#nik stain

[vogueskatemag]

[henryskene]

Supreme | "Play Dead" | 2022

[thedropnyc]

Supreme's 'Play Dead' Skate Video

Supreme’s ‘Play Dead’ Skate Video

(more…)

[myfavoritemaneuver]

Nik Stain - Untitled 004

[bonyfish]

I was groovin to music while developing film earlier and it occurred to me that I looked like I should be torturing someone in a Tarantino movie.

[prjctdiva]

time for a gamer bath (minecraft bath bomb)

[ghcstao3]

that one slower scene in every superhero movie when the good guys take a beating from the villain and need to regroup, so one of the members of the team is like 'i know a place'.

so, nik gets some coordinates from soap and flies them to a countryside in scotland where mrs mactavish greets them on the front porch of a lovely house and immediately threats them with an ass whooping if they don't take their muddy combat boots off before going inside.

momma mactavish seems completely unafazed by a helicopter in her backyard, doesn't ask any questions, treats them all like a family. she's tiny and a little scary, makes them eat their vegetables and treats them to a delicious dessert. she can't stop kissing johnny's head and roast him for his mohawk.

ghost notices how relaxed and happy johnny is and how domesticity suits him. he would like to see it more often. for the first time in his life he is reluctant to come back to work.

immediately pictured the avengers at hawkeye’s house

-

Usually when someone on their team says I know a place when they find themselves in a bout of trouble, they don’t usually mean their childhood home.

Usually, I know a place means a warehouse, a run-down safe house, or, God forbid, some cave. And yet instead, here they all exist idly in Soap’s mum’s house while she coddles them in between scolding her son like it’s just another normal day for her. Like they aren’t all hardened soldiers standing in her home, each with innumerable kill counts and severely blacked-out personnel files.

It’s… weird, being crowded into a dining room and served a home-cooked meal despite coming unannounced and uninvited. That isn’t to say they’re not all thankful, having surely used up the last of Mrs. MacTavish’s gauze and bandages to get to this point, but it’s just—not at all what any of the team had been expecting.

Soap’s about the only one who seems unperturbed. Price is still rubbing his wrist from when Mrs. MacTavish smacked him for his insistence on helping with supper.

You’re guests, she had said, sounding positively aghast. What kind of host do you take me for?

Ghost can certainly see where Soap had gotten his fiery nature, as he bickers back and forth with his mother while the rest of them eat quietly, tentatively, like they’re not sure they’re allowed to. They may not share much in looks, but it’s no doubt that Soap is his mother’s son.

By the time dessert rolls around—which is yet another surprise—Mrs. MacTavish has finally been directing conversation to the soldiers sat around her table, asking about work and life as if they aren’t all bruised and scarred and about half-dead from an awful fight. Yet they all find themselves discussing what’s asked of them like it’s no more than the weather.

Something about Mrs. MacTavish’s spirit instills a sense of familiarity, homeliness. Ghost understands why Soap thought to bring them all there.

Ultimately it’s Gaz who charms Soap’s mum away to the living room along with Price and Nik that lets Ghost, at the very least, get away with helping with dishes once everything is said and done. Unfortunately for Soap, he’s never offered the choice.

“Good thing you have goin’ on here, Johnny,” Ghost eventually remarks, once they’re finally in the swing of wash, dry, wash, dry. “Not afraid of anything getting traced back here? To her?”

Soap shakes his head as he scrubs at a particularly tough stain. “Nah. It’s no’ on any of my records. Hell, it’s barely on any records. We’re off grid, LT, no need to worry your pretty head.”

Ghost rolls his eyes. He wipes off the plate that’s handed to him before setting it on the drying rack, and tossing his towel over his shoulder. It’s not until Soap’s trying to hand him something else does he take notice of Ghost’s pause.

Slowly, Soap sets the dish back in the water, frowning up at Ghost. “What?”

“…Nothin’,” Ghost says after much too long. He huffs. “Just… nice seeing what home looks like on you.”

Ghost doesn’t allow himself to linger watching Soap’s expression change from confusion to a near softness, instead making a reach for the discarded dish in the murky, soapy water to kick their routine back in gear.

He doesn’t want to think about it too closely. Doesn’t want to think about the things he’s realizing about himself this evening, or the fleeting thought that maybe he’d like to stay here forever, instead of return to the field where death waits openly at every turn.

It’s still appreciated, though, this moment of tranquility. He’ll have to make sure to thank Mrs. MacTavish when he gets the chance.

[klausysworld]

hiii, hope you’re doing well :D

Would you be down to write a piece where Klaus is married to a human doctor or nurse and every time he comes back after a fight and is wounded, reader patches him up. And Klaus is like u know I heal. And she’s like shut up and sit. Klaus smirks and obeys as he secretly loves getting tended to by wifey.

Healing Hands

I worried for Klaus daily and nightly. Whether he was immortal or not, pain is pain.

Watching him stumble through the front door bloodied and bruised always made my heart drop. He was careless with himself, if they didn't have the white-oak stake then he didn't worry. He often reminded me that he wouldn't die even if they tore his heart out or burnt him alive.

To be honest that didn't help my fears at all.

I would always look after him after he was injured. Whether it was a couple scrapes here and there or if it was something much, much worse.

For instance, today was simply awful.

Klaus had been missing for nearly three full days when Elijah and Rebekah came in through the door, holding him up. I rushed down the stairs and helped him back up them. Once we got him onto his bed I got my bag out which was essentially a very big first aid kit with a couple extra items, like my surgical string and curved suture needles.

I looked up to find Klaus looked back at me with a small smile on his blood stained lips.

"I'm okay" he whispered raspily.

"No...you're not" I told him and he sighed softly as I opened his blood soaked shirt to expose the very slowly healing stab wounds that carved deep into his abdomen and chest.

"I just need some blood, I'll heal in seconds" he mumbled

"Then I'll put you on a blood drip" I remarked while gently running antiseptic wipes over his wounds, trying not to let his wincing bother me.

"Love-"

"Just be quiet Nik" I whispered "Just let me help"

"okay" he murmured softly, giving in rather quickly which was more and more common recently. I gave a small smile back to him before continuing to carefully stitch him up where he should need it.

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

(switch to 3rd person)

He kept still, his eyes closing as he felt her healing hands caress him better.

Klaus would never admit how much he secretly enjoyed her tending to him. It always reminded him of how much she loved him. No matter what was wrong, she was right there with bandages and wipes to help sooth his hurt.

Usually it was accompanied by a warm bath afterwards, her bare body against his while she traced the places where wounds once were. She would proceed to kiss each spot and then, at last, his lips. Then he would thank her quietly to which she would simply dismiss and once more tell him to be quiet so she could 'treat' him in another way.

By the time they're out of the water, they're probably dirtier than when they got in but neither one of them could care once they were curled up together again.

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

(Back to 1st)

I had my head on his chest, tilted back to gaze up at him. My fingertips danced patterns across his broad chest while his brushes against my scalp.

The room was dark, the curtains closed and door locked. A comfortable silence had been around us for a good while now, our love for one-another always lingered in the air and both our eyes seemed to grow tired as we looked deep into each other.

His rough yet quiet voice broke the quiet but I didn't mind.

"I'm sorry I was gone for so long" he whispered and I smiled softly.

"It wasn't you fault...I'm sorry I wasn't much use in finding you" I always felt a little helpless when it came to saving people. Being a human my skills weren't ever helpful. I tried of course but I would never be as strong or intelligent as those who have lived for centuries.

"I never want you to spend restless nights looking for me. You must know by now that I will always come back to you alive, and you will always be here waiting I hope." His hand stroked the skin of my face making my lashes flutter as I nodded

"I'll always be here, I'll always look after you" I promised. I feel his forehead press to mine, the soft curls of top his head which have grown a little long tickle my face gently.

"And I you sweetheart" he smiled and so did I

"I love you Niklaus" I whispered quietly, kissing his cheek gently

"I love you more, my little nurse"

(Sorry this is so short)

[corpsebasil]

I Will Tell You Who You Are

When Nikolai is infected with Merzost, the only one who can comfort him is his queen.

You were sprinting down the hall.

You could hear him, screaming, screaming your name as you made your way to his rooms. The guard outside merely stepped in your path, a troubled look on his face. You couldn’t catch your breath; you felt like you’d vomit as you heard Nikolai’s scream of pain, his voice catching on a sob.

“Open the door.” You gasped, feeling desperate. “Open the fucking door.”

“I—I cannot, Your Majesty. The King has requested no one—”

“I am his wife. If I wish to enter I will.” Nikolai’s sob split the air around you and you almost threw the guard to the floor. “Move or so help me God, I’ll kill you myself.”

The guard���s throat bobbed.

Your husband was barely around anymore. You’d been traumatized at the coronation and were desperate for his attention. And yes, while he saw you in the day, he didn’t feel fully with you anymore. He hadn’t shared a bed in almost a month, and you couldn’t take it.

That’s when you’d heard his scream.

“Move.” You commanded, voice shaking, and the guard slowly stepped to the side.

You almost ripped the handle as you shoved the door open, a shriek leaving your lips at the sight in front of you. Nikolai was chained—chained—to his bed, black tendrils of dark power wrapping around him. He was trembling, sweat beading on his brow as the power seemed to dull.

“Y/N,” he was shaking. Shaking. “you can’t be here.”

“What is happening to you?” Your voice broke as you moved forward, trying to ignore his flinch at your approach.

“It’s in—inside me.” He panted, shaking his head. “Don’t come near me, Y/N. Please. It’s fighting—” he bent double, back bowing towards his knees as a cry of pain left him, every muscle tensing. Nikolai sobbed, gritting his teeth, and you saw that the clenched fingers of his hands were tinged with black.

“My love what—”

“Go!” He shouted, yanking at his own chains as he panted through clenched teeth. “Go, Y/N, I never wanted you to see—”

“Nik.” You choked on a gasp of pain and dropped to your knees in front of him, grabbing his face. He shook his head wildly, eyes wet and squeezed shut as he fought your grip. “Nikolai it’s me. It’s me.”

“No, no, no.” He shook, still attempting to scramble away as you held him fast. “Don’t touch me. You have to leave.”

“I love you, Nik. Please, please let me help you.”

