#So this is only small tidbit
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Does Wretched fight female wardens the same as males over the deep dark areas? What about warden families?
I think Iâve mentioned it here and there, but Wretched refuses to fight doe Wardens unless they pose some sort of genuine threat, or if they manage to grind his gears enough. Bulls, on the other hand, he will rip apart should they stand their ground when he wants to claim their territory.
If there is a mated pair present, does will typically vacate the territory alongside the bull that Wretched has either defeated or scared off. If said Bull is killed, however, the female either runs off, tries to finish what was started, or simply stays with Wretched depending on the nature of the relationship she had with her fallen.
Sculklings being present changes the entire game, though. Wretched will leave a family alone and move along if there are babies that need to be cared for.
Now, when only females occupy a territory, Wretched sort of just⊠Lets himself in (if they donât try to fight him off) and lives alongside them from a distance. In a weird way he even serves as a protector from bullsâor any other threatsâthat could potentially harm the doe(s) if they were alone.
Wardens devolve into a writhing hormonal mess during mating seasonâbulls in particularâso sometimes his company is appreciated regardless of his horrible attitude. Heâs no interest in pairing up with other Wardens, but unwanted advancements made onto the does that occupy his space by some horny idiot that decided to just wander on in are met with swift and merciless justice.
#minecraft warden#minecraft askblog#minecraft ask blog#ask#sorry for the long wait on this one! This is a topic I could ramble about all day so I wanted to have energy for it#Itâs not all black and white. Warden relationships are just as complex as other humanoids#So this is only small tidbit
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crazy how the sanshee plush is one of the few actual direct confirmations on what a non-act 2 Natsukiâs home life is like because of how cagey she is on literally everything. Like this isnât anything surprising or something you wouldnât be able to extrapolate from the games but unlike everything else we know about her the implications are right there on the tin.
They literally did the character bio trope where where all the likes are normal but the dislikes are about their very specific trauma itâs just so funny they did that on the plushie card
#the thing is the rest of the bios are mostly normal itâs just this one with the yellong part why did they do that#idk if Iâm stupid or forgot the yelling thing being shown directly in a non-act 2 context but I at least appreciate the confirmation#since I might just be mixing up fanon and canon considering 90% of what we know with Natsukiâs whole deal is interpolated from small tidbits#but like trying to understand anything about non act 2 Natsukiâs background is so funny because she doesnât like to talk about anything#so all we know about her home life is by comparing her to act 2 and the secret poem plus psychoanalysing her thoughts and actions#is like the secret poem says Monika definitely made her dad worse but the problem is we donât know how much#anyways and for all we know her dad could range from somewhat average dad to should be put on a watch list#and sometimes thereâs dialogue like the one in self love about Natsuki worrying about her friends retaliation#and itâs probably meant to act as a confirmation to whether thereâs physical abuse considering how out of left field the question is#but like it could be interpreted either way so itâs basically just Schrïżœïżœdingerâs physical abuse for no reason#Iâm not criticizing or anything I think the characters being able to hold secrets is cool and ambiguity is awesome#and the choice to keep the ambiguous is intentional since the characters only share what their comfortable with#but I just need to vent about that one line in self love ok#like idk if Iâm just stupid but thereâs multiple interpretations but itâs seemingly both a decomfirmation and confirmation#idk itâs weird but her dad yelling at her enough to make it one of her dislikes is at least something in terms of actual evidence#damn it I put a paragraph in the tags again Iâm sorry gang Iâm not moving it#ddlc#doki doki literature club#tempestmothtalk
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doodles of my fav sillies
anton belongs to @poicyss
#my brain is a barbie dreamhouse and theyre all just living in it#im especially fond of the second one because my mom used to hold me like that all the time <3#im drawing them a lot lately because im being crushed by the horrors and have to compensate for it somehow#homemade comfort blorbos......#watch me draw anton inconsistently bc i can never decide if i wanna draw him close to how he actually looks#or yassify him and give him soft fluffy hair and kind eyes and defined features. head in my hands#i dont really have a lot of drawing ideas for them bc they dont have like. a canon storyline or anything methinks#its just stuff me and bow toss around and giggle abt thru messages lol. maybe ill draw infant vincent one of these days#i just come up with stuff and draw them doing it. it makes me feel warm and fuzzy inside#cuz like anton works for lobocorp as an abnormality BUT hes super duper chill and cute and does his funny little tasks so its fine#AND hes unkillable. auggie is an oc ive had since like 6th grade and i smushed them together. and vincent was for fun but i got attached#i dont have much of a read on anton either bc i think hes meant to be more of an insert character??? if im using that right#on one hand i dont think too hard abt anything being ooc since im not taking it seriously. on the other hand i just hold them in my hands#and stare into space until i can come up with something to draw since i dont have much to go off of. but its fun to build on small tidbits!#i think bow called it an au so i guess??? its an au????? im not really sure. bow if youre reading this im just willy nilly#the only thing i know for sure is that they boink like rabbits. im talking gomez and morticia levels of boinking#maybe ill go back and look at my old doodles for them and redraw em lol#myart#my art#my oc#oc#friend oc#augusta#anton#vincent#sillies family#doodles
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One day, you comes across the staffbot in the abandoned theater.
There is a fine layer of dust to them, just as there is on everything else in the room. You are hesitant to even walk in, at first. You climb the stares from stage right, approaching with enough time to let them back away if they wanted to. They don't. You come up so you are face to face with them. Though frozen in an empty, static pose, their eyes are dusky, lifeless. You stare for a while. It's odd, seeing your reflection like this.
You take the time to lower their suspended hands to a more relaxed position. You straighten their hat and adjust the front of their vest, dusting off the shoulders. You stand, looking at them for a while.
You don't check as you leave and carefully, noiselessly, close the door behind you, but you know their head turned to follow your silent departure. Both you know it will be a long time before you return. Hopefully, they do not blame you. No one ever likes coming to a silent theater to look upon the long-cold corpse of themselves.
#small moments#short fanfic tidbit#fic tidbit#story tidbit#fnaf fanfic#fnaf x reader#after everything was fixed#readerbot au#repairbot reader#staffbot readre au#tw dead body#tw death mention#imagine a distant slightly slowed or out of tune but still soft and sad but soothing music box lullaby over this ok#thats the vibe#how could one ever explain what its like to meet the death of the best friend youve never known#to come across the only one that might have been like you long after they are cold and still#a loneliness untouchable unknowable i think#you leave flowers beside them. fix their hair and lay their head more comfortably#and then you must carry on#and so you do#sad fic#hurt no comfort#sort of#idk i just been having some vibes n brain itch#rlly wanna get back into writing#ok goodnigt now lol love u guys
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my narrator could definitely look more human or even have a full stylized human look but I think he would hate the idea of looking fully human to any extent. even his humanoid form would originally leave such a distaste for him because the feeling of control resides in not being the human, the player, but instead being the narrative. so itâs more of a âI would never stoop to being human to any extent because they are weak and powerless things that barely have any agency for themselvesâ kind of thinking that only a certain button could break him out of that line of thinking
#crow thoughts#the narrator#SORRY im having intrusive thoughts and this is the only way to combat them this morning#head full of shitty thoughts!!! bring in the narrator to fix it thx!!!#but yeah sorry I just. I put so much thought into my designs and the reason why I wanted him not entirely human looking#the narrator definitely has this concept that heâs all in control and itâs like the basis for why he fights so much with stanley#because stanley finds ways to go against his command that he thought couldnât be altered or changed by someone like stanley#a measly little office worker that was confined the a task that was simply following orders and nothing else#surely there will be no consequences of taking this obedient office worker and putting him into an eternal loop of my own devices#IM GOING OFF ON A TANGENT BUT. I HOPE MY POINT GOT ACROSS#reminds me I still need to make that list of things for my narrator designs because I have so many small tidbits about it!!!!!!#I love to design but god am I extremely over the top with it I will admit that#I still cannot even pick my curator design which also reminds me I need to replay her route a few more times
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was watching sad-ist's 'the fall' animatic, and I just remembered that the first time I watched it when c!tommy says "I have the blade" I actually thought he was talking about a literal sword and all I'm saying is that the dehumanization of c!techno should never be underestimated
#stella rambles#watched the animatics before I knew really anything abt the lore#beyond small tidbits of information from my irl friends who were in the fandom at the time#<- really really funny that they tried so hard to get me into the fandom in vain only for me to join around the time they were leaving#leading to me becoming the longest active member of the fandom
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Hey, that's not fair.
Baby's CanonxOC fics have far better plot set ups than whatever the fuck the Justice League crossover did.
You're right. I'd like to apologize to all the babies writing in these dark times. Your work should never have been compared to the dumpster fire known as RWBYxJL. Listening and learning âĄ
#rwde#anon hours#thanks for asking!#the plot was so jumbled. when will people learn to not have such a large cast on such limited time?#the plot was literally just introducing characters until the big fight then happy ending yayyyy#i love when *clenches fist* the characters have no autonomy in the plot and only experience it rather than influence it#i hate to give credit to the south park guys but they really went off w the whole 'therefore/but' plot template to avoid 'and then' stories#someone show crwby that tidbit. maybe the words will finally be small enough to scooch past their egos
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guys i made a mistake.
#aka i scrolled through the entire becker siblings tag again on a whim and now im shinjichairpose.png#i dont even have specific thoughts theyre just rotating in my brain now#theres like. very small tidbits that i have stuck in there currently#like their weird thing with control(because i am thinking about that 24/7)#cyrus who needs control vs fawn who defers to it vs river who hates it#how they did that i dont know but im going to take a wild guess and say that its Very unhealthy#and also their relationship to both ortegas#i guess thats only tangentially related to the becker siblings but also like. the ortegas talking about the siblings together#getting drunk and grieving together and trading stories and blaming eachother for letting them die#getting out of their posthb messes because they dont have any (becker) siblings to depend on anymore so theyll have to settle for eachother#also in the survivor!river au im specifically haunted by the fact that river 'does not include ricardo in the package' when julia-#becomes his sibling#the resentment from All sides there??? holy shit#thats gotta blow up eventually right#like i can see ricardo feeling extremely guilty about river but at the same time???? him getting Angry#that river has the Audacity to steal his sister and not even treat him any better for it#so what if he lost his siblings? doesnt mean he has the right to have ricardos#Really funny fucked up reflection of fawns beef with julia but this time its the other way around#.anyway. <-experiencing normal thoughts and emotions#cyrus becker(s)#nmoc: fawn becker(s)#nmoc: river becker(s)#keeping up with the beckers#pulp speaks
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In a sea of holos, Eight squinted up at the sky. Her eyes needed a break from the constant techno flashes which had practically already blinded her. It was a miracle anyone had their eyesight left at all as the city was a great luminescent pile of holographic lights that flashed eternally.Â
A small chirp irritably alerted her eyes back down to her reality.Â
 How she hated robots.Â
âLook, get me to the East gate, or I swear to you I will not hesitate to rip out your wirings.âÂ
The android merely blinked in short comprehension.Â
âI am afraid I cannot allow you the necessary clearance to leave, Eva Eight, Sanctuary 573, identification number 056101. You are not permitted through these gates because you do not have a cleared card. In this case you have one too many unresolved holds that interfere with your registration to one of our New Attican airships.âÂ
Eight pressed her lips together hard, certain they had turned a blue that matched her hair to the hue.Â
âAnd what âunresolved holdsâ are those, you lanky piece of cheap scrap metal?âÂ
The droid's fans whirred, processing the insult no doubt.Â
âYour Sanctuary-born status disallows your departure and contains limited authorizations-âÂ
With an electric snap, Eight watched the androidâs eyes go dark as she tore out its metal plate with a crackling snap. The assemblage of multi-colored wires spewing from the exposed compartment mimicked that of spilled guts.Â
The lifeless body fell to the ground with a small thud and Eight scoffed, still holding its protective metal plating in her right hand.Â
âI wasnât joking.âÂ
Eight tossed the plate onto the ground, shaking her head at her unfortunate misfortune. She knew she wouldnât have gotten anywhere, even if she were allowed on those fancy airships that were so elaborately made they didnât even look aerodynamic anymore. The ships were a magnificent feat of ornamentation- the engineering was another story. They only took passengers to the outskirts of the city, and from there, there were absolutely no chances of making a getaway. As long as she was a proclaimed New Attican citizen, she was trapped.Â
#wip time :))#iâve been writing this for eight months now and itâs still not meeting my expectations#this is only a small small tidbit#i hate revising because that means rewriting and it hurts me physically#i also have been INSANELY BUSY so i havenât been given much free time to dedicate to completing this#not a promise it will ever be published in its complete form but i really donât want it to just stay in my docs forever#eva eight#eva eight wondla#wondla series#yea⊠iâm still doing the same old bull with this series lol#my writing
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đfr ask game!
đBiggest dragon in your lair (based on in-game sizes) and biggest dragon in your lair (based on lore sizes
In terms of ON-SITE size Cassette here would be my largest with a Length of 30.99m and a Wingspan of 18.52m
But for lore/headcanon my dragon PlanetaryFizzANYWAYS
In lore PlanetaryFizz (name given to it by the head scientist) is the largest
It's a transdimensional entity that infiltrated the Aether Orbiter and assumed the appearance of the Aethers inside. It's not malignant, but it's not overly friendly. You could approach it but it's very dangerous to, it could kill you in an instant.
It's held in some sort of cell in the laboratory and is being studied. The head scientist, Hollunuo, has appointed himself the task of understanding this... Thing.
It's driving him mad though. At first he thought the cell actually contained the entity, but he quickly realized that no. The entity is staying in there willingly. It can leave whenever it wants to.
(ââThis guy right hereââ)
PlanetaryFizz' true size is unknown, but after the Orbiter returned to Sornieth and the entity was taken to the lab it grew in size. Significantly. It's about the size of a 3â4 story house currently.
#i posted this too early#i didn't realize you couldn't save asks to your drafts??? why#WHATEVER whatever man#I don't follow on-site lore and stuffâ i only take small little tiny tidbits for mine#so imps are NOT the largest breed of dragonâ that title goes to Gaolers#actually all ancients are larger than modernsâ imps are only a little bigger than modernsâ spirals are a little bit larger than imps#veils aren't tinyâ faes ARE though#i kept that cuz i thought it was a little cute#but gaolers are big hulking beasts. i've got a Gaoler who's a nursery caretaker and one of the faes helps out too#they make nests in the gaos big mane for fae hatchlings#i will always leap at the opportunity to talk about my baby PlanetaryFizz#xen.speaks.fr#xen.asks
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~"I tried to tell Kariom that I heard you singing a pretty little song the other day but he just wouldn't believe me!" Or he did and he was just to embarrassed to outright admit that he was interested, the dummy. Miche then wraps a companionable arm around the mortal woman's shoulders. "You know that Kariom sings really well, right? It'd be so cute to hear you guys sing together!"
A 'PRETTY LITTLE SONG'...? Stryhas' feathers someone had actually heard her---!? The Traveler shifts somewhat uncomfortably, fingers now rubbing the nape of her neck as color begins to rise in her cheeks.
