#and my simon snow mug

[yellobb]

I joined my work book club just in time to recommend books. There ended up being a ton of good options, but they voted for Carry On 😆❤️

Now all my coworkers are going to see the depths of my insanity (and hopefully the wonders of Simon Snow) after only knowing them for a month, and I’m very excited lmao

[milf-murdock]

Baby, Please Come Home 

Simon “Ghost” Riley x female Reader

(Alternatively titled: Not the Good Bourbon!)

🎄 @glitterypirateduck’s December challenge

The snow’s coming down I’m watching it fall  Lots of people around Baby please come home  They're singing Deck The Halls But it's not like Christmas at all 'Cause I remember when you were here And all the fun we had last year pretty lights on the tree I'm watching them shine you should be here with me baby, please come home

A/N: I love this song and it was giving such pining energy and this entered my head and I just couldn't... let it goooo ❄️

It was Christmas Eve and from your spot on the sofa you could see the snowflakes falling just outside the window. The gentle blaze from the fireplace kept you nice and warm as you watched the steady stream pour from the sky. The fire warms your toes. The mug of hot cider spiced with rum warms your hands and your belly. The warm glow of the Christmas tree washes your shared flat in its soft hues, like a comforting embrace. 

It was perfect. With one glaring exception. 

Simon’s mission had run long. Again. 

You both knew it was a possibility. He had warned you that it was a complex mission—target on the move, long stakeouts, tricky extraction, the usual—though there was only so much he could say due to the confidential nature. But he had promised to be home from the holidays, his firm grip on your chin forcing you to look up at him as he made the vow. 

You thought back to that bittersweet goodbye. The familiar caress of Simon’s hand on your cheek. The sensation of his lips pressed against yours, as if he could kiss you hard enough to last through the next several weeks. The longing in your heart as you watched his body walk out the door. As a habit, Simon made sure to never look back; he knew that a final glance would make it damn near impossible to keep his feet moving. 

A crack of the fireplace brought you back to the present, and you took another sip of the spiked cider, the burn feeling good, grounding. It took the edge off the pain, just a tad. Just enough. 

Untangling yourself from the heavy knitted blanket, you made your way to the large window to get a better look at the falling snow. It never ceased to amaze you. Simon hated the snow, always complaining. You'd tease him endlessly about his Grinch-y behavior—he had to be the only man in the world who would complain about snow on Christmas Eve. 

You couldn’t help your smile, tinged with sadness. From your new vantage point you could spot a few kids playing in the snow down below. If you really focused, you could hear the distant familiar tune of Deck the Hells playing from a few doors down. And yet, despite the picturesque nature of the whole scene, it just didn’t feel like Christmas. Not really. 

“You should be here with me, Si,” you sighed into your mug, taking another sip.

“Please come home, baby.” You muttered out a solemn prayer to whoever may be listening, a plea to bring your man home safe. 

______________________________________________________________

Simon growled in frustration as he sat in the London traffic. The honks of the surrounding cars only added to his growing frustration. “For fucks sake, doesn’t anybody in this goddamn city know how to drive?” He pounded the dashboard in irritation. “It’s the bloody snow,” he grumbled, cursing the white flurries that flew all around the still cars. 

In the back of his mind, Simon knows how happy his love must be at the snow. You lived for this kind of thing, a Christmas Eve snow that most certainly ensured a white Christmas. As much as he hated the damn weather, it warmed his heart the way you would smile up at the sky and exclaim with all the excitement you could muster, “It’s snowing,  Si!” You could barely contain yourself. No matter how many years the two of you spent together in Britain’s chilly winter, you never seemed to grow tired of the phenomenon. Your childlike wonder of the world around you was just one of the many things Simon loved about you. 

Simon absently wondered if you were watching the same snow from the warmth and comfort of their shared home. He could see it so clearly: the wonder in your eyes, the curve of your lips, the way you practically glowed in the soft light. It warmed him from the inside out.

He just needed to get home to you. It had been a grueling and physically demanding mission, but his main motivation was being home, with you, for Christmas. He would do anything to make it happen. 

The cars started a snail like pace on the road again. “Fuckin’ finally,” he muttered, shifting into gear and beginning the steady route to his home, his love. 

______________________________________________________________

With a sigh that could rattle the ornaments on the tree, you slammed the power button on the remote, shutting off the telly. You loved a cheesy holiday movie as much as the next gal, but you just couldn’t take it—every love confession just grating on the raw nerves of your frayed heart. 

In an effort to keep yourself busy,  you reheated some more cider on the stovetop, popping by the bar cart to top off the glass. You eyed Simon’s good bourbon, silently debating. “Oh he’ll be livid if he finds out I mixed this with the cider,” you think to yourself. “Though,  s’pose he won’t be here to complain about it, will he?” With a shrug, you gave a healthy pour into your mug, before bringing the bottle to your lips and taking a swig. And another, for good measure. “That one’s for you, Si,” you muttered, trying not to sputter as the liquid burned its way to your belly, warming you from the inside out. You weren't usually this morose when Simon was gone, but something about the holiday season had you extra bitter. 

There was a thump outside the door, and you nearly dropped the bottle as you jumped. You didn’t dare let yourself hope as you started stalking your way to the door, heartbeat racing. The click of the lock echoed in the silent flat, and you stood there, waiting, heart in your throat, unable to move as the door opened towards you. 

Simon’s hulking frame filled the doorway, his blonde hair pointing every which way, a clear sign his mask was freshly pulled off. 

“Happy Christmas, love,” his low voice sounded like honey, and on instinct you felt the familiar pickling sensation of tears fill your eyes. 

You blinked. And then you were in motion, sprinting to close the gap before throwing your arms around Simon’s neck, trusting him to catch your racing form. 

Two strong arms folded around you, lifting you up off the ground, and Simon held you as close to his body as he could. Your familiar weight in his arms, his nostrils flooded with the smell of your perfume, and he could only think of one word, blaring in his mind like a neon sign: home. This was home. You were his home. 

“You’re home,” you muttered, pressing your face deeper into his neck, squeezing him closer. 

“Course I am. I promised ya, didn’t I?”  Simon quipped. 

Carefully setting you down on your own two feet, Simon did his best to steady you as you leaned up on your tip toes and finally brought your lips to his. 

Simon swore internally.

If you were home, then your lips were heaven. 

Simon wound one hand in your hair, pressing you even closer to him, the other hand trailing down to your supple hip. His tongue traced the edge of your lips, begging for access, which you were never one to deny. He drank in your kiss like a man dying of thirst, a familiar taste on his tongue. When the two of you finally came up for air, Simon couldn’t hold back his cheeky grin. 

“Babe, is that my good bourbon I taste?”

[stararch4ngelqueen]

i saw this couple on the train and his gf fell asleep on him and she just looked at her fondly and took off his jacket to put around her and i damn near burst into fucking tears because what the actual fuck-

ANYWAY

soft!simon reading to reader about something that interests him and she just...falls asleep on him (she could be tired from work or wvr) and he just looks at her like shes the only girl in the world????? please???? i need to heal my heart rn

<3333333

This isn’t proofread, as I risked my sanity typing this out on a long car drive. I hope you like it!

Time written - 5:43 p.m

“That’s a lot of paperwork.” Your comment reaches his ears after he hands you a mug of apple clove tea, cuddled up cozy in a warm gray comforter on the couch.

“It is,” he mutters, carrying with him a thick journal half full of pages he needed to continue. Such as a man like him to bring work home, wanting to keep an eye on you as you fought this seasonal cold.

“That looks like a thousand words.”

“Probably is.”

“What’s it about?” You ask while sipping your hot beverage, tasting orange blossom honey he used to sweeten your beverage.

“Boring stuff, love.” He comments after getting comfortable beside you, clicking his pen in case he needed to use it. “Not worth your time, just drink your tea.”

“Tell me.” You insist without force, resisting the urge to peer over at his blue and black handwriting.

Simon ponders for a good while, mindlessly tapping his pen along thick paper. He figured you’d ask once he brought out this old journal when inspiration struck, but to speak of it? That was a little new.

“It’s a … manuscript,” he decides to call it with the slightest bit of hesitation. “Or a draft. Thought of writing a novel at some point.”

“Really?” Your head meets his, watching him nod slowly.

“Mhm. Mostly short stories. Not ‘bout my life, no. Just … about a boy.”

“A boy?” Your smile permeates through your words, making him sheepishly tilt his head with a nervous grin.

“A boy with a stray dog. They have an adventure in the woods, that sorta stuff.”

“Sounds cute,” you smile, finding the idea of Simon writing a story endearing. Maybe this took his mind off his work stress, our about his own personal struggles in general.

“Can I hear some of it?”

Simon’s lips flatten in thought before he sets the pet down, proceeding to flip through a few pages.

“I’ve never showed anyone this,” he peers at you. “So, don’t laugh.”

“I won’t,” you smile with a mild giddiness whilst getting more comfortable.

Simon proceeds to relay a short paragraph he had written just a couple weeks back. Back when he barely had the time to think much of this journal, but felt the ever so endearing writing urge at a late hour of the night.

He remembers you had gone to bed early that night after cooking him dinner. The snow was dense outside, covering all the piles of withered, colored leaves that had long since fallen from hibernating trees.

“Through brittle cold air and dense fogs resides a canopy made of broken trees; the roof made of crunchy leaves, the steps made of cracked stones. Upon the center of the canopy laid a small puppy, no more than seven or eight months old. It’s fur was slick, her eyes a bright blue. She sat waiting for the boy, proceeding to greet him like an old friend that had left for a long time.”

Simon pauses, realizing his cheeks had grown a bit warm. Clearing his throat a bit, he turns his attention to the next paragraph, purposely avoiding the adoring look in your eyes after reading such a creation.

“The puppy clung to his side like a burr, waddling along with no promise of food. The boy gave nothing in return, other than carrying her in his arms when her legs were too tired to continue.”

“The boy was in search of an old well, said to be in the midst of fir trees in the center of a mushroom circle. Once he finds the well, he’s told to look inside for all his desires to come true.”

“He wandered for hours and hours until he found what he sought; a broken well with dried, dead vines clinging to the rocks. The boy leans over, peering inside to an apparition of a siren staring back in the water’s reflection. She smiles, singing promises of riches and cures to all sickness he knows, for all she requires is for him to reach for her hands fifty feet down below into the cavern.”

“He desired nothing more until the puppy bit into his pant leg, the strength of her tiny, curly body bracing him back from making such a jump. To the boy, who promised not even an ounce of bread to such a minor companion, broke his blindness to the siren’s secret demise.”

“Such a small little thing opened his eyes just in time before the stones cave in, swallowing up the well without its promised child. In return for the pup’s bravery in saving his life, the boy carried her in his arms, promising a warm bed and home cooked meal all the way back home.”

A faint, heavy pressure rests along his shoulder, your slumped head nearly slipping off of his shoulder.

He’s quiet for the longest time, gazing down at the reason he enjoys coming home each day. The sweetest, most heartwarming woman he’s had the pleasure of laying his eyes on.

A chorus of angels erupted from your lungs with every word you spoke, your pretty head full of ideas and phrases that never left his mind running dry with boredom. You were a strong, incredibly beautiful woman, whom sometimes reminded him of a bouncing puppy by his side during your private moments within your own home.

Especially now, snuggled up in his arms, your affected nasals interfering with your breathing just a bit. The cold medicine did it’s job in helping you sleep, so Simon was more than content. Especially as he chose to believe your mind was affected by a cold medicine’s side effect rather than pure boredom.

Softly, he hums as he removes the still warm mug from your hands, readjusting the blanket over your shoulders.

“Told ya so, sweetheart.” He murmurs, running two rugged fingers through your hair before peering outside, frost coating the window pane as pure white snow blankets the earth just outside.

[argikiya]

Bonus/Special/Extra chapters of some of my favorite books/series.

As most of my favorite series or books are getting a lot of bonus chapters but most of the time they are only available in certain special editions which is a true menace and impossible to get hands-on globally, I'm making a guide for the chapters as I've found a lot of helpful Tumblr users/readers already posted them in the internet. So I'll collect them, make a thorough list, and keep editing them if any new material is released. Feel free to comment if you want to add anything or let me know about any other series. I'm keeping the list under the cut to avoid spoilers for those who want to avoid them.

