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arieslost · 4 months

Text

cinnamon whiskey | ln4

lando norris x fem!writer!reader

summary: you meet a famous race car driver in one of the last places you’d expect— the adirondacks.

word count: 4,578

warnings: drinking, minor injuries (small description of bruising)

masterlist — join my tag list here!

Your editor was going to kill you.

Every day brought you closer to the deadline for your manuscript, and every day you could hardly help yourself out in getting to your self-imposed goal of 1,000 words. It wasn’t a difficult feat; you’d done it before, and you didn’t have anything else to be doing. You had absolutely zero distractions: it was just you, your notebook, and your computer. There was only one problem.

The words just weren’t coming to you, and you’d already gotten a two week extension on the deadline. It felt like all your writing abilities had been rescinded.

“I’m screwed.” You professed to your best friend, falling into a pathetic heap on her couch. You needed a serious pick-me-up after struggling to write a measly paragraph, and she had readily offered a girls night.

“I think you’re being a little dramatic. Scoot over.” She replied, shoving your legs out of the way so she could sit. “Maybe you just need to get out of your house.”

“And go where? I can’t just pack up and take a vacation right now.” You grumbled into the couch cushion.

“Why don’t you go upstate?” She suggested after a moment of silence.

“Upstate?” You repeated.

“Yeah, go to the Adirondacks. My dad owns a house up there, remember? We had a blast the last time we were there.”

You and your best friend had gone up to the Adirondacks when you graduated college, and you always prefaced the retelling of it with, “It was one of the best weeks of my life.” You almost felt silly for not thinking of doing something like that in the first place.

“It might be a good idea… Do you think your dad would be okay with me staying there?”

Your best friend laughed. “Yes, you idiot. He’s let me stay there by myself, he’ll definitely let you.”

A mere 24 hours went by, and you were settled in a cozy cabin in the Adirondacks with the desperate hope of having the rest of your manuscript ready by the end of your stay. Otherwise, you might as well just fire yourself and save your editor some time.

It wasn’t the only cabin in the area– it was more like a very small community made up of six houses built exactly the same. The area was usually used by people with a decent amount of cash lining their pockets, so you were extra grateful to your best friend’s father. He had taken one look at the dejection on your face when your best friend had mentioned her grand idea, and simply handed you the keys with the promise that your stay would be free of charge.

You did feel a little out of place, though– you could have sworn one of your neighbors was in a movie you’d just watched, and another one was just so ridiculously attractive there was no way he wasn’t famous for something. You’d seen him out on his front porch when you arrived, and had to force yourself not to stare or salivate over his bare torso.

The change of scenery around you helped tremendously. At first. You always felt refreshed when you went somewhere new, particularly if it was somewhere you felt more connected to nature. You had gotten into the habit of taking walks to calm yourself when you got frustrated, and having new sights was definitely an exciting prospect for when you inevitably slammed your computer shut and stormed out the door like you just did a few moments ago.

You’ll be the first to admit it: the story just isn’t coming together. Your main character has a goal, a purpose, but she is entirely lacking any kind of driving force to get where she needs to go.

She has no motivation.

You can appreciate irony, but there’s nothing funny about it right now.

The dirt and leaves crunch under your feet as you walk down the first trail that you see. It branches off from the main path that runs between all of the houses: yours, the attractive guy’s, and one other, and then the suspected movie star’s and the other two on the other side. Right now, you just want to see nothing but the path before you, the trees in your peripheral vision, the gentle summer breeze in your hair, and maybe a chipmunk or a squirrel here and there.

But, of course, you can’t even have that. You’re alone with your thoughts for all of two seconds before you hear a crash off to your left that sends a few birds flying. You would have ignored it if not for the groan that immediately followed.

“Um… hello?” You call out, doubling back to try and see just what the hell had happened.

If you were in a horror movie, this would most certainly be your death scene.

“Ah…” It’s definitely a man, and he definitely sounds like he’s in pain.

“Are you okay?” You step off the path, getting closer to where the noise had come from.

That’s where you find him— your insanely attractive neighbor, practically in the fetal position, entirely focused on the camera in his hand. His jaw is clenched, whether in pain or concern for the camera, you don’t know. You just know he has a sharp jawline, long eyelashes, and curly hair.

Ugh, you could cry because he’s so good looking.

He looks up at you, eyes meeting yours, and he has the decency to look embarrassed.

“What the hell just happened to you?”

“I, um… I fell out of that tree.” He confesses, pointing to a branch, not too high up, but now dangling in half.

“And you were in the tree because…” You trail off, gesturing for him to explain further.

“Right, well, I was taking pictures and had an idea for a good one from a higher vantage point, so I climbed the tree. Thought I had a good balance, but—” He winces as he pushes himself up into a sitting position. “I didn’t.”

“No kidding. You’re lucky you didn’t break anything.” You marvel, hands held out in front of you just in case he falls over when he starts standing up.

“I’m not too sure about that.” He huffs out a pained laugh.

“You wouldn’t have been able to stand up so easily if you had, and your wrist and shoulder look fine.” You point out. “I have no doubt that you bruised your side up pretty badly though.”

“Yeah? How would you know?” He leans against the tree he just fell out of, his miraculously unbroken camera hanging from the strap around his neck.

“I’m a writer. I’m like a black hole of useless information.”

“I don’t think it’s useless anymore.” He takes a step forward and his face immediately contorts into a grimace. “Can I ask you a question?”

“Well, you’ve already asked so much of me, but if you really have to, then sure.” You tease, and he laughs again.

“I’m probably going to need some help getting back to the house,” he begins, and then continues after taking in the surprised look on your face. “But you don’t have to. I can just crawl or something. Maybe I’ll get lucky and make it back before nightfall.”

Not just attractive, but funny too? You might as well make the most out of these two weeks and use whatever you can to help you finish that dreaded manuscript. Besides, the only other person you’ve ever met who can hold a torch to your sense of humor is your best friend. This has to be a sign of some sort.

“Alright, but at least tell me your name first.”

His name is Lando, you’ve known him for an hour, and you think you’re in love with him.

Sure, you’re frustrated that he completely ruined the solitude that you craved, but the ice maker in his house is broken and he desperately needs some for the bruise that you know is darkening by the second underneath his t-shirt. So he’s sprawled out on your couch, and you’re in the kitchen collecting ice cubes to wrap up in a hand towel.

“Alright, lift your shirt up,” you instruct, walking into the living room and taking a seat beside him.

“I usually take a girl out before I let her see me half naked.”

“But it’s okay if everyone else sees you out on your porch half naked?”

“You were looking?” He tilts his head down a little and raises his eyebrows. “Liked what you saw, did you?”

You blush. “Just shut up and lift your shirt.”

He hums a little to himself as he pulls his shirt up, revealing the beginnings of a bruise on his tan skin that is already swollen and definitely going to get worse over the next couple of days. It looks like it continues below the waistband of his boxers, but you’re not about to tell him to pull his pants down.

“That’s ugly.”

“I’ve had worse.” He shrugs, biting his lip when you gently rest the makeshift ice pack against his side.

“You have a habit of falling out of trees?”

“I have a habit of being in potentially life-threatening situations. It’s kinda part of my job.” He says it like he’s waiting for you to figure something out, waiting for something to click.

You take a moment to just look at him again. His fluffy curls, his infuriatingly handsome face, his thick neck, his toned stomach. And then something you’ve heard your best friend say a million times echoes in your head.

I bet every F1 driver’s contract has a clause that says they have to be hot in order to get in. I mean, you have Daniel Ricciardo, Charles Leclerc, and don’t even get me started on–

“Oh my God. Lando Norris?” You exclaim, almost jumping up from shock but stopping yourself so you don’t jostle him. “You’ve got to be kidding me!”

“I thought you knew!”

You glare at him. “Cocky much?”

“Well, what did you think when I told you my name?” He asks defensively.

“I don’t know, I thought your parents really liked Star Wars or something.”

He scoffs at this and smacks your hand away, holding the ice himself. “That’s real creative.”

“I’m sorry! My best friend is really into Formula One, but the most I’ve seen is bits and pieces of a race. I’ve never seen you, y’know, not in your car.” You feel like your eyes are practically bugging out of your head. “Wow, this is insane.” You knew he was too good looking to not be famous.

“Want me to sign something for you?” He wiggles his eyebrows at you.

“I will punch you right in your bruise.”

He stays for a couple more hours, readily enduring your endless stream of questions that follow your revelation of him being a Formula One driver, only getting a reprieve when the ice melts and you have to go get more.

He compensates for recounting his entire journey to Formula One by asking you his own questions the moment he’s done. You tell him more about how you became a writer– how you got your bachelor’s degree, got out into the world, and realized you had no clue what you wanted to do with your life, so you took a retail job. It paid a dollar above minimum wage, but it was worth it when something you heard a customer say once inspired you to craft a narrative that your editor liked enough to pick it up. She’d taken a gamble on you; you were her fourth client and the book wasn’t finished yet.

“So that’s why I’m out here,” you pause to catch your breath. “I need to have the manuscript done two weeks from yesterday, and I wasn’t getting anything done at home.”

“Needed a change of scenery.” Lando nods, like he can read your mind.

“Exactly.” You say quietly, suddenly feeling a bit self conscious under his intense gaze but refusing to look away.

The energy in the room shifts as the two of you look at each other, and you break the sudden eye contact when you take note of the fact that it’s dark out.

“I guess that’s my cue to leave,” he breaks the silence, pulling his shirt back down and letting out a quiet groan as he gets up. “I’ll see you tomorrow? There’s no way someone will be able to get up here to fix my ice machine by the morning.”

You blink at him a couple times, still trying to wrap your mind around the fact that you just spent hours talking with Lando Norris, all because he fell out of a tree. You didn’t even offer to make him dinner or anything, and he’s making plans to do this all over again.

You still haven’t spoken, so he waves his hand in front of your face. “Oh! Yeah, of course. Be careful, okay?”

He gives you an obnoxious salute. “I’ll try to survive the 50 steps it takes to get to my place from here.”

You go running for your laptop and start writing as soon as he’s gone.

He’s at your door in the morning, and spends the whole day with you. Then the next, and the next, and the next thing you know, you only have four days left in your best friend’s dad’s house and it feels like you and Lando have known each other your entire lives. He isn’t able to do much in terms of physical activity, and when he trips over a root after insisting he’s fine you make the executive decision to go back to your house.

“Make some room, would you?” You sigh, looking for a place to sit thanks to the fact that he’s taking up the entire couch.

He simply lifts his head up.

“You’re joking, right?”

“I’m in pain. Don’t you want me to be comfortable?” He pouts at you.

“You’re insufferable, and a liar.” All the same, you sit down, and he rests his head in your lap.

He ignores you, eyes closed with a satisfied little smile on his face.

For his antics, you decide to disturb his newfound peace by putting the ice pack directly on his face and laugh when he bats it away.

“That’s just mean,” he whines, pressing his lips together when you put the ice on his bruise.

It’s mostly yellow and green now, like a weird rendition of Van Gogh’s Starry Night. Lando had made a game out of poking it two nights ago that ended just as quickly when he poked himself too hard and blamed you for it when you had been in the middle of telling him not to. After that, he hadn’t touched it, and now it looks a lot better. The ice probably isn’t needed anymore, but you’d prefer to err on the side of caution.

“You’ll live,” you say now, patting the top of his head to distract him from the discomfort.

“The last time I had a bruise this bad was when I crashed in Vegas last year.” He says, blinking up at the ceiling. “Took a while to go away.”

“I think I remember hearing about that. You crashed pretty early, no?”

“Yup. Barely got to race.” The sentences come out very clipped, like he’s still upset about it.

“It was a bad crash, huh?”

“Pretty bad.” You don’t have anything to say in response to that, so you start brushing your fingers through his curls. He relaxes instantaneously.

He almost falls asleep with his head in your lap, and that’s when you can’t take it anymore and have to kick him out. He’s almost to the last step when he stops and turns back, making direct eye contact with you.

“Y’know, it’s too bad you weren’t there when I crashed.” He gives you a soft smile. “You’re pretty good at taking care of me.”

Well, shit.

There’s a bottle of cinnamon whiskey sitting in one of the kitchen cabinets that you’ve been waiting for an excuse to open. You should drink it now when you’re thinking about him, but you decide to wait until you see him again.

You open your laptop and write until you fall asleep.

By the time you let him in the next morning, you’re stumped again. You only slept for a few hours and expected to get right back into your groove the moment you woke up, but when you read over what you wrote last night, your brain just refused to comprehend it. It feels like you’re back to square one, but you can’t be too upset about it when Lando makes his way through the door. He doesn’t mention anything about ice like he usually does, which makes you equally happy and disappointed. Happy that he’s feeling good enough to forego the ice, disappointed because that means that there’s really no reason for him to come over anymore.

But if there’s one thing you can expect from him, it’s his spontaneity.

“We should go out tonight.”

“And where exactly would we be going?” You ask, watching him kick back on the couch like he’s the one that lives here.

“I dunno, just outside, I guess. You like stargazing?”

“I love it.” You reply enthusiastically. “I bet the stars are gorgeous out here. I’ve been cooped up every night, I haven’t had the chance to see them.”

“It’s settled then. Cancel your plans, you’re all mine tonight.”

“I didn’t— never mind.” You silently will away the flush creeping up your neck. “Actually, I wanted to ask you a question.”

“Shoot.”

“How’d those pictures come out? The ones you were trying to take when you fell?” You lean over the back of the couch in order to actually see him as you’re talking to him.

“That was two questions.” He laughs when you smack his shoulder. “I got a couple action shots as I was falling. They’re terrible, but I’m thinking about keeping them for the memories. Fun story for the kids, don’t you think?”

“Sure.” The kids?! You’re definitely breaking out the whiskey tonight. It’s the first (and only) thing you grab when he goes back to his place to get a blanket.

“Are you sure you’ll be okay?” You ask the moment the two of you step onto the trail, and he puts a hand over his heart.

“Your concern for me is adorable.”

“I’m only asking because you almost ate shit last time.” You burst out laughing at the immediate change in his expression.

He ends up leading the way for a mile or two before you reach a clearing that you would’ve discovered had he not fallen out of the tree.

“This is beautiful,” you muse, taking in your surroundings as Lando lays the blanket on the ground.

The sun is just about set, a light breeze passing through; a few different wildflowers are waving throughout the clearing. You look around and can’t see any sign of civilization. While that should make you nervous, since you’re with a guy you’ve only known for less than two weeks, it instead makes you relax. You forget entirely about your computer waiting for you back at the house and busy yourself with getting the top off the whiskey bottle.

“Found it the second day I was here. I’ll have to show you the pictures I got once I upload them all.” Lando says, furrowing his eyebrows as you struggle with your task. “Need some help there?”

“Be my guest,” you hand it over and have to force yourself to remain calm when he pops the top off like it was nothing.

“Ladies first,” he hands it back.

With pleasure, you think to yourself. Maybe getting drunk will help you stop acting like a schoolgirl. You take a generous drink, squeezing your eyes shut and breathing out slowly. “That is strong.”

“Hand it over.” He lets out a low whistle as soon as he swallows and returns it to you. “Wow.”

“I actually had a dream like this once,” you say, wincing at the burn of the whiskey as it slides down your throat. “I was just laying there, staring at the stars, with no worries. It was so peaceful.”

Lando takes the bottle from your outstretched hand. “I don’t dream.”

“What?!” The high pitch of your voice slices through the night. “Are you serious?”

“Yup.” He takes a long sip from the bottle before placing it down in the space between you. “Never have.”

“That’s- that’s crazy.” You shake your head.

“I’d think it’s nicer that way, no?” he counters. “I probably sleep better than you.”

“I mean, I guess. But then you don’t have any crazy dreams to share.”

“You always remember your dreams?”

Now, you blush. You’re not sure why you’re embarrassed. “I, um… I keep a journal.”

Lando’s eyes widen. “No way.”

“I have dreams written down all the way back to 2015.” You confess, reaching for the bottle again.

He starts laughing, like he thinks you’re joking.

“I’m serious!” You exclaim, shoving his shoulder. “In my defense, I’ve actually come up with some ideas from my dreams. Fat lot of good they’re doing for me right now, but…”

Lando hums, eyes skimming over your now crestfallen expression. He passes the bottle back.

“Thanks,” you mumble, tilting the bottle up to your lips.

“I’m sure you’ll find some type of inspiration while we’re out here.”

“I only have two days left, Lan.”

He gestures for you to pass the bottle back, and you do. You watch as he takes a sip, looking from his lips, to his jaw, to his neck, to his Adam’s apple that bobs as he swallows. You’re really going to miss this view. He lets out a quiet hiss. “Damn, that’s strong whiskey.”

“I told you.”

There’s a lull in the conversation, and then he speaks again. “My ice machine got fixed.”

“That’s—”

“Last week.” He cuts you off, doing that stupid thing he does where he stares directly into your eyes.

Your heart is in your throat, and your voice is small when you reply. “Okay…”

“And I was supposed to leave three days ago.”

Now your jaw drops. “Why… Why are you still here?”

“Because you’re still here.” He answers evenly, the alcohol clearly working in his favor. “I initially came here for the same reason as you– needed a change of scenery. It’s summer break right now, and my friend Logan told me it was super nice up here. It is, but then I had my little mishap and… it’s been a lot better since you showed up. So I decided to stay a little longer.”

He’s close to you now, so close you can smell the whiskey on his breath, so you say the only thing you can think to say. “I can’t believe you fell out of a tree.”

“I can’t believe you took care of me this whole time.” He brushes your hair out of your face, and his fingers linger on your cheek.

Your internal giddiness rises when you realize he’s actually about to kiss you. Your stomach is doing Olympic level gymnastics and you don’t trust yourself to speak, so you let the whiskey do it for you: you kiss him first.

You can’t remember the last time you kissed anyone, but the moment he pulls you on top of him you know that you won’t ever forget kissing him.

“Lan…” you break away from him to catch your breath, smoothing his curls back from his forehead. You can just see the glint in his eyes as he stares up at you, and it’s borderline painful knowing that you only get to enjoy this view for two more days.

You don’t remember what you were going to say to him. It’s way too soon for “I love you,” and not the right time to say “I already miss you.” You still want to say both.

Like he can hear your inner turmoil, he silences it by touching his forehead to yours. “Kiss me again, please,” he whispers.

You don’t waste a second in giving him what he wants, wanting nothing more in this moment than to feel his lips against yours again. You’re careful to avoid his side as he lays back on the blanket, keeping a firm grip on your hips so you don’t go anywhere. You try to convey everything you want to say into the kiss: I’m pretty sure I’m in love with you. I know I’m going to miss you. Please don’t let me go.

He holds you closer and gently slips his tongue into your mouth, and you melt into him, knowing the whole while that Lando Norris has effectively ruined all other men for you.

Six Months Later.

Your phone is ringing in the other room as you’re in the middle of recounting the kiss to your best friend for the millionth time.

“Sorry, I’ll be right back,” you apologize. “It might be important.”

Thinking it’s your editor, because who else would call you at this late hour, you don’t look at the caller ID before you answer. “Hi, listen, I wanted to talk to you about—”

“The love interest falls out of a tree, huh?”

Your mouth falls open. “Lando?”

“That would be me. Or should I change my name to Darren?”

You roll your eyes, unable to stop yourself from smiling. “I thought you were never going to call me.”

You’d finished your manuscript the day before you went home. He’d been sleeping right next to you as you wrote the final words, and you should’ve brought it up that morning. Instead, you left your number on his porch the day you left, too deep in overthinking mode to actually face him and properly say goodbye. You truly didn’t expect him to call you after that act of such cowardice, especially after the two of you spent almost the entirety of your last days together at various levels of undress.

“I really wanted to,” he admits. “At least ten different times. I think Oscar might have assaulted me if I chickened out this time.”

“Yeah, because you won’t shut the hell up about her!” A voice in the background exclaims, and you hear something go flying.

“Get out!” Lando snaps, and you can hear Oscar’s laughter fading.

“Sweet of you to subject him to hearing all about me.”

“Come to the race at Silverstone.” He says before you can even finish your sentence. “I’ll pay for the flight, the hotel, everything. Just come.”

You feel like the floor just fell out from under your feet. “Lan—”

“I can’t stop thinking about you.” It’s said in a nearly unintelligible whisper, but his tone changes so suddenly you have to sit down.

“I can’t stop thinking about you either.” You confess. “That’s… kind of why I wrote you into my book.”

“Please, come to Silverstone,” he repeats, practically begging. “Come be with me.”