"Please pretend that you didn't hear anything, ishul?" Please. Please. Please. "All I do is squeak when I, uh, y'know....sing. It's not a talent that I posses in the slightest." But it was still a fun thing to do provided NOBODY ACTUALLY HEARD HER DO IT, least of all Ka---
Suddenly the rest of the immortal's words sunk in and the faint pink present on the blondes' face turns into an all out flush. Kariom? Kariom could sing? That....didn't surprise her, actually. And the thought of them actually singing together was---
"Considering how Kariom can HEAR THE VOICES OF THE STARS I'm sure he's very....gifted." 'Gifted' didn't even begin to cover what she actually wanted to say but alas, "And he'd absolutely make fun of me so let's just refrain from subjecting him to my rendition of singing." She really wanted to hear him sing now.....
#I appreciate the callback to not only a previous ask response but also a hc AND a small tidbit from a pa/treon sketch lol#...I still hope for canon confirmation tbh......he looked so cute....#also congrats you killed her s little bit! good job!#;;ask response: ic the traveler#;;ask response: with squiggles#anonymous#should I slap their ship tag on this or would that be too self indulgent lol
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sometimes i am just struck by how happy i am to only go on twitter when linked to specific posts and to curate my dash
like i never really see any actual discourse, just the occasional reasonable person i am in contact with complaining about encountering discourse
#it's so much easier to just enjoy things#and block out or avoid the stuff that drives you crazy and makes you rage#twitter especially we know is literally built to drive engagement and what does that most often is outrage#so it is basically just and anger and hostility machine and it's no wonder fandom gets worse the more it's centered there#i want to dive into small nuances or exclaim over things i've noticed#but everyone just keeps parroting the same scenarios over and over to each other like some kind of ritual of reassurance#and that part is tiring#because i guess i can't perform varying forms of distress or exaggerated certainty when i'm just not that insecure about where i stand#that's why i love people who do analysis and share tidbits of background info or connections that might otherwise be missed#and less 'do you think?' type theories because i mean ... we'll find out? in a couple days?#like the saying goes: don't borrow trouble#but it seems like some parts of fandom are not only preordering trouble they put on lay-away what they can't actually afford
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Cherry Red, Crimson Blood
Chapter 35: Threads
Summary: Pack bonds are made up of delicate threads, small fibers webbing together the dynamics and relationships that make up each individual pack. The omega stands in the middle, holding the pieces together, keeping the pack from crumbling by clinging to those threads like a strongman holds pillars up with chains.
Pairings: Poly 141 x reader
Word Count: 11,740 words
Warnings: Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, descriptions of physical pain, brief description of drowning, medical stuff, panic, crying, panic attacks, nightmares, PTSD, very heavy emotions, alcohol and brief mention of alcoholism, language, fighting (not physically), Kyle being the best boy, aftermath of trauma, brief mentions of the events of the previous chapter, guilt and shame, angst, and finally some comfort after the hurt (but not quite what you'd expect)
A/N: So I may have been slightly wrong, the angst isn't over, but it's not quite as intense as it has been. There are little tidbits of comfort in this one, though it's not like "okay it's over, let me wrap you in this blanket and everything is fine and happy now". It's...you'll see. If you're waiting for the fine and happy comfort then...you might want to wait a few chapters still. The comfort will come on slowly, but it has officially started.
MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->
Screaming.Â
Someone is screaming.Â
It hurts your ears, high-pitched and ringing. Your hands cover them, but even that canât block out the sound.Â
Itâs ringing in your own head.Â
Your body hurts, every joint and muscle aching and throbbing. Theyâve been locked in place too long, frozen in one position, a safe position. Safety. Thatâs what youâre seeking, thatâs what youâre trying to find. Thatâs why youâre here.Â
This isnât a safe space anymore.Â
The walls are crumbling, the darkness is fading. Thereâs light seeping in, threatening to pull you out, make you face whatever is waiting on the other side. Itâs not a comforting light, itâs bright and piercing and threatening. You donât want to leave the darkness. You donât want to face the light. You want to stay there, stay frozen, stay safe.Â
Your throat burns, raw and painful with every breath.Â
Itâs you.Â
Youâre screaming.Â
Hands are flying, mouth open in a scream. Itâs a horrible sound, grating and feral sounding. Your body twists and turns as they try to hold you down. No restraints. Youâll just hurt yourself more.Â
Blood is flying, splattering on the gurney, the floor, the walls. Yours or someone elseâs? Itâs hard to tell.Â
Simon.Â
âSimon!âÂ
He snaps out of his daze, his eyes darting up to look at Dr. Keller across the gurney. Her hand is around his wrist, your elbow knocking against his forearm as you try to fight whatever it is you think youâre seeing. Maybe youâre seeing nothing at all.Â
âI know.â Dr. Kellerâs voice is soft despite the chaos of the moment. Her gaze is firm but comforting. She knows. âI need you to hold her still. Sheâs going to hurt herself further if she canât calm down.âÂ
Sheâs going to hurt someone else too.Â
The monitors are beeping and screaming. They managed to get a blood pressure cuff around your arm before you snapped out of the daze heâd put you in and started fighting. Youâre like a wild animal, cornered and fighting for your life again with a renewed vigor. Renewed for now. If you donât calm down again, something will give out.Â
There wonât be any coming back from that.Â
âDonât be afraid if you hurt her.â Dr. Keller says, squeezing his wrist. âBones can be fixed.âÂ
He catches your wrists in his hand, pinning them down against your chest. He uses his weight to his advantage, pushing his arm into you as he leans down so youâre face to face. You let out another scream, fighting against him but he has you beat. Heâs bigger, stronger, calmer.Â
âLook at me.â He says, his alpha rumbling low in his chest. It has even the beta nurses stopping in their tracks to look at him. The only one unaffected is Dr. Keller as she uses this moment to her advantage.Â
You stop fighting him, breathing in heavy gasps as you stare right up into his eyes. Wild and untamed, pupils dilated in your aggressive state. Dilated out of aggression or dilated out of fear? Perhaps both. Beads of sweat slide down your face, your body hot under his. It mixes with the blood on your skin, blood from your own injuries and from the Shadows you killed. Your cheek is bruised, discolored from broken blood vessels. Your left eye will swell shut soon. He needs to get you calm before then.Â
Itâs almost cute, the way you bare your teeth up at him. He might have thought it cute in a different setting, if your life wasnât dangling over a ledge right now. A low growl rumbles in your chest, a warning that has his own hackles raising. He bares his teeth back, an answering growl, deeper and angrier, rumbles in his own chest. The nurses take a step back. Even Dr. Keller pauses at the sound.Â
Yet, despite the threat in his growl, it doesnât deter you one bit. Your knee drives into his side, making him grunt from the impact, but he doesnât let up. Youâre fighting him again, trying to wiggle your way out of his hold. If he pushes any harder, he might break a rib. Youâre going to break something if you donât stop.Â
Youâre too far gone to recognize anything but fear and danger. Youâre only going to fight, only going to attack anything you perceive as a threat. You wonât even recognise him. He has to get you to calm down before you have a heart attack. He considers getting one of the nurses to bring Johnny in, but thereâs no guarantee that will work. Youâll just perceive him as another threat, another danger. More people in the room will only make you more aggressive...make your omega more aggressive.Â
Heâs not dealing with you. Heâs dealing with your omega in her raw form, the animal deep underneath forced out of her hiding place. Whoever said omegas are weak never had to face one in this state.Â
He stares down at you as you fight and scream, battering his side with your knees but he can hardly feel the pain. His arm is still throbbing where you bit him, but he can hardly see the blood streaked on his skin.Â
He has to save you.Â
He canât let all of this go to waste.Â
Theyâll never recover if they lose you now.Â
He moves almost seamlessly, time seeming to slow as he lets you go. He unclips his vest and rips it over his head in one movement, uncaring as it hits the floor with a heavy thud. You lunge up at him but heâs ready, catching you before your lower body can leave the gurney. Itâs a risk. A huge risk, but itâs all he can think of doing. Itâs hardly the worst place to be if things go wrong, if this fails. If he does fail, at least heâll know he tried.Â
He pushes his mask up to his chin, pressing your face right into his neck.Â
Your nose pushes against his scent gland as he cups the back of your head, holding you there. He projects his scent as strong as he can, hoping it can reach some deep part of your mind, some glimmer of you thatâs left in there.Â
If this goes wrong, youâll rip out skin and veins with your teeth. Heâll bleed out on the floor before they can even get him on a gurney.Â
He wraps his other arm around you, holding you as still as he can. Tears prick his eyes as he holds you, shoving away the beeping machines, the panic still thrumming inside of him. Scruffing you was only round one of this fight. He should have held it longer, should have been brave enough to do it a second time.Â
He can still feel it, your neck in his hand, the way you gave in so easily. You had no choice, he gave you none. It was necessary, it was vital that he did it. You wouldnât have made it this far if he hadnât.Â
He should do it again. It would be easy, just slip his hand down and squeeze and youâll be gone, lost in your head again and under his control. Maybe then heâd get you to calm down, get you out of this state and free from the danger looming closer and closer.Â
Heart attack, stroke, organ failure.Â
Why couldnât Price be the one to go after you? Why couldnât it be Price standing here making this decision.Â
âIâm sorry.â He whispers before slipping his hand down, wrapping it around the back of your neck again.Â
Pain.Â
Youâre in pain.Â
You try to fade away again, try to push yourself back into the darkness to avoid the pain, but you canât.Â
Thereâs no escaping it.Â
Your body hurts, every joint and muscle throbbing. Fire licks at your very cells, burning hot through your veins, scorching your skin. Safety. You want safety again. You want to retreat back into yourself, back into the comfort only the darkness can offer you.Â
Nowhere is safe anymore.Â
Tears are rolling down your cheeks, the light pressing closer and closer. Itâs somewhere above you, shining down in offending shades of white. You can see it behind your eyelids no matter how hard you try to squeeze them together. Thereâs no escaping this light. Thereâs no retreating back into safety. Thereâs no safety anymore.Â
Youâre underwater, slowly rising to the surface. Thereâs sounds around you, muffled and dampened by the water. You need to breathe, you need to inhale precious oxygen but you canât get to the surface fast enough. Lungs burning, your fingers claw at the water but you canât reach it, you canât swim fast enough.Â
Your hands curl into soft fabric as you cough, choking on imaginary water. Thereâs warmth surrounding you, pressed in on all sides. Youâre leaning against something, something hard and solid and warm. The sounds are louder now, mixing into a convoluted cocktail of constant noise. You hate it.Â
Pain ripples through your throat as you let out a groan, the sound catching and cracking on the rough edges of your vocal chords. Another choked sound leaves your lips, pain rippling through your very nerves. The skin on your face is burning, simmering ashes being fanned by every tear sliding down your cheeks.Â
Youâre crying.Â
Thereâs a deep sound coming from under you. Itâs vibrating against your body, your pulsing ears focusing on that sound. Itâs familiar. Youâve heard it before, somewhere back in the recesses of your mind.Â
Your mind.Â
Itâs there. You can feel it beginning to take shape, thoughts beginning to form out of the fractured darkness. Youâre not in your mind anymore, your mind is in you. Youâre a being inside of a body, a body wracked with pain. The urge to retreat back is strong, but you canât. That part of you has been closed off, sealed away by the light.Â
Fingers and toes twitch, tingling and throbbing with the cold despite the fire blazing its way through your veins. It is cold, your hand pulling at the softness youâre clinging to. The low vibration begins again, rumbling through you, igniting something in the back of your mind.Â
You know it. Itâs familiar.Â
Something tingles in the back of your mind, starting to come to life. Despite the agony thereâs something in there, something warm and comforting. Thereâs no name for it, no thought flashing through the swirling mass of neurons slowly taking shape. Itâs soft and warm and whispering to you.Â
Wake up.Â
Wake up.Â
Wake up!Â
Your eyes open before you can stop them. Youâre immediately blinded, eyes throbbing from the bright white light above you, a high pitched whine leaving your lips. It rattles through your throat, broken and squeaking through your shredded trachea. You clench your eyes shut again, wincing away from the intrusive light, the movement sending a bolt of pain through your body like an electric shock. You let out another garbled sound, your fist tugging on the fabric itâs clenching.Â
âI know, Iâm sorry sweetie.â A voice says, the light disappearing before another takes its place, softer and lighter and less painful.Â
Your eyes crack open again, still throbbing despite the light being removed. Your entire body is throbbing, pulsing like an exposed nerve. You feel like an exposed nerve, weak and vulnerable. It triggers something deep in your brain, the light starting to dim. Something is rising, something is coming. You want to lay back, let it take over, let it take control. You want to sink into the darkness again. The darkness is safe, the darkness is secure.Â
The beeping is getting louder. Beeping, thatâs what that sound is. Thereâs something beeping. Itâs getting faster and faster. Youâre starting to go numb, the tingling in your fingers and toes fading away. Itâs not so cold anymore, the ache in your limbs fading into oblivion. Youâre fading into oblivion.Â
âOi! None of that.âÂ
Youâre awake. You let out a disgruntled sound as the warmth and comfort leaves you, deserting you in favor of retreating into the recesses of your mind again. A shiver runs down your spine, your very skin tingling with pinpricks of pain as it goes.Â
âOpen your eyes again for me, love.âÂ
Your body moves before you can tell it not to, your eyes fluttering open again. Youâre squinting despite the bright light being gone. Any light is too much, your mind seeking out the comforting darkness once more.Â
Darkness makes you vulnerable.Â
In the dark, youâre blind to things that may be hiding there.Â
No.Â
No more darkness.Â
You want the light.Â
Scents flood your brain as your eyes fully open, slamming into you like a wave. Itâs too much, nearly choking you again as you try to register everything. The burning scent of sterilizer, the soft scent of clean linens, the harsh scent of chemicals. Thereâs a soft scent mixing in with the others, something easing the turmoil in your mind just slightly. Above all else, though, is the intense smell of leather and something soft and fresh. It overpowers almost all of them, standing out distinctly. It makes your nose throb, something tickling in the back of your mind. Youâre afraid of the scent, yet...thereâs something else. Something...familiar.Â
âBack with us yet?â The sound rumbles under you again.Â
âNearly there.â Another voice says. âHeart rate is coming down again. Still feverish, though.âÂ
Youâre suddenly aware of your body again, the pains, the aches, the burning, the cold. Youâre trembling, your skin prickling from how cold it is. You try to press forward against the warmth in front of you, but the movement has pain slashing through your very cells. Another pathetic whine tears through your throat, every movement sending stabbing pain through your very being.Â
âC...C-Cold.â You manage to croak out, the word forming clumsily on your tongue. It feels heavy, like youâre relearning how to speak.Â
âI know.â The softer voice says, something dragging across your skin. âWeâre trying our best.âÂ
Something moves against your back, dragging against your skin. Whatever it is, itâs warm, but itâs rough. You push into it, something telling you to get closer, to wrap yourself in it and let it suffocate you. Somehow itâs comforting to you, somehow itâs familiar.Â
Slowly thoughts and sensations begin to return to you, your mind dragging itself from the depths it had sunk into.Â
It was purposeful.Â
You did it to save yourself.Â
Youâre shaking for a different reason now, suddenly aware of the parts of your body that ache the most. Your shoulder, your cheek, your throat, your wrists. Thereâs a deep chill that has settled in your bones, sinking past the fever and the pain, past the memories beginning to resurface, past the hopelessness and the anger and the fear.Â
âSimon?â You croak out, the name burning its way through your dry throat. You desperately want something to drink, anything to ease the burning desert in your mouth.Â
âItâs me, love.â The sound rumbles under you again.Â
Leather. Eucalyptus. Warmth. Alpha.Â