Red, White and Royal Blue - Casey McQuiston

The henry's pov chapter from the new Red White And Royal Blue collector's edition. - set after the incidents in the book

The Folk Of The Air Trilogy - Holly Black

The Cruel Prince Barnes & Noble exclusive short story - A Visit to the Impossible Lands

Some deleted scenes from TCP (AU)

Deleted scenes of The Wicked King from Barnes & Noble exclusive edition

Cardan's letter from Queen of Nothing -(read after finishing the series)

Deleted scene of The Queen of Nothing from Holly Black's newsletter.

Walmart exclusive The Stolen Heir chapters.

The Stolen Heir Barnes & Noble bonus content.

There are also additional Folk of The Air contents and a more detailed list - click here

Legendborn Series - Tracy Deonn

Selwyn's pov chapter and Bloodmarked excerpt - to read after the first book

The Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater

A Very Declan Christmas - Holiday Drabble

300 Fox way Holiday Piece - written as part of an event

A Minor Raven Boys Holiday Drabble -click here

Book #4.5 - Opal

The Secret Sanghai Universe - Chloe Gong

This one could be a little confusing as it is a really long universe containing two separate but interconnected series. So I'm making the list according to the timeline of the book's contents are in (not based on the timeline they were published/released) which list Chloe Gong once shared in her Instagram stories and also available on her website. (Check out her list for more detailed, less-confusing blurb on the contents of each bonus content and their timeline)

A RomaJuliette Christmas Special

The Benedikt & Marshall bonus - Barnes & Noble Exclusive Our Violent Ends Edition

The semi AU romajuliette + benmars fic - click here

Roma's Letters - Barnes & Noble exclusive These Vioent Delights.

Book 1 - These Violent Delights (Post TVD contents ↓)

5. Roma Gets a New Mug

Book 2 - Our Violent Ends

6. The Priest and The Shepherd (Set before Foul Lady Fortune but better if read after reading FLF)

Book 3 - Foul Lady Fortune

Book 3.5 - Last Violent Call

Book 4 - Foul Hearts Huntsman (Post FHH content ↓)

7. In True Delights - The Epilogue of all epilogues

Once Upon A Broken Heart - Stephanie Garber

The three different special edition epilogues of A Curse For True Love

The first epilogue

The second epilogue

The third Epilogue

Simon Snow Trilogy - Rainbow Rowell

My Rosebud Boy A Simon and Baz AU - Rainbow Rowell

This short story was written as a bonus for people who ordered Scattered Showers from the Bookworm in Omaha, Nebraska. It's an alternate universe story about Simon Snow and Baz Pitch, characters from Rainbow's Simon Snow Trilogy. It was printed by the author in a brochure format.

for everyone who's missing out on this cute little gem here is the google drive link - I found it from the tumblr comment section where a generous fan shared the link. Thank you.

All pic credit @pinterest

[i-am-hungry-24-7]

Palette - Simon "Ghost" Riley*Fem!Reader

word count: 750

The memory with you was black. You’re just a stranger, nothing special, he promised he would never let anyone get close to him anymore. He watched you with observing eyes, but you greeted him with a dazzling smile and a nod.

The memory with you was maroon. He saw your figure standing alone in the barrack’s kitchen, he lurked in the shadow, contemplating if he should just turn and leave, but you spotted him, pearl-like eyes glinted with surprise. He had no option but to stay when you asked him if he wanted a cup of tea too. He stared at the teabag floating in the mug, while he showered in a comfortable silence with you. It was the first time he felt a weird relief in a long time. The earl grey tasted just like he wanted, his eyes widened, looking at you after he took a sip, and met with a big grin of yours.

The memory with you was yellow. You two become close friends, sharing dark jokes along the mission, shoulders touched when you sat side by side with him on the helo and fell asleep on him during the flight to base, the morning tea you greeted him with a joyful “good morning” every day, was a daily he hadn’t realized he loved yet. You invited him to your hometown when you heard him not going home for Christmas. You dragged him to a Christmas market and showed him the Christmas tree towering in the center of the market. You were excited like a child when you pointed at the star shining on the top. Fishing out a camera, you begged him to take a picture with you as a memento. Reluctantly obliged, you handed him the polaroid, and he saw the corner of his eyes crinkled in the photo.

The memory with you was pink. Your hometown snowed a lot during the vacation, so he went out to your yard to help you clean a road for walking. He shoveled the snow aside, and suddenly a thud landed on his back. He turned around, only to find you laughing, bending down and throwing him another snowball. The morning ended with you two breathlessly lying on the snow after a snowball fight, while he covered his mouth to hide his smile when your pleasant giggles flowed into his ear like a melody. Sitting up from the ground, he asked you what you wanted for dinner, the rosy pink on your cheeks when you yelled out a whole menu was prettier than all the scenes he had seen before in his life. He just sighed at your answer, but he didn’t say no.

The memory with you was white. He watched you walk down the aisle dressing in a stainless white wedding gown, the lace veil covering a part of your face, but he still caught a glimpse of your beam of happiness under the veil. You two didn’t invite many people, only Price, Soap, Gaz, Nikolai, Laswell and her wife, and a few of your friends, you said you didn’t need a thumping wedding, as long as he and the people you cherished were here, then it was the best for you. He thought the same when he lifted your veil and gave you a promised kiss.

The color you left behind for him is like rainbow, he experienced many things with you, he thought he couldn’t love or be loved for the rest of his life, his life is black and white without any ray of sunlight, but you squeezed yourself through the crack on the wall he built, bringing the sun inside with you. So many ‘first times’ he assumed he would never have a chance to enjoy, engraved in his mind as the most important memories with your company in them.

Simon takes out the polaroid, it’s a bit wrinkled and faded, but your smile is still as bright as he remembered in the photo. His thumb grazed through your face. You’re not here anymore, but the hope you left for him still burns in his heart, as vivid as the color of every memory with you. “Good morning, love. I’ll be back soon.” He presses a kiss on it just like he does every day, and he carefully places it back on the desk. He picks up his key, stepping out the door of the house you two used to live together. A new day started.

Reader just dies in 80% of my work I'm sorry

[shrekgogurt]

Am I worried about my Saturday deadlines? Yes. Am I gonna make sure I meet them? Also, yes.

If I haven’t sold you on Gareth Surname Band yet, hopefully this new summary of the dynamic does the trick:

Baz tries to be cool but is a huge loser. Simon thinks he’s a loser but is effortlessly so very cool.

Simon sets an irresponsibly large wad of cash next to the hedge like it’s nothing. Like it’s a normal thing to do. Like the wind doesn’t exist. Nor opportunists. Nor robbers.

Baz may come from money, but that also means he was taught how to manage it. He would never casually carry around that many dead presidents. Instead, he has meticulously balanced books and squeaky clean credit and a piece of plastic he flashes at waiters to prove it.

“The fuck, Snow? Do you not have a bank?”

Simon shrugs. “I’m on the road so much, it’s easier to just cash my checks as they come.”

Baz’s head aches with sympathetic stress. Incredulous. Insane. This man plays too fast and too loose with his life.

And Baz still wants him. Badly.

“What if you get mugged?”

Simon grins with his teeth. “I’ll mug them back.”

Thank you for the tags! @bookish-bogwitch @forabeatofadrum

Now tagging!

@alexalexinii @aristocratic-otter @artsyunderstudy @brilla-brilla-estrellita @captain-aralias @cutestkilla @ebbpettier @emeryhall @excalisbury @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @hagnoart @hushed-chorus @ic3-que3n @ileadacharmedlife @ineffable-grimm-pitch @j-nipper-95 @larkral @letraspal @martsonmars @messofthejess @moodandmist @mooncello @monbons @mitranian @ninemagicks @onepintobean @orange-peony @palimpsessed @prettygoododds @raenestee @rimeswithpurple @roomwithanopenfire @skeedelvee @theearlgreymage @theimpossibledemon @thewholelemon @upuntil6am @valeffelees @wellbelesbian @yellobb @youarenevertooold @you-remind-me-of-the-babe

[themotherofhorses]

figures dancing gracefully (across my memory)

— simon "ghost" riley x oc!silentdove reyes.

setting: call of duty x marvel cinematic universe

summary: she’s much too damn young to be handling all of this trauma, this . . . baggage. everyone says that when they first meet her; nevertheless, Dove persists.

warnings: explicit language and mentions of previously experienced abuse (per the Red Room theme).

note: in conjunction with this specific post. the RedBack has been a personal OC WIP of mine for maybe four(ish) years. despite being an obvious OC-insert series, everyone is welcome to enjoy it.

It is snowing again. For the fifth night in a row. 

SilentDove tells herself that is why she cannot—for the ever life of her—find the comfort of sleep tonight; instead, she opts for a nice hot drink on the couch. Mint hot chocolate, to be exact, topped with four puffy white marshmallows. It tastes especially good with that particular combination. Natasha picked up a new packet of them the last time she went grocery shopping, saying something along the lines of how ‘every safe house needs to be well-stocked with good snacks!’

The black cat mug is cute too.

The truth is she cannot sleep — no matter how hard she tries, how absolutely fucking desperate she feels, or how many of those tiny blue melatonin pills she pops in her mouth. Nothing helps. God, it fucking sucks. 

Whenever she closes her eyes, the memory resurfaces. Empty, sometimes blurry, fuzzy, loud, absolutely unbearable, but at most times very specific childhood memories. 

Ballet. 

Schooling. 

Harsh, overwhelming, hardhearted training — the sort where you snap a poor sister’s neck within the first few hours of the morning before sinking to your feet to tend to an (almost) fractured ankle in the evening, swollen and bruised and agonizing to step on. Or sit at a school desk, dressed in a freshly-steamed schoolgirl uniform, forced to recite some classic Disney movie word-for-word….or until you are told to stop. 

(It is hell on Earth, hidden in Russia.) 

“Again.” 

She can still hear the coach, voice tinny, instructing them to repeat the dance. Again. Again. Again. That is perhaps one of the worst memories, in her opinion. Somewhere in the middle, or maybe towards the end, a dancer messed up and he noticed. That is not good, child, nor it is allowed to happen. Seated on the pretty polished floors are the baby spiders —the маленькие пауoки—watching every detail with big and hungry eyes.

No, the маленькие пауoки must never be introduced to such sloppiness, not at this age.

The Bolshoi Theatre demands only the finest ballerinas — girls that are light on their toes, beautiful in their face, with potential for stardom.

Dove takes another sip of her hot chocolate while remembering . . . remembering . . . remembering . . . dancing, dancing, dancing, again and again; all while ignoring the terrible ache burning through her poor feet, flaring up near the bone of her big toe before shooting up to her ankle, and the large soldier fixated near the door. 

(The thing about the soldier was that he never made a sound. Precise strikes, fatal slashes, heavy exhalation through his ebony mask he always wore, but never a sound from his mouth . . . if he even had one.)

From where she is hunkered down in her father’s ranchhouse, propped up against comfy pillows, she flattens both legs before gazing down at her feet. A beat. Then she curls her toes before wiggling them. Her nose scrunches. They’re horribly disfigured and knobby — and ugly if she is honest with herself. 

Bless her soul, Natasha had given her some of that fancy, high-tech medical cream (courtesy of Dr. Helen Cho); a week later, her toes are slowly beginning to appear better. Or, maybe, just normal, like how a young woman’s foot is supposed to look.

Her toenails are painted a soft white, much like the snow blanketing the Montanan plains; it makes her smile a little (she once heard that the color “white” represents a mix of purity, cleanliness, and freshness. Rebirth, the fourth word might’ve been. Well, that and the nail polish was displayed too prettily at the store to overlook, discounted too, and never before had she the privilege of painting her nails).

Dove wiggles her big toe again; beneath it, along the stretch of her right foot, is a long stripe of scar tissue. As much as she dreams, it will never fade away, regardless of the scrubbing in the shower or pretending it does not exist or using those fancy Stark creams.

One of the many scars from the Red Room.

She’s much too damn young to be handling all of this trauma, this . . . baggage. Everyone says that when they first meet her; nevertheless, Dove persists. Natasha knows that certain feeling all too well, and Yelena too. They are in the same busted-up boat, drifting down the same river.

However, the therapy sessions they both suggested are good — incredible, even; they allow her to voice her most inner and brutal thoughts while patching together bits and pieces of a long-forgotten identity. She was a ballerina, Dove tells herself; she had to have been one — there was the Nutcracker, Swan Lake, and A Midsummer’s Night Dreams. 

Her pointe shoes were a pretty pastel blue, the sort of color belonging to the summertime sky, while her favorite leotard was a deep navy. Natasha wore the same during her time there, she thinks. And Yelena, too. Maybe even their mother, Melina.

(Melina cycled through the Red Room four times — Dove couldn’t even imagine how that could’ve felt.) 

The two women are her family. 

