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mirage-aera · 4 months

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•°. *࿐ Afterlife

ᴺᴼᵂ ᴾᴸᴬᵞᴵᴺᴳ : Fire On Fire - Sam Smith

Simon ‘Ghost’ Riley x Reader

Synopsis: Simon thought that staying with you would be giving you a death sentence, he thought breaking up would protect you better than he ever could. He was so wrong in the end and regrets it deeply.

Word count: 6.966

Masterlist

Flashbacks are paragraphs in italics!

TW!! Mention of character death, suicide.

If this triggers you then please don’t read it!

Simon has never been easy, he has reminded you of that fact countless times. He doesn’t open up easily, he rarely shows affection, and rarely says ‘I love you’. But on the other hand, he’s insanely loyal. Willing to go to impossible ends to stick with you. He’s so incredibly protective, he’d go to any means necessary, especially in this line of work, to keep you safe from danger. Even if it means sacrificing his happiness, and letting you go. He’d never meant to just take your love for him for granted. No, that was never his intention. But when his identity gets leaked to the enemies, and they’re threatening him with you? Common sense flies out the window and he has one thing on his mind. Keeping you safe. Even though he knows you are fully capable of protecting yourself and others, he isn’t looking at this matter from a soldier’s point of view. No, he’s looking at it as your lover.

So when he goes home to pick some stuff up for you two at the barracks. For once, he’s actually in shock. His apartment, your shared apartment has been ransacked. No doubt by the people wanting to watch him burn. They have figured out where you live. Your safe sanctuary has become unsafe, and he hates it. This is his last straw. He’s doing this for your own good, he keeps telling himself that. He takes his time in the apartment. He grabs the stuff you’ve asked for and whatever he needs. But he also looks at every single object that reminds him of you. He glances around your shared bedroom. All of the little things remind him of the time you spent together. He looks at your guitar that is resting on the wall next to your dresser. You’ve always loved music, in all shapes and forms. You loved making your own music. Composing and singing songs for him. You loved listening to your playlists while working out. Playlists you made him listen to and he slowly grew to love. Now he can’t start his workout without having the music blasting in his ears.

His favorite song of yours though? Definitely the first one you wrote. You called it ‘Fire On Fire’, and you explained that it sums up your relationship perfectly. Both are insanely protective of each other, in the field you use it as an advantage. Always make sure to be paired up, you two get the job done efficiently without any casualties. When you two work it’s like a choreographed dance. You always know what the other is thinking. He remembers the times when he had nightmares, and let's face it, it happens frequently. You would softly sing this song to make him go back to sleep. And he would sleep without nightmares those nights.

You walk into his small office in your shared apartment happily and excitedly. “Simon!” He looks up at hearing you call his name. He casts a look at the papers waiting to be signed by him on his desk. He shoves the papers aside. Ready to give you his undivided attention. “What is it, lovie?” You grin at him, “I finished it! I finally finished it!” You say happily. He looks at you confusingly for a moment, “what did you finish?” You chuckle, “the song! Do you want to hear it? If you’re not too busy of course.” He casts another look at the papers before smiling up at you, “I’m never too busy for you, lovie. Let’s hear it.” You clap happily, “great let’s go!” You drag him by the hand to your bedroom. Where your guitar is resting on the bed. You grab it and sit down on the bed. You smile at him sheepishly, “I’ve figured out the lyrics for the whole song but I still need to figure out the melody I want to use. The chorus, however, is done. I’ll sing and play it for you.” He nods at you for you to continue. You play a few chords before starting.

“Fire on fire, would normally kill us.”

You start with a shaky breath. Slightly nervous of what he might think. As if he can read your mind. He smiles at you and motions for you to continue. He mouths, ‘you’re doing great.’ This sparks your confidence and you sing with a brighter tone.

“With this much desire, together we’re winners.”

You close your eyes as you let yourself get carried away by the song.

“They say that we’re out of control and some say we’re sinners.”

“But don’t let them ruin our beautiful rhythms.”

“Cause when you unfold me and tell me you love me.”

“And look in my eyes.”

You open your eyes and glance at Simon, who’s staring at you with an awestruck look on his face. You smile at him.

“You are perfection, my only direction.”

“It’s fire on fire,” you hum, “fire on fire.”

You close off the song as you slowly stop playing. You put the guitar down, “so what do you think, my love?” Simon is still staring at you with an awestruck expression. “It’s perfect lovie. You outdid yourself.” You give him a shy smile, “I wrote it for you, to remind you of the love that I feel for you. That I’m always there for you, no matter what happens.” He stays silent before engulfing you in a tight hug. You widen your eyes but hug him back nevertheless. You could get used to this warm fuzzy feeling.

He sighs and leaves the bedroom. He enters the living room. He looks sadly at the overturned furniture and broken glass everywhere. Yet despite all of this, this is still your home. No matter how run down it gets, the memories will stay and be there forever. Serving as reminders from the once-happy couple. He looks at the pictures that are, surprisingly, still hanging on the walls. Pictures that have his face hidden, in every single one. You’ve respected his wishes by not putting up pictures with his face revealed. He looks at one particular picture.

Today the 141 was granted some time off. Bonding time for the team, as Price calls it. You’re all dressed casually. No one would guess that you’d be highly trained individuals looking like this. Well except for Simon, for he’s still donning his iconic skull balaclava. You’ve come up with the idea to have an outdoor picnic so that you all can relax and share food. Everyone prepared a little something for the picnic. John brought some sandwiches, Kyle brought lemonade, Johnny brought cupcakes, you and Simon prepared various fruits covered in chocolate. Your spot is surrounded by all different kinds of flowers. The big wide smile that you’re wearing on your face has made Simon’s entire year. After you’ve eaten. You decide that running around the flower fields will be a great idea. You beg Simon to run around with you, saying that it’ll be fun. Knowing Simon has a hard time saying no to you, you give him a small pout and he instantly agrees. Albeit a little begrudgingly. You drag him through the fields as you let out loud boisterous laughs while Simon is smiling behind his balaclava. You can tell by the way his eyes crinkle and sparkle in delight. Johnny takes a picture of you two sneakily. Knowing Simon would beat his ass if he found out. But in the end, it’s worth it, this will be one of your most cherished memories.

He smiles fondly at the memory that comes through when he stares at the picture. His smile slowly fades from his face. Maybe he doesn’t need to break up with you, you’re fully capable and he can protect you if anything were to happen. But what if something does happen? He could’ve prevented it all if he just didn’t let his resolve break. No, he has to do it for your sake. He’d rather have you hate him and be alive than you still loving him and dying because of him. He heads to the front door and takes one last look around. You’ll have to be relocated, and preferably far away from him for your safety. Your apartment isn’t safe anymore. He nods and closes the door behind him. He’s not ready to close this chapter but he has to. It’s the right thing to do. He heads back to you, reciting in his head what he’ll say to you in the meantime. Yet every time he chokes up and can’t think of what to say. He’ll have to wing it and hope he doesn’t look as pathetic as he sounds.

Once he makes it back to base, he’s on a hunt for you. He can feel his gut twisting in ways that make him nauseous. He wants to back out, so fucking bad. But then he sees your dead figure and then reminds himself you’d be happier and safer without him. Without the constant figure of death looming behind him. Following him everywhere he goes. He eventually finds you in the commons room with the rest of the team. You didn’t notice him walking in until he stopped in front of you. “Simon! You’re back, did you get the stuff?” He shakes his head, “can we talk, privately.” You give him a worried look but nod and follow him to wherever he’s leading you. He eventually makes it to his office and holds the door open for you. You step inside as he walks up behind you. You turn to him with a confused look on your face. “Did something happen?” You ask him. He nods his head, “our place got ransacked. Probably the same people who found my real identity.” You widen your eyes before narrowing them, “okay. We’ll deal with them swiftly then. The faster the better, right?”

Simon takes a deep breath in, it’s now or never. He opts for now. “I don’t think they’re stopping there. And let’s be honest, our progress is slow.” You raise a brow, “we can push the mission, maybe the higher-ups will let us focus on them.” He shakes his head, “that’s not happening. Listen, I think it’s better we go our separate ways.” The distraught look on your face makes his heart shatter. “Wait what? Why? We can go through this together! You can’t just throw away what we have now!” He shakes his head, “they’ve already breached my privacy. How long will it take for them to find out about us? Do you know how dangerous that is for you? It’s for your own good.” He refuses to tell you they’ve already threatened him by using your name. You can feel anger flaring up. “So what?! I’m fully capable of defending myself! You of all people should know this, Simon!” He can feel his temper rising, “I know! I am fully aware! Don’t even think that I doubt you because I don’t.” He says the last part softly. Not wanting to argue with you, not like this. You cry out desperately, “then tell me Simon! What are you so afraid of?!” He looks you in the eye, “you!” You get stunned by his answer, before you can retort he continues, “I’m afraid of losing you.” He says with a small voice. You stare at him with an incredulous look, “yet you want to break up?! You know how ridiculous you are sounding right now?!” He stays silent. You scoff, tears welling up in your eyes. “So this is it then? Just like that?” He nods, “I’m sorry, but you’re going to get hurt if you stay with me.” Hearing that he’s determined in his decision you nod, accepting it. “I’ll see you on the next mission, lieutenant.” You turn around, ready to leave his office. He reaches out for your arm, grabbing it softly, “please, it doesn’t have to be like this.” You whip your head around, tears falling, “then how do you want it to be? You want to stay friends? Fine! I’ll see you around the base then.” You ramble out, not letting him speak before storming out. A few tears fell from his own eyes. He rubs his eyes aggressively, rubbing his black face paint everywhere. ‘Good job, Simon. You’ve ruined the only good thing you had in your life.’ He thinks to himself. ‘It’s for her own protection’ is ringing through his mind like a mantra, torturing him with the thought of you.

The next few months are hell for the both of you. You’ve been drowning yourself in work and composing more music, while Simon has been drinking his mind away. Wanting to forget the immense hurt look you had on your face when he said those regretful words. The rest of the team isn’t blind. They can see something happening between the two of you. They’ve tried talking to you both about it but only to get the same words back, “he broke up with me.”, “I did it for her protection.” Johnny having enough of both of your sulking moods, decided to try and fix whatever’s been broken between you both. He knocks on Simon’s door before turning the knob and letting himself in. “I think the point is to wait for an answer before you let yourself in.” Simon slurs out his words as he holds a glass of whiskey. Johnny frowns and takes the glass from him, “you’re out of your mind L.T.” Simon scoffs, “tell me something I don’t know.” Johnny raises an eyebrow, “you need to get your shit together. You’ve been miserable without each other. Everyone can see it, fucking hell even the birds can see it, except for you guys.” Simon chuckles dryly, “thanks for the pep talk Johnny, you can leave now.”

He frowns at Simon’s response. “Leaving her in the name of protection is so fucked up on so many levels, Ghost. If anything she’ll be in more danger without you by her side than without you. So I’m not requesting you. I’m demanding you to get your shit together, apologize to her, and get back together already.” Simon stays silent, thinking about it. Knowing he finally got through to the lieutenant he leaves to let him figure it out on his own. All he needed was a little step in the right direction.

Meanwhile, you’ve been summoned by Price. You walk into his office, which happens to be next to Simon’s. “You’ve asked for me Price?” He nods and motions for you to sit. “We have intel on a secret base to the north of here,” he says while pointing to a location on a map. “We need someone to quickly get in and out and retrieve more intel.” You nod along, “I’m guessing you want me to go in?” He nods, “that’s correct. I’m warning you, this will be a solo mission. The lesser the better, unless you want Ghost to come along.” You narrow your eyes at him, “I’ll go solo.” You state. He nods, “you leave tomorrow at 8 in the morning with Kyle, he’ll be your exfil.” You nod and leave, wanting to prepare for the mission.

Morning comes and you gear up together with Kyle. You head to the small heli that’ll bring you to the site. You can’t help but have a sinking feeling in your gut, you can’t tell whether it’s the pre-mission nerves or if it’s the heartache you’ve been experiencing for the past months. You load up into the heli and close your eyes as you listen to the rotors whirring. Trying to shut down so you could shake off the feeling but to no avail. Usually, Simon would help you. But this will be the first time in a while that you’d have to do without.

You sit in the chinook nervously. Nervous for the upcoming mission. At this rate, you’ll make yourself sick. Johnny is sitting to your left, giving you a worried look. You wave him off saying, “I’ll be fine in a minute.” You can tell he doesn’t believe you but he doesn’t push it. You close your eyes as you try to calm down. You can hear a heavy thud coming from your right. You ignore it as you’re more concerned with your nerves. Suddenly a hand engulfs your own and squeezes it. You crack open an eye and smile once you’ve realized who it was. It’s Simon, who’s staring at you with warm eyes through his mask. He doesn’t need to say anything, he can convey it all with his eyes. Instantaneously you can feel the nerves leaving. All you need is Simon and you’ll be alright.

You open your eyes. The sinking feeling has not left at all, if anything it only increased. Making you feel slightly nauseous. You notice Gaz looking at you concerned. He crouches in front of you and takes a hand of yours in his own, squeezing it like Simon did. You give him a small smile, appreciating his attempts. But in the end, it just isn’t the same. The helicopter lifts off and soars through the air. As the base gets smaller and smaller in the distance, you can’t help but feel that it might be the last time you’ll see the base. You feel your phone vibrating in your front pocket. You open up the pocket and fish out your phone. You frown once you see the lit-up screen. It’s Simon, of course it is. You choose to ignore it for now. Whatever he needs to say can wait until you return. Right now, you need to focus and get yourself and that intel home. Eventually, the heli slows down as it prepares to descend. The doors open as you leave the safe space. You check your comms once more before nodding to Gaz. “I’ll be waiting for you here, don’t do anything stupid.” He tells you. You chuckle at him, “as long as you don’t get into trouble I won’t either.” He rolls his eyes. You give him one last look before leaving.

As you make your way to the hidden base stealthily you can’t help but feel like something is not right. ‘Come on. You’ve been on countless missions like this with the team. It’s been fine then, it will be fine now.’ You think to yourself. You close off your mind as you trek through the dense vegetation. Eventually, the base emerges from the treetops. You lay down as you pull out your binoculars from your side. You spot a less guarded spot, that’s where you’re going to sneak in. You get up and make your way down from the overlook. While keeping watch of the guards around the spot you want to infiltrate. You notice they don’t have a set patrol, which might work in your favor later when you start taking down guards.

You approach the spot and hug the wall. You grab your grappler from your pack and launch it onto the railing of the wall. As you ascend the wall you take another look around, if you’re not careful they could see you and raise the alarm. You quickly ascend to the top and take out the guard hanging around that area. You shoot the next two with your silenced gun. You don’t bother hiding the bodies, it should be a quick in and out. You lean over the wall as you look around for the next entry point. From what you remember of the map that Price supplied you with, the office with the documents should be near your position. You quickly scan the main building looking for the office. Your eyes land upon a room. Bingo, that should be the office. You figure you could quickly make your way to a side entrance and make your way to the office from there. Any other entry point would be too risky, resulting in you getting caught.

You make your way down with a rope and head for the fire escape staircase. No guards are stationed there so it should be a quiet way in. You ascend the stairs and quietly open the door that leads to the building. You keep your gun up in case. Noticing no visible threat you let out a sigh of relief and start heading towards the office. Luckily you didn’t come across any guards on your way to the office. You entered the office quickly and closed it quietly behind you. You lower your gun and look around. ‘Right, any important papers and any other valuable intel is what I came for.’ You remind yourself. You head to the computer and start downloading files from it to a stick. Laswell can analyze that data later. You start making quick work of the drawers. Pulling out any important-looking documents and storing them in your pack. Once you’ve run out of stuff to take, you unplug the stick and store it as well. You take one last look around the office. You hold a finger to your comm, “Gaz. I got the intel. Heading to exfil now, eta 20 minutes.” You hear a ‘copy that.’ from Gaz as you swing the door open.

Only to be greeted with a pistol aimed at your head. You recognize him as one of the leaders of the organization. “I’ve been expecting you, sergeant.” You notice he’s alone, essentially you could make a move and make your escape. But he would likely try and shoot, thus alerting the whole base. It’s either that or get captured by them, which would lead to your demise. Preferring your chances with the first option. You raise an eyebrow at him, “well you aren’t expecting this.” You quip as you shove his arm upwards, making him shoot in surprise. Not even 5 seconds pass and you can already hear footsteps thundering in your direction. You shove him and make a run for it, knowing if you try and go for the kill, his henchmen will surely kill you. You leap through the door and close it shut behind you. You take a quick look at the positions of the guards. They’re all swarmed around you. There’s no way for you to get past them without getting injured. And you definitely don’t have the stopping power to brute force your way through.

You quickly radio Gaz to update him, “I’ve been made!” A bullet whizzes by your head. Gaz surely heard it too. Well shit, your position is now known. Shortly after more bullets are flying your way. You duck down, you try to come up with solutions. You can’t think of any right now. You’re just going to have to make a run for it and hope for the best. You shakily bring a finger up to your comms, “I need to make a run for it, there’s no other way!” You inform Gaz. You hear rustling on his end, “negative! Stay there and preferably out of sight. I’m coming to get you out of there!” He shouts out. You widen your eyes in shock. That’s a horrible plan. You voice out your opinion, “are you insane?! What is one person going to help?! There are hundreds of them versus us two!” You can hear him cuss. “Fuck! Okay, you listen to me right now! Take as much cover as you can, I’ll try and provide covering fire. I’m not far from the overlook, give me 1 minute.” You peak over the cover, and grimace. You might not have a minute. Some are getting ready to storm your position. You think, the main entrance is going to be full of them. They haven’t found out where you came from so they’ll expect you to exit via the main entrance. The way you came in is going to be your only option.

“Okay, I’m in position, whenever you’re ready.” You hear his voice crackle through the comms. You inhale and exhale. ‘Now or never.’ You think to yourself. You point your gun at the small squad at the base of the stairs. You open fire at them, mowing them down successfully. You quickly run down the stairs and make your way to the wall. You feel a hot pain in your shoulder. You’ve been hit. You don’t even need to look, you were going to get hurt one way or another. Not feeling much from it you continue running to the wall, using trucks and containers as cover. Not staying too long behind cover otherwise you’ll get overrun. Sometimes you can hear thuds around you, signaling that Gaz is doing a good job at providing covering fire. You make it to the wall in record time and start climbing the rope. It’ll be a miracle if you don’t get more injuries while scaling the wall. You brace yourself for whatever might come your way. You make sure the rope is still secure by tugging on it a few times. Satisfied with the sturdiness, you start climbing up. You can hear multiple rounds go into the wall next to you. Sooner than later bullets start embedding themselves all over you. Your legs, torso, and shoulders. You wince in pain as everything starts to burn with every move you make. You grit your teeth until you make it to the top.

You rest for a minute as you assess your injuries. You count at least five bullet wounds. You’re not making it out alive, that’s for sure. You grimace as you face the harsh truth. “You got to move! They’re closing in on you!” You can faintly hear Gaz’s voice ringing through your ear. You move through the pain, you have to at least try to make it back. You grit your teeth as you pull yourself up. You grab hold of the grappler again and start descending. You run as fast as you can away from the base. Shit, it burns. It burns badly. You just wish you didn’t have to sit through this pain for long. You make a safe distance away from the base. You rest against a tree. You definitely can’t make your way to the exfil point, at least not on your own. You slowly sink yourself to the floor. Your vision starts to blur, and gunshots get quieter and quieter. Either they stopped firing or you’re losing your hearing. You bet it’s the latter.

You start coughing. You’re coughing up blood. Internal bleeding. Great. As the pain starts fading into the background, your mind runs rampant. You lean your head back as you stare up at the sky. You chuckle weakly, “I’m sorry Simon.” You say to no one in particular. You just somehow wish that he could feel that you’re sorry. You know it hasn’t been easy for him either. And part of it is your fault. You’ve been pushing him away. Drowning in your own grief, that you failed to consider his feelings. Tears slowly start trickling down your face and into the muddy ground below you. “I’m so sorry Simon, I still love you, so so much.” You whisper out. Not having any strength anymore. You slowly close your eyes, losing the battle between you and the blood loss. Little did you know that your comms were still open and Gaz heard everything. If you can’t say it to him yourself then he will make sure he passes your message to Simon. In your stead. But first, he has to find you. He runs around, desperately trying to find you. Eventually, he spots a faint trail of blood. Knowing it has to be you, he follows it. Once he finds you he shouts your name. You being unresponsive worries him. He holds two fingers to your neck. Trying to find a pulse. To his relief, he finds one. It’s faint, but it’s there. He picks you up and carries you to the heli and demands for medics to be standing by at base, ready to receive you.

***

Simon heads to your room and knocks on your door, “(Y/n)? Can we talk?” It feels so weird to call you by your name. He used to always call you ‘lovie’. He frowns as he hears no answer. He’s about to knock on your door again until Johnny speaks up, “she’s gone.” Simon whips his head around to face him. “What do you mean she’s gone?” He asks. “She went on a mission that Price assigned her to.” Simon stares at him, “when is she supposed to be back?” Johnny checks his watch and frowns, “she was supposed to be back 15 minutes ago.” Simon frowns, a late arrival usually means bad news. He storms his way to Price’s office. “Why did you send her alone? Why didn’t you send me with her?!” He asks coldly. He sighs, “she can get in and out quickly, that’s why I asked her. And I did ask her, she said no. She said she’ll go solo. Gaz is with her to provide exfil.” Simon gives him a hard stare and leaves the office. He has no choice but to wait for you, and hope for the best.

Multiple minutes pass as he waits anxiously for you. Eventually, a commotion stirs him out of his zoned-out state. Several members of the medical staff run by in a frenzy. They’re shouting medical stuff at each other that he doesn’t understand. All he hears are, “critically injured inbound!”, “bring blood bags!”, and “prep for surgery!”. Suddenly everything goes in slow motion. ‘Critical, surgery, blood bags’ those are the words that are swirling through his chaotic mind. He closes his eyes and curses to himself. You can’t die. Not you. Anyone but you. He regrets many things in his life. But this will probably be at the top of his list if you don’t make it. Fuck. Why is he just standing here? Why can’t he do something useful for you, not even for one second? He has let you down continuously, and he hates it. He hears more commotion. It’s you being wheeled past him in a gurney with the same medical staff by your side, with a blood bag hanging over you, and more of them in the arms of a medic. He watches as you get wheeled into the infirmary. The state of you almost makes him gag. How the hell did you even get out of there alive? After being so long in the military, he knows someone with those injuries will not make it back, or stay alive for much longer. It’s a miracle you’re still breathing, no matter how weak it is, you’re still breathing.