You groan, trying to shift closer but the tensing of your muscles has pain screaming through your body. A shuddering breath leaves your lips, your body tensing until it passes.Â
âTry not to move too much.â The other voice says, a hand coming to rest on your arm. Youâre still clutching Simonâs sweatshirt in your hand like itâs the only thing keeping you tethered to this earthly plane.Â
It might be.Â
âDr. Keller?â You croak out, recognizing that voice.Â
âIâm here too sweetie.â She says somewhere behind you. âTake it easy, youâve had a rough go of it.âÂ
Sheâs not wrong.Â
The memories are coming back slowly, each one playing through your head like an episode of some fucked up television show. Except, it isnât a television show. Itâs your life.Â
You hate it.Â
âJohn?â You ask, trying to get your tongue to work, but you desperately need water.Â
âProbably yelling at every person who crosses his path.â Simon says. âHe was blazing a path to hell and back earlier trying to get ahold of anyone he could yell at involved in this.â He rubs your back. âHeâll be here as soon as heâs calmed down. Kyle and Johnny are working overtime trying to help restrain him.âÂ
You'll always be a second thought.Â
âYou?â You ask, unable to form the whole question you want to ask. Why are you here and not with your pack?Â
He's quiet for a moment. âWe got here before John and Kyle did.â His hand stills against your back, palm pressing below your shoulder blades. âYou wouldn't let anyone close to you. The doc said it's normal, coming out of that state. I had to help keep you calm so you could get patched up. Then you wouldn't let me leave.âÂ
Your fingers ache from how hard they're gripping his sweatshirt. He stayed. He's the one here with you, not your alpha.Â
You let out a groan, the pain starting to intensify. Thereâs a throbbing in your calf, and a deep ache starting to pulse in your joints. Youâre almost glad for it, the turmoil in your mind starting to twist and fog your thoughts pushed aside in favor of the pain screaming at the forefront of your brain.Â
âTime for more pain medicine.â Dr. Keller says somewhere behind you. âYouâll probably get sleepy, but rest is what you need right now.âÂ
You let out another groan, pressing your face back against Simonâs chest. Despite the pain in your body, thereâs an even deeper ache in your chest. Itâs not a physical one. Your alpha isnât here. Heâs left you again, abandoned you in favor of something else, something he deems more important.Â
Tears are brimming in your eyes as they slip closed, the exhaustion and the drowsiness from the pain medicine taking over.Â
Itâs not quite so cold when you wake up next. Itâs brighter in the room, the light not quite so artificial as it had been the first time. Thereâs no body against yours, no warmth seeping into your skin or scent in your nose. Your fingers twitch, almost like they want to seek it out again.Â
Youâre alone.Â
You let out a quiet breath, your brows furrowing. Your shoulder aches, throbbing in time with the beep of the heart monitor. It hurts less to move as you shift your arm to itch the other. Itâs horribly itchy, but your fingers meet gauze instead.Â
Right. Phil had cut you there. Not very deep, but still deep enough to hurt. Just another injury to add to the list.Â
You try to lift your arm but burning pain shoots through your shoulder. You wince, letting out a quiet moan of pain as you drop it back into the bed. You breathe as the pain shoots through you, swirling through your veins before it begins to settle.Â
âYou shouldnât try to move too much.â A voice cuts through the silence.Â
Your head whips to the side, your arm shooting out to grip the side rail as pain burns through your body like lava. It seeps slowly from your left shoulder down to your toes and into your very hair follicles. You let out another groan of pain, your eyes squeezing closed as you wait for it to pass.Â
âSorry.â The voice says softly. âI suppose that didnât help any.âÂ
You open your eyes, still breathing heavily as the pain begins to fade. Your hand is still wrapped around the side rail as you stare at John. Heâs seated next to the bed, his elbows on his knees as he stares at you. He looks tired, eyes puffy with dark circles around them. Heâs in a simple green shirt and cargo pants, yet heâs not quite as put together as he normally is. His hair is sticking up in different directions, his beard scruffier than normal. Thereâs a faint pink line of what was probably once a cut on his cheek.Â
Itâs the first time youâve seen him in weeks.Â
You should be happy.Â
You should be ecstatic.Â
You should be relieved.Â
Yet, all you can feel is pain and anger and betrayal.Â
âThereâs nothing I can say that will make this better.â He says, his voice rougher than usual, even after returning from a deployment. His eyes shine with emotion. You hate it. âThereâs nothing I can say that will undo what happened.â He runs a hand over his mouth, letting out a breath through his nose. âThis shouldnât have happened in the first place. We should have known better, we should have questioned it.â He shakes his head. âWe put too much trust in those above us, and we were all fooled.âÂ
Tears blur your eyes as you stare at him. Heâs not just talking about Shepherd and the initiative. Heâs talking about you too.Â
âI regret it more than any decision Iâve ever made. Iâll regret it for the rest of my life,â He continues. âYou put your trust in me, and I failed you. I let this happen to you because I got too caught up thinking about the greater good of the pack and I ignored what was right in front of me. Youâre here because of me, because of the decisions I made. I had one job, and now youâre paying for my failure.âÂ
He pauses for a moment, tears shining in his own eyes. You should feel surprise, sympathy, something. All you can feel is hatred. He doesnât deserve to cry over you. He doesnât deserve this chance to try and explain himself to you, to try and give excuses for his actions. He made his choice. He made it very clear where his loyalties lie, where theyâve always been, where that line was laid before he even claimed you. It was never about you. Nothing was ever about you. It was always the initiative, and then when the initiative turned out to be false, it was about the âgreater goodâ. You should have been the greater good. You should have been their focus. Instead they all betrayed you.Â
They betrayed you in the end.Â
âI made a bad call.â He continues on. âI shouldnât have left you there. I shouldnât have made that decision. It never would have played out how I thought it would in my head at that moment. Now youâre here, like this, because I made a stupid mistake.âÂ
He stares at you for a long moment, as if heâs waiting for you to say something, as if you should have something to say in response. Heâs waiting for an acceptance to his half-assed apology, as if his words can somehow undo the pain, the burning in your wrists, the throbbing in your shoulder, the agony every time you simply move a limb. As if his half-assed apology can somehow undo the weeks of depression and anguish and the worry and the fear. As if his half-assed apology can make up for the way they all cut you off, treating you like a traitor before abandoning you. As if his half-assed apology can undo the hours and hours of torment and pain the man you once thought of as a family friend unleashed on you all because of them.Â
The hatred burns almost as hot as the lava in your veins, so hot youâre surprised the tear that slides down your cheek doesnât start steaming. Your heart rate is picking up again, the monitor beeping with the sound of the anger simmering inside of you. The blood pressure cuff squeezes around your arm, a grunt of pain cracking in your throat.Â
âYeah,â You say, your voice hardly more than a whisper. You turn your head away from him, wincing as an electric shock of pain jolts through you from the motion. You drop your hand from the side rail before he can touch you, tucking your arm back under the rough blanket. âYou did.âÂ
You have nothing more to say to him.Â
John enters the room solemnly, the silence nearly palpable as they all wait in anticipation. Theyâre all looking at him, waiting patiently for their captain, their alpha, to speak. They always look to him, they always rely on him, they always trust him and now look where heâs led them. So rarely does he make the wrong decision, so rarely does he lead them astray.Â
What happened this time?Â
Why did he so easily turn them away from you? Why did he so easily turn his back on you?Â
What words are there to say? He knew his words would do little to calm the raging storm inside of you, the hurt and the pain and the betrayal they put you through all because of him.Â
The rejection still hurts, but it should. They all rejected you as soon as they left you behind.Â
Itâs only a fraction of the pain you must be feeling.Â
âHow is she?â Kyle asks, breaking the tense silence.Â
âUpset.â He sighs, sinking down in a chair.Â
âFuckinâ sure she is.â Johnny snaps, anger radiating off of him in steaming waves. Heâs been on edge, they all have, since the four of them were reunited. He had been there, stuck in the hall as you screamed and fought. He thought the worst when your screams cut off until he was finally updated by one of the nurses leaving the room. âOf course she doesnae want to see any of us! We just fucking left her, just like that, and it was your fuckinâ fault!âÂ
Simon grabs his beta before he can throw a fist at John, holding him back. Johnny lets out a string of curses none of them understand, fighting against his alpha. Simon holds him tightly, the image of your bloody form fighting against him still at the forefront of his mind. He grips Johnny tightly, muscles straining. Johnny is bigger. Johnny is stronger.Â
He has half a mind to let him go.Â
John doesnât move, doesnât even flinch as Johnny yells and rages. Heâd welcome a good beating right now. He could use some physical pain to distract from the ache in his chest.Â
âCalm down,â Kyle says, getting in Johnnyâs face. âI said calm down!â Kyle yells, Johnny stilling for a moment. Itâs not often Kyle raises his voice at one of them. âWeâre not doing any good being upset with each other. We all made mistakes over these last few weeks, especially these past few days. None of us are guilt free in this. We all have our omegaâs blood on our hands. Fighting amongst ourselves will only fray the bonds more than they already have been.âÂ
Johnny deflates with a sigh, standing there in Simonâs arms for a moment. Kyle is right. They all can feel it, the way their bonds are fraying. Their pack is resting on a dangerous ledge, tipping back and forth with every strong emotion, every argument, every sour feeling. Theyâre all holding onto that bond, trying to pull it back to keep it from falling into the abyss. As angry as they are with each other, just one of them letting go will be the end of the pack.Â
âThereâs nothing we can do to change what happened.â John says, looking up at the other three. âKyleâs right. I led us all in the wrong direction, but we canât go back and change it. We canât undo what happened to us, we canât undo what we did, we canât undo what we...â He lets out a breath. âWhat I let happen to our omega.âÂ
âShe wonât trust us again.â Simon says, his hands still shaking as he releases Johnny. They havenât stopped shaking since he scruffed you a second time.Â
âShe wonât.â John affirms, no matter how badly it hurts him. âShe wonât forgive us either. The best we can do is to give her what she needs, what she wants. Right now thatâs space. Dr. Keller will keep us updated as things develop.â He pushes himself up to stand, looking at each member of his team, of his pack. They all share the same guilty look on their faces, they all hold the same anger at themselves deep inside. âThis may be the hardest mission weâve ever had. No matter what we feel...none of that matters anymore. What matters is keeping our pack together. What matters is that we keep those bonds from fraying. We lose ourselves, we lose everything.âÂ
âStill sore?â
You nod, wincing as it sends a bolt of pain through your body.Â
âI know.â Dr. Keller says, adjusting the ice pack on your shoulder. âHurts like a bitch, but luckily it wonât cause any lasting damage.âÂ
You blink at Dr. Keller, staring at her for a beat. You donât think youâve ever heard her curse before. Youâre not sure she was ever capable of it.Â
âWhat? I use swear words. Sometimes.â She says, almost like she can read your thoughts. âSometimes expletives fit the moment better than any flouncy, sophisticated words do. This feels like the proper situation to use some.â She lets out a sigh. âYour shoulder will be the worst of the pain, at least physically. The mental pain...well, thatâs not something I can treat with pain medicine. Shouldnât, would be the proper wording there.âÂ
Some people do use it to numb the pain.Â
âWe all made a lot of bad decisions these last few days. Your support system, those you were supposed to be able to trust, failed you.â She stares down at you, emotion shining in her eyes. Itâs a mirror of Johnâs own stare when heâd looked at you, but this time thereâs no anger burning inside of you. Dr. Keller didnât betray you. Dr. Keller will mean her apology, because you know thatâs whatâs coming. âI know youâve probably heard this a lot over the last few hours, but I am sorry too. I shouldnât have left you alone like that. I shouldnât have fallen for that phone call...I should have been there.âÂ
You stare up at her, tears pooling in your eyes. If she had stayed, things would have been worse. It was almost better she left you. You canât lose her. You need her now more than you ever did.Â
Tears streak a flaming path down your face, a choked sob tearing its way through your trachea up through your lips. It burns your throat, no amount of water youâve had in the last few hours has been able to ease the ache thatâs taken up permanent residence there.Â
Graves choked you. Itâs the bruising from his hand squeezing your windpipe making you ache. Your voice may never recover, may never go back to normal. Crying hurts, hurts more than just your mind, your chest. It hurts your whole body, yet you canât stop.Â
âI know, I know.â She says, petting your hair as you sob. âIâm not going anywhere this time. Weâll get through this, okay? Itâll be a long road, but you wonât be walking it alone. Youâve got me, and youâve got your pack.âÂ
Your gaze hardens at the mention of your pack, the sob in your throat coming out almost as an angry grunt. The thought of them makes your chest ache, the pain of their betrayal burning hot in you. âI donât want them.â You whisper.Â
âI donât blame you.â Dr. Keller says, leaning against the side rail of your bed. âThey let you down. The betrayed your trust in a lot of ways. They made you feel abandoned, and then abandoned you when you needed them most, even if they thought they were doing the right thing at the time. You have every right to be angry at them, upset with them. They hurt you in the worst way they could.â She pulls the blanket higher over you, tucking you in. âYouâve gone through a lot these last few days. Some very traumatic events, on top of being injured and your body going through extreme stress. Youâre exhausted in every way you can be. Rest first. Worry about everything else later. Doctorâs orders.âÂ
âI did it to myself.â You say before she can walk away.Â
She turns back to look at you. âWhat?âÂ
âI made myself distress.â You say. âI made my omega come out.âÂ
âThat was very brave of you.â She says, giving you a soft smile. âSometimes we have to take drastic measures even knowing the risks. You did what you had to in the moment and I think it was the right choice. You didnât know what was going to happen, what was happening. Things worked out and youâre still here. Thatâs all that matters.âÂ
You think about her words for a moment. You did make it out. The fact youâre here means someone found you, someone saved you. Someone scruffed you.Â
âIt was Simon, wasnât it?â You ask, even though you already know the answer to that.Â
You wouldnât let him leave.Â
âYouâll have to ask him for the whole story, but yes. Heâs the one that rescued you.â She adjusts the blanket around you again. âGet some rest.â She moves the call button closer. âIâm on the other end of that button if you need me.âÂ
You stare up at the ceiling after she leaves, counting the tiles above you. It looks like every other ceiling youâve ever seen in a doctor's office or clinic or hospital. Itâs not all that different from the ceiling in the med center on base.Â
Base.Â
You donât ever want to see that place again. You donât want to step foot in the barracks, you donât even want to think about the clinical sterility of the buildings and the cold comfortless spaces meant for nothing more than to serve their purpose. Just like you. You served your purpose. You proved their point, even if it was never the true point of the initiative. Packs will get stronger with an omega, but it will come at the detriment of that omega.Â
The job always comes first.Â
There was a time you thought perhaps it wouldnât. Maybe they could put it all behind them and put themselves first, put you first. Then they proved they canât. They wonât even put you first when youâre at the threat of being tortured. You were hurt because they wouldnât put you first. You are hurt because they wouldnât put you first.Â
You donât care about them. You donât care about their excuses. You donât care about the bonds or the claims or the emotions.Â
Youâd be happy if they left you here. Just a few days ago you were panicking about them leaving you, about them deciding you werenât enough and abandoning you.Â
Now you wish they would.Â
âHas she said anything?âÂ
âNot much.â He sighs. âShe wonât see any of us. I can hardly blame her.âÂ
âYou made a choice, John.â Kate says, hands wrapped around her cup of coffee. âChoices have consequences.âÂ
âYou were right. Then again, you usually are.â He sips at his tea. Bitter without milk, but then again, heâd prefer a glass of whiskey right now over tea. âI donât know how to fix this.âÂ