Family. Such a . . . distant concept to Dove. She glances down at her feet again, sighing. Sometimes . . . Dove slips up and calls Natasha “momma” . . . and sometimes . . . Natasha will call her “my sweet маленький пауoк” in return; she’ll then remind her that she’s not alone. Not anymore. It is okay to weep…to scream and shout, and to come to her if need be.

Silence is no longer necessary.

Is it, though? Dove was born silent. At times, that is all she is capable of feeling. 

But, alas, it still makes Dove feel a bit better, even if the conversations consist of recycled words. She is not alone, not anymore. There is no more slipping stale bread for breakfast, no more being handcuffed to the bed, and no more being disciplined for sneezing a little too loudly.

No more being considered a weapon with a face — capable of nothing more but murder. Natasha is her family now, and maybe even Clint Barton and Steve Rogers and Sam Wilson too. 

Her hot chocolate is cold now — the marshmallows look kinda weird now, too, like drowned little white bodies, nothing like how they appear in those silly Hollywood movies. But drinking it makes her feel happier, a lot lighter, sleepier, and safer. Sometimes, Dove wonders if a different childhood may have had more steaming mugs of hot chocolate with all those different flavors Yelena once told her about.

(She had seen them in some grocery store in Manchester, England — an entire aisle jam-packed with hundreds of colorful flavors. It smelled good, too, Yelena had said.)

Melina claims she did not have a childhood.

Oh, but she did. 

It was sitting before computers, watching Russian propaganda before sipping on a random juice box (grape-flavored most of the time). It was hours upon hours of constant ballet practice, perfecting all those turns and leaps. It was standing before human-shaped shooting targets, a red hourglass centered in the middle where the human lungs exist.

It was the massive soldier in the backroom—the one with the two long, dark braids—teaching the widows how to place their victims in a tight headlock before demonstrating the move on them, snapping their tiny, skinny necks in one quick motion. Or how to silence a person with a blow to the kidney.

“Hey.”

“Hi, Nattie.”

“How are you feeling tonight?”

“Fine, I guess.”

“. . . Nightmares?”

Dove pauses. “Nah. It’s snowing over here; there is something therapeutic about watching it and—”

Natasha cuts her off. “Doesn’t work on me, kid. You should know that,” and there is a beat of silence, and Dove can already see the sad smile tugging at her lips, “—so, was it nightmares again?” 

“No. Not this time. Memories…of Dreykov, y’know, and the ballet and—” she takes a small sip of her cold drink, “—and just anything I can remember, really.  Sometimes, it is gun practice, something it’s combat. I’m getting better, actually, thanks to Bruce and Helen. It’s still kind of hazy, but now I can make out things. People. Places. Objects. Y’know, all that shit. I just can’t sleep because of it.” She places the phone on the coffee table before leaning back and inhaling deeply. “M’fine, Nat, really. Y’know, it is all part of the recovery process.”

"Yeah. No, yeah, I get it. But hey, just remember, I'm here. I know you have your therapy sessions, and I know it helps to some degree, but all that shit? I know it firsthand. Everything you've been through, Yelena and I have too, so you're not alone. Not in this lifetime anymore.” 

She smiles. It is times like this that SilentDove hates when she took assignments that sent her on the other side of the world. “Thanks. How’s it over there?” 

“Boring. Humid as fuck, and Clint is such a loud snorer. Hey, make sure all the doors are locked before you go to bed.”

Like clockwork, of course. 

“I will. Talk to you tomorrow?”

“Sure, kid. Get some rest. Goodnight.”

“Goodnight.”

The call soon cuts after that, and Dove is left to her thoughts again. Her dark eyes drift across the living room, studying every little detail before her — from her grandmother's star blanket to the pretty picture of her mother hung above the fireplace.

She hums. There are ghosts in this house.

Ghosts.

Her own ghosts.

Oddly enough, that thought doesn't bother Dove at all. She’s always liked the idea of ghosts.

[whumpbug]

whumperless whump event day 7: accidental cryotherapy @whumperless-whump-event

this one is a bit longer than i usually write but i had so much fun writing it I LOVE THESE GUYS

falling through a frozen lake / hypothermia / “hey, c'mon, you gotta stay awake."

see this post for character information!

caretaker: Simon

whumpee: Archie

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

Archie really should have been used to the cold by now, considering he’d lived in the city for his entire life. Despite that, he couldn't help that it somehow seemed to catch him by surprise every year.

The snow fell gently around him, making the usually bustling streets seem just a little bit calmer. No one wanted to be out in this kind of weather, after all. He could even see his breath come in puffs every time he exhaled. It was kind of.. mesmerizing.

He was snapped out of his thoughts by a sweet voice coming from below him.

“Thank you so much son!” The little old lady he had rescued from a mugger said, while viciously shaking Archie’s hand. It was gloriously warm, a welcome contract to his numb fingertips. Still, the strength behind it was surprising for how frail the woman looked.

“Oh, it’s really no problem ma’am, none at all! Just doing my part!” He said cheerfully. “I can escort you home if you’d like—”

He was cut off by police chatter coming in through his earpiece. He listened in with a grave expression for a few moments before his jaw set in determination. There had been an accident. One involving the frozen lake in the city park.

“I’m so sorry ma’am, but I have to go, I’ll make sure one of the officers escorts you home, okay?"

“Oh that’s alright dear, you’ve been more than enough help.. you get on home and warm up, okay?” She hummed, patting Archie’s cheek.

Archie laughed a bit before setting off. He wouldn’t be warming up anytime soon, that was for sure. Still, at least that lady would be able to. That was what made the job always worth it. Someone got to go home safely now because of him, and that was enough.

Now, back to the issue at hand.

He ran the situation through his mind as he began his sprint to the city's park. Luckily the mugging had happened only a few blocks away, so he would get there before emergency services.

Apparently, a couple of high school students had been messing around by the lake and one of them had fallen in. None of the others were able to get him out and he was trapped under the ice. The kids said it had only been a few seconds before they called the police, but still, the thought of a kid losing air while simultaneously freezing to death disturbed Archie deeply. It made him run just a little bit faster.

It was actually getting rather difficult to run. Archie's Vigil suit wasn't very weather friendly, and he found himself faltering every few steps from the lack of feeling in his toes. Still, he braved the cold and soldiered on.

Eventually, 2 silhouettes came into view as Archie approached the lake. The 2 kids were scrambling at the river bank, panicked, and he could hear their argument from twenty feet back.

“You were the one who dared Henry to do it!”

“Yeah well you egged him on! You encouraged it! It's both of our faults!”

“Don’t you dare try to blame me for this!”

Archie walked right up to them, holding up a placating hand.

“I don't care who's fault it was. I need you to show me where your friend fell through. Now.” He barked. Usually. he’d take the time to calm the bystanders and reassure them that everything would be okay, but the seconds were precious and there was a kid drowning.

Both students shut up and shakily pointed to a spot about 8 feet from the river bank.

Archie sucked in a breath.

He quickly scanned the area for anything he could use, but unfortunately he was quite ill-equipped. He knew it was dangerous to go out on the ice, lest it breaks again, but it was looking more and more like it was his only option.

With a sharp exhale, he got down on all fours, then lowered himself to his belly as he began scooting across the ice towards the break. It was times like these that he was immensely grateful for his heightened vision, because he was able to see the outline of a squirming body through the ice. Good, he thought, he’s still partially conscious, at least. It's not too late.

Finally, his fingers found purchase at the edge of the ice, and not a moment too soon as his front was starting to sting from the contact with it. A shudder his frame as he inhaled deeply to steel his nerves.

In he goes.

He slipped head-first through the hole in the ice and immediately his vision when white with the sheer cold. He fought the urge to gasp. God, who knew the cold could hurt this bad. It was like every cell in his body started seizing up at once, and his head was going to explode.

He clenched his jaw and brought his focus back to the present. He didn’t have time to dwell on the pain. He had a job to do. 

He forced his eyes open, which stung viciously from the frigid water, and scanned the murk for the kid. Henry, he heard them say. He saw a limb flail from a silhouette a few feet away.

He kicked towards Henry and reached out. His stiff fingers wrapped around the thrashing arm and held it steady. Got him.

He pulled Henry tight to his body, and looked down to see wide eyes looking up at him. Despite his own compromised state, he forced himself to flash the kid a soft smile to put him at ease. Henry vaguely returned it.

He kicked up towards the surface, again, using his enhanced vision to scan for the hole they both came in through. He reached up and finally found the jagged edge of the ice. Bingo. He and the kid breached the surface with a gasp.

Archie coughed wetly as he pushed Henry up onto the ice.

Henry coughed just as violently, letting out a weak cry as he scrambled for the edge, trying desperately to pull himself up. Archie had to physically restrain his arms to keep him from breaking more ice and drowning them both.

He wanted to explain that the ice would only hold one of them, so they had to be strategic about how they got back to the bank. He tried to explain that the kids on the bank had to grab Henry’s feet and pull, but his teeth were chattering too violently to even form a word. Not to mention the bitter, unrelenting cold was all his mind could focus on. If things weren't bad already, he was treading water to hoist the kid up but his legs were rapidly losing feeling. He had to act fast.

“Pull!” he managed to shout, shoving the kid up and onto the ice. With an adrenaline-induced feat of strength, he managed to slide him across the ice and towards the bank.

Luckily, the students were able to catch on. They grabbed Henry’s ankles and dragged him to the grass, all collapsing in an exhausted and shaken heap once he was on solid ground.

The ambulance sirens rang through the night air a few moments later, and Archie vaguely felt panic bubble up within him. If the ambulance found him, they would take him to the hospital. At the hospital, they would take off his mask and people would see his face. His identity would be revealed. He couldn’t have that happen.

But he was still halfway in the freezing pond and rapidly losing sensation all throughout his limbs. He needed to get out fast.

With fleeting strength, he managed to yank himself up onto the ice as wheezing coughs wracked his body once again.

The adrenaline must have had a second wind, because he was able get himself to his hands and knees and shuffle across the ice. Once he made it to the riverbank, he hauled his himself to his numb feet and began staggering towards the trees.

He kept going until he was sure he was out of view. Those boys would never know who really saved them, but maybe it was for the better. He wouldn't want anyone to see him like this anyways.

He vacantly wondered if he should be shivering.

Things started happening in short bursts. He was so cold, and his vision was starting to blur at the edges. His suit was sopping wet and his feet were completely numb as he trudged through the falling snow. Suddenly, his foot caught on a divot in the ground and it sent him unceremoniously crashing to his knees. He couldn't even register the pain of the bones knocking against the pavement.

His entire body was numb. He wasn’t shivering. Snow was falling on him and stayed perfectly intact, not even beginning to melt.

He knew, in the back of his mind, that this was bad. Very bad. Needed-to-call-someone-or-he’d-die kind of bad.

It took great mental effort, but he somehow pulled out his phone and watched as it nearly slipped from his clumsy hands. He wasn’t even registering the feeling of the phone in his hand at this point. This confused him.

It was painfully slow, but he managed to open Simons contact. If anyone knew how to help him, it would be Simon. Simon was always there for him. He was steadfast and warm. Yeah, Simon could help him.

He tapped out a message that simply read, “cold. help” before letting his phone fall to the ground.

He sank to his knees and hugged his arms close to his body, but it didn’t help. Nothing did. Everything was viciously numb and he felt himself blink dizzily. His mind suddenly felt as if it was moving through molasses.

..What was he doing out here again?

Oh right. Highschoolers. Frozen lake. That was stupid of them. He remembered his mother's voice telling him to stay away from the edge of the riverbank when he was a kid.

He distantly wondered if their mother's told them the same thing.

He missed his mom. She would always make him hot cocoa and puff warm air on his hands and fluff his blankets in the drier when he came in from playing in the snow.

Why wasn't she here now?

Was anyone coming for him?

Was he going to freeze to death in this park? Alone and scared?

He was starting to regret hiding from the paramedics.

He didn’t know how long he sat there, mind a million miles away, but suddenly, he heard the rapid crunching of snow in front of him. He wanted to look up, he really did, but he found his muscles wouldn’t respond to his demand. He must have been dreaming.

“Archie! There you are!” Simon breathed, kneeling beside his friend. "Shit.."

Simon fumbled with his gloves, but eventually worked his hand out and pressed his fingers to Archie’s neck to gauge his pulse. He nearly gasped at how cold the skin beneath them were. He gently lifted his face to get a better look at him. His pulse was there, but it was alarmingly weak.

