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tripleyeeet · 8 months

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PAINFUL VULNERABILITIES (5)

SUMMARY: When your past begins to blend into your present, you find yourself longing for Astarion's comfort.

PAIRING: Astarion & Female Reader

WORD COUNT: 3,648

WARNINGS: ANGST, hurt/comfort, body horror elements, descriptions of torture involving a knife, panic attack, sort of made up Illithid lore??? (I promise there's comfort in the end, I'm sorry!)

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Day 5 literally doesn't have a prompt because this idea got terribly out of hand so let's just ignore that and enjoy the angst, shall we?

(Also again, a lot of people's tags weren't working so next time if you haven't fixed it I will be taking you off the list because taglists are a bitch!)

CHAPTER LIST / MASTERLIST / NEXT CHAPTER

The nightmares start a few days later.

At first, they’re subtle. Wisps of darkness cloud your thoughts, leaving no memory behind. Silently it lingers, creeping through your skull in waves that inevitably crash against the shore, ripping you awake —leaving you breathless each time you’re left gasping for air in your dishevelled bedroll. When it happens, it always makes you jolt up to look around, trying to find the cause of your plague. The reason why you’re suddenly so wary to lay your head each night.

When you reach the Underdark they only get worse.

What were once forgotten memories become recurring torments. Endless onslaughts of clawed hands that scratch at your flesh, pulling back skin in massive chunks that pluck excitedly at your insides.

Thanks to the powers of the Illithid you feel every movement. Every poke and prod slips through you like a knife, cutting you down piece by piece until you’re nothing but a shell. An empty carcass of bone that’ll inevitably be harvested for a purpose far greater than yourself.

Or so she says. As you lie there, writhing in pain, blinking to shield the teeth that bear witness to your torture, you hear her whisper cool and quiet, telling you of your death. Of your fated downfall, and then of your—

You always wake up before she finishes.

Before you can hear her utter the words you’ve heard a thousand times. Feeling the burn of your lungs, you stretch your fingers across your chest in remembrance, breathing in and out as the skin beneath your digits runs hot and you’re forced to forget the experience all over again.

When you reach camp that night, sore from the seemingly never-ending mushroom forage, you find yourself dreading the prospect of such sleep. Even through the exhaustion, the last thing you want to do is rest your head lest she arrives tonight, so you fight the urge, settling in against the edge of the fire.

“You look tired.”

You turn to look at Gale with half-closed eyes, offering him the softest grin you can muster before turning toward the flames. They seem brighter than usual. A decorative flash of warm-toned hues that make you blink and rub your eyes, somehow feeling even more languid.

“Mushroom hunting take it out of you?”

You hum, making no move to look his way as you pull your knees to your chest, curling in on yourself for comfort.

As much as you’ve grown to like Gale’s company, all you want right now is silence. A moment of peace where you can just stare into the fire and let your eyes burn from something other than the lack of sleep. Especially after spending the day alongside Lae’zel and Shadowheart as some poorly trained mediator. Just the thought of opening your mouth to speak feels like a threat to your vocal cords. The prospect of speech too much to handle, even as Gale begins to fill you in on his and Wyll’s misadventures with a nearby myconid colony.

“They’re truly such interesting creatures. Did you know…”

His voice falls on deaf ears, earning you nothing but a confused sigh once he realizes you’re not listening. Mostly because it’s not normal for you to just blatantly ignore your peers.

“Are you alright? Need anything? Perhaps a drink or a—“

You’re standing upright before he can even finish his sentence, brushing the ass of your leathers before walking away, paying no mind to the curious wizard as he looks around the camp, catching the eye of Wyll who merely shrugs.

It’s not like you to leave. To ignore a friend mid-conversation but your voice is gone. Lost to the void of constant intercession and a brewing anxiety that sits in your chest. As you walk towards your tent you can feel it shifting. Starting at your gut, everything twists to form a sickly sting. A stabbing pain that throbs within your abdomen, threatening to grow as you part the fabric and crawl inside, plopping into bed face first.

Despite your better judgement, you let out a low groan you’re sure at least someone hears causing you to frown, knowing that you’re better than this. Better than neglecting your health because of some silly nightmares. Better than letting the fear of your past get the better of you. Better than brooding about it.

Turning to lie on your back, you palm the sockets of your eyes in frustration, letting your mind wander. Allowing yourself to feel everything you’ve been suppressing over the last twelve or so hours.

Aside from exhaustion, it’s mostly Astarion that surfaces. His face in the darkness looking at you as you left camp that morning, barely awake enough to give him a nod. In an instant it was as if he was there and gone, looking at you with an expression you couldn’t quite place before shifting out of view alongside an overly excited Karlach. It was the kind of look that made you question its intentions. Its knitted brows and pursed lips rising and falling through your memories between the scuffles of your two companions.

As you walked along the edges of the Underdark’s cliff sides, you couldn’t help but wonder what exactly it represented. What emotion it was trying to convey in such a small amount of time before it disappeared completely?

As you lie there now, once again imagining its form you feel it’s something bordering on pity. A showcase of solidarity in your obviously failing quest for sleep.