He heads to the infirmary to wait for you. He wasn’t there for you during the mission, the least he could do is sit and wait for you. That if you’re alive after surgery, he could give you a heartfelt apology. Something that he rarely does. He sits in a chair and holds his head in his hands. A few minutes pass and he notices Gaz sitting next to him. He sighs, “what happened?” Knowing Gaz is the only one who can provide him with the answers. Gaz winces, “Ghost, I don’t think you want to know.” He feels growing frustrated with Gaz’s answers, “I fucking asked, didn’t I? Tell me, I want names.” Gaz sighs but resigns to his wishes, “it’s the same organization. She needed to get into an office to gather more intel. Turns out this whole thing was a trap. They were waiting for her outside the office door. One thing led to another and the whole base was sent upon her. I tried to give as much covering fire as I could. But she still got shot, multiple times. I’m sorry.” He shakes his head, “not your fault, I should’ve been there,” he mumbles out. Gaz scoffs, “I don’t think it would’ve made a difference. There were way too many of them.” Simon gives him an empty look, “I would’ve gotten her out of that situation, at all costs.” Gaz shakes his head, “mate. I know how capable you are together but there’s no way you would’ve gotten out of there together in one piece.” He shrugs, “I never said I would get out of there, did I?” Gaz catches on to what he means, “are you saying you would lay down your life for her?” He nods, “she deserves to live more than I do.” Gaz can sense he doesn’t want to talk anymore so he drops it. Gaz eventually leaves, needing to debrief with the captain. Thus leaving Simon all alone.

Torturous hours pass by. He feels like her chances of surviving are dropping by the hour. Eventually, a trauma surgeon pops out of the double doors. He looks around before meeting Simon’s gaze. “Are you here for sergeant (Y/l/n)?” He nods, confirming his intentions. The surgeon drops his mask, showing Simon his grim face. “She’s alive, but she’s far from stable. We put her in an induced coma, to help her body recover from the injuries she sustained. It could last a couple of days up to weeks or several months. You may visit her if you wish. Try talking to her, it might stimulate her brain and thus make her wake faster.” Simon gives him a nod, “thank you.” The surgeon gives him a pitiful smile before leaving.

Simon enters the small room you’ve been put in. He frowns once he sees you lying on the bed. His breath gets caught up in his throat. He’s never seen you look so frail, fragile, weak, almost dead like. The only signs showing you’re still kicking are the monitor beeping and your chest moving up and down ever so slightly. He pulls up a chair next to your bed. He takes your hand in his. He has a million words to tell you. He wants to tell you how much he loves you, and how he took your love for granted. He wants to tell you how sorry he is, that he’s wrong for thinking breaking up would protect you. When in fact it’s the opposite. Every time he tries to convey these words to you, he can’t. The words get choked up, causing his sentence to become incoherent. So instead he opts for a simpler option, one that hopefully conveys all of his regrets in five words.

“I’m so sorry, for everything.”

The monitor beeps faster in response. He widens his eyes, you can hear him. He squeezes your hand. “I never should’ve let you go, lovie. It was a mistake on my part. When you wake up, I’ll take you to all of your favorite places. If you’ll have me back.”

During the next few days, it seems like you’re only regressing. Your body can’t keep up with all of the demands it needs to properly heal. Simon has been there, every hour, every day. The team has tried to drag him out to at least take a shower, but he refuses. Multiple what-ifs run through his mind. What if you wake up? And he isn’t there for you. Or what if you die? And he’s not there with you. It would break him. He’s not a fool, he knows your days are limited. He knows your chances of pulling through are close to none. So he stays there, talking to you and holding your hand. Squeezing it in intervals, to let you know he’s still there. He suddenly gets an idea in his head. What if he sings your song to you, would you appreciate that? Probably, he knows how much you love that song. So he sings.

“My mother said I’m too romantic. She said, “you’re dancing in the movies.””

“I almost started to believe her. Then I saw you and I knew.”

He starts tearing up, he might never hear you sing this song again. He might never hear your voice again. Your laughter, your giggles, your excitement. All of it. He might never hear them again.

“Maybe it’s ’cause I got a little bit older. Maybe it’s all that I’ve been through.”

“I’d like to think it’s how you lean on my shoulder. And how I see myself with you.”

He thinks of the domestic life you have behind the scenes. Away from the military. Where you would have movie marathons, forcing him to watch with you. He would pretend to hate it, but secretly. He adores the time spent with you. He thinks of all the times you would lean on him, no matter where you are. You would fall asleep on him, it’s the sense of safety that he gives you that puts you at ease. He starts choking up.

“I don’t say a word.”

“But still, you take my breath and steal the things I know.”

“There you go, saving me from out of the cold.”

He can’t continue anymore. His tears are not stopping, they continue to fall and get soaked up by his balaclava. He hasn’t cried in years, and yet here he is. Crying like a baby. He doesn’t want to let you go, but he knows it’s the right thing. If you’re not in pain then you will be when you wake up, if you wake up. He presses a kiss to your forehead as he cries. He pulls away and tries to compose himself, “it’s okay to let go if you’re hurting, lovie. I won’t be mad, I promise.” He notices that the beeping is slowing down. He gives a weak smile, even though you can’t see him. “I’ll love you forever and always, my love. Rest well, I’ll see you on the other side sometime. Hopefully, I get to properly apologize and take you around to all of the places you want to go.” He sobs as your heartbeat continues to slow until it ceases to beat. “I’ll be okay, lovie.” He whispers.

He was not okay. He was far from being okay. He thought that he’d be okay after your funeral, that he’d get the closure he was craving. It’s been weeks, and the pain is still there if not stronger. He can’t stand it. Sometimes his mind is playing tricks on him. Sometimes he can feel a cold air embracing him, as if you’re hugging him. Sometimes he can hear you say, ‘I love you.’ Or ‘I forgive you.’ He’s losing his mind, that is clear to anyone. His aim has been shakier, not as fast on his feet anymore. Fuck, he’s losing his touch.

Everyone is concerned, he sees the worried glances they throw in his direction. The way they avoid the topic of your death at all costs. He hates it, he hates how weak he’s become. He hates how they’re pitying him. One day he gets an idea. There’s a way for him to come see you sooner. Not a pretty one, but it’ll do. He dwells on it for the next few days. Not wanting to do anything rash. He has no family left that he gives a shit about. He only has the military going for him. But going at this rate, he’ll most likely get discharged because of his mental health. How he’s falling apart at the seams. Funny how he’s been alone for most of his life. Yet the instant something good enters his life it gets taken from him. He can’t function properly anymore after you died. Like taking candy from a baby.

Later in the evening. He skipped dinner, not bothering anymore. It’ll only be a waste on him. He writes a short note addressed to the 141. He explains that it’s not their fault. That he’ll be happier than if he stays here, without you. He places the note neatly on the corner of his desk. Knowing someone will come running once they hear the bang. He grabs the handheld gun he stores in his bedside drawer. He stares at the gun. Weapons have never felt heavy on his hand. Let alone handheld guns. Yet now it’s like the heaviest thing he’s ever lifted. He brings it up to his temple. He gets the easy way out, you had to suffer with at least five bullets in you. He closes his eyes and thinks of you. He smiles at the image he has painted in his head. A genuine smile, one that hasn’t appeared on his face in a long time. Again, he feels cold air engulfing him once again. He laughs, that has to be you comforting him. As you always do. He rests his finger on the trigger.

“I’ll see you in a minute, my love.”

He pulls on the trigger. In one second three things happen. A loud bang. Blood splattering. A thud.

One second he’s seeing black. Before he knows it, the next second he sees white. A figure slowly approaches him. He squints his eyes, trying to make out who that figure is. A smile creeps up his face once he realizes who it is. His lovie. You smile at him as you walk closer to him, “hi Simon.” Tears start welling up in his eyes. He says nothing as he pulls you into his strong embrace. You sigh but return the embrace, “it’s okay now, Simon. We have all of the time in the world.” He nods as tears start falling on your white clothes. You pull away as you chuckle. You wipe his tears away, “come. I’ll show you around. You’ll love it here, I promise. It’s so peaceful here.” You hold your hand out to him. He lets out a little laugh but nods and takes your hand in his, “okay. Show me, lovie.”

#cod #cod mw2 #cod mwii #cod x reader #ghost #ghost x reader #simon ghost riley x reader #simon ghost riley #simon riley x reader #simon riley #call of duty

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cassiopeiasdaughter · 8 months

Text

the great war

Theodore Nott xfem!reader

part of the midnights collection

December 31st, 1998

Dear Diary,

So much has happened, I don’t know where to start.

The past month has been eventful, to say the least. As far as the Horcrux hunt goes, the boys managed to destroy two of them, almost one month ago, and Hermione thinks they’ll be going to Hogwarts by the end of January.

Hogwarts has been shut down, unofficially; classes have stopped and the only ones staying there are the teachers and the students who have nowhere else to go. Professor Lupin said that most of the muggleborns have fled the country with their families.

I worry about the boys going back there, especially now, it isn’t safe with Snape as Headmaster and the Carrows there. They shouldn’t be going there alone.

The attacks against muggleborns and muggles, are more frequent now than ever. There is a station on the radio, spreading news and updating the supporters of the Order.

From what we’ve been hearing, things aren’t going as well as we’d like them to. Moody says that, even if we destroy the Horcruxes and kill Voldemort, there will still be so many Death Eaters and werewolves left and they will try to continue his work.

Not to mention, the politicians who secretly support him. It just feels like no matter what we do, they will still keep appearing. So how will it ever end?

You feel panic creeping up on you again, and you stop for a moment, laying your head on top of your desk, hoping that if you shut your eyes, you will forget everything for just a few seconds. But you don’t. Instead you decide to focus on something else and you continue writing.

Andromeda Black has been visiting us, her husband is also fighting and her daughter moved in with us. And, in case it wasn't clear, she is Dracos aunt. I think she wants to fix their relationship, Narcissa and Andromeda were close growing up and from the way she talks about her sister I can tell how much she misses her.

Draco is the only person tying her to her sister- and her old family. I am sure she is proud of him. Proud of all of them.

We, have also grown closer to them, it is ridiculous to think how every time I’d stumble across Pansy Parkinson at school, I would feel anxious over the things she would say to me, but now- now we laugh together almost every night.

We all sit together and talk about school and our past, but only about the good stuff. Pansy makes fun of Theo and Draco, and how difficult they were back at school. How Draco would constantly talk about Harry when they sat in their common room.

She remembers how one time, Blaise invented a drinking game, where every time that Draco would mention Harry, they would take a shot of whatever alcohol they had. She woke up with a pounding headache the next morning next to Theo who looked sick and Blaise who had gone to the bathroom at least three times.

And worst of all, Draco was sober and kept on blabbering about quidditch and how unfair it was that “undisciplined-Potter” won almost at every game.

Pansy told us the other day that even if things go terribly and we all die, at least she made girl-friends and didn’t end up alone with a whiny Draco and a moody Theo- her words not mine.

Theo and I have also grown close this past month. After the last time I wrote you, he visited me in my room and asked if he could sleep here. I let him in and turned the rug by my bed into a mat. Anyway, he slept there that night, and the next one and everynight after that.

He says he doesn’t get nightmares anymore, he feels safe now; and he can fall sleep easier. And to be honest, I have also been sleeping better, ever since that night. It isn’t only easier for me to fall asleep, but when I wake up I feel safe, and I can calm down faster than when I am on my own.

I didn’t realize how much I craved to be near someone until Theo started sleeping here, how easier it gets when you have someone by your side.

He usually knocks on my door a few minutes before midnight, we lay in our beds and talk until one of us falls asleep.

He is kind and funny, and if it weren’t for the War I could fall we could be more than housemates-who-can’t-sleep-by-themselves and-need-eachother. But, we could die at any moment and living in a fantasy will not help me; and neither will getting my hopes up over nothing.

We spent Christmas morning together, we woke up very early, and those who were not on a mission were still asleep. He made us spiked-hot chocolate, and we exchanged Christmas stories, until the others woke up.

That morning he told me about his childhood and how he would spend Christmas with the Malfoys, because his father didn’t want him around.

He asked me about my childhood and I told him about visits at the Burrow, and that one year when I spent Christmas at Hogwarts; raiding the kitchen with the students who were also there; and then listening to Hagrid’s stories at night.

Last week, I think the day after Boxing Day, I heard him talking in his sleep. Usually, he is the one to wake me up, whenever I have a nightmare, but that day the opposite happened.

He was thrashing in his sleep and mumbling words that I can’t remember, he told me once that he dreams of Blaises death. I woke him up and

You raise your head and look outside your window as you recall that night.

You were on your knees next to him, desperately trying to wake him up. Tears were dropping on his cheek and he kept grunting as if he was in physical pain; you shook his shoulder hard enough that he woke with a deep sigh.

The look on his face haunts you to this day, it is something you never want to see again. You lightly grabbed his face and whispered “It was only a dream.”, but he didn’t seem to believe you. He looked at you in silence, and grabbed your wrist, willing you to stay there with him and not move.

After a few minutes, he let you go and whispered “I am sorry.”, you could have just gone back to your bed, he was fine, he had snapped out of it. But you felt something tugging at your chest, and you just couldn’t let go.

You grabbed your blanket from your bed and draped it over you, as you laid down at his makeshift bed. He was nervous at first, at how different this was, from your usual sleeping situation, but after a few seconds he laid next to you and guided you to rest your head on his shoulder, while he kept you close with his arms.

You slept in each others arms that night, but when the morning came you woke up alone with only his scent there to hug you.

You never spoke about that night, and you still pretend it never happened…

In a few hours it will be new years day. 1999. I feel numb, it almost doesn’t feel real. Time is moving and the world is changing, every day, but I feel stuck. I am stuck inside this house and in this war that no-one asked for.

I keep losing people and I can’t see how that is ever going to change. I just hope, wish, that the War ends this year, and the new millennia doesn’t start with violence and death. Is it selfish to also wish that I make it out alive, without losing anyone else that I love?

You hear a knock on your door and quickly hide your diary. “Come in.”, you say and the door opens to reveal Theo in his usual sweatshirt, holding his pillow with an apologetic smile.

It is the same look he has every night, he told you once that he feels awful for burdening you like this, and as he tried to leave your room you stopped him “I want you here, it helps me too.”, you explained and he laid back down.

“Hi.” You say softly and move to your bed.

You both lay down, you on your bed and he in his; but you are both on your sides, facing eachother.

“Theo?”, you softly ask and he replies with a “mm”

“Do you think it will end?”

“The war or the world?”, he asks yawning

“Both?”

“Yes.” , he replies softly

“Which one?”

“Both.”, he says as he rests his head on his head and looks up at you “I just don’t know, which of the two, we’ll get to experience.”

“What will you do, if you survive the war?”, you ask, wanting to change the subject before a full blown existential crisis hits you, minutes before the new year.

“It depends.”, he says seriously

“On what?”

“In your scenario, will you also have survived the war?”

“I hope so.”, you say with a laugh

“Well then, there is this house that I used to visit, with my parents, when my mother was still alive”, he quickly tells you “It is in the countryside and the healers said that it would be good for her health, to live away from the city.”

“I would go there, and you should come with me.” He says and earns a surprised look form you

“You can see the stars from there, very clearly, because it is so far away from the city lights”, he begins describing in a way that tells you that, this house and perhaps the memories he has from there are significant to him.

“And it is by the coast, so you can sit by the beach and forget about anything that troubles you. And it has a huge library, with so many books, you would love it there.”, he finishes, and you can tell by his movements and the way his eyes stare into yours, that he is getting tired as each minute passes.

“Mmm sounds nice.”, you reply slowly

“What about you?”, he asks then

“Hm, if I survive this war and you are still alive I’ll make you take me to that house, because now I am curious to see it.”, you say smiling, earning a smile back from him “You don’t go there anymore?”

“No, my father couldn’t visit it; after my mother passed, it reminded him of her.”

“Do you remember her? Your mom?”, you wonder

“No, not really. I remember she was kind and quiet. Maybe it is better she died, I don’t think she would’ve survived this war.”, he says now with a hint of nostalgia in his words

“You never talk about your parents.”, he points out, not in an accusing manner, but curious.

“Yeah, I- miss them, too much. I- it hurts talking about them.”, you say and it is true.

Whenever you think of your parents questions are shot at you; Are they okay? Are they safe? Will I ever see them again? It is easier to try and forget about them; for now, until it is safe for them to be with you again.

“It is almost midnight.”, Theo says, snapping you out of your thoughts

“It is almost new year.”, you exclaim “Come here, for the countdown.”, you ask craving the feel of someone near you.

He lays on your bed, facing you still, and instinctively he grabs your hands in his as he looks at you; opening himself to you, letting his emotions and thoughts show. Letting you see them.

“Will you really take me to your lake house if we make it out alive?”, you ask half-jokingly

“It’s a beach house. And yes.”, he replies seriously

“Then I will stay alive for that.”, you promise him. You will stay alive because the world is worth saving, you will stay alive because he gives you hope and something to look forward.

You will stay alive for yourself and the people you love, but also for him. The sound of fireworks snap you out of your thoughts.

The New Year has officially come. And the person you are spending this moment with is Theodore Nott, how could anyone ever prepare you for this moment?

What could they say to convince you that someday, you would lay in your bed with Theodore Nott, exchanging happy new year wishes and laying bare your souls to eachother. Exposing every dark thought and worry, opening your hands to receive the other persons concerns and fears.

“Happy new year.”, he tells you

“Happy new year.”, you wish back and look at his face more clearly now. You notice his eyes and how easily you can lose yourself in them, and you stare at his lips as if they are the medicine to cure your symptoms. Bring you back to life.

“Theo.”, you say; barely whispering

“Yes.”, he replies in the same tone, now looking at you like he can read your thoughts. His eyes scan your face, expectantly, wanting. As if he is starved.

His look is enough for you to lean in and whisper to him, when your lips are a breath away “For good luck. For the New Year”

And with that you close the gap between you two. He slowly closes his eyes and grabs the back of your head carefully with his free hand, pulling you closer to him. You place your hand on his shoulder, resting your body on him.

The way his lips kiss yours feels like a drug. This alone, is worth fighting for. To be able to kiss him, like this. And it is solely because when you kiss eachother, it feels as if a weight is lifted off your chest, as if his hands help you carry the stone to top of the mountain.

Normally, you would blame yourself for being weak; you should be able to handle things by yourself, you shouldn’t need others to survive, that is what your mind would normally tell you, and yes normally you would agree. But there is nothing normal about this life you are currently living.

So you keep kissing him and when his mouth travels south to your neck, causing you to let out a small sigh you don’t stop him.

“For good luck.” he repeats as he takes off your shirt and kisses your skin.

“For good luck.” you repeat as you pepper kisses along his jaw and neck, while he tugs at your hips to remove the rest of your clothing.

And, later when you lay together with your clothes discarded on the floor, with his arms around you; holding you impossibly close to him and his breath fanning rhythmically in your ear, tickling you softly, you try to convince yourself that it was in fact just for good luck.

A/N: feedback and criticism are appreciated and needed ⭐️🤍 This will be continued this has been poorly proofread so, I am deeply sorry for the mistakes 🫣

#theodore nott x reader #theodore nott #theo nott #theodore nott imagine #harry potter fanfiction #theo nott imagine #theo nott x reader #second wizarding war #AU #fluff #theo nott fluff

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anniebear-92 · 1 year

Text

Had this pop into my head while I tried to fall asleep last night. However as per usual this snarky blonde boy bullied his way into my thoughts and here we are. 😤

Reverse Nightmare comfort: Bakugo has had reoccurring nightmares since his run in with the slime villain and you are just the person to help him through it. Childhood best friends / neighbors.

Pairing: Bakugo x reader.

Warnings: SFW, fluff, nightmare comforts.

I decided there will be two endings so you can read both or the one you prefer. One platonic and one romantic. Reader is referred to have a super strength quirk. Brief mention the reader is female but mostly GN.

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

“Oi.”

You grumbled as the deep voice cut into your precious dreams, curling around your pillow tighter.

“Oi!” A finger jabbed into your side, earning your full attention now. Swiveling your head over a shoulder to come face to face with your ash blonde neighbor.

“Kats? What are you doing here at… 2 am?”

He huffed in response while lifting the covers, unceremoniously shoving you from your comfortable position. Many protests and the flailing of limbs, you found yourself on the cold side of the bed with two strong arms locking around your waist. Katsuki buried his face into the back of your neck, the soft puffs of breath tickling your skin.

Inhaling deeply you ran your fingers over the fine hair along his forearm, knowing your best friend needed a moment to gather his thoughts before he would finally tell you what was wrong. When you heard him shuffling behind you, it was a clear sign he was ready.

His words were muffled by your skin but being fluent in Bakugo, you heard him loud and clear.

“Had a fucking nightmare.”

Continuing to run your fingertips over his arms you waited for him to elaborate, or not. Leaving it entirely up to him.

“Stupid slime villain.” These words were lower, almost as if he did not mean for you to hear them. A sad smile crossed your lips as you remembered that day clearly yourself as if it were yesterday.

——— flashback to that day

You were furious. Absolutely, undeniably furious. Your so called best friend had just told one of your closest friends to unalive himself. All over not having a stupid quirk?!

You had left Izuku standing by the small Koi pond outside the school and were currently scouring the alleyways that you know your soon to be ex friend frequented. He was going to get a piece of your mind regardless of wither he wanted it or not.

“Hey Kaachan let’s go to the arcade today!” Your ears perked at the sound of your childhood friend’s nickname, making a line for the alley entrance. “Yeah whatever.”

Hearing that recognizable gravelly voice solidified that he was indeed just around the corner. Rounding said building, you were met with the spikey, haired boy and his two forever shadows.

“Oh hey! It’s L/N again, come to yell at us?” The boy with the creepy fingers waived at you with a snicker. As you passed, your arm shoved him out of your way a bit harshly that he crashed into the trash cans behind him. They stepped further away as you locked eyes with those vermillion that were widening in shock.

“You!” You growled in his face, gripping his collar and lifting him easily off his feet against the brick wall behind him. You began a screaming match with him about your green haired friend and how disgusted with him you were.

Finally dropping his collar and returning him to his feet he bit his tongue to hold back the venomous words he wanted so badly to spit. However you on the other hand had no filter at this point. “I don’t know how we are even friends right now!”