His lips were sickly blue and his eyes were hazy and unfocused. He didn’t’ even seem to recognize Simon right in front of him. The worst part, though, was the eery stillness. Archie was too silent and too unmoving. Simon needed to get him shivering and quick.

Simon brushed his fingers across Archie’s cheek, to which Archie let out a pained gasp and recoiled away.

“Burns..” He slurred, letting his head loll to the side.

“You’re just frozen, Archie..” Simon muttered, shrugging off his own coat and buttoning it around Archie’s limp form. He chafed up and down his arms, attempting to coax warmth into his frozen friend.

“We need to get you to my apartment.. can you walk?”

“Simon..” He finally whimpered, blinking blearily at the other. Simon could have sworn he saw a glint of desperation in Archie's eyes.

“Right, stupid question. Onto plan B,” He huffed, hooking his arms under Archie's legs and around his shoulders. He let out a stifled gasp at just how cold he really was.

As soon as they were in the car, Simon blasted the heat as high as it would go, and he still saw no improvement in Archie’s condition. On the contrary, Archie just seemed to grow even more drowsy. Simon gently shook Archie’s knee, hoping to get him to stir.

“Hey, c’mon.. you gotta stay awake.. at least until we’re home..” He pleaded, speeding up the car just a bit.

Archie gave a wet cough and let his head fall forward, still seemingly unaware of his surroundings.

“We’re almost home.. I promise..”

Once the car was parked, Simon made quick work of carrying Archie up the stairs and getting him situated on the couch. He helped him peel off the wet clothes, and then covered him with mounds and mounds of blankets. He then plugged in every space heater he owned, safety concerns be damned, and pointed them right at the heap of bedding. 

He recalled everything he had ever learned about treating hypothermia.

Bring out of the cold. Check.

Remove wet clothing. Check.

Insulate with blankets and towels. Check.

Apply warm compresses.

Right.

Simon jogged to his closet in the hallway and rummaged around before finding some old hot water bottles. They were a bit rudimentary, but they would have to do. He left Archie on the couch while he swiftly boiled water and filled them. He then wrapped them in hand towels and returned to Archie with his arms full of glorious warmth.

Archie blinked up at him, and Simon noticed, with great relief, the tremors that wracked his body. They were violent and all-consuming, but at least he was shivering.

“C-Can.. can I t-take a hot ba-bath..” He slurred, looking up at Simon with pleading eyes.

The sight shattered his heart into a million pieces. Simon sighed softly.

“I’m sorry.. we can’t risk you going into shock.. we’ll warm you up other ways, okay?” He murmured, carefully peeling back the layers of blankets.

At that, Archie gave another intense shudder as his pale skin was exposed to the air. A soft cry escaped his lips as he instinctively curled in on himself.

“H-Hurts..” He whimpered, clawing at the blankets.

“I know, I know..” Simon whispered, leaning over to place a heat pack on Archie's chest. He then laid one on his neck and groin and replaced the blankets around him.

"There.. that should help you feel a bit warmer," Simon explained softly, giving Archie another once-over.

The shivering only got more vicious as Archie seized up with every small movement. His teeth were chattering violently and the force of the trembling even shook the couch.

“S-Simon.. Simon I’m so cold.. c-can’t.. can’t take it,” He sobbed, trying to sink further into the fabric around him.

Simon felt his heart shatter even more. He’d seen Archie come back from having a building collapse on him, and he still didn’t look as pitiful as he did now. Even though he was more lucid now, his eyes still had that far-away look at made Simon just want to hold him close and tell him he'd be alright.

So he did.

He vaguely remembered hearing in one of his classes that body heat could be effective at warming someone up and.. well, no time like the present.

Simon lifted the covers and carefully slid in beside Archie, getting himself settled before turning towards him and opening his arms.

“C’mere.. this will help..” He muttered, but he couldn’t find it in himself to feign annoyance. Not when Archie was looking at him like he just told him he’d won the lottery.

Archie immediately latched himself onto Simon’s side, and now Simon could really feel how much Archie was shaking. His entire frame was convulsing with ferocious shakes that had to hurt. Archie would definitely be feeling it in the morning.

Still, Simon wrapped his arms around Archie and drew him closer. He gently smoothed a hand up and down Archie’s back in an attempt to soothe him, and if the way Archie leaned into it was any indicator, it was working.

After a while of comfortable silence, save for the soft chattering of Archie’s teeth, the shivers finally began to ease up. They were still there and rather exhausting no doubt, but they weren’t so intense anymore.

Simon thought of his mental checklist again, and recalled something about a warm drink to help with the chills. He'd been laying with Archie long enough, and surely he would appreciate a steaming cup of chamomile.

Simon moved to get up, easing Archie off his arm, to which Archie let out a panicked yelp and all but yanked him back down.

“Woah! I’m just gonna go get you some tea! It’ll help! I promise!” Simon pleaded, huffing a soft laugh.

“No! No.. p-please just.. just stay for a f-few more minutes..” Archie begged, weakly grasping at Simon’s sweater.

Simon playfully rolled his eyes and leaned back, letting Archie snuggle right back up to him.

“Alright.. just a few more minutes..”

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

[nobodiesheartlessshitblog45]

Ghost Of Men: Call Of Duty Fanfic Prequel Part2

Simon 'Ghost' RileyOCWife

Trigger Warning: War, Vilence, PTSD Mention Child Abuse, Anxiety

Here's part 2.

It took a bit, here it is. I wanted to make sure that it was good before posting. I will start part 3 as soon as I can. This had been one favorites stories to work and thanks again for the likes and all the likes.

So once again thank you all taking the time to this and enjoy.

It had been a cold mislabel morning the rain was still coming with mixed of snow, in his. Ghost sat his desk that sat in the far corner of the room. It was a fairly large with black tile flooring plain weight walls, and large windows that sat was next to the desk, two old looking filing cabinets on the other side of the room where the only door way. Ghost sat his desk looking over some paper that Kyle did ask him to sigh before heading to John. He was looking through the pages making sure that paperwork he was about reach for his phone that on right side right to his phone. His eyes looked over to it and stair at it for a moment. He was about to reach it, then paused. "Now hold, Simon. Ya texted about 30 minutes ago. She's fine. So she's fine." He sit back his chair taking a few deep breaths. "She's fine. The baby's fine. There both fine." He picked up the pen and began writing down a few things. He spent 20 minutes doing that then his eyes landed on the phone again. He drops the pen and began reaching for his phone the stops. He began taking a few deep breaths. "Steady on, Ghost. Jus' relax." he thought to himself. "She's fine. The baby's fine. They're both fine. Okay? There's no reason to worry." He once again picked the pen and began working again, and after another 15 minutes. He leans against his chair and looked up the ceiling. "It's fine. They're gonna be fine. It won't be like last time..." As soon as he thought crossed his mind went back to the haunting night on Christmas Eve. He saw the bodies of his mom, his brother Tommy is own wife and son... Then saw Ellie getting shot the sound of gun fire clean as bell that ring is mind then his eyes snapped open. Ghost stood up breathing his heavy, and looking around his desk and grabbing his phone and began calling Ellie. After a phone rings she picked up: "Hey, sweetie. What's going on?"

He felt his heart felt a lot more has soon as he heard her voice. "Nothin', Lovie. D-Doin' some paperwork." Hiding the shakiness of his voice. "Meetin' went on longer than I thought." "I figured." said Ellie. "I been watching HunterxHunter and I can't believe how good it is. I just fine Heaven's Arena arch. Tell Kyle he's good great taste." "Heh. Copy that." said Ghost. Then heard the door of his office being knocked. Ghost looked up at the door and said: "Ellie, I'm sorry but gonna have to call ya back." 'That's fine. Love you. Tell everyone I said hi." "Sure thing. Love y." said Ghost, hanging up his phone then called out:"... It's open." The door open and Kyle Gaz Garrick pop his head. "Is this bad time, Sir?" "Heh. Not at all, Kyle." said Ghost, with an amused tone. "Yar not Johnny. C'mon in." Kyle walked into the door and closed the door behind, and walked over the desk. "Luka ask me give this to you." He held up a vanilla folder. "Jus' put on my desk." said Ghost, as picked up the paper that he was working and put them in green that was laid open and put the papers in it. "By the way, Kyle, your timin’ is in impeccable as always." said Ghost, closing the green fold. "Got the paperwork ya ask me to look is done." "Oh, great." said Kyle, as he took the green folder for him. "Thanks doin’ that for me. You save my sink, L.T." Ghost nods. 'I heard your wife wasn't feeling to well. How is she?" Kyle asked. "She's doin' fine. Just a some bad mornin’ sickness and headaches, Gaz. Another she’s doin’ grand.” said Ghost, reaching for his mug and saw it was empty. "By the way she's been enjoyin' HunterxHunter. She just the Heaven's Arena, the YorkNewCity arc. The best one." "Yep. Not as good as the Chimera Ant arc." said Kyle. "Bloody hell. I know, mate. That arc is a fuckin' masterpiece. I love YorkNewCity more." said Ghost. "And Kurapika in an absolute legend." "... Okay, yeah, you make a good point.” "Heh. Anyway, how about we both get a cuppa, yeah?" "Sure. I could use, sir." Ghost stood up from his chair and he and Kyle walked of the office and began making their down the hallway. "Have you told Ellie about up coming mission?" asked Kyle. "...Not yet. Plan to when I get home." said Ghost. Kyle then looked at him, he knew that his Lieutenant was man of words and didn't like to talk about himself that much, Kyle then clears his throat. "I was wonder, Ghost, do you wanna go to the pub with me and Soap after work?" asked Kyle. "Sorry. Can't." "Oh. You sure? Seems like ages since all went all hung out together." "I know. But I did promises the missus I would be home after work." "... Alight, mate." It was huge room with blur flooring, and had about up too 20 tables that was spread out across the, with chair that were pulled in. With large glass windows that looked in the took up most the walls. The rain had stopped and the was thick fog was began covering haft the training grounds. There were few fellow solders that were sitting scatted around. Some were talking, playing a few bored games or read books.

In the far of the mess hall was sitting alone was Luka who reading a book he had his glasses on.

Just then his phone was ringing, and he looked up and saw he got a text. He reached for it and check to see who texted him.

(Text From Kyle)

*wanna coffee? ☕️🙂*

Luka then began texting and sent it.

(Text Sent)

*that would be nice*

*thanks*

Just then an arm came out no where in from Luka pulling a plain white mug of coffee in front of him.

"Here ya go, mate~." said Kyle, with beaming grin.

"AGH!" Luka jumps and looks up to right and there stood Kyle who laughing at him. As Ghost pulled a chair and sat down.

"... Jeez, Kyle. You scared the hell out me." Luka snapped.

"Sorry. But it was his idea." said Kyle, looking over Ghost.

Luka turned his head to him and glared.

"Wow. You suck."

"Need to be more alert, Lu." Ghost amused, as he took a sip of his tea.

"He's not wrong." said Kyle sitting next to Luka. "How's goin'?"

"It was rather pleasant..." Luka said, closing his book and placing it the table. "... But then you two jerks came here to annoy me."

"Just showin' how much we respect you." said Kyle.

Luka looked at him for a moment, and nods. "Fair enough. Anyway thank you for the coffee, Kyle."

He picked up and took a sip and asked: "How was the meeting?"

Kyle's face fell and lean against his chair. "Too. Fuckin'. Long." Then he grits his teeth. "Hearin’ Green's voice makes my ears bleed."

Ghost lets out low agreeable grunt.

"Yep. He's a jerk." Luka said. "But what about the mission you guys have to on in next few weeks."

Kyle was taking a sip of his coffee and then eyes widen, then looked at Ghost was staring at his mug of tea.

Luka sat there looking from to the other.

"... U-Um... Guys? Is there something wrong?"

Kyle looked him then at Ghost who asked: "Ya should let Price fill ya in."

Luka felt his anxiety.

"... H-How... bad is the next mission?"

"... To say, Luka." Kyle said. "It's... a very dodgy."

"Sergeant Garrick." said Ghost in a low voice.

Kyle felt his body tense up when he spoke, then fell silent.

As the 3 men sat there, Johnny came walking over he was about to say something when saw that they looked tense.

"Creepin' Mary and Joseph. What's got ya lot all gloomy?"

"Hm? Oh, hey Soap." said Kyle, with wave.

"Hello, Soap." said Luka.

"Luka." Johnny said, looking at him fondly and ben over and have him a bear hug.

Luka catch of grade, laughs a little began patting his back upper.

Ghost looked from mug watched them.

His teammates...

His brothers...

He watched for a moment, then said began reaching into his breast packet.