And when he finds you in the crowd after taking the win at his home race, and he wastes no time in wrapping his arms around your waist and pressing his lips to yours for everyone to see, you’re immediately taken back to those two weeks you spent in the Adirondacks, where you finally found the inspiration you’d been missing your entire life.

note: this one goes out to my fellow writers who desperately wish their inspiration would fall out of a tree— writer’s block will never defeat us.

this got a little long, so if you’re reading this, thank you thank you thank you.

requests are OPEN, and my inbox is always open for comments, criticism, and conversation! feel free to pop in!

reblogs are always appreciated <33

beautiful dividers by @/saradika !

tags (i’m sorry if i couldn’t tag you!): @venusacrossthestars @anathedivine @xfuckoffx @architect-2015 @violetiss3lfish @havaneselover08 @paigeworlds @whatever7justchillin @xoredmoonlightxo @dovieloovie @totowolffstablexoxo @maddie-bell @lalisgs11 @rrrraaaalllluuuu @formulasportworld @madisonbidaddy @anedpev @estherapz-blog @jess-wither @loveyatopluto @athena-artemis-dorian-gray @lou-larcher5 @clearlyabi @fizzpopsnap101 @fluerlaurent @mcmuppet @positiveaspirations @notturlover @crazymofo-96 @chanthereader @apollo-axolotl

#full fic #lando norris x reader #lando norris x you #lando norris imagine #formula one x reader #formula one imagine #lando norris #lando norris fluff #lando norris fanfic #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #ln4 x reader #ln4 imagine #ln4 fluff #ln4 fic

