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amelee23 · 8 months

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Cleaning supplies... Under the moonlight | Hwang Hyunjin

Pairing: Hyunjin x reader (no pronouns used but they are wearing a swim suit)

Characters: best friend!Hyunjin, reader, David (reader’s boyfriend), Jihyo and Luna (reader’s friends) and Sharon (identity is a spoiler). None of the original characters resemble real people.

Genre: Romance, best friends to lovers, ANGST, hurt/comfort, being saved from a messy break-up, slow burn, star-crossed lovers

Word Count: 8k

Warnings: CHEATING (reader gets cheated on by her boyfriend), toxic relationship, messy break-up, crying, reader becomes very insecure, Hyunjin is there to save the day, and he’s pining hard, reader is wearing a swim suit, I have no idea how heated pools work so don’t quote me on anything, Hyunjin is a poet so; I present to you confessing feelings through love poems, Hyunjin is shirtless, swearwords, reader gets called ‘angel’, kissing, cuddles, a bit of revenge, humor, the tense change is intentional (kinda), hopelessly romantic stuff, poetic prose, metaphors galore and lots of word plays (if you catch them all I’ll give you a gold star.)

A/n: I know the first part of the story focused on the reader’s relationship with her toxic boyfriend, but Hyunjin will become the main focus after the break-up so please don’t let the beginning intimidate you. Also I worked on this an entire week lord send help

Synopsis: Your vacation was supposed to go like this: scented candles, a warm pool and the light of the moon, in hopes of fixing your relationship with your boyfriend. But the universe had other plans. After you found out he has been cheating, you bathed under the moonlight, surrounded by broken roses, being confessed in poems by your best friend Hyunjin, and you’ve never felt so whole.

You've put everything into this vacation.

And that didn't only mean money, albeit it was quite costly. You, your boyfriend and some close friends decided to rent out a vacation house with a gigantic heated pool, to at least create a fun, leisure memory before summertime slipped between your fingers and the sun would grow sad and dim once again. With the price shared by so many people, it was still quite a lot - but you didn't care, because there was more emotion put behind this vacation than mere money.

Perhaps it wasn't the healthiest of solutions, just how when a couple decided to get married to fix their relationship (which to you always seemed like such a horrid idea), you were trying something similar. You wanted this vacation with your boyfriend, David. Things between you haven't been good, that would be the simplest way to put it. His behavior changed, he became more distant, less passionate about your relationship, and one thing led to another and you were fighting because of your growing suspicions. Truth be told, you were terrified. Afraid he didn't love you anymore, afraid he found someone else to spend his nights with.

He had been everything to you, the fiber woven from your cells, the beginning and end of every breath you took - because when you loved, you didn't hold back. And it came to you so naturally, too; to love him. You've never had something so simple, so stable until you met him. But they do say every good thing must come to an end, and there's this little cricket in the back of your mind, at low volume but at an unbearable high pitch, following you every moment, whether awake or asleep. It's telling you your gut is right. Vivi (so you've nicknamed him, many months ago, when his friends were making fun of how basic the name David is) has told you a million times you had nothing to worry about. That he's just busy, or stressed, or that your love is just settling into something more calm, rather than an intense teenage-like love, like it used to be in the beginning. He's made you feel insane so many times over. Like you're just imagining things, like your insecurities are getting out of hand and you're just projecting on him, lashing out at him. You thought you deserved the pain that came with the accusations of being untrusting, immature, unconfident, inconsiderate or selfish. But you didn't, of course you didn't. You didn't deserve any of that.

You were afraid Vivi wouldn't agree to the vacation, or even if he did, he wouldn't pull through on the money part and you'd have to pay his share. You were ready to annihilate your savings account just for this one chance at a happy memory. This one chance at making things right. But surprisingly, he agreed in a heartbeat and even suggested a specific vacation house he's heard of from his friends. Not even two days later, he had all the details down, made the math of the expenses and put together the whole group chat. You thought this was it, he was actually trying again. Showing you he still does have the passion to make you happy.

You couldn't have picked out a better date for the vacation, either. The first night, it would be a full moon, with a clear sky. You were imagining it already, how magical it was going to be, soaking in a heated pool under the moonlight with David, reciting your love vows once more, like you used to do in the start of your relationship. You couldn't help how hopelessly romantic you were, you needed to let it out, confess disgustingly sappy and cheesy words of admiration. But more than that, you needed him to tell you he loves you. You needed it.

When you arrived, you were met with a stranger who had been waiting for you and your friends at the vacation house. She introduced herself as Sharon, the daughter of the owner. Since her father was busy, she was left in charge of giving you the orientation.

"I'm not going to bother you much." She assured you, her voice was low in volume and yet high in pitch. "I'm just going to give you a quick tour of the rooms and then explain to you how the pool works, and what cleaning supplies you can use just in case you need them." She was a beautiful girl, so beautiful in fact, that the cricket in the back of your mind was telling you to be envious. You couldn't quite understand it, but you brushed it off.

There were three rooms in the house, each of them with their own bathroom. It was so much more luxurious than you imagined, and suddenly it seemed odd that you paid so little for something so grand. You remembered Vivi saying something about a discount, but the memory was vague. Nevertheless, the room count was perfect. One room would belong to you and Vivi, one to Jihyo and Luna, and one to Hyunjin.

You met Jihyo through Vivi, they were coworkers at some point. But the two of you instantly clicked and became girl friends, and the more, the merrier - Luna was her adopted sister, picked up from an orphanage in Spain. She was one of the most incredible and strongest women you've ever met, and you simply adored her. It was so magical to see how the two sisters came in a package, how they looked after each other with unconditional love. You thought something like that only existed in TV shows.

And lastly, there was Hyunjin. A man, a poet, a romantic with beauty deemed worthy of a Greek tragedy. But most importantly, your best friend; your lifeline. He understood you, in ways no one ever could. Your souls were made from the same material, the same thirst of emotions of celestial scales, he saw beauty in the small things just like you did. And he has been there, day in, day out, through your ugliest moments. When you were single at prom, he turned down at least 15 girls to take you instead. When you were too broke to afford Taylor Swift tickets, he pretended to 'roam the city' with you so that you'd listen to the concert from outside the stadium. When a boy broke your heart, he'd turn your pain into the most beautiful poems, and gift them to you in journals filled with drawings of your favorite flowers. He was more than anyone could ever ask for, and you were forever grateful to have such a human in your life. The perfect best friend.

With the tour out of the way, you volunteered to go with Sharon and receive the tutorial about the pool and supplies you must use for it. She explained to you the heating mechanism (although all you needed to do was turn it on, she reassured you.) and that water might need to be replenished if you use the pool a long time since the heat makes it evaporate faster. You jutted down all you could in your notes app, and then followed her to the supply closet. She explained to you about chlorine (although half of what she said went over your head) and showed you the cleaning supplies you can use in the instance that the water becomes extremely dirty (which she knew wouldn't be the case, but she was required to let you know). By the end of it, you were starting to think your senses maybe are going insane. Sharon seemed like a very nice and gentle person, and her attitude was very bright and easygoing. You told her you were gonna take some pictures of the bottles and note down in your phone what they are, so she gave you a warm smile and left you alone in the supply closet.

After writing your own one-thousand-words heated pool manual (pictures included), you were ready to have the vacation of a lifetime. You picked out a swimsuit in Vivi's favorite color, prepared his favorite scented candles to place around the pool, and alerted your friends beforehand that you wanted the pool just for you and Vivi on the first night. It was all coming together perfectly, so you grabbed the door handle with confidence.

"I'm sure my friends wouldn't mind if I leave a little bit later. We could grab some food and then hit up that bar you like? Don't I owe you a mojito?" That was Vivi's voice. Even with the door cracked just a little, you could hear it. It was so clear. It was his voice.

"I would love to." The cricket. Low in volume, high in pitch. It was speaking - it was agreeing to go out with your boyfriend.

"And maybe, afterwards I could take you home? Would you like that?" Your eyes are closed shut. But you couldn't close your ears, unfortunately. The conversation continued, and you could imagine him whispering in her ear, looking into her eyes and tipping her chin just how he used to do with you. Tears were about to escape, so you closed them even tighter. Your lungs were burning, because you were denying them air. Holding your breath, you bit your lip, hands shaking as they gripped the wall.

"Speaking of taking something home, I have something for you-"

You finally took a breath. And you stormed towards the voices.

Your vision was blurry, but after blinking away your tears, an image formed before your eyes: David, holding out a gigantic rose bouquet towards Sharon.

The ugliest flowers you've ever seen in your life, held by the ugliest man you've ever met. He was never beautiful to begin with, right? He couldn't have. A man with such an ugly soul, how could you have been attracted to him? How could you have loved him?

He calls out your name.

"This isn't what it looks like, okay? My dad is friends with Sharon's dad, okay? We became friends by association, okay?"

Okay? Is he asking you that, or is he asking himself if the lie is plausible?

"And these are for you, yeah?" He's walking towards you, putting the bouquet in your limp hand. "There's nothing going on between me and Sharon." The cricket, it suddenly stopped. Instead, you heard Sharon gasp and look at David in horror. She must have not known. She was also just a victim.

"Just stop it already! Enough with the lies!" You found yourself yelling, a never seen before anger bubbling underneath your skin. Your fingertips urged you towards violence, and so you slammed the roses into the floor. The petals scattered and the stems broke. Your yell must have startled the others, because soon you heard a lot of footsteps behind you - and then Sharon turned around and walked away, a hurt look in her eyes, head hanging low in shame. She was avoiding the eyes of all your friends, who were now staring at you and David.

"Okay, fine. You've gotten boring and I was no longer happy. I was going to leave you anyway." He was so nonchalant, there was no waver in his voice. That made you feel as if every time he whispered sweet nothings in your ear, and his voice wavered, he wasn't honest. Only now, has he finally been honest.

And the most honest, he was when he took off in a run to chase after Sharon. To make sure she's okay. To comfort her and tell her she's the one he loves.

You fell to the floor.

And to your side, rushed no other than Hyunjin. Like always, to make sure you're okay. To comfort you and tell you you are loved.

The sobs broke out of your body and shook you violently. You were a mess of tears in just a few seconds, and you weren't going to hold back. You wailed, grabbed the roses and slammed them into the floor repeatedly.

But it was useless. They couldn't feel pain. They couldn't feel your pain. They couldn't realize what they have done to you.

Hyunjin wrapped his arms around your frame and gently lifted you to your feet.

"C'mon, let's get you in bed, yeah?" Your knees were buckling and you had no strength to stand. You were shaking your head no, like a toddler who didn't want to go back home. "We can continue crying in bed, mmm? Don't worry, I'll let you cry. I'll cry with you, angel." Your arms circled his torso, clutching his shirt between your fingers. You called out his name, and he reassured you he knows, he knows it hurts.

He carefully took your hand and dragged you away. He exchanged glances and nodded at your friends, but you didn't notice. You whispered to him, groggy in voice, that you can't go to your own room, because David's things are there. So Hyunjin took you to his room, which was the best choice for many reasons, not only so you can avoid seeing his things, but also so that he could avoid the urge of throwing David's suitcase out the window.

Hyunjin was true to his words. He sat you down in bed, and let you cry. And before he knew it, he was crying with you. He was holding you so tight, and it was so warm, and yet the shards of ice in your heart weren't melting. At first, you were angry - how could a human do something like this? Something so despicable, so vile? How could you not have realized you were in love with a monster? But then, his voice began to ring in your head. You're boring. He was going to leave you anyways. Perhaps it's you who's the problem. Perhaps you really are boring, and old-fashioned, and demanding, and idealistic, and untrusting, and immature, and too much to handle, and perhaps you should just give up because you're just un-

"Hyune, am I unlovable?" Your voice was barely there, but he heard you. He always heard you.

"Nonsense." He looked so hurt to hear you say that. "That's such nonsense." He repeated with a laugh, wiping his tears on his sleeve. "That's the most stupid thing you've ever said in your life. And you've said many stupid things, I would know." You slapped his arm in protest, but he was happy to see you chuckle.

"I mean, even if I'm not completely unlovable, Sharon is still prettier than me..." The flick of Hyunjin's fingers resonated on your forehead. You held your head in pain.

"What the hell, dude!"

"It's revenge! Every single time you say something like that, it hurts me. So I must hurt you back." You sighed. You knew he was joking, but at the same time, there was some truth behind it.

"I'm sorry, Hyune. I should have listened to you. You didn't like him since the very beginning, and you were the only one telling me my gut was right. It must have been so painful to just watch."

"It's painful to watch you now, as well." He confessed, and you felt a pang of guilt wash over you. But he pulled you back in his arms, to pet you hair lovingly. "That bastard, how dare he hurt my angel. I swear I'm gonna turn into Rapunzel's mom and lock you up in a tower so no one can ever hurt you again."

"Hmm, but doesn't pain help us grow or whatever?"

You were pretty sure Hyunjin just rolled his eyes all the way back to China.

"First of all, we all know pain just gives you more trauma. But I mean, your trauma collection is getting quite... exquisite nowadays." You smacked him again, playfully. But this time, you actually laughed. "No but seriously... there is a lesson in there somewhere. And not just to listen to me more often... to learn that you deserve more, angel." He was so close to you while he was speaking, his eyes aimed directly into yours. Your gaze wondered over him, over Hyunjin, your best friend. His chocolate eyes, sweeter than any cake you could ever eat, his vibrant lips, plumper than any wild cherry growing in the trees, his skin - like a canvas painted over the years with the brush of years and aging. His hair was long and dark, rebellious yet elegant, and the light was cascading in the room in lines, through the blinds that were semi-shut over the windows. Suddenly, there was a new sound in your mind. There was no more cricket, there was the sound of the ocean. Waves, crashing upon the shore. You were barely at the seams, the water was gently lapping at your feet; because you knew, you cannot underestimate the ocean. If you go any further, one wave is enough to push you off balance and take you into the water, like an irresistible magnet pulling you towards demise. One step, one wave, is enough. One more inch between your lips and his.

He pushed your shoulder lightly and you fell face first into the pillows.

"And if you say more mean things about yourself, I swear I'm throwing you in the pool." You reached out for the napkins on the nightstand. It was finally time to stop crying and... think about the future?

"The pool... tonight was supposed to be all romantic and perfect, with candles and the full moon on clear skies..."

"I like full moons and clear skies!" Hyunjin announced, and for some reason it made you burst into laugher. "What! It's true! The idiot would have probably not enjoyed it anyways. He has no eye for beauty. He thinks having one green wall in his grey apartment is enough for him to live 'in vibrant color'. Okay Picasso, but like why the fuck must that wall be in the kitchen?!" You look happy when you laugh. He loves seeing you happy. "You dodged a bullet, trust me. First it's the green kitchen wall, next he ignores the perfect date that his perfect girl set up for him-" His perfect girl. You heart was racing. "-and next he-"

"Tries to double tap her with the daughter of a vacation house owner. He couldn't even find the daughter of a rich CEO."

"- I was gonna say next he's the only single grandpa in a retirement home, because he's too sad of an excuse of a man, but that too." Hyunjin always did this for you, as well. He made sure to roast all of your exes until all you could think of them is burnt chicken. Until the memory of them becomes something funny, that could never hurt you again. "Plus, I'm not letting your efforts go to waste - I'm not letting you miss this chance. Let's watch the moon, together."

You nodded. What else could you do?

You decided it would be best to try to take a nap until night hit. So much crying has left you dizzy and with a headache crawling at fast speeds through your forehead and sinuses.

"Do you have any painkillers? Should I try to find a pharmacy around here?" Hyunjin offered, but you reassured him you have some in your suitcase. "Okay, wait here, I'll go get it for you- but uh, which one is yours?"

"The one that has color on it, duh." He disappeared with a giggle, around the corner.

"I will never underestimate you ever again, ma'am." He joked, placing your colorful suitcase next to the bed. He made sure none of your items were left over in the room you used to shared with David, and insisted you stay put while he brings you a glass of water.

Pills in your system, blinds closed, blanket over your shoulders, Hyunjin curled on the other side of the bed, as small as he could make himself be, so that he doesn't make you feel suffocated. But he was holding two of your fingers in his hand, from across the bed. The skin of two fingers was enough pathway for you to feel a million bodies worth of love, though.

When you woke up, he wasn't there. Nor David who was haunting you in your dreams, nor Hyunjin who was whispering poems to you to chase the nightmares away. You thought you'd be alright after crying it out, but it wasn't that easy. You woke up feeling miserable, with a heavy weight on your chest, and yet feeling so empty and hollow.

You checked your phone, and he hasn't called. You didn't know if you should feel sad or relieved about it. At least he won't chase after you again, right? It won't be another hurtful on and off. It's over. He doesn't love you anymore.

"Oh hey, you're awake- Nah ah, no more crying! You've had your fill of tears, now it's time for a fill of pizza! Get your ass to the living room, missy!" You didn't have the time to cry when Hyunjin was chasing you out of the room with a pillow.

It was a little bit awkward at first, because Jihyo and Luna didn't know if they should bring it up or just try to distract you. Eventually you bit the bullet and began to tell them about your relationship yourself. All the behavior changes, the suspicions, the hurtful words (that you now realize were manipulation) and all the lies.

"Not even his guy friends knew." Jihyo told you. She apparently told the whole group chat she was in with David's friends about what he has been doing. "He didn't just lose his girlfriend, I think he lost most of his friends by doing this."

"Thank you, Ji. For having my back." Perhaps your relationships were monster trucks, but your friends were really golden. They really looked after you.

"So!" Hyunjin announced. "Change of plans. She's having a romantic moonlit date with me, instead. So the pool is still off limits." After Luna threw what looked like a piece of olive at Hyunjin's shirt, and he screamed in your ear, eventually the sisters said they were planning on working on their DnD character sheets anyway. They were your favorite nerds.

According to your phone, the moon would begin to rise at around nine in the evening. It was just enough time for the food in your bellies to settle, while you caught up with the new videos of your favorite comedy channel. Laughter filled the room, and Jihyo and Luna made sure to cuddle the heck out of you, to distract you from that emptiness that was threatening to form into a pit in your stomach.

"So, what scented candles do you have? Something sexy and seductive?" Hyunjin asked you, wriggling his eyebrows. It made the other girls giggle.

"Apple." You answered, and the whole room deadpanned.

"In what world is apple sexy?!"

"It's his favorite!" You tried to defend yourself, but Hyunjin just scoffed.

"Jesus fucking Christ, you really needed a new boyfriend." This roast didn't make you grin. It didn't make you laugh. Instead, you looked down at the floor, a sigh shaking your body. As the seconds passed, you began to feel more and more stupid for ending up in this situation. For being so dumb as to let yourself be led on by some pretty words, and pretty eyes, that you could ever be truly loved- "Sorry." Hyunjin apologized in a panic. It just slipped, he had so much resentment bottled up for that man. "It's a good thing I brought some of mine with me. They're not exactly sexy, but they should be more fitting."

"Oh, what scent is it?"

"Ocean." Ocean, the waves that are lapping at your feet. They're calling you over.

Hyunjin was calling you over, to see if you like the smell of the candles. You had gone through too many emotions today: the anger, the sadness, the insecurities, and now this anxiety. Or was it thrill? If you put your ear on Hyunjin's chest, would you be able to hear the waves?

"I'm going to go set these up." He announced, and you nodded.

"I'll get changed." With a skip to his step, Hyunjin walked out and closed the door to give you privacy. You're not even in the water yet, and you already feel like you're drowning.

You fished out your swim suit from your luggage and laid it out on the bed before you. You actually bought this - spent so much money on it - got it in his favorite color - for a man who was cheating on you. You were really regretting not having brought an alternative with you. You couldn't just walk out in underwear and a shirt, right? Better not. You grit your teeth and put it on, but made a mental note to 'accidentally' start a dumpster fire, and 'accidentally' drop the swim suit in it after tonight.

When you were done changing, you found Hyunjin out by the pool. Somehow, he managed to turn it on by himself since you could already see steam coming off of it. He arranged two candles around one corner of the pool (since he only had two) and was probably waiting for you to arrive.

"Oh, angel. That color does not suit you." Hyunjin had always been quite picky when it came to fashion. He had his 'disgusted fashion designer' face on.

"I know, it's-"

"Let me guess, his favorite color? I've seem vomit more vibrant than that." You snorted at the comment. The color was, in fact, quite horrible. "If I wouldn't know how much money you probably spent on that, I'd tell you to set it on fire." You laughed. Great minds think alike.

"I was thinking the same thing." After exchanging grins, Hyunjin seemed to fall into thought. He had that look in his eyes that told you there was a complicated process going on in his mind.

"I'll buy you a new one." Surprised, you cocked an eyebrow at him as you approached the side of the pool he was at. You scooted next to the scented candle he lit, and sat down on the edge. "Careful you don't burn you butt." He joked, and you rolled your eyes at him. The candle wasn't even close to touching you. The water was very warm and calming, you noticed, when you dipped your feet in. It made you want to move even closer to the edge so that your tired ankles would be soothed.

"You don't need to buy me a new one. What would I use it for? I don't think I'll be at any pool again any time soon." A rosy petal tickled your toes and you realized the bouquet had somehow ended up in the water. There were petals and tiny white flowers scattered all around the corner of the pool. It would have been a beautiful sight, if it wasn't so tragic.

"Well, maybe I have been secretly planning a weekend trip to Jeju island for you and I." That surely caught you off guard. You barely had any money left after this vacation, you wouldn't be able to afford a trip to Jeju. He wasn't planning on paying for it all by himself, right?

"I mean, that sounds lovely, Hyune." You replied, even if you had some financial disagreements to talk about later. "But it's september! I don't think I'll be walking around in a swimsuit at the beach in this weather. It's getting chilly." The air was quite cold, you've noticed it ever since the morning. The sun didn't have the same strength as a few days ago - but thankfully the heat coming off of the pool was making it bearable to be out just in a swim suit.

"First of all, summer is a feeling, not a season. And second, I'll just get you one for next summer." Next summer - you almost forgot. To Hyunjin, highschool with you was barely yesterday, and next summer should be in two days. A year was nothing to him when he promised you forever.

"Okay." You replied quietly, swooshing the water around with your feet. You were scared to look him in the eyes, because suddenly you felt so vulnerable. You could trust his idea of forever, right?

"Okay!" He replied with a much brighter note. "With that settled, I'll go get changed for our pool adventure." He walked away, leaving you alone with your thoughts, and the subtle smell of the ocean. It was still calling you, but now you could hear it clearer. You could smell it clearer. One more step, one more inch of your skin under the water, and perhaps you could feel it clearer, too.

The wait would have been agonizing if you hadn't made a friend in the moon as soon as you found it in the sky. She - the moon has always been a she to you - was looking absolutely astonishing . For a second, a very silly second, you thought the moon had done a better job at dressing up for a romantic date than you did. You searched around for the evening star as well, the brightest, most beautiful star in the sky. You hoped if the moon was going on a date tonight, it would be with the evening star. For he was a strong man to always keep his light so bright, to always manage to guide the sailors lost in the night-

Hyunjin came back with a few tiny packages in his hand. He was shirtless; and from waist down he wore swim trunks, an ombre from blue, to light blue, to white. With the way the sky was reflected in the pool, you would think he was trying to blend in with the water.

"Choco?" He nudged you, offering you a golden foil. You took one from him happily, and watched him as he took off an elastic band from his wrist to put his hair up in a messy ponytail. The chocolate he offered you was very delicious, and you guessed also probably very fancy. Hyunjin never held back when it came to pleasing the senses. But you wondered, how come he's offering you something sweet? Wasn't the ocean supposed to be salty?

He also ate a chocolate quietly next to you. The silence was getting heavy, which was very odd. Silence was always comforting next to him, but now, the less he spoke the more you felt confused and lost at sea.

"The bouquet ended up in the water." You told him, trying to make any sort of small talk. He hummed, put away the foil of the sweet treat he consumed, and eased himself fully into the pool. As soon as he was in, he let out a soulful sigh. He adored warm water, and you could tell from his body language, from the way his shoulders slumped and his neck craned to stare at the night sky, jaw wide open in admiration - that Hyunjin was in a happy place. Was it just you who was nervous, then?

To your surprise, Hyunjin pushed through the water all the way to the corner where the bouquet was floating about. He picked it up, and began to crush the flowers in his hand so that the petals would fall. He left the stems empty, and then threw them out of the pool. With powerful motions, he made the water roll in waves, so that the petals would scatter throughout the entire pool.

"Now it's just part of the decorum." He said with a giggle. He approached you, and his hand was warm and welcoming when it gently touched your knee. "Forget who they're from." As he beckoned you to join him in the water, you wanted to let those words hypnotize you. Allow the pain to fade to the background.

You join him in the water, and it embraces you like you were meant to be held in someone's arms your entire life. Even though you are surrounded by those petals - those empty promises, those broken parts of your heart - something inside of you is healing. You are no longer putting meaning or significance onto them. They no longer hold you captive. For that tiny moment, everything is as it should be: there is no other place you should have been. No other person you should have been. And no other person - besides your best friend with a dizzying smile - should have accompanied you that night. It was the universe's plan, and no one could be blamed for that.