“I’m insane.” He sobbed, the black slowly vanishing as he collapsed roughly into your chest, his locked muscles releasing. His hands strained painfully against the restraints, but they were the only things holding him up. “I have lost my mind, Y/N. I cannot live in this way. I am dangerous to you you need to leave—”

“I will not leave you.” You fought, running your hand across his sweaty brow, forcing those gorgeous eyes of his to meet your own as you gripped his chin. “I am not weak. Am I weak, Nikolai?”

He swallowed.

“No.”

“And have I ever left you?”

His eyes shuttered.

“No.” Nikolai’s face crumpled as he shook, dropping his head against your shoulder as you held him. He was gasping for breath, shaking his head lightly back and forth, muttering to himself. “Get it out of me.” He whispered, and your heart cleaved inside your chest. “Get it out. Get it out. Get it out.” He yanked at his chains and let out a scream of anger and pain, shaking in your desperate hold as tears ran hot and fast down your face.

“I am here. I am here.” Your hands gripped his hair, your body pressing him to your own, feeling your nightgown soak as he cried out of frustration.

“I cannot control it.” He wept, wrists raw from struggling as he attempted to calm himself. “I cannot control my own body—my own mind. I will hurt you. Do not allow the one thing I love left to be lost. If I hurt you—” he sucked in a breath and you gripped his head again, pulling his tear stained face off your shoulder to peer up at your own.

“If you cannot control it,” you said, voice trembling as you stared down at the raw blue gaze of your King. “then I will be your control. I will be your anchor.” You wrapped your arms around him, mouth wobbling as you kissed his head. “I will be your tether to this Earth. I will ease your suffering, Nikolai.”

“Please.” He whispered, but was pressing as close to you as he could get. “Please do not leave me alone tonight. Please.”

“I will never leave you alone.” You promised, and when he had calmed enough to attempt to sleep, the clasps still around his wrists, you curled up on the couch, your mind racing and your heart heavy.

short and to the point and very much inspired by bridgerton because it just makes sense

[cod-dump]

Nik: What are you two doing, sergeants?

Soap, who was just talking shit to Gaz: Uh- ‘Spilling tea’, Nik

Nik: Hmm… well, remember that tea stains. Be careful where you choose to spill *leaves*

Soap:

Gaz: Oh shit-

[celestialprincesse]

𝐒𝐚𝐲 𝐆𝐨𝐨𝐝𝐧𝐢𝐠𝐡𝐭 𝐧 𝐆𝐨 - 𝐓𝐰𝐨

Pt2 to this Nik x Hyperfem!reader because I couldn't leave it alone and it's been gnawing at the back of my brain all day

You don't hear the first knock at the door. It's no surprise with the way you're wrapped up in the blissful comfort of your own little world. Being able to tune out to the soft sound of your playlist, the feeling of gently applying your favourite lotions and creams, the moisturiser you'd spent far too much on that leaves you smelling like coconuts and caramel. The second knock snaps you from the pretty pink haze you've drifted into, sending you bounding down the stairs, not even bothering to check the peephole as you fling open the front door.

It's him. He has your plate in his hand, the sharlotka plate, and not only is it clean, but it bears a slightly odd, misshapen cake. You look up at him with hopeful confusion. "I brought you back the plate." He states, as though you're blind, or just stupid. "I can see that." Your attempt at a dismissive, uninterested tone, falls entirely flat when you look up at him like an eager puppy. "I also made cake." Said cake looks distinctly like an attempt at a Victoria Sponge, although you're not quite sure.

Under his scrutinising look, you can't help but rock on your feet in your impractical little shoes. He barely manages to refrain from scoffing at the sight of them. "Would you like to come in?" Nikto's eyes hone on the way you open the door just slightly wider in a tentative invitation.

Barbie would recoil at how girly your house is. It's pink and frilly, gauzy with satiny ribbons and bows on everything. He feels so incredibly wrong here, like he'll stain your fluffy white carpets with blood, darken the soft lamplight with the shadows that cling relentlessly to his back. "Would you like some tea?" You mumble, indicating a nervous hand to your pink smeg kettle as though to prove the authenticity of your offer. "Do you have Russian Earl Grey?" "Uh -" You mutter as you root through your cupboards, filled with all sorts of fruity infusions. "I only have regular."

The two of you sit quietly around your dining table and whilst you sit forking pieces of crumbly, somehow simultaneously soggy, Victoria sponge into your mouth, Nikto sits there trying to find a way to drink his tea without showing you his face. "I am sorry." He murmurs softly, having stewed for the last week about how foolish he'd been in treating you so dismissively. It hasn't helped that he's fucked his hand every night for the past seven days at the image of you and your silly little doll clothes in his head. "If you would still like to, I would like to take you for a meal."

Temporarily fixing their situation!! like using pink glitter glue on the cracked hull of a ship!! 💕

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Chapter 3 - To Have and To Hold

A Mafia!Steve Harrington AU (featuring Mafia!Eddie Munson)

Previous l Next

Masterlist

Chapter Summary: Weddings should be joyous occasions but the union of two families only brings about distant memories and yearning for a life that could have been. Stolen glances and longing stares across the room, and finally finding yourself face to face with the one person who can change the future.

18+ Only! Minors DNI! (Future smut and mature themes!)

CW: Minimal use of Y/N. Reader is referred to as "Dove." Pet names. Slow burn. Exes to lovers. Mutual pining. Angst. Lots of tension. Spousal abuse - reader is assaulted and choked.

WC: 5.9K

Days at the gallery quickly turned into long nights. Sometimes not going home until the wee hours of the morning. After the last few interactions with Nik you decided it was best to avoid him altogether.

He'd never set foot in here, for which you were grateful. It was your own oasis from a life that was suddenly so stifling, drowning you without a life preserver in sight.

It was easy enough, the two of you had been sleeping in separate bedrooms for a couple of years now.

You would rather take an acid bath than let him touch you. Sex became completely non-existent when he'd started coming home with lipstick stained collars and trying to push himself onto you knowing he'd just fucked God knows who else, any illusion of a loving, dedicated husband completely dissolved.

You hadn't seen or heard from Steve since the day he'd bought that painting. You found yourself wondering where he might have hung it. It was one of your favorites and knowing it went to a good home warmed your heart.

Abigail knocked you from your current train of thought when she walked over to you with a massive bouquet of white roses.

“Mrs. Petrov, these were just delivered for you, though the card says Ms. Alexander. An old client perhaps?” You shifted the flowers from her arms as she spoke, their delicate scent faintly surrounding you.

“Thank you.” You called out, already heading to your office.

You gently laid them down on the desk, plucking the card from between the soft petals.

You couldn't help the smile that crept across your face as you opened it to read the contents, already suspecting who they were from. No one else in this town would dare use your surname anymore.

Passed the flower shop and thought of you. Hope they brighten your day.

S.H.

You immediately looked for an empty vase in the storage closet to display them on your desk, hiding the card away in the bottom drawer.

It wasn't unusual for clients to send you flowers from time to time, so it didn't seem out of the ordinary.

Much to your delight, it didn't stop there. A fresh bouquet was delivered every few days from that point forward. Not just roses, something unique each time all accompanied with a personalized note signed S.H.

His small way of showing you he was still here while reluctantly maintaining his distance.

For two weeks the flowers and notes never ceased but you still hadn't seen Steve.

There was a wedding slated for the weekend between two prominent families that you had to attend.

Finding yourself in need of a new dress, you were browsing the brightly lit showroom, admiring a very beautiful lilac colored floor length gown in the corner when he spoke.

“That's not your color. Much too pale. What about that one?” You rolled your eyes as he pointed to a deep red, lacey, eye-catching number across the store.

“It's for a wedding, Steven. The attention shouldn't be on me.” You quipped. “And that shows far too much skin.” Turning away, as you began to rummage through a few dresses on the rack.

“If you say so, but you're the only one I'll be looking at.” You stopped, hands stilling on the silk in front of you as you processed his words.

“You're going Saturday?” Managing to squeak out, despite the sudden lump in your throat.

It shouldn't really come as a surprise. All of the big named families had been invited. Maybe you were expecting Steve to be more like Richard in that regard. Send his well wishes but decline the invitation.

“Of course, Dove. Can't miss the wedding of the century. A Gambino marrying a Stratori? It's unheard-of.” He made a mock gasping sound that made you snort a small laugh.

“You should have seen the looks at my…” trailing off when you realized what you were about to say. It wasn't so long ago an Alexander marrying a Petrov was big news.

“Anyway, doesn't matter. I won't be going if I don't find something to wear.” Quickly changing the subject back to the matter at hand.

“Trust me, you'll look good in anything. Wear a potato sack and you’ll still be the most beautiful woman there.” His doting words and simple praises never let up when he was around you.

Your soft blushing and sweet smiles only encouraged him further, reminding him of the younger versions of you both. These moments he would hang onto for forever if need be.

You stared at him a moment, the way the sun filtering through the window cast a glow around him, appearing almost ethereal. His skin tanned by an Italian sun, making his freckles and moles only more prominent. Those same ones you would trace across his back, finding the constellations hidden within.

Your lips twitched at the thought of kissing those same marks, as a deeper blush crept your cheeks that had you quickly looking back to the dresses laid out before you, clearing your throat.

“Steve, I…” Mouth snapping closed when you weren't sure what you were attempting to say.

“What is it, tesoro?” Looking back at you expectantly, eyes soft, giving you his full attention.

“Thank you for the flowers. They're lovely, all of them, but you don't have to do that.” Your gaze drops momentarily as he regards you for a moment.

“Let me ask you something. Do they make you smile?”

“Well, of course.” A grin lifting the edges of your mouth you couldn't contain.

“Then yes, Dove. I have to send them. At least I know for one fleeting moment of the day I've had the pleasure of making you smile.”

You both stilled for a moment, silently gazing at one another.

“Excuse me? Can I help either of you?” One of the associates had walked over, interrupting the small moment.

You smiled at her, asking for a couple of dresses to try on in your size.

“Right away, Mrs. Petrov. And for you sir?” Looking back toward Steve, eyeing him up and down as she spoke. A small scowl of contempt passed over her momentarily, oblivious to who she was speaking to.

“Nothing for me today, thank you. I'll see myself out, momentarily.”

She nodded and walked toward the back to gather the dresses you had asked for.

“I suppose I'll see you tomorrow then.” Finally looking back to him, reluctantly getting ready to take your leave and follow her into the dressing room.