Astarion may not say much about your struggles —unlike him, you don’t complain about the endless problems that you face on the road— but you know he’s still aware of them. He’s too perceptive not to be.

So why hasn’t he said anything?

A heavy breath escapes. A shaky one damaged by speculation. Ruined by the assumption that it’s because he doesn’t care. That perhaps you aren’t worth the trouble of a little bit of worry despite previous actions.

You may have killed for him —had his back long before anyone else, but have such feelings ever been reciprocated? Has your worth been proven now that you’ve slain a man in his honour? And if so, how much worth do you truly hold? Is it substantial enough to ask you how you are? Big enough to look at you with any semblance of fondness? Or is it all just for show?

There’s a part of you that hopes it is. That the moments filled with kindness are nothing more than lies told to keep your attention. If he were lying, it wouldn’t necessarily make the way you feel right now any better but it’d mean that there’s an end. A barrier to stop you from getting in too deep. An excuse you could use to explain the naivety of thinking he may care.

Because it wavers —his care. Some days it’s obvious, sometimes it’s not. You can never guess when the care will appear, only that when it’s there and eventually dissipates you’ll be left alone again, wondering why he puts the extra effort in at all. Why he reels you in only to let you go, forcing you to question his intentions as you watch with careful eyes for those moments of reassurance. Moments that you can never prepare for. Ones that gnaw at your heart with pointed teeth wrapped beneath hungry lips, starving for the truth.

You’re not too sure you’re ready to take that leap yet. To push him for the answers you know he’ll just avoid. He’s never been quick to trust and even when he does allow you in there’s still a blockage of sorts. An obvious resistance that sits between you, forcing you to settle regardless of the fear you hold inside your chest, wondering what would happen if you tried to push.

You assume it’d ruin you. That, more than likely, pushing too hard would only create an even deeper wedge, making the truth that much more unattainable, leaving you with less than what you started with.

Shooting upwards, you groan again and breathe, resting your face against your open palms in irritation.

All you want to do is sleep, knowing the only reason you’re thinking so much is because you’re avoiding it. If you think you can’t drift which means the nightmares can’t come, leaving you with two bad endpoints you know you have to choose between.

It makes you want to scream just thinking about it but instead of giving in to such desires you merely settle back down, pulling the fabric of your bedroll up to your shoulders before closing your eyes.

You’re going to get some sleep whether or not it kills you. Whether or not you have to endure the pain of a thousand deaths all at once before you’re inevitably woken up in a stupor of suffering.

It doesn’t take long for you to drift. One minute you’re lying there, counting your breaths like sheep and the next you’re out, filtering through a darkness that feels all too familiar. At first, it’s just there, coating your skin in nothingness. Lost to the void of slumber, you’re at peace for the first time in forever but as expected eventually the shadows unfold. Part to reveal a body of pale skin wrapped around viscous veins full of the blood of many.

It beckons you almost immediately. The flutter of that icy voice saying your name over and over until you come to call, allowing yourself to move. Letting your feet guide you to her presence, you feel the waves and how they threaten to spill over as you kneel before her, feeling her grab your throat.

Her fingers twitch and curl but never grip as she leans forward, offering you a grin. “You’ve been avoidant.”

You don’t speak. For a moment your lips part, feeling the presence of her thumb glide across the base of your throat but you don’t dare speak.

“You know it’s coming, my dear. You can’t avoid it.”

Your tongue moves to wet your lips while you blink, trying your best to let the visions of her angular face blur into the night that surrounds you, realizing she looks just as you remember her. All papery and washed out —a mere shell of herself now that you’ve gone missing. Her features drying out with each passing day you find yourself separate.

“Come back to me. Let me protect you.”

You swallow hard and turn your head, feeling the nails of her fingers dig into your neck prompting you to cry out.

She doesn’t let you do much else. Quickly moving on from the one-sided conversation to grab her knife, you watch as she mumbles under her breath, turning the blade between her fingers with a grin. “In untimely death comes timely renewal, remember?” she says, letting it ghost across your bare chest, pushing the edge against it until it breaks the skin.

You barely feel the first insertion. As the blade dips through the layers of your flesh, the only thing you feel is her breath. The pattern of air that puffs against your face as she recites those aforementioned words, taunting you as she pulls it down.

In untimely death comes timely renewal. In untimely death comes timely renewal. In untimely death comes timely renewal…

As the knife moves lower, you repeat the words in unison like a mantra, struggling to get them out through gritted teeth as she works to cut you open. To slice your torso from the sternum down revealing countlessly re-healed bones and slimy organs that lie in waiting for her to pluck.

Hovering above you, her hands move to survey such handiwork, her fingers stroking the edges of your open skin before they inevitably dive right in, ripping you awake.

You feel the pressure of her inside your gut before it really hits that it’s done. Shooting upward, you cough and double over in an instant, pressing your hands shakily to the ground in front of you.

It’s the worst dream you’ve had yet. Longer than all the others, you can feel the adrenaline of it all penetrating your thoughts. Overthrowing every single anxiety you’ve ever felt as you sniff back tears, pushing yourself towards the entrance of your tent.