The universe is vast. As you look up, through the thousands of celestial bodies before you, you can't pin point any to curse in grief and woe. Furthermore, you can't even name this strange feeling of acceptance. It had just appeared in your heart.

"The sky is so beautiful." You mumble, and Hyunjin almost surprises you when he hums. He looks just as awestruck as you do, and you know for a fact he was the one meant to join you. You watch the rise and fall of his chest, the deep breaths he takes as he says absolutely nothing. He is in a trance, and you are entranced by him.

"The moon and stars are shining for you, my love" You hear him say, but it was quiet, like he wasn't sure of his own words.

"For all that is up there, up above,

In the gentle skies of angels and sinners:

The moon rays and the cheeky glimmers," He takes a pause, as if to rest for a heartbeat and let himself smile.

"They're all but lights to make your eyes shine -

And help you see yourself in mine."

"That's beautiful, Hyune." You complimented. You wondered just how many poems he had stored in his mind and heart. Would you need a library pass to find out? "Who's it from?"

"Oh, he's not a published author." He replied cheekily. "Although he wishes he could be." From the shy yet smug look on his face, it was easy to piece it together.

"Did you write it?"

"Mhm."

"Like, on the spot? Just now?"

"Mhm."

You're absolutely insane!" You tell him with a gentle slap to the arm. He giggles and your heart melts. "I swear there's no human being more talented than you." He looks down at the water and something peculiar sparkles in his eyes. Something naughty, like a child being caught doing something he wasn't supposed to and yet he's unaware, he's proud of the mistake he's done.

"Well, it wouldn't be possible without you." You stare at him in confusion. Is he trying to thank you for supporting him and his passion for poetry? For the validation and reassurance you offer him when he works? It goes without question that you would be supporting your best friend- "Do you want me to recite the poem to you again?" You're confused and caught off guard. Frankly you have no idea what is going on, so you just shrug your shoulders awkwardly.

"Sure, I guess."

While Hyunjin has been standing to your side this entire time, leaning back on the edge of the pool, the scented candle between you two, now he moved to stand before you. He was blocking the moon, invading your senses, a dim light hugging his silhouette.

"The moon and stars are shining for you, my love" He's looking in your eyes, and his hands move to grip the edge of the pool on either side of you head. Your lungs are burning.

"For all that is up there, up above" He looks towards the sky for a split second, and then he looks back at you, his eyes clouding with mist.

"In the gentle skies of angels and sinners:" He searches for you hand in the water, and with the most gentle pull, he brings it to his lips to kiss your fingers. A rose petal slips off of you arm and back into the water.

"The moon rays and the cheeky glimmers," He's smiling. He's in his happy place, and yet, you don't know how to accept that the weight of the ocean isn't trying to harm you.

"They're all but lights to make your eyes shine -" Was he seeing the moon in your eyes?

"And help you see yourself in mine." You were in his eyes. You were. It just took you so many years to see it.

"The moon and stars are shining for me?" You ask; you had to make sure. Your hands were shaking, and a chill ran down your spine.

"My love." He completed the lyric, and you were trying so so hard, to find oxygen in your lungs.

This was exactly were you were afraid of - that one step closer, the ocean waves would take you away, and you'd fall into the dark depths - and ultimately drown. "I'm in love with you." You hear him say. "I know you've been through so many emotions already, and this is just not the right time, because I don't wanna seem like I'm taking advantage of the situation and trying to be some sort of savior to you, but I really am in love with you and I can't stand watching you suffer-"

One of your favorite quotes you've ever read, by a person named Irtiqa Nabi, was 'The sea speaks more honestly to those willing to drown'.

You just had to be willing.

You just had to understand.

You don't need the oxygen.

You take one more, final breath and reach out to kiss Hyunjin before he rambled away all night. His hands fly to embrace you, to cradle your face, to shield you with his body.

It was the most terrifying leap of faith you've ever made, but you finally realized the ocean wasn't evil. It wasn't trying to take your life away or rob you of your heart. No, the ocean was this being full of life, full of warmth; he wanted you to dive beyond the surface. He wanted you to uncover his mysteries. And he loved you so much.

"Wait." Hyunjin pulls away, dazed and with unfocused eyes. He bites his lip. "Are you sure about this? Once you allow me to love you, I won't stop. I don't let go." You look up at him and smile. No matter how many times you tell him, it'll never be enough: he's so beautiful. But tonight, something is different. He's exactly how the universe wanted him to be. Exactly where the universe wanted him to be. So naturally, only poetry could describe the beauty of a man who had found his destiny.

"Make me you last love, Hyunjin." You plead, and his eyes fill with both admiration and tears.

"Oh, I will." He cradles you so gently, and yet so tightly. His long fingers are enveloping your face, his body is swallowing yours like the tide, and he kisses you, again and again. And with each one, you gain life, you gather courage, a new constellation is born inside of you. Astrologers could only dream of uncovering all those new-born stars.

He drags you into the middle of the pool, and guides your legs around his waist. He holds you with ease, and from this angle, when you look down at him all you see is joy. But he hides in your neck, and finds another happy place in there.

You rest your head on his shoulder and look up the sky. The moon rose to a higher position, and she looks so calm, so all-knowing as she beams on you. She knew what was going to happen already, and now she was grinning at you slyly.

"Can you see the moon from there?" Hyunjin asks you, and you hum.

"Mhm. But you can't, can you?" It's not like he's trying, his eyes are closed as he cradles you.

"No, just tell her I said hi." You laugh. You wonder just for how long, has the moon known Hyunjin's secret? "I've got my own night sky right here." He says, as he hugs you even tighter, squeezing you to his chest like you're his childhood teddy bear.

"Cheesy." You mutter, but you place a kiss just underneath his ear. That ear begins to burn, and then his whole face is red (that's why he's hiding it away) and Hyunjin thinks he'll never grow used to it. In fact, he promises himself he won't. He promises to always allow himself to be surprised by just how much you mean to him. Over and over again.

Minutes turn to hours, just like days always turned to years around Hyunjin. Eventually you climb out of the pool to not turn into raisins - but you still continue to be tangled with each other, making up for all the kisses you've missed for all those years you've kept each other at arm's length. It feels like a pipe dream to call him yours, to kiss his lips that felt like clouds, look into his eyes that filled with lightning, listen to the words filled with thunder. And yet, his heartbeat still spoke to you in calm waves-

You and Hyunjin jump from your seats at the sound of something loudly popping. You frantically look around for the sound, and you see Jihyo and Luna, holding a confetti tube towards you. The sparkly paper falls to the floor, while some are carried by the wind towards you.

"Congratulations!" The two cheer, and you can't help but snort. Where did they even get confetti from?

"Now that the cat's outta the bag, the asshole is out of the picture and you're finally dating the right guy-" Luna almost sounds like she's rapping while she rambles, and everyone carries amusement on their faces. "And this guy can stop whining in my ear about how much he wants you-" You turn towards Hyunjin in shock, and he tries to make himself small and hide. He fails. "We can finally have some nice, family fun!"

"I thought we agreed you'd let us have the pool tonight!" Hyunjin argues, but Luna tuts in response.

"So I can just watch you two make out from afar? Nah, I wanna see it in person." With the look of an almost psycho, Luna grabs your leg and pulls you into the pool with her. She splashes you wildly in the face, and soon Jihyo and Hyunjin join you in a water fight even a toddler would easily win.

After a while a whole lot of fun, you approach Jihyo for a light conversation while the other two are struggling to inflate a beach ball.

"Have you known for a long time?"

"About Hyunjin's feelings? No, it was Luna who knew. I didn't know until tonight, honestly."

Hyunjin has been confiding in Luna, it seems. She was the only one who knew his secret - or well, maybe she wasn't. You look up at the moon, and then back at Luna, and something seems to make you laugh.

It is very late into the night, and yet you are all still awake. It came to the point where you had to leave the water, but Luna stops in the middle of the hallway and blocks the path.

"Hey, didn't that girl teach you stuff about cleaning the pool and all?"

You didn't even remember her name by this point.

"Yeah, why?"

"So what cleaning supplies should one use, let's say, if the pool becomes dirty with... An entire luggage worth of clothes and stuff?"

"What?" Hyunjin asks, breaking into a wild laugh, but he feels as if he already knows what Luna is about to say.

"Let's throw David's stuff into the pool." You display a look of horror, but when you look at Hyunjin, you see him comically dash into the house.

You're too dazed to even register when the suitcase showed up in front of your face. All three of your peers attacked the zippers like wild hyenas, and soon your ex's clothes are sent flying into the pool.

"Even his underwear is ugly." Hyunjin says, crumpling it into a ball and throwing it as far as he could into the pool. "I'm gonna need hand sanitizer after this."

You start to enjoy it after a while. Sure, you still tell them to not throw anything electric or expensive in there, like his earphones or watch, but you are the one to chuck his toothbrush in the pool and watch it sink to the bottom.

"Revenge is best served wet, baby." Luna pretends to dust off her hands and leaves the scene of the crime with a deadly hair flip.

Giggling like a bunch of school girls, you part ways to go quickly shower the chlorine away from your bodies. Then you reunite, clad in your comfiest pj's, and cuddle to Hyunjin's chest to listen to the sound of the ocean waves.

"Angel?" He calls out to you, and you look at him with hazy eyes. "Would it be weird or overwhelming if I told you I love you?"

"No." You shake your head and giggle. It's not that it was new information to you, but it did hold a new meaning now. A meaning - you found - you were always craving to reciprocate. Why have you been searching for Hyunjin in all of those people, when he was right there with you, petting your hair and making you feel alive?

"And would it be weird or overwhelming if I said that to you every night?"

"No, I would like that actually." You reach up to kiss him. He welcomes it and chases after your lips, and it's such a new high, that you wish it to turn into a habit.

"Okay." He whispers. "I love you."

"I love you." You reply. You don't say 'me too', you don't say 'i love you too'. Because this is not an action that he does and you copy. No, you love him all on your own. It's so crazy, that you love him independently, and he loves you independently, and yet when you're put together, you form the same constellation.

It's a good thing Hyunjin locked the door, because somewhere around five in the morning you got woken up by loud banging on your door, your handle being shaken erratically and an array of swear words. Hyunjin woke up as well, and you both tried to stifle your giggles, because that night you heard swearwords and insults you didn't even know existed.

By afternoon, when you got out of your room, he was completely gone. Turns out he collected his clothes from the pool and left with them soaking in a garbage bag. Luna had snuck out in the morning to record a video of David, trying and failing repeatedly to fish out his clothes with the stick end of a broom. You laughed so hard it brought you to tears, and when you went outside to check, you saw the only thing left, was a chlorine infused toothbrush sitting sad and depressed at the bottom of the pool.

You blocked him and threw away the memory of him into the sea. You knew the sea would be mean to him, drown him out and silence him. Because the universe wanted someone else to love you.

The moon, the stars, and all the eight seas;

They whispered to you that you had found your destiny.

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mellowswriting · 1 year

Note

hello!! this is probably for sinful sunday but i’d loveeee to see a john price NSFW alphabet, wanna read your take on the captain!!

john price - nsfw alphabet

a/n || I didn’t post this for sinful sunday because I just knew it would be so damn long 💀 I love Captain Price too much smh I wanna eat this man UP

Masterlist | John Price Masterlist

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

This man not only knows how to take care of his woman, but he thrives off it. It makes him feel like a good man, a man deserving of the love you shower him with. Of course, it goes beyond stroking his own ego - you deserve to be cared for and cherished. He’ll be damned if he isn’t going to give you everything and more.

John is a very tactile man. He loves holding you close and letting his hands roam over your body, targeting any sore spots he may have left on your body. The sound of your breathless laughter as his mustache tickles your soft skin makes his chest feel all warm and bright. If you’re up for it, he loves showering with you afterward. If you give him those puppy dog eyes that he loves, you just might be able to convince him to join you for a bubble bath. All the while, he’s checking in with you.

“How’s that feel, love?” John asks, his chin on your shoulder as he holds you close in the bathtub. “Is the temperature okay?”

“Perfect.” You sigh. You can feel him smile against your neck. “Just perfect.”

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

John Price is a man who appreciates a woman in her entirety, but he does have a particular fondness for breasts. All shapes and sizes, he doesn’t have a preference. As long as you’ll let him worship them, he’s a happy man. He loves teasing your nipples until they’re pebbled for him, just so he can

He also has a whole thing about thick thighs. Absolutely loves ‘em. Goes feral for it. He likes squeezing them and nibbling them til he’s left his mark.

He isn’t particularly vain, nor is he self-conscious of his body. If you pressed him hard enough on the subject, he would probably say his hands and/or arms. There’s a gorgeous definition in his muscles that he worked hard for, so he’s proud of them. It doesn’t hurt that he sees how much you admire them, how much you like seeing his hands on you (which is what spurred a particularly erotic night in which he positioned a mirror at the end of the bed and made you watch as he took you apart with those hands you love so much).

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

John loves finishing inside of you. He’s the type of man that buries himself to the hilt, so deep that it hurts. Marking you from the inside like that feels so animal, so possessive. Not to mention this man’s breeding kink - dear lord don’t get me started

That being said, he doesn’t mind coming on your skin. He loves seeing it on your chest (again, he’s a tits man) and your face. He always cleans you up after, all while he murmurs how beautiful you look covered in his cum.

D = Dirty secret (pretty self-explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

He knows it's completely ludicrous and would never happen realistically - but John loves the idea of fucking you in front of the team. He isn’t oblivious. You’re a beautiful woman and the rest of the men can’t help but notice that. Every time he sees Soap drag you in for a hug that looks a little too friendly, or Gaz’s eyes linger on your ass for a beat too long, or Simon staring at you like he wants to eat you alive - John goes a little out of his mind with possessiveness. The idea of bending you over in front of them, letting them watch but not touch, lights a fire in his veins.

He wants them all to know. He wants them to see exactly who you belong to. He wants them to know every time they look at you that John Price is the man that makes you come so hard you black out.

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

John knows exactly what he’s doing. He was, for lack of a better term, a total fucking slut when he was younger. While he doesn’t go sleeping around anymore, all of that experience he got over the years means he knows just how to break you apart. He’s cocky about it, too.

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

Any position where you’re face to face. He can see all those pretty expressions on your face and watch your tits bounce, and he’s a happy fucking man.

Cowgirl makes him go wild. The way your hips roll, your head tipped back as you focus on using him for your own pleasure… he could just about blow his load right then and there. John likes rocking up into you sharply, just to see you gasp and brace yourself on his chest. But for the most part, he’ll just sit back and enjoy the show.

He likes good old-fashioned missionary. Anyone who says it's boring can go fuck themselves. Feeling your legs tighten around his waist, your nails digging into his shoulders, those desperate whimpers right in his ear - all of it makes him damn near feral. Plus, it’s just too easy to transition into a mating press - once again: breeding kink, anyone???

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

He’s more on the serious side of things. If you bump heads or something like that, he’ll definitely chuckle and move right back on to fucking you like his life depends on it. When he’s a little tipsy and the two of you are fooling around, though? He has this dopey little smile on his face because he really can’t believe how lucky he is.

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

His pubic hair is thick and wiry, and has the same coloring as his beard. It leads up into a thinner happy trail. John likes keeping himself well-groomed. If he had it his way, everything would always be neatly trimmed. The lack of time and availability of trimmers on longer missions sometimes get in the way of that.

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

It all depends on the situation. There are times when he’s pure reverence, singing those honeyed praises and looking in your eyes as you fall apart for him. He will murmur how much he loves you, that he’s never letting you go, that you’re the best thing that has ever happened to him in this wretched world.

Then there are the times when you’ve teased and pressed your luck for hours and he bends you over his desk to teach you a lesson. He’s all rough edges and discipline, fiery with the need to put you in your place - and even then, there are little hints of intimacy. It’s in the softness of his eyes when he admires your submissive form, the careful stroke of his fingers along your jaw as he fucks your face.

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

He’s a man with a healthy appetite for pleasure - if you aren’t there or not in the mood, he has no problem taking care of himself. There are times he turns to porn but more often than not, he just admires those pictures you’ve sent him or the little videos of the two of you together.

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

Competence/praise kink - Tell him how good he’s fucking you. Whimper that it's too much, he’s just too good and you swear you’ll die if he makes you come again. It isn’t just a stroke to his ego or his pride. It doesn’t just reaffirm the cockiness he has over how good he is in bed. It makes him feel like a good man, a worthy man. Hell, it doesn’t even have to be sexual to get him going. Every time he does something sweet for you and you give him that honeyed sigh, eyes full of love as you tell him what a good husband he is, arousal stirs in his belly. He can’t help it. He just loves being a good man for you.

Breeding kink - Doesn’t matter if you’re trying for a baby or not, John is indulging in this every single time he comes inside of you. There’s something so animal, so basic about it. Imagining your belly swelling with his child, your body changing and growing because of the seed he planted inside you - fuck, it gets him every single time.

Restraints - He likes tying your hands up. Whether he’s tying them to the headboard to edge and/or overstimulate you until you cry or behind your back while he fucks your face, he just loves watching you tug and pull. You look so cute when you’re all desperate for him.

Edging - There’s just something so sweet about the way you beg him to please, please let you come, you promise you’ll be good, you just need it, you need him - John swears every time you beg, it adds years to his life. Sustains him. But of course, edging leads right into…

Overstimulation - Making you come over and over until you’re trembling and tears run down your cheeks is one of his favorite pastimes.

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

John prefers the bedroom first and foremost. The privacy lets him strip you both down completely naked and really take his time, not having to censor himself or worry about getting caught in a compromising position. The bed is huge and comfortable, and the ease of access means he can fall asleep right there with you and wake you up with more pleasure after a few hours of rest.

If that isn’t an option - which happens fairly often - his office is his next go-to. He doesn’t mind the lack of privacy too much since you look so ridiculously hot bent over his desk with his hand clamped over your mouth. He’ll shush you, his lips brushing your ear as he whispers, “Can’t have the whole team knowing you’re in here takin’ my cock, right love?”

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

If you want to get something out of this man, there’s a very easy formula to follow: get nice and close, press your hand to his chest, and look up at him with those sweet, innocent eyes. Maybe flutter your eyelashes at him, give him that cute little smile. It makes him a horny, thoughtless mess.

John loves watching you work out or spar. Those soft grunts, your muscles flexing and shifting beneath your skin, the muttered curses - he has to leave the training room before everyone sees how hard he is. Has and will continue to use ‘sparring’ as a form of foreplay. I use quotations because there is no real training involved. It’s just an excuse to get his hands on you and feel your body pressed so completely against his. The playful struggle, the laughter that neither of you can hold back, the wriggling of your body beneath his after you let him pin you - it’s enough to have John dragging you off to somewhere at least semi-private.

Seeing you in his clothes gets him going in that warm, fuzzy way. He wants to fuck you slow and soft, cradle your face in his hands while he takes you in the bed you share, feel you cry out his name against his lips as he works you through an orgasm.

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn-offs)

Breath play is a strict no for John. He sticks by the golden rule of squeezing the sides of the neck, not the front. He’s perfectly fine with restricting blood flow to give you that nice little head high, but anything that involves cutting off your ability to breathe is not happening.

He doesn’t like anything harsher than playful, praising degradation. Sure, he’ll call you a slut but only if the words ‘pretty’ or ‘my’ are tacked in front of it. See, he doesn’t like genuinely being mean. It makes him feel bad.

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

If there’s a throne for the King of Pussy Eating, John Price is sitting atop it. Consider it the byproduct of his slutty days. He can take you from zero to coming all over his face in less than a few minutes. And the best part? He isn’t just good at it - he fucking loves it. He’s gotten off just from burying his face beneath your thighs too many times to count. If he had it his way, he would never stop. Feeling your thighs clench around his head, your fingers pulling at his hair, your hips grinding up to meet his mouth - it’s enough to have him coming on the sheets right then and there.

John has a tendency to drag you off at the drop of a hat just to make you come on his tongue. There are moments when he can’t help himself - he just needs it like he needs air to breathe. He likes pulling you into closets and pushing you up against the door - which doesn’t lock, by the way - and just dropping to his knees right there. Before you know it, you can’t even think straight. Two seconds ago, you were working away like a diligent soldier and now your captain has your thigh hooked over his shoulder to get impossibly closer to your pussy. No reciprocation needed. All he wanted was to make you come your brains out. :)

Just the sight of you on your knees for him is enough to have his cock straining against the zipper of his pants. Who can blame him? Someone so gorgeous, so eager, kneeling in front of him, stripping away his clothes just enough to get his cock in your mouth - it makes him feel so desired that it makes him lightheaded. Even though he’s usually the one barking commands all day, John follows your lead. If you just want to take over and please him, he’s more than happy to rest his hand on the back of your head and let you go at your own pace. No pushing, just holding you there. Burying his fingers in your hair to rub your scalp lovingly, letting out those soft grunts and broken praise that sends heat flushing across your cheeks.

In those moments when you need him to be in control, to guide your head with your hair in his fist, he gives it to you - and he gives it good. John takes his time easing his cock down your throat. Each rock of his hips pushes just a little bit deeper until your nose brushes the trimmed hair at the base. The fluttering of your throat around his cock, all hot and wet and perfect, has his voice all rough and rumbly as praise falls from his lips. Even as he fucks your throat, John is gently rubbing your cheek with his thumb or rubbing soothing circles into your hair. He shows you how much he loves you, how much he cherishes the trust you place in his very capable hands.

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

Whatever the moment calls for, that’s what he’s going with.

In those initial moments after waking, John draws you back into his embrace from where you’ve drifted off throughout the night. His hands are slow, gentle in their reacquainting with your body after mere hours apart. Every kiss, every touch, every longing look is drawn out, thick and syrupy with sleepiness and love. It’s tender. Reverent.

When he has you bent over his desk or whisked away into some closet somewhere, there’s no choice but to rush things a bit. BUT! John firmly believes that just because he can’t take his time, doesn’t mean any sensuality has evaporated into thin air. Sure, he may only have ten minutes between meetings to bend you over his desk. That doesn’t mean he isn’t trailing kisses along your shoulder and whispering filthy praise in your ear.

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

Quickies are a necessity in his line of work. Captain John Price is an important man, after all. A few moments together squeezed in between important meetings and whatnot are a necessity if he’s going to keep you both satiated and satisfied. Plus, there is a little thrill to it that he can’t deny. It’s fun to sneak around like a couple of horny teenagers. He tries not to go over the top with how often he brings you into his office “for a quick word” wink wink, nudge nudge. Can’t be too obvious, after all.

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

As long as it follows the golden rule of safe, sane, and consensual, John is definitely down to try new things. There’s nothing wrong with spicing things up every now and then. He’s the type that likes to talk it through thoroughly enough to understand exactly what you want, limits, and everything in between. It’s important to communicate of course but he definitely has a secret agenda. He likes seeing you get all bashful and shy as you explain what you want him to do to you, how you want him to manipulate your body. You get all squirmy in his lap and he loves it.

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

John tends to only go one round - he’s a forty-year-old man, after all - but he lasts so long that one round is all you need. Hell, it's all you can handle. Foreplay is everything in his mind so by the time he’s splitting you open on his cock, he’s made you cum at least once. Usually twice if he has his way and another before he finally finishes inside you. The feeling of your pussy quivering around him always does him in, leaves him a pussy drunk mess.

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

He has one for himself. Nothing special, just a little silicone toy he got himself as a treat. Once you come into his life, though? At least two vibrators are added to his little collection. He isn’t the kind of man that gets insecure over adding toys into the mix - in fact, he thinks they can be a lot of fun. A vibrator is a perfect addition to those edging sessions he loves to inflict upon you.

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

Every now and then, John gets this wild urge to literally tie you down and tease you for hours. There’s something about being so purely in control that turns him on beyond belief. Every time you squirm and beg and plead, he shushes you and rubs your thighs, tells you to stop interrupting him while he’s eating you to his fill. Don’t worry, he’ll let you come. Eventually.

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

John isn’t loud when he fucks, but he never shuts up. His voice is rough, all low and rumbly and delicious as he praises you. He just can’t help himself. After mastering the art of being silent thanks to his years living in barracks and dorms in the military, he’s all too eager to voice his pleasure. Not that you mind, of course. That filthy mouth of his only serves to turn you on more with how well he uses it. Even when his mouth is, uh, otherwise occupied, he’s still groaning into you like he’ll die if he can’t vocalize how crazy you make him.

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

John loves cockwarming. He lives for those moments when he has you on your knees, tucked beneath his desk as his cock rests in your mouth. His right hand scribbles away at the paperwork in front of him and his left rests on your head, petting your hair lovingly. So if you have an oral fixation (like I do), then Price is your man. 100%.

He also has toyed around with the idea of a formal D/s relationship. Nothing too intricate or outlandish, just roles for the two of you to slip into when the moment is right - and the moment is right fairly often. There’s a natural air of dominance about him

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

Let’s just be frank here: seven inches and thick.

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

How often does he want to fuck you? Constantly. He wants you to be a thoroughly fucked out mess any chance he gets. Real life doesn’t exactly allow for that kind of indulgence, though. Instead, John settles for every few days. He really takes his time with you, wants to make it count every time - just to see you melted into a puddle of pleasure and overstimulation.