“Of course, Dove.” He says, leaning in close. “I still think the red would be a better choice.” Voice dropping an octave lower, winking as a shameless grin spread across his face.

His persistence had you fondly rolling your eyes, but a grin matching his own spread across your features.

“I think I'll find something a little less salacious but thank you for the suggestion.” Laughing as you walked away, a sound that was like music to his ears as he took his leave.

You glanced back once more, as you reached the back, but he was already gone.

The associate had gotten a large, very well-lit room ready for you. The dresses you had asked for were already on display, hung up across the back wall as you entered.

“This should be all of them. Will there be anything else Mrs. Petrov? Shall I stay and help you try any of them on?” She asked kindly.

“That won’t be necessary but thank you.”

The door clicked shut behind her, leaving you alone with some of the fanciest garments that money could buy yet you stood there feeling hollow, sighing deeply to yourself.

You slid the first dress from its silk hanger. A lilac gown with beautifully beaded detail on the bodice. Once you had managed to get it on, you stood in front of the mirror with a grimace. Steve was right, it was much too pale. You hated that he was right. A man who barely knows you anymore and still knows too much.

It was much the same as you tried on each one of the expensive gowns. None of them seemed quite right. Either the color was off, or it didn’t fit quite right leaving you empty handed on the way out.

Later that afternoon, the sun was setting low, as you worked through a few things before you would reluctantly head home for the evening.

Abigail enthusiastically walked toward you with a large black box, wrapped with a red, silk ribbon and a large matching bow on top.

“Mrs. Petrov, this was just delivered for you. It's from Figueroa.”

The dress shop you had visited earlier in the day. Confusion spread across your face, as you took it from her opting to open it in your office and dismissing her for the day.

You gently lifted the edges, immediately met with matching red tissue paper and a small, white card that simply read: This was ALWAYS your color. See you tomorrow.

You pushed aside the wrapping to reveal a deep, burgundy colored gown held within. The material was a beautiful velvet, soft to the touch, letting your fingers melt into the fabric as you pulled it from the box. It was stunning. A mermaid cut, with long sleeves dropped for the sweetheart neckline that would show some cleavage. It was sexy yet stayed somewhat moderate.

You didn't remember seeing this one in the store because it would have surely caught your eye.

Steve always had good taste. It came as no surprise he chose something that you would have picked out for yourself.

You hid the card in the desk, amongst the ones that have accompanied the flowers, hiding away any evidence of where the dress had come from. Your insides twisted at the thought of hiding him away forever. It was never meant to be this way with Steve.

You gripped the edges of the box on the ride home with a permanent smile etched across your face at the thought of seeing him tomorrow, if only for a brief moment, you would be the one to make him smile.

You sat in silence, staring out the window, ignoring the grunts and protests from Nik.

“I shouldn't even be going to this stupid wedding. I've got shit to do at the club tonight.” Huffing out like a petulant child, pushing his back further into the seat.

You simply rolled your eyes and tried to picture yourself literally anywhere else. The thought of spending the entire evening by his side turned your stomach. All dolled up to be HIS arm candy, but it would be your secret who you were dressed FOR.

“Hey, are you going to talk to me? You've got to play the part sometime tonight.” He grabbed for your hand, but you swiftly moved away from his touch at the faintest brush.

“I'll play along in public, but do not fucking touch me when we are alone. I don't know where your filthy hands have been. Or who they've been in, for that matter.” You spat, already over his behavior.

He let out a deep, hearty laugh, throwing his head back.

“Someone is feisty. I like it.” Grabbing your knee, laughing once again when you pushed him away. “Oh, come on baby. Give us a kiss.”

“Fuck off, Nik.” You hissed.

“Don't worry, sweetheart. The feeling is mutual.” He straightened back up in his seat, promptly lighting a cigarette, blowing the smoke your way.

“Do you mind? I don't want to smell like smoke before we get there.” Waving it away from you and your face, letting out a small cough.

“Aw, don't want your new dress to smell like smoke?” He chuckled, pinching the fabric at your side. “Poor baby.”

Your hand tightened around the clutch you held in your lap, as you closed your eyes holding back your anger as best you could, seething just below the surface. You just had to get through a couple of hours, saying pleasantries and having lighthearted conversation while rubbing a few elbows with certain people.

Calming your nerves as best you could, taking a few deep breaths and slowly opening your eyes once more.

Nik was distracted on his phone, leaving you for a few moments of peace before you pulled up to the venue.

The driver came around to open his door first, but Nik made no attempt to come around to your side to let you out, making the driver go around to open your door as well. A real gentleman.

“Let's get this over with. I've got shit to do.” Finally coming to stand beside you, extending his elbow for you to take.

“You've already said that.” You hissed, reluctantly taking his arm as you headed toward the entrance. “Just fucking behave Nik, you can't act like an ass in front people tonight.”

As much as you hated your husband, he still had a portion of business to uphold with many of the attendees tonight. Your father's reputation was at stake just being associated with the prick.

“I'll do as I damn well please.” He hissed back through gritted teeth, glaring down at you as you entered the large room. Ignoring him, you will yourself to throw on the best fake smile that you could muster.

The wedding was being held downtown, at one of the oldest buildings. Its gothic architecture and high ceilings were a beautiful backdrop for a wedding.

Nik made a beeline for some of his associates, immediately grabbing some champagne from one of the waitresses as he pulled you along. It didn’t go unnoticed the way he so blatantly eyed her up and down as he passed.

You busied yourself looking around at the decor, sipping your own champagne trying to ignore the conversation he was having around you. Some things you couldn’t understand at all as he spoke in his native tongue. When you had first gotten married you took an interest in learning Russian but that quickly subsided as your marriage started falling apart.

The room quieted down to a dull murmur when he entered. His very presence commanded the attention of everyone present. Heads began to turn his way, all clambering to catch a glimpse of the so-called prodigal son of Richard Harrington as he made his entrance, his first public outing since the funeral.

He ignored the hushed whispers around him, walking in with Eddie falling right in behind him, the crowd parting as he made his way to pay respect to the happy couple.

He looked as handsome as ever sporting a black suit, with his hair slicked back and quaffed perfectly but his burgundy shirt and tie beneath his buttoned suit jacket is what really caught your eye. It was the exact color of your dress. A detail that brought a small smile to your face.

“Who the hell does he think he is?” Nik scoffed, as some of the other men chuckled, pulling your attention back to the small group.

He downed the rest of his champagne, eyes never leaving Steve, following his movements across the crowded space.

“I need something a little more stiff, come on.” He grabbed your arm, pushing his way through the crowd to get to the bar, dragging you along beside him. The abruptness caught you off guard. For a moment, you wabbled on your heels.

“Nik, you need to take it easy tonight.” You whispered through gritted teeth.

“And you,” he hissed. “Should shut the fuck up.” He gripped your arm a little tighter as you reached the bar tucked away in the corner before ordering a bourbon, downing it in one gulp, slamming the glass back down. He would never outwardly push it out in the open like this, showing his true colors but it was surprising, nonetheless.

He finally relinquished his grip to grab his next one, turning to meet his associates as they began to huddle around him, picking up their conversations from before leaving him to ignore you once more.

Steve spotted you as soon as he walked through the door, smirking to himself. The dress he had picked out fit you spectacularly, showing off your curves while staying somewhat modest. You were breathtaking.

Reluctantly, his attention drew back to the matter at hand as he made his way through the crowd to greet the wedding party and their family, wishing them the best.

Steve quickly made his rounds, shaking hands and chatting with some familiar faces or some new introducing themselves, but he couldn't keep his eyes off of you.

He and Eddie grabbed some flutes of champagne, chatting amongst themselves in the corner where he temporarily lost you in the crowd, but quickly caught up with you again heading toward the bar with Nik.

His jaw ticked seeing the way he gripped you, pulling you alongside him.

Eddie noticed how he stiffened, following his line of vision over to you just in time for them both to witness his hold on you grow a little more harsh.

Steve took a step before Eddie moved abruptly in front of him, halting him with a palm to his chest.

“Steve. Not here.” Eddie warned, as he looked past him once more. You had already moved away from Nik, standing to the side of the bar.

Eddie was right. This was not the time or place to lose his head, but it didn't mean they couldn't have a little chat.

You heard him before you saw him, heart promptly leaping into your throat when you realized he was headed in your direction, but he only caught your gaze nodding slightly and greeted Nik instead.

Realizing you could do nothing but stand there and watch as the scene unfolds, you downed the rest of your champagne bracing for the worst.

“Nik, gentlemen. How are we all doing this evening?” Asking with that charming Harrington tone, as Eddie hung slightly behind them, hands in his pockets, looking relaxed but you could tell he was anything but.

Nik’s amusement seemed to fade, his smile dropping, moving the glass to his lips for another sip. He stood up a little straighter, squaring his shoulders to the other man.

“Harrington.” Nodding back, as the others stated their own greetings.

“Didn't expect you to show up here. Your father never came to shit like this.” He sneered.

“Well, little Niki, like I told you the other day, we aren't our fathers. And I, for one, am striving to be a better man than he was. We should all strive to be better men, right?” Leveling his gaze right at your husband as he spoke.

A flash of anger split Nik's face before regaining his composure, already a little too much to drink to effectively conceal his emotions. The nickname he gained in his youth that he had come to detest, trying to live up to the elder Nikolai, his father, always falling in his shadow. Something that he and Steve had in common however they chose very different avenues to deal with it.

“Right.” Scoffing, as he set his glass back to the bar, taking a small step toward Steve, once again squaring his shoulders. “Any suggestions on how I should go about that, since you're doling out the advice today? I'm all ears.”

“I don't know, Nik. Maybe the old ways of handling business are outdated? Kind of like, oh I don't know?” Pausing, pretending to think for a moment. “Raising a hand to your spouse to keep them in line? That shit just doesn't work and makes you look bad.”

Your cheeks suddenly heated at the bluntness of his insinuation, hoping no one looked over at you.

“And what the fuck would you know about business? Last time I checked, you were still riding daddy's coattails.” Leaning further into Steve’s space as he spoke trying to make himself more intimidating, but he stood his ground, not so easily dissuaded.

Eddie made to move forward, but Steve quickly held a hand out, halting him.

Nik's raised voice began garnering a little attention their way as you scanned the other guests standing close by.

“I'm just saying.” Taking a step toward Nik this time, both men practically nose to nose. “Sometimes it's better to get with the program, or you could lose everything.”