âI donât think you can.â Kate takes a sip of her coffee. âSheâs going to decide when she wants you to fix this, if she wants you to fix it.âÂ
John lets out a sigh. âWeâre her pack, itâs our job-âÂ
âYouâve failed at your job.â Kate says, her gaze hardening as she stares at him. âYouâre good at being a soldier, youâre good at being a leader, youâre good at saving the world, but thatâs not your only job. You have a responsibility to take care of your omega, and you failed. You made your choice, and you turned your back on her. Sheâs not a soldier, John. Sheâs never been tortured, sheâs never been left for dead, sheâs never taken a life before and here sheâs been through all of that in the span of two days. You made a choice, John. You made a choice knowing damn well what the consequences would be.âÂ
He sits in silence, staring at Kate. Itâs not often she gets mad at him, the frustration evident on her face. Itâs a mirror of the anger and disappointment on the faces of his packmates. Theyâre all feeling the weight of his decision, of his mistakes. Theyâre all feeling the weight of their rapidly fraying bonds.Â
âYou have a choice to make now, John.â She stares at him pointedly. âYou pick up the pieces from this, you all take the time to recover and heal. Then what? Things arenât as simple as we thought they were, John. None of us knew what was going to happen. We were all so focused on the potential benefits that we all overlooked just how much of a detriment this would be. Your omega hasnât had a choice in anything in her entire life. Every decision has been made for her, whether or not she wanted it. She has had no say in any of this. Sheâs been nothing more than a variable in an experiment, a statistic, a number, a list of pros and cons. Sheâs been reduced down to nothing more than an object.âÂ
John winces at her words, the weight on his shoulders growing heavier and heavier. Heâs treated you as nothing more than an object, even if not directly. Leaving you so easily, yelling at you when you made an innocent mistake, letting you be tortured because he couldnât get his head out of his own arse.Â
âWe all know sheâs more than that. Far more than that. But she will never have any say in anything, unless you let her. Outside of your pack, she has nothing. In your pack? She should have the loudest voice.â Kate leans her arms on the table, shifting closer to him. âRight now she has no voice because youâve proven where your loyalties lie, and theyâre not with her. You have one more decision to make, John. Do you keep standing where you are, put the job first and wear your omega down until sheâs nothing but an empty shell? Or, do you take this chance while you have it and finally put her first?âÂ
Kate pushes herself up to stand, grabbing her cup of coffee. Johnâs not used to feeling small. Heâs used to being in charge, being the captain, being in control. People look to him, they listen to him, heâs the one everyone turns to when things go to shit to lead them out.Â
Heâs not even capable of doing that anymore.Â
âYour life as you knew it ended as soon as she was placed in your pack. Itâs up to you to decide how it continues.â Kate leaves with those heavy parting words, the door clicking shut behind her.Â
John stares down at his cup of tea, the cup half full, or perhaps half empty depending on how one looks at it. It feels more than half empty now, spilling slowly through some microscopic hole in the side. Itâll only be so long before that hole will widen, worn down by the weak paper the cup is made of, the liquid eating away at the cup until thereâs nothing but a puddle of tea on the table, slowly rolling towards the edge to dip onto the floor.Â
That microscopic hole started as soon as they left you alone for the first time, and none of them were aware enough to even notice it.Â
That hole is a gaping wound now. The contents inside turned acidic as soon as he cut you off in his disappointment, as soon as he started digging into the belly of the initiative. That acid has been eating away slowly at the fragile bonds that were in place. Fragile. They really were. No matter how strong they all thought those bonds were growing to be, they were built with fear and anxiety and uncertainty. Uncertainty of the future and what it may hold, anxiety towards a new pack and an entirely new shift in lifestyle, and fear of one day losing a pack member.Â
Bonds built upon such frailty can hold no weight should one piece fall.Â
How strong can bonds really be when you live with that knowledge, that constant fear that someone could die at any time? Someone in the pack, someone youâve bonded with, someone youâve grown a relationship with, might leave and never return because of the risks of their job. How strong can those bonds be? Was that the point of the experiments all along, the 141 and the initiative? Testing the limits a pack could be pushed to, testing if bonds could be formed in such a high stress environment and if so, how strong theyâd be? What limits would they have gone to, to test that theory? Would they have gone to the point of sacrificing one of them to test those theories, had the truth not come out when it did? One wrong decision, one wrong step in the field and everything can crumble. Would they have gone to that length to test just how a bonded pack would react, if they could still function after everything?Â
The sacrifice was you.Â
Kate is right. Youâre not part of their world. Youâre not a soldier, you havenât been conditioned to live with that fear, you canât be conditioned to live with that fear. You shouldnât have to be conditioned to live with that fear. You had no choice in this. None of it. From the moment you presented, nothing in your life would be yours. From the moment you presented, you would never make a choice for yourself again.Â
The sacrifice was you.Â
And he played right into their hands.Â
The cup is blurring as he stares at it, his eyes blinking rapidly.Â
They say an omega is the balance that holds a pack together. Itâs a delicate bond, a single thread coiled around the structure of the pack. Wear that thread down until it snaps and everything crumbles. How long have you been fraying? How long have you been silently screaming for help, desperately trying to hold the pieces of the pack together like a strongman holds two pillars up by chains? You never had chains, youâve been holding everything together with sewing thread, fighting desperately to keep the pieces from crumbling at the risk of being torn in half.Â
How long have you been silently screaming?Â
Itâs all his fault. Heâs been wearing you down, heâs been fraying that bond fiber by fiber. Heâs been standing there watching you fight to hold the pack together while screaming at him to help, screaming at him to take one of those threads and hold at least half of the weight for you.Â
Thatâs what heâs supposed to do.Â
The threads have snapped. You were torn in half by the weight and those threads are gone. Theyâre crumbling, the bonds coming undone, unraveling minute by minute, second by second. Theyâre losing each other because they lost you.Â
He covers his face with his hands, not even bothering to try and silence his sobs.Â
Something has pulled you from the sweet arms of sleep.Â
Itâs dark in the room, the only light coming from the one behind the bed. The curtains are drawn over the window, keeping you hidden from the darkness outside the window. Itâs late, or at least you think it is. You canât quite see the clock in the darkness with your one good eye. Itâs fuzzy in the darkness, too far away for you to truly find where the hands lie.Â
Shadows fill the corners of the room, oppressive and claustrophobic. The longer you stare, the bigger they seem to grow as if they might suck the light right out of the room and swallow you in darkness. The longer you stare, the more it seems like thereâs something there, something hidden in the darkness.Â
Something is staring at you from the shadows. Thereâs eyes on you, your skin prickling from the uncomfortable feeling of being watched. The more you stare into the darkness, the more the shadows begin to take shape, forming monstrous beasts just being held at bay by the light.Â
âHi, darlinâ.âÂ
No. No, no, no, no.Â
âMiss me? Itâs been a long time.âÂ
You shake your head, your heart monitor starting to beep rapidly as your heart pounds in your chest. âN-No.âÂ
Phil sits forward in the chair in the corner, his face coming into the light. It is him, blonde hair, blue eyes, that disarming grin on his face. He canât be here...unless he escaped before your pack could catch him. Did they manage to catch him? You donât know. You hadnât even thought to ask about Phil or his whereabouts. No one informed you either.Â
âNo? You didnât miss me?â He tilts his head, his eyes shining with faux hurt and disappointment. âThatâs not very nice of you to say. I thought your father taught you your manners. Have you forgotten them in the time youâve been away.â He tsks, shaking his head. âThose boys have been letting you get lazy.âÂ
Your breathing is picking up, panic starting to fill you as you stare at him. Itâs impossible. He shouldnât be here. He canât be here. He couldnât have just walked onto base and walked into the medical center, could he? Corporal McKinney fooled everyone for months and drove right off base with you in his car and no one said anything. How much would the guards at the front entrance of the base take as a bribe to let him in?Â
Why isnât your pack outside your door? Why would they let him in?Â
They had to have put out a warning. Someone should have put Philâs face everywhere, sent out a message, something.Â
He lets out a sigh, pushing himself to stand. âI guess Iâll have to teach you some manners myself.âÂ
The glint of metal catches your eye, the icepick catching the light as he steps closer.Â
âNo, no,â You shake your head, your fingers scrambling for the call button.
Not again. Please, not again.Â
Your fingers close around the call button, your thumb pushing it over and over and over again. Someone has to hear it.Â
He lifts the ice pick, reaching out for you...
Youâre being shaken. A scream tears from your lips as you struggle, trying to get away from whoever is holding you. Your body is alight with pain but you wait for more, for the ice pick to drive into your scent gland again, open the wound and light your body on fire once more. You expect it to come down again and again, filling your body with holes so you bleed out on the floor.Â
Where is your pack?
âEasy, easy. Youâre alright.âÂ
You know that voice.Â
Youâre sobbing, your brain slowly beginning to come back into consciousness. You had been asleep. You were dreaming. The light is on in the room, the harsh fluorescent a welcome presence for once. The shadows are gone, dissipated by the bright light overhead. Phil is gone, wiped away with the rest of the shadows.Â
Heâs nowhere to be seen because he wasnât there in the first place.Â
It was just a dream. It was just a nightmare.Â
Thereâs a hand on yours, gently easing your fingers from the call button. Youâre still trying to press it, your thumb moving almost automatically. You started pressing it in your sleep.Â
âYouâre okay. Breathe for me.âÂ
Itâs Dr. Kellerâs voice. Itâs her arms wrapped around you, trying to stop you from moving as much. Your body is screaming in pain, but the panic flooding your body makes you almost numb to it. The pain in your chest is screaming with every rapid inhale, tightening and tightening the more until your fingers and toes start to go numb.Â
âDeep breaths.â Dr. Keller says, her own breaths slow as she holds you. âIn and out.âÂ
The inhale catches, the air shuddering into your lungs before you hold it, trying to force your body to calm down, just like the two of you practiced so many times. The heart monitor is beeping rapidly, another thing that must have translated in your state between wakefulness and sleep when Phil had shown up. Your heart is beating rapidly, thudding in your chest almost violently. Itâs been through a lot these last few days. You wouldnât be surprised if it just gave out suddenly.Â
âPhil.â You gasp out, still trying to slow your breathing. âPhil was here.âÂ
âIt was just a nightmare.â Dr. Keller says calmly, keeping her arms wrapped around you. âNo one has come in or out of this room besides me. The guard outside wonât let anyone else in.âÂ
Guard. Thereâs someone outside the door. Your pack? No. She would have said so.
Where is your pack?
Phil was never here. It was just a nightmare.Â
The last two thoughts repeat over and over in your head like a mantra as you start to cry, sobs wracking your body. You hate it, the fear, the terror, the anguish you felt as he lifted that ice pick, ready to stab you with it.Â
âI hate it.â You croak out, voicing your thoughts for the first time in a few hours.Â
âI know.â Dr. Keller says. âItâs normal to have nightmares after a traumatic event.â She adjusts her hold on you, tucking you against her chest. âItâs your brain trying to process what happened, trying to work its way through the trauma of the last few days. Itâs cruel, but itâs a necessary part of healing.âÂ
Healing.Â
Are you healing? Can you heal after everything? The pain is intense, not just outside but inside as well. The hurt, the anger, the fear, the anxiety, the panic, the depression, the rage, the betrayal. Itâs too much. Itâs so much all at once. You hate it. You hate that this happened in the first place. You hate that you have to go through this, have to heal, have to live through more nightmares.Â
You hate your pack. Thatâs why theyâre not here.Â
For all you know theyâve left you. For all you know theyâre on a plane back to the UK.Â
Why would they want a broken, angry omega?
âI just want to be okay.â You sob, face pressed against her shoulder.Â
âI know.â She says, cradling the back of your head, keeping you tight in her arms. âI'm so sorry this happened to you. I know words can't change that it happened, words can't make it all better, but we'll get you to where you're as okay as you can be again. I promise you Iâll do everything I can to get you there.â She leans her chin on the top of your head, squeezing you against her chest. âWe'll get there, no matter how long it takes.âÂ
How long will it take? How long will your pain and suffering drag on for? Your body will heal eventually, but will your mind? Are you going to be this way for the rest of your life? Will you ever know peace again? But...have you ever really known peace? Your home growing up certainly wasnât peaceful. Your presentation wasnât peaceful, and neither was life at the institute. Being chosen by the FBI for this initiative that never existed in the first place certainly wasnât peaceful. Despite how happy you became with your pack, even that life wasnât peaceful. What little peace you thought you had was upended in the blink of an eye.Â
How easily everything crumbled.Â
Will it be possible to put it all back together again?Â
Do you want to put it back together again?Â
Alcohol is easy to find in a place like this. Soldiers gravitate towards whatever crutch they can find to erase the nightmares they live in. It numbs the pain and the brain and keeps one sane, or at least thatâs what his father used to say.Â
Of course his father would drink himself into a stupor every Friday night, and heâd wake Saturday morning still in his chair with a full breakfast waiting for him.Â
Much like his father, John has lost track of how many times heâs filled his glass.Â
Itâs been a long time since heâs gotten this drunk. He shook that habit after a shameful morning over ten years ago. Heâd just gotten back from a bad deployment, one that gets labeled as a âmission gone wrong.â It failed under his command. He lost a lot of lives, not just his fellow soldiers. Heâd drunk himself past a stupor and woke up passed out in a bush covered in vomit outside the gate with a rather angry CO over him.Â
He shook the habit after that, easing himself to just a glass every so often on those days he needs to take the edge off, on those days he needs to numb the aches.Â
Then Kyle came along. Kyle, his sweet beta with his ethical moral compass. His sweet beta who deserved a better life than what he was pulled into. Dutiful, loyal, principled. A good soldier, but a better man than John could ever be. He could fall into Kyle, bury himself under those soft touches, the soothing whispers, the comfort Kyle could offer him. The screaming in his head became less and less as he allowed Kyle to do what he was meant to do at his core.Â
Comfort.Â
Then you came along.Â
He found himself turning to the liquid medicine less and less because he could bury himself in you. He had an omega, he had someone he could lean on, someone who understood without having to be told. The bond between alpha and omega is something so sacred and special, something to be cherished.Â
And he threw it all away.Â
He downs another glass, staring at the almost empty bottle. It had been sealed when he got it, brand new and fresh. He can feel it, the fogginess of alcohol clouding his brain. The world is swirling, melting together. He canât feel much of anything anymore, yet that pain lingers deep in his chest.Â
The bond.Â
Itâs like an open wound, gaping and pulsing. Eventually itâll slow, eventually itâll give out. That bond will be cut and everything will crumble.Â
Itâs all his fault.Â
He ended things, he ended the pack, he ended the bond, he ended you.Â
Would Graves have killed you? Would Shepherd have given those orders if they pushed onward, if they caught up to him? Graves would have done it slowly, taken his time, reveled in it. They would have gotten a video of it, hours long as you were tortured to death, zoomed in on your face as the life left your eyes.Â
The thought makes his stomach churn. He wants to vomit at the mental picture of you laying there, covered in blood, those lifeless eyes staring at him. Eyes that once shone with life and happiness. Despite everything you had been happy. Despite everything that spark inside you was never extinguished. A fiery little thing that would give what they gave right back to them.Â
Now youâre not even smoldering.Â
Youâve been reduced to ashes, and itâs all his fault. Itâs all his doing.Â
He skips the glass this time, drinking straight from the bottle.
