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darling-i-read-it · 8 months

Text

Sorry

Phillip Graves x fem!reader

Word Count: 5.8k

Warnings: mw2 spoilers, spoilers for the new packs and online campaigns and things, (me knowing NOTHING about the military. I just be googling words. I am very sorry if they are wrong! I also didn’t play the online stuff so I had to read on that too. So much work for u philip), the reader leaving price and ghost behind technically, grief, heavy insinuation to smut, VIOLENCE like a lot. Reader kills people and has a mini extensional crisis about it, let me know if I missed anything!

Author’s Note: me: i’m so normal about him. Also me: writes a six thousand word fanfiction about my delusions

Summary: You and Phil had been together when he ‘died’ in the tank. You’ve been grieving him ever since, not knowing he was still out there.

I don’t own these characters. They belong to author/director/creator

(not my gif)

When he was up in the air, sometimes Phil Graves thought about home. He thought about the way the air felt in the south. The heavy humidity of a late night around a fire with family and friends. His childhood home, a two story house with some land. The feeling of flannels over his shoulders, wind against his face when he rode the truck late at night, stupid country songs playing through the radio. He only let himself have these moments briefly. When he was up in the air and everyone was quiet with anticipation. No one wanted to talk about the moments before a descent, the seconds before disaster.

That was when he let himself think of home.

He thought of the world he used to call his own. He loved his job and he thought he was doing good with it. But sometimes he wondered what would’ve happened had he stayed back after high school, instead of hoping on the military like it was a moving train.

Whoever that was, he was gone now.

Shadow 0-1. Commander. That’s who he was now. That’s who he was always meant to be. That’s who he had been when he betrayed 141’s trust. That’s who he was when he got out of it. That’s who blew up in the tank in South America. That’s who misses you.

“You good boss?” Phil snapped out of his thoughts. He nodded once.

“Golden, Sparks. Thinking about dinner when we get back tonight.”

“You makin barbecue?”

“I sure am. Got a damn fine steak to cook.”

“You really oughta have more get-togethers, like old times.” Phil gave his subordinate a thin lipped smile. He fondly remembered the times when he would bring his closer soldiers around, cook for them, listen to shitty music, drink beers. In the back of his eyelids he could see you, handing him the tongs, making a joke about his dad barbeque. He would tease you about children.

He had stopped having them after the mission where he left some behind. He hadn’t wanted to; the strain in his voice was clear. But he had.

“Maybe when I’m legally back from the dead,” he countered. Sparks chuckled and Graves stood up. It was far better to be back in the commanding position with his guys, the same ones who would follow him into fire. It distracted him from the rest of it. The house he lost, the home he no longer had.

He had this.

You brushed your hair out of your face. You messed with the glass in your hand, rolling it around the ring on the wooden table. The ice had melted into the alcohol, making it watery and less effective. It was cold outside, fall finally taking hold. You were wearing a thin jacket that seemed useless.

This drink was Phil’s regular. You remembered it like the back of your hand, ordering it when he was caught up behind the crowds. It tasted like his lips after a long night out. It was warm, like his breath on your skin.

“You listinin’?” You lifted your head. You had been staring at your half drank glass. Simon Riley’s eyes met yours. They were objectively beautiful. You would never understand why he kept them mostly covered up.

“Yeah. Sorry.” He let out a long sigh. “I’m sorry. I just got lost in thought. What were you saying?”

“I was asking what you thought about Price going back out there so soon.”

“You of all people know what it’s like to be married to your work.”

“You aren’t irked he’s going without you?” His accent was thick. It was rare to get him to talk like this but you had known each other so long, it felt ormal now. He seemed unnatural when he clammed up in missions.

You shook your head.

“I’ll get back into it,” you told him. You cleared your throat. His eyes narrowed down, staring at you. His long face felt threatening, though you knew better. You stared back at him, tilting your head and raising an eyebrow. “Stop staring at me like that.”

“How many times does Soap have to apologize for you to get over it?” You bit the inside of your cheek, shaking your head.

“Stuff it Simon.”

“I won’t. It’s been a year. We’ve given you your time, we’ve apologized, we’ve been nice and cordial about it. You need to realize who Graves was and that what happened to him was warranted. There’s only so many times we can spell it out for you before we stop babying you.” As he spoke, your head continued to shake. It felt like the words were rattling around in your brain, bouncing off your skull. He was right, you knew that. But the words still stung.

“You don’t understand,” you protested. He cut you off.

“I know I don’t. You’ve told me.” You leaned back in your chair, your glass landing with a light clang. “Love,” he muttered, leaning forward. “It’s time.”

You wished you could be done with it. You wished that his words could will all the pain to subside. You wished you didn’t have to suck it up when Soap followed Phil to the tank and blew it up. You wished you could forget about the moment you held your tongue, knowing that if you spoke up you would be a traitor too. You wished everything was different.

You didn’t want it to hurt anymore. You didn’t want to wake up and think he was next to you, even now. It got better as the time passed but it never fully went away. You knew it was never going to subside completely, always stuck to you like a stain you couldn’t get out.

“I’m trying,” you promised. “I’m trying.”

“You need to come to the next one.” Everytime you put on a headset you could hear Soap's words. Graves is KIA. How’s Price? He moved past it with such grace you almost missed it the first time.

“I’ll try.”

“You need to do more than that.” You swallowed hard.

“I know.” -

“I’m glad you’re here.” Price's voice was low but gentle. Careful. Like you were an object that would break if he spoke to you the wrong way.

“Me too,” you said, nodding. Your voice sounded fake and you knew it. You only agreed to this because you knew you had to. You had Price here and Ghost promised he would do all the heavy lifting. It would be nothing. The men you trusted would have your back when you flew out to enemy territory. “You didn’t have to lobby for me, you know.” You had become a liability the second Graves became a traitor. The already rocky relationship with the Shadows was broken clean in half. You were a problem now.

“I wanted to. You’re one of my best shooters.”

“Did Simon tell you to?”

“He gently nudged me.” He had his helmet on, the strap under his chin. It had been a while since you saw him in uniform.

“Where are we going again?”

“You should really read the debriefs.” You shrugged. You used to, religiously. You would tell Phil classified information like it was pillow talk. He would give it back to you after coffee in the morning. You cleared your throat.

“I do. I just trust you more than the papers,” you joked halfheartedly.

“Don’t worry too much. It’s all scouting, no shooting.”

“Why’re you bringing me and Ghost then?”

“I like hanging out with you guys.” You laughed, this time for real. He gestured forward. “Let’s head out.”

You could only see the blocks of land below you in the plane. You wondered who was living in the little houses the size of dots. You wondered if they were happy. You could feel the sweat piling in your uniform.

“There’s some guns held in a storage facility. They shouldn’t be heavily guarded but will be servilenced,” Price said. He spoke above the noise in the plane, loud and rumbling. “Ghost, you’ll go ahead. I’ll be down there outside the building, watching your six. Y/L/N, you’re up here on guns.”

“It’s boring up here,” you complained. “Can’t I come with you guys?”

“We need you on your A game to be on the ground,” Ghost said, coldly. You gave him a look but couldn’t read his expression with the mask. Price was avoiding your eyeline on purpose, you could feel it. It almost felt like a fake mission, something to get you back out there without putting you in real danger. Though you were vaguely insulted, it was nice to know they cared. You tried to shove your feelings aside.

“Alright,” you said finally. “Fine.”

“You’re good on guns,” Price said. “An Eagle eye will ensure everyone's safety.”

“I already said alright Price,” you said as gently as you could manage. The plane started to slow down to a hover. Price stood up, using the railing above to steady himself.

“You ready?” Simon questioned, coming up behind you as you stood up. You nodded once. Muscle memory would kick in before your panic would. Everything would be fine.

“As I’ll ever be.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“I know.”

Ghost gave you one last pat on the back before he walked towards the back of the plane. You watched him go, his hand on his side, looped around his belt. Price followed behind. He turned back to look at you, the wind rushing towards the front. You tried to keep your face neutral, professional. Your bones ached with familiarity. This was okay. This would be okay.

You turned towards the guns. The plane had a designated corner for them, buttons lining the walls. You zoomed in on the house that was holding the guns, turning it to infrared. You sat down at the chair, leaning over it. You didn’t need to put on all your gear to push some buttons but you refrained from complaining.

“You hear me clear up there?” Ghost’s voice came through your ear piece.

“Yes sir. Loud and clear.” You could see Ghost’s little figure as he landed. “I’m seeing two hostels outside of the building. On either side of the doors, they both have guns.” “Roger,” Ghost said. You followed his heat signature. Price had also made his way to the ground.

“What’s the house looking like?” he asked. You moved your camera along, narrowing in on the building. You could see men walking. Patrolling. You couldn’t help but wonder how many guns were being held there. The building was larger than Price made it seem. Were they in the heart of the building, with the clump of men?

“Lots,” you admitted.

“Give me a ballpark,” Price responded. You could see Ghost down there, taking out the men. He was always quick with it. Sometimes you forgot that the man you shared drinks with was a cold blooded murderer. You would not want to be at the other end of his knife.

“Ten upstairs. Can’t tell how many downstairs. Probably 20?”

“That’s quite a few people for some guns,” Ghost chimed in.

“No kidding,” you muttered. “I can see some on the balcony. I’m ready to hit whenever Cap.”

“Roger,” Price responded. You went to hone in, aiming just in case Ghost needed back up quicker than you could aim.

The plane jerked right, causing you to lose focus. You cursed, shutting one eye to get a clearer view. You painlessly lined it back up. Just as you had it, the plane jerked again.

“Hey man!” you called to the front. “Steady!”

“You seein this?” the pilot called. You turned back towards the infrared. Ghost hadn’t made it inside yet. You got out of your chair and pushed aside the door to the cockpit. Through the large window you could see another plane making its way towards you. Your eyebrows furrowed in confusion. How could someone know you were here?

“Enemy plane?” you asked.

“Not on any paths,” he admitted. “I’m willing to bet.” You quickly pivoted back towards the infrared.

“Hey boys, we got some company up here.”

“We need to secure this area,” Price said. His voice had gone rough. Professional now.

“If they’ve got more men, we aren’t securing shit,” you told him.

“I’m going through the downstairs,” Ghost added. With his voice you could hear gunshots and commotion. You cursed and sat back down.

“Do I have permission to shoot Price?”

“Yes,” he responded, quickly. You pushed down on the trigger, taking out the men on the balcony. They fell with ease. You looked back towards the cockpit. The plane was only getting closer. You could hear the pilot trying to contact it, like it was a civilian plane. The menacing figure loomed in the air.

“How much longer?” you asked.

“Five minutes,” Ghost responded.

“Fuck,” you muttered. “We don’t have five minutes.”

“Make five minutes.” You stood back up and went back to the cockpit. You put your hand on the chairs.

“It’s an AC-130,” the pilot called. “Military.”

“I’m going down,” you yelled. “Get me down there.” There was little protest from the pilot. You grabbed your gun off the chair. The back hatch lowered. The wind rushed towards you. The air was threatening with how fast it blew. It was like the whole world was going to be sucked into the plane.

You took a deep breath. Life or death. Your friends would die if you didn’t do something.

You turned back towards your safe spot in the plane. It looked more dangerous by the second. Each moment you hesitated was a moment wasted.

You turned back towards the entrance. You grabbed the leftover parachute and buckled it tightly.

And you jumped.

There was a moment of sheer panic. You forgot the reason you were in the air, you just knew you were freefalling. You were rushing towards the hard ground, towards the sound of gunfire. Everything felt fake for about ten seconds.

Then you pulled on the parachute line and drifted towards the ground.

“What’re you doing down here?!” Ghost said in your ear. You wondered if he could see you through the window.

“Helping!” you called back. Price was right. You were one of his best shooters, handicapped or not. You rushed forward, shielding yourself with a large rock. You looked down at the gun, the familiar feeling in your hand. You took a deep breath, checking to make sure it was loaded and ready. Then you turned around and started to shoot.

There was so much going on that it was almost simple. You couldn't focus on one thing so you tried to just breathe. Each shot was a breath. You didn’t think about how that was a person's life. Each shot a family member, a father, a sister. You forgot all of that as you focused on your breathing and your aiming.

“They’re deploying from the plane!” Price said in your ear. You still had no idea where he had gone.

“We should call for backup!” you said back. “Gaz’ll be here in twenty minutes!”

“Soap is closer,” Ghost said. He was in the house. You could tell by the amount of silence around him. He must have cleared the floor.

“Call someone!” you yelled. Price’s voice started to drone on but you didn’t pay much attention. You moved closer to the house, sticking close to cover. Blood was smearing your clothes now. How many people were here? How many people would come?

You looked up at the enemy plane. There had been a constant train of people but now they were slowly diminishing.

You came to a startled stop beside a body that had landed next to cover. You reloaded, your back against the wood, your eyes looking towards the body without thinking. Your head snapped back up but when it registered something familiar, it looked back at the body.

You kneeled all the way down. Your fingers brushed a Shadows patch, engraved on the lifeless soldiers' clothing. Your head started to blur. You hadn’t seen that symbol in months. Its patchwork was now smeared with blood, likely your doing. You ripped off the soldier's helmet.

You recognized him.

Sparks. He had come over for a barbecue. He helped Phil cook. The taste of brisket hit your tongue. The smell of a campfire.

You scampered onto the ground, almost falling over to get away from him. The sounds of gunfire started to muffle. Your breathing grew ragged. Was someone speaking? You held your gun tightly, like it was the only thing holding you to the ground. Was that Price’s voice? You looked around, the sun suddenly blaring. You should’ve come at night. There were clouds. How dare there be clouds when people were dying? You wanted Simon. You wanted Phil.

Someone came around your cover. You raised your gun, a fumble really. You raised it to the soldier in front of you, finger on the trigger, fully intending to shoot. The man in front of you had halted completely. His gun stayed on you, capable of killing you easily, but it remained. He had a helmet on. The glare of the sun covered his face.

Your hands were still shaking.

Suddenly things felt very quiet. A subtle movement of the soldier revealed a glimpse of his face. A face you knew very well.

It all flashed in your mind. His morning snoring, the shitty dad jokes, his guttural laughter. The sound of his truck starting. His mom’s phone number. The first thing you bought for your shared apartment. The taste of his lips. The feeling of his hands on your skin. HIs eyes in the moonlight. The feeling that you could never shake when he died.

He turned and ran. You stood up. You gathered your bearings and followed him, almost slipping on yourself to do so. He couldn’t get very far. People were shooting at you but you had him as a cover. You shoved him down and disarmed him. It usually wouldn’t have been easy to do. Maybe he let it happen. You pulled his collar so you could land behind a discarded car. He struggled against you as you ripped off his helmet completely, disconnecting whatever comm he was using.

His hands reached forward for yours and he took it off, not even bothering to unbuckle your chin strap. His touch felt like a ghosts. The same calloused hands that promised you the world. Your eyebrows furrowed, recognition in your eyes. You reached forward, not thinking. You cupped his face, your fingers sprawled on his cheek and neck.

“Phil?” you whispered. He couldn’t hear you over the commotion but he could read your lips. He knew what his name looked like coming from your mouth.

He didn’t know you were going to be here. If he had, he never would have come. He can’t do this, he can’t blow his cover like this. He had been told maybe Price would make an appearance but you had been out of the field since his death. He was breathing heavily. He couldn’t come near you because he would cave. It was hard enough being without you, checking his phone like you would text him.

“Y/L/N?! Y/N!” Your comm was going insane. It was on the ground though, forgotten.

He was alive. Phillip was alive. His face was there and it was moving, all flesh and blood. You never thought you would see him again except in pictures and videos, ones where you had memorized all his movements.

“Phillip Graves?”

“Yeah baby. Yeah.” His voice was quiet, like he was in disbelief too. You fought the tears rising to your eyes.

“How..how are you here?”

“Long story. “

“I wanna hear it.”

“Your men are shooting my men right now,” he said, like it was a minor inconvenience.

You snapped back into reality. Suddenly all the sounds became crystal clear again. Time resumed. You grabbed your comm and put it to your ear.

“I’m okay! I’m okay!” you said.

“Come back with me,” Phil said quickly.

“What?” He grabbed your comm, putting it in his back pocket.. You reached for it like a child, even letting out a gentle unintentional whimper.

“Come back with me,” he repeated. “Get in my plane.”

“You’re dead. You died in a tank in South America!”

“You should know MacTavish couldn’t take me out.” He cupped your face with both his hands. You had never felt something so good. “Quickly. Yes or no.”

He dreaded a no. He knew Shepherd would have you killed or kidnapped. You couldn’t go back to your friends, knowing what you now knew. They could come up with a retaliation before Graves had even gotten on his feet again.

You had been waiting months for him to come back to you. The answer, despite your morals and your stress, seemed to slip off your tongue easily.

“Yes. Yes I’ll go with you.” He smiled, a genuine smile, covered in dirt and grime.

“C’mon baby. Follow me.” He put his comm back in his ear and grabbed your hand. He held it tightly, like you would slip away. “I’m going back up. How’re we lookin?”

“Significant casualties. The shooter on the edge is killing us.”

“I got her,” he responded. He looked back towards you and you both stood up. He nodded towards the plane, which still had the latter hanging down. “The guns?”

“The house is being defended. We haven’t been able to break through.”

“We can’t afford to lose those. Do what you have to.” He held your hand tightly, dragging you through the battlefield. You passed those that had died in the rubble. You wondered if you had been the cause. Your head was spinning, looking towards the house. You couldn’t even think yet, things were going so fast. All you knew was Phil and his hand in yours.

He grabbed your hips, helping you onto the first step of the ladder.