“Are you threatening me?” Nik spat.

Steve let out a small chuckle, shaking his head as he stepped back, reminding himself once more that he couldn’t lose it here.

“Trust me, you would know if it's a threat. Just some friendly advice.” He clapped him on the arm as if they were old chums, sharing a good laugh which only infuriated Nik further.

“You can take your friendly advice and shove it u…” One of Nik's associates got in between the two and tried to calm him down. Steve was trying to goad him to gauge his reaction and he had taken the bait flawlessly.

“Well, gentlemen if you'll excuse me, we are here for a wedding after all.” He nodded, as he and Eddie headed back across the room, leaving you a little speechless in the process.

“I don't know who the fuck he thinks he is.” Nik began to rant, so you decided to leave him and make your way to your chair for the ceremony. You also hoped he would cool off before coming to find you as other guests began to fill the empty seats around you.

You caught Steve out of the corner of your eye as he passed, taking a seat across the aisle, one row up on the end.

The ceremony was beautiful with a blushing young bride and a handsome groom. They seemed genuinely happy and for their sakes you hoped it were true.

You couldn't help but feel sadness now thinking back to your own wedding. The joy and hopefulness that day brought only to be a complete fabrication.

As the couple said their vows, your eyes found his across the aisle, as if he had already been looking toward you. There seemed to be a sadness etched within him as well, his eyes lacking their usual sparkle.

Images flashed and danced through your mind of a life that could have been. A fall wedding, surrounded by your closest friends and family. Honeymooning on the Italian coast and coming back to a home full of love and promise without any doubts.

Steve would have given you the world without any hesitation. He loved fiercely, willing to do whatever it took to make you happy. He made it so damn easy to see what a bright future lay ahead for both of you.

You hadn't noticed a tear escaping until it rolled down your cheek, and onto your hand situated in your lap, suddenly bringing you crashing back to reality.

He was still looking at you when you diverted your gaze away, because it was all too much. Your chest ached as the couple kissed, concluding their vows and made their way down the aisle, now united in holy matrimony with smiles gracing their happy faces. It was suddenly too suffocating.

“I have to go to the restroom.” Excusing yourself from Nik’s side, not waiting for his response, quickly dashing out the side door into the empty hallway.

You breathed a small sigh of relief, briefly pausing, your hand leaning against the wall to steady yourself and regain some composure.

You willed yourself to conceal your emotions as you began to make your way down the corridor but as you rounded the corner someone grabbed your forearm. Your back was suddenly met with a warm chest, taking you by surprise. Their large hand clasping over your mouth stifling any noise from escaping you, as they step further back with you in tow, closing the door.

Before you had time to react, his soothing voice washed over you.

“It's okay, Dove. It's just me.” His lips so close, ghosting the shell of your ear as he spoke. He waited a moment for it to register before he removed his hand from your face, finding the light switch.

“Steve! What the hell?” Saying as you swung around to face him, your pulse racing from the small scare. He had pulled you into a small, dimly lit utility closet, away from prying eyes and just big enough for the two of you.

“I'm sorry, honey it's the only place I could get you alone.” He shrugged, shifting toward you, with a small pout.

“I shouldn't be in here.” You reached for the handle, but he was quick to place his hand overtop yours, effectively halting your movement.

“I couldn't let you leave without telling you how beautiful you look.” He whispered, closing the small gap between you, his hand coming to rest on your hip, heat radiating from his palm. His touch was searing, even through the fabric of your gown.

“I saw this on the way out of the shop and had them match the shirt and tie perfectly.” He inches just a little more into your space, releasing the hold on your hand so he could plant it firmly to your lower back pushing you further into him.

Your hands find the expanse of his chest, holding yourself steady, feeling as though your knees could give out at any moment. He had unbuttoned his suit jacket, your palms finding the warmth beneath, flat against his silk shirt.

He didn't need to utter it aloud. The dress. The tie. It was his way of subtly staking claim to you. You were and always had been his.

“Steve, what are you doing? You can't exactly woo a married woman. Especially one married to someone as powerful as Nik. He…” You stopped, when you saw the look in his eyes, utterly and completely gone for you.

“I don't have to woo what's already mine.” His voice low and husky, dripping with desire.

“That’s very presumptuous of you, Mr. Harrington.” You breathed out, trying to maintain your cool but even you could hear the waiver in your voice.

No matter the distance or time, you couldn't forget this man no matter how hard you tried. He would simply not let you. It felt like torture to be this close to him now, yet so far away.

Your head kept telling you that you needed to run, but you couldn't find it in yourself to move. You were transfixed, gazing up into his golden, mossy framed orbs.

You let your eyes trail his features. A small scar above his left eyebrow that had been there for years, a memento of his childhood. The way his lips had the perfect cupid's bow and remembering just the way he tastes.

He leans down looking for any sign of trepidation, finding none; your face mirroring his own, full of unspoken adoration.

“You're not denying it, tesoro. Just tell me you want this, as much as I do.” His nose traces down the slope of yours as he speaks. Your heart hammering so hard in your chest, you were sure he could hear it beating.

“Amore mio.” You whisper, top lip grazing his, releasing a shuddering breath before the realization of what you'd just said fully hit.

You'd never spoken those simple words to anyone else, only ever reserved for Steve. He had taught you some phrases in Italian, mostly sweet talk. You were always his tesoro mio and he, your amore mio.

You lean back, clasping a hand over your mouth as he was fully leaning in, eyes closed, lips chasing yours.

“Oh my God!” You gasp out, pressing yourself backward, stumbling a bit in your heels but he catches your elbow as you regain your balance.

“Dove?” He asks, voice low, coming out a little timidly.

“I… We can't do this Steve!” He can see your internal conflict and what he can only infer as fear written all over your face. It dawns on him then. The way you had winced when he grabbed your arm at the gallery. The way Nik had pulled you through the room earlier.

“Dove, did he hurt you?” His hand on your elbow begins to draw you back in, laying his other to your jaw, coaxing your face toward him but you still refuse to look up, eyes cast downward.

“No, Steve. You just… you don't know what he's capable of.” Your eyes grow glossy, tears threatening to spill over your lashes and ruining your makeup.

“Hey, honey, I'm not worried about him.” He does his best to soothe you, speaking softly. “If anyone should be worried, it's him. You hear me? Look at me.” Gently, his thumb grazes your bottom lip.

“Dove, look at me.” Pleading one last time, his voice was raw and pained.

“Steve, I can't…” Your eyes finally meet his, tears spilling out and down your cheeks. He does his best to wipe them away when his hands come to cup your cheeks. “I…I’m sor…”

“Shhh… no need for that, tesoro mio.” He doesn't want to let you go, but he's afraid of pushing you further away.

He leans in, warm lips press into your forehead as your eyes close. A tender embrace, your hand coming to grip his wrist holding him in place for a moment longer before quietly slipping from his hold.

You wipe your tears, pausing with your hand on the handle, looking back over your shoulder at him.

“It's better if you stay away from me.” Whispering out without waiting for a reply, quickly opening the door and checking the hall before stepping out. Your footsteps are the only sound echoing down the corridor as you walk toward the restroom to clean yourself up.

The interaction only lasted a few minutes, but the feeling of his hands and lips still lingered on your skin.

“It's better if you stay away from me.”

He blows out a deep breath but doesn't say anything.

Better for who? He bitterly thinks. Certainly not better for him. You're all he's thought about since returning. It's driving him insane.

He can't bring himself to think about you with Nik. The asshole getting to have you all to himself. He can touch, kiss or bed you anytime he pleases. The thought makes him sick, but the brief interaction solidifies what he already knew to be true.

When he heard “amore mio” glide past your lips so easily, he knew he still had you. His heart ached to hear you say that just once more, something he hadn't heard uttered in so long, nearly taking his breath away. You're still his.

He waits a few more moments, letting you get ahead of him before he makes sure the coast is clear and exits the closet.

Heading in the opposite direction and rounding the corner, he spots Eddie leaning against the wall smirking at him.

“Everything okay, boss?” His grin drops, shoving himself off the wall seeing the annoyed look plastered to Steve's face. Not what he had expected.

“No, but it will be. We're leaving.” Grunting out as he continues to walk, leaving Eddie to catch up to his stride.

You stared at your reflection in the mirror, wiping the makeup that had run. It took a few minutes, but you made yourself presentable.

Nik was waiting for you right outside the bathroom, crossing his arms giving you a death glare when you spotted him.

“What the hell have you been doing?” He hissed.

“I had to pee, and the wedding made me emotional, so I cleaned myself up. I can't go to the reception looking like a mess.” Responding, as you headed past him, but he grabbed your arm. The one he's so fond to take here lately when you get out of line.

“We're going home.” He spat, getting in your face for a moment before a cruel smile stretched across his face as his whole demeanor changed.

“Kitten, I know you're tired, it's been a long hard day.” Ushering you out into the reception area, pulling you through the crowd toward the exit, holding tightly to your wrist as if you would try to flee at any moment.

The car was already waiting outside, as he ushered you inside and slammed the door. You held your breath when he sat down beside you and began to loosen his tie, unbuttoning the restricting collar.

Silence for a few moments as you head back home to your prison.

“Do you think I'm fucking stupid?” He finally asks, turning his head slowly toward you.

“Wh– What?” You asked meekly, shrinking into yourself.

“I asked if you think I'm fucking stupid?” Enunciating each word a little slower and more clipped.

You furrowed your brow, trying to decipher where he was going. Had he seen you and Steve exit the closet?

“Where'd the dress come from?”

“My dress?” You tried to stay calm, looking down at the velvet fabric. He'd put those small crumbs together.

“The dress Y/N. That fucker bought it for you, didn't he? Didn't think I'd notice his goddamn matching shirt and tie? You two think you're really cute.” He clenched his fists on his lap, as his jaw ticked. He was anything but calm right now and the dam was about to burst.

“Nik… I…” He suddenly lunged at you, hand around your throat pushing you back into the seat. You gasped out in surprise, as he pressed in just a little harder, fingers flexing and cutting off your air supply. Your hand flew up to clutch at his, grasping and desperately trying to pry him away.

He leaned in close, gritting his teeth as he spoke.

“Its like you want me the fucking hurt you, leaving me no choice. Pull a stunt like that again, and not even your father will be able to protect you.”