âHave you seen John recently?â Kyle asks, standing in the doorway to their temporary living quarters. Itâs a single room with two bunk beds. Far too tight of a space for their quickly souring dynamics.Â
âNo, not recently.â Johnny says, lifting his head up from his pillow. Heâs been crying again. âYou, LT?â
LT. They argued earlier...more like yelled in each othersâ faces until they had to be separated at the risk of things getting physical. Kyleâs not even sure what they had been arguing about in the first place. Probably something miniscule and unimportant. Everything seems to be setting them off like grenades. Pull the pin and watch them explode. Theyâre all on edge, all of them feeling the distance growing wider and wider despite their best efforts to stop it.Â
âNo.â Simon says simply, staring up at the bottom of the bunk over him. Heâs flat on his back, hands folded on his stomach. He looks like a corpse, might have been mistaken for one if it hadnât been for the slow rise and fall of his chest. Heâs still in his mask. He hasnât taken it off since he arrived in the field.Â
Itâs late, but none of them can sleep. None of them have been able to get much sleep since they arrived nearly two days ago. Weeks without good, decent sleep wears on the brain too.Â
âIf he comes back here, text me.â Kyle says before closing the door, resuming his search for their missing captain.Â
John has been beating himself up for nearly two days now. Kyleâs never seen his captain quite so distraught and lost. Heâs blaming himself, which in all fairness, he should be doing. It is his fault. Kyle will be the first to point blame in this situation, but none of them are truly blameless. None of them questioned it, none of them even argued with him on that decision. They followed blindly as they were supposed to for the first time in a long time. They didnât question their captain, their alpha, their leader.Â
He hates himself for it.Â
Why didnât he question it? Why didnât he argue? Why didnât he voice his opinion, fight back against that decision? He trusted his alpha when he shouldnât have, and you paid for it.Â
Heâs glad he didnât have to see you. Heâs glad he didnât have to face down the state Johnny and Simon found you in. Heâs glad he didnât have to see what you looked like even after the blood had been cleaned off and the true horror was revealed.Â
He hasnât gone to see you at all.Â
Heâs not sure he could handle it. You wonât care either way from the sound of it. Youâve been reduced to a shell, silent and empty. Youâve barely said a word since this morning, instead just lying there and staring at the ceiling according to the doctor when sheâd updated them this afternoon.
Your body will heal slowly, but your mind will remain a battleground.Â
He leaves the barracks, looking up at the dark sky. Itâs clear tonight. Heâd probably see the stars if there wasnât constant light pollution around the base. What do the stars look like here? Heâs stared up at the stars constantly in the last few weeks in places there was little light pollution. His only comfort about being away from you so long was the knowledge that you were under the same sky. Be it day or night, the stars were overhead. You wouldnât be able to see them either way, but they were shining for you too.Â
Now youâre both under the same stars, but youâre both still so far away.
He lets out a sigh, lowering his gaze. He has a job to do, a captain to find.Â
âWhere are you John?â He breathes, looking in all directions, trying to decide which way to go next. He had stopped in at the med center already, but he wasnât there. No one had seen him, even the doctor. Heâs searched everywhere he could think to search, but his captain is nowhere to be found.Â
John will kill him if he requests a base-wide search.Â
He walks around the side of the barracks, hoping maybe heâll run into John coming back this way. Usually he wouldnât bother searching for him, but with his mind how it has been, Kyle canât help but be worried. Even with the bonds fraying between them, he still has that instinctual need to make sure his alpha is okay. Instincts canât be ignored. No matter how much bonds between packs fray, instincts will always remain the same.Â
Thatâs why he still feels that urge to go and see you.Â
John will kill him if he requests a base-wide search.Â
He knows how self-destructive John can be despite how composed he makes himself appear. Heâs only seen his alpha in that state once, and he has a feeling heâs about to a second time.Â
He leans against the wall with a sigh when he reaches the other side of the barracks. Nothing. No sign of him. No texts from Johnny or Simon either. Heâd asked Dr. Keller to let him know if he shows up in the med center too, but thereâs been nothing. No word. No signs.Â
Maybe he should just give up looking. John will find his way back to the barracks eventually. Or he wonât.Â
That could be tomorrowâs problem. A distraction, a mission, something to give them purpose and force them to unite again.Â
Find their missing captain. Find their missing alpha.
He turns back around to follow the sidewalk back to the front of the barracks when he hears shuffling footsteps dragging on the concrete. He turns, squinting into the darkness between lamps as a figure stumbles through the shadows, muttering under its breath. He knows that voice, he knows that figure.Â
John.Â
John stumbles forward, nearly falling but Kyle reaches out, catching him. His mind is racing, silently checking for any blood, any sign of injury, but thereâs nothing.Â
Maybe everything is finally getting to him. Maybe his body has finally been pushed to the limit and itâs giving out. Heâs having a medical emergency.Â
âEasy, sir.â He says, trying to calm his panic as he fights to keep John upright despite Johnâs body wanting to fall the rest of the way onto the ground. Kyle takes a breath in, catching the sour scent of alcohol wafting off his captain.Â
Not a medical emergency, then.Â
He sought out some liquid comfort instead.Â
The thought makes Kyleâs chest twinge still.Â
ââS all over.â John slurs, his weight getting heavier and heavier. âEverything is over.â He turns his head, blinking slowly. âKyle?âÂ
âItâs me, sir. Iâve got you.â He slings Johnâs arm over his shoulders, making his weight easier to hold.Â
âKyle.â He slurs again, the two syllables blurring together. âToo good to me, Kyle.â John pulls his arm free, stumbling forward.Â
Kyle just manages to lessen his fall onto the concrete, making sure John doesnât smack the back of his head at least. Heâll have some scrapes and bruises tomorrow, though. Right now he probably canât even feel it. If he was responsible, heâd take John to the med center, let him sleep off the alcohol on the safety of a gurney, but that would probably just cause more problems for everyone.Â
John would be pissed when he woke up.Â
He lets out a sigh as he stands there, staring down at his captain. Johnâs on his back, eyes up and focused on the sky, hiccuping every so often. Heâs never seen his captain quite this drunk before, though he has heard stories of when John was younger.Â
âIâve killed her.â John mumbles. âIâve killed all of us.âÂ
Kyle drops to a knee beside John. âYou havenât killed anyone.âÂ
âSheâs fading away. Soon sheâll be gone.â He murmurs. âWeâll go too.â John pushes himself up to sit. âItâs all over. Everything is over.âÂ
Kyle grips Johnâs arms before he can fall back again, holding him in place. âNothing is over yet, sir. We can still do something. Itâll just take time.âÂ
John turns to look at him, his eyes hazy and far away. âKyle.â John says his name softly, reaching out to brush his fingers across Kyleâs cheek. âPretty boy.â He slumps against Kyleâs chest, his weight nearly making both of them topple over. âToo good to me, Kyle.âÂ
âI care about you a lot, sir.â Kyle says, rubbing his back. âMore than I think you realize.â He murmurs the last bit more to himself than anything. Not that John will likely remember any of this in the morning. âWe should get you in bed. Weâve got a long day tomorrow.âÂ
They do. They have to decide what to do next.Â
âCome on.â He says, hauling John to his feet carefully. John lets him, letting Kyle wrap his arm around his shoulders.Â
Itâs slow going, Kyle half dragging John back to the barracks. Heâs quiet at least, only the occasional scuffle of his footsteps as he stumbles breaking the quiet night. He gets John back to their room fairly easily, easing him into the other bottom bunk across from Simon. The room is still and silent aside from the occasional sniffle from one of the top bunks.Â
He grabs the blanket from his own bunk, draping it across John instead. Maybe in his drunk state, the scent will bring him some comfort, help ease that ache inside of him.
Heâs hoping Johnâs scent will do the same for him.Â
âItâll be alright, sir.â He says, making sure his captain is comfortable. He stands up, staring down at his Captain. âEverything will be fine.âÂ
Heâs not sure who heâs trying to convince.Â
John stares down into his tea as they sit around a table. His head is throbbing, pulsing heavily behind his eyes. Itâs his own damn fault, going out and getting drunk like that. He hasnât done it in years, yet he couldnât stand the pain gnawing away at his chest. Alcohol hadnât fixed it. Itâs still there, still pulsing away. The alcohol had only numbed it at least for a few hours, and if anything, it made it worse.Â
âKate left this morning back to DC.â He says, glancing up at the other three members of his team. âThey're still working on cleanup and helping Alex and Farah track Shepherd. I spoke with Dr. Keller this morning. Weâll be able to fly out soon.âÂ
The words hang heavy in the air. He hadnât mentioned you at all, but heâs not sure he could without breaking down. You are improving slowly, Christine had said, giving him a sympathetic look as he squinted in the harsh fluorescents. She knew. She could tell just by looking at him. Sheâs that good at her job.Â
Heâs glad they have her. Heâs glad you have her. Â
âWhere are we going tae go?â Johnny asks.Â
âWe canât go back to base.â Simon says.Â
âYouâre right. Going back to base is too risky.â John says. âShepherd could have eyes there already. And with her mind where it is...â Taking you back would be too much too soon, even without the risk. One of their own had already betrayed them once. They canât trust anyone anymore. âWe need somewhere secluded and quiet. Somewhere no one will know weâre going where we can lay low for a while.â Both out of necessity for their safety, but also for your sake.Â
It falls silent between them. Shepherd knows all of their possible safehouses, all of the places they mind go to stay hidden. Those only they know off the record are hard to get to, requiring miles of hiking. You wouldn't be up for that even without the physical injuries, and they doubt you'd let one of them carry you. If they had to get out quickly...
âMy parents have a place,â Kyle says, glancing up at them from his own cup of tea. âOut in Cornwall. A cottage near the cliffs. Itâs quiet, secluded. No one knows about it but us. Tourist season is over too. There won't be many out there poking around this time of year.â Anyone wandering around out there that close would be suspicious.
âItâs a good option.â Johnny shrugs.Â
âItâs our only option.â Simon says.Â
âItâs exactly what we need.â Kyle says. âTrying to rent this time of year will only draw attention, and we can't trust we won't be ratted out. Shepherd likely still has allies. We were betrayed by one of our own before.â Kyle says.Â
âYou're sure no one else knows about it?â John asks, looking at his beta.Â
âJust my parents and my siblings. They wouldnât ask any questions if I told them it was being used.â Kyle shrugs. âIt might be our best option.â
John looks around at them. It is their best option for now. He knows Kyle's family is just like the rest of theirs. They know they can't know and they won't ask questions.Â
âWe had a conversation once, months ago.â John says. âShe told me she wanted to live next to the sea someday. She wants to be close enough that she can smell it and see it.âÂ
He pauses thinking back months ago after Simon left, after you were so affected by his absence. That conversation when you asked if heâd ever leave for you, when he told you if your life was ever in danger because of them heâd leave in a heartbeat. Heâs made a liar out of himself. He broke his promise, so many promises, made not just to you. Not just to the pack.Â
He glances at the other three, fighting back the lump in his throat, the endless threat of tears that has been rising like the tide and threatening to drown him at any moment. Heâs made his decision, heâs made up his mind.Â
You have to come first.Â
His priorities have changed. Thereâs no initiative to follow, no orders to be given out. Kate was right. This is their moment to change things, this is his moment to change things. His pack will follow. Despite everything, theyâll trust him to make the right decision. They wonât hesitate to challenge him anymore, but thereâs still that deeply ingrained trust in their alpha and captain.Â
The alpha comes first.Â
No, the omega comes first.Â
He takes a sip of his tea, bitter without any milk, but itâll do. âShe wanted to be close to the sea.â He looks back up at the other three having made his decision. âTaking her there might just be what she needs.âÂ
NEXT ->
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#call of duty#call of duty fic#task force 141 x reader#tf 141 x reader#poly 141#John price x reader#captain price x reader#Simon Riley x reader#Simon ghost riley x reader#johnny mactavish x reader#Johnny soap mactavish x reader#soap x reader#Kyle Garrick x reader#gaz x reader#Kyle gaz Garrick x reader#alpha/beta/omega dynamics#a/b/o#omegaverse
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est-ce que je tâaime? | j.v
summary:
âWhat does dear Jace have to say?â
âI do not like your tone,â you huffed, snatching the letter out of his hands. Daeron chuckled, his eyes gleaming.
âYou could become my niece, if this continues.â
âOh please,â you answered, not even entertaining the idea. âI am too low of a rank for him to even consider marrying me.â
OR; After having spent almost eight namedays in Oldtown, you longed for your return to Kingâs Landing, to see Jace again. When the day finally comes, you didnât expect to be thrust in the middle of a war for the crown.
pairing: jacaerys velaryon x reader, platonic!daeron targaryen x reader
warnings: mention of death (Viserys), canonical violence (follows plot of the show up to Stormâs End), otherwise this part is pretty tame!
word count: 8,2k
authorâs note: i do not know a single thing about daeron except for the tidbits we have learned in the show. the rest is made up (but imo my Daeron character analysis is pretty great finally my bachelor's in english has proven useful). this is gonna be a two parter! the first part is heavily reader x daeron/team green focused, while the second part will focus on readerâs and jaceâs relationship. title is from GIMS' song est-ce que tu m'aimes which also inspired this fic... also @eldrith bc i fear i will be threatened with a gun if i dont... happy reading đ«¶đŒ
⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . âŠ
âI have a letter from the Queen Alicent and and another one from the Prince Jacaerys Velaryon,â the messenger said, bowing as he stood at the door.
âThank you Ser.â
Taking the letters, the messenger bowed to take his leave, and you handed Daeron the letter from his mother before settling into your chaise with Jaceâs letter.
This was how you and Daeron received news from Kingâs Landing and Dragonstone. You hated how you had to wait so long to hear news, longing for the time all of you were at Kingâs Landing together, but you knew that things hadnât been working out with Rhaenyra and her family nor with Alicent and her children.
You thought that was the main reason Daeron had been sent to Oldtown, to shield him from the tumultuous life at court and you along with him, despite that you had been Helaenaâs lady in waiting.
Smiling at the contents of the letter, you tried to imagine Jaceâs voice as he told you of Luke taking flight with Arrax for the first time, failing miserably. It had only been two years since you saw him last, but you knew how boys matured quickly in a short span of time, Daeron being the perfect example.
He had only come up to your shoulders when you first arrived in Oldtown, now, he was almost as tall as you.
âHelaena and Aegon were married,â Daeron suddenly said and your hands stilled, lowering Jaceâs letter.
You glanced at him, noticing how small his voice sounded. Putting the letter away, you clasped Daeronâs arm, offering some comfort. You knew how hard it was for him to be away from his family and hearing about important news like that through letter just made the distance seem even greater.