That being said, he isn’t a stranger to tugging you into some secluded area and getting a little handsy. Just because there isn’t enough time to fuck you doesn’t mean he can’t get you both off. He can’t count the number of times he’s locked you both in some random supply closet and fallen to his knees to eat you out against the shelves. Or how many times he’s let you jerk him off in the dingy bathroom of some shitty bar.

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterward)

John doesn’t like being the first one to fall asleep afterward. Even when he’s exhausted and his eyes ache to close, he has to make sure you’re taken care of first. If you just curl up into his side and fall asleep, he’s happy to wrap an arm around you and follow your lead. When you do need his attention, you get it without fail - even if his voice is all rough and sleepy while he does it.

#john price x reader #john price x you #john price x reader smut #john price smut

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oksana-moods · 4 months

Text

Queens of Promise - Final Part

Summary: The journey is a work of art, they say. And if to grow one needs to bleed, then you certainly paid your price.

A/N: Writing this part was one of the hardest things I’ve done. Nothing seemed fit, nothing seemed good enough for a Last Part. There were some feelings or emotions that I couldn’t quite grasp, unfortunately, so to give you this part without stalling any further, I decided to move on with what I had. Hope you guys like it. Thank you to the ones who stayed or kept asking for the end of this story. Thank you everyone who spared a time of your life to read my work. And to the ones who shared some love, thank you.

As always, it means the world to me.

Previous Parts here

Warnings: Game of Thrones kind of violence, language. Mentions of blood and death.

“We were the Kings and Queens of promise We are the Queens”

Your limbs hurt, it feels like daggers are piercing through your skin with every step taken, yet you’re standing. It’s astounding.

Just like the people of Taharr, who gathered under the castle walls alongside the river shores from both sides. From your point of view they looked like ants, but there were more than thousands willing to pay their respects, their last courtesy to Queen Calanthe. The Strong Lioness.

The Lords, Ladies and other knights were allowed inside the castle walls and would attend the ceremony on the inner patio, the one with the river view.

However, you and a very selected few were in the winter garden, where there were statues of the former kings and queens, soon there would be one of Calanthe too. Too soon for your liking.

Many rivers grew or were born from a mountain of rocks, but the “Castle River” started from inside the boulders and rocks where Triskelion Castle was built in, its first appearance was, in fact, in the winter garden.

This spot of crystal clear water had a coffin boat on it, beautifully decorated with golden lionesses and adorned with chrysanthemums, your mother’s favorite flowers. They were simple - misunderstood she used to say, but they were always pretty.

Usually, the ceremony occurred on the seashore, at Pierce Coast, however, contemplating the attacks and the coup attempt, you had decided to stay and proceed with the burial in the capital, from the castle.

You knew how far you could shoot an arrow from this height and considering the winter garden stood close to fifty meters from the ground, would be a long shot. She deserved no less.

Three women covered from head to toe in full white gowns with golden lines forming some sort of pattern arrived at the garden where you stood and started to enchant their elder song.

It was always beautiful to watch, but the lines of the old druid poem touched a little too close this time.

The elder song was meant to guide the spirit to afterlife, the lines referred to the circle of life provided by the water. Every energy, every soul, everything was water. The flow of the universe.

You tried, but it was impossible not to share a tear or two as the last verse was sung. The song was about to end, your mother’s time as ruler was about to end. This was a reality that you did not want to acknowledge.

Your mother was gone.

And you were alone.

As the song ended, the men close to the boat looked at you expectantly, looking for your signal to release your mother on the river, to go down with the flow. As her boat was released, you tightened the grip around the bow on your hand.

Your knuckles hurt, but everything in you hurts, there’s nothing new.

You casted your eyes downwards, following the boat but also watching as the others knelt as it passed by, never stopping, the water flow was inexorable just as life was.

It was painful, it was raw. It was true.

The seconds passed and your eyes burned just as your heart was, it was time for you to shoot your arrow in flames, only you couldn’t. After your shot, there was no turning back.

Maria, who stood several steps ahead, looked back at you. Even without words you knew what she meant. It was time. But you couldn’t.

She nodded, encouraging you to lift your useless arm and loose the arrow as you were supposed to. But you couldn’t.

You looked down at the fire pit in front of you, waiting to kiss your arrow and, as the flames danced, you blinked your tears away. Your hands were shaken.

“How can you shoot so far, mother?” The childish voice made the woman look down at you and she smiled that tender smile of hers.

“Practice, love.” She approached you with her bow, beautifully crafted and adorned with rubies, she extended it to you and encouraged you to hold it properly.

Now, standing right behind you, she commanded. “Take a deep breath and, as you do, pull the string with your other arm.” You did as you were told and she kind of guided, kind of corrected your movement. “Take your aim and release.”

Your movement faltered. “How do I aim, mother?” You heard a snort a second later after your question.

“Both eyes open, love. Choose your target and point the arrow at it, that’s your aim.” She instructed and guided your little hands. “Never lose sight of it. inhale, exhale, release.” Her voice was soft in your ear.

It was a little overwhelming. Only ten summers had passed for you, but your training was intensive. You wanted to play gobstones, wanted to play pass the ball, throw your hat, all the games the other kids were playing, yet, you couldn’t. Your free time was scarce as a breeze during summer. As a future ruler, you were supposed to train, study, observe, learn. There was no time for anything else.

“I can’t do this, momma.” You muttered after a second, for your arms got too stiff and shaken, you lowered them before you could loosen the arrow.

“Why not?” She inquired, never leaving her place behind you.

“My arms hurt. I’m terrible at this.” You confessed. From all the activities she requested for you to take, bow and arrow was the worst. You were the worst at it.

A second snort was heard and she squeezed your shoulder lightly. “Your arms will hurt if you overthink. Do it swiftly.” After a light tap on your chin, you turned your face to her. “And you’re not terrible, you’re afraid of failure. Don’t be.”

“What if I miss?” You blinked as she laughed lightly at your question.

“If you miss, you go and take another shot.” Her smile could light up the whole world. “Failing is to give up, so there’s no failing, as long as you try again. Be stubborn.”

At this, your face lit up like a tree during the summer festivals. “I can be stubborn!” You offered as if this was all that was missing in your life for you to accomplish your goals. Maybe it was.

With renewed interest and spirit, you turned to your target once more and pulled the string again, following her guidance as if it was a recipe.

“Don’t overthink.” She muttered behind your ear and hell, you heard her smile when you did as told. Your hand let go of the string and your eyes followed your arrow until it reached the target, almost a hand away from the bullseye, it wasn’t perfect, but you were content.

You could be stubborn.

A hand on your shoulder brought you back to reality and you blinked again at the arrow on your hand, begging for you to bathe it in flames and let it paint the blue sky.

“You can do this.” Carol Danvers smiled softly by your side and you clenched your jaw.

Taking a deep breath, your arm pulled the string until it reached your cheek and you could see the flame dancing on the tip of your arrow, the boat caught on your blurred vision.

Inhale. Exhale. Release.

Thousands of eyes followed as the arrow crossed the sky on that pale morning. As it flew, your heart hammered your ribcage.

You let out a low whistle when the arrow missed the boat and dived a foot away from the boat where your mother slowly and continuously flowed with the waters.

You had missed.

You had failed.

All of a sudden, you felt a light breeze hit your face and you sworn by all heavens that your nostrils were invaded by your mother’s perfume. Your lungs burned as chrysanthemums claimed the air around you.

Another light squeeze on your shoulder and, handling you another arrow, Danvers stubbornly said. “You can do this.”

Stubborn.

“I can be stubborn.” You muttered, doing the same thing you did seconds before. You lowered the point of the arrow on the fire pit and soon pulled the string until it touched your cheek again.

Inhale. Exhale. Release.

The people on the banks of the river resumed the chant started by the White Ladies as the boat was engulfed in flames. It was beautiful, it was disheartening.

As the boat sank, you retreated into the castle. Your steps were heavy, stiffy as if walking took a toll on you.

Your mother’s sun sank into the fate's waters.

Your sun had just begun its ascension.

– – –

The chill in the air could almost be touched. The Winter Garden was taken by a thick haze, yet you could still see what was in front of you.

The stone, carved to resemble the woman your mother once was, felt cold, probably colder than it should be, but you touched it, nonetheless.

Almost a moon had passed and the crafters worked non-stop until this memorial statue was ready, you were adamant that it should be before your coronation. And here you were, hours away from officially being crowned the new Queen of Taharr, in front of the last queen, seeking comfort.

“I never really gave much thought of how this would be,” You spoke to the stone, it remained immovable, as you knew it would. “But I never thought it’d be this hard.”

Even with all the things you had to do after the last battle, known as the Battle of the Failed Coup, your head didn’t rest or stopped thinking about your mother. After a while, it became pretty common for you to speak out loud as if she was present and would engage the conversation.

You were past the point of feeling silly, now it brought you a mild sense of comfort. It was odd, you knew, but one should work with what they got and if you had to go through your grieving, you’d do it your own way.

“How am I supposed to move on?” You asked but your words were engulfed by the fog and died in nothingness just like all the others. You felt so not ready for this, completely unprepared and the urgency only drove you a little bit closer to the brink of the edge of your sanity.

She would hate to see you stuck in the mud like you were, and you’re afraid you’re becoming everything you hate. However, day after day, the weight of your decisions and their aftermath sometimes felt a burden too heavy for your shoulders. And you hated to feel so incapable, so defeated.

First, you thought you were listening to things, but then the unmistakable sound of shoes scraping the wet grass properly reached your ears and you knew you were not alone anymore, a person - not a ghost - was about to arrive where you were.

“Thought I’d find you here.” Maria Rambeau's voice filled the silence after she stopped right behind you.

You ignored her choice of greeting and fired. “What have I done, Maria?”

“I’m afraid I don’t follow, my queen.” The woman shifted, side walking to level her eyes with yours. You all but flinch at the measure, you’re still not prepared to be called the supreme ruler of Tahar. Still feeling undeserving of the title you’re supposed to bear.

“All this time, all the lessons and I feel like it was all for nothing. She’s dead and that’s because of me. It’s all my fault.” There you were, digging deeper into the mud of remorse and guilt. You felt like a wreck, beyond repair.

“If I may, I don’t see it that way, my lady.” Maria starts. “Queen Calanthe died a true queen’s death, fighting for her people feistily, as she always did.” She paused for a second to make sure you were listening. “Your mistakes or even Loki’s betrayal can’t and won’t diminish the importance of her sacrifice, of her strength.”

Her hands pointed to the castle you were standing on, as to emphasize her next words. “The enemy had us in a chokehold, yet Triskelion resisted, she endured and Taharr prevailed. There will be so many songs about this feature, my lady.”

“What will I do with songs?” You retorted like a petty child.

“Revel in them! For she’ll always be alive, in every ballad sang from a bard and in our hearts. In your heart.” She replied without missing a beat, adamant in making her point of view crystal clear.

“And now?” You inquired. Unsure to whom, if to the wind, to your friend or to the memory of your mother, you did not know. “There was so much to learn. There’s a whole kingdom waiting for me to guide them but I feel so lost.

“I don’t know if I should gather the army and seek revenge or if I should prepare for winter and reinforce the borders.” You continued your rant. “If I should reunite with the other kings to hold Hydrarr’s plans or if I should just stand here, waiting.” You balled your fists, irritated with one of the feelings inside your heart.

Being indecisive wasn’t a trait usually associated with you. Before, you’d say that is best to ask forgiveness than living a lifetime wondering what could have been. Before, you had your mind made up and set with a plan. Before, if things went wrong, you’d just go with the flow.

That was before.

“There are so many decisions, so many lives depending on me and said decisions. I feel like I’m crushing with the burden and crushing even further with each passing second.” You finish, now looking back to the stone, jaw clenched.

“Heavy is the head that wears the crown.” Maria interjected. “I used to say these words to your mother and it is only fitting to keep saying it, because it’s still the truth.”

Her words made you avert your eyes to your friend and there were so many thoughts running in your head, that it seemed difficult to organize or even prioritize given there was so much to be done.

Deciding on taking one step at a time, you shot. “Maria, remember that promise that you made me that you’d comply with everything I said after I became queen?”

“Of course I do, my queen.” Maria smiled softly. “Is this the moment where I pledge to follow every single command of yours, no matter how silly they are?” She humored, not really knowing why the hell you brought this up.

“No.” You turned back and looked at her. Your tone was so serious that you can see her forehead frowning. “I want you to be you. I want you to be my conscience… Would you do the honor of serving Taharr as High Advisor?”

She’s taken back by your bluntness. This wasn’t small, actually, you were asking a lot of her but giving just as much. It was the second most powerful position in this Kingdom, losing only, of course, to the queen herself. “M-My queen? Are you sure?”

“I am.” Few times in your life you felt that sure.

She’s speechless for a moment. Perhaps trying to read the catch on your request, maybe weighing her options.

“I won’t take shit from you if you try to play the queen card on me. If you want me to step in as Advisor, I want my voice to be heard and I don’t want blindspots.” Her face was devoid of that humor from seconds ago. She meant business and if you wanted her to take this job, there would be conditions. She wouldn’t pose as a mannequin

“Deal.” You offered your hand for her to shake and seal the offer. “That’s exactly why I need you. I want to be as good as my mother was, and to do that I need someone to keep me on my toes.” You sighed, now deflated. “There’s no one else here to do that.”

“You are good.” She intervened. “You’re worried about the right things, everyone makes mistakes.” Maria squeezed your shoulder affectionately, trying to pull you back from the sorrow abyss you were floundering in. “We just have to learn how to pick ourselves up now. We’ll do this together.”

You nod, but let her words simmer through your head while you take a few steps until the edge of the Garden, where you could see the city below. The sun had only started to rise and the fog was slowly dissipating around you or the city.

“Learn.” You try the word in your mouth as if a wine for you to taste. You had learnt so much in this past year. Hate. Love. Fear. Heartbreak. Grief.

“Can I ask you something personal, Maria?” You asked, briefly glancing at your friend then looking back down, to the small buildings bathing on the first light of the day. Maria barely nodded her head to signal for you to go on, then you fired. “How did you know Carol was the one?

She remained silent for a few seconds, looking down, you knew she had heard you, for this was her telltale that her brain was working on an answer. “Do you remember when your mother created the High Guard?”

“She asked for the mightest and greatest knights from every village in Taharr. It didn’t matter their status. First it was a tournament, then the best were selected so you’d fight against each other until only the best kept standing.” You remembered, despite being relatively young. It lasted for weeks and you were mesmerized by many warriors displaying incredible techniques and skills.

“Exactly. Carol and I were from different villages, so the tournament was the reason why we met and she challenged me in every possible way.” Maria began, eyes flashing with memories of a brilliant past, if the smile on her lips said anything.

“In the tournament she was my rival, but after, at the sparring turns, she came with everything she had. She was marvelous indeed: strong, fast, powerful, yet, I could always find a way to counter her attacks.

“We kept our little competition, even after the tournament, even after we were both granted our current titles for bravery and skill set, but there had always been this pull between us, you know?

“I’d both hate and love that smile of hers and she later confessed she both hated and loved my bossy face. When she finally let her guard down, I saw the woman behind the title, behind the Marvelous and she was beautiful - I simply knew Carol was my person.”

You nod as if to thank her for her explanation while you stood there contemplating her words and their meaning. Eyes still cast down, you’re able to discern some dots that you knew were people, moving around the streets starting, preparing for another day. Completely unaware of your inner queries.

“May I ask why you wonder, my queen?” Perhaps not only your citizens were unaware of the doubts clawing your guts.

“I-.” You sighed, unsure of what words to use in an attempt to explain the turmoil in your head and chest concerning a certain princess that has already been spoken for. “I thought Wanda was the one.” You felt stupid for still giving thought to a woman who misled you. “For me.”

Out of a sudden, you felt your back hurt again due the burden pressuring you as if to remind you of where your focus should be. It was not the time to think about Wanda.

And speaking of hurt, you stared at the burnt mark on your hand, a last minute gift from your pal Lord Vision, as punishment for your audacity of touching Wanda in a way you were not supposed to.

“For the first time in my life, I let myself be vulnerable and she did the same.” Your eyes met concerned obsidian orbs intently looking at you. “I swear she did and she showed me how wonderful she was on the inside.”

Fidgeting with your hands and the hem of your tunic, you continued, eyes cast once more on the people moving on with their lives. The way you couldn’t. “There were so many flaws, Maria, fears… I loved that Wanda no one else knew.”

A sad smile now adorned your lips. “And I hate to know she played me like a doll in a sick game. I hate to understand that I was just stupid for falling in love and believing that she loved me back.”

“You shouldn’t think that way, dear.” Turning to look at her again, you could see her eyes were soft, but there wasn’t a single trace of pity. “What your heart felt was your truth. I, myself, had a hard time believing that Princess Wanda was capable of something like this. But if she deceived you, that’s on her. She’s the one losing.”

Her lips twitched a little, trying to give way to a small but sincere smile. “You are a wonderful person and whoever you choose to be your queen will be the luckiest woman for sure.”

You narrowed your eyes a little. Maria wasn’t one known for throwing compliments at the wind for no reason. With a slight smirk, you asked. “Are you saying this because you’re my friend?”

She gasped, offended. “Of course not!” Then, the lines in her face turned a little less grave. “I’m telling you this because you are the Queen, my boss. Why else would I lie?”

At her words, a laugh erupted from your chest as if a bubble wanted to set free. Your whole body shook and you could see hers did as well.

For some reason, after this unexpected section of laughter, you felt a little less burdened, it was just tiny, but you felt a little bit lighter.

As the laugh died down, she elbowed you lightly and called. “Come. There’s a coronation for you to get prepared for.”

Wordlessly, you started to follow her, casually walking towards your chambers. Before your mind could travel to an unwanted, dark place of sorrow or worry, Maria’s voice found you again.

“Have you heard your friend Aria Stark is here for your ceremony?” She never gave you the time to reply, for she completed her own thoughts. “And that her sister, aka your ex-fiancé, Queen Sansa, came as well?”

“Oh.” It was all that you could mutter. You knew Aria should arrive soon, for she sent you a raven when she heard the news. Funny how a powerful friendship developed after you stumbled on a lost grieving girl in Braavos.

But you were specially surprised by Sansa’s presence, you supposed she wouldn’t want anything to do with you after you, politely, declined her proposal offer.

“‘Oh’” Maria mocked your tone. “I swear, you and your redheads.”

– – –

The raging storm knocked at the walls mercilessly, the thunder shook the whole castle as the lightning flashed the room alit every now and then. The fire in the fireplace danced erratically and you were surprised it still continued alive despite the wind making force through the cracks of the windows.

Staring at the cup of wine in your hand, you thought that maybe the weather was just mirroring the feelings in your chest. The taste of the wine faded from your tongue, but you could still taste Wanda’s love on your very lips.

It was amazing, actually, how you could all but remember your time with her when confined in your chambers alone. If not sad, it would be mesmerizing the way you missed her lips and not even the strongest alcohol could numb it in your skin, in your mind or heart.

You wished you could escape the assault of memories and tender moments together, however, all you seemed to be capable of was to stumble on the ashes of your once upon a time with the northern princess.

So much for your happy ending.

Heavy knocks on the door broke your miserable daze and you cursed them, and entertained the idea of asking for their head on a spike for interrupting your sulking, but you assumed it’d be Maria. It would be more likely for her to have your head in one.

Without waiting for your response, you were proven right, when she barged into the room as if she had run for miles. Her rapid breath made you anxious, for she hadn’t given you a single clue as to why she was so nervous and breathless.

“My Queen, you won’t believe-.” She paused for air, but you hated the drama she created. There were thousands of things you wouldn’t believe in, but they were all running through your head.

You wouldn’t believe it, but you entertained the idea of a dragon rampaging your realm. Or about flying whales passing above the city, with this storm, who could say?! Perhaps the Kree or Skrulls had organized and orchestrated a secret invasion and the city was doomed. Highly unlikely, but what if the same iced zombies that infected Westeros came to Noveria? After all, no one really knows what happens in Vormir.

“My Queen-” She resumed, putting your imagination to rest. “Barton is here, alive. And the Black Widow is here with him.” Her eyes portrayed nothing, and you did hear the second part. Lady Natasha, your enemy’s loyalist was in your castle, the nerve.

But you chose to focus on the first part, for lately, good news was just scarce as the leaves during winter. Your beloved friend, the one that taught you so much, the very one you thought you had lost - just another casualty to your naivety and recklessness, was back and alive.

At least this was definitely good news and yeah, this was something you couldn’t believe in.

You started to move around your room, gathering the minimum of clothes to be presentable before your subjects and you thought how much you have changed, a few months ago and you wouldn’t have minded if you were half naked.

As you approached your closet, you barked at Maria. “Take Clint and Romanoff to the Great Hall. Call the cooks and bring whatever they can prepare this fast and get a barrel of our finest wine.” The High Advisor nodded and started to leave the room, but stopped when you spoke once more.

“And for fuck’s sake send a word to Lady Laura, immediately.” A sharp nod and she fled to comply with your orders.

The fire cracked calmly in the fireplace, giving the foolish idea that everything was calm despite the thunderstorm raging against the walls, despite the storm increasing inside your chest.

As soon as you entered, you spotted three figures standing, close to the fireplace - Maria, Carol and Sam. And another two figures seated at the table, one in front of another, eating rather fast - they were starving.

The quietness of the Hall was violently interrupted by your heels clacking against the marble floor as you marched towards the people gathered and saw their heads rising from their meals to look at you.

Even a few meters away, you saw Clint limping from his chair and sunk his knees on the floor, looking directly at your eyes. “My Queen.” The weight of his eyes and tone showed you his grief, his – your ruefulness.

Before your hand could touch his shoulder, you saw Natasha Romanoff also kneeling slightly behind Clint, eyes cast on the floor and voiced. “Queen Lioness, my condolences.” The action surprises you, surely, but you’re mostly stunned because of her tone.

It almost seemed that she meanted what she had just said, that she was indeed sad about your mother’s death, even though her Kingdom, her army, was responsible for this fact.

Confused, you nodded. Then, resumed your previous action and pulled Clint by his shoulders, so he could get to his feet, and hugged him.

“I thought you were dead.” You confided, voice as far from a queen’s as possible, twice as weak. “I’m so glad you’re not.”

He returned your embrace just as tight. You knew what you had suffered, only the gods could know what this man had endured. “I’m sorry I couldn’t make it faster.” And by his words you knew he blamed himself for not being here during the battle, the coup attempt. Or the burial. He, too, blamed himself for Queen Calanthe’s death.

“You’re here now.” You patted his cheek and gave him a weak smile. You meant your words, but it still hurt, you wouldn’t deny it.

Taking a deep breath to help you fall into the character you were supposed to play, you raised your chin slightly and directed a hard glare at Natasha, with a matching hard tone directed at Clint. “Now you want to explain why there is an enemy, a Sokovian no less, still breathing inside my castle?”

– – –

“You’re lying.” You hissed, for the thousandth time. You just couldn’t believe what they, especially Natasha, were trying to say to you.

“Why would I lie?” She asked, tiredly, arms crossed in her chest. You amused the idea of putting her in chains, to make her understand her position, you even entertained the idea of taking her to her room, a cell in the dungeons, to retribute the hospitality.

But in the end, you gave in after Barton pledged on your friendship’s name for you to listen to them, to the both of them. The only problem is that they were suggesting absurd things to a very jaded woman.

“Oh.” You mocked confusion. “Why would a Sokovian lie, Romanoff?” You shot back venomously. “You’ve been lying this whole time! I don’t even know your reasons anymore!” At this, you threw the decorated invitation you had received earlier at the table.

The marks of burnt and crinkles of a parchment recently crumbled in a paper ball were visible, but also visible was its content. Without even trying to hide your disgust, you started to spat the words engraved not only in the paper, but also in your mind.

“Prince Vision, heir of Hydrarr, son of Red Skull, proudly announces his marriage to Princess Wanda Maximoff, heir of Sokovia, daughter of King Django and Queen Marya Maximoff, with the blessings of King Pietro, who announces his retirement due critical illness. The ceremony will be due in two moons. This invitation is extended to the friendly realms to Sokovia.”

Taharr wasn’t, obviously, a friendly realm to Sokovia. This was probably Vision’s way of taking an opportunity of messing with your head a little further. Or, perhaps, this could be Wanda’s doing. Who knew?

Whoever sent this, did on the sole purpose of fucking with you. And they succeeded.

Maria, Carol and Sam gasped at your words, they were just as shocked as you were. You knew about the marriage, it hurt like hell to see a confirmation, but you were completely in the dark about Lord Vision’s - now Prince Vision - origins.

Not to mention the news about Pietro’s retirement, since when does a King or Queen retire? All the ones you knew died and their rest would be in the afterlife. What the fuck was going on?

A more rational part of your brain understood the geopolitics involved in this marriage: Hydrarr and Sokovia would become one united Kingdom, with its forces and ruthlessness combined, who knew where they’d stop? With King Pietro’s retirement, Wanda and Vision would, respectively, become Queen and King of the combined territory.