"Well, since you muppets are here. Attention."

The looked at him as he slide something onto the table in front of them. The 3 men looked at the ultrasound.

Ghost there looking at them.

"Since you lot are gonna be uncles I want you ya to know we're expectin’ a lit' baby girl." He said, leaning against his chair arms crossed.

The 3 men looked at him in shocked for a few moments and Johnny began grinning and said: "YES!!! I FUCKIN' BLOODY CALLED IT! I KNEW IT WAS GONNA BE A GRIL!!" Then looks Kyle. "YA OWE ME AND REST OF THE LADS DRINK, GARRICK!"

"... Damn it..." Kyle groans, rolling his watching at Johnny giving a smug look. "I was thought the baby was gonna be a boy."

"Hahah. Like I told ya months ago: Intuition."

"You're a git."

"Aye! A Git who's gettin' free drink~!"

Luka sat there watching with a disapproval annoyance and shook his head, turn to face with a smile."That's wonderful to hear, Ghost. I'm very ha---." He felt his stop a chill run his as Ghost at there across the table a dark ominous expression in his eyes as he looking at Johnny and Kyle. "... You. Muppets. Made. A. Bet. On. Gender. Of. My. Kid?" said Ghost in a low voice.

As soon as they both heard him speak Both Johnny and Kyle felt their body tense up as they both sense an overwhelming sense of ominous doom coming over them.

Then month cleaned their throats, both put a mature adult act.

"That's great news." said Kyle. "Very happy for you and Ellie."

"Aye. A blessing for sure, L.T." said Johnny.

Ghost just him both his famous haunted 'Ghost' look. His dark brown eyes, then picked his mug of tea taking a sip.

"My heart almost stop..." Luka thought. "I... I forgot how terrifyin’ he can be..." Kyle thought. "... How can be so bloody scary...!?" Johnny thought.

Just then someone was walking over to them, a woman who looked looked to be in her mid two 20's, slightly tall, with short blondish hair tan skin. She was wearing a light green scrubs black and white sneakers and white doctors coat. Rebecca Jose was making over and said in a slight southern accent "Mornin' y'all." Both Johnny and Kyle jump a little and looked. As soon as Kyle saw he felt his face heat a little and his hearting a little faster. "O-Oh! D-Doc." he said, with a smile. "H-Hi. aftermoon?" "Hi, Gaz. How are you?" the woman said, giving him a sweet smile. "Well. Very well. Heh." said Kyle, shyly. The rest of the men looked over and Luka said: "Hello, Becca." "Good afternoon, lass." said Johnny. Ghost nods and took a sip of tea. "What' going on here? You 4 up to something?" Rebecca said "Not really. Just waffling about."said Kyle. "That's good to see. I think y'all could some down time, been workin' yourself to death." Then Rebecca looked over at Ghost. "Speakin' of death. Hey, big guy," Ghost looked up her. "I order the medicine you ask, it's in my office." Ghost nods and stood up he picked up ultrasound and his mug of tea. "I'll see ya lot in tick. That will be." "Roger, pops." said Kyle. "Take it easy, da." said Johnny. Both Luka and Rebecca both tried not laugh has Ghost gave them a look, and walked pass them. As soon he left Luka stood up himself. "I get back to work myself." He picked his mug and book. "I'll see ya two later, okay?" "Right. Ya coming with us too the pub, yeah?" said Kyle. "I'll stop by." said Luka, walking away, living the two younger men at the table. Kyle looked over Johnny who looked to be deep in thought. "Something on your mind, mate?" Johnny looked at him and thought. "Nah. Nothin' really Thinkin' about babies for L.T. and Ellie's girl. I was thinkin' Bridget or Abby." "Heh. I think that's up to both them.” said Kyle, with small laugh. Then thought to himself. "... All though, I think Sara or Ester." "Ooooh, Ester is a grand name, lad." said Johnny. "I like Josephine. We get call Jojo!" The two kept on talking Ghost had fellowed Rebecca to her office. It was like Ghost's but slight larger a still desk in the far corer two ver large book shelves, a pulled out cot that far life corer of the room, with small bedside table and lap on. Ghost looked the cot and said: "See ya added table." "Heh. Yeah." Rebecca said, picking small white bag that was on her desk and walked over the him. "I think it makes the office way more cozy.." She held up the bag to her him. "Here's the meds for Ellie." "Thanks, Doc." Ghost tokk the bag. "How's her headaches? Any better?" "Yeah. She said so at least. She did have wake up in the middle of the nigh' got sick." said Ghost. "Not sure what the bloody fuck she ate. This mornin' she put peanut butter on her eggs. ... I-Is that normal?" "Oh, yeah." said Rebecca. "Sometimes pregnancy make women eat some crazy shit. It's out there, for sure and gross. But normal." Ghost just looks and just hums. "Ooookay... Well, thanks again. Doc." "Pff. You don't have to thank me." said Rebecca, she then walked reached for her phone and pulled out. "Let's see... I think Ellie's next appointment is---." "March 2nd. 10:20 am." said Ghost. Rebecca looked at him a bit shocked. "... Really?" "Roger." "... Did have written down on your phone." "Negative, Jus' got a good remember." "... Uh... Huh..." Rebecca than thought. "... That's... oddly cool." Ghost was about to walk out when Rebecca said: "I gotta say Ghost you got this whole dad thing nail." He dead and looked down flooring. He... wasn't sure say but said: "... Still tryin' to learnin', Doc." "Hump. Well, you're doin great I think." He didn't say anything again just. "... Thanks again." And he walked out the office, closing the door behind him. He thought about what Rebecca had said to him. Was she being honest with him? Or what she mocking him in somewhere?

He looked down at the small bag in his hand before makig his away down the hallway.

[silli---lilli]

Be Buried With Me

Snow fell there. It was cold and quiet. He was old, he'd been through plenty, and he'd always handled it alone but he'd had to stay and make sure proper arrangements were made.

They were all still trying to put themselves back together. The pieces he'd crumbled into were small

and jagged, and it was a difficult journey.

Simon was on the porch of the small, isolated house, looking out. The snow was so quiet, it softened the sound of everything, even his thoughts.

Even the footsteps joining him.

"Here."

A familiar hand offered him a steaming mug and he

gladly took it, cradling it to warm his own.

He was hiding there, with Johnny. They needed the enemy to believe he was dead and he needed a bodyguard. He needed a guide. His whole life had changed.

They hadn't spoken much since Simon got there, but it wasn't an uncomfortable silence. Simon was used to being alone through the aftermath, he was just glad Johnny was beside him. He was glad the pieces of himself he needed to repair were because he'd failed, the bomb had gone off, but at least he hadn't lost his team. His only family. His Johnny.

"How did you do it?" Johnny spoke from beside him. "How did you come back after the world believed you were buried?"

Simon looked at his hands. "The world didn't care about losing me, Johnny. But it will miss you. No one was looking for me. I didn't even have a funeral." He glanced over at the only human being that had convinced him he still was one. "I did my best, though, not to forget who I was before that. It's won't be a resurrection, it's just a diversion."

Johnny nodded. "Well, I'm glad to be buried with you for a bit, Simon."

[bloodyknucklesforme]

I Know I've Kissed You Before | Carnal XVII

Carnal (adjective) : relating to or given to crude bodily pleasures and appetites

The aftermath of the hunt

Masterpost

CW: cannibalism, rape mention, smut

This is very much a horror fic mostly based around the films Raw (2017) and Bones and All (2022), if you sit through those you should be good here. This is my first horror fic.

Chapter Title Credit: Pink in The Night by Mitski

In his dreams she was a rabbit and he was a dog. His mouth clenched tightly around her neck. She was screaming and fighting, kicking at his chest until she could do nothing but twitch. Blood dribbled from her mouth and onto the stone as he dropped her at Simon’s feet. 

“Good boy.” Simon patted his head before scooping her up with a tea towel. He followed inside to the kitchen where he laid her on the butcher block. He drooled onto the floor as Simon snapped her neck and began to dress her, loud tears as her fur and skin was ripped from her meat. When he cut her open it wasn’t the normal mess of organs, just a constant flow of warm, red blood. It flooded over the edge of the block and onto the floor where he hungrily licked it up. It tasted like vanilla. 

He was alone when he woke up. The rest of the bed empty and made. Simon’s doing. The room still smelled like him and Nina. Sweet and woody. He got up and found a pair of sweats before making his way downstairs. He could smell tea - black and sweet. 

Downstairs had a cold draft, he followed it outside where Simon sat on one of the iron patio chairs with Nina tucked into his lap wrapped in a quilt. Her blonde hair stuck out in messy tangles. She was taking small sips out of a steaming mug while Simon’s sat on the ground beside them. They weren’t talking. Simon stared out towards the garden and field into the woods. . It was barely dusk and the first snow of the season had started over night leaving a dusting of white over the browned landscape. 

“Good morning.” Johnny said to announce himself. Nina perked up and reached out for him. He took her hand and kissed her knuckles. Her face was more scratched up than he noticed last night. There was still a smear of black makeup around her eyes. 

Guilt gnawed at him. He shouldn’t have let her go alone. He should have gone looking for her sooner. The rage he felt when he turned the corner, saw the man from earlier and smelled the blood. He was at the end of the hall faster than he could think, a knife pulled from his pocket. He’d been trained to kill. He was a soldier. His speciality was clearing buildings, fast and cleanly. He shredded that man. His hands were shaking. If he had more time he would have torn him apart slowly, ripping skin off with his teeth . He only stopped stabbing because the blade broke off. 

Simon was the one who rescued her. He had the sense to open the door and find her. Seeing her face down on the ground, made his stomach twist. He thought he was too late. He could still smell the blood on her. On all of them. 

“How are you feeling?” he asked. Simon’s free hand had found itself on the small of Johnny’s back, pulling him in closer till the iron arm of the chair dug into his leg. 

“I’m okay.” She said softly. “Tired still.”

Simon pulled her closer to him as well, letting her head rest against his shoulder. Johnny leaned against the chair, his hand holding the base of Simon’s neck. It felt natural for the three of them to be like this, holding onto each other. 

He couldn’t say he was a good partner. He must have done something wrong for Simon to leave him or to make Nina think he’d leave her. He tried, was attentive, empathetic, dedicated. Maybe loyal to a fault. He’d followed Simon around like a dog for those Spring and Summer months. Got kicked like one too. 

He wouldn’t let her hunt again. He didn’t want to make rules for her after his injury and what happened last night, Simon seemed to be the only one fit to do it. His grip on Simon tightened to steady his shaking hand. He didn’t want to lose either of them. 

“Let’s get you inside.” Simon said not to either of them in particular. “Johnny grab the tea.”

He carried their mugs inside while Simon carried Nina. She was wearing some clothes at least. Looked like his boxers and a sweater. Simon was only wearing boxers. Crazy get. 

They set her up on the couch in the living room. Tea in arms reach. 

“Johnny and I will make breakfast. Call if you need anything.” Simon rubbed her cheek with his knuckles. A couple days ago he would have gaped at this show of affection, now he felt like Simon was the only one worthy to give it. 

Johnny sat at the little table, staring into his tea. Scottish breakfast with cream and honey. Simon was always good at the little details.

Eggs and what looked like bacon were cooking on a pan on the stove. 

Two hands laid on his shoulders, rubbing the muscles. 

“How’s my boy?”

“Not well…” Johnny admitted. His hands were shaking again. Residual rage coursed through him thinking about how that man was in the basement, locked away in the freezer. He couldn’t hurt her yet he still wanted to cut him to pieces. Make sure he could never come back. Burn it all, let the wind take it away. 

“She’s safe now.” Simon cupped Johnny’s face and turned to face him.. “We protected her. We got her home. We killed the cunts that hurt her and we’ll do it again if we need to.”

Johnny pressed his forehead against Simon’s. He didn’t remember the last time they touched like this. That cottage by the sea, blood still on their lips with Simon slotted between his legs. He wanted to crawl back into bed with Nina at his front and Simon at his back. He wanted to taste them both at once. He wanted to keep Nina and take back Simon. Eating his cake over and over again.  

“The food’s burning…” He choked out. He wanted to kiss him, let him fuck his worries away. Johnny’s hand was on Simon’s chest, palm over his heart. 

“Go keep her company.” He nodded. “I’ll bring breakfast in a bit.”

She was still curled up where he left her - knees tucked to her chest. Johnny sat down next to her and helped her into his lap. His hand rubbing her back under the quilt. He kissed along her hair line. “I got’cha. Not letting go.” 