“I’m comin back up,” he said into his comm. “Someones ahead of me, foreign. Do not shoot. I repeat, do not shoot.” There was a muffled reply. He climbed all the way to the top with you, helping you up onto the plane floor. You pulled yourself up and stood in the middle of the hanger. There was barely anyone left up there. You looked towards the window.

Price. Simon.

You had left them. You hadnt’ meant to. You hadn’t even thought for longer than a moment about it. You put your hand flush against the glass, looking down. You wanted them to make it out okay. They would surely think you had died.

You hadn’t thought this through.

Your favorite ghost had returned and asked you to go to hell with him. You hadn’t even thought.

“Price. Ghost,” you said, quickly. You turned to Graves, panicked. “Let them go. Don’t hurt them.”

“I need those guns.” You had heard his work voice before, the slur between charming and serious. At that moment, his voice was all game. He was giving you an order.

“I need them to live.”

“They shouldn’t have come.”

“I came.” Phil pursed his lips, chewed the inside of his cheek. He looked towards the pilot and the men still in the plane. Your eyes were back out the front window, seeing the plane you had just come out of. You had just been there, standing in that cockpit. The feeling was eerie, tingling in the back of your neck. “Phil please.”

Graves thought for a moment. He looked towards you, your pleading puppy dog eyes. He could see you in the morning, when he said goodbye before work. He could see your back in the bathroom mirror, foggy from a shower. Your favorite cereal on his taste buds. The way you had your coffee.

“We’re losing numbers down here!” a voice came in his ear. He looked back down towards the house. Ghost was taking his men out one by one. Price was likely sneaking behind them, sniping from somewhere.

But Phil was a proud man. He wasn’t going to let those people die for no reason.

“Those men are dead down there,” he said, evenly. He approached you. His hand gripped your arm. “They can’t have died for nothing.”

“Let me call them off. Give me something to call them off,” you pleaded. He groaned in retaliation but gave you your comm back. You put it in your ear.

“I’m getting overwhelmed here!” Ghost exclaimed.

“Get out of there! Get out of there!” you said, desperately. You turned back to the window. “There’s too many of them. They keep coming.”

“She’s right,” Price said, voice gruff. “We need an exit. Soap is on his way.”

“To help?”

“Not enough manpower right now. We have to take this loss.” You could practically hear Ghost’s annoyance. He had done all this and it would’ve been for nothing? He groaned. You stood there, deathly still. “Get to the southside of the building,” Price demanded. “Both of you.” You looked back at Phil, who was staring eagerly. You nodded once. He patted your back, turning back to the pilot.

“Set up post.”

Some men made their way back up to the plane. Others stayed down below to hold down the fort. The ones you recognized starred as they passed you, sitting in the front seat, just behind Graves. He made no comment on you being there. Didn’t talk on the way back to base.

He knew he would have to face Shepherd about it. He just happened to figure he would win. Shepherd couldn't do shit with the Shadows until Graves got back. He was useful and he was a good soldier. Breaking this rule would be okay, he was sure of it.

You followed him onto the tarmac, your body close to him. The plane landed unceremoniously. People gently spoke about their win. Most mourned their losses. No one had managed to get it in their head that you had probably killed their best friend. Most everyone just ogled you in confusion.

“We’re going back to my room,” he explained. You wanted an explanation. You wanted to yell at him. You wanted to scream.

“Okay.”

He led you through the twisting turns of the facility. You had never been in the Shadows main buildings before. They were high tech and likely dangerous.

Graves opened the door to his room. It was larger than the others, for being the Commander. He didn’t have to sleep in bunks or share a room when he was on base. He had called you from this room dozens of times. The phone he used had been crushed, unable to receive anything. He missed it. It had all the pictures of the two of you.

The door clicked shut behind you. You wanted to fight him but in the moment, you could only melt. You wrapped your arms around him and he held onto you for dear life. His touch was fiery and aggressive. He was digging his fingers into your sides, breathing in the scent of your hair. He had missed you so much. More than he had been able to let on. He never wanted to live without you again.

“I thought you were dead,” you whispered. You hadn’t realized the tears had steadily made their way back until you felt them on your cheeks. Graves had his face buried deep into your neck. “I mourned you.”

“I know baby,” he muttered against your skin. “I’m so sorry. I’m so so sorry.”

He was crying. When was the last time you had seen him cry? He sniffled, though he tried to make it subtle. He pulled back, turning away to rub his eyes. You grabbed his shoulders, not letting him.

“What happened?” you asked quietly. Speaking any louder than a whisper seemed like a crime.

“Shepherd.”

“You weren’t in the tank?” He shook his head. You let out a sigh of relief, despite the horrors you had been through over the months you had believed he was in there. He grabbed your hand.

“I never wanted to leave you,” he promised. His eyes were red, stuffy. He wasn’t sobbing but there were clearly tears forcing their way through his hard exterior. “I did it because I thought it would keep you safe. It would keep you out of the way.”

“You’ve just been out there?” you asked, voice hinting of betrayal. It broke his heart.

“Missing you every second of every day.”

“Did you know where I was?”

“I wasn’t allowed on missions with you confirmed to be in it. It was supposed to be Price, maybe Ghost, maybe Soap today. It wasn’t supposed to be you.”

“I was a last minute addition.”

“And thank God for that.” His hands were staying on you, lingering. “Bringing you back was selfish,” he admitted. “But I couldn’t leave you again.”

“When they told me you were dead,” you started, swallowing your emotions. “I couldn’t eat for a week. Simon had to come force me. I had to pack up all your clothes in the closet, give them to your mother. I had to go to your funeral, the funeral of a federal traitor. I had to see the man who killed you everyday in the hallway,” you spilled. Your voice felt fluid. “I had to..I had to tell Price I was getting better when I wasn’t. I had your drink every time I went to the bar. I haven’t had barbeque in months. I had to go on shitty first dates with people Soap set me up with. I slept in your flannel. I..all my plants died.”

Phil’s voice was quiet. He was pleading, lips wet.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m so sorry.” He tried to grab your hands. Ground you. You let him. You stared at him, breathing heavily, reliving every moment you had without him. “I’m sorry.”

“I can’t…I can’t do that again.”

“Me neither. Trust me.” You both were still covered in blood and dirt. You could feel the grime between your fingers. You could see the muck on his face, his perfect face. You put your hand on his cheek.

“Promise me.”

“I promise. I swear to God,” he whispered.

And you kissed him.

And things had never felt so right.

His lips were frenzied, desperate. He had never tasted something so good in his life. You were all he had been craving, every moment of every day. His hands were practically shaking as he touched you. Long lost was his Commander front. He was just Phil.

You hadn’t been so desperate for him since you first had him. Your anguish pushed forward onto his skin, holding him as close as you could get him. He tasted like beer and cologne and dirt.

Phil turned you on your heels so he could sit down on the bed. You straddled him, hands cupping his face, running through his hair. You were both too bulky for this kind of making out. You hadn’t stripped of any gear, still wearing weapons of mass destruction. You pulled away, to verbalize this, but he spoke first.

“Baby I need you. I need you,” he breathed. He kissed you chastly. “Please don’t stop.”

He used to hold back his pleading. He thought it made him look weak in front of you, unattractive. But he couldn’t do it now, when his defenses had been long shattered.

“We need to take all this off,” you said. You looked down into his eyes. They were so beautiful and needy that it hurt your chest. You kissed his lips again, as a promise. “We gotta take off the grenades at least.” He chuckled. He had forgotten all about that. You brushed his hair back, out of his face. “Phil,” you muttered. “Philllip Graves,” you mumbled, a borderline moan. He groaned in need.

“Quickly. Quicker than that.” You laughed. It was the first time you had heard your laugh in months. It was genuine and filled with life. It felt good. You slid off him and started to strip.

He studied you with such intense eyes it felt like you were the most beautiful woman in the world.

You almost couldn’t fall asleep. You traced his features with your gaze, even with his closed eyes. The scar on his cheek. You traced it lightly with your finger. His hair was still wet from the shower. You had both slipped and slid around the bathroom, limbs remaining intertwined. He had made it a point to always be starring or always be touching. You were his. You would never be anyone else's.

He had an arm lazily around your side. You had so much to worry about, so much to do. Were you technically behind enemy lines? What would happen when you woke up in the morning?

Phillip groaned and pulled you closer, smushing you against his chest.

“Woah there cowboy,” you whispered. He smiled, eyes still closed.

“You remember when you used to take my hat?” he asked fondly. You did. The cowboy hat rule. If you wear his hat, you ride the cowboy. You giggled, nodding against the pillow.

“I do.”

“We should do that again.”

“We can do whatever you want,” you told him. “Whatever you want.” He nodded.

“Go to sleep. I’ll figure it out in the mornin.” He put his chin on your head. “I got you.” You believed him.

You hadn’t had such a good sleep since he died, exhaustion over taking your body and forcing you into darkness.

#call of duty fanfiction #phillip graves x reader #Phillip graves imagines #Phillip graves x fem!reader

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dollwrites · 1 year

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𝐰𝐡𝐞𝐧 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐡𝐨𝐦𝐞 — 𝐡𝐚𝐥 𝐣𝐨𝐫𝐝𝐚𝐧

𝗰𝗼𝗻𝘁𝗲𝗻𝘁 𝘄𝗮𝗿𝗻𝗶𝗻𝗴𝘀 ∣ fem!justice league!reader, ghost!hal ( spectre ), angst, mentions of parallax, mentions of death and grieving and suicidal thoughts/tendencies, violence against reader, all characters featured are 18+

𝗶𝗺𝗽𝗼𝗿𝘁𝗮𝗻𝘁 ∣ do not repost or translate. please reblog && leave feedback. not proofread so there’s probably mistakes. thanks for reading <3

𝗻𝗼𝘄 𝗽𝗹𝗮𝘆𝗶𝗻𝗴 ∣ dancing with your ghost by sasha alex sloan

the coffee was cold and bitter.

but then again: so were you.

you finish the cup and set it on the table in front of you, sighing.

you hadn’t slept since you don’t remember when— at least not real sleep. it wasn’t the same as passing out from exhaustion for fifteen minutes at a time upon a pile of newspaper clippings, only to wake up screaming for Hal.

no, not screaming for him. screaming for him to stop.

you’d wanted to get through to him so badly that you’d put the entire League in peril to do so. you thought that if you could just look into his eyes, you could bring him back to the old Hal. your Hal. instead of this awful Parallax he now claimed to be.

you’d been wrong.

you glance down at your hands as you wiggle life back into your fingers— your knuckles were bloody and bruised; cracked open from too much training and too much vigilante justice. they’d all tried to get you to slow down, but none more than Oliver. Arrow still tracked you, and stepped in when you were going to do something extremely foolish. as much as you fought against him, he refused to let you go.

“They’re getting away!” you remember so vividly screaming it over the sound of thunder crashing and the rain that peppered your face as Arrow pinned you to the rooftop, holding your arms down by the wrists. for as wildly as you fought, his strength outmatched yours.

“Let them go,” he’d barked back, tightening his grip when you’d writhed, “there’s too many of them. You can’t take them down by yourself. You’re not even wearing your gear—“

“Who cares—“

“I care!” Oliver had screamed, pushing you back down when you bucked to get up. you stutter, startled by the break in his voice. you’d known Arrow for as long as you’d been in the Justice League, obviously, but the real bonding had been after Hal’s death. with Barry not around to fall back on, you’d been worried that you’d lean on OlIver until it broke him right along with you, so you’d pulled back. he was a persistent bastard, though, and he never let you get too far. “They’re armed to the teeth. Machine guns. You can’t just punch your way through a militia.They’ll kill you if you go after them alone,” you open your mouth to say something, but when no noise comes out, Queen keeps going, “that may not mean anything to you but it does to me. Hal would never forgive me if I let you do something this reckless.”

you wanted to cry, but your tears had long since dried up. so you choked on the words. “Hal’s dead.”

it hurt Oliver, too, for those words to come out. as you struggled to push them free from your lips, he winced, as if they drove themselves into his heart. “But you’re not.” he countered after a moment of silently pleading with his eyes. he wanted you to feel something so badly, and yet all you felt was guilt that you couldn’t feel anything at all. “Hal was my best friend.” it went without saying that he loved Hal, and so did you, but he uttered the words anyways. “Whether you want to believe it or not, you’re all that I really have left of the guy. I can’t lose you, too. Not after I swore to him I’d keep you safe. When my time comes, I will look him in the eyes and tell him I kept my promise.”

you stare at him, quiet, considering each word carefully. had Hal been himself enough in his dying moments for Ollie to make such a promise, or had Ollie spoken his intentions into the sky after Hal fell? did it really matter?

thinking about that night on the rooftop with Oliver, you reached up to gingerly caress the power ring that hangs from a silver chain around your neck, most of the time hidden by the neckline of your top, but not tonight. the ring rests right against your heart. you hadn’t even known Hal had given it to Oliver until that night, when he’d placed it on your finger. nothing happened, but Arrow said it was because he’d never attempted to charge it. he was too afraid of the power, he didn’t think he could wield it. you felt almost the same way.

John offered to charge it for you, too, but you refused. it wasn’t yours to wield. it was Hal’s. you wouldn’t try to pick up where he left off. you just wanted something of his to remember him.

right now, you get up and stumble over to the window, kicking old coffee cups and fast food wrappers. you really should take better care of yourself, it was what everyone was telling you, but you rarely found the time or energy to eat at all. it didn’t matter to you what it was, it didn’t taste very good, anyways. nothing did. so, whatever was fast and easily accessible usually won out. there’s a slight limp on your right side, as putting too much pressure down when walking would irritate what you expected was a fracture somewhere between your knee and your thigh— due to falling out of a third story window a few days before.

from your viewpoint, you could see most of the city, and you press your palm to the glass. it was a quiet night, which you hated, now. the silence. it was like it taunted you. at the very least, if you were kicking some bad guy ass, you could focus on the sound of his jaw breaking against your hand, or his ribs cracking under your knee. you didn’t have to think. just punch.

but when there was no one to hurt, no one to bring down, you started to collapse into yourself. think about Hal. try to imagine the way he used to smile when he said your name, as if the syllables themselves were enough to make him giddy. you hated yourself for starting to forget what his voice sounded like.

you’d tried, desperately, to hold on to that memory by calling his phone over and over, just to hear his voicemail.

Hey, you’ve reached Hal Jordan. I’m super busy right now, probably doing something really cool like, I don’t know, saving the freakin’ world so I can’t pick up. If you’ve got this number, then you probably know that already. Leave a message, and I’ll try to find some time to get back atcha, ya know, once I’m done with the whole superhero thing.

you’d heard it dozens of times, but it was never enough. and then, finally, the number was disconnected. as if the final shred of him was erased, and all you were left with was memories.

but memories fade, and you feared his would, too.

a battalion of police cars, all lit up, scream down the highway in front of your building, and the sirens pull you from your thoughts of Hal. staring at the direction the flashing lights mesh into, you bite down on your lip.

you shouldn’t go.

you were still healing from the last fight.

“Sorry, Ollie.” you whisper to no one but yourself, as you limp over to your gear across the room. he would have to get tired of chasing you around eventually, trying to be your safety net all the time. he wouldn’t have to tell Hal anything, because you’d decided you’d reunite with him first. you’d explain everything as soon as you were safely in his arms.

you were zipping up your combat boots when you hear his voice, and you freeze. “Let the cops handle this one.”

you stare down at the toes of your boots, worn and mud-covered. you’d stopped keeping your gear as clean as you used to. that’s not all. your feet were not the only two you were looking at. focused on the second set, those heavy, brown boots that you knew so well. they’d been left forgotten by your bedroom door much too often to forget. now, they meet faded denim jeans at the ankle. “H—Hal…?”

you didn’t want to look up, terrified that you would be alone. terrified that you were simply hearing things. seeing things.

“I didn’t want you to see me like this,” he answers, and a familiar sensation of his hand slipping under your chin, fingers curling to tilt your head up, overwhelms you. they’re the same shape as Hal’s, but they’re freezing cold. your lower lip tremors as you force yourself to look up. “I thought it would only confuse you or hurt you. I just really wanted to see you. I’m sorry that I’m selfish that way.”

he was here.

Hal was really here, standing in front of you. he wasn’t clad in his Green Lantern suit, or that horrible Parallax costume. he was standing before you in his jeans, a faded blue button down, and his dad’s brown pilot jacket. the one he always wore.

“Hal.” you could only say his name, because other than that, nothing mattered. you didn’t care why he was there or how it was possible— you only cared that he was. “Hal...” it’s a cry as you fling yourself into his arms, bury your face in his chest. he was solid, because he caught you and wrapped his arms around your frame, pulling you close to him. he wasn’t an illusion.

“I miss you,” he whispers into your hair, his arms tightening around you. “I miss you holding me like this.”

for the first time in a long time, you feel a lump in your throat, and a tickle against your tear ducts. “You can’t stay.” you mutter. he didn’t have to say it, you knew Hal. the way he squeezed you extra tight when he didn’t want to let go, but he knew he had to.

“I shouldn’t even be here,” he admits, pulling back. he presses his cool forehead to yours and urges you to look up at him, “bad things happen when I’m around. I can’t control it. There’s this… thing inside of me, calls itself The Spectre. When I’m here, I hurt people.”

“Here.” you repeat the word, looking up into his eyes. they looked like Hal’s deep, mahogany eyes. you couldn’t imagine anything malicious lurking behind them.

but then again, you’d faced Parallax.

