfather reminded me so many times."

Aemond knows that this is his chance to bring up his idea.

"There is yet a Targaryen heir," he says, focusing on his brother, "Rhaenyra's son lives."

"Oh yes, young Aegon," smiles his brother, "what about him?"

"He is a threat to your reign," his mother chimes in, “It will be better to deal with that complication soon”

Aemond fixes his good eye on his mother, her answer does not surprise him too much, but even so his heart sinks when he hears her words.

"Our nephew," he points out, "could be the best solution to our dilemma."

"What do you mean?"

"Marry him to Jaehaera and name him your heir."

"That is ridiculous!" Alicent looks at him, indignant, "That boy is Rhaenyra's son, how could he…?"

"Why would I name him my heir?" Aegon interrupts his mother, “I couldn't trust that boy. Growing up he might want my head for what I did to his mother."

“Exactly,” Alicent moves to Aegon's side, “it is absurd to even propose such an idea. Surely it was that young lady who put such nonsense into your head”

Aemond does his best to remain calm, but his gaze fixes angrily on his mother, his shoulders tense and his hands ball into fists at his sides.

“In case you haven't noticed, our house is on the verge of extinction. Marrying Aegon and Jaehaera is the best solution. She would be queen, mother of future kings who would carry on our legacy through her blood."

"I might as well marry her off to a future child of yours," Aegon replies, "Surely you and Alyssa will soon produce an heir for me?"

His mother lets out a derisive laugh at this point and tilts her face to the side as she quietly says something that sounds like "I'd like to see how she pulls it off," though Aemond isn't sure if he heard correctly, so he dismisses the comment.

“That's not…we don't…” he stops short, not quite sure if he should tell his brother about what Alyssa suspects about her inability to be a mother.

"Or I could have a son by myself"

Aemond looks at his brother, not quite sure if he's telling the truth or just joking. The prince has not considered it before, but he assumed that Aegon was no longer capable of being able to consummate the act necessary to become a father again. Was he wrong?

“Is it possible in your…situation to keep those expectations?” asks

His brother doesn't directly respond, “I'll make it possible. I have known Lord Borros's daughters, I will choose one of them as my wife. She will surely give me strong children."

“The council has urged your brother to find a new wife. You should do the same"

Aemond ignores his mother's words, “What about our nephew? I promised Alyssa that nothing would happen to her brother and I intend to keep my word."

"You weren't in a position to make such a promise," his mother insists.

“Surely you know that young Aegon poses a threat,” his brother looks at him, “I can't just ignore his existence. Men loyal to Rhaenyra would seek to place him as king in my place."

"And surely, brother," Aemond takes a few steps in his direction, "you do not intend to murder a child not even four years old."

Aegon grimaces. “I could send him to the Wall. It is a more than honorable exit for him."

"Alyssa will not bear to be separated from her brother"

“She might as well live with him in the North,” Alicent chimed in.

"Or I could make him a eunuch and allow him to stay here at court, serving as royal cupbearer," Aegon proposes.

“Both are extreme solutions that I will not tolerate,” Aemond retorts with suppressed anger.

"Your brother is the king, his orders will be respected"

“My brother would do well to remember that he will not have my support or Vhagar's if something, anything, happens to my nephew,” he specifies, staring at them both, “I cannot force you to name him heir, I know that, but I won't let anything bad happen to him."

“And why do you think I need you or your dragon? The kingdom is mine"

“Not completely,” Aemond smiles, “I was in the riverlands long enough to understand the threat Lord Stark, his winter wolves, and the other lords pose. They are a great army and it will not be easy to defeat them. Vhagar would give you the immediate advantage. Surely Stark would bend the knee at the sight of my dragon, but that will only happen if Aegon the young’s life and well-being are guaranteed."

There are a few moments of silence after his words, Aegon just stares at him for a few seconds and drinks from his glass again.

“I'll think about your words and discuss them at the next council meeting,” he finally ends by saying.

Aemond nods and turns to leave the room.

His mother follows him and takes his arm, stopping him once he has passed the guards at the door.

"Aemond, I would like to talk to you"

"Mother, please" he looks at her between tired, annoyed and exasperated, "If your words will offend my betrothed in any way, I prefer not to hear them."

“Please, my son,” his mother places her hands on top of his, her teary brown eyes staring at him, “Just a moment.”

Aemond sighs. He is unable to say no to his mother when she seems so desperate and scared. He nods and she leads him to the first vacant room they can find.

"Surely you know we are not in the best of positions right now," she begins to say, her hands moving steadily, "your brother's reign is held by a fragile peace."

"I am aware of the situation, mother"

“The coffers of the realm are full again and the lords have sworn allegiance to your brother, yes, but the allies we have,” she shakes her head, “I don't trust them. I don't trust Lord Corlys, or the Tyrells, or the others... we are surrounded by enemies."

"We've always been surrounded by enemies, isn't that what you reiterated to us growing up?"

“It's different now. No matter what your brother says,” she swallows and meets the gaze of her son, “The maester says that it is unlikely for him to conceive another child”

Aemond doesn't know what to say. Fortunately, his mother continues to speak.

“We need allies more than ever,” she says, “The time is right for you to join a young woman who will help us strengthen the kingdom.”

“I knew you would say something like that,” Aemond sighs wearily, “Mother…”

“Do it for our family, for me,” she takes his hands He notices her new wounds reddening the skin around her fingers, "Marry a proper young lady and have heirs worthy of the Targaryen name."

"Enough!" Aemond turns away from his mother, “I don't know how to make you understand that I am not leaving Alyssa, mother. I am not with her because it is convenient for me or for the kingdom, but because I love her."

Alicent shudders when she hears him, "Love is not…"

“Enough,” he says once again, cutting her off, “I don't intend to argue with you any further. I have made my position very clear. Alyssa is going to be my wife and you are going to have to learn to live with that."