With a start, you realized the only ones who did not bore impressed looks were Clint and Natasha. They already knew about this. And, for a split second, you almost doubted your friend. Almost.

“And that’s a coup.” Clint pointed at the paper while the Black Widow simply wrinkled her nose as if the parchment had a bad smell. “A very well orchestrated one, might I add. They’re overthrowing Pietro.”

Your eyes darted back to him and he continued. “I told you, Lord Vision has been contaminating Sokovia for years. Day after day, he’s working to make it more Hydrarr’s. And with this marriage? He’ll achieve it.”

“Harv Krickitt told you this?” You asked about the man, the jeweler, who crafted the piece of jewel the Black Widow assigned to kill you had received as payment. Barely a year has passed, but it felt so, so long ago, almost another life.

Remembering that day, that night, your eyes were hard and jaw so clenched it hurt, still, a pale contrast to the pain brought by the memories dancing behind your eyes.

“Kricket told us Vision was the one to ask for the necklace, with the lioness’ pendant. But he was asked to deliver it to Barnes’ care.” Natasha answered, voice as if made of stone. “He killed Steve during the attack. Those men, that day? They were a Hydrarr unit, a cover up.”

“As everything so far, my queen, this was a set up.” Clint completed. And you laughed at the absurd image they were trying to paint. Inwardly. Outside it looked more like a snort that could very well be mistaken with a choke.

“You want me to believe that Pietro, that Wanda,” Your voice failed, it’s been months since you last spoke her name out loud. You tried not to show any weaknesses, but your heart still skipped a beat and you hated it. “-had nothing to do with this?”

“Precisely.” His words were unwavering. He was certain and you seriously wondered how badly your friend had been compromised.

If you were the older you, this thought wouldn’t have even popped into your head, because it'd be straight away unfathomable, but the older you died after facing the treason of people so dear to you. Wanda’s betrayal was a stab in the guts, for sure, but Loki’s? It killed your heart.

So, who could blame you for asking?

“Did you turn?” Your tone was flat, devoid of emotion.

Across the room, your peripheral sight caught heads snapping at you or even the sound of an intake of a good amount of air. The other occupants of this room judged you had gone too far on your assumption and that this was not what someone with Clint’s reputation should hear upon returning home.

But you didn’t care that this could offend him or even if you were calling him traitor right on his face, you were the queen, weren’t you? You were entitled to.

To his credit, Lord Barton didn’t even flinch at your question, his voice, still unwavering. “I would never!”

Your eyes searched for his, scrutinized his soul looking for any sign of deceit but you found nothing. He was speaking the truth.

Nodding as to show you accepted his answer, you resumed the conversation. “What are you suggesting?”

“Vision has the Maximoff twins in a hook.” He fired back without wasting a second, if you were willing to hear him, there was no time to waste. And, as if on cue, Natasha expanded the idea started by Clint.

“Pietro is ill, that part is true, but Vision is threatening Wanda’s life if he does not step back.” This sentence ignited a fire in your whole being, even though you didn’t know what to believe. If all of this is true or not, it didn’t matter, the idea of someone hurting Wanda made you very angry. “And Wanda has to marry Vision, otherwise he’ll kill Pietro.”

Your head snapped at the redhead seated in front of you so fast it felt like a whiplash, at the same time, your heart rate skyrocketed to the moon.

“You mean she hadn’t agreed with this marriage on her own?” You carefully chose your next words, you wanted to make sure your ears and your brain were not playing games with you. “Are you telling me that she won’t marry him because she wants, but obliged to keep her brother safe?”

“I am.” Her confirmation blew the air out of your lungs.

Alarmed, you got off your seat and retreated to the fireplace, which still cracked, unbothered by the revelations these walls have just witnessed. You tried to remind yourself to keep breathing, because these past minutes were beyond intense.

Your head was still trying to wrap itself around the proposition the spies were presenting to you and, at the same time, your heart was trying to grasp the meaning behind these implications.

Wanda was about to marry a man because of her duty to her brother, to protect the last blood attachment she has with her family. And if she was forced to marry him, if Pietro was not involved, then could this mean-?

“Wanda would never betray you, My Queen.” Clint’s voice reached your ears as if he spoke from miles away, but he knew how fast your head and heart were running, he knew what sort of questions plagued your mind. “She was devastated, went berserk after she found the house you shared empty.”

Contradictory emotions clashed on your chest and you didn’t even know what those emotions were, for there were so many. And just like that, you didn’t know what to think or what to make out of this.

For so long, you believed and were led to believe that Wanda had participated, organized this ploy like a brilliant sociopath. You blamed her for your suffering, you hated her and called names in the confines of your room at night while tears ran free down your cheek.

You cursed the feeling she made you feel and now someone dares to say otherwise. Someone dares to say you got it all wrong, that you were lied to and the woman you loved had nothing to do with this?

“This is profanity.” You whispered, but somehow Clint heard, despite the heavy rain outside.

“I’m not lying.” He confirmed, as if this was all that you needed to accept this plot twist.

“You can’t possibly think that I’ll believe this, Clint. I was put through hell.” You cried, disregarding the others still present, you didn’t care if they saw you weak right now. This wasn’t news to them after all.

Without a word, Natasha pulled something from her battered purse and you were about to turn away again when she opened her hand, palm flat upwards, offering you its content. Your eyes narrowed due the feeble light, tiredness and to try and keep the tears from falling.

“Wanda gave me this.” The Black Widow spoke solely to you, for she knew the others didn’t know what was in her hand nor its meaning. “She said you would understand-” And by the looks of it, Natasha herself didn’t really know what was the meaning of what she was carrying either. “and I quote ‘It’s impossible to hold back the wind”.

It was dirty, but with a step or two you could very well distinguish the trace and pattern of a tied knot in a rope, it was unmistakable that it was the same piece of Aberdeen rope you had given Wanda in what felt like a lifetime ago.

The memory, though, surfaced as if it was yesterday.

Wanda watched as you absentmindedly ran a hand through your hair. “Why do I feel so tied to you?” She wondered out loud, after you settled down close to her at the cushions sprawled on the floor.

“I don’t know.” You smiled softly, offering her a cup of tea. “But if it makes you feel better, I feel just the same.” You countered and she smiled away.

It was unclear if your answer had pleased her or not. Sometimes you felt as though you knew Wanda like the palm of your hand and others, just like now, it was as if she was a stranger that had just arrived in the room.

Sometimes it was impossible to decipher her silence.

After a while, she turned to you with a bittersweet smile gracing her heavenly lips. “Do you think this will last forever?”

You were touched, paralyzed even, for you didn’t really know what she specifically meant with ‘this’. It could be the feeling of being tied or the tie itself - conversations like these with Wanda were like treading on thin ice or holding on a breakable thread. So you remained muted, waiting for further context.

“Forever. Don’t you think this is such a strange concept?” She chuckled humorlessly. “Forever doesn’t even exist, if we think about it.” She rambled with brows furrowed.

“Forever could last a lifetime.” You tried tentatively, still unsure of where this conversation was heading to.

“Forever could last a whole minute.” She retaliated without missing a beat. She wasn’t even looking at you anymore, but to a fix point at the wall as if it could show her the future if she stared at it for long enough.

“You don’t know how long your forever will last.” Now, your brows were also crinkled only your eyes were cast on the mug nested on your hands. “No one knows.”

“What do people do, then?” You looked at her, but her inquiry seemed genuine.

You laughed at the absurd. You had no clue about what they do with their forevers. To be honest, you didn’t know anything about this. “I don’t know. I guess, they live the best they can, nonetheless?” You supplied.

It was so strange, because during your whole life you’ve learnt a lot of things, but no one stopped even a second to explain to you what it was to like someone. To love someone. The ‘what to dos’ and the ‘hows’ were completely overlooked as you grew up.

Tilting your head up, as if the sky could be of any help, your eyes caught sight of a rope loosely tied to the canopy, it wasn’t big, but you took a piece with your knife and expertly started to knot it down, your skills from your time as sailor showing off, and you were highly aware of Wanda’s eyes focused on you.

You pulled the tip of the rope from both sides but the knot remained untouched, the tie was still perfectly strong, as if made of stone. Then, you offered it to her, heart pounding in your chest as if you were handing her your own heart on a silver plate.

She took it in her hands with a tenderness yet unseen, as if it was made of glass. “This tie could last forever.” Though you pointed to the piece of rope in Wanda’s hands, you both knew what tie you meant with your words. You just hoped she wouldn’t freak out with your naive, yet brave attempt to wish for impossible things.

You were completely conscious that a future with Wanda was highly improbable. Still, you couldn’t help but dream that the two of you would find a way and make it work. Somehow.

“Can we stop this?” She asked, but this time she stressed the last words of her sentence and moved her hand between the two of you. This time, she was crystal clear about what she meant.

“It’d be like holding back the wind.”

You touched it with a gentleness that no one in the room judged you’d possess. It burst a fire in your chest and it was getting harder and harder to hold back the emotion slipping through the cracks of your heart.

It was impossible to ignore the hammering thoughts shooting through your head and there were so many, so loud that you thought you’d go crazy.

This piece of fabric meant nothing and everything at the same time.

“I need to think.” Without another word, your fingers closed around the material and your feet stormed out of the room to collect yourself in your own chambers, so you could ruminate about the implications laid upon you this night.

— —

“Stop this wedding!” Lady Danvers’ voice resonated throughout the Hall. “I’ve got an objection.” She looked sheepishly to the side and revealed a sly smirk and whispered for only you and her own wife to hear. “I always wanted to say this.”

If the moment wasn’t so daunting, you’d probably laugh or retort some snide remark, but your eyes were solely focused on the woman dressed in white in front of the makeshift altar prepared for the occasion.

There were shocked murmurs, metal clanging against metal, for you dragged the fight from the inner gates into the main hall of the castle, where the wedding was taking place. There were voices speaking, screaming words devoid of any meaning, for your ears ignored any and all of them.

Her eyes were locked on yours and your knees felt weak; she was a sight to behold and worship. Like a true goddess, Wanda Maximoff’s dress made her look ethereal, as if she was sent from another dimension to cleanse this Earth’s sins and her eyes cast on yours burn with something you couldn’t know.

The contrast of white and red, from her auburn hair cascading down her shoulders, was mesmerizing and it only made it difficult for you to think coherently. For a whole second you forgot where you were and what you should be doing.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Vision shot his hand to his sword, but with one look he realized he was outnumbered.

A sly smirk crossed your lips, tongue as sharp as usual. “Well, you did send me the invitation, have you not?” With a start, you realized that your sarcastic self hadn’t vanished for good.

You could make anyone mad with only a couple of words. And, oh, Prince Vision red with anger was one of your favorite sports. Just like he was.

“You’re invading my castle!” His voice boomed throughout the room, in a futile attempt to intimidate and stop your advance. Poor him.

“Last time I checked this was Maximoff’s.” You provoked, walking towards his direction, with the conviction that his goons would know better than to come your way. You were a woman on a mission and they wouldn’t stand a chance.

In fact, there weren’t many goons available anymore. Rumlow was dead after all, and Natasha had her dagger dangerously close to Bucky’s throat rendering him immovable. And the others… Well, they wouldn’t dare to cross paths with you right now.

Drawing his sword, Vision took one step towards you, but you could see that this action was just an automatic response, for his eyes darting around told you his head was running all the possible outcomes and, more importantly, how he’d get away from this.

He wouldn’t.

You were adamant in making him pay for every single word, or minute he made you suffer. For every lie, every single action and all the blood shared that he was responsible for. Especially your mother’s. Oh, you’d make sure he’d pay.

“One shouldn’t draw a sword if not ready to bathe in blood.” Your words were marked by each step you took, hand with a tight grip on your own sword. To be honest, it looked like he wanted to try his chances with jumping from the window instead of facing you, but you had cornered him now.

“You think I won’t kill you?” He threatened, lifting his sword so it’d be between you. Perhaps in his head this could make you stop.

It wouldn’t.

“Will you try it by yourself or will you ask someone else to do what you can’t?” You jabbed back, but remained immovable only a few steps away from him. You were ready to take matters into your own hands, you were ready to go to hell and back.

However you were a queen, threatening a prince under another king’s roof. Again, the older you, would be hands deep into Vision’s throat squeezing the life out of him, but your new version knew better. This was not your castle, nor your land.

No matter how much this man had made you suffer, no matter how many crimes he committed to you and to your people. This was still Sokovia, another man’s realm, there were rules and you should step down on shedding blood at your will.

“You should surrender, Vision.” King Pietro rose to his feet, taking the cue from your pause. It was visible how this illness had an effect on him even though he was trying to be tough.

The man, on the other hand, decided to ignore this modest warning and took another step, ready to clash his sword on yours, but before he could, another blade appeared under his chin, kissing the skin on his throat which made him stop in his tracks.

Perhaps Wanda had that sword under her dress this whole time, perhaps she took from some random guard around her. In fact, it didn’t matter where that blade came from, because her intentions were clear and menace was evident in every inch of her being.

“You’ll do what you were told.” Not that it was needed, but her eyes screamed danger. Vision could be many things, but he wasn’t crazy enough to ignore the threat underlining her words. “You’ll abide to the King’s order.”

Visibly cornered and defeated, the prince dropped his sword and looked up with a sorrowful eye, ready to beg for one of the Maximoffs for mercy.

“Take this idiot out of my face.” Pietro commanded no one in particular, not that he needed, and two guards pushed Prince Vision out of the hall, closely followed by Clint and Carol. They certainly would make sure he’d stay locked.

By then, all the guards loyal to Vision or Hydrarr were dead or arrested. It was the first part of the plan, designed in Triskelion: to take down Vision, they’d need to undermine his influence, take his minions to be able to weaken his power inside the castle.

The last part was the invasion itself and the dramatic wedding interruption.

Your head was highly aware that you were needed to stop this plot orchestrated by Red Skull. After all, Taharr was one of the most powerful realms in Noveria, even though shaken, Triskelion was still a stronghold against enemies in this continent. Taharr was the only realm that could prevent this coup.

No one else would be this effective, this fast or this invested. One could say that it was the smartest thing to do, that no other vengeance would be greater, but your heart hammered your ribcage looking at the redhead barely meters away from you.

There was nothing else greater than the way she was looking at you.

With a start, you didn’t know what to do now. All this time, you and your friends thought what needed to be done to stop the coup, your mind didn’t wander to the moment after it. Again, you were used to fighting, but what was expected to be done after the fight?

Even more, after those wonderful days in that cozy house, you’ve been running from her memories and the feelings she’d made you feel. You were clueless about what you and Wanda were - are.

Suddenly, you felt a body colliding with yours and it took you a second to understand what was happening and you closed your arms around her. And, once more, it felt as though you had been locked out of heaven.

The woman roamed her hands all over your body, your hair, assessing every single part to make sure you weren’t hurt. To make sure you were in one piece. When satisfied she rested it on both sides of your cheeks. Holding you in place. Eyes set on yours, centimeters away.

“By the gods, please, don’t tell me you believe in him.” Her voice sounded strangled, as if trying to keep herself composed was a strenuous effort.

“He was pretty convincing.” You replied without missing a beat. How could you think, when breathing her breath was so intoxicating? You were incapable of speaking something more elaborated and you knew she’d be upset with your answer, but Vision pulled quite the number.

For a second, she said nothing. She closed her eyes and rested her forehead on yours, letting her hands fall to your shoulder as yours instinctively found her waist. As if they belonged there, as if they have never left at all.

When she opened her eyes, it was perfectly clear how sad she was. “I can’t even begin to imagine what he put you through.” They were so genuine that your heart clenched. “I’m so sorry. For everything.” She whispered the last part and it was hard for you not to kiss her right then and there.

But you were a queen now and this was not your castle. You couldn’t just do whatever your heart desires. With a chaste kiss on her forehead, you disentangled yourself from her embrace and walked towards the limping form of King Pietro, only to realize Wanda had taken your hand on hers to hold as you walked.

“Lioness, I apologize for everything Vision did and I condoned.” The man was weak, very different from the one you met in his dungeons. But he was still as regal as someone of his position should be. “I know it can’t be erased, but your presence will be appreciated during his trials.”

Taking your nod as the only answer he’d receive, he turned to the crowd standing awkwardly in the hall, most of them without a single clue as to what had just transpired. Raising his voice, he said. “Now, I understand that there’s a feast to be served and I see no reason for us to starve.” Then, he turned to a maiden in sokovian’s colors and ordered. “Take half to the city and bring the rest for us, there’s an army to feed.”

– – –

You looked up to the sky and tried to spot any cloud but there was none. It was so impressive, because you swore you have never seen this shade of blue, it was as if the sky had been painted.

Wanda had told you that this was a rare occurrence during winter, but it was a welcome change to the permanent gray, common for the colder season. Also, she said that if the blue showed up more than once in a week, then it meant that spring was slowly lurching towards Sokovia.

It was the second time you were mesmerized by this impressive color and beauty. Surely spring was on its way.

Ironic, you thought.

‘I’ve learned to let myself get cut to always return whole with spring’. You felt as if you could hear your mother speaking these exact words to you. You felt as if you were a whole new person and somehow, these words made more sense now than ever.

It had been a rough winter. Metaphorical and not. The weather proved to be a ruthless enemy, without mercy, it wiped the crops, farms and you thanked the gods for the crown’s reserve, so there was food enough to aid the whole kingdom.

And, as a matter of speaking, your winter was just as hard. Funny to think you used to complain about all the training and study you had received when younger, because right now, you felt as though you should have been pushed harder.

Mastering all weapons, learning numbers and languages, geography and geopolitics, religion and history, nothing really gave you the mere idea of how to bear the weight of a crown. The younger lioness couldn’t even grasp the importance or the challenges a ruler would experience.

Granted, as the days passed by, you understood what you should do and knew what variables you were supposed to think of before making a decision. But nothing, and you do mean nothing, prepared you to understand that there is no right move.

People will get hurt, people will suffer. No matter what you choose, there will always be consequences. The trick is to look for the lesser of two evils and accept what you can’t change. It was this trick that you struggled the most, though.

It was ironic, indeed, how much you have grown after your trim. After your mother’s death, Loki’s betrayal and even Wanda’s, even though it was just another ruse, you had felt that, mourned that love, after all of these cuts and trims, you didn’t even know you could endure this much.

Life took so much from you, yet, here you were. Still standing.

Persevering.

Just another irony, if someone asked you, because that's what Pietro had said to you earlier in the meeting: ‘Spring is life persevering after a long winter.’ And you agreed.

Your philosophical moment was cut short with the arrival of no one other than Wanda. Her perfume announced her presence seconds before her hands found your back as she slid them until she was hugging you from behind. You snacked your arms around hers and closed your eyes for a moment, savoring her warmth, her scent, her company.

Right after the wedding-stopping thing, you learnt that Wanda basically became your shadow. Wherever you went, she was probably following not far behind. Unconsciously, she was probably scared of losing you again if she let you out of her sight.

And there was a shift in your relationship after the very much needed, long and exhaustive conversation about everything that transpired since that morning she left you in that house. Your point of view and hers.

It was hard. She had cried and you had cried, it was obvious that she was blaming herself for basically everything you had suffered. It was unfair for her to think like this, but she was adamant. And you knew, deep down, she was sad you had doubted her.

However, there was nothing that could be done on that matter. It was in the past.

With a kiss on your cheek, she let go of your waist and stepped to the side so she could take a look at you. Basking in the sun like this, she felt as though you were an angel sent from above.

You and your army saved her kingdom from certain doom. Funny, though, for Wanda never saw herself as a damsel in distress kind of princess, but her own and her people’s freedom was a gift, delivered by your hands.

“Pietro said you wanted to talk to me?” She started, tilting her head to the side in evident curiosity. When you left her this morning after breakfast because you had a meeting with her brother, she was quite surprised. Not that you two didn’t bode well, but because she wasn’t invited.

In fact, she was told to not interrupt.

“Yes. Thank you for coming.” You said, turning your body so now you were facing her, the balcony serving as a body support. “I was wondering if you’d take me on that horse ride to see the waterfalls?”

She smiled softly, her curious self giving way to the old Wanda who wouldn’t stop talking about the amazing waterfalls close to the castle. She thought about how endering you were right now, asking for her to fulfill a promise she never imagined would really become true.

“Say no more.” She grabbed your hand and fled the room. Not long till you were each on a horseback, riding to one of her favorite places in the world.

The ride to Ms Marvel waterfall was barely an hour long, but perpassing through fields, trees and the most beautiful sightseeing rivers. It was so pretty, so particular, that you felt as though you were walking inside Wanda’s memories, for she had described this place over and over.

The moment you set foot on your destination, you realized how thoroughly Wanda had been when speaking about this place. Every single pebble, rock, grass and the magnificent waterfall was just as she painted with words.

It was beautiful and magical.

Despite the weather, you shed your clothes and jumped into the cristaline water, followed suit by the princess. The redhead, however, was far more used to the cold waters than you were, but you always liked cold baths.

This one felt as though you were being cleansed. It was welcoming.

As Wanda swum towards you, it was easy to see a soft smile gracing her lips and a predatory look on her eyes. Hair slick back due the water, some droplets covering her face and you wondered if she wasn’t a siren, trying to lure into unknown waters, to your demise.

Somehow, her body was warm even though you were both chin deep into the waters and her embrace was something that you couldn’t find words to describe. And seeing this new side of her, so carefree, and not preoccupied with everything, made your heart soar in your chest.

Surely, your relationship wasn’t exactly a secret, but it was plain to see that, right now, there were no worries about who could find out. You were not the enemy anymore, there was no war and there was no one targeting you.

For Wanda, this was almost living her fairy tale dreams, right after emerging from her worst nightmares. First, she had lost you. She was a wreck after she realized she had not been as careful as she thought she was.

It was no mystery to her who had taken you but much to her dismay, Vision had convinced Pietro that you were secretly invading Wolfgang, taking advantage of her innocence to demoralize his image and power.

Wanda tried to explain to her brother, but to no avail for his mind was impregnated with lies and deceit. She tried to make Pietro understand that she loved you and though you had never used words, she pretty much knew you also had strong feelings for her, and you were definitely not using her as the Advisor had informed the king.

It was all part of the plan. It was a mess. However, the final strike was yet his boldest. Vision pledged Wanda was impure and no one would want her as wife, but he could take this burden for the sake of their friendship.

The nerve.

Curious enough, things got worse when Pietro started to believe her. One day, he showed up at her door and was utterly embarrassed for not believing her, he then explained to her that he had talked to you and there were no reasons for him to think you were lying.

Wanda’s heart broke all over, for she could only imagine how bad it must have been in the dungeons with the care of the likes of Vision and his loyalists. She was scared, she was hurt and she was desperate to set you free.

She schemed a plan with Natasha and Clint for you to escape, but her brother fell ill, probably poisoned by Vision even though they could not prove it, and they became hostages too. On their own castle. Each of them had a sword on their throats, each of them were ready to lose everything in order to keep the other safe.

Among all the other things, Wanda would lose the love of her life.

“I know I never said this to you.” Your voice brought her head out of her reverie. It was even and melodic, she found herself smiling. “And I think this is so silly now, trying to mask my feelings.” She felt, more than heard you chuckling, even under the water, your whole body shook. “I love you, Wanda.”

Her head snapped backwards so she could have a better look at your face. After all the time you spent together, she came to decipher whether you were mocking or not, yet, this voice, this tone was different. It was new altogether.

You were older, wiser and sadlier too, she realized, you were not the Young Lioness anymore.

“I mean it.” You finished, trying to convince her that you were not messing around.

Realizing her lack of answer might have led you to believe she was searching your eyes for a lie, she shook her head and smiled softly. “I know.” She did believe you. She really knew, she really felt.

You have told her, just not with words.

You couldn’t help but lean in and capture her lips with yours. When Wanda was about to deepen the kiss, you pulled back and looked down in time to see a small pout and you smiled softly at her attitude.

“There’s something else I want to talk to you about.” You ran your hand down her cheek, mesmerized with the perfection glued to your body. “Did Pietro say his plans for his future to you?”

Despite the intimate moment, or position, Wanda felt a slight shift in your stance and certainly the topic of the conversation. Seconds ago you were talking about feelings and now you returned to politics.

She didn’t not know what exactly you were talking about. Or what you really wanted to. But this question was just a preamble, that much she was certain.

“That he desires to step down from the throne to look for treatment and healing?” She asked, head tilting to the side and she was so adorable wearing that confused look of hers that your heart skipped a beat.

You only nodded and she asked. “Why?”

For hours, you had been trying to think of the best form to ask her. Being blunt, straightforward as usual or perhaps with a romantic flourish, but in the end, anxiety took the best of you and you were not sure of how to do it.

There were two Wandas. The one you were in love with, the simple woman with a heart, you usually knew what she’d do or say. But then, there was the feisty and strong princess, who will always think about her duty to her people before anything else. Even her own heart.

And that woman? She could virtually say or do anything, she was indomable and you were irrevocably devoted to her.

“I was thinking about what we always said…” You mentally kicked yourself for being so stupid and not knowing the right words. To be honest, you were afraid of her reply or even her decision. “About a time or place where we could simply be, where we’d have a choice.”