Her quietness stung. She was never chatty like him but she’d whisper and giggle to him. He would mould himself to her, wrap himself around her to keep her safe and warm. Hand feed her, breath from his mouth.

She turned and hugged him, legs around his waist and her face in the crook of his neck. He pulled the quilt over both of them.

“We won’t leave ya, Neen. You’re our girl.” Our girl… not just his. His and Simon’s. Their girl. 

Simon brought breakfast in on a tray. 3 plates with eggs, bacon and toast. Johnny fed Nina, letting her relax against his chest. Simon fed him, sat next to the two of them, resting his free arm along Johnny’s shoulders. 

“I want a bath,” She said untangling herself from him. Her legs were covered in bruises. Johnny wanted to kiss each one, a healing touch. 

“I’ll clean up.” Simon said, gathering the plates. He nodded his head for Johnny to follow her. 

She liked the water hot and he winced as he got into the tub with her. His legs stinging. 

“You’re gonna cook us both.” He chuckled, kissing her shoulder. 

“Simon…he kissed me last night or this morning. I don’t really know what time it was.”

“Oh…err… did you want him to?” He tried to overcome the wave of nausea that hit him. Not out of jealousy, worry maybe. 

“I guess… I wasn’t really thinking about it. I couldn’t sleep so he took me downstairs and I ate and then he kissed me. I was worried you’d be upset… I don’t really know what we all are.”

It was a good question.

“I think if we want, the three of us can be something together.”

“Is that something people do?”

“We’re the only people like us so I don’t think it matters what other people do.”

“I think I’d like that. Being with both of you… up until last night I thought Simon didn’t like me very much.”

“That’s just how he is. Took us almost dying for him to admit he liked me.” 

She giggled at that, leaning back against his chest. He washed her hair for her. Washed her face and body. He piled bubbles up on top of her head just to make her smile. He helped dry her hair and wrapped her in a towel. Got new clothes for her. His shirt and her panties. He tucked her back into bed. Rubbed her back until she fell asleep. 

Simon was watching from the doorway. 

“Thought she’d be worse.” He said, shutting the door behind Johnny. 

“She’s tough.” He said. “Wish I’d done more to protect her.”

“We won’t let it happen again.” Simon took a step forward, backing Johnny against the wall. “You ripped that cunt to pieces, Johnny.”

He closed his eyes and breathed Simon in. Cedar swirling around in his head like a boa constrictor.

“You kissed her?”

“Jealous?”

“Of her.” He admitted. “I miss yo-”

Simon’s mouth was on his. Commanding and all consuming. Memories of this time last year flooded his head. The two of them in dive bars and club corners. In cars and alleyways. Simon inside him. Johnny in his mouth. 

“What did I do wrong?” He broke, holding Simon back. “Last Summer. What did I do?”

He wouldn’t fuck it up again.

“You didn’t do anything, Johnny.” Simon kissed him again. It didn’t settle his soul. Johnny was a weak man though, he knew that much, because he ignored it and kept his mouth on Simon’s. He missed the taste, the feel, the warmth. 

“I want you.” He breathed. “I want you so much.” 

He might cry if he was rejected now. 

“Not here. Don’t want to wake her. We’ll go to the stables.”

Johnny nodded. 

Simon having lube on hand didn’t surprise Johnny. He was moaning shamelessly, bent over the counter of the tack room. Simon had already worked two fingers inside of him. His legs were shaking, Simon was pressed against him, hunched over his body, grunting dirty things in his ear. 

“Tight as ever, Johnny.” 

“Pleasepleaseplease,” he prayed. Simon’s fingers scissored inside him, gently stretching him open. Almost four months without. He would have treasured their last time if he knew it was the last. In the sand, at sunset, on the beach down the trail from their rented cottage. Romantic actually. More than this was. 

“Missed this.” Simon breathed, nipping at Johnny’s ear. “Missed splitting you open.”

Precum dripped against the front of the cabinet. He was glad Nina never came in here. Less worry for cleaning up. His mind still floats around her. He’d like to have his head between her thighs right now. It might be the only thing to make this better, trapped between the two of them. 

“Where you drifting off to, Johnny?” Simon tugged on his hair. It was longer than he preferred but Simon always liked something to hold. “You thinking about her?”

“Yeah…” He shuddered. Simon’s hand wrapped around his cock, pumping him teasingly. 

“You wish she was here too?”

“Yes.” 

Simon lined himself up with Johnny’s hole. Drool ran from his mouth onto the counter. He was white knuckling the edge. He needed this more than air, more than meat. 

“Close your eyes, Johnny. Think of Nina.” He licked behind Johnny’s ear, melting him. It burned in a familiar good way like holding your hand too close to a fire. 

“Fuc…k simon. Fuck please.”He keened. 

“I got you, Johnny. Just relax.” He pumped him faster, timing it with his thrusts. “I’ll take care of you.”

Johnny’s eyes rolled back into his head, letting Simon take control of his body and mind.

It was almost lunch time when they got back to the house. Nina was still asleep. 

“Clean up. Then bring her down for lunch.” Simon said, kissing his temple before disappearing downstairs.

“Hey, love. How are you feeling?” Johnny brushed the hair out of her face. She blinked up at him with a frown.

“You smell like Simon.” He turned red. She cupped his cheek. “You’re pretty when you’re embarrassed.”

There was a torso sitting on the butcher block in the kitchen. Simon had his usual array of knives sitting out next to it. Nina leaned closer to him. 

“C’mere. Both of you.” Simon nodded. 

Nina stood between them, a hand in each of their pockets to steady herself. 

“It’s okay.” Johnny cooed, rubbing her shoulder.

“Cut it, Nina.” Simon offered her the knife. 

“No,no, I… I can’t.” She was blocked from moving by Simon’s arm gripping her waist. He leaned over her, their foreheads almost touching.

“You can and you will. This is your kill. You took the first bite. You need to do it. There’s no difference between this and what you did last night.” Johnny wrapped his arm above Simon’s and kissed her shoulder. “He was going to rape you, Nina. He was going to rape you and then gut you.”

She held back a gag and turned away, tears pricking her eyes. Simon grabbed her chin and forced her to look back at him.

“I ate the men who raped me.” Johnny bit his tongue to hold back any look of shock or horror at Simon’s words. “Animals get treated like animals. Cut him and eat.”

Nina took the knife in a shaking hand. Simon held his hand over hers to steady it and motioned for Johnny to do the same. He’d seen couples do this to cut cakes at weddings. Tears were rolling down her cheeks.

“You can do it,” Johnny soothed. 

They followed her hand as she cut down into the muscle.

“There you go,” Simon cooed, kissing her tears away.  “I need to know you’ll be able to take care of yourself when we’re gone. My brave girl.”

Nina’s tears were replaced with an angry frown as she cut. A righteous anger that steadied her hand.

They butchered him together. Till the torso was broken down to pieces, wrapped in paper and twine with Simon’s handwritten labels. 

 When it was done they sat together in the living room. Nina’s head in Johnny’s lap and her legs in Simon’s. He pet her hair while Simon rubbed her legs. 

“I’m sorry, Simon.” She said softly. “I didn’t know.”

“No one does…did. Just you two.” He shrugged. Johnny leaned his head against Simon’s shoulder, nuzzling him. Simon wrapped his arm around Johnny. “You’re a fighter, Nina. You have to be.”

It started to snow again. 

Tag list: @gogh-with-the-flow @queen-ilmaree @cathnoneofyourbusiness @pssytrux

[mooncello]

introducing my first snowbaz fic! ⚡ day 20 of the @carryon-countdown: flowers

“I want to make sure I understand all this.” Penny finishes pouring her third cup of tea. “You’re giving Baz flowers…multiple times…and making him think they’re from a secret admirer. To annoy him.” “Yeah.” “You…” She pushes her glasses back up her nose with one hand while holding her mug of tea in the other, steam curling around her face. “Are giving Baz flowers.” “He hates them.” “As his secret crush.” “What? No. The secret crush thing is a ruse.” I bounce a little in my seat. “It’s so fun, Pen. I haven’t seen Baz this annoyed in a long time.”

~

Or, Simon gets bored, attempts to prank Baz, and ends up pranking himself.

[evverline]

sweet dreams

pairing: john price x reader summary: the captain comes home just in time

warnings: fluff, children... not proofread notes: this is the first time i'm writing something in years but im absolutely in love with john price. feel free to send in requests!

Fresh powdery snow covered every inch of land you could see, the first snow storm of the season. You couldn't help but smile, winter meant holiday season, which meant your dear husband would be coming home.

As always, your few moments of peace were interrupted by two little monsters barging into your room. "Mommy! Mommy! The snow," Your youngest daughter cried out. Of course you promised your kids they could play in the snow. "I know girls, let's get changed and we can go outside okay."

Keeping yourself bundled in layers of clothes and a thick blanket, you watched your two daughters attempt to build a snowman. As of right now it looked more like the trunk of a tree. Watching them enjoy themselves without a care in the world made you warm inside, making your blanket practically useless.

You're lucky enough to get a few months off throughout the year due to you and your husband's work schedules. Both of you actually met due to work. You, a director of several task forces including the one and only task force 141. Several years ago you were lucky enough to meet the captain, John Price. You both seemed to work really well together, so well you became pregnant. Soon enough he bent down on one knee and tied the knot. Per your request, your relationship has been private. Not secret, just private. Ghost, or Uncle Simon comes around every once in awhile to say hi to the girls.

Since both of your jobs require months away from home, you agreed to stay home for majority of the year. John also agreed to be home during the most important parts of yours and yours daughters lives. In which, he promised to be home by first snow fall. Yet he's twelve days and eight hours late. You totally haven't been keeping track. It breaks your heart a little knowing there's times you won't have contact with him for weeks. But the times he's home he makes up for it, and it's totally worth it.

"Alright girls let's not get frostbite," You call them back inside. "Hot cocoa!" They both shouted as the ran inside, leaving an icy trail behind them. You sighed knowing there will be one hell of a mess to clean up. After a quick change and mop of the floor, you filled three big mugs with milk. "I like how daddy makes it," your daughter huffed. "I know honey, he'll be home soon," You know they missed him as much as you do, maybe even more you thought. They were 'his' girls after all. "How soon," she spat out. "Sooner than you think," all of your heads turned to the front door, and there stood the hunk of a man John Price.

"Daddy!" Your girls jumped out of their seats to him, almost tackling him to the ground. "How are my little bears doing," he hugs them tightly rubbing his scruffy beard on their heads. They giggled and shouted out nonsense to him. It took them the rest of the day to settle down, they had to tell him about their dance practices and how they can tie their own shoes. John made sure to spend time with them, and gladly tucked them into bed.

"My love," John leaned into you, holding your neck and waist in his hands. Slowly pushing you into the bed, you couldn't help but melt in his hands. "Oh John, I've missed you so much," You grabbed onto him, holding him close. Tucking your head into his neck, you took in his scent, deep cedar and smokiness of his cigars. "How's my boy doing," John slid down to your stomach, rubbing it with his calloused hands. "You really think it'll be a boy," You let out a giggle. Both of your girls were a surprise, and you had agreed to hold off on a third while you figured out parenthood. Just your luck, you were hit with a third surprise three months ago. "Oh I know it's a boy," he kissed your belly ever so gently.

Everything felt so warm, so peaceful, and you couldn't help but cry. John pulled back, "What's wrong my love?" He caressed your head, wiping the tears from your rosy cheeks. You sniffled looking up at him. His eyes are still soft, a few extra scars cover his body, his hair is a little bit longer, and you can see the tiredness under his eyes. But this, this was your John, and you couldn't be anymore happier. "I'm just glad you're home." Once again, you can settle in the peacefulness of your own bedroom. Finally, with the other side occupied.

[saintship]

Hi, it's the anon from blown-up Reader!!! It was SOOO well written, holy shit! I knew I could count on you. I LOVE for whump and I'm not very proud of that.

Do you mind writing some more whump?🙂 Anything with confront at the end. With Konig❤️❤️ It can go both sides, reader helps him or he helps reader!

How are you doing btw? Is it hot out there? It sure is here😔

I had to look up the term whump😭 thank you by the way you’re so kind !

I went with König helping reader since most of my König works are the other way around, I hope you like it :)

This one is very long, please let me know if ya'll prefer more frequent, shorter stories or less frequent but longer, detailed ones

Thank you again, stay cool in that heat<3 !