Aemond hates that his words sound like a threat, but he is tired of his mother's reproaches and scorn for his love for Alyssa.

“Go back to my brother. He needs your attentions."

One more king who needs her as a nurse, the prince thinks as he watches the green figure of her mother leave the room.

***

“Here is the maid you sent for, princess,” says one of the guards escorting a surprised Talya.

"Thank you, you can leave now."

The men exit the room, Alyssa's former chamber, leaving the two women alone.

"Princess!" Talya seems genuinely happy to see her, "I didn't know you were back in the Keep."

"I find that hard to believe," she smiles ungraciously, "Considering that you always seem to know everything that goes around on in this place."

If the redhead notices the harshness in her words, she doesn't let it show in her gaze.

"I'm glad you are back, princess, I was relieved to know that you were able to meet with Prince Aemond."

Alyssa is tempted for a few seconds to waver in her resolve to confront the maid after she not-so-subtle reminds her that she helped her flee the keep, but finally she sighs and moves closer to Talya.

“My time in Harrenhal allowed me to discover things I didn't know about,” she begins by saying, “And it also allowed me to reflect and remember things I had forgotten.” Clearly the maid doesn't quite know what to answer. Alyssa continues, "I want the truth, Talya, don't you dare lie about the questions I'm about to ask you."

“Of course, princess, I assure you that…”

“The tea you brought for me every night,” Alyssa stares at her, “did you know it was specially made to prevent me from becoming a mother?”

There's a shadow of doubt that crosses the woman's face for just an instant, so swiftly that if Alyssa hadn't been paying attention, she probably wouldn't have noticed, “The tea was for your aches, princess, the Grand Master himself used to brew it and…”

"Stop lying!" she retorts, furious, "You knew it wasn't ordinary tea."

"Princess, I swear I had no idea it wasn't."

"Talya..."

"I had... I had my suspicions," the redhead accepts, "It was an unknown tea and I thought there was something strange, but you drank it regularly and nothing happened, so I thought it was just my imagination"

“You thought there was something strange and yet you religiously brought it to my room every night”

"I didn't... I had no idea... I was just following orders, princess"

"Whose orders?" she asks with her heart pounding in her chest

Talya hesitates, but Alyssa's menacing gaze seems to persuade her.

"Direct orders from Queen Alicent," she says, "The queen ordered the maester to prepare it and for me to bring it to you each night or whenever you needed it."

Alyssa feels her stomach drop with the confirmation of what she already imagined. Her eyes crystallize with tears that she doesn't intend to shed, so she takes a deep breath and turns her back on the maid for a few seconds.

“I swear, princess, I swear to the gods that I had no idea that tea served another purpose. The queen requested moon tea on a regular basis and I thought…I thought that if she wanted to avoid the consequences between you and Prince Aemond, she would ask me to bring you moon tea, I didn't suspect of any other drink”

"Really?" she turns to see the redhead, "Not even when I lost the baby"

“That was… that was some time later. I didn't imagine that the tea caused it."

“You were there for me. You held my hand while I lost my child,” Alyssa says bitterly, “and yet you claim to know nothing.”

"I did not know anything!" she repeats with tears starting to roll down her cheeks, “If I had known…”

“Would you have acted differently?”

"My loyalty is to you, Princess Alyssa, I swear it."

She smiles once more, though the joy doesn't reach her eyes. The words of Talya, the woman she considered an ally and friend in the fortress, who comforted her in the most bitter moments of her life, hurt as they are stained by her betrayal.

“Even if you didn't know about the effects of the tea,” she says, clearing her throat, “Your loyalty was not with me. You were spying on me either by orders of the queen or the White Worm”

"Princess, I don't…"

“Don't try to deny it,” she cuts her off, “it was you who attended me in this very room when my family and I came to fight for my brother's claim to prevail and his legitimacy not be questioned. It was you who found out that I had spent the night with Aemond, that I had lost my maidenhood, and who surely gave that information to Mysaria”

Talya has the decency not to deny her actions, but she lowers her head and Alyssa hears her sob.

"Do you have any idea what your words caused?"

"I had no choice, princess, as a woman, a servant, I never had too many options in this place."

“You will not win my sympathy with that argument,” she replies in a hard voice, “Your intrigues caused my mother's distrust, her antipathy towards me. Because of your words, she considered me a traitor, a stranger and turned away from me. Our relationship was never the same after that."

There is a part, a very small one, inside Alyssa's head that tells her that maybe she is being unfair to the woman, but she chooses to ignore it. Talya had decided to sell the secrets of the fortress in exchange for money, most likely. She was now reaping what she had sown.

"I'm so sorry, princess, I promise... I swear that I will be your most loyal servant, as I have been for a long time now."

“Your actions, even indirectly, have caused me irreparable damage. Needless to say, the prince is just as affected as I am, and he wouldn't take your indiscretions so lightly if I decide to share them with him," her green eyes look directly at her and she notes that the maid understands the threat, "I'm going to need the whole truth Talya. I don't want you to hide anything from me."

"What do you want to know?"

Alyssa asks and Talya speaks. The redhead tells her about Aegon's habits, the whispers from the Fortress about how frail the king looks, about the threat posed by the northerners with their army. She also tells her about the times that she helped Alicent to silence servants who shared the king's bed, about his frequent visits to the city and his unpleasant habits.

"The Dowager Queen herself knew of the existence of Aegon's natural children?"

"Yes, princess, Lord Larys informed her of their existence."

The strange relationship between Lord Larys and the queen is intriguing. Alyssa already knew that the man was not to be trusted, Lord Larys had successfully escaped the Keep during her mother's brief reign and then returned to maintain his old position and privileges, but according to what Talya tells her, he is also dangerous and ruthless.