Hal looks around the humblest of apartments, and you can feel the concern radiating from his baritone as he murmurs, “Baby…” his gaze traipses every discarded coffee cup before it falls back on you, and he reaches up, caressing your cheek, “When’s the last time you slept?”

you melt into the caress— you didn’t care how cold it was, and clapped your hand over his to keep it there. “I don’t know,” you admit, sheepish. “I might be asleep right now. Dreaming all of this. You’re probably not even here.”

Hal frowns, and takes a step backwards, grasping both of your hands to urge you to follow, so that he can ease on to the couch. “It’s real,” he assures you. you follow him, scrambling to stay close until he can pull you on to the couch. you fall against him, wrapping your arms around his midsection underneath his jacket. the smell of leather that always greeted you when you hugged him was no longer there. he didn’t smell like anything. “Hard to explain, but real. I’m a… a ghost, I guess.”

“You’re cold.” you pout; you were trying to cuddle into him, but now matter how deep you burrowed against his chest, how fervently you tried to rub your warmth into his body, he wasn’t retaining any of it. it was like cuddling a block of ice— not your personal heater that Hal used to be.

“I’m sorry.”

you knew the apology was for more than just your shivering. you could feel the tips of his icy fingers as they trail along your spine, they stop to brush against a rough patch of scar tissue along the small of your back underneath your top. you remember, so vividly, the look on his face when Parallax had driven a construct blade through your belly. the force behind it had swept you off your feet and hoisted you into the air, where your blood dribbled from the corners of your mouth and rained down against his wicked, toothy grin.

what were you supposed to say? ‘It’s okay’? ‘No worries’? you opt for nothing at all, and press the side of your face against the expanse of his chest. maybe part of you hoped you’d hear the subtle thumping of a heart, and you could make sure he knows how much of a jackass he was for playing this awful, awful practical joke on you. but no such luck.

whatever was inside of Hal’s chest wasn’t beating. it was almost as if he were completely hollow.

for several moments, you lay there in silence, letting him hold you. he kisses the crown of your head every now and then, but mostly stays still, too. finally, as your eyelids start to feel heavy, you grip his jacket tighter, fighting your own drowsiness.

“It’s okay,” he murmurs, “it’s okay to go to sleep.”

“No,” it was almost hard to whimper back in response. “Because I know you won’t be here when I wake up.”

he’s quiet, and you know that you’re right.

“I’m drowning, Hal.” you admit with a sniffle. it’d been the first time you had conjured tears in months. “I don’t know how to live in a world without you in it.” you dig your chin into his chest and look at him, but he’s staring far away, guilt plastered over his features. “Please don’t leave me again.” you swallow again, around the thick lump in your throat as your tears cascade over the apples of your cheeks, “If you love me, you’ll stay here. Help me. Please. Make it stop hurting so goddamn much—“

you’re silenced as a swift thumb swipes the tears from one cheek, and he looks down at you. his countenance is mournful; apologetic. “I wish you were smiling.” he whispers. you wonder if he’s unable to cry in this state. if he were still alive, would he sob with you? you felt that he might. instead, the air around the two of you felt heavy with sadness and regret. “Coming here had been a mistake I was willing to make because I would get to see you smile again, but I can only see how much pain I’ve caused.”

“Please,” you whimper, even as he purses his lips to gingerly soothe your crying, “I need you here with me. Just s—stay, I won’t tell anyone.” bargaining desperately, you grasp at his hand again. you didn’t care about the Spectre, you just wanted Hal.

“I wish that I could, but I’ve hurt you enough.” he laments, “And the pain that I’ve caused, I can’t make it go away for you.”

“I can’t do this without you.”

a sorrowful smile etched his tiers into a pathetic excuse for a smile. “Of course you can.” you were shaking your head no even as he speaks, as if refusing to hear him out. “But you have to ease up,” he flips his hand over to hold yours, gently running his thumb over your busted knuckles, “stop trying to get yourself killed, stop being reckless. I want you to heal.”

you look away, humiliated, and consider jerking your hand from his, but you don’t. you stare at the wall, wishing your tears would dry up again.

“You have to take care of yourself,” he continues, kissing each, battered digit, “there’s still so many people that need you.”

and what about the people that need you? what about me? the questions are on the tip of your tongue, but you can’t ask them.

“Promise me, baby. Promise me you’ll be careful.”

you really don’t want to.

you want to hold your own well-being hostage so he’s no choice but to stay, but when you look back into his eyes, you crumble.

they’re so desolate.

“I promise.” you croak weakly, and he pulls you back against him. you crash against his chest and cry there, your tears leaving no wet patch on his shirt. it was bizarre, but you didn’t stop to ponder it. “What will happen when I fall asleep?” you ask. truth be told, you were tuckered out from crying and the lingering insomnia. you didn’t want to hear him say he’d leave, but you didn’t want him to lie, either.

damned if he did, damned if he didn’t.

“I’ll have to go.” he answers honestly, but you don’t want to fight any longer. it hurts too much knowing that you’ll lose no matter what. “But I’ll hold you until the Spectre forces me to leave.”

you close your eyes, and grip his shirt in tightly balled fists. you were falling into unconsciousness, even though you wanted to stay awake with him.

“It’s okay.” he croons.

but it wasn’t. there was still too much to say that you’d not been able to. too many times to kiss him, and you would never have the chance to again. “Just…” your eyelids were too heavy to keep open, your voice thick with impending sleep that was well overdue. you knew that you’d hurt in the morning, but you could fight it no longer. “Say it… please… Hal…”

“I love you.”

#hal jordan #hal jordan x reader #hal jordan x you #hal jordan angst #angst #green lantern #green lantern x reader #green lantern x you #green lantern angst #dc #dc comics #dc comics x reader #dc comics x you #dc comics angst #dc x reader #dc x you #dc angst

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teddywrites0 · 5 months

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Can’t Catch Me Now (c.b)

Now playing: Can’t Catch Me Now by Olivia Rodrigo.

summary: he sees your face in every place, haunted by the memories of your separation. what happens when you cross paths again? ex!beomgyu fem!reader, exes to lovers?

warnings: cursing, mentions of therapy, angst with happy ending, mentions of nightmares.

word count: 4.0k

a/n: i fear i will never stop writing stuff based on songs.

“beomgyu? beomgyu?” he jumped awake, scooting backward until his back hit the headboard, eyes wide, he looked bewildered. “you were shouting in your sleep again.” yeonjun said, voice laced with concern. he moved to sit on the edge of beomgyu’s bed, “was it about her?” beomgyu’s pounding heart began to settle, he nodded. “are you sorry?” it sounded like her voice. beomgyu looked at him, tears welling in his eyes, “w-what?” — “i said are you okay?” his knuckles were turning white from the force he was gripping his sheets, “yeah, yeah i’ll be alright.” it sounded more like he was trying to convince himself, rather than his concerned roommate. “you should go to your classes today.. it’s been months.” yeonjun said, looking about the room. it was a mess, clothes everywhere, empty wrappers on the nightstand, old photographs spread all over his desk. “the guys miss you, and i don’t want you to lose your degree over some girl.” beomgyu furrowed his brows, “some girl?” he questioned. “n-no i didn’t mean it like that listen.. just come today and if you can’t handle it you don’t have to go monday.” beomgyu nodded. “it’s not like she’ll be there.” he muttered.

beomgyu pulled his hood over his head, hanging it low as he put his headphones in. yeonjun had offered to drive him, but he decided he’d walk. he passed by buildings, avoiding the sight of them, avoiding the memories. he reached the part of the route where it was all rural, nothing but grass and trees and the autumn leaves that crunched below his feet. only then did he pick his head up, trying to take in the beauty of the fall morning. then he saw you standing by a tree, looking right at him. his heart quickened, panic setting in, until you disappeared in thin air, reminding him that it’s just apart of the grieving process. but isn’t it unfair to grieve someone who’s still alive? he still found courage to walk into class, resting his head on the desk. whispers and stares came from everyone in the lecture hall. he payed no attention drowning it out with the music that was blasting way too loud in his ears. there was a light tap to his shoulder, it was yeonjun. he took out the ear buds, stuffing them into his pocket. “everyone’s staring.” he said flatly. “they’re gonna stare, the most notorious couple broke up, and you haven’t been here in three months.” beomgyu rolled his eyes, leaning over to fish his notebook out of his bag. “i saw her again.” he whispered, yeonjun sighed, “your therapist said it’s normal to have visions when you’re grieving.” beomgyu balled his fists, “don’t say grieving she’s not dead.” — “she might as well be.” a girl interrupted, giggling with her friends. “yunjin don’t you have better things do to? like i don’t know.. sleep with half of the soccer team?” beomgyu snapped. her friends went silent, most covering their mouths with their hands. “excuse me?” she shouted, standing up. “yunjin sit down, okay everyone! let’s continue our lesson on..” the professor interrupted, and that was when beomgyu tuned out every voice, zoning out until everyone was already packing their bags and heading out of the class. “c’mon let’s go you have econ, im walking you.” yeonjun said.

you stepped out onto the terminal, searching for a familiar face. you gripped your luggage in one hand, guitar case in the other. then you spotted her, your best friend, the one person you weren’t afraid of seeing in your return. she ran to you, opening her arms as she pushed herself into you, wrapping them around you. “chae.” you said in relief. “y/n.” she pulled away cupping your cheeks in her hands. “you haven’t changed.” she said tears pooling into her eyes. “it’s been three months not three years.” you said chuckling, holding back your own tears. “well it felt like three years.” she said wiping her eyes with the sleeve of her sweater. “besides, my hair is a bit a longer.” you joked. she scoffed, “you really haven’t changed.” she led you to the airport cafe, carrying your suitcase for you. “just an iced chai please.” you ordered, chaewon side-eyeing you in confusion. the two of you settled into a booth, “no flat white?” you shook your head laughing slightly. “no i don’t drink coffee anymore.” she furrowed her eyebrows, “is that like an american thing?” she asked. you giggled, “no it’s just.. apparently it stunts your growth.” she smiled, “i’m glad america didn’t change you.” you pursed your lips into an awkward smile. you took a sip of your drink, suddenly feeling the urge to ask, “how is he?” she looked down, “i don’t know, he hasn’t been to school since.. since you left.” — “oh.”

you gazed out the window, passing by the familiar buildings. “your room is still the same, i didn’t let anyone touch anything.” chaewon said, bringing you back from your thoughts. “that’s good. how’s miso?” the girl behind the wheel giggled, “your child is fine, she slept outside your door every night.” you smiled, “poor girl.” she laughed, and before you knew it you were turning into your apartment complex. you trudged up the steps, the two of you struggling to carry everything. once you finally made it into the apartment, the familiar scent of your favorite fall candle hit your nose. “miso!” you said excitedly, setting down your guitar case to greet the cat that was pawing at your leg. she mewled, leaning into every pet. “i missed you.” you cooed. you stood back up, helping chaewon carry your things into your bedroom. your finger tips glided across the spines of the books on your shelf, everything was still the same. “so you’re going back monday right?” she asked leaning against the door frame. “yeah, this weekend i want to let loose a bit you know? do something fun.” her eyes brightened, “well that’s good news because..” she said, pulling a folded piece of paper out of her tote bag. “what’s this?” you asked as she handed it to you. “i spoke to that guy, kai i think his name was? anyways, he wants you to perform at his dads bar. he said your sound is perfect for the aesthetic or whatever that means.” you unfolded the paper, a hand written invitation signed ‘huening kai’. “so like a hipster bar?” she giggled, “that’s what i said, but he looked offended..” the both of you burst into laughter. “yeah i guess i’ll do it, do you have his number or does he communicate strictly through carrier pigeon?” more laughter followed.

“guys wait up!” kai called after beomgyu and yeonjun. “hey what’s up?” yeonjun asked. “saturday- well i guess technically tomorrow, my dad has some local performers playing. you should come!” beomgyu immediately shook his head, “i just barely got through my first day back. i seriously can’t handle getting wasted right now.” they reached yeonjun’s car, “then don’t drink! listen.. i want you to have fun. if you haven’t been at school these past few months, i can imagine you haven’t been anywhere else either.” beomgyu’s shoulders dropped in defeat. “i think he’s right. if you feel overwhelmed we’ll just do what your therapist said..” — “okay fine i’ll go,” he said raising his voice, he then leaned over to whisper to yeonjun, “and don’t talk about that shit in front of other people.” kai stood there awkwardly, “i should go, see you guys tomorrow!” beomgyu opened the passenger door, slamming it after he got in. yeonjun shook his head, opening the drivers side and settling in. “therapy isn’t something to be ashamed of beomgyu.” he turned the key into the ignition. “maybe i should be ashamed of it, it’s my fault i’m there in the first place.” he mumbled. “yeah well you’re not gonna get better if you don’t apply yourself.” the drive home felt slow, like time was paused. they were reaching a green light when he saw you again, “stop the car. yeonjun stop the fucking car!” yeonjun hit the breaks, annoyed drivers honking behind them. just like that.. you were gone. “beomgyu what the fuck? someone could’ve hit us!” yeonjun continued to drive, many people cutting in front of them honking their horns. beomgyu sat there, eyes wide, mouth agape.

when they got to their shared apartment beomgyu rushed to the couch, curling up into the corner, and he began to cry; he began to sob. “hey.. hey what is it?” yeonjun knelt in front of him. “i’m sorry. i’m sorry you have to deal with this, with me.” yeonjun shook his head “beomgyu..” — “no yeonjun! i’m burdening you! i don’t want to take you down with me!” yeonjun pulled himself up, sitting beside beomgyu, pulling him to his chest. “you’re not a burden. you’re my best friend, and you’re hurting and it’s okay to be hurt.” beomgyu sobbed into his chest, “i shouldn’t have said those things to her.. i can’t- i can’t escape her, but at the same time i want to chase after her. she’s everywhere, but she’s not really there.” yeonjun rubbed his hand over beomgyu’s back, “it’s gonna be alright. go lay down okay? you probably need rest, im sure it was stressful to go back today.” beomgyu rubbed his eyes, heading to his bedroom. he laid down, hugging his pillow to his chest. “i’m not the selfish one beomgyu, you are! this is important to me! this is a big opportunity!” he scoffed, “you’ve had offers here! you really think moving to another continent will be any different?” you shook your head, “this just proves it to me..” —“proves what to you y/n? proves what?” you balled your fists, holding back tears. “that if you loved me you’d support me!” the sound of glass shattering echoed in the room, ��shit- y/n i’m sorry.” you bent down, picking up the pieces of your bedside lamp. you stood up slowly. “get the fuck out!” — “no no i’m not leaving! i’m not leaving.” yeonjun shook him awake, “it’s just a bad dream.” beomgyu held his face in his hands, rubbing his eyes. “what time is it?” he asked. yeonjun checked his phone, “five thirty, let’s order some take out yeah?” beomgyu nodded, feeling lightheaded from his short nap.

“i texted kai, im playing at seven tomorrow.” you said as you set chaewon’s takeout box in front of her. “that’s awesome, you have a song picked yet?” you nodded, pulling your own takeout out. “that program really helped me, i learned a lot.” she smiled, “as if you could get any better.” you shook your head chuckling, “there’s always room to get better, to learn more.” you ate mostly in silence, you liked that about your friendship, you were always comfortable in each others silence. “y/n?” you looked up, “yeah?” she cleared her throat, “you don’t have to pretend you’re okay, i know you miss him.” you sighed, “it’s just- he scared me that day you know? i worried that if i stayed even after that, it could’ve gotten worse.” chaewon nodded, reaching to hold your hand across the table. “i get that, i spoke to yeonjun before you landed this morning, he’s um.. he’s not doing very well.” you looked down, “he doesn’t know i’m back?” she shook her head. “if he wouldn’t have gotten so angry, if he would’ve listened, he would’ve known.” she rubbed the back of your hand with her thumb, “i know, but guys are stupid. i know you loved each other.” you sighed, picking up your takeout box to throw it away. “i still do.” when chaewon said she didn’t touch your room, she really meant it. your bedside lamp remained shattered on the floor. you groaned, flopping down onto your bed face first. ‘i’ll clean it in the morning’ you thought. before you knew it you were asleep, twitching occasionally. “how is she?” yeonjun asked. chaewon held the phone between her shoulder and her cheek as she wiped down the counters. “she’s good.. physically. i just called to let you know she’s here, im sure she wouldn’t mind seeing you.” she heard him sigh on the other side of the phone, “i would love to, but beomgyu’s still super messed up about it. i don’t want him to find out i saw her without telling him. i mean if he would’ve let her explain we wouldn’t be here right now.” chaewon grabbed the phone moving it to her other ear as she disposed of the paper towel. “would you like to talk to her at least?” she asked. “that’d be nice.” she knocked on your door gently, “y/n?” you woke up slowly, “come in.” she entered, phone still up to her ear. “i’m sorry to wake you, yeonjun’s on the phone.” you felt your heart beat quicken as you took the phone from her. “hello?” — “hey y/n.” you smiled softly, “does he know you called?” you asked voice slightly trembling. “no he’s uh, he’s asleep right now. that’s all he’s really been doing lately.” you took in a shaky breath, trying to hold the flow of tears you’ve held back for three months, “i don’t want him to be hurt.” the truth is in the beginning, you did want him to be hurt. you thought he deserved it, but hearing how he’s been after asking everyone strictly not to update you while you were away, you really didn’t want him to be hurt. “i know y/n, he’d hate for me to tell you this but he’s been seeing a therapist. i thought it would help him considering his history with nightmares when his parents split.” hearing he was in therapy made you feel slightly better, maybe he can get better without you.