Pulling it open, you look around the camp in desperation, catching the eye of Wyll who raises his brow, watching as you shake your head, slipping further into the ground.

Before you can even think he’s on you, reaching for your shoulders, asking you what’s wrong and how he can help. In response, you make no effort to reach back. To remedy your pain as you continue to shake and cry, sobbing out the cursed mantra through heavy gasps that leave him panicking.

“Guys! Something’s wrong!”

As he calls out to the rest of the group, you quickly find yourself surrounded by familiar faces. All of them looking down to see your hysteria unfold.

“What happened?” Dropping to her knees, Shadowheart’s the first to your side, moving her hands to cup your face before you swat her away, mouthing the words over and over and over again.

“I don’t know!”

“You don’t know?”

The two of them continue to bicker. As Wyll explains the way you crawled out of your tent, mumbling something about death, you force yourself to shuffle back, maneuvering your body so that you’re half sitting inside your tent again, watching it all unfold. Focusing on the confusion as Lae’zel and Karlach stand in the wings, muttering to each other words you can’t quite hear while Gale stares down at your mouth, watching the words you speak only to yourself as your eyes start to dart around.

Surveying the rest of the camp, you wipe away your tears and try to breathe, forcing your mouth to stop its repetitions once you remember the ache inside your chest.

Because of the Illithid, you can still feel her handiwork. Beneath your sweaty tunic, you can sense its edges burning —stinging from the aftermath as you press a hand to your sternum, making sure you’re still intact. Making sure your organs aren’t on display as you catch sight of Astarion coming up the path.

He’s nose deep in a book when you see him, scanning the pages with interest before his eyes inevitably raise to see your nervous frame, curling into your tent. Then his interest fades. Evaporating into thin air before it’s replaced with fear. Genuine, heartbreaking fear that has him moving so quickly he fades out of view before reappearing in front of you.

“What happened?”

Just like Shadowheart, his hands cup your cheeks, gripping the plush as he lowers himself down, moving his forehead to yours.

Unlike before you make no effort to push him away. Instead, all you do is frown and try to suppress the tears, clawing at his shirt with desperate pleas, begging him to stay. Begging him to tell you that everything’s going to be okay. Begging for him to lie and say he’ll protect you just like you did for him.

Using your tadpole you beg him over and over again, letting the tears silently fall from your face, not caring that the whole party is watching.

All you need is him. In falseness or in truth, you don’t care. You just need him to ground you. To call you darling and to make you laugh. To make you feel like you’re something more than a vessel of organs one day destined for harvest.

As your chest begins to heave, letting all the nightmares unfold all over again, you feel the tadpole behind your eye squirm in response, asking you to let him in. Without hesitation, you close your eyes and swallow hard, feeling his thoughts start to overthrow the visions of her and her knives and the mantra that sticks haphazardly across your brain matter.

I’m here, you’re safe.

For once it feels like a promise. A silent vow meant only for you as he ushers you further into the tent, saying something to your peers before closing it up. After that he readjusts the bedroll with gentle hands, always keeping a single palm against the small of your back, even when he guides you to lie against his chest.

It’s the first time in weeks that you’ve felt safe. Resting a cheek just below his collarbone, you can feel your breath begin to return to its normal state. No longer ravaged by the panic of your dreams, it moves in and out, fanning the fabric of his shirt.

“Was it a nightmare?”

You nod. Unsure how to explain it because, while it is a nightmare, it somehow feels so much more.

“Of the past or?”

“Sort of.”

He hums curiously, glancing down to see your hand slide up his chest to grip his shirt.

“It feels like I’m answering a call.”

“A call?”

“Like there’s a person trying to reach me and when I answer I can… I can feel them.”

“Feel them?”

You can tell he doesn’t quite understand. Not that you blame him for it. The whole concept of these nightmares still vexs even yourself. Leave you stumbling in confusion each night you find yourself awake, struggling to remember what’s real and what’s not.

The nightmares are not as easily explainable as the actual torture you’ve endured. Especially considering that up until now there had been periods where the memories had died. Days where her face was nothing more than a splotch of white against a backdrop of black, slowly fading away.

It doesn’t make sense why they're suddenly returning. Why your mind is forcing you to relieve these memories night after night.

“Does your tadpole make it hard for you to dream?”

There's no hesitation when he says yes. No moment thought before his answer, making you wonder if maybe he too is experiencing these dreams.

“I feel like it amplifies everything.”

Looking up to gauge his response, you can see the worry clouding his eyes. How his expression sort of fades into the abyss as his eyes focus on yours.

“I dream of the past a lot. Of my life before this and… and I can feel it. Everything that ever happened I can feel all over again and it’s—“

“Painful.” His voice is broken. A crack in the mirror, shattering the often joyous image of his face as he looks away, blinking.

Without even processing your movements you prop yourself up on your elbow, reaching over to grab his cheek and pull him back in. “I wish you didn’t understand how it felt.”

There’s a flicker of hurt that hits his face, enveloping his features before the previous sadness kicks in again and he’s reaching for your wrist, tightening around it. “Yes, well, not all of us get the luck of the draw when it comes to good lives.”

“You should’ve,” you tell him.