"Was the prince aware of what his mother and Lord Larys were up to?"

“No, Prince Aemond didn't know,” she assures her, “The queen… the queen preferred not to tell him as she was embarrassed by the king's behavior, so it was all between her and the clubfoot”

Alyssa nods, relieved, "Tell me about the secret passages in the castle."

“There are everywhere”

“Who else knows about the existence of these paths?”

"Very few people. There are rumors, there have always been rumors that King Maegor built them, but only a few know about them. Lord Larys among them"

Alyssa feels uneasy knowing that information. She was never a fan of lord Larys, and now more than ever she must be very careful around the man, especially since he is a faithful servant of Alicent. And if the queen was cold-hearted enough to give the order to kill off her natural grandchildren, she wouldn't hesitate to ask for something to happen to her brother.

“That's… this is all I know,” Talya says after Alyssa's minutes of silence.

The princess pushes the thoughts out of her head and focuses her eyes on Talya, "What should I do with you?"

"I want to serve you faithfully, princess, from now on."

"But you deserve a punishment"

Talya pales and her voice falters, “Please, princess, I know I did wrong, but you… you are different. You are a good woman, you are merciful and…”

Alyssa laughs, “Yeah, I'm a good woman, and what have I gotten out of it? All my time here I tried to keep the peace between both sides of my family and what did it get me? I ended up poisoned and permanently incapacitated to be a mother,” she retorts bitterly.

"Princess…"

"No"

"Princess, please, I helped you, I helped you flee the castle with your brother"

"And that's the only reason you'll keep your life." Talya cries again, but Alyssa ignores her and calls the guard. One of them enters immediately. “This woman will no longer be a palace maid. She will receive ten lashes, ten, and then you will throw her in the dungeons."

"No, please, princess, no"

The man grabs Talya's arm and for a moment Alyssa's will wavers.

"You're going to stay locked up until I decide what I'm going to do with you"

The guard nods and leaves the room nearly dragging a sobbing Talya.

***

Alyssa finds Aemond reading in the children's room.

"Where are Aegon and Jaehaera?"

“The sitters are bathing them,” he says, nodding to the other side of the room, where Alyssa hears giggling.

The princess nods. She hasn't realized how late it is, because after her conversation with Talya she had gone for a walk in the gardens to clear her mind.

And to think about what she should do next.

“You look tired,” Aemond comments as she sits down next to him. He puts the book aside and intertwines his fingers with hers, “Everything okay? Do you feel sick?"

"No, I just... wanted to take a walk"

"I thought you didn't want to lose sight of those two"

“There were some domestic matters that required my attention”

Aemond looks at her curiously, but he cocks his head, “Well, yhose aspects are certainly under your jurisdiction. I'm not going to get in there."

Alyssa smiles and kisses him lovingly, joining their foreheads when the kiss ends.

“How did it go with your brother and your mother?”

Aemond seems to think about his answer for a moment, "I think it went as well as I expected."

"Meaning…"

“That the situation has not changed much. They still depend on me to consolidate their power in the kingdom. Aegon…I don't even know how to describe his state. I suppose pitiful would be the ideal word."

"Is it that bad?"

“His injuries seem to have worsened. He refuses to drink the milk of the poppy and continues to drown his sorrows in wine, making him more bitter and cynical than ever. Pathetic, really"

"Your mother?"

"As paranoid as usual," the prince sighs, and a blush spreads briefly across his cheeks, but Aemond shakes his head and looks back at Alyssa, "I proposed as a solution to name Aegon as heir and marry him to Jaehaera."

"What?" surprise is reflected in the princess's eyes, “Why…?”

“Because it is the ideal solution,” Aemond takes her hands, “There are no heirs to our house but our niece and nephew.”

“Even so… you didn't tell me you'd propose such a thing,” anxiously, she pries her hands away from Aemond's and her nails sting her palms, “This… this is extreme isn't it? It would put my little brother in the spotlight, which is just what I don't want for him right now. Or ever. I want Aegon to be protected and to grow up... I want him to be well and happy."

“If my brother names yours as heir, he will immediately be protected by everyone in the kingdom. He would be prepared to be the new king, he would grow up with Jaehaera and they would have the chance to form a special bond, just like you and me. Both are descendants of Valyrian blood and with them we would unite our families, wasn't that what you wanted? The future you imagined?”

Aemond's blue eye twinkles with suppressed emotion, and Alyssa is at a loss for what to say. Yes, at some point during the war she had wanted to fight to unite their families, but she had always thought that would be achieved if she and Aemond were to marry, not in the hypothetical case that her niece and brother – little children – were entrusted with tremendous burden.

“My brother will not live long,” Aemond continues, clearly trying to convince her, “I am sorry to say it, I am truly sorry, but his injuries will shorten his life. He has the ridiculous idea of looking for a new wife and having another child, a male heir, practically pushing Jaehaera aside.”

"But he cares about Jaehaera"

"What is a daughter compared to a son?" Aemond asks with a sad smile, “The entire kingdom has already bled because my father put your mother over my brother. If Jaehaera is cast aside, there will always be that bitterness in my family. If my brother spares the life of yours, your mother's loyal men will seek to place him as rightful king. Aegon is an important piece on the game whether you like it or not, my love. We will have to make the best decision if we want to protect him."

"Does your brother intend to have another wife?" she asks quietly, the feeling of anguish rising in her chest. She knows that what Aemond says is not without reason. She is aware of Alicent's lack of scruples.

“The council urges him to have an heir of his own blood. In his defense I will say that he proposed that we will be the ones who take it upon ourselves to produce the next royal heir."

“Did you tell him about my… condition?”

"No," he replies immediately, "I figured it wasn't my place to say it."