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yuyu1024 · 4 months

Text

Fate

Pairings: Yoongi × y/n

Genre/tags: Arranged marriage

Warning: 🔞🔞🔞 mention of blood/violence/drugs/trafficing, trauma, mention of killing, kidnapping, gun, mention of food/eating/weight, cursing, sensual touching, making out smoking, smut (but not this chapter)

~~~~[lmk if i miss anything]

Words: 5.2k

Disclaimer:

- this story is just made up

- english is not my first language, please be nice 😊

Note:

Until you (mini series)

Part 1 - Prisoner

Part 2 - Escape

Part 3 - Twilight

Part 4 - Fate

A/N: again... im really sorry for being a slow writer/update for this mini series🙏🏻 i can't help it. 😭 I do get msgs asking for updates & i feel bad... so sorry 🥹 I try my best to have time to get into the story/characters whenever i have free time. I work full time and have a 2nd job too so it takes all my energy. I'm really... really sorry.😭

But yeaah, thank you for everyone liking my yoongi fanfic. 🖤🫶🏻 thank you for the patience😭

I hope this chapter is okay ♥️

****

(Prologue/Flashback)

"Sshh..." she covers your mouth for you to stay quiet and not make any noise. She reminds you constantly to keep it together or else they will find you. "Just a little bit more, Yoongi." She whispers. "Calm down..."

You try your best to do what she says because you want you guys to survive this. To escape. However you are a kid and you are terrified. And you can't stop yourself from shaking like a twig. Also you are rapidly breathing through your nose. Tears even start to fill your eyes as you look into her eyes.

"You'll be fine..." she says to you. "Noona, will protect you."

"I'm scared..." You whisper grabbing onto her long braided hair.

You two are a few inches apart. If she could only embrace you, she will. However there are metal bars between you two and she is.... injured.

"Me too." She wants to cry to as she must be as scared as you or maybe, more. But since she's the eldest between the two of you she have to be brave for you. "Just go to sleep... I promise... the moment you wake up...when the sun is shining after the storm tonight... we'll be safe... we'll already be at home..."

"P-promise?"

She tries her best to not break down because she knows that she's promising something that's very unrealistic in your situation right now. Both of you are held captives, kidnapped and waiting to be saved.

"I promise." She sniffs "Just hold onto this for now..." she meant her hair and then reaches her hand to you slowly even it's causing too much pain for her. "Go to sleep... Noona will be right here..." the tip of her fingers barely touched your cheek. "I will protect you..." she adds

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[Present]

The silence between you two is very deafening. Even the staffs at the mansion notices how both of you are very distant to each other.

Odd right? They should be used to this situation since Yoongi is the silent type or the one who does not talk that much especially to you.

However for you, maybe this is out of character as every one is not used to you being like this. Well THIS silent anyway.

You usually talk and greet them or make small talks with them or Yoongi even if it's just a random question to make him just...talk. You do anything to make him speak to you. You make small efforts to chase his attention just to get him look back at you per say. Like a dog.

But now, since he made sure to leave you the moment you got vulnerable with him during sex and mentioned a feeling you have, which in the first place you had no idea you have, really hurt you this time. Big time. It is a rejection that you never thought would bother you this much.

"You two are awfully quiet." Mrs. Min says as soon as she puts down her cup of coffee on the table. "You two are both quiet originally... I know... but..." she looks at you and Yoongi back and forth twice. "Did you guys had a fight?"

No one answers.

"Guessing...silence means yes?" Mrs. Min looks at us again, hoping someone will speak up. "What did you do?" She asks Yoongi.

But he didn't open his mouth to speak. He just continued on chewing on his breakfast while his eyes are glued to you.

He has been eyeing you since the two of you left the mansion. He have been silently watching you move along, react and walk from your back. You don't notice it as you are trying to achieve to ignore him completely today. And so far, you are a gold medalist at it. You don't even bat an eye on him.

"Fine... not gonna ask anymore questions..." Mrs. Min gives up. "Anyways, after this lunch... I'll have a meeting with Hannah."

Yoongi flinches, finally reacting and gets interested to whatever his mother is saying. "What for?"

"About the private resort project that she is building... she wants my opinion about what brands to use for the decorations. She have a final lists of candidates of brands and she wants to know my say to it."

"Really...."

"Yes... and as soon as it opens... she says you two can go there... and celebrate... as her gift. Since she missed going to your wedding."

"Celebrate?" You finally spoke after how many years. Even Yoongi whip his head to look at you.

"Yes dear," Mrs. Min smiles so brightly and holds your hand. "You're 2nd anniversary... next month... right?"

"Ah, yes... right." You try to smile it away. But deep inside, you are not looking forward to it.

Why would you? Last year Yoongi didn't even greeted you Happy Anniversary. He probably didn't care back then so why would he care now and celebrate this year? This marriage is nothing to him.

"Is she coming here?" Yoongi asks his mother, changing back the subject to Hannah

"No... I am meeting her at her office."

You are holding on for dear life on your gold medal for 'Ignoring my husband award'. You are so curious to look at him. To see his beautiful face, how he reacts when they talk about her. Hannah. The girl you saw more than a year ago. The girl you saw on the driveway, talking to your husband while she hooked her arms on his'. The girl that Yoongi seems interested about. The girl he seems to.... like.

"How about you guys? What are your plans today after our brunch?" Mrs. Min asks

"Hmm.." he sighs heavily and then takes his phone from the table. "Probably fuck my wife " Yoongi answers nonchalantly making you and Mrs. Min almost choke on nothing. That sentence made you even look at him with wide eyes and red cheeks.

"Omo..." Mrs. Min is too stunned to even comprehend what she just heard. "Well... okay... too much information but..." she then takes a sip of her coffee. "You do you."

"I'm sorry..." you apologize to your mother-in-law.

You are embarassed. This topic should be a private matter. Everyone in the mansion already seem to have the idea what you two do on a regular basis but you do hope that outside, no one has to know.

It's not that you are embarassed of having a sex life. It's normal. Yes. But to have to talk about it to his parents, oh dear god, no.

"Why are you apologizing?" Yoongi's face looks so damn serious. "We are husband and wife right?"

You scowl at Him. You don't like how he acts or portrays like sex is just a hobby for him and it's nothing to be embarassed about. Especially in front of his mother while you are present. He really does not treat you like you have any feelings. He is evil.

"Okay... children...children... don't fight about this... it's okay. You already have issues before we got here so... it's fine." Mrs. Min tries to sooth the situation up.

She's so nice to try. Though she does not know the real reason why there is a huge distance between you two today. It's not that simple. You don't even know if she knows how his son treats you.

***

"Sir." Mr. Kim bows as both Yoongi and you arrives at the driveway, about to leave Mrs. Min's property.

"Get in." He orders you

You glare at him then roll your eyes away. You are in no mood now. You have scowled at him earlier already so why not do it more now that he is irritating you.

"Hold on..." he suddenly grabs you by the arm, stopping you from getting in the car. "Did you just fucking roll your eyes at me?" He scoffs

You try your best to pull your arms from his grip but he is stronger than you. "Let me go." You grunt

"What are you doing?" He asks, "You've been.... acting up lately..."

"I don't know...what you're talking about..." you finally freed yourself from his grip.

"Don't act innocent on me... I know you."

"Know me?" You snap. "How? We barely talked these past two years... You only look for me when you want something done and someone to fuck...besides that, I am nothing to you. So how the fuck will you know me?"

Finally! You've said something. However you can't lie to yourself how terrified you are right now. Your legs are shaking. You have never risen your voice like this before. Not with him. Plus Yoongi is so freaking silent. There was no reaction from him not like Mr. Kim who just coughed because of the sudden tension.

Is he in shock? He must be surprised to hear you speak out after all this time. He had never heard you talk like this before. You can't even read his expression. He is just looking down at you, straight on.

"Ahm... Sir... Miss... I'll leave you two... alone." Mr. Kim finally broke the awkward silence. "Just message me if... we're going home."

You glance at him and bow. Also giving an apologetic look since the situation got a bit serious.

And as soon as Mr. Kim is gone from our sight, Yoongi takes a step forward closer to you, making you back up and your behind bumping on the car. "Is that... what you think?"

You glare up at him. "Yes."

"You think... I don't know you?"

"Yes."

He chuckles. "I know you more than you know..."

You frown. "You only see me when you are horny... you don't even talk to me unless to I ask you... unless you tell me what to do and what not to do... so, how would you know anything about me...?"

He scrunches his face. He looks irritated "I see you more than you think." He mumbles. And then he took a step back and looks at you and watch you tremble,"Do you regret it?" He asks

"W-what? Regret what?"

"The sex... do you regret it?"

"W-what? What do you mean...?"

He then puts both his hands on the car, trapping you between. "Just answer the question... do you hate and regret the sex?"

You look away. "No...."

"Do you want us to stop fucking?"

You sigh heavily. "Why are you focusing on the sex?!?" Your brows are furrowed. You are really showing your frustration. "It's not about the sex, Yoongi! There is nothing wrong with the sex... what I just want is... I just..." you look back at his face and you see an empty expression from him. Does he not get what you are saying or is he ignoring the other parts of what you told him. That the only thing he thinks about is your sex life. "Never mind..." you lower your gaze. "It's not like my opinion matter..."

"Y/N..." Yoongi begins. You look back st him waiting for whatever he's about to say. You think he was about to response to you or maybe say what is on his mind as well. (Maybe.) However, both of you got suddenly distracted by the honk of a black sedan car entering the property.

You have seen that car before. It is familiar. And then when it stops and someone steps out of the car...

"Yoongi?" The woman that came out of the passenger seat, is Hannah. "What are you doing here?"

She is smiling ear to ear. Her smile is as bright as her tear drop pear earrings that is perfectly shown under her tucked bob hair. She's... so pretty.

"Oh... Hi..." she waves at you when she finally notices you

"Hi." You try to smile as brightly as you can.

"You must be Yoongi's beautiful wife." She is sweet. She looks like a friendly and easy going person. "I'm Hannah by the way... I'm Yoongi's friend since we're... toddlers..."

"Nice to meet you." You bow

"What are you doing here? Mother said..."

"Ah... yes... we we're supposed to meet at my office but I just came from another meeting and since we will pass by the house I decided to just meet her now..." she explains

"She must be in her room now.. preparing to meet you."

"Oh. I see... well, I guess I'll just surprise her." She grins. "Are you guys leaving?"

"Yeah... we just had brunch with her..."

Fuck. What is going on?

Just a second ago, you're having a serious confrontation with your husband. You guys are about to talk about the situation between you two. Yes, it may not be the ideal 'talk' but it is a start. But then, here you are. Hannah arrived and stole his full attention. Literally, she have all his eyes and ears. You suddenly became a shadow.

Then you are also hearing Yoongi converse. You are hearing how is he when he's not alone with you. You are hearing a side of him that you are not familiar with. 'Fuck Y/N, stop it.' You say yourself

Maybe, you just need to stop. Just stop complaining about his attention and him not liking you. Maybe he is not the problem. Maybe.. it's you? They forced him to marry and got stucked with you. YOU are the problem. You are NOT the person he wanted to marry. You just got selected just because.

You are the problem. As always. Like what everybody says to you.

"I'll just email you my thoughts after..." Hannah says

"Why not discuss it now?" Yoongi suggests

"Hmm...but you're about to leave..." she glances at you

"It's okay." Yoongi then pulls out his phone and messages someone. "I asked Mr. Kim to come... wait for him... I'll be quick." He says to you

You look at him for a second before you turn your back on him. "Sure." You sound lifeless. You sounded like you've given up already.

"Y-yoongi... you're going to make her wait?" She whispers to him but you care definitely hear it

"Let's make it quick. I don't want to work over the weekend."

He's more worried of working on the weekend but not making you stay and wait all alone.

They start to walk away. You could see their reflection through the windows of the car.

They left you alone.

He left you alone.

Then as you are standing there, waiting for Mr. Kim to come back, you slightly bend over your torso, holding onto the yourself as soon as you felt a little uncomfortable feeling on your lower abdomen. It's not painful but it is a bit of discomfort.

"Fuck..." you hiss under your breathe.

You should be careful now. Atleast until it's fully confirmed. Yes, you are pregnant. Well, that's what the PT told you a few days ago.

You took the test, in your bathroom, scared and shaking like a twig. You have never felt this terrified in your life. Ever. And the freaking 3mins of waiting felt like forever whilst you are in there, sitting on the floor.

But yeah, after the torture of waiting, the test did show two lines. It was a faint but it is positive. And during that moment, your world suddenly stopped spinning. You had to gather your thoughts and emotion within the span of 30mins that you have. (Because your maid will enter your bathroom to help you get ready after 30mins). That was one other toture you had to endure. And to add more spice on this never ending problem is that you were all ALONE. You had no one to hold hands or hug for moral support.

You are, all by yourself.

After testing, you did processed the result in your mind and managed to get back right to reality and decide by yourself to be... okay. To take it as another good day. Because this is not something bad. It is a miracle. It's a life.

Though, you can't lie. It was a whirlwind of emotion. And you don't know what to feel yet about it. You are not even sure if you are able to share it with anyone, even Yoongi since you still need to see a doctor to really confirm it.

Confirmation.

You fucking need that final 'yes you are pregnant'. Because your further decisions in life will revovle around that one thing. Decisions that might affect this marriage and basically affect your whole life. So, you really have to find a way to get a doctor's appointment in secret. For now...

"Miss?" Mr. Kim arrives and sees you slouching, "Is everything alright?"

You turn around, stands up straight and smile. "Yes..."

"Are you hurt?" He asks

"I'm fine... but I just think... my stomach feels heavy a bit from eating... I did ate quite a bit." You lie.

"Okay, let me bring you home quick so you could rest." He says

"Thank you."

****

[Yoongi's side]

Yoongi can't sleep. He got home earlier just an hour after Y/N got home. He asked the maids to call her, to have dinner with him, but unfortunately Y/N was already fast asleep.

He waited for her to wake up from what he thinks is just a quick nap. But whenever he asks the maid if she's up, they just shake their head and say sorry.

They fought. He thinks. It felt like they fought. It's his first time hearing her talk to him like that. She have been always timid and her patience with him is very long. However, she finally have had it.

How can you make your wife, who is clearly showing you that she's falling in love with you, start to hate you?

Well, Yoongi knows what he did and is doing to her. He is very controlling, cold and distant. And these are the traits that can't be part of your life especially of you are married. However, this is how he is. As a child no, but ever since the incident happen fifteen years ago, the trauma and the life he had to put through made him, This.

Outsiders might call him as the devil or the punisher of the Min Family because of all the work he is doing inside the office and outside. He is a fighter and his hands are always covered with blood. Though what he's doing is not a crime. The Min's business is not illegal. They control everything that they can do end everything that is illegal in the most legal way possible. If that makes sense.

They were just a business before. A typical rich family. But yeah, since what had happened to them years ago, they changed their rules and how they do it now.

And that's why Yoongi have this cold exterior. He needs to show to everyone who's watching him that he can't falter. That no one could try to even break him like how those monsters break his father. How those monster took them and made them hostages.

10 million. That's all it takes, for some uneducated humans do the most horrendous thing in this world. To hurt and kill an innocent child. A 16yrs old girl and a 14yr old boy.

Their parents were willing to give the money and even more, just for them to surrender their children. However, the fear in them when they know that the children saw their faces, made them decide to end it all.

Yuna, his older sister, sacrificed her life to save Yoongi. She is one brave young lady. She managed to push his brother just in time to fall on the edge, to roll down small hill and get away through the woods. She got shot and died on the spot. Yoongi saw everything but didn't had the time to grieve then and there because he had to survive yet. To run.

It took two more days before he was found. How he survived? No one knows. But since that day, the happy and cheerful little boy grew up and became the cold Yoongi everyone knows now.

He knows that what he have been through is not an excuse to treat his wife so coldy like this. She was only forced the marry him. She didn't even know him. Which is his fault as well because he didn't allow her to enter his bubble. Up to now...

However, through all the times that he have been with her little by little, as per his therapist's words, 'You are slowly breaking.' She said.

She said that before, whenever she asks him about his wife. He is usually nonchalant or indifferent. Like he's just talking about someone he randomly met. But then one day, the therapists said, she saw a glimpse of change in his eyes the moment she asks about his wife. His expression is the same but his eyes started to shift like he's thinking about it more before he speaks.

'You care. You just don't know how to show it' she said to him.

At first, When Yoongi heard that from his therapist, he got worried. Not because He is starting to have this feeling for his wife. No. His wife is never and will never be a bad thing that happened to his life. He is worried because, what if he breaks his cold exterious and somewhere out there in the world takes advantage of it and what happened years ago will happen again?

That is his only concern. That is why, he added more men. That's why Y/N can't leavr a house alone. That's why he always tracks her phone wherever she is. That's why he can't sleep without know if she is fine or not.

If only... he never had these issues, these traumas from the past, maybe... it's easier.

"Please... don't quit on me..." he says out loud as he closes his eyes, imagining the smiling face of his wife. "Don't... leave me..." he mutters

****

After what it seems like a very, very long day for you you're finally home. You are so tired that the first thing you did after getting changed is sleep. It feels like this is the longest you've slept in like forever.

You keep turning and waking up every now and then but your body kept forcing you to not wake up. It's like its telling you that you needed this. After all of the worrying you have been having these past few days. This sleep is for you.

But then maybe after hour five of sleeping, you felt something cold touch your skin. It didn't sting. It oddly felt good.

Slowly opening your eyes, you see a blurred figure in front of you. He's so close that you could actually smell his scent. The smell of baby powder.

"Yoongi?" You ask softly as your eyes slowly adjusted to the little light of your lamp shade. But no one answered back. You then rub your eyes to wake yourself up a bit more. Just to be surez you saw what you saw.

No one. There's no one there.

"Did I... just dream about him?" You ask, looking at the ceiling. "But I swear..." you trail off. "How funny... even in my dream... I see him..."

But you swear you smelled his scent. Your imagination of him is getting stronger. Your memory of him is getting move vivid. Even the smell now. That's how longing you are of him.

You miss him. Even though he is there you miss him. Oddly, you miss the time that both of you are just sitting down together in his home office and just reading. You miss casually asking him questions. You miss hearing him talk even though he's talking about his work and not to you. You miss him even though you just saw him earlier. Even though... he hurt you.

His scent. The scent you really, really like. His smell whenever you two have sex. It's not strong but it's there. Whenever you close your eyes and drift away from the high, you know you are okay as long as you could smell and hear him.

Fuck. Is this how being in love is?

Just thinking about him makes you want to cry. You are frustrated at him but at the same time frustrated to yourself as well. Why is communicating is so hard? You know that's the issue. Both of you are not good with talking nor expressing yourselves. Well, that's what Taehyun told you earlier.

Yeah, you went on a side trip earlier before going home, to meet your friend at his work. You needed someone to talk to and you know Taehyung is always there ready to listen to you.

You poured your heart out earlier, crying and all. You were sorry for disturbing him at work but you needed that cry and that hug. You had to told him your feelings about Yoongi. You have to say it out loud for you to truely understand the situation and yourself.

You needed someone's opinion to point out the obvious so it could stick in to your brain.

Growing up to a family where your opinion does not matter took a toll on you as well. Especially to an adoptive family. A family that only needed you for money.

To them, you always feel left out and does not deserve a voice. They always tell you that they only gave you a roof above your head and food to eat because you are what they needed. A piggy bank.

Your parents died in an accident years ago, when you are just 12yrs old. There was a police chase in the highway that rainy day. Every one is on high alert and giving way. But well, the criminals weren't exactly running away and trying to avoid cars. They hit quite a few vehicles during the chase and one of them was your parent's. The crash caused an explosion, killing them in an instant.

And like any drama stories on TV, yout aunt took you in because of your parent's insurance. They are not big but it is a decent amount. However, they could not actually touch it since it is saved for your education that's why the first month of you staying with them was torture. They beat you, make you work and starve you from time to time because they said, 'you don't deserve to eat unless you work for it'.

One reason why starving yourself was easy for you when you need to.

But then things changed a bit when someone knocked on the door one day and gave your adoptive parents a good amount of money. You remember the man saying 'this is for the trouble and lost we caused your family during our battle for saving our children.' You do remember you aunt, being a good actress that day, crying and all. You even saw them be in a good mood. Everyday because of that money. So since then, whenever you have a part time job or one good seasonal job, you save up and give it to them.

You do this not because you want them to be happy. You do this because you wanted peace for yourself. They will not hurt you if you give them what they need.

This is one reason too why you accepted this marriage. Even though, you know you will have trials too. But atleast you know, no one is going to hurt you physically anymore.

Though, you are having troubles now too.... it is still different. Like you said, it is the communication.

Is it all Yoongi's fault? No. Taehyung said that maybe, since I'm very submissive and him being very dominant, grew up giving orders or not listening to anyone because he is who he is, it affected the talking part in the relationship. Though he cannot say that it is a hundred percent fact. Because he explain, everyone have different stories of growing up and these affects every facet of their whole being when they get old.

Well, that's what you got from all his talk. Half of it, you are numb from all the crying and can't hear properly.

Though that talk with Taehyung,you needed that. Now all you have to do is talk to Yoongi.

If.... you have the courage too.

It is so hard to start a conversation not knowing how he feels about you. It is scary and a risk. But you are hoping it will turn out good especially now that you are expecting.

"Oh, right! The result!" You got up immediately and grab your phone.

You visited Taehyung in the hospital and he got to help you get a blood test to confirm. You forgot to talk to him about the result because you two are busy with doing friend therapy. He said, he'll just email you the result.

But then as you were scrolling scrolling through your emails your stomach growls. "I'm hungry..." you mumble and pause. "Taehyung said that if I am really pregnant... I need to eat properly now..."

And you haven't eaten dinner since you just slept since you came home. You need to eat.

Looking at the time it's pass 10pm already. Everyone must be asleep now or getting to bed so you must go and make yourself food yourself.

"Just one toast." You say as you push your blanket away. "Or two..."

You walk along the hallways as quietly as you can and then take the stairs instead of the elevator, going to the upper ground, so you could not disturb anyone.

There is still minimal light coming from the kitchen area. 'Maybe someone is still there?' You thought to yourself and hoping it is one of the maids so they could help you grab the things in the pantry. Since you don't really know how they organize it.

But then the second you turn to the corner, to enter the doorway

"Ah!" You hit your head first at something. Or at someone

Then after collecting yourself from bumping on someone, you look up to see who it was. "Sorry, I wasn't looking at--"

Fuck! It's not Yoongi nor anyone of the staff.

You tried to run back and scream but it was too late. He was quick to cover your mouth with a cloth. A scented cloth. The smell quickly pierced your nostrils and immediately made you feel dizzy and sleepy.

You are barely awake but you know he carried you over his shoulder. You could see the floor and the lights slowly to flicker. You are about to loose it.

'Help... Someone.... Yoongi... please...' You say to yourself before totally loosing consciousness.

-----

Taglist based on the replies last post 🖤

@gaby-93 @goodbyetwenty @baechugff

@amyz78 @qeen123 @armystay89 @bangtannie7 @daisies-and-dandelionpuffs @corruptedmistress @ot72025 @cheezwiz

@xkh0 @eli-deville

#yuyu1024 #bts min yoongi #bts yoongi #min yoongi #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #yoongi x reader #yoongi angst #yoongi fluff #mafia yoongi #bts fanfiction #bts imagines #bts x fem!reader #bts x y/n #bts x reader #kpop fanfic #kpop au #mafia au

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nyrandrea · 8 months

Note

You have very good writing and I think you really do comfort fics well! So I was wondering if you could write a fic with Astarion where the Tav he is trying to seduce has like major self esteem issues. Like they kind laugh at his attempts to compliment them. But at first it seems like a joke until he realizes that Tav isn't joking about it and he tries to help them see they are beautiful. (this is one of my fav prompts to give people ngl)

Thank you so much! This is a lovely prompt and I hope I did it some justice! :)

Word Count - 2k

Enjoy!

xxx

As the storm clouds gathered ominously on the horizon, you and your party found yourselves on a desolate, rain-soaked road in the middle of nowhere. The relentless downpour had turned the earth into a sea of mud, and the wind howled like a vengeful spirit.

Your clothes were soaked through, and faces were etched with exhaustion and desperation. With each step, your boots sank into the muck, making the journey even more arduous. Thunder rumbled in the distance, a menacing reminder that you had to find shelter soon.

“Ugh, there’s probably some saying about rainbows after the storm and whatnot,” Astarion said, holding a rucksack over his head in a failing attempt to save his hair. “But I’d much rather not be out in the middle of one.”

“Ah, it’s not so bad, just think of it as a long overdue shower,” Gale said. “And the saying is ‘Don’t fear the storm, for the rainbow is never far behind!’”

“Oh yes, that’s the one,” the vampire drawled. “I’ll rest so much better now that you have enlightened me.”

Amid the pelting rain, you spotted a faint glimmer of light in the distance. With newfound hope, you quickened your pace and beckoned the others to follow. As you trudged closer, the light revealed itself to be a cozy inn, nestled among ancient trees that shielded it from the worst of the storm.