“i’ll see you monday, bye.” yeonjun hung up the phone, he didn’t want to keep the fact that you were back from beomgyu; but he’ll know when you return to school monday. unless he sees you sooner than that. beomgyu didn’t have a nightmare that night, he woke up feeling decent. which was saying something because everyday since you left he woke up with chest pain, curtesy of his broken heart. it was saturday, and he was dreading going to kai’s fathers bar later that night. he didn’t want to socialize, he wanted to do what he did every night, look at old pictures and stare at the ceiling until he fell asleep. he barely touched his phone, never talked to anyone but yeonjun. he didn’t even play video games. “hey i’m gonna run to the grocery store wanna come with?” yeonjun asked, peaking his head into beomgyu’s room. “sure.” he pulled the same hoodie he always wore over his head, it was yours, one that you had left at his apartment. he thought it might be good to go with yeonjun, he didn’t have that bad of a day at school so maybe this was a step forward. that was until they arrived, and he saw a familiar silhouette. “chaewon?” she turned around after placing a box of cereal into her cart. “b-beomgyu? hi!” she greeted. she looked him up and down, noticing his weak state. “i was at school yesterday.. must’ve missed you.” she smiled awkwardly, “oh i uh didn’t go, i had to help a friend.” his eyes scanned the items in her cart, all of your favorite snacks and drinks. “how is she? is america treating her well?” he asked, trying to keep calm. “she’s good.” she said seemingly uncomfortable. yeonjun put his hand on beomgyu’s shoulder reassuringly. “well i have to checkout now, it was nice seeing you!” she said before rushing toward the checkout. “that was weird.” beomgyu muttered.

beomgyu looked at himself in the mirror, adjusting the belt on his jeans. “apologize.” he heard your voice, looking in the reflection he saw you sitting on the foot of his bed. he turned around quickly, but you weren’t there. he shook his head, grabbing his phone before heading into the living room. “you ready?” yeonjun asked, getting up from the couch. he nodded, heading to the front door. kai greeted them at the entrance, leading them inside. it was nice, dim lighting, main bar near the entrance, tables and booths in front of the bar, and a small stage. it was packed, filled with locals, and people in suits. beomgyu assumed they were scouters, there to see who they could scoop from that stage and give a big name. he scoffed. the last time someone he knew was scouted his life went downhill, he lost you. “you guys can take a seat at the bar, im going to greet everyone, thank them for coming, and then i’ll sit with you for the performances.” kai said before heading into the seating area. “this place is nice.” yeonjun said, trying to brighten beomgyu’s spirits. “i guess.” yeonjun shook his head, then called over the bartender, “two waters please..” beomgyu interrupted, “one water and a jack and coke.” the bartender nodded. “dude if you drink it’ll make you feel worse.” beomgyu chuckled, “well at least you’re my designated driver.” the drinks arrived shortly along with kai. “so what do you think of the place?” he asked sitting on the other side of yeonjun. “it’s not as under ground as i thought it would be, i mean there’s scouters everywhere.” beomgyu scowled. “if it makes you feel any better they weren’t invited, they just kind of show up.” kai reasoned.

you were a bit jittery back stage, avoiding looking at the crowd. “you’ll be fine y/n, you’re so talented im sure you’ll get a standing ovation.” chaewon joked, trying to calm your nerves. kai had greeted you at your early arrival, you saw how many seats there were, making you all the more nervous. you were set to be the third to perform. “everyone! get ready, im going to do a little intro and then you’ll perform in the given order!” kai’s dad spoke to you and the other performers. he walked through the curtain, “good evening everyone! i’m sure you’re all excited, we have a bunch of talented performers ahead of us!” you heard him greet the audience, reality setting in. the first performer went up, then the second, and before you knew it, it was your turn. the audience clapped upon your arrival, you sat in the stool in front of the microphone, guitar in your lap. the spotlights were so bright you could barely see past the tables in front of the stage, the bar was out of your sight. beomgyu and yeonjun were lost in kai’s rambling, they hadn’t even payed attention to the last two performers. you began to strum at your guitar as the audience’s claps silenced. you closed your eyes and began to sing.

there’s blood on the side of the mountain.

there’s writing all over the wall.

shadows of us are still dancing.

in every room and every hall.

beomgyu heard your voice, thinking it was in his head until yeonjun muttered, “oh shit.” he turned around and sure enough, there you were. the same black guitar, with the same blue strap.

there’s snow fallin over the city.

you thought that it would wash away.

the bitter taste of my fury.

and all of the messes you made.

beomgyu couldn’t move, all he could do was watch. he couldn’t react.

yeah you think that you got away.

but i’m in the trees, i’m in the breeze.

my footsteps on the ground.

you’ll see my face in every place, but you can’t catch me now.

“you set this up didnt you?” yeonjun asked kai bitterly, “n-no i mean yes but maybe they could talk?” kai said nervously. “are you serious kai?” yeonjun scoffed. beomgyu didn’t hear their bickering. he was too engrossed in your voice, in the lyrics. why were you here? you finished the song, the audience was silent for a few seconds before people began to stand up, clapping, and whistling. you smiled, scanning the audience until you thought you saw him. you squinted, and sure enough when you could see past the spotlight, he was sitting at the bar. shock painted over his face. your heart dropped to your stomach and you rushed behind the curtain. “y/n what’s wrong?” chaewon said as you dropped your guitar. “beomgyu.. he’s here i saw him at the bar.” you said picking up your guitar and putting it in its case. “we have to get out of here i don’t want to see him.” she nodded helping you through the backstage door that led to a hallway. she linked her arm with yours before you got to another door. you opened it and surely enough it led to the front of the bar, where beomgyu was. “shit.” you whispered rushing past the bar and out of the building, it was pouring rain. “we shouldn’t have walked here.” you said before you and chaewon began to run in the direction of your apartment. beomgyu got up, he didn’t know what came over him, but he needed to talk to you. “beomgyu don’t..” yeonjun started, holding onto his arm, beomgyu shook him off, “i need to see her.” he ran out of the bar, you and chaewon were barely visible ahead of him. yeonjun and kai weren’t short off, “beomgyu come back inside!” kai yelled, “no i’m going to talk to her!” the rain had soaked them, clothes sticking to their bodies. beomgyu lost sight of you, but he knew where your apartment was. he began to run, yeonjun and kai trailing behind him.

you reached your complex, drenched. before you could enter the lobby, “y/n!” you turned around to see a soaked beomgyu. the rain seemingly began to pour harder. yeonjun and kai rounded the corner, stopping to catch their breath. you stared at each other, mascara running down your face from a mixture of rain and tears. “why- how are you here?” yeonjun stepped toward him, “get the fuck back!” beomgyu yelled. yeonjun walked backward. “why do you care?” you shouted, gripping the handle of your guitar case. “i thought you moved to america to be some big shot!” you scoffed, “go home beomgyu.” — “no.” you stepped farther away, “go fucking home!” he stepped closer, “no not until you let me apologize!” your tears fell harder, “you called me selfish, you threw my lamp,” you stepped closer, pointer finger digging into his chest, “and i did feel selfish for a while but you know what? you’re the selfish one!” you shouted, pushing him by his chest. “i know okay? i didn’t want you to fucking leave me! i didnt want to do long distance!” chaewon came up behind you grabbing ahold of your hand, attempting to pull you toward the building. “y/n let’s go.” you went to leave, “fuck.. i love you!” you turned back around, “if you loved me you would’ve listened to me!” you stepped closer to him again, dropping your guitar case on the pavement. “i did listen to you!” you chuckled sourly, “if you listened, like really listened beomgyu, you would’ve let me explain..” — “explain what?” you grew angrier, “if you wouldn’t have snapped i would’ve been able to explain that it was a three month program! i wasn’t moving to america for fucking forever!” his eyes twitched slightly, tears finally escaping after the adrenaline held them back. “i- i’m sorry.” he said quietly. “i’m really, truly sorry.” you don’t know what you were thinking, you reached your arms behind his neck, pulling him down into a harsh kiss. you pulled away, shocked expressions shared between the two of you. “if i forgive you-“ you started, he interrupted, “it’s gonna be hard, it’s gonna be really, really hard, but i’m willing to go through it because i want to be with you.” your arms loosened, hands now resting on the back of his neck. “do you want to come inside?”

#tomorrow by together #txt #choi beomgyu #beomgyu #txt angst #exes to lovers #kpop

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kaunis-sielu · 2 years

Text

A Payment

You’re clenching your teeth so hard that you’re surprised you haven’t broken a tooth, or your jaw. Fire practically races through your veins you’re so furious, how could he?

“You will do this.” Your father says coldly, “you will do this without complaint.” A single tear slips down your face but it’s not sorrow, it’s rage. You don’t say anything to your father, he doesn’t even bother looking up when you turn away from him. “You will make yourself presentable.” He instructs as your hand touches the door handle you pause for a moment, taking a deep breath so that you don’t snap, you push the door open and storm past the two men that are waiting just outside.

“Queenie?” Lance says and you don’t look at him as you continue to your rooms.

“Don’t.” You snap, Lance has been on your six for long enough to know that when you’re in a rage like this it’s best to just leave you alone.

He does follow you through your father’s house and to the rooms that you always stay in when you’re here. You hate staying here, you feel like you’re suffocated all the time, that you’re back to being that seventeen year old girl who is powerless in her father’s empire. Not that you actually have any power, which is something that your father has made perfectly clear in the last ten minutes.

Fuck Grant. He should have to pay for his own mistakes but since he’s your older half brother and a male he gets to just skate by and will get to run the empire some day.

You, you’re just a pawn.

You’re not a queen.

You shove your door open and start throwing things into your suitcase. You hadn’t bothered to bring much, you’d been hopeful that this little meeting with your father wouldn’t be long. It hadn’t, but it also hadn’t gone the way that you’d hoped. You’d hoped that since moving away from New York to Boston your father would let you have the independence that you so badly craved. You hadn’t lived under his roof since your 18th birthday specifically so that you could have that freedom. For nearly fifteen years you’d lived off on your own, away from New York, away from your father’s iron fist and the life of a mob boss’s daughter.

“Queenie? What’s going on?” Lance asks softly and you sigh heavily, he does have the right to know considering he’s been your constant companion since you were thirteen.

“I’ve been sold to Steve Rogers.” You tell him so softly that you’re not sure that he’s heard you. At least you’re not sure he’s heard you until he lets out a low growl.

“I’m sorry, you’re gonna have to run that one by me again.”

“My dear brother has run up a rather large debit with Rogers, who has agreed to let that jackass live for a share in the business. Apparently, my father thinks that I count as a share in the business. So, in less than twelve hours I’ll be off your hands for good and under his protection, or whatever he wants to do with me I guess.” You tell Lance dropping down onto the bed, a shirt in your hands. “I should’ve never come back Lance.”

“You didn’t have a choice Q.” He tells you crossing the room and dropping down onto the bed next to you. Lance has been there for all of it. Since your mom died when you were thirteen and your father had decided that you needed a bodyguard to control you under the guise of keeping you safe. You’d fought at first, especially since Lance was only a few years older than you, but once the two of you had come to an agreement, that he wouldn’t try to boss you around unless it was life or death and you’d cooperate with him, you’d become fast friends.

“I hate him. I hate him so much.” You say before the tears start to fall and Lance gently pulls you to him so that you can let yourself grieve.

“I’m sorry Queenie.” He says into your hair, “I won’t leave you though, not unless you tell me to. I’m your guy until the canary sings baby.” He says and you laugh through your tears.

“Thanks Lance but you’re part of my father’s company, if he says you stay you have to stay.”

“I can leave Queenie, the only reason that I haven’t is because of you.”

“You can pay the dues?” You ask looking up at him in surprise, “Does Bobbi know?”

“Yea, she knows the deal. I’m your shadow, on your six no matter what. Where you go we go. Even if that means paying the dues to your father and then joining Rogers Company.” You don’t know what to say, you love Lance like the big brother you wish you had, not the piece of shit that you’ve got, and to know that he cares for you as much as you do for him is heartwarming.

“Thanks Lance.” You murmur and he gives your shoulders a squeeze.

“When do you have to be ready?”

“Father said seven, apparently Rogers is coming over to pick me up and sign some paperwork or something then I’m to go with him.”

“Alright, so we have three hours. What do you want to do?”

“I have to get ready. Pack, shower, look presentable and shit.” You say with another long sigh, “This sucks.”

“Yea, but you weren’t happy here so maybe you’ll be happy with Rogers.”

“I was happy in Boston.”

“You won’t be at your father’s beck and call anymore.”

“I’ve traded one golden cage for another Lance. I know you’re trying to help but right now I just need to be sad so when it’s time I can be fury herself.” He nods his understanding and leaves the room. You get everything packed except for the black dress you’re planning on wearing. It’s got a scoop neck and long sleeves and falls to just above your knees. You’ll wear a pair of black heels and wear your hair up with some dramatic make up. You’ll look a Queen, not just little Queenie who is a pawn in the games men play, you’ll demand his respect.

At quarter to seven someone knocks on your door. When you pull the door open you’re not surprised to see Adia, your father’s everything woman. You’re fairly certain they’ve been sleeping together for a while but that’s never been confirmed.

“Your father said to sign this.”

“What is it?” You ask taking the paper that she’s passed you. She doesn’t answer and when you glance at the top you see the words ‘marriage license’ and you gape at it. “I’m not signing this.”

“Either you sign it or I do it for you. Trip will confirm that you signed it either way.”

“You’re such a bitch.” You sneer but Adia just laughs.

“What’s it going to be Queenie?”

“Go to hell.” You slam the door back in her face but she shoves it open before you can get the chance to lock it and snatches the marriage license from your hands.

“Thank you for your cooperation.” She smirks before forging your signature on the document and flouncing away with Trip on her tail. If you were going to kill someone you’d start with Adia.

The next knock on your door comes at five to seven. When you open the door this time it’s Lance.

“Your father wants you downstairs.” He says, his eyes are soft and when he sees the panic flit through yours he takes a deep breath, one that you copy. Then you straighten your spine, lift your chin and go downstairs. Steve and his men aren’t here yet, your father and Grant wait each with a drink in hand.

“You will say nothing but that you agree to this do you understand me?” You father warns.

“What if I don’t?” You sneer, he won’t kill you not now, you’re too valuable.

“We’ll send Lance home to Bobbi in pieces.” Your only weakness and he knows it.

“I hate you.”

“Watch your tongue little sister.”

“Rot in hell Grant.” Grant goes to respond when your father cuts him off with a hissed,

“Enough.” Moments later Adia walks into the room.

“They’re here.” She says, her eyes only on your father, god you hate everyone in this stupid family.

“Thank you Adia.” She gives him a sweet smile then goes back out the door to collect your new leash holder.

When the door opens again you wait with your heart in your throat until he walks in, tall and strong, light brown hair and bright blue eyes. Those eyes land on you dragging down your body and a small smirk graces his lips.

What an asshole.

Tag list:

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#steve rogers x reader #Steve rogers x reader au #steve rogers au #mob boss!steve #mob boss au #mob boss steve rogers #mobster au #a payment story

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rip-us-xoxo · 1 year

Text

Requiem- Fred Weasley x Reader (REPOST)

Posted DECEMBER 12, 2020

Reposted APRIL 16, 2023

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Warnings- Fred’s dead 😭 and it pulls at your heartstrings A LOT. Also swearing, but that’s to be expected at this point

Based off of “Requiem” from Dear Evan Hansen

________________

Italics= flashback

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Why should I play this game of pretend?

Remembering through a secondhand sorrow?

Such a great son and wonderful friend

Oh, don’t the tears just pour

There you sat, listening to all of the speeches at Fred Weasley’s funeral.

First from his mother, then his father, all of his siblings, a few friends, including you, and then finally, his twin, George.

Everyone was sobbing their eyes out, but you? You sat there, eyes fixated at the ground except when you gave your speech, but you still were looking down at your black shoes for most of it.

You didn’t want to cry, not after what Fred did to you. But the sadness was still there.

I could curl up and hide in my room

There in my bed, still sobbing tomorrow

I could give in to all of the gloom

But tell me, tell me what for

After the reception ended, you couldn’t handle it anymore. All of the confusing emotions were too much for you.

So, you left while everyone was going to go and eat without saying goodbye.

Once you got home, you slammed the front door shut and stood against the door crying. “Why am I crying?” you thought, “He broke up with me all those years ago.”.

You wiped the tears that kept spilling from your eyes and stood up, going to the bathroom to compose yourself.

After a few moments of crying there was a knock, “Um, Miss Y/l/n?” you heard from outside the door. “Shit,” you whispered and opened the door.

“Hi Sophie, here, let me give you your money. Thank you for watching him again,” you said with a small smile and handed her some money before she smiled and mumbled a quick ‘thank you’ before leaving.

When you looked back at the mirror, hot tears were still pouring from your face. “Stop crying, goddammit!” you screamed at yourself and hit the bathroom counter.

Why should I have a heavy heart?

Why should I start to break in pieces?

Why should I go and fall apart for you?

You then heard crying come from your room. “Dammit, I woke him up,” you groaned and wiped your eyes once more before heading down the hall.

When you entered the room, you immediately went to tend to your son, Theodore.

“Shh, Theo, it’s alright. Mommy’s here,” you cooed and picked him up from his tiny bed. It broke your heart to hear him cry, he was the most important thing to you.

He was 3 years old and the best thing that had ever happened to you, but no one else knew about him except your family members and Sophie, the babysitter. After he calmed down, you kissed his fiery red hair and placed him back onto his bed.

“Your father could have had so much. But no. He had to leave and go start his joke shop,” you sighed sadly with a hint of anger. “Why should I care that he’s dead? He left us, not the other way around.”.