âTo whom?â
âTo each other.â
âWhat?â
âLook,â Daeron said, handing you the letter his mother had sent him with the official sigil of the Targaryen house. You read through the letter, before sitting back with a surprised sigh.
âHelaena must be devastated,â you muttered, rubbing the side of your temples. You couldnât imagine how alone Helaena must feel, to be married off to Aegon. He had always been a little crude; you doubted he had changed much.
âI cannot believe mother did not even deem it necessary to bring me home for their wedding,â Daeron said with a frown. âAm I even still her son?â
âDonât be ridiculous,â you chastised him. âYour mother sent you away for your own good.â
Even as you said those words, you didnât quite believe them yourself. It had been so long since Daeron has seen his family, you understood sending him away in the first place, but going for so long without a single visit?
With a sigh, Daeron brushed his silver hair back, angling towards Jaceâs letter you had left on the table.
âWhat does dear Jace have to say?â
âI do not like your tone,â you huffed, snatching the letter out of his hands. Daeron chuckled, his eyes gleaming.
âYou could become my niece, if this continues.â
âOh please,â you answered, not even entertaining the idea. âI am too low of a rank for him to even consider marrying me.â
âSo you have thought about marrying my nephew?â
You groaned and Daeron only cackled when you shoved him.
âGo sit and write to your mother,â you told him with a sniff of your nose and even though he grimaced at you, he sat down at the wooden desk, grabbing a roll of parchment. Even though Daeron was of much higher rank than you, he had adopted you as some sort of older sister ever since you two got to Oldtown, with you being the only familiar person from home that was still present in his life, apart from his uncles, of course.
It pained you, to see Daeron long for his family, who seemed to have discarded him so easily. You wondered when he would get to his family again as you reached for Jaceâs letter to keep on reading;You wondered when you would get to see Jace again.
It was six more years before either of that would happen. However under much different circumstances than either of you had imagined.
âUrgent news from Kingâs Landing!â the messenger said, his breath short as he handed Lord Ormund a roll of parchment. You and Daeron glanced at each other; you were in the middle of breaking fast, the most important meal of the day in Oldtown; it must be incredible important news for the messenger to disrupt the meal like that. His face was stony as he read the contents of the letter, before his eyebrows raised in surprise. He lowered the letter, his eyes finding Daeron.
âYour father has passed. They are to crown your brother Aegon to be King. You are expected back in Kingâs Landing.â Lord Ormundâs eyes found you. âBoth of you.â
It didnât take long for Daeron and you get everything ready for your departure, you barely noticed most of your belongings being packed up, still reeling from the news. You couldnât believe King Viserys had died. Of course you had known from the letters that Daeron had received from his mother that the king had taken quite ill, but still. And he named Aegon as his new heir? You couldnât imagine Aegon, the boy who teased his brother endlessly to become King of the Seven Realms, but who were you to judge?
Your hand was itching to write to Jace, despite your last letter still being unanswered. You werenât sure what had changed, but lately you felt like Jaceâs letters had become scarce, every answer taking longer than the last. You werenât quite bold enough to ask why in a letter, fearing a rejection, but maybe when you saw him, you could gauge his mood. You knew you were to see him at King Viserysâ funeral or the latest at Aegonâs coronation, you would see him sooner than your letter would take to get to him. Despite knowing that, your eyes caught on parchment and quill, so you took leave to Daeronâs chamber to distract yourself.
The door to his chambers stood open as you stepped in, the maids moving in a flurry as they packed his belongings, while Daeron was sitting on his bed, unmoving. Gingerly, you moved to sit behind him, but he barely acknowledged your presence, gazing out of the window.
âIâm sorry about your fatherâs passing,â you told him, nudging him with your shoulder.
âI have been living without a father for quite some time,â he replied wryly, glancing at you. âI suppose it will not feel any different.â
You reached for his hand, squeezing it, hoping to lend him comfort. âI know. But still, I wish he had been a better father to you.â
Daeron only snorted, shaking his head.
âAre you nervous to see your kin again?â
The young Prince let out a laugh, unwinding his hand from your grip to stand.
âKin? I havenât seen them in nearly ten years,â he scoffed, starting to pace. âMother writes to me once in a moon, Helaenaâs letters are more confusing than not, and Aegon and Aemond barely write to me on my name day. I have not seen them since my eighth name day.â
âThey are still your kin, Daeron.â
âBy blood, yes.â
âIs there any other way to be kin?â
You were humoring him, knowing he was frustrated and nervous to see his family but Daeron stopped in his tracks, looking at you.
âYes. You.â
You raised your eyebrows in surprise and he took his seat next to you again, cradling your hand in his.
âYou came with me to Oldtown when you did not have to, gave me a sense of familiarity in this⊠Farce of a home, lent me comfort in a way my own blood failed to do,â he said quietly, squeezing your hand. âYou are my sister in everything but blood.â
âOh Daeron,â you sighed, pulling him into a hug and letting the younger boy - despite him arguing that he was long a man - find comfort in your arms. Ten and six, and the burden of feeling like you were abandoned by your family. You wished he did not have to feel this way, but you were powerless to change it.
âSwear to me you will not abandon me once we get back to Kingâs Landing,â Daeron said, pulling away to hold you at an armâs length, his eyes searching yours.
âI swear it,â you told him, a smile on your face. âSwear to me you will not say any of this to your mother.â
Daeron let out a laugh at that, but you only shook your head, only half-jesting. You know Otto Hightower would fall right to his grave if he had heard Daeron call you his sister. You were high-born, yes, but in no way comparable to a Princess.
A knock sounded on the door, before a squire entered. âEverything has been prepared for your departure my Prince.â
âVery well, we will be right out,â Daeron answered with a nod.
The squire bowed, before leaving again and you squeezed Daeronâs hand, standing.
âI will go fetch my belongings, you go bid farewell to your uncles.â
Daeron nodded, taking a deep breath and squaring his shoulders. âI will meet you outside the city walls.â
You touched his cheek gently before you departed. A knight and two maids followed you with bags of sustenance and personal belongings to the city walls, where a handful of dragonkeepers were eyeing the sky. Lifting your gaze, you saw Tessarion fly over the city in circles, a smile growing on your face, excited to be making the trip back to Kingâs Landing on dragonback.
You had always loved whenever Daeron took you out flying on Tessarion; deep within you wished to feel a bond as special as a dragonrider had with their dragon. You wondered if Jace would take you flying on Vermax, now that all of you were reconvening for the Kingâs funeral rite and Aegonâs coronation.
Tessarion let out a screech before coming to land on the small green meadow, and you knew Daeron must be close. Surely enough, you heard footsteps coming closer before Daeron stopped just next to you, knights accompanying him.
âWill you miss Oldtown?â You asked him, but Daeron only shook his head.
âNothing keeping me here,â he answered, stepping forward to greet Tessarion as she landed, calming her as the knights and maids attached the satchels and bags to the saddle. You let out a deep breath, turning to look at Oldtown for one last time. While Daeron had been right, a part of you was sad to leave, as it had been the place you had called home for the last years.
âAre you sure this is Kingâs Landing?â
The journey to Kingâs Landing had been uneventful and quick, a half dayâs journey only. When you had arrived, flying over the city, Daeron directed Tessarion into the dragon pit, where the dragonkeepers had been waiting. Maids had then taken you into the Red Keep, and you barely had any time to react as you looked at the adornments that decorated castle; countless dedications to the Seven. The busy Keep you had remembered had now been replaced with empty halls and dark walls.
Daeron glanced at you before looking around. âSurely motherâs doing.â
The maid led you into empty chambers, bowing to Daeron.
âThe Queen Dowager will be with you shortly, my Prince.â
Daeron thanked her and she inclined her head at him before turning to you.
âMy Lady, if you follow me.â
âWhere are you taking her?â Daeron, his hand on your arm to stop you from leaving. The maid paused, glancing between the two of you.
âTo her chambers, my Prince.â
âShe will stay with me.â
âDaeron, you should see your mother by yourself, I can come see you after,â you assured him but Daeron merely shook his head, his grip on your arm tightening.
âI shall not meet my mother alone.â
âDaeron-â
âPlease,â Daeron begged, his voice panicked and you sighed, giving in. Only then did Daeron release the grip on your arm.
The maid still paused but she then decided to retreat, but not without bowing to Daeron again. He started pacing in the room, picking up the small trinkets that littered the desk.
âThey just put me in my old chambers thinking it will be like I never left.â
You raised your eyebrows, glancing around before you realized that Daeron was right - you were standing in his old chambers. They had replaced the furniture and added a bigger bed, but it was the same chambers he had stayed in when he was a little boy.
âThey have always kept a place for you to return, is that not a good thing?â
Daeron looked at you with a frown when the doors suddenly opened and Alicent stepped in, in tow with Daeronâs siblings and his grandsire, Otto. Alicent beamed at the sight of her youngest son, though her smile wavered when she saw you, before turning her eyes back to Daeron, opening her arms.
âMy boy.â
âMother,â Daeron replied, his voice hesitant before he fell into her arms, hugging him tightly.
Your heart warmed at the sight and Daeron seemed to lose all of the fears he had been carrying - if only for a split second - as he laid in his motherâs arms. You were content to stay back, let Daeron get reacq with his family again, but you werenât ignored for long, when someone threw their arms around you with so much momentum, it nearly knocked you off your feet.
âOh Gods,â you laughed, a head of silver hair in your face. âHelaena.â
âI missed you,â the Princess whispered and you hugged her back just as tightly, sighing. She gave you one last squeeze, before Helaena pulled away to muster you, running her hands through the ends of your hair.
âYou look well,â she said. âVery beautiful.â
You flushed at her kind words, lacing her hands with yours. âSo are you, my Princess.â
Helaena smiled brightly at you. âYou must meet Jahaera and Jahaerys.â
âThere is time for that later,â Alicent decided, cutting in. Helaenaâs smile dropped slightly and she fled to your side as her mother stepped to you. You bowed your head to greet her, but Alicent grabbed you by the shoulders before pulling you into a hug, surprising you.
âThank you,â she said quietly in the privacy of the embrace. âThank you for watching over Daeron when I was unable to.â
You wrapped your arms around Alicent. âOf course my Queen.â
She pulled away, straightening her dress and you caught a glimpse of Otto talking to Daeron before Aegon and Aemond stepped into your view.
âMy Princes,â you said, bowing. âMy condolences for your father.â
âThank you,â Aemond said. âHe was in great pain, The Stranger freed him.â
His voice was monotone, almost void of emotion and you wondered if any of them mourned their father. Aegon nodded, though he seemed more subdued.
âAre you excited to be King, my Prince?â you asked, hoping to change the topic.
He gave you a wry smile, opening his mouth but Aemond gave him a subtle jab in the side with his elbow.
âUh, yes, of course, my Lady,â Aegon said, clearing his throat. âNow that we have all reconvened, the coronation cannot come soon enough. You are a much better guest than our nephews.â
That made you pause.
âJace and Luke were here?â You asked, your forehead creasing.
âYes. Lord Vaemond challenged Luke as heir for Driftmark and the trial was held at court. They left just shortly before father passed,â Aemond told you, his voice even. You hadnât known that.
âWhen are they expected to return?â
Alicent exchanged looks with Otto, silent conversation passing between them and you glanced at Daeron, who seemed just as confused. Something was going on, something you werenât aware of.
âThey are not,â Alicent then said and your lips parted in surprise. âRhaenyra is upset, rightfully so, that her father had chosen Aegon as his heir, so she decided to remain on Dragonstone.â
Your eyebrows furrowed but you decided not to press the matter, only nodding. The topic was quickly brushed off as Alicent wrapped her arm around Daeron, trying to draw him into conversation, asking about his interests. You only listened half-heartedly, your mind still spinning from the news.
âDo you not think all of this odd?â you asked, your voice low. âI know Rhaenyra is proud, but refusing to show up to the coronation or even pay respects to her late father?â
It was the day after your arrival in Kingâs Landing, the day of the coronation. The day was hectic, the Keep suddenly bustling with servants and maids getting everything ready; you had taken the advantage to sneak into Daeronâs room, something that had gotten much more difficult ever since you got back to Kingâs Landing.
âMaybe thingâs have changed,â Daeron replied, rubbing his temple. âWe have been away for a while, we do not know of the things that have transpired.â
You opened your mouth to argue, but a knock on the door interrupted you, a maid coming to fetch you for the coronation was about to begin. As you walked to the carriage, you were arguing with yourself on the inside, knowing that you were privy of most details, thanks to Jaceâs letters. You couldnât believe Rhaenyra wouldnât rush to Kingâs Landing to bid farewell to her father. There must be something else holding her back.
As you got to the Dragonpit where the coronation was held, you were surprised that it was over faster than you had imagined, almost like it was rushed. Then again, this was your first coronation so who were you to say this wasnât how every coronation went? As Aegon raised his hand to the small folk, eliciting applause, you joined in. The applause ceded when a loud growl shook the entire building. Silence followed, before the floor gave away when a dragon emerged through the stone, countless people falling to their death, trampled by the the huge beast with Princess Rhaenys on top.
Meleys, you thought, stood before the family, and Alicent rushed towards Aegon to shield him, cries and pleads from the smallfolk surrounding you. Criston shielded Helaena, and you grasped Daronâs hand as he only stared at his cousin in shock.
With bated breath, everyone waited - to be burnt, eaten, you werenât sure. But Meleys only let out a deafening roar, before flapping her wings, breaking through the doors to escape to freedom.
âWhat in the Seven Hells was that?â you muttered to Daeron. He gave you a shrug, squeezing your hand as he looked you over, making sure you were unharmed.
The small folk on the other hand were fighting to get out of the building, which seemed to be crumbling in on itself, and Criston began to usher everyone out.
You were the last to come down from the stairs, taking Daeronâs hand he was offering to you when a crunching sound from above made you lift your head, seeing a large part of the roof cave in, falling right down heading straight for you.
âSister!â
Daeron gave a harsh tug of your arm, pulling you behind him, as the large slab of stone fell right in the place you were standing mere moments ago.
âAre you well?â He asked, his voice full of concern as he padded you down.
âIâm fine, Daeron.â
âDaeron.â
You both looked up when Alicent called for him, just to see that they were all staring at you, Otto seeming incredibly displeased as you realized what Daeron had just called you. Seven Hells, you thought, this was precisely what you had been trying to avoid.
âDo you even realize what sort of rumors would be spread if anyone had heard you refer to her as âsisterâ?!â
You were pacing in front of the study, voices muffled through the wooden door. After you had gotten back to the Keep, Helaena and Aegon had returned to their children, while Otto and Alicent had dragged Daeron into the study. Neither of them sounded particularly happy, their raised voices spilling out of the room. You were wringing your hands, something that you had been doing a lot since you got to Kingâs Landing. Not even three nights ago, you were in Oldtown wondering if you were ever to return to Kingâs Landing, now you were back and everything was happening so fast and you felt like you were missing a big part of the story. When did the King change his mind about his heir? Why wouldnât Rhaenyra and Daemon return to Kingâs Landing following the Kingâs death? And why in the Seven Hells did Rhaenys break through the floor with Meleys like she was being held captive? You had so many questions, none of which you had answer to; deep in thoughts, you didnât even notice someone approaching you.