Warnings: VIOLENT. Descriptions of graphic violence. Then fluff/unspoken confessions

Keep breathing

König x Reader

Why not make it snowy cause it’s so fucking hot

The cabin in the distance that would be housing the 141 was the first safehouse you’d ever seen in such a cold environment. The snow piled up a few feet, a path having to be dug beforehand to create access to the porch. It was early December; the quiet snowfall serving as an echo to what you associated this month with before enlisting. A warm bed, baking, good food, family. But as Simon had remarked once, reminiscing never turned back time.

The first night was quiet, though no one could get any sleep. It seemed you and the 141 could never get used to being settled in one place for long, especially with enemy forces on your tail. The fresh snow would cover most of your tracks, but sitting in one place could never be safe. By the time the last of the sunlight swept behind the trees, the weather had kicked up into a whistling storm, heavy snowflakes pattering on the windows and roof.

"Do you think it'll hold?" You sat near Price where he knelt to stoke the fire, gazing up at the creaking rafters.

"It'll have to." He murmured, getting to his feet. He brought back a pot to heat up over the fire and a few mugs, Soap and Ghost wandering over to wait for their share of coffee. You got up and walked to the next room, eyeing where König and Gaz were heating up their MRE's on the stove. The small clock on the far wall of the kitchen area read that it was nearing 2:00 am. You sighed.

"What is it?" Gaz looked over at your disappointed expression. "Thought you liked my cooking." He teased.

You smiled, shaking your head. "If I ever gave you that idea, I was shit-faced."

König laughed quietly at Gaz's expense, nudging his leg with one of his boots.

"Oi, what you laughin' at?" Gaz kicked back lightly. That instigated a back-and forth of kicking that nearly send Gaz reeling into the stove.

"Alright, go have some coffee, I don't trust you around fire." You took the wooden spoon from his hand, steering him by his vest straps so you switched places.

"I'm not a-"

"Gaz!" Price's voice called out from the fire as he held up a mug.

"Your name on it."

Gaz grumbled once more before relenting, walking over to sit with the others.

You turned the heat down, shaking your head at Gaz's impatience.

"Told him it was too high.." König's voice sounded beside you, his quiet remark making you smile.

"I think that man had heard 'I told you so' more times than his own name." You mused, stirring.

He looked over for a moment. "You are witty, aren't you?" König's tone held a bit of playfulness.

"I entertain myself." You correct, leaning on the dials to face him. "And you laugh, don't you?"

He paused a moment at that, a huff escaping his nose. He had no smart remark, as if the observation embarrassed him slightly. You leaned over to get a look at his own food, sighing at the smell.

"Did you put two of them together?" You ask curiously. "It smells really good.."

"I did.. if I had it my way I could do things like this more often. I still have things I'd like to learn."

The admission made you melt a little.

"Cooking, you mean?"

He nodded. "Since I was young." He killed the heat, bringing the pan over to the table to eat from as the cabinets were empty. You watched him for a moment, lost in the thought of a younger version of König standing over his parent's stove, or chopping vegetables carefully and dispensing them in a boiling pot. The idea was a warm one.

Finishing up Gaz's food that you'd almost burned daydreaming about your coworker, you brought it to the table before returning to the kitchen and retrieving two glasses of water, setting down the second one beside König's pan. He looked up through the gaps of his hood, surprise flashing over his eyes.

"Danke.."

You nodded. "No problem."

"Thank you!" Gaz appeared to air-kiss your cheek, making you shrink.

"Gross!" You laughed, squirming away. Gaz sat down, tearing into his meal at an unnecessary pace.

"You're going to throw up." Ghost grunted.

"Mhmm-mm!” Gaz grunted for the negative. You rolled your eyes, settling down with Soap, Ghost, and Price again. Behind you, König's eyes followed you carefully. He knew Gaz didn't really like you like that, he was just being playful. But Gaz made you smile. He couldn't explain the hurt that settled in his chest, jealousy winding around his throat and pulling tight.

"When's the last time any of you slept?" You sat with your knees to your chest, addressing the men around you. Their answer was the crackling and popping of the flames that warmed the room. You nodded slowly.

"Got no room to talk, lass." Soap pointed out, grinning through his exhaustion.

"Yeah.." You smiled half-heartedly, conceding to your habit of tending to every task possible before thinking of getting rest.

The four of you spoke for a long while, König and Gaz eventually getting up to join you. You moved over to make room, glancing up at König. He paused a moment before settling to the ground, facing away from the fire slightly so he could extend his legs.

"You tired yet?" You spoke softly to him, breaking away from the group's conversation. He blinked at your undivided gaze.

"Not yet.." He decided. "You?"

You shook your head before resting your chin on one knee. "Just worried.."

The militia tracking the task force had been at it for months; they were one of the most relentless and skilled enemy forces your team had ever faced off with. Their men were fast, and their threats were detailed. The messages they left in their trail were taunting, like they had better things to do than try to kill your friends. The things they knew, and the things they promised, they were what kept you awake. But you said none of that; it wouldn't help anyone.

Finally, some of your team started to lay down, and König's eyes fluttered shut. You, Price and Ghost remained, their eyes on the fire while yours watched the window compulsively. The wind had been steady; not picking up or slowing down. Eventually, you allowed yourself to lay on your back, the exhaustion seeping into your muscles. The fire's languid flames accompanied by Price and Ghost's gentle voices finally lulled you into an anxious sleep.

When you woke up, your cheek was rested against the side of König's knee, the material of his knee pad warm from your body heat. You lifted your head slowly, seeing that Ghost had dozed off and Price was nodding off, blinking firmly.

You turned to the window again to see the state of the storm, blinking away the spots in your vision that the morning light caused. When your vision adjusted, you managed to get to your feet, your tiredness still weighing you down. Walking into to the other room, your heart dropped through your ribs. At the kitchen window, the lock sealing it in place was gone, a jagged edge of material left in its place. Further, the wind whistled higher in pitch now, due to the crack that someone hadn't sealed all the way. Slowly, you returned to your position beside König, remaining calm.

"Sir.." You breathed, your voice hardly a murmur.

“What is it?” Price replied.

Shuffling from the other end of the cabin answered hm.

“Oh..fuck. Simon." Price nudged Ghost awake. "Break-in."

"Fuckin' hell.." Ghost woke the rest of the team up, ordering them to keep quiet. Price drew his pistol, crouching low and essentially crawling to the corner that joined the living room and the hall. Heavy steps could be heard from the other rooms—multiple people. Ghost signaled to spread out; you trailed after König, accepting the rifle he offered when he noticed you were unarmed. The team was now spread across the room behind furniture, the only sound being that awful whistle that the cracked window created. It seemed louder now that you were under attack. Something in another room clattered to the ground, and König moved to shield you. Glancing back to see your surprised reaction, he quickly retracted to crouch beside you again. It wasn’t that you were offended; quite the opposite. It was a twinge out of character for König to display such care outwardly.

Price signaled to you and König to go around back, leaving him, Ghost, Gaz and Soap to monitor the inside. Making it to the front door, you eased it open carefully, shutting it when the both of you were outside. The freezing wind bit at your scalp and hands, heavy snowflakes blurring your vision. König's form was dark against the white landscape, guiding your path. You made it to a window at the other end of the cabin, vaulting through once König had made sure no on was there. You dropped onto the hardwood after him, trying to minimize your noise level.

You had ended up in the far bathroom. Sliding the window shut, the sounds of the intruders speaking amongst themselves could be heard across the hall behind a closed door. Carefully reaching forward to try the handle, it proved to be locked shut. You signaled with your hand to your left, letting Price know you had an angle, before coming up to König and reaching for his vest pocket. He stepped back a bit, confused, before stilling at a pointed look you sent his way. He eyed you suspiciously before realizing you were reaching for his lock kit, opening the case and pulling out a pick before returning it to his pocket. Working slowly and quietly, you were able to unlock the door without much noise, shielded by the voices beyond the door. Stepping aside, you stayed out of sight, waiting on Price's go ahead.

"Catch the runners." He murmured, moving past you with Ghost and Soap on his tail.

You nodded, raising your borrowed gun once more. You heard Price repeat the same instruction to König, who readied his handgun.

Price kicked the door in, an explosion of gunfire and shouting ricocheting throughout the hall. An enemy soldier tried to bolt out of the room, but was intercepted by König. His opponent was small enough to weave past him and put up more of a challenge than he had likely expected. Another made a break for it, but instead of faking you out, tackled you to the ground by the waist. A jab of his knee discarded your rifle, which was too long and too heavy to utilize in such a range regardless. Pinned underneath him, your punches only seemed to further his anger. A flash of silver caught your eye before he swiped at your stomach, cutting open the flesh of your stomach. You cried out, grunting through your teeth before kicking up, hard. Your heels drove into his collarbone, sending him stumbling back a moment and giving you a chance to crawl for your rifle. Only when you got your hand around the handle did you feel another bursting pain, looking to your shoulder to find the knife he threw from his position, which was now embedded in you.

“Fuck!”

You could hear König struggle. Without another moment of hesitation, you aimed at your attacker and put a bullet between his eyes.

The pain only grew worse as you staggered to your feet, the voices around you dull and far from your awareness. You felt yourself begin to collapse, but instead of slamming into the wooden floors, you were caught by a dark figure.

Especially dark against the white landscape outside.

"Hey. Come on, you gotta wake up, love.."

Price.

"Come on.."

Your eyes still felt tired, but you eased them open, taking in your surroundings. Still in the cabin, sat against a wall near the fire. Someone had draped a quilt over your legs. Your torso was only covered by the tank top you wore under your uniform, which was badly torn at your stomach.

"Price.."

"Hey, soldier.." Price had laid a hand on your uninjured arm, his eyes a tad warmer than their usual stoic nature.

"My shoulder.." You reach a hand to feel the wound, only finding dry gauze. As sleep withered away from you, the pain returned. A quiet noise escaped you; it felt as though you would never have peace until this ended.

"Stay still."

You look up to find König kneeling in front of you, even in his position you tilted your chin a bit to meet his eyes. Price rose and went to talk to Simon, muttering something you didn't care to hear. You noticed the med kit in König's hand.

"You saved my life, König." Your words came out hoarse, but he heard them all the same. He blinked a few times, deciding to settle cross-legged beside you.

"There was no question." He said simply. "But I still need to look at your stomach; the way he did this.."

He paused, closing his eyes. Never in your time spent off the field had you seen him this quick to anger. But he was furious under a guise of calm. "The way he did this, it could get infected easily. I need to stitch the wound."

The description of your injury seemed to remind you it was there in the first place; aching, stinging, and relentless. You tried to control your breathing, shutting your eyes tightly.

“It’s alright..you’re going to be okay.” Before you could register it, König’s hand had found yours, holding it to his chest. “Keep breathing like that—that’s it.”

His words brought you back into the present world; still ringing with pain, but you were here.

“Can you stay awake for me? I cannot have you lose consciousness.” He was firm, unbreaking.

You nodded.

He pulled up your shirt a bit farther, the hem resting just below your chest. You watched, half uneasy and half fascinated at his skill. He cleaned the area, even using iodine before preparing a stitching kit. His eyes looked up into yours.

“This is going to hurt.” His warning was gentle.

“It’s okay.” You breathe. He nods, focusing once more. The battered tissue was a task to sew together, but he managed, closing the largest gaps and remaining extremely careful.

“Did you have medic training?” You asked softly, surprised at how adept he seemed.

He nodded. “By choice. When I first started in the military, I lost too many people because there was no one with us to treat them.”

You watched him, your admiration only climbing higher with every word of his explanation. He pulled the last stitch tight, cutting of the end and wiping the area down gently.

“This should be alright..I know you would probably prefer a true medic, but..” König gestured to the flurry of wind and snow outside the living room window.

“König, I owe you everything.” You leaned forward to rest a hand on his shoulder, telling yourself it was for stability. For a moment, you thought you had made him uncomfortable, before he removed one of his surgical gloves and placed a hand above your own. The warmth of his skin was nearly overwhelming.

A loud laugh from where Soap and Gaz were sitting seemed to snap you out of your trance, and König too; he took your hand and returned it to your side before getting to his feet to dispose of everything. Before walking off, he turned back to face you.

“Almost forgot..” he leaned over to pick up a sweater that was folded on the ground, handing it to you. “Since your shirt is stained. It should be warmer, too.”

You took it, smiling to yourself at his kindness, before watching him on his path to throw away his used supplies and gloves. As gently as you could, you tried to remove your shirt; you were wearing another garment underneath, and you figured your team shouldn’t care anyway. But the wound on your stomach re-ignited with a burning sting, and you couldn’t manage to lift your arms in fear that you would cry out in pain.