“Thank the Gods,” Karlach breathed. “If I got any more drenched, my engine would have snuffed out.”

“Wouldn’t that solve your problem, then?” Lae’zel snidely chimed in, only to hiss when you elbowed her.

The inn's windows emitted a warm, inviting glow, and the scent of wood smoke and hearty meals wafted through the air. Your tired body yearned for a meal and a warm bed, mindflayer tadpoles be damned.

“Have we got enough gold to stay here? I mean, for everyone to have a room?” Shadowheart asked.

“We should do,” you said, pulling out the team’s shared coin pouch. “I sold that egg we uh... found.”

“You mean the one we stole after we killed its mother?” Wyll asked, clear disdain lacing his voice.

“It’s not technically stealing if the target is dead,” Astarion cheerfully chimed in. “Besides, we rescued the other one, didn’t we? One good turn deserves another.”

Wyll grimaced. “Your idea of virtue is a damn twisted one.”

“Aw, you love me really,” the vampire teased back.

“Here we are!” you announced as you reached the inn's doorstep, you were greeted by the innkeeper, whose eyes twinkled with the knowledge that you had nowhere else to go for the night. After taking payment, he ushers you inside, where a crackling fireplace cast a comforting light over the room, he takes your belongings up to your rooms with the help of Wyll and a begrudging Astarion.

Finding a long wooden table in the corner of the room, the group sat together, their spirits lifted by the fact that they were safe from the fury of the storm outside, at least for one night. The innkeeper, his apron stained with years of hospitality, served you a hearty meal of roasted meats, fresh bread, and stew.

You listened to the rain's rhythmic drumming on the inn's thatched roof, feeling a deep sense of gratitude for having found refuge in this little hidden haven. With a deep, contended sigh, you tucked into your meal, savouring every bite.

At least, you were trying to.

“You better eat up,” Astarion teased, lacing his fingers together as he rested his chin upon them to watch you. “Because I plan on doing just that very soon.”

“Crap,” you mumbled between mouthfuls. “Are you hungry? Why didn’t you say so?”

“Oh, am I hungry,” he smirked. “Just not for blood.”

You almost choked, but you masked it well with a nervous chuckle. He wasn’t... flirting with you, was he? You had always been bad at picking up signals, not that you received them often.

‘Nah,’ you thought. He couldn’t be, not when there were so many other better-looking people, at this table alone, that he could choose from.

“Well, I know you’re not craving my charming banter.”

“Oh no, something far better.”

Now you really were at a loss.

“Do you... need to borrow my hair comb again?”

“I mean sex, darling.”

This time you couldn’t hide the choke, but you were more afraid of dying from embarrassment than anything else.

“What?”

The deafening silence that had befallen the table was broken by a low whistle from Karlach.

“The direct approach, I can respect that, mate.”

“Direct? I’ve been trying to drop hints for weeks now but perhaps a little more serenading is needed,” he looked you up and down with a knowing smile; he had hooked you, now it was time to reel you in.

“Darling,” Astarion began softly, his voice a gentle caress, “when I look into your eyes, I see galaxies of beauty and depth that defy description. It’s as if the universe itself painted them with the colours of a thousand sunsets.”

A faint blush tinged your cheeks as you lowered your eyes, unsure of where to look. Astarion reached out and gently lifted your chin, so your eyes met once more.

“And your smile,” he continued, “it’s like a radiant sunbeam on even the cloudiest day. It has the power to brighten my world in an instant.”

“Ooh, that’s a good one,” Karlach said, fanning herself. “You’re even making me blush!”

“Careful, we wouldn’t want you burning any hotter now,” Gale smiled, though it was strained. He looked almost as uncomfortable as you felt.

“Your kindness,” Astarion went on, “it knows no bounds. You have a heart that’s more expansive than the ocean, and it’s a privilege to be the one you’ve chosen to share it with.”

“Bah!” Lae’zel practically spat. “These nonsensical attempts at beguiling are a waste of time, why waste your energy talking when you can claim and dominate each other instead?”

You were hard-pressed to agree with Lae’zel on this one. Well, except maybe for that last part.

“Alright, you can stop now,” you said.

“Not until you’re convinced,” Astarion replied, a sly smirk forming on his lips. “How about this? You are a masterpiece in a world of art,” The vampire flamboyantly declared, his gaze unwavering. “Your uniqueness, your quirks, your imperfections – they all make you the incredible person I fell in love with. You’re not just enough; you’re more than I ever dreamed of.”

You roll your eyes. “Gods, you know you don’t have to keep practising the fancy fake flattery on me, right? I know it’s all like a big joke to you but enough is enough, eh?”

Astarion finally pulls back and frowns at you, not in that puppy-pout way when he didn’t get what he wanted, but in a way that he looked genuinely offended.

“You think I’m joking?”

“I... uh,” you stutter, suddenly flustered.

“My compliments aren’t fake, darling. Decorative, perhaps, but you do know I mean every word, don’t you?”

“Pfft,” you try to wave him off nonchalantly, but your quivering voice betrays you. “No, you don’t. It’s... it’s all just a bit of fun, r-right?”

“Perhaps I should be a bit blunter then,” Astarion said, leaning forward ever so slightly, his expression serious and scarlet eyes piercing into you. “You’re... beautiful.”

You swear you could feel something just break inside you in that moment.

A tentative smile, like a fragile flower pushing through the cracks of self-doubt, graced your lips, but it wilted in the harsh light of scrutiny. A tight knot formed within your throat as everyone stared at you in anticipation. What were you supposed to say? Thank you? That you were grateful for the shower of compliments from Astarion, this... gorgeous man, because you sure as hell didn’t deserve them?

“I’m a little tired,” you suddenly say, your chair scraping the floor with a shrill screech as you quickly stand up. “Excuse me.”

Leaving their concerned calls behind you, you made your way up the stairs of the tavern and into the hallway leading to the rooms. The innkeeper had allocated them, but he’d neglected to say which one was which, so you merely picked the first door you could get your hands on.

It wasn’t until you slammed the door shut and leaned your back against it that you realised that you picked the wrong bloody one.

The room was large and luxurious, the centrepiece was an ornate, four-poster bed adorned with rich, crimson drapes that seemed to dance with the flickering candlelight and crisp, white linens, neatly turned down. An old, familiar skull-faced tome laid face up, its amethyst eyes staring ominously at the ceiling.

It seemed that someone got first dibs on the rooms, and it didn’t take a genius to work out who.

‘Shit,’ you curse to yourself, scrambling for the doorknob. ‘Maybe I can get out before he-’

As soon as you open the door, Astarion is already right there, his hand raised into a fist.

“Knock-knock?” he says, giving you a tentative smile.

“S-sorry, must have gotten a little mixed-up.”

“That’s quite alright, dear,” his tone is too soft for your liking, as if he feared offending you in any way.

“Right, well,” you strain a smile and edge around him to get to the hallway. “Goodnight.”

“Wait,” he catches you by the arm. “Come back in, won’t you?”

You squint at him suspiciously.

“To talk, darling. Nothing else, not if you don’t want to.”

Gods know that you wanted to, you were just... surprised that he did.

As you re-enter the room, you notice a small, antique writing desk nestled by a leaded glass window. A vase of freshly picked wildflowers graced the wooden surface, infusing the room with their sweet fragrance.

Astarion caught your stare. “Ah, unfortunately I have run out of perfume to mask my er... musk. So, I had to improvise.”

“It’s nice,” you remark, the tight knot in your throat making it hard to speak.

“Well, I should hope so. They are your favourite after all, are they not?”

A surge of guilt jabbed through your chest, you had occasionally stopped on the road to admire the flowers; their colours, their scent was intoxicating to you. Had he been observing you even back then?

You didn’t know what to say, words were always tempered by hesitation, their resonance dulled by the fear of judgment. Each sentence was punctuated by apologies, as if you believed your very existence owed the world an explanation. Confidence always remained just beyond your reach, an oasis in the desert of your own mind.

Astarion sat on the bed and patted the empty spot next to him; you silently took the invitation.

“I would like to... apologise for earlier. Making you uncomfortable was never my intent, I...” he paused, his eyes flickering over you. “I just wasn’t sure how much clearer I could make it to you.”

“That you... like me?”

“Like you?” Astarion took your hands and squeezed them. “I adore you. Everything about you, all that you do is... nothing short of breathtaking.”

Tears welled in your eyes and spilled over your cheeks like the gentlest rain, your trembling shoulders burdened by the weight of your emotions

“I’m sorry if you don’t hear this enough but... I wish to change that. You really are, truly, beautiful.”

The tears flowed freely then, your sobs echoing in the stillness of the night. Astarion gathered you in his arms, a silent pillar of support. His hand, cool and reassuring, gently cradled your trembling one, his thumb grazing back and forth over your knuckles.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, his words a gentle caress. “Let it out, darling.”

Astarion’s presence felt like a sanctuary, a safe haven in the storm of emotions. He didn’t offer empty platitudes or rushed advice. Instead, he listened, letting you pour your bottled emotions out, allowing it to find solace in his quiet understanding.

With each tear that fell, Astarion’s touch remained steady, unwavering.

As the night wore on, you found yourself nestled into his side as you lay together on top of the covers, your head tucked into his shoulder while he stared up at the ceiling. He turns his head briefly to kiss your forehead, and in that sacred space, amid the tears and whispered sorrows, you found solace, strength, and perhaps the willingness to accept that, in your own way, you are beautiful.

xxx

Links to my other Astarion works

Everything's Fine

Restless

Request - Astarion kills everyone in his path to get to you

Request - Astarion tries to rescue you from kidnappers

#astarion x reader #bg3 astarion #astarion #astarion x tav #baldurs gate 3 #bg3 #astarion ancunin #my writing #fanfiction #request

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gerec · 3 months

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Resurrection of Magneto - Issue 2

For all Cherik lovers:

If you haven't been following / don't follow the comics - Magneto has been dead since 2022 after his battle with Uranos in AXE: Judgement Day and has stayed dead because he asked not to be resurrected (yes resurrections were/are a thing in the Krakoan era for mutants). The new mini RoM is about Storm going on a journey to... purgatory somewhere?... to bring Magneto back to the land of the living because she heard his 'call'/dreamt he was in pain and regretted his choice. When she finds him though, he is very determinedly NOT interested in coming back, wanting to atone for his sins and because he's just so TIRED y'all. But then:

Then Storm is like 'Bestie let me catch you up it's been a NO GOOD VERY BAD DAY for mutants':

As you can see, Mags is PISSED because he specifically told Storm with his dying breath he was worried about Charles being left alone and what he might do if pushed to his limits and that he needed (her) support...

It's a little hilarious that Mags is more upset with Storm for botching things ('YOU HAD ONE JOB, ORORO') than with Charles' (questionable? depends who you ask) decision-making and starts flinging metal name plates of his victims at her (i.e. people he's killed or were killed because of him and yes he's been tormenting himself, surrounded by walls and walls and walls of their names).

Then we get THIS panel of Erik remembering how he cradled his 'friend' in his arms and lamenting how Charles was the only one who saw that ERIK/MAX/MAGNUS/MAGNETO mattered too, and that HE (and not just his victims) also suffered from his actions....'WHAT DID I DO, CHARLES?'

'SO I CHOSE DEATH OVER THE DREAM I BUILT WITH MY FRIEND' - HE'S SO SORRY HE ABANDONED YOU, CHHHHHHARRRRRRLLLLLEESSSSS!!!!

But then Storm says 'but look at all the lives you've saved, that's important too. You need to come back and help us SAVE mutant kind and HE says:

BABE, WAIT FOR ME I'M COMING HOME!!!

#gerec rambles #comics #resurrection of magneto #issue 2 #cherik #erik lensherr #magneto #bless Al Ewing for this issue #i put this together mostly for me #but i hope others enjoy the shippy goodness

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nevertheless-moving · 2 months

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I wrote it. They ask.

"So you're essentially an expert on honor, right?"

Kaladin blinked at Shallan, unsure what to make of the question. The three of them had finished eating, and had moved to a smaller, shared table for drinks, secluded from the rest of the building by a hazy curtain. The conversation had been drifting lazily from the city's latest scandals to squire hijinks.

"What?" Kaladin finally said, slightly confused at the abrupt change of topic.

"Of course you are, you're the first person chosen by an honorspren in thousands of years!" Adolin said enthusiastically.

"I mean—"

"And you always figure out the right thing to do!" Shallan said.

"That's definitely not—"

Adolin nodded. "Never murder anyone in cold blood, even when they deserve it."

Kaladin sighed heavily. "Where are you two going with this?"

Shallan coughed into her freehand. "Well, you see, we've been having a little debate about...honor."

"And we were hoping you could settle it. Impartially," Adolin said, tone serious.

Kaladin squinted at him. There was something off about his expression. "Can't you ask Syl?"

Syl was meeting with some of the honorspren with newer bonds tonight; she had insisted that she could handle it on her own, and that he should take the night off, but he was sure she would be happy to switch places to come by and give her opinion on other people's business; that was practically a hobby for her. He wasn't sure sure where pattern was, come to think of it; he hadn't heard him buzz in a while.

"Actually we did!" Shallan said brightly.

"She was our first choice, no offense," Adolin said. "I don't think she entirely understood the dilemma."

"It's a bit too, well, human." Shallan took a large sip of her wine, emptying the glass, but didn't waive over a server for more.

Kaladin felt dread start to coil low in his stomach, the fragile relaxation of the evening starting to slip away. "...I'm going to regret hearing about this, aren't I?"

Adolin leaned towards him, turning wide, pleading eyes his direction. "Please, Kaladin?"

Shallan matched him. Stormfather. Not so long ago ago, lighteyes looking at him like that would have filled him with derision at most. What had happened to him.

"Fine." Kaladin leaned back in his seat, giving in. He was a little curious, even though he knew he wasn't going to be happy with whatever he was about to hear. "What is it?"

Shallan straightened, as if to give a presentation before the Queen. Storms, I have a really bad feeling about this.

"Well, as you know, I'm a lightweaver, and can change mine or someone else's appearance, such that they exactly resemble another. I can also create an illusion, so that it appears that an individual is present, when in fact, they are not."

"...Yes?" Was Shallan nervous? Adolin didn't kill another highprince, did he?

"Now, obviously, practicing lightweaving by pretending to be someone else, when done entirely in private, I mean just me, myself, and I, practicing my radiant abilities, can't possibly be dishonorable."

"I guess?"

Adolin leaned forward now, one hand gesturing sharply. "But what if I'm there? I mean, no ones suggesting that it would be acceptable for Shallan to assume a specific private individual's form in public."

"Unless it's to save lives," Shallan said.

Adolin nodded. "Unless of course it's to save lives."

"Or as part of my crown assigned radiant duties."

"Or that, can't forget to mention that."

"Or with said individual's consent."

"Naturally, consent makes all the difference."

"Quite a few shades of grey."

"Truly, once you think about it. Infinite nuance."

Kaladin pinched the bridge of his nose, scowling to keep from laughing. "Did you rehearse this?"

Shallan waved her hand in his face, forestalling any other objections. "In any case! Would we be disrespecting an individual, let's call this person 'Lin' for short, would we be behaving dishonorably towards Lin, were I to assume Lin's form, or have Adolin assume Lin's form, or have Lin appear while both of us are present, soley within the privacy of our chambers?"

Kaladin waited a few seconds for Adolin to chime in, but he just continued staring intently at Kaladin.

"...This is about Lyn?"

"No, not Lyn, Lin," Shallan corrected primly. He could just barely make out a difference. "Neutral born unto. Just, we don't want to say her — say their name specifically, but I thought saying 'the individual' would get unwieldy."

Ok, probably not about Lyn. Unless they're using a confusing fake name to make me think that. He started to feel a throbbing at the base of his skull.

"Is there some specific reason you want to look like... Lin?" He dropped his voice slightly, rubbing his temples. "Is it for a practical reason? Or do you want to make fun of her — them?"

"Definitely not to make fun of them!" Adolin said, voice dropping to match Kaladin's.

"Many people would consider it flattering," Shallan whispered. "For their form to be assumed in this specific context!"

"We're just not certain if Lin would think that, and we're worried that it would be worse to ask."

"So we decided to ask you instead, since again, you're —"

Kaladin waved a hand at her before they could jump into another bizarre routine. "Honorable, yes, whatever, fine. I get it."

Adolin put a hand on his arm, expression earnest. "Look. If you think we should just directly talk to Lin then we'll do it. We just...don't want to embarrass them, or hurt their feelings in someway. We genuinely aren't sure how they would react, and I mean. You don't have to ask someone's permission for thinking about them, but this is a step up from that, and it's not like there's many people who have had the option, so...hence the uncertainty, and asking for a neutral, completely unconnected, third party opinion."

"Alright, I...guess that makes sense? In an extremely weird way." Kaladin looked between the two of them. Shallan's expression was open and honest, but unfortunately that didn't mean much. Adolin was earnest, but there was something weird about his posture. Guilty? Excited? "But why do you want to see a lightweaving of Lin in private so much?"

Shallan pretended to take a sip out of her empty glass. "I assume you can guess, bridgeboy. Is it really necessary for us to say it aloud?" She had just a hint of red staining the tops of ears, but she colored easily. It could just be the alcohol.

"I really don't know," Kaladin said, baffled. "Is this a lighteyes thing? Like you want to, I don't know...model fashion on them?"

"Ooh." Adolin suddenly looked far too eager. "That's actually not what we were thinking."

"I didn't think it was a lighteyes thing," Shallan said. "But I suppose it could be. I don't have a significant enough sample size to presume." That was clearly a joke there that Kaladin didn't get.

Adolin cleared his throat. "Well." He made another sharp motion with his hands, letting Kaladin go. "As you know, Shallan and I are married."

"Yes, I was at your wedding," Kaladin said dryly.

"We are married," Adolin repeated, talking over him. "And that comes with certain... duties and privileges."

"Among which—" Shallan was definitely blushing now. "—and I suppose this could be considered an, ah, 'lighteyes thing,' is well. The need to create an heir."

They can't possibly be asking me this. Kaladin looked desperately to Adolin, but the man just gave him a sheepish, apologetic grin.

A small part of Kaladin curled up and died.

Blood Of My Fathers.

"No," Kaladin said. "Absolutely not. You are not asking me about something to do with your sex lives."

"You see," Adolin said. "I know you've said you don't have interest in, well, any of that. But for many the process of creating an heir is not just—"

"ARGH." Kaladin threw his arms up, crossing them over his head.

"— a responsibility but a pleasure which—"

"Almighty's Tenth name!"

"—can be performed creatively—"

Kaladin pressed his head to the table, burying himself in his arms to hide his too warm face and probably disgusted expression.

"Stop. Please. Stop." He knew he was whining in a way ill befitting a Windrunner of his Ideal, but the booth they were in was private, and Adolin and Shallan had seen him in far less dignified circumstances.

"Sorry," Adolin said, patting him on the shoulder. "Just wanted to make sure you understood."

"Well I don't!" Kaladin said, looking up but not lifting his chin from his arms. "And I don't storming want to! Why can't you just look like yourselves! I thought you liked how each other looked! I've literally caught you drooling!"

Adolin frowned. "I don't drool, bridgeboy."

Shallan's face was nearly as red as his face felt, but her expression was significantly more gleeful. "I…there may have been one sparring session I observed…that may have generated a small amount of moisture."

Adolin cocked an eyebrow, and smirked. "Moisture, huh?"

"I hate you two," Kaladin lied emphatically.

"Sorry, Sorry." Adolin patted him on the shoulder again. "So? What do you think?"

"I think Rlain is right and its a storming miracle humans have managed to accomplish anything when most of us are permanently stuck in mateform."

Adolin heaved a dramatic sigh. "About our question, Kal, come on. We know you don't like talking about this stuff but that's exactly why we needed your opinion! You're unbiased!"

"And honorable, yes you said. Have I mentioned before that the rewards for being honorable blow?"

They turned twin pleading expressions toward him and he caved immediately. Storms, he had gotten weak. "Battar and Shallash, fine," he snapped. "Fine, give me a minute, alright. Just stop talking. "

The two waited, Shallan only opening her mouth to make a joke twice, Adolin successfully nudgeing her quiet each time; Kaladin lifted himself up, elbows on the table and head in his hands as he looked down, forcing himself to actually give it serious consideration. Wait, I thought Veil was the one who was attracted to women. Oh. Right.

"Alright," he finally said. "I get that people can't always help what they...think about. That's fine. And I also know that trying not to think about something sometimes makes people think about it more, so."

Adolin and Shallan nodded. "You have no idea," Adolin said. "Seriously, I love Shallan, I've absolutely tried not looking at other women's — anyway. It's so much easier to just forgive eachother the occasional wayward glance or errant thought." They squeezed each others hands.

Kaladin sighed. "Right. Sorry if I came off as judgemental."

"No, no, you've made it very clear that you don't like talking about such things, it's completely reasonable to be unhappy. We are sorry for the times we...overshare in front of you."

"It's fine," Kaladin said curtly. "Really. I know you try. Anyway. I also understand that people sometimes, er, fantasize. That way. About things or people they don't actually want in real life. And. Uh. Sometimes people... act that out."

Kaladin stared determinedly at the table, face hot. There was a swirling pattern in the marble that he hadn't noticed before.

"You do?" Adolin said, sounding surprised.

Kaladin coughed. The swirling pattern kind of looked like a river, viewed from above. "There. Might have been an incident, early on in the army, when I heard a couple and, er, overreacted slightly. They took the time to explain things in... painful detail. It's fine. None of my business."

"That's. Very open minded of you," Shallan said, sounding slightly strangled. "Tell me, when the couple was explaining things — oof." Kaladin didn't look, but he was fairly sure Adolin just stepped on her foot, something he was infinitely grateful for. It had been an extremely mortifying lesson. The pair had said they weren't mad about being interrupted, but he was fairly sure they were lying, considering how much detail they went into in their explanation.

"Honestly, the whole...dressing weird, or calling eachother names or using ropes or whatever—"

Adolin made a choking noise. Kaladin kept looking at the little river pattern in the table. If he squinted there were mountains and farms too.

"—all that stuff isn't more or less...unappealing. To think about. Then just regular sex." Kaladin paused. "That is not permission to talk about that sort of thing with me. Please don't share anything about your sex life with me, ok?"

"Of course!"

"We know."

"So," Kaladin continued, rubbing his cheeks to try and get rid of the blush. "Wanting someone isn't breaking your vows. Neither is thinking about them. Probably talking about them is fine too."

He ran his finger along the small river in the polished stone. He could practically feel two sets of light eyes drilling a hole in him.

"My concern, of course, would be for Lin. If playing around with their image would affect the real person. My main concern is it will impact the way you two interact with them."

"If we thought it did then we'd stop immediately," Adolin swore without prompting. "The real person matters far more than our...baser feelings."

"Absolutely," Shallan agreed softly. "We truly don't want to hurt them. That's why we've been struggling with this."

"I believe you," Kaladin said, scrubbing a hand over his face. "Alright, so you've already been...thinking about them, while together, and it hasn't impacted your interactions with the real person."

"No!"

"Trying not to think of them that way was worse," Adolin said ruefully. "I am...fairly sure they have not noticed any feelings on my part, and even if they had they've ignored them very politely so...like I said, if messing with lightweaveing changes that, we'll stop right away, but I don't think it will. We know who they are."

Kaladin studied the marble some more. He was pretty sure he had flown over somewhere in Alethkar that looked a bit like that riverbend, but he couldn't remember where.

"You cannot do this anywhere someone could possibly see or overhear," Kaladin said, looking up to make brief, serious eye contact with each of them. "Not visiting another city. Not where guards or servants could overhear, even trusted ones. Not in the duelist preparation chamber — yes I know about that. Not while exploring the less used parts of the city — yes, I heard about that too. Not in your sitting room or against the door, where someone passing by could overhear. Just in your own bedchamber, door locked."

"That sounds reasonable," Shallan said, flushing but solemn.

"Very reasonable," Adolin agreed, nodding sharply.

Kaladin grimaced, looking back down at the table. "I think...while part of me says you should ask Lin directly...that also sounds somewhat humiliating for everyone involved. I mean, again, it's more similar to thinking about someone than anyone else, and even if they were, er, flattered... It's not like you would actually be able to sleep together anyway, with your marriage oaths, so it would be a moot point."

"...Right," Adolin said unconvincingly. Kaladin decided not to think about that.

"So... it's alright?" Shallan said hopefully. "With those conditions? Not dishonorable?"

Kaladin forced himself to look up again, and immediately regretted it. They both looked far too eager.

"Not dishonorable," he sighed, closing his eyes and leaning back.

"Thank you!" Adolin said, with way too much passion.

"Thank me by never speaking to me of this again, and never asking me anything like this for the rest of our lives."

"Yes to the first one, no promises to the second," Shallan said gleefully. "Well. Now that we've discussed that matter, how about we get back to talking about—"

"Leave. For the love of all that is good, please leave," Kaladin begged, not opening his eyes. Shallan took advantage of this by kissing him lightly on the cheek. Adolin hugged him from the other side.

There was the sound of spheres tossed on the table and rapid movements, and then they were gone.

Kaladin opened his eyes, shaking his head. One of them had knocked over a glass in their haste to leave. They had, of course, left a small fortune to pay the bill.

He left the winehouse feeling...bemused mostly. Maybe he'd go find Rlain and they could gripe about humans and mateforms together. He would probably not make eye contact for Lyn for the next week, even though he was fairly sure they were talking about Isnah or Beryl. Best not to guess. He kicked off from the ground, the rush of wind immediately clearing away discomforting thoughts or lingering stress of the day.

He smiled, speeding up and feeling his heart race with the exhilaration that only the sky could bring, with no pressing meetings or appointments to get to. Syl had been right. It was good to take a night off every now and again.

#stormlight archive #cosmere #stormlight fanfic #kaladin stormblessed #shockingly sweet and wholesome considering the premise #asexual/sex repulsed Kaladin Stormblessed #Prude kaladin Stormblessed #shadolin #unrequited feelings #nevertheless writing #oathbringer spoilers #nevertheless cosmere #deliberately vague time period but maybe probably post book 5.#Shallan and Adolin are such trash. I love them.#if anyone feels like betaing this for ao3 posting send me a message

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dtrghost · 1 year

Text

closeness and proximity part.5

pairing: ghost x f!reader

synopsis: callsign is sunshine, because you're anything but. team 141 thought ghost was bad? at least they could crack a smile out of the guy from time to time, you? you were stone faced, all day, every day. until one day you're not, not with a certain someone anyway.