The words bit his heart as his foot shot out and kicked a nearby bottle, your e/c eyes shooting him the nastiest glare he’d ever seen on you. Meeting you back with his own when his lips parted to speak, however the voice that came next was definitely not his own.

“Wow girlie, you’ve got some strength in you! I think you’ll do, maybe even take down All might with this power!”

The bubbling voice sounding of someone drowning chilled your soul as both of your eyes locked on the growing green mass spilling out of the bottle Katsuki had kicked a moment before. The cap had busted off, releasing whatever villain now stood? Slithered? Before you.

His large grin widened as large tendrils wrapped themselves around your arm and wrists, a shriek leaving your throat as it began dragging you towards it. Your strength failed out of terror, having never faced a real villain in your life. Two large hands gripped your waist, yanking you free from the slime, only to be captured in the writhing mass themselves.

“No! I didn’t want you brat!” You turned to find Katsuki being pulled into the dripping slime of the villains body, your words failing you as he squirmed and let off explosions in the means to escape. “Well, you’re powerful too! What are they feeding kids nowadays? No matter, I’ll take you instead!”

(You all know what happens next, Izuku rushes in, all might saves the day. If you don’t.. what you doing here? Go watch the show! :| just kiddin back to the story) this is where the platonic / love endings come in. I started with the love, for the platonic scroll down until you see the ~~ again.

———- Romantic route

That day never left either of your minds, night terrors had plagued your mind for months after the event. You truly thought you were going to lose your best friend. Feeling powerless a hero had carried you away as a green haired streak went rushing in.

Your parents had freaked when you returned covered in green goo, only to send you away for the next ten months for hard training with your ex pro-hero grandfather for the UA exam. Leaving Katsuki to deal with his trauma all by himself.

When you had returned for UA’s entrance exam, you would’ve thought Katsuki saw a ghost upon locking gazes with you. You had grown up during the time away, filled out with age and training. You were even more beautiful to him now than ever before, especially now that you were back.

He had been stuck to your side like glue ever since, hence the fact the boy was laying in your bed, wrapped like an anaconda around your limbs.

“You wanna talk about it?” Your voice a whisper as he turned his head, cheek pressing to your shoulder. “No.”

You squirmed in his arms, turning so you were face to face with him. His beautiful red eyes were currently closed, frown lines and angry eyebrows still visible as you smoothed them out with a thumb. He let out a long sigh, face relaxing as you retracted your hand. Those gorgeous crimson eyes opened, showing the small gold flecks that encircled his dark pupils. They reflected in the sunlight that most people didn’t know existed save you who were privy enough to get close enough to see them.

“Better?” Your voice soft as his eyes followed suit, gazing into your own e/c ones that shown nothing but admiration for the boy.

“Yes.”

A soft smile graced your lips as he leaned forward, pressing his forehead against your own, the tips of your noses brushing just so softly.

“I thought I was going to lose you that day.”

Your eyes raised to his, soft and sincere. You gave him a soft smile before poking his chest “It’ll take a lot more than that to get rid of me.”

He grinned, slapping your hand away.

“You’re an idiot you know.”

His words caused you to frown, eyebrows dropped to question the audacity this boy had at this moment. “How so?”

His own lips spread in a small smile as his hand lifted to trail his fingertips up and down your spine. Shivers ran through your body as he leaned even closer to twitch his nose back and forth against your own, earning a giggle from you.

“Because you continue to put up with me.”

A puff of air left your nose as you pressed your finger against his forehead, pushing him back softly. “You’re my best friend. How couldn’t I put up with you?”

He rolled his eyes, still not a frown line in sight.

“What did you do for the nightmares while I was gone?”

He turned his eyes towards the ceiling, a soft pink tint coating his cheeks. “I slept in your bed.”

A laugh escaped you as his turned darker, the frown lines back though not as deep. “You would crawl out your window, hop across the wall to crawl into mine, then sleep in my bed while I was gone?”

He nodded before turning his attention back to you, fingers trailing a thumb over the apple of your cheek. “It smelled like you.”

You smiled brightly, arms wrapping around his torso to pull him close. Resting your cheek against his warm chest, listening to the pitter pat of his heart beat.

“Y/N. I love you.”

Your breath caught, head pulling back as you looked up to catch his face buried into your hair. The tinge of red coated the tip of his ears, a smile that you couldn’t control broke onto your face.

“I love you too Katsuki.”

You listened as his own breath caught, chest stiffening as if he did not expect your returned feelings. He pulled away, eyes meeting yours with more adoration than you had ever seen in them before.

“You do?” Your nod brought his own wide smile, your favorite one that he only showed when you were around.

His fingers curled around your jaw, thumb pressing softly to angle your face towards his as he leaned in slowly to press his soft lips against yours. You had imagined this moment for a long time and it surely did not do it justice as he kissed you more gently than you ever thought possible for Katsuki Bakugo.

He pulled back after a moment, brushing a soft tear from your cheek. “Now go to bed. I’m tired.” He scolded as if he wasn’t the one who had woken you with his own issues.

You patted his cheek before turning in his arms that constricted, holding you tightly against the heat of his body.

“Good night Kats.”

“Good night Angel.”