He eases back, placing a chaste kiss to your temple before releasing his hold on you. Your airway opened, leaving you gasping in a heavy breath while letting out a small, choked sob.

“I warned you.” His last words for the evening, before lighting a cigarette and thoroughly ignoring you, taking a phone call leaving you to sulk in the corner.

He dropped you off at home, no doubt heading to his club, but you were grateful to be left alone for the night hoping for some miracle that he wouldn’t come back home at all.

You drew yourself a hot bath, letting the magnitude of everything that had transpired wash over you.

The wedding brought up so many morose thoughts and feelings. Steve blatantly threatening Nik, Nik threatening you, it was all too much.

Your fingertips graze your cheek where his hand had been not long ago. If you closed your eyes, you could feel him still, imaging he was here with you. His touch had electrified you. Something you had never felt with anyone else. A feeling of being totally alive. The gray, dreary past melting and giving way to a future full of bright color.

“Steve.” You whispered out, pulling your knees into your chest, as you cried.

Lying to yourself would be useless. Steve was everything that Nik never was or would be. Years apart and he still holds your heart. You were still in love with him, just knowing he felt the same was all you needed.

You had to think of a plan, while still trying to maintain your distance until Nik was out of the picture.

This was a very dangerous game, but you couldn't bear the thought of letting him go a second time.

No, you wouldn't let that happen this time.

Taglist: @micheledawn1975 @girlwiththerubyslippers @thecreelhouse @teen--marvel @taccobelle

Let me know if you would like to be tagged!

[im-yn-suckers]

ink

pairing-bf niki x gf reader

warnings-kisses, lotssssss, both of yall are soft asf, reader is up at 11 and niki gets home from dance practice at that time, crying, mention of snot, cuddles, mention of s*gag* sch*gag* school.*gag* not proofread bc im lAzy, lmk what i missed

why are you up at 11 with your computer on right in front of you? because of your fucking professor. yes, yesterday you had to miss class because you overslept. like its not your fault that school starts at 6 and they give you homework that takes you hours to do. anyway, according to your friends, you had an essay due tomorrow so you only had one day to work on it.

your pens and pencils were scattered all over the table. your notebook was open and your notes were written messily due to you being extremely tired. sticky notes on the edge of your laptop and notes.

dry tears stained your face and left a pink tint. your lips and mouth were sore from having them scrunched. your eyes were puffy, and your nose with snot coming out of it. you reached for your tissue, and placed it in the trash next to you, after cleaning your nose.

a minimum of 1,000 words for your essay, 100 done. stress was going in through the front door, sadness through the back and exhaustion through the windows.

you looked up to the ceiling to prevent crying, almost there. you can do it, you know you can. so why are you telling yourself you cant. it was dark out and you could barely see. 100 words, 10 tear stained tissues, and one coffee later, you took a two minute break. not enough. tears ran down your face while typing, your hands cramping and at the very moment you let out a sob-

-"Y/N!!! im home and i have some sna- baby, whats wrong?"- even though he was tired at this hour, he was always energized to see your face. he dropped the bags of snacks and drinks on the floor and went to hug you.

he saw your laptops screen, tissues, notes, pens and tear stained pages and started to peck your scalp.

-"its ok, my love. you'll be ok, i'm here. nothings going to happen"- he reassured you, rubbing your back and pressing kisses to your forehead.

he closed your laptop notebook and pencil case, wiped your tears, and put it all in a pile to the side. he put the snacks and drinks on the table.

after a bit of eating, laughing and reassuring, you told him your essay was due tomorrow. he set your stuff up and told you to take deep breaths to calm down before starting again.

you had one paragraph left, you're almost there. you can do it. you set your hand on the table to look through your notes. niki grabbed a pen and your hand. he started to doodle some weird figures. little giggles escaping his lips. he switched the color to red, holding your hand down so you wont look

you wondered what he was doing. he smirked mischievously, put the pen back and laid his head on the table to avoid your eyes.

you looked at your hand and saw two stick figures in black ink. they were holding hands and had big smiles on their face. in red ink, there was a heart surrounded by 5 little ones. flowers in the background as well.

you looked over at niki who was looking at you. he blinked in awe and you finished your essay. you closed you laptop and put everything in your backpack. you walked over to your room while niki was getting ready to sleep.

you looked at your hand again and nik just stood at the door frame. you quickly finished getting ready and laid down. niki plopped himself on top of you playfully, filling your room with laughter.

-"i'm so proud of you baby. i love you"- he said, kissing your head

-"i know, i love you too"- he leaned forward and kissed you softly.

he held you close to him and kissed you passionately. he fell asleep after a few seconds and you looked at your hand once more. you kissed his nose and fell asleep on his arms

an: wow, its longer than usual. woohoo. slayyy fr. sunghoon drabble coming soon yall

[a-world-with0ut-dr34ms]

John Price x Reader

Part One | Part Three

With your Captain at the brink of death and little supplies left to keep you covered, the two of you do what little you can to hold out and distract yourselves until help arrives.

TW//: Blood, Mentions of Death

Angst, Drama, Romance, Action, Suspense, Tense, Near Death Experiences, Confessions of Love, Light Fluff, Confessions, Light Bickering, canon inaccuracies probably, but hopefully not, slight character study, medical inaccuracies, I'm no nurse, I'm a film major :(, a mopey rollercoaster, but the ending is worth it hopefully

Word Count: 4.2k

Took me a few days to ponder what I wanted to do with this (I'm so indecisive), but at last, I finished. I wanted it to be sad, I'm not sure if I succeeded, but I promise it's not pointlessly sad (probably isn't even sad). Also, let me know if I should follow this up with a Part 3 (which would be the final part of this, might do it any way but if this was actually garbage I will keep it pushin'). Regardless, I had fun typing this, I felt rusty typing something actually angsty. I hope you enjoy! ( ㄕཀ ʖ̯ ཀ)

taglist: @tapioca-marzipan @spooky-pomegranate

Thank you again, I hope it was worth the wait (T^T)>

Stay awake. You tell yourself again and again -- stay awake. Don't succumb to the fatigue, ignore the pain in your arm, and keep your foot on the gas. It's either that or you lose Price right here and now.

You look over at your Captain after five more minutes had passed, with nothing but the rocky road and its hills ahead of you to keep you company. Price kept his pistol in hand and his tired blue eyes on the perimeter outside the convoy. He didn't have much to say anymore; it was taking all his energy just not to bleed to death.

His chest rises and falls with each heavy breath he forcibly conjured out of himself. By now his blood stained his seat, growing larger with each hill you've passed. Your Captain would be an angel already had you not found more supplies in the vehicle to temporarily patch him up with. Though he seemed adamant about staying alive, nonetheless.

The night sky darkens, and the road ahead demonstrates its need to be endless. Price had told you before that he had no intention of bleeding to death. You desperately want to believe him.

Clouds roll over the moon, which for a while had shared its glow alongside the headlights of your recently stolen convoy. Its absence only makes you feel more boxed in, placed behind the wheel with your dying Captain. The outskirts of Urzikstan appear an even less welcoming place than before. With its encompassing darkness, your fears of what lie in them only grew, the longer you drove and yet to encounter your destination.

The hills now tower around your vehicle like walls, painted pitch black, becoming mountainous the further out you drive. Had you not seen the fallback zone around the corner, you would have thought yourself lost.

You park the convoy a short ways to the rear of the location: a small, rundown house long abandoned since all the fighting in the area re-escalated. The house was on the outskirts of some empty town not too far away that both AQ, the Russians, and the locals avoided, seeing as the next nearest town was where you just left, and anywhere beyond this point was under AQ and Russian control. It should be a safe place to lie low until your exit is available again.

Price made sure there were a few safe areas to fall back to, in case things went wrong during the mission. Which they most certainly did. You wouldn't even have needed to be here in the first place, had everything not continued to go wrong after acquiring the vehicle. Your bad luck has hopefully since ceased.

However, the night hadn't been over yet. That much had been proven true only a half hour ago.

In a matter of minutes after making your vehicular getaway, AQ had caught up to you, all in convoys, and armed to the teeth. Had Nikolai not been around the corner with his helicopter, you and Price would have surely been run off the road at some point, being as injured as you both are and with hardly any ammo left to spare.

You could only see in your rearview mirror the destruction Nikolai created behind you, the sky having lit up with the flames of your unwanted pursuers. It had almost been perfect, until shrapnel and gunfire damaged Nikolai's helicopter too much during that last-second rescue, forcing him to retreat.

You could still picture watching him fly away, seeing that shadowy monstrosity fly off into the sky, until the hills had swallowed it whole. Watching your only exit out of here fly off into the distance absolutely gutted you. The small sliver of hope you hadn't yet lost had all but gone away with him. Yet you knew it was the safest thing to do. Your LZ had been compromised, and it wouldn't have done any good if you all piled on just to get blasted out of the sky moments later.

So instead, a change of plans was made. Nikolai, being the resourceful individual he was, had other means of escape worked out. He just needed to get there first.

Knowing this, your new objective had been clear and simple for you both: Stay alive.

You park the convoy and shut the vehicle off, watching the headlights die and a chilling silence fall in the air. All you can really do is take a moment and breathe.

Your right arm -- still very much broken and in pain -- rested limply in your lap, begging for a sling. A throbbing headache has not left you since taking that RPG blast only an hour or so ago. With having to wait to be saved now, time felt as though an hourglass had just been rested on its side.

You peek back through your window, seeing the empty hills behind you. No one's been in pursuit since Nikolai's interference earlier. Hopefully, their absence meant you'd finally lost them. You felt you had run all out of hope tonight, yet it's all that felt real and obtainable anymore.

"It seems quiet enough," you start to unbuckle your seat belt. "It's probably safe to head inside now."

You wait for your Captain's reply, only to be met with silence.

"Price?"

You look over to find the Captain lying slumped against his seat, his eyes closed and as still as a statue. The sight makes your blood run cold and your heart quake with fear.

"...Price," you reach over and rest a hand on his shoulder, beginning to shake him. Praying that he'll wake up. "Price, stay with me, Captain. Come on, wake up."

You shake and shake him, but the man doesn't budge from his sudden unconsciousness, his body only moving along to the hold you had over his shoulder. At each little shove you make of him, your eyes further lock on the still features of his face, desperation filling you.