He scoffs and closes his eyes, a faint smile pulling at his lips. “You’re probably the only one that thinks that.”

You let your thumb explore his cheek. Let it move in soft circles, taking in the way it shifts beneath your touch.

It feels strange to be this close to him even after all of the other intimate moments you’ve shared. Something about it feels softer, more honest than the rest of them, making your heart beat rapidly against your chest, threatening to burst.

“I know it’s not my business but if you ever want to talk about it—“

He places a kiss to your hand, letting his lips linger against the pad of your thumb as he closes his eyes, reaching around to grip your waist.

In an instant, the words drift out of your mind once you feel it; lost to a touch you didn’t realize you longed for.

Swallowing hard you lay back down to look away, feeling a bit overwhelmed at the tender image that unfolds as his arm shifts again, accommodating your movement. Making you feel that rush of comfort return as he pulls his mouth away and clears his throat.

“I’m, uh… I’m not good at this kind of thing.”

“Vulnerability?” you joke, earning yourself a snort.

“I suppose that’s a word you can use.”

“To be fair, neither am I.”

You feel him shift to meet your gaze, looking at you with surprise. “Really now? I think breaking down in front of the whole camp just so that you can find me is quite the effort of—“

Before he can finish you clamp your hand around his mouth. “I was in shock, you bastard. I wasn’t thinking about my dignity.”

Flexing around your palm, you feel him smile before he pulls away. “That’s good because there was absolutely nothing dignified about the way you looked at me back there. It was…” He trails off, his words catching in his throat for a moment before he clears it again. “You scared me.”

There’s a moment of silence after that, lasting far longer for it to be deemed comfortable as you lay there, wide awake, wishing you could get him to talk to you. Hoping that maybe if you reach out with the Illithid he’ll answer your questions.

Closing your eyes, you feel his presence in your mind already, vying for your attention in a way that has you both moving in closer, tightening your hold.

Show me the dream.

It isn’t a question or a request but a simple command that has you obeying —letting him enter your thoughts. Letting him stand along the sidelines as she guides you to the ground and cuts you open all over again. Letting him listen to the recital of words that are spoken behind two frozen expressions as Astarion pulls you tighter against him, placing his mouth to your forehead to stop himself from crying.

TAGLIST: @poohxlove @gaiasmight @sassy-stupid @novarex @v-gremlin @sapphiccloud @lipstickghoulie @kuroitsukyo @jjfchk @idiotsatan @kay24sstuff @bluestuesday @mopeyghost @bloopthebat @art-by-greenie @heneralmoon @80spuppetfantasy @sukunababe @dreamingaboutyousworld @ranfithegood @haniscrying @ghostys1mp @liadamerondjarin @the-lake-is-calling @marina-and-the-memes @rookieoftheyear @zraloci-cpr @kaetmo @snickerdoodle-daydream @wowowwild @d1anna @raswiet @conniesbbymama @sweetrollgal @venus-wrts @demonicthorns @kihten @deadglamsheep @sanscas @spammypasta @leighsartworks216 @rose-gold-blue @p1ssmagg0t @hellish-writes @tea-a-holics @ghostinvenus @theenadaa @otayz @sexysquatch @sleepyeclair @colorful-anxieties @alina-exe @ilana-the-lasagna @lillifer @geektarts

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#painful vulnerabilities #astarion #astarion bg3 #astarion fan fic #astarion series #astarion x female reader #astarion x reader #astarion x you #summer writes

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katronautt · 1 year

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KAT'S 2022 YEAR REVIEW & THANK YOU NOTE

well hello there everyone. i'm not sure if this is still a thing this year because i haven't seen anyone doing this (or i just wasn't tagged in one at all sdjfkfkf) but that won't stop me from writing another year review and saying thank you to my wonderful internet friends!

at the end of last year i finally moved out of my parents house so i've been officially living alone for a whole year now and i'm proud to announce that i still live haha its not easy sometimes and it's hella expensive but i enjoy it nonetheless. i continued decorating and furnishing my apartment and it slowly but surely became my comfy little corner on this earth and im very proud of it :3

i know i said last year sucked and i was hoping for a better one in 2022 but boy oh boy was i wrong lmao

this year was shite. like utter shite. i didn't get a job that i enjoy doing or pays well BUT at least i still have a job lol the job sucks and sometimes i wanna jump out from the 3rd floor window but i managed to make wonderful friends among my colleagues so i'm definitely thankful for that. i only work there for 7 months but i already feel like we've known each for years and they definitely make working there bareable.

this year i also finally get to meet my bff (braincell for life), Ariana (@queenofthefaceless) in person and i am very much grateful for that. i'm sad no more meeting could happen in the rest of the year but maybe in the next one 😉❤

towards the end of the year i started working out again because i gained a little bit of weight and altough i became much more confident this year, it started to bother me so i'm proud of myself for not letting it slide and now i'm mostly focusing on getting my strength back i used to have instead of being the couch potato i was all year lol and one of my new years revolution for 2023 is to eat healthier and work out even more.

and yes i am still not over the fact that you guys putting out those wonderful fics for us for free. you still rock !! 💜💜

next year i will continue to hope for a better job, one that i enjoy and pays better (or at least one of these lol) and to be even more confident and open to new things ( and finding a rich husband 🙏)