A quirk of brow told you she did not understand what your words meant and you sighed heavily. Deciding to take the bandage off, you shot. “Wanda Maximoff, will you marry me?”

She opened her mouth, but then the words hit her and you saw her eyes grasping their meaning as it sank in what you were asking. What you were really asking her. What you were really asking of her.

“How?” She asked, doubt written all over her face.

For sure, you had hoped for an easy ‘yes’ even though you already knew it wouldn’t come. However, a how it was far better than a no.

A smart comeback made its way to your tongue, but you swallowed it down just as fast. “If you’ll step up as the new queen of Sokovia, why wouldn’t you as Novi Grad’s?”

Her jaw dropped a few inches at your proposal and everything that would surely entail, regaining her composure after her stupor, she fired back. “Is this political?”

She tried to disguise the hurt perpassing her being. She wanted you, but were you suggesting just a political maneuver?

“No.” You were quick to clarify. “I want to marry you because of what I feel for you. But I understand that this is not simple. Between the two of us, we can’t take one thing without the other.”

For several seconds she looked at you and said nothing. Her eyes scrutinized every freckle, every inch of your face and eyes. You were so beautiful and she hated how much she loved you, how desperate she was for your touch.

The possibility laid upon her was far too tempting. She was aware of her needs and duty and for a long time she wished she could split her heart from her responsibilities, but right then and there, this was her chance, your chance to finally combine both.

It wouldn’t be needed to sever one thing from another, the both of you could take your place as required without breaking your hearts in the process.

“Are you sure?” You were not convinced of what she was really asking. What should you be certain about? Your love, your offer or everything in between?

“I’m sure of what I feel for you.” You replied and her eyes, once lost, finally focused on yours. A soft snort told you that this was not of her concern. Good.

“I know, darling. I love you too, you know this already.” Her smile was soft but not more than her words. “I was just… Do you think we can reunite the realm?” She asked more directly this time and you understood her fears.

The Golden Accords existed for a long time and there would be resistance, there would be fear, but there would also be reunion, there would be peace. And that was the very thread you were holding on.

“In my humble opinion? You and I together can do anything.” Certainty coated every single word rolling out of your mouth and that made Wanda’s smile go wider. She always loved - after she had hated - your confidence.

– – –

If you squinted, her dress looked like a waterfall, cascading down her back, feet and beyond and Wanda, once more in full white, looked like a fallen angel. Her eyes, her smile… everything in her glowed brighter than a star. She was perfect.

After your vows, Pietro took your hand and Wanda’s and laced it with a red piece of satin. It represented your bloods, your souls intertwining themselves, tying the eternal knot between your lives.

Her smile was broad and you were certain it shone for miles, when Pietro spoke the last sentences of the ceremony. “I now present you the Queen of Taharr and Queen of Sokovia. All rise to the Queens of the Great Realm of Novi Grad.”

The crowd was loud to the point you couldn’t even hear your own thoughts and you swore the earth shook when you leaned in and Wanda sealed your promise with a kiss.

The promise of union, the promise of peace, prosperity and love.

After all, you were the Queens of Promise.

taglist: @californianwhiterabbit, @cowxpoke

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #wanda maximoff #wanda x fem!reader #angst #princess wanda #wanda maximoff x female reader #medieval au #queens of promise #wanda maximov #princess reader #wanda maximoff x you #wanda x female reader #wanda x fem #wanda maximoff x fem! reader

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misseviehyde · 11 months

Text

THE APPRENTICE

Once the most popular girl at school - Lana Green fussed around her leader Becky Jones, the head cheerleader and new super bitch, and helped her blonde girlfriend get ready to go out.

"Fucking hurry up," sneered Becky as she adjusted her clothing and admired her long blonde hair. "You're such a useless fucking bitch sometimes Lana."

Lana grit her teeth as she helped zip up Becky's top and she finished helping her with her makeup. Once she had been the one who was the centre of attention - but since Becky had put on the magic wrist band - she had to accept she was just a beta bitch now.

Lana's lips twisted into a wicked smile. Still - it was better to serve in Hell as they said. She had made kind, gentle, Rebecca into the evil spoiled Becky and she liked it. She'd rather serve a hot bitch like Becky than be the victim of the nerds she once bullied.

How Rebecca had found the magic wrist band, Lana had no idea. She'd bullied and humiliated the little loser nerd for years - then one day Rebecca had turned up at her house and started making wishes.

"You've teased and bullied me and my friends long enough. I wish you were a nerd like us Lana. Welcome to your new life."

The wish had quickly kicked in, transforming Lana and altering reality to make it so she had always been a nerd.

And Lana hated being a nerd. Her beautiful hair had become a short bob cut - her designer clothes had changed to tie-dye t-shirts and dungarees and she'd become a bottle-top glasses wearing loser.

Even worse, she'd become a lesbian... and now her biggest crush was Rebecca. Her behaviour now modified by the wish, Lana found she liked board-games, school and art. She couldn't stop simping for Rebecca.

But part of her remained evil and mean - a desperate part of her wanting to reclaim her power... and Rebecca was the key.

As she now had a massive crush on her former victim, it wasn't hard to make herself the submissive slut she needed to be to stoke Rebecca's ego. She knew that Rebecca liked how desperate Lana was to please her.

"You're so fucking hot," groaned Lana as she urgently made out with Rebecca in her bedroom. "You're just the best. I'd do anything to make you happy."

Rebecca moaned, enjoying the feeling of Lana's fingers inside her as her former bully pleasured her body with worship in her eyes. It felt good to lord it over her bully.

"Please Rebecca... make me do what you want. Make me your slut."

"Hmmm okay. Eat my pussy then slut, make me cum."

Lana had obediently obeyed... submissively pleasuring Rebecca till the nerd squirted all over her face.

From that moment forward Rebecca had kept Lana close and the two began to spend more and more time together.

Lana had then begun to influence Rebecca more. Her only hope of ever getting back her spoiled life was to corrupt Rebecca into an evil mean bitch. It would mean forever serving Rebecca, but Lana was willing to pay that price.

She stoked Rebecca's ego, spread lies about her friends and subtly encouraged her to use more and more selfish wishes to get what she wanted.

Rebecca began to change. She was was becoming more self-centred and mean. Lana loved to see it.

Then she intensified her efforts.

"Remember when I was the bully and you were the nerd," smiled Lana one day. "Wouldn't you like to role-play that situation in reverse? Why don't you pretend to be a hot mean girl and I'll be your victim?"

Rebecca wasn't sure at first, but after bullying and humiliating Lana - she seemed to get off on it and was soon cumming harder than she ever had before. "Oh fuck, being a bully does feel kinda hot."

"Why don't you try it for real? Haven't you ever wondered what it would be like to be pretty, blonde and hot? Why don't you make a wish? You could always change back later?"

"I guess it can't hurt. Hmm.. I wish I was pretty, blonde and popular."

Rebecca moaned as her nerdy body transformed. Long blonde hair fell to her ass as she became bitchy and hot. Painted nails shot out as her body toned and tanned and dazzling white teeth curved into a smile. "Mmmmmh this feels fucking good. Get over here nerd. Eat my bullying pussy."

Lana had been eager to obey.

Being a bully was addictive and Rebecca hadn't turned back. Lana had agreed to teach her how to be an Alpha and had eagerly gone to work helping to make Rebecca a bad person.

Using wish after wish, Becky had soon been fully born. Lana had watched in delight as the new mean Queen began bullying her former friends and hanging out with the popular girls.

"Fuck yes, I love being a bad girl. Teach me more you fucking subby lesbo bitch," laughed Becky as she made Lana kiss and suck her toes one day.

"You know Goddess," humbly grovelled Lana. "I could be even more use to you if you turned me back into a mean girl. Let me be in your clique and I can advise you all the time."

"Very well. I wish Lana was popular again - though not as popular as me of course."

Lana had moaned in pleasure as she'd turned back into her old self and become hot again. Her plan had worked. She was back - although now still with a lesbian crush on Becky and from now on she would be the beta bitch.

Still - as she finished helping Becky get dressed - she had to admit. This was a lot better than being stuck as a nerd, even if Becky was a total bitch.

And maybe one day... she'd find a way to get that magic wristband for herself...

#evie hyde #bitchification #f2f transformation #f2f corruption #wish

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halfmoth-halfman · 11 months

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may i interest you in some more fic recs????😉

the second half of my may fic rec list!! if you wanna see more more of my fic recs and favs, i have em all on my recs blog, here!! please note the navi page is still under construction!!

and of course, if you have any fic recs of your own, feel free to send em my way here or on my sideblog - i love finding new fics and writers!! 💜

may fic recs pt. 1

John Price

missed you - @thanksbutno98

✧ everything i wanted and more omg this is the treatment price deserves tbh. man deserves to relax and be pampered like a princess. such a cute fic that filled my need for fluff perfectly!!

bloodstained honesty || part two - @a-world-with0ut-dr34ms

✧ had me on the edge of my damn seat good lord. saw this line “Price?” and had to stop reading to do a lap around my living room, this fic had me stressing tf out but in the best way possible.

puppy love || five | six | seven | eight - @writeforfandoms

✧ price. puppies. perfection. am i sad to see this series come to an end? yes. but it was fantastic from start to finish and i know i will absolutely being coming back to read this again and again.

languish - @moriflos

✧ you ever read something once and then decide that once isn't enough and just spend an hour reading it over and over and over? that was me with this fic. idk how to describe the way you write, i was so drawn in, craving more. "But for now, he can only watch as his heart returns to him in ashes-" just uuuggghhh i love it.

rise and fall of tides - @queenquazar

✧ moon/moonlight is such a cute callsign, i was already hooked before i started reading. and when i got to the actual fic?? stunned. the entire dancing scene had me smiling and blushing, i love the way you write price and moon and their relationship

ode to a conversation stuck in your throat - @yeyinde

✧ i don't think there will ever come a day where i'm not left in absolute awe by one of lev's fics. everything is literal poetry and this is fic is no exception. i can't describe the way it makes me feel, like i've been given the christmas present i've been waiting all year for

sad girl - @guyfieriii

✧ new price fic from the writer who inspired me to start my mob!au???? say less. the way you write price is so just aslkdakljs the way you write in general is just alsdkjal. i literally do not have words for how much i love this

karma - @stormiwaves

✧ honeypot mission!!! we love to see it!!!! "The dress was karma, filthy karma that Price deserved." yes girl, get it!! jealous!price isn't something i see often, but i loved the way your wrote it here and that ending?? 👀🔥

untitled - @ghostaholics

✧ i👏🏼love👏🏼soulmate👏🏼au's👏🏼 and this has me going absolutely feral. the phantom pain for his injuries, the journal, the angst, the panic, that ending??? if there is ever a full version, please know that i will lose my mind, it will be an immediate fave just like this is.

choices and consequences - @ghostandsoap

✧ this one hurt real good. the talks about guilt, the choices you have to make, the job, all of it was done so well. this was so wonderful and heart-clenching, i loved every bit of it.

our remains - @halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ i just- i mean- what else is there to say but

handsome stranger || part 8 - @alittleposhtoad

✧ not only did this fic make me hungry for soup, it made me kick my feet and twirl my hair. so much fluff and right up my ally, i binged this series and loved every single bit of it.

fair game - @guyfieriii

✧ got me blushing and sweating like a sinner in church and staring at my phone like

turn me to ashes - @guyfieriii

✧ when you said angsty little piece, i was not expecting to have my heart ripped out be left with a gaping void in my chest. i know i love a good angst fic but god damn if that didn't reach into the pits of my soul and destroy any feeling of happiness i had when i started reading. 10/10

price headcanons - @soapskneebrace

✧ the perfect piece of softness to make me feel better after the absolute heartbreak of the previous fic. the characterization is 100% on point here, one of the best i've read and so so so sweet.

price holding his first-born child - @daisies-daydreams

✧ big tough military men holding and being weak over little babies is my jam. it's the fluff, the sweetness, the soft domesticity of it all. the way he reads the book to her, i'm so weak for this fic.

a drink from her cup - @lunarvicar

✧ that post that inspired this has lived rent free in my mind for so long, and i was ecstatic to see you write something for it. i'm so down bad for this man and for your writing and the way you write him.

gem amra kheli - @guyfieriii

✧ i don't think i've ever talked about how much i adore the way you write banter, the little back and forths and comments between price and reader. everything just feels so real, so grounded and i'm completely obsessed

Kyle "Gaz" Garrick

cult of vagabonds || ch. 3 - banshee bluethroat | ch. 4 - finch's frenzy - @halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ i'm screaming. vomiting. scromiting profusely.

"I hate you."

"I know."

how dare you do this to me.

reveries of a lost lamb - @halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ what's it like to be able to be one of the best writers on earth? i seriously cannot comprehend the sheer amount of talent and ability you have at writing the most captivating and emotion evoking fics i've ever read.

A golden sunrise, tangled fingers; gentle lips.

“I think I love you.”

i'm deceased.

aiaigasa (相合傘) - @captainpriceslover

✧ i read "Your part of London smelled like wet pennies that evening." and was instantly sold. the rest of the fic was so fantastic, the perfect dose of sweetness i needed, i love gaz and the way you write him so much!!

white flag - @writeforfandoms

✧ you cannot stress me out like this!! but also please continue to stress me out like this!! also the little nicknames for price and gaz had me laughing so hard, esp price.

it's over - @itsohh

✧ i really loved this, i don't think i've seen a lot of fics with gaz that really talk about what he's gone through and how missions affect him and this one does it incredibly well. serious, yet heartwarming, i adore it.

Multiple

dead disco || chapter 4 | chapter 5 | combat baby - @peachesofteal

✧ never before have a i read a series that has captured my attention so much that willingly skipped out on lunch to read it. i couldn't stop, i am in love with this fic, the writing, the characterization, everything about it. there isn't a single flaw to be found here.

how they wake you up in the mornings - @nia-writes

✧ this was so cute, and the addition of the different scenarios for how the characters would wake you made it all the more better. i was blushing, laughing, anxious, constantly giggling about FOAP. such a fun read!!

soulmate au - @itsohh

✧ i've said it once and i will say it again, i love soulmate!aus!! and god the angst in these just raked me over the coals. angst is something i love seeing in soulmate fics and this was so expertly done, my heart still hurts when i think about it

touching their cheek for the first time - @runicarbiter02

✧ absolute cuteness all around, like a cuteness overload. each one fit so well, but i'm gonna take a second to really talk about the love of my life, Roach, being included in this and how this has become an automatic fav just for that.

physical touch - @siilvan

✧ tbh i came to this for the gaz hcs but it was so good that i immediately read the rest and damn near screamed when i saw roach on there. so cute, and adorable, and absolutely perfect i loved every bit of this!!

kiss headcanons - @mangowafflesss

✧ such a cute idea that you did amazing on!! i love kisses and kiss fics and i think you absolutely nailed it here. honestly me and reader are the same because i too would just like to smooch the 141 boys all over.

getting into an accident and being hospitalised while the team is deployed - @daisies-daydreams

✧ slipping while getting out of the shower and needing to have your jaw hinged shut?? reader's just like me fr. this was very sweet, a lovely little dose of fluff with a sprinkle of angst

Simon "Ghost" Riley

silk series || silk ties - @uselsshuman

✧ i screamed. shrieked. went through a rollercoaster of emotions when this series updated. it was everything i wanted, more than everything i wanted, just so unbelievably beyond expectations!! and this:

“Stay with me for now then.”

stay with me forever wtf

no more || chapter 6 - hypnosis - @lethalchiralium

✧ we love a man who wants to apologize but man we gotta get ghost into therapy or st 😂seriously though, this was fun and the little back and forth about having a dad had me giggling

a bath - @blackssuunn

✧ i can't- i literally can't- this is too fluffy, too sweet, too perfect. i'm in awe of your writing "His eyes burn a little. Not a single drop of soap entered them." i'm speechless.

pomp - @bits-and-babs

✧ we stan anti-monarchy simon LOL so great and thos poor guards stuck at the doors. i went from blushing to cackling in like two seconds

tones - @blackssuunn

✧ soft lovely dovey simon is my favorite and you write him so incredibly well. the way this man is absolutely whipped for his partner, i adore it and i adore you for writing this

between dreams and sugar - @halcyone-of-the-sea

✧ i think i'm addicted to your angst, i keep happily going into these angst fics like i don't know i'm about to have my heart shredded into a million pieces. was there a happy ending here? yes. but it still hurt and i still loved it!!

feverish simon confesses to you - @angelltheninth

✧ this is such a cute trope that i don't read that much of, but i loved every bit of this! so much cuteness and let's be real, ghost is def the type of guy who would try and wait out an illness even if it was life-threatening 😂

footprints in the snow - @bittersw33t-lotus

✧ hello??? this was one of the sweetest things i've ever read??? i'm such a sucker for soft!simon esp when he's still a little shit and you've written that so perfectly

happiness series || you belong with me - @lethalchiralium

✧ i swear i'm totally normal about this series i'm not i totally don't immediately go feral every time it updates i do and i totally and definitely don't drop and ignore everything to reread the entire series with every new chapter i won't apologize

untitled - @lunarvicar

✧ the way you write simon and the way he shows love and how he cares has me so weak and how he teases is so aldkasjdkljk he's an asshole and i love him and i can never get enough of the way you write him

simon & rain little headcanons - @mvtthewmurdvck

✧ aaaahhhh simon and rain!!! i've missed these two and when i tell you i sprinted to read this!! i love the way your write their dynamic/relationship and just how real and fun it feels!! you're literally so good at writing ghost, i can't even deal with

sassy series || ch. 3 excerpt - @peachesofteal

✧ i have never wanted to read a full chapter so bad in my entire life. this excerpt is like a the most delicious little appetizers and i'm vibrating with excitement for the full meal!!

Valeria Garza

oh to be consumed by you - @sleepiexx

✧ i want to be consumed by valeria omg. i didn't even know vampire!val was something that i wanted-no, something that i needed-and this fic just came out of nowhere and hit me over the head in the best way possible.

#moth fic recs #fave fics #monthly fic recs

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vic-draws-sometimes · 9 months

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Imo I think Gaz, like is HELLA overthinking after the bar 'date' and he only stays slightly calm in that week between the bar confrontation thing and the make up/make out, because he sees Price is still subbed to him. He wonders about making another personal video for him, like an apology?? And he does, cough dumbass cough, but he doesn't send it until like, 4 days after he made it. He's shaky as he makes the video, a lot more shy yet also doing everything perfectly like Price instructs, touching himself through his boxers while eagerly thrusting a dildo down his throat. He has to stop recording a few times tho because he's being too rough and sloppy, hurting his throat. So then he just cuts that stuff out and cuts to himself lowering down onto it, slick and beautiful, whispering soft praises and letting out all his whimpers but he's still nervous and shy, still wondering if he should continue, if Price would want to see it. Would Price want to see me again after that???

Yet he continues, and he takes more quicker than usual, all for Price. Everything for that man GOD DAMMIT! He definitely is a little sore after, desperation does something to the human mind though. But lord, he does feel a little good like this. Look how quick I can be for you. You don't have ot just be a viewer, you can touch and pull and do anything! You could replace this silico- you get the picture.

... Does Price appreciate the video? Uhm... sorta? I mean, Gaz always is hot, and SHY Gaz? WOOH! But there are small winces and some pained whines in some parts of the video that make Price comment: 'That was too much baby, you need to take it slower.'

'Still, that's a very good boy taking so much.' Price was quick to add, as if reading through the screen the nervousness Gaz felt. The sigh of relief that left him was HUGE. AND LOUD.

Gaz is now more nervous. Does that mean he disliked it? Was it bad? Oh god!!!

Though after they make up, or the day they do, it's ON. Gaz is happily letting Price dominate and literally goes into any position his Captain wants. He does not stop calling him sie by the way. "Yes Sir" "of course, Sir" "Make me Sir." fuck! He's a tease and a brat at time too. Mostly as a way to ask for Price to be more rough.

SORRY Maybe this was too much but uhhhh yee I enjoy your writing too much your angst will always kill me and I LOVE IT.

There's no such thing as too much!

I want to eat your brain you have so many good ideas

Gaz making a video to urge him to think faster about this? And it works?? Genius

I feel like part of it is because Price can really connect that the Kyle he was seeing on his screen is the same he works with and respect so much. Like yes obviously he knew they were the same, but there was a difference. Anonymity for both of them and all. And seeing Kyle try so hard for him even after he practically left him crying. It helps him realize that he crossed the line of professional relationship a long time ago, and if Kyle wants him, then he'll give him everything.

He never wants to see Kyle so hurt by him again. But also, he wants to finally touch him and make him scream his name.

Anyways I drew a lot more of it but can't show a thing on here so go to twitter

#pricegaz

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monster-crave · 7 months

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Sweet Reward

Pairing: m!Werewolf x f!Human

Note: Happy weretober everyone! Enjoy the first of a few fics and arts on a werewolf theme that are coming your way this month.

Lyall walked slowly to his room. His arm hurt from the fight, and there was an uncomfortable feeling in his ribs. He hated fighting his kin. There were few of them, and having to entertain the humans by killing each other was more frustrating than anything. He reached for the handle and suddenly stopped. There was someone in his room. He could smell the perfume and sweet flowers. It wasn’t strong, but the owner recently passed through there. Lyall doubted that would lead to a fight, so he relaxed as much as possible and opened the door.

His room was probably just a step above being a cell. Small, almost no furniture but the bed against the far wall and chest for all his possessions. While he didn’t need more, this wasn’t the life he wanted to live forever.

“My lord.” The girl sitting at the edge of his bed greeted him.

“Lord?” Lyall laughed. Humans and their noble titles. Lyall was anything but lord, considering he was just a servant. He studied the girl quickly. Long brown hairs ran freely past her shoulders, and an elegant young face and big blue eyes were also looking at him. “Why are you here?” He took a deep breath and could smell the perfume.

“His Highness sent me.” She responded with confidence.

Lyall shouldn’t be surprised at that point, but he actually was. The Emperor had “exciting” ways of rewarding him, but that wasn’t a reward. Lyall was one of his most priced possessions, almost like a good racing horse, but unlike a horse, he could talk and walk in a human form and kill in his werewolf form when ordered. Like most good racehorses, the Emperor was fascinated by the idea of continuing the bloodline.

“Do you know why he sent you?” To say he wasn’t interested would be a lie. He could smell her arousal and sense she was in heat, and the wolf in him was more than excited to oblige the Emperor. The more rational human part of him despised the notion.

“He said you needed a mate.” She gave him a shy smile and blushed as she spoke.

Continued on Patreon

#monster lover #monster #monster x human #weretober #werewolf

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daddy-dins-girl · 8 months

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Pedro Boys - Lawful/Neutral/Chaotic

This was such a tough one to do... Thanks to everyone who shared their input and helped me put this one together :). I hope I did everyone justice!

Lawful Good - Marcus Moreno. Always acts with compassion, honour and a sense of duty. Marcus will always do what's right. He is courageous and moral and respects law and order. A "superhero" through and through.

Lawful Neutral - Din Djarin, Frankie Morales. Din will follow his creed; the creed of the Mandalore, always ("This is the way"). He has a strong moral compass and upholds order. His creed and his clan come before anything else. Frankie also follows a code; the one that's patched on his jacket shoulder in the form of an American flag. He may not always agree with the orders he's tasked to carry out and for that he'll carry a lifetime of grief and trauma on his broad shoulders.

Lawful Evil - Jack Daniels. Jack uses the "black & white" of the law to further his own agenda. Blinded by vengeance, he has a goal to achieve and he plans on seeing it through, regardless if it means harm will come to others who may or may not deserve it.

Neutral Good - Javier Peña. A man ultimately out to do good in the world, Javier upholds strong moral values and pursues justice, however he isn't afraid to act outside the law (which happens to be his job) if it's what he believes to be for the greater good. Javier will disobey a direct order if he believes the end justifies the means. He doesn't feel as bound by the red tape as the bureaucrats upstairs and it's always been his belief that it's better to ask for forgiveness than permission.

Neutral - Joel Miller. A true neutral, Joel Miller marches by the beat of his own moral drum. He'll act for himself, indifferent to what is "good" or "bad", based solely on his own needs or feelings at the time, or if his survival depends on it. He won't kill for no reason, but he would certainly kill if he believes someone means harm to himself or his loved ones. By the way, "the trolley problem?" Don't worry, Joel solved it :P

Neutral Evil - Maxwell Lord, Dave York. They have little to no reservations about bringing harm to others if it gets them what they want, but they also won't go out of their way to do something hurtful or evil if it brings them no benefit. Dave is paid to do a job. It's a name on a piece of paper in his pocket, nothing more. Loyalty or morality plays no part in it and Dave is happy to dust off his hands after it's done and go home and tuck his children into bed (and he sleeps just fine at night, thank you for asking). Maxwell has grand aspirations and plans to see them through, regardless of who gets hurt in the process. He'll "grant your wish" whether its for the greater good or the greater bad, as long as it benefits his own agenda.