Alyssa nods, although internally her heart is torn a little more and the permanent hatred that she has felt for a few weeks increases when she imagines Alicent's reaction to the proposal of her eldest son.

"I imagine they did not take your suggestion into account"

Aemond sighs, "No, but I made it very clear that Aegon's safety must be guaranteed no matter what they decide about the succession."

"What will happen to my brother?" Alyssa watches Aemond's face darken, “Aemond. I want the truth. What are they planning to do with my brother?”

“Nothing concrete, nothing has been decided”

“Nothing yet,” Alyssa specifies, “do you think something will happen soon?”

"Lord Stark is marching towards the capital with his army and that of other houses of the riverlands still loyal to your mother," he informs her, "My mother and brother assume they will seek to place Aegon as future king."

“Surely they represent no threat to Vhagar”

“No, of course not, that's why I assure you that nothing will happen to your little brother. Aegon knows that he will not be able to stand alone against the combined armies. And he knows that my collaboration depends on yours and Aegon’s safety”

But that is not enough. Aegon and Alicent can still act against her or her brother in some way or another. And even if the northerners were to win, could she trust them? Or were they just another bunch of men seeking power through a child they could easily manipulate? Would they spare Aemond’s life or would they execute him for treason?

Alyssa feels panic rise in her chest, which seems to contract to the point where she barely manages to breathe. Her eyes glaze over and her vision blurs. She hasn't experienced a panic attack since what happened with her twin brother, but she knows she has to calm down and stay sane. The princess bites her lip hard and feels the metallic taste of her blood.

Once again, she is at a crossroads. One faction or the other. Although her mother is no more, her followers continue her fight. As long as Aegon is king, the greens would still be a threat.

“Alyssa? Can you hear me?"

“Let's run away,” she says in a rush, “Let's leave the kingdom”

"Where would we go?" Aemond sounds incredulous

“Across the narrow sea,” she shrugs, “let's take Vhagar and go to the free cities. Maybe Pentos. Rhaena always said that the magisters and the prince had been kind to her family. Interested in their dragons, of course, but they had a good life. We could raise the kids there, away from this nest of snakes that is this place."

“Pentos? But…"

“Your mother and the council would never allow the Seven Kingdoms to go to war with the free cities, it would be madness. Aegon clearly has no plans for Jaehaera. We could just leave and continue living without worrying about them.”

Alyssa is tempted to add “please,” but stops herself. Her forest green eyes lock onto Aemond's and he understands what she is saying.

This is the moment of truth.

The moment where he will have to choose. Choose between remain in the Red Keep, clinging to whatever power he may have, power he himself would wield over her Aegon if the little boy were to be named heir; or choose the family that he has decided to form with Alyssa.

The family he swore would be his priority.

But it also means abandoning his mother and brother. Leaving them to his fate with a looming battle on their backs. One that, as she understands it, they could easily lose no matter how many allies they have.

The princess can't quite read Aemond's expression, but she seems to detect surprise in his gaze, mixed with disappointment and what appears to be fear. All in just a few seconds. When the prince speaks, however, he does so decisively and without a tinge of hesitation, “If it's what you really want, then fine. Let's leave the city"

#aemond targaryen #aemond x oc #aemond one eye #aemond fic #sinfuldesires #sinful desires #ao3 writer #aemond kinslayer

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vexicwrites · 1 year

Text

Emotional

Summary: in which I continue to ask the question but what if no murder in season 3?

Warnings: Dick Grayson actually has emotions? shocking

Dick breathed a sigh of relief when he and Dawn returned to the manor to find Hank still alive. Superboy had managed to disarm the bomb and remove it, flying it out of the building mere seconds before Dawn had pulled the trigger that Jason had rigged to set it off. Dawn had collapsed in grief when she'd realized and now she was sobbing and apologizing to Hank, kissing him while he recovered in bed from the impromptu surgeries. Dick opted to let them have some privacy and focus his attention on finding Jason, ignoring the jealousy that threatened to surge forward as he headed down to the Batcave. Gar was using the Batcomputer when Dick entered the room.

"Anything interesting?"

Gar shook his head and turned to face him, "nah, Jason's gone off the radar again. You look like shit, did you even shower when you got home?"

Dick ran a hand through his hair and sighed, "no, I wanted to make sure Hank was okay first."

"How is he?" Gar asked and Dick shoved his hands in his pockets, crossing over to take a better look at the computer screen.

"Alive, thanks to Conner. But Jason's still out there somewhere and I need to find him before he does anything else."

Gar frowned, "I don't get it. What made him turn bad?"

The question kept echoing in his head as he showered. Jason had always been a good kid, a little hotheaded maybe, but never truly malicious. So what had made him into the violent sociopath he was now? He had no answer, no matter how much he tortured himself with the question.

He was towel drying his hair when he heard a soft knock on the door. He tensed momentarily, still on edge from the day's activities, but relaxed when he recognized Hank's voice.

"Hey, can I come in?"

"Yeah, sure," he called out, quickly finishing drying off and pulling on a pair of sweatpants.

Hank entered the room, looking better than he had before but still pale.

"How are you feeling?" Dick asked, yanking a shirt on as well.

"I've been better," Hank replied with a wry smile.

"Sorry, dumb question. Should you be up?"

"I haven't been able to be up, I'm fine. Besides, you still owe me that pizza." He joked and Dick cracked a grin.

"Don't think they deliver this late. I'll make it up to you tomorrow. How's Dawn?" Dick asked, sitting on the edge of the bed.

Hank's smile softened and he sighed, "she's better. Still shaken up but better."

Dick nodded and they lapsed into silence.

"I'm sorry. About all this," Dick said after a while, gesturing aimlessly.

Hank snorted. "The fuck are you apologizing for? You're not the one who put a bomb in me."