Needless to say, Katsuki got the best of sleep in a long time, no nightmares to return that night. Instead of falling asleep holding a pillow that still held your scent, he got to hold you.

~~~~~~Platonic route

That day never left either of your minds, night terrors had plagued your mind for months after the event. Your parents had freaked when you returned covered in green goo, only to send you away for the next ten months for hard training with your ex pro-hero grandfather.

Leaving Katsuki to deal with his trauma all by himself. Upon returning for the start of UA he had stuck to you like glue, his best friend returned to him finally.

Katsuki shifted to pull away from you, his hands loosely holding you still as you continued to rub his arm.

“Feeling better?”

He nodded softly as you smirked “I can’t hear your brain rattling. Use your words.”

He snorted, a hand raising to slap the back of your head. “Hey! This is what I get for comforting you after a nightmare?” His lips curled into a smirk as he shifted you closer once more.

“Shut up and go to sleep.” You huffed in response, crossing your arms and grumbling obscenities at his expense.

“Oi.”

You paused, turning just your head to give him the stink eye. His own were closed, not a frown line to be found.

“I love you.”

You smiled, tapping your finger against his nose before turning back away, knowing full well your friend didn’t mean in a romantic kind of way. Though he voiced his feelings rarely, when he did… You could feel it.

“I love you too dummy.”

Katsuki snuggled back into your neck, getting the best sleep in awhile with his best friend as a snuggle buddy.

—————

Sorry if this is terrible it kept me up for awhile until I wrote it down. 😅

#bakugo imagine #bakugo katsuki #bakugou katsuki #mha bakugo katsuki #bakugo drabble #bakugo x reader #bakugou x y/n #bnha x reader #katsuki bakugo x reader #katsuki bakugou x reader #mha x reader #mha bakugo #childhood friends #childhood friends to lovers #izuku midoriya #platonic #nightmare comfort

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sambvcks · 2 years

Text

wanting was enough (for me it was enough), e.m. x reader

pairing: eddie munson x reader

summary: eddie munson is not used to being someone’s first choice

warnings: some cursing, self-isolation/hatred (by eddie), some talks of what transpired in s4, nightmares, talk of having children (not detailed)

word count: 1.2k

author’s note: sabs be inspired by something other than taylor swift challenge failed once again. this is for @elegantpaperoperatormaker ’s eyes only. yall can read it but it was written for them. also sorry if this doesn’t make any sense/has no plot, i have covid and im delusional :(

[ read on ao3 | masterlist | inbox ]

You could not think of a better way to spend a summer than with Eddie Munson. The bonfire talks, the late-night listening sessions and movie marathons. He showed you every scar he had accumulated, pale skin even paler where monsters had sunk into flesh. You grew tanner under the Indiana sun, war torn freckles dotting faces and wrinkles settling into the corners of your eyes as you squinted during lakeside rendezvous.

Eddie would whip his wet hair at you, like an excitable dog, as you cut sandwiches on the diagonal and plated lukewarm slices of seedless watermelon.

It was easy, spending every waking moment with him. At one time, you’d thought you’d never get another one with him. So, you savor every second he has now. Scars and all. And it had started out friendly enough.

Simple acquaintances turned soldiers turned something else. It was hard to remember when sleepovers turned into stolen glances, when glances turned into actions. Somewhere between burnt marshmallow smiles and silent comforts after nightmares he had made a move. Really, you both did. Desperate for something more than friendly touches you kissed beneath thin bedsheets, legs tangled and teeth knocking as you fought smiles and demons together.

Then, another shift.

As June turned to July, which then turned to August, Eddie grew cold with the weather. As you layered on heavy cardigans, he shrugged you away.

The once inviting smiles were reserved, there was a distance even as you huddled so close together. He did his best to hide it, still scratching nails against your scalp and pressing kisses wherever he could. But the nightmares were becoming more frequent, and he hid them – something he’d never done before. He found excuses, reasons to keep you at arm’s length. It was a challenge, with your lives so closely intertwined now, but he still managed to go days now without you.

All at once, you’d had enough.

“C’mon, Eds. The cold shoulder, it’s a dirty trick.”

He shrugs, occupying himself with scrubbing the last bit of food from the sink full of dishes.

“Is it-is it me? Did I do or say something? Are you, like, tired of me?”

“No! God, never. I could never be tired of you. Don’t even begin to think like that.”

“Then what’s going on? And none of that ‘It’s not you, it’s me’ shit.”

He heaved a heavy sigh, hand working at the flesh of his face. He looked exhausted, something he had attributed to the shift to autumn when you asked if he was getting enough sleep – not really an answer kind of answer.

“I just-” He hesitated, watching you fiddle with the frayed edge of his bedsheet. He thought of the countless nights you had tangled your legs in them, limbs thrashing as you recoiled from wiggling fingers digging at your sides. He thought of your neck, arched for his viewing pleasure as he pressed sloppy, open mouth kisses and blew cold air over wet skin, cackling at your echoing shrieks. “I know this won’t last.”

Your brow furrowed further, mouth falling into a deeper frown, and Eddie scrambled to piece together every waking nightmare he had hid from you.

“I made peace with the fact that you aren’t mine past August. That one day you’ll meet a guy worthy of everything you are, and I’ll just be some fun summer fling you had that led to that moment. I’ll only ever be a prefix to something better. And I’m okay with that as long as you end up happy.” He said, easy. Like he was reciting every word from practiced memory.

There wasn’t a sadness, either. There was a finality. Eddie Munson would never be someone’s first or final choice. To everyone in his life, he’s the kid that got dumped on their doorstep. Or who fell into an interdimensional hole with them. Or was forever stuck in their remedial math class.

Destined to live and die in Hawkins, Indiana.

“I mean, shit. I go back to high school this month. Dustin will probably graduate before I do. How pathetic can you get?”

But that’s not the Eddie you had met this summer.

Eddie is torn jeans and the same beat-up pair of trainers, He is cigarette smoke on a cold lakeside evening and the store brand coffee his uncle brews extra strong, always sipped from a different mug. He is every comfort you have ever felt, wrapped up in a single entity of warmth and flushed skin. His freckles are your faraway stars, and you are so grateful that you do not need a telescope to admire each one.

He is here. Right here. And sometimes you have to grab a fistful of his shirt or hook a finger into the chain of his jeans just to be sure. You weren’t used to beautiful things turning into constants. And Eddie Munson was the most beautiful thing you had ever seen.

He’d been the one to offer to hot wire your car in the rain, when you had no one to call. He’d used a portion of his earnings buying the name brand cat food for the strays that liked your trailer the best, hating that you looked so sad when you couldn’t shell together the money on your own.

“Eds, that’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard.”

“Okay, harsh-”

“You think I’m not in this for the long run? Like I don’t fall asleep thinking about what our life is going to be like, what our kids will look like? This isn’t some summer fling. This is it, babe. There’s nothing better out there.”

Now, it was Eddie’s turn to look completely baffled. He falls into the bed next to you, mattress bouncing and sheets crinkling further. He eyes his room, the mess he lives in filled with smoke faded posters and wallpaper and wonders: someone’s choosing this?

Then, you. He’d been to hell and back with you and you’d still found some way to throw in a cringey one liner between swinging bats and reloading pistols. You’d laid shoulder to shoulder with him in that rickety boat and made him not forget what was happening but find some peace in it if it led you your hair falling beside his, fingers entangled. He’d be hunted ten times over if this was his ending, he decided.

“Kids, huh?”

“Oh, shut up. I change my mind.”

“No! No take backs, babe. I want little Eddie Jr. by next fall!” And he’s pushing you into the mattress, feeling dumb not for failing history again but for ever thinking of you as just another person that would leave him. Sure, he didn’t have the best track record in that category, but as he felt you completely give yourself up to his ministrations, he thought that maybe his luck was finally taking a turn.

And, if you really pressed him on the matter, he thought August was a lovely name for a little girl.

#eddie munson x reader fluff #eddie munson x reader #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson fanfic #stranger things imagine #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #joseph quinn imagine #joseph quinn x reader

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vclvetfleur · 5 months

Text

Freak Show Chapter 6

Buggy x fem!reader

Summary: After landing on a new island, you've ran into a familiar face that you've had none stop thoughts and fantasizied about since the last time you've seen him.

TW: Dom buggy, degradation, NSFW, smut, MDNI

WC: 6.8K (25 words away for 6.9k)

Notes; This is my longest Buggy chapter yet. I am so proud of it. Im also not the greatest at writing smut. I hope you all are enjoying the fic so far. The updates aren't so frequent, but I hope you guys take time to lmk. Thank you :)

Chapter 6: 100,000,000 berries

Weeks have gone by, and you haven’t seen Buggy since. You were sure you’d love it this way, but a part of you felt a bit upset. You didn’t understand why. But there was something about his lack of presence that made a part of you feel empty all of a sudden. You shrugged it off most of the time. But the other day after raiding a village you had come across a familiar face. Buggy’s new wanted poster. 150,000,000. Wow. I guess the Marines weren’t too happy about the incident. You felt a mix of proud, but sadness. It was bittersweet. You ignored those feelings more and more.

You couldn’t miss him, and you weren’t going to allow yourself to.

You arrived back onboard, setting sail for a new place to settle and rob. You basically cleaned the whole village of all their belongings. And you didn’t need to kill that many of them either.

You laid in your quarters, staring at the ceiling, letting your thoughts go wild. You found every time you were alone you thought of the moment you swore to forget. You remembered every detail though. Every word. Every kiss. Every single thing. Especially the way he made you feel. You don’t think you ever laid with a man so determined to make you feel as good as you did. You found yourself staying up nights with your hand in your panties trying not to forget any minor detail of it.

You always finished with a waft of shame coming over you afterward. It was something you never saw coming in a million years. It almost felt like a really good nightmare.

You got up in the morning after tossing around for hours thinking about Buggy. You snuck off to the bathroom that attached to your room, opened the shower door, and slid inside. You turned the handle to let the hot water come over your body. You sighed, leaning your hair under the shower head before shampooing and conditioning it. Another perverted thought crept up and you immediately shook it out of your brain. He looked so good on top of you. Nope. You had to ignore these thoughts. You couldn’t do this to yourself.

This was beyond sick. You couldn’t be trusted with your own thoughts.

But neither could Vivienne. She had conversations with him nearly daily on their transponder snails. They spent hours into the night whispering to one another in fear of getting caught or found out. They didn’t feel good about sneaking around, but what they had seemed worth it to betray their captains like this.

“Where are you guys off to now?” Cabaji wondered, hoping he’d be able to get Buggy to set sail for where they were going as well. It’s almost half of the reason your crews were able to run into each other. The other reason was Buggy’s crazy obsession with ‘taking you down’. But it now seemed impossible now that both of your bounties were so high now. You sat at just 100,000,000 berries. 50,000,000 less than Buggy which bruises your ego a bit. But you were working on it. Your competitiveness always got the best of you. If you couldn’t get the highest bounty, you at least needed a higher one than Buggy. It seemed humiliating to be seen as less dangerous than him.

“I’m not too sure, we just left Longiana.” Vivienne huffed at the disappointment.

You couldn’t stand being alone in your room any longer. You pulled your hair in a silked veil to hide your wet hair before putting on your usual attire. You swiped on makeup before making your way out of the quarters. You were greeted by the crew, listening to concerns they had. Just questioned whatever was next. You had been raiding small villages, trying to keep low before having to go back to find the map of the grand line. It was far too dangerous, not just for you, but for everyone aboard the ship. Sure, the grand line is just as unsafe, but this was something preventable. You needed to act smart.

“Where the fuck is Vivienne?” You complained. You were sure she had a few plans she could recommend to you. She came up with decisions sometimes, it was just up to you whether it sounded like a good idea.

“Unsure ma’am. She hasn’t come out this morning. Even for breakfast.” Lily, a member of your crew announced. She was fairly new. She begged and begged to join, doing whatever it took. She tried to prove that she was brutal enough, but brutality wasn’t the only thing you searched for. The only reason you let her join was she had snuck onboard and stayed for days without anyone spotting her. She was quick. Sneaky. Smart. Logical. That’s what you looked for. And she was of good use to you. You had even brought her along to raids and she was able to sneak by food for the crew that would last you at least 3 weeks. The girl had everything it took to be granted the honor of joining you and your crew. She already had such deep dedication. She even won you over by saying she knew you’d be the one ruling every sea known. It was charming.

“Fuck- I’ll get her.” Your eyes rolled back. You couldn’t be sailing to nowhere. You needed a plan at the very least. You headed to her room and opened the door. Vivienne jumped in her bed, giving you an absolutely terrified look as if she had seen the world's scariest film and was told she’d die in 7 days after watching it.

“Oh keep your panties on. What do you recommend we do?” You questioned her.

“What if I was naked?” She asked you, clearly annoyed at the lack of privacy you granted her right now.

“I’ve seen it already. Not interested. Answer the question. None of these dumb fucks have a clue.” You shook your head, placing your hand against your temple, stressed out already after leaving Longiana. You were stressed even while at Longiana. You needed to plan something. You’ve never been so behind. You were always 5 steps ahead. But you felt like you were drowning. Nothing ever came to mind other than Buggy.

“go to Ginevia.” Cabaji whispered in her ear through her transponder. She hid it with her hair covering it.

“Uh- I think Ginevia might be a good place to lay low for a while. Little to no marines. Secluded. Bars everywhere. It seems good enough to stay…” Vivienne recommended. You waited for another village and Vivienne panicked. “Or maybe… fuck- sorry I didn’t get much sleep last night.” She quickly made up a lie to get you to leave.

“Fine Ginevia it is…” You murmured. “Get rest my love. I need my right-hand man…” You gave her some kind of affectionate words to make up for invading her privacy previously. Her lips turned to a light smile, a part of her dying inside knowing she lied to you.

“I love you.” She granted you that.

“Love you too. Don’t miss dinner today or I’ll barge in here again.” You revealed a smile to her. You rarely showed anyone on board this side of you. But Vivienne was special. Maybe it was all the years spent together or just the fact you’ve always put such trust in her that let you be this way. You never thought she could ever hurt you.

You retreated back to the crew and set course for Ginevia.

“See you later my love…” Cabaji mumbled. Vivienne's smile turned even bigger before pulling the transponder out of her ear. He managed to grant her a smile every time they spoke.

If you could see her, you’d be disgusted.

Hour rolled by and you kept yourself busy by ordering people around. You spent an ungodly and suspicious amount of time with them. You often retreated to your quarters or trained. But you didn’t trust being alone with your thoughts. A rumor flew around that Buggy tortured you and you had gotten a new respect for life and the crew. You knew any day could be your last and you wanted to be around people rather than a hermit. What a load of horse shit.

You even helped out with dinner and setting tables. You sat at the head table, watching people flood into the room. Soon you saw Vivienne as she had made a plate for herself. You spent most of the dinner just giggling and talking to Vivienne about nonsense. “NO! But remember when he was turning around the corner and slipped!” Vivienne cackled loudly.

“No! Please! I forgot! Stop-“You cried in between laughs. “The fuckwad slammed right into a wall and fell!” You let yourself laugh loudly.

“Please stop! My stomach hurts! I can’t!” Vivienne gripped her side, causing you to laugh even louder.

But unfortunately, this could not last the entire night. Slowly everyone left and Vivienne excused herself to her chambers, claiming she was exhausted. You got up and grabbed a bottle of wine before retreating on your own.

You spent the night downing an entire bottle before knocking into a deep slumber.

This became a habit you acquired until hitting Ginevia.

You stepped off the boat before making your way around the village. There were a lot of bars. Vivienne did not lie at all about that. You passed by a wall, seeing wanted posters scattered. Some familiar faces and a few new ones. Monkey D. Luffy… what a dumb name… Roronoa Zoro, the pirate hunter? Oh, there was a new cutie there too. Sanji… looks like a bit of an asshole, but whatever. Nami… God… Usopp. What a prick. Your eyes landed on two wanted posters freshly put up. Buggy the Clown and yours. You stared for a while.

You felt a tap on your shoulder, drawing your sword quickly, looking behind you. No one… Weird. You felt another. You turned around again. Nothing. You felt wind pick up and without looking, grabbed whatever was being thrown on your shoulder. You pulled it over to examine it to notice it was a gloved hand. Fuck- he was here.

You threw the hand on the floor, bringing your heel to it quickly. “Ow! Bitch!” Buggy yelped from the corner as he came back to retrieve what belonged to him. You couldn’t make any eye contact for whatever reason. You pulled your foot off and made an attempt to leave. You didn’t want to look at him out of fear of how you’d react. “Aww come on! Don’t leave me waiting! It was a joke!” Buggy called out for you.

You chose to ignore him and continued to leave him behind. You could not stand to. Be around him right now was not something you needed. This was enough to itch the craving you had for him. You felt the collar of your dress halts you from moving any further. “Buggy let go.” You demanded, a sternness in your voice.

“Oh, come on, you didn’t miss me? I sure missed you a lot.” Buggy attempted to flirt, your eyes rolling. You recoiled, leaning your body away from him.

“Why would I miss you?” You knew why. You did.

“Hmm might be because I fucked you till you barely could even say another word.” Buggy whispered. He was well aware of how embarrassed you had been afterward, but he knew you desired him just as much as he did. At least he tricked himself into believing it.

“Fucking whatever… Just that was the last time, okay? Leave it at that. You’re not my friend. Or my lover. Just some stupid obnoxious clown who can’t seem to leave me alone.” You spit venom his way, hoping he’d take the hint and leave you be. But you knew he wouldn’t.

“I was here first!” Buggy yelled like a child.

You just ignored him once again, vanishing in thin air. You wandered around, making sure not to bump into anyone to blow your cover. You took this time to steal from the small shops around town. But it seemed like you constantly ran into Buggy. Despite him not seeing you, it seemed like you couldn’t escape him. You finally had gone over an hour without running into him before seeing his wanted poster once again. You couldn’t do it any longer. You had to find him. Just to get this off your mind already.

You wandered around town, unable to find him. The only place he could be was his ship. You walked along the port before finding the boat with the obnoxious jolly roger with his makeup look painted on it. You couldn’t believe you were letting your urges get to you this much. You wondered around before finding his quarters. You opened and shut the door, reappearing in front of him. He sat at his desk creating a new map. He looked a lot less flashy than you were ever used to. You never even knew his hair was that long. You always just assumed it was a part of his hat. His hair was bound with a hair tie as he just sat in his usual striped shirt and pants. You couldn’t help but look at his arms. They were slim yet muscular with small scars scattered around them.

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Buggy asked, putting his pen away, laying back in his chair. His head turned to you, waiting for a response.

“I haven’t stopped thinking about it since we left the Marine base. I wouldn’t come if I really just wanted to humiliate myself. So don’t make this as embarrassing as it needs to.” You confessed. It hurt to even have to say it. You never had to beg for what you wanted. But you’ve also never wanted something so bad.

“Oh, so you did miss me?” Buggy laughed at you. You groaned, wanting to make an attempt to leave, but you couldn’t pull yourself from doing so. “Beg then…” The room fell quiet. You’ve never had to submit to a man like this. Nor would you have ever allowed this kind of treatment.

“Fuck! Fine.. Plea-“ You began before Buggy cut you off. “No. On your knees and beg.” He ordered. You bit your lip contemplating if it was worth your dignity before lowering yourself on your knees.

“Please- I really just want you to fuck me again.” You begged for him.

“How much have you been thinking about me?” Buggy seemed to be entertained of the idea of you thinking about him. You huffed, ready to die of embarrassment. “Don’t act all shy now. You’re already on your knees.” Buggy pointed out, a laugh escaping his lips, enjoying seeing how seemingly easy this seemed for him now.

“Fuck- okay-… uh, like…” You couldn’t seem to actually confess any of this to him. You swallowed your pride eventually. “Every night. Whenever I’m alone, I always think about it. It’s the one thing I can’t get off my mind.” You quickly spewed out.

Buggy leaned in, seemingly interested in the fact. “Oh, so you really need it bad huh?” He asked. His elbows rested on his knees that spread apart from each other before returning to sit upright.

“I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need it.” You said in a sarcastic tone. “Now can the humiliation please end?” This was all so degrading for you. Having to beg for sex was something you never had to do. And having to do so much for slight attention didn’t make it any better.

“Oh, but darling, the humiliation just started.” Buggy laughed at your embarrassment. You shook your head, deciding you were too good for this. You already lost so much of your pride to continue to let this all occur to you. You got up from the floor, heading towards the door mumbling under your breath. “Un fucking believable.”

Buggy watched you for a bit before sending a hand to grab a fist full of your hair and dragging your entire body back onto the floor. You fell down against the wooden floorboard, your knees and hands attempted to catch you. Your eyes went over to Buggy as you heard his boots hitting the wood as he made his way towards you. “I’m not done having my fun.” Buggy bent down in front of you, his face filled with sinister and sadistic ideas of what to put you through.

“I’m not gonna sit here and be humiliated.” You tried to protest.

“Well it isn’t really about what you like right now. You came here. You said you wanted this. I thought you never went against your word…” Buggy continued to demean you, using your own words against you.

-14 months ago-

You had gotten back to your ship after a loot with a few of your crew to see the entire ship disheveled. A few of your crewmates tied against each other or poles that ran throughout the ship as things were thrown around.

A pit of boiling rage filled you up. You dropped whatever was in your hands, a large thud hitting the floor with small clinging continuously hitting the floor. Your hands grew clammy and your face grew hotter by the second. “What the fuck happened here? What the fuck did you idiots allow to happen here?” Your voice boomed throughout the main deck. You inched closer to one of the crewmates, snagging their bounds off of their mouth and grabbing the root of their hair to look your way. “You better give me a good reason that my shit was taken, or you all are being thrown overboard.” You threatened. Vivienne scrambled to assess the damage. “Don’t you think it's a bit harsh…” Vivienne quietly chimed in.

“Shut the fuck up! Unless all your shit is ripped apart and stolen because of incompetent fuckwads, then you have the right to tell me what’s too fucking harsh!” You lashed out before turning back to the scared crewmate. “Now- who the fuck did this?” Your words coming out slowly to demean the crewmate even further. You drew a dagger, placing it under their chin.

“B-b-buggy… His crew ambushed us… It was so fast we couldn’t see it coming…” She cried, snot and droll coming from her face and down to her chin. You pulled the dagger away and released her hair as if it was poisonous to the touch. “Where the fuck did he go?” You asked.

“Look for me?” Buggy called out, standing on a barrel that sat upon the quarter-deck. He held a rolled-up scroll in his hand, waving it around to mock you. Your vision turned completely red, drawing your sword and charging over to him.

Buggy laughed manically before sending a punch over. You drew your sword, swinging to deflect it. You knew it would not do anything to him, but in the moment anything seemed like a rational thought. You forgot he wasn’t normal. His hand reattached itself behind you before striking you in the back of the head. You stumbled, not ready to hit the floor yet. You recovered quickly before charging again. You disappeared, but your footsteps gave you away. Buggy threw punches, missing most of the time, but catching you once he heard your footsteps more clearly. You swung a sword at him repeatedly, chopping him into tiny pieces before he put himself together. You held a grip on your neck, throwing you against one of the shrouds. You reappeared before him, his fingers growing a tighter grip around your throat. His laugh grew more annoying to you than ever.

He stepped down with a bit of a flashy performative state as if he was ready to do a show for the entire ship, bouncing with every step. “Checkmate, sunshine.” He laughed before stepping onto the bowsprit. He jumped off, landing on a smaller boat. You were paralyzed as he left his hand there to keep you pinned. “You morons! Go get him!” You cried out. The only non-bounded crew attempted to grab a smaller boat before realizing they were all sunk and destroyed by Buggy's crew. “Captain we don’t have any…” One of them confessed. You were finally released, and you rushed over to the railing before screaming out into the sea.

“Fucking listen to me! I never go against my word! And I will not stop until you and your crew are fucking gone! I will do whatever it takes!” You cried out. You were completely and utterly embarrassed and defeated.

-now-

“You know…you always knew how to make a girl feel so special.” You said sardonically.

“I mean- I made you feel pretty special at the marine base didn’t I?” Buggy reminded you. It seemed like this was something that was constantly going to be held over your head.

“You’re fucking ridiculous…” You shook your head. You weren’t sure if you were willing to go through this humiliation anymore. You stood up, trying to get the point across.

“I mean- it is your choice.” Buggy hops off his large chair, taking steps towards you. He walked over to you like a dark cloud ready to engulf you in. “You could either leave and hold this embarrassment of sitting here on my floor begging for me or…” His gloved hand reached down to your chin gently as he lifted your head up to look him in the eye. “I can give you exactly what you’ve been apparently thinking about every single night.” His last words huffed out, mocking the desperation you obviously were in.

You fell for it almost immediately. Your legs grew weak, your chest rose up and down quicker and your body leaned into Buggy’s touch, so desperate for him to give you exactly what you were craving. You broke his gaze out of complete embarrassment of what you’ve become. You’ve never behaved this way towards any man. No one made you feel the way Buggy did.

Your eyes left his and to a bottle that he carried in his room. “Fine- but can I have a drink so I can at the very least?” You needed more courage. Something to break the persona you had going for you.

Buggy’s hand flew to the bottle that he watched your eyes revert to, grabbing it before landing it back in between the two of you. “If it makes you less of a prude, be my guest.” His lips curled into a smirk. His finger flung the cap off before handing it over to you. You took a heavy breath, preparing for the awful strong taste before taking a pretty hefty swig. You’ve gotten a lot more used to it due to your time at sea. But it never got easy or tasted good enough.