Chaotic Good - Oberyn Martell, Javi Gutierrez. They uphold principles of justice and freedom but are unconcerned about how it is achieved (inside or outside of the law). Oberyn Martell believes in vengeance in the name of justice. He is bound by honour, love and duty to kill those who brought harm to his family and he will do it with a smile on his face. Javi Gutierrez' actions are inherently good and he believes in doing the right thing, although he will turn a blind eye to his criminal empire family and reap the benefits of their actions because he knows no other way.

Chaotic Neutral - Pero Tovar, Ezra. These individuals follow their own whims and will act in whichever way benefits them the most at any point in time. They are beholden to no one. A mercenary, Tovar can be paid to operate on either side. It makes little difference to him, so long as the price is right. However he also has no qualms about switching alliances, should it ultimately benefit him better, or just because he feels like it. Ezra is first and foremost a survivalist. He will always act in his own self interest with no intentions or bias toward doing evil or good. He's quite capable of switching sides if it is what is best for him (and the teenager he accidentally adopted along the way) either in the moment or for the long run.

Chaotic Evil - Max Phillips. This man is evil simply because he can be, and because it's fun. He lives for himself and his own desires with no respect to rules, authority or other peoples lives. He thrives on destruction and chaos (and has a blast doing it, thank you very much).

related posts: Pedro Boys "During a Fire Emergency" Pedro Boys "Nice Argument. Unfortunately," Pedro Boys "Don't Fuck This Up" Pedro Boys "Dad(dy) Matrix" Pedro Boys & Stabbing Pedro Boys "Feral/Sad/Angelic" Pedro Boys Respond to "I love you." Pedro Boys "Character Tropes" Pedro Boys "Gay/Depressed/Horny on Main" Pedro Boys "Dad/THOT/Bastard" Pedro Boys "bring some Coke to the party" Pedro Boys "Zombie Apocalypse Team" Pedro Boys "I Want a Baby" Pedro Boys "As Babysitters" Pedro Boys "As McDonald's Dads" Pedro Boys "in a horror movie" Pedro Boys "Cinnamon Rolls" Pedro Boys "5 Kids, 3 Chairs" Pedro Boys "Playing Monopoly"

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nightswatchdisbandmentera · 2 months

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It’s important that the first revelation of Nissa Nissa is accompanied by some level of skepticism from Salladhor Saan and aversion on Davos’ part. It doesn’t sound right that Azor Ahai chose to sacrifice his wife for a magic sword. It shouldn’t sound right.

“A hundred days and a hundred nights he labored on the third blade, and as it glowed white-hot in the sacred fires, he summoned his wife. ‘Nissa Nissa,’ he said to her, for that was her name, ‘bare your breast, and know that I love you best of all that is in this world.’ She did this thing, why I cannot say, and Azor Ahai thrust the smoking sword through her living heart. It is said that her cry of anguish and ecstasy left a crack across the face of the moon, but her blood and her soul and her strength and her courage all went into the steel. Such is the tale of the forging of Lightbringer, the Red Sword of Heroes.

“Now do you see my meaning? Be glad that it is just a burnt sword that His Grace pulled from that fire. Too much light can hurt the eyes, my friend, and fire burns.” Salladhor Saan finished the last grape and smacked his lips. “When do you think the king will bid us sail, good ser?”

[…] A true sword of fire, now, that would be a wonder to behold. Yet at such a cost … When he thought of Nissa Nissa, it was his own Marya he pictured, a good-natured plump woman with sagging breasts and a kindly smile, the best woman in the world. He tried to picture himself driving a sword through her, and shuddered. I am not made of the stuff of heroes, he decided. If that was the price of a magic sword, it was more than he cared to pay.

Not only does it not make sense that Nissa Nissa would agree to her husband’s request, it’s also telling how Salladhor Saan expresses relief in knowing that King Stannis didn’t actually forge Lightbringer. Because forging Lightbringer means human sacrifice. And why should one be deprived of their life, even if it’s for a magic sword? Davos is very right to be creeped out by it.

The theme of sacrifice shows up quite a bit in ASOIAF and Davos I isn’t the first or last time. The very first chapter in the series, Bran I, tackles this idea with Jon and the direwolves.

“Lord Stark,” Jon said. It was strange to hear him call Father that, so formal. Bran looked at him with desperate hope. “There are five pups,” he told Father. “Three male, two female.”

“What of it, Jon?”

“You have five trueborn children,” Jon said. “Three sons, two daughters. The direwolf is the sigil of your House. Your children were meant to have these pups, my lord.”

Bran saw his father’s face change, saw the other men exchange glances. He loved Jon with all his heart at that moment. Even at seven, Bran understood what his brother had done. The count had come right only because Jon had omitted himself. He had included the girls, included even Rickon, the baby, but not the bastard who bore the surname Snow, the name that custom decreed be given to all those in the north unlucky enough to be born with no name of their own.

Their father understood as well. “You want no pup for yourself, Jon?” he asked softly.

“The direwolf graces the banners of House Stark,” Jon pointed out. “I am no Stark, Father.”

Jon, though he may desperately desire to have his own piece of magic, would not sacrifice his siblings for it. He wouldn’t dare to deprave the girls, Arya and Sansa, of their own magic even when it might be very easy to do so. This is a pretty stark contrast (pun intended) to Azor Ahai and his Nissa Nissa. Azor Ahai’s first line of thought was to sacrifice his wife whereas Jon’s was to sacrifice himself. Sure Azor Ahai got his magic sword, but Jon’s self-sacrifice is not in vain either because he later earns his own wolf, who turns out to be even more special than the rest in the pack.

Bran IV kind of alludes to the idea of self sacrifice through Old Nan’s retelling of the last hero:

So as cold and death filled the earth, the last hero determined to seek out the children, in the hopes that their ancient magics could win back what the armies of men had lost. He set out into the dead lands with a sword, a horse, a dog, and a dozen companions. For years he searched, until he despaired of ever finding the children of the forest in their secret cities. One by one his friends died, and his horse, and finally even his dog, and his sword froze so hard the blade snapped when he tried to use it. And the Others smelled the hot blood in him, and came silent on his trail, stalking him with packs of pale white spiders big as hounds—”

Though the one we know is called the “last hero”, notice that it’s not a title but a mere descriptor; there were many heroes before him who died and he was the last one standing. There is a human toll in this legend, but it’s implied to be self sacrifice. It’s also interesting that though there is mention of a blade, it is the children of the forest’s magic that is key. This does kind of bleed into what we know about the Night’s Watch and its relation to the long night. The Night’s Watch victory was a group effort, rather than the actions of any one man.

We have several legends surrounding the long night that work, but only one involves the cost of sacrificing someone else (that we know of). This might be where GRRM is headed with Stannis and his creation of Lightbringer. Sure Azor Ahai did get his magic sword, but it doesn’t negate the steep human cost. GRRM has lowkey confirmed that Stannis is sure to burn Shireen. And rather than this sacrifice not working, I think it’s more likely that it does work. Stannis does indeed create the flaming sword. But this will be directly weighed by other (self) sacrifices made for the same purpose. Stannis’ sacrifice of his daughter won’t work any better than other characters who choose to sacrifice themselves even when knowing that they are not going to go down as individual legends; I think Jon Snow will once again be the prime example of this, as he has already resigned himself to being a shadow in history despite initially wanting the opposite. Maester Aemon was right in saying that

[…] all deceive ourselves, when we want to believe. Melisandre most of all, I think. The sword is wrong, she has to know that … light without heat … an empty glamor … the sword is wrong, and the false light can only lead us deeper into darkness, Sam

The sword is wrong. Azor Ahai is NOT one to be emulated. Rather, he should be a cautionary tale. He is not any more special for his sacrifice than what the last hero or the men of the Night’s Watch did, even though we know his name but don’t know theirs. GRRM answered the question regarding sacrifice before he even posed it. To make someone else pay the price is flat out wrong. The only true and worthy sacrifice is really that of the self.

#asoiaf #valyrianscrolls #azor ahai #the last hero #stannis baratheon #jon snow #the night's watch #didn’t put in the post but if Jon’s ADWD dream turns out to be true and he does gain his own flaming sword i tend to think he’ll get it #by giving up himself or part of himself in the process #jon is perhaps the most self sacrificial character in this series #which is why theories that dany will be his nissa nissa miss the mark almost entirely #if jon is to be a hero he will do it by sacrificing himself not someone else #he already demonstrated this in agot when he refused a direwolf and again in adwd when he refused winterfell #stannis is meant to be his foil so we could see them being weighed against each other #not to mention that jon’s adwd dream is very much a last hero retelling with references to his companions falling #and him outlasting them though there’s a really interesting reference to him killing robb and ygritte #but I think it’s more to do with killing his own desires to remain at the wall - in addition to his feelings of guilt and abandonment

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soaps-hoe-141 · 1 year

Text

Drowning In The Depths

Part 3

Pairing: Price x Male!Reader

WC: 10k

Synopsis: Price and Speck fighting their gay demons

Warnings: lil hints of some spicy content but not much sorry guys

That voice. Good God on high that fucking voice. The stutter of your heart made your heaving chest stop instantaneously. Blood turned to ice in your veins and froze you to the concrete even in the raging heat you had plunged outside of the building into. Your thoughts, swimming in pain and adrenaline and him. So much of him. The countless nights that you would have done anything to hear that voice next to you, behind you. Growling in the way you knew it could right next to your ear. His voice telling you how good you were doing, how good you made him feel. You'd had dreams of that voice, and you knew all too well how it made your body react. It felt like your blood was being redirected and in a moment of fleeting panic you knew exactly where it was headed.

That is until you felt the cool barrel of the gun nudge against the back of your head again as he whispered, seeming to grow a bit impatient, "Tell the dog to stand down."

"Platz," Cerberus sank to the ground, eyes looking back and forth between the two of you and clearly confused about why he shouldn't be attacking the man pointing a gun at your head. But your mouth worked independently of your brain, betraying you when you needed them both to work together. Why had you obeyed so readily? You had your own weapon, a good arm and leg, not to mention a missile of a dog who would have done anything you asked. He was just one man, you could have taken him, you'd already taken more than your fair share today anyway.

It was him though. John. And fuck you barely even registered that he was saying more, more focused on the way he was saying it as he stepped closer, nearly flush with your back. "Good boy, Marine. Gun, now." His hand grabbed the arm that'd been shot to hell, your jaw clenching and a quiet curse falling from your mouth as his fingers dug into the muscle of your bicep. Still you obeyed, stop fucking listening to him, what the fuck were you? Had he trained your dumb ass or something, good Lord. His hands wrapped around the barrel, throwing the strap over his shoulder and you felt the gun smack against the hand he'd wrenched behind your back before he growled, "Walk." He pushed you forward then, his freehand holding the pistol at the small of your back as he moved you down the empty street forcefully.

Your eyes went wide looking around desperately for a moment before you muttered, "Cerberus. No, the dog, John, don't leave him. Please not him," the Dutch Shepherd was stuck to the ground where you'd left him. Chocolate eyes watching the two of you intently.

John paused and you felt him shift against your back to glance behind you both at the animal, seeming to decide whether Cerberus was going to live or die. You were tense, eyes on the dog you'd raised from puppyhood and straining against the arm pulled painfully behind your back. "He hurts anyone I'll kill him, you understand?" You nodded a quick affirmative and he leaned closer, breath sliding over the shell of your ear and making you shiver, "Use your words, Marine."

"Yes I understand, John. He won't do anything I don’t tell him to." It was instantaneous, a response so quick it was degrading how readily you obeyed him. This was bad, this was really fuckin bad. You were a shooter, you killed people faster than the best of the best, and here you were obeying an order from a man you had spent one night with even faster. Obeying him faster than fucking thought.

The man growled out then, "Bring him, hurry up." He turned you both slightly, the pistol in the small of your back pressing a bit harder as a reminder. Like you could forget that cool metal, doubtful.

You finally looked back at the dog still laying on the ground. When your eyes found him his head tilted, ears perked up, and tail wagging in anticipation to follow your commands. "Hier, Cerberus," he sprinted forward, chocolate eyes staring up at you with his tail going a mile a minute behind him. "Fuss," he raced around John's back pressing into your thigh on the right side and dragging out a light hiss of pain. The man behind you seemed to tense for a second, not sure what Cerberus was doing until he saw the dog stop at your side looking up at you with near reverence. You muttered, "Well John, thought we were going somewhere. Ain't got all day," a hard shove had a low groan escaping you, pain lancing up from where he was holding you around the forearm now and up through your bicep. This was turning into one hell of a terrible day.

You neared the corner of the apartment building, your eyes darting down the alley that you should have been in a few minutes before. That was supposed to have been your exit, but you'd decided Cerberus triggering on explosives so near the door wasn't worth the risk. Never should have even been going out the front door to begin with, you wished you'd never even gotten up out of bed earlier. An unfamiliar man pushed up from the wall, looking out of the alley at the both of you, smirking at you in particular like he'd done something sneaky and gotten away with it. "Hey Cap, can't believe that actually worked." When he neared Cerberus whined and laid down beside you, drawing your gaze down to him and then back to the newcomer.

John cleared his throat and the pistol at your back disappeared, "Can't believe you're that lucky, Gaz. Soap and Ghost missed him, you nearly messed up." Your brows drew together as you began to pick up on what had happened inside and why Cerberus hadn't alerted the second he reached the door. They'd tricked him, well you really. You should have known better, but with your head spinning on an adrenaline high and every thought just being of wanting to merely survive the day, you had let things get muddled. You'd fucked up. Damnit, so fuckin stupid should have just kept going consequences be damned. But that was the past, it couldn't be changed now. Three foot world, control what you can and forget everything else. You'd made your decision and now it was time to live with it, or die with it.

"Son of a gun," you muttered under your breath. The hand around your arm gripped tighter and you shot a glare at the man over your shoulder, wishing that his grip would loosen just a bit. Fuck everything was hurting so damn bad, you weren't going anywhere, you were helpless and at their whim, couldn't they just cut you some damn slack? "That wasn't even an insult, come on," you grimaced as he pushed you towards Gaz. You stumbled a bit, hissing at the pain in your thigh and the urge to fight back kicked in. Fist clenching you turned back towards John only to see the barrel of your Fennec aimed down at Cerberus. Again you froze, and muttered a curse under your breath before turning your gaze down to the dog, "Fuss Cerberus." He was by your side again in a second, and you turned an annoyed gaze back up at John, "What in the hell do yall even want? It illegal to go on vacation now or somethin? I'll tell you what, it's definitely illegal to kidnap someone."

The brunette huffed and shook his head ignoring you, apparently he had better things to do than argue with you. He turned when two more men came down the sidewalk, hiding their pistols at their back while you felt Gaz behind you grab your arm and press his pistol into your back, good Lord where did they think you were gonna go? To the fuckin airport? The white mask you'd seen earlier, that you now realized was a black balaclava with a white skull piece attached to the front, caught your attention then. It was the big man with his heavy British accent from the bar, one of John's teammates you'd forgotten about, damn. He stared at you for a moment, eyes narrowing behind the mask though whatever he was thinking remained hidden to you. The man with the Scottish accent looked at the dog with a frown, "I feckin hate dogs. Did you see what that blaigeard did?"

Oh no, don't do it, bad idea, but your brain, as you had already discovered, was completely disconnected from your mouth at this point. "Gib Laut," Cerberus answered immediately with a thundering bark from deep in his chest. His eyes looked up at you with his tongue lolling proud of himself, but your eyes were on the Scotsman who jumped back behind the masked man, putting the big man between him and your dog. The soft chuckle left you, amusement at seeing his reaction flooding your mind with an emotion you hadn't felt in a long time.

That is before something smacked into the back of your head with enough force that sparks were flashing behind your eyelids and pain was lancing through you. He had smacked your head with something hard, the head that had already been scrambled by two explosions and a flashbang in less than an hour. The head that currently could barely even remember Cerberus' commands without being subjected to a massive headache. You groaned, the already swimming thoughts going fuzzy as you stumbled forward, trying to shake away the fog to no avail. Your leg couldn't hold the weight though and you felt yourself falling. The hand around your forearm trying to stop your fall and failing miserably, only earning a grimace before you felt a pop in your shoulder and hit the ground with a hard thud. Your eyes blinked rapidly as you tried to focus, forehead pressing into the ground as you held back the sounds of pain your voice wanted to desperately let out.

The pain pulsed through your body with a vengeance after finally you had been stopped and forced to get off the high you'd been riding since that first bomb had gone off. Every ounce of adrenaline in your body had been burned up like a meteorite entering the atmosphere; it just couldn't finish the journey. There was nothing left for you to give, not anymore. Worried voices hit your ears but they were muffled, Cerberus' warm body pressed against your side earning a quiet, "Sitz," from you. Your good hand tried to push you up off the ground, face contorting as you fell back to the ground with a huff, unable to so much as move the other arm at this point. You barely kept your eyes open long enough to see feet moving in front of you before everything went black.

A scream ripped from your throat as the world came back to you so suddenly you felt like you'd been ripped from the womb of the earth itself. Your eyes snapped up to the man holding you still in the chair as best he could. He wasn't the source of pain though. The source was the Scotsman who was currently pulling your wrenched arm out while guiding the joint back into place. Your heart was racing and limbs shaking as you worked to keep yourself still as well. The joint finally slid back in and your pain was alleviated nearly instantly, washing over your burning mind like cool water. The feeling of relief made you go limp and fall back into the chair you were sitting in, head smacking against the masked man's stomach though you didn't feel anything now. You slipped back into mother earth's womb, blind to the world around you once more.

"I'm sorry Cap I didn't think he'd just pass out," the familiar voice sounded strained as if the man speaking was in pain. Fuck you sure hoped so, that little shit had smacked you over the head and dislocated your shoulder. He could fry in hell with your ex-wife for all you cared about him right now.

The voice you heard next though, he had your eyes opening slowly to look around for his face and wishing he was closer. He had abducted you and you were still aching for him, how stupid were you? "Bloody hell Gaz, you were the one the dog went after. Should have thought a little more before you hit him over the head. Maybe shoot the dog before you knock out the handler next time." Your chest tightened as you searched for the men, blinking away the fog in your eyes.

"Cerberus?" The voices in the other room went quiet, only serving to fuel your panic as you tried to stand. Your hands were tied behind your back and your legs were tied at the ankle. And then there he was, in all his brunette and blue eyed glory. Just standing in the doorway watching you with a cold stare that made your chest hurt even more. "John," you could see his lips purse when you said his name, his chin lifting almost like he was putting himself above your quiet words. "John, where's Cerberus?" His eyes narrowed at you as he stepped into the room, shutting the door behind him and closing the two of you inside the room. Alone.

His thumbs hooked into the straps of his tactical vest as he made his way over, mouth twitching under his overgrown beard. You remembered it being so meticulous, so well cared for, and yet now it looked like it had been neglected for quite some time. He stood a few feet in front of you, staring down at you, unblinking with those ocean blue hues. You were drowning and he was the one holding you under with a single look. "Who are you?" Your breath stayed stubbornly stuck in your lungs as you looked up at him.

You didn't know how to respond, should you answer truthfully or lie yet again. Maybe compromise? Truth, momma always said God don't like liars, "They call me Speck. Where is Cerberus?" He stared at you, was that not good enough? No one knew your real name anymore, that was why you could do what you did.

His head shook and you finally noticed that he was wearing a hat, it looked like the hat you used to steal from your Pawpaw before you went fishing all day so you didn't get sunburnt. Under any other circumstances you might have even smiled at it but not now. "Speck?" He obviously didn't get it, that was ok though, he didn't need to understand the nickname he just needed to let you go. "Why are you here Speck?" You stared at him rebelliously, refusing to answer seeing as he wasn't going to tell you where your dog was. For a moment you thought the two of you were just going to be stuck in this stalemate till he decided to use more forceful methods. But then his hips shifted and drew your eyes to them with a quiet catch in your breath. His feet spread and his stance widened, the low grumble of his voice vibrating the air between you, "He's in the other room. Why are you here?"

Your eyes shot to the door, staring at it for a few moments before you turned back to look up at him once more and answered, "Work." It was a simple reply that had so many complex offshoots.

It seems though that your answer did not satisfy his question this time, "What do you do for work?" Damn. Now how did he explain this one? Oh hey John I just tortured and killed twenty women and children over the past eight months. Yeah, yeah no worries though I did it for my job, I don't technically work for my country anymore but I don't not work for them. A chair slid across the floor as he took a seat in front of you and asked again, "What do you do for work?"

Muscles tensed as he leaned over the back of the chair, forearms draped over and eyes staring up at you through dark lashes. You couldn't focus, couldn't think, and certainly couldn't think straight. Your eyes slid the length of his bare forearms, tongue flicking out to wet your dry lips as you suddenly realized just how thirsty you were. Was that because of him? Probably. Could also be you hadn’t had any water in a while and it was well over 90 degrees in this fuckin desert. Your gaze slid lower, his thighs pressing against the sides of the chair. The missing back panel framing the prize you couldn’t help but imagine.

The burning gaze on your face wasn’t lost on you, to be quite honest it only served to make your cheeks burn even hotter and the tension to increase tenfold. Fantasies played in your head that you couldn’t seem to force down. Fuck you wished he’d force you down on his length again. No. Stop. Not now. He was literally interrogating you. What the actual shit was wrong with you? You needed to go to church again because obviously you’d forgotten what the good Lord had taught you. He tipped his head a bit closer, forcing your gaze up from his midsection and asked again, “What do you do for work, Speck?”

You were blanching at him, still unsure how to answer, at least unsure how to answer with a lie. Finally your clouded thoughts cleared enough to get out, “I serve my country, John.” You glanced down at the Union Jack velcroed onto his tactical vest and then added, “Just like you.” He scooted the chair a bit closer and narrowed his eyes at you, there was no way he could miss the way your eyes lingered on his mouth and on every bare patch of skin. You were hungry, starving, scraping the bottom of the barrel for any morsel or scrap you could get your eyes on and there was no way he couldn’t see it.

Blue eyes trapped your attention again, God those eyes were too blue. How did they get so blue? Were they that blue the last time you saw them or did they just look better now that you hadn’t seen them for so long. A brunette brow raised before he questioned you again, “What were you doing at the market?”

“What?” You couldn’t stop your own quick question, confusion written all over your face. He started to open his mouth again before you shook your head quickly, stopping him from repeating the question at you. “No, I heard what ya said John. I just don’t get how, for one, you knew I was at the market, and two, how that matters in the slightest.”

John’s head tilted before he leaned back, hands clasping in front of him while he watched you. “We saw you there, and we saw you talking to the old man not even a minute before someone blew him up. So either you killed him or someone tried to kill you, which is it Speck? Was the old man your target?” Your head was shaking before he even finished the question and before you could even attempt to verbalize an answer he asked, “So what were you at the market for then?”

Shit, shit, shit, how did you prove that you didn’t kill that old man? Thoughts floated in your mind as you sorted through them, putting the timeline together slowly. The paper, your target, the one you’d been given by the old man. That could prove it. You pulled your gaze away from those blue depths and turned your focus down to your thigh not currently coated in blood and answered, “My handler sent me. The old man was giving me a piece of paper,” you glanced up to find him leaning forward again, you’d caught his interest it seemed with that. “It’s uh, well it’s in my pocket John. So if you want it you best go fishin for it.” That cooled off his burning gaze, and you couldn’t help your chin lifting. If he wanted to know so badly then he could humble himself to figure it out.

The chair screeched against the floor making you cringe at the sound. He stepped forward, towering over you as your eyes ran up his body slowly until your head was tilting back with a smirk on your face. John had kept himself cold and calm for the most part, until right then when you caught him beginning to break. And when your smile widened it only got worse, he had to look away, glancing back at the door before he was retreating. “Hey! Where the hell are you goin?” He stopped for only a second finger raising like he was about to point it at you but instead he only gave you a cynical smile and shoved his way out of the door.

And so once again you were alone, listening to muffled voices outside and shifting uncomfortably in the chair. Your underwear was far too tight now, God almighty just make this nightmare end, please. You couldn’t stop the buck of your hips, trying to catch some of the friction from the fabric but there was none to be found. It was too loose, too thin. Teeth dragged across your bottom lip before you leaned forward, rocking in the chair and trying to soothe that ache by simply just not thinking about it.

What else was there to think about though? John? That certainly wasn’t going to help the situation. Just thinking that name was having the exact opposite effect you were in need of. Breathing, that’s a good thing to focus on. Deep breath in, deep breath out. Maybe think about how your shoulder was aching, and your fingers were starting to go numb at the bonds that were tied around your wrists. Just as you were starting to shift and trying to free yourself the door flew open. You froze and looked up, the man with the skull face was staring back at you. He ducked back out and there was a quiet whisper just outside before he came back around the doorframe and rumbled, “Fine.”

This one towered over you even more than John did, forcing you to sit up and lean back in the chair once again. His eyes ran over you just before stopping on your thigh and then he squatted beside you to reach into your pocket. The large, gloved hand disappeared into the folds of fabric and you watched, leg tensed so hard you were sure it was shaking with the strain. His eyes flicked up to yours as his hand searched and you felt him graze over an area he never should have. He sighed with a shake of his head, “Fuckin Americans.” Your brows furrowed at him, shaking your own head at that and trying to pull your leg away to which he just grabbed your knee with a strong hand to keep you still.