warnings: inaccurate military language and sequences, mega angst, allusions to mental illness (reader has sociopathic tendencies) you get the gist. violence, torture (reoccurring themes i know), angry ghost cause yes. FLUFF. YAY. Sexual situation to gain advantage over the enemy.

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4 part 5 part 6

MINORS DO NOT INTERACT:

word count: 3.7k

Simon sat with his team, his eyes trained on the seat she'd sat in when she was there last. It had been a week. A long, gruesome, week with her still out there. He was tormented each night by nightmares, some where he followed through and killed her that night, others where he had saved her, only to wake up to the harsh reality that he didn't.

He failed. She was gone, and she may never come back because of him. They cleared all the bases that came up on their radar, and for once he was glad she was such an asset to HQ. They had all available teams looking for her, Price being at the forefront of the search.

"Let's call it a night then." Soap sighed, everyone nodding in agreement, except for him as they expected. His head shot up, his eyes lighting in a rage that they'd been subjected to since he woke up after his rescue.

"Like hell we're calling it a night." He growled at him. The anger made Gaz and Johnny shrink back, Price squeezing the bridge of his nose.

"Ghost, please-"

"We've got nothing! No leads! No updates!" His hand pounded on the table with each mention of what they lacked.

"We're sittin' at this table like a bunch of lazy fuckers while she's out there-"

"And what would you have us do?" Price interrupted. The room grew tense as two angry, powerful men glared at each other.

"You don't think I wanna find her too? You don't think I'm doin' everything I can? We're tired, and we need to regroup. Nothing good's coming out of us like this." He knew he was right, he hated that he was right. He felt useless, and it pissed him off. He stormed out of the room, slamming the door behind him.

"He's not lightening up until we find her."

"Can't blame him. Get to bed the lot of you." And with that, Price left too, feeling a similar anger to his officer when he slept.

~.~

Cold water pushed her weight back, shocking her awake as the liquid shot up her nostrils and soaking her completely. They used a powerful hose to wake her up after her beating her unconscious the night before, thankfully avoiding her face.

"Morning Sunshine, piss baby callsign yes?" His accent was thick, laughs going around the room as the water turned off. She forced her eyes open, taking in her situation once more. Not the best, not the worst. Her legs were kept free of restraints, but they just barely hit the ground with her hands chained to the ceiling. She spit the water in her mouth out, chuckling lightly as she nodded her head towards them.

"You'd know a thing or two about piss babies wouldn't you." His fist connected with her stomach, but with a puff of her cheeks, no reaction came. He tried again, and yet, nothing, no wince, her feet cementing into the ground so not even a swing either.

"Right~" She drawled out, a bit breathless as she took a look around the room as they stared back in mild shock from the lack of reaction.

"After a while they all feel the same. Let me out and I'll show you how to punch sweetheart." This was her play. Intimidation, sensuality, it worked on the weaker ones, and when she caught the gaze of some of them, she knew she got em. The plan formulated in her mind, and for now she'd tune it out. It was a messy technique, as while she was gone she'd have no idea what happens to her body, so deep into her mind that she couldn't feel anything. It was a severe form of dissociation, but it worked.

"They don't want us touching your face. But they didn't say anything about the rest of you." He pulled out two high power shock sticks, and she knew she was in for it. The pain was excruciating. She could taste the blood in her mouth as she bit down her lip to keep her screams in. It took her back, the feeling of her first round of ECT.

Soon he moved to just beating her, pounding on her body as if she were a punching bag.

Her eyes went blank for a minute, focusing on a spot on the floor as she slowly slipped away, all the pain in her body disappearing.

~.~

"Mrs. L/N. I asked you a question." The lawyer spoke, stepping closer to where she sat on the stand, the courtroom watching this young girl getting berated consistently for the last 10 minutes. Her siblings watched as she was nearing tears from behind the plaintiff, having already been on the stand testifying against their own parents.

"I-uh.. can you say that again?" It was the job of a lawyer to break the client, to force the truth, or whatever would benefit the person they were meant to defend, but this was a child, someone just trying to get by with her life.

"What happened 10 years ago, to your recollection." He repeated calmly. She refused to look at her parents, because if she did she'd lose her words, her ability to speak. So she stared at her siblings, her older sister giving her a smile in attempt to calm her down. But nothing that came out of her in the next few moments would keep that smile on her sister's face, in fact it wiped it from the face of the planet. The flood of words that vomited out her mouth left everyone floored.

Her mother screamed at her from the defendant's side, throwing the first thing she got her hands on at her daughter. The jury watched as a notepad hit her in the head, and all she could do was cry and cover her face. She accused her of lying, screaming profanities to anyone who listened as she was dragged out of the room. Her father on the other hand, he broke down.

That's not fair. She thought. Why is he crying? He was the reason why she was here, why she was confessing her shame, her disgust with herself in front of a room full of people. Why did he have the right to cry? She wanted to tell him to stop. To stop trying to steal their moments of recognition. But the words got lost somewhere, and she stayed quiet as she was escorted off the stand.

When she opened the door to leave, she noticed Simon leaning against the wall in front of her. She looked down at what she was wearing, and suddenly she was an adult again, wearing a ripped black tank top and dirty cargo pants.

"Time to wake up love. Things to do, noses to break."

"It's not looking too good for me Simon. Feels like my body's gonna give out before I get my chance." He shook his head.

"Told you about a week ago that there's not a thing you can't do. I intend to make sure you stick to that. Now get your arse out there and give em hell." She sighed, giving him one last look until she shut her eyes, ripping herself out of her trance.

Her eyes opened and she came to, the room empty with a single guard sitting at a small table next to her.

"Hey." She called to him, blinking the haze out her eyes. He looked up to her, his face lighting up in a way that made her internally grimace. She saw the desire in his face, and she fed into it. He made his way to her with a sultry walk. He was on the shorter side of the spectrum and she looked down at him.

"Hey honey." He hummed, his finger trailing down her cheek for a moment. She ran her eyes down his body, faking seductiveness to get a glimpse on what he had on him. A pistol, standard issue belt with some stuff she could use on it.

Bingo, keys.

"They call you a siren from where I'm from." His accent wasn't as thick, and his words were easily understood. She leaned forward, him following as she leaned towards his ear.

"Let me down and I'll show you what kind of noises I can make." As cliche as it was, it worked. His eyes darkened, his hand twitching over his keys as he felt her lips graze over his ears. Slowly, he flicked through the set he had, and with little work done on her behalf, one unlocked, his hand quick to grasp her wrist. Before he could get the other one, the door slammed open, revealing her original capturer.

"Hey!" He shouted. In a flash her head slammed on his, her foot kicking his gun from his holster, watching it fly from his waist towards her hand, and with a stretch she caught it. She swung it in her hand, putting a bullet in his head before turning it the idiot who let her out.

"Siren's a new one. Maybe that'll be my next callsign." And with that he dropped dead. She had to be quick, her arm now released allowed for one foot to have a farther reach, the keys hanging on her toe as she carefully tossed it up to her hand, the gun now being held in her mouth. She tried each key carefully, knowing if she moved too fast she'd fumble and risk dropping it with the uneven weight now causing her to sway. Her weight was on one arm, and it quickly got sore, so when she dropped to the floor she felt heavy and wobbly.

The pain she pushed off had began coming back to her, and before she knew it she was crouching to the floor, her head between her knees as she gasped for air.

She crawled to the door, having to use all her body weight and strength to push it closed due to it's steel material. She locked herself inside as heavy thuds raced to the room at the sound of the shots fired. The room was designed to lock from the inside so nobody from the other side could pick it, but it quickly became a detriment as they had to use what they had to try and open it another way. She unclipped the vest from one of the men, quickly putting it on herself. It was large on her, the chest piece hanging lower than she'd like, but there was no helping it.

Better than nothing.

She searched the bodies, finding two grenades, she could work with that. She unlocked it, rushing back to the corner on the left of the door, and when it burst open she pulled the pin, watching the soldiers jump back in terror at the explosive in their face. she rushed to the door, shutting it again and listening to the boom from a safer distance. She tuned in to her environment for any more steps, and when she heard none she pried it open again. She picked up someone's rifle that had been flung to the side.

No doubt people heard the explosion, and she was in for it when they came down. So she stocked. She went to any body that was still intact and took whatever gear they had, shoving it anywhere she had room. She was likely underground, noticing the long staircase up as she took in her surroundings.

With the heavy thud of boots, she inhaled and prepared.

Life or death.

~.~

Simon had stayed up that night, finding himself unable to sleep without being haunted by her face. He found himself jolting awake with a shout of her name, and he decided that if she couldn't sleep, and likely she couldn't, he wouldn't either. It wasn't until Soap burst through his door, out of breath that he moved an inch from his position.

He shot up from his cot, looking at him with hope.

"We've got something. Someone in a base near the border of Verdansk reported a need for reinforcements. Bodies dropping like flies from a single prisoner they had held there." It had to be her. HQ had hacked into radio frequencies since she had disappeared, hence the amount of missions TF teams were being sent on recently. The team scurried into the aircraft waiting for them outside, Simon anxious and itching to get there as fast as he could.

When they landed he was the first one out, hearing gunshots from inside the facility. Reinforcements had shown up the same time, and before they could rush in they were shot down, directing the attention to them rather than the person currently fighting for her life.

She twisted an arm, ducking under the arm of another and sweeping him off his feet with her leg, dragging the other down and slamming his head into the floor. She shot the next two before flipping a man attempting to grab her over her back and onto the floor.

She heard footsteps, the barrel of her gun being the first thing to face the front door.

"Hey! It's just me! It's Ghost." He called out to her, immediately putting his hands up in surrender as they finished clearing the ground outside. He noticed her deep, uneven breaths, her eyes mistrusting as she kept her gun up and pointing at him.

"Ghost-" His hand silenced his teammate for a moment, slowly taking steps to her. He watched her eyes flicker as his hand gently rested at the top of her rifle, pushing it down at an unhurried pace, not wanting to trigger her with quick movements.

"It's just me.. lovie." She could've cried. His hands went to her shoulders as she dropped her gun off to the side.

"You're safe now. Nothin' to worry about." She felt herself relax, all of her adrenaline fading as she soon collapsed. Whatever he was saying to her was left unheard, her ears muting as her eyes closed from the sheer exhaustion and overexertion of her body.

"We need to get her to medical now." Price told him, Simon one step ahead as he held her in his arms and rushed out the door.

She didn't wake up for 3 days, and for a full 72 hours he had not left her side. He ate his meals in her room, slept in the uncomfortable hospital chair, and when he used the bathroom he waited until he couldn't hold it anymore and rushed that too, his hands still wet from the sink when he sat down. He was gone for a maximum 20 minutes for the entire day, and only that long because Price volunteered to sit with her as he showered, wearing the clothes he brought from him.

One night it was pouring rain, the drops slamming against the window with lightning brightening up the room every so often and powerful thunder that shook the building. She awoke to it, finally, her eyes crusty and her throat dry as a bone. Her memory failed her for a moment, shooting up in her bed in a panic that jolted Simon awake. He immediately rushed to soothe her with a gentle call of her name, dragging her attention to him as his hand cupped her chin.

"You're safe. You're in a hospital, recovering. Deep breaths alright? Like mine." He placed her hand on his chest, guiding her through mimicking his breathing until she was calm. He gave her a moment to take in her surrounds, her voice hoarse and raspy.

"How long was I out?" He handed her a cup of water, watching her gulp it down hastily.

"Fuckin' hell. Slow down you're making a bloody mess on yourself." He muttered, watching the water flow down the sides of her mouth and down her neck as she exhaled after finishing.

"You try getting the living shit beat and shocked out of you for a week straight. Had to seduce my way out. Dirty fuckers." She scowled at the thought, placing the cup on the table next to him.

"Did anyone..." He trailed off, too afraid to finish the sentence.

"No. No they didn't." Relief had lifted off his chest, his body relaxing for a moment before looking back up at her. His guilt never left him, and he wanted nothing more than to apologize.

"I-"

"I'll call HQ in the morning for the team switch-" "No!" He should've felt embarrassed by how quickly he cut her off. She looked at him confused. Is that not what he wanted?

"I'm sorry, for what I said, what I did... It wasn't right. The last thing I want is you off my team." She didn't understand it. He saw what she was, a monster. She killed and tortured how she pleased. "Why the sudden change of heart? Don't tell me you're getting soft on me." She teased, making him roll his eyes.

"It's not your fault. You need help... Y/N. Which is why with some fighting with those bloody wankers at HQ you're on leave with mandatory therapy sessions." Her eyes widened, and for once, she had something to be happy about. She could make her therapy jokes become real. Her breathed hitched for a beat, a sudden realization dawning on her.

Someone fought for her.

She felt the familiar pad of his thumb stroke under her eye, and it wasn't until she felt a wetness sinking into her mask that she realized she was shedding tears again.

"Comere lovie." Lovie. She liked that one, she was certain about that. He pulled her into a hug. For the first time in years, someone embraced her. She felt herself crack, every guarded aspect of her mind shattered in that moment as sobs flooded through her body involuntarily. Just like he promised himself, Simon was there to help her through it. His arms around her were tight, as if she could share the weight of the world she carried on her shoulders and he'd help her lift it until she could do it on her own.

"I need to get a nurse to check on you." He muttered in her ear, feeling her shiver at the feeling of his breath dusting over her skin. She only tightened her grip.

"Can we just, stay like this for a while. Please." Her voice was small, quiet, and he couldn't help but agree, maintaining a constant vice grip around her. She felt protected, and she needed that. So she clung to him as if her life depended on it, and he held her for as long as she needed him to. He felt her weight eventually slump against him, her arms dropping as her breath evened out to the same one he'd memorized from her 3-day slumber.

He laid her back, pulling the sheets up to make sure she didn't get cold before finding a nurse. They checked her vitals, blood pressure, wounds, everything.

"She's healing well. Everything looks good. We'll keep her one more night for observation and then we can discuss taking her home." He nodded, and she awkwardly smiled and walked out, shutting the door behind her. Simon sat back down in his seat, feeling more relaxed than he had before.

Healing well, looks good. Those words repeated in his head over and over. He leaned forward, pushing his mask up to the bridge of his nose as he hovered over her for a minute. The serene look on her face, even in the dark was enough to make his heart stutter. The way her hair, now in it's natural state, free from a balaclava, looked as it sat around her head like flowers in a meadow. She still wore a mask that covered the lower half of her face, but this was the most he'd get to see her for a while, so he took what he could get.

He pressed a slow kiss on her forehead, embracing the moment for what it was before he pulled his mask back down and released the breath he was holding, letting himself fall back asleep to the gentle exhales he heard from her.

~.~

Next thing she knew, she was holding a duffle bag with all her work stuff in it, Team 141 standing with her as she stood in her front door. They escorted her home, filling her in on her therapy sessions, when they start, how participation and progress were necessary for her to be allowed back in the field after her leave was up. Price had been assigned to live with her for the time being to make sure she was adjusting well and attending her sessions. She had half a year, which was enough, and it was mandatory to continue during work.

She dropped her bag off to the side behind the door before looking back at her teammates, Price flopping on her couch with a sigh as his eyes closed.

"Well, bye." She went to shut the door, only for Simon's foot to stop it from shutting.

"Fuckin' hell. No thanks for the people who saved your life?" Soap scoffed, watching her roll her eyes as she reopened the door.

"Thank you my saviors. What would I have ever done without you." Her voices was monotone, clearly bored and wanting to lay down for a bit.

"Alright then. Just don't get yourself killed in the next 6 months before we come back yeah." Simon grumbled, rolling his eyes too.

"You're not visiting?" She questioned, eyebrows shooting up in surprise.

"We wanna see a full transformation. Adds to the extra shock factor." Gaz smiled, watching her sigh before she painfully opened her arms for a hug.

"One for the road I guess." The embrace was horribly awkward and lasted a solid 2 seconds before she pulled herself back with a clear grimace.

"Do we get to see what's under the mask?" Soap pressed.

"Do you ever not ask questions? No? Then there's your answer." She quickly shut him down, watching him deflate in minor amusement before turning to Simon. He grunted as her arms wrapped around his middle, frozen in place for a minute.

"Hug me back dickhead." She muttered. His arms wrapped around her with a huff, though they both knew he didn't mind.

"Why the hell does he get a special hug." Soap whined, watching her pull away.

"Because he doesn't piss me off. Now bye." She shut the door in their face, kicking off her shoes and throwing a sock at Price's head. He groaned and turned, looking at her through bleary, groggy eyes.

"When's my first session again?"

The last part will be next!! I hope you enjoyed this one, more ghost fluff!! LOVIEEEEEE. My all time favorite. She's getting somewhere, finally getting some much needed help. Again I hope you guys enjoyed this part and the next one will be out fairly soon because I'm impulsive!! See ya next time!

@thaprilks @bowtruckleninja @almightywdm

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comradekatara · 2 months

Note

The Awakening is one of the most underrated episodes in the series.. this episode was such a turning point for aang

Aang first ran away in a storm to avoid his duty, and now he’s running away in a storm to do his duty. Poetic!

Love also Roku and Yue in this episode

yes! the way this episode establishes so many of the central tensions for the final season and parallels basically every character so deftly is perfect. the chiastic storm symbolism, the storm inside aang of crushing responsibility and guilt and grief and rage…. and in both cases, whether it’s to run away or to attempt to face his problems head on, leaving behind his loved ones (like he tried to do in the crystal catacombs) is always the wrong choice, he needs to rely on his friends. and his friends need him too. katara’s speech about how aang thinks he has to do everything alone kind of seems out of left field considering aang has always valued and cherished forming deep bonds, especially with katara. but then you remember that katara’s last memory of aang, that has been haunting her for the past however many weeks she’s been on that boat desperately trying to save him, was aang (unintentionally) martyring himself. and that would be traumatizing for anyone to witness, their best friend literally dying in their arms, but it’s especially triggering for katara because it’s happened before. kya died for her. hakoda left her. sokka emotionally abandoned her in his promise to die for her.

being a waterbender, the last waterbender, is such a complicated role for katara, because on hand she must feel immense guilt over the way her entire family and tribe prioritizes her life, and is especially motivated to become the world’s greatest waterbender specifically to prove that her mother’s sacrifice was not in vain. but it’s also that drive to be the best that awarded her the spirit water, that gave her the ability to heal aang when history repeated itself. katara couldn’t save kya, she couldn’t make hakoda stay, she couldn’t heal jet, but she can with aang. she literally brings the avatar, struck by lightning while in the avatar state (thus effectively ending the line of avatars were he truly dead) back to life. katara revived him as the inciting incident of the entire narrative, and then she revived him again in their darkest moment. because katara will continue to bring back hope to the world, resoundingly, through sheer force of will, with nothing but her bare hands and overflowing heart.

i do love aang’s arc in this episode, the narrative parallelism, the tragedy of him burning his glider, his last physical relic of his past and his people. i love the way he is so determined to perform the duty he has shied away from for so long due to the shame and humiliation of actually trying, and failing. of course aang was already motivated to perform his duties to the world, because guilt is a hell of a motivator, but the existential terror of actually being killed adds tenfold motivation. instead of running away from his problems, aang is now running towards them, equally as thoughtlessly and hastily. because he is too ashamed to care about tact, he just wants to rectify his devastating mistake. and that’s why he says that he needs to regain his honor. scarred and humiliated and lost, he finally understands how zuko feels.

zuko acts as the third side of a prism through which he, aang, and katara, are all refracted and reflected in one another. this episode makes use of that parallelism both in the contrast between zuko “finally regaining his honor” (illusory, of course, but he gets to come home and see his father again, and that’s all he’s wanted all along) while aang has lost it, and zuko confronting his father for the first time in three years, just like katara does. katara is angry at hakoda, her anger exacerbated by her grief over aang. she’s angry that hakoda left them, even if logically she doesn’t blame him for it. and she doesn’t mask her anger (i don’t think she’s even capable), and hakoda, for his part, receives it, listens to her, treats her with love and affection, holds her, acknowledges his own pain. it’s an incredibly beautiful scene; the episode is excellent if only for that scene.

it’s also immediately followed up with its opposite. zuko walks into ozai’s chamber, no anger only fear, kneels before his throne while ozai circles him like a predator (a move that both zuko and azula picked up from him). even a few episodes later, in “the beach” when azula asks, “are you angry at dad?” zuko’s face falls open and vulnerable, almost afraid at the accusation, and goes, “what?? no!!” even though it’s a perfectly fair question. ozai banished zuko for three years when he was still a child, whereas hakoda left katara for three years when she was still a child. katara resents hakoda for leaving against his will whereas zuko doesn’t even feel like he’s allowed to resent ozai for anything. ozai never once actually touches zuko, but zuko still flinches. zuko kneeling on the ground while ozai circles him like a hawk. hakoda and katara holding each other, both in tears, both open and vulnerable. zuko katara parallels always make me go crazy, of course, but this is one of the most insane juxtapositions in the entire show to me. i just love the katara hakoda reconciliation scene, and all the more for its narrative impact as it precedes zuko and ozai’s.

the ozai face reveal is also pretty incredible imo. for the past two seasons, ozai’s face as been obscured by shadow, framed only at angles that made him unknowable to the viewer. he is a larger than life villain, to both aang and zuko, not simply a man but something far greater and more terrifying. except no. he is just a man. zuko returns home, and immediately sees that. the ozai of looming shadow from zuko’s faulty memory is in fact just some guy. a uniquely powerful guy, of course, but he’s not gargantuan, too great to be comprehended by mortal eyes. zuko was just a child when he left, but he has since grown, in many ways. and while ozai still terrifies him to his core, because how could he not, we see, as zuko sees, that he is just a man.

as the image of aang’s goals becomes clearer in his eyes, he too, learns to see ozai as just a man. in the following episode he even crafts his likeness out of noodles (“impressive, i admit”). ozai is not some fantastical godlike being. no, aang is the fantastical godlike being in question, and it’s his literal god-given right to humble that man playing god who claims that aang has no place in his world. to obscure ozai’s face is to illustrate the sheer magnitude and terror of the power he wields. and to show ozai’s face, and then over the course of a season, continually undermine him and mock that face and depict it as noodles, or pantsless, is to take away some of his power, his cultivated, dictated, arbitrary power.

the awakening is a fantastic episode as it sets up the central internal conflicts for book 3, especially for aang and zuko, but also for katara, acknowledging the weight of her grief as it culminates in “the southern raiders.” (also her waterbending progress as it’s demonstrated in that one scene is incredible, i guess being at sea helps in one’s waterbending, who’d have thunk!) it’s basically a microcosmic encapsulation of the entire season, appropriately ending on a loving gaang hug as they promise to help one another through this. the heart of the show lies in that hug. it’s a fantastic episode.

#lilith-91 #asks #analysis #aang #katara #zuko #ozai #hakoda #aang&katara #aang&zuko #katara&zuko #ozai&zuko #hakoda&katara #aang&ozai #i let this ask sit in my inbox for a while bc i knew i was gonna write a whole fucking spiel #but yeah. good episode i agree 👍🏼#also i love how say ‘every’ character but then proceed to only talk about aang katara and zuko #wym that’s not every character???

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fluentmoviequoter · 5 months

Text

Blue and Red

Pairing: David 'Deacon' Kay x fem!firefighter!reader

Summary: You are a firefighter who has a unique rivalry with Sergeant Deacon Kay. When you're injured while working together, Deacon learns why the rivalry started.

Warnings: fluff, angst, reader gets shot, Luca is smarter than Hondo, lots of teasing and playful arguments, parts of this are inspired by S.W.A.T. episode 4x7 "Under Fire"

Word Count: 2.7k+ words

Picture from Pinterest

“Well, if it isn’t the fireflies,” Hondo taunts, drawing attention to the firefighters walking in.

“Still upset we beat your team of Girl Scouts?” your captain replies.

Feeling eyes on you, you turn to the side and smile when you see him.

“Sergeant Kay,” you greet.

He says your name, taking a step toward you before asking, “Come to see what a real job looks like?”

“Actually, we were just hoping to steal some of your donuts before going over to the elementary school and inspiring the next generation.”

“Yeah, go tell a bunch of kids how much fun fire is. You must be bored.”

You press your lips together, raising your brows before turning back toward your crew.

“We’re covering for your on-call crew,” you tell Hondo.

“The city should be terrified,” Street deadpans.

“With that haircut out in public, you’re absolutely right,” someone quips.

“Still single?” Deacon asks, suddenly closer to you.

“No, I’m actually engaged to an attorney now,” you answer. “Rich guy.”

You watch Deacon, surprised to see him silent for once.

“Yes, I’m still single,” you admit, saving him from whatever thoughts were rushing through his head. “And I know you are.”

“You can’t know that.”

Turning toward him as your crew prepares to leave, you lay a hand on his chest and pout.

“You’re a cop, Deac. You never sleep at home, and you have no money; I know you’re single.”

Winking at him, you step backward before waving and following your crew back to the truck.

“Call us when you need us!” you yell, saluting Deacon.