You took a few more, gagging at the taste before setting it down. “I’m not a fucking prude by the way. I just need some sense of dignity.” You insulted him.

“You lost that bit of dignity the moment you came in. here begging me to fuck you.” He pointed out. He grabbed the bottle before taking a drink out of it with no problem. Just another way Buggy wanted to show off to you. The bottle sat back down on the counter, Buggy turning right back to you. His hand laid on your lower back, pulling your body against his significantly larger one. Your eyes laid on him, taking in everything you found strangely beautiful about it like the day at the Marine base.

Buggy leaned forward, pressing rough kisses into the nap of your neck, biting down a few times. You wanted to protest in fear of having marks being left on you for your crew to see, but the euphoria from it left you speechless. Only a few murmurs and whimpers left your lips. Buggy held your body up, holding you close to him as his kisses peppered down your collarbone. A few gasps left your lips, his teeth sinking into your skin, growing hungrier the more noises you made.

“You really want me that badly?” his voice in a rough tone, undoing your shirt, eager to see you the way he did just a few weeks ago. He exposed you to himself, taking in the sight before toying with your breasts.

You couldn’t help but let out another small whimper, nodding to his question. “Nu-uh. Verbalize your words, darling.” His lips curled into a sinister grin.

“Fuck-“ You were finally able to mutter something out. “Yes- Yes Buggy, I want you. Really really bad.” You gave him what he wanted. You just knew this would boost his ego tremendously.

“You’re a lot more pathetic than I assumed you were.” He couldn’t help himself. You always kept such a hard cold exterior. No one knew the real new under the persona you played. Maybe it wasn’t even a persona. Who knew? But he was able to crack the persona and get such a new version of you. It was so easy to him. There was a bit of pushback, but he was able to see something about almost no one ever got to see.

His hands roamed down your body, pressing his lips across your neck and shoulder. He grabbed the skirt you had on, putting his hand underneath. His fingers grazed the outside of your underwear, laughing to himself. “And you’re already so soaked…” He continued to pester you. “On the floor.” He ordered. You nodded, taking a seat down in front of him, completely at his will. “You look so much prettier at this angle.” His fingers caressed your cheek.

You were so distracted, staring at him to realize his hand made its way back under your skirt. You felt a pressure press up against you, a moan escaping your lips. “So much prettier when you’re acting like a little whore like this.” Buggy’s gaze grew darker, thinking of sinister things to do to you. His fingers rubbed circles over your clit, growing faster and faster. Your whimpers and moans got louder.

His fingers moved your panties to the side, sliding two fingers into you. You gasped at the suddenness. His fingers pumped into you slowly at first but grew quicker over time. You gripped your thighs, letting moans slip through your lips.

You bucked your hips but felt the absence of his fingers. “You’re not cuming without me, sweetheart. You gotta work for it.” You sat up straighter, reaching for the waistband of his pants, pulling them down along with his boxers. His cock sprang up, hard already from watching you squirm around under his touch.

Your hands wrapped around his shaft, pumping him before bringing the head of his cock into your mouth. Your lips wrapped around him, bobbing your head. You removed your hands the more of him you took into your mouth. Buggy’s lips faintly pulled apart as his breathing grew heavier, soft moans leaving his lips. “Look up at me.” He called out to you. You obeyed, your eyes meeting his. He admired you for a second before snapping back to before.

He grew hotter, pulling his shirt off, throwing it off somewhere in the room, fully exposing himself to you. His hand grabbed a fist full of your hair, pushing your head down quickly. You gagged against him, his cock hitting the back of your throat. He watched you struggle to breathe, tears forming at the corners of your eyes before finally pulling you back to get some air. He let you gain control once again. He threw his head back, letting a moan slip out his lips before staring down at you once again.

Your pace grew faster, trying to concentrate on making him feel as good as he made you feel. “You look so much better with my cock in your mouth, you know that?” he attempted to say through heavy breaths. He felt himself grow closer before pulling away from you. He pulled you up by your hair, dragging you as he did so.

You yelped, following his guide as he finally released your hair out of his grip. “Take it off… All of it.” He sat down at the edge of his bed, his eyes laid on your body.

“You are such a pervert, y’know that?” You said before pulling off your skirt painfully slowly in Buggy’s opinion. “I’m not the one sneaking onto ships for a late-night booty call, am I? I think the real pervert is you.”

He made a valid point that you couldn’t argue. You stripped for him, baring yourself completely for him. He had no words. Nothing snarky or petty. He just sat there and admired you. He didn’t get to actually stare as much as he wanted to at the Marine Base. This time he had a complete view of you. “On the bed. Now.”

You took soft, unrushed steps towards the bed. Buggy grew impatient, grabbing your waist and pulling you onto the bed. You felt his hand strike your cheek, holding it before it started to burn. “You’re gonna listen to everything I say tonight, got it?” He threatened before wrapping his hand around your throat. “Now, are you gonna be a stupid fucking whore or are you gonna be good?” he asked, warning you of your answer as his grasp tightened around your neck.

“Can’t I be both?” You answered sarcastically. Your air flow grew more restricted. Buggy’s jaw tightened as he gave you one last warning. “I don’t know. Do you want to be able to cum tonight? Or am I gonna have you all I want and send you fantasizing about me more?”

You took time to think, wanting to test the waters a bit more before feeling another strike hit your cheek. “Times clicking. Come on, even though I wish we did, we don’t have all night.” “Fine- I’ll try to be good..” You reluctantly replied. Buggy had no choice but to take that response. His lips crashed against yours, moving his grip from your throat back onto your hair. He tugged at it slightly. Your lips move in unison together.

Buggy’s lips moved down to your jaws, making his way down as he peppered kisses down your body.

His lips ended at your inner thighs. You squirmed, eager for him to touch you again. You whimpered, needing him to finally give you what you wanted.

“You’re such a pathetic whore.” He laughed lowly. His hand reached over, lets his fingers graze you slightly. You twitched, bucking your hips for more.

“Please-please just touch me…” You began begging. His painted lips grew into a mischievous smirk. He was enjoying every second of breaking you down completely at his whim.

“Say my name.” He knew it would only break you more.

You groaned at the request but gave in quickly. “Please Buggy- Please just fucking touch me. Fuck me. Just please.”

He obeyed your plea. His thumb pressed light pressure against your clit, rubbing small circles. You gripped onto his sheets, covering your face to muffle out your moans as you let out an ‘oh fuck.” Immediately after. Your cheeks flushed red. Buggy ripped the sheets away from you. “Nu-uh… you wanted this. No need to be so embarrassed now.” He had to have a humiliation kink. If you’d let him, you wouldn’t doubt that he would have you chained and forced to walk around him in public.

His head leaned closer to your cunt, finally letting his tongue glide across your folds. Your back arched, your breath growing uneasy. His tongue swiped up and down, finding the perfect pace. His movements grew fasters as his thumb left your clit, being replaced with his tongue. He sucked on your clit a few times, loving the reaction you gave him every time.

“Fuck me- please just fuck me. I want you in me right now.” You interrupted him. He pulled away quickly, hoping you’d ask even sooner.

“You’re such a greedy whore.” He lined himself up with you before pushing himself inside you. His moan syncing with yours. Your hand gripped onto his muscular lean arm, After pumping into you a few times, you adjusted to his size. He spent no time trying to get you to get used to him. His hips slammed against your ass furiously, leaving the room with nothing but the sound of skins slapping together and breathy whimpers and moans. He leaned forward, bringing your leg up to give him more access to you.

You both caught each other's gaze before Buggy pushed your head to the side, pressing it against the bed, using you as nothing but support as he used your body as his own personal sex toy. Something about it made it so much better to you. There was no passion. Just sex. You both were using each other and that’s exactly how you wanted it to remain. Just dirty, animalistic sex. His thrust grew faster causing you to buck your hips towards him. You needed him.

His hand moved away from your face, wrapping around your throat tightly. He squeezed your throat as he would whenever you two would get into small battles with each other. He couldn’t keep his eyes away from you. His other hand moved to the back of your head, moving it up roughly, forcing you to watch him fuck you. “You like watching yourself get fucked?” He hissed before striking you once more, moving his hand back to your throat.

“Yes- I love it.” You cried. Your moans grew out of sync and faster once you were about to hit your limit. You couldn’t hold out longer, cumming all over his cock as he continued to fuck you. Your cheek stung after his open hand swung across your cheek. His hand gripped your jaw, forcing your attention to him. “I didn’t tell you when you could cum, did I?” he sounded furious, slapping you again.

You shook your head. Tears began to leak down your face, ruining the makeup you had put on earlier in the day. Dark black streaks of make-up ran down your cheek. “You’re such a whore. You couldn’t wait, could you?” He berated you. You shook your head again. Buggy spit across your face, causing your makeup to run even more. “Just a little plaything for me to use.” Buggy continued.

“I-I’m sorry…” You attempted to say. You were already reaching a second climax. “Please let me cum again…” You learned. He trained you to be exactly what he wanted.

“Not until I say you can.” Buggy gripped your hips, using them to move against him as he thrusted into you. As he got closer, his thrusts grew sloppier, mainly using his grip on you to bounce you against him. “Fuck-“ he muttered out of breath. He pulled out of you, jerking himself off over you. You propped yourself up with your elbows, sticking your tongue out. “You’re so fucking disgusting.” He laughed at you. He leaned in, spitting in your mouth before shoving two of his fingers deep down your throat before pulling them out to replace his cock. He laid the head of his cock against your tongue before letting his cum release onto your tongue and a bit of your face. He pulled away before getting off the bed. He kneeled down, grabbing your legs, pulling you forward. He dived back into your cunt, this time with a quicker pace. His fingers entered you, pumping into you. Before he knew it, you began begging for him to let you cum. And he granted you the right. You climaxed, cumming around his fingers. You were left completely sore.

“I need to take a fucking bath…” Realization hit you. Your face was covered in spit and cum and your body littered with not just your sweat, but Buggy’s as well.

“Ya it’s on the right.” Buggy pointed out the bathroom. He was a lot softer and sweeter than he was just a few minutes away. “Do you need a towel?” He asked, getting up to check on you. Mostly out of concern and some for other perverted reasons.

“Uh- I think I found them…” You mumbled. You entered Buggy’s bathroom, taken aback by the luxuries he apparently had on board. Makes sense for someone who was obsessed with themselves you guessed. You didn’t bother closing the door. You filled the tub up, putting soap in it before sliding into it. “You can watch… I know you really want to pervert.” You called out to him. “Already a step ahead of you.” He called back out, laying on his back, taking a peak at you from the comfort of his own bed.

You grabbed a wash rag, scrubbing your body down before washing your face off. You removed all the makeup you spent time putting on earlier today. You were never really comfortable with people seeing you without makeup. You weren’t too comfortable with people seeing you naked either. And Buggy has seen one of those already. So it seemed less of a big deal. You drained the bath, stepping out. You patted yourself dry before coming back to the bedroom in search of your clothes.

“Why don’t you spend the night?” Buggy proposed.

“Why? So your crew could rob us?” You questioned.

“You can go check on my crew. Half of them are setting up for the show tomorrow or getting black out drunk tonight.” Buggy offered. You scoffed, continuing your search. “Please-.” You heard Buggy’s pleads. You sighed, looking him down before giving in.

“Fine… But this won’t ever happen again. Got it?” You warned. Just like you did at the Marine base.

“Fucking yea yea. Go on. You’re the leader here.” Buggy returned to his sarcastic self after making himself look like a complete fool. You didn’t bother looking for your clothes before sneaking into his bed. It was almost like getting onto a cloud. Either Buggy robbed some rich elite prick or Buggy dropped an obscene amount of berries for it. Judging by Buggy’s room and his clear taste for luxury, you already knew which one it was.

You rested your head onto one of his pillows, letting your body rest. You didn’t realize how tired you actually were. You felt an eeriness, turning your head to see Buggy examining you. “Please don’t mention it.” You begged.

“You’re a lot less intense without all of that on…” Buggy mentioned it.

You shielded your face, groaning from embarrassment. “We all have personas. You have your clown thing. I have my intense dark thing. Drop it. Please.” “I think it looks rather nice. Cuter. Less stabby.” Buggy tried to compliment and joke to ease your discomfort. You unshielded yourself, nodding and taking the compliment.

“Thank you Buggy.” You mumbled. Your body turned to him. Your eyes attempted to stay awake for his sake and for fear of him betraying you. “See. Adorable. Like a little rabbit.” Buggy chuckled. He cautiously scooted closer to you and rested his hand on your hip. His hand slowly stroked your hip, not able to keep his eyes off you. He leaned in to press a kiss over you before you pulled away. “I don’t think that’s a great idea. We’re not having sex. You don’t need to play house with me.” You warned. You didn’t want to break a boundary. It bruised Buggy’s ego, but he covered it quickly.

“No round 2? You’re right. I’m tired too.” He tried to quickly recover. You felt guilty, but it was too much intimacy.

A silence fell over the two of you as you laid there, attempting to sleep. The awkwardness keeping you both up. You broke the silence. “You can hold me if you want…” You whispered.

It was dark inside the room, allowing Buggy to truly express how he felt. His lips grew into a huge goofy smile before wrapping his arms around you reluctantly. But in reality, that’s all he wanted. “I get it. The dark can be scary.” Buggy mocked you.

“Shut up and go to sleep.” You retaliated.

You leaned into one another. Your head resting over his chest and his arms wrapped around your waist. Your hand rested on his toned arms. He rubbed circles into your hips, relaxing you. You both knocked out, wrapped around each other.

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

You woke up early enough to make your escape unknown. You checked on Buggy to see if he was awake. Poor thing. You didn’t want to break his heart. You dressed yourself and gathered all your belongings.

Even the map to the grand line Buggy stole from you months ago. You vanished within thin air and escaped the boat. You woke your entire crew up, faking a story of a terrible encounter with Buggy. Thankfully you had enough time to cover your marks up, leaving a few to make the fight look believable. Your legs were littered with bruises. Your arm had a few scratches, and your chest had a few scattered around.

And there. You left port for a new island to hide out to.

Notes: This fan fic really represents how i've felt after realizing i was attracted to a clown rather than a normal character in the show

#buggy pirates #buggy the pirate #buggy #op buggy #buggy the clown #captain buggy #opla buggy #buggy fanfiction #buggy smut #buggy x reader #buggy x you #buggy one piece #one piece netflix #one piece #one piece fan fiction #opla x reader #opla #opla fanfiction

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goblins-riddles-or-frocks · 10 months

Note

dual-part fic prompt: first a moment where nikolai ran across the darkling as a little boy, potentially even a scene where he'd broken into his private rooms and was hiding or something, and then a moment where he's mocking nikolai sometime circa R&R or KOS just before the monster takes over again (can be real or a hallucination)

Not the exact same concept but I was already working on a one shot with vaguely similar elements! Pre KoS I had a lot of thoughts about the Darkling resurfacing as basically a voice in Nikolai’s head. So I’m leaning into that with this.

***

At first, Nikolai thinks he is going mad. Ever since that fateful night, where he plummeted from the sky, still more monster than man, the Darkling’s power rapidly fading from him, but not quickly enough, he’s felt it. There’s an ice in his chest, always with him, an invasive presence chilling him to the bone. There are thoughts, urges, he doesn’t quite understand, that don’t quite feel like his own. When he dreams, even his nightmares aren’t fully his.

He might dream of meat, of sprouting talons and wings again, of losing sanity and taking flight. Or see his family dying at that last wretched dinner in his honor, gruesome memories from the army, from his time at sea. Those things are horrible, but they’re familiar. They’re not foreign things lodged into his mind.

Other nights though, he dreams of traveling endlessly, changing names with every village and city, always looking over his shoulder for fear of being discovered. Of hands holding him underwater, in an iced over lake. But in the most frequent dreams, he is only terrified of being alone in the all-consuming dark.

Then there are the dreams of Alina. Her hands, her neck, the feel of her. The way her face betrays her every single emotion. And the collar. Always the collar. Mine, a quiet, resentful voice whispers to him. She should have been mine. Mine to shape, mine to guide. My balance. My right.

It would be simpler to call it madness. But of course, Nikolai would never have such good fortune.

He’d hoped it— whatever it was— would go away with time, that it was just a matter of readjusting to life as a mere mortal again. That it was only the simple business of becoming reacquainted with trivial civilities such as speech, and literacy, and complex thought. But no, even as his monstrous foray feels more and more like a dream, Nikolai continues to feel distinctly altered.

Sobachka, he’ll hear the ghost of the Darkling say in his head. In the dark of night, half-ensared by sleep, when he will not fully remember. Usurper, he calls him. Thief. You foolish, boy-king. Your life is like a flicker of a candle, snuffed out before it’s begun.

The voice persists, grows stronger with each passing day, seeping into his waking moments. A nagging, bitter thing, a wound he cannot help but worry at, and feel it grow even more painful, inflamed.

Sometimes when the nightmares are at their worst, they’ll leave him thrashing in his bed, stumbling out of it with a will he doesn’t fully understand. Sometimes he’ll come to in the halls of the Little Palace, having slipped past multiple sets of guards, and through the wooded tunnel in his sleep. Usually he wakes before he gets too far— after all it’s always the same route, to Alina’s door.

This time, he wakes with his fingers— always stained with black, he still shudders at the sight of them— curled around the cool metal door handle. He recoils, almost stumbles, and he is about to turn away, but then the door opens a crack and he can see her peering out at him.

“Nikolai?” Alina says, voice raspy like she’s been asleep or perhaps crying. He can see the warm glow of lamplight behind her. She’s told him she cannot stand the dark anymore. That makes two of them.

He runs a hand through his hair, not quite fully awake yet. That dreaming urge to be near her still eating at him. “I’m sorry, did I wake you?”

“Is something wrong?”

Tell her you’re pathetic, a drowning child, foolish enough to wade out into the sea. Instead he blinks, tries to smile. “I couldn’t sleep.”

She finally opens the door all the way, gesturing for him to come in. His gaze flickers to the antlers at her neck, the scales at her wrist, and the second fetter, bone white but delicately carved into the shape of talons clasped around her other wrist.

He always wonders if she’d requested that bit of obfuscation, or perhaps David had been feeling artistic. It’s weakness. Even now she refuses to face difficult truths.

She ushers him through the impersonal audience chamber and to the hexagonal bedroom all in shades of black. He wonders idly if she’ll ever change it.

She fusses over him to sit by the fire. He hadn’t realized he was shaking.

“I’d ring for tea,” she says. “But you hate it, and it is unreasonably late.”

“It is an abominable hour isn’t it? I’m sorry for disturbing you.”

She smiles faintly, fetching glasses and a bottle of brandy instead. He takes his own glass gratefully, tries not to spill it. He wonders how drunk he’d have to be before he stops hearing that cool voice in his head, trickling through his own thoughts like meltwater.

It hasn’t quite been a year since the Shadow Fold was destroyed. Since she drove a dagger in the Darkling’s heart to do it.

Nikolai doesn’t remember this part, or well, he shouldn’t remember, he wasn’t back to himself by then. But somehow he knows. The roiling, cold thing, whatever remnant of the Darkling still exists inside him, it remembers. How could I forget? When I was so close to my purpose, so close to lifting this country out of its misery.

After all was said and done, Alina had quietly accompanied him back to the capital. The Saint at his side to bolster his claim. She’d weathered the coronation with him and the chaos of drawing Ravka back from civil war.

But mostly she just sequesters herself in this room and its funerary elegance. He wonders if she likes it because it’s so miserable, or simply because it belonged to the Darkling. It’s a strange shrine to a dead man.

He’d proposed to Alina yet again, after everything, and she’d rejected him firmly enough that he’s resolved that it will be the final time. It had stung though, so much that he doesn’t like to think about it.

Even an orphan girl that comes from nothing will not have you. How humiliating.

Nikolai wants to say, if certain dreams are anything to go by, then it appears you’re in the same boat. But he catches himself before he does.

The most frustrating part of this, beyond the confusion and the unnerving distraction of having a foreign voice nattering in his head, is that more often than not he cannot reply. Nikolai has always been uniquely terrible at keeping his mouth shut. Over the years he’s become very adept at knowing the right thing to say, but simply staying silent is not one of his strengths. It’ll be just what he needs, walking around arguing with an invisible adversary.

He can see it now. Mad King Nikolai, remembered for his good looks and the pesky habit of interrupting nearly every conversation with entirely irrelevant, but admittedly clever, insults.

Alina lets him drink in silence, waiting for him to collect himself long enough to speak.

“There’s something wrong with me,” he says finally, more bluntly than he’d like.

“What do you mean?”

There’s too much open concern in her eyes, startlingly dark next to the rest of her face. This close he can tell that she has been crying. For her tracker no doubt. Wasted tears on an otkazat’sya who was only ever born to die.

He must really look wretched, because she touches his face gently. It’s meant in simple comfort but for a helpless moment he wonders if she’s trying to hurt him.

That’s pity on her face. She sees you for the broken, repulsively frail thing you are. A clock with a missing cog, a puppet with cut strings. Pathetic.

The firelight catches in her pale hair, makes it into a halo. It gleams off the amplifiers too, turning the bone white of them to a warm gold. He doesn’t like the way his eyes keep catching on them. And the place on her shoulder, where beneath the nightdress, he shouldn’t know she has a scar.

He pulls away, looking to the fire, the rest of the room, anything but her.

Despite everything, his wounded pride and his wounded heart, he’s glad now that she knew better than to accept his hand. Perhaps she sensed it somehow. How he is still stained by the Darkling’s mark.

“I’m not entirely certain yet,” he tells her, attempting for a light tone and failing miserably. “There’s a few possibilities, I don’t much like any of them.”

“Well, what are they?”

He remembers, as a child, in his rowdier days before anyone had come close to mastering the art of making him sit through an entire lesson at a time, he’d actually snuck in here. It’s virtually unchanged since then, the same carved forest on the walls, the same chips of pearls on the ceiling. He’d known no tutor would dare to look for him in the storied Darkling’s quarters. And he’d been right.

Unfortunately the room’s occupant himself had the audacity to be there, sitting by the same fireside with a book. Nikolai still remembers how towering the Darkling had seemed to his child’s eyes, gazing down at him with a bemused expression. The smoothness of his gestures nearly uncanny, almost serpentine as he approached him and crouched to nearly eye level.

“Moi tsarevich, it’s an honor,” he’d said, too seriously.

Nikolai had only backed towards the door, unnerved.

“I assume you have very important business.”

He’d nodded. “I snuck a live lizard in tutor Mitkin’s lunch and now he’s very cross with me.”

“Hm, a noble endeavor. Stay out of my way and tutor Mitkin needn’t know where you’ve taken refuge for the moment.”

And then the Darkling had offered him cake.

It’s an odd memory he can’t quite reconcile with everything that came after. Far too ordinary.

Should I have poisoned you? I believe that’s your brother’s wheelhouse though.

“Insanity,” he tells Alina, moving to stand. He feels restless in this confined space. His skin itches, feels too tight, ill fitting and wrong. “Which would certainly be a very interesting way to start a reign.”

Alina lets him pace, watching him quietly. “The other options?”

“A very creative imagination. Rather unlikely, I would say.”

“And?”

“The Darkling has taken up residence in my mind. Somehow.”

“What’s it like?”

“It’s like he’s whispering in my ear. Like I can feel him, taking root inside me.” He still vividly remembers the shadows pouring down his throat. The strange wrenching feeling in those moments before he’d turned into the Darkling’s creature. “Unfortunately he fancies himself a conversationalist.”

“Oh. That sounds unpleasant.”

“It is.” He sits down beside her again. Feeling rather defeated and sorry for himself.

“Aleksander,” she whispers.

And the voice that answers is not his own. “My Alina.”

“I killed you,” she breathes. But she’s also drifting closer, like she wants to touch him— the Darkling, not Nikolai, he knows that— but is afraid to.

“And I’ll haunt you for it.”

Alina takes a shuddering breath. It looks like she might cry again.

He doesn’t expect her to kiss him. He barely feels it, though his body responds regardless, hungry, possessive. At least for now, the Darkling’s voice is blessedly silent.

#ideally I’d edit this but I’m too busy so woo hot mess version instead 💖#I’ll get back to it one day…#grishaverse #shadow and bone #darklina #nikolina #alarkling #darknikolina #kind of?#nikolai lantsov #alina starkov #aleksander morovoza #the darkling #i ramble sometimes #a string of words #all the bendy punctuations #*writer’s cap*#silence

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darkwitchoferie · 1 month

Text

Accidentally in Love

Steve and Eddie have been dating for months, but neither of them have noticed until Robin and Nancy confront them about it.

Read on AO3 here.

Steve and Eddie sat on the floor in front of the couch, pressed into each others’ sides while they watched tv in the Munsons’ new living room. It was about 5:00 am, but it wasn’t all that unusual for the pair of them to be awake together the whole night. The whole group had nightmares, which had thankfully gotten less in the six months since Spring Break, but Steve and Eddie both had insomnia on top of that. So when they couldn’t sleep, they were often together.

They were just getting to the end of Kiss Me, Stupid on the Movie Channel, when Wayne pushed open the door. “’Mornin’ boys,” he greeted them.

In a move he saw frequently, they turned to look at him in unison, “’Morning Wayne.”

“Look what I got,” Wayne announced, pulling a worn horseshoe out of his coat pocket.

“Excellent,” Eddie grinned, jumping up to rummage under the kitchen sink until he came up with a hammer and nails. He dragged a kitchen chair to the door and stood on it to hammer nails through the shoe his uncle held above the door. “Where’d you get it?”

“John, at the plant, his sister and her man have a horse boardin’ stables not too far off. Guess he was out there a couple days ago and remembered me sayin’ somethin’ about needin’ a new shoe.”