You've tried so hard to keep your composure tonight, if not for yourself then for him. You had wanted to return the favor for all the times he's helped you from the brink of death before. The many times Price has been your last glimmer of hope when you feared none was there to have. You wanted to be that for him now. To show him he needn't shoulder such things alone. He couldn't die now.

"Price, please-"

The Captain starts to cough himself out of whatever slumber he'd found himself in, his face grimacing with pain as he hugged his wounded side. "I'm good..." he claims. "...'ave we made it?"

You look at Price, frustrated at his cavalier attitude, despite having been so used to it before. Frankly, your emotions could not handle it at the moment, given the fact that only a second ago you could have sworn he'd just died.

"It's getting worse," you state.

"I'll be fine," he protests.

"Price," he can hear in your tone you're trying to be real with him now. "Just because you wanna act like it's nothing, doesn't mean that it is-"

"Last I checked, we've little time for us to fuck about right now, lieutenant."

"You just passed out."

Price opened his mouth, prepared to argue more, but pauses when he realizes that he can't really argue at all. He had passed out, and he wasn't so prideful to claim that it wouldn't happen again either. So he instead settles down, allowing you to take the reigns and go back to focusing on the important matters.

"...I know," he says. "I'm sorry... Are you holding up alright?"

"I'm doing better than you."

Then that's what matters most, Price had thought. "I don't doubt it," he says. "And here I was hopin' I'd go out in a more dignified fashion than this-"

"Stop it," you take his hand again, shutting down whatever pity talk he was beginning to spew. Not wanting it to worry you that he's gotten to this point. "Look, we're at the safehouse now. That should make not bleeding to death a hell of a lot easier."

"Or at least more comfortable," Price quips. Though your humorless expression only makes him digress. "There should be more supplies inside."

"Let's just get inside before you pass out again."

It's a struggle to get him inside, and twice as much a struggle to patch his wound up. Price had the place generously stocked with a resupply of weapons, ammo, and medkits, though it wouldn't be enough to change the current dilemma that your Captain was in.

Once your arm had been slung (DIY style), you immediately tended to Price. However, having to help stitch with your non-dominate hand was an absolute nightmare, as much as your Captain tried to take over for himself. His hands had grown too shaky to hold the needle, it would slip from his grasp every so often, and you hadn't wanted to see him grow more frustrated with the task.

Of course, watching you struggle to stitch only upset him more. You were mostly silent, though Price would see your throat move hesitantly, swallowing heavily at every sudden urge that came to you that wanted to cry. You hadn't wanted to in front of your Captain, you didn't want him to worry about you.

You wouldn't let any amount of hindrances stop you, you closed the wound, redressed it, and checked on it a second time before Price finally had to tell you it would hold. Though closed or not, it mattered little. He'd lost so much blood at this point that it was a miracle he wasn't dead already.

But miracles only last for so long.

In and out of consciousness, Price thought a lot about how silly it would be if he bled to death right now. In such a helpless state, forced to rely on his subordinate to keep him alive. Someone who had felt more than a subordinate, now more than ever. You've seen him blown out of the sky, near beaten to death, stabbed, shot, and then some.

Twenty years of all the shit he's been through in the force, and a gut wound from shrapnel is what takes him out. He almost found it funny.

Price has told himself his whole life he'd be ready when the time comes. He accepts death every day he wakes in the morning and steps out the door. It didn't mean he'd lay down and die, however, ironic now. One way or another, the man just always knew that when he went out it would be fighting. Because he's fought his whole life, it's all he knows how to do.

All he could ever ask for is to die doing what he loves, and this had been that. However, now that this love has brought him here beside you, giving him the fate he's all but manifested for himself, over years of growing pessimism and a longing to be dignified, suddenly, he finds it funny how life can be. Now all of a sudden he doesn't feel so ready to go. He thought he'd be more prepared.

And it's what's killing him most of all. This helplessness death has now brought him.

Had Price not gone ahead and made sure Nikolai stashed medical supplies in the safehouse in advance, he's certain he would be dead right now. Though as it's been said before, the night's not over yet.

"Lieutenant..." Price calls to you faintly.

You look over at the Captain, seeing him still seated beside you, his back resting against the living room wall. Though he still looked pale, cold sweat dotting his skin, and with labored breaths, at least he wasn't bleeding anymore. You did what you could with what was available, however, you were no field medic.

"What's up?" you reply, though your attention stays out the window, towards the dark perimeter outside the safehouse. By now these hills would haunt your dreams.

You remain posted by one of the front windows, your pistol clutched in your feeble hand. Since redressing Price's wound (and your own), you've been on watch; despite numerous failed (and delirious) attempts by your Captain to take watch himself. He was as adamant to see you in better health as you were to him.

As far as you're concerned, you're the one who's in the best shape here, broken arm or not. Beyond the exhaustion, you still had all of yourself with you. That alone made you obligated to be the one that gets you both out of this mess.

However, this is the clearest the man's ever felt, and something else had been on Price's mind. A thought which crossed him, after some realization came, somewhere between silences.

Price asks you faintly "...Will you talk to me?"

You look at your Captain now, perturbed. "Is something wrong?"

"Nothin' beyond the obvious, love," Price shakes his head, before bringing a weak hand up to clear his hoarse throat. "Just tryin' not to livin' the night up by passin' out and fallin' into a coma," he admits.

Fair enough.

"OK..." You turn back to the perimeter, running a million possible icebreakers that you could say right now. It's hard to settle for just one. "Where are we going out to eat after this?"

Price chuckles to himself. "Somewhere with good steak and Guinness would suit me," he jokes.

"Can it be somewhere fancy?" you ask. "I'd love to dress up."

"Mm," Price hums.

You've dressed up a few times before whenever the team went out and there was time. He's always liked how you always kept up appearances, and that it wasn't for any other reason than the fact that you just enjoyed doing so. Evidently, Price has had passing memories of a few choice outfits you've worn, many he wished to see again.

"You've any outfits in mind?" He asks you, wanting you to paint a picture for him. Give him something nice to think about.

You think to yourself for a moment, your ponderous hum filling the silence. "A dress," you state, thinking out loud and conjuring it as you speak, as Price hums with affirmation to each suggestion. "I'm thinking something skin tight... low cut with strings and spaghetti straps. Oh! And with one of those little leg slit things too! And heels."

"That's quite a detailed description," Price teases.

You've had a lot of time to think about it, though you'd never admit that. "Does it sound nice though?"

Had you two been having this conversation elsewhere, Price's mind would have undoubtedly gone somewhere vulgar, only picturing how that dress might look bunched up at your ankles or pushed up in a messy bundle around your waist. He's sure that was your intent when describing it as well.

However, with his mind repeatedly giving way to the black throughout this conversation now, his body gone from numb to feeling light as a feather, all he could picture of you in that dress was the smile you'd have for him instead, with a cluster full of joy shining in your eyes. How happy you would be just to be beside him, just as you are now. In these brief moments where your mind has been taken away from reality.

Does it sound nice, you ask him. You could narrate his dying breath, and the man would have thought it a beautiful thing, having been your words he last could hear before the world finally takes him.

"It sounds lovely," he says.

You swallow, your brave front cracking ever so slightly at his honesty. For some reason, it felt as though gravity just came back to you. You hadn't noticed its absence until now.

"Which is exactly why we're gonna get out of here," you reassure yourself. "So I can model it for you in person, yeah?"

"Exactly why..."

It had been nice talking about something else. Seeing you smiling again had warmed the grown man's heart as greatly as any time before. Price had been itching to see it one more time.

No doubt, he hadn't forgotten about his promise to take you out to dinner once you've both returned. Thinking about it now, at the brink of death without you even knowing... it's a sweet thought, nonetheless.

"I've no idea why you even bother with me..." he says suddenly, his mind fading so much he can hardly hear the words which leave him when they do. However, it had been a growing thought all night.

He's never understood your fondness for him. Price knew he could be hot shit, and he's earned respect from countless of his peers and subordinates alike, but it wasn't because he had been special, he always thought. He saw himself as no different than anyone else on his team choosing to do the same mission.

And surely he was a sorry excuse of a man for putting you through such a thing as this, tonight.

However, the scoff you let out after he says this would suggest you beg to differ.

"Are you kidding?" You say, keeping your gaze out the window, though even from there, Price could see the sudden pride fire up in your eyes. "You're like the greatest guy I know, Captain."

Price chuckles. "...I appreciate that"

"I mean it too," you continue. "We wouldn't be 141 without you. You're smart, you're resourceful, you're kind, but you get shit done too. Not to mention you're a total hunk. You're literally the entire package."

Yeah, you thought, Price is the whole package. There wasn't a man around that you trusted more than your Captain, nor was there anyone you ever wanted respect and companionship from more than his.

You still remember the first time you ever met Price. Laswell practically had to fight the man just to let you onto the team, having doubted your capabilities at the time. And in turn, you were doubtful of him as well.

You'd heard the stories of him back even during your SAS days, talking to the man in short, and tuning him out whenever he grew too overbearing during training. You wanted to say you weren't impressed with him, but even then you could see he wasn't just all talk. So the respect had been begrudgingly earned, to start with.

It wasn't until after a few high-tense missions with him that you finally started to get along. You both may bicker and avoid one another on base, but on the field you two worked together like fire and lightning, perfectly complimenting each other.

Price always was fair and reasonable, giving no doubt to his abilities as a leader. His confidence always felt reassuring in the most stressful of operations. While he could be a hard-ass, he was equally proud and gave praise whenever credit was due. Eventually, you started to crave it.

Price always liked how you listened to him, trusting his judgment and taking his advice. He's seen you grow and learn, watching you bleed for your comrades and step into the fire ready, just as he does, and that alone had been respectable to him. You had been so happy to have it too.

The hostility simmered into being cordial, before becoming neutral, and then casual. Your talks warmed, as did your times together. After a while, Price had been as synonymous to you as home ever could be. With all you two have been through, and all the times he's helped you since knowing him, you owe it to him to be his support this time.

"Whenever I'm around you I..." You speak again, but pause shortly, trying to think of the right words to say. "I feel safe," you say. "Like everything's going to be OK, and that soon it'll all be over. Because you're here. I mean, when you pulled me out from that rubble and I saw that you were OK, I just..."

It had felt wrong to ever even have had any doubts then. Because of course Price had been fine, it was Price. That's just who he was.