ALRIGHTY NOW ONTO THE THANK YOU NOTES:

⭐@queenofthefaceless i still love you bro sm. you rock & i can't wait for another year with you (and your amazing fics)💜

⭐my dearest cee @fuckyeahdindjarin. you started writing for the pedro fandom earlier this year and you decided to start it all with a bang haha. i was hooked on consent after the 2nd chapter and was never let go. your writing is brilliant, my favorite thing is how you can amazingly combine comedy, angst and smut in one chapter in such a kickass way i found myself rereading sentences and conversations just so a chapter would last longer. i loved that series and i cant wat to see what you will bringing into 2023! 💜

⭐ i am so honored to call you my friend kc @avennger. and i'm now so glad that i had the courage of sliding into your dm's and start incoheretnly screaming at you (YOU KNOW AFTER WHICH CHAPTER).. because that started our conversation and i love love love chatting with you and bonding over our disaster saurondriel couple haha. you are one of the most talented writer i've met and you have such great potential i'm honestly in awe. the research and work you put ito your works is absolutely mind-blowing and i hope i'll get to read many many amazing works from you in the future! ily 💜

⭐ @foli-vora foli, you continue to amaze me with your amazing fics and your wonderful and friendly personality. please never change and here's to another year filled with insane horniness towards middle aged man 🥂💜

⭐ i think we can all agree that cristina @pedropascalsx is the nicest and most supportive person on this hellsite right? you always surprise me with the insane amount of goodness you have for the people you care about and you showed nothing but supportiveness and kindness towards me too and for that i am so so grateful. you are a wonderful and talented person and i hope you'll have just as wonderful year in 2023 🥰

⭐ @sirtadcooper ruth, even tho you spent a good amount of 2022 taking a break from tumblr (which i completely understand, believe me) like i said before, i was so happy seeing you back on my dash, you were always so supportive and i hope you won't stop making those amazing edits of yours 😘

⭐@mandosmistress mari, you wonderful, wonderful friend.. i was honored to be your best reader of 2022 very early in the year and here i am hoping to achieve the best reader of 2023 next year just as quckily while we continue our horny brainstorming in the dms because i love doing that with you 🤭💜

⭐@ithinkhesgaybutwesavedmufasa i love and miss our late night (& horny) conversations so much. you are such an amazing and nice person katryn and i hope we get to chat again in the new year! ily 💜

and here's tagging the rest of y'all who i owe my life to because once again your amazing fics give me absolute joy and i know i will never be able to pay it back to you beside the support i'm always trying to give back in reblogs and reviews and promotions and such. here's to you all!! 🥂❤ (i am forever sorry if i missed someone):

@absurdthirst, @the-darklings, @softpedropascal, @write-and-buried, @oonajaeadira, @honestly-shite, @outercrasis, @qveenbvtch, @javier-pena, @toomanystoriessolittletime, @storiesofthefandomlovers, @lellowberry, @frannyzooey, @charnelhouse, @krissology, @juletheghoul, @dincrypt, @f0rever15elf, @the-ginger-hedge-witch, @astroboots, @brandyllyn, @littlemisspascal, @radiowallet, @just-here-for-the-moment, @letterfromvienna, @amywritesthings, @the-scandalorian, @whataperfectwasteoftime, @orcas86, @saintmurd0ck, @demonscantgothere

HERE'S TO 2023!!! 🥂💜

#Kat stuff #i love my mutuals #And i love my friends #Here's to you guys #💜💜

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knockknockchicagopd · 3 years

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A SERIE WITH HANK VOIGHT. CHAPTER I.

❚❙ WORDS: about 1.5k

❚❙ A/N: this writing hasn’t been edited, you may find some grammar mistakes, I’m sorry about that. If you find a description about body or a word out of place, or something that it makes you feel uncomfortable / unrepresented, let me know by a private message and I will change it delighted.

❚❙ GIF credits: to the author.

❚❙ Tag list: @melblacc @rebelwrites @skyofficialxx @sesamepancakes @scarletsoldierrr @mondefantastique @that-chick212 @enbyamaro @inlovewith3 @ocetevasgirl @sophie-writes @destynelseclipsa @jadakiss13. If you want to be added to my tag list, send me a message.

Grabbing your backpack once you have kept all you need before going to work, you go downstairs following the smell of freshly made coffee. People in the hospital aren't wrong, it's like a drug. You have never been a big fan of coffee till you started to work in the Chicago Med. Since then, you always have a cup in your hands. Checking the hour in your phone, you calculate how many minutes are left for your shift to start. This morning you have woken an hour earlier than normally and seems like you have the house for your own, after Charlotte and Elizabeth have already left for their Firehouse.

Placing your stuff close to the door, you lead your barefoot to the kitchen to have a cup and pour some black hot coffee in it. Sitting over the counter, you spend your time checking some emails from Doctor Manning, your sponsor at Emergencies; test results, consultations and information about your practices in your free time. She is helping you more than anyone in your life with your career, keeping your head focused and your ideas firm.