You merely gave him a shrug then when he turned his glare up at you. You kept watching him as he searched for the piece of paper in your pocket, “Not my fault you damned red coats tied my hands up.” The big man finally closed his fingers around the piece of paper and pulled his hand out of your pocket. It was flecked with a couple drops of your blood but that was all you got to see before he turned and inspected the paper with his back to you. He glanced sideways at you before flipping it over and then that was when the glaring started in earnest from him.

The big man held the piece of paper up to your face and you stared at the blank side, giving him a quick glance of question until he flipped it over. Both sides were blank. You looked completely taken aback at the sight, lips moving slowly like you were trying to say something but the words refused to come out. The masked man filled the silence for you, “Why’s it blank?” Your gaze flicked up to him as disbelief coursed through you.

And then your rage began to boil. Your jaw tensed as your gaze fixed on the far wall of the room and you tried to breathe it out, but there was no stopping this freight train, not now. Now you could start to put all the pieces together, the puzzle was becoming clearer now. “That goddamn rat. I’m gonna castrate that little shit,” you were straining in earnest against the bindings now. The bite of the zip ties helped to keep the rage from consuming you, only barely though. “Son of a bitch!” The curses were rolling off your tongue faster than your mind could process and becoming more and more colorful and descriptive the longer you went. “Gonna put a hot fuckin poker under his feet and watch him squirm that, fucker!”

Eyes burned your skin as you kept rocking in the chair, the ties digging deeper and deeper into your skin. You shot your gaze back up at him and growled out, “You wanna know why that piece of paper you got is blank you big bitch? It’s because I’m the stupidest motherfucker on this planet.” His eyes narrowed at you before you just kept going, “Happens once shame on you, happens twice? Fuck me sideways cause I got the good sense God gave a fuckin carrot.” He was watching you with what was almost amusement, that was all you could categorize it as anyway.

John’s face in the doorway caught your attention but it did nothing to soothe the rage boiling over. “Bloody hell did you do Ghost?” He asked the big man who just shook his head and handed off the piece of paper to the other brit’s outstretched hand.

Ghost shrugged as he turned back towards the door, “Just have that effect on people I guess, Captain.” The Captain in mention was looking over the blank piece of paper, confusion written on his face just as yours had been moments ago. When John turned to question him further about it though Ghost was long gone, the door already shut.

Instead his attention turned back to you and threw the paper down on your thighs which were straining in the fabric as you still fought to get yourself loose. “Explain.” You shot a glare at him, partially blaming him for all this mess. Especially since it was him that had been distracting you for eight months now to the apparent attempts on your life. He didn’t seem to care though as his hand wrapped around your jaw and pulled your face down, level with his, and he leaned over until he was only a couple inches from your face, “Now Speck.”

Your mouth went dry nearly immediately as you took in a quick breath, eyes shooting down to his mouth when he spoke. You swallowed hard but nothing went down, damn how could you be frustrated and angry and he still somehow makes heat and blood flood your system without so much as a complete sentence? When the hand around your jaw tightened you finally managed to croak out, “They hung me out to dry…again.” There was a dangerous tilt to his head, the question there even without him having to ask it aloud. “They sent me to the market to die, John. Their timing is just absolute ass though.” His fingers fell away from your jaw and he grabbed the chair, sitting in it the right way this time, facing you with a dangerous look in his eyes.

He leaned forward in the seat and his elbows rested on his knees. His gloved hands clasped together in front of him and he looked across the empty space between you before giving you a nod, “I’m listening. Tell me what happened.” You gave him a look of uncertainty, he’d been nothing but cold to you since he’d pressed that gun to the back of your head. Why should you give him even more information to potentially hurt you with? Then again did you really have much choice? You were sitting in a chair with your hands and feet zip tied together to keep you from making a break for it. There wasn’t much room for what you really wanted right now it would seem.

A sigh left you as you sat up in the chair a bit. You hadn’t even noticed the rage boiling your blood had dissipated, damn if he wasn’t a magician. This man should be tried for witchcraft honestly. This had to be some voodoo spell he’d put on you. Blue hues watched you closely, nearly losing his patience as you collected yourself and finally answered, “Well since they tried to have me killed I figure, just fuck em, you know? So with that being said, I worked for a private american contractor. I do, or did, things that no one else would.”

There was a quiet pause as you tried to decide where to start and finally sighed and kept going, “This particular hunt started over the border in Afghanistan but I’ve been in Iran for a couple months now. Cerberus and I, we work alone. I don’t work with other people,” you looked away for a quick moment before adding, “Not anymore. They’re too messy,” John gave you a quick nod of understanding, still watching and listening intently. “We were supposed to be tracking this bombmaker down, him and his organization. But we couldn’t get to the people themselves so we took an alternative route, not exactly something I’m proud of.”

The brunette’s brows furrowed and he stopped you, “You’re the one that killed his second’s son a few months ago? And took the rest of their wives too?” You nodded slowly, eyes falling to the ground for a moment, you didn’t like to think of what you’d done to those kids and women. He cleared his throat to catch your attention again, bringing your gaze back up to finally settle back on him, “Keep going.”

You nodded slowly and shifted in the chair again, “My handler called me just before noon, told me to be at the market to get my next target location. That’s why I was there, that’s what the paper was supposed to be for. The old man gave it to me, and I can’t tell you all that much about him but I can tell you that when he did give it to me there weren't any explosives on him.” John gave you a look like he was about to question as to how you knew that before you clarified, “Cerberus would have alerted to it and when we were standing right beside him he was completely calm. No alert of any kind.” The blue eyes narrowed at that before he glanced towards the door, seeming to think about something before he nodded slowly and turned back to look at you.

A nod indicated you should keep going and so you did, “Some time between the handoff and me taking my smoke break Cerberus alerted. I missed it, I was…distracted.” There was a question in his eyes that you were not about to answer so instead you pushed onward in your explanation. “I was hurt in the blast so I slipped out of the market and down an alley. But there was a local guard that caught me back there before I could get out. He shot me, that’s where the bullets in my arm came from. I killed him, and got the fuck out of there and back to my apartment.”

John nodded interrupting you again, “Yeah Ghost followed you back there, while we looked around the market. What about the second bomb then? It didn't go off anywhere around you. You think that one was still meant for you?" He leaned back in the chair, his eyes watching every move you made.

You in turn were staring at the wall just behind him, trying not to look at the unkempt beard and his boonie hat that was making your heart skip. "Yeah I do, but it wasn't there when we came through the first time. Cerberus no alerty," you were playing off your pent up frustration as an attitude which to be fair you've always had enough of. The Captain though didn't seem to appreciate it very much as he gave you a cold glare. It drew out a sigh as you shifted in the chair and shrugged, "Man I don't know what you want from me. Cerberus didn't alert until just before the bomb went off with the old man. I don't know who planted the explosives." You paused for a moment to think and then continued, "I do know that my boss sent me in there to die. How long he's been trying to kill me exactly I've got no clue, but I do know that he refused to evac me, which is why Cerberus and I were making a break for it when you found us. Or those other guys I guess. Who were those guys? Were they with you?"

John held you with an even gaze, one you were unable to hold yourself and instead looked down at your pants still soaked with blood. Finally he answered, "No, they weren't with me." Well at least you hadn't killed his men then, this could have been so much worse if you had. You felt his eyes on you still, judging you, deciding on something. The attention made you shift in the chair uncomfortably again. He was too close, too here, too real, but certainly not as close as your body wanted him. God you wanted him, you'd have given the devil your soul just to have him right then and there. Your eyes shot up to his form when he crossed his arms over his chest, turning in the chair to yell at the door, "Ghost! Bring the dog in here!"

It took a few seconds before the door opened and the familiar black and brindled face came flying into the room. They had muzzled him, a sight that made your heart ache, and he was straining at a rope they'd put on him as a makeshift lead. The dog was whining as he tried to free himself from Ghost's strong grip doing no more than annoying the big man it seemed. So when that didn't work he was growling, trying to surge towards you, and then sending another growl up at the man.

"Pfui!" The dog gave another low whine at the command, circling in place once and beginning to pace at the end of the lead but at least he wasn't pulling at it anymore. Your eyes flicked up to the big man who was watching you from the door, and then over to John. Those cool blue hues were fixed on you, Cerberus' whining filling your aching head and beginning to overwhelm you before you finally snapped at him, "Sitz, Cerberus! Bleib!" The dog sat immediately, eyes still on you while you were still staring at John.

It wasn't even a moment after you issued the command that John said, "Drop the rope, Ghost. You can leave," the big man glanced at the Captain, it seemed his men weren't as well trained as Cerberus was. He was hesitating to follow the order, sure the dog was muzzled but the damn thing was a surface to man missile and his teeth weren't the only things that could hurt. But when John's eyes turned back to fix him with a hard look Ghost let the rope go and disappeared out the door again. The ocean depths returned to you again, watching you with a hard stare before he leaned forward, "We want the head of the bombing operation. Do you know where he is?"

Well that was an unexpected turn of events. Your brows furrowed as you thought about it, mulling over the question in your mind before finally you answered, "Not at the moment. But I can find out. The old man wasn't the only contact I have here." John seemed to still be making a decision, considering all the options that were laid bare before him. Damn if you didn't wish it was you laid bare before him. A pulse of desire rushed through you and straight down where you'd been trying to avoid thinking about.

Just barely you contained the urge to shift your hips again, do not try to fuck the air with witnesses you dumb ass. It wasn't until John stood from the chair, the blade of a knife flipping out towards you that you actually got that urge under control. He disappeared behind you, and you caught Cerberus watching him as well. The dog didn't seem the least bit concerned though about what he was doing, that was good at least. And then, you felt the cool metal against your wrist and the plastic ties that had been biting deep into your wrists fell off with a quick flick of the knife.

You sighed at the relief, arms coming back around the chair as you held the right bicep in a protective grip. Fingers prodding at the sore joint of your shoulder and the inflamed muscle that covered it as if poking it would make the pain go away. It did in fact make it worse. The wounds were still bandaged in your makeshift duct tape bindings but they were all soaked through and needed to be replaced and cleaned properly.

John came back around so you could see him again, watching intently as he kneeled in front of you and cut through the ties around your ankles. His blue hues shifted up to your eyes, capturing you with his gaze. Calloused fingers grazed over your ankle as he pulled the tie off and you had to force your gaze away else you'd have been on him in a second. He was so close you could feel his body heat even through the layers of clothes you were both wearing.

Every sense felt flooded with stimuli, bringing that feeling of lightheadedness back like it had earlier. You just wanted to reach out and touch him. Your hands were free now, you could do it. It'd be so easy and it would feel so nice. Maybe just do it to feel his face against your hands again. His face and the prickly hairs of his beard that were just begging to be touched by you specifically. You could feel the burn on your skin even without it actually being there. It'd taken weeks for that feeling to go away on your actual skin and still you felt it in your dreams, even so recently as a couple nights ago.

The sound of the knife closing brought your eyes back to him, to the ocean hues that were trying to drown you. He was still kneeling in front of you with an expectant look on his face. God just say something, please say anything right now, but your mouth was empty of words. Not even so much as a sound could make it out of your throat. Something flashed in his eyes, but you had no idea what it might be. You were so out of touch with your own emotions it was a foreign language you didn't have the slightest bit of fluency in. His low rumble vibrated in his chest, "Find him for me, Speck. Find the man and then you can go do whatever the hell you want, yeah?" Stunned, that's all you could feel. You were stunned into silence by the request until one of his brows lifted.

That pulled you out of your head before you nodded, "Alright, sounds good to me Army." John kept watching you for a moment, his face unreadable at least to you. Without saying a word he stood back up, taking a couple steps back and hooking his thumbs back into the straps of his vest.

His head turned as he found the dog, still sitting where you'd told him to and then he was back on you. "Come on then, I don't have all day and your," his eyes narrowed at your arm and thigh before he continued, "bandages need to be changed. Not exactly bandages though, are they?" You let out a laugh at that, he could say that again.

You nodded quickly before turning your attention to Cerberus who was about to come unglued from where he was sitting. "Hier," he shot off from his spot barreling towards you. He hit you like an eighteen wheeler, smacking into your chest and tipping the chair you'd been sitting in over with you in it. "Oh shit!" You tried to push him off but he was shaking with excitement, his tongue pressing through the holes of the muzzle and catching every bit of you it could reach.

"Nein! Pfui! Platz!" You were yelling the commands until he finally backed off and you pushed his face away from you despite his whines of protest. "Back the hell off Cerberus, what the fuck?" You lifted your good hand to wipe your face off before pushing yourself up to an elbow, "Seriously?" He was laying down now, inching closer to you with his tail whipping up debris behind him. "Not cool buddy," your head shook at him but you couldn't deny the little smile on your mouth. It felt good to be loved by something in this world at least.

When you pushed yourself up to where you were sitting and pulled your leg off of the chair with a wince John was still watching, his face as unreadable as it had been this entire time. The dog at your side stood when you tried to push yourself up, unsuccessfully. Your eyes shot to the Brit, not certain you really wanted to humble yourself to ask for help. Especially when he didn't look like he was about to offer it.

Instead you braced a hand on the Dutch Shepherd's back and pushed yourself back to your feet, using him as a kind of crutch. Your good hand reached to the strap of the muzzle and pulled it loose along with the rope they'd been using to control him. You tossed both onto the chair with repulsion etched plainly into your face, the big Dutchie had never been outfitted with a muzzle before and you despised the look of it on him.

With one hand on his collar and him bracing against your side while his eyes were staring up at you like they almost always did, you made your way to the door. John gave a single nod before backing up and pushing it open, and then he disappeared to the other side. Stepping through the doorway you took in their little makeshift ops center, casting a quick glance at your surroundings and the plain walls. A few computers were set up in the center along with a landline phone. Now wasn’t that kind of old school, but it also just so happened to be the safest form of communication in case anyone tried to hack them.

There were a few chairs scattered around the middle like someone had been playing musical chairs not too long ago. There was a man curled up in the far corner, back to all the noise as he caught some shut eye. Ghost was sitting on one of the tables, sharpening a knife with a disassembled MCPR-300 laid out behind him along with its cleaning kit. He gave you a momentary glance but spared you little attention after that. Gaz was the one who was staring you, well more like Cerberus, down with a hard glare. His arm was wrapped up to his elbow with bandages and it wasn't that hard to figure out why.

Not a good idea to settle your attention there though, you hadn't exactly made a good impression on these men so far. You'd nearly shot one of them in the face, you'd had Cerberus scare one of them nearly out of his shoes, another had been attacked by the big Dutch Shepherd, and you'd left the only one you really cared about sleeping in his bed to wake up not knowing where you'd even gone. First impressions were definitely not your strong suit with these guys it would seem. When he cleared his throat beside you, your eyes shot back over to John. He glanced at the picture he was currently holding up to show you. It was the man you had been hunting for eight months now all throughout the middle east. Your eyes returned to his and he asked, "Where's he at then?"

It took you a second to answer before you shrugged and shook your head, "No clue." There was a clatter of metal off to the side, probably Ghost dropping his knife. Apparently he wasn't happy with your answer but you held up a finger and pointed to a picture hanging up behind him, "But I know where she is. Or where I left her and her three daughters." John turned around to look at the picture before returning a hard glare at you, "You think he was just trying to kill me for shits and giggles? I had his wife and his daughters for a week. Left them with a…friend? Nah I don't have any friends, a colleague. Yeah, I left them with a colleague."

You stepped closer and put a hand on your upper arm and glanced across the empty space at it, "Help me with this and I'll serve them up to you on a silver fuckin platter. Might even add some fixins you ask me real nice," John eyed you carefully, his eyes flicking down to your mouth and you reveled in the attention. Is this how he felt every time he caught you staring at places you shouldn’t have been? Warmth shot through you as he glanced at something behind you.

Turning to follow his gaze you caught sight of the big man who let out a huff and stepped around you and the dog heading towards the man sleeping off in the corner. He shoved a boot into his ribs earning a glare and a growled, “What the fuck are ye doin?” Ghost gestured with a jerk of his head in your direction and the Scot rolled over, blinking at you and the dog before he let out a sigh and rubbed his face. It took him a few moments to really wake himself up but he finally reached a hand up to Ghost who pulled him to his feet. You heard some quiet words pass between them but couldn’t hear what they were talking about.

They didn’t speak in their quiet whispers for long though before the Scotsman grumbled, “Aye I get it Lt.” The shorter man slipped around the other and started towards you, eyes flicking down towards the dog. Azure blue eyes flicked back up to you before he asked, “No leash?” He was clearly uncomfortable with Cerberus, especially after having watched the big dog nearly taking Gaz’s arm off.

Your head shook as you answered, “No leash. I’ll tell ya what though,” you glanced around to a desk free of clutter and took a couple steps towards it still leaning on the big Dutchie. “Hopp,” Cerberus jumped up on the desk, turning back to look at you with his head tilted and mouth open as he panted. “Platz,” the dog laid down and you ran a hand over his head before leaning down to press your forehead against his, eyes shutting as you did.

It was the first time you had a chance to really think about the fact that you’d almost lost him. The one thing in life that had been keeping you going since you’d lost everything else. And hell he’d very nearly lost you too. He needed the attention and reassurance just as much as you did, it’d been a rough day for the both of you to say the least. Finally, your hand dropped from under his jaw and you muttered, “Bleib,” watching his head fall to his paws in answer.

When you turned back around John was staring, it didn’t matter about what all the others were doing because he was looking so unashamedly at where your ass had been a moment ago and he didn’t even stop or try to hide it. Because now he was staring at the front of your pants with just the slightest wrinkle between his brows. Your blood was still coating where your thigh had gushed blood all over the light fabric however long ago that had been. Why did he have to stare like that? You couldn’t even focus on the fact your arm was hurting because he just wouldn’t look away.

It wasn’t until a hand waved in front of your face that you blinked a couple times and turned your eyes down to the Scotsman. When your brows furrowed in question he repeated himself, “I told you to take a seat.” He jerked his chin to the empty chair just in front of the desk, watching as you lowered yourself slowly into the chair. “You can call me Soap by the way,” he sat a bag on the ground beside you before he unzipped it, pulling some of the medical supplies inside of it out.

You reached a hand behind you, pulling at the collar of your shirt to pull it off over your head. Letting it fall to the ground between your feet as you sat back again. For a second you weren’t sure whether you should answer him or just stay quiet but you decided on the former with a quick, “Name’s Speck. Nice to meet you, Soap.” He gave a grunt of agreement, his eyes turning up to watch Ghost pass by.

He pulled gloves on before he took a pair of scissors to your makeshift bandages. As he pulled the first one off you gave a small grimace. Soap’s eyes shot up to the dog behind you before a quiet whine left the big Shepherd. A quick glance over your shoulder with an added smile had Cerberus settling his head back on his paws. “That’s so weird,” your brow raised at the comment, watching him clean the wounds. He clarified what he meant quickly though, not shying away from the chance to talk in the slightest, “The dog I mean. It’s like he knows what you’re thinking even when he can’t see your face. It’s weird.”

A smirk found your mouth at that, before you shrugged the shoulder he wasn’t currently cleaning, “He kind of does actually.” The Scotsman stopped, throwing the pad he’d been using to wipe the blood off onto the desk and grab a roll of the bandages. When he shot a questioning look up at you your smirk only widened. “He’s trained to read body language and situations. Knows when someone means to harm and when they mean to help. Don’t worry, he’s seen someone piecing me back together before. You aren’t the first and I doubt you’ll be the last.” Soap huffed at that, shaking his head as he wrapped up the bullet wound in your bicep before he taped it off and moved down to the wound in your forearm.

The Scotsman didn’t take long to clean that wound either, working quietly and with narrowed eyes. When he finished, his eyes traveled down to your thigh before returning to your face. “Please tell me you’ve got underwear on under there.” That drew eyes from around the room and you reached a hand to the bridge of your nose, pinching it for a moment.

Finally you answered, “Yeah, yeah I’ve got underwear on. You ever try running commando Soap? Let me tell ya, that shit’ll hurt worse than the damn bullets do by nightfall. Trust me,” dark brows lifted at the comment and you undid the buttons of the pants before lifting up just enough to push the pants down. Most of the eyes had fallen away by that point. Not wanting to watch as you shuffled them down your thighs to reveal yet another makeshift duct tape bandage.

When he took the scissors in his hand you grabbed his wrist before he could slide the blade into the wrapping and shook your head, “Yeah, maybe don’t do that. I uh, I kind of stapled it together. I’d rather you didn’t catch one of them with those scissors.” He glanced down at your thigh and then back up at you before nodding slowly.

He tossed the scissors back up onto the desk and shrugged, “How do you plan on taking it off then?” You eyed the bloody bandage and then moved to pick at the edge of the tape, unwrapping it quickly, just as fast as you had put it on. Throwing it on the desk with the rest of the bloody pieces of fabric you leaned back again in the chair. Soap nodded slowly, “Works for me,” he muttered before he inspected the dried blood and the staples you’d put in your leg.

Looking up you caught John’s gaze staring at the bare flesh you’d now exposed. Your chest, torso, and thighs were out for everyone to see and the Brit certainly seemed to be getting his eyeful. Gaz tossed something his way across the table they were standing around and he just barely managed to catch it. A hand grabbing at his beard and running over his mouth, not realizing you’d caught him staring.

The alcohol pad Soap was using ran over the wound and the staples, drawing your attention back to him as he asked, “The bloody hell did you use, a staple gun?” Your nonchalant nod had him smirking, “Kinda badass Speck.” He pulled out a needle and some medical sutures, opening and closing his fists a couple times to steady his hands. Ghost, who you hadn’t even realized was paying attention, slid a chair over for Soap to sit in. The Scotsman shot him a beaming smile and a quick, “Thanks,” before he sat down and scooted the chair closer so he was leaning over your thigh as he threaded the needle.

You didn’t even feel the needle as it slid into your skin around the staples you’d put in earlier. He was surprisingly quick and you got the feeling he was the one who typically did this for the team. Their unofficial medic as it were. It wasn’t until he pulled the first staple out that you even paid attention to him again. Flinching away instinctively until you realized what he was doing. Your nose scrunched up at the pain but otherwise you didn’t react, just watching passively, almost looking bored at what he was doing.

He was wrapping it back up with a bandage when John leaned back against the table in front of you with his arms crossed. His eyes didn't wander down anymore, he seemed to have gotten himself under control after his little slip earlier. Still though, you had seen him looking, the oceans covering the flesh you’d bared for Soap. When his eyes had been glued to every inch of skin they could get to. The low rumble of his voice reached your ears then as he said, "So where did you leave his wife and kids?" He almost seemed impatient now, as if he was certain you were wasting his time and dragging him around in circles for you to merely up and vanish again.

No, you weren't wasting his time, you were merely ensuring your own survival by making yourself useful, necessary. And you certainly didn't appreciate being seen as a dishonorable man, you were a man of your word and you fully intended to keep it. You'd told him you'd give him the family and now it felt like he didn't even trust you for that much. Your eyes shot to a map behind him before you finally answered, "I left them with my colleague about an hour over the Pakistani border.”

His brunette brows raised at that, watching as he leaned forward a bit about to ask for coordinates you assumed until you continued, “You'll need me to get them though. The person I left them with doesn't speak English and they don't trust strangers neither." Blue hues narrowed at you. You were testing his patience now and you knew it. Damn though if it wasn’t fun to see him try to think of a way to be done with you only for you to keep yourself irrevocably relevant.

Ghost slid up beside Soap, catching the Scotsman’s attention as he stared silently for a few awkward moments. The big man was, funny enough, the one to break the silence though, sliding a knife in one of many sheathes attached to his body before he asked, "Can we use cars to get there?" Your head shook in a simplistic answer and he turned again with a little grumble. His hand moved to his chest as he muttered a few clipped words into the radio attached to his vest.

John sighed and glanced down to where Soap's fingers were taping the bandage on finally. His warm hands brushing against your bare skin though even he didn’t seem to notice, but John did. And rather than casting a glare at the perpetrator he was sending one right at you, as if you could control what Soap did with his hands. The Scotsman turned to glance up at his Captain with that beaming smile that put you a bit off kilter, he was almost too happy and to be honest it made your whole body tense like an allergic reaction to happiness. His thick accent rolled off his tongue with a quick, "All done Price," as he stood up and patted you on the shoulder.

Hold up. Wait a minute. Wait a goddamn minute. Price. Captain. John. Son of a bitch. Captain John Price. Only you would unknowingly fuck John Price. The last time you'd heard of him he'd been a Lieutenant and still worked directly under the British Royal Army. You'd heard talk that he'd split with the army, and formed some kind of Task Force to deal with…problems, but you’d never heard anything concrete on the situation there.

Realization made your stomach drop as you feared that maybe that was why he was here. Could you have fallen into that category now? You had been causing plenty of issues throughout the Middle East that much was for sure. It was certainly a possibility. The thought made you shift uncomfortably in the chair, glancing around with a nervous look at your surroundings again as if someone was about to shoot you right through the head cause you had finally realized. Cerberus whined behind you, sensing your nervousness and two sets of eyes turned to look at you like you'd interrupted a conversation. Maybe you had, you were too in your own head to realize at that very moment what they were doing.