You noticed König approach, slowly, like you were a coyote caught in a fence. His eyes seemed to ask the obvious. You let your hands rest, breathing deeply.

“Could you..help me?”

König blinked a moment before nodding , returning to your side.

“This shirt is fucked anyway, could you cut it?” You didn’t realize exactly what you were asking when you said it, you were thinking with your head for once. You realized only when he obliged and flipped open his knife that he would be personally cutting your clothes off, and you had to act professionally while he did it. He cut just past your shoulder on your front side from top to bottom, carefully slicing at the bloodied fabric, before leaning away to let you reveal yourself at your own volition. It was much easier to slip off the shirt, and König handed you a rag to wipe yourself clean of the blood and grime as best you could. Before you could even ask, he was offering to pull the sweater over your head, and you nodded.

“König, I don’t know how to thank you..” you toyed with the hem of the sweater, exhaling shakily as another flash of pain echoed through your torso.

“Feel better..that’s all I ask.” He replied simply. His expression was a far echo from his usual hazy excitement, instead carrying the weight of the pain he knew you felt.

“König! You can hold down the fort for a while, yeah?” Price’s question tore away his gaze, at which he nodded.

“Yes, sir.”

“Right, won’t be gone long, just looking for stragglers.” With that, he led the rest of the team out the door, shutting it quietly.

You and König were left to sit side by side, the snowfall outside thinning to a softer pace. A good distance from the window, you noticed a deer looking around its surroundings, snowflakes decorating its large antlers. You knew König was watching too. Maybe you were delirious from your injury, or maybe it was the peace you found watching this wild animal, but your hand edged closer to his, skin brushing skin. You heard his breathing stutter ever so slightly, but he didn’t retract his hand. You dared to reach far enough to take it in your own, feeling the warmth of his palm firsthand. Neither one of you needed the aid of words to understand what you were implying; you spoke through the warmth between your palms.

[cutestkilla]

Fic Rec Wednesday

Hey hey! So while I actually am hard at work on CO content for the Picture Book Project (several illustrations of the gang in third year for @captain-aralias’ amazing take on Simon Snow and the Third Gate), I have nothing that’s really ready for main in terms of sharing. Thanks to everyone who continues to tag me over these past weeks (I tag you all back under the cut for today, or Sunday or to share your own fic recs)! I do love to see what you all are working on even when I have nothing shareable.

I thought I might do a little fic rec post today instead, dedicated to one-shots that were posted in the mad rush of December that I love and think are a little underappreciated. There’s such a flood of amazing content during COC that it’s hard to keep up, and then once we move on to January, there’s still new amazing content coming out. As a result there are some real gems that folks may have missed out on. And so, here is a short (no doubt incomplete because I myself am still catching up) list of my fave hidden gems from December 2022.

And We Still Do by @facewithoutheart (T, 8K)

This is the fic that inspired me to write this post, actually, because I was discussing it with @facewithoutheart earlier and saying I can’t believe more folks haven’t read it. Anyway, it’s so great! The story includes a bunch of AU meet-cutes/meet-uglys framed by post-SFC Simon and Baz being fluffy and cute, with a bonus ACTUAL first time they met via the crucible. Each AU is a great little one-shot in itself and to quote the comment I left on AO3, “I loved them all, I would read a full fic of literally ANY of these”. (That is not actually a direct quote because I appear to have misspelled the word “would” somehow, but I digress.) You get post-canon fluff, a Boy Band AU, a Royalty AU, a couple of really neat canon-divergence AUs, and a combo Coffee Shop/Sci Fi AU all rolled into one, with amazing results. I think it’s brilliant like everything that comes from Christina’s mind and everyone should check it out.

Baby It’s Cold by @larkral (T, 2.6K)

This is a post-canon story told through a series of vignettes with Simon helping Baz accept something (something cold, maybe?) about himself in a really cute and creative way. It’s just really sweet, the prose is lovely as one knows to expect from this author, it gave me the warm fuzzies in a major way and guess what else? IT COMES WITH 3D LEGO ART. It’s short and sweet so you have no excuse not to check this one out folks.

Nice Spread by @messofthejess (T, 1.2K)

Post-canon Brobelove! The age old mystery of whether tea actually can be served on Niamh’s thighs is solved! And just generally this is packed with excellent banter, excellent novelty mugs and excellent tea puns. Very fun!

Another Way We Match by @thewholelemon (M, 1.7K)

Gotta include some spice, amirite? This one is post-canon and packed with great dialogue and banter that pays homage to some of my favourite fanworks (This Will All Go Down in Flames by @facewithoutheart, Monsterfucker, Baby by @sillyunicorn and Property of Tyrannus by @starwarned and @seducing-a-vampire, to be specific) in the funnest way. Simon and Baz are doing sexy roleplay! Only all of Simon’s suggestions are causing Baz eye-rolling injuries. Really hilarious, sexy and also with the perfect amount of domestic fluff mixed in. I love me a sex scene full of funny dialogue and awkward moments, and this sure fits the bill.

I could go on and on with this list, only I’m supposed to be working instead of writing this post, so I’ll stop here for now. Hope you all check these out!

Tags: @alleycat0306 @aristocratic-otter @artsyunderstudy @basiltonbutliketheherb @blackberrysummerblog @chen-chen-chen-again-chen @confused-bi-queer @facewithoutheart @fatalfangirl @forabeatofadrum @frjsti @hushed-chorus @ileadacharmedlife @ivelovedhimthroughworse @j-nipper-95 @johnwgrey @larkral  @martsonmars @nightimedreamersworld @onepintobean @palimpsessed @shrekgogurt @stitchyqueer @takitalks @tea-brigade @technetiumai @theearlgreymage @thewholelemon @whatevertheweather @you-remind-me-of-the-babe                             

[mostlymaudlin]

Twenty Questions for Fic Writers 💫

thank you @decaflondonfog for the tag !! ill tag @sillyunicorn @starwarned @urban-sith @tea-brigade

1. How many works do you have on AO3?

98!! (woah) plus an unrevealed t&n fest fic, so 99. wow i need to do something rly crazy for 100 lol. what if i do a ridiculous crossover of all my fandoms and everyone in the fandom tags will hate me. 

2. What’s your total AO3 word count?

544,914. (again. woagh)

3. What fandoms do you write for?

mostly all for the game and simon snow series, have dabbled in & posted even less for check please, captain america, and one direction! i feel like i’m missing something but regardless my fixations are hardcore, so all except like 4k of that posted wc is for either aftg or ss hahahha

4. What are your top 5 fics by kudos?

all are andreil! boyfriend privileges (4k, T) / Trigger (62k, E) / flashes of intimacy (10k, t) / Would you still love me if I was a worm? (6k, T) / Inside Thoughts (1k,T)

man this is long, rest is going under the cut lol

5. Do you respond to comments? Why or why not?

not very often, but i wish i did. i am stricken with a combination of being really awkward when people are nice to me & being bad at interacting with anyone in ways i fear could be perceived as ingenuine. im not sure if that makes sense LMAO. and sometimes when i put a story out, i kind of feel like i’ve said my piece — i’ve put so much into it that i don’t really know what else to say!

anyway, i always reply to questions, because that’s got clear social boundaries hahaha, and i DO love talking abt my stories!! and sometimes i’ll reply to comments that really get me thinking. but yeah, i know i reply less than i could, and i want to like double down on the fact that i am endlessly grateful for everyone who has ever left a comment on my work <3

6. What is the fic you wrote with the angstiest ending?

i have killed simon snow twice lmfao. i’d actually classify icarus as rather hopeful — it’s about grief & healing. but legacies is just fucked up lmfao

7. What’s the fic you wrote with the happiest ending?

oh man, i write a lot of happy endings haha. i feel like even when my story is tonally darker (rare), it still has a happy or at least hopeful ending. this is probably not the correct answer, but i think sing of the moon has a really vividly happy ending. like — the sun rises for the first time in the whole fic! amazing. or maybe my high school au, We Can Live Forever, which is just the happiest thing i’ve ever written. 

8. Do you get hate on fics?

not really, thankfully! people are smartasses sometimes but overall ive been lucky. there have been a couple of fics where ive winced before hitting post, but it usually ends up fine

9. Do you write smut? If so, what kind?

yessss. i guess i mostly write tender smut, bc i write tender things in general. i think my smut tends to be rather exploratory/playful as well? intentionally sloppy and awkward choreography hahaha

10. Do you write crossovers? What’s the craziest one you’ve written?

sort of LOL. once upon a time i was betaing @tea-brigade's medieval snowbaz au, Reliquary of an Arsonist, and there’s this part where three highway bandits mug simon and baz and then get blasted by simon’s chosen one magic. i am sick in the head so im in the google doc like “lol what if its kandreil.” and then i was like… what if it was kandreil….. and so i wrote Reliquary of a Bandit

11. Have you ever had a fic stolen?

i don’t think so

12. Have you ever had a fic translated?

yes!!! and i’m really thankful for everyone who has done so <3333 shoutout to russian aftg translators, yall go HARD

13. Have you ever co-written a fic before?

i recently collaborated with @thewholelemon on our episode of Star Trek: Redemption, Heart-Shaped Box. by which i mean: i wrote the outline & a few scenes, got really overwhelmed, and jenny turned it into something worth reading! 

i also wrote Good Boy in the snowbaz stoner verse with @starwarned, which was rly fun — we sat in the google doc for like, 5 hours trading back and forth on POVs as we wrote pure porn together LOL. it’s funny to think about this, because lauren knows like everything abt me now but we did not know each other as well back then!!! and we were just like “yeah lets write porn together” hahahahha 

14. What’s your all-time favourite ship?

right now it is deeefinitely andreil… they are everything to me for reasons i just cannot possibly be brief about LOL so ill just leave it at that

15. What’s a WIP you want to finish but doubt you ever will?

i have a postcanon snowbaz time travel/time loop wip that i was going to try to write for COBB this year but i fucked up the deadlines then the brainrot was like “guess that means more andreil !”. i did SO MUCH research for it and i think it’s rather clever and smutty and fun bc they are yeeted back to watford era! but it’s also dealing with snowbaz, who are in their late 20s and are like in a relationship low point/actively fighting when they end up in the loop… so they are dealing with that tension at the same time as they are trying to get out of the loop. and also fucking around watford to fulfill fantasies HAHAHA

16. What are your writing strengths?

characterization is the thing i care most about! and i think that’s the draw of fanfic in particular to me — i love getting such a grasp on a character that i can translate them into endless situations while still making them feel true to self. i rarely let myself publish anything until i can read through the whole thing without any he would not fucking say that moments hahahha. this is of course pertaining to my own interpretations of the characters, which is the only thing i care abt lmfao

17. What are your writing weaknesses?

i rely a lot on body language because im always writing abt reticent fuckers who cant use their words. but i think i sometimes overcompensate, or describe actions that don't actually fit the scene. i've seen this described as "cheek-biting" -- like, throwing in action during a conversation just to delay the pacing/further the tone, but when you really look at it, it's not necessary. (cheek-biting being like, "character bites at their cheek" in the middle of a tense conversation)

18. Thoughts on writing dialogue in another language in fic?

i don’t really know any other languages! i think i’ve put a little bit of french in neil/kevin/baz POVs before, but my french knowledge is elementary at best. love the idea of it though.

19. First fandom you wrote for?

one direction babyyyyyyyy !! i wrote quite a bit of it in like 2012-2015 but published very little. there’s 1 on my ao3, some lost somewhere on fanfiction.net (i dont rmr my username lol), and tons in my folders from my old laptop lol.

20. Favourite fic you’ve written?

hmmmmm. im gonna cheat bc i cant pick a single favorite. i always say i think No Turning Back is some of my best writing from a craft standpoint, and it also includes my favorite type of conflict (andrew self-destructing lol). however, i reread both that fic & We Can Live Forever on a plane trip recently after not having touched either for 6+ months — and the solidness of We Can Live Forever actually surprised me, especially because i wrote the majority of that fic while i was stoned and also view it as just exceedingly silly. the world of it is just very rich, and also very very different from the typical character backstories, and i’m very proud of how much that reread played with my heartstrings.  

ok last one — there are several installments of my flashes of intimacy series that i come back to a lot, because i’m proud of what they each accomplish in 500 words. especially because i often turn to those when im trying to express my own emotions lol. specifically, my favorites are picking fights, i don’t mind, swimming lessons, and practicing gratitude.

that was such a bullshit and cocky way to answer this lmfaooooo. but tbh i am my own biggest fan and that is by design — i write stuff so that i can reread it months later and have it be perfectly catered to my tastes. i love all my fics <3