The doorbell rings, making you raise both eyes from the screen. You're not expecting any visit and the postman came a while ago, and for an instant you're tempted to not open the door and continue with your coffee in silence, but your curiosity ends up winning. Leaving the mug over the counter, you attend to the call. But what you find pushes you into a surprised shock. Hank Voight.

The last time you saw him was the morning before to be arrested. The long hours locked in an interview room, being interrogated about his plans and his shenanigans, come to your head in a sight. The police ‘kindly invited’ you to the District to talk about him. They offered you a deal in exchange for information about him. But you rejected it. Not because you were in love with him, but because you didn't know much more than them and, even so, you're not a whistle-blower. He helped you when everybody turned their backs on you, after being falsely accused of stealing meds from your ambulance, when you worked as a paramedic. You didn't owe him any kind of favor, he didn't ask you to hide his shit. You did it because you want.

But you haven't known anything from him during the last year, more than a couple talks you have had with Erin. He rejected all your visits in jail, never responded to your calls or your letters. Nothing. And now, he is in front of you. Serious grimace as always, looking rested, wearing that dark blue plaid shirt he was wearing on your first date. You remember to tell him how much you liked that shirt, how good he looked with it on. Traveling down your eyes, the badge on his belt next to the buckle earns all your attention. And you can't feel more confused.

Hank Voight being a cop? Again? How is it possible? Who took him out of jail? You knew that his sentence was from six to eight years. It's been just a month and he's walking free again. The pressure inside your chest, racing up your heart, prevents you from breathing with normalcy. Licking your bottom lip, you try to say something but nothing comes from your mouth.

“May I come in?”

Biting the inside of your cheek, you give him enough space to walk inside before closing the door again, behind your back. You want to punch him, shoot him, stab him (...), but you also want to hug him and kiss him, and know how he has been. When you knew he was being sent to Stateville, you thought you would never see him again. It doesn't matter who he was, what he did and who he helped to, he was a cop. And cops don't survive in jail.

“I heard you jumped from the ambulance to the Chicago Med”.

Hank is taking a look at your living room with curiosity, keeping his hands inside the pocket of his black jeans, turning around to rest his waist against the back of one of the sofas there. Raising an eyebrow you can't believe he has heard things about you and that he still cares. You nod in silence as crossing your arms over your chest with your lips pressed.

“I feel proud of you”. He utters then, shrugging briefly. “I always knew you'd be a good doctor. Is in your veins”.

“What are you doing here, Hank?” Putting away the quackery by waving a hand close to your chest, you can't help but tilt your head with confusion.

“I've missed you”.

As soon as he pronounces these words, a bitter and sarcastic laugh from you fills up the place. Shaking your head and rubbing the bridge of your nose, you can't believe this incompressible situation you are in. He stands up with the clear intention of coming closer, he stops dead when you raise both hands between the two of you while taking a step back.

“One year, Hank. One damn year waiting for… anything from you. A call, a text, a letter… Anything!”

“Erin was in contact with you”.

“Should I be… thankful?”

“I didn't want you to get implied”.

“Bullshit. I was since I decided to be by your side. The cops didn't handcuff me because I was working in the fifty-one and Boden knows my family, and knows me since I'm a kid”.

“Yeah, Erin told me 'bout that”. He pulls his gaze away for a moment, rubbing his right cheek. “You covered my back”.

“And you kicked my ass”.

“I wanted to protect you”

“You didn't! You pushed me away! You abandoned me!”

Hiding your face into your hands, you can't help but feel impotence being aware that you still love him after all. You really thought that he cared about you, that all the promises he made once would become real. But then, he suddenly cut any contact with you, for the exception of Erin. Raising your reddened eyes, you watch him grabbing a cardboard fold from under his jacket, to offer it to you.

“I didn't. I put you under protection. That was part of my deal with the State Attorney. Three cops have been following you all day since I walked into Stateville”.

Stupefy and looking at him with parted lips, feeling your lungs out of air for a second, you hold the fold to open it. Pictures, monthly reports, a copy of your tests for the EMT (...).

“Listen now, I was trying to survive. I was trying to have a plan before talking with you, but it took me more than I thought it could. I blinked and I was out of jail again. I'm leading the Intelligence Unit in the twenty-one now, and you're the first person I've seen besides my unit”. Carefully, Hank takes a step closer to you, slowly, hoping you don't take another back. “You've been the reason why I've been fighting all this time and I ain't pretending to come and change your life for a sudden. Only, to make sure you're good”.

“I wasn't. And I'm not”.

Slamming the fold against his chest, you try to walk away from him, but he stops you. He has that look in his eyes that tells you he's not going to leave you again. As his fingers get closed around your forearm, you try to contain the tears. His hand caresses your skin so softly that gives you chills, bristling it, till lacing his fingers with yours. Your heart jumps, just like it did the first time he held your hand that cold night of October two years ago, after insisting on driving you home.

“I've to come back to the Unit”. Hank whispers bending his head towards yours. “I can pick you up tonight. Have dinner. Talk. I will answer any question you have, I promise”.

He lands his other hand on the back of your neck, pressing his rough lips on your forehead, feeling his thumb stroking the back of your hand so tenderly that the only thing you want is to run away with him far from Chicago, far from Illinois and, why not? Far from the United States.