"I'm the one who asked you to come here in the first place, if it wasn't for me-"

"Fuck off, Grayson, I'm a big boy, I make my own decisions. If I didn't want to come help you out I wouldn't have. Besides, I'm the one who made the choice to go help the little shit without telling anybody because he pretended he needed someone. If anyone besides Jason is at fault for what happened it's me for letting him get the drop on me."

Dick was silent for a long moment before he spoke quietly, "I was worried about you."

Hank looked at him, eyebrows raised in surprise.

"I know we don't always see eye to eye but you're my friend and I was worried about you." Dick continued.

Hank didn't say anything, just looked at him for a beat before placing a hand on Dick's shoulder.

"I thought about when I hung up on you all fucking evening, wondering what if that had been the last time we'd talked and I hadn't even fucking said goodbye. We lost Donna and Jason and I didn't want to think about losing you too," Dick admitted, feeling exposed.

He couldn't remember the last time he'd laid his feelings out like this, the last time he'd ever been vulnerable with another person, probably the answer was never.

"Dick-" Hank started, squeezing his shoulder.

"God, Hank, I can't...I can't lose you." Dick muttered, massaging the bridge of his nose and forehead as though that could make the stress and uncomfortable vulnerability go away. He suddenly felt so incredibly tired and could feel a headache beginning as the day finally caught up with him.

"Hey, it's okay, I'm not going anywhere," Hank reassured him, sitting next to him and pulling him into a gentle hug.

Dick resisted for a beat before finally giving in and relaxing into the embrace, feeling the tension begin to drain out of him. They sat there for a long moment before finally pulling away and Hank gave him a small smile.

"Get some sleep, kid, you look like you're about to fall over."

Dick nodded and Hank let himself out, leaving Dick alone in the room. He sat there for a moment before finally lying down, his mind racing with everything that had happened. It was a long time before he finally fell into a fitful sleep.

#titans #dc titans #hbo titans #hank hall #dick grayson #hawk #nightwing #season 3 spoilers #titans season 3 #titans s3 #hank x dick #hawk x nightwing #vexic writes

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fairy-in-the-snow · 2 years

Text

Strange Love - Part 1 (?) Eddie Munson x reader

pairing: Eddie Munson x fem!reader summary: you try your best to hide your feelings as you help Eddie recover from a broken heart. warnings: extreme angst, swearing, unrequited love (for now), A LOT of pining, Chrissy slander (im so sorry girl), slightly suggestive themes word count: 2k

A/N: Honestly this is so wild, I haven't written any fanfiction in such a long time and this one character has single-handedly lit a fire under my ass lmfao. I have been consuming Eddie content all across this damn app like a woman starved so I wanted to contribute <3 Any feedback is welcome, and my submission box is open if y'all have any requests! I'm pretty much willing to write anything (NSFW included, lord knows i am so thirsty for this man) so don't be shy!!

Enjoy, and let me know if y'all want a PART 2! <3

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You knew that she still liked him. It was obvious. You could see it in the fleeting glances she cast his way when he wasn’t looking, eyes full of faraway longing…but also mixed with an almost tangible bitterness. Their relationship hadn’t ended on the best of terms, to put it lightly. It had been a strange and unexpected pairing, one that took everybody by surprise. You had all been calling bets behind their backs (in an admittedly petty move) to see just how long it would last. You strongly suspected that they were only drawn to one another because they were such total opposites; so far removed from eachother’s worlds that they couldn’t help but chase their unusual magnetism and see where it led them. It all began when Eddie started selling her weed after school.

…And it all ended when she shattered Eddie’s heart into a thousand tiny, fragile pieces. One day after school, he had sought her out on the pitches after Hellfire, hoping to catch her before she finished cheer practice. And oh boy, did he catch her – with Jason Carver’s tongue down her throat. If it had been anyone else but Eddie, you would’ve found the whole situation so laughably cliché. Two high-school hot shots, the jock and the cheerleader no less, swapping spit under the bleachers? It was so pathetically obvious. You hadn’t been there, of course, (and thank god for her that you weren’t) but from what Eddie had told you, her excuses had been just as typical. It was a mistake. It’s not what it looks like (classic). You’re the only boy for me. I wasn’t thinking straight. Give me a chance to explain! The thought of her and what she did to Eddie, how she treated him, made your blood boil, and you had to make a deliberate point of avoiding her during school so that you didn’t get violent. You knew that she was no good for Eddie; after all, she may not have bullied him directly, but she was complicit in Jason’s cruel mistreatment. She never stopped him. Never came to his rescue. As far as you were concerned, she and Jason deserved eachother.

You felt bad for expecting things to turn sour between them, but Eddie was the only person who couldn’t see it until it was too late. The damage had already been done.

You had been the one to pick up the pieces afterwards, and you did it gladly. You would have offered him every single piece of yourself if it made his pain go away, even for a moment. Long nights were spent in his trailer, soothing him to sleep with your hands in his hair as he sobbed and hiccupped into your lap. You had gotten used to the warmth of his body beside you in bed, his slow breathing and gentle snores. Sometimes he would even reach for you in his sleep, and you would let him pull you close to his broad chest, your own heart fluttering wildly inside your ribcage as you imagined him doing this because he wanted you. But then, a soft “Chrissy…” would fall from his perfect lips as he slept, and the spell would be broken. Tonight was one of those nights.

You peeled yourself away from him with a soft sigh, and allowed the cold to settle in your bones as you moved to the far side of the bed and stared at the ceiling. You tried so hard not to think about your feelings for Eddie, but fuck, it was impossible when you spent so much time together and he took up all the space in your stupid, traitorous brain. When you closed your eyes, all you could see was him. His sweet, velvety brown eyes that dripped with kindness and warmth, so full of depth and beauty that you felt weak in the knees anytime his honeyed gaze fell on you. His plump lips that you wanted to catch between your teeth, and the way they would lift into a soft smile when he opened the trailer door to welcome you inside. The way his dark hair fell in soft, cherubic curls around his face, framing it perfectly, following the pale slope of his neck…He was like something carved from the heavens, and you wanted nothing more than to fall to your knees and worship him like he deserved.