"I don't think I've ever met a man I've felt so safe around before in my entire life," you say. "Even now-"

You look over, only to be greeted by your Captain lying slouched against the wall, his eyes closed and completely still. Irresponsive. Your smile drops, and your heart sinks to your stomach.

"Captain?"

No response.

You immediately rush to his side and check for a pulse on his neck, your heart shattering when you couldn't find it.

"Price?" Your voice is practically at a whisper now, unable to use your vocal cords to full use, from fear of your voice breaking apart altogether. You place your hand on the side of his face, his skin so cold it makes you shiver, feeling your lip start to quiver and your vision blur with hot tears.

Even now, a small part of you was simply waiting to see him open his eyes again. Expecting him to shrug this off like he does with everything else so easily.

The whole time you sat kneeled in front of your Captain, you kept questioning how you could have let this happen, scolding yourself for this catastrophe. So many emotions flooded within you at one moment, you almost felt unable to process. You wanted to throw up, it was so much. It instead halts you there like a statue, your face frozen blank.

Your grievances are interrupted upon hearing a vehicle approaching outside. Suddenly, you really take in the fact that you're by yourself now. Your heart races, your hands starting to shake and your breathing growing quick. You were on your own.

You press your back against the wall, keeping your pistol close to you. You watch the headlights from outside pool through the window, illuminating the living room and remaining there.

The comms were beside Price; Nikolai would surely notify you if it was him outside. AQ couldn't have found you so soon, could they have?

With a broken arm and your own intuition left, you close your eyes and rest your head back against the wall, repeating to yourself at a whisper, "Please be Nik. Please be Nik. Please be Nik..."

Your comms buzz. "Price, Price, come in," Nikolai radios in. "Help has arrived!"

You let out a broken exhale. For the first time all night, you actually felt some real relief. Though, it was quickly drowned out once you looked back over towards your Captain, still lying there. Only a few minutes shy of being able to know you both would have been rescued tonight.

You reach around Price to grab the comms and radio back in to Nikolai. "Give me a minute, Nik."

You set the comms down, kneeling back in front of your Captain, tears burning in your eyes, your chest on fire.

Seeing him like this had felt so surreal. So unfitting. So unfair.

"Oh John…" You bring your hand down to Price's, holding tightly as his large fingers sat limp in your grasp. Cold and bloodied. You couldn't bring yourself to part from him now. "…I'm so sorry."

Price's hand suddenly twitches in your palm, making you gasp rather meekly. You watch him slowly pry his heavy eyelids open, and he reciprocates the hold you have over his hand, giving you a reassuring squeeze. Letting you know he was alive.

"… I'm right here," Price breathes out. "I'm here…"

Your gasp is broken with both relief and joy, a smile growing on your face and tears streaming down your cheeks. He was alive after all. Of course he was. This is your Captain. This is who John is; forever the class act.

A ping of frustration then hits you, bringing you to shove your Captain suddenly.

"Easy now," he says sarcastically.

"Don’t ever do that again!" you yell at him. "You scared me half to death, you asshole!"

Price raises an eyebrow at your outburst. He then sighs to himself, looking ahead of himself. Content.

"Ah, well…" He retakes your hand again, holding it in his lap for a spell, letting his thumb caress your skin, as he thinks slowly to himself. His breath is as broken as his hand feels in yours, with so much on his mind still left to say. He wouldn't miss these chances no longer. "I love you too."

You open your mouth to speak but then pause. Did he just say that to you? He loves you. Your heart jumped for joy. You didn't lose him after all.

You no longer cared if you looked weak, or unprofessional, or even too emotional, the tears come out and everything you'd been keeping bottled releases into broken sobs, and it feels so good to let them out. You lean into your Captain, burying your head into his chest to cry, which springs a pained "oof" from him in return.

"I'm sorry, Captain," you sit up and wipe the tears from your eyes. "I'm sorry... I really thought I lost you."

"I'm not goin' nowhere," he says. "We've still got that dinner later."

A big, giddy smile paints your face, and then, with a lifetime of moments worth of waiting and build-up to help guide you, you lean forward and let your lips come to Price's. Just in case. You didn't want to take any more chances.

You kiss Price softly, tasting the blood on his tongue and feeling the sting of his beard against your face. He could have been covered in mud for all you cared. You pull your lips away quickly, not having wanted to take up too much time. However, Price chases your lips as you part, finding your mouth again and kissing you back just as longingly. He finally lets himself celebrate the end of this night and the start of tomorrow.

( ´•̥̥̥o•̥̥̥`)♡(˘̩̩̩̩̩̩ ⌂ ˘̩̩̩̩̩̩) part three

[criminalamnesia]

This is me trying

summary: the last time you saw Nikolai, he told you he never wanted to see you again. now, you’re standing outside his door.

warnings: angst, brief mentions of torture (not explicit), reader is manipulated by the darkling, tidemaker!reader, not proofread, gender neutral reader

author’s note: me? writing more Nikolai while listening to Taylor swift? it’s more likely than you think. this one was inspired by “this is me trying.” listen to it while reading for the full experience :))

The last time you had seen Nikolai, he had told you he never wanted to see you again.

Now, here you are, standing in front of the door to his quarters. You would laugh if you weren’t so terrified of how he was going to react.

Would he still be mad? Would he scream at you, tell at you to get out? No, you thought. He wouldn’t do that.

But maybe time had changed him. He had still been a wild prince when you had last seen him– taking careless risks and throwing himself to the front of every battle. He had inspired you to be better– and you had been, for a time, but you weren’t Nikolai.

You did not have his heart. You did not have his resilience or kindness or grace. You were a burnt-out grisha who had abandoned her post. You were an outcast, a deserter, a failure.

Would he see that?

You inhaled deeply, your fist raised to knock. It hovered above the white wood of the door, shaking slightly. You shut your eyes tightly, willing yourself to knock. Your fist did not move.

“What are you doing?”

The sound of Nikolai’s voice had startled you, causing the bubble of water you’d been manipulating to pop. You groaned as it fell in droplets back into the lake.

“Saints, Nikolai, when did you get so quiet?” You huffed, lowering your outstretched hands and turning around to face him.

He was still in his First Army attire. He must’ve just gotten back from whatever front he’d been at this time– probably the northern. The Fjerdans had been causing problems lately.

“I was quite loud, actually. Maybe you were just too focused on your bubble.” He grinned, opening his arms to you. You rolled your eyes, stepping forward and into his embrace.

He wrapped his arms around you, squeezing you tightly. You gave a breathless laugh at his strength.

“I’m happy to see you too, Nik. But you’re going to squeeze me to death–” you said, earning a laugh from him before he mercifully dropped his arms.

You stepped back, giving him a wide smile. He smiled in return, looking you up and down. “New Kefta?” He questioned.

You nodded, subconsciously tugging at one of your sleeves. “The Fabrikators have been trying to incorporate stronger material into the Keftas to make them more protective. Guess I’m lucky they’re doing it now,” you gave a small laugh, but it wasn’t joyful.

Nikolai frowned, his eyebrows raising in confusion. “What do you mean?”

You inhaled, glancing at his face before looking down to your hands. Your hands, which held so much power. Your hands, that would soon be stained with blood.

“The General is sending some of the Second Army up to the northern front. The Fjerdan witch hunters have been abducting the grisha stationed there. He wants us to go put an end to it.”

Nikolai slowly shook his head. “That doesn’t make sense. I was just up there– we didn’t hear about any of that.”

“This is a grisha matter, Nik. The General thought it best for it to stay within the Little Palace. I shouldn’t even be telling you.”

“So he’s sending you up there?” Nikolai scoffed. “To what, be abducted like the rest? He should be sending his heartrenders–”

“Nikolai, this may be hard for you to hear, but I’m not who I was when you left. You’ve been gone for months. My abilities have grown– the General is impressed with my skills. This is a chance to show him he wasn’t wrong in showing me favor.”

“So, what, you’re one of his henchmen now? You know what happens to the grisha he ‘favors’–”

“I don’t want to talk about this any more, Nikolai.” You interrupted, holding up a hand. You knew he was right. You knew about Genya. About Zoya. About all the other grisha the Darkling took a shining too. But the Darkling’s favor came with better training, higher status. It made you stronger.

You knew you had to tread carefully, but you were tired of watching Nikolai ride off to battle and doing nothing about it. Now, you could help your prince and your country with your powers, and if Nikolai didn’t understand that, then so be it.

Before he could speak again, you continued. “I’m supposed to be at the stables now, anyway. We’re leaving soon. I don’t know when I’ll be back,” you admitted, meeting Nikolai’s gaze. “We can talk about it when I return.”

He swallowed his protests and nodded. “Good luck, then.”

You could hear movement behind the heavy wooden doors. Even at this late hour, Nikolai was still awake. It didn’t surprise you– he had always been a night owl, even when you were children.

You used to sneak away from the Little Palace in the middle of the night and meet Nikolai wherever you could. The gardens, the kitchens, the lake. The pair of you would always make it a challenge to see who could stay up longer, wanting to spend as much time together as you could before sleep took you. Nikolai always won.

You took another deep breath. You had foolishly hoped that he would be asleep– even though you knew he wouldn’t be– so you could have an excuse as to why you didn’t come to see him.

You knew he had to know you were here. Someone had to have told him– probably one of the heartrender twins. They had been keeping a watchful eye on you since you had arrived, and you couldn’t quite blame them.

Perhaps Alina had told him. Even though there was no way she could know your past with Nikolai, maybe she had mentioned who she was traveling with to him. You knew he couldn’t forget you, wouldn’t forget you– just like you with him.

You returned from the northern border a month later, and Nikolai barely recognized you.

You were different– and that, he understood. Battle changed even the best of people. But what happened to you, whatever it was, had made you someone different. Someone colder, darker.

He had heard whispers of what had happened to you up there. You refused to talk to him about it– when you talked to him at all. It was hard to get a word in with you seeing as you were constantly training, or right under the Darkling’s nose.

What you had done, what you had seen, Nikolai couldn’t imagine. The servants that went between the Little and Grand Palaces whispered. They said only about half of the grisha sent to the front came back, you amongst them. They said unspeakable things had happened there– the witch hunters had tortured your fellow grisha– even you.

They said you had drained the life from the men that did that to you and the other grisha, leaving them a deflated heap on the snowy ground– and even when they begged for mercy, you did not stop.