“Why do you need a horseshoe?” Steve asked.

“To hold luck,” Eddie said, as if it were obvious. “See, you hang it like this, so the points are up, and it collects good luck for the household.”

“We lost the old one, went down when the old place was sucked into that hole. And we made sure to get a mirror this time, neglected it last time,” Wayne said, tapping the small, age-spotted mirror they’d found in a thrift shop, that now hung beside the door. “You hang a mirror by the door to protect the house from evil spirits,” he explained to Steve’s puzzled look. Eddie finished hammering, hopped off the chair, then hurried to the bathroom, leaving the hammer on the counter.

“Is that why you and Eddie pour out some of your first beer too?”

“Mm, no. That’s an offerin’ to our dead. His ma, my wife, my pa, I think he pours out for Chrissy too, though he’s never said so. But it’s a way to remember and honor your dead.” Wayne looked puzzled. “Do your people not have traditions like that?”

He shook his head. “I don’t have family, not the way you and Eddie do. I think my dad’s parents are dead and I’m not sure about my mom’s. Neither of them ever talked about their parents or aunts or uncles or anything. The only thing I know about either side is that Mom’s family’s Italian and my grandma gave her a recipe book of her own recipes when they got married. For all I know, they could be alive and well in Italy. So I have no idea what any of my family was like, except my parents.”

“And your parents suck, Stevie.”

“I know,” Steve smiled just a little as Eddie rejoined them. He sat back down on the floor, running his fingers through Steve’s hair and gently scratching the back of his head as he did. Steve sighed, closing his eyes, and leaned into his hand.

Wayne cleared his throat as he lifted the chair and slid it back under the table. “You boys get any sleep last night?”

“There’s still a chance for sleep,” Eddie commented. Wayne just raised an eyebrow, knowing they both had to leave for work at the video store by 9:30. “It could happen!” he protested.

Despite being cleared by the local police, and the FBI agents that were brought out, a fair number of people in town were still suspicious of Eddie. That had made Keith reluctant to hire him when Robin and Steve first broached the subject. Then he realized he had no other options – very few people wanted to work in the video store and those that did were still in school. Monday mornings and early afternoons were almost as busy as Friday afternoons just in the opposite direction. While more people were checking stuff out on Friday, most of them were returning those same videos early in the day on Mondays. This made Fridays and Mondays the only two days all three of them worked at the same time. Robin suspected that parents came in early on Mondays to avoid their kids asking for more movies.

On Mondays, since Steve drove them all in and Eddie only worked a short shift, Nancy came in around 2 o’clock and hung out for the remaining half an hour until Eddie was clocked out and ready to go home. Things had started to slow by then, as always, so the four of them usually hung around the counter with each other.

Eddie pressed himself against Steve’s back leaning over and around him, so Steve had to bend forward a bit, to put a hand on the counter. “Good afternoon, Lady Wheeler. How is the wide world this day?”

“Hi Eddie,” Nancy smiled at him, well used to his dramatics. “Hawkins is… Hawkins, nothing new to report there. The kids have apparently formed some after school study group on Mondays, so I have extra time before I have to pick the boys and El up.”

“Why? Like, they see each other all the time, why bother creating a study group?” Steve wondered, still bent slightly forward since Eddie hadn’t moved at all.

“Ah, I asked Mike the same thing this morning. If they’ve got an official study group, they have to have a teacher there for any help they might need. Apparently, it’s aimed at helping El catch up on stuff without her needing to ask during class since that makes her nervous because of a bully back in California and without making it obvious that it’s all for her.” While she spoke, she watched as Eddie’s free hand wrapped around to the front of Steve’s hip and he slid his thumb into the slightly shorter man’s belt loop.

“That’s sweet,” Robin commented.

“Mm, they can be, when they want to,” Nancy agreed, referring to the four boys. “But other than that, nothing new. Unless there’s something new from you?” She and Robin turned expectantly to the two men.

“Mm, nope,” Steve shrugged the shoulder Eddie wasn’t leaning on. The two turned together as the phone rang. Steve reached for it under Eddie’s arm, who barely moved out of the way. “Thank you for calling Family Video. How can I help you today?”

With Eddie no longer paying attention to her, Nancy turned to Robin with a raised eyebrow. She just shrugged and shook her head in response, causing Nancy to roll her eyes and mouth today. Robin nodded once.

“Dingus, you love me, right?” Robin asked as soon as the Wheeler family station wagon pulled out of the parking lot.

“Of course I do. Did I not tell you today? Sorry. I love you, Robs.”

“You did tell me, but I appreciate it again. And I love you too,” she smiled, leaning in for a hug. Enough close calls with death made them all the more willing to tell each other how they felt. “My point is,” she continued, stepping out of the hug, “people like us, soul mates like us, they tell each other everything, right? I mean, especially the big things in life, like when they start dating someone new.”

“Did you finally ask Vickie out?! Rob, that’s amazing! When?”

Robin was almost sad to wipe the excited look off of her best friend’s face. “Not me, Dingus! You! You and Munson and all your touchy-feely-mushy so-in-love-we-can’t-hide-it crap.”

“Huh?”

She knew he got confused easily, but this was too much. “You don’t actually think the two of you have been doing a good job hiding your relationship, do you? Because you’re not. You’re so not. You’re like one step shy of renting a billboard or a marching band to proclaim your love to the whole state.”

“Robin,” he said, reaching out and putting his hands on her shoulders. “I love you, but you’re crazy. And very wrong. Eddie and I aren’t dating.”

“Really? And that little possessive hold he had on your hip earlier was… what? ‘Cause I know platonic, and honey, that wasn’t it.”

“What are you talking about? Eddie’s tactile with everyone.”

“No he is not. At least, not the way he is with you. And! Did you or did you not let him read those two books to you? The um… the ones by Terry Whatever-his-name-is?”

“The Colour of Magic and the new one – The Light Fantastic?”

“Yes! Those.”

“Yeah? I mean, he was really excited about them. Read the new one as soon as he could get his hands on it, in one night. When I told him about my issues reading since the head trauma shit, he offered to read them to me. So?”

“So, as said, soul mates,” she waved her hand between the two of them. “But you don’t take an immediate interest in my stuff like that. No, that came out wrong. You are interested in my stuff, come to band shows and you let me ramble your ears off about the stuff I like, but it’s different. Not bad different,” she quickly reassured him, noticing the apprehensive look starting to form on his face. “Just different. And then there’s the dates.”

“We have not been on any dates.”

“Uh-huh. So you wanted to go see Invaders from Mars, in the theater. And decided to pay for both of you and snacks. When usually, if you and I go together, one of us gets tickets, the other gets snacks. And you can’t say it was because he couldn’t, because he’d been working with us for like two months.”

“That… wasn’t a date.”

“Mm. What about that baseball game? Ya know, the one he bought tickets to? Eddie, who we all know loves sports, happened to buy tickets for you two to see your favorite minor league team like a week after you mentioned that you hadn’t been able to get to see a game in years. That was totally a coincidence, right? Definitely not a date. Just like the Judas Priest concert he took you to in August definitely wasn’t a date.”

“Uh….”

“Or, how about your standing Wednesday evening date? Everyone knows that is your date night but, if there’s an emergency, you two can be found at Judy’s Diner, in your usual corner booth, with separate meals but sharing a strawberry shake. Steve, you are literally wearing one of his Metallica shirts, right now,” she plucked at the material under his Family Video vest.

In shock, Steve dropped to the floor. “We’ve never even kissed though, we can’t be dating,” he said softly.

“Wait, seriously?” Robin dropped to sit in front of him.

---

Meanwhile, Nancy parked her car in front of the Munson’s replacement trailer. “Eddie?” she asked before he could open the door. She twisted in her seat to better face him. “We’re friends, right? Me and you.”

“Of course we are!” he swiveled to face her “Wait, why?”

“I just… friends tell each other when they’re dating someone. Or not dating someone.”

Eddie gasped. “Did you and Jon break up? Did he break your heart? Do I need to –”

“Jon and me are fine,” she interrupted. “I’m not talking about us. I’m talking about you and Steve.”

“What about me and Steve?”

Nancy groaned in frustration. “How long have you and Steve been seeing each other and why haven’t either of you said anything to at least me and Rob?”

“There’s nothing to tell, we’re not dating.”

“You are though.”

“Nope. Pretty sure I’d know if I were dating someone, Nance.”

“Okay, but hear me out. Steve likes his personal space, Eddie. Sure, he hugs people and is happy to do it, or other little stuff like that. But he doesn’t cuddle during movies. Or, let people drape themselves over him while he’s doing anything.”

“He does to.”

“He doesn’t. He doesn’t even let Robin do that. Have you ever seen her cuddled up to him like that?”

“That’s gotta be a her thing then.”

“It absolutely is not. There is only ever one person who’s… allowed, I guess? One person who he is totally comfortable being all over him whenever and it isn’t Robin. Do you wanna know why it isn’t Robin?” Eddie nodded his head. “Because he only does that with someone he’s dating. Trust me on this, I know the difference between how he acts when he is and isn’t seriously dating someone.” He still didn’t look convinced, but he didn’t look quite as disbelieving either. “Okay, I know you’ve eaten his cooking, we all have. But, has he ever made anything he calls ‘fussy’ for just the two of you? No Robin, no kids, and probably at his house, so no Wayne either.”

He started to shake his head then stopped. “He made… something that sounded like bologna, but was pasta? He called it fussy,”

“Bolognese?”

“Yes!”

“Insisted you eat at the kitchen table instead of in the living room and even served it on the good China?”

“He said all that work meant we had to appreciate the food and sitting in the living room with paper plates isn’t appreciating.”

“He’s not wrong about that. Point is, that’s his grandma’s recipe. And that was a date.”

“What about the lasagna?”

“Meat or veggies? Canned sauce?”

“Spinach and mushrooms, not canned sauce.”

“Date.” Eddie stared at her, wide-eyed. “Has he ever made spaghetti…,” she hesitated, trying to remember the name of the dish, “carbonara! Spaghetti carbonara for Wayne? It’s spaghetti noodles, with an egg sauce and crispy bacon. Like, made it at the trailer on a day that he knew Wayne didn’t have to go to work so the three of you could have dinner together?”

“Yeah,” he said hesitantly.

“That’s his winning-over-the-parents meal. It’s another of his grandma’s recipes – they all are – but he told me the carbonara looks and tastes fussy without looking like he’s trying to overshadow my mom’s cooking.”

“He made a cake for Wayne’s birthday.”

“That is just because he likes Wayne, not because he’s trying to impress him.” Nancy reached over and squeezed his arm.

“I’m dating Steve?” he asked softly.

“Yeah, sweetie, you are.”

“Since when?! Does Wayne know? Why didn’t I know? Did I miss him asking me out?” his eyes widened in horror. “Did I ask him out and then forget?”

---

Steve did not immediately go over to Eddie’s after dropping Robin off like he normally would. It felt odd to him to not drive out to the trailer park, but he made himself go home. Inside, he took the stairs two at a time then just stood in his bedroom doorway, looking around. There were the jeans and t-shirt Eddie wore two days ago, dropped in front of the laundry basket instead of actually in it because he’d tried to toss them in, missed, and hadn’t bothered to pick them up yet. He knew if he looked in the basket, he’d find a mix of both their clothes. Eddie’s acoustic guitar sat propped against the wall beside his window, the notebook he was currently using to plan a DnD campaign was sitting on the nightstand under the book he’d been reading on his side of the bed. He had a side of the bed, same as Steve did at the trailer, that’s how often they shared a bed. He knew without looking that if he opened the dresser drawers, nearly half of his stuff wouldn’t be in there, but would have been replaced with Eddie’s. The missing half of his clothes were in Eddie’s dresser. He looked down the hall at the open bathroom door and could just make out the two toothbrushes in the toothbrush holder.

“Are we living together too?” he asked himself quietly.

He spent a while longer cataloguing all of the things in his house that were Eddie’s or that had some connection to him. The polaroid of the two of them at the Indianapolis Indians game, where Eddie was actually wearing one of Steve’s baseball hats. Steve’s ticket to the Judas Priest concert, taped to the mirror on his closet door, along with a couple movie tickets that he remembered going to with just Eddie. A look out into the backyard at the bonfire pit Eddie had helped him dig reminded him of several evenings spent by the fire, just the two of them, roasting hot dogs and marshmallows and Eddie telling him stories about the constellations they could see. In the dining room, the China cabinet reminded him of dinners he’d cooked especially for Eddie. In the living room, there was a staged family picture where Eddie had drawn X’s on the glass over his parents’ faces, but a heart around Steve’s face.

Did he even want to be dating Eddie? A sharp pain stabbed through him at the mere thought of not being around Eddie constantly. He stared up at the portrait, not really seeing it but picturing Eddie – his long fingers wrapped around the neck of his guitar or threaded through Steve’s own while they walked into the diner; his curls escaping the messy bun he’d tried to put them in and blowing in the wind from the open car window as they drove aimlessly around; his wide smile and infectious laugh; the easy, simple affection in most every interaction; the feel and sound of his voice as he lay spooned behind Steve, telling him some story or other or just talking.

He wasn’t sure how long it had been since he got home when he heard the front door open. “Stevie?”

Steve spun around from where he’d been staring at the family portrait. “We’re dating,” he blurted.

“Oh, thank God!” Eddie’s shoulders slumped in relief. “I thought it was just me who didn’t realize! ‘Till Nance confronted me in the car, anyway. Ya know, Wayne knows too? Said ‘it’s obvious, boy’ and he ‘assumed everyone knew’ and that’s why we weren’t outright telling people. How can everyone know something about us that we didn’t know?”

“You don’t even like baseball.” Steve wasn’t sure why that was what came out of his mouth, but it was too late to take it back.

“Eh, the game wasn’t too bad. Maybe it’s high school sports I have issues with? Plus, you were so excited the whole afternoon. You don’t like Judas Priest.”

“They aren’t bad. But you do. You had a blast at that concert, and I had fun watching you have a blast. We have a standing date night.”

Eddie looked perplexed for a second. “Wednesdays, at the diner. We split a strawberry shake. Who…?”

“Robin. Right after you and Nance left. I think I’m still processing,” he turned to look back at the portrait. “You drew a heart on my face.”

“Hm,” Eddie stepped up behind him, pressing against his back like always. “Yeah, I did.”

“We basically live together.”

“Huh. Yeah, I guess we do.”

“I’ve never dated anyone this long without kissing them,” Steve said softly after a moment.

“We can fix that,” Eddie responded, matching his tone.

Steve turned around, his arm brushing Eddie’s chest as he did. Their inch in height difference usually wasn’t all that noticeable, but then, Steve usually didn’t have to tip his head back to kiss someone. For just a moment, they stared into each others’ eyes. Then Eddie grinned, tapped Steve’s nose with the tip of his, and leaned in, pressing his lips to the younger man’s. Steve surged forward, gripping Eddie’s hips and pressing their chests together.

Some time later, they lay in bed together, Steve half sprawled across Eddie’s chest and Eddie’s fingers gently combing through Steve’s sweaty hair.

“Important question,” Steve asked after a bit.

“Shoot.”

“Do we count today as our anniversary since it’s when we realized we were dating, or mid-May, which is when Robin thinks we started dating?”

Eddie chuckled. “Well, we don’t actually have a day for mid-May, do we? But we know today.”

“Mm. Good point,” he leaned up to kiss his boyfriend again.

#steddie #steddie fic

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cariantha · 1 year

Text

Bad Dream

Book: Open Heart, Book 2 Pairing: Dr. Ethan Ramsey x F!MC (Dr. Sawyer Brooks) Rating: General Category: Fluff Word count: 1.2K Summary: Sawyer has a nightmare while Ethan is out of town and despite the distance he is able to bring her comfort in the sweetest way.

A/N: To the anon who sent this ask, I’m sorry for taking so long to follow up. I had promised “Coming Soon” content, but the original idea for this fic was not working. So, I scrapped it and ended up going another direction, inspired by the song Bracelet by Lauv. Hope you like it!

Almost three months had passed since the attempted attack on the senator and Sawyer was doing fairly well. Finally back to work full-time, going to counseling, and taking medication as needed. Despite the positive prognosis, Ethan knew there could still be setbacks. Nor was he over his own fear of losing her. So he continued to keep a watchful eye. And being this far away caused stress and constant worry.

It was supposed to be a quick turnaround trip. The plan was to fly to Cleveland with Baz, consult on a case, and return home as quickly as possible. But nothing had gone according to plan. A diverted flight, lab work delays, and a challenging diagnosis kept him in Ohio three days longer than originally anticipated.

2:00 P.M.

8:30 P.M.

“You were right, Ethan,” Baz announced as he returned to the conference room with updated lab results. “It’s POEMS syndrome.”

A couple hours later, Ethan and Baz had drafted a detailed treatment plan to present to the patient's physician of record.

“Baz, we’ve been in Ohio much longer than I anticipated. I need to get back to Boston. Do you think you can wrap up this consultation on your own? There’s a flight back to Boston leaving at 5 a.m. that I’d like to catch.”

“I got this, Boss.”

“Thank you.”

1:00 A.M.

After booking the flight and packing his things, Ethan laid on the hotel bed intending to catch a nap before his ride to the airport arrived. Eyes closed but far from sleep, his phone buzzed and vibrated on the nightstand, Sawyer’s name flashing on the screen.

“Rookie?”

“E-Ethan.”

He sat up and turned on the lamp when he heard his whimpered name. “Hey,” he said delicately, “what’s wrong?” His heart started to beat faster and harder, mind suddenly racing with all of the possible reasons for the broken voice on the other end of the line.

Trying to stop herself from crying, Sawyer snuffled, “I just needed to hear your voice. Will you talk with me for a little bit?”

“I’m here,” he assured her, “whatever you need.”

With that specific request he understood the cause of her distress. Though not as frequent several weeks later, Sawyer continued to have nightmares about the poison attack. This one likely the result of whatever triggered her anxiety earlier in the day. “Was it another nightmare?”

“Yeah, it was a bad one,” her voice was still shaking.

“Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. Is that okay?”

“Of course.”

“I’m sorry for waking you up.”

“No need to be sorry. I wasn’t asleep. I was actually lying awake thinking of you.”

“You were? What were you thinking about?”

One night after a particularly upsetting dream, Ethan brought comfort by revealing one of the moments when he started to realize he had feelings for her. Since then, whenever they were together and Sawyer woke up from a bad dream, he soothed her back to sleep with another endearing memory.

“Do you remember the leather wrist band you bought for me at the farmer’s market last year?” he recalled.

“You mean the friendship bracelet I gave you? Because you were being stubborn and wouldn’t admit that we were friends?” she wise-offed.

“Can you hear my eyes rolling?” he came back with, earning a light chuckle from the other end of the line. “Yes, that’s the one.” His voice now gentle, “I don’t remember if I ever told you, but I took it with me when I left for the Amazon. You know that I convinced myself that it would be best for us to try and move on… but that didn’t mean I was ready to let you go right away. With a foot already out the door, I realized that I needed to take a piece of you with me, so I went back for it. I figured I’d wear it until enough time passed that I didn’t need to anymore. I was so busy and distracted when I was working that I sometimes fooled myself into thinking I was finally getting over you... but at night when I was alone with my thoughts…” he exhaled softly, “well, they always drifted to you and I’d wake up missing you even more.” Sawyer sniffed back sentimental tears as he continued. “The day that I didn’t need it anymore never came. I wore that leather band every day until I came home.”

“Thank you for telling me that,” she whispered. “Want to know something?”

“What’s that?”

“When you first told me about the W.H.O. mission, I started following their Pictagram account. After you had been gone for a few weeks, they posted a picture of you and you were wearing the bracelet. And the night you came back, when we were talking in the beer garden, I saw it around your wrist. Just under the sleeve of your jacket,” she explained. “It’s the reason I kissed you that night. You’d never wear something like that unless it meant something important to you.”

“I see you’ve mastered the art of observation,” he joked before getting serious again. “And it did. It still does.”

Sawyer’s phone vibrated in her hand as a notification alerted her to a new text message.

“Ethannnnn, you’re wearing it now?” touched by the gesture.

“This time it was the first thing I grabbed when packing for this trip. I wanted a piece of you with me while I was away.”

“I love…” she caught herself. It’s not that she didn’t want to say it, she just didn’t want to pressure Ethan to say it back if he wasn’t ready. “I love that. It’s so sweet.”

“And far less creepy than pocketing a pair of your panties,” trying and successfully making her laugh.

“Well, I should probably confess that I’ve raided your closet and will be spooning your pillow so I can feel close to you too.”

He laughed heartily at the mental image. “Are you feeling better?”

“Much.”

“I’m glad. Go have a cup of tea and try to get back to sleep,” he encouraged.

“Any chance I’ll see you tomorrow?” she asked hopefully.

“We’ll see, but I think the odds are looking good,” he replied knowing full well he’d be boarding a plane and on his way home to her in just a couple of hours.

“Well, fingers crossed. And Ethan?”

“Yeah?”

“Thank you,” she said most sincerely.

“Only good dreams now, okay? Goodnight, Rookie.”

“Bye, babe.”

9:00 A.M.

Ethan entered the still apartment, leaving his coat and suitcase in the entryway. Seeing no sign of life yet, he quietly made his way to the master bedroom. Head just barely poking out from under the comforter, he found her just as she said, spooning his king size pillow.

He carefully toed off his shoes and parted with his shirt and pants. He removed his watch, placing it on the top of the dresser, but left his other accessory on.

Lifting the comforter, Ethan climbed into bed scooting up against her backside and wrapped his arm tightly around her. Though jarring her from sleep, the familiar touch and scent instantly quieted her alarm.

“Surprise,” he breathed into her ear before kissing her cheek and trailing down her neck.

With a raspy morning voice she uttered “Hiiiii” while her hands hugged his arm, the feel of braided leather under one of her palms.

“Did you have better dreams after we talked?” he mumbled against the skin of her exposed shoulder.

Rolling over, she nudged him flat onto his back and slowly straddled his hips. “Mhmmm, the best. And it looks like they’re about to become reality,” she smirked before leaning down and kissing him deeply.

Tag List: @choicesficwriterscreations @openheartfanfics @potionsprefect @jamespotterthefirst @annfg8 @peonierose @socalwriterbee @tessa-liam @jerzwriter @quixoticdreamer16 @mysticalgalaxysstuff @inlocusmads @txemrn @trappedinfanfiction @mvalentine @takemyopenheart @ofmischiefandmedicine @openheartforeverinmyheart @doriopenheart @coffeeheartaddict2 @genevievemd @starrystarrytrouble

#open heart #open heart choices #open heart fanfic #ethan ramsey #ethan ramsey x mc #ethan x mc #ethan x sawyer #choices stories you play #choices open heart #playchoices #choices fic writers creations #cfwc fics of the week

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masterwords · 7 months

Text

without trying to bite down

Summary: Coming to terms with suffering one bottle of whiskey and one kiss at a time. (Coda to Profiler, Profiled...Ashes and Dust...and Birthright. Yeah, you read that correctly. We're jumping through 3 episodes here.)

Pairings: Hotch/Morgan

Words: ~5k

Warnings: alcohol, divorce, talk about past abuse (Hotch & Morgan), canon-typical darkness/angst/suffering (mind the episodes listed above)

Notes: Another one-shot in the Restless Heart universe. This one is going to directly lead into another jumping off on the Profiler, Profiled bit. Anyway, maybe I'll take a break for a bit and let the dust settle here...maybe jump back into the Chicago Times universe for a while and also bust out a few Halloween theme fics here and there.

And when we can see things clearer than we think we see them now Maybe kiss each other sweetly without trying to bite down Maybe then all this will be better & maybe then we ll recover (We'll Recover | Matt Nathanson)

Beers. It always came down to beers. JJ bought the first round even though she’d said she had other plans, Dave decided to spring for the second and third. The case had been bad, but watching Hotch take those divorce papers and walk out of the BAU had set them all on edge in a different way. Going out for beers felt forced but still necessary.

“Derek, you’re still on round one. You’re missing out on free drinks. That’s not like you.”

“Sorry,” he said like it mattered. Like he cared. He couldn’t shake the image of Hotch accepting that folder in front of everyone. Of Hotch living out a nightmare, his private struggle on center stage. He liked to keep everything locked up tight, and the team were pretty content to let Hotch keep them all at arm’s distance.

“What’s eating you?” Emily asked, nudging his elbow. He looked downright pitiful. It wasn’t like Derek not to seek out the most fun at a bar – the dance floor, flirting with the bar tender, commandeering the jukebox for the night. He always had a plan and instead, right now, he looked like someone had pissed in his Cheerios.

“Ah, just thinking about Hotch. That was cold as ice, don’t you think? Haley having him served right there in front of all of us.”

Emily’s frown told him she disagreed, but before she could say anything Dave took the opportunity to share wisdom he’d gathered following three divorces. He’d paid enough divorce lawyers in his time to be considered an expert in the field and wasn’t ashamed to admit it. Derek thought, on some level, he probably should have been.

“She is supposed to have him served in a public place if possible. I’m sure she intended for him to be served in his office, that’s where he usually is. It just happened that he was on his way out. You can’t fault her for circumstances.”

“We would all have found out anyway,” JJ chimed in, but Derek had his doubts. Hotch hadn’t shared the knowledge that they were separated, he had made sure more than once to check. Each time he was met with the same icy glare that said no, he wasn’t sharing the news. Hotch would have just carefully removed his wedding ring and quietly gone about his business, never announcing or indulging the topic. And none of them ever would have asked. “Right?”

“I had a feeling there was trouble in paradise.”

Everyone turned to look at Emily, last of all Derek. He already knew what she was going to say.

“I was on a stakeout with him. The serial arsonist in San Francisco last year? We were watching Abby, waiting for him to come out of the bank and Hotch took a call from Haley. It sounded bad.”

“What was it about?”

“I don’t know. Didn’t ask. He’s not exactly an open book, Jayj.”

Derek looked down into the foam that had settled in a small circle atop what remained of his beer. He remembered the case, and how he felt working it. He’d known when Hotch walked in to the BAU that something was wrong – another fight with Haley, probably, they were happening more and more frequently. Little things, big things, they all took a toll. That morning it was written all over his face, in the tears that made his eyes shine bright and mad. It dripped off of him when he volunteered to go to see the victim in the burn ward. When he looked at her picture in the file. If Derek had been on his game he would have confronted him then, but he waited. Things were still a little shaky after Chicago, after Buford.

“Oh, yeah,” JJ said, nodding. “He was so angry on that case. He snapped at me when he showed up for calling everyone to the BAU instead of right to the jet. Said I was wasting time because the victim wasn’t going to live much longer. He made it sound like I’d blown the case.”