“One thing I want to make very clear, sweetheart. I never stopped loving you... Tell me you know it”.

“I do”. You sniff nodding, not being capable of looking up at him.

“If you don't want to see me again, but you need my help one day, don't hesitate”.

As soon as Hank abandons your house, your heart collapses, breaking into a bittersweet crying not knowing what to do. Not knowing to whom you can talk about it. Not knowing how to confront the mix of feelings and sensations dancing inside your chest, barely breathing as the whinings become louder. Holding the fold closer to your torso, you drag your feet over the parquet back to the kitchen trying to find a solution to all this mess.

#lemme know what you think in a comment! ⚡#chicago pd #chicago pd imagine #chicago pd x reader #hank voight #hank voight imagine #hank voight x reader #one chicago

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gopunchuaan · 4 years

Text

FANFIC PROMPT IDEA

" never give up " part 1

Pairing: Miya Atsumu x reader

As the twins are now third years, coach really need someone to help him so long sory short..., they got a new manager.

• the girl was so tall, 170 cm and even had a broad shoulder. Her appereances little bit lack of feminime which make some of the boys boo in quiet, wish they got a pretty, petite figure of manager instead

• atsumu, which is now a captain, decided to test (tease) the new manager

• "So what makes you a manager uh? Do you even know slightest bit bout volley ? "

• She looks at him, then turn her head and didnt said anything. As if nothings just happened

• Suna, Osamu were laughing. Aside that, Atsumu seem so confused and annoyed. He thought that she enrolled in manager position just so she can see him and osamu.

• The test (tease) didnt finish here.

• He keep pestering her

• " You suprisingly has masculine figure eh despite being a girl. Maybe you have small size of pe--- down there

" Do you have so many times that you decided to use it as a manager ? "

" Hey, hurry fill the water bottle, that's what manager do right? Also dont forget to wipe the ball !"

• But in the end , she totally ignores him. She just stare at him , waiting for atsumu to finish his annoying sentences, then turn her head as if no one had talked to her.

• If he told her to do ridiculous thing ( wipe all the ball, cook onigiri for members, clean the gym) and he said because its her task as a manager, she would obligate it in silence.

• Everyone was so shocked seeing her do all the things that Atsumu has said. It didnt seem like that has bothered her, even a bit.

• Everytime someone trying to help, she would decline it with a small smile and shaking her heads. They really try to help her, but in the end she always put her hands up gesturing that she is fine with this.

• She rarely talk. All she do is sit and observe the team also makes note on her clipboard.

• "Osamu-san, i need to talk to you bout this month club's cash"

• Atsumu's eye got wide. 'THE HECK !?, SHE SHOULD BE DISCUSSING THIS WITH THE CAPTAIN !! '

• That day, after club's activity has finished, Atsumu approached her.

• "Hey (f/n) ! "

• 'aah.. here we go again..' everyone who seen this sweatdropped

• She turn her head, but then keep walking and totally ignoring him.., again.

• "tch.., Hey are you a frickin deaf !?, you cant hear what i said!? "

• she stopped walking, and look at Atsumu

• "Oh i do hear, but all the things you said not so important that i have to answer it. Do you really need my attention so bad ? , then im sorry, i should've been paying attention to you more often, Atsumu- senpai "

• Everyone was so shocked. That's the longest sentence you've uttered besides volleyball. And that makes Atsumu speechless.

I haven't made a masterlist yet, Yes now i have. Go type "The list" in tag, to choose story you want to read base from the summary. Thank you 🧡🌈☀️

#haikyuu!!#miya atsumu #atsumu x reader #writing prompt #fanfic #haikyuu imagines #haikyuu x reader #writing ideas

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elejah-wonderland · 5 years

Text

Falling/2

Fanfic /Part 2

Elijah Mikaelson x reader

a/n: just a little fanfic drabble in the spirit of Valentine's 💘

Thanks for reading and liking 🤗😘💕💕

👔👨‍💼🦌😍💕

Tag

@rissyrapp20 @elejahforever @cassienoble2000 @captainshurley @hides2000 @missnmikaelson

💘💘💘

Several months later, Elijah met up with his friend for lunch. It was Thursday.

"So you moved back to your apartment in the city. What are you going to do about the house?"- Marcel asked.

"We agreed to put it on the market."- Elijah replied.

"Seriously- one moment you are redecorating a house and then you break up. It's over that blog-girl right?!"

"Blog girl?!"- Elijah repeated chuckling a bit.

"Y/N. I've seen you reading it when you were in the meetings. Klaus told me that you were meeting someone. It's not like you to have an affair- or?"

Flashback

Elijah walked into the house one thursday evening when he returned from the city. Hayley was writing something on her tablet.

"Ah, you are back. Want a glass of wine?"- the woman said standing up from the armchair.

"No, thank you."- Elijah said seriously.

"What is it? Something happened? "

"What are we doing here, Hayley?Playing house"- Elijah then said.

"What?"- she said confused as to where he was going with his conversation.

"Yeah, well- I can't go on pretending that this relationship is real. Not anymore."- Elijah said.