It hurt you deeply to know that he could never feel the same about you. How could he? Your heart clenched painfully in your chest as you thought about the way he whispered her name, like a prayer. Even in sleep, he could not escape her. In the deepest caverns of his subconscious, she was the one persisting thought. Your jealousy made you weak with guilt. It was selfish of you to have these thoughts, when he needed you the most. But they were insidious, seeping into your brain like an infection, no matter how hard you tried to banish them. All you wanted was to put the pieces of his heart back together. You yearned for happiness to return to him. Even if every moment you spent soothing him was just another dagger to your chest.

He shifted in his sleep, and you snapped out of your thoughts. You rolled onto your side to face him, biting your lip softly. He looked beautiful. Dark lashes brushed against his pale cheeks that held the faintest dusting of pink, and his hair fanned out on the pillow forming a delicate halo around his head. His lips parted gently as he exhaled, the calming rise and fall of his chest almost lulling you to sleep yourself.

“I’m so sorry, Eddie…” You whispered gently, clutching your pillow, “I don’t know how much longer I can do this.” Your lip trembled a little at your confession, and you could feel the tell-tale lump growing in your throat. You had finally said it out loud.

It was so hard. So fucking hard.

You swallowed thickly, squeezing your eyes shut as silent tears escaped down your cheeks. After all these months, it was now your turn to cry. You had never felt more alone than you did in that moment, crying right next to the one person who made you feel so whole yet so empty at the same time.

You turned your back on him in an attempt to salvage some privacy. He slept like the dead most nights, so you were fairly certain you could have this moment to yourself uninterrupted. You needed it. You were hoping if you let out some of the pent-up emotion that had been festering inside you, that it would act like a sort of…reset button and you could act like nothing happened come morning.

You whimpered softly, allowing the tears to flow. Once you began, it was like you couldn’t stop. You weren’t sure how long you lay there in the darkness, crying, tasting the bitter salt of your own tears. Your breathing became shallow and uneven, though you used your pillow to muffle the sound. Eddie’s comforting scent filled your nose and it made you sob harder, knowing how close he was to you and yet so desperately out of reach.

“y/n?” A soft voice called out your name, still heavy with sleep.

Oh fuck. The shock of his voice made you jolt, your veins turned to ice. You tried your best to regulate your breathing and calm down, but you had worked yourself up too much and you gasped for air, trembling as you tried to hide yourself from him under the covers. Panic was bubbling in your chest, catching the breath in your throat and making you sweat. He can’t see you like this! Oh, God…Oh God, he can’t find out. Fuck, I’m gonna die, I-

“Y/n?” This time clearer now, more aware. “Hey…fuck, are you crying?” You heard him sit up sharply, moving towards you in an instant. Before you knew what was happening, he had swept you into his arms and was stroking your hair, shushing you gently and rocking back and forth in an attempt to calm you. You felt dizzy, shaking at the warmth of his touch as you sank into it, burying your head into his neck as your tears mingled with his soft skin. His arms…they felt so strong and secure, wrapped around you like this, you wished so desperately that you could stay like this forever.

You didn’t know how much time had passed, but eventually, your breathing evened out and the tears began to slow. Eddie soon realised this, moving his hands to gently grab your chin and tilt your head towards him. You felt the cool bite of his rings on your flesh and shivered.

“Sweetheart, what happened?” He asked softly, wiping a stray tear from your cheek with his thumb.

You wished he wouldn’t call you that, but you also delighted in it at the same time. You swallowed thickly, trying to find words. “I-…I think I had a nightmare.” It wasn’t exactly a lie; everything felt like a nightmare right now.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Eddie moved his hands down to clasp your own, and your heart skipped a beat at the feel of his rough, calloused palms. His thumb ghosted softy over my knuckles, reassuring you with the gentlest of touches. A light flush bloomed across your cheeks and you hoped to God he couldn’t see you in the dark.

“Not really…It’s all fuzzy anyways.” You sniffed and looked down, not wanting to meet his eyes.

“Eyes up here, sweetheart,” Eddie tapped your chin gently, encouraging you to look at him. “If you don’t wanna talk about it, that’s cool. But no more tears, alright? I’m here, and I’m not going anywhere until I see that cute smile of yours.” He pinched your cheek playfully and you couldn’t help the small smile that tugged at your lips. His natural charm was hard to resist.

“Lucky for you, I have just the thing to help you relax.” He threw a wink at you. You knew exactly what he meant by that, and you welcomed the distraction. You were thankful that he was obviously trying to ease you further by acting casual.

“You’re about to make my day, Munson.” You were starting to feel normal again.

Eddie laughed, and the sound went straight between your thighs. A dull, hateful heat has been gathering there since he first touched you and the deep sense of shame that washes over you was overwhelming. He leaned over you and reached for the lamp on his bedside table, flicking it on and bathing the room in a soft, comforting glow. You tried not to stare at his shirtless torso, but you couldn’t help stealing a glance at the tattoos etched into his skin. Your eyes lingered over the bats on his forearm, and he must have caught you looking.

“You like that one?” He asked in amusement, grabbing his rolling tray and settling it into his lap.

“I’ve always liked that one.”

He hummed in approval as he opened a small baggy. The smell was just as pungent as it always was, causing you to wrinkle your nose. “Fuck, that shit is rancid.”

“Only the best for my girl. This one will send you to space, sweetheart.”

God knows I need it, you groaned internally.