“We did only get a few minutes with her,” Emily said, her tone a little defensive. Hotch wasn’t wrong, but it was unlike him to be so cruel. Especially to JJ who he had a soft spot for. JJ just shrugged.

“I know he was right. When they called about the case, they didn’t make it sound like she was...I thought we had time.”

Derek stopped listening after a while. That case, he hadn’t seen much of Hotch. They had been in a quiet place then, he remembered. Cordial but cold. He thought it had started in Chicago, but now he thought it happened maybe even before that. He couldn’t give you an exact point that things started crumbling but he did know that the case in San Francisco had given them something back. A fresh start.

It hadn’t been pretty though. It had been laced with mistakes and tears and a lot of whiskey.

(x)

They were in the SUV, and Hotch had gone silent. Derek watched the way his features strained around the realization that Abby was going to light up that warehouse with himself inside of it. When he realized that Abby meant to sacrifice himself, and he watched the way the tears brightened Hotch’s eyes as he turned on his heel and stalked out of the station. Without thinking or waiting for instruction, Derek hurried after him with keys in hand.

“Hotch! Slow down!” he called as they broke out into the brisk night air. There were no stars in the sky, it was just pitch black above the ghostly glow of city lights. The world felt wrong. Hotch didn’t slow, but he did stop at the passenger door of the SUV and wait with his head hanging low. He was breathing heavily. “What’s the plan?”

“Get to the warehouse. I don’t know, Derek…”

“It isn’t on fire yet. Get in.” He was going to indulge Hotch the best he could, but there was a sick feeling in his stomach that told him this wasn’t going to end well. It was just one of those cases where even winning felt like losing.

They drove in silence. Each time Derek thought about saying something to break it, he glanced over and saw the way the color had drained from Hotch’s face, the way his lips stretched in a grim line, and he decided not to. When his phone rang, he relished the sound until Gideon’s voice began, until Gideon told him what he’d been dreading. They were out of time. There was no hope. And when the explosion rocked the earth in front of them, when it lit the sky with a bonfire for giants, he felt the tremors coming from Hotch himself.

“Morgan what are you doing?”

“Hotch, it’s too late man. I’m sorry.”

There was a wildness in Hotch’s eyes, flickering obsidian in the light of the fire. Derek had never seen his face cast in shadow like this and it reminded him of a frightened and cornered animal. Ready to claw and gnash and tear its way to safety, to justice. He threw the door open without a word, spitting angry and full of righteous abandon met by Gideon and then by Derek, hands to his chest, ceasing his forward motion. What would he have done? Marched right into that blaze? Gone up with Abby, for the cause? For justice? Derek knew this wasn’t justice. Abby had a son, he had time left on this planet, but who else might have to die for him to live? He saw the recognition of sameness in Hotch’s eyes as the building burned and wondered what the fight with Haley had been about that could be so bad Hotch would run toward a fire with all his might.

But then, he always ran toward fire, never away. Derek had always wanted to ask him about it, how it looked like a compulsion wrapped in compassion and heroics. How it looked like payment for a debt he didn’t owe anymore and still carried. Maybe he would.

“You wanna take a drive?” Derek asked as he started up the SUV, eyes still focused on the fire. “Take a breather before we tackle the reports?”

Hotch was silent, and Derek took that silence as approval. Or, rather, a lack of protest...in this case they sounded about the same.

“I could go for a drink.”

“I don’t want to go to a bar.”

“There’s a liquor store down the street from our hotel that’s open late.”

Hotch nodded. He wasn’t a big drinker, but he thought right now was as good a time as any to numb some of the intensity inside of him. He was on the verge of explosion. His whole body felt electric.

Yeah, he could go for some whiskey.

(x)

On a bench overlooking the bay, the two of them sat side by side. In the distance, though he tried not to let his eyes wander that direction, Hotch could still see the benzene burning. Evan Abby was long gone, had probably been since before Hotch even knew the fire had started but it still ached in him like the man was suffering alone out there.

“We’re not good,” Derek said, passing Hotch the brown bag with the whiskey bottle inside. He’d already taken a swig of it himself, and now it was Hotch’s turn to stare into the abyss. “We gotta talk.”

“About?”

“You and me. This. Us.”

“I’m not upset with you, Morgan. You were only doing what Gideon told you, and it was the right call. I just...wish this case had taken a different course.”

“Nah. See, that’s not what I’m talking about. There was a time when you woulda told me about it. You woulda taken me out on that stakeout with you and told me you got into a fight with Haley, or that there was something about Abby that hit a little close to home…”

Hotch took a pull on the whiskey and let out a soft cough at the sting of it going down. They were only a few blocks from their hotel room, neither of them had to do more than stumble back to their beds. That knowledge brought with it a sense of reckless abandon – the case was over, and the charred remains could wait until morning to be sifted through. Hotch’s heart was broken.

“There was a time when you would have asked.”

Derek let out a chuckle and leaned forward, elbows on his knees, peering out into the inky black night. There were murky clouds hovering near the horizon, obscuring the stars. A storm probably, and he kind of hoped it would take its time – that fire didn’t need a downpour, it needed time. Beyond the clouds he stared as the starry sky met starry water, the sounds of waves lapping against the rocks, engines and tires and brakes on the bridges. Headlights danced over the water surface creating the effect of a Dahli painting.

“That’s true.” Derek waited, like Hotch might take over. Like he might start. He was the kind of natural leader that didn’t often sit back and let someone else drive, but in this case Derek was out of luck. Hotch was silent. And when he didn’t, Derek took the bottle from him, pulled a large mouthful and leaned back until his face was turned toward the sky. “Fine. I’ll start, ya stubborn ass. You know why I didn’t ask? Because things got weird in Chicago. Because things have been weird since Chicago. Because you and Gideon know things about me that no one else knows, and every day I come to work wondering if Reid or JJ or Garcia or Prentiss is gonna come up to me and give me a hug and tell me they’re sorry for what I went through…”

“I sealed the reports for that case as confidential. I left out all details that weren’t of direct relevance to putting Buford in prison and keeping him there. I’m the only person who saw the reports and I’m the only Agent being called in for testimony during the trial in a few months. No one else knows or needs to, and my testimony doesn’t mention you as a victim at all. We’ve got a solid case without it.”

“Yeah, I know that. I know, and I appreciate your discretion but...you get it right? It isn’t that I didn’t want to tell you, like I thought you’d weaponize it or think differently about me...but I didn’t want it to become public record. When you walked into that room with my expunged juvie record lookin’ at me like I was some kind of thug...I don’t think I’ve ever felt more humiliated in my life, Hotch. I didn’t tell you about that because it didn’t exist, because it was a bullshit charge on a bullshit arrest by a cop who was out for my blood since I was a kid and for what? What did I do to him? You know what I did?”

“Your father was a cop and he saw a scrappy young man from the wrong side of town using that privilege to get into trouble and get away with it. And when your father was killed, he saw his opportunity to finally make something stick.”

“I was TEN, Hotch…” Derek said, shaking his head. “I was a good kid. I went to school every day, I tried to keep my grades up...yeah I got into some scrappy shit on the playground, man, I was a little boy. We do stupid things sometimes. But that fat bastard tried to accuse me of shoplifting when my mom sent me to the bodega on the corner to get a quart of milk so my sisters and I could have cereal for breakfast while she was at work. Her paycheck was a few days late and Mr. Jannings, he’d let her take what she needed without paying and then she’d run him a check and some cobbler or a cake to catch up when she got paid. We always paid up. That’s what tight knit neighborhoods do, man. You take care of each other. So yeah I took that damn milk and Mr. Jannings watched me do it and he fuckin’ waved at me and said goodnight, and it just happened that fuckin’ Gordinski was coming in for smokes when it happened.”

Hotch nodded and set his lips to the bottle of whiskey, turning it up, splashing the cold liquid against his tongue. It was good whiskey, much too good for the way they were drinking it but it still burned going down.

“I didn’t look at you like you were a thug, Derek. I was…” he paused, searching for the right words. For the key to unlock a moment in time he’d already sealed up tight. He still had the trial to look forward to, the trial that he knew Derek would insist on attending with him. That was a conversation for another time. “I was hurt that you didn’t tell me, that you kept things to yourself that you knew could save you because you didn’t trust me.”

“It wasn’t about trust.”

“Then what was it?”

“I didn’t want all of that on camera Hotch! You gotta see that, right? If it was just you and me, no camera, no one way glass, no fat fuck Gordinski or JJ with her huge sad eyes...just us...I would have spilled it all. If there was a way to explain it to you without all of them knowing…” There were tears streaking Derek’s cheeks and Hotch sighed, looking down at his hands. He wondered if this was going the way Derek anticipated, if this was what he’d been needing. He sincerely hoped so, because it felt to Hotch like it was about as bad as it could get.

“Did you ever think I had anything to do with it?”

“No.”

“You never believed Gordinski? Even when he gave you that bullshit record and told you I had a violent history?”

“Of course not, Derek. I just knew that you were hiding something, and that whatever it was you were hiding was the key to getting you out of that room and catching a real killer. I couldn’t tell if you were protecting yourself or someone else, but you were hiding something. I let myself get caught up in it being a case and I forgot that the man I was trying to save was more than just a falsely accused suspect, he was my friend. I am sorry for that.”

“I know. You’ve said so like five times already.”

“Well, to my knowledge you haven’t accepted it yet so I’ll keep offering.”

Derek nudged the bottle in Hotch’s direction and turned to look at him. “Apology accepted. Your turn.”

Staring at the bottle with wide eyes, Hotch’s tongue felt like a dried out dish sponge. Tasted about like one too. “My turn?”

“Talk to me. Why’d this case fuck you up so bad? Why’d you and Haley fight? What’s going on with you lately?”

“You don’t want to hear my sob story.”

“Hotch, that’s the whole damn reason I bought that bottle and walked your sorry ass to this spot. Start talkin’.”

“I don’t remember what started the fight. I know where it ended, I know that when I go home I’ll be walking right back into it only she’s had a couple of days to plot out her next moves while I’ve been here focused on the case. I know that she’s getting fed up with this job, and that she’ll have a list of alternatives when I walk through the door – jobs she thinks I could do that will keep me home more often, no travel, sitting at a desk not in the line of fire. We had family photos scheduled twice and I came home with stitches or bruises on my face, so she had to keep postponing them. She’s tired of putting her life on hold for the BAU.”

“Is it so bad that your wife wants you around more? I can’t say I blame her.”

“No, that isn’t the problem. I just...can you see me working white collar crime? Sitting at a desk all day?”

“It’ll kill you.”

“It isn’t that my marriage isn’t worth sacrifice, Derek, but…I’ve worked my ass off to get here and I still have aspirations, I still have goals. I gave up a lot to get here, because this is where I belong.” Hotch sighed. “I am giving it thought, though.”

“You’ll make the right decision.”

“I’m not so sure.”

“Okay, well...what about the case then? It can’t all be about the stupid fight.”

“No.”

Hotch was silent for a long while, listening to the bay, the squeal of tires against wood on pylons, the gentle slapping noise of water against rock. In the distance the storm rumbled and the smell of smoke carried on the wind as it picked up. He began to cry.

“As I watched Abby meet with lawyers and doctors, clear out offices and bank accounts, I realized I knew what he was doing because I had watched my father do it too. I had watched my father come out of the oncologist’s office with tears in his eyes, look right up into the sun like it might be his last time ever seeing such a sight, and it hit me harder than I expected. My father was...we never had a good relationship. But in that moment, watching him come to terms with his mortality, I wanted to hug him. I don’t think I’d ever hugged him, at least not since I was toddler who didn’t know any better.”

“How long did he have?”

“A couple of months.”

“Did you hug him?”

“No.”

“Your dad was a real piece of work, I can tell. Just by some of the things you say...sometimes things you don’t say.”

“Another time,” Hotch said sadly. Defeated. “I’d like to focus on Evan Abby. He’s worth remembering, my father is not.”

“Gonna hold you to that.”

“It just hit a little close to home, and to watch him as he decided to sacrifice himself to put an end to the killing...that wasn’t how it was supposed to end. Sometimes I still get caught up in the good guy bad guy mentality. The good guys are supposed to win. It’s childish of me, I know better. I’ve been doing this long enough that I shouldn’t get caught up in that, but when the lines are so clearly drawn like they were in this case it seemed like maybe...this once…”

“The bad guy did lose, though.”

“So did the good guy. And so did his innocent son.”

“Why’d you take the burn ward again?”

“Again?”

“Gideon said you took it last time, but I know you’ve taken it more than that. In fact, I don’t remember the last time you didn’t.”

“I knew she was going to die quickly and I didn’t want any of you to have to be there.”

“You’re lying. You’re hiding something.”

Hotch took a drink, this time, instead of just looking at the bottle. His head was cloudy and he was already crying. He didn’t have much to lose at this point, his dignity had hit the road hours ago. “I had a teacher, when I was twelve. When everyone asked where the bruises came from, how I broke my arm, why I missed a week of school...there was a time I was innocent enough to tell the truth thinking someone might help me. No one did. I was branded a liar, but Mrs. Thorpe believed me. She gave me a place to be so I didn’t have to go home right away. She would let me help her clean the classroom or organize her books, do little odd jobs here and there. It was probably more trouble than help, I wasn’t very attentive to the work itself. And then one day, just after spring break, she didn’t come to school – her husband had come home piss drunk, probably after shutting down the bar with my father and the good old boys – and decided to beat on her some. I guess that was pretty normal, I found out later. I suppose that’s why she believed me. In any case, after he had his fill he passed out on the couch with a lit cigarette in his mouth. They lost the whole house, he was barely hurt, she survived for about a day before dying. I skipped school to go to the hospital and what I saw…”

“Jesus,” Derek said quietly, his eyes wide. “Hotch.”

“The bad guy won. He had a few small burns on his arms, got a fat insurance check and moved out to Texas to start a new life. As a child, I saw too many bad guys win. I thought that was how it worked.”

“Damn.”

“You’re profiling me now.”

“You’re damn right I am. Jesus Hotch.”

“What are you thinking?”

“That you feel responsible for what happened to her. That you think if she hadn’t known about your father, somehow none of that would have happened. That you take the burn ward every time as a way to make it up to her, hoping that you can be there for them while they pass because you weren’t there for her. But Hotch...you were just a kid. Nothing you did caused what happened. You gotta know that.”

“I do,” Hotch whispered. “But regardless of my reasons, I just want to help. I would rather sit with a victim and offer comfort as they pass than think about the unsub.”

They sat in amiable silence, Hotch’s eyes raw and burning, Derek’s chest tight. Two men pouring it all out, with whiskey breath and chilled skin. Above them the storm clouds crackled and began slowly releasing their rain. Neither of them made a move to leave where they sat. “What do we do now?”

“I don’t know. This was your therapy session, Doctor Morgan.”

Derek laughed and leaned forward, dropping his head. “I was kinda hoping you’d take the lead at some point, I’m way out of my depths here. I just thought you were gonna say some shit like oh you know, I left a load of clothes in the washer too long and Haley was up my ass about it before we left…”

Rain drops plunked down quickly into the water, small at first, gaining momentum. The sound became like a roar for a moment and drowned out the sound of their breath. “Did you really think that was it?”

“Okay, no, but I didn’t think it’d be all of that…”

“Be careful what you wish for.”

“How do you do it? Walk around with all of that inside of you?”

Hotch didn’t have an answer for that. He didn’t know. It was just what he did. Another pull for each of them and Derek stood, arching his back, craning his neck from one side to the other. Hotch followed suit, feet landing softly in a forming puddle. Water seeped in through the worn sole of his dress shoe, this was his favorite pair in spite of how worn down they were. Now his sock was wet. The bench had made them both cold and stiff.

Their shoulders bumped as they leaned and twisted at the hips, stretching and bringing life back into stiff limbs, and then their knuckles brushed warm and soft. That brief touch, skin to skin, was electric. Hotch turned to look at Derek, his eyes still shining with tears, and Derek leaned forward automatically pressing a soft, warm kiss to Hotch’s lips. It was fast, tentative, a little shy and when Hotch didn’t pull away he pressed in again. This time it was a little longer, a little more certain, his hand coming up to Hotch’s jaw, hooking the back of his neck, and for a moment the world melted away from them. There was nothing but whiskey lips and a whirlpool of stars and rain and in the distance the sound of a boat’s foghorn as it made its way through the downpour. He’d been so sure when he leaned in, but now as they broke the kiss, Derek couldn’t help feeling sad. Not exactly regret, no he’d wanted to kiss Hotch for years now. But there was some feeling of sadness here he couldn’t quite place.

“Sorry,” Derek said, backing away slowly. “I’m sorry.”

“For what?”

“Don’t get cute. You know for what. You’re married.”

“And I’m your boss. There are several rules about fraternization that you just...”

“Fuck off with that.”

“Don’t be sorry, Derek. Please.”

That was the last thing Hotch said to him before taking one final sip of the whiskey, one regretful sip that would send him right to the toilet the minute he was alone in his hotel room, and heading back across the street. He splashed through puddles that gathered beneath the sidewalks and rushed down the storm drain, pulling his suit jacket up over his head like he wasn’t already drenched. Derek didn’t try to stop him, instead he just sat back down on the bench with the half consumed bottle in his lap and stared out at the water.

“What the fuck.”

(x)

“Hey, thanks for the drinks guys but I’m gonna bounce. Not feelin’ it tonight.” Derek looked around the table at his friends and waited for one of them to inevitably try to reel him back in. None did. It was like they could sense something he hadn’t yet figured out. Everything about him being here felt wrong and they all knew it.

“Drive safe,” JJ said and he laughed, shrugging into his leather jacket.

“Jayj, I had one beer. I’m good. You guys call if you need anything, I’ll haul my ass outta bed to get you home safe.”

Derek started for home, turning up his music to almost full volume as he drove. He didn’t feel like singing along but he thumped his fingers on the steering wheel and bobbed his head and hit every single green light between the bar and his house. As he pulled into the driveway, he noticed a shadow on the porch, leaning up against the railing, long legs sprawled out before him like a lazy shadow scarecrow. He smiled. When he stepped out of the car, the shadow turned toward him and began to go from sitting to standing, pulling itself to full inky height. The porch light caught disheveled black tufts of hair, the harsh angle of his nose, the shine of tears in wild eyes.

“Hotch,” Derek said, approaching quickly. Like he’d known what he would find when he got home, somewhere inside of him he’d been drawn back. He was needed here, with Hotch, not out at a bar talking about Hotch.

“I didn’t know where else to go. I hope you don’t mind.”

“How long have you been sitting here? You should have sent me a text or something. You know where the key is.”

“Wasn’t sure if it was still in the same place...or if I was still welcome to use it.”

It felt like they would kiss, right then. The electricity that shuddered between them as they stood just a little too close, the beer on Derek’s breath, the brown bag around the whiskey bottle hanging from Hotch’s hand. An offering, a relic, a reminder. Derek looked up like he thought the sky might open up any minute and start pouring on them again but it was crystal clear, the kind of night you dreamed about.

“You’re always welcome.”

“Noted.”

Hotch lifted the bottle and offered a sad little half-smile that looked a lot like he was going to start crying. “For old time’s sake?”

“You wanna talk or you just lookin’ for a repeat of the kiss?” It was a joke, or he thought he meant it as one...but he found that saying the words made it too real and he leaned forward to meet Hotch’s lips. They tasted like the ocean, salty and a little sweet, and Derek pulled him closer. Closer. Until they were pressed together so close that they shared a heartbeat. Expectation and a little excitement mingled with a heavy sadness, the ending of something huge and maybe the start of something else. Derek felt like his knees might buckle beneath the weight of it. “Come inside.”

#aaron hotchner #derek morgan #criminal minds #hotchgan #fanfiction #restless heart au #mind the warnings

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autisticlancemcclain · 2 years

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“Lance? What are you doing here?”

Making sure you’re okay, but saying that would only make Shiro feel guilty.

“Keith is snoring particularly badly tonight,” Lance says instead. “My ears need a break.”

It’s only a half-lie. Keith is snoring particularly loudly tonight (and almost always directly in his ears, because no matter what position Lance squirms into during the night, Keith will always manage to pull Lance in close within two minutes. Keith is the world’s cuddliest sleeper, despite how much he likes to appear otherwise). But Lance likes the sound of Keith’s snoring, as embarrassing as that is to admit. In fact, he actually needs it to fall asleep, now. The last time Keith took on a week-long mission for the Blades, Lance only managed to pass out a total of two times without the constant white noise of his boyfriend’s rumbly breathing.

Shiro snorts. “I bet. Adam and I used to joke that the boy damn near rattled the walls. No part of me misses that mess, I’ll admit.”

“Yeah? Even baby Keith snored?” Lance asks, making his way to the little kitchenette. He’s not sure that hot chocolate will help, but it sure as shit won’t hurt. Also, he wants something to do with his hands.

Shiro rests his chin in his hands and sighs fondly. “Oh, yeah. We didn’t know he snored for the first couple days he was with us, ‘cause he was too nervous to sleep right. But that third night he stayed with us — ho-ly shit. I remember Adam totally freaking out because he thought a bear had gotten into the apartment, which made me laugh so hard I woke Keith up.”

Lance giggles as he mixes the sugar into the milk, Shiro chuckling right along with him.

“What other stuff was baby Keith up to? I know about the car incident, and some other scattered stories, but Keith mostly only tells me embarrassing stories about you.”

“Does he now.”

Lance shrugs, grinning. “I’m particularly fond of the story of when you and Adam first met. That one’s funny.”

Shiro scowls. “Whatever Keith said to you was a lie, because he’s a little snot. Ignore him.”

“Are you telling me,” Lance says in an exaggerated Southern belle accent as he brings two mugs over to the table, “that I should ignore my husband? Why, Shiro, dear heavens! It almost sounds like you’re angling for our divorce!”

Shiro gives him a deadpan look, raising an eyebrow, but he can only hold the face for about two seconds before they both burst into laughter, desperately shushing each other so as to not wake up the rest of the team. Eventually, though, their giggles die down, and they sit drinking their hot chocolate in a comfortable silence.

As he nears halfway through his cup, Lance starts tapping his fingers on the mug, expelling some jitters. He knows he has to bring up the subject, figure out why Shiro’s awake with such heavy eye bags and how to help. He wants to help. But he doesn’t quite know how to segue into the issue. He sucks at segues.

Eh, fuck it. Segues are for straight people.

“Is it nightmares?”

Shiro deflates, looking infinitely more exhausted than anyone should ever have to. Lance’s heart aches for him. “Kinda,” Shiro admits. “I am having regular nightmares. It sucks. But — and this is so depressing — I’m so used to being traumatized that the nightmares don’t really scare me, if that makes sense? Like, say I get a nightmare where Haggar is sawing off my arm as I’m awake. Okay. Whatever. It just feels like an everyday thing, y’know?”

Lance winces. He has his fair share of nightmares and struggles, but not so frequently that they’ve just become the status quo.

“I guess the thing that’s really keeping me up is the constant overthinking. I mean, I signed up to lead a small research mission. Now I’m responsible for overthrowing a 10 000 year old colonizational genocide and I feel like nothing I do is helping, and everything is falling apart., and I’m letting you all down at every turn.”

Lance is silent for a moment, thinking. He has to take this slowly, carefully. It’s a rare night for Shiro to open up about his struggles, and Lance wants to help him, dammit.

“Remember Keith’s last Blade mission?” he asks quietly.

Shiro hums his assent.

“I’m pretty sure you already know, but I slept maybe ten hours that week. Routine changes like that are… rough, for me, and it gets worse if I’m struggling before the change. And I was. I know Keith didn’t have a choice, and he had to go, and I wanted him to go, but it was fucking hard. I know it’s probably not great for me to be so dependent on him, either, but the fact of the matter is that I was ducking into corners every few hours to cry. I was exhausted, I was homesick more than usual, I wasn’t eating right because all the food was feeling off, everything was just so fucking horrible.”

Shiro looks surprised to hear this, and Lance hurries on before he can start to feel guilty for not noticing (because that’s Shiro — putting the weight of the world on his shoulders so his loved ones don’t have to carry an ounce).

“I didn’t want anyone to know. It’s frustrating for me to struggle like that. But Shiro — you were such a big help to me. Huge.”

“How could I have been a help? I didn’t even notice!” Shiro protests.

“You may not have noticed everything specifically, Shiro, but you knew I wasn’t my best, and you were so accommodating without being coddling. Honest to God, I could not believe how supported I felt. My mom still struggles to get that right, sometimes, but every time you spoke to me you hit the balance right every time. It made absolutely everything easier. I can’t imagine how much more I would have struggled if you weren’t there for me.”

Lance reaches over and clutches both of Shiro’s hands in his, smiling warmly as Shiro stares at him with wide, incredulous eyes.

“I mean it, Shiro. Seriously. Thank you. You’re doing excellent — you have nothing to worry about.”

Shiro closes his eyes as his face crumples, and the tears finally fall. Lance moves over to hold Shiro tightly, trying to squeeze all his love and appreciation into the hug.

“I’m proud of you, Shiro,” he whispers, and Shiro sobs.

Lance wonders the last time someone said that. He holds Shiro close, resting his temple on Shiro’s shaking head, and vows to make sure the man hears it more often.

Because there’s no one team Voltron is prouder of than their leader.

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chen-chen-chen-again-chen · 1 year

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Hi, hello, hola! Thank you for the tag today, @you-remind-me-of-the-babe! Instead of six sentences, today I bring you "six somethings" - six places I'm excited to eat while I'm in London (March 24-April 7)!

If anyone has any recommendations for favourite places to eat in London, PLEASE let me know! 🍽️😋

I'll tag up here because this post is a long boi. Hello hello hello to a buncha folks! @aristocratic-otter @captain-aralias @cutestkilla @thewholelemon @dohrnaira @ebbpettier @facewithoutheart @hushed-chorus @ionlydrinkhotwater @imagineacoolusername @larkral @raenestee @onepintobean @theimpossibledemon @whogaveyoupermission @tectonicduck