"No - not it's not. You are right."- Hayley said.

"No."- Elijah said.

And they both knew that his heart was somewhere else.

"I know- Hayley said- "because- you have been different for a while- there is someone else, isn't there?"

Elijah sighed a little and gulping, he admitted-"Yes. I - I met somebody- but it's nothing like you think it is. "- Elijah said.

"No-" - Hayley sighed as well-"it's- much worse"

"Worse?"- he didn't quite understand what she meant by it.

The brunette looked at him calmly.

"It's love, right?!"- Hayley uttered.

Elijah swallowed hard and then nodded.

"Cuz I know - I - also met this guy"

Now at the restaurant

"It wasn't an affair."- Elijah said to Marcel- "we- we would just meet before the train- and talked- that's all."

"Don't tell me you haven't even kissed her?!"- Marcel joked a bit now.

"No. I didn't even kiss her."- Elijah said with regret in his voice.

"So, it's the old-fashioned kind of a thing? You fell in love with a woman - and for some crazy loyalty to a relationship that was more like a habit than anything resembeling love- you let it go. You and Hayley were so incompatible, that we all wondered what you were doing with her all these years. And then she went off with Jackson"

"Yes, I got the wedding invitation the other day. They are getting married. Hayley is pregnant."- Elijah said.

"Right. Well, that proves it. But - now - what are you going to do about your blog-girl then?"- Marcel asked.

"She is in New Orleans at the moment. We e-mail eachother."- Elijah said.

"You e-mail?! Elijah, WTF- You should take the first plane to NOLA! I don't get you at times., seriously"- Marcel said.

"I go over there- and what? Anyway - didn't you see the blog. She has met someone as she was travelling"

"I serioulsy can't believe you?! You will let this girl go because she met someone. You design amazing buildings, houses- but when it comes to women- you are hopeless."

"Can we just leave it."- Elijah now looked at his watch and then got up-

"See you later. I got to meet a client"

They left the conversation about Y/N at that, as Marcel had to leave.

Elijah finished his lunch, going back to Y/N's blog, and read the latest she had written.

*****

A few days later

In New Orleans, Y/N had met up with her best friend Caroline, who jetted over to the city for a short holiday.

"What do you want to do first?"- Y/N asked her friend.

"Let's have brunch. I want to hear about the latest- all about Mason. and where do you plan to go next?"

"First- about Mason- it was just a thing and that's it. There is nothing there."

"Wait- don't tell me you are still hanging on- Elijah?!"- Caroline looked at her friend's sad face.

"Yes. I think about him everyday- last thought before I fall asleep and first thought when I awake- I love him- and you know what is crazy- we discuss my blog over e-mails- and - I don't know why I am letting this go on."

"Because you fell in love with him and that's that- why don't you just tell him how you feel- write to him."

"Caroline, you are just so- I can’t"- Y/N said

"I know. The romantic you! Too old-fashioned. It is the 21st century, you know. Y/N, you have to act. Someone will snatch him before you know it and - you miss on a great thing."

“Act - what did you say? Why would someone snatch him? Isn’t he- ?”

“No. I overheard Camille talking about Elijah -”

Y/N now cut Caroline in the middle of the sentence-

“Camille knows Elijah?”

“No. She knows his ex-fiancé. Well, she was there in the bar with her husband to be- and it was not Elijah”- Caroline now said.

“You lost me now”- Y/N shook her head, looking at her friend wide-eyed.

___

A few months later

Y/N/ wrote in her blog-

"Maybe I will believe that there is this fairy or angel that walks among us and waves with the magic wand. Maybe it is the universe- or maybe it is Cupid - or maybe it is just one of those things that are meant to be. Two people were supposed to meet and have their always and forever. The story started some time ago- and it is still going. And everything feels so different and new."

Y/N stopped there for a second flashing back as she looked at a photo

Flashback

A few days after Elijah met Marcel for lunch

Y/N walked into the Cafe at the New Orleans Airport. She stood still as she saw a very familiar face sitting at a table.

She walked to the man.

"Elijah"- she said.

"Y/N"- the man said standing up.

"How- are you here?! Why- "- she uttered faintly.

"I - well- this is - ok- now that - "- Elijah got all flushed for some reason, but then waited no longer to say this-

"There is something I didn't tell you- a year ago- and then you left-"- he now sighed a little, stepping forward.

"Tell me- what?"- Y/N said with thousand butterflies raising up in her stomach.

"I love you"- Elijah said dearly.

Y/N looked at the man in completely astonished, though it was utterly silly to react like that.

"I love you! I do!"- he repeated.

Y/N now smiled, tearing up now.

“Oh- I love you, too.”

Both now floating away in each other’s arms, into the most zealous, loving kiss.

The people around them watching the scene would say that it was like something out of the movies.

💌Y/N now continued writing-

"But as you, who are reading this, now know that there is this one more person on the photographs and you always read his generous contribution about things. So I hope you will enjoy it- Ah, I didn't introduce him. It's my husband- Elijah Mikaelson."

#elijah mikaelson #elijah mikaelson x reader #tvd fanfiction #fanfiction #alternative universe

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