“Mommy,” he babbled and made grabby hands toward you. “Oh alright, come on little guy,” you giggled and jumped onto your bed with him. He snuggled into your chest and began sucking on his thumb.

Why should I play the grieving girl and lie

Saying that I miss you

And that my world has gone dark without your light?

I will sing no requiem tonight

“Fred Weasley was a great friend and I miss him everyday”. That was one of the lines from your speech that you gave at his funeral.

You didn’t miss him at all, but to appease everyone and to not cause drama, you said you did.

Your world didn’t need Fred Weasley as your light, you had everything you needed snuggled in your arms.

I gave you the world, you threw it away

Leaving these broken pieces behind you

Everything wasted, nothing to say

So I can sing no requiem

“I’m sorry, Y/n, but we can’t be together anymore,” Fred told you, not meeting your eyes.

“W-Wait what?” you asked, tearing up. “This isn’t funny Fred,” you tried laughing, “it’s just a sick joke.”.

When he didn’t meet your eyes, you knew he was serious. “W-Why?” you asked, starting to cry.

“I just think it’s what’s best.”.

That was all he told you in the corridors one starry night in your 7th year. The next day he left school, not speaking a word to you.

You were broken by the words he did speak though, he gave no explanation, he just left.

4 years. 4 years you two had been together and he just left.

But the one thing you wish you could’ve told him was that you were pregnant with his child.

“Maybe things could’ve been different,” you whispered, a single tear running down your face.

I hear your voice, I feel you near

Within these words, I finally find you

And now that I know that you are still here

I will sing no requiem tonight

You tried to sleep but your brain was filled with too many thoughts. You looked down at your son after another failed attempt at sleep and realized just how much he looked like Fred. Red hair, brown eyes, Theo had it all.

Fred’s memory will live through the shop and his family members, but for you, it was little Theo who reminded you of him, it gave you an odd sort of peace that Fred was still with you in a way.

You started to cry thinking of all the happy memories while looking down at your son, oh how you wished Fred could be there with you and your son.

Why should I have a heavy heart?

Why should I say I’ll keep you with me?

Why should I go and fall apart for you?

You then thought back to when Theo would cry for hours as a baby and nothing would calm him down, or how you worked 2 jobs to be able to provide for you and your son. Fred wasn’t there for any of it, he wasn’t there to help at all.

“Get it together,” you whispered to yourself and tried to fall asleep once more.

Why should I play the grieving girl and lie

Saying that I miss you and that my world has gone dark without your light?

I will sing no requiem

Tonight

You groaned when sleep, once again, wouldn’t consume you.

You sat up, being careful not to crush your son, and reached into your nightstand. You pulled out a newspaper with a picture of Fred and George in front of their joke shop smiling, it was opening day and they looked so proud.

You smiled slightly, but anger soon consumed you.

“Why am I crying over him, for Godric’s sake!” you said angrily and threw the newspaper beside you.

‘Cause when the villains fall, the kingdoms never weep

No one lights a candle to remember

No, no one mourns at all

When they lay them down to sleep

“I hate you!” you screamed as you ripped up all of the pictures you had of Fred. “You were a horrible person!” “You left me! You left Theo without a dad!” “You didn’t even say anything, you just went and risked your life and died!”. These were all things you screamed as you ripped up all of the pictures you had of Fred.

“I hate you!” you sobbed and ripped up the picture of you two at the Yule Ball before throwing the pieces at the wall.

So, don’t tell me that I didn’t have it right

Don’t tell me that it wasn’t black and white

“You had no excuse to leave me! Everyone told me that I should forgive you because you were a good person, but you were not a good person, you left me!” you screamed.

After all you put me through

Don’t say it wasn’t true

That you were not the monster

That I knew

“You left me! I was pregnant and it was the most painful experience of my life and you didn’t help me though any of it!” you sobbed while looking at a picture of you and Fred after a quidditch match.

“There was never any good in you, you were just pure evil!”.

'Cause I cannot play the grieving girl and lie

Saying that I miss you And that my world has gone dark

The last words made you sob to the point where you couldn’t breathe.

“I. Hate-!” you stopped screaming when you came across a photo. It was you and Fred hugging on a Gryffindor common room couch.

That was the day you found out you were pregnant and you were scared out of your mind.

“Love, are you alright?” Fred asked and sat down on the couch in the Gryffindor common room next to you. “

Hm? Oh yeah, just tired I guess,” you mumbled, not daring to look into his eyes.

“Oh come on, Y/n, we’ve been dating for 4 years. Just tell me what’s going on in that head of yours,” he cooed and engulfed you in a hug while stroking your hair and giving you a long kiss on the forehead.

The flashing of a camera made both of your eyes go wide. “

Aw look at the love birds!” George teased and sat the camera on the table, waiting for it to process.

“Oh sod off George,” Fred groaned and gave you another kiss on the forehead.

You sobbed and came back to reality, Theo was crying. You quickly got off of the floor and sat next to him, bringing him into your lap.

“I’m so sorry Theo, mommy didn’t mean to scare you,” you cried and hugged him tightly.

I will sing no requiem

I will sing no requiem tonight

“Come on, let’s go to sleep,” you told Theo while glaring at the ripped up pictures on the floor, “I have better things to do than cry over a stupid man who broke my heart years ago. I’m done crying over him. I’m over him.”.

Oh, oh, oh

Oh, oh

Theo ended up not being able to fall asleep and neither could you. Fred Weasley was all you were thinking about. No matter how hard you tried, he was still taking over your brain.

“Come on, Theo,” you huffed and got him dressed in a little jacket to accommodate for the coldness of the night before walking out of your house and walking to the graveyard where Fred had been buried.

You needed to see him one last time before you never thought about him again.

You looked down at the gravestone “Fred Weasley, beloved brother, son, and friend,” you read quietly to yourself, starting to cry once more. You sat down and leaned up against the gravestone before making Theo cuddle into your front.

“I miss you everyday Fred,” you cried and hugged Theo tightly while rubbing the ground Fred was buried under, “I still love you, no matter how many times I try to say I hate you.”.

Little did you know, Fred was sitting next to you, his arms were wrapped around you and their son. “Y/n, I wish I could go back and fix everything, I wish I could’ve been there for you and our son, I’m sorry,” he whispered sadly, resting his head on your shoulder.

After a few minutes of you crying, you stood up, much to Fred’s dismay and looked down and Fred’s gravestone where Fred was also coincidently sitting, “This is it, Fred, I need to move on, I’ll always love you, I hope you know that. But this is goodbye,” you said sadly, “for now,” you said in barely a whisper before turning around and walking back to your house.

Although you knew that you were never going to see him again and for years to come you would say that you were over Fred, you knew that you would never be over him and that you would sing a silent requiem every night for Fred because he was, and will always, be the love of your life.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

xoxo

#fred weasley x reader #fred weasley x y/n #fred weasley x you #fred weasley #fred weasley imagine #fred weasley angst #harry potter characters x reader #harry potter fanfiction

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liviavanrouge · 4 months

Text

Small Visit

Lilia: *Carries a small box, his face expressionless*

Livia: Papa?

Lilia: *Looks back* Livia, you're up early, how come?

Livia: *Walks over, looking curious* I heard your footsteps

Lilia: *Chuckles* You go back to bed, I'm going out for a little while....

Livia: *Watches him go curiously* Papa?

~~~~~

Lilia: *Carefully removes growing moss and vines, raking up old leaves* Sorry for not visiting for a while...

Lilia: *Opens the box and sets down a few white roses* I've been busy, I bet you can tell...

Lilia: *Smiles at the gravestone* You would've smacked this apprentice of yours had I not visited....right Ameki...

Livia: *Peeks out from behind the tree*

Lilia: Wanna hear how he passed, Little Bat?

Livia: *Flinches in surprise then shuffles over* Is that okay?

Lilia: *Looks at her, smiling* Yeah...

Livia: Then how....

Lilia: I was Ameki's apprentice....I wouldn't be standing now if it wasn't for him

-----

Lilia(112): *Trembles, covered in wounds, glaring at the intruders*

Assassin A: Let's kill the kid and get going

Assassin C: Got it, let me cut his tongue out first though

???: *Roars, running over*

Ameki: *Tackles the lead assassin down, slamming them neck first into the ground* TRASH ASSASSIN!!!!

Lilia: *Stares at his mentor alarmed*

Ameki: *Raises his claw, snarling at the assassin* RUN LILIA!!! WARN EVERYONE!!

Lilia: Ameki-

Ameki: *Looks at Lilia and grins* You better get out of here kid, make sure to tell your own kids about my heroic sacrifice....

Ameki: *Laughs, smiling at Lilia* You're gonna kick ass one day kiddo! Make me proud and go warn everyone!!

Lilia: *Stares then turns and runs away*

Ameki: *Turns to the assassin's, blood seeping through his clothes* Hah....I've been wounded since the last battle, but I wasn't about to let you guys take that kids life

Ameki: *Coughs up blood, his vision blurring* ...that kid.....needs to grow up and settle down one day with his own lover and kids

Ameki: *Lunges at the assassin, falling into the water* IF I GOTTA DIE FOR THAT TO HAPPEN!! SO BE IT!!

Assassin C: *Leaps into Ameki's back, bringing him down*

Ameki: *Snarls, slashing the assassin's neck, then turning to the next his vision blurring* BRING IT TRASH!!!

~~~~

Lilia: *Runs back, his eyes wide* Ameki?

Nilo: *Looks around then perks up* OVER HERE!

Mayhem: *Runs to the figure alarmed* AMEKI!!

Ameki: *Smiles laying motionless on his side, his eyes dull*

Nilo: *Trembles then closes Ameki's eyes, looking away* It's been five minutes

Mayhem: YOU!!! *Turns to Lilia and raises his hand*

Nilo: Mayhem! Don't touch him...

Mayhem: HE CAUSED THIS!!

Nilo: Ameki..has always cherished and favored Lilia, they were like father and son, if anything Ameki died for Lilia to live on

Nilo: *Walks over to Lilia* Don't let his sacrifice for you be in vain, young one

Silvia: Go ahead and grieve sweetheart before we take him back

Lilia: *Looks down, then walks over and sits by Ameki trembling*

Ambert: *Walks over and sits beside Lilia*

Cobra: *Sits on Lilia's right*

Duke: *Tents his wing over them, his ears flattened back*

Revern: *Stands behind Lilia, placing a hand on his shoulder*

Meleanor: *Stands beside Revern, keeping quiet*

Lilia: I'll train hard...and make Ameki proud...

-----

Lilia: *Smiles slightly*

Livia: *Stares then reaches over, growing a few white roses* Thanks for helping Papa, Mister Ameki

Lilia: *Chuckles* He would've loved you, Livia, he's always been fond of playful kids

Livia: *Smiles at him*

Lilia: *Stands up, dusting his pants off* Let's head back, alright?

Livia: *Stands up and pats grass off her dress* Okay!

Lilia: *Chuckles, Livia bounding ahead of him" Hey, careful!

Livia: Alright!!

Ameki(Spirit): *Lays on a tree branch, smiling* Good job kiddo....good job..

@anxious-twisted-vampire @yukii0nna @writing-heiress

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anawrites3 · 1 year

Note

"Honestly, Bruce, what were you thinking?"

Clark sighed exasperatedly as he dodged a porcelain vase flying his way - a third of which shattered pieces were already adorning the wooden floor of King's study chamber - trying to bring himself to be just a little bit more empathetic towards his fellow monarch. He couldn't even recall now how many times has he heard the words "outrageous" and "shameless" this night. If he had to be completely frank with himself although, it was hard. It's not like he didn't feel bad for Bruce when his dear friend found himself in a situation like this, with a choice that was leaving him with no good options. It was only normal that he also felt mad at him since it put his dear nephew in an even worse position.

As a bargaining chip.

"You could've accepted any courtship from so many young and virtuous men!" And Clark remembered many of them and their families taking interest in the young prince as soon as his 16th birthday came; sir Wallace with the brightest smile he's ever seen, lord Queen's charge, prince Roy, even foreign knights like mysterious sir Lucas or sir Raptor seemed bewitched by young prince's charm. Clark found Bruce's overprotectiveness amusing back then, now though..."You should've let them try at least when they asked for Richard's hand, then he wouldn't--"

"I thought" Bruce growled through gritted "I'm giving him a chance. To fall in love, to choose by himself. I thought I'm giving a chance to my son, not to some..." Bruce waved his hand in the direction of his desk where the offending letter lay. "Some old, deprived bastard to ask for him like a war trophy!"

Clark didn't have to look at the letter again, he remembered perfectly the words that horrified him more than his friend's grieving face. Lord Wilson - The Terminator as they called him - whose own kingdom was in a state of war with Gotham for years now, years that took thousands of lives, proposed conflict resolution, a pact that would unite the kingdoms in peace against stronger opponents like Nanda Parbat.

Slade Wison wanted young prince Richard as his spouse - such a small price, a bastard son for peace. A beloved child for the misery of father.

Anon, I love you so much!!! It’s so good ahhh I love royalty aus! I already said it earlier but I’ll say it again - I’m having love/hate relationship with you rn because ITS SO FREAKING GOOD but because of it I almost wrote a whole fic in this reply! I hope you don’t mind me adding to your idea, I really couldn’t stop myself! You guys seriously need to tell me if you’re okay with me writing about your ideas when you send me asks haha

Slade is a sly fucker for using a war like this, damn. And I love how Dick is a bastard son. Or maybeee people just think about him as a bastard son because Bruce took him in and he’s not a royalty by blood. UGH I LOVE IT!! Oh and I really like that Clark is here as well!

Thank you so much for sharing with me! I had to write something for you and I tried to keep it short but... well, see for yourself I guess

/ / / / / / /

"You should have let those men interested in Richard get closer to him." Clark spat out. He knew that there was nothing they could do about it now, knew that Bruce hated the situation even more than he did but he needed to let those words out. "You should have let them at least get to know each other so then Dick would be able to decide for himself. But no, you were just scaring them away instead and now-"

Another vase crashed against the wall where Clark was standing just a moment ago. Bruce grabbed another thing close to him - a potted plant, as there were no more vases left - but before he could throw it at Clark as well, another voice spoke up.

"You're making a mess." Dick said quietly from the doorstep. He had his arms wrapped around himself and looked smaller than a prince ever should. "Other people will have to clean it up for you."

"Dick..."

"I've thought this through." Dick began in a mostly steady voice, not looking at any of them. He wet his lips nervously. "Well, there wasn't really much thinking to do but still... I'm- I'm going to accept Lord Wilson's offer."

The pot slipped out of Bruce's hand and hit the floor loudly, spilling the dirt all around the king's feet.

"No." he said firmly, when he finally found his voice back.

"Bruce-" Clark tried gently but the man ignored him.

"No, Dick. I'm not letting you-"

"Then what do you want to do?" Dick demanded. He looked up at his father at last, his eyes red and rimmed, expression taut as if he was in pain. "What else can you do? Do nothing and just let even more people die in this damn war? Wait a few more years so Wilson'll ask for Jason instead when he gets old enough?"

Bruce stumbled as if he was punched. Clark didn't blame him, feeling himself like he was about to collapse.

"Dick-"

"We don't have a choice, Bruce. And I know you know it." Dick straightened with a shaky breath. "As a crown prince, it's my responsibility to take care of my people. I'm not letting them die for a war that has no purpose. If it takes just one to save hundreds- thousands... then I'm ready to do it."

- - - - -

Dick looked out of the carriage's window, trying to get his hands to stop shaking.

Bruce demanded a meeting before giving Wilson their answer and the king of a neighboring country agreed without any further demands. All warfare was suspended now that the peace treaty was being arranged but their warriors still waited with a held breath - none of them could know whether an agreement would be reached.

Dick knew. There was no way he would ever allow more people to die for nothing, not if he had a way to stop the war. Agreeing to Slade's terms was his decision, it was for the better of both countries. Still, thinking about it like that didn't help with stopping the trembling of his hands.

He met Slade Wilson only a few times in his life but he knew how powerful that man was. There was something about him, something that screamed danger. He had this aura around him that made others fear him, made them want to run away even with being aware that turning your back to him might be fatal. But with that fear came respect. Wilson was a good king, people were saying, he was rigorous but fair.

Maybe he would be a good husband as well.

"We're almost here." Clark announced softly and Dick lifted his head to stare at the castle looming in the distance.

"Oh." he breathed out quietly. He sent his uncle a small smile. "Thank you."

"Of course." Clark replied with a smile of his own, though a bit more forced. He wasn't happy about the deal either. No one was. Even Jason grabbed at his sleeve this morning and tried to stop him from leaving.

Bruce didn't look up. He was staring at his knees with a frown since the moment their journey started and it was clear he was thinking about something hard. Dick placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

"It's the best solution." he said when he met his father's eyes.

Bruce placed his hand on top of his and closed his eyes with a tired sigh. He looked so old, so fragile. Not like the proud king he should be.

"Maybe..." Bruce began slowly in a raspy voice. "Maybe if we offered him something else. We still can-"

"He won't agree. You know he won't."

"Maybe it won't be that bad..." Clark offered weakly but Bruce just glared at him.

"I'll be alright." Dick assured them.

He really tried to believe those words himself as the carriage stopped in front of the castle’s entrance.

- - - - -

Slade was already waiting for them in the throne hall when they arrived. He was talking with one of his generals but quickly turned their way when they stepped inside the room. His single eye immediately found Dick and the young prince hid his trembling hands behind his back.

He felt as if his heart was beating loud enough for Slade to hear it even across the giant hall.

"King Wayne. Lord Kent." Slade greeted them with a nod, standing up from his throne. The smile on his lips was a little bit too predatory for Dick's liking. "Prince Richard. Welcome. I’m honored to host you in my country.”