âEavesdropping, are we?â
Letting out a small gasp, you jumped to face Aemond, a hand on your chest as he eyed you, unimpressed.
âGods, you scared me,â you said, shaking your head. âNo, I am waiting on Daeron. Your mother and grandsire didnât want me to come in.â
Clearly.
Aemond didnât say anything else as he leaned against the wall, his arms crossing over his chest. You eyed him as he stood there, on guard. It was hard to gauge him; you felt like Aemond was waiting for you to make a mistake so he had a reason to get rid of you. You remembered the soft, warm boy he used to be when you first got to Kingâs Landing. You wondered when he had changed, if it was when Luke took his eye or before.
âI should have known Daeron would cling to you after you had gone to Oldtown with him,â he said, his voice slow. âWhat is it, that you are planning to do with him? Make him infatuated with you so you can insinuate yourself into our family?â
Your ears grew hot at his implication. How dare he abandon his brother for nearly all his life and accuse you of having improper thoughts?
âDaeron is like a brother to me,â you said, voice indignant. âI care about him and I mislike being accused of such a horrible things.â
âSo you vow your loyalty to our family, to Aegon as King?â
The way Aemond phrased the question made it seem like you had a choice and you hesitated, the fight leaving you.
âOf course, heâs the rightful heir, is he not?â
Aemond only gave a nod, taking a step back. You narrowed your eyebrows at him, but the door opened and Daeron stepped out, his face in a scowl.
âWhat happened?â you asked, but he only gave a brief shake of his head. He inclined his head, and you followed him, a knight on your trail, while Aemond stayed behind. The two of you walked for a while, until you reached the gardens, the knight staying by the edge as you and Daeron took a seat on a bench. He still seemed agitated, so you placed your hand on his shoulder to calm him down.
âThey accused me of impropriety,â Daeron muttered. âSaid that I was opening our family up for vulnerabilities and rumors.â
âWeâre not in Oldtown anymore, Daeron, everything you do here is looked upon,â you sighed.
âWhat is improper about calling you my sister? You have been by my side since my eighth name day,â he argued. âHow can I call a woman my mother when I havenât seen her since I was a boy? The strangers brothers and sister, when I barely recognize them?â Daeron hissed, his voice rising.
âI know youâre upset,â you said quietly, eyes darting around, not wanting him to get in even more trouble. âItâs hard for them to understand. They are not trying to hurt you.â
âDid they not try to hurt me when they cast me out of the family?â
You sighed, leaning your head on his shoulder, and Daeron let out a shaky breath, staring out in the distance.
âHow is my brother faring?â
You shut the door to Daronâs chambers quietly to find Aemond waiting just in front. After you had spent the rest of the afternoon in the gardens, you had thought it best if Daeron laid down for a while before supper, hoping it would calm him.
âItâs hard for him to find his footing here. His life in Oldtown hasnât been this⊠Restrictive. It will take him time to adjust.â
Aemond nodded, letting out a sigh.
âI was hoping he would accompany me,â he said. âBut I do not think he sounds well enough to go.â
âWhere are you going?â
âStormâs End. To get Lord Borros to vow for my brother.â
What?
âForgive me but who else would he be loyal to?â
Aemond turned around, looking at you in disdain.
âRhaenyra. She might think she still has some claim on the throne.â
He paused, eyeing you carefully.
âYou should come.â
âMe?â
Aemondâs eye swept over you once more and he nodded.
âYes, it will look good to Lord Borros if someone outside of our family is there showing support to Aegon,â he insisted. âIt will be a short flight on Vhagar.â
âVery well,â you said, a glance on Daronâs closed door, wondering if you should tell him that you would be gone, but it sounded like the trip to Stormâs End wouldnât be long, so you decided against waking him. You could tell him after.
You followed Aemond to the dragonpit, where a maid laid a cloak around your shoulders as you watched Aemond mount Vhagar, the breath stocking in your throat at the size of his dragon. Vhagar was large and old, barely able to turn in the dragon pit without brushing the cave.
âCome,â Aemond said, offering his hand to you before pulling you into the saddle, instructing you to hold on tightly.
âSoves, Vhagar!â
With a loud growl, Vhagar stepped out of the dragon pit before taking to the skies, her enormous wings stretching out several feet. The ride on Vhagar was much smoother than every ride you had ever taken on Tessarion, and it wasnât long before you reached Stormâs End, dark clouds following you. Vhagar landed in the courtyard, you and Aemond climbing off.
âJust in time,â the Baratheon knight said, watching the rain pour from the skies just as you stepped under the roof.
âI am Prince Aemond Targaryen, brother of King Aegon II,â Aemond said, fixing his doublet. âI am here to talk to Lord Borros.â
The knight lead him into the Round Hall, where Lord Borros sat on his seat, seemingly having expected Aemond, his four daughters standing idly next to him.
âPrince Aemond, what can I do for you?â
âLord Borros, I am here to ask you to pledge loyalty to my brother, King Aegon II.â
âKing Aegon, you say,â Lord Borros said, arrogance dripping from his voice. âAnd what do you offer me for my loyalty?â
You were taken aback by his words, but Aemond only smiled, his hands locked behind his back.
âYour four daughters⊠They are still unwed?â
A smile spread on Lord Borrosâ face and he gestured to his four daughters with his arm.
âIndeed. Are you proposing a betrothal?â
Aemond inclined his head. âNot only am I free to marry, but my younger brother, Prince Daeron as well. His lady companion can attest to his formidable character.â
Your eyes widened at Aemondâs words and you glanced at him, anger welling up inside you. So this was why he had wanted you to come. Aemond paid you no mind and you exhaled deeply, turning to face Lord Borros again, putting up a faux smile.
âExcellent, excellent,â Lord Borros said, clapping his hands. âLet us discuss-â
âMy Lord!â A knight called, striding into the hall with quick steps. âAnother dragon has been sighted, headed straight to Stormâs End.â
âAh, that must be my nephew,â Aemond replied easily, your heart skipping a beat. Were you finally going to see Jace again? Lord Borros gestured to the side, and Aemond placed his hand to your lower back to push you along; you fought your urge to slap his hand away from you, eyes darting over to the door.
The heavy rain was still pelting outside, nearly drowning out the sound of the steps as a young boy entered.
âPrince Lucerys Velaryon,â the knight announced. âSon of Princess Rhaenyra Targaryen.â
Luke, you thought, looking at the young Prince, now old enough to be delivering messages. The last time you saw him, he was round faced, his dark locks curling around his angelic face. Seeing him lessened the fire in your chest, though you were still angry at this whole situation, and you threw Aemond a look. He didnât seem like he was paying any attention anyhow, his focus on his nephew who came further into the hall.
Lukeâs step faltered when he saw Aemond, before his eyes laid on you. You tried to give him a comforting smile, show him you were a friendly face in a crowd of hostiles, knowing Luke was about to be met with a rejection, but he quickly glanced away, facing Lord Borros.
âLord Borros...â Luke started. âI brought you a message from my mother... the Queen.â
âYet earlier this day, I received an envoy from the King,â Lord Borros drawled, his tone less warm. âWhich is it? King, or Queen? The House of the Dragon does not seem to know who rules it.â
Lord Borros chuckled in amusement and you could tell Luke was nervous by the way he was shifting on his feet. Aemond seemed to enjoy all of it.
âWhatâs your motherâs message?â
Luke held out the parchment roll and the a knight fetched it, bringing it to Lord Borros, which he readily accepted, asking for the maester. As the maester quietly recounted the content of the message to Lord Borros, Luke glanced to you and Aemond numerous times, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Your eyebrows creased, but the corners of Aemondâs mouth tugged up.
âRemind me of my fatherâs oath?â Lord Borros spoke, the message seemingly upsetting him greatly. âKing Aegon at least came with an offer: My swords and banners for a marriage pact. If I do as your mother bids⊠Which one of my daughters will you wed, boy?â
Luke hesitated. You pressed your lips together; he had probably expected less of a hostile welcoming. Lord Borros only scoffed at Lukeâs silence.
âGo home, pup,â he sneered. âTell your mother that the Lord of Stormâs End is not some dog that she can whistle up at need to set against her foes.â
Luke inclined his head, disappointed at the rejection.
âI shall take your answer to the Queen; my Lord.â
Luke turned to leave, but Aemond stepped forward, calling out to him.
âWait, my Lord Strong.â
You glanced at Aemond, letting out a soft breath, nerves pooling in your stomach. Luke turned, despite the blatant insult.
âDid you really think that you could just fly about the realm trying to steal my brotherâs throne at no cost?â
Your hand reached out to grasp Aemond, but he slipped out of your grips as he stepped closer to his nephew.
âI will not fight you. I came as messenger, not a warrior.â
âA fight would be little challenge,â Aemond said. âNo. I want you to put out your eye.â
He took off his eyepatch and you pressed your lips together, eyes darting between uncle and nephew, knowing this was about to escalate terribly.
âAs payment for mine. One will serve,â Aemond added, throwing a dagger in Lukeâs direction. âI would not blind you.â
Luke stared at Aemond in shock, his lips parted.
âPlan to make it a gift of it to my mother.â
Lukeâs eyes dropped to the dagger on the floor, before he lifted his head. âNo.â
âThen you are craven as well as a traitor.â
âNot here,â Lord Borros said, but no one paid him any attention.
âGive me your eye!â Aemond yelled, descending upon Luke, grabbing the dagger from the floor, while Luke stepped back, reaching for his sword. âOr I will take it, bastard.â
âAemond!â you shouted, panic evident in your voice.
âNot in my hall!â Lord Borros cut in, his voice raised and Aemond stopped, turning back to look at him. âThe boy came as an envoy. Iâll not have blood shed beneath my roof. Take Prince Lucerys back to his dragon. Now.â
Luke resheathed his sword, throwing one last look at you before he turned, hurrying out of the hall. Aemond let out a huff of frustration, throwing a dirty look at Lord Borros, exiting the hall without waiting for you.
âAemond, wait,â you called after him, hurrying to keep up with his long strides. âYouâre not thinking about following him on Vhagar in this horrible storm, are you?â
âHe cannot get away with it, not again.â
Aemondâs voice was angry and you let out a breath, trying to keep a clear head.
âThis is a thing from the past!â you reminded him. âDid you not gain a dragon from it?â
âYou were not present when he took my eye!â Aemond hissed, taking a turn before you had reached the courtyard, just in time to see Luke on Arrax, flying out of Stormâs End. It was raining so heavily, you could barely see him, dark rain clouds swallowing Arrax and his rider easily.
Aemond was already walking towards Vhagar, the rain soaking, as you stayed put under the roof, hesitant.
âAre you coming, or staying?â Aemond shouted, climbing on top of Vhagar. You could feel the anger rolling off of him, something that Vhagar no doubtedly was feeling as well with the way she was growling and you wanted him to stay, calm down, but you knew it was no use, so you exhaled deeply, lowering your head.
âI am coming.â
You took his outstretched hand and he pulled you into the saddle behind him; you had barely settled in before Vhagar already leapt up in the sky.
The rain felt like small icy daggers in your face as you ascended higher and higher to the sky, easily catching up to the smaller dragon carrying Luke. Vhagar let out a roar, snapping her jaws at Arrax, as the smaller dragon breathed fire in your direction. It was clear that Arrax was no match for Vhagar.
âAemond stop!â
Your voice barely carried over the rain, but Aemond disregarded you, his Vhagar as she darted to the left. You tightened your hold on Aemond, nerves coursing through you.
âWhat is it youâre trying to achieve, Aemond? You yelled, shaking him. âAre you trying to kill him?â
âThat boy needs to learn how to fear me,â he only replied, tightening his reins on Vhagar, the distance between you and Arrax growing.
Aemond let out a frustrated growl, urging Vhagar to fly faster and you could feel the adrenaline rising as you almost caught up to Arrax again. You knew you were at a cross roads, and what would happen next would change everything, with Aemond consumed by his anger, and Vhagar following his emotions, someone was bound to get hurt. You had to do something. So as Vhagar descended upon Arrax, her jaws opening, you let go of Aemond, leaping off of Vhagar, almost immediately regretting it as Aemond yelled out your name, before you landed on Arrax, the wind being knocked out of your chest.
The young dragon let out a screech, dropping several feet down with the sudden added weight, just barely escaping Vhagarâs jaws.
âWhat are you doing?!â Luke screamed, the rain pelting against his face as he held onto his saddle tightly, Arrax roaring.
âSaving your life!â
You scrambled to find anything to hold onto, trying not to fall a gruesome death, your hands gripping onto Lukeâs shoulders.
Vhagarâs shadow disappeared, but you knew her and Aemond were lurking inbetween the stormy clouds, you had to act fast. Your eyes were straining against the heavy rain, hand gripping into Lukeâs shoulders.
âDo you trust me?â
âNot particularly, no!â
You grumbled, knowing his feelings were warranted, but this was not the time.
âWeâre vulnerable. We need to find a spot to lay low, where Vhagar cannot come in.â
âArrax is faster, I just need to get back home. Itâs not that far!â Luke yelled back and you shook your head, even though he couldnât even see you.
âThatâs what Aemond is counting on! Please Luke, I know you donât trust me, but I am trying to keep both of us alive.â
Luke groaned in frustration before tightening his reins on Arrax.
âIlagon, Arrax!â Luke instructed. âÄȘlon jorrÄelagon naejot jurnegon syt ruaragon.â Down, Arrax. We need to search for cover.
Arrax roared before you dropped several feet, flying by a range of mountains. You squinted your eyes trying to see anything in the rain, when you saw a cave several feet down.
The opening was small, too small for Vhagar to get in, but large enough for Arrax.
âLuke,â you said, squeezing his shoulder and pointing to the cave. âDown there.â
Luke nodded, leaning down to guide Arrax into the cave, and soon enough, the both of you were back on solid ground.
Arrax whined and Luke whispered to him gently, stroking his snout. âLykiri, Arrax,â he said, leaning his head against his dragonâs. âÄȘlon jÄhor jikagon lenton aderÄ«, syt sir, ziry iksos daor Èłgha. Lykiri, issa valonqar.â Calm down, Arrax. We will go home soon, for now, itâs not safe. Calm down, my boy.
Arrax let out a soft whine, before curling in on himself, letting out a puff of smoke. With slumped shoulders, Luke sat down against the cave wall. You took off your cloak, laying it down so it could dry off before you sat down next to Luke, even as the boy avoided eye contact with you.
For a while, the two of you sat in silence with the occasional huff of Arrax, listening to the storm raging on outside. You hoped Aemond would cease his need for revenge soon. As a particularly loud thunder sounded, Luke jumped and you glanced at him, your heart aching.
âAre you well?â
Luke glanced over to you, trying to hide his tense shoulder by tightening his wet cloak around himself.
âNo. But Iâm unharmed,â he replied, his lips unmistakably shivering.
âIt is better when you take off wet clothes, otherwise it might make you sick,â you said, leaning over to him to help unfasten his cloak, but Luke flinched away at your touch and your hands froze midair.
âI am sorry,â you said, breath bated. He must still be shaken, after seeing The Stranger right in the eyes. Luke let out a small breath, his fingers tightening in the fabric of his cloak.