He rolls his eyes, freezing as he sees Luca staring at him.

“What?” Deacon asks.

“Nothing, just wondering if you’re on the same page of the rivalry handbook as us.”

“They’re firefighters,” Deacon answers.

“And you’ve been tainted,” Luca says, looking at Deacon’s chest where your hand was.

“You treat her differently, too.”

“Yeah, because she’s a girl, not because I want to know if she’s single.”

“20-David, let’s roll!” Hicks yells, interrupting Deacon and Luca’s conversation.

Deacon crosses his fingers that you have a quiet day, not because he doesn’t want to see you, but because he doesn’t want you in harm’s way.

✯✯✯✯✯

“You’re a terrible person.”

Deacon turns around quickly, surprised to hear someone else.

“Really?” he asks, shaking his head.

“Yep,” you reply, popping the ‘p.’ “Cops are good for one thing and one thing only, but there isn’t a single donut in here.”

“You think these abs happen with donuts?”

You lower your gaze to Deacon’s stomach, smiling when he fights a squirm at your attention.

“Looks like a six-pack of donuts to me,” you answer, falling back against the couch in the S.W.A.T. common area.

“There’s donuts in the break room outside of S.W.A.T. if you really want one.”

“My captain will kill me if I eat a donut. They only keep me around for funding. Apparently, women in uniform get more donations.”

Deacon hums, and you sit up quickly, glaring at him.

“What is that supposed to mean?”

“Just an interesting take.”

“You know what else is interesting? That you can’t beat the firefighters in the annual competition. Despite the fact that we have a higher number of female competitors.”

“I didn’t mean it like that,” Deacon says.

You hide your smile to storm past him and say, “Interesting take.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“No, it isn’t,” Deacon argues.

“No what isn’t?” you ask, interrupting his conversation with Hondo. “I’m bored,” you answer, replying to their unasked question of why you’re here.

Deacon shrugs before filling you in. “Hondo thinks the firefighter outreach to schools is just to give the teachers a break and encourage the kids.”

You look between Deacon and Hondo, surprised that Deacon is on your side.

“Deacon’s right,” you respond. “It’s not for the teachers in any way, it’s for the kids.”

“Most of those kids don’t become firefighters, they just like to look at the big red truck for an afternoon.”

“This morning, we went to an elementary school and there was a blind kid in one of the classes we talked to. His favorite toy is a fire truck, but he’s never seen one. So, we took him to the side, let him feel every inch of our uniforms, and then took him into the truck. His teacher said he’d never been that excited before, and when we were getting ready to leave, he hugged me and told me that he’d be a firefighter someday. And you’re right, he may not, but the smile on his face when he got to sit in a real version of his favorite toy and find out what a uniform feels like? It’s worth it, no matter the reason.”

Hondo tilts his head as he concedes.

“You’re right. I mean you’re wrong about everything because you’re a firebug but yeah, the kids are important,” he says.

Your radio turns on just as Hicks enters to call Deacon and Hondo.

“We’ve got an armored barricade at a bank,” he says.

“Meet you there. Loser buys dinner and donuts don’t count!” you yell over your shoulder as you run out.

“Firefighters,” Hondo groans under his breath while Deacon smiles at you.

✯✯✯✯✯

You are at the sight and in your turnout gear several minutes before Black Betty rolls up, stopping in front of the fire truck.

“Oh good, the boys in blue are here,” you say, your lack of enthusiasm causing your crew to laugh.

“You need to stay behind Black Betty until you’re cleared to go in,” Hondo reminds.

“Which, based on your track record, is about thirty minutes after the block is burned to a crisp,” your captain replies. “Stop telling us what we know and do your job.”

“Be careful,” you add quietly, looking at Deacon.

He nods, and you move to the back of the truck, readying your gear for entry.

When you hear a steady stream of gunfire, your breath catches. Deacon breached with Hondo and Street while the rest of his team went around the sides.

“26-David, shots fired,” Street’s voice comes through the radio.

Another shot echoes, but it sounds much closer than the first.

“That wasn’t in the bank,” you tell your captain.

“20-David this is Engine 35, there’s another shooter,” he radios.

“22-David, copy Engine 35. Shooter to the West of the bank; stay in place,” Luca responds.

Glancing toward the back of the truck, you see something move and reflect the sun on a rooftop. One of your crew members is past Black Betty's protection, and you don’t hesitate to run toward him, tackling him to the ground just as another shot rips through the air.

✯✯✯✯✯

“20-David, suspect down, code 4 and clear for entry,” Hondo says, standing behind a desk.

“Deac!” Luca yells as he enters the front door.

“25-David, second suspect down,” Tan reports.

“Where was the second shooter?” Hondo demands.

“Roof next door,” Luca answers, trying to say something to Deacon before Hondo cuts him off again.

“Where’d he shoot?”

“I’m trying to tell you,” Luca snaps. “He got two firefighters.”

The world seems to slow around Deacon as he runs out.

✯✯✯✯✯

The gunfire in the bank continues, and you stare at the door, hoping that Deacon walks out completely unscathed. Holding a spare shirt to your side, you lean against the side of the fire truck as your crew moves everything and everyone behind Black Betty.

“We need to get her out of here,” someone says.

“Ambulance can’t get down here until we’re clear and we don’t have the supplies to safely remove a bullet,” a second voice answers.

“I’m fine,” you interject, wincing against the pain as you twist toward them. “You need to be ready to put that fire out as soon as they radio a code 4.”

✯✯✯✯✯

You blame the adrenaline for how conscious and coherent you are five minutes after getting a bullet to the abdomen. When you see Deacon running out, you sigh and slump against the truck, wanting to kiss him and slap him simultaneously: concern and anger mixing in your mind.

“Back up,” Deacon demands, shooing your crew members away and toward the small fire in the bank vault as he pulls a bag from Black Betty.

“You scared me,” you admit when he turns toward you.

His eyes are soft and scared as he looks into yours.

“You’re scaring me too, so we’re even.”

Someone screams down the street, and Hondo and Luca detour before seeing you. Street approaches behind Deacon, and his eyes widen when he sees you.

“I need to move this,” Deacon tells you gently, pulling the shirt from your tight grasp and exposing the wound.

“Ambulance is here, Deac,” Street says, patting his shoulder gently.

Deacon nods, pressing a fresh gauze against you with more pressure than you had. You groan, and he slams his eyes shut as his jaw clenches.

“Gonna pass out,” you mutter, raising a bloody hand to lay over Deacon’s.

“Hey, no, stay with me,” Deacon demands, raising his voice when your hand slackens. “Open your eyes right now!”

You shake your head, barely visible, before the paramedics take you away from Deacon. Or try to.

“Sergeant, we got her.”

“Deacon,” Street says quietly, “Let them take her.”

Deacon stumbles back, standing as he watches them load you onto a stretcher. He nods when they tell him which hospital you’re going to, but as soon as you’re out of sight, his eyes drop to your blood all over his hands and up his sleeves.

“The other firefighter is fine, just a flesh wound,” Luca fills in. “That scream was just some kids, so we’re good.”

“Who was the other injury?” Hondo asks.

Street whispers your name, and Hondo looks at Deacon before leading him toward a nearby patrol car.

✯✯✯✯✯

While he waits in the hospital, Deacon scrubs his hands until they hurt. The rest of his team was called away, but Hicks knew better than to ask Deacon to leave someone alone in the hospital.

“Sergeant?” a nurse asks, holding a door open. “Follow me.”

You look peaceful, asleep in the hospital bed. Deacon hates it. He doesn’t like you peaceful, he decides immediately. Teasing him, testing his patience, being mean to him, that’s how he wants you, needs you.

“The doctor will be by in a few minutes to fill you in,” the nurse says gently. “She’s a fighter.”

Deacon nods, pulling a chair beside your bed and taking your hand in his. Your fingers squeeze his just before you turn your head and open your eyes.

“Hey,” you whisper.

“Hi.”

“Why are you here? Wasn’t there another call?”

Deacon’s brows furrow, wondering how you knew that.

“The doctor said something about it before I went into surgery. Why didn’t you go?”

“I couldn’t leave you here alone.”

You smile, and though your lips are chapped, Deacon thinks you look beautiful. It hit him quickly at the bank, the realization that he needs you. Not knowing if you were okay made him feel like a piece of him was missing.

Blinking quickly, you try to focus on Deacon, but something is wrong. He notices, too, worriedly saying your name. You watch his mouth move but don’t hear anything before your eyes close, and the heart rate machine starts beeping rapidly.

Two nurses and a doctor run in, pushing Deacon back wordlessly and gathering around you so he can’t see you. He does hear the flatline, though, as he realizes he missed his chance to tell you.

“Ow,” you groan just before the nurses laugh.

Deacon’s heart seems to stop as he watches one step back.

“What was that?” he asks her.

“A pretty common reaction to one of the medicines, but when she rolled over, the IV and heart monitors were disrupted. She’s completely fine, Sergeant, just going to be a little sore,” she answers kindly.

“She owes you her life,” the doctor adds on his way out.

When you see Deacon again, you can’t tell if he’s angry or terrified. Either way, you offer a small “Sorry.”

Deacon takes a deep breath before walking to the side of the bed, his thighs hitting it as he looks directly into your eyes. He raises his hands and gently cups your cheeks, bending down toward you.

“Don’t ever scare me like that again,” he begs, his voice rough.

“I’m sorry,” you say, leaning toward him. “But you scared me too. I heard all those shots and didn’t know.”

Deacon sighs, resting his forehead against yours. He nods before stepping back, taking his previous seat, and placing his hand over yours.

“Do you need anything?” Deacon asks.

You shake your head, asking him if everyone else is okay.

✯✯✯✯✯

“Is he holding her hand?” Hondo asks.

Your captain hums, and Hondo shakes his head.

“This changes things.”

“What are you talking about?” Luca asks with a laugh. “This changes nothing.”

“They hate each other, they’re at each other’s throats daily,” Hondo points out.

“Because they like each other. Cop/firefighter relationships bring out the schoolboy approach: bullying.”

“He’s right, Hondo,” your captain affirms. “Not surprised you didn’t catch on though, playboy.”

“Easy,” Hondo replies.

“Are we going to check on them?” Luca asks.

“Not today. She’s perfectly fine with him,” your captain promises, turning toward them. “And I’ve had a bit too much of your kind today. Enjoy having your regular team back tomorrow; God help them.”

✯✯✯✯✯

“It hurts.”

“Well, you did get shot,” Deacon says. “You want me to find a nurse?”

You shake your head, then stop moving when your eyes land on Deacon’s sleeves.

“You haven’t been home yet?”

“No. Why would I?”

“I was in surgery, you had time. You could have gone right after, too.”

Deacon looks at his sleeves, where your blood stains are a harsh reminder of the emotions Deacon experienced just a few hours earlier. As if he’s back in that moment, Deacon looks to you.

“Help me up?” you ask, interrupting him.

“You’re not supposed to,” Deacon argues.

“I need to. Please?”

Deacon hesitates but helps you sit up before pulling you to your feet, hovering right in front of you, and letting you hold his forearms.

“I’m sorry,” you say quietly. “For scaring you. But thank you for staying with me. I need you.”

Unwilling to miss another opportunity, Deacon whispers, “I love you.”

You smile, but Deacon is more concerned with keeping you upright than your facial expressions.

“I keep going back to that moment when I ran out of the bank and you were just sitting there, covered in blood but watching me; you were alert and up. And as soon as you saw me, you said something, and then that light just went out.”

Deacon takes a breath to continue, but you don’t let him, tugging his forearms to bring him down to your level. He bends without thought, and you kiss him, sliding your hands up his arms to hold his shoulders. Deacon responds easily, moving against you as he moves his hands to your hips. He pushes you back against the bed so you sit. Kneeling, Deacon follows you and stays at your level. As you kiss, your worry and pain seem to disappear.

“You’re pushy,” you tease as you take a breath.

Deacon chuckles, looping an arm around the uninjured side of your waist as he leans toward you.

“But I love you,” you add quietly.

His smile grows, and Deacon kisses you quickly, his smile pressed against yours.

“Even though I never sleep at home and don’t have any money?” he repeats your earlier comment.

“I don’t either.”

“Then we’re a perfect match.”

You laugh, hiding your face in Deacon’s neck.

“The cop and the firefighter… who knew?”

Your smile falls when you sit up and look at Deacon.

“I did,” you confess. “Why do you think I teased you so much? So differently than the rest of S.W.A.T.?”

Deacon suddenly remembers every example of how you spoke to him versus Hondo or Luca; it was always a little nicer, delivered with a smile.

“You’ve known?”

“You didn’t?” you ask with a bright smile. “I guess I’ve got a lot to teach you, Blue.”

“That’s going to stick isn’t it?” Deacon grumbles, moving his hand to cup your cheek again.

“It sure is,” you answer happily. “Because I love you, Blue.”

“I love you.” Deacon’s smile grows before he adds, “Red.”

#david deacon kay x reader #david kay x reader #deacon kay x reader #david deacon kay #deacon kay #swat cbs #fem!reader

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hesbuckcompton-baby · 2 months

Text

I'm Your Man - Robert 'Rosie' Rosenthal x OFC - Chapter 11

AO3

Warnings: Language, angst

Word Count: 3.9k

Tags: @mads-weasley @xxluckystrike @curaheehee @footprintsinthesxnd @dcyllom @storysimp @latibvles @love-studying58

Rosie's palms were slick with sweat, the din of the band muffled to his ears beneath the deafening thumping of his heart as he pushed his way through the crowds, never faltering, even when people called to him as he passed. The door seemed all at once impossibly far away when every second meant not knowing where Frankie was, not knowing if she was ok.

A sudden silence fell upon him as he stepped out into the night air, taking a moment to adjust to the darkness. The sound of footsteps on gravel caught his attention, and he trailed after the crunch around to the side of the hut, stopping dead in his tracks as he took in the scene before him. George sat on the bench, leaning forward on her elbows, a deep frown creasing her cheeks. Frankie was pacing in front of her, a freshly lit cigarette letting off smoke as she held it to her lips. Even in the dim light, he could make out the redness in her eyes, and a wave of nausea coursed through him as he realised she'd been crying.

"Frankie?"

Their gazes snapped towards him, unaware of his presence until now. George was wide-eyed in concern, but there was something cold in Frankie's gaze - bitter, a type of ruefulness he'd never seen in her, especially not directed at him. She dropped the cigarette, stomping it out with her heel as she turned to walk away from him. "Frankie," George called, a warning tone in her voice, like a mother scolding a child.

It worked. She paused, face tilted up to the sky as she let out a long, exhausted sigh, and Rosie wanted nothing more but to step forward and hold her in his arms. But he knew in that moment she wouldn't let him. His eyes met George's for a moment, a nod of understanding passing between them. She rose to her feet, moving to give them some privacy, but as she passed him she paused.

"If you break her heart, I swear I'll kill you, Rosenthal."

"Understood, ma'am."

She walked away, the sound of her footsteps fading with distance. Frankie's shoulders were tense as she rubbed at her eyes, attempting to remove the evidence of the tears she'd shed over him.

"... Honey?" Rosie asked slowly. She stormed towards him, hands reaching out towards his chest to give him a shove, to release the anger bubbling inside her. But when the moment came, she froze, seizing the lapels of his jacket in her clenched fists, unable to meet his eye, gaze fixed on the line of medals that decorate his chest.

"Hey," He spoke gently, scarcely more than a whisper. Reaching a gentle hand to her arm, he felt her grip loosen, peeling her hand away from him so that he could lift it, placing a kiss to the inside of her wrist, gaze never leaving her face. She met his eyes the moment his lips brushed against her skin, jaw visibly clenched. "C'mon. Talk to me."

"You're going back up, aren't you?" Frankie's voice came low and hoarse. Her knuckle brushed against his cheek so briefly, yet he felt the urge to lean in against it, to feel her hand against his face.

"I don't know, I haven't decided yet."

"Yes, you have. You haven't realised it, but you'll go - that's who you are."

The corner of his mouth curled in an involuntary smile, charmed at the thought of being known so well. But her expression had no humour, and her fingers balled back into a fist, slipping out of his grasp.

"They'll replace me with someone who can't do the job as well as I can. I'm saving a life by staying - I can't just walk away from this, Frankie."

"What about me?" She knew the words were selfish the moment they left her, the shame making her squirm. "I'd been waiting for this for so long - it was keeping me going, knowing that I didn't have to live in fear for much longer, and now you're just dragging it out for what? So you can feel good about yourself?"

Rosie's brow furrowed, taking a half-step backwards away from her, lips parting for a moment as he searched for something to say. He had noted the smell of alcohol on her breath, telling himself she didn't mean what she said, but the words still stung.

"I want to stop. If I could, I would, but-"

"But you can-"

"No, I can't! This is bigger than any one person, I can't just give it up!"

Frankie's lip had begun to tremble, and she sniffed loudly, raising her hand to hastily wipe away the tears forming in her eyes before they could fall. Before he could think about it, he was stepping forward to envelop her in an embrace, but she batted his hand away before he could touch her, and Rosie swore he felt his heart skip a beat.

"I've been doing this for nearly five fucking years," She shook her head. "I deserved this, Rosie. Today wasn't just about you, I deserved to have this one thing."

He paused then, sucking in a long breath. He hadn't considered that - that this had been her war far longer than it had been his. How many bodies had she dragged out of planes in her time? How much blood had she wiped clean? More than he'd ever seen.

"I'm sorry."

"But you won't change anything."

"No. But I need you."

"That's not fair. I wait for you every time and it is agony, and every time we're together I can't help but think of all the ways your next mission could go wrong, and I don't know how much longer I can do it."

Taking a step forward, he raised a tentative hand, holding back a sigh of relief as she let him touch her, his thumb skirting across her cheek. "I think you're the reason I'm still alive." He admitted, noticing the way her chest heaved as she sucked in a deep breath. "This was never gonna work out perfectly for us, but you're what I come back for. It's like... I think of you and I can do whatever it takes to make it back alive... because I love you."

All at once Frankie collapsed into him, head pressed firm against his chest, arms wrapped almost unbearably tight around his back. If she had to, she could live without him - she could get up and live her life every day, but it wouldn't be the same. He had made himself essential to her, had burrowed beneath her skin like an itch she couldn't scratch, and that presence would never leave, alive or dead. But a part of her would die with him. He squeezed her shoulders, pressing a kiss to the top of her head, warm breath fanning her skin.

There was nothing she could do. She could stand there in the dark and call off the whole thing, refuse to ever speak to him again, but the part of her that he occupied wasn't going away. Distance wouldn't solve anything, it would simply amplify her misery. The fear wouldn't abate, so long as there was breath in his lungs.

Rosie's cheek rested against her head, listening quietly to the steady thump of her heart. His hand moved from her shoulder to her hip to her hair, as if trying to map every inch of her with his fingertips, unable to hold her close enough without fusing his skin to hers. This was what he came home for, this was what kept him alive - what was heaven to the sound of her breathing?

"I love you too," She uttered. After a moment, Frankie raised her head, chin resting against his chest as she looked up at him. Rosie lifted a hand, wiping away the remnants of unshed tears with the back of his palm, a tired smile curling her lip as she let her eyes flutter shut. If he could've spent the rest of his life staring at her, he would've. Instead, he pressed a kiss to her forehead, reaching an arm around his back to take her hand in his.

"C'mon," He spoke softly, stepping backwards out of the embrace and tugging her along by the hand.

"Come where?" Frankie asked, brow furrowed.

"Just come," A grin creased his cheeks as she fell in step, their footsteps breaking the late-night silence.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

The single lightbulb illuminating the path to the mess hall buzzed intermittently, flickering slightly as moths hovered around its glow. There was no one around, the staff having long gone for the night, the rooms within laying deserted. Frankie began to chuckle as she realised what they were doing, struggling to restrain a laugh as Rosie jostled the doorknob, wrestling with the thing for a minute before it came open with a creak.

"See? Like magic," He proclaimed.

"Yeah, on your third try," She snorted as he held out his elbow for her to take his arm as if they were entering a high-class restaurant.

It was utterly still inside the hall, the quiet so piercing that they could almost hear the beating of their own hearts. Rosie led her through to the back, flicking on the kitchen light as the shelves and shelves of food came suddenly into view.

"You're a thief, Rosenthal," Frankie pointed out, pushing herself up to perch on the edge of the counter.

He hummed distractedly, rifling through the supplies now at their disposal. "They'll understand. Date night with the wife 'n all." For a moment he continued without realising what he'd said, and then he froze, turning his head slightly to glance nervously back at her.

Frankie was already smiling, and offered up a shrug, a wordless assurance of 'someday'. He turned back to the shelves, hoping the shadows would hide the tinge of red he could feel blooming in his cheeks.

"Aha," He declared, retrieving a pair of chocolate bars and tossing one across to her. Peeling back the paper, she took a bite as he pushed himself up onto the counter beside her, tapping the chocolate together as if they were toasting glasses.

"This is better than a party," Rosie sighed, leaning back against the wall as he raised a hand to loosen his tie, undoing the top button of his shirt.

"Really? You won't find any good booze in here," She raised a brow, holding the chocolate bar between her teeth as she shrugged off her jacket, tossing it unceremoniously onto the floor.

"I'd rather sit around with you."

"Mm, yeah. I'd rather eat chocolate," Frankie mused, staring down at the half-eaten bar in her hand before going in for another bite.

"Oh, nice - romantic," Rosie chuckled.

"What? I'm just being honest. That's gonna be the worst part about going to America - no Cadbury's. I'm making this sacrifice for you Robert, that's romantic."

"You're right, I'm sorry for not appreciating your suffering," Pushing himself upright, he leant over to press a kiss to her cheek, missing as she turned her head and accidentally pressing his lips to her chin.

Frankie let out a cackle, grabbing him by the tie and pulling him in for a real kiss as she slid sideways off the counter. He could taste chocolate on her lips, one hand squeezing her hip, the other cushioning her shoulder as she backed up against the wall. She ran a deliberate hand through his hair, messing up his curls in the way that always made her smile. He was going to have to stop buying hair gel.

Rosie could feel the warmth of her skin through the fabric of her shirt, pressing against her with his palm as if they could meld into one. This wasn't like him. His mother would've been red in the face. But it wasn't his fault that Frankie was just so damn pretty. Simply breathing seemed twice as hard whenever she smiled - it was a wonder how he'd ever lived without it. The moment she'd left the party, his stomach had dropped so hard he thought he'd vomit, so scared had he been at the prospect of losing her. He cupped her jaw, tilting her face higher towards him, the press of her head against the wall messing up the curls George had no doubt spent ages tending to.

She snaked an arm around the back of his neck, trapped between his shoulders and the wall. It was an unwinnable situation, but she could survive the fear if it meant he was hers once it was all over. Rosie was good - no, scratch that - he was the best. If anyone could make it back, he could.

He had just begun to loosen her tie when a sudden banging at the door startled them, tearing themselves apart as someone hammered a heavy fist, shining a torch through the window at the front end of the mess hall.

"We know someone's in there!" A booming yell sounded. "Come out!"

Frankie clamped a hand over her mouth, muffling the laughter that threatened to erupt as Rosie gritted his teeth, trying his damndest not to do the same and give them away worse than they had already. She scrambled to collect her jacket, attempting to smooth down her hair with one hand as he hastily disposed of any evidence of their late-night feast.

The kitchen had a narrow back door, and Frankie pried it open as quietly as she could. Whoever had found them was still hammering on the front door, and as she peered out into the darkness she couldn't see any sign of reinforcements. "Go, go!" She whispered, shoes clutched in her hand to muffle her footsteps as they crept outside, scurrying across the grass towards the next row of Nissen huts.

As soon as they were home free she let a mighty laugh tear itself from her chest, splitting the air and undoubtedly waking up a few disgruntled workers. Rosie had begun to laugh too, their shoulders brushing as they swayed against each other, giddy on adrenaline. They were far too old to be sneaking around like teenagers, but he couldn't honestly remember the last time he'd had so much fun. Slinging an arm around her shoulders, she leaned against him as they wandered back towards her hut, the party's crowds not yet dissipated out into the world.

Approaching her door, Frankie turned to face him, walking backwards as she wrapped her arms around his back. She took a deep breath, letting out a sigh, giddiness wearing off. "See you tomorrow?"

Rosie nodded, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. "Yeah. I've gotta go see Bennett in the morning, I'll catch you after."

"Yeah, alright." Pushing herself up onto her toes, she kissed him one last time, before slipping inside.

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

It was quiet inside, the bathroom light humming as George stepped into the doorway, toothbrush hanging out of her mouth, curls brushed out of her hair. "You're back."

"I'm back," Frankie sighed, scraping a hand through her hair as she collapsed backwards onto the bed, springs creaking beneath her. She heard desperate scrambling from the next room as George hurried to finish up, and the quick step of bare feet against the floor as she scurried over, sitting cross-legged on her bed beside her.

"...And?" She asked, tone laced with worry.

"I'm living with it," Frankie admitted, throwing up her hands in surrender.

"That's it?"

"Think about it, George!" She exclaimed, rolling over onto her stomach so that she could look up at her. "If I made him stop, if I said he had to go home, he'd be miserable. He'd resent it - he wouldn't resent me, 'cause he's too bloody good, but he'll hate it. He'll spend the rest of his life regretting it, and I don't wanna do that. I'll have to live with it too."

The corner of George's lip curled in a half-smirk. "It's that serious, huh? 'Rest of your life' type stuff?"

"... I think so."

"I get it. It's better in the long run."

"Yeah, if there is one," Frankie sighed, staring dejectedly down at the floor.

"Oi," George slid off the bed, crouching down before her, forcing Frankie to look at her. "Don't gimme that shit, ok? He's the best pilot this place has ever seen, no one has chances as good as he does. I know it's scary - you know I know that."

She nodded slowly. "Yeah. I know. Sorry."

"Don't apologise. Get up and take that uniform off... you smell like chocolate."

Chuckling, Frankie pushed herself upright, beginning to peel away her clothes as George began to meticulously pin her hair into curlers for the next day. Sometimes she felt guilty - lamenting over the possibility of losing the man she loved when George had already lost hers. As if she were tempting fate, painting George's life as the worst possible version of her future.

"...You know I love you, right?" She asked slowly.

George looked up, brow raised. "Yeah, 'course. Why, are you dumping Rosie to run away with me now?"

Frankie let out a huff of laughter, buttoning up her pyjama shirt. "Yeah, that's the plan," She nodded, the pair grinning at each other as she climbed into bed. Flicking off the bedside lamp, she buried her head into the pillow, eyes shut tightly as she tried to fall asleep.

After a few minutes of silence, George spoke up again. "I would make a prettier bride than Rosie."

Grabbing her pillow, she hurled it at her, knocking George off balance and almost sending her tipping over the corner of the bed. "Oi!"