You really tried to ignore the pet names. He used them with you all the time, but you were usually quick to brush them off. Tonight, however, you were like an exposed nerve; a thousand times more sensitive to his teasing. You were honestly a little worried that smoking in your current state would make you more careless with your words, but you couldn’t deny that a small part of you was just dying to confess and get all your shit out in the open with him. You were playing a dangerous game.

This night could get interesting.

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x you #eddie munson x y/n #eddie munson fanfiction #stranger things fanfiction

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honeymouthedtales · 1 year

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definitely season 2 is game of thrones level intense. all the sex and heart seizing action? *sobs and screams into the void* yeah. season 2 is what the draws in new viewers. they haven't read the books but the tiktoks are crazy and that's enough for them to start a "omg should I have read the books first?" debate because of course the production of the show is gonna fuck up a little (I'm sorry, it's true).

maybe they change an important character to another actor (not markhyuck tho, but maybe mks father - wait but I think they make him hot/ter and now people are being questionable when it comes to him. "mark's gotta relax, his dad's not that bad" because he's a fucking charismatic dilf now and they make a fanbase for him🙄. but the ones who read the books will never turn soft or putty for that man😒 we had to shove food down our throats to keep from crying at the university dining hall when mark confronted his dad about never caring about him, we will never recover!

or they omit or add something that feels kinda off (I'M SORRY!😭) like too much sex. they actually have sex in Johnny's love nest! can you believe it?! like THAT NEVER HAPPENED, is what people are enraged about on twitter. and everyone's mad at the network for making mark disrespect johnny that much further but surprisingly it Segways into a johnmark duel-turned-brotherly-makeup episode. and maybe you consented. Against your will it becomes one of the highlights of the season. you might reveal you regretted it immediately and it's one of the reasons you didn't want to adapt it, because they would try to add or take away stuff, even though you were glad the resolution was done well and you're in a love-hate situation with the outcome because THAT STILL NEVER FUCKING HAPPENED.

it's like the best fucking season yet. it's what people remember and compare to the next coming seasons. it was just that legendary

I think Donghyuck's first heat interlude definitely starts out the third season. It happened in the islands and the third season is in the islands anyway

the third season doesn't have a full picture yet, so of course the daydream ends with episode 2 season 3, with dongsook rescuing mark from the water prison, only to end up having to unarm Yangyang with his hands and his sexiness. (I can't make myself daydream about the chapters after the water prison until ch58 unfortunately, they're still solidly 'on paper' for me). But maybe I'll do this again once the full tone of the arc is done playing out. this has been fun🤭

I'm going to sleep now

(I wrote this at 2am but didn't know if Tumblr would let me post the whole thing so I had to cut it in half lol)

how did you even manage to post all of this when another anon had to cut it in seven little asks fjehdsfjd

okay it’s very cute that you’re planning all of this, it makes me laugh so much

NOT THE SEX IN THE LOVE NEST OMG jhny would never forgive them ;; you’re so right about me i would be extremely bitter if a scene that i didn’t personally put there became the highlight, it feels like someone manipulating my son, is this what parents feel like when their son is dating the delinquent biker and doing stuff their parents never thought they could do? ;;;

also lol mk’s father was always hot i said it on ccs many times, it’s just, dh hates him so much, and mk is blind to anyone who isn’t dh, so there’s no one there to talk about how handsome he is lol we still hate him, he’s pretty garbage, toxic sparkly trash :)))

thank you for doing this, i’ll wait for part 3 after the arc ends <3<3<3

#fic: hm #little blossoms #ask

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jaehyunoos · 3 years

Text

- Over it

Summary: You always preached about getting over your ex, real fast. But what if you haven't and you've been lying to yourself all along?

Genre: Breakup!au, angst, a tiny bit of fluff at the end

Tw?: Alcohol consumption, a mention of reader wanting to unalive herself, reader is lying to herself as a coping mechanism???

Pairing: Lee Jeno x fem!reader (brief mentions of Haechan)

Word Count: 1.7k (it's the longest I've ever written lmfao)

Author's Note; Angsty queen or what?? lmao,, HAPPIEST BIRTHDAY TO THE LOVE OF MY LIFE JENO !!!! also, my requests are open if you want to request anything I will deliver <3 if you read this I love you and thank you for reading !! Enjoy 💚

You were over him. You were sure of that. After breaking up you did absolutely everything to get him out of your mind and surprisingly enough, it worked. You got a new haircut, started a new job, took care of yourself better, and made new friends. Life was a piece of cake for you when he left, everything came to a lot easier, in which you were thankful for that. You had moved on once and for all... Or so you thought.

Finding yourself looking back at times you were with him, how happy he made you, how much of a gentleman he was, how he made you feel like you were high; above everyone, and how much pleasure he gave you, you were his muse.

Slapping yourself out of your trance, you promised yourself to not think about him anymore. This night was going to be all about you and you only. Not Jeno -hell- not even a hundred Jenos couldn't stop you from having fun tonight. You were over him and that was final.

Walking into the house; which the party was hosted. Nose filing with the writhing stench of pure alcohol, mixed with sweat, you internally gagged passing by a couple making out at the kitchen entrance, you rolled your eyes taking a beer from the fridge and making your way out to the sofa. No way you would get out of this party sober, you had to drink, you had to get wasted. In honor of this prick; Lee Jeno, your ex.

You always boasted about how you were over him and how you didn't love him anymore. How he hurt you so bad that your feelings for him just stopped. You were so full of yourself, wow you had gotten over a relationship that you thought would be tough to manage, what a surprise. But seeing him walk into this house -powerfully so- with a lady by his side smiling and hugging his friends, you started to rethink everything you've done so far.

Were you really over the one and only; Lee Jeno? Or was all of this just a front, a new way of coping without him in your life? How did you manage to lie to yourself and believe it?