Dick bowed his head. "Your Majesty."

"We appreciate your hospitality, Your Majesty." Clark said, ever the diplomat. “We are aware it was all pretty sudden.”

Not even a week passed since they received Slade’s letter. No one could blame Dick for wanting to stop the war as fast as possible - there was no point in delaying what they all knew would happen anyway.

"Not at all." Slade replied easily, his eye never leaving Dick. No one said a word about the grim expression on Bruce's face. "It's recommended for me and Prince Richard to get to know each other better after all."

"Don't get ahead of yourself. You still didn't get your answer." Bruce hissed through his teeth.

That at least made Slade look away. Dick could breathe a little bit easier without that heavy pressure on him.

"Of course not." Slade hummed. He glanced at Dick again. "You're free to stay here as long as you want before answering to my offer. We all know that reaching an agreement, especially in war times, takes a lot of time and thought."

Bruce pursed his lips into a thin line but before he could answer, Clark placed heavy hand on his shoulder and spoke for him,

"We're grateful for your generosity, Your Majesty, but I’m afraid we won't be able to stay for long."

"I wasn't talking to you. My offer concerns Prince Richard, does it not?" Slade's fingers wrapped gently around Dick's hand and guided it to the king's lips to place a kiss there. "By all means, my prince, make yourself at home."

Part 2 Part 3

#my reply #anon #sladick #dickstroke #deathwing #my writing #damn i love royalty aus #dunno if i can write them #but i love them #i like.. cut all of those scenes in a half because i seriously would write a whole ass fic #great idea #i wanted to write about jason talking with dick about the whole thing too #no bad ana you have other stuff to work on #i need to write my own royalty au soon #sladick royal au

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haleyboook · 2 years

Text

Protecting the ones you love pt. 1

Covers the series, Obi-Wan Kenobi, and I only own Demi and May-Lind all other characters and story lines are owned by Star Wars, of course (not my gif credit to pedropcl) obi-wan x named reader

Word count: 1,752

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

Obi says "We must take them somewhere where the Sith will not sense their presence."

"My wife and I will take the girl. We've always talked about adopting a baby girl."

I look towards the senator as Obi nods and he asks "And what of the boy?" Yoda says "To Tatooine. To his family send him. And May shall keep with Leia."

Obi says shocked "What?"

I give him a warning glance and Yoda says "She shall stay with her. You keep watch of the boy."

Jedi aren't meant to have romantic relationships

Love leads to attachment and attachment leads to strong emotions, which is the path to the Dark Side of the Force.

Because of this, Jedi are forbidden to fall in love.

He knows that.

But Obi-Wan is attached. As am I but he is failing to hide his true feelings

"Leia will be safe in their care you don't think having May Lind here, to help with the boy would be useful?"

I shake my head to Obi and he silences. He nods saying "I will take the child and watch over him." Yoda nods saying "In your solitude... training I have for you. Your old master. How to commune with him I will teach you."

I look down at my hands in my lap and that's how it happens. How we all agreed on seperating. The senator requests my assistance with Leia and I'm separated from Obi quickly

Approaching the medical bay I spot two cribs. I smile and walk over

My hand rests into each crib and I say "Hi... guys. It's May, May Lind. You won't remember me Luke but you look so much like your mother and father. Already. And Leia... we'll be seeing a lot of each other it seems."

I smile to them as Luke's hand wraps around my finger. I feel my bottom lip quiver and Yoda enters saying "There is no room for emotions like that Young Master."

I swallow my tears and say "Forgive me, Master Yoda, but I can't help but grieve the ones I've lost... the ones I'll never see again."

I look towards Obi as he speaks with the senator and Yoda says "Attachment leads to strong emotions. You must'nt lead you to the dark side."

"Yes... Master Yoda." I frown as he walks away. I lift Luke and Leia. I smile widely and Obi steps in the room, pausing at the sight of me.

I calmly say to Luke "You get to be with family and Obi. He'll make sure you'll always be safe. Master Yoda is wrong about one thing... I think I'll always be attached to the both of you. Your parents, I loved Padme. She was like my sister and Anakin... I watched him grow up. I watched them both.."

Obi interrupts "And now you'll watch Leia grow."

I turn around with the twins, looking to Obi. I nod sadly and say "Right."

I attempt to provide him a smile and he steps forward, uncrossing his arms and looking down to Leia. He looks up meeting my eyes, "You're still so stubborn."

I shake my head scoffing and say "Very funny."

He swipes my tears saying "This isn't going to be an easy goodbye."

Quickly I nod and mutter "God sometimes being a jedi is so inconveinent."

He laughs and I set down the twins. My arms wrapping around Obi-Wan tightly. He tightly holds onto me and says "I wasn't expecting this much loss in this close of a proximity of each other.”

"It's for the safety of the twins... I owe it to Padme. I owe it to the good Anakin that was corrupted by the darkside. I should've been a better role model. They saw our blatant avoidance of the jedi law and followed our suit."

He shakes his head saying "It is not the same. Not even close."

I sigh saying "This isn't goodbye."

He nods and I kiss his cheek as he says "We'll see each other soon. Soon. I promise."

Nodding he kisses me and I heave a sigh as I pull away. "Master Yoda would be so angry with me."

"He isn't here." Obi kisses me again.

I pull away, taking steps away from him saying "Don't make this more difficult. Obi. I can't easily leave you. But I have to."

He nods saying "I wish you the best."

"You too Master Obi-Wan."

He frowns saying "Keep safe Master May-Lind."

10 years later:

"demi!" I call out as I step into the woods. I look around sighing. "Now where have you and Leia ran off to now, hm?"

I hear giggling and I quickly spin around spotting the two girls. I leap towards both of them, both screaming loudly and giggling as I scoop them up into my arms.

Demi shouts "No! Mother!"

I smile widely saying "Come on, you don't like my cuddles anymore? Hm? You too Leia?"

She rests her head on my shoulder saying "Only when I'm tired." I nod saying "And you're tired and Miss Demi isn't?"

"Demi never gets tired."

I look to her and say "You two get more and more cute every day." Leia says "Okay. I'm ready to be put down."

"A few more moments. I need to savor you two being so young and cute for a little longer."

"Mother! We want to go see the forest more."

I set them both down and say "You two stay together and as soon as Queen Organa comes looking for you, you both need to high tail it back into the castle."

They both give me a wide smile, Leia missing a few less teeth then Demi. I smile to them and watch as they sprint off.

I retreat back into the castle and watch from the windows. Breha Organa approaches me and says "They've ran off into the woods?"

I nod saying "Yes. Lola should lead you right to them."

She smiles saying "Demi looks so much like her father these days." I pause and say "Yeah, she doesn't get the hair color from me. And the blue eyes."

Breha smiles saying "I'll go bring them in, get them prepped for the event."

I watch the girls enter the castle and Demi says "Would you miss me, Queen Organa?" Breha looks to Demi saying "Of course I would. I'd miss you both. Dearly."

Demi looks to me and I say "I would be heartbroken without the two of you. Hm? So no running off during these events. I think I would fall asleep if I didn't have the two of you with me."

They laugh to me and Leia says "Like the time you fell asleep and your face fell into a bowl of soup!"

I sigh and say "I was very tired okay?"

They giggle and Breha chuckles "Yes. Having a little one is very exhausting."

Leia interrupts "Demi show them what you can do. Mother we found out she can do something really cool."

I tense up and my fear rises as I fear that Demi's abilities are beginning to be shown.

Demi hiccups loudly and Leia goes into a fit of loud giggles. Breha and I chuckle and heave a sigh of relief.

I smile to Demi saying "Very cool. Now scooch your kaboose we have places to see and be."

They giggle as I direct them forward, Leia branches off with her parents to greet her family that's arriving now.

I remain in the party quarters as Droids set up the event. I watch as Demi helps the droids set up and quickly after the room fills with guests

Breha meets my eyes and I quickly redirect Demi towards Leia as I fix her dress and hair. "Be on your best behavior. Understood?"

Demi smiles to me and nods. I unknot the few strands of hair in her face and say "Okay, go. Find Leia."

She goes to run and I mutter "Walk. Don't run."

She stops running and walks to find Leia. Someone approaches on my right saying "Is she yours?"

I look to the woman and nod. "Yeah. That's my daughter."

she says "do you and her father live here with the Organa's?"

I narrow my eyes at the ground and look to the woman being invasive. "No. Her father passed away before she was born. It's just me and her. We are only visiting."

"Oh, I'm so sorry for your loss."

I nod and say "Would you excuse me? I need to go handle one thing."

I quickly walk away, my fist tightening as I attempt to swallow my anger

Leia and Demi quickly thank the droid that dropped off their food "Thank you Y-O." they say in unison and Leia's cousin says "You thank your droids?"

Leia shrugs saying "It's good manners.”

"You don't need manners when you're talking to a lower life form."

Leia sasses back "Then I guess I don't need manners when I'm talking to you."

Demi giggles as the cousin shakes his head. He says "You know the difference between you and me, cousin? I know things. You know, my father says they never let you leave this planet. Ever. They don't want anyone to know about you because you're not one of us. You're not even a real Organa. And you, you don't even have a father. You don't even know anything about who you came from. You don't belong here either, Demi."

"My father was a Jedi." Demi says on the verge of tears

"I don't believe you. My father says he's probably nothing more than a pilot who didn't want commitment. Jedi don't have children."

Leia defends "You're scared of him. Your father. You want him to like you so you repeat what he says even though you don't really know what it means."

Demi says "You think being like him will make people frightened of you."

Leia nods saying "But really, you're the only one who's scared. You've never made one decision for yourself in your entire life, and you never will. I may not have seen much, cousin. But I can see that."

Breha and Bail look to me as I rub my temples attempting to just block these obnoxious guests out

Demi separates from Leia as they pull her away to speak to her. Demi looks to me and I lift her.

She says "Mother?"

"Yes dear?"

"Who's my father?"

Oh dear...

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

next part >>

eeeekkk!! guys the season premiere was SO good. I couldn’t resist!! Soooo meet “your daughter” Demi! Named after Padme, nickname being demi but full name being Padme Kenobi-Starling.

What were your thoughts on the first two eps of the series?

#obi wan kenobi #obi-wan kenobi #obi-wan x reader #obi-wan kenobi series #jedi #star wars #protecting the ones you love #ewan mcgregor #star wars fic #star wars fanfiction

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dexrm · 1 year

Text

kare no hime | 彼の姫

This story will contain mature themes. Read at your own risk.

Grieving over Sukuna’s death led to a a new beginning in your life. Slowly recovering from what happened, you decide to move out of that village.

Chapter eight - New beginning

Previous chapter

Next chapter

The first thing you experienced when waking up was a headache. Your head felt like something was pounding it from the inside. Like someone set fire in there.

It was your shared room with Sukuna. You could tell.

Except, multiple things were missing. Sukuna’s old robes, his mattress, and his small drawer where he keeps hidden stashes of confectionaries. You spotted two dust bunnies and a small spider web on the ceiling. The pot of flowers you left by the window have withered and died from the lack of water.

You attempt to stand up. And you did. Successfully.

Looking at your hands, you were startled by how ugly they were. The tip of your fingers were swollen and dry to the point bits of skin started to fall off.

You stumble back onto your mattress in disbelief of how hideous your hands look now. You started to shake, covering yourself with the blanket, which wasn’t enough.

The sound of a you bawling echoes. It never happened before when you talked. It just happens, you were alone.

He is gone.

Unable to stand the pain of losing your beloved, you cry into your pillow, unbothered even if the neighbours could hear you. The man you trusted the most was gone. He wasn’t coming back. Whether you screamed or cried, it didn’t matter, you couldn’t even tell at this point.

Footsteps approached your bedroom.

“May I come in?” Aoi’s voice asked. She slid open the door.

Aoi was wearing an all white kimono. Anju was next to her, wearing the same colours. Her face had heavy dark circles and has gotten skinnier.

“Fushiguro, the children and I will be leaving this village,” Aoi weakly whispered. “The villagers think Tsuku is Ryomen Sukuna.” she didn’t make eye contact. She just stared at the floor. “You may come with us, but we won’t help you find his body.”

“I’ll do it,” you scramble up and grab Aoi’s hand. “I know where he was last,” you cry.

Aoi gently holds your hand.

“For sixteen days, you have been nonstop waking up from a nightmare and then falling back to sleep. Your injuries have not recovered properly, Fushiguro,” Aoi still didn’t dare look at you in the eye. You weren’t sure if she was sad, or just purely tired from caring for you. She took a deep breath. “We will move somewhere near the capital, I have already informed my husband. Tomorrow morning is when we’ll depart.”

“I’ll think about it,” you whisper. “How is Anfuku doing?”

“In the kitchen. He’s gotten angrier,” Aoi gaze darkened. “His obsession has only gotten worse. He’s especially angry with the fact there was no cremation ceremony.”

Aoi grabs Anju’s hand, slowly walking away from your room.

You take one step out of room you were confined in for sixteen days. The hallways were the same. Just dirtier.

Steadily, you make sure you don’t fall or trip on the slightly painful journey to the kitchen.

Anfuku was sitting with his legs curled, arms wrapped around his head. He looked up at you when the door slid open. His eyes weren’t red or filled with tears. Just puffy.

“H-hey Anfuku, how are you doing?” you ask, entering the room.

“Why didn’t you bring his body back?” Anfuku yelled.

The silence only made you feel worse.

“I couldn’t, Anfuku,” you stutter. “My body was weak from the cold. Tsuku was too big and heavy for me,” you begin to swallow your agony. “He wasn’t going to make it, Anfuku.”

The child glared at you.

“If there is no body to prove he’s dead, he’s still alive!” Anfuku shrieked and begins bawling. Not in a bratty way. He was genuinely so heartbroken to see Sukuna gone. “We need to search for him!”

You kneel and wrap your arms around him.

“It’s going to be okay,” you hush him.

The following day was quiet.

Until Toji Zenin appeared at the house again.

“I heard you guys are moving?” he asked Aoi, sitting in the living room with her.

“Yes,” Aoi replied, her voice was now toneless. “We cannot stay here anymore.”

“Not yet!” Anfuku begged. “We don’t know if he’s actually dead!”

“Anfuku,” Aoi’s voice was stern for the first time. “Tsuku’s body has probably been taken by the wolves by now. It’s not worth going back in the forest.”

“I’ll look for Tsukus body if that makes you happy, Anfuku!” Toji smiled.

Your eyes widen at his sentence.

“Oh no, please don’t. It is too cold for you to do that,” Aoi quickly retorted. “Anfuku is just a child, he will get over it in a while.”

“I have thick clothing suitable for the cold Japanese winters, Aoi,” Toji then looked at you. “If I can confirm his body isn’t there, Anfuku can’t do much after that, can he?” his gaze flickers with the uneasy, but flirtatious kind of fire. “Fushiguro can lead the way.”

They all looked at you.

“I-I can,” you pushed yourself to speak.

“In fact, we can leave right now,” Toji stands up.

The path to that exact forest haunted you.

Even in your nightmares.

“Now we’re out of the village,” Toji’s tone transitioned quick. “Who is that man?” he looks down at you with an empty stare. “Why aren’t you with Ryomen Sukuna?”

“The man was my fiancee,” you reply, careful with how your face reacted to his words. “I do not know where Ryomen Sukuna is.”

“Bullshit,” Toji laughed quietly to himself. “Ryomen Sukuna doesn’t let his slaves go that easily, he either eats them or kills them.” he continued to laugh to himself about how ridiculous it was you managed to escape.

“Why was I the bait?” you ask.

He stops laughing.

“What bait?” he asked.

“You placed me near the village he was massacring, why?”

“I wanted you to cook for him and stay by his side, I guess I wanted to see how he reacted,” Toji casually replies, as if you could’ve died.

“What about my family?” you lash out. “Did he kill them?”

“Woman, I didn’t contact them ever since the wedding night,” Toji seemed relatively calm seeing you stressed.

You felt the pain inside you working up again. You shut your eyes tightly to avoid crying in front of that man.

“Let’s go,” Toji nudged you. Not even a drop of sympathy.

You took one step, and then another. The snow was not as heavy this time. But you had trouble remembering what directions you took. After all, it’s been a couple of days.

“Why do you want to know where his body is?” you ask. He was behind you.

“It’s not anywhere you can find a four armed beast roaming this forest,” Toji smiled. You felt your entire body freeze once again. Toji wasn’t stupid. He never was. A man like him calculates every move and doesn’t spare a detail. “Who knows if your fiancee was slaughtered by Ryomen Sukuna, he wouldn’t allow you to be married.”

“I don’t think Sukuna would care about my marital status,” you continue walking. You tried as hard as you could to remember where you went. All you knew was you went straight, no turns.

“You’re right,” Toji was now beside you, laughing. “The fact you even survived a day with him is impressive, Fushiguro,” his oddly casual voice made you shiver.

It was that hill.

You recognized it despite the lighter snow.

There were no traces of blood or dead man. It was nothing but sticks and dead grass. Slowly approaching the spot where he passed, you felt your stomach drop.

Nothing. Whatever took him didn’t spare a single bone.

“Are you sure it was here?” Toji asked.

“I’m sure.”

Toji takes a closer look, leaning in his head.

You swear you saw a smile just flash upon his face.

“I guess Ryomen Sukuna didn’t spare your husband,” Toji immediately walked away.

“How do you know he killed him?” you didn’t move. You then sat down.

“What else could have happened?” Toji turned around to see you sitting. “Your husband know’s nothing of jujutsu,” he bended down to stare at the almost crying you.