You continued to be sent out after that. The Darkling sent you wherever he could– the border of Shu-Han, on an expedition to Ketterdam, right into Fjerda to rescue taken grisha. Each time you returned, you lost more of yourself. You spoke less to Nikolai.

He was worried, and who wouldn’t be? His best friend had become someone– something unrecognizable. He finally cornered you one day before he was to leave on a journey to Kerch. Little did his family know that he was actually going to begin another escapade as Sturmhond.

“You need to come with me,” he had told you, one of his hands reaching forward to grasp yours. The pair of you were hidden away in the cluster of trees by the lake. You were supposed to be leaving soon for another assignment. Nikolai should’ve already been gone, but he couldn’t leave without seeing you.

You glanced down at his hands on yours. You looked back up at him, his expression pleading as his eyes all but begged you. You only shook your head.

“The General needs me. I’m leaving for Ketterdam in the morning.” You said, and Nikolai shook his head.

“Please, listen to me. The General is destroying you– I’ve heard the stories. You’re someone your younger self would’ve been terrified of,” he frowned, squeezing your hands.

“I’m stronger,” you replied. “And i’m fulfilling my purpose– just as you did. You went off with the First Army, and now I’m doing the same with the Second. I’m fighting for Ravka– for grisha– and I’m someone the General trusts. He isn’t destroying me, Nikolai. I won’t let him.”

“He has blinded you. He has made you powerful, yes, but he’s made you cold. Dark. Remember when we used to meet in the garden at night? When we talked about everything. When it was just us.” He said, and you nodded. “You told me once that you didn’t want to be another one of his pawns. That you would never let yourself fall for his honeyed words.”

You scoffed, rolling your eyes as you pulled your hands from Nikolai’s grasp. “And I’ve kept my word. I haven’t,” you said through your teeth, almost as if you were fighting to convince yourself you were right.

“You have. He’s put you on a pedestal, made you someone you never should’ve become. He’s a monster, and he’s making–”

You gave a humorless laugh, cutting him off. “He’s making me a monster? Is he?” You said, crossing your arms. “He’s given me what I need to do what I need to do. If that makes me a monster, so be it.”

“And those witch hunters you killed, what you did to them– that wasn’t monstrous?”

“That was deserved,” you said. Nikolai took a step back.

“You know that it wasn’t. You’re not that kind of person.”

“You don’t know what they do,” you spat, arms falling to your sides, fists clenched in anger. “You didn’t see what I saw. You played Prince in the first army, when the worst thing that happens is a shot to the shoulder. I watched them,” your voice wavered slightly. “I watched them burn my friends alive. Feed them to their wolves. All of my friends– their screams are etched into my memory. Those Fjerdans deserved worse than what I did,” you spat. “And I’d do it over and over again. And if you can’t understand that, then you need to leave, Nikolai.”

“I’ve seen horrors, too. It’s not a contest,” he spoke, his brows furrowed. “But I didn’t let it do to me what it’s done to you.”

“No, of course not.” You said. “The second son, forever trying to prove he’s not just a bastard.”

You instantly regretted the words as soon as they left your mouth, but it was too late to take them back. Nikolai gave a short nod, his hands moving to straighten his shirt.

“This time, when you leave,” he said, his gaze boring into you. “Don’t let me see you again if you come back.”

More movement could be heard behind the door. You felt tears welling up in your eyes as you dropped your fist. You couldn’t face him. It had been a few years, but you were sure he remembered your last conversation all to well. He wouldn’t want to see you.

Even though you had spent every day since deserting the Second Army regretting your last words to him, regretting what you had become, wishing you could see Nikolai again, you were still scared to knock.

You had been awful, and he had been right. The Darkling had manipulated you, just like he had with Genya. With Zoya. With Alina. You just another girl who fell for his manipulation and his lies– who allowed him to make you into something you hated. He had turned a blind eye at your suffering. He used your powers for his own agenda. He had lied, had abused you– and you had ruined the best thing you had had because of his influence.

You didn’t know if Nikolai was aware that when you left for Ketterdam, you never came back to Ravka. You had deserted the Second Army after that assignment, after seeing things you would never be able to wipe from your memory.

And while you were running from place to place, hiding from Kerch slavers or Shu-Han experimenters or Fjerdan witch hunters, you realized that Nikolai was right. Your powers had gone from a comfort to a reminder of the terrible things you had done. You were no longer the General’s star pupil, no longer that naive little tidemaker that snuck away in the middle of the night to watch the stars with the Prince.

You were tired, and in the midst of trying to piece yourself back together from everything you had suffered over the years, you had been roped into helping the Sun Summoner. Perhaps you had agreed to help her to atone– to try and forgive yourself. To begin righting your wrongs.

And now you were standing in the Grand Palace, a place you’d never thought you’d see again– standing outside of your once-friend’s quarters.

“Saints,” you whispered to yourself, shaking your head to try and disperse the anxious thoughts crowding it. “Why is this harder than battle?”

You raised your hand again, and finally, you knocked.

Nothing. You exhaled a breath you didn’t know you’d been holding. Nikolai must’ve gone to sleep–

The doors creaked opened to reveal the prince, his blond hair tousled– probably from running his hands through it as he thought (it was a nervous tick of his)– and his eyes tired.

You dropped your hand to your side as Nikolai looked you up and down.

“You’re alive,” he breathed, his eyes meeting yours. You gave a small nod.

Maybe no one told him of your arrival, after all.

“Saints,” he gave a small chuckle, stepping into the hallway. “You’re alive!”

He engulfed you in a hug, his arms squeezing you like they had so many times in the past.

“Hey, Nik,” you breathed, a small smile creeping onto your lips.

“I missed you, too.”

And those words held more weight than he would ever know.

[thesmokingguns]

Flower Crowns w/ Nikki Sixx and Peach

Minors DNI 18+

Nikki pulled the curtains to the side, his eyes scanning the land he owned and smirking when he saw feet kicking up from the flower field. Pink painted toes clashed with the blue sky and bright green grass, a familiar feeling of contentment washing over him as he found himself moving over to where his girl was.

Peach was laying on her stomach, a pair of scissors next to her and stems of wildflowers laid haphazardly around her as she hummed to herself, weaving it together to make a clumsy looking crown. Surely his little queen could do better than this.

She hadn’t realized he was close, didn’t notice him leaning to take the scissors beside her. Her fingers were busy as they got stained from pollen and sticky stems.

And Nikki went to work.

His fingers worked deftly, stems weaving together in a talent his grandmother had taught to him and his cousins as little kids.

Finally, happy with the way the crown looked he made his way over to where she was still working. Her pretty pink tongue sticking out in concentration as her toes ribbed down her calves between soft hums and kicks.

“On your knees, Peach.” Her head turned, looking at Nikki. Her head tilting to the side in confusion before she rolled, her thin cotton dress sticking to her thighs as she made her way to her knees, hands resting on her thighs as she looked up at him with those pretty blue eyes of hers shining for him.

Nikki’s thumb brushed her lips, knowing they tasted tart like lemonade from her summer obsession and wanting to get a mouthful of her kiss to cool his beating heart a bit.

“Nik?”

She questioned, soft and sweet as he hummed at her, looking at her with his eyes shining. Peach was the only person in the world who got to have him like this, who got to enjoy this side of him. She was the greatest love story he would get to live and he cherished every second he had with her.

His fingers, tattooed and worn from years of playing the bass, held her flower crown that he had worked on for her. Lavender stems mixed in with bright blossomed daisies, pink and purples asters, and dandelions were all together as he rested it in the soft waves of her blonde hair, watching the way her lips came into a big smile.

“Oh Nik,” He loved the way she said his name, so happy with him as she stood up, her knees stained with grass and dirt.

She was the best wildflower blooming .

His hands wrapped around her, kissing her forehead as he inhaled the smell of her skin. All sunshine and peaches, like an endless summer.

“I love you,” He said it as a promise, like he didn’t tell her every single day that she was his entire world, “Lets get you inside, sit you on a throne and let me worship you all day, Queen Peach.” Her laughter, head thrown back as she let it ring out tightened the hold on his heart further.

“Anywhere in the world,” She breathed out as he guided her into the house, “Anywhere in the world, I’ll go with you.” He smiled at her, turning her as they stepped into the sunroom.

It was cool inside, the AC keeping the house comfortable from the midwestern summer, where a breeze never seemed to be near. It was a different type of heat from the LA weather they were used to.

Nikki settled her on the couch, dropping to his knees as he pressed his palms into his hands, pushing them apart and groaning as he saw her bare pussy there. Nothing covering her so he could see the sticky warmth of her slit.

His thumb brushed against her, pushing to part her and groaning at the engorged sight of her clit, begging to be touched and her weeping slit so greedy for him and just begging to be stuffed full of him.

Peach moaned as his thumb brushed her clit, rubbing back and forth as she tried to buck her hips. But Nikki pressed his palm to her thigh, shaking his head in a silent warning not to rush him. He wanted to take his time with her, remember everything about the way she looked all swollen and hot for him.

Leaning forward he breathed in the musky scent of her cunt. His tongue coming out, licking her slit apart and teasing at her clit back down to her entrance that was prodded lazily. Shallowly fucking her with the tip of it before taking it away.

Her knees shook, the trembling of pleasure coursing through her body as she tossed her head against the back of the couch, her fingers curling into his hair as she tugged him trying to get him to bring her to orgasm.

“Shhh, little queen, let me worship you. I need to take my time letting my queen know how loyal I am to her.” Peach huffed out, an impatient sound as his eyes met hers, amused by the way her impatience was coming out.

“Your queen, demands you make her come. Now, Nikki,” A lazy little pout toying her features as Nikki smirked at her.

He loved that she was pushy for him.

“As you wish, your majesty,” he dove back in, his fingers slipping inside the tight heat of her as his tongue lapped figure eights around her clit. Peach whimpered, her knuckles teasing his scalp as she fisted his hair tight, rocking against him.

She was so close now.

“Nik, I’m-fuck.” Words were lost, just her sounds coming out as she rocked through her pleasure. Whimpers and moans, sounds of pleasures slipping out until he was kissing her thighs as she came down.

His eyes were on her face, looking at where her flower crown sat, skewed on top of her head from her movements.

“Your my favorite subject.” Peach teased him, making Nikki laugh at her as he got on the couch, bringing her onto his lap.

“I better be your only subject, Peach. Rest your eyes now. When you wake up, I have new ways I want to worship you.”