You know what they say; fake it 'till you make it. But did you? Did you make it? No, the fuck you did not. You were not over him. And you wouldn't be able to get over him, ever. Today marks the day you realized you didn't move on, putting one and two together you realized that all this time you were lying to yourself, and everyone around you. The hypocrisy.

Chugging the liquid down your throat, along with the betrayal you felt, the cold liquid cooling off your insides, making you feel a lot better at that moment. You smiled to yourself, alcohol made you feel free, your coping mechanism of a real escape once in a while. You got up to your feet, straightening your clothes, you made your way to the kitchen once again. You made sure you walked past them in long, powerful strides, grabbing your beer and exiting the kitchen, the same way you entered.

You glanced at them, seeing as he didn't even spare a glance at you, you sulked on the sofa. You couldn't stop thinking about the way he held her, by her waist, as if she was something so delicate; so fragile that if he held her in his arms for too long, she would break and disappear from his arms. You wanted to cry at that moment, he looked so happy. Maybe he truly was, maybe he didn't lie to himself like you did, and he was truly over you.

Or maybe he wasn't, you liked to cope with that idea. That he was putting up a front for you and everyone, that he didn't move on from you, but only the pained ones can dream, am I right? You wanted to dip at that moment, hide forever; or die. You shouldn't have come to this party, ever. Maybe if you stayed home and kept lying to yourself that you were happy, that you were able to live your life better without him. But at the same time, you wanted to get up and give him a good old slap into his handsome face.

How could he move on that fast? Get a new girlfriend, just like that, as if you never meant anything to him, ever. A person sitting beside you, suddenly, took you out of your train of thoughts.

"Hyuck!!, hey!" you breathed out.

Lee Donghyuck aka; Haechan. One of Jeno's best friends aka; your emotional support boy, was there with you, in all your crazy times after your breakup with him. "Hey, babydoll" he came closer to your face so you could hear what he said. Babydoll. The nickname he created after he, unexpectedly, caught you crying over baby dollies once, while he was over for late nights talks.

"What are you doing here all by yourself, mi querida?" asked, him.

"I'm trying to have as much fun as I can, I have so much to do this week" you let out a fake sigh, you had no work, no classes this week. You were just creating excuses because you were gonna spend those 7 days crying yourself to sleep and eat ice cream 'til you throw up.

Haechan threw an arm around you "he's here you know" he motioned towards Jeno and his crew with his chin, you looked over there for a second, catching a glimpse of Jeno smiling. You looked down at your red solo cup, sighing, "I know, what can I do about it" you looked at his eyes this time. "it's his birthday today".

"I know, how could I forget" you smiled.

"Maybe, I don't know, go there and wish-"

"ooookay time to get up and dance" you patted his thigh as you got up.

"Gosh, why are you so stubborn, I asked you to wish him a happy birthday, not fuck him, for god's sake!!" Haechan shot up from the sofa.

You stood there for a second, frozen, what was this outburst?

"Are you out of your mind!? He's clearly over me Hyuck, and as much as I wanna go up there and give him the biggest hug I can't. I can't just barge into his life back again and be like "heeey" as if nothing ever happened between us, as if we didn't hurt each other!"

You didn't mean to burst out like that, he probably heard what you said in fact; everyone did. Tears gathering in your eyes, you ran outside, the embarrassment too much to handle. You felt overwhelmed. You felt as if everyone was pushing you all this time and you -just now- had finally reached your breaking point.

Sitting on a bench near the pool, you let your sadness, frustration, regret, lies; everything takes over you as you sobbed into your hands. You felt stupid for crying over something so small, you felt bad because Haechan was probably somewhere beating himself up for pushing your limits. You didn't mean to be that sensitive.

You suddenly felt movement beside you as if someone sat there. You took your face out of your hands and looked at the person. Gasping, you wiped your -now wide- eyes and sat straight. There was none there besides the one and only, yeah you guessed it; Lee Jeno. "Do you mind if I sit here?" he gave you a soft smile.

'It's okay, you can sit, I guess" you cleared your throat.

You looked at him as he stared straight into the sky, a soft smile displaying on his lips as he rocked himself gently, back and forth. Mimicking his position, you did the same as you looked to the front, enjoying the cold breeze. "What happened to us?" you heard him speak, you turned to him, shrugging, "I don't know".

"it's like one minute we were in love and the other we were not"

you frowned.

"true, it's just one of us stopped loving the other for good but the one who thought that she had everything under control, turns out she's still madly in love, with the other" you smiled at him.

What you said caught him off guard, his eyes went wide in shock, but he quickly recovered. "Look, don't get me wrong I loved you; a lot, heck I might still love you. No, scratch that I am still in love with you, but, I'm in a very happy and healthy relationship and I want to keep it that way" you felt yourself tense up at the word 'relationship' but you quickly covered it up with a smile "it's okay Jeno, I get it, I never really expected anything after our breakup anyways" you patted his shoulder as you continued looking at the stars in the sky.

"Hey, Jen" you called out to him.

"Hm?"

"Can I get a last hug?" you looked at him.

"Come here" he motioned as he opened his arms to engulf you in a hug.

That's what it felt like hugging your whole world.

Finally. She felt as if she found her peace again. Her safe haven. After all the pain, the drama and deceit, the chaos and despair, there was rest. She felt once again the warmth and safety of his arms and how his hands held her as if he had known her all her life. She was finally home.

"She felt as if she found her peace again. Her safe haven." But that only would last that long as Jeno had to go back home to the safety of the arms of his girlfriend, and she had to go back to an empty home, an empty world, cause that's what her world felt like without him; empty. She wanted him back in her arms, she needed to be in his arms, but it was too late for that as Jeno went back to his girlfriend and she had to go back home, full of regrets. She was not over him and she chooses to ignore it and the more she ignored it the more further away Jeno slipped from her arms to the arms of another.

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