6.) Pret (Heathrow)

I know Shepard loses his tiny mind over the sandwiches from Pret, but. I dream of their Chocolate Moose. I have an absurd amount of food allergies, so finding a Chen-friendly, ready made chocolate mousse is a dream come true. So excited to cram it into my face after I clear Customs.

From My Good Egg, Good morning, good night, good morning:

“All right.” Simon goes back to fiddling with Bunce’s phone, and then he says to Bunce, hopeful, “Any chance you brought the rest of my baguette from Pret?”

Bunce says, slowly and carefully, “Simon. I do not know the whereabouts of your airport sandwich. I was rather busy figuring out where you had disappeared to.”

5.) Borough Market

I have very fond memories of Borough Market from the first/last time I visited London back in 2018. I remember sticking my head in a jar full of dried truffles and just inhaling all that amazing, savoury, umami truffly goodness. (Like, you know, the way that normal humans do.)

From What's Left by @cutestkilla:

I’ve been hanging around Borough Market quite a bit, and I’ve had everything from cheese and croissants to chorizo and balsamic vinegar (in small sample portions only). I think, though, that my favourite thing so far was a fresh buttered wild garlic scone that I bought with some of my stolen money after trying a sample.

4.) MotherMash (Covent Garden)

I also had a good time with a pal at MotherMash years ago - I think instead of pie, I had bangers and mash with gravy, and a tiny, perfect apple pie. My spouse has never been here, but he does frequently say, "I would like to eat a whole pie," and now he will be able to eat TWO pies - one for his main, and one for dessert.

From A cake with your name on it:

Baz was still fuming about the tasting when we met up at his flat for dinner. We had takeaway from MotherMash, and Baz kept stabbing his steak and Stoutheart pie instead of eating it.

“I’ve never met such an idiot,” he said. “A bumbler. A fool. An absolute nightmare.”

“Okay,” I said. “We still have that list from my mother with three other bakeries.”

Baz whipped his head around to stare at me.

“No,” he said, loudly. Too loudly. He was oddly flushed. “I don’t care if I have to murder and then resurrect him - Simon Snow is making our wedding cake.”

3.) Brick Lane Beigel Bake (Shoreditch)

I asked my spouse, EarlobeGreyTea, what he wanted to do or eat or see while we're in London and all he would say, over and over again, was "Bagel." He is a remarkably easygoing travel companion.

From an earlier draft of My Good Egg, which ended up getting cut/changed:

They get to Brick Lane before Baz can embarrass himself any further, and he waits outside of a bagel shop until Simon comes out with a salt beef bagel crammed into his mouth, and a very full paper bag. “This one’s for you,” he says, holding out a salmon and cream cheese bagel to Baz.

Baz takes it, but doesn’t bite into it right away. “Thank you,” he says, slowly, thinking that maybe offering food is one of Simon’s love languages as well, along with killing things. The rats seem to be a lucky intersection.

2.) E Pellici's (Bethnal Green)

I think my favourite full English breakfast that I ever had was at Pellici's, which is tiny and and owned by an Italian family. The owner spent most of the time I was there embarrassing one of his teenage employees and a girl who was interviewing him for a school project. The owner high fived me when I bought a t-shirt and he went slack-jawed at my powerful, resounding high five. It was great.

From an unpublished bit of My Good Egg:

In the car, Baz passes both slices of fruitcake to Simon, and Simon practically dances in his seat.

“Are you sure?” Simon asks, “like, really, really sure? Cause I’m telling you, this is really fucking amazing fruitcake, and you can’t buy it most of the time unless you order it special - they don’t even have it on the menu anymore.” “They’re yours, Simon,” Baz says. Honestly, Simon Snow is impossible. He was ready to kill a man for Baz, or not kill a man for him, and now he’s beaming at Baz because of some fruitcake. He needs to pin Simon to a mattress and keep him there — with handcuffs, with a collar, with a ring.

1.) Dishoom (King's Cross)

Dishoom is like... truly magical. That house black daal is no joke. I lack words to describe how amazing the food is - just check out their site (but honestly, it will make you hungry). Everything I've ever had there was fucking delicious and the place and the atmosphere is so gorgeous, just lush and colourful and immersive.

I shared another snippet before about Dishoom from My Good Egg, but here's Simon on the phone with Agatha right after he's ordered takeaway:

“Hey Ags. How’re you – no, I’m not bleeding or throwing up or on fire. I – yeah, I know you said not to call you when you’re at work unless I was bleeding or throwing up or on fire, but this is an – look, it’s not for me this time, all right? Or Penny. It’s for a friend – okay, rude, I have friends other than you and Penny!” Pause. “Yes, Agatha, we’re friends, even if you – yeah, I know you said you would never do another house visit, but you said that the last time, too!”

Baz leans back so he can catch Bunce’s eyes, and mouths, What the fuck?

Bunce just rolls her eyes and shrugs, like, He’s Simon, what can you do about it?

“Well,” Simon says, triumphant, “we already ordered the daal for you, so there!” Pause. “Yeah, love you too. Bye.”

RIPs & Honourable Mentions

Cinnamon Soho (also mentioned in "A cake with your name on it") - They closed down during the pandemic. But they had a delicious Indian afternoon tea 🥲

Cereal Killer Cafe - This place was rec'd to me by one of my British co-workers (his seven kids were mad for it), but sadly, they closed their storefront during the pandemic and went online. (In my headcanon, this was where Winifred from My Good Egg wanted to go for her(?) first(?) birthday)

Fortnum & Mason - I WILL be going here to buy tea and biscuits (and to replace one of my favourite tote bags, LOL), but not for high tea or afternoon tea. (We have a few other places lined up for that, including The Swan at the Globe and Tea House Theatre). Sorry, Daphne!

Nando's - I suggested to my spouse that we should get cheeky Nando's and have top bants and he gave me a dead-eyed look as if his soul left his body

Again, if you have any recommendations of favourite places to eat in London, please let me know!

I mean, I suppose I'll be doing other things besides eating, like hanging out with my beautiful friends, going to stationery shops, visiting the flower market, seeing shows and things... but really, food is the main draw. 😂😂😂

Happy Sunday!

#six something sunday!#delicious things to consoom #with fic snippets #my good egg #good night good morning good night #a cake with your name on it #what's left by cutekilla #London 2023 #my fic tag

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thezeinterviews · 5 months

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The Times: Olena Zelenska: Our fight for the Ukrainian children stolen by Putin

Desperate parents regularly write to the first lady, pleading for help. ‘As a mother, I don’t know how I would cope,’ she says of the kidnappings by Russia’s troops

Maxim Tucker, Kyiv

Friday November 10 2023, 12.10pm GMT, The Times

There is only a hint of fatigue in Olena Zelenska’s steely green eyes to show she carries the weight of a thousand mothers searching for their children on her shoulders.

She remembers the very first child she realised had been taken by Russian troops, a teenager named Serhii, kidnapped from his village in Chernihiv in the first weeks of the invasion. As the war progressed, more and more stories began to emerge.

“In the very first months of the full-scale invasion, reports of terrible incidents with children started appearing,” she recalls, speaking as part of an interview given exclusively to The Times and Channel 4, to be broadcast on Monday night as part of the documentary Dispatches: The Hunt for Ukraine’s Stolen Children.

At first it was individual children being seized and taken from their families, Zelenska says during our meeting in a secure room deep in the bowels of Ukraine’s presidential administration. Then entire schools, hospital wings and orphanages were emptied by the Russians.

“And the longer this terrible invasion lasted, the more these stories were revealed. We began to understand the huge scale of this when the Russians started abducting children by entire institutions.”

Today, Ukrainian law enforcement has been able to identify 19,546 children that it says have been taken by the Kremlin. Their evidence has prompted the International Criminal Court to issue arrest warrants for President Putin and the Kremlin’s top official for children’s rights, Maria Lvova-Belova.

Russian officials say they have moved many more — some 744,000 children — claiming they spirited them across the border for their own safety. Desperate Ukrainian parents regularly write to Zelenska and her husband pleading for help.

“Behind every one of these statistics is the story of a terrified child,” she says. “Messages from parents, relatives, grandparents, friends who were looking for children nobody could find.” A mother herself to Oleksandra, 19, and Kyrylo, 10, she was moved to act.

“Frankly speaking, as a mother, I don’t know how I would cope if someone took my child away even for a day and I didn’t know where they were. It’s very difficult for me to imagine how one can survive this. This is probably my worst nightmare,” she says, shaking her head at the horror of it.

As President Zelensky fought for the return of Ukrainian territory taken by Putin’s troops on the battlefield, Zelenska decided to fight for the return of Ukrainian children taken by them during occupation.

“I think that everyone who has a voice should spread the information about it, testify. Unfortunately, it is probably one of the most effective ways we can tackle it: to make it public as much as possible so that every person in the world hears about it. It can initiate more powerful actions to make Russia return our children.”

For a woman once assigned as a target for Putin’s special forces, her trips abroad are becoming increasingly frequent as Kyiv leans on her star power to seek humanitarian aid from world leaders. Time has listed her one of the world’s 100 most influential people. Now, she is taking on Kremlin diplomats in the international arena.

“We demand that forced deportations be stopped, that forced assimilation be stopped,” she says. “Children of another country cannot be forced to become citizens of another country. It is necessary to create safe corridors to return the children who are now under occupation and in the war zone.” In September she travelled to the UN general assembly in New York to brief diplomats on the matter.

“The pressure has to be very strong, it has to come from everywhere, not just from Ukraine. We hope that all the conscious people of the world will hear us and will feel this the way I do, the way parents do.”

Dispatches: The Hunt for Ukraine’s Stolen Children reveals how children as young as three have disappeared under Russian occupation, often reappearing in an archipelago of “re-education” camps across border, where they are fed Kremlin propaganda and older children are trained for military service against their own country.

In the film, Artem, 15 recounts how he and his classmates were seized at their school in Kupyansk, in the Kharkiv region, by a company of Russian soldiers armed with Kalashnikovs and taken to a “correctional” boarding school, where they were kept for months and forced to wear Russian uniforms emblazoned with “Z” patches, the symbol used to denote support for the invasion of Ukraine.

Russian television is open in its broadcast of how the Ukrainian children are spoon-fed Russian nationalism. They are forced to sing the national anthem, told that Ukraine does not exist and that no one is waiting for them at home.

The Ukrainian Ombudman’s office, led by Dmytro Lubinets, and charity organisations such as Save Ukraine work to rescue them, but only 386 children — less than 2 per cent — have been returned to date. The film follows their efforts as they try to help the family of three-year-old Max, lost in an ambush when his parents are shot trying to flee Mariupol. His aunt is desperate to find him before memories of his home and his mother, who was killed in the attack, fade for good.

The programme also follows efforts to rescue 13-year-old Anastasia and her 14-year-old sister Vlada who were taken to a camp in Russian-controlled Crimea. Both children were told they would be taking a two-week holiday before being put up for adoption by Russian families, despite having their own family in Ukraine.

Documenting evidence of the abductions is the journalist Maryna Mukhina, who escaped occupied Starobilsk, in the Luhansk region, with her three-year-old daughter to avoid her being taken away, before deciding to become a war crimes investigator examining the disappearances for the International Partnership for Human Rights.

Zelenska is clearly moved by the psychological scars left on the children who are saved, let alone those who stay in Russia.

“One little girl was returned to her parents after about six months,” she says. “She was asking them every day if they loved her. She was told that her parents had abandoned her. That she is not needed. And she tries to reassure herself again and again that it is not true.”

Asked if she is worried the world is tired of the war in Ukraine and distracted by other crises, such as the one in the Middle East, Zelenska says she is “outraged” and that there should be “no place in the modern world to neglect the rights of children”.

“Are we saying that for decades, humanity built mechanisms to protect the rights of the child only to give them up to the aggressor now?,” she asks. “If this can happen now, well, we can already get tired of ourselves. We cannot afford to get tired. If everyone gets tired now and stops fighting, it could be the final rest for the world as we know it.”

Ukraine needs the world’s help to get its children back, Zelenska says, because it has proven impossible for Kyiv to trust Putin in any dialogue.

“We need the help of the whole world to make it impossible for them to keep our children. To create facilities and mechanisms for exchange, so that we simply take them back. But this pressure must be so powerful that they don’t have any other way out but to return the children.”

Every parent should be motivated to take action to help reunite these children with their families, she believes.

“If you are a parent, you know you as an adult are responsible for the little ones. If this was your child, you’d go anywhere, even to hell, to get your child back.”

Maxim Tucker is the producer of Dispatches: The Hunt for Ukraine’s Stolen Children, which airs first on Monday, November 13 at 11pm on Channel 4 and afterwards on Channel4.com

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Words: 2,6k Pairing: Astarion/f!Durge (DurgeResisted) Read on AO3 Summary: A day of preparing for the road ahead, clouded by grief and uncertainty. TW: Nightmares, Grief, Canon typical violence. Tags: Fluff, Comfort. A/N: This one was supposed to be posted last weekend, but I got just completely wasted by tonsillitis... Thanks for all the love so far! And thank you for coming back for more 🖤🖤

Previous Chapter

𝙷𝚊𝚞𝚗𝚝𝚎𝚍

Morella shot up, heart threatening to pound out of her chest, and her skin clammy from sweat. It was early morning, and the room was bathed in bright sunlight. She glanced over her shoulder to find the spot next to her empty. A chokingly tight knot tightened her chest, restricting her breathing. She laid down to where Astarion had rested earlier. His scent still lingered on the pillow. Morella forced down a deep breath, letting the intoxicating fragrance envelope her. As she focused on steadying her breath, the knot gave way and her heart calmed.

She rose and moved over to the basin, conjuring cold water. Morella submerged her face, letting the cold shock rush through her body. The last of the anxieties roll off her with the water droplets as she pulls back, yet there was a barely visible tremble in her hands. The nightmares had become a frequent occurrence since Bhaal had reclaimed his blood. A small price to pay for spiteing the God of Murder.

A cold hand gingerly stroked down her spine, before pulling her back into an embrace.

“Good morning, my sweet.” Astarion kissed the crook of her neck moving up to where he had bitten the previous night. Morella smiled and leaned into his chest.

“Good hunt?” She felt the vibrations of a satisfied rumble coming from his neck. He pulled away a moment later, shifting her to face him. His eyes scanned her up and down, brows knitting in concern.

“Morella, are you alright?” He hooked his index finger under her chin and rested his free hand on the back of her neck, preventing her from looking away.

“Just a bad dream, nothing you need to worry about, dear.” She smiled at him and quickly silenced him with a kiss before he had a chance to further question her. Taken aback Astarion’s hands fell to her shoulders. He broke the kiss with a sigh.

“Get dressed.” A smirk flashed across his lips.

“Before I change my mind and keep you here all to myself.” Morella chuckled, moving away from him.

—

There was a sombre atmosphere in the commonroom of the tavern, which according to Astarion spread over the whole village. The once buzzling tavern was blanketed in hushed mournful whispers, even the air felt heavy. Morella had finished her breakfast, and was sipping a cup of coffee. Astarion sat by her, resting his right arm on the back of her chair and keeping a watchful eye over the patrons. His left thumb mindlessly stroked the Sunwalker ring on his index finger. She had noticed that was a habit he had taken on when thinking or planning his next move. The dissociation from the night prior was gone, but the village’s mood put him on edge.

Grieving people are unpredictable. He had once said.

“Tomorrow we’ll go north, it’ll be about a tenday on foot to get to this other place, Elklun. From what I’ve gathered it’s a small village, with lush farmlands. Rumores of people going there to trade, but few returning back. The ones who do don’t note anything out of the ordinary, but the missing has never been seen or heard from… hence missing.” His hand flourished on the last bit hesitantly.

“I’d like to leave at the break of dawn. Don’t want to stick around for when they start picking up on my nature…” She lifted the mug of coffee to her mouth hiding a humoured smile. As much as Astarion would like to think he was an expert at hiding his vampiric condition, he had always been shit at it. She remembered when they had first met at the beach she had first thought he had drow heritage for his red eyes. But as soon as he accidentally flashed his fangs in a fit of laughter pieces clicked in place. Morella put the mug down on the table, her eyes glanced quickly to where she had been bit by Eric the day prior. Like she had suspected any marks were completely gone. She sighed, grabbing his attention.

“What now?” She asked. He moved his arm from the back of her chair and rested it on her thigh.

“We need to get you some new gloves. That furry bastard tore them to shreds. And while I love seeing as much of your beautiful skin as possible, I would much rather keep you in one piece.” He squeezed her thigh before letting go and getting up from the chair.

Morella finished her coffee and followed him out of the tavern.

Outside the mood seemed to have affected even the weather. Dark, heavy clouds hanging low over the nearest mountain range, threatening the village with more bouts of rain. Where the streets had been buzzling the days prior it was now quiet. The only people out were the farmhands and hushed drunks, and to their surprise Chief Vissago Flaw. He was standing leaning on the fence outside the tavern eyeing the gloomy clouds. Morella noted the tenseness that crept over Astarion’s shoulders. He crossed his arms at the sight of the tiefling.

“Mr. Flaw, what a surprise. How can we be of your service?” She noticed the uncertainty deep under Astarion’s usual wolfish mask. Vissago’s grey eyes scanned their faces and pushed off the fence closing the distance between them.

“I’m afraid I might have to be at your service today actually.” Astarion cocked his head inquisitively at the chief.

“I couldn’t help but notice the state of your armour last night.” Vissago looked over to Morella and her forearms.

“Oh, I’m sure we can manage ourselves. We’ve managed just fine until now anyway.” Morella could practically hear his roguish smile dance on her lover’s lips as he spoke.

“I do not doubt your abilities Mr. Ancunín. I simply offer my assistance as I assume you are about to meet with our dear armorsmith Tilly Fullmourn.” Astarion’s arms dropped.

“Fuck…”

Morella felt an icy cold shiver run down her spine.

—

Vissago knocked on the door of the Fullmourn house. Astarion and Morella let him take the lead, as the door flung open. A human woman with greying hazel coloured hair and bloodshot eyes opened the door. She looked to be in her mid forties, but Morella had a difficulty gauging humans by age.

“Mr. Vissago?” Her eyes studied the small gathering outside her front door with a confused frown.

“Anna, I’m sorry to disturb you. We came to speak with Tilly, is she at home?” Anna’s face soured.

“Of course she is home, where else would she be at a time like this?” Anna’s words were spat out like venom. Morella and Astarion shared a look of unease.

“And who are we to be exact?” Her lips nearly pulled back into a snare boring her eyes into Morella.

Pathetic! She will make a nice corpse just like her precious daughter!

Morella’s breath hitched and body tensed.

It couldn’t be.

She was free.

Her eyes fluted from Anna’s heavy glare, and assessed her surroundings. No one, or nothing.

Astarion noticed her sudden unease. A cold hand brushed softly at the small of her back, pulling her back. She steadied her gaze once more to Anna’s, but through her peripheral she noted his growing concern. The moment was quickly cut short when footsteps drew closer from inside.

“Anna, please.” Big, green hands gripped onto the grieving woman’s shoulder followed by the rest of a tall, strongly built half-orc woman. Anna’s eyes went glossy as sobs rose in her throat. The half-orc turned her around and hugged her tightly.

“Go inside and try to rest, babe. I’ll handle this. I’ll be with you as soon as I can.” Anna craned her neck to look up to the woman before nodding and shambling back inside sobbing.

The half-orc looked up to the company with a frown.

“What is this then, Vissago?” He took a small step to the side stretching out an arm in Astarion and Morella’s direction.

“These are the adventurers who found your daughter, and brought her justice.” Astarion moved forward.

“Tilly Fullmourn I take it?” He extended his hand. A sad smile touched the woman’s lips and she took his hand.

“The very same.” Morella followed his motion shaking Tilly’s hand.

“Our deepest condolences.” Tilly nodded and folded her arms over her middle. She gave the two of them a quick look over.

“So, what you doin’ here? What is it that requires my immediate attention at a time like this?” Her left brow quirked up.

“I am so terribly sorry for this, but I need your help.” Morella brought out the tethered remains of her gloves, holding them out to Tilly.

“These were the only things keeping me safe from your daughter's killer.” She sensed Astarion tensely stir at her side.

“I’ll compensate you extra for the inconvenience…” Tilly took the shredded leather and let the material glide between her fingers as she stood in deep contemplation. With a tired sigh she looked up meeting Morella’s eyes and nodded.

“Keep your gold…” Tilly huffed and threw one quick glance over to the house before leading on to her workshop.

—

It hadn’t taken Tilly long to create a new pair of gloves, and her craftsmanship was marvellous. Morella had barely been able to take her eyes off the armour since the three of them had left Tilly back at her workshop. Vissago had stayed with them the rest of the day, having echoed Astarion’s sentiment about the unpredictability of people. They had gathered the last of the supplies for the road, and were now back outside The Two Bulls. Morella looked up to the slowly swaying sign hanging high over the front door.

Vissago grabbed hold of Astarion’s shoulder bringing him to a full stop. He whipped around, resting his hand on the hilt of his dagger, brows knitted together. Astarion grabbed onto Vissago’s hand with his free one, landing them in an awkward standoff. The commotion fixated Morella’s heightened attention to the two of them.

“I would choose my next move very, very carefully if I were you chief.” Astarion’s tone was soft but no less dripping with the treat. Vissago’s cold steel gaze locked onto his crimson.

“I appreciate what the two of you have done for the village, but I have heard some reports from the local hunters. Anything you feel like coming clean about Mr. Ancunín?” Vissago tilted his head.

The door to the tavern slammed open, a man stumbled out grunting and slurring. The three of them froze in observation as the man shuffled past them completely oblivious to the spectacle unfolding in front of him. As he passed, another near tumble knocked him into Astarion, who used the momentum to knock Vissago’s hand off of him. With the drunk out of the way, reds once again locked onto greys.

“I assure you, chief, what your hunters find in the woods is nothing your village needs to worry about. Unless of course, they wished for a demonstration…” His lip curled into a crooked smirk bearing one of his fangs. Morella quickly stepped in between them, eyeing them both. Tension hung on their breaths for what felt like an eternity, but eventually broken by a sigh from Vissago. He lowered his gaze and lifted his hands in surrender. This put Astarion at ease, softening his face and dropping the half sheathed dagger back in place.

“I must admit I was unsure of what to think when I heard the rumour of a vampire helping the people. But your actions have earned you quite the reputation Mr. Ancunín.” Astarion scuffs, but smiles at Vissago.

“Am I not astonishing?” He snickered.

Morella rolled her eyes and headed towards the door.

“You'll have to excuse me, but I’m famished. I'll see you inside I hope, once your dicks are done flirting. Thanks for the backup today, Vissago. It's been a pleasure to work with you.” She smirked as she closed the door behind her.

“You minx…” Astarion turned his attention back to the tiefling and snickered at the sight of the slight tonal change on Vassago’s cheeks.

“Your wife has a certain charm about her.”

“We've never tied the knot, always been too busy being heroes.”

“Well, you fooled me.” Vissago laughed and took Astarion’s hand tilting his ring into view.

—

Morella pulled on her nightshirt, but cold, nimble fingers stopped the fabric from falling all the way down her back. The caress softly replaced by the hard planes of his body pressed against her back. His hands danced over her shoulders and down her arms bringing them against her chest. Featherlight kisses brushed against her tattooed neck, sending chills down her spine.

“Your heart is racing.” Astarion purred into her ear, no doubt causing it to beat even harder.

“It’s hard not to with you around.” She took his arms and turned to face him, cupped his face, and stroked his cheek. He nuzzled into it before he kissed her palm. Morella noted the burning question in his face.

“What is it?”

“You’ve been hiding something from me.” A shy smile brushed over his lips as he took her hand in his and draped the other around her waist.

“Something happened as we got berated by the Fullmourn lady, care to enlighten me?” She dropped her gaze.

“The nightmares have been getting worse. Happens nearly every night now. I’ve been trying to avoid sleep where I can, but I either slip from trance or get too tired to even try.”

“Darling, you weren’t asleep when we were out today. Or at least I hope you weren’t. Then we would need to have a talk about bad work ethics.” Taking a step back, Morella glided out of his embrace and poured two generous glasses of red wine. She finished half of her own before handing him the other.

“I heard him today. Bhaal. Outside of the nightmares. Once again telling me to kill…” Finally she lifted her gaze up to his eyes. His brows knitted together in confusion and concern.

“How could that be though? It must have been just a trick of a tired mind, surely?”

“I don’t know...” His finger started tapping on the glass.

The candlelit room was quiet with the exception of the thrumming rain that had finally descended over the village after a whole day of threats. Astarion took a deep swig at his wine before setting it down on the side table.

“Morella, whatever this is, we’ll figure it out. Together. I won’t let Bhaal have you, not now, not ever.” He brushed his hand over her neck and kissed her.

“No fear can ever compare to the one I felt the night I thought he claimed you for good, or when you stood defiant against him.” A single tear spilled over her lashes only to be caught by his thumb. He pulled her into him once more and moved towards the bed.

“I’ll keep watch over you tonight, any sign of nightmares and I’ll pull you out. I promise.” Laying against the headboard he pulled her up between his legs. Morella leaned against his chest, her breath falling into the steady rhythm of his.

“Aren’t you hungry?” She looked up to him. His eyes licking at the pulsepoint where two pin pricks decorate her neck.

“Not tonight, dear. And I wouldn’t want to give the townsfolk an incentive for pitchforks before we get a chance to leave. I think I can trust Vissago, but not people’s judgement.” Morella snickered, bringing a smile to his lips. He stroked his hand through her hair and down her back.

“Get some rest, darling. We’ve got a long trek ahead of us.” His words seemed to carry an effect to them as her lids got too heavy to keep up, and she let her senses be dulled by his scent.

#astarion fanfic #astarion fic #astarion fanfiction #monster hunter astarion #fanfic #astarion ancunin #bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #astarion #astarion x durge

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