You put your arms around your knees.

“You.. “ Toji stopped at that word to close his eyes for a moment. “You should get over it.” his sharp, cold tone made you snap.

“You never loved your fiancee,” you whisper is a rather aggressive manner. Standing up and quickly storming back onto the path back to the village.

You knew that Toji was behind you. You felt so many emotions, unable to describe them. But what made you feel horrible was the fact Toji never felt sympathy. Both Sukuna and Toji were heartless monsters who manipulate vulnerable people for their own gain.

Walking faster wasn’t an option. He would catch up.

“Why did you use me as a bait for Sukuna?” you firmly asked. “Why did you use me as a bait while knowing I will probably die?”

The sound of Toji’s footsteps stopped.

It was silent for a moment.

Toji frowns, walking past you.

“There’s a reason why I chose you over your sister,”

You spotted Anfuku in front of the house, sitting. He had his little hands on his cheeks, patiently waiting for you.

“Anfuku,” you call out.

“Did you find him?” he practically jumped from the staircase racing towards you.

You bend down to meet the young boy’s face.

“We couldn’t find his remains. I’m sorry,” you whisper.

Anfuku pushes you onto the ground. You didn’t realize how strong and rough a little boy could be until now. His eyes teared up as he punched you in the arm.

“Tsuku is the strongest man alive, he would never die!” he screamed, running back into the house. Anfuku left a bad bruise on you, and yes, it hurt. But he was a child. A child who couldn’t accept reality. You couldn’t blame him.

You feel a sharp presence behind you.

“What a brat,” Toji laughed.

Unphased by Toji’s comment, you don’t reply. Instead, you head back inside the house. Only a few hours, you were tired. You wanted to sleep. Sleep for a long time. Preferably not wake up until you see him again.

The bed you went to sleep in was comfy that evening.

You find yourself on a bridge. A stone bridge, carefully carved. There was a pond underneath with lily pads. White water lilies laid on the pads. A beautiful, slender crane stood on the edge of the pond. The crane just stood there.

Walking towards the crane, you still keep a decent distance between you and the animal. You notice something else.

Sukuna.

He now was on the opposite side of the pond.

Rushing back to the bridge, he glares at you.

You stop.

That was not your fiancee. That is Ryomen Sukuna.

It was quite chilly in the middle of the night, you still managed to have a panic attack from the dream. You missed him. You missed his touch. You missed everything about him.

Sliding the room door open, you walk past Aoi and Anfuku’s room while putting on a warm robe.

The moonlight was bright tonight.

You remember your conversation with Sukuna on a full moon night. Then it all washed upon you. Sobbing started again. That imaginary fox you met in Kyoto told you you’d bring misfortune to the men around you. It was unclear if it’s an actual god, or jujutsu tricks. But in the end, what the fox said was true. You were the reason why Tsuku was dead.

“You should shut up,” a pissed off voice from on top of the roof yelled.

You knew it was Toji, but you couldn’t stop. It just made you even sadder. He wouldn’t understand. He would never.

Spotting his face peeking from the roof, you see his pink face and drowsy expression stare at you.

“Why are you crying? Shut up!” he held up a big brown jug and poured clear liquid into his mouth. Even with the chilly air, you could smell the alcoholic beverage; sake.

You wipe the tears, sniffing.

“Y-you should go back inside, it’s cold inside,” you avoid eye contact, walking back to the front door.

Toji’s hand suddenly flew down the shingles, hanging from the roof, just inches away from your forehead.

He grabbed your wrist and lifted it. Feeling a few seconds of elevation, your entire body flew onto the roof with his strength.

“What do you want?” you snap, standing up on top of the shingles. The view was indeed nice. You could see the forest from the top.

“Do you want to know why I used you?” Toji whispered, pouring even more sake into his mouth. He laid down. “I hate you. I really hate you.”

You feel your entire body ache.

He looked at you with furious, yet calm eyes.

“Women like you irritate me,” Toji continued with his rant. His widened eyes were now slightly red. “Women like you.. I hate you.” Toji’s tone sharpened.

Feeling slightly hurt, you choose to ignore his words. You look up at the sky. You knew you were someone with proper morales. Toji had no valid reason to hate you. Right?

“Do not ignore me,” Toji drowsily said. He reached for your hand and squeezed it. Thank god he didn’t have nails. “Don’t you think I’m handsome?” he laughed.

He stared at you.

You shake off his hard grip.

“I didn’t know someone like you drinks,” you finally reply.

“You’re right,” he lifts the pot sized jug as if it they were feathers. “I hate the taste of alcohol,” he continues to pour the liquid into his mouth, wide open. “Fushiguro, do you want to know why I hate alcohol?” he didn’t even give you time to respond. “When I was little, my uncle used to force me to chug down alcohol as a punishment. Good thing is, you can’t feel anything after drinking!”

You then thought of your own life.

You were the youngest of three. There was your older sister and brother, and you. The favoritism was inevitable. Your older brother was obviously the golden child--because he was a man. Men could work. Men could study. But thankfully, he was a kind man, but didn’t speak to you very often. Between you and your sister was much more complicated. Your sister was elegant and intelligent, to a degree where you thought she was smarter than your brother, who has a teacher. She was the one who taught you calligraphy and reading. You still weren’t sure why your parent’s chose you over her to marry Toji. Not only was she older, her beauty and skill in the arts could not be compared to you.

“Do you think I’m beautiful?” you bluntly asked.

“You have pale skin, red lips, I don’t know the standards..” Toji replied.

You turn to directly face him.

“My sister has always been considered more beautiful than me,” you smile while speaking.

“Do you know what she doesn’t have?” Toji’s voice deepens.

“What?”

“She doesn’t have the aptitude to deal with Ryomen Sukuna,”

You feel your hands clenching.

“And I do?” you ask, clearly pissed.

“Sukuna doesn’t want a woman who can sing and dance all day,” Toji laughs. “Any women can do that.”

“And what can I do? Cook?” you sarcastically laugh back.

“No,” he responds. “You look like a women he cherished in the past.”

You woke up on that roof that morning.

“Why are you two on the roof?” Aoi shouted, her things packed onto a cart.

“Sorry Aoi, she was sad last night, so I had to comfort her,” Toji almost immediately replied enthusiastically.

He casually jumps down and reaches his hand out for you to jump down.

“Are you ready to leave?” Aoi asked you.

“Y-yes,” you reply.

You go onto the cart as the man in charge of the horses starts whipping them to start running.

The new village was supposedly near Kyoto.

Not only was it much smaller than the previous village, but the people there were much more humble and welcoming.

This time, you and Aoi had to share a room. So did Anju and Anfuku. It was supposed to be temporary, according to Aoi.

“Have you heard what’s happening? We are so glad you guys moved to a smaller village like ours,” a lady dressed rather poorly commented as you head out of the new house.

“What happened?” you ask.

“There is this beast massacring villages,” the lady said. “Ryomen Sukuna. Have you heard of him? He’s currently in this area.”

You freeze at her words.

“R-Ryomen Sukuna is dead,” your voice stuttered. “He’s dead.”

“Nonsense! My cousin who works in the south said his friend was killed by that beast,” the woman went on. “That was just a few days ago.”

#sukuna #ryomen sukuna #jjk #jjk fanfic #Jujutsu Kaisen #jujustsu kaisen x reader #toji x reader #Toji #toji fushiguro #toji zenin

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istumpysk · 2 years

Text

Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ADWD: Daenerys II (Chapter 11)

"Who is that weeping?"

"Your slave Missandei." Jhiqui had a taper in her hand.

"My servant. I have no slaves." Dany did not understand.

lmfao.

Not again! Don't you hate it when your own slaves servants don't play along??

"No. Your Grace, forgive this one her outburst. Your slave's name is Missandei, but . . ."

"Missandei is no longer a slave. - Daenerys III, ASOS

There will be more if we remain. The slaves are weak from the march."

"Freedmen," Dany corrected. "They are slaves no longer." - Daenerys V, ASOS

+.+.+

"How many dead?"

Reznak wrung his hands. "N-nine, Magnificence. Foul work it was, and wicked. A dreadful night, dreadful."

Nine. The word was a dagger in her heart.

+.+.+

Grey Worm answered. "Your servants were set upon as they walked the bricks of Meereen to keep Your Grace's peace. All were well armed, with spears and shields and short swords. Two by two they walked, and two by two they died. Your servants Black Fist and Cetherys were slain by crossbow bolts in Mazdhan's Maze. Your servants Mossador and Duran were crushed by falling stones beneath the river wall. Your servants Eladon Goldenhair and Loyal Spear were poisoned at a wineshop where they were accustomed to stop each night upon their rounds."

Poisoned. . . arrows?

I'm probably being paranoid again, but crossbow bolts had me instantly thinking about dragons and scorpion bolts, so I'm including this to be safe.

+.+.+

"Your servants have arrested the owner of the wineshop and his daughters. They plead their ignorance and beg for mercy."

They all plead ignorance and beg for mercy. "Give them to the Shavepate. Skahaz, keep each apart from the others and put them to the question."

"It will be done, Your Worship. Would you have me question them sweetly, or sharply?"

"Sweetly, to begin. Hear what tales they tell and what names they give you. It may be they had no part in this."

Wait for it.

+.+.+

"Nine, the noble Reznak said. Who else?"

"Three freedmen, murdered in their homes," the Shavepate said. "A moneylender, a cobbler, and the harpist Rylona Rhee. They cut her fingers off before they killed her."

[...]

"We have no captives but this wineseller?"

"None, this one grieves to confess. We beg your pardon."

Mercy, thought Dany. They will have the dragon's mercy. "Skahaz, I have changed my mind. Question the man sharply."

"I could. Or I could question the daughters sharply whilst the father looks on. That will wring some names from him."

"Do as you think best, but bring me names." Her fury was a fire in her belly.

Didn't have to wait long!

Just a little bit of torture, no big deal guys.

I wonder how old those daughters are? She never asked.

+.+.+

"I will have no more Unsullied slaughtered. Grey Worm, pull your men back to their barracks. Henceforth let them guard my walls and gates and person. From this day, it shall be for Meereenese to keep the peace in Meereen. Skahaz, make me a new watch, made up in equal parts of shavepates and freedmen."

No more of my valuable soldiers dying. My freedman can die instead.

+.+.+

Skahaz, make me a new watch, made up in equal parts of shavepates and freedmen."

"As you command. How many men?"

"As many as you require."

Reznak mo Reznak gasped. "Magnificence, where is the coin to come from to pay wages for so many men?"

"From the pyramids. Call it a blood tax. I will have a hundred pieces of gold from every pyramid for each freedman that the Harpy's Sons have slain."

That tells me the Unsullied are not being paid.

+.+.+

That brought a smile to the Shavepate's face. "It will be done," he said, "but Your Radiance should know that the Great Masters of Zhak and Merreq are making preparations to quit their pyramids and leave the city."

Daenerys was sick unto death of Zhak and Merreq; she was sick of all the Mereenese, great and small alike. "Let them go, but see that they take no more than the clothes upon their backs. Make certain that all their gold remains here with us. Their stores of food as well."

Excuse me?

+.+.+

"Magnificence," murmured Reznak mo Reznak, "we cannot know that these great nobles mean to join your enemies. More like they are simply making for their estates in the hills."

"They will not mind us keeping their gold safe, then. There is nothing to buy in the hills."

"They are afraid for their children," Reznak said.

I was reading chapter discussions on westeros.org, and some people thought Reznak was acting suspicious here.

This is not suspicious. This is a level-headed man saying things that need to be said. This is what good counsel looks like.

+.+.+

Yes, Daenerys thought, and so am I. "We must keep them safe as well. I will have two children from each of them. From the other pyramids as well. A boy and a girl."

"Hostages," said Skahaz, happily.

Thanks to Ned and Robb I can't roast her ass for this.

A ward in name, a hostage in truth. Half his days a hostage . . . but no longer. - Theon I, ACOK

Additionally, the Lannisters shall deliver ten highborn hostages, to be mutually agreed upon, as a pledge of peace. These I will treat as honored guests, according to their station. So long as the terms of this pact are abided with faithfully, I shall release two hostages every year, and return them safely to their families. - Catelyn I, ACOK

Thanks guys. Way to go.

+.+.+

"Your Grace is kind to this one." Missandei slipped under the sheets. "He was a good brother."

Dany wrapped her arms about the girl. "Tell me of him."

"He taught me how to climb a tree when we were little. He could catch fish with his hands. Once I found him sleeping in our garden with a hundred butterflies crawling over him. He looked so beautiful that morning, this one … I mean, I loved him."

"As he loved you." Dany stroked the girl's hair. "Say the word, my sweet, and I will send you from this awful place. I will find a ship somehow and send you home. To Naath."

"I would sooner stay with you. On Naath I'd be afraid. What if the slavers came again? I feel safe when I'm with you."

From three brothers down to one. :(

That's the second time this offer has been put forward.

"I shall keep you by my side to speak for me as you spoke for Kraznys. But you may leave my service whenever you choose, if you have father or mother you would sooner return to." - Daenerys III, ASOS

Naturally I can't find a source for it right now, but the original plan on the show was for Missandei to abandon Daenerys, and return to Naath. Hmmm.

I don't have enough for a theory, but I would not be surprised if Missandei finally accepts this offer, and Daenerys doesn't take it well.

+.+.+

She was the blood of the dragon. She could kill the Sons of the Harpy, and the sons of the sons, and the sons of the sons of the sons. But a dragon could not feed a hungry child nor help a dying woman's pain. And who would ever dare to love a dragon?

No one.

+.+.+

She found herself thinking of Daario Naharis once again, Daario with his gold tooth and trident beard, his strong hands resting on the hilts of his matched arakh and stiletto, hilts wrought of gold in the shape of naked women. The day he took his leave of her, as she was bidding him farewell, he had brushed the balls of his thumbs lightly across them, back and forth. I am jealous of a sword hilt, she had realized, of women made of gold. Sending him to the Lamb Men had been wise. She was a queen, and Daario Naharis was not the stuff of kings.

"It has been so long," she had said to Ser Barristan, just yesterday. "What if Daario has betrayed me and gone over to my enemies?" Three treasons will you know. "What if he met another woman, some princess of the Lhazarene?"

Daario and his two women.

The thing about Cersei's paranoia is that every once in awhile she's correct. So. . . parallels? :D

+.+.+

The old knight neither liked nor trusted Daario, she knew. Even so, he had answered gallantly. "There is no woman more lovely than Your Grace. Only a blind man could believe otherwise, and Daario Naharis was not blind."

+.+.+

A bath will help soothe me. She padded barefoot through the grass to her terrace pool. The water felt cool on her skin, raising goosebumps. Little fish nibbled at her arms and legs. She closed her eyes and floated.

A soft rustle made her open them again. She sat up with a soft splash. "Missandei?" she called. "Irri? Jhiqui?"

"They sleep," came the answer.

A woman stood under the persimmon tree, clad in a hooded robe that brushed the grass. Beneath the hood, her face seemed hard and shiny. She is wearing a mask, Dany knew, a wooden mask finished in dark red lacquer. "Quaithe? Am I dreaming?" She pinched her ear and winced at the pain. "I dreamt of you on Balerion, when first we came to Astapor."

"You did not dream. Then or now."

"What are you doing here? How did you get past my guards?"

"I came another way. Your guards never saw me."

Uh oh! Someone got past the guards, and snuck up on Daenerys!

Why does Quaithe keep doing that??

She is standing over me. "Who's there?" Dany peered into the darkness. She thought she could see a shadow, the faintest outline of a shape. - Daenerys III, ASOS

WHAT DOES IT MEAN?

+.+.+

"Are you here?"

"No. Hear me, Daenerys Targaryen. The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame, lion and griffin, the sun's son and the mummer's dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the Undying. Beware the perfumed seneschal."

"Reznak? Why should I fear him?"

Oh god, here we go.

The glass candles are burning.

Is Quaithe using a glass candle? Is this a Marwyn warning? Is this a Citadel warning? Is this a Samwell/Alleras warning?

I don't know.

Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Kraken and dark flame -> lion and griffin -> the sun's son and the mummer's dragon.

These are grouped together, and it's implied she will encounter these people in the order it's presented.

The pale mare.

The bloody flux. This is also one of Daenerys's three mounts.

Many were sick, most were starved, and all were doomed to die. Daenerys dare not open her gates to let them in. She had tried to do what she could for them. She had sent them healers, Blue Graces and spell-singers and barber-surgeons, but some of those had sickened as well, and none of their arts had slowed the galloping progression of the flux that had come on the pale mare. - Daenerys VI, ADWD

Kraken and dark flame.

Victarion (kraken) and Moqorro (dark flame) are travelling together to Meereen.

Victarion donned a tall black warhelm, wrought in the shape of an iron kraken, its arms coiled down around his cheeks to meet beneath his jaw. - The Iron Captain, AFFC

His skin was black as pitch, his hair as white as snow; the flames tattooed across his cheeks and brow yellow and orange. - Tyrion VIII, ADWD

Interesting fact of the day, this was changed from the original draft.

The glass candles are burning. Soon comes the pale mare, and after her the others. Crow and kraken, lion and griffin, the sun's son and the mummer's dragon. Trust none of them. Remember the Undying. Beware the perfumed seneschal.

It used to be Euron and Victarion.

You might disagree, but I think taking Euron out suggests the author doesn't want Daenerys to know which kraken she shouldn't be trusting.

Lion and griffin.

At the moment, Tyrion (lion) and Jon Connington (griffin) are also travelling to Daenerys.