Get your head on right Speck, they were your only ticket out of here as of right now and you had no intention of dying in a fuckin desert. The Captain took in a quick breath and said quickly before he stood up from the desk he’d been leaning back on, "Gear up Soap. We'll be leaving soon." He took a few steps towards a set of monitors you couldn’t see, and then turned a gaze at you and ordered, "Speck get a change of clothes, you look like a bad special effects prop. You’re going to strap for the next mission."

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middleearthpixie · 8 months

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Living Proof ~ Chapter Two

Summary: When he puts himself between the Uruk-hai and Merry and Pippin, Boromir knows it means sacrificing himself. But it also means redemption for his near betrayal of Frodo and the Fellowship, and so it is a price he is more than willing to pay.

Kaia has been on her own for as long as she can remember, having escaped a terrible life in a village not far from Mordor. When she hears the sounds of battle, she knows what it means and when she ventured forth and finds a gravely wounded man lying amongst the leaves and debris, she takes him in, not knowing he is actually the son of the steward of Gondor.

Angry at himself and faced with a long road to recovery, Boromir does not make things easy on Kaia and it is only through her own sheer will that she does not give into the urge to hit him over the head with something on a daily basis. That refusal to give up brings about changes neither one of them could have foreseen. She just wanted to save him. She never thought he would save her in return…

Fandom: The Lord of the Rings (AU, Boromir lives)

Pairing: Boromir x ofc Kaia

Warnings: orc death

Rating: T

Word Count: 2.6k

Tag List: @sotwk @fizzyxcustard @evenstaredits @way-too-addicted-to-fandoms @emmyspov @finnofamerica @lathalea @ass-deep-in-demons @quiall321 @mistofstars @justfollowtheroad @guardianofrivendell @glassgulls @doctorwhump @kmc1989 @estethell

If you’d like to be added (or removed) to the tag list, please just let me know!

Previous chapters can be found here.

Kaia sat up with a groan, and immediately regretted it. Everything hurt from her ears down. Her neck ached. Turning her head was nearly impossible. Her arms and shoulders ached. Her back ached. Her backside ached, no doubt from her tumble down into the clearing. Even her fingers hurt. She couldn't recall the last time she’d sewn a person, never mind sewn more than a single wound. Once upon a time, doing so would have been a far more common occurrence, as men injured themselves on her stepfather’s farm fairly regularly, and one of her duties was to tend to them. She had a gift, her mother would say, and a way of putting the most worried soul at ease. Her stepfather said she was a natural born healer.

If only…

She shook away the gloomy thoughts as she got to her feet and skirted the table to crouch next to the man. He slept more peacefully now, his breathing no longer fast and shallow, but a bit more normal. The rust-colored splotches on each bandage were larger than they’d been the night before, but as far as she could tell, the bleeding had stopped completely. Good. Her supplies were meager, her skills a bit rusty and her environment not at all conducive to anything more intense than what she’d already done.

The man stretched in his sleep, groaning as he straightened his wounded leg, and immediately brought it back into the position in which he’d been. A muscle bulged along his jaw, where the stubble was sparser and scruffier than his goatee, and he was still so terribly pale. She lay the back of her hand against the man’s forehead. Warm, but not overly so. He ran no fever. At least, he didn't for the time being. He could, and most likely would, develop one at some point in the coming days, but as of now, he hadn’t.

He stirred then, his lips parting, the tip of his tongue slowly moving along them. Kaia lifted her hand and sat back as the man’s eyelashes fluttered and then his eyes opened slowly. They flicked about, that muscle bulging along his jaw once more. He shifted, winced, and his eyes closed once more.

“Easy,” she told him softly, letting just the backs of her fingers brush gently along his cheek, the coarse stubble lightly scratching her as she did. “You needn’t worry. You’re safe here. I promise you, you are.”

“And where—” He winced once more, his voice cracking. Kaia rose to fetch him a cup and the ewer of water, pouring him a small bit as he cleared his throat and murmured, “Where is here?”

“My cabin.” She brought the cup over and held it out. “One has to be actively seeking me out to find me. Orcs aren’t smart enough for that. Here, but small sips only. I do not want it to come rushing back out.”

He nodded slowly, lifting his head to take a sip. Then, with a low groan, his head fell back and his eyes closed, his, “Thank you,” only barely audible.

“You’re welcome. Are you hungry at all? I only just woke myself but I can—”

“No.” His head lolled from left to right, then went still. Another wince twisted his features, and he bought his right hand up to his chest, his fingers probing gently against the bandages.

“What happened? I pulled five arrows from you. Why did a horde of orcs attack you and the two halflings?”

His eyes snapped open. “You saw them?”

“Aye,” she nodded, “I did, but only briefly. I thought they were children at first.”

“Where are they? Did you see where they went?” His deep voice took on a frenzied note and he tried to sit up. “I must find them before—augh!”

He clutched at the wounds across his chest and flopped back into the cushion, his breathing fast and shallow once again. Screwing his eyes shut, he continued panting, his entire body tensing.

“That was a fool thing to do,” Kaia scolded him, shaking her head. “I just told you I dug five arrowheads from your body not twelve hours ago and you try to jump up and do what? Go off after the horde that is probably long gone from these shores? Fool.”

He didn't reply, but let out a hint of a whimper. Little by little, his hand relaxed and his breathing slowed. Kaia moved to fetch the remaining linen from the kitchen table, bringing it over to dip a small wad into the cup, then proceeded to wash his forehead and cheeks as she had the night before.

His breathing slowed. His hand went still. And when she finished, he whispered, “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. Now, lie as still and quiet as you can. You need to rest. I have limited resources and should you open those stitches again, you very well might bleed to death here on my sofa and neither one of us wants that.”

He nodded slowly. “Of course.”

“Good.” She sat back on her haunches. “I’m Kaia, by the way. And my home isn’t much, but you are welcome to remain here as long as you need to. My larder is a bit light, but that’s mostly because my hunting was interrupted by your battle. What did you do?”

He shook his head. “Nothing. We were making camp.”

“Well, then you have terrible luck, I suppose.” She stood, wincing at the tightness in the backs of her legs.

His eyes opened slowly and this time, he looked in her direction. “Thank you.”

“Of course. Let me know if your pain grows worse. The next day or two, it will probably be fairly bad, but it should begin to improve with time. There are birch trees around us, so if your pain worsens or you simply wish a bit of relief, I can brew you a tea from it that will help.”

He nodded. “Again,” he murmured slowly, “I thank you.”

“You’re welcome.” She reached for the knitted afghan blanket she kept folded over the back of the sofa and unfolded it to lay over him. “I’ll be back in a bit. Do you need anything?”

“No. I just wish to sleep.”

“Then do so. I will lock the door behind me and as I said, one has to really wish to find me in order to find me.”

“I will be fine.” He looked up at her. “Did you happen to get my sword?”

She shook her head. “I saw no sword.”

“No matter.”

His eyes slid shut again and he drew in a deep breath, then winced and exhaled sharply. “Take care,” she told him. “You’ve had a bit of a go there yesterday.You need to give yourself time to heal.”

Another nod. Then, silence stretched for a few minutes before he murmured, “Boromir.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“My name.”

For the first time since finding him in the clearing, Kaia smiled. “Rest then, Boromir. I’ll return shortly.”

He did not answer. He’d already fallen back to sleep. So, Kaia made as little noise as possible as she let herself out and locked the door behind her.

The woods were eerily quiet today. Kaia made her way along the path, both her eyes and ears open for any unfamiliar or threatening sights or sounds. Somewhere before her, the soft crack of sticks breaking had her slipping into the underbrush, slipping both her bow and arrow free as she moved.

But nothing appeared and so she eased back out onto the path once more and continued on her way. The path was rocky and rutted, far more than it had been before the orcs passed through. Just like everywhere else they went, the orc army left damage and ruin in their wake. She knew firsthand of the destruction they wrought, had seen it with her own eyes.

But she would not think of that now.

Instead, she concentrated on avoiding the ruts, the tree branches that fell across the dirt, having been hacked down by an impatient army that was far larger than the trail they’d followed. Before long, the air grew still and silent, the songs of the birds that followed her through the path faded into memory. A heavy, foul stench permeated the trees, stifled that song, pressed in on her from all directions, and felt as if it left a film against her skin, and turned her stomach with each breath.

The first orcs she came across caught her by surprise, as their heads had been severed from their bodies, and thick, black ooze spattered the earth. Gagging at the stench, Kaia stepped around the corpses, and promptly stumbled over a third. Righting herself, she spun about to see bodies littered the trail, littered the woods down into the clearing where she’d found Boromir.

All was quiet now, and there was no sign of any of Boromir’s companions, although she knew not how many traveled with him. She’d only seen the two halflings, but that did not mean only those two were with him.

The soft rush of the river caught her attention, for she hadn’t realized how close to it the clearing was, and as she drew near, she saw what looked to be the remains of a camp. A shield, red leather and steel, lay propped against the base of a fallen statue and beside it, what looked like a soldier’s pack. Boromir’s, perhaps? If so, that would be a treasure, since it would be sure to have at least a single change of clothes for him.

Luck was on her side, for she had the feeling that was exactly what she’d found, and so grabbed it and the shield to be brought back to the cabin. Then, feeling more than a little sense of accomplishment, she headed back toward the clearing where she’d found Boromir.

She carefully made her way down the embankment, to the widest part of the clearing. Thick black orc arrows littered the ground, along with blades of different lengths, most likely dropped by the corpses closest to them.

The sheer number of mutilated, scabby-looking dead orcs astounded her. Boromir had held off so many of them by himself. Why? How? She had so many questions for him. She could only hope he would not only survive, but would be willing to answer them.

Kaia lost count of the number of bodies scattered about, and could only wonder just how many of them had been responsible for the arrows she’d pulled from Boromir’s body, wondered how many had fired at him and missed.

Wondered why they’d fired upon him at all to begin with.

She looked about, but saw no sign of a blade. Judging from Boromir’s size, she assumed his sword would be of considerable size as well. But all she saw were bodies, dried blood spatter that was both human and orc, and possibly halfling, and branches, scattered leaves, and various other forest debris. Then, she caught sight of what looked like a soldier’s pack. Boromir’s, perhaps? If so, that would be a treasure, since it would be sure to have at least a single change of clothes for him.

A breeze stirred through the treetops and as they shifted, the sun’s rays reached the forest floor, and the leaves skittered across it. In turn, those rays struck the steel of a blade and she slid down the embankment without taking her eyes off the glinting sword, lest she lose it if the breeze died.

She dropped to her knees alongside it and carefully swept leaves and debris from the blade, along the handle, and then sat back. It was every bit as large as she thought it would be, and looked every bit as lethal. Compared to the blade she wielded, it was a monster, and one that she wasn’t at all certain she’d be able to carry back to the cabin.

With that, she wrapped a hand about the grip and lifted. It was every bit as heavy and unwieldy as it looked, and holding it upright taxed her wrist something fierce. But at the same time, she didn't want to drag it along behind her and dull the blade and since she had nothing which with to sheathe it…

She sat there for a long moment, trying to decide which would be the best way to carry it, along with everything else she’d found, back home, when she heard the dull thud of footsteps in the distance, but growing nearer.

Without hesitation, she grabbed the sword in both hands and slipped back to where the underbrush was the thickest. There, she gently set the sword, shield, and pack at her feet and eased her bow and an arrow from her back.

She held her breath as two orcs came around the bend and into the clearing. As they drew near, she pressed herself back into the bushes, willing them to not see her. She wasn’t overly concerned about them finding Boromir, as they were at least a half a mile from where her cabin stood and they had no clue he was even there. But, she was concerned with them finding her, especially if there were more of them. Boromir needed her, depended on her, and would most likely die, should these orcs kill her.

And of course there was also the little thing about her not wanting to die to begin with…

The orcs spoke amongst themselves as they made their way down the path. She could make out no words, nor did she care much what they had to say at all. All she cared about was whether or not there were more of them.

She waited as they came into the clearing and began rummaging about. Looking for valuables of some sort, she thought. They appeared to be alone, scavengers instead of part of any pack.

At least, that was what she hoped as she set the arrow on the rest, and drew it back as she took careful aim.

Thwock!

It struck the first orc in the right temple and he dropped without a sound. His companion spun about and as he did, she loaded a second arrow and when the orc turned in her direction, she buried an arrow between his eyes.

He fell and Kaia sank back on her heels, and as her bow came to rest alongside her, she realized her hands trembled. That surprised her, since she was not afraid of defending herself, and these were not the first orcs she’d ever faced.

But, it was the first time where it would matter if she walked away from the battle or not. And since she could not be completely certain no other orcs traveled with these, she grabbed Boromir’s belongings and emerged from her hiding place. A quick search of the two freshest bodies yielded two somewhat dull knives, two quivers of arrows, and nothing more. She took the arrows, hurled the knives into the river, and then hurried back toward the cabin, taking care with the sword so she didn't slice off one of her own legs.

It was slow going, as none of the articles were light or unwieldy, but somehow she managed to cart everything back and was only a bit sore when she finally mounted the two bowing steps up to the equally bowing front porch. The last few steps were slow going, as Boromir’s things were only slightly lighter than Boromir himself had been, and she all but dragged the shield and pack up those two steps. Breathless and exhausted, she sagged against the door for a long moment, trying to muster up the energy to unlock and open said door.

She gazed out toward the darkest part of the forest. Twilight had crept in. No footfalls thundered. No steel clanged. All she heard was the soft chirp or patter of nocturnal creatures. She’d made it. She was safe.

For now, at least.

#Lord of the Rings #LOTR AU #Boromir #Boromir fic #LOTR fanfic #Lord of the Rings Fanfic #Fan fiction #LOTR fanfiction #AU #Boromir x OC #Is it hot in here?#Romance #Sean Bean #Everybody Lives #Sons of Gondor

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icey--stars · 1 year

Text

Born For Tragedy: Part 6

Series Index

She was tragedy. Nothing except death, fear and pain followed in her wake. When she was young, she was beaten. Now she’s the one doing the beating as an assassin. A mysterious stranger comes to her, paying an absurd amount of money for her to kill Beron Vanserra, and protect the eldest son until the job is done. She stumbles across a story much similar to her own, and knows what must be done.

a/n: im working hard on writing more of BFT so yall dont get this weird, slow weekly update thing forever. im just procrastinating. ill get to writing soon so i can finish and start like daily updates or something

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“Beron… tortured you,” Valda stated, staring at Eris with wide eyes.

He swallowed, turning back to his wounds, and nodded. “Has multiple times. I’m surprised Nova hasn’t warned you to not get in the way.”

Valda’s lip curled. Her hand itched to reach for the dagger strapped to her thigh and go on a murder spree. She huffed out a breath and pulled back her magic that was threatening to break out and kill.

“He forbids you to see a healer,” she continued. “He tortures his sons with ash daggers.” She turned suddenly towards him. “You cover it with a glamor.”

Eris’s jaw tightened as his Adam’s apple bobbed up and down as he swallowed. He dipped his head once.

Valda wanted to strangle him. Not Eris. No… she wanted to kill Beron so utterly badly right now. She remembered being beaten by her family. She remembered that. She knows how much it hurts and how much it would damage someone. Yet, Eris is here, and still strong. The eldest of the Vanserras…

The story was too similar to hers. The memories felt too real right now.

“What are you doing?” Eris asked, voice rough.

Valda snapped back to her own body and realized that her magic had begun gathering around her closed fists. “You know that he shouldn’t do that, right?”

“I know very well that,” Eris snapped. “I’m not a dumbass.”

Valda took a deep breath. “Why do you endure that?”

Eris didn’t answer. He threw the washcloth into the sink. “I think it's time you leave Adira.”

“Why Eris,” Valda growled. “Tell me why.” She threw out her hand to block the door as Eris tried to walk out. He turned a fiery, raging gaze on her. Good, she thought. She couldn’t for the life of her find out why that was good.

Valda sighed, shoulders dropping and she dropped her hand. “Tell me why, and I’ll tell you something about me. Whatever you want.”

Dangerous, she told herself. So incredibly dangerous.

Eris glared at her. His amber eyes looked like the color of flames.

“Get out,” he snarled, pointing towards the door.

Valda tilted her head and raised her brows. “You’re scared,” she observed. “And weak.”

“I’m not weak,” Eris snapped, raising a fist. “You call this weak?” He promptly covered his palm in white-hot fire that she felt a bit too much on her face. She took a stumbling step back in shock.

“Tell me why,” she demanded again. “Tell me why the fuck you endure your own damn father’s torture.”

Eris stared at her a moment longer, eyes scanning her own. She held his gaze without an ounce of fear, even if the darkness inside of her was rolling.

“My father hit me too. My mother hit me and my brother learned from them to hit me as well,” Valda spoke carefully. “I never hit them back and I have been paying the price of that docile little animal I was forever. It’s scarring, Eris Vanserra. You might not believe it, but once you’re free? You can be whatever you want. Tell me why you endure it. Do you do it to appease others? To get ranks? Why do you let the High Lord do that to his own sons?”

Eris’s breathing stopped, and he stared into her blue irises for a moment longer before the fire around his fist winked out and he licked his lips. “I don’t know,” he answered.

Valda nodded. “Figure that out, heir. Perhaps it's time things change. I expect you to care for your wounds.” She turned to exit the bathroom, and then escape out of this damned house and rip something to shreds.

“Can-” Eris cut himself off. She paused, turning on the ball of her foot.

“Can you check on my brothers?” Eris asked. “Hue and Kuhn?”

Valda nodded, barely perceptible. She decided she’d leave that broom in the bathroom there, to remind Eris of what had happened. Perhaps he’d finally think. She walked out into the hallway and sucked in a breath as she spotted two red-haired individuals speaking just down the hallway.

Hue was one of them. He looked up as he heard her. Hue practically sprinted towards her, eyes ablaze, but not with the same type of fire as Eris had in his own amber eyes.

“Is he okay?”

Valda narrowed her eyes. “He should be,” she answered. “I made him clean his wounds at least.”

The other male, a bit bulkier than Hue or Eris, asked in a rougher tone, “That’s a first,” he chuckled. “Who are you? You don’t seem like just a servant.”

“I clean Jax’s and Eris’s rooms,” Valda replied. “So I am just a servant.”

“Definitely don’t act like one,” Hue observed. “You’re High Fae,” he noted, glancing at the side of her head.

“Yes,” Valda answered, raising a brow. “What of it?”

Kuhn narrowed his eyes. “Nothing of it,” he answered for him and his brother. “It’s just rare that we see Eris obey someone about cleaning his wounds, and not immediately firing them out of his room.”

Valda didn’t reply. When neither of the Vanserra brothers in front of her did either, she moved to walk down the hall.

“What’s your name?” Hue asked, making her pause momentarily.

“Adira,” she lied and kept walking.

The darkness that came out of the veil, once she’d escaped the Forest House, was not something anyone would’ve liked to see. She’d gone to her cabin and picked up her sword, and began training in a desolate clearing. Her darkness did not blind her, but it was blind rage itself. She couldn’t shake that damned feeling she felt. It was an odd feeling, one she had trouble describing, but it spoke of rage and comfortable warmth at the same time. She felt that connection to her old life. Eris was living a nightmare so similar to her own.

She could fix it if she wanted to. She could kill Beron. She could end it all. She needed to-

The power that rushed out of her at that thought sent her stumbling.

She needed to help him.

She wanted to help Eris Vanserra and set the score right. When did she ever care like that? When did she ever know what she needed to do? She shouldn’t care. She knows that. A life full of pain and suffering reminded her of that damned fact every time. If she cared, she got hurt. She was terrified of that. If she showed an inch of weakness, someone ripped it away eventually. She needed to not care because then she’d fail. She knows she will. She would-

There was a step just outside her misty, impenetrable darkness. She froze, glancing at her blade and quickly sheathing it behind her back. She glanced down at her clothing and winced. She was still in her servant clothes. She hadn’t changed into armor, so she couldn’t intimidate her way out whoever was there. She had to stay hidden. Especially if they were from the Forest House.

Valda focused carefully on breathing and drew a dagger from her side.

The thing took a step to the left. Avoiding her darkness, which was a good call. She heard sets of footsteps going around the other way and she jolted. Whatever it was, whoever it was, came with friends.

She schooled her breathing and drew in her darkness an inch.

“What the fuck-” A male voice asked from outside her little shield of darkness. A fae then, she deduced. She turned as she heard the right footsteps go just a bit too far over, to cover her flank. Valda could see what was inside her little darkness, but not through it, but it was dark on the male’s side as well. She had to keep still and safe.

There was a whistle, an order, and the feet circling her right flank went over to the left, so she turned on the ball of her foot again.

Double great, she groaned. She wasn’t wearing sturdy shoes, instead wearing the loose sandal-like things she was forced to wear during work. When did she ever think that training without her armor and boots was a good idea?

Oh right, when she was about to tear someone’s head off their shoulders.

She could make a swift kill here, and drag the body to the Forest House and string it up with some sort of note as a warning- Plans flashed before her eyes as she tried to come up with solutions. There were both many and few.

“Reveal yourself,” the male ordered from outside the black mist. “Or I will.”

She snorted, letting that little mocking amusement filter past the darkness for the male to hear. Perhaps he’d back off.

“Shadow?” The male guessed.

Valda smirked. “I suggest you leave, male,” she said, carefully keeping her voice rough and unrecognizable. It would be a poor set of events if someone happened to remember her voice and then reported her now, wouldn’t it? If she just modulated her voice a bit lower, and a bit rougher, it was impossible to recognize.

“I suggest you reveal yourself,” the male countered, voice haughty and commanding. She rolled her eyes at his antics and audibly scraped her dagger against the sheathe, for the illusion that she was drawing her weapon, despite already having it drawn.

There was another deeper whistle and the other footsteps appeared behind her. She pivoted immediately. Another sound came from behind her though. She was surrounded, which meant this was about to become one hell of a bloody scene.

“Drop the magic,” the male growled.

“How about,” she crooned. “You leave.”

The male scoffed and then chuckled. “I should’ve known the Shadow wouldn’t listen.”

“You really should’ve,” she responded, eyeing the area of black mist where she kept hearing the voice.

She almost jumped clear out of her skin when a bolt of fire shot through her darkness. Only a last-minute roll had her saved. However, that fire had gotten through her safety, which meant she was no longer safe. She had to use her magic carefully. If she got a hold on the locations of the others stalking her, she could blind them all and winnow away… actually, she might just winnow now.

“Drop the magic,” The male snarled.

It was now, and only now, that she recognized that snarl. It was Eris Vanserra. Eris was stalking outside her mist. Eris was so incredibly close to finding out her identity and ruining everything.

She tried to winnow. She tried to reach for her magic to fold the worlds and end up somewhere semi-safe.

It didn’t work.

There were wards, then, she deduced, blocking that. Which meant she was stuck in a very precarious situation that she had to be careful about. Eris would likely kill her here and now, and she wouldn’t let that happen. However, with the information she’d learned, and the fact that Eris was still hurt, she was reluctant to mist him, or even stab him.

When was the last moment she’d felt that way? Cared enough to protect someone? It was likely after the Masters were dead, and she’d made the mistake of attaching herself to a lover. Friar had died only a month after Valda had come to live with her, and when she found the beautiful female with her guts spilled across the town square… she’d felt rage that was akin to what she’d felt after witnessing Beron slap Merle, or hear that he’d tortured Eris. She was terrified of that care, of that attachment.

“Drop the magic,” Eris snarled again. “Or you will die.”

Valda couldn’t breathe. What was she going to do? Killing was off the table, even injuring was off the table. She didn’t want to hurt him. And not just because of the mission she’d been dealt, but because she saw a story reflected by her own and she hated that. She was repulsed by the idea of throwing a dagger through his eye or turning him into a bloody mist on the forest floor.

Fire shot for her again and she shifted the darkness behind her into a swift shield, only just barely blocking it.

“Stop!” She yelled. She needed time to think. She desperately needed a plan. Something she knew how to do. She had no fucking idea how to navigate this.

“Reveal yourself,” Eris ordered again.

Valda took a deep breath and prepared to run for her life.

She dropped her mist to the ground, letting it roll over the stones, leaves, and dirt there as she looked up to face Eris.

She dropped into an obvious crouch. “If you let me go,” she said in a dangerous tone. “I’ll spare you.” Lies, lies, what a delightful little liar, liar, liar-

“Adira?” Eris’s jaw dropped. What previously was a fire in his palms extinguished to nothing. She turned to observe who else was there. There was nobody… There were dogs. Eris had his ghost hounds with him. She truly was an idiot.

“Adira– you’re the Shadow?”

Valda stared Eris straight in his amber gaze and nodded once.

“My name is not Adira Void. It is Valda Callahan.”

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TAGLIST (see post for getting added)

@bunnymallowo, @officiallyunofficialperson, @margssstuff, @rebloggiest-reblogger, @inpraizeof, @graciereads, @eos-princess, @imma-too-many-fandoms, @mali22, @sassybluebird,

#eris x oc #eris vanserra #eris acotar #acotar #acotar fanfiction #acotar fanfic #original character #oc #mywriting

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