"I'm trying to sleep! Shut up and gimme my pillow back, or the engagement's off."

George chuckled, lobbing it back with as much, if not greater force, and Frankie yelped as it collided with her face, the sound muffled by the pillow.

"... I think you gave me a black eye."

"You're being a fucking baby."

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

"General Doolittle has ordered the air strategy to shift radically...

"to shoot them down we need to get them in the air...

"...With bombers as the bait."

Frankie lingered outside the closed door to Bennett's office, arms folded tightly across her chest as she listened to the conversation within. She'd had to argue her way past a fair few guards just to get this far, and was resisting the sudden urge to march through the door and break something - preferably Bennett's nose.

She hadn't told Rosie she was coming, and the more she listened in, the more she felt confident she didn't want him to know either. He'd probably try to stop her from starting a fight. Footsteps approached the door from the inside, and Frankie ducked into the nearest office and out of view as Rosie passed. The room's inhabitants looked up at her as she entered, brows furrowed in confusion, and she offered an awkward smile, pretending to fix one of the clocks until he was safely out of sight.

Before the door to Bennett's office could fall close, she stepped in, propping her arm across the doorframe and blocking the exit.

"Can I help you ma'am?" He asked, brow raised as he stood up from his desk.

"Yeah, actually, I was wondering if you could direct me towards a CO with some basic fucking sense."

Bennett looked momentarily startled, before realisation seemed to flicker across his expression. "Ah. You're Rosenthal's girl, right?"

Frankie frowned. "I also happen to be the most experienced mechanic you've got. But yeah, I guess that works."

"In that case, you probably shouldn't come in here insulting your commanding officers."

"That'd certainly be a concern if I actually worked for you."

"Look... Sergeant? I get it. You found out about the new plan, somehow-"

"I was listening through the door just now."

"...You're really not allowed to do that."

"I really don't care."

"Frankie?" Rosie's voice echoed from the opposite end of the corridor, and she tried her best not to react as she heard his footsteps approaching behind her, felt a gentle hand on her arm. "What're you doing?"

"You know those orders are bullshit," Frankie continued, gaze never leaving Bennett. "And you're letting it happen because you're a fucking coward."

"Okay, Jesus Christ, let's go," Rosie spoke hurriedly, tugging on her arm. "Sir, I'm sorry about this."

"I'm not done-"

"Yes, you are."

The Lieutenant Colonel didn't get a chance to speak before Frankie was dragged out of his doorway, the door falling shut with a heavy thud as Rosie guided her away back down the hall.

"What the hell do you think you're doing? What was that?!"

"Plan A was to strangle him - I think it went well all things considered."

"Do not - what?!" Rosie shook his head, utterly dumbfounded as they stepped outside. "What are you doing?!"

Frankie stopped walking, turning on her heel to face him. "Those orders are gonna get these men killed. I mean, bait? Are they fucking serious?"

"Did you listen in on that entire conversation?"

"Yeah, don't worry about it. The point is, I'm sick of having to stand by and watch them give out these bullshit orders that nobody can stand up to. They're murdering those boys if they do this, they're-"

"I know!" Rosie exclaimed, raising his hands to her shoulders. "I know. I care about them too, you know I do, but they're making me Major now - I can lead them - I'm gonna do everything I can to bring them home."

"... Wait, what? They're making you Major?"

"So you missed that part?"

"I think I blacked out after the 'bait' thing."

"Yeah, I got that impression."

Frankie nodded for a long moment, gnawing at the inside of her cheek. "... I hate not being able to do anything."

"I know," Rosie reached for her hand, rubbing his thumb across her knuckles.

"I'm the one who'll have to clean your blood out of the seat if you don't make it," She stated, unable to meet his eye. He felt the colour drain from his cheeks. "They'll give me your footlocker. I don't - I don't know what to do with it, I don't-" The more she spoke the faster the words came tumbling out, spiralling out of control.

"Hey, hey," Rosie cooed, wrapping an arm around the back of her neck to pull her into his chest. "We're good. We're okay, it's gonna be okay. I'm gonna make it. I dunno if anyone's told you, but I'm kind of a big deal around here."

"Oh, shut up," Frankie thumped a fist against his shoulder, her voice barely audible, muffled against his jacket. When she pulled away she was fighting a smile, a red tint flushing her cheeks as she swept her hair out of her face.

"Seriously," He nodded, lifting his hands to cup her face. "It'll be alright."

"... Yeah."

#masters of the air #rosie rosenthal #masters of the air oc #mota fic #masters of the air fic #rosie rosenthal x oc #fic | i'm your man #oc: frankie #oc: george

89 notes · View notes

getousatoruu · 21 days

Text

AND I AM BACK TO THE FIC REC GRIND BABY...Hope you enjoy them and give love to all the authors <3

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In all the worst ways, Yuji is just like Suguru. PS: I could not sleep for 3 whole days after reading this...this fic is intense i won't lie, the gojo and yuuji scenes are hard to swallow, gojo and geto scenes even more but all in all this also feels like a love letter to Yuuji

Saving You by earthtodora (T, 73k, Ongoing)

Yuji dies in the battle against Sukuna in Shinjuku. When he wakes up in the infirmary, he finds that he's in the past, before the events of the Culling Game, and the Shibuya Incident. Yuji must try to avoid making the same mistakes, and find a way to defeat the King of Curses and save the people he cares about. But first, he must find a way to deal with his own trauma and come to terms with the future he left behind. --- "Sensei," Yuji spoke up suddenly, snapping Gojo out of his thoughts. Gojo looked over at him. "Yes, Yuji?" "I want you to kill me."

tears of a tiger (there is no night without dawn) by rugbratz (T, 53.9k, Completed)

Yuuji understands that most people in his situation would be excited for the promise of tomorrow and what it may bring. But that’s not him. Yuuji can’t even begin to explain the conglomeration of emotions that he feels, but he knows that all of them are horrible and that he’s not ready. He never is.

#jjk #jujutsu kaisen #itafushi #yuji itadori #jjk itadori #megumi fushiguro #jjk megumi #fushiita #jujutsu megumi #megumi x yuuji #itadori x fushiguro #itafushi fic recs #fushiita fic recs #fic rec list #fic recs #ao3 fic recs #fic rec

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givemea-dam-break · 1 year

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im a sucker for lockwood x reader angst and i mean angry confessions, miscommunication and the “go ahead and leave then. everyone does, it wouldnt be a surprise if u did too” 😩😩😩

a/n: AHHHHH yes!! i'm so sorry this has taken so long to be written, and the fact I've been inactive for a week or two - it's been assignment week so i needed to focus on that unfortunately, but i hope you enjoy this! angst is my favourite thing to write lol. unfortunately, there's not much miscommunication in this, but i hope I've ticked the other boxes :)

warnings: angst, language gn reader

"Will you say something?"

You keep your head turned, staring out of the night cab's rain-covered window. Your heart is pounding, filled with rage, and you're worried that if you open your mouth, it'll come spilling out and you'll say something you'll either regret or get fired for.

Lockwood was an idiot during your case. He was reckless and impulsive, and it meant that the two of you narrowly finished it with your lives and all of your limbs in good health. You would've forgiven him if it had been a one-off, but he does this almost every single time, and it's becoming a big issue.

So here you sit, arms crossed over your chest as the cab speeds along, biting your tongue. Lockwood sits across from you, watching you with those dark eyes of his while a cut oozes blood on his forehead. Any other day, you would've patched it up immediately, but tonight he'll have to cope. You've had enough.

It doesn't take long to reach Portland Row and the taxi has barely stopped when you jump out and storm off towards the house. Lockwood is delayed a few seconds, having to pay the cabbie, but he catches up easily.

"(name), come on. Talk to me."

Wordlessly, you unlock the front door, half tempted to slam it shut in his face, but this is his house. He's got more right to be here than you.

You make to angrily climb the stairs and hide out in the attic to await Lucy's return and rant to her about Lockwood, but his hand wraps around your wrist as you reach the second step, stopping you.

"Please, (name). I can't stand it."

For a minute, you just stare at him. The blood from his cut has been smeared across his forehead, and the bags under his eyes have become a little more pronounced, but your usual sympathy has disappeared, eaten away by fury.

"What do you want me to say, Lockwood? Oh, it's okay that you almost killed yourself being so reckless tonight. You're my knight in shining armour. Or, how about: I know you promised to be reasonable tonight to make amends for all the other times you've almost killed yourself, and you didn't end up being reasonable, but I forgive you."

He looks at you, his gaze soft. His eyes are desperate, but he's got you talking which was his goal. It seems that the context of the conversation doesn't matter all that much to him.

But you don't care.

"Every single case," you say, trying to keep yourself from raising your voice, "has ended the same. We almost die or get seriously injured because you get reckless. I get it. You're trying to save us, and, believe me, Lockwood, I'm grateful for that, but what would happen if you died? Who would protect us then? Because all of this - you throwing yourself in the face of danger for us - will mean nothing if you die."

"I'm not going to let you guys get hurt," Lockwood says, and there's an undertone in his voice that gives you a clue to how he's feeling. He's getting irritated.

Good.

"And I thank you for that," you say. "But this is constant. Do you ever stop to think what we'd feel if you died? We'd be lost, Lockwood. Not to mention jobless."

"What am I meant to do? Let you get hurt? Not a chance!"

His rising anger is feeding into yours, and soon it'll be a raging fire, ready to burn everything in its wake. You have half a mind to let it loose, to tell him exactly how you feel about his stupidity, but you reign it in for now.

"Don't you hear me? I said I'm grateful that you try to keep us safe, but not at the cost of your own life!" You tear your wrist out of his grasp, breathing heavily. "Just take a minute to imagine this: you die on a case, and we have to deal with the body. We have to watch you die, and then we have to ignore the grief to not only finish the case but also make sure your body is taken away safely, that you're given a funeral. After that, a lifetime of grief and regret and denial, hoping you step through that fucking door one more time! Of all people, I thought you'd know what that kind of thinking does to a person."

His gaze hardens. "Watch yourself."

The laugh that escapes your lips is humourless. "Right, okay. I forgot. We don't talk about that topic because you're not ready, and that's fine. But it'll be me that has the burden when you die. Then George and Lucy will have to figure out how to cope, too. But we don't have a room to hide your memories away in, Lockwood. We live in a house surrounded by you."

You climb up a few stairs and point at a photo on the wall. "These pictures? They can be stashed away, but the feeling of you can't. Your soul has practically been embedded into the walls, the floor, the ceiling. Nowhere we go in this house will allow us to escape the memory of you."

His face is a little red as he watches you. He's angrier than you've ever seen him.

"So leave then."

The words feel like a punch to the stomach. "What?"

"If you're so sick of it, if the thought of my possible death is too much, then leave. Everyone does. It wouldn't surprise me if you did."

It takes all of your willpower not to scream at him. Instead, chest filled with the pressure of your fury, you make your way back down the stairs until you're eye to eye with Lockwood. He's breathing heavily now, too, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he watches you, eyes blazing with anger but also something else... Guilt?

"You don't get to say that," you growl. "I have been here for you since the beginning. I helped you set this company up. I helped you get it licenced, and I was the one who sweet-talked our way into getting full DEPRAC insurance. I have supported every stupid decision you've made. I've questioned you, but I never pushed. And yet, you still have the gall to say that you wouldn't be surprised by me leaving?"

The anger is so strong that tears threaten to cloud your eyes, but you push them down. You will not cry.

"I've tried my hardest to make sure you stay alive." The waver in your voice is embarrassing, but something in Lockwood cracks at the sound of it. "All I do is make sure you stay alive because you're all I've had for years. I've always cared for you. I've sat and patched you up night after night because I care about you - shit, I love you, Lockwood! I always have! So, don't you even dare suggest that I would ever leave. It's as good as insulting my parents' graves."

At that, you turn on your heel and storm up the stairs, leaving Lockwood standing at the bottom.

It takes a while for you to calm down.

After cleaning yourself of all specks of blood and dirt, you change into clean clothes and sink down onto your bed, closing your eyes and trying to slow the thrumming of your heart. Your hands are shaking from a mix of rage and sadness, but they lie on your chest, easing as your heart rate slows.

It takes all of your willpower to try and not think about one of the last things you said to Lockwood - that you love him - but it proves to be harder than it should be. You didn't lie. In your years of knowing Lockwood, you've grown close to him, something that had been hard originally because of your lack of trust in people, but he charmed his way right into your life. Every smile, every touch of your fingers left your heart racing and your mind hoping, begging, that he felt the same.

Now, though, after that argument, you're almost entirely convinced that he doesn't.

When George and Lucy arrive back at the house, you trudge downstairs to the kitchen where everyone awaits to discuss the cases. Lucy's already made you a cup of tea that you accept gratefully as you sit down at the far end of the table.

Away from Lockwood.

The change in your seating is noted by everyone, your usual chair left empty beside Lockwood's at the head of the table. George frowns, glancing between you and Lockwood, and Lucy gives you a look that you ignore.

"It was a phantasm where we were," you say, scribbling away at the thinking cloth. "Well, there was that, and then there was a very angry Wraith as well. Murder victims. We dealt with them quickly."

George's eyes find the plaster on Lockwood's head, much less neatly applied than it would've been had you patched him up.

"Rawbones for us," Lucy says, sipping her tea. There's a patch on the sleeve of her jacket that smokes slightly, burned by plasm. "George found the source - a manky old mug. Made no sense. Skull was no use, either. I think he's mad at me."

"Again?" Lockwood asks. His voice isn't entirely there. "What did you do this time?"

"I didn't do anything. He's just a little prick."

You bite your tongue to stop yourself from making a snide comment. The others are watching you carefully, easily picking up on your mood, but they don't bring it up.

Lockwood's eyes haven't left you this entire time. He's trying to communicate in that silent way you both developed after years of friendship, but you tear your gaze away from his, pushing down the re-emerging fury in your chest.

"Well, we're all alive," Lockwood says, laying emphasis on the final word. "Let's get a good night's sleep. We've got a meeting tomorrow with another client."

Lucy and George get up immediately as if they were waiting for a cue to leave. They're gone in seconds, closing the kitchen door behind them. It makes no difference. You silently sip your tea, still scribbling away. Your little mess of lines has turned into an angry face.

"(name) -"

You stand, making to leave the kitchen with your mug in hand, but Lockwood blocks the door.

Staring up at him, you scowl. "Excuse me, Anthony."

There's a little smirk playing on his lips. "Using my first name? I suppose I am in trouble."

"It's nice that you think this is funny, but I certainly don't. Now, let me get past so I can go to bed. I've had enough of today."

"Please, wait." He looks down at you, his eyes soft. He doesn't seem angry anymore - that makes one of you. "Can we just... talk?"

Against your better judgement, you turn and sit back in your seat, placing one of your feet on the seat and resting your head on your knee. You're tired. Not just from the case, but from being angry.

"I'm sorry, okay?" Lockwood says, and you know he's genuine. "I saw that Wraith coming for you, and I couldn't just stand there and let you get hurt."

You sigh, more exhausted than mad now. "That's not the problem, Lockwood. You do this in every single case, even when there's no need to. Half the time, I'm not sure whether it's because you want to protect us or if it's because you want an excuse to die." Your voice catches a little.

He falters, not expecting that. Part of you wants to feel good about catching him off guard, but the topic quenches any of it. You've spent countless nights worrying that you would get up in the morning only to find Lockwood not there or scared that you'd end a case leaning over his dead body.

No one should ever have to think like that.

"I care about you a lot," you say, running a hand over your face. "You know that. But I don't think it has ever occurred to you how badly it'd affect me if you died. And, I know, I'm being selfish, but I don't want to have to live in a world without you in it."

He's silent for a moment. "I'm sorry - about what I said earlier. I didn't mean it."

You barely have the willpower to shrug. "We were both angry. People say stuff they don't mean when they'd angry."

"So, you don't mean what you said? About loving me?"

It's hard to not look at him, but you focus your gaze on the thinking cloth, tracing the messy writing and doodles with your fingers. There are a few coffee and tea stains covering it.

"I meant it." Your mouth feels dry, so you take another sip of your tea. "I meant everything."

The only sound is of both of your breathing and Lockwood's foot tapping rhythmically on the tiled floor. He's nervous.

"I don't expect you to feel the same," you clarify. "To be honest, I hadn't meant to say it right then. If I had my way, I wouldn't have said it at all unless I was sure you felt the same. But, it's out there now."

Lockwood's chair screeches against the floor and, suddenly, he's kneeling beside you, moving so that he can catch your eyes. That stupid grin of his has parted his lips. His hand grasps yours softly, and you can feel his pulse faintly. It's faster than it should be.

"Don't look so smug," you grumble. "I don't forgive you, so I don't see what you have to be cocky about."

His grin only widens. "I'll show you what."

And then his lips have captured yours.

It's a short kiss, no longer than a few seconds, but it's enough to have your stomach performing a whole gymnastics routine. The anger in your chest slowly fades away until it's nothing but a small prickle, still there but nowhere near as powerful as it was.

His lips are startlingly soft, but, really, you wouldn't put it past him to be applying chapstick every waking second. He always wants to be camera-ready. Your eyes have fluttered shut, and, by the feeling of his lashes brushing your cheeks, it seems his have also. You wonder if his brain is throwing a party, too.

When he pulls away, you find yourself wanting more. Instead, you press your forehead against his, shutting your eyes tightly for a moment.

"If that wasn't enough to convince you to stop being so self-sacrificing on cases, I honestly don't know what will."

He laughs, and the sound has your heart soaring. "I'll try my best, but if you need saving, I'll most definitely come to save you. I am your 'knight in shining armour' after all."

His gaze is already locked on yours when you open your eyes again. The darkness of his eyes entraps you, and it's impossible to look away.

"Will you forgive me?"

A sly smile curves your lips. "Maybe if you kiss me more."

#lockwood x reader #anthony lockwood x reader #lockwood and co x reader #lockwood and co fanfiction #lockwood and co #lockwood and co netflix #anthony lockwood #george karim #lucy carlyle #x reader #fanfiction #givemea-dam-break

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antianakin · 3 months

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This is a random thought I just had, but for the people that say Anakin’s special training is how Ahsoka survived order 66, couldn’t you also argue that the same training taught his soldiers ( the same ones that would storm the temple with him ) how to kill Jedi more effectively?

I think that, in part, that's supposed to be the ironic tragedy of that entire episode. Anakin's special training helps Ahsoka survive, but it's also (theoretically) giving those specific clones a lot of training on how to take down a Jedi. Anakin's training helps Ahsoka as much as it puts her in danger. Anakin is by nature sort-of contradictory in a lot of his relationships because these people love him and he betrays them all, and their feelings about him in the aftermath all have to sort-of deal with that contradiction. How do you love someone who betrayed you like that, and what does it say about you if you do?

That being said, it doesn't take a hell of a lot to take out a Jedi when the Jedi in question is unable to try to escape or take them out in return somehow. Ahsoka in reality does a lot of running and jumping into vents and knocking some of the clones out and closing doors with the Force to keep some of the clones from surrounding her. She's RESOURCEFUL. She's never just standing still while surrounding and only able to block for longer than like 5 seconds. MAYBE 10. And even then, she's still closing the doors and ultimately jumps away into a vent. So the whole thing where she can withstand a barrage of stun bolts for 5 minutes is just ludicrous, it's not actually USEFUL and we know this because she DOESN'T FUCKING USE IT.

So while the training MIGHT help the clones figure out how to overwhelm a Jedi better, it's also only useful to them when the Jedi can't really do anything to really defend themselves and get away from the situation, which is what MOST Jedi in that situation WOULD do.

We also know via Order 66 that what actually takes out the Jedi isn't an inability to block for five minutes straight, but being suddenly and unexpectedly surrounded by people you trust who suddenly want you dead. It takes the Jedi a few seconds to even REACT to that revelation and in those few seconds, they die. Ahsoka is COMPLETELY prepared in this training, she's not dealing with any kind of emotional turmoil while doing it, so her ability to do well in this isn't actually indicative of how well she'd do in a situation like Order 66. The ONLY real thing that saves her is that Rex hesitates, so she GETS those few seconds to comprehend what's happening and come up with a course of action to protect herself that NO ONE ELSE GETS. If Rex hadn't hesitated, Ahsoka would be dead. The sudden betrayal of people she trusted who overwhelm and surround her would've killed her without question. Anakin's training would've been useless for her. And the clones would not have NEEDED any special training to overwhelm and surround her, they already DID by just being there with her.

So while I think the POINT of the episode is that yes, there's an inherent tragedy in this training being what helps her survive AND something that probably makes it HARDER for her survive Anakin's eventual betrayal, I don't think the training is useful for anybody quite honestly. It's just stupid and pointless all around and Ahsoka and the clones all had better things to do with their time than this.

#star wars #ahsoka tano #clone troopers #captain rex #order 66 #anti totj #anti anakin #anti anakin skywalker #anakin critical #anakin skywalker critical

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nocturni3 · 1 year

Text

Miguel O’Hara x male reader: Dinner plans

Part 2 Canon tragedy

(TW: mentions of childhood abuse, cheating, toxic family, family issues, past relationship drama, blowjob, phone call during sex, NSFW, anal fingering, cum swallowing, possibly incorrect Spanish)

It was their one day off from working, and instead of spending it with just himself and his loving other half m/n; they were rushing around the apartment rushing to look presentable for a dinner M/n had insisted was long since due.

Meeting Miguel O’hara’s family, or the small family Miguel had which included his distant cold shouldered mother and his equally distant little brother Gabriel. Both Miguel loved but the same couldn’t be said the other way around.

For shock's sake they both still despised him for his career path in Alchemax. But after seeing what he’s seen the past few weeks working “late nights” as Spider-Man and seeing the brutality done to the citizens in Downtown Miguel was beginning to feel sick at himself at the privileged higher class life both him and m/n had built themselves; off the backs of the same people he saves from the same company him and M/n work for.

He’s just thankful that you at least worked in the more “innocent” part of the company. Making medical equipment for the city's hospitals and small clinics. But not Miguel, he constantly watched all the genetic failures Alchemax makes day in and day out, placing a strong divergence in his morals. Quitting wasn’t an option, not when Miguel was Alchemaxs head genetic and engineering scientist in his department of Alchemax. Tyler Stone probably wouldn’t even bother drugging Miguel next time. He’d just skip straight to killing Miguel and be done with it before the twisted bastards next board meeting.

On top of the twisted bastard having his eyes on M/n anytime Miguel and him go out together for their lunch breaks, no Miguel had no choice but to stay, to find Alchemaxs secrets and destroy them slowly as Spider-Man. A part of himself still hid from M/n despite hearing your approval of this new age hero.

“Miguel! Have you seen my one watch?”

Miguel’s head snapped back up to reality looking down at his failed attempt of a tie, hearing your urgency Miguel undid his tie popping his head from your shared room seeing you facing away from him bending down to the floor to look under the coffee table.

The suit you wore hugged you in all the right areas, especially your ass-

“Yes I know my ass is very distracting O’Hara but can you get over here and help me look please?”

Clearing his throat Miguel chuckled making his way over to you, long giving up on the tie for now.

“Why do you need your watch anyways we’re just meeting my oh so supportive and wonderful family”

M/n rolled his eyes and sighed as he sat up on the table as Miguel continued searching the couch for his boyfriends old outdated watch. Crossing your legs you look at Miguel, a look that spoke words and Miguel knew what you were going to say before you did.

“Yes I know I should at least try and fix at least me and Gabe's relationship, but love I’m telling you they both won't be welcoming for either of us. Knew that the moment I went to school”

M/n knew this to unfortunately be true of many struggling families who chose to work for the corrupt corporations for a chance for a stable easy life . M/n and Miguel both knew this more than most.

M/n and Miguel met at Alchemaxs high school for gifted youth. When he was dating the smartest girl in school; Xina Kwan. And even then he was very close chested about his family, he wouldn’t even tell Xina much and after they broke it off and Miguel started dating Dina Miguel never spoke much aside from small mentions of Gabe being a hard ass about Miguel’s choice in company schooling.

It was only after Dina stormed away from Miguel at a party after he confessed he just wasn’t in love with her clingy behavior anymore. That same night you made sure your best friend made it back to his dorms safely after he drank himself into a pit. Did you learn from a drunk and slurred conversation with Miguel that he was the black sheep of the family, that his mom despised him for looking so much like his abusive father. That Gabe only talked to him still out of pity.

You comforted Miguel that night the best way you could, avoiding Miguel’s drunken want for a kiss. Stating if he still remembered tonight and felt the same after his hell of a Hangover tomorrow you’d consider kissing his kicked puppy looking face.

A bet Miguel won.

Regardless of the past you knew Miguel tried his best to avoid talking to his brother and his girlfriend who both know were leading a downtown rebellion against Alchemax; after all the less either of you knew the better.

Not to mention Miguel only visiting his mother if Gabe asked him to come. M/n didn’t have a family, both parents dead and being raised in an abusive poorly funded orphanage; the only thing close to family was his outdated watch that belonged to his dad. A watch he knew Miguel didn’t understand the broken watches value fully, only that you’ve worn the old thing since the two of you met.

Sighing M/n walked over to a stressed Miguel who in his own mind was trying his hardest to not lose focus on keeping his talons hidden, a feat that was a struggle when he was stressed like he was in this moment. That was until he felt the warmth radiating off M/n whose hand gently pulled Migue away from the couch to face him. Miguel’s body relaxed some at his boyfriend's hands fixed Miguel’s suit before started to tie the long forgotten tie.

“I know this dinner with them wasn’t your idea hun, but wouldn’t it ease some of the stress you’ve been under?”