âDid you know my uncle came to Stormâs End to kill me?â Luke asked, his voice small. âDid you come to make me lower my guards?â
âForgive me?â
You knew their family affairs were difficult, strained from what had happened in the past, but you were stunned that he would expect this from Aemond, or you.
âI cannot speak of Aemondâs intentions,â you said truthfully. âOnly of mine. I never wanted to harm you, and I did my best to keep you safe as soon as I realized that Aemond was too blinded by his need for revengeâŠâ
Luke sniffed, wiping his cheeks and you moved to sit down in front of him.
âIâm only here to help you,â you assured him, holding your hands up in defense. âArrax would turn me to ashes if I even touch you the wrong way, right?â
Arrax let out a soft growl at that and Luke gave you a small smile, nodding.
âYes he would.â
âSee, youâre in no danger,â you told him, your hand slowly reaching for his cloak, careful, as to not spook him. âNow take off your cloak and lay it down, it will dry off faster this way.â
Luke nodded, unfastening his cloak and laying it down next to yours before he took a seat beside you. Even though he had grown considerably in the years you had not seen him, he still was the little cheeky boy you remembered from before you had left Kingâs Landing.
âYou have grown into a fine young Prince,â you told him. âI almost did not recognize you when you walked into Lord Borrosâ hall.â
Luke quirked a smile at you, ducking his head. âIâm almost as tall as Jace now. He despises it.â
You grinned, pulling your legs close. You could imagine Jace just all too well, squinting at the mirror standing next to Luke.
âHow is Jace?â you asked, your chest tight. You couldnât believe how it was mere moonâs turns ago where you were exchanging letters, wondering why his replies seemed to become rarer.
Luke let out a small sigh, like it was a question that plagued him.
âJace is⊠Angry. Ever since my uncle usurped the throne he has been trying to take action, fight for my motherâs claim.â
Your forehead creased.
Usurp?
âPardon⊠Are you saying Aegon is not the rightful heir to King Viserys?â
Luke stared at you, mouth agape. â⊠Yes. He stole my motherâs inheritance.â
You only blinked at him, letting the news sink in as you leaned back against the wall, stumped.
âNow everything is falling into place⊠Why Aemond was questioning my loyalties, Rhaenys! Gods!â You covered your face with your hands, a gasp escaping your lips. âDaeron. Iâve left Daeron at Kingâs Landing without telling him that Iâve gone.â
You didnât want to imagine what story Aemond has spun to make you a villain, to draw Daeron on his side.
âIâm sure all will be well,â Luke assured you, patting your hand consolingly. You only nodded, even though you were making up the worst scenarios in your head. Luke gave you a small smile, turning his hand when a yawn overtook him; Arrax had long curled up, his snores filling the cave.
âYou should get some rest,â you told him, glancing over to the entrance of the cave where it was still pouring rain. âIt might be a while before the rain ceases. I will wake you, when it is safe to leave.â
Luke semed hesitant, but then gave in, settling back against the wall, closing his eyes. As he slept, you noticed how he looked even younger, too young to be thrust into a war like this. Was this the fate that would meet Daeron, Helaena or even Joffrey? The thought unsettled you.
Time passed for a while, and it seemed like the clouds would never pass, but surely enough, the rain lessened, before stopping completely.
Gently, you shook Luke awake, feeling bad for waking him, but you knew heâd want to go home as soon as possible.
âLuke, the rain has stopped,â you told him, waiting for him to blink at you sleepily before you got to your feet, collecting your cloaks off of the ground. You handed Luke his cloak, fastening your own around your shoulders.
âIt should be safe now. Aemond must be long gone.â
Luke nodded, glancing at Arrax and then back at you, hesitating, and you knew what he was thinking. You had been thinking it ever since you got to the cave.
âIt is alright, Luke. Arrax is too small to carry us both all the way to Dragonstone. Go.â
You tried to be brave, giving Luke a smile but your voice was shaking, whether it was from fear or cold, you werenât sure. You were a high born lady, you were in no way capable of fending for yourself. Luke leaving you here would mean a certain death, but he didnât need to know that. Luke looked at you with big eyes, saying nothing before he walked over to Arrax, whispering to him as he stroked his dragonâs neck gently.
You let out a small breath, taking another look around the cave, resigning yourself to your fate when Luke called your name.
âCome, we need to leave before the weather turns again.â
âLuke, no,â you argued but Luke shook his head.
âYou saved me. I am not leaving you behind. I would never forgive myself, and neither would Jace,â Luke said, and you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. âArrax can carry us both, it is not much longer until Dragonstone.â
You ducked your head, a smile on your lips. Rhaenyra really raised amazing children.
âVery well.â
The two of you squeezed into the saddle on top of Arrax, who let out a small huff as he walked to the entrance of the cave.
âMÄre mĆrÄ« kipagon gĆ Ä«lon issi lenton, issa valonquar,â Luke said to Arrax, gently caressing his neck. âSoves.â One more flight until weâre home, my boy.
Arrax leapt into the air, letting out a screech before stretching his wings, making his way home. As you flew through the skies, your eyes darted around constantly, looking for any sign of Vhagar, but it seemed like the coast was clear. Soon enough, you could see the outline of Dragonstone, and just in time; as you had noticed Arrax growing tired the more you lost on altitude.
âÄȘlon issi bÄ konÄ«r, Arrax. SepÄr mirrÄ« tolÄ«.â We are almost there, Arrax. Just a bit more.
Lukeâs voice was gentle as he spoke to Arrax, despite his nerves. You nearly sighed in relief when Arrax flew towards the small opening to the dragon mount, and you thanked all the Gods when both you and Luke climbed off of Arrax onto solid ground again.
âPrince Lucerys!â
A knight came hurrying into the dragon pit, his eyes flickering to you before turning his attention back to Luke.
âHer Grace has been awaiting your arrival.â
Luke nodded, watching Arrax climb into the depths of the cave to get some much needed rest before he turned to the knight. âTake us to my mother.â
The knight bowed, leading you and Luke into the Keep, stopping in the doorway. Rhaenyra was pacing in front of the fire, her face worried. You hadnât seen her for so long, but she looked almost exactly the same.
âPrince Lucerys, your Grace.â
Rhaenyra ceased her pacing, looking up and the relief was obvious on her face as she ran toward her son.
âLuke!â
âMother!â
Rhaenyra threw her arms around her son, embracing him tightly and your breath stocked in your throat as you stayed back. You couldnât believe how everything could have played out so differently if you had not intervened.
Rhaenyra pulled away, cupping Lucerysâ face with her hands.
âWhat happened?â
âAemond and Vhagar were already at Stormâs End when I arrived. Lord Borros refused to stand by his oath⊠When I left Aemond followed me on Vhagar; if she hadnât intervenedâŠâ
Lucerys paused and Rhaenyra glanced over to you; you, who had stayed behind to give them privacy.
You bowed your head, mostly out of respect but also because you had no idea what to do.
âYouâre Helaenaâs lady in waiting,â Rhaenyra said.
âI was. I have spent my last eight name days in Oldtown with Daeron.â
Rhaenyra gave you a small, grateful smile, but before either of you could continue your talks, shouts interrupted you.
âMother! Luke!â
You turned around just to see Jace storming into the hall, his hand gripping the hilt of his sword. Your heart stopped in your chest as you saw him again for the first time in so many years, relief washing over his face as he saw his brother stand with his mother unharmed. Then his eyes laid on you, and you gave him a shy smile. Jace only blinked at you, eyeing you from head to toe before his eyes widened; and for a second, you thought heâd be happy to see you. Instead, his forehead creased and his mouth curled downwards.
âWhat are you doing here?â
⊠. ăâș ă . ⊠. ăâș ă . âŠ
authorâs note: omg the drama...what are we thinking??
#jacaerys velaryon x reader#jace x reader#jacaerys x reader#jace x you#jacaerys x you#jacaerys velaryon x you#jacaerys velaryon fanfiction#jacaerys velaryon fanfic#jacaerys velaryon imagine#jacaerys velaryon fic#jacaerys velaryon#house of the dragon#hotd
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shifter au makes me so happy and giddy what makes me even happier and giddier is poly!141 with small, nerdy cyber security/hacker partner who has the biggest, scariest shifter form and they dont know until their threatened. Like they're all injured and weak and their other s/o just lets out the most pained, animalistic scream as they finally release their shifter form (for the first time since meeting the guys) and tears the attackers apart. When they all turn back, the boys are all a little shocked and also a little turned on
Throwing silent hill and pyramid head into this bc imagine ur cute hacker turning into a massive, scary, flat out unbeatable manifestation of guilt and is just basically rawdogging through enemy lines with a freaky ass cleaver?
Hot as fuck. They can see your chest/tits, too, strong muscles rippling as they basically skin one of the enemies. What more could they possibly want?
On a more serious note, I can imagine reader having always harbored fears and worries about their shifter form being far, far too scary and big to be accepted even by the 141 men. So you had hidden that tidbit and only John and Laswell knew about it, and only Laswell had ever actually seen that form of yours. Sure each of them is a shifter as well, but⊠itâs not the same.
But in situations like this, them injured and weak and with enemies closing in quickly, it doesnât take much thought before you let all human pretenses fall away and show this terrible, monstrous side of you, accepting that they will no doubt look at you with disgust for the abomination that youâve always been.
Until you shift back, and despite all his injuries, Soap pounces on you, panting and tail wagging furiously. Heâs flushed, and you can immediately feel his hard-on on your ass.
âThat was the hottest thing Ahâve ever seen.â
#noona.posts#cod x reader#cod#cod x you#tf 141 x reader#tf 141#tf 141 x you#cod imagines#john price x reader#noona.asks#noona.writes#poly!141 x reader#poly 141 x reader#poly!141#poly 141#simon ghost x you#simon ghost riley x you#simon ghost riley x reader#simon ghost riley imagines#johnny soap mctavish x reader#soap x reader#soap x you#kyle gaz x you#kyle gaz x reader#kyle gaz garrick x you#gaz x reader#john price imagine#simon riley x you#simon ghost x reader#ghost x you
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this is cheesy but when spencer and reader start getting more comfortable in their relationship and they exchange keys to each others places, reader starts going over while hes away. just to chill because she misses him or borrow something or get something she left. but then dhe notices his apartment is a little messy and he doesnt have a lot of food in the fridge.
the first time he comes home to a full fridge and clean apartment he's a little confused, but when he brings it up and she confesses hes just sooooo touched and appreciative.
the first time he comes home and shes asleep on the bed or couch or wherever he just MELTS. like an actual puddle on the floor kinda melting bc hes just so overwhelmed with love đ„čđ„čđ„čđ„čđ„čđ„č
Spencer Reid is, quite possibly, the smartest motherfucker in the FBI. As an esteemed profiler, he notices right away that you've been in his apartment, from the post-it note grocery list sitting on the top of what's in his trash can, and a lack of dust over his kitchen counter like there typically is after he's gone on a case for a few days.
He spots 'donuts' on the list, and when he pulls the fridge open, lo and behold, there's a bag of mini chocolate donuts on the top shelf. He smiles to himself, giddily so, more than elated that you'd remembered an offhanded comment he'd made about liking them so much, especially when they're chilled.
He remembers everything anyone tells him, but people rarely stop to listen to his own words. So often it can be cast aside as nerd babble, so knowing that you'd picked up on the small tidbits of personal information he'd given you makes his seldom-fluttering heart do just that.
He feels a little bad that you'd stocked his fridge and ran, but he doesn't have to for long, because when he heads to the living room to drop his messenger bag there, and restock it with a different book, you're snoozing in his chair.
It's a recliner, one he'd splurged on so that late-night reading would be more comfortable. You've popped the footrest up, but your feet barely touch it, because you're curled up closer to the seat. Your head rests on one of the arms and is dangerously close to slipping off, so he kneels by the armrest, joints cracking.
His face hovers millimeters away from your own, your breath hitting his cheek and vice versa. He smooths a stray wisp of hair away from your face, leaning in to kiss the skin it had been covering.
"Hi, angel," He croons, keeping his voice as soft as humanly possible. He doesn't want to ruin this, whatever heavenly moment that the seldom-kind universe has decided to grant him.
Your lashes flutter at the feel of his lips on your skin, and you turn your face to lean into the touch you don't yet know is there. He can't help but laugh at the way you arch like a cat to be closer to him, and the breathy huffs fan out against your forehead.
His slender hand comes up to hover beneath your head, because when you worm closer to him, it slips off of the armrest. He holds your head up but you're finally starting to stir from the movement, and you lift it to blink groggily up at him.
"Spence?" You ask, like you're verifying his identity and not asking why he's home.
"That's me," He smiles, dimples puncturing his cheeks. His hair is slightly sloppy, frizzed and out of place from the day's hectic activities. At his confirmation you hum sleepily, resuming your cat-like activities by shutting your eyes again, leading with your nose as you nudge your face into his own. From the angle you're at his lips can only pucker to hit an awkward spot between your cheek and your nose, but the skin there is warm and soft from a facial mask he knows you used last night.
"Morning," You grumble, and he won't inform you that it's 7 at night.
"Hi, sweetheart." He croons, unable to stand up straight before you decide you want a hug. It means his butt hits the floor when you lunge for him, and he laughs as he tries maintaining an upright position.
"Oh- ah!" He laughs, eyes scrunching in a gleeful smile-turned-laugh when you knock into him. He cradles the back of your head, feeling you settle into his embrace like he's your new reclining chair.
"'Missed you, Spence." You mumble against the fabric of his jacket that's covering his shoulder. He curls his fingers into your hair at your admission, stroking briefly through the strands.
"I missed you too," He agrees, "I saw you bought me donuts."
"Hm? Oh, yeah, I did." You recall, eyes already drooping again, "We can have some for- for dessert later."
"That sounds like a good plan," Spencer grins, but you can't see it where you're nestled into his shoulder. He's waiting for you to get up, not because he doesn't want to hug you anymore but because he wants to stand and move, but when you stay firmly in place he realizes you're sleeping again, and that there's no way he's getting off the floor in the meantime.
He could wake you, tell you it's time for a late dinner and ask you to work on the eggs so that he can chop up the add-ins for an omelet. He could corral you back into the chair and take the bed for himself, read for a bit after getting changed. He could do any number of things to make himself just a bit more comfortable, but instead he chooses to commit his butt to the floor, surely flattening it for all eternity. He scoots back carefully until his back is up against the couch, so that his less-than-perfect core strength isn't relied upon as much.
From there he rests, disinterested in using his phone and too far away from his bookshelf to read. But he finds just as much meaningful entertainment in counting the breaths that you release against his shoulder, as well as counting the different possessions of yours he can see scattered around his apartment.
Your shoes, one. Your water bottle, two. Your sweatshirt, three. Your snack, four. Your keys, perhaps the most meaningful possession of all, the spare that he'll never regret giving you, five.
#spencer reid#spencer reid x reader#spencer reid imagine#spencer reid scenario#spencer reid oneshot#spencer reid one-shot#spencer reid one shot#spencer reid headcanons#spencer reid headcanon#spencer reid hc#spencer reid hcs#spencer reid fanfiction#spencer reid fanfic#spencer reid fic#spencer reid blurb#spencer reid drabble#spencer reid dialogue#spencer reid fluff#spencer reid x reader fanfiction
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