It's guaranteed Tyrion will convince Daenerys to let him serve her, which probably means she'll conclude the lion is Jaime and/or Cersei Lannister. Small problem, the lion is in fact Tyrion, and he will betray her.

Kind of starting to look like Daenerys might assign these warnings to the wrong people, eh?

Why, isn't that exactly what Cersei's doing with her own prophecy? Crazy!

The sun's son and the mummer's dragon.

Quentyn Martell (the sun's son) and Aegon Targaryen VI (the mummer's dragon).

Oops, wait a minute.

Why are these two characters grouped together?

Quentyn Martell is the first person to meet Daenerys, why has the order suddenly changed?

Why is Quentyn Martell the sun's son instead of the sun like every other character represented by their sigil?

"We will not be alone. Dorne will join us, must join us. Prince Aegon is Elia's son as well as Rhaegar's." - The Lost Lord, ADWD

Elia's son... I would weep for joy if some part of my sister had survived, but what proof do we have that this is Aegon? - Arianne I, ADWD

"I... it would give great joy to my father if Elia's son were still alive. He loved his sister well." - Arianne I, ADWD

Why is Quentyn Martell untrustworthy? We have Quentyn's internal monologue, we know his motivations. He's no threat to her. They meet, and he dies. Why would she be warned about him?

Daenerys, who is notoriously awful at interpreting prophecies and warnings, believes Quentyn is the sun's son. Why am I not questioning that?

She told me of the Dornish prince as well, the sun's son. She told me much and more, but all in riddles. - Daenerys VIII, ADWD

Could it be that the author intends for Daenerys to be deceived? Could it be that Aegon VI is actually the sun's son and not Quentyn Martell?

But then who would be the mummer's dragon?

<- Jon III

It is too cold for this mummer's show, thought Jon. "The free folk despise kneelers," he had warned Stannis. "Let them keep their pride, and they will love you better."

It was the girl who held them here, Lord Eddard's blood, but the girl was just a mummer's ploy, a lamb in a direwolf's skin. - A Ghost in Winterfell, ADWD

God, I wonder.

Moving on.

Beware the perfumed seneschal.

Tell me, was Selaesori Qhoran a triarch or a turtle?"

The red priest chuckled. "Neither. Qhoran is … not a ruler, but one who serves and counsels such, and helps conduct his business. You of Westeros might say steward or magister."

King's Hand? That amused him. "And selaesori?"

Moqorro touched his nose. "Imbued with a pleasant aroma. Fragrant, would you say? Flowery?"

"So Selaesori Qhoran means Stinky Steward, more or less?"

"Fragrant Steward, rather."

Tyrion gave a crooked grin. "I believe I will stay with Stinky. But I do thank you for the lesson." - Tyrion VIII, ADWD

Should I be looking for stinky instead of perfumed? Should I be looking for sweet things or foul ones?

Is the trading cog Selaesori Qhoran (Fragrant Steward) that's carrying Jorah Mormont, Moqorro, and Tyrion something I should be considering?

Ser Jorah stood behind her sweltering in his green surcoat with the black bear of Mormont embroidered upon it. The smell of his sweat was an earthy answer to the sweet perfumes that drenched the Astapori. - Daenerys III, ADWD

Is it Reznak? (No. She thinks it's Reznak.)

Is it Varys? Is it Illyrio? Is it another perfumed steward?

I don't know.

+.+.+

What do you want of me, Quaithe?"

Moonlight shone in the woman's eyes. "To show you the way."

"I remember the way. I go north to go south, east to go west, back to go forward. And to touch the light I have to pass beneath the shadow." She squeezed the water from her silvery hair. "I am half-sick of riddling. In Qarth I was a beggar, but here I am a queen. I command you—"

I go north to go south -> Sansa [Unreliable narrator Daenerys, it's to go north, you must journey south.]

east to go west -> Arya

back to go forward. -> Bran

And to touch the light I have to pass beneath the shadow. -> Jon

What do you want of me, Quaithe?

You already know my feelings on this. Quaithe never helps Daenerys in any way. Similar to Maggy the Frog, she only confuses her, and fills her head with paranoid thoughts. My god, every time she appears she seemingly mocks Daenerys with her own death. How can this person possibly have good intentions? This is not her friend.

Also, it's kind of starting to remind me of something else.

He saw traitors everywhere, and Varys was always there to point out any he might have missed. - Jaime V, ASOS

With Varys whispering in his ear, King Aerys became convinced that his son was conspiring to depose him - The Kingbreakers, ADWD

+.+.+

"Daenerys. Remember the Undying. Remember who you are."

"The blood of the dragon." But my dragons are roaring in the darkness. "I remember the Undying. Child of three, they called me. Three mounts they promised me, three fires, and three treasons. One for blood and one for gold and one for …" [↓ ↓ ↓]

"Your Grace?" Missandei stood in the door of the queen's bedchamber, a lantern in her hand. "Who are you talking to?"

Kudos to @sherlokiness for picking up on this hilarious pattern.

She was Daenerys Stormborn, the Unburnt, khaleesi and queen, Mother of Dragons, slayer of warlocks, breaker of chains, and there was no one in the world that she could trust. [↓ ↓ ↓]

"Your Grace?" Missandei stood at her elbow wrapped in a bedrobe, wooden sandals on her feet. - Daenerys VI, ASOS

+.+.+

"Who are you talking to?"

Dany glanced back toward the persimmon tree. There was no woman there. No hooded robe, no lacquer mask, no Quaithe.

A shadow. A memory. No one.

AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA.

She let them get a long way ahead, then went creeping after them. Quiet as a shadow. - Arya III, AGOT

"And who are you, child?"

"No one." - Arya II, AFFC

+.+.+

She was the blood of the dragon, but Ser Barristan had warned her that in that blood there was a taint. Could I be going mad?

Yes.

+.+.+

When Reznak and Skahaz appeared, she found herself looking at them askance, mindful of the three treasons. Beware the perfumed seneschal. She sniffed suspiciously at Reznak mo Reznak. I could command the Shavepate to arrest him and put him to the question. Would that forestall the prophecy? Or would some other betrayer take his place? Prophecies are treacherous, she reminded herself, and Reznak may be no more than he appears.

I've got to say, none of this is terribly subtle.

Younger and more beautiful, she said. ". . . another queen, who would take from me all I loved."

"And you wish to forestall this prophecy?"

More than anything, she thought. - Cersei VIII, ADWD

I'd be willing to bet a lot of money that Reznak will not be safe around Daenerys for much longer.

+.+.+

Dany grimaced. Even her own people would give no rest about the matter. Reznak mo Reznak stressed the coin to be made through taxes. The Green Grace said that reopening the pits would please the gods. The Shavepate felt it would win her support against the Sons of the Harpy. "Let them fight," grunted Strong Belwas, who had once been a champion in the pits. Ser Barristan suggested a tourney instead; his orphans could ride at rings and fight a mêlée with blunted weapons, he said, a suggestion Dany knew was as hopeless as it was well-intentioned. It was blood the Meereenese yearned to see, not skill. Elsewise the fighting slaves would have worn armor. Only the little scribe Missandei seemed to share the queen's misgivings.

[...]

"Your Radiance has seven gods, so perhaps she will look upon my seventh plea with favor. Today I do not come alone. Will you hear my friends? There are seven of them as well." He brought them forth one by one. "Here is Khrazz. Here Barsena Blackhair, ever valiant. Here Camarron of the Count and Goghor the Giant. This is the Spotted Cat, this Fearless Ithoke. Last, Belaquo Bonebreaker. They have come to add their voices to mine own, and ask Your Grace to let our fighting pits reopen."

[...]

One by one, each of them asked her to let the fighting pits reopen. "Why?" she demanded, when Ithoke had finished. "You are no longer slaves, doomed to die at a master's whim. I freed you. Why should you wish to end your lives upon the scarlet sands?"

"I train since three," said Goghor the Giant. "I kill since six. Mother of Dragons says I am free. Why not free to fight?"

I have no real comment, but it's important information for the future.

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"If it is fighting you want, fight for me. Swear your sword to the Mother's Men or the Free Brothers or the Stalwart Shields. Teach my other freedmen how to fight."

Goghor shook his head. "Before, I fight for master. You say, fight for you. I say, fight for me." The huge man thumped his chest with a fist as big as a ham. "For gold. For glory."

Did he just say the men who fight for Daenerys aren't fighting for themselves? Lol.

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Daenerys felt trapped. "And the losers? What shall they receive?"

"Their names shall be graven on the Gates of Fate amongst the other valiant fallen," declared Barsena. For eight years she had slain every other woman sent against her, it was said. "All men must die, and women too … but not all will be remembered."

Yay it's back!

I checked, she doesn't have the next chapter.

+.+.+

Dany had no answer for that. If this is truly what my people wish, do I have the right to deny it to them? It was their city before it was mine, and it is their own lives they wish to squander.

No.

+.+.+

Ser Barristan escorted her back up to her chambers. "Tell me a tale, ser," Dany said as they climbed. "Some tale of valor with a happy ending." She felt in need of happy endings. "Tell me how you escaped from the Usurper."

"Your Grace. There is no valor in running for your life."

Dany seated herself on a cushion, crossed her legs, and gazed up at him. "Please. It was the Young Usurper who dismissed you from the Kingsguard …"

Would that make Jon, Sansa, Arya, Bran, and Rickon the Young Usurper's Dogs?

+.+.+

"Joffrey, aye. They gave my age for a reason, though the truth was elsewise. The boy wanted a white cloak for his dog Sandor Clegane and his mother wanted the Kingslayer to be her lord commander. When they told me, I … I took off my cloak as they commanded, threw my sword at Joffrey's feet, and spoke unwisely."

"What did you say?"

"The truth … but truth was never welcome at that court.

Wait for it.

+.+.+

I was gathering my things when it came to me that I had brought this on myself by taking Robert's pardon. He was a good knight but a bad king, for he had no right to the throne he sat.

Tells you a lot about Barristan Selmy that that's the reason why he believes Robert was a bad king.

You couldn't possibly prepare yourself for what comes next.

+.+.+

That was when I knew that to redeem myself I must find the true king, and serve him loyally with all the strength that still remained me."

"My brother Viserys."

Yeah, wow. Speaking of bad kings.

And don't think for a second he didn't know.

Prince Viserys was only a boy, it would have been years before he was fit to rule, and . . . forgive me, my queen, but you asked for truth . . . even as a child, your brother Viserys oft seemed to be his father's son, in ways that Rhaegar never did. - Daenerys VI, ASOS

I hate Barristan Selmy. What a loser.

+.+.+

The day Lord Stark lost his head, I was there, watching. Afterward I went into the Great Sept and thanked the seven gods that Joffrey had stripped me of my cloak."

"Stark was a traitor who met a traitor's end."

"Your Grace," said Selmy, "Eddard Stark played a part in your father's fall, but he bore you no ill will. When the eunuch Varys told us that you were with child, Robert wanted you killed, but Lord Stark spoke against it. Rather than countenance the murder of children, he told Robert to find himself another Hand."

"Have you forgotten Princess Rhaenys and Prince Aegon?"

"Never. That was Lannister work, Your Grace."

"Lannister or Stark, what difference?

The truth … but truth was never welcome at that court.

+.+.+

"Lannister or Stark, what difference? Viserys used to call them the Usurper's dogs. If a child is set upon by a pack of hounds, does it matter which one tears out his throat? All the dogs are just as guilty. The guilt …"

Have you lost your tongue?

I believe she was about to say the guilt lies with those who give the command, and those who follow their orders.

Mercy, thought Dany. They will have the dragon's mercy. "Skahaz, I have changed my mind. Question the man sharply."

+.+.+

The guilt …" The word caught in her throat. Hazzea, she thought, and suddenly she heard herself say, "I have to see the pit," in a voice as small as a child's whisper. "Take me down, ser, if you would."

Oops, someone remembered they have their own dogs.

That's progress! Usually the glaring hypocrisy flies right over her head.

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The servants' steps were the quickest way down—not grand, but steep and straight and narrow, hidden in the walls.

You have no idea how excited I got.

Nothing developed.

+.+.+

What sort of mother lets her children rot in darkness?

If I look back, I am doomed, Dany told herself … but how could she not look back? I should have seen it coming. Was I so blind, or did I close my eyes willfully, so I would not have to see the price of power?

Reading this and knowing she'll free them is so fun.

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Viserys had told her all the tales when she was little. He loved to talk of dragons. She knew how Harrenhal had fallen. She knew about the Field of Fire and the Dance of the Dragons.

Oh good, you have the blueprint.

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And there were songs beyond count of villages and kingdoms that lived in dread of dragons till some brave dragonslayer rescued them.

I can't wait!

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At Astapor the slaver's eyes had melted.

I was waiting for an Azor Ahai hint, and the author did not disappoint.

<- Jon III

Once Azor Ahai fought a monster. When he thrust the sword through the belly of the beast, its blood began to boil. Smoke and steam poured from its mouth, its eyes melted and dribbled down its cheeks, and its body burst into flame.

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Her name had been Hazzea. She was four years old. Unless her father lied. He might have lied. No one had seen the dragon but him. His proof was burned bones, but burned bones proved nothing. He might have killed the little girl himself, and burned her afterward. He would not have been the first father to dispose of an unwanted girl child, the Shavepate claimed. The Sons of the Harpy might have done it, and made it look like dragon's work to make the city hate me. Dany wanted to believe that … but if that was so, why had Hazzea's father waited until the audience hall was almost empty to come forward? If his purpose had been to inflame the Meereenese against her, he would have told his tale when the hall was full of ears to hear.

The name will be forgotten by the end of the book.

And at some point in TWOW she'll no longer believe the father.

Subscribe to my Patreon for more obvious predictions a child could make.

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The Shavepate had urged her to put the man to death. "At least rip out his tongue. This man's lie could destroy us all, Magnificence." Instead Dany chose to pay the blood price. No one could tell her the worth of a daughter, so she set it at one hundred times the worth of a lamb. "I would give Hazzea back to you if I could," she told the father, "but some things are beyond the power of even a queen. Her bones shall be laid to rest in the Temple of the Graces, and a hundred candles shall burn day and night in her memory. Come back to me each year upon her nameday, and your other children shall not want … but this tale must never pass your lips again."

"Men will ask," the grieving father had said. "They will ask me where Hazzea is and how she died."

"She died of a snakebite," Reznak mo Reznak insisted. "A ravening wolf carried her off. A sudden sickness took her. Tell them what you will, but never speak of dragons."

Robb Stark with the comeback victory!

"No word of this must leave Riverrun," her brother Edmure said. "Lord Tywin would . . . the Lannisters pay their debts, they are always saying that. Mother have mercy, when he hears."

Sansa. Catelyn's nails dug into the soft flesh of her palms, so hard did she close her hand.

Robb gave Edmure a look that chilled. "Would you make me a liar as well as a murderer, Uncle?" - Catelyn III, ASOS

All of this reminds me of something.

"A folly," sighed Tyrion. "When you tear out a man's tongue, you are not proving him a liar, you're only telling the world that you fear what he might say." - Tyrion III, ACOK

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Once, not long ago, he had ridden on her shoulder, his tail coiled round her arm. Once she had fed him morsels of charred meat from her own hand. He had been the first chained up. Daenerys had led him to the pit herself and shut him up inside with several oxen. Once he had gorged himself he grew drowsy. They had chained him whilst he slept.

Rhaegal had been harder. Perhaps he could hear his brother raging in the pit, despite the walls of brick and stone between them. In the end, they had to cover him with a net of heavy iron chain as he basked on her terrace, and he fought so fiercely that it had taken three days to carry him down the servants' steps, twisting and snapping. Six men had been burned in the struggle.

This is the second time we're getting Rhaegal fighting in chains coming off a Jon chapter.

Rhaegal could sense something wrong as well. Thrice he tried to take wing, only to be pulled down by the heavy chain in Jhiqui's hand. - Daenerys III, ASOS

Not to mention that juicy chapter transition.

+.+.+

And Drogon …

The winged shadow, the grieving father called him.

I can't tell if this is a coincidence or not. Too many shadows in this story, including Ghost.

<- Jon III

Jon watched Stannis descend from the platform, with Melisandre by his side. His red shadow. She never leaves his side for long.

Melisandre being Stannis's Drogon is hilarious.

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He was the largest of her three, the fiercest, the wildest, with scales as black as night and eyes like pits of fire.

Um, did he mean to do that?

She was the smallest of the litter, the prettiest, the most gentle and trusting. She looked at him with bright golden eyes, and he ruffled her thick grey fur. - Eddard III, AGOT

I'M WHEEZING.

+.+.+

Drogon hunted far afield, but when he was sated he liked to bask in the sun at the apex of the Great Pyramid, where once the harpy of Meereen had stood. Thrice they had tried to take him there, and thrice they had failed. Two score of her bravest had risked themselves trying to capture him. Almost all had suffered burns, and four of them had died. The last she had seen of Drogon had been at sunset on the night of the third attempt. The black dragon had been flying north across the Skahazadhan toward the tall grasses of the Dothraki sea. He had not returned.

He won't be chained! He won't be restrained! They can't control the dragon!

ha HA, get it??

+.+.+

Mother of dragons, Daenerys thought. Mother of monsters. What have I unleashed upon the world? A queen I am, but my throne is made of burned bones, and it rests on quicksand. Without dragons, how could she hope to hold Meereen, much less win back Westeros? I am the blood of the dragon, she thought. If they are monsters, so am I.

If the shoe fits.

Only a monster would give a living child to the flames. - Jon I, ADWD

Final thoughts:

That was almost as funny as a Cersei chapter.

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#operation stumpy re-read #adwd #daenerys ii

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