Miguel raised an eyebrow his hands resting on your hips.

“What stress? I’m fine-“

M/n hmmed pulling the red tie tightly up to Miguel’s collar before shoving it into his suit, patting Miguel’s broad chest.

“Famous last words, hot stuff; you're not fine, don’t think all my staring was just on that handsome face O’Hara. Anytime Gabe calls and asks if you’ve found a girl yet so his girlfriends can stop pestering him to go on a double date. Or even the time your mom called to pester you for not dating like Gabe. Love, wouldn’t it be easier to just rip the bandage off. Worse comes to shove it’ll be an awkward night of questions then we come home and I help you forget it.”

Miguel smirks, careful to not show his fangs before shoving his face into your neck breathing in your expensive cologne he’s always found attractive on you. His hands slowly make their way to grab your ass. Your hands were too slow to stop as Miguel’s strong grip pulled you close enough to press your bodies together. Your small whine had Miguel get turned on combined with your scent under the cologne the way your body just fit with his had Miguel reeling at his luck of having someone like you in his arms right now.

His rough voice whispered into your ear as you tilted it more, exposing your neck to Miguel’s lingering lips.

“Why not help me forget now?”

M/n moaned softly the thought was oh so tempting to just ditch this stressful dinner to have passionate sex with your hottie of a boyfriend. That was until your eyes cracked open, spotting the small metallic old watch sitting on the dining room table. You reacted with a mix of relief and teasing as you escaped from Miguel’s grip running to the table grabbing that old thing.

“That’s where it was!”

You could hear Miguel groan, looking over your shoulder you saw the state he was in a huge tent clearly showing in his pants. Looking at the holo clock on the wall seeing you had a good 30 or so minutes to get to the restaurant you guys should be fine to…indulge.

Miguel stood rubbing his face at M/n’s clear teasing at this point. His brat of a boyfriend had a way to bend Miguel to his whim even now as Miguel feels M/n hand on his neck.

“Ready to head out, Amor?”

Opening his reddish brown eyes clearly sees the mischief in your E/C eyes. To his shock you pushed him into the couch Miguel didn’t have much time to react as M/n leaned over him his arms either head of Miguel’s head gripping the back of the couch. Your hot breath ghosted against Miguel’s cheek to his ear which you didn’t hesitate to bite his lob; your lust shaking breath as you spoke had Miguel become breathless; feeling your hands unbuckle his belt, then pants.

“I think we can make a quick detour don’t you?”

Miguel sighed feeling your hands grope his balls, your hand palming his growing aching cock that didn’t seem to be going down anytime soon.

“Oh shock yes”

Your free hand caressed his jaw before lifting Miguel’s face to look at yours, everything paused as Miguel took in the power you gave off, from your eyes, your posture, even that smirk. He gave him leaning forward, crashing your lips to his, your hand gripping his hair as both of you gave into your urges. Miguel desperately trying his best to keep his fangs from poking your lips as they collided once more.

Both panting as they separated, faces red with lust; Miguel watches as you got to your knees, that old watch of yours bounced the dimmed lights from the apartment as your hands pulled Miguel’s boxers down enough for his cock to spring free from the constricting fabric.

The blood seemed to rush both to Miguel’s head and cock feeling M/n hot breath kiss the tip of the reddening head. The moan that escaped Miguel’s parted lips as the heat of his boyfriend's mouth took the aching, twitching cock all at once.

Miguel wanted to cover his mouth, to keep the erotic sounds from escaping again but Miguel felt hands intertwining with his; gripping tightly preventing him from covering his mouth as a whimpered gasp escaped Miguel’s parted lips.

M/N could feel his own cock swell from the noises Miguel was making, the desperate tugs he’d make to get his hands out of M/n’s iron grip. To cover his mouth but M/n won’t let him, he wanted to listen to all of Miguel’s whines,whimpers, groans, and moans as he sucked him dry.

Taking Miguel nearing out of his mouth, M/n blew cold air onto the pre-leaking cock. Listening to Miguel whimper before running his hot tongue lapping up the pre. Miguel sighs and moans filled the apartment echoing slightly, the sight was breathtaking. Watching Miguel’s muscles tense but go weak with each joint of pleasure your mouth provided him as if sucking him dry of any strength he had left. Yourself moan with his cock shoved back into your mouth loving the feeling of his cocks weight on your tongue.

His head was thrown back as you pushed past your gagging reflex feeling the twitching, desperate cock wanting more, Miguel wanting more.more of you, more of the torturous teasing. To grab your hair and just-

Miguel’s hips thrusted up making your unexpected throat clenched around the cock shoved within it, you gagged the feeling of your throat tighten around his clock head Miguel pant at the constant stimulation you gave him. your head bobbed going as far up; to tease Miguel, before falling all the way down his cock taking in the immense scent of sex and sweat as your nose and lips pressed momentarily into the well trimmed public hair.

The bitter saltery taste of pre sneering in the back of your throat only makes you want more. Letting go of Miguel’s hands you take hold of his thighs traveling your hands from the inner thighs to Miguel’s hips pressing your nails into his skin before gripping his ass the best you could.

Without hesitation Miguel tangled his hands into your hair. Pulling it to the fast rhythm he much preferred. You knew exactly what he liked, what drove him mad as you hmmed around his cock, the vibrations nearly sending Miguel over, if his pre cum was and indication, he was close. The knot in his stomachs was growing nearly unbearable, both pain and pleasure all blending together into a pool of mental gymnastics of if he would or wouldn’t cum.

Miguel creaked open his eye to look down at your once styled hair now a mess intertwined in his fingers, Miguel groaned seeing your lips swollen from the abuse they were enduring. Your face was a shade of red Miguel couldn’t get enough of as he untangled his hand from your hair rubbing away the stray tears that managed to break from your eyes.

“You’re so good to me, so good at sucking me off”

Miguel mumbled. Seeing your hand slide up his suit to his chest, chuckling Miguel grabbed the hand knowing full week what you intended to do. And shock, did he want it desperately, keeping his fangs as hidden as he could as he ran his hot tongue over the two fingers. Watching as you looked at him before thrusting the rest of his thick cock down your throat. Miguel moaned around the fingers as they hooked behind his bottom teeth keeping Miguel’s mouth wide open, the saliva that started collecting in his mouth began to drip globs out of his mouth, some ran down your fingers and arm.

Taking his cock out of your bruised mouth you took a long look at Miguel, face a deep shade of red, sweat forming on his forehead, his body quaking; all while your free hand jerked his cock at an unbearable pace watched as he moaned your fingers still in his mouth, now playing with his tongue, coating your finger in a thick coat of his spit.

“Shock, I wish I had a fucking camera right now, what do you think your family would think of you then; seeing a picture of your slutty face, that mouth of yours wide open dripping spit everywhere from the sheer thought of cumming. Is that what you want?”

M/ns voice deepened his lips pressing to Miguel’s forehead before Miguel could form any words he heard his watch buzzing, M/n gave a dark chuckle at his boyfriends tension upon seeing the caller ID being that of,

‘Gabe’

Smirking down at Miguel M/n leaned down biting Miguel’s neck earning a gasp from Miguel as his body shook,

“Answer it, don’t worry love he won’t know as long as you're quiet”

Miguel froze, his eyes widening at M/n who simply took his fingers from his mouth before sinking back down between Miguel's spread legs, yanking Miguel's thick muscular thighs over his shoulder. M/n licked his lips as he took the hard, throbbing cock back into his mouth while his finger circled Miguel’s hole, gently probing it.

Miguel stiffened a moan from escaping m, looking down at his watch that projected Gabes caller ID. Looking down at M/n whose eyes stared right at Miguel before deep throating him. His body shook the tightness in his stomachs tightened more and more as pleasure built up.

He pressed answer,

“Miguel, you finally shocking answered, where are you? Me and mom are waiting but these fancy upper pigs won’t let us in without you!”

“O-oh uh yeah we’re on our way now sorry traffic-“ Miguel bit into his hand as the first finger pushed past his tight muscle, teasing around everywhere but his prostate.

“We? Who’s we? Holy shit are you telling me you finaly found a chick-ow! Karyn what was that shockin for!”

“You moron will you show some maturity Gabe”

Miguel sighed looking down at M/n who looked at bliss sucking and fingering Miguel, his tongue ran around his cock, his throat tightening with each deep throating- fuck.

“Mmh”

Miguel moaned before pausing seeing that the call was still on, looking down at M/n who’s eyes eyed him.telling him he was loosening his fight.

“Um Miguel you good dude?”

Clearing his throat Miguel fought another moan as the second finger began scissoring him.

“Y-yeah, sorry t-took a drink and it went down the wrong pipe.”

“Hey, save some of the expensive corporate junk for us!”

Karyn yelled, Miguel sighed again, the knot tightening to the point he threw his hand to his boyfriend's head, gripping his hair for support as he continued to suck.

“I will don’t worry there’s enough for everyone-ow!”

Miguel felt a pinch at his inner thighs, staring wide eyed at M/n who glared at him.

‘Stop trying to change who you talk to’ that glare spoke.

“Yo Miguel you sure your good-”

“Gabe tell them the reservation is under the names: Miguel O’Hara and M/n L/N”

“Hold on who’s M/n? That doesn’t sound like a chicks name-“

Miguel felt the irritation of his impending climax and frustration at his dense brother, all nursing in an outburst that M/n wasn’t prepared for, as his fingers thrusted dead on Miguel’s prostate at the same time as he deepthroated him with a low moan as he buried his nose into Miguel’s public hair; tipping Miguel over the edge as he yelled and panted. His body shook;

“He’s not a fucking chick you moron his my boyfriend!”

“What!” Miguel faintly heard his mothers shouting in the background before Miguel hung up. Throwing his head back at the reliefs of both the knot in his stomach snapping in an explosion of pressure.his grip of M/n’s hair was a rush for M/n as he moaned as well feeing himself climaxing his head a blank White Sea of stars as he desperately swallowed as much of Miguel’s cum as he could, some managing falling down his chin as he moaned with Miguel’s guttural almost feral groan as he gripped M/ns hair with one hand and with the other Miguel pushed his hair away from him sweat covered forehead.

All stress flooded out of Miguel in more ways than one as M/n worked him through his leg shaking climax by sucking what was left out of Miguel’s cock while he rubbed Miguel’s thigh, his fingers working gently out of the tightening hole. Before sighing a breath of fresh air, leaning his head onto Miguel’s thigh as Miguel’s grip began to loosen to soothing M/n’s now sore head as he caught his breath. Both stayed like this for a while basking in the afterglow. Before Miguel sighed looking down at his boyfriend who looked worriedly up at him. Before speaking, his voice was rough from their activity , as he took Miguel’s hand into his. Playing with Miguel’s fingers.

“We don’t have to go, hun if you don’t want to anymore I can understand that.”

Miguel frowned at M/n see the look of guilt and overthinking Miguel knew M/n was doing; he was blaming himself to which MIguel pulled M/n onto his lap taking his chin and pulling him into a gentle kiss against the bruised lips faintly tasting his own cum on M/n tongue before separating.

“ nah I think now I want to go more than ever just to see their reaction to my breathtaking boyfriend I screamed about, besides I don’t think I’ll hear the end of it from mom or Gabe if we don’t go and make an appearance. What was it you said? Worse comes to shove it’ll be an awkward night of questions then we come home and you help me forget it…again”

M/n laughed taking Miguel’s face in both hands before pressing their foreheads together,

“Word for word handsome but I think we need to wash up again we reek of sex.”

“Shower together?”

Both smiled love in their eyes as they both gazed at the other remembering this moment like many others Miguel didn’t want to let this go, let you go no matter what.

Part 3

(It took me two days to write this masterpiece. I hope I did good? It’s been a bit since I last wrote smut and Miguel is a character I see going either way and all a bit of angst splashed into it as well! Let me know what you thought of it and I hope you all liked it!)

#fanfic #across the spiderverse #spiderman 2099 #miguel o'hara #smut #angst #male reader #oneshot #miguel o’hara x male reader #miguel ohara x reader

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mister-eve · 3 months

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things i wish the sonic franchise brought back or implement.

Dark Sonic

seriously, i love imagining a fight between Dark Sonic and Eggman inspired by Korra vs. Zaheer ( when she was poisoned ). where he loses the cool attitude, the smile, everything, and goes in with full power, charging himself left and right at Eggman. it'd be even more fascinating to still have Dark Sonic lose. not because of his lack of power, not because of lack of skill, even when blinded by rage, but because of Eggman's ingenuity.

a lot of people, to this day, misinterpret Dark Sonic as a murderous, rampaging monster, but that completely misses the purpose of why he exists to begin with. i believe this is a case of people not exactly knowing where he comes from, or just a lot of fans drawing a murderous Sonic and it took the internet by storm one day, but just in case you don't know:

Dark Sonic is from Sonic X, a TV show that is sort of an expansion on Sonic Adventure 2, adding more lore, character arcs, and overall meaning to the game's original plot. Dark Sonic was revealed in the episode "Teasing Time" in s3, and the reason he appeared is because he discovered his friends ( Cosmo and Chris ) were injured and that one of them ( Chris ) was unconscious.

the whole reason this form exists is Sonic's love for his friends essentially fueling his rage. it's like Darkspine Sonic from SATSR, or has similar formula. Dark Sonic isn't inspired by any bloodlust or desire to kill, but rather by burning anger at seeing his friends be put in harm's way.

Dark Sonic is made from the strong desire to protect his friends.

2. An Actual Arc For Shadow

you guys might be confused, especially if you consider some of my previous posts, but lemme explain.

for a long time, it's never felt like Shadow has actually recovered from his trauma, atone for his actions ( yes, i understand he saved Earth ), or live life really at all. it doesn't help that, to this day, SEGA continues to make Shadow relive the past.

i don't consider the movies to be a part of the problem, as Shadow being introduced to the plot was basically a given, and you can't introduce him in your own take without his general backstory ( unless you're Boom or Prime, i guess ). i believe the movie will be doing taking some creative liberties to his story, as they did so with Sonic, Tails, and Knuckles, and i see no reason that they should stop.

the reason why i have an issue with this is because it's an ongoing issue within the games, specifically. Shadow the Hedgehog ( 2005 ) was a disservice to his setup and the 'first arc' ( considering he's still alive after the fans demanded his return ) to his story.

aside from it just giving 'early 2010s deviantart edge', it's just so...

childishly handled.

for one, you're immediately given a Hero or Dark route, like in SA2, which i feel completely misses the point of SA2's true ending. Shadow has redeemed himself ( or began to ), so to give him complete reign to just become an antagonist all over again defeats the whole purpose of a redemption.

it's like what Prime did with Dread, giving him an already established redemption arc ( sort of ), but then corrupting him again for no real reason other than just because.

another issue i have is Shadow's amnesia and attitude in general within the game. technically speaking, yes, it does make sense for him to suffer memory and // or physical issues from his fall from space, but to completely wipe out every single thing he did just to give him the opportunity to relearn his past, do some fucked up shit, do some less fucked up shit, then throw away everything in the past, Maria and her wish included, is...

amazingly obtuse, for lack of a better word.

again, while it's technically not out of bounds, i feel like giving Shadow complete and total amnesia just disrespects SA2's vision and execution of the story. it's redundant, it's lazy, and overall just really damn frustrating to watch.

Shadow deserves to have a story that allows him to heal from his trauma, discover who he is, and respecting Maria's wish along the way. a lot of people seem to think it's either he forgets about his past ( or buries it ) or full-on dedicates his entire life and doesn't bother picking up a life lesson or two, but it doesn't have to be that way.

Shadow can heal, grow, and change. SEGA just won't let him.

3. The Echidna Tribe & Knuckles' Story

Knuckles is one of my favorite characters in the entire franchise as a whole, but his character and story is sorely dismissed. while Shadow has the issue of repetition, Knuckles suffers from being dropped on the head multiple times and played for a joke ( i think Frontiers is one of the more recent games that didn't do this, but i might be wrong ).

one of the reasons why i love Knuckles is how straightforward, yet reluctant he was about finding out his past. at the end of Sonic Adventure 1, he says something to the extent of:

"maybe i'm better off not knowing the meaning behind all of this. because i feel something terrible will happen if i do."

he is content being ignorant for the sake of his own peace of mind.

but in SA2, he's more or less forced to start facing his fear and learn more about the past. unfortunately, though, we don't actually get to see much after this game, because the tribe is almost entirely forgotten. instead, it's brought up in comics that are more or less canon ( i think ), but not fully aligning with the games. i think it's safe to say the comics are their own canon?

like with Shadow, i would've loved to see an actual conclusion on this arc of Knuckles' story. to see more of the tribe in the past, of their wrongdoings, character moments, more of Tikal or Chaos or the little Chao, and how it all ties together.

but instead, we have lots of media repeatedly insulting Knuckles' intelligence, ignoring his tribe and // or his job entirely ( i guess they forget the Master Emerald is portable? ), and just generally dumbing him down to be a hotheaded moron that apparently doesn't care about being the Guardian!

Knuckles is one of the most relatable characters in this series for me, as there's a lot of things i would rather not know and stay ignorant to, but have to face head on in order to fully move past it and grow to be better.

he was completely isolated on Angel Island for so long, yet people still make fun of him to this day for being manipulated by Eggman in SA1 ( even though he didn't even fully believe Eggman, it was just a precaution, but who cares about the details- ). he's not just a hothead, he's strong, he's kind, he's pretty blunt and, honestly, really fucking adorable, i love this echidna.

look at him, just standing there. i love him.

anyway, Knuckles deserves a proper story surrounding his tribe, his identity as the Guardian of Angel Island, his relationships, and to have a satisfying conclusion. or, at the very least, more games or media in general not dumbing him down to an angry hothead with nothing better to do but to yell and ignore his responsibilities.

3. Sonic

"what're you talking about, ashe? sonic's meant to be a flat character! what could be wrong with him?"

yeah, but after frontiers, i want more mentally ill sonic that needs to be concerned for by his friends, okay, that's all i want-

4. Storybook Era

now, now, i know a lot of people don't like the storybook games because of their shoddy gameplay and all that, but i genuinely love these games, their flaws included.

i do believe satbk has a better story than satsr, but i still have an attachment to the latter game, so suck it.

it'd be really nice to see a storybook game with switch, xbox, ps, or similar controls. as the era has Sonic diving into different worlds, maybe a world like Alice and Wonderland could be an interesting game. several elements to work with, locations turning into creative levels or even hub worlds. this is sort of a long shot dream that will probably never exist, but i wanna see an adventure-style storybook game one day.

i'll probably die before that idea is even considered, but it's a fun thought and that's all that matters at the end of the day.

there's no real big reason as to why these matter or anything, as i don't believe you need a storybook in order to send off the messages these games try to give, but they're just really charming to me and i love to see how this type of game could be implemented into video games today, with all the new engines and whatnot.

5. Teams

oof, okay, um-

there's a few games that have teams in them, and i guess you can count sonic forces as one of those games, so i should be more specific here.

i like SA1's flexibility with the roulette-like system, where you could play as any character you wished, but i also like SA2's team system, where they all had a close-knit role within the story from a similar perspective ( hero vs. dark ).

SA1 served multiple perspectives, all giving you pieces of the same puzzle that you have to figure out as you go. by the final story, all of the characters ( except Big, but idc, i love him ) have their character arcs and it's with their changes that the story is fully complete.

SA2 served the entirety of two perspectives and merged them together for the final story, heroes and villains having to work together to fight off the greater evil at hand.

overall, i want more games having the characters work together, having different details // information or even moral differences ( it depends on which system they go with, though ) on the situation at large, but maybe still having to come together.

whether or not they use official teams, i want the sonic franchise to bring back using other characters as necessary plot points with their own individual arcs.

it may not be needed, per say, as there's still a few games that work and don't have either of these systems, but i really miss the adventure games and wish for more of their elements to be implemented in future games.

6. CHAO!!!

BRING THESE LITTLE CREATURES BACK, GODDAMN, WHY ONLY TWO GAMES?!

anyway, that's all i can currently think of. i think these would serve either character or charm to the franchise, but maybe you have some other ideas of what the games could give! maybe proper returns of characters, other forgotten stories, or even new ideas!

lemme know what you think.

#sonic the hedgehog #sonic adventure #sonic adventure 2 #sa1 #sa2 #dark sonic #sonic #shadow the hedgehog #shadow #knuckles the echidna #knuckles #team sonic #team dark #team rose #team chaotix #chao #chao garden

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amypihcs · 1 month

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So i'm dead.

@contact-guy's beautiful comic (i loved it, truly, it killed me.) and watching Hellsing with an offline friend of mine killed me THROUGHLY.

And since i fear i'm figuring out how Holmes and Watson's relationship will evolve into @contact-guy's comic serie i'll curse you with the HCs i made with my dear @i-dont-talk-for-days-on-end today talking about my future drawing of Watson with his loves, Holmes and Mary.

You can probably tell i'm emotionally devastated because my writing is more inconsistent than my usual.

So.

For me is very important that Mary gets treated well, since she exists in canon and is a fantastic woman. And i also love to think that she and Holmes are friends, after all they both love Watson.

My take is, Watson and Mary have kind of a façade marriage based on good friendship and comradeship but without love and generally without sex.

This could work in two ways, both of which are incredibly nice one:

Aroace Mary who needs some sort of social respectability coming from a marriage and got lucky enough to find a man as good and kind as Watson who is more than willing to help her to achieve it without endangering her

Lesbian or Bi Mary in a relationship with a girl, probably her ex employer, could be someone else, who still needs the respectability and stability coming from a marriage and is still lucky enough to find our favourite bisaster, Dr John H. Watson, who is also bisexual and in a relationship with a man and would benefit a lot from the cover of a respectable marriage.

The first one is rather easy to treat. Watson and Mary make good friends during Sign of Four, Holmes notices/guesses that Mary is acespec like him (my Headcanon for Holmes is that he is demigay) and when Watson proposes and she accepts they put immediately straight that it won't be a consummated marriage, ever.

The second one develops in the same way, and this makes so much more explainable the many times Mary is mentioned to be away visiting relatives in canon. Mary is with her partner, Watson is with his partner.

Now angst warning!

Sherlock Holmes looks very favorably upon Watson's marriage, he is in fact the one that pushes Watson into it, and for very good reasons.

Let's put sign of four in 1887, alright? Chances are high he was already pursuing Moriarty, or that he generally was realizing more and more the risk of dying on the job, well, Holmes is a smart man. And a clever, practical and caring one as well. he is a man who loves deeply and cares deeply and wants to always have his affairs in order.

Is it too much of a stretch to imagine that he realizes the higher and higher risk of SOMETHING BAD happening? I don't think so. And he knows that Watson could get caught in the crossfire and he wants of course to protect Watson and offer him some saving net.

He pushes Watson into this marriage that will not mean the end of their relationship but the creation of another meaningful relationship for his love, so that SHOULD I DIE he will have someone to help him weather the storm (would watson care, would he? nobody ever did, but WATSON. Watson cares for everyone... would watson care...). The marriage also means that he will go back into practice, and this is an economic safe net, something always good. Their relationship is of course carefully concealed but such a handsome, sociable, perfect man as Watson is staying unmarried and living with a bachelor friend might give rouse to suspects, marriage will give his incredible partner respectability, something Moriarty or anybody won't dare to attack without sure cards in his hands, and Holmes will make sure NOBODY has any such cards.

Holmes is no coward, but he's not stupid either. He knows his job is dangerous and it might lead to really bad things happening, so he is happy when Watson tells him Mary said yes. He is happy on the morning of the wedding, he is the man who ties Watson's tie and then kisses his lips. He tells his husband to go marry, enjoy his honeymoon and start his life with his wife. And then come back to him, to their rooms and their love. And they both will have tears in their eyes. Holmes will not be at the cerimony, nor will Mary's wife. But they will always support their partners.

Holmes OF COURSE will sulk for a bit, until Scandal in Bohemia. He did what was right, but he still feels lonely. And then Watson comes back. And they're together once more, they're in love and they can break the world apart. And then comes 1890. Watson is a bit more settled down, Holmes has his affairs in order, he can set to the work of his life. And then comes 1891.

Holmes is afraid.

They set fire to their rooms. Home is not safe anymore.

Reichenbach comes.

Holmes is not suicidal, he is terrified. And yet he will once more put Watson's happiness in front of his own. He will not put his husband in front of an impossible choice. He drafts a letter in his head. He leaves it under a silver cigarette case.

He can't imagine he will only see his husband three years later.

His plans worked and failed. But they're back together. Holmes will finally talk. There's a broken window in 221b Baker Street, they're both older, more tired. A bit sad at how things turned out. Mary is dead. Holmes couldn't have forseen that. And yet after some days, after a dinner. Watson will pat the empty spot on his left on the couch, he's still sitting in the center. He will hug Holmes close to his chest, they will remember the times all three of them hugged, Watson and his loves, Mary on the right, Holmes on the left. Holmes on the heart's side, Mary on the reason's side. They will cry. And remember. And be glad for what have been and look forward to what will be.

They're older, more sure of themselves. Watson's status as a widower is respectable enough, he murmurs in the dark. He will only be married to one man for the rest of his life. The following morning, Holmes presents Watson with a French gold coin, for his Watch chain. That will be their ring, their memento.

Years will pass, they will retire, they will always be together, because they never lived, so they can never die. Outside the rain pours and the cabs rattle in the streets.

And it is.

Always.

1895.

Okay, sorry for the immense rant, i have tears streaming down my face, my j'accuse is up in the first lines and it's also my thank you for getting the balls to write this rant on holmes, watson and mary.

#victorian husbands #sherlock holmes #john watson #mary morstan #mary watson

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